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HAPPY 53RD BIRTHDAY, MATT ISEMAN!!!
#happy birthday#actor#comedian#happy birthday 2024#january 22#january 2024#television host#american ninja warrior#the new celebrity apprentice#matt iseman#doctor#aquarius
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Opinion | The Naked âSurvivorâ Guy Theory of U.S. Politics - The New York Times
https://www.nytimes.com/2024/09/13/opinion/donald-trump-reality-tv-survivor.html?unlocked_article_code=1.Lk4.Ju75.GWt9m1brz232&smid=nytcore-ios-share&referringSource=articleShare&login=email&auth=login-email
#nyt#new york times#2024 presidential election#2024 elections#reality television#reality tv#donald trump#trump#the apprentice#celebrity apprentice#the island#politics#us politics#american culture
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It all started with a mouse
For the public domain, time stopped in 1998, when the Sonny Bono Copyright Act froze copyright expirations for 20 years. In 2019, time started again, with a massive crop of works from 1923 returning to the public domain, free for all to use and adapt:
https://web.law.duke.edu/cspd/publicdomainday/2019/
No one is better at conveying the power of the public domain than Jennifer Jenkins and James Boyle, who run the Duke Center for the Study of the Public Domain. For years leading up to 2019, the pair published an annual roundup of what we would have gotten from the public domain in a universe where the 1998 Act never passed. Since 2019, they've switched to celebrating what we're actually getting each year. Last year's was a banger:
https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/20/free-for-2023/#oy-canada
But while there's been moderate excitement at the publicdomainification of "Yes, We Have No Bananas," AA Milne's "Now We Are Six," and Sherlock Holmes, the main event that everyone's anticipated arrives on January 1, 2024, when Mickey Mouse enters the public domain.
The first appearance of Mickey Mouse was in 1928's Steamboat Willie. Disney was critical to the lobbying efforts that extended copyright in 1976 and again in 1998, so much so that the 1998 Act is sometimes called the Mickey Mouse Protection Act. Disney and its allies were so effective at securing these regulatory gifts that many people doubted that this day would ever come. Surely Disney would secure another retrospective copyright term extension before Jan 1, 2024. I had long arguments with comrades about this â people like Project Gutenberg founder Michael S Hart (RIP) were fatalistically certain the public domain would never come back.
But they were wrong. The public outrage over copyright term extensions came too late to stave off the slow-motion arson of the 1976 and 1998 Acts, but it was sufficient to keep a third extension away from the USA. Canada wasn't so lucky: Justin Trudeau let Trump bully him into taking 20 years' worth of works out of Canada's public domain in the revised NAFTA agreement, making swathes of works by living Canadian authors illegal at the stroke of a pen, in a gift to the distant descendants of long-dead foreign authors.
Now, with Mickey's liberation bare days away, there's a mounting sense of excitement and unease. Will Mickey actually be free? The answer is a resounding YES! (albeit with a few caveats). In a prelude to this year's public domain roundup, Jennifer Jenkins has published a full and delightful guide to The Mouse and IP from Jan 1 on:
https://web.law.duke.edu/cspd/mickey/
Disney loves the public domain. Its best-loved works, from The Sorcerer's Apprentice to Sleeping Beauty, Pinnocchio to The Little Mermaid, are gorgeous, thoughtful, and lively reworkings of material from the public domain. Disney loves the public domain â we just wish it would share.
Disney loves copyright's other flexibilities, too, like fair use. Walt told the papers that he took his inspiration for Steamboat Willie from Charlie Chaplin and Douglas Fairbanks, making fair use of their performances to imbue Mickey with his mischief and derring do. Disney loves fair use â we just wish it would share.
Disney loves copyright's limitations. Steamboat Willie was inspired by Buster Keaton's silent film Steamboat Bill (titles aren't copyrightable). Disney loves copyright's limitations â we just wish it would share.
As Jenkins writes, Disney's relationship to copyright is wildly contradictory. It's the poster child for the public domain's power as a source of inspiration for worthy (and profitable) new works. It's also the chief villain in the impoverishment and near-extinction of the public domain. Truly, every pirate wants to be an admiral.
Disney's reliance on â and sabotage of â the public domain is ironic. Jenkins compares it to "an oil company relying on solar power to run its rigs." Come January 1, Disney will have to share.
Now, if you've heard anything about this, you've probably been told that Mickey isn't really entering the public domain. Between trademark claims and later copyrightable elements of Mickey's design, Mickey's status will be too complex to understand. That's totally wrong.
