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n0tamused · 18 days ago

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✦Êlinsaer Peredhel. Pt.1

LOTR Universe OC

A/N: Decided to split this this into two parts so it's a bit easier to read :) I hope you all enjoy!

pt.2 - here

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┊ ┊ ☪. ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭

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Content:

1.Appearance

2.Personality

3.Backstory

3.1. Kingdoms rise and fall

3.2. The Hobbit

3.3. War of the Ring

3.4. The breaking ofthe Fellowship

3.5. Battle of Morannon

4. After the War of the Ring

Trivia

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1. Appearance

Taking after her mother, "Êlinsaer" possesses the same dark brown hair and her facial features of high cheekbones, full brows and almond shaped, heavy lidded eyes. Her eyes are brown with flecks of green.She has taken after her father in regards to height and the manner in which she carries herself, her strides brisk and holding an air of elegance; she is tall, standing at 5’9(176cm) and sporting a fit and lean build with long, strong legs. Her skin is dotted with beauty marks with the most prominent ones being underneath her eye and next to her lips, as well as on her hands and wrists.

She has a penchant for dressing in neutral and darker colors, usually seen dressing in a black and hoodless cloak pinned in place by a golden lily brooch (later on by a leaf of Lòrien as well), dark gray tunic with a bark colored corset which resembles scales like the underbelly of a dragon, dark green pants, archer gloves, arm bracers and knee high boots. She dresses warmly but lightly and with her clothes allowing so, she is able to be quick and free on her feet. She bears scars from past travels, but none of those are able to be seen, other than the ones on her hands. She often wears rings, silver and gold both, preferring artistic styles of oddly shaped rings in comparison to simple bands. Her favourite ring is a silver ring, the top shaped in a golden crescent moon holding a pale stone.

Her hair reaches down past the middle of her back and she styles it in half-up half-down styles which keep the hair out of her face. She has taken to styling and cutting her hair on occasion so her hair is not even and holds shorter layers towards the front, as well as a set of longer bangs. Through her hair gray hairs are able to be seen in rather prominent streaks. Later in her life, her hair would go completely silver-blonde.

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2.Personality

Êlinsaer is a quiet, introspective individual who values her solitude over social interaction, though she is not timid by any means and is very open minded to the world around her. She prefers to remain reserved, keeping her thoughts and emotions largely to herself. Despite this, she possesses a strong sense of justice and a will to act on that feeling. Her moral compass is often complicated by her willingness to use rather morally gray tactics when necessary, which makes her a somewhat unpredictable character. Though her demeanor is usually measured and concise, she can be fierce in defending innocence and will resort to more direct, even aggressive, methods when all diplomacy fails. In a similar regard she is protective over the ones she deems vulnerable or whom she sees as close to her. Her communication style tends to be brief and to the point, and more often than not she is quite soft spoken, which sometimes makes interacting with strangers a challenge for her.

Her willingness to act can be faced with many hesitations and setbacks as she is often plagued by the risk of descending into the same madness her ancestors did as well as the fear of her father capturing her again, and the same moments of hesitation can also push her into solitude if she happens to be around someone. She is hard to anger but also slow to trust.

Êlinsaer possessed a great deal of love for reading, information both set in reality and in fiction and she’d often stay much longer in places that hosted open libraries. Despite her own sets of troubles, she attempts to do what good she can in the world. She is very much a lost, lonely, frightened soul who seeks to find what matters most to her in the world.

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3.Background

3.1. Kingdoms rise and fall

Êlinsaer comes from the people of the mountain that flew a banner with a golden lily and a winged serpent over it on a blue field. Her father was an elf who gave up his blade and turned to the work of a ship maker in Mithlond. She grew up with two other siblings, both of whom were younger than her. There was a pair of twins that unfortunately passed away in infancy. As their mother had already been old at the time, her pregnancies caused a set of health issues that worsened in her later years and which required much care and treatment, which her children had provided to the best of their efforts.

Êlinsaer’s father, a self-fashioned ‘lord’, Esgali never seemed to fully grasp the swift passage of a human life and often lingered at his workstation for lengthy periods of time, time that Marguel, his wife, nor his children did not have. Elven lore was still a distant subject to the people of the mountain and the gift of death was much more familiar to them. Two of Esgali’s children chose mortality, forsaking it in order to live out their lives like all the people of the mountains, along with their mother. Êlinsaer was the only of the three living children that had not yet deciding, believing it was her duty to choose immortality if it would be in the best interest of the family, especially in the case of one of her siblings choosing that path, for she did not want to leave them alone to the world. The twisted passing of his father had left a bleeding mark on Esgali and with the combination of circumstances the dark forces of the land poisoned him and his mind. He was not the same elf Marguel knew when next he returned to the mountains. He had praised her for her work as they walked up the familiar path, commenting on her writing as well as her sturdy hand when it came to work around the village.

He had taken Êlinsaer up above the clouds, to the highest castle of the highest mountain peak, retelling stories of the times when he was still a elfling in the world where the sun and moon had just been born. The conversation spiraled as he touched upon the subject of her decision, and faced with her denial to choose the path of immortality, choosing the human life, Esgali had exercised all powers he knew for evil and cursed her to immortality. Afterwards, he took his own daughter from the mountains and into a town by the lake where, for the next decade or so, he’d keep her and teach her all things elven in a frail attempt at justifying his doings and redeeming himself. The more time stretched on, the more apparent it became that his tie to the evil forces was becoming stronger. The years felt too long and Êlinsaer never embraced her new circumstances, although she learned what she could and sharpened both her wit and her blades. She had become fearful of elves and others and when the opportunity arose, she fled on horseback back to the mountains that raised her.

Her mother had already passed away by then and her siblings looked older, their hair starting to gray and their faces were wrinkly. In belief that she willingly chose to leave them to their own devices, they did not accept her back into the family. Êlinsaer remained in the village, watching over them until they passed away as well, ensuring they were buried next to their mother, before vanishing into the vast world.

For the next odd 600 years, she travelled the world without a stop, not risking a permanent residency due to the fear her father was forever looking for her. Once or twice, while she remained in the village, she had protected it against Esgali’s shadow, and once against Esgali in the flesh who had wished to sway her into joining him again. She had taken up a habit of settling in forests that neighboured villages and rising cities, foraging and hunting and using the knowledge her father had taught her to endure the ages.

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“I am what I am. I would tell you what you want to know if

I could, for you have been kind to me.”

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3.2. The Hobbit

She’d often pass by Bree in the time of spring and late autumn, resting there for a few nights and sometimes a bit longer than that if she found something to occupy her. She had become an enigma where she let herself step into social interactions, and the hobbits of Bree took the most interest in her as she had shown more of an inclination at taking their side. She was quite gentle and forever patient with them, often helping them with the tasks too strenuous for their short frames and sometimes she’d exchange her labour for a meal or some thread and needle. In the long years she made around Middle-Earth and the amount of times she passed through Bree, she has been the unfortunate witness to too many funerals. Despite the rough and quiet exterior she displays, she always harboured deep feelings for the world around her; she felt it her duty to remember all of those who helped her or whom she helped, or the ones that history would otherwise forget.

During the start of Bilbo Baggins’ adventure to Erebor with his company of dwarves, Êlinsaer had assisted in their safe passage towards Rivendell, although she had refused to enter Rivendell herself and turned back before Gandalf could convince her otherwise. Afterwards she caught up to the dwarves after they left Rivendell, wishing them good fortune and gifting Bilbo Baggins and Bofur with a bronze scale each as a token of her appreciation and well wishes.

Êlinsaer had paid much more attention to Bilbo after his adventure had concluded, sympathizing with him over the losses he endured and all which he faced. Be it pity or the simple need to show kindness, she’d stop by his residence whenever she passed by Bree, bringing tokens from her travels and telling Bilbo of what she had seen since the last time they'd talked.

During her many visits with him, she had taken a habit of feeding the birds in the nearby forests around the Shire, some of which nested low to the ground in the hollows of trees. As gifts to her, in return for her taking time to tend to them, a raven had begun to bring forth shiny things to her as gifts: coins, shiny stones, rings. She was quite fond of these gifts, wearing the rings and making jewelry out of the stones.

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“You cannot beat tin into iron, but that does

not make it useless”

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3.3. War of the Ring

Consequently, she was one of the many guests invited to Bilbo’s 111th birthday party. She had shown up, but remained watching from afar after mingling shortly with the other guests and after talking to Frodo shortly.

After Bilbo had vanished with the assistance of the ring, Êlinsaer lingered for a while longer, before she herself had disappeared into the night. She had visited him in a rush alongside Gandalf, where the ring was revealed to them both. She dared not touch the ring or come near it, going as far as to not even enter the room in which it was being held in. Afterwards, a conversation between Gandalf and her followed in the halls of Bilbo’s home in a language he did not understand, and after that Êlinsaer left. She felt distressed at best and had debated on whether she should ever come back to the Shire. The Ring had unsettled her, and the decline of Bilbo was right under her nose. She could smell the darkness but had always pushed it aside, scrapping it up to the fact that mortal beings changed much quicker and more often than immortal beings. Gandalf would seek her out later, delivering a letter from Bilbo addressed to her. She did not respond nor go back to the Shire.

It was only years later that she’d return with Gandalf to visit Frodo. She had come on top of her big black mare with a chipped ear, as quiet and elegant as her. Frodo was now the owner of the One Ring and while she feared to come near it, she hated it too much to let it be in the world for longer than it should. And such a heavy fate of its destruction, held in the hands of such a small creature, felt too unjust for her to turn a blind eye too. Guilt for not responding to Bilbo also weighed heavy on her.

So, she had promised both Frodo and Gandalf to travel with Frodo and help him get the Ring destroyed. The following weeks she had lingered in the Shire, helping Frodo with his preparations to leave, acting notably more hasty than usual for her character and she made it a point to tell Frodo to ‘make up his mind’ and go if he planned to, although she never did so unkindly.

They’d quickly set out, along with the gardened hobbit, Samwise Gamgee and by Peregrin Took and Meriadoc Brandybuck. Êlinsaer had taken it upon herself to ensure their safe passage and was the path finder, although she rode some way ahead of them as to not draw any unwanted attention to the hobbits, she still remained very close and knew to scare the hobbits with her sudden and soundless appearances when she came to check up on them.

Once the Black riders had fallen down onto them, Êlinsaer had taken up the role of a diversion, giving enough time for the hobbits to make it out. Yet it was the elves and their song that chased away the Black Rider, as well as Êlinsaer, for she had little love for them. She had listened from afar and tailed them from an even larger distance, staying out of sight and out of earshot. It was only when they went down to Mr. Maggot that she had shown herself again, taking the group of hobbits by fright when they saw the big dark horse approach.

She was tired by then, but looked relieved that they found their way down here. She was already acquainted with Mr. Maggot and his dogs, having helped him in the past when the dogs were still puppies chasing butterflies in the fields. For a short while she lingered outside with the dogs before joining them for dinner inside. Mr. Maggot commented on how little she ate for a woman her size. Afterward she went ahead of the wagon meant to carry them to Ferry lane, going far up ahead and without light in, straining her ears for any sound. She was the one that ran into Merry and led him back to the wagon to regroup.

Afterwards she went on her own way again once they came onto the river, as her mare was quite afraid of the water and she did not want to force her across. She promised to find them quickly once she found a safer crossing for her horse. She was gone for a long time, but returned with the Black riders, as they gave up their pursuit of her after Frodo donned the Ring at the Prancing pony and gathered their attention. Êlinsaer had looked tirelessly for the hobbits afterwards, and caught up to them in the wilderness, now accompanied by Strider. The interaction between Êlinsaer and Strider did not start off on the right foot(although they knew each other through Gandalf’s letters and words), with Êlinsaer leading the conversation with veiled dislike and distrust of his goals. Just as their conversation seemed to be steering in the wrong direction, both of them reached an agreement and they continued their travels.

From then, she was adamant on keeping the hobbits in her eyesight, never straying too far off or letting them go too far; Aragorn and her had worked together to keep the hobbits safe.

Along with Strider, she joined in to fight back against the Nazgûl once more when they attacked. Êlinsaer had shown fair skill with her blade, and cool headedness upon witnessing Frodo’s wound. She had gone pale in the face, but there was a steely look in her eyes, and her arms were steady as they assessed the wound and did what she could while Aragorn had ventured off in haste search of athelas. Glorfindel was a sight she welcomed and dreaded all at once. Unlike her usual scoutings during their travels, she now never strayed out of sight to look at the paths ahead, keeping close to the hobbits. She seldom spoke to him unless she had to and asked only a few questions from which she drew her opinion of him. On one occasion he had calmed her horse down when she grew anxious, which seemed to better Êlinsaer’s view of him.

While it greatly worried her to let Frodo ride alone to Rivendell upon Asfaloth, she stayed behind to lead the rest of the hobbits and protect them, while also hoping to postpone her own arrival at the elven city.

Êlinsaer had entered Rivendell with her head bowed down, eyes downcast at the ground. Pippin had commented on her hands fidgeting with the rings on her fingers in a lighthearted manner, in hopes to lighten her spirits.

If there was a corner she could remain undisturbed, she’d be there, preferably somewhere high where she could look down upon the others and see where they were. She had met up with Bilbo in Rivendell again, expressing her relief to see an old, yet familiar face and she spent much time in his company as well, speaking to him about his health, his book and what he planned to do. It relieved her to find out Frodo was saved by Elrond-Halfelven, and she found it in herself to speak to him privately, lest she lost her mind in ‘a place crawling with elves’. It was a brief conversation that left much more to be desired, but it also left Êlinsaer with a little more peace in her heart.

Rivendell was where she first met Arwen, however briefly that may have been. At the Council, Êlinsaer had been one of the last to join, having remained quiet throughout the entire meeting, observing the others even once the great deal of commotion began. It was only after Frodo had quieted the crowd by saying that he’s taking on the task of bringing the Ring to Mordor that she made her opinion heard, holding subtle scorn, although the individuals that the words were directed at seemed to miss the point entirely. She had judged the forming Fellowship, but soon pledged her own skill and wisdom to Frodo and his task, for the duty of the Ring was too heavy, even when shouldered by two or five, even when shouldered by ten.

It seemed as if Êlinsaer was the first to leave Rivendell after everyone came to see them off. She knew none of them and felt it unnecessary to linger for too long, too strong in her learned ways to vanish, but as the situation called for a behavior of a more considerate guest, she showed her gratitude to lord Elrond and Glorfindel, the latter who had gifted her with a new saddle blanket, before the Fellowship set out. What Êlinsaer did not wish to acknowledge is that the Ring was calling to her, whispering into her ear, promising a better world in her thin dreams - she only needed to reach it, take it, prove her father, and his father before him, wrong. It was what led to many low-boil disagreements between her and Boromir, Êlinsaer often than not standing between him and Frodo and giving him scolding looks were he to approach too close and too quiet.

While Legolas held the rear, Êlinsaer kept watch to the front as they travelled, and often would go far out and find easier paths for them.

Êlinsaer had to leave her horse behind before they ventured into the mines of Moria. She unsaddled her mare and let her go, only keeping the green saddle blanket for herself. The tunnels seemed to spark both intrigue and caution in Êlinsaer, and she had slipped into many conversations with Gimli about dwarvish ways. As her own people had been neighbors with the dwarves that mined the Blue Mountains in the distant past, she was no stranger to their craft.

The darkness was something she was swift to adapt to, and were it not for the Fellowship and her own better judgement, she would have ventured on ahead much quicker, despite her fear of the dark and narrow passages. The conversations she had with the dwarf had helped in distracting her from the presence of the Ring, and while the darkness and the closing walls and tunnels around them seemed to push the otherwise extroverted members of the Fellowship into themselves, it had the contrary effect on Êlinsaer. She spoke some more than she usually would, making a few and in between mentions of how she enjoyed the tunnels, but missed the open skies overhead. There were off mentions of dragons, as she’d tell some old stories to the Hobbits when they were resting. Frodo had noticed she would also spin the rings on her fingers and toy with them whenever they sat down to rest.

