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southindiatourstravels · 11 months ago

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13 Days Karnataka TamilNadu And Kerala Tour Package

DAY 1 : Arrival in the Garden City: Bangalore

Upon arrival at Bangalore (Bengaluru) International Airport, you will be provided with assistance for your transfer to the hotel. In the evening, embark on the Bangalore Garden City Tour, which includes visits to Lal Bagh Gardens, Bull Temple, and Tipu Sultan's Summer Palace. Following the tour, you will have the opportunity to rest and relax at the hotel. Enjoy an overnight stay in Bangalore.

DAY 2 : Exploring Shravanabelagola and Heading to Hassan

Commence your Shravanabelagola Jain Temple Tour following breakfast. Embark on a journey to Shravanabelagola, a renowned Jain pilgrimage destination. This site has gained worldwide recognition due to the presence of a colossal 17-meter high monolithic statue of Lord Gomateshwara, situated atop the Vindhyagiri hills. Following your visit to this remarkable site, proceed with your drive towards Hassan. Enjoy an overnight stay in Hassan.

DAY 3 : Exploring Hassan's Marvels and Journey to Mysore

This day presents an opportunity to indulge in the Hassan Sculptural Tour. Following breakfast, embark on a journey to Halebid to explore the Hoysaleshwara Temple, an 11th-century architectural marvel. Subsequently, proceed to Belur to visit the Chennakesava Temple, also dating back to the same period and dedicated to Lord Vishnu. These two sites are of utmost significance in the realm of archaeology, offering a breathtaking display of sculptural artistry. Following the visit, continue the journey to the renowned silk city of Mysore. In the evening, should you have leisure time, take a stroll to the Devarajah Market, where a plethora of captivating flowers, colorful powders, vegetables, spices, incense oils, and well-arranged fruit markets housed in old buildings await. Overnight accommodation will be provided in Mysore.

DAY 4 : Mysore's Rich Heritage

On this day, one has the opportunity to partake in the Mysore Heritage Tour, which entails a full day of sightseeing in the city of Mysore (Mysuru), renowned for its rich cultural heritage. The morning itinerary includes a visit to the Mysore Maharaja Palace, an Indo-Saracenic architectural marvel adorned with domes, turrets, arches, and colonnades. This palace houses a plethora of exquisite art, carvings, and paintings from all over the world. Following this, a brief drive to Chamundi Hills is scheduled to visit the renowned Chamundeshwari temple and the Bull temple. In the afternoon, a drive to Srirangapatna, a historic site that was once the capital city of the great Muslim warrior Tipu Sultan, is planned. The main attractions here include the Ranganathaswamy Temple, Srirangapatna, Tipu's summer palace, and Gumbaz. Another night's stay in Mysore is included in the itinerary.

DAY 5 : Mysore to Ooty - A Journey through Nature

In the morning, embark on a journey to Ooty, famously known as "the queen of blue mountains". Along the way, indulge in an exhilarating adventure tour. As you traverse through the forests of Bandipur and Mudhumalai, you will have the opportunity to witness various wildlife species, such as elephants, deer, and peacocks, among others, in their natural habitat. Proceed with your drive towards Ooty and unwind in the comfort of your hotel. Enjoy an overnight stay in Ooty.

DAY 6 : Ooty - Exploring the Hill Station

After you conclude your breakfast, commence your Hill Station Tour in Ooty. Explore the renowned Botanical Garden, Rose Garden, Ooty Lake, and Tea Plantations. Additionally, extend your stay in Ooty for one more night.

DAY 7 : Ooty to Munnar with a Stop in Coonoor

Following breakfast, proceed to Munnar by means of a stopover for a Coonoor City Tour. During this tour, visit the renowned Sim's Park located in Coonoor. Upon arrival in Munnar, check-in to the hotel and take some time to unwind. Enjoy an overnight stay in Munnar.

DAY 8 : Explore the Enchanting Munnar

Today presents an opportune moment for you to embark on a Hill Station Tour in Munnar. This picturesque destination boasts breathtaking landscapes, replete with natural tea plantations, cascading waterfalls, verdant mountains, and charming villages nestled amidst sloping terrain. We recommend a visit to the renowned Eravikulam National Park and Mattupetty Dam, both of which offer unparalleled natural beauty. Additionally, a leisurely stroll through the spice markets is sure to delight the senses. Conclude your day with another night's stay in Munnar.

DAY 9 : Explore the Charms of Thekkady

In the morning, it is recommended that you embark on a journey to Thekkady, also known as Periyar and Kumily. Later in the afternoon, commence your spice plantation tour. During this excursion, you will have the opportunity to visit the Spice Garden and witness the cultivation of various spices such as pepper, cardamom, cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, turmeric, vanilla, rubber, cloves, curry leaves, and a variety of flowers. You may also indulge in some leisurely activities such as ayurvedic massage, traditional martial art "Kalaripayattu", and nature walks (trekking) in the reserve as part of the Kerala Traditional Tour. An overnight stay in Thekkady is highly recommended.

DAY 10 : Alleppey Houseboat Delight

Today presents an opportunity for you to indulge in the Alleppey House Boat Tour. Following breakfast, proceed to Alleppey (Alappuzha), renowned for its backwaters. Upon arrival, check-in to the houseboat and relish a delectable lunch while cruising along the Vembanad Lake for approximately five hours. In the evening, the boat will dock near a village where you will enjoy dinner on board. Enjoy a comfortable overnight stay on the houseboat, with air conditioning operational between 8:30 PM and 06:00 AM. Your stay will be in Alleppey.

DAY 11 : Exploring the Cultural Melting Pot of Cochin

In the morning, following breakfast, guests will proceed with the check-out process from the houseboat and embark on a journey to Fort Cochin, a destination renowned for its amalgamation of Portuguese, Dutch, and British cultural influences. In the afternoon, the exploration of Cochin City will commence, beginning with a visit to the 16th-century Jewish Synagogue and the Mattancherry Palace, also recognized as the Dutch Palace. A leisurely stroll through Jew Town will also be included in the itinerary. The overnight accommodation will be provided in Cochin.

DAY 12 : Immersing in Cochin's Charm

This day is designated for you to partake in the Cochin City Tour. Firstly, you will have the opportunity to visit the Chinese fishing nets and fish markets. In close proximity to this location, you will also have the chance to visit St. Francis Church, where you can witness the tomb of the renowned Portuguese sailor Vasco da Gama, followed by a visit to the Santa Cruz Cathedral Basilica, a Catholic church, and the Dutch cemetery. In the evening, you will have the privilege of attending the traditional dance show of Kerala, known as "Kathakali". You will then conclude the day with another night's stay in Cochin.

DAY 13 : Journey Home with Cherished Memories

On this day, your tour with Sweet Memories will come to a conclusion. You will be transported from Cochin International Airport, Cochin in accordance with your flight schedule for your return journey home.

#southindiatourpackageswithitineary #tour package #travel agency #southindiatourstravelsmadurai #13dayskarnatakatamilnadukeralatourpackage

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angry-geese · 4 years ago

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Fluorescent Adolescent

Itadori x Reader x Sukuna

Warnings: sfw. platonic/romantic (interpretable). some minor swearing. mostly fluff. mention of violence. poly (sort of). Gn!Reader

Notes: Yuji and the reader have a movie night together. Sukuna decides to tag along

Nights at home were rare.

There’s not a lot of downtime when studying to become a sorcerer. Gojo was always sending you off on jobs that his students were very much not ready to handle. The line of work doesn't really follow a set schedule. Curses rarely exorcise themselves.

You haven't even graduated and you already wanted to retire.

You wanted to do something to celebrate your time off. Yuji suggested a movie night. You had nothing else in mind, and it sounded nice. The two of you thought about inviting Nobara. Movies weren't really her thing; she had other plans anyway. It wasn't often you got to hang out with just Yuji.

Gojo side-eyed you when you asked to borrow a movie. Your first mistake was asking him. The last time you borrowed one from him, the disc had been switched out with a porno. It took Yuji quite a while to figure out what was wrong. Nobara couldn’t pause the thing fast enough. Whether he forgot, or he did it on purpose, you’ll never know. You have the sneaking suspicion he meant to do it. When you gave it back the next day, Gojo never questioned why Yuji couldn’t look him in the eye.

Maybe that’s why Nobara passed on this one.

Eventually you settled on a horror movie. You're not quite sure what it was about. It looked gruesome. The cover had fake looking blood all over it. Despite being a jujutsu sorcerer, you were a wimp when it came to things like this. In the heat of the moment you could deal with it, but when it came to movies you were squeamish. It didn't matter how many times you told yourself that it wasn't real.

In the other room, the microwave beeps. The smell of burned popcorn fills the room. He likes his burnt; you can't stand the stuff. Two bowls had to be made. Both with a healthy dousing of salt and butter. Not the powdered stuff either; the real kind.

"You're going to miss it!" You call out.

"No I'm not!" Only a moment later followed by: "maybe I am!"

Yuji flings himself over the couch, just in time for the movie to start. Popcorn spills over the sides of the bowl, onto the couch and floor. He shouts "five second rule" before popping one into his mouth. Immediately you tackle him. He’s a bit stronger than you, and easily struggles free. It takes you nearly sitting on him to stop him. You have to pry the rest of the floor popcorn out of his hands like someone fighting their dog for an item it shouldn't be eating.

"Are you going to stop?” You ask. “Or are you going back for more the second I let you go?"

Weakly he nods.

The moment you let go of his wrists he’s lunging past you, reaching for it. In one swift motion you have him under you, pinning him to the floor.

The movie starts off with a creepy looking scientist, and two women stranded in a forest. You admit defeat, and collapse on top of him.

"Man I got hit so many times over this one," he offhandedly mentions.

"What?"

His response is a grunt.

If he says something out of pocket, it's best not to acknowledge it. He could write an entire novel about his life and barely scratch the surface. It’s almost impressive at this point.

It intrigued you, though. There were about a million questions you had for him. Asking one only brought up a hundred more.

The first thing you learned about Itadori Yuji was how he was Sukuna’s vessel. The second thing you learned was that he was going to die.

You were told not to get attached. Against almost everyone's advice, you did. So did many others. Yuji was truly strange. He didn't have the look of a man given a death sentence.

You often wonder how you'd react in his situation. Maybe you'd go to your death with a lot less grace. But there's no way of knowing until it happens. You like to think you'll go out in a blaze of glory.

Your interactions with Sukuna had been few, and only in passing. Aside from stories, you don't have much to say about him. Generally you aren't around when they switch. The one time you were, they didn't stay switched for very long. It still made you wonder. Since they shared domes, could Sukuna see everything that went on in Yuji's daily life? How much control did they really have over each other?

Sukuna would often switch out with Yuji while he slept. You expected that. He was unpredictable, and a bit of a prick. He's the king of curses after all. What more would you expect from a demon? Strangely enough, he never did anything. It wasn’t a proper switch, more like a particular hand or leg was taken over. Sometimes he'd knock things over, or hide Yuji's things, but he was never much more than an inconvenience. The guy could be a menace, sure, but he wasn't nearly what you expected.

He lays his head in your lap. Instinctively your hand finds his head, gently carding through his hair. It's strangely soft. It feels nice between your fingers. Sometimes you wonder if he dyes his hair, or if it's naturally like that. Come to think of it, you've never seen a baby picture- or even a childhood photo.

It's almost horrifying how quickly Yuji began to doze off. You sat there the entire time in wide-eyed horror. Maybe a bit of disbelief. If he feels the way your legs tense underneath him, he says nothing about it. He's snoring in no time. He can't help it, your hands feel so nice in his hair.

Unfortunately, you had caught Sukuna's attention too.

Nothing went on in Yuji's life without Sukuna listening in. Every little detail about his day to day life was known by Sukuna. Most days he didn't care to listen in. Unless there was a fight, or something to piss off, he wasn't interested. He was the first to realize how fond his host was of you. Immediately he started plotting all the ways he could hurt Yuji with you.

That plan was cut short.

He's not sure when it happened. Slowly you became worth something to him. Your strength was promising. If you continued on your path you could prove to be a truly frightening sorcerer. He found your will to fight impressive, albeit naive. At first it was a reluctant respect. You had promise. He could use that. Either against your or against other sorcerers, it didn't matter to him. You'd work in his favor eventually.

There was one moment that stuck out. One where his feelings went from a general distaste to fondness. You were fighting a curse, of all things. Although it didn't hit hard, it could shrug off a lot of damage. It wasn't particularly strong, but it was tough, and smart, proving to be a pain in the ass to everyone involved. With a snap of his fingers he could have exorcised it. But he didn't. Watching you two fight it was much more entertaining. If his host was killed, he'd simply bring him back.

Something went wrong. He's not quite sure what. The moments went by like shots out of a badly filmed movie. One scene. Then cut. Then the next scene. Then cut.

You're clinging onto his arm, asking if he's—Yuji—is okay. You weren't even hurt, but you were soaked in blood.

His feelings for you weren't disgust, or hatred, or even pity. It was something much worse. If he was capable of liking someone, it would be you. Sukuna could never imagine himself feeling this way for a human.

He hates that.

The affection he feels isn't love in a proper sense, but that's the only word for it. A creature like him isn't capable of love. He's the king of curses, he'll never lower himself to the level of humans. He'll never view you as more than a pet, but he cares for you in some sort of way.

Sukuna's affection comes out as bullying. Well, as much as a lone mouth can bully someone. You've learned to tune him out or brush him off. He's harmless around you. Yuji seems to keep him on a short leash. His bark is far worse than his bite. At least to you. You really can't say that for any unfortunate bastard that decides to piss him off.

Jokingly, you began referring to Sukuna when talking to Yuji. It was only to make him roll his eyes. Everyone hated when you did that, because usually Sukuna would respond. You tried to see how long you could get him to talk before he realized you we're screwing with him. It usually took a while.

Yuji's snores have gotten awfully quiet. The movie is less terrifying than you expected, but it makes your stomach churn. His eyes are open when you look down. They aren't Yuji's; they have a different look in them. Sukuna’s eyes have no humanity in them at all.

Both sets of Sukuna's eyes are focused on the TV. You're not quite sure when they switched. He made no show of it. One second he was Yuji, the next he wasn't. His hand rests on your knee, his thumb gently rubbing across your skin. He feels a bit colder than Yuji. You can’t help but wonder if it’s a curse thing or just a coincidence.

You try not to stare for too long.

"This is boring." He says. "You find this scary? Let alone entertaining?"

He doesn't like seeing you distressed, even if it's directed at something that isn't real.

"Yes, thank you," you say.

Maybe if you keep scratching his head he'll stop talking.

"Why do you like these? Clearly you don't like being scared." He says.

"Keep talking and I'll stop playing with your hair."

His sharp nails dig into your skin. "No."

"Then I suggest you stop talking,"

He sulks. It’s almost impressive how quickly you get him to back down.

He's a bit like a cat; the second your arms are tired and you need to rest, his fingers are digging into your skin. He doesn't want you to stop. The moments where he wants affection are ones where you can't—or don't want—to give it to him.

It's almost a competition between him and Yuji. His host is always so open with how he cares for you. You’re very affectionate towards each other. You’re affectionate towards all your friends. He finds it sickening. He wants your attention to be on him and only him. Yuji is only competition. Unfortunately for him—and you too, let's face it—they're a package deal. Sharing isn’t exactly a skill he has.

He shifts so he's sitting up, his head resting against your chest. Your heartbeat drops off for a second, before picking up in pace. You rest your chin on top of his head. Your hands find his hair, brushing it out of his eyes.

It's not long after his breathing evens out.

His head nods, eyes half shut, gaze still on the tv. You're so warm, he notes. He doesn't remember human contact feeling this nice. However hard he tries to fight sleep, it's no use, he can't stay awake for much longer.

For now, he would settle on sharing you if it meant he could have moments like this.

#jjk x reader #itadori yuji x reader #yuji x reader #sukuna ryoumen x reader #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #fluff #poly #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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papakhan · 3 years ago

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Jessup the Companion

This is very long! Includes voice lines, quest interactions, personal quest and endings! Based on a Template by @nukaworld here

Basic info:

Race: White

Gender: Male

Affiliation: Great Khans

Role: Great Khan Warrior, Squad leader

Location: Boulder City, Red Rock Canyon

Base SPECIAL: S6, P5, E7, C4, I3, A6, L4

Tagged skills: Guns, Melee, Survival

Perks: Fast Shot

The Courier of course meets Jessup at Boulder City and after confronting him about Benny he will tell you where he is and give you his lighter. If you resolve the conflict of Boulder City Showdown peacefully--or by killing or all the NCR soldiers, you get the opportunity to invite Jessup to travel with you to get revenge on Benny.