Jenkins illustrates the relationship between these three elements in (what else) a Mickey-shaped Venn diagram. Topline: you can use all the elements of Mickey that are present in Steamboat Willie, along with some elements that were added later, provided that you make it clear that your work isn't affiliated with Disney.
Let's unpack that. The copyrightable status of a character used to be vague and complex, but several high-profile cases have brought clarity to the question. The big one is Les Klinger's case against the Arthur Conan Doyle estate over Sherlock Holmes. That case established that when a character appears in both public domain and copyrighted works, the character is in the public domain, and you are "free to copy story elements from the public domain works":
https://freesherlock.files.wordpress.com/2013/12/klinger-order-on-motion-for-summary-judgment-c.pdf
This case was appealed all the way to the Supreme Court, who declined to hear it. It's settled law.
So, which parts of Mickey aren't going into the public domain? Elements that came later: white gloves, color. But that doesn't mean you can't add different gloves, or different colorways. The idea of a eyes with pupils is not copyrightable â only the specific eyes that Disney added.
Other later elements that don't qualify for copyright: a squeaky mouse voice, being adorable, doing jaunty dances, etc. These are all generic characteristics of cartoon mice, and they're free for you to use. Jenkins is more cautious on whether you can give your Mickey red shorts. She judges that "a single, bright, primary color for an article of clothing does not meet the copyrightability threshold" but without settled law, you might wanna change the colors.
But what about trademark? For years, Disney has included a clip from Steamboat Willie at the start of each of its films. Many observers characterized this as a bid to create a de facto perpetual copyright, by making Steamboat Willie inescapably associated with products from Disney, weaving an impassable web of trademark tripwires around it.
But trademark doesn't prevent you from using Steamboat Willie. It only prevents you from misleading consumers "into thinking your work is produced or sponsored by Disney." Trademarks don't expire so long as they're in use, but uses that don't create confusion are fair game under trademark.
Copyrights and trademarks can overlap. Mickey Mouse is a copyrighted character, but he's also an indicator that a product or service is associated with Disney. While Mickey's copyright expires in a couple weeks, his trademark doesn't. What happens to an out-of-copyright work that is still a trademark?
Luckily for us, this is also a thoroughly settled case. As in, this question was resolved in a unanimous 2000 Supreme Court ruling, Dastar v. Twentieth Century Fox. A live trademark does not extend an expired copyright. As the Supremes said:
[This would] create a species of mutant copyright law that limits the publicâs federal right to copy and to use expired copyrights.
This elaborates on the Ninth Circuit's 1996 Maljack Prods v Goodtimes Home Video Corp:
[Trademark][ cannot be used to circumvent copyright law. If material covered by copyright law has passed into the public domain, it cannot then be protected by the Lanham Act without rendering the Copyright Act a nullity.
Despite what you might have heard, there is no ambiguity here. Copyrights can't be extended through trademark. Period. Unanimous Supreme Court Decision. Boom. End of story. Done.
But even so, there are trademark considerations in how you use Steamboat Willie after Jan 1, but these considerations are about protecting the public, not Disney shareholders. Your uses can't be misleading. People who buy or view your Steamboat Willie media or products have to be totally clear that your work comes from you, not Disney.
Avoiding confusion will be very hard for some uses, like plush toys, or short idents at the beginning of feature films. For most uses, though, a prominent disclaimer will suffice. The copyright page for my 2003 debut novel Down and Out in the Magic Kingdom contains this disclaimer:
This novel is a work of fiction, set in an imagined future. All the characters and events portrayed in this book, including the imagined future of the Magic Kingdom, are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. The Walt Disney Company has not authorized or endorsed this novel.
https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250196385/downandoutinthemagickingdom
Here's the Ninth Circuit again:
When a public domain work is copied, along with its title, there is little likelihood of confusion when even the most minimal steps are taken to distinguish the publisher of the original from that of the copy. The public is receiving just what it believes it is receivingâthe work with which the title has become associated. The public is not only unharmed, it is unconfused.
Trademark has many exceptions. The First Amendment protects your right to use trademarks in expressive ways, for example, to recreate famous paintings with Barbie dolls:
https://www.copyright.gov/fair-use/summaries/mattel-walkingmountain-9thcir2003.pdf
And then there's "nominative use": it's not a trademark violation to use a trademark to accurately describe a trademarked thing. "We fix iPhones" is not a trademark violation. Neither is 'Works with HP printers.' This goes double for "expressive" uses of trademarks in new works of art:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rogers_v._Grimaldi
What about "dilution"? Trademark protects a small number of superbrands from uses that "impair the distinctiveness or harm the reputation of the famous mark, even when there is no consumer confusion." Jenkins says that the Mickey silhouette and the current Mickey character designs might be entitled to protection from dilution, but Steamboat Willie doesn't make the cut.