During the attack of the cave Orcs, Êlinsaer had caught herself thinking oddly and acting on the wrong thoughts. She did not fight to save herself, or the Hobbits, or the Men or elf or dwarf - but the Ring. It was at the front of her mind all the while, and it terrified her once she realized. In the spur of the moment and as the realization came to dawn onto her, she received injuries to her leg and chest. It did not stop her, but the pain served as a whiplash. Seeing Frodo after his almost fatal blow from the Orc captain felt like she had betrayed him and she began growing distant, falling into a sullen silence once again; she no longer came near Frodo as much and preferred to remain at a distance.

Gandalf’s death fell hard on the whole Fellowship; yet Êlinsaer and Gimli had attempted to cheer up the hobbits by showing them the view around, with Êlinsaer offering a few words of comfort.

During their trek to Lothlórien, Êlinsaer began showing signs of weariness, much more than before; her strength was further exhausted by fending off a Shadow that went to attack them. Her sword pierced the shadow and it crawled away, screeching and contorting.

When they were granted the hospitality of the elves she fell into a deep slumber from which she didn’t wake from for two days and two nights. Her dreams were full of the future, or what might come to pass.

❝ In her dreams the sky was bleeding and flaming rocks cascaded unto the shadowy figures around her. They scrambled and crawled from her, fleeing and climbing over one another. Her beast snarled and let out a howl so melodious and so terrible that it made the muddy clouds flee from where they stood, letting the light stream in like a rain of thousand lances. There were ants beneath her, and her beast carried her down to the ground at once on silvery wings, but the sunbathed fields turned a coppery-red from blood. And the faces on the bodies were that of Frodo, Boromir, Aragorn, sweet Pippin and Sam and Merry, Legolas and Gimli and Bilbo. So many more familiar faces dotted the lands, pale and wide eyes staring at her. And when she looked down she was bathed all in red, and a golden Ring gleamed on her finger.❞

After she woke, she was hard to convince to accept the help of the elven healers, and was slow to accept the company of the members of the Fellowship. She had taken off all her rings and put them away in a pouch. It was Pippin she spoke to first, as the hobbit had been quite adamant on reaching her as he was too worried, as he claimed. Êlinsaer was quick to heal from her injuries, but the sullen silence and distance still prevailed around her, and she found herself wondering about the Fellowship and her role in it.

If it was a risk for her to be there, she’d much rather leave it while there was still a chance and go back to destroy the Shadow’s root, and as much she expressed to Aragorn and Boromir one late afternoon. Both took a time to reply, Boromir especially as he had felt the gnawing at his innermost feelings concerning the Ring. At the end of their discussion, they agreed that she should come with them, as Frodo could still use as many familiar faces for support as he could. She did not confide in them about her dreams, nor did she reveal too much about the temptation of the Ring.

(Movie difference: Êlinsaer would stay behind in Lothlórien, where she’d speak with Lady Galadriel, while still nursing herself to health. Her horse would come and find her in the days following, and then Êlinsaer would have set out to Rivendell to speak with Lord Elrond, holding a great role in advocating for the elves to send their forces to Helm’s Deep. She’d arrive at Helm’s Deep with the elven troops.)

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just-jordie-things · 1 year ago

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Hey so...

Here I am with another “JJK Characters (as)…” idea.

This time: their (maybe unusual) comfort movies.

Featuring some of my own personal favourite comfort movies, enjoy <3

Satoru Gojo -> Howl's Moving Castle

You can’t tell me Gojo doesn’t recognize himself in Howl at least a little. He was sceptical of the movie at first but he loves the story far more than he likes to admit. (He even cries) As much as he is rizzful and arrogant on the outside, I feel like he truly does see himself in Howl because, after all, he is a kind and sweet man who is only trying to fight for what he thinks is right. The movie strangely touches something deep inside him.

Yuji Itadori -> Mean Girls

Maybe it seems like an odd choice to others but for me, that just kinda resembles him the most out of the entire list. I cannot fully explain why tho.

Megumi Fushiguro -> Spirited Away

I’d be lying if I said there was a reason for this choice. I just feel that as much as Megumi tries to keep to himself and be the introvert he is, he’d absolutely love stories like that. It might be completely surprising to others that this is a movie that deeply comforts him, but once you get to know him and his soft side it actually makes a lot of sense.

Nobara Kugisaki -> Shrek

It might be a bit unorthodox and unlike classic romantic fairytales, but that’s how Nobara is too. She’s a girly girl who loves shopping but the premise of not everything being the mainstream fairytale with a prince charming whose looks can hypnotize the entire female cast is just up her alley. She also loves the female dragon.

Suguru Geto -> Fight Club

All I’m saying is “You met me at a very strange time of my life”. Suguru oddly relates way too much to the narrator, having a difficult time with himself as if there are two different versions of him. He tries to do the right thing and after a lot of trial and error, he comes to a conclusion. That is what heavily resonates with him. It’s an odd choice for a comfort movie, but there’s something deeply captivating about it.

Kento Nanami -> Shawshank Redemption

Nanami is the most grown-up of the whole bunch, so it’s no surprise that he prefers dramas and old movies. It might not count as an actual ‘comfort movie’ but it certainly is a movie that Nanami treasures.

Takuma Ino -> Grown Ups

It’s fun, it’s silly, it’s oddly deep sometimes. It’s exactly his taste. Takuma Ino isn’t one for deeply emotional movies. I feel he doesn’t want to dwell too much on emotions, it’s one of the only aspects where he is the absolute opposite of his mentor when it comes to movies. He wants a distraction from the seriousness of sorcery and goes for comedies like this that make him laugh until he’s crying.

Shoko Ieiri -> Trainspotting

It’s a Scottish movie about drugs, addictions, and everything in between. It might seem shallow on the outside, but the movie has so many different meanings. Shoko watches it less for actual comfort, but more because the meanings resemble something within her.

Choso -> Pixar’s Brave

This one just kinda makes sense to me. It’s just kinda Choso coded TT I know it’s mother and daughter, not brothers but the journey and the bond still resonates with him. He’s a big softie at heart, no one can convince me otherwise.

Aoi Todo -> The Lion King

Listen, hear me out for this one. In all seriousness, it’s essentially just a movie about a young man forgetting his way but a beautiful woman gets through to him and gets him back on the right path, where he emerges as the strong and fierce fighter he has always been. He starts to believe in himself and fights for his family, his land, and what he loves the most. Do I need to say more?

~ Nanami Flowershop Anon

YOU NEVER MISS AHHHH seriously your brain is magnificent!!!!!

#also a lot of these are my comfort movies too so iiiiiii’ll be projecting the rest of the day <3 #jordie says stuff #nanami flowershop anon

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buffyfan145 · 1 year ago

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I was thinking about how due to Tolkien's love of Norse Mythology there are some obvious similarities between Loki and Sauron. That got me thinking about what Norse mythological would fit Galadriel? Obviously, her Christian parallel is the Virgin Mary. After much thought, I think she reminds me of the Vanir goddess Freya ("Lady"). Freya was not only the goddess of beauty and fertility, but also Queen of the Valkyries, and associated with death. She is much of a fierce warrior as she is a divine beauty. She is the Goddess of Magic, specifically, "seidr," a femme-centered magic that involved shamanism, weaving spells, healing, and manipulating fate. Apparently, Freya taught Odin seidr, leading to him having genderfluid aspects, same as Loki. It should also be noted that while physical descriptions of Freya are rare, some scholars have claimed she was supposed to be a blonde (like Gal), redhead, or strawberry blonde. She was definitely noted for her independence, pride, and having a missing husband, Od (possibly an aspect of Odin). She had her own domain and hall, Sessrumnir, resembling how Gal rules Lotherien in her own right. She also had lovers (Haladriel?), and a close relationship with her twin brother, Freyr (reminds me of Finrod).

I've thought about Loki and Sauron being similar (and since I'm also a huge fan of Loki, especially Tom Hiddleston's version) many times!!! 😀 This is going to be a long post but have been meaning to write this at some point. Tolkien was hugely inspired by Norse myth for LOTR and Middle Earth so it wouldn't surprise me at all if Loki was an inspiration for Sauron. Plus, in the myths Loki also had reddish hair and green eyes so there's a connection between that and "Rings of Power" with the Halbrand form of Sauron. LOL 😏 Marvel too has added so much to Loki in both the comics and the MCU. I realized watching the "Loki" series and the films that he's gotten the redemption arc that many of us have given Halbrand/Sauron in our fics and I'm even more excited for tonight's season 2 finale of "Loki" and what might be coming for the films. It seems like what I wish could happen for Halbrand/Sauron is happening with Loki, including a Haladriel like ship with Loki and Sylvie.

That's a great comparison for Galadriel too. She does fit a lot with Freya. I've read multiple versions of Norse myth, especially Neil Gaiman's and Tolkien wrote his own too which I plan to read soon, and I can see it. Will point out too there's long been a theory in Norse myth that Freya and Frigg (Frigga in Marvel) are the same person and she had a split personality with each version. Frigg is Odin's wife (and Thor and Loki's mom in Marvel) and that queenly part of her fits there too.

Also I feel like Galadriel could also be a mashup of both of Loki's wives. His first wife Angrboda was a Jotun (frost giant in Marvel), a power being that Loki was also half as he was also half Asgardian. Angrboda is also a powerful witch and was the mother of Loki's 3 oldest children: Fenris the Wolf, Jorm the world serpent, and Hela the goddess of Hel (played by Cate Blanchett, the other Galadriel in the MCU but switched to be Odin's daughter and Thor and Loki's sister). When Loki became a god and joined Odin he left them to start his new life and their marriage ended.

Then his 2nd wife Sigyn is actually who I normally ship Loki with both in Norse mythology and Marvel (except the MCU as it seems like they merged his wives and his other Marvel love interest Amora/Enchantress into Sylvie as a mashup character even though Sylvie is also another universe's Loki LOL). Sigyn is normally drawn as being a blonde or red haired Asguardian and she's devoted to him even though in Marvel Comics' version he tricked her into marrying him by pretending to be her fiancé and she still fell in love with him after that. LOL (And I've seen Haladriel fics with this exact storyline.) She ends up becoming the Goddess of Fidelity to his God of Mischief (or Stories as he becomes this redemptive form in Marvel and maybe soon in the MCU depending on tonight's finale and it reminds me of Mairon). In the Marvel comics he also teaches her to become a sorceress. They also have two sons together though depending on the story one or both die tragically (which reminds me of Celebrian), and one is a werewolf.

So yeah I see so much of Norse mythology in Tolkien's work and it's fun to piece all the inspirations together like this. Plus, I'm getting 3 new romance and non-romance novels about Loki with Angrboda, Sigyn, and Amora soon and whatever that new Marvel novel out next year "What if Loki was Worthy?" too so more to read and compare soon.

ETA: I've taken out the tags that relate to Loki and the other Norse mythology characters as I got hate directed towards me from fellow "Loki" fans all because a lot of them don't like what Marvel and the show has done. Just wanted it to go in my blog's tags so it's easier to find and organized but kept the "ROP" related tags since we were talking about that originally as it relates more to Sauron and Galadriel.

#the lord of the rings #the rings of power #haladriel #galadriel x halbrand #halbrand #sauron #mairon #galadriel

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bungou-stray-chimera · 1 year ago

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Disclaimer: This is a sideblog for a Bungou Stray Dogs AU! My main account is @space-cat-in-a-teacup and my BSD-centric sideblog is @karl-raccoon-in-a-teacup . This blog will feature both manga and anime spoilers.

The Premise:

6 months before the Decay of Angels frame the Armed Detective Agency as terrorists, an English scientist named Dr. Shelley gets a list of names and a mysterious request of her ability.

Frankenstein allows her to create artificial humans that serve as fusions of two ability users. They have the abilities, physical features, and memories of the ability users they're a fusion of. It's quite a harrowing existence. Dr. Shelley's ability has no limits, as long as she knows the ability's name and general function of both users.

And she received a list of the Port Mafia, Armed Detective Agency's, and Hunting Dog's special abilities- with the explicit request to make fusions from all of them.

And who is she to refuse?

Bungou Stray Chimeras is an AU focusing on these fusion kids, 'chimeras' as they are, as they cope with their past memories/identities of the canon characters, exploring their new sense of self while remaining stuck in the lab, and eventually, what happens when they go to Yokohama and confront the ability users they orginated from.

Characters:

(This AU is OC-centric, so this tab will be used to keep track of all characters. Will update as needed.)

Paradox - No Longer Tainted Sorrow. Known as being either extremely mysterious or extremely annoying... often both, actually. It's easy to see how they resemble Dazai and Chuuya, but they resent comparison- perhaps because they hold no attachment to either's life or past? Well, at least Corruption is far easier contained within them....

Rokuzo - The Matchless Poet Shalt Not Die. How someone can have the work ethic of Kunikida without having a job is answered by her existence, though calling her responsible might be an overstatement. Bears a striking resemblance to Kunikida, though the dark purple hair and softer eyes make it impossible to mistake the two. Her morals are strong, as is her desire to help.

Toyotarō - Vita Sexualis Created Equal. It's unclear where his morals lie, as he's willing to use Mori's tactics to get what he wants, but holds a disdain for many of his actions that's certainly akin to Fukuzawa. He's done cruel things, he's done kind things. And while he doesn't consider himself a good person, he's most certainly a good leader.

Miyako - Golden Decadence. Though not externally very emotional, it's well-known how attached they are to the memories of both people they were made from, and the actions they'll take because of it. With their eyes and beauty mark, it's hard not to see their resemblance to Ango, but the hastily chopped hair is most certainly the color of Kouyou's- and maybe their similarity to her would be more evident if they weren't always so, so tired.

"The Faceless Wolf" - Midwinter Rashomon. The first of the Hunting Dog fusions, not that he was intended to be. Quiet and reclusive, though he has a fierce loyalty to the few he's grown close too. His long black ponytail pairs well with his Akutagawa-esque aesthetic, though the golden eyes give him an intimidating aura of his own.

Lenore - Great Gatsby in the Rue Morgue. She seems unattached to the present state of the Guild, and the only connection she has to its remnants is to take what she needs for herself. Her long, pale golden hair could easily cover her eyes, but the fact it doesn't means her tired, lavender eyes are far more present. Perhaps the obvious similarities is why she feels no need to show her face to the world.

Yoshiko - The Futon Precipice. When an ability that thrives on comfort is given to someone who doesn't feel unhappiness, a girl like Yoshiko is the result. She has the same scars as Ivan, and if it weren't for hair color and other physical traits, it'd be difficult to see how she resembles Katai. A touch absent minded, and often doesn't leave her room, but she does observe people in almost cutting ways.

Tom - The Grapes of Huck Finn Tom Sawyer. By all accounts, he could pass for a normal, young American man in most settings. If it weren't for how easily he walks to bloodshed, and almost seems to crave the taste of blood belonging to others or himself. Whatever sort of person he is, whatever he wants, it's all circling around Paradox- his partner, and his god.

Lemon - Lemonade Draconia. A scientist through and through, they're an odd sort of person- as wild and excitable as Kajii, almost silly one could say. But they do still bear the dragon, and all that entails. Dealt with Shibusawa, therefor preventing the Dead Apple incident.

"The Blood Wolf" - The Perfect Soul. Full of energy, living up to the name of a wolf just like her fellow Hunting Dog fusions, perhaps even moreso. Excitable, violent, she seems much more like one fusion than the other... and yet, she's not as childlike, and certainly more mature. Or maybe she's better at acting as if she is...

"The Vanishing Wolf" - Priceless Tears in the Snow. Always following their leader, always by his or their fellow Wolves side, and difficult to read- after all, they've inherited much of Tetcho, at least in ways that are obvious. The strength of two Hunting Dogs makes them one of the most physically powerful in the lab, and it's good they don't have an appetite for the pain of those they deem unjust.... or it seems they don't, at least.