Jessup tells the Courier that while he does want to see Benny pay for the deaths of two of his brothers, he needs to make sure the remains of his squad gets back to Red Rock unharmed.

Once at Red Rock, the Courier will then have to convince Jessup that they’re trustworthy enough to travel with, either with Good Khan reputation [”I've helped the Khans already, you can't trust me after that?”] or a speech check [”Benny wronged both of us, I can help you get revenge for your brother.”]

Companion Perk: O’ Mighty Khan

The Great Khans were once the mightiest gang of raiders in the wasteland. To some they still are! Enemies including Fiends, Jackals, Vipers, Powder Gangers, Scorpions, and Greasers are 3x more likely to flee from battle with Jessup by your side.

Companion Comments:

Use Melee: “Tch, yeah I can do that.” / “Did I dome you a little too hard? I've been using melee this whole time.”

Use Ranged: “You’re payin’ for ammo.” / “Trying to say something funny about my aim huh? I'm already using my gun.”

Open inventory: “I’m glad I put these extra pockets in--shit where’s my switch.”

Overburdened: “Just because Khans can walk for miles carrying everything they own, don't mean I'm gonna do it for you.”

Stay close: “You know I only swiped Benny’s lighter because he was a punk, right?”

Keep distance: “You better not lead me to trouble.”

Be Passive: “No problem, I’m not fixing for a fight.“

Be Aggressive: “No fuckin' problem. They won't know what hit 'em. It's gonna be me, I'm hitting them.”

Wait here: “God I hate waitin’ around--fine.”

Follow me: “About fuckin’ time.”

Sneaking: “Quiet yeah? I can be quiet--quiet’s my middle name. Jessup Quiet Khan. It’s not actually--oh right, sorry.”

“Let’s travel together”: “Still after Benny, yeah? Let’s go.” / “Need help on another job? Sure, I got time.”

“Let’s travel together” (already have a companion): “I’m all for travelling in big groups but uh--only if they’re all Khans. Ditch one of these punks and we can go. “

Leaving companion at the Lucky 38: “You know I can’t sleep in those creepy old buildings right?”

“I wanted to ask you some questions”: “Yeah? Like what?”

“Tell me about yourself”: “Me? Oh um. Well I was born a Khan, on the road to the Mojave, and I’ll die a Khan wherever I end up.”

“What do you think of the NCR?”: “You're kidding right? NCR's scum. That's all you need to know.”

“What do you think of the Legion?”: “I dunno. They're.... mm. I dunno. Papa likes ‘em. I think. But he likes anyone who messes with the NCR.”

“What do you think of Mister House?”: “Some robot or something, I don’t know. I remember when he came to the Khans back when we lived in Vegas. Told us to get out, we told him to fuck off, but when too many of us started dying, so Papa Khan pulled us out.”

“What do you know about Benny?”: “Scum. Next question.”

“What do you know about the platinum chip?”: “Like I said, just a big fancy poker chip. Benny liked flashing it around. I managed to swipe it one night. Tried biting it like you see people do with old coins but that didn’t tell me shit.”

Death: “Heh. You think I’ll come back like you did?”

The rest is going under a cut because like I said. this is very long

Jessup comments on various locations:

Goodsprings: “Wait I’ve been here before.... oh yeah haha”

Goodsprings Cemetery: “Wanna stare at the hole I dug for you? Yeah it’s pretty great.”

NCRCF: “Holy shit, there was a prison break? Do you think any Khans got out?”

Mojave Outpost: “Never seen that statue up close before... looks like shit.”

Nipton: “This uh... this weren’t here when we came through..”

Novac: “Not sure if Manny’s gonna let me back in after last time.”

The Strip: “Ugh... these lights make you feel sick too?”

Cottonwood Cove: “Something ain’t right.”

The Fort: “This ain’t like what Karl said at all...”

Red Rock Canyon: “You get used to the smell.”

Trivia and additional information:

Like Boone when approaching Legion territory, Jessup will pull the Courier aside when approaching NCR territory to tell them that any soldiers will see his jacket and fire at him, and that he will defend himself. The Courier can either tell Jessup that they plan on defending him as well, or can pass a high barter check to convince him to wear a disguise while passing through the territory.

During the quest Ring a Ding, if the Courier fails to meet the credit check to pass into The Strip, Jessup will offer his contact in The Kings, Buddy, who can help them get in.

During the quest High Times, Jessup can be given Dixon’s Jet or Dixon’s Whiskey to inspect in dialogue. He will inform the Courier that the chems may once have been Khan made, but are so diluted and poorly put together that they are "twice the harm, half the high”. The Courier can then use this information to scare Dixon away from providing chems to Bill Ronte and Jacob Hoff or else evoke the wrath of the Great Khans. The information Jessup provides can also be used in place of the science check requiring to use less equipment to help the two detox.

If taken to Chance’s Map, Jessup will initiate dialogue and tell the Courier about his other brother Chance, but not what happened to him.

If taken to Chance’s Grave, Jessup will again initiate dialogue and tell the Courier to keep away, and can explain what happened to Chance with a speech check. If the Courier has high enough intelligence they can bring up the strangeness of Chance’s death and suggest Benny is responsible. If the Courier attempts to open Chance’s Grave, Jessup will immediately leave the party and attack them.

If taken to Oscar Velaso during Climb Evry Mountain, Oscar will have unique dialogue suggesting that Jessup and the Courier will help him kill all the soldiers and refugees in Bitter Springs. The Courier can either follow through with this, though Jessup will comment that “this isn’t the Khan way”, convince him to just kill the soldiers at a half speech check, or convince him to return to Red Rock with a full speech check.

Faction NPCs have unique responses to Jessup:

Jacobstown Supermutants: Khans don’t normally get this close.

Powder Gangers: We had a few Khans serving with us, must of run back to Red Rock by now.

After the quest Why Can’t We Be Friends with convincing the Powder Gangers to join the Khans, the Powder Gangers will have new lines addressing Jessup asking him to put in a good word for them.

Vault 3 Fiends: Whatcha got for us spikey man?

Followers: I hope your people are doing well in Red Rock.

Great Khans: Running with Jesse huh? Take care of him alright?

Westsiders: Hey man, good to see you.

Freeside Locals: Remember when the Khans ruled this place? I’d take them over House.

NCR Citizens: I can’t believe they just let Khans walk around here like they own the place.

Strip Gamblers: Nice leathers tough guy.

Unmarked Quests ( Optional ):

O’ Buddy O’ Pal O’ Mine: Jessup’s friend in Vegas is a King named Buddy, he’s the guy who forwarded him the job offer from the Chairmen (and wrote the letter Jessup keeps in his pocket). If Jessup is a companion he can be spoken to and point the Courier in the direction of The King if they need a passport into The Strip.

If the Courier killed Jessup and took the letter, they can still talk to Buddy and confront him about it, however if revealed that they killed Jessup at Boulder City, Buddy will turn hostile and killing him will turn the rest of The Kings hostile as well.

Snookered: If the Courier attempts to meet with Benny in the penthouse, or tries to sleep with him, Jessup takes the Courier aside and tells them that he’s got a funny feeling about this. He waits outside while the Courier goes to the room.

With Jessup as a companion after Benny’s goons attempt to kill the Courier, it’s not Benny who answers the intercom but Jessup, who tells you he chased down Benny after he tried to run and managed to kill him. He’ll apologise for stealing your kill but saves you from having to chase Benny to the Fort.

Or if the Courier sleeps with Benny and lets him live, they will awake to find that Jessup killed him as he tried to escape in the night. He will mock you for sleeping with Benny for the rest of the game, but also save you from going to the Fort.

Personal Quest - Born to be Wild

Quest Triggers: Immediately after killing Benny, Jessup will initiate dialogue. He tells the courier that killing Benny didn’t make him feel any better about--well, anything really. With two dead brothers and a home that’s falling apart, Jessup feels lost. If the Courier offers their help, the quest begins.

Quest Description: Jessup will explain that everything he’s been through, from the Khans being pushed out of Vegas and Bitter Springs, to his brothers dying all the way up to being surrounded and almost killed by the NCR is really starting to weigh him down. Now without Chance or McMurphy, he feels unsupported and aimless.

Jessup will ask the Courier to take him back to Red Rock Canyon and ask them to spend the night. In the early morning he wakes them up to say that he couldn’t sleep. That everything felt wrong. The Courier can ask what will make him feel better and he will tell them that he wants to feel like a Khan again, but when he was young, with his brothers. He doesn’t like what the Khans have become, he didn’t like seeing what their chems did to Chance and doesn’t want any part of the peddling the Khans have become famous for. He wants to go back to the days where the Khans were remembered for something else, something bigger.

Jessup suggests raiding an NCR caravan he spotted leaving the Outer Vegas area, and from here the courier has one of three options. They can suggest that they, Jessup and a fistful of chems would be enough against the caravan; tell him to gather some Khans and then attack; or try to convince him not to attack the caravan.

Regardless of what the courier chooses, Jessup will attack the caravan alone. After the fight, he will react to the Courier’s choice. He will tell them that attacking the caravan didn’t make him feel better, and he says that he thinks he needs to talk to someone else who understands.

Jessup will make three suggestions that the Courier can speak to. Bo, a disillusioned Follower who joined the Khans after relations between the two factions fell apart; Papa Khan, the obvious; or Harley Davidson, a former New Khan who lives away from the rest.

Bo advises that, despite his misgivings towards the Followers, professional therapy is likely the best choice. Though Bo warns the courier that very few Khans have ever been convinced to pursue such a thing. Alternatively, Papa Khan suggests that what Jessup needs is to let himself fall back on the Khans. The massacre was not long ago and many Khans know exactly how Jessup is feeling, and they can mourn together. Finally, Harley suggests that sometimes you just need to be away from everyone and alone with your thoughts. She protects Red Rock from a distance, working on her grief by shooting up cazadors deep into the mountains.

Jessup naturally leans towards Papa Khans advise, but can be swayed by the Courier either way.

Jessup decides that there’s too much going on right now, and he wants to get away just for a little while. He asks to meet the Courier at Chance’s grave, because he never got to give Chance or McMurphy a real Khan burial. He asks that the Courier collects some things for him before they meet, including flowers, fruit and some torches.

Once the Courier has collected what he’s asked for, they can bring them to him where he will give his brothers a ceremony. He explains to the Courier that he’ll light the torches for McMurphy, but because Chance hated fire, he’ll extinguish them when he’s done instead of letting them burn out on their own.

Afterwards he talks to the Courier for the last time and, based on choices they made, will tell them what he’s decided to do. To either ask the Followers for help, mourn with the Khans, or go it alone. The courier still has a chance to sway his choice but only with a high speech check.

Outcomes: Convince Jessup to seek professional help from the Followers of the Apocalypse and he will become more stable, but lose his fighting edge.

Convince Jessup to seek help from his fellow Khans and will be become somewhat stable, and put his energy into becoming a better fighter.

Convince Jessup to reject help and cope alone and he will become even more unstable, to the point that the Khans become concerned and even fearful of him.

Endings

Jessup dies:

Any: Though Jessup was a mighty warrior, he, like his brothers, and like many Khans before him, succumbed to the wasteland.

The Khans are wiped out (Khan suicide attack on the Dam, NCR victory but Khans did not change sides, Legion victory but the Khans fought for NCR):

Any: Ever loyal, Jessup fought bravely for the Khans on Hoover Dam. It didn’t matter what he had learnt or how he had changed, he could not escape the Khan’s destiny. Shot down by his enemy and bleeding out under the sun, Jessup wondered if any of this had been worth it.

The Khans refuse absorption into the Legion (as per my rewritten khan legion ending)

Khan/Follower Jessup: Despite all that he had learnt from the Followers/his fellow Khans, and all that he had healed from his hardships, Jessup was amoung the first Khans to fall to the Legion. Betrayed by the same Courier who Jessup believed had forgiven him, he was killed by a recruit who got lucky that one of the Khan’s mightiest warriors was too stunned to fight back.

Alone Jessup: Enraged by the Courier’s betrayal, Jessup fought against the Legion with all his might. If any Khan had survived the Legion’s attack, they would have remembered Jessup’s final battle for generations. But no Khan lived to see Jessup finally cut down by the Legate.

The Khans are relocated by the NCR

Follower Jessup: Jessup fought at the Dam for the Khans, not for the NCR. Though he was a warrior, his time with the followers made him more reflective on his actions. When he hesitated to kill a Legionary who resembled his brother, a nearby NCR soldier took him for a traitor, and shot him in the back.

Khan Jessup: Jessup reluctantly follows the Khans to their new home. Without Papa Khan, and with no hope for the future, the Khans slip deeper into their mourning. Jessup, like his brother, retreated to substances to drown his sorrows. And sometimes when he’s drunk enough he can still see his brothers.

Alone Jessup: Jessup refused to be moved a second time by the NCR. He quickly became a wanted outlaw in the Mojave, gunning down caravans of any kind and smuggling resources back to the Khans. But one day the steady stream of supplies stopped, and the Khans knew a bounty hunter had finally claimed his reward.

The Khans move to Wyoming

Follower Jessup: Jessup continued to visit the Followers until the Khans departure from the Mojave. During the trek north, Jessup recognised that his fellow Khans had never moved on from Bitter Springs, and walked aimlessly just as he had done not long ago. He took it upon himself to help his family just as the Followers had helped him. By the time the Khans reunited with the Followers in Wyoming, Jessup had all but given up life as a Khan warrior, and had become a pillar of support and guidance to his peers. He lived to a good age, and died well loved.

Khan Jessup: Jessup visited his brother’s grave one last time before riding the road to Wyoming with his kin. He promised one day he would return, once the Mojave had finally settled. In the North, Jessup made a good life for himself, establishing two good trade routes that he named after his brothers. Many years later Jessup did return to the Mojave with his children and grandchildren. As he stood at his brother’s grave, he wondered if that courier who’d cheated death, still lived.

Alone Jessup: Jessup was almost left behind by the Khans, only a persistent few were able to track him down and convince him to leave his brothers behind. There was no familiarity of home in Wyoming, Jessup tried his best to adjust, he could never bring himself to live amongst his people again. For generations, Jessup was remembered as a ghost, a distant man who guided lost souls to their final resting place.

#long post #seriously #falloutfun #jessup #great khans #fnv #txt #jessup the companion

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jojo-reader-hell · 4 years ago

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Hi can I please get married Jonathan and reader 🥺💕

Your ask helped me kill two birds with one stone. We’re knocking out something for both Jonathan and Giorno’s birthdays 🥺❤️

Joyous of occasions!

All of April, Jonathan Joestar had been hopefully waiting for this moment. Admittedly he’d waited even longer, fantasies of this occasion peppered his thoughts before marriage during your courtship, enough pleasant and rousing thoughts to make the devil blush.

“Gently with his head…” Erina whispered, guiding his large shaking hands.

There was a shocked gurgling squeal. Music to Jonathan’s ears, his heart aching with joy as he looked to where you were.

Your forehead glistened with sweat. The dawn’s light illuminated your ear to ear smile as you saw your husband struggle to keep his composure.

“That’s it. Be gentle, no need to shake…”

The squealing died down as Jonathan rocked slowly side to side. His breath pushed passed his teeth with some trepidation. The shushing seemed more for his nerves rather than for the little bundle he held.

At the beginning of the month the guests arrived. Both you and Jonathan were sufficiently entertained. Often you and Erina talked long into the night in the library while George and Baron Zeppeli kept Jojo distracted with gin and billiards, Robert providing comedic relief with his unintentional cue ball projectiles. Sufficient entertainment for three days.

On the fourth, Jonathan awoke around midnight, the long case clock in the hall never typically roused him from sleep, but this night he opened his eyes and immediately turned to see if you were in pain. No… You were sound asleep, hands curled under your pillow. The rest of the day found Jonathan utterly distracted from his little intimate gathering. Normally he’d be three slices into his birthday cake before the party was over, but not even the cake nor the tart lemonade he loved could pull him away from fretting over you.

Oh how he’d hoped he’d get his present that day, but no such luck. You worried a piece of cake with a smile on your face, laughing when Robert balanced your plate on the round dome of your stomach.

It had taken twelve agonizing days. Full of worry and little anxieties. Any little move and the men were on edge, Erina there to keep the peace as you tried to rest as much as possible. The night of the fifteenth day you were ready, but no amount of ether could have prepared you for the agony.