Jenkins closes with a celebration of the public domain's ability to inspire new works, like Disney's Three Musketeers, Disney's Christmas Carol, Disney's Beauty and the Beast, Disney's Around the World in 80 Days, Disney's Alice in Wonderland, Disney's Snow White, Disney's Hunchback of Notre Dame, Disney's Sleeping Beauty, Disney's Cinderella, Disney's Little Mermaid, Disney's Pinocchio, Disney's Huck Finn, Disney's Robin Hood, and Disney's Aladdin. These are some of the best-loved films of the past century, and made Disney a leading example of what talented, creative people can do with the public domain.
As of January 1, Disney will start to be an example of what talented, creative people give back to the public domain, joining Dickens, Dumas, Carroll, Verne, de Villeneuve, the Brothers Grimm, Twain, Hugo, Perrault and Collodi.
Public domain day is 17 days away. Creators of all kinds: start your engines!
If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:
https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/15/mouse-liberation-front/#free-mickey
Image: Doo Lee (modified) https://web.law.duke.edu/sites/default/files/images/centers/cspd/pdd2024/mickey/Steamboat-WIllie-Enters-Public-Domain.jpeg
CC BY 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/deed.en
#pluralistic#copyfight#scotus#mickey mouse#public domain#ip#contract#trademark#tm#jennifer jenkins#copyright#disney#nominative use
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Upcoming Magical Girl Projects
Magical girl fans are finally eating good after years of starvation. So good, in fact, that I decided to make a list of magical girl projects in development. This is a continually updating list whose history can be found here.
You and Idol Precure - The 22nd season of the Precure franchise, You and Idol will replace the currently airing Wonderful Precure on February 2, 2025. While walking her dog, Uta Sakura comes across Purirun, a fairy searching for the legendary Idol Precure to save her homeland from the Chokkiri Gang. Uta then transforms into Cure Idol to take back the "sparkle" of her neighbors after it's stolen by a Chokkiri agent.
Puella Magi Madoka Magica the Movie - Walpurgisnacht Rising - The fourth PMMM movie, which will pick up where Rebellion's massive cliffhanger left off. While originally slated for late 2024, it has since been delayed to winter 2025.
Cute High Earth Defense Club Eternal Love! - The magical boy series is getting a new movie in winter 2025 as part of the celebrations for its 10th anniversary. The movie will be a time travel story that picks up a decade after the original series.
Maebashi Witches - A TV original production by Sunrise, Maebashi Witches is a coming of age story focused on a quintet of high schoolers who are approached by a strange and mysterious frog named Keroppe, who recruits them to become the titular group. Now working in a magical flower shop, the girls use the "Witchverse" pocket dimension to grant people's wishes with the power of song and dance. Has the same writer as Bocchi the Rock (Erika Yoshida) and is premiering spring 2025.
Princession Orchestra - A TV original coming in spring 2025, Princession Orchestra is based on a concept by Akifumi Kaneko, one of Symphogear's co-creators. The land of Alicepia's peace is destroyed when monsters called Jammerwocks attack, prompting a trio of young girls to step up the plate to protect the realm.
Winx Club - The western magical girl classic is getting a CGI reboot. While comments by Iginio Straffi imply that certain characters who were introduced later in the original series (such as Roxy and Nabu) will appear earlier, no specific plot details have been revealed so far. The series is coming to Netflix late 2025.
New Panty & Stocking with Garterbelt - Panty & Stocking is getting a second season after over a decade that's coming out sometime in 2025. A teaser trailer confirmed the OG voice cast's return and announced the production staff, but plot details are still unclear.
Magilumiere Magical Girls Inc. season two - Magilumiere is getting a second season, which was announced after the broadcast of season one's finale. No other details have been revealed.
Untitled Symphogear movie - A new Symphogear movie was announced in late 2023. However, no further details have been revealed.
Hua Xianzi: Zhi Mofa Xiang Dui Lun - A co-production between Tencent Video and Toei Animation's Shanghai branch, this anime is being billed as a "remake" of Lunlun the Flower Fairy. The heroine is Rumi, an apprentice at a homemade perfume studio who awakens as a Flower Child due to the power of a family heirloom. She's tasked with collecting and purifying the Rainbow Flower's scattered petals, only to clash with another Flower Child along the way and discover the surprising past of her feline mentor/sidekick.
Studio Pierrot's new anime - Studio Pierrot, which has made a variety of magical girl anime from TV originals like Creamy Mami to adaptations such as Tokyo Mew Mew, has announced that they're creating a new TV original magical girl anime. No specific details have been disclosed, but the caption for the teaser image ("I want you to sing once more...") implies that it'll be a magical idol anime.