Hester - The Scarlet Wind. Most don't recognize his components on first glance, considering neither of them wear worn-down jeans and leather jackets, but the over-abundance of cross-laden jewelry and those lavender eyes had to come from somewhere. Harsh, crass, and unfiltured, she doesn't get along with most people. Those he's loyal to, however...

Vakula - The Overcoat Punishment. They know Fyodor Dostoevsky more than anyone in the world. They know Nikolai Gogol better than he knows himself. Who are they, and what do they want? It certainly doesn't seem to be peace.

Juliette - Illuminations Gate. Made of the leader of the long-gone Mimic, and an ever longer gone Transcendant, she's quite powerful and formidable. And yet, she comes off as a rather reserved girl, often cold and soft spoken.

Omni - Flawless. The final creation of the doctor's. The information ability of a being created by the book, combined with five-second visions, created something far more powerful than his creator ever could have imagined.

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littlemisspascal · 2 years ago

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Part 1: Hello, My Name Is...

Summary:

“Hey.” A hand lightly grabs onto your elbow just as you turn to leave. You turn back, butterflies fluttering in your stomach at Javi’s proximity, that same soft look in his gaze. “I’m looking forward to getting to know you. I think we’ll make a great team.”

It takes a second for the words to register and when they finally do—

Oh.

You nod your head, smiling wide, a surge of excitement washing over you. “Me too, Javi. Me too.”

Pairing: eventual Javi/Fem!Reader "Oddball" (OFC)*

Word Count: 7000+

Rating: T

Warnings: Formula One AU ft. multiple Pedro Pascal Cinematic Universe characters, Human AU, Canon Divergence, Switching POVs, Worldbuilding, Social Media Fic, Headlines inspired by true events but edited for this plot, Slowest of Slow Burn, Language

Author Note: So excited to begin the next arc of this story & for Javi and Odds to finally meet 😊 Thank you everyone who's given this series a chance, I appreciate all of you!

Winter Banners credit here!

A03 Link | Series Masterlist

*see series masterlist for more info

[Collection of sticky notes pasted on bathroom mirror in your handwriting]

It’s a beautiful day

Remember to smile!

Breathe in, breathe out. Repeat.

[A new note with hastily scribbled words is added to the bunch]

I can handle this

There are many perks which come with being an F1 driver besides being paid to do what you love. Getting to travel across the world nine months out of the year; 5-star hotel accommodations; free clothes and accessories to represent your team from head to toe. But your brand-new Vulpecula GT is the gift that keeps on giving, especially when the cold winds of winter blow into Altair, dropping the temperature significantly. What would have been a miserable journey on your bike to HQ is a pleasantly warm and comfortable trip in your beautiful silver baby with padded leather seats.

You may or may not press a kiss against the steering wheel after parking, your heart growing just a little bit larger to accommodate this wonderful treasure.

The clock chimes nine as you step through the entrance doors, letting out a relieved breath when the heat of the building melts away the chill that nipped at your exposed face on your short walk up the pathway. You’d been a nervous wreck this morning, rifling through your closet for an outfit that was professional yet warm at the same time. Vivian had explicitly told you no when asked if hoodies or sweatshirts counted as business attire which meant your options were frustratingly few.

You tug on the collar of your turtleneck sweater, then spare a subtle glance down at the rest of your outfit, praying there aren’t any toothpaste stains anywhere. Once on your crotch area during your high school years was embarrassing enough to live through.

It’s been awhile since you’ve felt this level of nervousness before. The kind of nervousness where your fingers can’t stop fidgeting and your heartbeat resembles a dull roar of thunder and time has two speeds: a cheetah or a snail, no in-betweens. You wish you had someone to distract you from your spiraling thoughts. Your friends, your parents, even Diana would be welcome despite her usual method of making you do squats or jumping jacks or another equally annoying exercise.

You’ll have Vivian as one familiar face during the meeting at least. You’re on good terms with the older woman, admiring how she can switch aspects of her personality from friendly and wisecracking to fierce and competitive on the spur of the moment. She’s been patient with you during your journey to this point, and now that you’re here, an official driver for her team, you want to make her proud. You want to silence any possible doubts that all the time, energy, and funding spent on you weren’t gigantic wastes.

Photographs of past Vulpecula drivers line the white hallway walls as you head to the conference rooms, footsteps echoing off the concrete tiled floor. The images remind whoever sees them of the team’s long history and its accomplishments. For some viewers they stir feelings of nostalgia, but for you they fill you with the desire to become a part of the Vulpecula legacy. To one day see your picture hanging there and maybe, if you’re lucky enough, a championship trophy in your hands.

Inside the main meeting room you discover a small group already seated at the long wooden table taking up the majority of the space. Vivian’s at the front, some executives and engineers you vaguely recognize meeting once or twice sitting on either side of her; then there’s the pit crew chief, Melshi, and the number one mechanic, Cassian, sitting side by side, attached at the hip just like they are in the paddock garage during race weekends.

Vivian stands up and pulls you into a bear hug when you draw closer, her favorite greeting style, squeezing you so tight you swear you hear your ribs groaning like they’re on the verge of snapping. She’s in high spirits, smiling widely and looking mere seconds away from bouncing up and down with giddy excitement.

“I have such a good feeling about you two,” she says, never one to beat around the bush, hands squeezing your shoulders once, twice, and then bobbing her head affirmatively. “2023 is going to be a great year, I just know it.”

Her positive vibes are contagious, bringing a smile to your own face that lingers even as you take a seat and notice for the first time the last empty chair remaining is right across from you. Clearly it’s meant for Javi. The seating chart most likely designed to force you and him to talk to each other.

And there’s that nervousness again, back with a vengeance.

It’s just…meeting Javi, officially face to face, right here in the beating heart of your career, makes everything seem overwhelmingly real all of the sudden. You’re an F1 driver. You’ve made it. Everything you’ve done, all the blood, sweat, and tears have brought you to this moment. You’re half-tempted to pinch yourself, one last test to confirm this isn’t all an elaborate dream.

You can blame the chill that runs down your spine on the weather, but it’s not so easy to explain away the heavy weight settling in your stomach like a stone.

The door opens, thoughts falling silent as you look up to meet brown eyes.

“Javi!” Vivian calls out, standing and gesturing him over. “Come on in, don’t be shy. Everyone’s excited to finally meet you.”

The man steps further into the room, flashing a dimpled grin that leaves you a little stunned. You thought it before, a couple months back in the paddock, and you think it again now: Javi is even more attractive when seeing him in person. He could have easily been a model in another life—warm brown eyes resembling melted caramel when the light hits just right, a strong nose and chiseled jawline, disheveled curls giving the impression he just rolled out of bed and yet somehow he makes the look work. Plus, nobody should look as immaculate as he does in a black puffer jacket and matching trousers.

Your eyes follow him, watching Vivian introduce him to everybody, handshake after handshake, polite nice to meet you’s falling off his lips and do your ears deceive you or does he actually sound sincere? He wears an easy smile, if perhaps a little nervous looking around the edges (or maybe that’s wishful thinking), shoulders drawn back and brow pinched in concentration as he engages in conversation with the higher-ups. A professional, that’s what he looks like. And you? You’ve just realized your socks don’t match.

The age gap of five and half years suddenly seems massive between you and Javi. You have a lot of growing to do, a lot of learning, and not just when you’re behind the wheel of the car. It takes all your self-restraint not to slump down in your chair with the desire to disappear from view.

Finally, after his introductions to Cassian and Melshi have wrapped up, it’s your turn. Brown eyes momentarily pin you in place, body glued to the leather seat, and you think your heartbeat can be heard by the whole room, seconds away from bursting out of your chest and making a bloody mess on the tabletop.

He steps closer, grin widening, as warm and bright as fireworks during New Years, and says, “Oddball.”

The sound of your name jerks you out of your daze, standing up so fast you nearly send your chair toppling over. You wince at the loud noise, embarrassment flooding your system. Somewhere from the other end of the table, someone (probably Cassian, the jerk) barely conceals their snort of laughter behind a cough.

It’s just shy of mortifying.

Javi doesn’t stop smiling. Doesn’t laugh, either. The only change is his eyes—a subtle softening with an emotion you’d label as fondness if you actually, like, knew the man. Since you’re barely even acquaintances though, you’re uncertain what the look means. If it even means anything at all.

You run your hands over the front of your turtleneck, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles, and fumble for words that won’t make you sound like a complete idiot. “Yo.”

Wonderful. You’ve made it officially mortifying now.

He chuckles and holds out a hand. “It’s great to meet you.”

Growing up, one of your father’s life lessons was how to give a proper handshake. First impressions are important, he’d always say, and every night you’d practice until it became second nature: keep it firm, keep it dry, and keep it short. Also a smile goes a long ways.

“Yes it is.” Your eyes widen. “Oh, no, that’s not—I meant, it is great, like, in general!” you say hastily, dropping his hand and doing some sort of childish thumbs up gesture you immediately regret. “Great to meet you! Like you said. Face to face finally. It’s super…great.”

You’re honestly beginning to think you’ve been cursed to forever make a fool of yourself in front of Javi.

“Well said, Odds. Well said,” Vivian laughs. She gestures for Javi to take the empty chair you’d predicted was his. “We’ve just got a few things to discuss, some dates to go over. Then we’ll take a couple of photos and both of you will go on with your day, alright? Oddball, sim work as usual. Javi, a tour to get you familiar with the place.”

“Sounds great,” Javi agrees.

You just give a wordless nod, sitting down again and avoiding looking up from the very interesting grooves in the wood even when Javi tries to catch your eye across the table. Embarrassment clings to your skin, teeth worrying your bottom lip. Your anxiety has always been a fickle beast, refusing at the worst of times to be pushed to the back of your mind where you’d prefer it to be.

Vivian’s talking, saying something about data and statistics, but between your rampant insecurities and Javi’s nearness, it’s a hopeless cause paying her any attention. If there’s anything really important being said you’re sure someone else will repeat it later or pass the info on to your manager. So in the meantime, your gaze flicks between the table and your fiddling hands in your lap, leg bouncing a restless rhythm, riding out the anxious wave until it’s over and calmness returns. It’s fine. You’re fine. Everything’s fine.

When it’s time for photos, Vivian stands in-between you and Javi, arms thrown enthusiastically around your shoulders. You smile at the line of people with their phones out, looking like a room full of proud parents taking pictures of their kids’ first day at school, and you realize for Javi, that’s exactly what this is. Day one in a brand new town in a brand new place with brand new people. For all your teammate’s experience and skills on the track, he severely lacks your knowledge and familiarity of Vulpecula.

Which means you both have some learning to do. And that is a surprisingly gratifying thought.

It takes a second for the words to register and when they finally do—

Oh.

You nod your head, smiling wide, a surge of excitement washing over you. “Me too, Javi. Me too.”

Vulpecula HQ is massive, a labyrinth of hallways and offices and staircases Javi knows will take him weeks, possibly months to memorize. But it becomes abundantly clear during his tour with Vivian—a CEO who’s blunt, loud, and so totally unlike his previous team principals he can’t help but marvel at her—that should he ever find himself lost, there will always be someone nearby to point him in the right direction.

People here actually seem to care about each other. About him, even, and they’ve only literally just met him. They talk to him like he’s a person, not a driver or pawn to manipulate. Ask him how he’s settling in, what he likes to do in his free time, if he has any holiday plans. They seem genuinely interested in his answers too, not politely faking it out of professional courtesy like they did at Triple Frontier and Crane. At Black Gold the staff only cared about his hobbies if they negatively affected his results, telling him to quit them if they did. And back then, young and eager to please, he obeyed every command without question, no matter the personal sacrifice.

It’s…nice to be heard for a change. If he’s honest, he thought it would be a struggle to connect with Vulpecula. Oddball is the rookie on the grid, but around here Javi’s the newbie at the lunch table. A newbie who just last month was their competition. The warm welcome by a building full of strangers was an unexpected, but pleasant surprise. It has made the nervous knot of tension in his chest loosen for the first time since he signed his contract, replacing it with a budding sense of belonging he’s never felt during his years in F1.

And as for Oddball—she’s the biggest surprise of all, he thinks. She’s got more layers than an onion. He’s seen her own personal videos, how she acts around her friends and the press, never did he anticipate her to be shy. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, no. He actually found himself rather endeared by her awkward fumbling, like witnessing a baby horse learning to stand up on wobbly legs. It’s just…he’s a little unsure how their relationship will progress from here. Her determination to avoid eye contact with him wasn’t exactly inspiring.

She’d smiled at him at the end, at least. Bright and excited and so very, very young. Me too, Javi. Me too.

He doesn’t know much about Vulpecula yet, doesn’t know what the future will bring either, but what he does know from personal experience is that teammates who can get along with each other have better seasons than those who don’t. And if he can be a good teammate for Oddball and vice versa, then he thinks there’s no reason why they can’t maybe one day be good friends as well.

SPORTS: THE VROOM ZONE

Exclusive: Ahsoka Tano Discusses Formula 1’s Heavy Toll on Mental Health

By Poppy Adams | December 5, 2022

In a city of dome-roofed, adobe buildings all the same shade as the encompassing sandy desert, Ahsoka Tano is just as instantly recognized by her white-and-blue dyed hair here as she was in the F1 paddock six years ago. Remembered fondly by the racing community for her sharp moves on the track and even sharper tongue in the media pen, Tano has settled down in Mos Espa (a favorite spot for retired and current F1 drivers alike) and enjoys a peaceful life after successfully securing the world champion title back in 2016 she’d been chasing since she was a youngling.

I meet with her at the Mos Espa Grand Arena, the site of several world-famous races from pods to swoop bikes, but most importantly to the present company, it’s also where the Mos Espa Grand Prix has been held annually for almost a hundred years. There are no events this week, no 100,000 fans screaming their lungs out in the stands. It’s just Tano, me, and two delicious cups of Deychin tea.

Tano, dressed in a blue tank top and matching leggings, spares a moment to gaze at the starting grid below, no doubt remembering the days when she was down there looking up at where we sit now. “I’ll never forget it,” she says, tapping her temple with that famous crooked smirk of hers. “The good, the bad, and the ugly.”

The “ugly” side of F1 is why Tano and I are meeting this December afternoon. The Outer Rim native twice made history in the sport by being the second female driver to compete and also by being the second female driver to win a world championship title, but her rise to the top wasn’t an easy one. Looking back at old interview footage will show a young woman fearless of her competition and full of a passionate love for racing, but off-camera she was plagued by anxiety and insecurities. “It’s still a little hard to process at times. How some of my darkest moments are so deeply intertwined with some of the best years of my life,” she says.

She tells me about the way she was encouraged to never let herself appear weak when cameras were around, “to maintain this image that I was invincible, the definition of confident.” In the aftermath of making mistakes on track, where every 10th of a second can determine where a driver ranks against their competition, Tano would spend hours worrying about the potential consequences on her career, if they would set off a domino effect ultimately leading to her downfall. “I would just keep on spiraling and spiraling deeper into this horrible pit,” she explains. “And I couldn’t tell anyone about it.”

When Tano sought out therapy at the end of 2015, she did so feeling burnt out and at the end of her rope. “I considered quitting racing. I talked with my manager about buying my way out of my contract and everything, but he convinced me to give therapy a chance first.” She smiles then, a beaming grin brighter than the overhead sun. “Thank the Maker I listened to him.” Therapy gave Tano the outlet she desperately needed, a place where she could “open up about my darkness and find the light again.” She returned to the grid in 2016 as a proud advocate for mental health awareness, breaking protocol by candidly discussing anxiety and depression during press conferences and on social media to her millions of followers. “I refused to be silent anymore,” she tells me. “The more I spoke up, the more people I impacted, the more acceptable a topic it became to hear about in the paddock.” Since Tano’s retirement, drivers continue to be inspired by her transparency and speak about their own fears and vulnerabilities, a development Tano hopes will continue for decades to come.