In retrospect they should have distributed it to the men as well. Jonathan paced for hours back and forth in front of your room, nursing the pipe his father had given him for his birthday. Every time he heard a cry, every whimper that emanated from within, he wanted to give into his anxiety and kick down the door. Occasionally through your pained haze you heard George snap at his son, or Robert’s shaky squeals when the Baron thumped to the floor in distress. On and on you worked, Erina’s encouragement the only thing to get you through the pain.

Now, as the dawn broke, Jonathan held up his heir to your face, allowing you to kiss the soft red cheek with devotion.

“Dare alla luce...” Jonathan whispered to you.

You aren’t allowed to speak after such an ordeal. For your sake you’ve been told to stay quiet, Erina only allowed your husband to see you under the condition he wouldn’t stay long and that he’d keep talking to you to a minimal whisper. Instead of asking, you let the question shine in your eyes.

“Zeppeli told me...” Jonathan whispers, “It means to give birth, and yet the literal translation is to give to the light. And look, how the sun has risen to see our beautiful boy.”

Vaguely you were aware of the light through the haze of pain, the way Jonathan held the baby, it seemed as though the child’s blue black curls were soaked in gold. Two very bright eyes, the sky color that belonged to his father, opened to behold your tired smile for the first time in his short life.

“... Giorno.” You whispered.

Jonathan’s eyes sparkled like stars at the sound of your melodic Italian. Though you knew very little, you were a quick study. The name was unusual. In a world of powdered and sickly stiff suits, your son’s name would stand proudly.

Jonathan didn’t mind you had broken your silence. It was poetic in a way, to speak your son’s name into the morning light.

“Buon compleanno... Giorno Giovanna Joestar...”

#jojo’s bizzare adventure #jjba phantom blood #jojo’s bizzare adventure x reader #jojo’s bizarre adventure phantom blood #jjba pb #jonathan joestar x reader #jonathan joestar #giorno giovanna #erina pendleton #robert eo speedwagon #william zeppeli #au #alternate universe #jjba x reader #reader insert #tw birth

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tessiete · 4 years ago

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If you still take prompts: Rumors of the Duchess of Mandalore (bc patriarchal bs and misogynistic beliefs about female leaders) potentially getting married reaches Coruscant and Obi-Wan copes as well as can be expected. Cue sad boi sadness with maybe fluff at the end? Or go full angst I’m ok with either

I AM! I am still taking prompts, and I know this took a while to get around to because I’m also sloooooow at filling them. But here we are, dear anon. I hope you enjoy this little snippet! <3

THE GRAVITATIONAL DEFLECTION OF LIGHT

There is some silly, selfish part of him that he never outgrew, and like a weed in his gut it twists and writhes when he hears that the Duchess Kryze is to marry.

And suddenly, he finds himself thinking of her more often, and more frequently during situations where his attention would best be put to use elsewhere. In council, he is forced to ask Master Windu to repeat a question he’d failed to hear, his mind being drawn by the gleam of light off the Senate dome on the horizon. During a sparring match, he takes a hit he’d never have missed except that Anakin threatens to deliver him a close shave at the end of his saber, and he’s struck dumb by the memory of her hand upon his cheek. There are peace lilies in a vase in the Archives, and pure beskar changes hands in a deal he’s meant to disrupt at a Separatist camp, but by far the most egregious lapse comes in the midst of relief efforts in a small village on Taskeed. He is caught, for a moment, by the sight of a woman with blonde hair and a young boy on her hip turning away from him. His focus slips. A blaze of light flashes more quickly than he can see, and by the time he hears the retort of a blaster rifle he is already on the ground.

The clones close ranks around him. Cody kneels, calling in a medevac even as Obi-Wan tries to rise.

“No, sir, stay down,” he says, laying one hand against his shoulder. Obi-Wan winces at the contact. His muscles strain at the effort, the nerves at the site of his injury ruptured and ragged.

“Cody,” he chokes out. “There’s a hostile.”

His second is a merciful man and makes no comment on the idiocy of that statement. Instead, he bites open a pain tab, and shoves it between Obi-Wan’s teeth. Then, so rapidly he has no time to protest, he removes his belt, and tears apart the fabric at Obi-Wan’s waist, sprinkling sulfa powder over the gory wound, and pressing a bacta patch down to cover it.

There is no more blaster fire to mark their passage back to the ship, but the wound is too serious to treat on board The Negotiator. He is sent back to Coruscant as a consequence of his foolishness.

There, he is dipped in bacta, where he doesn’t dream, and he spends the next week of his convalescence thinking of her.

It had never been this bad during their first separation. The months following her ascension to the duchy had been painful, that he cannot deny, and he spent hours in his room lonely, and self-pitying, but he had been a child then and he can forgive himself now of the folly of youthful indiscretions. There followed more than a decade between them and he had gone days, weeks - upon the outbreak of war even months - without thinking of her at all.

But with one touch of her hand, he’s fallen again, his resolve crumbling into dust as though his indifference to her were only a veneer grown thin and brittle with being stretched over so much time.

The Duchess of Mandalore is to marry.

Why should that matter to him? They are friends. Hardly that, and nothing more. And it was he who had defined those terms. So why should he be restless, and anxious, and fretted up like some craftsman’s handiwork at the thought of it? It is silly. It is demeaning - to her, and to him.

And yet...he wants to know.

Who is she to marry? And when? How did they meet? Is he a Mandalorian, like her? Or did she meet him here? Did they meet at the Senate while he walked in the Temple only a few klicks away? Have they much in common? Do his political aims match hers? Does he long for peace like she does? Will he stand by her side in upholding it? Would he die for it? Would he die for her? Does she love him?

She must, he thinks. She must love him. She would not choose him, otherwise.

And that, perhaps, is the cruelest thought of all.

He is confined to medbay with nothing to occupy his time but his holopad, his dispatch reports, and her when he sees a news story flash on his screen.

At Last! The Lily is Plucked

He cannot help himself as he reads about a chance meeting, a whirlwind romance, and plenty of private assignations held at various hotels and restaurants across Capital City. There are holos, too, and reels. He sees her leaving the Bal Silvestre on the arm of Corellian senator, Garm Bel Iblis.

Senator Bel Iblis is older than her, and seems a bit unkempt, his long hair pulled half back in a simple style. Obi-Wan knows of him by reputation, and heard him called a rake. His politics brand him a maverick, and a rogue, and he has been known, once or twice, to engage in backdoor negotiations in order to ensure a vote swings one way or another in his favour. Beside him, while he stands smug in his dark brocade, she shines. She is spotless. Luminous. They are not well matched.

He scours the net for more, and because he is looking, he finds it. There are many articles - hundreds. Some map out timelines of their courtship (they met years ago, apparently, at some gala held while Obi-Wan was still helping Anakin with Basic), some tell the history of their previous romantic entanglements (he was engaged to a woman now dead. She was once rumoured to be promised to a Vizsla. Obi-Wan’s name is not mentioned). Some merely provide pictures of their exploits, and comment on their mutual friends, making conjecture after conjecture about how their romance came to be, and what must happen next now that the flame has been rekindled. It is torturous. And tedious. And soon, Obi-Wan loses track of the details that appear in one article, and again in every other.

But one thing remains clear to him: Satine Kryze is going to be married. She has forever slipped his reach.

A reach, he pathetically reminds himself, he never intended to extend. All this self-flagellation is for naught. He is being ridiculous.

So he thumbs off his pad, turns out the lights, and tries to sleep with the image of Satine, smiling and resplendent flickering in his mind. The next morning, feeling no better for the little rest he managed to steal, he deletes the history of his pad, and determines to feel absolutely nothing at all about Satine Kryze.

Then Padme comes to the Council and requests a padawan be sent to Mandalore’s aid.

It is Ahsoka who goes. Of course it is. He takes small solace in the fact that it had not been he who suggested her, but since she was assigned, he feels well within his rights to enquire about the Duchess upon her return.

“She seemed fine,” Ahsoka tells him. He has invited her for tea following her report to the Council, hoping he might, in his hospitality, coax a few more personal details from his grand-padawan. “I mean, there was a moment where Almec - that’s the Prime Minister, or rather was - anyway, there was a moment where he had her in a shock collar, but like I said, the cadets and I managed to sort it out.”

“Right,” he concedes. “As you said.”

A moment passes between them. Obi-Wan sips his tea, struggling to swallow as the fist around his throat grows tighter and tighter. Ahsoka, blissful in the aftermath of a successful solo mission, grabs another biscuit and a strip of perami gammon.

“And tell me,” he ventures. “What of her - her consort? Any word of him? Where was he during this mess?”

“Her consort?”

“Her husband.”

Ahsoka scrunches her nose, and cocks a brow at Obi-Wan’s wild inquiry.

“She had a nephew,” she says. “But no one ever said anything about a consort.”

“Ah,” he says. “Perhaps he was occupied elsewhere.”

“Maybe,” she agrees, amicable and amenable to letting the whole thing slide. He only hopes she won’t think it significant enough to mention to Anakin later. His curiosity won’t be as easily sated with tea and deflection.

He is not a lucky man.

Anakin comes blazing into his room with an ambitious stride, and a grin that speaks of imminent mischief.

“Heard you were asking Ahsoka about the Duchess’ consort,” he says, throwing his cloak over the back of a chair and dropping to lounge across Obi-Wan’s low couch.

“I was asking about her mission,” he corrects. He turns his back to set some water to boil, knowing that such an entrance by his padawan indicates a visit of extended duration. “And the key players, therein. Purely professional.”

“Purely.” Anakin smirks.

The subject is dropped when Anakin is diverted by the service being laid before him, and the inclusion of several of his favourite confections.

“Noorian memba tarts!” he cries. “Where did you even find these?”

“An old recipe,” Obi-Wan says. “But I remember you enjoyed them when we dined on Belasco and thought I’d try my hand at it.”

It is not a bad effort either, judging by Anakin’s display of enthusiasm. He eats the first with some degree of etiquette, but the fourth, fifth, and sixth are gone with no display of decency or shame whatsoever.

Obi-Wan sips his tea. He is thinking of Tahl while Anakin is thinking of the sweetness on his tongue, and making excuses for his absence the previous night.

“I’m sorry, Obi-Wan, but I was unavoidably delayed after the Senate recessed for the evening. I had to - to assist a delegate with a personal matter.”

Obi-Wan says nothing, but remembers how Qui-Gon, too, used to invent reasons to disappear unchecked. He invents nothing. He only cleaves to his duty, while time and fate conspire to keep him absent anyway.

Anakin must hear something in his silence, because his expression loses the tension of equivocation, and he falls to studying Obi-Wan’s face.

“I was only teasing, master,” he says. “Before. I didn’t think to ask Ahsoka anything about the Duchess. She spent most of her time with the nephew, but he seemed a bright kid. Close to Satine. I can ask her to ask him if he knows anything -”

“Absolutely not,” says Obi-Wan. The words are soft, but definite. He rises swiftly to clear the detritus of their meal. “Thank you, Anakin, but Duchess Kryze is only a friend. I merely inquired out of a desire to assure myself that the report issued to the Council lacked nothing in the thoroughness of its presentation. I should hate to think that such a personal association might be overlooked as an avenue for effecting harm.”

“Oh.”

“But I thank you in any case. Ahsoka’s report was well done, and you should be very proud of your padawan,” he says. “As I am of you.”

He turns to Anakin then, smiling and benign. His padawan meets his look with a vaguely skeptical one of his own, before patting him on the shoulder, and shrugging back into his cloak.

“Alright, master,” he says. “I’ll let her know how thorough she was.”

“Goodbye, Anakin.”

“Goodbye,” his friend replies. Then, just as he crosses the threshold of the door and moves into the open hall, he looks back. “Oh,” he says. “There’s a quick supply run being made to Mandalore for relief in light of Ahsoka’s investigation. Scheduled for tomorrow, but unfortunately, I’m needed back at the Senate. I meant to ask - you wouldn’t mind making the trip for me, would you? You don’t even need to get off the ship.”

---

There is nothing he can say to Anakin, so of course, as contrived and embarrassing as the whole thing is, he goes. And he does get off the ship.

Satine is there to meet him.

“Master Kenobi,” she says, extending her hand. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”

He drops a brief, and reverential kiss then lets her go.

“Cleaning up after my padawan and his padawan, it seems,” he says. “Apparently, a master’s work is never over. Congratulations on your recent engagement, Duchess. I hope you’ll both be very happy.”

The look which passes over Satine’s face is one he cannot decipher. He thinks she looks in equal parts shocked that he has heard, disgusted by his presumption in speaking of it, embarrassed by his boldness, and wearied by his presence. But she doesn’t deny it, so he makes his excuses to leave.

“Excuse me, Duchess,” he says. “But this was only meant to be a very brief visit, and I should prepare for departure.”

“Can you not stay for midmeal?” she asks, and he hesitates upon the precipice of her invitation. “Surely you don’t mean to tease me with a visit as brief as this? And surely your men would enjoy some rest and repast before you go?”

The troopers at his back shift, and he can feel their eagerness undulate in the Force. It would be cruel to deny them for the preservation of his own fragmented dignity, so he relents.

“Of course, your grace,” he says. “We would be most honoured.”

“Captain,” she says to the Protector at her right. “Have these men fed and watered immediately. The kitchens and my staff are at their disposal.”

He clicks his heels, and disappears, while she steps forward, and wraps her arm around Obi-Wan’s as though completely uncaring of any beau or consort or husband who might see.

“You, my dear master,” she murmurs slyly by his ear. “Are to be attended elsewhere, at my discretion.”

He does nothing to resist as she pulls him along.

Soon, they are at the Palace. Soon, they are sat at a small table in her private quarters, drinking Mandalorian kava, and eating freshly baked land’shun. Soon, they are alone.

She sets her drink aside, and dusts her hands on a fine silk napkin before broaching the subject trapped between them.

“Now, what is this about my nuptials?” she asks. Her blue eyes are steady upon his own, and he feels his palms slick with sweat. She is radiant. She is regal. There is no holo or reel or word that could do justice to the beauty of this woman in the flesh, and he feels that insidious root of jealousy writhe with agony.

“Satine -” he begins.

“No, no,” she protests, seeming to anticipate his deflection before he has begun. “I should like to hear why you think I ought to accept your congratulations, and why you felt you ought to offer them personally, in particular. Mandalore seems a rather dull trip for a High General to make.”

“I came in Anakin’s stead, actually,” he replies pertly. Another sip of kava lends some sophistication to this claim.

“Of course,” she says, but she does not look away. He can feel her gaze upon him. He can feel her glittering in the Force. She is laughing.

And he cannot bear it.

“Forgive me, your grace,” he says, rising to his feet. He sets the cup upon a saucer where it clatters inelegantly against the pot of sucre next to it, overturning the dish and sending the crystals spilling across the table. “Forgive me,” he says again.

She lunges forward to right the pot, and still his hand beneath her own. For a moment, he doesn’t breathe. Then, he pulls away.

“I read about it on the net,” he says. “I saw the holos, and the reels. I only wanted to see you one last time, to see...I wanted to see that you were happy. That’s all.”

“Oh, Ben,” she says, his name like a sigh upon the breeze.

“It is nothing,” he says. “A foolishness all my own. I am sorry if I have troubled you, and I offer you my sincerest congratulations.”

He bows, though when he raises his head, his eyes do not rise with it, so he does not see the look of sorrow upon her face. Still, he imagines it as pity, and moves to make his escape. She is faster than he is.

“No,” she says, standing between him and the door. “I will not accept your congratulations, and I will not accept your departure on such callous terms as these.”

“Duchess -”

“Ben,” she counters, leaning on the name. “I am not engaged. I am not married. And I do not intend to be, no matter how devoted to the idea of it you are.”

“I - devoted?” he asks, his voice rising to the height of his indignation. “I am devoted to no such thing. I have only - only been reconciled to it for weeks, thinking only of you and your happiness.”

“And your own misery, too, I’d wager.”

He chokes on his denial because he knows it is too big a lie to fit through his lips, and stares at her in dismay. She is smiling. Force, he thinks. She is incandescent. Like she has swallowed a star, and he can’t look away. He would that he could be consumed by her too, and finally, he gives in.

“Yes,” he says in an admission of guilt so great it brings relief. “I was miserable. I am, I think, an infinitely miserable person.”

“You are,” she agrees. “But I am not getting married, I am not engaged, and I am only as in love as I ever have been. And if you are foolish enough to forget that, then you are deserving of every misery you heap on yourself.”