Lolirock season three - After Lolirock's second season ended with a cliffhanger all the way back in 2017, it seemed like the story would never get a proper conclusion. However, the series's creator and director, Jean-Louis Vandestoc, announced on his Instagram in 2023 that creative meetings for a third season have begun.
Magic Knight Rayearth revival - TMS Entertainment is making a new Magic Knight Rayearth anime in honor of the franchise's 30th anniversary. Unfortunately, it's currently unknown what the format will be.
Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha EXCEEDS Gun Blaze Vengeance - A new installment in the seminal Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha franchise, this will be a new TV anime to celebrate the series's 20th anniversary. No other details are confirmed, but it will presumably be connected to the upcoming EXCEEDS manga that will begin in 2025.
Cardcaptor Sakura: Clear Card season two - The sequel to the magical girl classic is getting a second season that will adapt the rest of the manga.
Magical Girl holoWitches - A multimedia project starring six VTubers as fictionalized versions of themselves who work as both streamers and magical girls who save people when they get trapped in the magical Holocas World. There was a four minute extended trailer in May 2024, but the anime's proper premiere date is unknown.
I Don't Want to Be a Magical Girl - An indie project by Kiana Khansmith, which follows the story of a burnt out magical girl named Aika. While she ran away from her duties in pursuit of a normal life, her position as a Protagonistâą causes her to get dragged into adventures anyway. Khansmith is currently hard at work on the pilot, which has a voice cast consisting of Anairis Quinones, Bennett Abara, Christine Marie Cabanos, Aleks Le, Shara Kirby, Michele Knotz, and Marieve Herington.
New Ojamajo Doremi thing - As part of the celebrations for the franchise's 25th anniversary, Toei Animation released two new music videos for the series' 1st OP and 4th ED with the promise that a new project will be made if the videos reach a combined 5 million views. This goal has since been met. Due to the girls being adults in the videos, the new project will presumably be an adaptation of the Ojamajo Doremi 16-20's sequel series of light novels.
#magical girls#mahou shoujo#magilumiere magical girls inc.#puella magi madoka magica#precure#pretty cure#princsession orchestra#winx club#winx club reboot#symphogear#hana no ko lunlun#lolirock#magic knight rayearth#cardcaptor sakura#magical girl holowitches#ojamajo doremi#cute high earth defense club love#panty and stocking#you and idol precure#maebashi witches#i don't want to be a magical girl#magical girl lyrical nanoha
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Down the parsed dialogue rabbit hole again, this time looking at Ethel's Vicious Mockery lines for all the characters, and goddamn, they are brutal.
ASTARION You're one thirsty night away from betraying everyone. Deep down, you like being leashed, don't you? Is there still rat stuck in your teeth, slave?
GALE I can smell what's under those bandages, wizard. You're all rot and ruin. Come to greet death early? You'll be a lovely spectacle. Who would be jealous of you, apprentice?
KARLACH Let's pull your strings, infernal puppet. Happy to sell everyone's soul but your own, aren't you? When I'm done, even the Hells won't want you.
LAE'ZEL Your people will never take you back - illithid scum. Do you miss kissing Vlaakith's feet, gith? A toad with a tadpole! How fitting.
MINSC How quaint! The hamster has a pet. Only evil here is what's inside you, ranger. Go rub your rat, soft-skull.
SHADOWHEART You're so far up Shar's cake you can't see straight. Pathetic. Why would Shar love you when no one else does? You're no complex puzzle. Just a sad little girl.
WYLL Do you think losing that eye made you a hero? Oh, look! It's daddy's regret. Fraud of the Frontiers!
DRAGONBORN Aww, where's your clan? Bet they'd exile you for that brainworm in a blink. Bet that honour of yours shatters easy as your scales. You foul-breathed little lizard!
DWARF No flabby dwarf's a threat to me. More beard than brains, the lot of you. Bet you'd trade your friends for a trinket or two, gold-eater!
DWARF (DUERGAR) Bow your head, slave. You remember how, don't you? Grey and useless as a stone comb. I'll squeeze that stone heart until it bleeds, dwarf. Need a new master, illithid lover?
ELF Fancy yourself immortal? We'll see how long that lasts. I'll show you what a true fey does, dearie. Elves are so pretty. Pretty worthless!
ELF (DROW - FEMALE) Filthy underscum! Just another of Lolth's pretty harlots. Slaver. Sadist. How dare you judge me?
ELF (DROW - MALE) Bare your throat, spider-bait. Kneel, boy. Just like the matriarchs taught you to. Bow to your betters, boy.