Recently Tano has begun planning to start a charity called Fulcrum devoted to helping people, especially athletes, with depression, anxiety, and other mental health related conditions. “It’s a slow process, but if I can help even one single person then all this hard work will have been completely worth the effort,” she says. In spite of the challenges she faced and the dark pits she had to mentally crawl out of, she remains thankful of her accomplishments and for everyone who supported her every step of the way.

“Formula One is not for the faint-hearted. It’s constant pressure, constant eyes watching your every move, constant judgment and opinions,” Tano says.

“Why compete then? Why stay in such a hostile environment?” I ask.

Tano sips at her tea. Her eyes drift to the starting grid again, lips curling into a soft smile, an expression on her face I have a feeling not many can claim they have been fortunate to see.

“For every driver, there will come a moment when you’re driving down a straight at 200 miles per hour, preparing to brake for the corner up ahead, and all of the sudden, every thought fades from your mind. You’ll forget your training, your strategy. All that remains is pure instinct. And you’ll learn in that exact moment, in that fraction of a second, who you are and what you’re made of,” she says. “We compete for the fun of it. We stay to discover more about ourselves.”

The next time you see Javi is at simulator practice two days later. It’s still a bit of a jarring moment seeing him at HQ, even more so finding him dressed in cobalt blue racing gear while talking to one of the simulator operators. Maybe you’re a bit biased, but you can’t help admiring how much better he looks in Vulpecula’s colors than Triple Frontier’s.

You offer a timid smile when his gaze flicks your way, trying to keep your tone light rather than weak and shaky like the rest of you. “First time on the sim?”

He turns towards you, giving you his full attention in such an easygoing, yet intense way it does little to soothe your frazzled nerves. “That’s right. It’s really quite something. A lot bigger than I’m used to.”

“That’s what she said.”

There’s a beat of silence, just Javi staring at you wide-eyed like he can’t believe you quoted Michael Scott in front of him and you staring right back, unable to believe you quoted Michael Scott in front of him. And then, the moment dangling on that thin cusp between hilarity and mortification—a laugh bubbles up out of Javi’s throat, loud and infectious, and you’re both done for. Hysterically giggling like a pair of idiots, like it’s the funniest thing in the universe, like whatever remaining ice between you has officially and eternally been broken.

“Sorry,” you say finally, manic laughter fading into something lighter, friendlier than before. “I watch way too much TV.”

“Inconceivable.”

The familiar word elicits another laugh out of you. “You keep using that word, I do not think it means what you think it means.”

Javi smiles, a radiant and genuine thing, nothing like the stiff, polite ones PR managers insisted drivers learn. “We should watch the movie together sometime. Maybe on our next day off, when this,” he gestures towards the simulator, “isn’t requiring all our time.”

“Think you’re ready for it?” you ask, and you’re surprised by the note of cheekiness slipping into your tone, because this easiness, this playfulness, you’ve only known it with Eggsy and Ben before. And that came after months spent together, after years of building a solid friendship week by week from the ground up—not this fast, not after only one previous meeting.

“Am I ready for it?” he replies, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “You’re the rookie around here, no? Shouldn’t you be asking me for tips?”

Your good mood dims a little, thinking about the high number of crashes you’ve experienced these last few months. He’s right, even if he said it jokingly, that you should be asking him for tips. You could most likely learn a lot from him.

But your stubborn pride dismisses the notion with a scoff, reminding you that you didn’t come this far in your career by asking men for advice.

“Nuh-uh,” you say instead, crossing your arms and jutting out your chin. “I’ve got skills that’ll blow your mind.”

He leans forward, mirroring your pose, confidently rising to the unspoken challenge. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Prove it.”

Your lips mouth silent words, mind struggling to keep up with the verbal tennis match, ultimately coming up with an intelligent, “Huh?”

“You heard me,” is the swift reply, one eyebrow arching up pointedly. “I wanna see the legendary rookie Oddball’s skills. Impress me, rarita.”

In an effort to pretend his unwavering stare isn’t turning your mind to mush, you make an exaggerated show of rolling your eyes and swatting at his shoulder. “Challenge accepted, curls. Step aside and watch the master.”

Snorting, Javi obeys and goes to stand with the rest of the staff half-hidden behind an array of computer screens, who blessedly keep up their professional personas and pretend they haven’t been listening to your exchange. The chief simulator operator gives you a thumb’s up to get in the sim and you grab your spare helmet from the nearby shelf, feeling a pinch of nervousness ache inside your sternum.

It’ll be fine, you think, positioning yourself in the simulator seat, hands grabbing the steering wheel. Just do your best.

Your best is your best until it’s not.

You start off well, braking and accelerating at precisely the right moments, the trees and bleacher stands mere blurs streaking by in your peripheral. You’re in the zone, that precious driver headspace where the only thing you know, the only thing you feel is the car, the car, the car.

And then you’re spinning off track.

For a long moment, all you can do is stare, dazed as if you really had just collided with the barrier. And then comes the sickening bite of disappointment and frustration because you can see the finish line. It’s right there. Right fucking there and you failed to reach it. Again.

Simulation over, silence floods the room. The air seems to turn frigid cold, felt even beneath the thick material of your suit. You want to scream, to curse, to hit something. But you’re a professional driver now, F1 career in its infancy. You can’t risk the bad reputation of throwing a tantrum.

After all, this is just a practice run. No harm, no foul. Except…if you were to crash like that for real, you would have just cost your team not only desperately needed points to stay ahead of other teams, but also hundreds of thousands of dollars' worth of repairs, possibly millions. Your team is counting on you not to make dumb mistakes and lately that seems to be the only thing you’re capable of doing. And if you don’t get your shit together by pre-testing…

Your jaws clenches, unable to finish the thought.

The worst thing is, Javi’s staring. Unlike the rest of the room’s inhabitants who devote their focus to pouring over the data, muttering amongst themselves, he’s watching you like you’re a rare bug under a microscope, something peculiar and puzzling. It’s unbearable.

You climb your way out of the simulator, head ducked, jaw clenched. When you turn around, when the helmet comes off, you’ll paste a rueful grin on your face. You’ll accept the pats on your shoulder, the repetitive phrases of better luck next time and we’ll keep practicing, don’t worry. You’ll make fun of yourself, pick apart your mistakes until their sting is gone.

You’ll make everyone believe you're fine. That your anxiety isn’t a problem. That you’re more than capable of representing the team (and womankind) on the grid.

It’s a good plan. A solid plan. A plan that has worked over and over again ever since you signed on as Vulpecula’s reserve driver what feels like a hundred lifetimes ago.

What you don’t count on is Javi approaching you, blocking your view of the strategists and operators with his broad shoulders almost like he’s purposefully trying to spare you from their prying eyes. You slowly slide your helmet over your head, blinking at him, fighting to keep your carefully composed mask in place.

“You weren’t kidding,” he says, tone light yet your spine tenses all the same. “My mind is blown.”

“Right, very funny,” you reply sourly, rolling your eyes.

His hand reaches out and brushes against your elbow, a reassuring touch your anxiety-stricken mind doesn’t know how to process. “I’m serious. If not for that last corner curb, turning just a hair too early, you would have beaten the fastest lap record by three seconds. You’re quick, Oddball. Smart, too. You’ll learn from these mistakes, become a better racer.” A pause, another soft nudge against your arm. “Maybe even better than me if you’re really lucky.”

You don’t realize you’ve been holding your breath until a choked laugh escapes you. Sounds more like a wheeze, actually. High-pitched and painful and all wrong. But it cuts through the anxiety, takes you out of your head for a blissful moment.

Javi, the dear man you’re beginning to suspect doesn’t have a mean bone in his body, makes no comment on it.

“Okay, curls,” you say, and you’re not ready to smile yet, but you’re definitely closer to feeling like your usual and real self than you were before he came over. “Your turn. Let’s see what you got.”

He moves to grab his own spare helmet from the shelf. And there’s a moment, barely a glimpse, where your eyes lock with his, and somehow you know he hears the unspoken thank you lodged in the back of your throat.

With a great promotion comes a greater responsibility. Now that you're an official driver for the team, you’re not just expected to race for them, you’re expected to promote them too. Which means a whole new intense level of media and sponsoring obligations you never had to deal with when you were in F2.

Vivian assigns you a PR manager—a blonde named Barbara Minerva with a friendly smile and a penchant for wearing animal print—to help you prepare for the big adjustment, training you on what and what not to say as well as how to control your facial expressions when the press are shoving microphones at you. The last thing you want is your pineapple face witnessed by millions of people worldwide.

You like Barbara, you really do. She used to work for Black Gold so she’s an expert on handling pretty much every type of media scandal or drama outburst one can imagine. She instructs you on when to be serious and when to be coy with the reporters, how to neutrally navigate uncomfortable topics without pissing anyone off, and even comes up with a hand signal to use when you’re feeling overwhelmed and need her to intervene. Barbara’s great, but that doesn’t change the fact media training is fucking exhausting. Brain working overtime, critically analyzing every word that comes out of your mouth, every facial tic and flutter of your eyelids with a giant magnifying glass, alarms blaring with every perceived flaw. You start dreading the hour each day, counting down the minutes until you can escape and give your pounding head a break from the information overload.

And this is just the training. It pains you to think about how much worse the real thing will be, even with Barbara swearing she’ll be by your side through it all.

After media training, you fall into a routine of grabbing a snack from the mess hall on the third floor, usually an apple or a granola bar, something Diana wouldn’t give you the stink eye for discovering, and then finding a quiet corner to sit and decompress for a few minutes.

This isn’t a new thing—this desire for privacy, for solitude. You used to do it back on Sorgan, too, when the bullying from the other kids got under your skin, self-doubts bubbling to the surface. It became increasingly harder to find a quiet space once you switched from karting to formula racing, more eyes and more judgment seeking you out, and it's kind of funny how your world became so much larger and so much smaller simultaneously.

You’re musing over this thought, chewing on an apple while nestled in a lounge chair, minding your own business, when you’re interrupted by the soft clearing of a throat. You look up, nearly choking on your mouthful when you find Javi staring down at you, dressed in a flannel plaid shirt that’s tight around his broad shoulders and carrying an apple of his own.

One day you hope the sight of him will stop sending your heart into cardiac arrest. Preferably soon, because you’re really not sure how much more you can take.

“Mind if I join you?” Javi asks, gesturing to the other lounge chair. He’s looking at you with those doe brown eyes all round and full of hope you’d have to be a heartless monster to deny him, so you just nod your head.

For a long moment neither of you say anything. It’s not an awkward silence, but it’s not comfortable either. Just two people existing in the same time and space. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Javi leaning back in his chair, feet propped up on the table, and it’s a little unfair how easily he can settle into new places, blending in like he was always meant to be there.

“So,” he starts, mouth curling into a grin when you look over, “you come here often?”

“It’s nice,” you say. “I like the quiet.”

“Oh.” Javi tenses, spine straightening. “I-I can go, if you want me—”

“No!” You throw out an arm as if to physically grab him. He freezes, one leg raised off the table, blinking at you. Oh, God. You’ve really made it weird now. Licking your lips, you lower your tone back to its usual pitch, reassuring him, “It’s fine, really. I don’t mind you being here.”

It startles you to realize you’re not lying.

The reason you seek out alone time is just that, to be alone. When you’re in these moods you don’t like anyone invading your space. Not your friends or your parents. Nobody. It’s an unspoken rule of yours.

But then there’s Javi, settling back into his seat with a warm, dimpled grin, looking so strangely content to be allowed to stay, and it doesn’t seem so bad making an exception for him.

“I like the quiet, too,” Javi admits. “Back home, there are these cliffs overlooking the ocean for miles and miles, endlessly blue. It's my favorite sight on the whole island. I could spend hours up there…”

He trails off, lost in a memory, and for the first time since arriving at Vulpecula he seems dejected, eyes dimming. You’re familiar enough with the look of homesickness after seeing it in the mirror a dozen times to recognize it on someone else’s face.

“There aren’t any cliffs or oceans in Altair, but there’s some pretty great restaurants and bakeries,” you say. There’s a French café down the street from your apartment which you can confidently claim makes the best croissants in the whole world, buttery and flaky and oh so delicious to enjoy on your cheat days. “Festivals and concerts, too, if you’re interested.”

Javi looks at you, a mix of interest and surprise. “Are you offering to be my tour guide, rarita?”

“Only for the sake of the team, of course,” you tell him with mock seriousness. “Can’t have you winding up lost in some back alleyway before a race weekend.”

“The press would have a field day,” he agrees, voice just as deadpan. His eyes widen with alarm. “Ay, Dios! Think of the fans! Their memes will be absolutely merciless. I’ll never leave my apartment again.”

You can’t keep up your straight face, laughing and shaking your head. “Exactly. Lucky for you, Altair is basically my second home. I know it like the back of my hand.”

“Lucky me.” He nods, running a hand over his curls, and, okay, maybe you really do have a serious heart condition because what is happening. Distracted by the frantic beating, you nearly miss him asking, “You grew up in the Outer Rim, right?”

“That’s right.” Pride slips into your voice, gesturing towards yourself with a thumb. “Straight outta Sorgan.”

Javi chuckles. “Do your parents still live there?”

“Yep. They’re krill farmers, just like everybody else in the village. They fly out to races when they can, and when they can’t, well,” you shrug, “there’s always phone calls, right?”

His lip twitches, an aborted frown. “Yeah,” he says after a moment’s hesitation.

Okay. There’s obvious tension there. Curiosity prickles at the back of your mind, but when you notice the way his gaze has fallen to the floor, resembling a kicked puppy, you decide you don’t want to ask about it if it makes him look this sad.

Your fingers drum against your forgotten apple for a few seconds, then go still as an idea occurs.

“Hey, um,” you say tentatively, leaning forward with your elbows on your knees. “I know you already got a tour of HQ from Vivian before, but how would you like a proper one? Oddball style?”

Javi blinks, eyebrows scrunching together, and the look really shouldn’t be as cute as it is. “Do I dare ask what ‘Oddball style’ means?”

“Nope. You’re either in or you're out, curls.”

“In that case,” Javi says, a smile spreading over his face. “Count me in.”

F1 Driver Javi Gutierrez Moves to Altair Ahead of Upcoming Season with Vulpecula

Written By: Raquel Wilde

"I'm looking forward to making memories here," says Javi Gutierrez, born and raised in Mallorca. "Altair's a nice place with nice people. It's starting to feel like a home away from home."

Gutierrez, who began racing in Formula 1 in 2018 when he was 21, has always felt drawn to the world of motorsports, claiming there's "no better feeling in the world than being behind the wheel". He will join Vulpecula in 2023 after finishing 11th in the driver standings this year with Triple Frontier.

He'll be paired with rookie driver known to Altair locals and the world as Oddball. Together they'll train at Vulpecula Headquarters these upcoming winter months to prepare for pre-season testing in February.

"I'm already planning on showing him all the best restaurants and sights," Oddball says, who has called Altair home for the past two years.

Oddball has become a familiar and much-loved presence to locals, often spotted buying groceries, biking around the park, and attending special events. In response to Gutierrez's arrival, signs of support have begun appearing in shop windows and on front lawns, welcoming him to the community and the massively adored F1 team.

Vulpecula CEO Vivian Etten has said Gutierrez is the leader the team needs to overcome their recent struggles. "He's made a lot of progress since his rookie year," Etten claims. "He's got the skills, the knowledge, and the right attitude."

If Gutierrez had not pursued racing, he would have tried to become a professional swimmer. It remains a favorite exercise and pastime of his. Perhaps when the weather turns warm, he might give the local rec center pool a visit when he’s not busy up at Vulpecula HQ.

Only time will tell what next season will bring for Gutierrez and Oddball. I imagine readers are hoping for podium finishes just as much as I am. In the upcoming weeks, Vulpecula's new drivers will be attending the Drive Awards and also enjoy some time off from their F1 duties to celebrate the holidays with their families.

“Gabriela!”

The brunette PR manager turns to find Barbara Minerva half-running, half-stumbling towards her in leopard print high heels. Memories of their shared seasons together at Black Gold come rushing to mind, leaning on each other when it felt like everything else was falling apart, and Gabriela can’t help opening her arms to embrace the other woman.