“Have pity,” he begs.

“None,” she says.

“Have mercy,” he pleads.

“For you?” she says. “Always.”

They fall together like gravity and sunlight, and for a moment, whole galaxies bend to their will.

#my fic #prompt fill #obi-wan kenobi #satine kryze #obitine #garm's here #and anakin #and ahsoka #i mashed everyone in #star wars #fic #gffa

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dragonrajafanfiction · 4 years ago

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Genji Heavy Industries (Part 2) Into the Underground

Chu Zihang makes me have a surprisedpikachu.jpg here.

ITT: The MC can have ally chats and date both genders soooo...

The elevator descended to the bottom floor. The door opened to pitch black.

Chu Zihang flicked on the flashlight. The beam of light illuminated the dusty statue of the Virgin Mary. Although pigment has faded due to age, the Virgin Mary statue is still flushed with a magnificent red and gold, which indicates that the paints they used were mixed with real gold powder.

This is the second basement level of the Takamagahara. The building actually had a second underground floor and one of the four elevators was a freight elevator that could reach this floor.

"This house looks pretty old!" Lu Mingfei exclaimed, "This style is not like a Japanese house."

"Before World War II, this was a Catholic church. After the Meiji Restoration, many priests came to Japan to preach, and there were many Catholics at that time. This was once a stronghold of the faithful in Tokyo, where dozens of priests lived and held regular services and masses." Chu said, "When Tokyo was bombed in World War II, the bas-reliefs and arches were destroyed, leaving only the main structure intact. The store manager saw its location and rented it, spending a lot of money to renovate it into a nightclub. The stage was originally where the organ was housed, and the card seating area was originally the choir stalls. This floor was a confessional and reading room, and was used as a bombing shelter during World War II. To this day it is a government-planned shelter, although the store manager is using it as a storage room."

You’re riding on Caesars back, your legs straddling his waist and propped up by his arms. Even though there was no danger yet, you were still slightly inebriated by your night’s show and he insisted on carrying you until you sobered up. Practical reasons aside, he made it clear that he wanted you to stay close to him. You were essential to the mission. You surmised also that his own personal code of honor and justice pushed him to go the extra mile.

Everywhere the flashlight swept was grey with dust. The four walls were painted with chalk. The floor was just smoothed with cement. The walls still had traces of smoke and fire and, in the corners, were stacked organ parts, enamel-decorated pulpits, and two or three human-high crosses with aged ochre vestments hanging from them. You can vaguely feel the prosperity of this Catholic Church back then. You imagine the clergy shuttling to and fro, the sound of voices reciting the Bible. No one could have imagined that, a hundred years later, this place would become a nightclub of sound and fury of male strippers.

Chu Zihang found a cellar well in the corner of the hall. It was covered by an old-fashioned cast iron well cover. The rusty cover was probably hundreds of years old, and the German markings of the cast iron company were indistinct. Chu Zihang and Caesar worked together to move the well cover, and the sound of water gurgled in the darkness.

"The sewer entrance is actually inside the building!" Lu Mingfei whispered in surprise, “So Hydra won’t even notice us going in and out of the Takamagahara!”

"It's indeed a very coincidental thing." Chu Zihang said, "I also did not expect the entrance to the sewer would be hidden in Takamagahara. I found the sewer map of Shinjuku district from the Internet. It doesn’t look very big. There are only a dozen sewer entrances and exits. Most of them are housed in a sewage treatment station. Only this cellar well is the exception. It should have been sealed long ago, but because it was connected to the shelter, it happened to provide an escape route, so it was preserved. I should say we got lucky, we found the shelter at the same time we touched the back entrance of Genji Heavy Industries."

Lucky, huh? You raise your eyes again to the statue of the Virgin Mary and the words of Z in your dream echoed. He was doing this for a reason. Was it revenge for Black Swan Bay? If so, why wait 20 years? He told you frankly that you wouldn’t be able to understand until the very end. But your skin was starting to crawl.

“MC! Come on.” Caesar was waiting for you at the entrance. He once again lifted you up on his back and carefully you descended into the pipe.

They went down the iron staircase into the sewer, the flashlight illuminating the mossy brick wall. The structure of this section of the sewer was very old, completely different from the modern Iron Dome shrine, with a semicircular cross section. A water channel was in the middle and narrow paths for walking were on both sides. The ceiling is draped with some kind of aquatic plant, dark green and hair-thin, and if you are not careful, they will brush your face like cold hands in the dark. There was a foot-long black shadow slowly creeping across the corner, and when Chu Zihang shone his torch over it, it suddenly accelerated and disappeared into the dark green plants, emitting a woofing sound similar to a dog's bark. Lu Mingfei was so scared that he leaned back, Caesar held him up in time, otherwise he would have been planted in the gutter.

“Stop being so jumpy!” He hissed.

"It's a mud salamander, a kind of salamander, native to North America." Chu Zihang locked the thing's exposed long tail with the beam of the flashlight. "It eats the eggs of aquatic animals, which prevents them from overpopulating the sewers. They put them in the sewers as scavengers."

"Holy shit! Scared the hell out of me! There are actually such dumb things in the sewers!"

"Each city's sewers are an ecosystem, where there is sufficient water but basically no sunlight. Those species that can adapt to the darkness will quickly reproduce and eventually form a stable biosphere." Chu Zihang walked ahead with a flashlight, "The sewer ecosystem of each city is different, related to the city's rainfall, temperature and the acidity of the groundwater. The most important thing to be careful of here is the small things like blood worms, they may lay eggs on you. The big things are mostly not dangerous, even the water snakes are also not venomous."

"Anywhere you go, the sewers are not built all at once. The sewers you see now are the sewers of Shinjuku district a hundred years ago. Tokyo had a massive renovation of the sewer system ten years ago, connecting all the old sewer systems, and the excess groundwater enters the Iron Dome Shrine through the various sewers, and is purified and discharged into the sea from the mains. If we keep walking, we’ll eventually enter the main channel." Chu Zihang glanced at the map in his hand, "About 600 meters further we will pass under the Shinjuku subway station, where there will be giant water turbines, through the turbine holes we will enter the Iron Dome Shrine."

"Brother were you born in the sewers, so you know so much about them?"

"I googled it."

"But you can't read Japanese."

"I have Google Translate, and I learned a few sentences of Japanese through Google Translate." Chu Zihang switched to Japanese and said, "Thank you for your patronage. I look forward to seeing you again. Would you like some more wine? Cry if you are sad. And that's about it."

“You’re so smart.” You say, “Maybe someday I’ll be as smart as you.”

“You’re very intelligent in your own way, MC. Mostly by way of survival. In Chizuru, you didn’t hesitate to wait until nightfall, find your own clothing, make your way to the Internet Cafe and fend off attackers. You recognized the danger of the gangsters long before we did. And in the end, if I hadn’t distracted you, you probably would not have been injured. Those are the major examples. I could go on longer with the smaller examples. When I think of them I’m glad you’re our friend and not our enemy.”

“Aw…” You say, resting your head between Caesar’s shoulder and neck. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

Caesar snorted. “Speaking of flirting, I’m very surprised not even the hottest men of Tokyo could earn your favor tonight. You really didn’t see anything in any of them?”

“They each tried to sell themselves to me very well. But I wasn’t interested in what they had to offer. It’s not that they didn’t have anything.”

“If you had no choice and had to pick one… which one would you choose?”

“That’s a weird question. I’m wondering why it matters. Have you bet on a favorite to win?”

“No. I just don’t think it’s good to walk alone in the world. I was honestly hoping that you and Mingfei Lu would get along a bit better but…”

“It wouldn’t be good for someone like me to court an ordinary human. Playing like this for a show is… alright.”

“You loved someone back in your old place… what was he like?”

“She.”

Caesar’s eyebrows lifted. “Oh!”

Mingfei’s head swiveled in your direction. “You like girls!” He slaps his forehead. “It all makes so much sense now!”

“I didn’t know I did until I was asked that question about lost love. It’s a bit sadder now because if I had understood my feelings then, I would have told her.” You shift your gaze back to Mingfei. “Can I ask you something? Are both your parents Chinese?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You look like someone I used to know. I think he may still be alive. I liked him too.”

“Then you swing both ways?” Lu Mingfei seemed to be having a mini-crisis. How was he supposed to protect your innocence from everyone in existence? It was funny to see him frantically holding back his bangs, concerned about that rather than being worried about breaking into the headquarters of the most powerful organization in Japan.

Caesar’s eyes shifted in your direction. “If you need help searching for survivors, you have the full support of the Student Union.”

“Thanks… If anyone could survive, it would be him.”

“That would be nice if you could meet again. Pick up where you left off maybe?” Mingfei rested his arms behind his head.

You stare at him in silence and give a sigh, your chest rising against Caesar’s back.

“Don’t mind him. It’s going to hit him in like an hour.” Caesar grumbles.

You bury your head in his shoulder, giggling.

#Dragon Raja

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tortillastar · 3 years ago

Text

Ribs

She drags the shoe across the linoleum tendu à la second. The offending stockinged leg stares back from the mirror. The creased turnout - just shy of 180 - the lemon-peel crease at the crook of her knee, the tumor bulge of her kneecap, and the limp left toes, hung out to dry like Sunday laundry. Slight, like a pimple dotting one’s brow, yet enough to give it the look of a crooked branch.

She shifts her gaze to the leg and gazes detachedly as the flesh constricts, pulling and stretching into the same strange crests and valleys traced by shadow. A heaviness presses upon her knee, a directive to point is lost in translation, and only then did she realize her feet were numb.

A few streaks of light claw the studio floor, slicing her leg like a loaf of brioche. She nudges her phone with the frayed corner of her pointe shoe. 8:10. Two hours she’d been in the empty studio tucked at the end of the hall, only the hawk-eyes and bitter laugh of the mirror for company.

For the past month, she’d taken to running the exam combinations in some pretense of preparing for the winter final. In ballet, no amount of midnight cramming would shuffle the pecking order. Anna would top the list, Svetlana and Maria eating at her heels a few miles removed. She would powder the bottom, placidly hanging on the brink of expulsion as only one who’d lived bare-necked beneath the guillotine for five years and four months could.

She hadn’t gotten past the first set of pas de bourrées, engaged in a staring contest with the knee she’d hammer straight, the bones she’d melt and remold, the feet she’d shape into the neck of a goose.

She peers at the face in the mirror, fixed with a melted and molded smile, like a wax mask worn in the sun. The janitor would be making his rounds soon. He was a stubby hunchback who reeked of greasy bacon and cottage cheese and picked his teeth with the rusted keys on his belt-sized keyring - one she preferred not to cross.

She wobbles over to her bags and collapses by them, a boney addition to the hobo pile. Practiced hands dig out the knot and unravel the ribbons. They leave red tracks crisscrossing her calves - she’d tied them too tight. Her nails absent-mindedly trace the straw-like veins, some purple, some blue along her feet, peeling off millimeter by millimeter each patch and piece of toe-tape. They pull at her skin and reveal the scabs, the welts, the splotches of red. She slips out the studio, leaving a foot-width slit as the teachers did, a silent dusting of her tracks.

The two-minute trek back to the dorms was enough to stain her exposed cheeks crimson and numb the fingertips poking out of holes in her winter gloves. The knob gives too easily.

No Anna, but the heap of dress and stockings, shed like a lizard's skin at the foot of the bed, confirmed her lurking presence.

Stealing food again.

At this, the girl allows herself a haughty flick of the lead eyebrows smeared to the crown of her forehead. The fading desk lamp huffs out a sickly-yellow glow on the knots of hair, specks of dust, bits of paper, and the torn sole of an unwashed stocking poking forth from beneath the bed. They invaded the edges of her vision, rubbing a crude line around the corners.

The girl picks up a corner of the lilac leotard, the sheer purple skirt would clumsily about the waist and noted with a bitter cornrow twist of the lip the xs tag, the letters faded and cracked, but the jeer no quieter. Hers was two sizes bigger - two sizes too big. A fist-sized patch of sweat bloomed at the chest. She smells in its sticky sweetness, browned toast, and poached eggs. Hands bring the damp clothing closer to her hankering nose. She stumbles at the rusty stutter of the doorknob and flings the dress back atop the pile with a flinch.

Anna slips in, lithe as a cat. She flips the lock shut with a blind hand, balancing in the other a plate piled with the usual - tattered cheese squares and soggy folded between slices of flaking bread heels.

“Back already?” The words are puffy and thick. Two folded sandwiches balloon from her cherry-petal lips; a scrap of ham flags the corner of her mouth. The lilt fills in the rest - given up already?

The girl hums, letting the implication roll off her like a raindrop caught on an umbrella.

Anna flops on her bed, sidestepping the strewn clothes and bunched skirts on impossibly high relevé. A few sandwiches flop open, but no creak of the headboards. A few sticky stabs of the remote control and a projection flickers to life on the far wall, bathing her form in a hazy-blue hue. It flecks her hair, mud brown and unbrushed, but pretty in that careless way only those who didn’t care their appearance seemed capable of. A white collarbone peaks out the collar of her nightshirt, paper-strip legs from the mouth of flared pajama pants. A flat chest and masculine frame suspended her at that blissful age where the body seemed an insatiable black hole, vanishing the food she ate without a trace. The girl stares at the way her kneecaps vanished into the line of her leg, and the natural doming of her foot, even unpointed, and subconsciously shoved her numb toes and bruised legs further beneath her bed.

She was the same once - wolfing down oil-crisp fries and cheese-dripping burgers at the KFC beneath her ballet class, shoving a bag of chips to the tail of the conveyor belt, being chased around the house by her grandmother, begging her to down the last gulp of soup.

It had come about gradually, imperceptibly, like the callouses about her big toe. A few arched eyebrows, a few frowns, and a simple “Katia switch with Sofya” relegated her to the spot by the exit door. The ones who occupied it never stayed long - dismissed, or crushed under the pressure of digging themselves out.

Her fork lingered over the beefsteak, wound an uneasy pirouette, and stabbed into the neighboring mound of greens. That had been easy. The academy canteen didn’t serve much red meat in the first place. Fish was harder, especially the cuts of smoked salmon she slapped on everything from burnt toast to insipid spinach leaves. Eggs went because she forgot to grab one breakfast. Then milk, because the skim milk pitcher had run dry one morning, and if she wasn’t drinking milk anymore why keep up with the yogurt.

She forced down finger-sized carrots, bitter brussels sprouts, and broccoli florets that sunk into her teeth. First with leftover dribbles of salad dressing, then fruit, then nothing at all. She gazed at the squares of beef steak wedged in others’ mouths, trying to taste the greasy, crumbly juices in her raw cucumber slices.

She took to keeping food and water on her person at all times - an orange bulging like a tumor in her clutch, a thermos tucked in the rooster pouch of a holey jumper. It was to avoid starvation, the dull cramp in her stomach that tugged down the corners of her lips and inevitably followed by overeating. She never ate the food but kept bringing it along anyway - on the two-minute walk from her dorm to the academy, the few hundred-step walk from cafeteria to class.

Partly, she derived some warped pride from the fact that she could eat, but would not. Partly, she came to enjoy voicing with a breathy, bogged-down sigh, “I’m too full, anyone want this?” when she spotted a teacher turning the corner, and answering calls of “I’m starving, anyone got a snack?” with granola bars, and too-large apples shoved in her classmates’ faces, smiling an evasive smirk when they accepted.

She scanned barcodes and tallied up the calories, grinning in triumph when she dragged herself through the day at under a thousand - net, of course, she was careful.

“Want one?” She realizes she’d been staring, and by the arch of Anna’s single crow-bar brow, for too long. Without shame, the girl raises her eyes to meet Anna’s pitch-black orbs, poised before an eye-roll she would probably share with her bed lamp.

“No thank you.” Creaks the automatic reply. “I don’t eat bread.” She adds to strengthen her conviction, though nobody would spare a glance at her plate at lunch to check if she’d kept her word.

“Your loss.”

A buoyant, techno tune draws her gaze to the projection. For the night, Anna had passed up the flabby American rom-coms she inhaled under the pretext of learning English. Instead, flappy, armless sleeves, squirming tuber dresses, and pendulum purses paraded down coffee-stained roads, easily avoiding the few puddling gulps dotting the curbs. Towering lampposts, shop signs, wobbly curbstones, each leaf bleached grey. A flap of bat’s wings and the occasional lilting bird whine completes a pretend eeriness ruined by the too-matte paint, the too-smooth roads, the too-new metal benches.