GNOME Disgusting burrow rat. Bet your clan's happy you're gone! Try laughing after I rip your throat out, gnome.
HALF-ELF I wonder which parent regrets you more, half-breed. How revolting. Another thin-blooded mongrel. Half-elf. Half-human. All useless.
HALF-ELF (DROW) Even the Underdark doesn't want you, half-breed. A half-drow? How grotesque. Surprised you show yourself in public, abomination.
HALF-ORC Come now, tusks-for-brains! Doesn't this make you angry? All that bloodlust. A little tap, and I bet you won't know friend from foe! Lumbering half-orc. Twice as ugly as your parents combined!
HALFLING Come closer, little softie. You'll be tender. A tiny, sweet morsel. Just for me.
HUMAN Another human rat infesting Faerûn. A human! So desperate to be special. Pity. That tadpole actually made you interesting.
TIEFLING I'll burn you alive and everyone will celebrate. You're everyone's punching bag and no one's favourite. I see the Hells spit out another tragic little tiefling.
#bg3#baldur's gate 3#bg3 dialogue#astarion#gale#wyll#karlach#lae'zel#shadowheart#minsc#(none for jaheira or halsin again; maybe they're just too old for this shit and ethel can't get through to them XD )#bg3 ethel
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Shen Yuan concept without being a NEET just because my sister and I thought of this and lol we had a good time
So Shen Yuan is this rich kid and all, but he actually has this hobby that started taking up 80% of his free time: designing clothes. He started out as a cosmaker, can you blame him? Cosplays are so poor quality these days. And Shen Yuan is used to good quality clothes even if they are just simple t-shirts. So when he started realizing how pathetically expensive some cosplays were compared to their quality, he just... Well, he had to design his own!
Little by little, he evolved. And one day his wealthy family found him this job designing clothes for xianxia dramas, and Shen Yuan, a little delirious, accepted. It's okay! He designed a lot of sketches inspired by arts, historical research here and there, things that also looked nice and realistic. Shen Yuan enjoys his job almost as much as he enjoys criticizing each new PIDW chapter. How is it possible that they've been thirty chapters into that subplot and there have been more papapa scenes than a resolution?! Outrageous!
Shen Yuan designs a lot. He still works as a cosmaker, as he really enjoys doing embroidery. It's a time-consuming job, but he gets paid well and his cosplays are the best in the entire community. His family is happy that he has left his lonely life and has this job and this new business experience, they congratulate him on his new achievements, they urge him to enroll in some university fashion or clothing design.
Shen Yuan dismisses it. He misses his life as a NEET a little, but in reality on his days off he just plays around and does nothing, which is the same thing he does on his work days, except he embroiders and sews or draw on those work days. Days so busy, they are not.
So Airplane ends PIDW like absolute shit, Shen Yuan drowns and dies.
And he opens his eyes. Well, what the hell. It doesn't take long for him to discover that he transmigrated into an NPC. Tailored, apparently, because he's an no-name NPC apprentice to a spider demon seamstress!
He has a lot of knowledge about all of this, so it doesn't take him long to put it into practice. His teacher congratulates him and he makes a lot of sales. Soon, he gains a very good reputation. Maidens from other kingdoms come to Shen Yuan to design clothes for them for festivals, for dances, for family celebrations. Shen Yuan designs, sews, embroiders. It's not far from his old life, although he misses Project Sekai and caffeine a little.
He opens his own workshop almost a year later, with the goodwill of his demon teacher. She warns him of something: Shen Yuan is a thread woven to another soul. And soon, his soulmate will come for him.
Shen Yuan is a little nervous, but, oh well! A soulmate! If only!
He knows, for a fact, that that's impossible. They're in the disgusting world of PIDW, and at least half of the dresses he's made have been for Binghe's future wives. Some would even be torn apart without any care! What a waste of his time and effort!
He doesn't think about it too much. Shen Yuan just focuses on his work. He designs, sews, embroiders. He sleeps little but enjoys the smile on the faces of the Meimei's when they hug the pretty fabrics. It is, despite everything, a good life.
Then, Emperor Luo Binghe arrives at his door.
In person. Not with servants, not with a letter, not with an invitation. It is Emperor Luo Binghe who arrives at his door.