“Long time no see,” she says when she pulls back. Friendships are hard to maintain in the world of F1, especially when drivers are no longer on the same team. Gabriela can only recall seeing Barbara once during Javi’s time at Triple Frontier, and that had been just a passing glimpse across the paddock. “I love what you’ve done with your hair.”

“Aw, thanks. I like it better this way too.” Barbara smiles, eyes crinkling behind her glasses, and reaches up to touch the shoulder-length blonde waves. She then gestures towards Gabriela. “You look just as fabulous as I remember. How have you been?”

“Highs and lows. Mostly highs, thankfully,” Gabriela answers. A staff member walks by then, neatly sidestepping around them before carrying on down the hallway and the interruption reminds her exactly where they are. “Wait. Barb, what are you doing at Vulpecula?”

“Oh, you didn’t hear? Ballard isn’t the only one Black Gold gave the boot.”

“They what?” Gabriela’s jaw drops. She might be a kickass PR agent (in her opinion, at least), but that doesn’t always mean she has full control over her own reactions. Case in point.

“It’s all good though,” Barbara reassures her, pointing to a pin on her shirt Gabriela had failed to notice before. It’s the Vulpecula constellation logo. The same one Gabriela’s wearing beneath her coat. “Vulpecula reached out much more nicely than Black Gold ever spoke to me. Offered me more money too,” she adds with a conspiratorial wink.

The brunette starts to laugh, but then understanding fully sinks in. PR managers are brought onto F1 teams to handle the drivers, and since Javi already has one, then that can only mean—

“You’re Oddball’s manager?”

“That’s right.” The two women trade matching smiles. “She’s adorable. A giant work in progress, but adorable.”

Gabriela winces sympathetically. She remembers her early days with Javi when he made his rookie debut, how eager he’d been for people to like him, how hard she’d had to work to prevent the light in his eyes from disappearing completely after critics started dismissing him as an insignificant presence on the grid. He’s grown up since then. He’s put up walls too. And she wants to be proud of him for not letting the negativity drag him down, but the thing about walls is that they keep him safe, yes, however they also prevent people from getting close. She hates to think of Javi as lonely, not someone as sweet and considerate as him.

“Speaking of Oddball,” Barbara’s voice shakes her out of her head. She blinks back into focus, finding her friend holding out a torn piece of paper with numbers scribbled on it. “This is her cell number. Vivian told me to make sure Javi had it.”

She takes the paper from her and stares down at it for a second before neatly stuffing it in her pocket, unsure whether to feel confused or offended Vivian didn’t reach out to her directly. Maybe the team principal wanted the two PR managers to meet up, aware of their history with each other. What’s done is done now, Gabriela supposes, shoving the mixed emotions aside as quickly as they sprung up.

“Thanks. I’ll make sure he gets it,” she tells Barbara. “You know, it really is great to see you again. I’ve missed having someone to gossip with over a drink.”

“Wine nights!” Barbara cheers, then immediately slaps a hand over her mouth when her voice echoes loudly off the walls.

They both burst into laughter not even a second later, so loud a couple of heads poke out of nearby offices to see what’s going on only to then shake in amusement at the pair.

And for the first time since Javi signed his contract with Vulpecula, the nervous knot in Gabriela’s stomach doesn’t seem so big anymore.

From: Unknown Number (7:15pm)

Hey Oddball it’s Javi! Gabriela gave me your number, hope you don’t mind!

To: Javi (7:18pm)

Not at all! Text me if you ever want any restaurant recs

From: Javi (7:19pm)

Only if you come along too :)

To: Javi (7:19pm) (unsent)

Really? You sure?

To: Javi (7:20pm) (unsent)

Ya! Sounds like fun!

To: Javi (7:21pm)

You drive a hard bargain curls…

To: Javi (7:22pm)

But I guess I could be persuaded. Wanna get lunch tomorrow?

From: Javi (7:24pm)

Tell me when and where, I’ll be there!

#javi gutierrez #javi g fanfiction #javi gutierrez fanfiction #javi g x reader #javi gutierrez x reader #javi g x you #javi gutierrez x ofc #javi gutierrez x you #javi g x ofc #pedrostories #my fic #my writing

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westerosiladies · 3 years ago

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Cersei Lannister Fancast Resource

When they were children, Cersei and her twin-brother, Jaime, looked so alike not even their father, Tywin, could tell them apart. As adults, they still significantly resemble each other. Cersei is a strikingly beautiful woman, with golden hair, emerald green eyes, fair skin, and a slender, graceful figure.

Cersei is 32 when the series begins.

CHARLIZE THERON - RAVENNA (SNOW WHITE AND THE HUNTSMAN)

Charlize Theron is the fancast I've used most often for Cersei. She was in her mid-30s while filming Snow White and the Huntsman, which takes place in a fantasy medieval setting. She plays the evil queen, which gives her a really good energy for Cersei's more scheming moments.

REBECCA FERGUSON - ELIZABETH WOODVILLE (THE WHITE QUEEN)

Rebecca Ferguson is another of my favorite fancasts for Cersei. In this series, she plays an ambitious and multifaceted character who marries into royalty, which makes so much of her footage perfect for Cersei. She was ~30 during filming. The show is set in the 15th century in England, which makes the costumes very appropriate for Westeros.

ALYSSA SUTHERLAND - ASLAUG (VIKINGS)

In a show full of blonde ladies, Alyssa Sutherland is the one who most captures Cersei's energy. She's both elegant and fierce with a definitive ability to be nasty. She was in her early 30s while filming, and there's a ton of content of her. Viking costumes, which means heavy on the furs, but a lot of it works for King's Landing.

CELINA SINDEN - GREER (REIGN)

Celina Sinden is another of my favorite fancasts, particularly for a slightly younger Cersei. She was in her late 20s while filming Reign, which is set in 16th-century Scotland. That should make it perfect for Westeros, but the costume design is truly all over the place for this show. Some of it is beautiful and very fitting for King's Landing, while an equal amount looks like prom dresses from a department store. However, if you pick your footage carefully, Celina makes a great Cersei. She also bears a decent resemblence to Lena Headey, who plays Cersei in the show, which means she makes a good younger Cersei for content that uses show footage.

JODIE COMER - ELIZABETH OF YORK (THE WHITE PRINCESS) and MARGUERITE DE CARROUGES (THE LAST DUEL)

Jodie Comer is another of my favorite younger Cerseis. She was in her mid- to late-20s while filming each of these pieces, and she features heavily in both. The White Princess is particularly appropriate to Westerosi fashion, and her character is both steely and ambitious.

KATHERYN WINNICK - LAGERTHA (VIKINGS)

In a show with so many blonde people, we have to source at least one more. Katheryn Winnick fits Cersei's physical description very well, and she's heavily featured for several seasons of Vikings, during which she was in her 30s and 40s. Her character is a warrior, which means a lot of her scenes don't fit Cersei as well, but the non-combat ones can still be really useful.

ANNABELLE WALLIS - JANE SEYMOUR (THE TUDORS)

Annabelle Wallis plays a character who's overall much sweeter than Cersei ever is, but she still has a really solid aesthetic. She was in her mid-20s while filming Tudors, which potentially makes her good for Cersei in her younger and slightly more innocent years. Tudor-era costumes, obviously.

As usual, feel free to add your own favorites! The full series can be found here.

#game of thrones #asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #cersei lannister #cersei fancast #fancast resource #fancasting #charlize theron #rebecca ferguson #alyssa sutherland #celina sinden #jodie comer #katheryn winnick #annabelle wallis

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translations-by-aiimee · 4 years ago

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The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 18

Original Title: 二哈和他的白猫师尊

Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 18 - This Venerable One has Begged You Before

Tianwen has a deadly killing move. The name was very simple, just one word: "Wind". Once activated, no piece of armor in the surrounding area could withstand it.

Mo Ran was naturally acquainted with the power of "Wind". He also knew Chu Wanning's strength so there was no need to worry. He glanced at the pale man whose robe was dyed red with blood. He threw away the rest of his talismans to buy Chu Wanning some time, then flew away to the edge of the fight. He grabbed Shi Mei with one hand, Madam Chen with the other, and took two unconscious people, hiding a far distance away.

Chu Wanning endured the severe pain and reluctantly moved his other. Suddenly, Tianwen burst out with a dazzling golden light, and Chu Wanning violently jerked it back.

The Master of Ceremonies Ghost went berserk. It jumped up and rushed towards Chu Wanning with a distorted face.

Chu Wanning's robe waved like a flame in a violent wind, billowing and flying. His eyebrows were furious, half of his shoulders soaked in blood. He quickly raised his hand, Tianwen's golden light became more and more intense then it took off by Chu Wanning's flying spin.

The willow vine stretched for several tens of feet and whirled into a golden spiral. Like a whirlpool, it engulfed the surrounding ghosts, dead bodies, golden children, and the roaring and twisting Master of Ceremonies Ghost into the center of "Wind". The fierce image that was created by Tianwen was then shattered in an instant!!!

"Wind" smashed and destroyed. Not even the surrounding grass and trees, being ripped up from the ground, were spared.

The huge storm centered around Chu Wanning let out a dazzling golden light. The sky grew dark, covered by flying sand and rocks. Whether it was a coffin or the dead, they were like grass fluttering in the wind.

She was sucked in and was cut up by the rapidly spinning Tianwen.

Sliced into tens of thousands pieces of debris. . .

When everything calmed down, there was no grass around Chu Wanning, a desolate and empty wasteland.

Other than him standing alone in his bright, auspicious clothes that resembled a blooming red lotus and a begonia blossom, there was only a ground covered in crushed white bones, and the horrible hissing of Tianwen's golden light.

From this point of view, Chu Wanning did the world a favour pumping out so many disciples.

Based on his performance today, if he wanted to, even if every disciple on Life-Death Peak were defeated, it wasn't impossible for him to keep fighting. . .

The golden light faded away.

Tianwen turned into flickering dots like stars, blending into Chu Wanning's palm.

He breathed a deep breath and frowned. Enduring the sharp pain in his shoulder, he slowly walked towards his disciples in the distance.

"How's Shi Mei?"

Coming to their side, Chu Wanning pushed through and asked.

The ink burned down to look at the unconscious beauty in his arms. He still wasn't awake, his breathing was weak, and his cheeks felt cold to the touch. This scene was too familiar, it was a nightmare that Mo Ran couldn't get rid of.

As Shi Mei was lying in his arms like this, as time went on, he wasn't breathing anymore. . .

Chu Wanning placed his hands on Madam Chen's and Shi Mei's necks. He mumbled out: "Hmm? How could the poisoning be so deep?"

Mo Ran's head snapped up: "Poison? Didn't you say they were okay? Didn't you say that they were just being compelled?"

Chu Wanning frowned: "The Master of Ceremonies Ghost relied on the fragrance powder to compel them. That was a kind of poison. I thought it was only superficial, but I didn't expect the poison to be this severe."

". . ."

"Send them back to Chen's house first." Chu Wanning said, "It's not difficult to expel the poison. It's fine as long as they don't die."

His voice was cold and unwavering. Although Chu Wanning normally spoke like this, at this moment, it really made people feel like he was uncaring and downplaying things.

Mo Ran was brought back to that year of heavy snow. He was knelt in the snow and in his arms was Shi Mei whose life was slipping away. With tears on his face, he hoarsely begged Chu Wanning to turn his head, look at his disciple, and pleaded for him to raise his hand to save his disciple's life.

But what did Chu Wanning say back then?

It was also in such a light and calm tone of voice.

Just like that, rejecting Mo Ran the one time he knelt down and begged.

In the heavy snow, the person in his arms gradually became as cold as the snow falling on his shoulders and eyelashes.

That day, Chu Wanning killed two disciples with his own hands.

One was Shi Mingjing, who he could have saved but didn't.

One was Mo Weiyu, kneeling in the snow mourning the death of his heart.

There was a sudden panic in his heart, a brutality, a snake-like flow of resentment, rage and viciousness.

There was a moment when he suddenly wanted to rise up and strangle Chu Wanning. Wanted to shed his kind and pleasant disguise, revealing the hideousness of a malevolent ghost. Like a fierce ghost from a previous life, it viciously tore into him, questioning him and demanding his life.

He claimed the lives of the two helpless disciples in that snowfield.

But when his eyes flicked up, they suddenly fell on Chu Wanning's blood-covered shoulder.

The beast's anger was suddenly cut off.

He didn't say another word, just stared at Chu Wanning's face with poorly-masked hateful eyes. Chu Wanning didn't notice. After a while, he lowered his head again and stared at Shi Mei's haggard face.

His mind gradually went blank.

If something happened to Shi Mei this time, then. . .

"Cough cough cough!!"

The person in his arms abruptly coughed. Mo Ran was stunned and his heart trembled. . . Shi Mei slowly opened his eyes, and his voice was extremely hoarse and weak.

"A-. . . Ran. . .?"

"Yes! It's me!" In his ecstasy, the haze disappeared. Mo Ran's eyes widened. The palms of his hands were pressed against Shi Mei's cool cheeks, and his shining eyes trembled. "Shi Mei, how do you feel? Does anything hurt? "

Shi Mei smiled lightly, his eyebrows still. He turned his head, and looked around: ". . . How are we here. . . How did I faint. . . Ah! Shizun. . . cough cough, this disciple is incompetent. . . this disciple. . ."

"Don't talk," Chu Wanning said.

He gave Shi Mei a pill: "Since you're awake, take this poison dispersing pill. Don't swallow it right away."

Shi Mei took the medicine then was suddenly taken aback, his colourless face appearing even more transparent: "Shizun, how did you get hurt? You're covered in blood. . ."

Chu Wanning still had that faint, calm, irritating voice: "It's nothing."

He got up and glanced at Mo Ran.

"You, find a way to bring both of them back to the Chen's residence."

When Shi Mei woke up, the gloom that was deep in his heart suddenly vanished. He nodded quickly: "Okay!"

"I'll go first. I have something to ask the Chen family."

Chu Wanning said and turned to leave. Facing the vast darkness of the night, the fields covered in decay, he finally couldn't supress a twitch in his eyebrow, revealing a painful expression.

The entire shoulder was pierced by five fingers, the tendons and veins were torn apart, and the Master of Ceremonies Ghost's claws even pierced the bones deep in his flesh and blood. No matter how he pretended to endure it calmly, no matter how he tried to stave the bleeding, he was still be a human being.

It still hurt. . .

But so what if it hurts.

He walked forward one foot after another, the hem of the wedding dress flying around.

For so many years, people respected and feared him, but no one has dared stand by his side. No one cares about him. He has long been used to it.

Yuheng of the Night Sky, the Beidou Immortal.

No one liked him. No one cared whether he lived or died, whether he was sick or suffering.

He seemed to be born without the need for the support of others, no need to rely on anyone, no need for company.

So there was no need to shout out in pain, and crying was even more unnecessary. Just go and dress the wounds, cut off all the festering flesh around the tear and apply ointment on it.

It didn't matter if no one cared about him.

Anyway, that's how he came to be alone. He's survived all these years. He can take care of himself.

When he came to the door of the Chen residence, before he entered the courtyard, he heard an ear-piercing scream.

Chu Wanning didn't care about aggravating his wound and immediately rushed in - only to see the old lady Chen with a disheveled hair, her eyes closed, but chasing her son and husband all over the house, only ignoring the young daughter of the Chen family. She stood beside her in panic, huddled tightly, shaking.

Seeing Chu Wanning enter, Mr. Chen and his eldest son screamed and rushed towards him: "Dao Master! Dao Master, help!"

Chu Wanning held them back. He glanced at Madam Chen's closed eyes, and said angrily: "Didn't I tell you to watch her and keep her from falling asleep?!"

"I can't help it! My wife is unwell. She usually goes to bed early. After you left, she was still holding out at first, then she fell asleep, and then she started to go crazy! She started screaming. . . yelling. . ."