The camera whirled about, favoring a bottom-to-top shot that lent full view to jutting, crooked knees, and bowed legs. The girl frowns at their pastry-thin shoulders, chicken-wing spatula, and pigeon-toed walk. She sees in bed-sheet expressions not aristocratic coolness, but contemptible misery - a silent plea on weighted lips.

“You can become a model if you’re dismissed.” Her smacking lips pork chop the words, her mouth brimmed like her suitcase, its zippered mouth perpetually open in half-hearted surprise. She tears open the final sandwich, nails pressing crescent-moons into the holey bread pockets. The girl lifts a corner of her lip in a wan smile.

The words pick at hardened scabs, no more than a tickle. She’d been suspended on the chopping block from the moment she was accepted, and the sense of urgency had long since worn thin. The studio hours after class was fulfilled out of habit, not any imminent fear of dismissal.

The girl thought it was Anna’s brand of helping - disaster prevention through repeated exposure. They walked the no-man’s-land between friend and stranger on a scaffolding of convenience and pity.

“They have it easy. Just starve themselves, look miserable, parade around clothes slapped with some expensive brand name. And people shower them with praise.” She sucks the tips of her fingers with a pop.

“We have to starve ourselves and look happy doing it.” She stands up with the empty plate. A few dark specks had already seized on the leftover crumbs.

“You’re showering first.” A phrase stranded between question and demand.

The door croaks shut, and her wobbly “Yeah” sinks in the empty room. The bed groans as she stands. She wants to peel off the bark and tear the baseboards but glares dully woodgrains for a few beats before grabbing her shower duffel from the doorway.

The shared bathroom is conspicuously empty. The others had showered after class, she assumed. She twists off her jumper and lets the cold prick at her bare arms, observing each pimpling goosebump. Slowly, she peels off the lilac leotard and rejoices at the wrinkle of fabric bunched beneath the armpits. Cold fingers trace along the ribs, revealed one by one, pressing a chill to each angled, protruding bone. In the mirror - lustrous despite the grimy tiles and cracked sinks, copper wire lips bend into a smile.

#ballet #writing #short story #fiction

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btsfan15 · 4 years ago

Text

Having Fun (Part 3)

The next morning, I wake up at 7:30 because we had so much to do for the concert. I quickly brush my teeth, get dressed, and eat breakfast. I wore a black crop Adidas hoodie, black leggings, and my converse sneakers.

I grabbed my car keys, put on my shoes and headed out the door. We were performing at the Kyocera Dome. Our concert was only in the evening, but we had SO MUCH to do before that. Once I got there, the other guys were by the entrance. I got out of my car and went over to them. "Good morning, everyone!" I say, waving. "Navya! You're here!" Jin says, running over to me giving me a hug. "Hey, Jin. So did everyone get a good night's sleep?" I ask. "Sure did." V says. "Let's head inside the dome." RM says. When we go inside, the dome is huge!

"Woah, this place is amazing!" Jin says. "Yeah, I can't believe we're gonna perform here!" V says. Everyone admired the dome. "Okay, let's get to practicing. Here are your mice." The staff says, handing them. "Everyone ready?" The staff asks. "Ready!" I say. Mikrokosmos starts playing. Everyone sings their part. I was feeling a little confident about singing. The chorus comes again. "You got me, nan neoleul bomyeo sum-eul swieo. I got you, chilheug gatdeon bamdeul sog-e." Me and Jin sing. The song ends. "Wow, that was really good!" RM says. "And Navya sang!" Suga says.

"Yeah, I did, but I'm having second thoughts about this. I don't think I should be in the concert." I say. "Why?" Jimin asks. "Like I said before, YOU guys are the stars, not me! And besides, the fans don't want me to be there! They want you! BTS! The biggest Korean K-Pop group out there!" I say, pouting. "Well, if we have you with us on stage, won't ARMY be jealous?" Jungkook asks. "I haven't thought about that." I say. "Just think about it! All those girls out there want to be you!" V says. "Hmm...that is true. I AM pretty lucky, aren't I?" I say, smiling. "Of course you are!" Jin says. "Ok, I'll stay!" I say.

Everyone cheers. "I think you guys should keep on practicing the song. And the dance moves. It has to be ready for tonight." The staff says. "Yes, we want the fans to enjoy it." RM says. So we keep on practicing the same song over and over again. We worked hard. After we were done, we were all exhausted and tired. "My throat hurts after all that singing." Jin says. "That's what singing is. It makes your throat dry and sore." I say. We drink water. "What about our outfits?" I ask. "We have all that ready for tonight. Don't worry." They say. "Wow, the staff has our clothes all picked out! Ooh, I can't wait to see what we're wearing for tonight!" I say.

"I think we should practice more. We want this song and performance to be ready." Jimin says. "Good idea." Jungkook says. We practice until an hour before the concert. By then, we were all even more exhausted. "I think that was good practice." V says. "Yeah, I think we're ready for tonight." J-Hope says. "Man, I'm tired and hot." I said. I put my hair up in a ponytail. "Navya, I see your bruises have gone away." Suga says, looking at Jin. I blush. "Ah, Yoongi..." Jin says, embarrassed. "Okay, let's head home and get some rest." RM says. "See you tonight, Jin." I say. "You too, Navya." Jin says. We both wave goodbye and leave. Once I get home, I eat a snack and get some rest.

A few hours later, I wake up and check the time. It was 8:00. Our concert was at 9:00. "Oh, I better get going!" I say. I put on a sweatshirt and jeans and go downstairs. I put my shoes on and head out the door. I get in my car and drive to the dome. I parked my car and went backstage. The guys were all getting ready. "Navya, you're here!" V says. "Yeah! Where do I get ready?" I ask. "Your clothes are on that rack. Get dressed and we'll do your hair and makeup." The staff says. "Okay!" I say.

I grab my outfit off of the rack and go inside the changing room. I change. I was wearing a white t-shirt, jeans, and pink converse shoes. I come out of the changing room. "How do I look?" I say. All the guys turn to my direction. "Wow, you look great!" Jin says. "Thanks!" I say. "Guys, go and get dressed! We don't have much time!" The staff says. The guys all get dressed. I wait for them. "Oh, I have to use the bathroom. I'll be back." I say, walking to a room. "Oh, Navya! That's not the restroom!" The staff says.

I open the door and see Jin, not wearing a shirt. He looks at me and I look at him back. I scream and close the door. I was so embarrassed! "Um, where's the bathroom?" I ask. "Over there." They say, pointing. "Thank you!" I say, running towards it. I close the door and take a deep breath. "Oh my gosh, I can't believe that actually happened! I literally burst into Jin's changing room! He must be so mad at me right now! Okay, I'm just gonna pretend everything is fine and enjoy the concert." I thought. I open the door and walk out of the restroom. I see the others getting their makeup done, including Jin. They were all wearing white t-shirts, jeans, and converse shoes.

I ignore him and walk to my seat to get my hair and makeup done. The staff curls my hair, puts foundation on my face, powder to set the foundation, mascara on my eyelashes, blush on my cheeks, and lip gloss on my lips. "You're all done!" They say. "Thank you!" I say, getting up. "You guys are on in 2 minutes!" The staff says. "Navya, stay here and when we perform Mikrokosmos, we'll introduce you and then you can come out." RM says. "Okay. Good luck!" I say. "Thanks!" Suga says. Everyone puts on their ear pieces and grab their mics and heads to stage. RM had a blue mic, V had a green mic, Jungkook had a purple mic, Jimin had a gold mic, Jin had a pink mic, Suga had a black mic, and J-Hope had a red mic. I had a silver mic.

ARMY screams when they see BTS. "Welcome to Love Yourself Tour in LA!" RM says. "We're so happy and excited to be here with you guys!" Jungkook says. ARMY yells again. "Are you ready to have some fun?!!!" Jimin says. ARMY screams yes. "Alright, let's do it!" V says. BTS performs their first few songs, DNA, IDOL, and Boy with Luv.

After they finish, ARMY cheers and they come backstage to get ready for the next few songs. Everyone was sweating and tired. The staff was giving them water, fixing their makeup, and wiping their sweat. Imagine how hard it was to sing and dance at the same time. I know how hard it is for them. Also, I was a nervous wreck. I've never sang in front of people. I've only sang by myself. What if I can't do this? What if I forget the lyrics? I don't wanna let the guys down. After the guys rested up, they went back on stage and performed the last two songs before Mikrokosmos, Airplane pt.2 and MIC Drop.

"For our last song, we have a special someone to sing with us today. Please welcome, Navya!" RM says. I come out and ARMY cheers and claps. "What is up, ARMY?! Are ready to rock and roll?!!!" I say. ARMY answers yes. "I can't hear you!" I say. ARMY screams even louder. "That's better! Now, before we sing our last song, I just wanna say thank you to BTS for inviting me on stage. I've always wondered how it's like to be on stage with thousands of people and now I will know. So, thank you." I say, smiling. Everyone claps. "Are you guys ready to sing?!!!" Jin says. "Yes!" ARMY says. "Let's get it!" J-Hope says. Mikrokosmos starts playing and ARMY cheers when they hear it.

[Verse 1: Jungkook & V] Banjagineun byeolbitdeul Kkamppagineun bul kyeojin geonmul Urin binnago inne Gakjaye bang gakjaye byeoreseo

[Verse 2: J-Hope & RM (with) Suga] Eotteon bicheun yamang Eotteon bicheun banghwang Saramdeure bulbicteul Modu sojunghan hana

Eoduun bam (Oeroweo ma) Byeolcheoreom da (Urin binna) Sarajiji ma Keun jonjaenikka Let us shine

[Pre-Chorus: Jimin & Jin] Eojjeom i bame pyojeongi itorok tto areumdaun geon

[Chorus: Jimin & Jungkook] You got me Nan neoreul bomyeo kkumeul kkweo I got you Chireuk gatdeon bamdeul sok Seoroga bon seoroye bit Gateun mareul hago isseotteon geoya urin

[Hook: Jimin & Jungkook] Gajang gipeun bame deo binnaneun byeolbit Gajang gipeun bame deo binnaneun byeolbit Bami gipeulsurok deo binnaneun byeolbit

[Verse 3: RM] Han sarame hanaye yeoksa

Han sarame hanaye byeol

Chilshipeok gaeye bicheuro binnaneun

Chilshipeok gajiye world

[Verse 4: Suga] Chilshipeok gajiye sam doshiye yagyeongeun Eojjeomyeon tto dareun doshiye bam Gakjamane kkum Let us shine Neon nuguboda bakge binna One

[Pre-Chorus: V & Jungkook] Eojjeom i bame pyojeongi itorok tto areumdaun geon Jeo eodumdo dalbitto anin uri ttaemunil geoya

[Chorus: Jin & V] You got me Nan neoreul bomyeo kkumeul kkweo I got you Chireuk gatdeon bamdeul sok Seoroga bon seoroye bit Gateun mareul hago isseotteon geoya urin

[Hook: Jin & V] Gajang gipeun bame deo binnaneun byeolbit Gajang gipeun bame deo binnaneun byeolbit Bami gipeulsurok deo binnaneun byeolbit

[Bridge: V & Jin & Jungkook] Doshiye bul, i doshiye byeol Eoril jeok ollyeobon bamhaneureul nan tteoollyeo Saramiran bul, saramiran byeollo Gadeukhan baro i goseseo We shinin'

[Chorus: Jin with Me] 😉 You got me Nan neoreul bomyeo sumeul shwieo I got you Chireuk gatdeon bamdeul soge

[Outro: Jin with Jungkook, All] Shine, dream, smile Oh let us light up the night Urin uridaero binna Shine, dream, smile Oh let us light up the night Uri geu jachero binna Tonight

Na na na na na na Na na na na na na na Na na na na na na Na na na na na na na na

We all dance and enjoy the song. This was one of my FAVORITE songs. As the song was moving forward, I was getting even more nervous by the second. I practiced so many times last night before going to bed. I wanted it to be good. I don't wanna disappoint the fans. Finally, it was a verse before me and Jin together. Then, it was time. Jin and I both walked up to each other. We were both very close to each other. ARMY screams.

"You got me, nan neoreul bomyeo sumeul shwieo." We both say, looking and smiling into each other's eyes. Then, Jin tucks a piece of loose hair behind my ear. ARMY screams again. He then puts his hand on my waist and pulls me closer to him. ARMY screams so loud seeing us. I put my hand around Jin's neck. "I got you, chireuk gatdeon bamdeul soge." We both sing again. Then Jimin sings his high pitch and we all sing the last lines of Mikrokosomos. ARMY claps. "Did you guys enjoy the concert?!" RM asked. "Yes!!!" ARMY yells. "Thank you guys so much for coming. We all had a such a great time tonight." Jungkook says. "We hope to see you again at our next concert!" Jimin says. "ARMY, WE LOVE YOU!" V says. ARMY cheers.

"Before we go, I just wanna say thank you to my friends, BTS for inviting me on stage. I had so much fun today and I hope to do it again someday." I say. Everyone claps and cheers. "I also wanted to say that I always wanted to sing with BTS but I never had the confidence to do it. I would get so nervous and my heart would be beating so fast." I say. "Awwww!" ARMY says. "But, that changed cause all my wonderful friends right here, helped me conquer my nervousness and I sang! Thank you guys so much for believing in me! You are the best friends ever! Saranghae!" I say. ARMY cheers and claps. "Wow, I wasn't expecting that!" Jin says. "Me too! Navya, we're all here for you, too!" V says. ARMY cheers again. "Well, ARMY! We'll see you at our next concert! Annyeong!" RM says.

We say goodbye to our fans. "ARMY, I LOVE YOU!" I say. ARMY cheers. "Navya, do a heart with your arms!" Jungkook says. I do a heart with my arms and ARMY cheers. We say our last good byes and the stage takes us down underneath. We all put our mics away and start packing our clothes. "That was an awesome concert we all did!" Jimin says. "Yeah, and Navya sang!" Suga says, looking at me. "I was so nervous, but I did it!" I say. "I knew you could do it! You believed in yourself and sang!" Jin says, smiling at me. I smile back. "And it was all thanks to you guys! You all helped me with it!" I say. "And that speech you said made ARMY go awww." J-Hope says. We laugh. "Yeah, I did." I say.

"Okay, everyone. Change back into your regular clothes and get going to the cars." The staff says. We all change back into our original clothes. Then I remembered about bursting into Jin's dressing room. I completely forgot about it. I guess the concert distracted me from it. I don't know if Jin remembers about the incident. Anyway, we pack our stuff and put our coats on. Then we head to the cars. I get into one. I wait to see if any other members are joining me but no one did. "I guess I'm riding home by myself." I say. Then, someone gets in the car sits right next to me. It's Jin. "Oh no! It's Jin. What am I gonna do?!" I think.

My heart was racing and pounding out of my chest. Jin looks at me and smiles. "Hi, Navya." He says. "Hi, Jin." I respond back. The car starts moving. "So, did you enjoy the concert?" Jin asks. "Yeah, I did. It was so much fun! I can't wait to do it again!" I say. Jin chuckles. "We're always excited to have you on stage with us so you can come anytime!" Jin says. "But, I first have to tell you guys that I'm coming on stage." I say. "Maybe you can surprise us once. Like, without telling us, you can just come up on stage." Jin says. I laugh. "Maybe. I'll think about it." I say. We both smile at each other. Then it gets quiet. It was awkward, especially for me. "Um...there's something I wanna ask you." Jin says. "Oh, what is it?" I ask. "It's about when we were getting ready." Jin says. I froze. "Oh, yeah. I forgot about that." I say.

"When you thought my dressing room was the bathroom." Jin says. "Yeah, about that...I'm sorry, Jin! I didn't mean to barge into your room! I should've just held it in and waited! I'm sorry, Jin! Please don't be mad!" I say, looking down with my eyes closed. I look up and peek out of one eye and see Jin smiling at me. "I'm not mad at you, Navya." He says. "Wait, really?! I thought you would be. That's why I ignored you." I say. "Well, I'm not mad." Jin says. "Not even one but?" I ask. Jin nods. "Well, alright then. Just so you know, it was just an accident." I say. "I know you wouldn't do that to me. And I wouldn't do that to you, too." Jin says. I smile at him. "Jin, are you sure not mad? I just feel so bad and guilty!" I say. "Navya, I already told you. I'm not mad. Really! It's okay!" Jin says.