Of course Shen Yuan is going to make robes for the emperor! There's no need for him to ask or offer to pay for them! He's nervous and a little scared, but Luo Binghe is... well, he doesn't seem to have no kind of threatening aura or any kind of charm. He asks him for the designs of some robes and stays there while Shen Yuan makes the first sketches. Luo Binghe gives more directions, more corrections... And Shen Yuan discovers that Luo Binghe is requesting Qing Jing robes from him, if the fanarts are accurate. He tears off that sheet of paper, starts another sketch with Qing Jing's exact robes without uttering any words, leaving Luo Binghe speechless as well. Luo Binghe nods, correcting details of length and shape, not even asking or saying anything about designs of cultivators clothing, and Shen Yuan has to move on to the... er, awkward part. He has to almost strip Luo Binghe to take his measurements!
Ignore that part. His face is very red when he finishes, but he has the exact measurements of his back, his arms, the size of his fit, his length and width, everything necessary to work with the first molds.
Shen Yuan has no idea why Emperor Luo Binghe wants Qing Jing's robes. He won't ask either, he values his tongue very much. So, he just decides to continue his work like a good professional, embroidering every detail to perfection (he has done two Ning Yingying cosplays in the past, so, it was easy to him remember the embroidered patterns).
Maybe he makes it too perfect.
Luo Binghe is looming over him, his new robes on display, eyes red with fury, zuiyin shining on his forehead.
"Cang Qiong has been burned for more than two hundred years. How can a weak mortal like you recreate these patterns so perfectly?"
Shen Yuan has three options, honestly.
a) Tell him he's a transmigrator. He doesn't have any fucking System, and maybe telling him he's from another world will save him from his imminent death... But he highly doubts Luo Binghe will believe him.
b) Telling him that he's a reborn soul! That he may have worked for the sect in the past! It's not a bad idea, and it's actually quite common, isn't it? Some souls are reborn with some memories, huh, not bad...
c) Not saying anything and playing dumb.
Shen Yuan chooses to play dumb, only because he doesn't have enough brain cells and is so panicked that he can play the reborn.
"I don't know what Junshang is telling me! I just followed the directions and patterns in the design given by Jungshang!"
Luo Binghe does not strangle him. Makes things worse.
Luo Binghe carries him over his shoulder and carries him away. This is kidnapping?! Shen Yuan is being kidnapped from his own shop in broad daylight!? And obviously no one is going to stop him!!
And so, Luo Binghe simply puts him in a room somewhere in the palace, gives him some papers and many tools so he can draw and tells him to design something that he like. And he leaves.
... That is, a kind of test? Is Luo Binghe testing him in some way? Ah, he hopes his customers will be understanding. He's sorry for the delay in their dresses, but Emperor Luo Binghe has kidnapped this seamstress, but he hope to get back to business soon!!
(Luo Binghe is having the closest thing to astral travel. Why does that boy who looks like a young and sweet version of Shen Qingqiu know the patterns of Qing Jing so well? Is he his own "kind" Shen Qingqiu in this world? So why does he act like this and not like a haughty teacher? What should he do?
At least he brought him to his palace. He's not sure if he's the person he's looking for, but, well... he's not really going to let him out of his sight. Just in case.)
#bingyuan#svsss ideas#svsss au#mxtx svsss#ren zha fanpai zijiu xitong#scumbag self saving system#scumbag system#shen yuan#shen yuan transmigrating into npc#this npc is a seamstress#which is perfect because this shen yuan is a cosmaker#original luo binghe#poor boy post bingge vs bingmei#original luo binghe deserves happiness#and i will give it to him no matter what it costs
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So, I did know the basic psychology of this. Or I have a good guess at least. But I was too tired and just needed a way to end the post quickly. I am running on fumes nearly all the time and sometimes I just do whatever I need so I can publish something and feel like I accomplished a goal.
But a few people are having issues with what I said.
They mentioned that autistic folks find comfort in repetition and feel like I am calling that sad. I definitely see that as a possible interpretation and I appreciate them mentioning feeling that way.
But I just wanted to use a little bit of energy to address why I don't think I was referring to these normal, healthy coping mechanisms. I mentioned in a reply that my father actually needed to watch the same show over and over because he was too sick to concentrate on something unfamiliar. I get why it can be helpful.
Firstly, I don't know many autistic people who trap everyone they know at a party and play the same 12 songs over and over.
By and large, that aspect was what I found most sad.
But aside from that, I see this repetitive behavior as a very different thing.
In fact, I would say it isn't the behavior itself... it is the *reason* for the behavior.
I see Trump's repetitive behavior more as living in the past, stuck in his ways, being stubborn, and unwilling to try new things. Something I see a lot with elderly conservative folks. They yearn for a better time in the past when they forgot all of the shitty things and only remember happy times. They say music was better in the good old days and refuse to consider any good music could be created outside of that golden age.