Mr. Chen shivered and ducked behind Chu Wanning. He didn't notice that he was actually wearing an auspicious outfit, nor did he notice the hideous wound on Chu Wanning's shoulder.

Chu Wanning frowned and said: "What was she yelling?"

Before Mr. Chen spoke, the mad woman rushed over with her teeth bared, screaming mournfully. It was actually the voice of a young woman—

"Spineless liar! Pathetically fickle! I want you to pay with your lives! I want you all to die!"

Chu Wanning: ". . . This evil spirit stoops low." He turned back and sternly shouted at Mr. Chen, "Does this voice sound familiar?"

Mr. Chen’s mouth was trembling. He rolled his eyes and swallowed nervously: “I don’t know, I don't recognize it, I don’t know! Please help! Please help!

Just then, Madam Chen rushed over. Chu Wanning raised his uninjured arm, pointing at the sky above Madam Chen, and a lightning bolt slammed down, trapping Madam Chen within a barrier.

Chu Wanning turned his head with an icy gaze: "You really don't know?"

Mr. Chen repeated: "I really don't know! I really don't know!"

Chu Wanning didn't say anything else. He whipped out Tianwen and bound old lady Chen in the barrier.

He should have tied up the rest of the family outside, it would be more convenient and easier to gauge the situation, but Chu Wanning had his own rules of conduct. It wasn't easy using Tianwen to interrogate abnormal individuals. So he abandoned the soft approach and instead questioned the ghost in Madam Chen's body.

Interrogating ghosts wasn't the same as interrogating people.

When Tianwen interrogated people, they couldn't fight it and would speak.

When Tianwen interrogated ghosts, it would form a boundary where only Chu Wanning and the ghost would exist. Ghosts would regain their original appearance in the boundary and pass on their message to Chu Wanning.

A flame ignited on Tianwen. It snaked along the vine, burning from his end straight to old lady Chen.

The old lady let out a scream, and suddenly began to twitch. The original scarlet flame on the willow vine instantly turned into a blue ghost fire and burned back to Chu Wanning's side.

Chu Wanning closed his eyes. The fire burned up the willow vine onto his palm, but the ghost fire couldn't hurt him. It just burned all the way along his arm, down his chest, and then went out.

". . ."

The Chen family looked at the scene in horror. They didn't know what Chu Wanning was doing.

Chu Wanning's eyelashes trembled lightly, his eyes still closed, but a white light gradually appeared in front of his eyes. Immediately afterwards, he saw a small, white, jade-like foot step out of the light, and a girl about seventeen or eighteen years old appeared in his field of vision.

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#2ha novel #2ha translation #2ha #the husky and his white cat shizun translation #the husky and his white cat shizun #english translation #chinese bl #chinese novel #danmei novel #danmei #yaoi #yaoi novel #bl novel #mo ran #chu wanning #ranwan

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sweetestpopcorn · 3 years ago

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Fancast ideas for Jaehaerys and alysanne (in their last decade), Rhaenys, Corlys, Baelon and

Hi there!

Hum... I have a lot of trouble fancasting characters for two main reasons. One, I am an annoying nit-picker who wants the actors to look as close to the characters as possible and goes as far as to be bothered if a character was meant to have green eyes and they have blue eyes instead - looking at you HP - so as you can imagine, it’s a once in a blue moon thing that I think someone is an accurate representation of a character. Then, adding to this, Targaryens are especially hard to cast because they are meant to be otherworldly beautiful and I think no human can match them. Thus, any casting choice will in itself fall short. That being said, some can be closer to what the characters should look like than others. And some can just be a straight up NO! Y’all know who I am talking about no need to spell out the obvious 😌

All of this is why I mostly prefer art and illustrations rather than using real people, and thank the Seven that there are so many super talented artists giving us all reality can't 🥰 I imagine most characters of asoiaf as some artist or another drew them, not as actor X or Y.

But you want some fancasts so let me pull up my sleeves.

I will admit I never considered who could play Jaehaerys or Alysanne, especially in their older years. This is especially hard for me because I don’t know that many older actors, but I prefer to be a “can” popcorn rather than a “can’t” so I did some research on google to try and answer this one. Hey, it’s not much but still better than saying “No freaking idea”.

Starting with Alysanne, because ladies first, I think Eva Marie Saint could be a good choice, when she was younger and older. Very delicate features. A very royal look to her. And not a very tall woman for what I could gather (1.63 m).

And she aged very well! Can you believe she is currently 97?! WOW! Yes far too old compared to Alysanne but oh well XD they aged faster back in the day I guess 🤷‍♀️ Older actors are hard ok?! Leave me be.

For the Old King: Clint Eastwood, both in his younger and older days. Very handsome man - as any proper Targaryen should be - imposing presence as a king should have. I also think he would be very good at portraying Jaehaerys’s harsher and more unforgiving side very well and at making people not like him at times.

Definitely looks like the Old King on this one. A wise look in my opinion. He’s only missing the braid.

For Rhaenys TQWNW I have thought about before, yes, and I love the choice of Gal Gadot for a young Rhaenys. Has the dark hair of a Baratheon and is tall as well. Not to mention very fine and delicate features as befits any Targaryen. That would be the actor that most resembles how I picture Rhaenys. For an older Rhaenys hum... maybe just age Gal XD

Fierce and stunning like a true Targaryen should be!

For Corlys I would say Gary Oldman and shout out to Longclaw_1_6 over on AO3 who actually suggested him as a fancast and I definitely agree! I can’t even explain why but I get major old scoundrel vibes from him. He also has a very noble look to him idk and at the same time kind of a “nerdy” look that contrasts to how gorgeous Rhaenys would be - I like to think he won her over by his sweet words and seduction skills more than by his looks XD. I think he could make both a good young Corlys - in his younger years - and old Corlys - if only there were time machines that is 😂 Not to mention that Gary is such a GREAT actor!

As for Baelon. Hum... I think Heath Ledger would be the closest to how I picture the Spring Prince. A very handsome, almost beautiful man but masculine at the same time, with a boyish look to him and some curls! My headcanon is that Baelon had curly hair 🤗 Unfortunately the very talented Heath is no longer with us 😔 but a girl can still dream.

And... that’s it I guess!

All this aside though, and I will still maintain that fanart >>>>>>>> fancasts.

All the best to you 🤗

#alysanne targaryen #the good queen #jaehaerys targaryen #the conciliator #the old king #rhaenys targaryen #the queen who never was #corlys velaryon #the sea snake #baelon targaryen #the spring prince #fancast #popcorn answers

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simply-zhouye · 4 years ago

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Zhou Ye: The Wonderful Ideas of Lotte Girls // Esquire Fine photoshoot & interview ~ a really wonderful interview with Yezi!

Read rough translation of interview below: https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/lY3oBM51ytlua7S8ZRdmlw

The lively character is like jumping candy, and the crisp voice is like summer honeydew. It can be a cute angel or a rebellious girl. Who wouldn't like a beautiful and free girl? We met Zhou Ye at a claw machine shop, and she caught the one she wanted five times!

Zhou Ye didn't laugh when shooting the magazine blockbuster, but she liked to laugh privately.

In the eyes of the people around, she is a simple and lively little girl, born optimistic, loves to joke, and loves to share all the fun and delicious. After catching up with the good-looking drama, she will also be ambitious to everyone, even if she encounters any troubles, she It will be resolved soon. She denied the title of "Girl's Heart"-when she was not working, she liked to lie at home and chase dramas, and science fiction and fantasy were her dishes. She enthusiastically gave an example. There is an American drama called "Stranger Things". It is about a little boy who disappeared in a small town in the United States. Everyone went to find him and found that there was an entrance to another world, exactly the same as this world. , But there is no one in that world. Such a story attracts her even more.

A few days ago, she took a four-day holiday, "very satisfied!" During the holiday, she made appointments with a few good friends for dinner, went to the playground, and watched dramas. If the vacation is longer, she would prefer to go home and stay with her family. Playing with mom and dad, playing with grandpa and grandmother, the family finds a beautiful place to go camping, and if you don’t go out, you can play mahjong with the whole family. She can stay away from looking at her mobile phone for a day.

Asked this girl who is not so girly what she wants, she said, "Now I want to accomplish everything in the moment, and every day will be better than the day before!"

Therefore, Zhou Ye, who hopes to be more progressive, raised his face and chatted with us about serious matters.

Before, people often said to me, "I like your performance of "Youth", but now everyone talks more about "Shanhe Ling". Let’s start the conversation with "The Order of Mountains and Rivers".

Gu Xiang in the play is a girl who is cold on the outside and warm on the inside. She helped Cao Weining, Zhang Chengling, and the singing sisters, but it didn't mean that she trusted them. She just felt that these people were very pitiful. Because Gu Xiang was picked up by her master when she was a child, she felt sorry for them and wanted to protect them.

She is defensive to everyone, and she will not trust anyone easily. In terms of character, Gu Xiang and I are a bit like. Both are more lively. What we don't quite resemble is our life experience and living environment.

When I first finished reading the script of "The Order of Mountains and Rivers", I loved Gu Xiang from the bottom of my heart. Gu Xiang grew up in Guigu where she was killed and beaten everywhere. Although she was lucky enough to meet Wen Kexing, the master who protected her, the rivers and lakes were sinister and Gu Xiang never really relaxed. Therefore, she can only protect herself by fierce methods. She looks acrimonious, slurs and curses, and she has to fight or kill at every turn. She looks very fierce and cruel, but her heart is really innocent and special. Kindness. When encountering people like Cao Weining, Zhang Chengling, and the singing sister Hua, Gu Xiang will rescue them and help them beat the gangsters.

Many audience friends felt that the ending of Gu Xiang and Cao Weining was too miserable when they watched "The Order of Mountains and Rivers". Gu Xiang originally didn't know what the outside world was like. After she came to the world, she met Big Brother Cao, and the two people who loved each other were about to be happy. Unexpectedly, on the day of the wedding, Gu Xiang lost her lover so much that she would fight herself Life. I am also uncomfortable with this ending. It is not easy for them to get to this day. Why can't they live well? If I were to write an ending, it would definitely be two people living together happily forever.

For me, playing Gu Xiang should be more difficult than playing. This is my first time shooting a costume drama, and also my first time shooting a martial arts drama. "Shanhe Ling" really has a lot of martial arts, because it tells the story of the rivers and lakes, so I joined the group some time before I started, and learned some moves from the martial arts masters.

In retrospect, the scene of the wedding was the most memorable. I had been shooting for three days in a row. I had been beating, killing, and hanging off Wia, and I would beat off some hair accessories from my hair. I didn't dare to hang on Wia at first, and the costume was so thick that I could easily trip on my feet. But I can’t take care of this when I shoot. This is Gu Xiang’s most emotional scene. I feel the same for Gu Xiang and can’t help crying. Until the end of my cry, I can’t tell whether my face is tears or saliva. , I hope that through this scene, everyone can feel Gu Xiang’s pain.

For me at this stage, whether it is a role that is more similar to myself or a completely different role, I am willing to give it a try. If the character of a character is very pleasing, I will have a sense of substitution when I read the script, I will like it, and I will really want to play it.

In fact, my interest in acting began after I was in college. When I was a child, I learned piano, and I was not very sensible at that time. I thought it would be fine to play the piano every day after growing up and collect tickets. After being admitted to the Beijing Film Academy, we often watch movies. When the directors see their favorite movies, they will think "I can make such a great movie in the future". I am in the acting department, so I hope I can do it in the future. Acting in a particularly powerful movie may be the influence of the school atmosphere. I still remember that I watched some old movies when I was in school. I really liked "Scent of a Woman" and Marlon Brando. He played "The Godfather" very well.

In the film school, we had a lot of opportunities to meet the director and the crew. We tried again and again, and slowly met scenes that were willing to use our young actors, and started the road to filming. I will definitely read the script several times before filming. In addition to my own role, I have to read the whole story, write a short biography of the character, and talk to everyone at the script reading meeting. For example, when shooting "Ah Cradle", I often consulted sister Haiqing and the director. In the filming of "Youth in Youth", I would also ask the director: The girl I played has such a good family, why does she bully her classmates? The director told me that because her parents had very strict education for her, she was required to be particularly good since she was a child. She was under tremendous pressure and kept suppressing it, so she vented the pressure by bullying her classmates.

When taking the play, I don't worry about people comparing my previous works or achievements, as long as my requirements for myself will not change. My request is to do my best to shape each role. Every time I finish filming a film, I will have a certain evaluation of myself, and I will also look at other people's evaluations of me, as well as the opinions given to me by my predecessors, to integrate these. Every time, I hope I can do better next time.

Up to now, I have been shooting for a few years, and I feel that I am not a talented actor, and I have to be a model worker. However, the sisters who brought me to the management team said that my biggest change and improvement is that I am more independent than before. When I first started filming, I would hide in the room and cry by myself every time I joined the group, especially wanting to go home.

Now I am more comfortable with the life of the crew than before. When I first joined the group, I still felt a little homesick. I hope to finish the filming soon, and become familiar with everyone. After work, I will play with the actors in the same group. When I was resting, I was playing with werewolf killing or something, so happy, I didn't want to kill it. I didn't want to be successful when I was filming "Shanhe Ling", and the same was true when filming "Ah Cradle". As actors, it seems that we can go to different places every time we film. In fact, there is not much time to spend in the local area, but we can eat a lot of local delicacies.

As I said just now, I want to do everything right now, and the current week is the best week.

Do you often dream? Please share a dream that is more imaginative.

Zhou Ye:

I sometimes dream. Once, I dreamed that I received an acceptance letter from an owl, took the Hogwarts Express train to the magic school to learn magical magic, visited Hogsmeade Village, and met so many new friends. .

What is your dream day like? How to spend it?

Zhou Ye:

At this stage, my dream day is to sleep in late, and after waking up, I will lie in bed and watch a drama or hang out with my friends or watch a drama.

How to arrange the dream holiday? Stay at home or go out to play?

Zhou Ye:

Of course, it is best to have two days, so you can stay at home one day and go out to play one day!

What about the journey of your dreams? With whom, where to go, and how to play?

Zhou Ye:

With your family, you can go to the beach or play paragliding.

What is your dream job announcement?

Zhou Ye:

Go to Universal Studios to shoot hahahaha, I really want to go!

What kind of "dream skills" do you want to have?

Zhou Ye:

Teleport!

Which era is the dream era? why?

Zhou Ye:

Now, now is the best time. Grasp the moment.

#zhou ye #hqs:zhouye #photoshoot #esquire fine #magazine photoshoot #gu xiang #word of honor #shan he ling cast #hogwarts

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duskwood-legacies · 4 years ago

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"Summer Sunsets"

•Fandom: Duskwood

•Pairing/Character: Jake x fem!MC

•Word Count: 1,5k

•Genre: Romance, Fluff

•Summary: Jake and MC share a gentle moment underneath the setting sun neither of them wanted to end.

Before I start with the one shot, I wanted to thank all of you for the massive support on my last story, it was heart-warming!🥺💕 I hope you enjoy this story as much as the last one🌿💕

As the sun dipped down behind the horizon, the sky appeared in the most beautiful shades of orange and purple. Wind was slowly howling through the trees, slowly caressing the grass with its gentle melody.

Carefully, MC guided Jake through the fields. Her hands covered his eyes from behind, both their hearts beating a tad bit faster than usual.

“Where are you taking me?” Uncertainty lined Jake’s voice.

“We’re almost there” He could hear the smile on MC’s lips. It loosened his tightened nerve endings, at least by a little. It was dangerous out in the open, especially when the afternoon hours faded into the slow evening. His pursuers were still out there.

Of course MC noticed his discomfort. She knew danger was lurking everywhere around them, but that shouldn’t stop her from doing what she wished to do for so long. Tenderly, she rubbed her thumbs along Jake’s temples, hoping to get his anxiety to simmer down.

Her small act of compassion caused fireworks to explode in his chest.

They halted.

“Tada!” MC beamed as she removed her hands from Jake’s eyes.