"What if I barged in when you weren't wearing pants?! Oh, how embarrassed and ashamed I would've been!" I say. "But, that didn't happen, did it?" Jin asks. "No..." I say. "Then don't worry about it! Accidents happen, Navya and we learn from them, right?" Jin asks, putting his hand on my shoulder. "Yeah. Thanks, Jin. You're an amazing friend. I know I can always count you." I say. Then smiles spread across our faces. Then it gets quiet and awkward again. The car stops in front of the hotel.

We all go to our rooms. "Good night, guys." RM says. "Good night." We all say. Before I could go inside my room, Jin calls me. "Navya, just a minute." Jin says. "What?" I ask. "I just wanna say...I love you!" Jin says. I laugh. "Seriously, Jin? That's what you wanted to say?" I ask. "Well, yeah. I do love you. A lot." Jin says. I giggle. "I love you, too. A lot." I say. "And, if you need any cheering up, I'm here for you." Jin says, with a smile.

Then he winks. I laugh. "Jin, what am I gonna do with you? And thanks. I'll make sure to call you." I say. "Well, good night." Jin says. "Good night." I say. I go into my room and Jin turns around to leave. Then I remembered something. I hesitated for a minute but I went back outside again. "Jin, wait!" I say. Jin turns around and walks toward me. "Yeah?" He says. We both lock eyes. I hesitated again but then I grabbed Jin's face and connected my lips to his plump lips. I break the kiss and look at him. "Just a good night's kiss. I'll go now." I say. Jin looked shocked.

I turn around but Jin grabs my hand and pulls me back to him. "My turn." Jin says. Jin leans closer to me and he connects his soft, plump, juicy lips to mine. I slide my hands from Jin's chest to his neck and wrap my hands around it. Jin puts his hands around my waist. God, his lips were so god damn soft. Then Jin breaks the kiss and we both gaze into each other's eyes. I see he has a smirk on his face. "You're in the mood, aren't you?" I ask. He winks. "I'll take that as a yes." I say. "I think you're also in the mood." Jin says.

"Yes, I am and you're coming with me." I say. I grab Jin's shirt and pull him inside my room. I close the door and lock it. I turn around. "So. How do you wanna do this?" I ask. "Like this." Jin says. He walks up to me and carries me. "Hey!" I say. He takes me to my bed and drops me. "Be gentle, Jin!" I say. "I won't be gentle when it comes to things like this, so get ready." Jin says. He gets on top of me and kisses me again.

I put my hands on his face and Jin puts his hands on my waist. He breaks the kiss and looks at me right in my eyes. "You want more?" Jin asks, softly. "Yes..." I say. He then starts kissing my neck. Jin gets the sweet spots. "More, Jin, more..." I say. I start moaning and groaning. Really loudly. I cover my mouth up. "I hope the other members don't hear." I think. I start moaning and groaning again. I couldn't help myself. Jin was good at this stuff. Then breaks and looks at me again. "Why did you stop?" I ask. "Because I think it's time to take it to the next level." Jin says. He removes his sweatshirt. "Wait, what?!" I say. He then starts to removes his t-shirt.

I sit up. "Jin, I'm not ready for this yet!" I say, stopping him. "You said that before." Jin says. "I know I did, but I just don't feel comfortable yet." I say. "Don't worry. Nothing is gonna happen." Jin says. I sigh and get off my bed and walk to the door. I open it. "I think you better leave. It's past our bedtime." I say. Jin stands up. "Don't be like this." Jin says, walking over to me. "What? I'm just asking you to leave cause it's late." I say. "You don't have to be mad at me about this." Jin says. "I'm not mad, I'm just annoyed." I say.

I walk inside my bathroom and turn on the light. I gasp. "Oh my god!" I say. Jin comes into the bathroom. "What? What is it?!" Jin asks. "I got bruises again! Jin!" I say. "I'm sorry!" Jin says. I had red bruises all over my neck! "What am I gonna do tomorrow?! The other guys are gonna know that we made out!' I say. Then I sigh and cross my arms together. I pout. Jin wraps his arms around my waist from the back. He rests his chin on my shoulder. "Navya, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to give you bruises again." Jin says. I don't respond. Instead, I walk out of the bathroom. Jin follows me. "Navya, can you forgive me?" Jin asks. I turn around and raise an eyebrow. "Please?" Jin says. Then he pouts at me.

He looked so cute! I couldn't stay mad at him. I sigh. "Fine. Jin, I forgive you. Your pout got the best of me." I say. "I knew you couldn't resist my pout. I do look pretty cute when I pout, don't I?" Jin asks. He puts his index finger and thumb on his chin. "Yes, you do. Now, get going. I'm tired after tonight." I say. "Okay, then. Good night." Jin says. He heads for the door and opens it. Then he stops. "One more thing." Jin says. "What?" I say. He comes back over to me, cups my face and kisses me. He breaks the kiss. "Another good night's kiss." Jin says. Then he winks. I smile. "Thanks. Now, shoo. Good night." I say. "Good night." Jin says. He closes the door and leaves. I sigh and change into my pajamas.

I brush my teeth and get into to bed. I turn off the light and lay down. I couldn't stop thinking about what just happened today. "Man, was today amazing. I got to perform on stage for the first time. It was an amazing experience and I can't wait to do it again sometime. But, I wasn't expecting Jin and I to make out. Again. It just happens unexpectedly. Whatever. At least I enjoyed it. I got bruises, though. I just hope the other members didn't hear me moaning and groaning. I also hope that they don't notice my bruises again cause they've already found out once. They're probably gonna find out tomorrow. Anyway, today was crazy. I can't wait to see what tomorrow has in store for me." I thought. Then I remember. I take my phone and text Jin. I get a response back.

Me: Thanks for believing in me. You're an amazing boyfriend. 💜💜💜💜 Jin: Anytime. Also, Navya? Me: Yeah? Jin: I love you. 😘 Me: I love you, too, Jinnie. Jin: Good night. I'll see you tomorrow. Me: You too. Good night.

I put my phone down on the table and fall asleep.

The End.

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softliebgott · 5 years ago

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LEMONADE LIPS AND MARSHMALLOWS

You and your family have managed a somewhat peaceful farm life during the war until you discover two soldiers, George Luz and Frank Perconte, raiding your barn. Disappointed, but nonetheless grateful for the army’s presence, you invite them to have dinner for a proper meal. We all need some Luz Fluff™, or just some softness in general. This is my first attempt at writing Luz, so go easy (pun? yes) on me 😅

TRANSLATIONS: Oma = grandma, Hurensohn = son of a bitch, rag = 40′s slang for “make fun of”

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March 11, 1945

Sturzelberg, Germany

Farm life, the absence of human pollution; sound, smell, and people themselves, until the American army came to settle in the town nearby. You didn’t mind. In fact, you were grateful. Germany’s dictator was losing his hold on the reins he sought to keep steady.

A dirt road, reminiscent of chocolate powder, cut past a field. Out of this empty land your family’s farm rose up with its buildings like a huddle of old, painted vessels floating in still water.

The sun embraced its newfound world with warmth that felt different than when the war was at its worst. Perhaps the earth felt it could finally breathe, knowing its body would no longer suffer great wounds from weaponry. It wouldn’t have to weep as it welcomed more of the dead.

Walking the fields with your father, you bent down to pluck a ripe tomato from its brittle stalk, and then bit into it. Acidic, like an apple. Sweet, like a strawberry. Juicy, like a plum.

“(Y/N),” came your father’s gravelly voice. Knelt down beside a tomato stalk, he looked at you from over his shoulder. His gray eyes, rivaling the polished metal of a suit of armor, reflected the sun’s glare. The map of wrinkles on his face spoke of an incredible journey. His eye lines held echoes of laughter and warm smiles, while his forehead told of worries past and worries present. Sixty years of his story ingrained in him, telling of the man he became; kind, compassionate, and a little tired. Amused, he smiled. “What shall I tell your mother?”

“What both of us already tell her, papa.” You moved to his side, gripped his shoulder, and bent at your knees to whisper, “Rabbits.” You lifted your brow.

He chuckled, crow’s feet lines creasing the edges of his eyes. Your favorite laugh. The kind, when you were a little girl, you loved to feel rock his chest when you hugged him or fell asleep to in his arms.

You straightened up, smiling impishly as you took another bite of your tomato.

“Perhaps before you tempt me to have a few, could you check the hens for eggs and milk Gerdy? Your mother is wanting to make *Oma’s Apple Cake.”

“Yes, papa.”

You left the field, finishing your tomato as you headed for the barn. Pulling the wooden door open, light spilled in and washed over, to your shock, two American soldiers standing on a crate and raiding the eggs. One held a hen, while the other had been using his helmet to pile eggs into. Their attention was snagged by you.

“Guten tag, Fraulein.” The soldier holding the hen smiled. He gazed at you through deep-set, hickory brown eyes. A few strands of hair, similar in color to his eyes, hung loose over his forehead. His features, rugged, yet soft, seemed boyish. To you, it felt like he was one of those little boys who tried to grow up too fast.

You folded your arms against your chest, brow furrowed. “You have no right to be stealing.” You did not expect such behavior as this. It disappointed you.

“Hey, Miss, we’re fighting Hitler,” the other soldier said. “I think we have a right.”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek. He was half right, but you were in no mood to argue, but to come to an agreement. “You won’t have a proper meal with just eggs. Come on inside and we’ll fix you something.”

The soldiers exchanged looks.

Leading them to your house, the soldier who had first greeted you matched your pace, eager in talking to you, while his friend muttered, “Luz, leave her alone.”

“Hey, what’s your name?” Luz asked.

“(Y/N).”

“I’m George. You sure do speak English well.”

“My mother wanted me to learn for when the British would come, but...”

George grinned, tuning his voice to a deeper tone in a British accent. “Ole Churchill needed an edge of Americanism in his tea.”

You giggled. “We are grateful that you are here.”

He had not made a woman laugh, or heard one such as yours, more attractive to him than woodland birdsong, in years. He wanted to hear it again, to see the way your eyes squinted, and to hear your jumbled words. The laughter and smiles of his friends would never get old, for he strove to give them those little pleasures. Now, he wanted to make you laugh so he could feel that warmth he lit for others.

Inside your family’s quaint home, you introduced the soldiers to your mother, who was washing dishes. “Momma, this is George Luz and Frank Perconte. I caught them stealing our eggs.” You looked as smug as a dog stealing a Christmas goose. “I thought we could make them a proper meal as compromise.”

“Oh, you boys shouldn’t have to steal to get a good meal. Come, sit down.”

Thanking her, George and Frank propped their guns against the wall next to the coat rack. You wondered how many lives those weapons reaped, and it made you think of your brother and cousins who had been drafted. No news had come of their deaths yet, and you often begged to God to spare them through muffled sobs in the night.

Frank offered the helmet-full of eggs to you, the edge of his mouth curling. His eyes reminded you of the chocolate your mother would melt for her cakes. Fine, smooth, and inviting. “Sorry for raidin’ your barn,” he said.

You smiled, taking the olive green helmet. “I’m glad to have caught you.”

As you moved to the counter, the wooden chairs behind you growled against the hard flooring as the men sat themselves. You looked over your shoulder to them. “Would you like some lemonade?”

“Boy, would I.” George beamed.

“Yeah, I’ll take some, too.” Childlike enthusiasm brimmed in Frank’s eyes.

You retrieved the pitcher of lemonade from the fridge and then reached for two glasses from the overhead cupboard.

“They are both such handsome men. They remind me of your brother and cousins,” your mother whispered.

“I just hope they can come home.” You poured the lemonade into the glasses, its tartness rubbing uncomfortably at your nasal cavity.

“They will. I have hope.”

“Is hope enough anymore?” You questioned, heartache softening your gaze.

Your mother tilted her head, eyebrows squished together. Truth was, she had been trying to keep positiveness afloat, but you kept punching holes in the raft. She sighed, averting her eyes and continued to prepare the meal.

A traditional roast of heavily marinated meat, bread rolls, and potato dumplings were prepared. Your father had come in for a break, taken aback by the presence of American soldiers, but had immediately shook hands with them. He was just as grateful to have them here as you were.

“Hey.” Frank bumped his elbow against George, irked. “You gonna take all the rolls? That’s your third one.”

“What are you gonna do, Per-Short-Te, punch me over this nice family dinner?”

You quietly laughed to yourself. You and your parents hadn’t had a dinner such as this after your brother and cousins left. Light-hearted, and distracting their minds from wandering into those claustrophobic tunnels of anxiety.

George noticed your quiet laughter. He caught your eyes and his face softened. Unbeknownst to you, you had the right colors to paint him where the war had watered him down to dismal grayness. He didn’t want this dinner to end. He wanted time alone with you.

You sucked in your lower lip. You had been studying him throughout the meal when he wasn’t looking. You noticed how his bottom lip was fuller, and wondered if you could taste the lemonade if you’d kissed him. Fearful that he could decipher your thoughts in your expression, you forced your eyes down to your lap.

“How long will you be staying in Sturzelberg?” Your father asked.

You felt George’s boot touch your foot, and cold, static-y surprise overwhelmed your body. You glanced up to him as he took a swig of his lemonade. He winked, and heat rushed to your cheeks while you gained a heart beat between your thighs.

“Could be a night or two. We don’t usually know for how long wherever we go,” Frank replied.

“Hey, uh, where’s your bathroom?” George asked.

“Oh.” Your mother’s eyebrows perked up. “(Y/N), could you show this young man where the bathroom is please?”

You felt air catch in your throat. “Yes, Momma,” you said quietly, rising from your seat.

Yours and George’s movements irritated the senior chairs, triggering arthritic creaks from their legs. You led George out of the kitchen and into the hall. The cornflower blue, floral walls were adorned with framed pictures and embroideries. The wall sconces, wearing earrings of long, fake crystals, often struggled to keep their territory lit as streetlights did at night.

A bubble of awkward silence swelled between you and George, until he stopped to look at a portrait of a young man in uniform. “This your boyfriend?” He asked.

“No, that’s my brother.”

“Do you and your family, uh...like Hitler?”

“No, no.” You shook your head. “We loathe him, and even more-so after the men in our family were drafted.”

“I have a theory that he wears a hair-piece. He walks outside one morning, and one gust of wind turns him into a chrome-dome with a penciled mustache. Mr. Honcho holds his bald head and whines.” George placed his finger below his nose to imitate a mustache, deepening and strangling his voice to mimic Hitler. “Hurensohn!” He spoke more, but of jumbled nonsense to rag Hitler about his energetic speeches. “He’s stompin’ away, and his SS boys are chasin’ after the hair piece down the street like it’s a loose dog.”

There it was. Your smile, your laughter. His new favorite sight and sound. His chest and stomach became lightweight, as if he had taken flight. Holy shit, I’m done for, he thought.

After you had shown George to the bathroom, you retreated to your room, wanting to do your daily ritual of looking at your favorite photo album. You sat on the edge of your bed, the album open and resting on your lap. The pictures it embraced featured your favorite memories all the way up until your brother and cousins put on their uniforms. You wanted to save the last few pages for when they would return.

You knew their smiles would either go into hiding or be wrung out of them like water from a cloth. Their laughter would be hard to beckon out, and their minds would be battered vases. You and your parents were determined to help mend those cracks with the priceless gold that came from love, such as the Japanese art form, Kintsugi.

Life would be different, but at least they’d be alive.

“This your room?”

You looked over your shoulder at George, his eyes bouncing about the area in childlike curiosity.

You smiled, closing the photo album. “Yes.”

He approached your bedside. “Mind if I?” He gestured to your bed.

You shook your head and set the album on your nightstand. The bed dipped with his weight, and for a moment you felt you would lose your balance and tip backward onto him. He laid down on his back, crossing his legs. “Jesus Christ, it’s like lying on a marshmallow.” He shifted uncomfortably.

You faced him, a smile playing at your lips. “What have you been sleeping on all war?”

“Uh, well, let’s see. Cold, hard grounds with a side of foxholes.” He turned his head to you. “But speaking of marshmallows, you got any?”

You went out to the kitchen to retrieve a bag of sizable marshmallows, earning questionable glances from your parents and Frank. When you returned to your room, you sat with George and indulged in the puffy treats. Your hands became sticky and little bits of white flesh lingered on your skin like how Styrofoam would.

Your mind kept trying to yank you back to thoughts of your family in the army, and it occurred to you that since there was a soldier right next to you, you could ask him about things you often wondered about. “What has the war been like...?” You asked.

“Well,” George’s voice was muffled by his chewing. “It’s different for every guy. Different for every army. There’s good times, and there’s bad. Some guys try to make light of things to ease the bad, right? Well, take that for the time my boys and I were in England for continued training. Our commanding officer and drill instructor was Captain Sobel. He didn’t know what the hell he was doin’, and we were hidin’ behind this big bush and couldn’t break silence. That is, until one of the boys told me to mimic Major Horton to fuck around with Sobel.”