Trump is stuck in the 80s and 90s. He was young and healthy and grabbing pussy and fucking models (with and without consent) and going to parties of important people. He was invited to celebrity weddings and was literally Regis Philbin's best friend. Society generally liked him. He was just the goofy rich guy with the hair and many of us thought he was really good at business. Something enhanced by The Apprentice which was heavily edited to make him seem like a business genius. He likes people thinking he is good at business more than he likes being president.
I actually think he hates being president and only ran this time to stay out of jail.
Trump is not well liked as he used to be. No matter how many cult members love and praise him, he remains deeply unhappy. His wife refuses to touch or even kiss him in public. She does this little hand escape thing every time he tries to hold her hand. And when he tries to kiss her she makes him do that French thing where he has to kiss the air near her head.
Every one of his current "friends" is just playing the game. They are hoping their fealty will help them climb the ladder. I doubt he has a single genuine friend left. Except maybe Rudy Guiliani, who turned into a fucking nutball.
He was traumatized from being inches away from death and I think that was the real reason he moved his inauguration inside. A life long New Yorker is pretty well adapted to the cold.
He probably has erectile dysfunction. He is said to need a diaper. People say he smells really bad. Getting old sucks for everyone, but it is devastating to a narcissist of Trump's caliber.
Trump is in a psychological prison of unhappiness and all he has left is his rallies and his parties where he tries to trigger memories of better times. He has the world's thickest nostalgia glasses.
Why do you think he says "Make America Great AGAIN"?
He says he is going to restore the US to its "former glory."
Almost every personal and political goal of his is based on restoring how things used to be. Which is why he so easily fit into the regressive Republican party despite being a New York Democrat for most of his life.
Trump has elderly nostalgia brain and he is stuck in a loop. He is desperately trying to recreate his glory days.
I get why people had an issue with the caption. And I should have waited until I had more energy to clarify.
In the end, this man is stuck in his ways and stupendously uncurious of new things.
And those are terrible traits for a president.
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Replaced
Summary: Rhysand thinks Azriel has become oldand deserves rest. And while Azriel loves his friend a lot, who the hell does he think he is telling Azriel what to do? The apprentice Rhysand has ordered Azriel to train isn't lessening his frustration either.
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Word count: 1697
Warnings: azzie being a thirsty teenager, reader being sassy, azzie deciding he wants to be a flirty lil hoe lol
A/n: JDVNJDMSNCSDMCN OMGGG I LOVE YALL SOO MUCH I CANT TELL YOU HOW HAPPY I AM RN đđđ as a thank you gift for you all being so nice and supportive of me for over a year now, i present to youuuu my first fir for the celebration week hehe hope you all enjoyyy đ€
p.s: I WOULD LIKE TO SAY THIS HERE AS WELL EVEN THO I THINK IVE SAID THIS BEFORE IN PRIVATE TO MY WIFEY POO. @berryzxx THANK YOU MY LOVE MY LIFE FOR LISTENING TO ME RANT ABOUT ALL THE FICS I EVER WRITE BUT ALSO ESPECIALLY THE CELEBRATION FICS AND HELPING ME COME UP WITH IDEASđ„č
p.p.s: based on an indian song i used to listen t nonstop which me and berry concluded i should not have been listening to lmaooo like what even was that đ
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"Any questions?"
Y/n shook her head, eyes fixed on the neat scribbles on the pristine white paper in her hands, going through the schedule handed to her for the tenth time.
"Perfect then," the high lord muttered, leaning forward, his elbows resting on the mahogany wood of the table in his office. "Be on time for your training, starting tomorrow. You know, my spymaster is a rule follower and hates tardiness."
Y/n dipped her head, finally meeting the glittering violet of her new employer, essentially.
She stood, knowing she was dismissed, and fell into a deep bow. "Thank you for this opportunity again, my lord. I might not be a shadowsinger, but I will prove to be an amazing spy."
"Looking forward to working with you, Y/n. Hope you will live up to your reputation."
As Y/n now stood in the training ring, sweat rolling down her body in rivulets, she wished she had asked Rhysand more questions about his spymaster. For starters, she should have asked if the male was a grown adult or a terrifying toddler.
Because by the way the high lord had sung praises in the illyrianâs name, talking about how patient, composed and kind he was, Y/n would have assumed he would be a pleasure to work with.
The overgrown manchild she had been training with was anything but.
As she stared into his hazel eyes, trying not to snap his pretty neck, Y/n wondered if he had serious personality disorder or he was going through some sort of mood swing. Because the male glaring down at her panting form was not the sweet, caring and soft spoken male Y/n had envisioned.
"You still have three laps left, and then hand to hand combat. Or are you as forgetful as you are untrained?"