A blanket, thoughtfully spread out on the ground, with a bottle of champagne and two suiting glasses lied ahead. A long chain of fairy lights was placed around, illuminating the scenery with a soft and cozy glow which made the setting sun appear like a joke.

“MC…” No words matched what Jake was feeling. Emotions overwhelmed his body. Not ever has he experienced something like that in those days he could remember.

MC walked over to the blanket. Her dress was weightlessly flowing in the wind and her slightly messed up hair only made her frame so much more breathtaking to him. She sat down and met Jake’s unbelieving gaze with a smile. Regarding all their conversations, all their late-night talks and all things told in-between their moments, she expected this kind of reaction.

She patted the free spot on the blanket. Jake couldn’t bring his body to move. He was lost in feelings and sensations, the bitter thoughts of his pursuers washing down into temporary oblivion.

“Jake?” MC’s humble voice brought his attention to her. Her love-lined smile, her oh so sweet eyes filled with kindness and patience. Nothing ever felt so real, yet so much like a cursed hallucination. He glanced down to her hand, still resting on the empty spot.

Slowly but surely Jake’s body stopped betraying him. One step after another, he approached the setting. MC’s eyes were set on him, cautiously observing every move and every bit of expression with curiosity until he finally sat down.

MC could feel how her lips carved into an even larger smile.

“You’re blushing”

“How could I not?” Jake responded with a display of shyness “MC, how long did this take you?”

“Not too long” She comforted him, “I feared you wouldn’t enjoy yourself as much when you knew, or at least had the feeling, this took me longer than 5 minutes”

There it was again. The cheeky tone that made his heart skip, the sound of her voice which made breathing impossible. Even if her words were accompanied by seriousness, her features still held the gentlest expression he had ever seen.

“Hey…”

“Apologies.” Jake quickly replied, “I don’t mean to disrespect you with my silence. This is a lot to take in.”

And… and he felt validated. MC took his feelings into consideration and treated them, treated him, with respect and understanding. It was more than he’ll ever be capable of returning to her.

“I understand” MC nodded. Her eyes lingered on Jake for far more than a few seconds. He sheepishly refused to look at her. She’s never been able to shake this damned, ever-so-tiny piece of worry off. No matter how many times she reassured herself, a small part of her was afraid she was going too far with this.

With all the courage she could gather, MC’s hand reached out and covered Jake’s. Jake flinched at the sudden action, but did nothing to rid of her hand. No, instead he prayed for time to stop, freeze everything but the warmth of her loving touch.

Loving… was her touch even meant to show affectionate feelings? How high was the possibility MC was only being friendly and not displaying romantic attraction?

After all, they still were nothing more than friends.

“Jake,” Her voice cut through his thoughts once again “please talk to me. There is a lot going on in your mind, I can see it. I’m worried about you. Do you want to go home? Am I going too far?”

“No!” Jake blurted out “I want to do anything but that. I enjoy my time with you. It’s bugging me that I will never be able to pay you back.”

“You don’t have t-“

“No MC. I mean everything. You could live a life full of joy, a safe life. By having you here, by my side, I have taken so many of your opportunities. I have stolen the potential of the person you could have become. I pulled you down from the heights you could have climbed, drowned you in the ocean you could have made run dry. I am sorry, MC. So incredibly sorry.” Every word poured out of him like a tide. With every word spoken, his chest ached a little more, with every word spoken guilt came creeping back into his eyes.

MC was silent. Her heart ached as much as his. Seeing the hurt on his face, hearing the distress in his voice pained her so much more than she ever thought was possible. Her hand tightened around Jake’s, afraid he’d slip from her grasp, disappear right in front of her the moment she’d let go.

“From the day I met you, you interested me. I wanted to be the person who protected you. I wanted to be the one who kept you safe and calm. And now here you are. Running from the same people as I am, facing danger every second of your life.”

The meaning of Jake’s words weighted in on MC. She always suspected Jake may beat himself up for a decision she has made, but hearing it from his mouth hurt so much more.

She brought Jake’s hand up to her face and placed a gentle kiss on its back, closing her eyes while doing so. Blood rushed into Jake’s cheeks as well as hers. Their skin burned with the heat of a thousand suns, hearts beating rapidly and air becoming thin inside their lungs.

MC opened her eyes and gave Jake the most heart-felt smile he had ever witnessed. Her free hand found its way to cup his warm cheek, thumb gently brushing over his skin. He could feel the light shiver in her hand.

There was a tension neither of them could explain, but both so dearly wanted to follow.

“It’s okay you’re not who you thought you’d be.” MC whispered with sympathy resting every part of her voice “Sometimes things don’t work out the way we want, and that’s okay. Besides, you’re still keeping me safe, no? You’re still sheltering me from harm and making me laugh every day, don’t you?”

"You laugh a lot." Jake admitted, or more likely realized, as he attempted to fathom what she told him. She resembled so much calmness, did the fact that he endangered her not bother MC at all? Or, even more so, how could she not blame him for the danger’s she’s facing? How can a person be so gentle and understanding with him?

For a moment, silence embraced the two of them. Nothing but the soft flow of the river and echoes of each other's voices in their head surrounded them.

Their eyes were still locked onto each other, no one daring to break the trance they both sent themselves into.

The tension got stronger.

MC gulped. She lightly pulled Jake's face closer, hoping he would know what she tried to initiate. He did. He wanted nothing more than this.

Both were hesitant. They knew what this meant for their future, what complications everything would bring.

No, right this second those thoughts carried no value.

It was their time to cave in, their time to finally release what's been held back for so long. And so they did. Jake freed his hand from underneath MC's and pulled her closer. He couldn't take it anymore, neither could she.

Their lips met and veins filled with passionate fires as fierce as a raging inferno. Jake's free hand cupped MC's one still resting on his face, longing for her touch, longing for this moment to never end.

They broke apart. Both trembling softly from the adrenaline rush, both taking their time to take in the feelings engulfing their bodies with an unforgettable memory.

This moment was magical. All their wishes and desires became true. Reality has barely been so blissfully comforting, especially for Jake.

A quiet chuckle emitted from MC's mouth, grabbing Jake's attention and automatically making him join in. All dangers aside, nothing ever felt so right. So perfect.

MC was the first one to speak up again, grinning as she held up the bottle of champagne that had lied next to them, untouched.

"Champagne?"

Jake could only smile and respond with a nod.

Truth is, none of them needed the alcohol. They were wasted on their feelings for one another, wishing nothing more than for those emotions, for this summer sunset, for this serenity to last for eternity.

-----

I'm not too confident in the ending of this story, but I'm really proud of the beginning!💕🍀

#duskwood #duswood jake x mc #duskwood jake x player #duskwood fanfiction #everbyte #duskwood fandom #duskwood everbyte #duskwood mc #duskwood player #everbyte studios

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onp4012 · 5 years ago

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Romanian monsters and myths

I’ve seen that some of you want to hear more about those monsters and myths, so I am ready to spoil them.

Moroi

As popular as the Strigoi is the Moroi, an evil entity that comes from the spirit of an unbaptized dead child. In most parts of the country, Strigoi’s and Moroi’s are considered separate entities, but in Oltenia they are confused. The Moroi is the dead who have to return from the pit to bring trouble to family and friends. According to folk tales, an unbaptized dead child is sure to turn into a Moroi. Unlike Strigoi’s, where the transformation came almost immediately after death, the Moroi’s waited seven years to rise from the pit. When seven years have passed since his death(because number 7 is considered a magic number), the soul asks to be received in the kingdom of heaven and cries out "Baptism, Baptism!" or according to other sources "Cross, cross!". If anyone hears him then he can save him by giving him baptism: "The son or daughter of God, John or Mary, is baptized in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, Amen!". The ritual is completed by a piece of cloth that is thrown on the grave of the unbaptized baby. If this ritual is not performed, the soul does not find peace and turns into an evil spirit, known as a Moroi. The Moroi haunts the owners of the land where he was buried. It makes the owner's animals and children sick, who eventually have to leave the land to avoid a tragedy. It is a nocturnal creature that manifests itself especially on New Year's Eve. It is said that it can leave its native land by metamorphosing into a dog. If it receives food, the dog-mule does not cause damage and does not scare those who cut it off. Encounters with the Moroi in the middle of the night are usually fatal. The victim either falls in bed for a long time or finds an end until dawn.

Pricolici

Is a werewolf/vampire fusion in the Romanian folklore. Pricolici, similar to Strigoi, are undead souls that have risen from the grave to harm living people. While a Strigoi possesses anthropomorphic qualities similar to the ones it had before death, a pricolici always resembles a wolf. Malicious, violent men are often said to become Pricolici after death, in order to continue harming other humans. Even as recently as modern times, many people living in rural areas of Romania have claimed to have been viciously attacked by abnormally large and fierce wolves. Apparently, these wolves attack silently, unexpectedly and only solitary targets. Victims of such attacks often claim that their aggressor wasn't an ordinary wolf, but a Pricolici who has come back to life to continue wreaking havoc.

Samca

Samca is a female, grotesque, horror and demonic spirit that ruins underage children and pregnant women’s health. She allegedly has long, disheveled hair, crooked fingers that end with sharp nails, fire-spitting mouth and hands made of iron. Legend has it, she’ll turn up at the end of each month in front of a young child or a pregnant woman and either kill the poor soul or leave him/ her crippled for life. According to the myth, the spirit has not one, but nine different names. Samca enjoys torturing women in labor, sometimes killing them. She also either kills their their children, or blesses them with a disease bearing her name. A children suffering from Samca will have seizures, cry all the time, sigh a lot and eventually die. If one writes all of her names inside his house, Samca will not be allowed to enter. She is thought to be the wing of Satan, and she is said to have tried to kill baby Jesus, but was stopped by Michael ( the archangel, not Jackson). She can also change appearance, in order to deceive mortals.

Pâca (Pafa)

Pâca, also known as Pafa, is, according to Romanian mythology, the spirit of tobacco and smoking. Romanians have imagined her as a woman as old at the world itself, ugly and black, having horns on her head and a big, long nose, swollen eyes, tusks and talons, a tail and a pipe in her mouth. Flames and black smoke come out of her throat and she reeks of tobacco. When Pâca came out from the depths of Hell, death spreading smoke came out with her. Then her sons, the demons (dracii), gave birth to a seed which they sowed. The plant sprung from that seed is called buruiana dracului ( the Devil’s weed) or tămâia dracului (the Devil’s incense). As you may have guessed, this plant is what we call tobacco. Then some other demons invented the pipe, for people to worship Pafa by inhaling the smoke made by the plant the devils had sowed in her name. Pâca‘s children also invented snuff tobacco. The funny part is that God, upon seeing what the people were doing, took their tobacco leaves and instead of destroying them (since he’s almighty according to christians, right?), mixed them with basil (so they could smell nicer?) and gave them back to people, teaching them how to use the new product. (Good job, God)

Crasnicul

Crasnicul, or Crâsnicul, is the child born out of a woman’s union with a demon. Apparently, he looks like a cross between a piglet and a normal kid. However, as opposed to the latter, the first thing this demon spawn does after birth is not crying, but running around the house screaming. I bet it sounds similar to Dani Filth’s work with Cradle. Somehow, my intuition tells me their similarities go beyond sound, and we could also link the two aesthetically. In some areas, people thought you should trap the thing in a stove and burn it alive. Other believe that the Crasnic is born after an eleven months gestation period. It is also said that the Crasnic has a hellish desire to bite and kill the people around, immediately after birth. After he’s done with them, he (it?) will try to go back to where he came from. To prevent all this, the midwife will wrap him in a cloth and call the mother’s relatives to bludgeon him to death. Imagine how many malformed children have been bludgeoned to death just because people thought they were the result of the mother’s union with the Devil. Sad. But a great Horror image, nonetheless. ;-; (Ain’t very proud).

Muma Pădurii (Mother Forest)

Is an ugly and mischievous or mad old woman living in the forest (in the heart of the virgin forests, in a hut/cabin or an old tree). She is the opposite of fairies such as a "Fairy" Zână. She is also the protector of the animals and plants, brewing potions and helping injured animals. She cures the forest if it's dying, and she keeps the unwanted trespassers away driving them mad and scaring them to flee. She can be associated with witches (like the witch from the story of "Hansel and Gretel"), but she's a neutral "creature", harming only those who harm the forest. (She’s my favorite “horror one”, I really respect her.)

Iele

Ieles, evil fairies in Romanian mythology are the most mysterious and fascinating creatures that Romanian legends have been talking about for hundreds of years. Sources of inspiration for poets and writers, who turned them into literary characters, the ieles are also the subject of folk studies in which the authors tried to explain both the origin and the meaning of the creatures. Supernatural female creatures appearing in groups on the plains or in the woods, singing and dancing in steamy or undressed clothes, leaving behind signs of circles of fire. It’s said that they are the result of an incestuous relationship between the Sun and the Moon, so they were cursed to send their daughters on earth. This is the portrait of the ieleles, described by folklorists and folk tales over time. Legends about iele, which differ from region to region, say that the creatures appear in groups of three, five or seven. The stories depict the evil fairies in Romanian mythology as very beautiful, dressed in steamy clothes or simply naked. In the story they appear at night, in the fields and in the forests, far from the eyes of the world. Legends also say that the iels burn crazy and cheerful choruses that the eyes of ordinary mortals should not see. Behind them are signs of circles of fire in the burning grass. (In my region, it’s said that they are wives of unfaithful husbands that cheated on them, at which, the woman committed suicide in a river or was simply killed by her husband.)

#romania #myths #legends #monsters #transylvania #romanianmythicalcreatures #romanianmyths #pricolici #Samca #strigoi #iele #para #crasnicul

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towfuh · 3 years ago

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𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚟𝚊𝚜; 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐲

“If, let’s say, you were to write a story with me as the main character, it would certainly be a tragedy. No. Everyone’s the same, in fact. All those that walk this earth. All steal and from all, something is stolen. We can’t help it. That’s who we are.

Steal and be stolen. Imprison and be imprisoned. Follow and be followed. Do and be done unto. Affirm and negate, over and over. We fight ceaselessly to save ourselves from loss. And yet, the people and places we love will one day surely be lost. We all will surely be forgotten. Life is sad. Empty. But despite knowing we will one day disappear, we still strive in wretched ways. We still wish to be beautiful.

And I consider, “Which one?”. I choose, “This one.” Forever choosing, forever being chosen. Nothing more, nothing less.” - 𝐓𝐨𝐤𝐲𝐨 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥:𝐫𝐞, 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟕𝟕

𝐇𝐢. 𝐒𝐨, 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐚𝐦 𝐈?

‘Twas one well-weathered, average fourteenth of April in the year 2004 when I was brought upon this earth, particularly in the wind-swept desert of the country of Bahrain. After nine months curled snug inside the warmth of my mother’s womb, my being had finally experienced the sensation of coldness for the very first time. A foreign chill, blinding lights, a shrieking cry, and soft moans of happiness. Admittedly, I do not remember much of the past, but this, the very first memory of my existence, is one that I shall never forget.

I’ll be frank, my existence was a result of an affair outside of wedlock. After my mother, the lovely Emelyn O. Cabuhal, had moved to Bahrain in order to find work, she had fallen into a forbidden love; Somehow, she had gotten caved in by my father, Rodrigo D. Gangan’s slick charms and handsome demeanour. A saleswoman falling for an engineer; It was the romance story of a lifetime. In the end despite all austerity, things had eventually worked out, and as a result was me being their happy little accident.

My mother had originally named me after the Thessalian princess, Cyrene, from the lore of Ancient Greek mythology. However, I doubt that most are savvy of who she is. Although an inferior shadow amongst all the other renowned heroes of Greece, my mother had a deep affinity for this particular character due to her unrelenting courage and strength. Princess Cyrene was known to have been a fierce huntress, wrestling with even the most ferocious lions and slaying them bare-handedly all for the sake of protecting her homeland.

Bravery and strength, back in the day, especially that painted upon a woman were extremely unusual characteristics that were often looked down upon in the past. My mother did not heed this much attention, and had hoped that like Princess Cyrene, her precious baby would grow into resemblance as that of Princess Cyrene’s courageous and indestructible portrait.