George pulled out two marshmallows, shaping one to appear skinnier. He held it up in one hand, “Here’s Sobel, and here’s me.” In his other hand he held the normal sized marshmallow. He began to imitate Horton and Sobel, squishing the marshmallows to make it appear as if they were talking. He told the story, earning from you grins and giggles. “I got him to cut the barbed wire fence, and he ended up releasin’ a whole herd of cows. He got his ass chewed out by the Major later.”

He wasn’t sure if you were aware of the captivating picture you made when you smiled. He hoped you did. You were more enthralling than a pulsing light show of fireflies in the night, but it gave him the same feeling of being spellbound.

“There’s moments like that, and then the real thing comes out of nowhere.” George grabbed a handful of marshmallows and scattered them to represent the trees in Bastogne. As he told you about the sudden onslaught of German artillery, he ripped the marshmallows apart just as the trees had been. Boom. Rip. Boom. Rip.

He seemed hypnotized, like a vampire obsessively counting rice. He was lost in the memory that haunted his dreams, stained his eyes with the blurred vision of black and white explosions, and echoed in his ears with the screams of Muck and Penkala. Numb, his voice went dull as he relived it before his eyes.

You didn’t laugh or smile, but this is what you asked for. What it was like. You wondered if you shouldn’t have asked. You had disturbed those memories, and now George was lost in their raging sea.

“Two of my buddies were hit directly in their foxhole...and the other lost his leg.” He was there again, innards trembling and his mind blank as he stared at Toye lying in the snow, his leg looking like messily butchered, raw chicken.

“I’m so sorry...I can’t imagine what that must have been like.”

“Yeah...war is hell.” George didn’t meet your eyes. The liveliness had abandoned him.

Guilt-ridden, you cautiously reached for his hand, which clutched at the torn remains of marshmallows. You unlocked his grip, the pieces falling onto your bed, and tangled your fingers with his. The stickiness from the marshmallows welded your hands together.

He released a breath he had been holding and closed his eyes, the tension draining from his body. He squeezed your hand.

“Hey, Luz, c’mon. We gotta head back.” Frank’s voice sounded from the hallway.

George opened his eyes to you, his thumb stroking your hand.

You followed him out of your bedroom, having given him the bag of marshmallows. You didn’t want him to leave, but you certainly wanted to see him again. Whenever that may be. Thus an idea came to you. You snatched a small photograph of yourself from your mother’s China cabinet and wrote a note, your address, and phone number on the back in spidery handwriting.

“George, wait.” You approached him as he and Frank grabbed their rifles. You handed him your photograph, heart drumming. “A reminder that if you need a safe place to come to, it’s here.”

George smiled at your picture, thinking, better than any pin-up girl. He carefully put it in his jacket’s inner pocket. “I’ll be seein’ ya, gorgeous, whenever this war ends.” He winked, popping a marshmallow into his mouth, and slung his rifle over his shoulder.

You had watched him and Frank leave the property, grinning when George looked back over his shoulder and smiled, his cheeks stuffed with marshmallows like a squirrel.

How you wanted to kiss those stubbled cheeks.

As the sun closed its blaring eye, you sat in bed, writing in your journal. Every sentence you tried to write started with George and ended with your heart wanting to burst open, less like gates during a flood and more like a peach growing on a vine. So ripe. So ripe, so ready for the fall.

A rhythmic tap at your window froze you. Could it be the wind using a tree branch to make its nightly tunes again? No, because you saw a human shadow, a cookie cutter shape in the pool of moonlight. You closed your journal and peeled the sheets and blanket away.

When you approached the window, your heart fluttered in surprise. George. You unlocked the window and slid it up. “George, what are you doing here?”

He awkwardly climbed through, almost stumbling to the floor. After you closed the window, you met his eyes, and you found where the sun had gone; in his smile, the warmth echoing in his voice. “I want to feel safe tonight.”

Heat rushed to your chest, and your body quivered as if on low blood sugar as George stripped down to a cotton white shirt and boxer shorts. He joined you beneath the covers, his dog tags clanking. He snaked a hand around your waist and pulled you snug against him, like two perfect puzzle pieces fitting. He caged you within his arms, and you felt a heartbeat much stronger between your thighs this time. He smelled like an ashtray, but you didn’t care as you nuzzled your face into his chest.

“You know, at first I considered you out of my league,” he said. “Oh, how the mighty have fallen into my arms.”

You laughed into his chest.

#george luz #george luz x reader #band of brothers #easy company #hbo war #band of brothers fanfiction #frank perconte #george luz imagine #band of brothers imagine #bob imagine #rick gomez #hbo war imagine #hbo war fanfiction

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chefilona · 2 years ago

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CHEF ILONA: Panettone & Egg Nog Baked French Toast

Christmas morning should be a low effort mealtime; it’s the perfect day to savour a hot drink and the twinkling lights on the tree.Several years ago, I was visiting the homestead for the holidays, which meant I got to enjoy watching my mom putter around the kitchen cooking up all of our favourite foods. My dad has a penchant for the Italian Christmas bread, panettone, and there is almost always one on the counter for the entire month of December.

Panettone is a sweet Christmas bread originating in Milan. This rich dough is studded with citron, raisins, and other candied fruits. It is baked in a cylindrical shape and has a domed top. In some ways, I can see a bit of a flavour profile similarity to Easter’s hot cross buns, but panettone is much fluffier.

Now from time to time, the panettone gets a little stale or dries out a bit, as it did this particular year. My mom decided to use the bread for French toast. It tasted amazing, but I was still thinking there had to be an even easier way to make this French toast so Mom didn’t have to stay at the stove.

We decided to make a bake out of it, and it worked like a charm.It is the kind of dish that is a hybrid of bread pudding and French toast. I started adding in egg-nog in the last couple of years and it is even more festive. If you are so inclined, I recommend a jigger of rum mixed in with the egg-nog base; it is so at home in this mélange.

This can be made and ahead the night before, or when you are ready to eat it.

Egg-nog and panettone French toast bake Created by Chef Ilona Daniel

1 loaf all-butter panettone bread

7 large eggs

1 1/4 cups egg-nog

1 Tbsp vanilla extract

Zest of 1 orange

2 tsp cinnamon

1/2 tsp nutmeg

¼ cup brown sugar

Icing sugar and syrup for serving, if desired.

Slice the panettone into slices that would fit into your toaster and tile them into a buttered casserole dish. Gently whisk the remaining ingredients together and pour over the bread. Cover and place in the fridge overnight so it will ready for baking in the morning or place directly into a pre-heated 375F oven. Bake for 30 minutes and serve with syrup and powdered sugar if desired.

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bwemph · 5 years ago

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Darkness Rising / Volume I: The Force Awakens / Chapter I

Pairing: Kylo Ren x Reader

Summary: Your mundane, tasteless life takes a turn for the more exciting when a droid and a Resistance fighter bring the fight with the First Order to your middle-of-nowhere planet, Jakku. Little do you know, you are about to get wrapped up in saving the universe.

Word Count: 3,377

Warnings: N/A

A/N: This is kind of a “pilot” episode, so to speak. I’m planning on rewriting the entire sequel trilogy and fixing a lot of the creative choices that I personally didn’t like, so things will MAJORLY divert from the original plot when we reach the ROS landmark. Should I keep going?

Luke Skywalker has vanished. In his absence, the sinister First Order has risen from the ashes of the Empire and will not rest until Skywalker, the last Jedi, has been destroyed. With the support of the Republic, General Leia Organa leads a brave Resistance. She is desperate to find her brother Luke and gain his help in restoring peace and justice to the galaxy.

***

Blood trickling down the side of the pilot’s head matted his black curls in the sticky red substance.

Poe Dameron, best and most daring pilot of the Resistance, was now unconscious and beaten nigh senseless in his holding cell.

Kylo Ren watched him with cold eyes, prodding him with the Force every so often to coax the hostage to life again.

Poe had resisted each interrogator with impressive resolve, and finally Kylo decided if he wanted to get anything done in a timely manner, he would have to do it himself lest he face the wrath of Supreme Leader Snoke.

Besides, he wanted to give Skywalker what he deserved. It was time for Kylo to face Skywalker himself, as Snoke promised.

After making one last lap of pacing around the cell, he turned and faced the wall with a sigh.

A sudden stir in the Force alerted Ren of the pilot now waking. He turned silently. “I had no idea we had the best pilot in the Resistance on board.” He looked the pilot up and down. “Comfortable?”

“Not really,” Poe rasped, that infuriating wit intact despite his bruises.

“I’m impressed.” Kylo stalked forward, watching the way the dim light reflected off the silver on his mask and into the pilot’s eyes. Poe winced before Kylo went on, “No one has been able to get out of you what you did with the map.”

“You might want to rethink your technique.”

A twinge of vexation pulsed through Kylo’s veins. He raised his hand toward Poe and took a moment to revel in the way the pilot fought against the Force.

A grunt escaped Poe’s lips as he writhed in silent agony.

“Where is it?” Kylo said, jabbing at some of the the pilot’s more recent memories. He thrust Poe back against the headboard.

“The Resistance,” Poe’s breath caught in his throat, “will not be intimidated by you.”

“Where...is it?”

Poe let out a harrowing scream, sweat beading on his forehead and veins protruding from his neck. He fought against his bonds, and Kylo could feel the hundreds of pleas and cries that Poe fought back with a last effort to retain where the map was hidden.

Finally, he cracked.

Kylo released him, watching as he slumped forward while labored breaths wracked his body.

“A droid…” Kylo mused. “Clever.” He leant in close to the pilot one last time. “Thank you for your compliance.”

With that, Kylo strode from the room.

The door hissed open to reveal a man waiting for him. A pale, scraggly General with slicked back ginger hair and an unpleasant expression that crumpled his lips as he caught sight of Kylo.

“It’s in a droid. A BB unit,” Kylo said.

“Well then,” General Hux replied, “if it’s on Jakku, we’ll soon have it.”

“I leave that to you.”

***

Unscrewing the panel in the rudder, you took a moment to look around inside.

The lightbulb on the side of your goggles was dim and starting to fade. Hopefully you could find someone to trade portions with for a new bulb soon.

You reached inside and poked around, pulling pieces of machinery apart until you found enough satisfying parts. This thing had to be ancient. Hardly anything of worth to be found amidst the dusty wires and pieces that used to move.

You tucked the dismembered machinery into your bag and grabbed hold of the rope to your left before sliding down, down, down, to the rusted floor of the once glorious Star Destroyer.

The pieces of scrap and metal rubbed against each other with unpleasant clanging and scratching as your feet hit the ground. You removed your goggles and ragged mask as you emerged into the hot sun.

Amidst the metal was your last bottle of water. In order to ease your sandpaper tongue you poured the last few drops down your throat, but they were nowhere near enough.

Now you started your journey back across the desert on your speeder. It coughed up two puffs of black smoke before humming to life and carrying you over the sands of Jakku.

You were pleased to find the breeze drying your sweat and cooling your skin as you neared town. Small black dots appeared on the horizon, all hard at work. The heat made them dance around a little and you hoped your dehydration wasn’t playing tricks on your mind.

Finally, you reached town and hopped down from your speeder. You pulled a lever and slung your staff over your shoulder before dragging all the parts you had collected today across the sand to clean and polish them.

After vigorous scrubbing and polishing, you sat back and admired your work. All this had to be worth at least three portions. You gathered your things and waited in line at Unkar Plutt’s shack. When it was your turn you laid them all out for him to inspect.

“What you’ve brought me today is worth...hmm…” he inspected the items closely, “one quarter portion.”

Disappointment grabbed your heart and yanked it downwards, but you took your quarter portion with a glare.

That night you found yourself cooking for one, your only company the sizzling of the rehydrated meat you had been saving for a while. You stirred some powder into a rusted bowl, and it instantly rose until it was a small loaf of bread.

Now that the sun was setting, it was cool and the humidity had gone down. This led you to your decision to eat dinner outside that night.

You licked your plate clean and allowed yourself a moment to gaze at the horizon. You watched a small ship leaving the atmosphere. Someone far more fortunate than you must have the chance to get off this speck of sand. You pondered on a hundred different places they could be headed to. Were they as golden yellow, deserted, and dry as this place? Or was it somewhere swampy and wet?

A high pitched, mechanical squeal caught your attention. It wasn’t a sound you were unfamiliar with, but it wasn’t common near your home.

A distressed droid.

You jumped to your feet and caught sight of the brutish Teedo indeed struggling with a droid.

You called out to the aggressor in the native Jakku language, “Tal’ama parqual!”

Your accent wasn’t exactly accurate, but it was enough to get across that you were demanding Teedo set the droid free.

Teedo and the droid went silent and looked to you in surprise.

“Parqual zatana!” you shouted.

Teedo spat a handful of threats back and refused to free the droid, continuing to struggle with it.

You rushed forward and pulled a knife from your belt, cutting the droid loose from the netting it was all caught up in.

Teedo lost his temper and frantically spat more angry words at you, demanding you stop immediately. He found that droid, and it was his to sell.

“Noma,” you replied when the droid was free, pointing a finger in Teedo’s face.

Teedo shook his head, exasperated, and gave his clunky steed a kick. You watched as it lumbered away.

The droid beeped and buzzed a long thread of provocative insults and names after him. You hushed it. “That’s just Teedo. He wants you for parts.” You snarled. “He has no respect for anyone.”

The droid hummed in response.

You crouched to eye level with the droid. “Your antenna’s bent,” you said, reaching out to pluck it from the droid’s head and carefully reshape the small wire. While you fiddled with it, you took a moment to fully consider the droid, noting its unique orange and white coloring, round body, and dome shaped head that remained on its top regardless of how it rolled or maneuvered.

“Where do you come from?” you asked.

It gave a handful of tones equating to “That’s classified information”.

“Classified. Really?” you said, your voice reflecting that of humoring a small child. “Me too. Big secret.”

You clicked the antenna back into place on its head and pointed to the west. “Niima outpost is that way. Stay off of Kelvin Ridge,” you said as you gathered your staff stood. “Keep away from the Sinking Fields in the north or you’ll drown in the sand.” With no further instruction you turned and began heading back to your home.

The droid beeped a question.

You turned sharply. “Don’t follow me. Town is that way.” You pointed again toward Niima Outpost.

It tweeted a protest.

“No!”

This time it gave a sad tone and drooped a little, cautiously rolling toward you. The droid was alone, lost and afraid. You were the first being on this planet to show it a little kindness.

Your heart broke a little for it. After a long, long moment of consideration and a further hesitation to follow it up, you made a small head gesture for it to follow you.

“Beeeeep!” The droid excitedly rolled after you to catch up. It chattered a string of thank yous as you started back toward home.

“In the morning, you go,” you said.

Another thank you from the droid, as if it had ignored the statement.

“You’re welcome.” You couldn’t help smile a little at the droid’s enthusiasm.

***

The droid, who introduced itself as BB8, ended up keeping you company all day. It was hard to say no to it, and the it was actually quite useful when it came to scavenging. It would scan the room and alert you of any pieces of machinery that might be worth something.

The two of you rode into town and you began unloading the parts you had scavenged that day. BB8 told you the whole way how worried it was about whether its master would come back.

“Don’t give up. He might still show up, whoever it is you’re waiting for,” you assured. “Classified. I know. And I know all about waiting.”

BB8 asked who you’re waiting for.

“For my family.” You squinted against the sun, looking to the sky as if you were waiting for their ship to return any moment now. “They’ll be back. One day.” You nodded and looked at the droid, forcing a smile. “Come on.”

You got in line outside of Unkar Plutt’s shack, making sure to keep BB8 close and keeping a close watch on those who eyed it almost hungrily. You laid out your parts on the counter and watched Plutt inspect them.

“These five pieces are worth...Let me see here...” he made a gurgling sound deep in his throat, something of a hum, “One half portion.”

Dismay grabbed your throat and you furrowed your eyebrows. “Last week they were a half portion each!”

Plutt didn’t listen to you, but he leaned over the counter and inspected BB8 with interest. “What about the droid?”

You looked to BB8, who had an air of confusion as it stared back.

“What about him?”

“I’ll pay for him.” He disappeared from view of the window for a moment before dropping a large pile of portions right before your eyes. “Sixy portions.”