Thankfully, I did. As I had interviewed my mother in preparation for writing this biography, her eyes shone up with pride as she foretold how as a baby, I was never one to cause trouble. I was, by her words, very well-behaved, silent, and almost too mature for my age. Every so often, shivers would run down my parent’s spine as my infant eyes would just merely watch them with something akin to defiant astuteness. It was no question to them that I would grow up to be someone remarkable; But, perhaps, in what ways?

In my younger years, I had been brought up with the luxury of a princess; Or at least, that was how it had felt for me. Left to right, I was heavily spoiled by my parents; Almost to the point where I had to never experience getting dirt on even the tips of my pale nails. Back then, my being became sublimely colored in pretty and posh pink - dolls, dresses, desserts. I can recall the sensation of my former desire for everything bright, feminine, and simmering.

My parents would frequent me to join Flores de Mayo, local fashion shows, singing competitions, and many more; Always too keen to have their child work and participate in so much and do so much in order to fill their childish desires that they were given no opportunity in partaking in the past. The line, “You’re lucky you got the chance to do this,” always stuck besides me like a burning birthmark, but I was too prideful to let it eat me away negatively. It’s alright; I’ll shoulder the burden and carry our dreams.

Due to such persistent coddling, I was not as academically-driven as I am now; As I continued to pursue leisurely activities, I admittedly neglected my studies. Would you have believed me if I said that I had almost failed not one, not two, but almost four subjects in the span of my early elementary days? Unbelievable, right? Instead, most of my time was spent fondly hanging around peers or inside the church, partaking activities hosted by my local congregation.

Looking back, it honestly leaves me awestruck how social and extroverted my younger proprium was, as it seems that now, my energy has decreased tenfold, and even the simple act of socializing left me flabbergasted and anxious of its impending interaction. I am certainly not the young, lively child as I was in the past. As I shift through the many photographs laying inside our albums to scavenge for materials for this self-indulgent writing, I would be lying if I said that these pictures of my youthful self appearing devoid of misery left a bitter tinge in my tongue. The me in the past certainly did not know what was coming around for her in the years to come.

It was also during this time that I had come to love animals; How trivial may this piece of information be, but my passion for animals had strongly persisted up until today in the present times. Had it not been for the dog who have stuck to my side like glue during the precedented years, perhaps I would have not been as empathic as I am now.

However, as I look back into my life, I realized that even as a child, I was very superficial. Never had I ever really been a dreamer; I had no real ambition. I dreaded the question poised by adults regarding what I wanted to be in the future, because never could my mind wrack the courage to think far along the tracks. Perhaps it is because of my romantic self who had believed that I was already, currently living the dream, Blinded by the walls of utopia that were plastered by my parents, I did not know what more I could have asked for.

I was abruptly awoken from this dream after I had lived past a decade into this world. In the beginning of the year 2015, my father and I had to repatriate ourselves back to the Philippines, leaving my mom behind in order to act as the breadwinner of the family. My father was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease, forcibly causing him to retire from his well-paying job as an elevator engineer. I began to miss not only the grainy particles of sand that constantly filled the desertic air of Bahrain, but my mother of all things.

Indeed, the shift from the Middle Eastern metropolises to the green, overpopulated cities of the Philippines left me feeling alienated beyond my wildest imaginations; However what most impacted me was my separation with my mother. Words cannot put how was suffocating, so terribly suffocating was her absence in my life. Whoever quoted the famous saying, “Distance makes the heart fonder,” is no one to make short of. It’s unbelievably true, and perhaps even more heartwrenching than one thinks it is.

A year later on July 9, 2016, my father passed away from a heart attack. I never got to see him in his final moments because prior to his passage, as his condition had begun to worsen, he, alone, had moved back with his first family in Isabela. Nights never pass without me wondering if before the last breath had escaped him had he ever thought back about me, even if just a fleeting thought. Admittedly, I was ever the daddy’s girl; And I doubt that up to this day, I have yet come to terms with his passage. There were many things that were unfortunately left unsaid, and many I regretted.

From a dainty pink, my being was forced to soak itself into a deep, dark hue; And as I had struggled to come out, my skin was already marred in a hue of gloom. Because of the darkness, I could not even identify what were the things that I used to like or love. Everything was covered up with blotches of pressure, pain, and trauma. I had never realized how hard reality truly was nor had I understood what I had done that made me deserve such misery. When I was finally hit with the realization that the world was definitely not as kind as it had looked like inside the comfort of my parents’ embrace, the feeling was unwelcomely sudden. It was as if I was dethroned from my position as princess and was banished from my own kingdom for all of eternity.

Depression began to devour the entirety of my being, and just in a span of two years, I had lost more than 10 kilograms in weight, had forty-three self-inflicted battle scars, and committed several attempts of self-destruction; All but unsuccessful - fortunately and unfortunately. My entire self was thrown around, beaten up, and shattered in several fragments, and up until this day, even as almost a decade has passed, do I believe that I am completely healed.

To be completely honest, I do not remember much of my younger days. It had only struck me one afternoon as I was lying in bed that I could not seem to recall much in my childhood; Have you ever heard of Dissociative Amnesia? Everything was a blank slate, exactly like the moment when you insert a CD in the DVD player, but all that appears on screen is a noisy, hurtful static. That’s why I am never one who’s fond of reminiscing the past, but for the sake of this activity, I have tried my hardest.

Sometimes, I wonder, if it had not been for my romanticism that had continued its pursuit throughout the years, what else could’ve supplied my hopes? Would I have still continued standing on the face of the earth up until this day? In the end, I chose to continue to walk, and at times when I could no longer walk, I crawled. Life felt so daunting and horrific, and if I had to relive it once again, I doubt that I’d make it through the second time. Once is always enough.

In order to pass time, I had committed to entertaining myself through various modus operandis. I sang; I danced; I read; I drew; I played video games; I joined social groups, virtual groups, and actively tried to participate in the realm of academia. I bet that every activity of leisure that could be found under the sun I had already partaken in one way or another. All of this I had done in order to fill the gaping emptiness within my heart, trying to find the solace that I was obsessively searching for.

There were days where I talked from morning to night, with or without company; Perhaps afraid that if I let silence even a second of an opportunity to fill the space, my being would’ve been devoured entirely and I’d be stuck lingering inside it forever.

From all the things that I had done, my most favorite would have to be reading.

If I had to choose between sketching a croquis of the person I loved most, or of a dessin of a preloved book, I would forever choose the latter with no hesitation. Admittedly, these slabs of paper have also been the primary pigment that had made the most profound color in my life.

It was not until several years later into my late teenage life that I had stumbled upon a particular line from an old book. In the small paper read the lines, “That was the first fissure in the columns that had upheld my childhood, which every individual must destroy before he can become himself. Such fissures and rents grow together again, heal, and are forgotten, but in the most secret recesses they continue to live and bleed.” The fog in my mind had finally risen. These words were what had given my bleak canvas more color.

Apart from the wisdom adorned in the rigid pages of books, if it had not been for the peers who I had met along the way, most especially my one and only batch of my late elementary days prior to my arrival to the Philippines, as well as those in my high school period, the awning cloth would have had loosen and fallen from the wooden stretcher.

The foundation of what made me today laid in their hands; And I am glad, wholeheartedly filled with gratitude, that I have crossed paths with them for both the better and the worst.

Up until this day, I am still deciding on how to apply the various tones and variations to my canvas’ surface. Currently striving to survive my first year in senior high school;

Whenever posed with the question of how my day was, I’d always reply, “So-so,” and it’s not pitiful but a fact. Compared to the remnants of my estranged bygone days, I am doing much better; Much healthier to both body and mind, and much convalescent to the many traumas that had used to pinned my being down.

In the past, I have experienced the notion of being a “horrendous piece of art,” and no longer do I want to commit the same mistakes. In the first place, is there even such a thing as a “horrendous piece of art”? No, there definitely is not. Now, I delicately hold myself with love.

Every small stroke of my life’s invisible brush I take with time and precision. Now, I allow my own colors to flow freely in any direction. With the emergence of brand-new experiences, sensations, and emotions, I have yet to create a piece that would conclude my most sincere feelings.

As I continue to live on, I shall continue to ask myself, what am I painting? Is it a figure of Cyrene? Perhaps a palette of fuchsia, or a whirlpool of monochromatic shades? Always, I continue to answer: I am my own canvas.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐭-𝐬𝐨-𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐄𝐧𝐝.

#original writing #autobiography #chermed #chermedkaloka

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therealvinelle · 4 years ago

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“By contrast, I can think of characters who resemble most other Twilight characters with a relative amount of ease.”

You put this at the end of an ask and was just wondering if you would please elaborate? Have a lovely day

(Anon is referring to this post.) Do you ever look at two characters, realize they have a few things in common, then blink, take a step back, and realize that they really do have an awful lot in common? That they're more or less the same person, only in different circumstances? The same archetype, at the very least.

I'm open to the possibility that you'll say no, @thecarnivorousmuffinmeta and I are strange people who see strange things.

All the same, here are a few examples.

Also, this contains spoilers for the animes Fate/Zero, Puella Magi Madoka Magica, and Revolutionary Girl Utena, as well as the play Vildanden, the book Candide, and the show I, Claudius.

Aro: Kiritsugu Emiya from Fate/Zero.

Kiritsugu is a highly effective assassin whose defining trait, and curse, is his willingness to commit any atrocity in the name of the greater good. His ambition is to save the world. Over the course of the series he sacrifices his father, surrogate mother, best friend, wife, and daughter, and treats everybody else like chess pieces. It will all be worth it when he has saved the world.

He is the opposite of Bella, who would let anything burn for the sake of her loved ones. Kiritsugu loves fiercely, but he will sacrifice that which is most precious to him with a steady hand.

Aro has that same ruthlessness combined with idealism. He sacrifices his sister and is willing to kill his only friend as well, to say nothing of the many other things he has done. He creates child vampires and will kill anyone who stands in his way. This is what he must do to gain and maintain power.

Aro and Kiritsugu will sacrifice anything and anybody if they perceive it to be beneficial to their goal, a goal they happen to share.

Also Aro: Claudius from I, Claudius.

Cladius is the emperor of Rome not because he wishes to be, but because the moment he steps off the throne, Rome will fall to pieces.

Aro did seek out the throne, Claudius very much did not. However, both are in the precarious situation where they can never leave their respective thrones. Rome would fall to pieces without Claudius, and the world would burn without Aro.

Also Aro: Voldemort in an AU where he won.

We're deep in la la AU land now.

But, Aro had to commit atrocities to get to the throne, we only meet him millennia later when his rule is secure. A post-victory Voldemort (and I here mean years and years and years have passed) would be a figure quite similar to Aro. A harsh, uncompromising leader, yet he’s been around for long enough to shape the world into what he wants it to be, people don’t remember that it was once different, and he is regarded as the distant, yet necessary leader.

Bella: Hedda Gabler from Vildanden.

Hedda finds out she's a child born of infidelity, and that her father no longer loves her. Wanting to win back his love she kills herself. Bella, too, has that utter lack of self-love, that willingness to sacrifice herself, and it’s all too easy for her to believe Edward never loved her. Both Hedda and Bella fail to understand there are people who love and would miss them

Also Bella: Homura Akemi from Puella Magi Madoka Magica.

This is not an obvious one.

But they both have that uncompromising drive to do anything and everything for the one they love, and by love I mean the one they fixate everything they are or have ever been upon. Homura, over the course of P3M, goes from wanting to use time travel to save everybody, to being content with saving only Madoka. She will destroy herself for Madoka in a very literal sense, seeing no worth at all in her own survival.

Give Bella a time machine and a timeloop where Edward always dies at the end, and she will go down Homura’s path.

Caius: Every warrior king ever. Ooh and he and Iskandar (again from Fate/Zero) have very similar vibes, although they're far from the same character.

Iskandar believes that kingship and leadership is not about being noble or virtuous or showing a good example to your people, it's about strength, conquest, and glorious victory.

Caius, I imagine, would heartily agree with that.

Carlisle: I love Carlisle, but there are Carlisles everywhere, especially in anime. Utena Tenjou from Revolutionary Girl Utena comes to mind in particular, though.

Utena begins her story as a righteous and brave girl who wants to be a prince. She wants this without quite understanding what it truly means to be noble, nor does she know what it means to save a person.

Her desire to save Anthy is especially this. Anthy is a traditional damsel in distress at the beginning of the story, and Utena is so eager to save her that she never takes what Anthy herself into account. She judges herself harshly for this failure, but comes to understand what it truly means to save Anthy in the end.

Carlisle has that same nobility and willingness to do good, he is the moral compass of those around him, but all the same he is hoodwinked and does not always know where best to thread. His rescue of Rosalie is a good example of this, he saw a young woman who’d been raped to death, and did the only thing he could to help her, only to learn this wasn’t what she wanted.

Also Carlisle: god, so many characters.

Shirou from Now and Then, Here and There. Suffers a ridiculous amount, but never loses his goodness and insists even in the most extreme circumstances upon the inalienable worth of human life.

Duck from Princess Tutu. Never uses violence or even powers to win against her opponents. She talks to them, finds out why they're unhappy, and wins through healing them. They become friends with her after.

Akane Tsunemori from Psycho-Pass. In a world where people’s souls can be calculated mathematically, Akane Tsunemori is objectively a good person, empirically proven to be incorruptible. That’s her defining trait, no matter what she endures she never loses her upstanding morals. The kind of person who wouldn’t succumb to the lure of human blood.

Just gonna drop the fact that Carlisle’s hair and eyes are the same color, Edward with his vampire sight notes that they’re only one shade apart. The guy is a misplaced anime character.

Oh, and Candide from Voltaire’s Candide. This is just a loose association, but “beautiful blond man travels the world, meets people who are over the top cartoonishly miserable (just... multiply Meyer’s backstories with each other and add 10. Victoria’s life + Rosalie’s life + Esme’s life + their mother is pushed off a cliff by dalmatians) but he carries on with a big smile, and eventually settles down with his found family of hilariously wretched people” gives me Carlisle vibes.

Edward: He's so many people and in so many different ways, oh my god.

He's a mommy's boy who cries because I'M A MONSTER - Buster Bluth. Arrested Development.

He thinks too highly of himself - Gilderoy Lockhart from Harry Potter.

He GOBs - George Oscar "GOB" Bluth. Again Arrested Development.

He appears normal to the outside world, yet there's a complete meltdown with incoherent rants, strong opinions about music, and strong disturbing tendencies towards violence he may or may not act on - Patrick Bateman from American Psycho.

He's weird about women, mother figures, himself, and violent. Creepy yet undeniably charming - Norman Bates from Psycho.

The way he regards Bella - strong Humbert Humbert from Lolia vibes. Replace "nymphet" with "singer" and there you go.

Really, though, with Edward, he is like these yet unlike them all. He’s... he’s a lot.

Emmett: Much like how Caius is a warrior king, Emmett is Frat Bro™.

Jasper: Clint Eastwood for reasons outlined in this post.

Marcus: Arwen after Aragorn inevitably dies.

A sad sad elf who's fading away.

Rosalie: Cordelia Chase from Buffy

Speaks her mind, no matter how brutal it is or how little people want to hear it. She does not forgive those who wrong her, she is proud, and most importantly, she is misjudged. Her beautiful appearance and bitchy veneer make her easy to dismiss, but once the going gets tough she is a deeply good person. She’ll make bitchy comments about watching your back, but watch it she does.

I also do this with ships. Aro/Carlisle are a great match for Dorian Gray and Lord Henry, if Lord Henry had failed to corrupt Dorian Gray and been delighted by that fact.

I have other examples, but they go weird places so let’s not.

TL;DR: I'm Miss Marple.

#long post #twilight #twilight meta #twilight renaissance #aro #carlisle cullen #bella swan #edward cullen #caius #jasper hale #emmett cullen #rosalie hale #marcus

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