You rushed forward, your stomach rumbling at the many nights worth of dinner--and snacks and breakfasts and second breakfasts and lunches--right in front of you. You started scooping them up, but took another look at BB8, who looked silently up at you, shaking.

Your eyes fluttered as if you were snapping out of a trance, and you breathed out a sigh of resolve. “Actually...the droid’s not for sale.” You took your one half portion and looked to BB8. “Come on,” you said to him before you both promptly left.

You strode through town back toward your speeder.

BB8 gave a string of tones and bleeps. Why did you do that?

You sighed and looked at the plastic package in your hand, eyeing the food that would leave you with a half filled stomach tonight. “Because it was the right thing to do.”

He thanked you and rolled along, beeping and buzzing with glee. BB8 told you again and again how happy he was to have a new friend, and how grateful his master would be that you saved him. You smiled, listening to the droid’s happy chatter, but then the droid appeared a little sad the longer it talked about its master.

You knelt to face him. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you until he comes back. You’re safe here. Nothing much goes on here anyway.”

“You there!” a guttural voice cried.

You stood and saw two thugs approaching you.

“We are taking that there droid,” the same voice said as the goon pointed at BB8.

Before you had time to react, the other threw a sack over BB8, who squealed in response.

“Oi!” you cried, kicking him in the stomach. “Get away!”

The thug with the sack crashed into a stack of metal urns, while the other grabbed you around the waist and pinned your arms to your sides.

You kicked the air and cried out, landing on your feet and sinking your teeth into your aggressor’s grimy arm wrapped in musty black rags.

You thrust your elbow back into his stomach while he was distracted. The man tumbled backward. The other recovered.

You picked up your staff and began trying to fight off the second goon, kicking him away again when the first grabbed your staff and trapped you between it and himself.

Spinning, you nailed his jaw twice with your weapon and he stumbled away, passing out in the sand.

You took a moment to catch your breath and knelt to free BB8 from the sack.

He beeped, frightened, then let out another shrill alert sound.

You followed his gaze to a man in a brown and red leather jacket.

That’s my master’s jacket! It’s just like it! That man took my master’s jacket!

“Him?” you asked, waiting for confirmation before rushing toward the thief.

The man made a dash in the opposite direction with you hot on his tail.

You took a sharp left turn and cut around in front of him, swiping at him with your staff before he could process you standing in front of him.

He tumbled to the ground with a grunt.

“What’s your hurry, thief?” you accused, keeping him pinned to the ground with your staff.

He took a moment to catch his wind. He was still dazed when he said, “What? Thief?”

BB8 rolled up fast and a small arm extended from a compartment in his side. He proceeded to zap the man with some kind of electric spark.

“Ow!” he cried, still confused. “Hey! What?”

“The jacket,” you said. “This droid says you stole it!”

“Look, I’ve had a pretty messed up day, alright? So I’d appreciate if you stopped accusing me of--ow!”

BB8 had zapped him again.

“Stop it!” he snapped at the droid.

“Where’d you get it?” you pressed. “It belongs to his master.”

The man looked between you and the very agitated BB8, then let out a long sigh. He took a beat to piece together some words.

“It belonged to Poe Dameron. That was his name, right?”

BB8 looked to you, confirming, arm still extended.

“He was captured by the First Order. I helped him escape, but our ship crashed.” He paused while you and BB8 waited expectantly for his conclusion. “Poe didn’t make it.” His words hung heavily in the air.

BB8 drooped and made a low, sad beep.

“I tried to help him. I’m sorry.”

BB8 retracted his zappy arm and rolled off to mourn. You watched after him to make sure nobody else tried to snatch him up.

You turned your attention to the man again. “So you’re with the Resistance?”

He paused. “Obviously. Yes. I am.” He pushed himself to his feet. “I’m with the Resistance, yeah.” He leaned in and whispered, “I’m with the Resistance.”

A little starstruck, you lowered your staff and gave a smile. “I’ve never met a Resistance fighter before.”

“Well, this is what we look like. Some of us. Others look different.”

Excitement welled in you as it now appeared you were going to be face with the opportunity to become an ally and aid the Resistance. “BB8 says he’s on a secret mission. He has to get back to your base.”

“Apparently he has a map that leads to Luke Skywalker and everyone’s after it.”

Further exhilaration coursed through your veins at the prospect of this mission. “Luke Skywalker?” you breathed. “I thought he was a myth.”

BB8 began beeping wildly, and both you and your new ally turned to face him. You followed after the droid and peeked around a corner, seeing something that dampened your excitement a generous amount: stormtroopers. They spoke to Plutt’s thugs, who were still favoring their bruises and pointing in your direction.

Suddenly, your hand was in the Resistance fighter’s and he was pulling you in the opposite direction, right as blaster fire started firing in your direction.

“What are you doing?” you cried.

“Come on!”

You ducked as a red blur passed over both your heads and brought down a merchant’s booth.

“Let go of me!”

“No, we gotta move!”

You ripped your hand free and continued sprinting alongside him. “I know how to run without you holding my hand! BB8 stay close! This way!”

You all turned a corner and again ducked under more laser fire.

As you took a breather under the shade of a tent, you gripped one of the poles to keep balance. “They’re shooting at both of us.”

“Yeah, they saw you with me. You’re marked.”

“Well thanks for that.”

“I’m not the one who chased you down with a stick!”

You heard some things clatter and fall into the sand, then your ally cried, “Does anyone have blasters around here?!”

You knelt to check in on BB8. “Are you okay?”

He beeped frantically before the Resistance fighter quieted you both.

A whirring sound echoed from the sky, and the fighter took your hand again.

“Stop taking my hand!” you said.

The three of you burst from the tent. You glanced over your shoulder to see a TIE fighter screaming down from the sky, and a second one opening fire on you.

The lasers missed you, but they collided with the tent you had previously hidden in, which exploded and threw you, the fighter, and BB8 several feet in the air before you skidded a little farther in the sand.

The dust settled around you and you saw the townspeople panicking and scrambling in all directions, screaming and calling out to each other.

You looked up to see the two TIE fighters reeling back for a second go. Your heart sped up, and you looked around for your ally. He lay motionless in the sand.

You scrambled over to him and shook him awake.

In an instant he was upright and checked you over for injury. “Are you okay?”

The question stunned you. Nobody had ever asked you that before.

“Yeah,” you breathed. “Follow me.”

Dodging lasers and explosions and debris, you made a dash for a ship in the spaceport, now only several hundred feet in front of you.

“We can’t outrun them!” the Resistance fighter cried.

“We might in that quad-jumper!” You pointed at the shiny red and white ship in front of you.

“We need a pilot!”

You gestured to yourself. “We’ve got one!”

“You?” The fighter disregarded the issue, then pointed at a much closer, disk-shaped ship. “What about that ship?”

“That one’s garbage!” you said, considering how it hadn’t flown in years.

Right as you reached the quad-jumper, laser fire ignited the ship and it went up in a great mushroom cloud.

You skidded to a stop. “The garbage will do!”

With that, the pair of you sprinted toward the piece of junk in hopes that it would carry you safely out of the atmosphere.

#kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #ben solo #ben solo x reader #star wars #the force awakens #the last jedi #rise of skywalker #bb8 #poe dameron #poe dameron x reader

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zekedms · 4 years ago

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I spent my entire meat eating life trying to reproduce Arby's and now I just make it by god damn accident out of seitan? Here's a recipe for the so inclined that can also be used as a harder deli meat topping (I used it as pepperoni before discovering the Arby-ism by accident literally today).

1.5 cups vital wheat gluten (sorry homewashers, I don't know the equivalent but I respect your bravery)

1/4 cup nutritional yeast

1 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon pepper

2 teaspoons mustard flour or ground seed

2 teaspoon garlic powder

2 teaspoons paprika

1 teaspoon red pepper

1 teaspoon Tarragon

1 cup water but start by using 3/4 and add if needed (I hear using carbonated water is great for seitan, haven't tested enough to know)

1 teaspoon grapeseed oil

2 teaspoons sesame oil

Optional: Soy sauce, liquid smoke, vegemite - any of the above will add some good savory quality. Personally I find the liquid smoke redundant with paprika and sesame oil, or a good soy like Yamasa.

Mix mix mix!

Then knead knead knead! You'll not need long likely, but you may need to add a bit of water to help with the initial kneading. Knead until the dough doesn't merge when folded - if you can see the crease and peel it apart, you're good. Squeeze and roll it out like you're making a play-doh snake, if it's kneaded enough it'll spring back pretty strongly. Let it rest for 10-12 minutes, longer is fine but I'd recommend about that long from my limited experience. I let it rest for 2-3 Splatoon 2 Turf Wars as my general timer. Pick it up and squeeeeeeze again. You want to make a long roll out of it, and it'll likely start staying somewhat stretched - that's where you want to be for this.

Roll it up in cheesecloth, pop that bad boy in the instant pot for 25 minutes (high pressure) on a trivet - use about 1 and 1/2 cups of water, enough to be under the bar but barely. Once it finishes you can do a quick release or be like me and forget so it releases naturally. Try both sometime, let me know how it works!

Unwrap it, save the water for rice or something, pop it in the fridge hot, then once it's cooled and solidified you're ready to go. If you want it more pepperoni-like, slice it just before you use it - I did that for a pizza and it was excellent. If you want straight up Arby's, thin-slice it night before at least (I have a Dash safety mandloine I'm very fond of now for this), then pop it into a re-usable container. Condensation is your friend here and will help soften the seitan when it sits. Warm over medium heat in a skillet, sans oil by default (it shouldn't stick anyway thanks to the oils already in it, but add a little lubricant as needed). You want it to get hot and floppy, letting those nicely cooled and arranged fats get loose with it, but not so hot it starts to cook or fry.

Pop those shreds on a bun with some horseradish sauce and laugh at the face you just replicated a piping hot delicious arby's roast beef sandwich with no meat and for like, 20% of the cost. I mean are you kidding me with this Arby's? I loved you back when I ate meat but you were always too expensive! Also goes excellent on rice noodles with soy chorizo.

Suggested experiment: squish that snake like an accordian until it's a more of a dome/loaf, make wider slices, see how the texture varies from edge to center. Bet it'll be pretty good, especially if you have a deli slicer around. I haven't tried it but for real I bet that'd be great.

Credit where due, recipe highly adapted from https://www.allrecipes.com/recipe/241963/seitan-pepperoni/

#seitan #vegan #recipe #food #i'm still mad this came out so well all I had to do was become vegetarian lol

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theyearoftheking · 5 years ago

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Book Thirty-Two: Needful Things

“Why is it that so many people think all the answers are in their wallets?”

When I started this blog, it was kind of funny how life events were lining up with the books I was reading. I finished The Stand just as we were starting to learn about Coronavirus. I read Misery while we were all stuck in quarantine. And this weekend I finished Needful Things just as riots were starting to break out all over the country.

I’m not egotistical enough to think my reading of these books is bringing them to life, but I’m also kind of terrified to crack into The Dome... just sayin. And I guess we did avoid murderous clown shenanigans with It, so maybe it’s just a freaky coincidence. But I might skip Sleeping Beauties just to be safe.

I might have discovered my new favorite Steve book. This was my first time reading Needful Things, and the story captured me in a way I wasn’t expecting. I was immediately reminded of Something Wicked This Way Comes; which my husband admitted to never having read/watched the movie, which is a real tragedy. But the book truly feels like one big piece of Bradbury fan fiction. And I’m not at all mad about that.

Before cracking into Needful Things, I recommend going back and reading Sun Dog, the last novella in Four Past Midnight. Sun Dog brings us back to Castle Rock, Maine, and introduces the characters we explore further in Needful Things. Reading it isn’t mandatory, but it does make for a richer experience. In the introduction to Sun Dog, King explains Needful Things is the last book he’s going to set in Castle Rock (lies). For those keeping count, we’ve got Cujo, The Dead Zone, The Dark Half, and The Body (Stand By Me). All these stories are referenced in Needful Things, and we even find out what happened to our friend Thad Beaumont from The Dark Half. Spoiler: it’s not great.

“By virtue of Thad’s drunken phonecalls, Alan had become an unwilling witness to the crash of Thad’s marriage and the steady erosion of the man’s sanity.”

Additionally, Thad’s wife Liz took the twins and deuced out. I mean... not surprising. I don’t know how one recovers from being stalked by their alter-ego, and having their house busted into by a bunch of sparrows. In case you need a reminder about all the shenanigans and bad luck Castle Rock has endured, here’s the Cliff’s Notes version:

Before I get into the plot of the story, I’m going to issue a Trigger Warning. Needful Things does deal with the suicide of a young boy, as well as the murder of two seperate animals.

Needful Things is a quaint little shop which just opened up in downtown Castle Rock, and it promises oddities and strange little finds. The proprietor of the shop is Leland Gaunt, and he seems to have something for everyone. Everything from aviator sunglasses worn by Elvis, to autographed Sandy Koufax baseball cards, to a splinter believed to have come off Noah’s Ark, to a necklace believed to cure arthritis. Every little oddity in the shop is wildly affordable, but comes with a few strings attached. Gaunt asks a favor, or a “prank” of each patron that comes into the shop.

Slowly but surely, he’s got the entire town feuding. It starts with two old women dueling on a street corner, because one believes the other killed her dog, and the other believes she threw mud on her clean laundry and broke her windows. Gaunt plays on the already growing tensions in town: the Catholic church wanting to have a casino night fundraiser, and the Baptists who are fiercely opposed to the idea. The embezzling city official who parks in the handicapped spot, and the deputy who is pressured by his boss to give him a ticket for it. Before long, these “pranks” and “favors” are adding up, and the town is thrown into a state of chaos. Meanwhile, Leland Gaunt just sits back and smiles.

It falls to Sheriff Alan Pangborn to try and figure out what’s going on in town, and how the riots started. He visits little Sean Rusk in the hospital, who witnessed his older brother Brian commit suicide. Brian had stopped into Needful Things and left with an autographed and personalized Sandy Koufax card, which of course came with a few small strings attached. Brian ends up committing a few acts of vandalism that led to the old lady duel. The guilt eats him alive, and he shoots himself. Sean tells Sheriff Pangborn Brian was acting strange lately, he had caught him mooning over a random, ratty baseball card. NOT the autographed, personalized Sandy Koufax card Brian thought it was... Because, dark magic.

So, Alan starts to get an idea of who is behind the madness plaguing Castle Rock. As his city is looting, rioting and falling down around him, he goes to confront Gaunt with prank snakes in a can. You know... a real prank... not like killing someone’s dog, or ruining their laundry. The snakes take on some kind of magical power, and send Gaunt on his way to Iowa. I speak for all midwestern folk when I say, “God speed to Iowa, Gaunt. That state could use some livening up...”

The book was fantastic; there were so many threads that came together at the end, it was masterful. And I speak for everyone who has bought crazy, random shit off the internet during quarantine... at least my Keds/truffle infused hot sauce/Christian McCaffrey jersey/protein powder/2 liter water bottle didn’t come with any strings attached. Just sayin.

There were two Dark Tower references... at two different points in the book, Steve referred to people battling as, “gunslingers”. No Wisconsin references, and I’m kinda glad. The last thing we need is some Leland Gaunt up in our already messed up state.

Total Wisconsin Mentions: 25

Total Dark Tower References: 25

Book Grade: A+

Rebecca’s Definitive Ranking of Stephen King Books

The Talisman: A+

Needful Things: A+

Misery: A+

Different Seasons: A+

It: A+

Four Past Midnight: A+

The Shining: A-

The Stand: A-

The Drawing of the Three: A-

Nightmares in the Sky: B+

The Dark Half: B+

Skeleton Crew: B+

The Dead Zone: B+

‘Salem’s Lot: B+

Carrie: B+

Creepshow: B+

Cycle of the Werewolf: B-

Danse Macabre: B-

The Running Man: C+

Thinner: C+

Dark Visions: C+

The Eyes of the Dragon: C+

The Long Walk: C+

The Gunslinger: C+

Pet Sematary: C+

Firestarter: C+

Rage: C

Cujo: C-

Nightshift: C-

Roadwork: D

Christine: D

The Tommyknockers: D-

I hope everyone stays safe amid the riots and protests, and the ever-looming threat of Coronavirus. I’m one hundred pages into The Wastelands, and it’s the ultimate escape reading for me. Walking into Roland’s ka-tet is like coming back to see old friends. Lovely.

Until next time, long days & pleasant nights,

Rebecca

#stephen king #constant readers #needful things #castle rock #dark tower #ray bradbury #something wicked this way comes #cujo #the dark half #sun dog #the body #stand by me

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