Y/n straightened her back, her mouth shut tight as she released a frustrated breath through her nose. "I know how many laps are left, thank you very much. I am not old enough to forget things, especially not old enough to be replaced by someone better and younger."
His eyes flashed, his shadows thickening. The side of Y/nâs lips kicked up in satisfaction. Her remarks had found their mark. Without waiting for whatever words he was going to throw at her next, Y/n turned away, sprinting her way through the barely visible dirt path around the training ring.
He looked murderous the next time her eyes met his, but at least he wasn't yelling at her to speed up or your posture is shit.
Even though he put her through hell for the rest of the afternoon, it all passed in a blur, because the moment he turned away from her, his hands flicking in a dismissive gesture, she stalked over to the water station and gulped down two glasses of water.
In that moment, only she existed, the glass attached to her mouth and her parched throat weeping with joy.
Mother, thank you for giving us mere peasants water.
When she was done, she moved to retrieve her jacket discarded near the exit, only to find Azriel still present, now conversing in furious whispers with the Warlord.
Y/n had no interest in engaging with them, and by the way the general glanced at her, worry written all over his face, she knew he would try to corner her.
Swiftly, she picked up her jacket, slung it over her shoulders and began retreating towards where the two illyrians stood, hoping to sneak out of the space they werenât blocking off when she heard their low voices.
"Still, youâre being too harsh Azriel-"
"If she wanted to be a spy for Rhys, she has to go through this training-"
"Sheâs already trained to be a spy, Az. quit being an asshole."
"If this is too hard for her and if she is going to go cry about it, then she doesnât deserve this position."
Y/n stopped and turned to look at the bastard, who had the audacity to stare back with his eyebrows raised.
"Yes?" He grumbled, impatience rolling off him in waves, as if he couldnât wait to be out of her presence.
She let her eyes wander as she studied the illyrian with the red siphons, then back to Azriel. "Same time tomorrow?"
"Rhys has already discussed the time with you, has he not?"
"Aww, no need to get snappy, princess. Iâm just making sure you are not backing out." she pouted, fluttering her lashes before turning away, grinning in triumph at the way his face turned red in anger.
Oh, was she going to have pleasant dreams tonight.
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Azrielâs pov.
It had been a week since the fae female started training under Az, and he was beginning to lose hope.
He had put her through as much turmoil as he could, both mentally and physically. Still, she seemed determined to work for Rhys.
Maybe she only cared to prove Az wrong and stay, maybe she just wanted to annoy the fuck out of him.
Whatever the reason, she was resilient.
He put her through hours upon hours of gruelling work in the afternoon heat, yelled at her every chance he got, tried to get under her skin when he knew she would be most tired and likely to snap, put her through every torturous and unnecessary task under the sun. But still, she did not snap once.
Not once did Azriel think she was going to leave, not once did she threaten to leave, not once did she go to Rhys to ask him whether her training was supposed to be this gruelling when she was already trained from Prythianâs best spy training institution.
He was not going to pretend it did not make him respect her. Day by day, his curiosity increased, he wanted to know why she was still training under him, even though he did everything he could to bully her away.
And he was not going to pretend like it did not make him want to get to know her, maybe get closer, because he could not remember the last time a female had piqued his interest to this level.
He could feel it.
Feel himself falling, but of course, like the thick skulled bastard he was, he refused to accept the fact that his respect for her resilience was more than just that.
Sure, she made him wish for a taste, but he was not going to admit that.
He could already hear her soft pants as he got closer to the training area, his lips lifting on the corners unconsciously.
She was standing opposite one of the training dummies, honed in on the battered thing. It seemed like everything else had ceased to exist, like she couldnât care less about anything going around her as she swung her sword at the dummy, again and again.
Her focus, the determination with which she trained even though her trainer wasnât presentâŠ
It was hot.
She was hot.
She would probably have a sassy remark on her tongue if she knew the thoughts in his head, but she looked like she did not even realise he had arrived-
"Stop looking at my ass. And Youâre late."
He glanced up, his eyes travelling slowly over her form as she turned to face him, her hands wrapped around the sword he had made her practice with yesterday. Her chest heaved, her shoulders moving along, the few strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail, that smug smile on her lipsâŠ
And her eyes. They shone with delight at having caught him being tardy.
Deep down, it warmed him, but on the surface, his lips shifted into a sneer.
"I think this is enough training-"
She let out a laugh. "What?"
He stared at her, unamused.
"Sorry, itâs just⊠Do you have a fever?"
He sighed as she stepped forward, slapping away the hand she reached out to touch his forehead.
"If you want to continue, I have no problems. Get started, twenty laps."
She smirked. "Thatâs more like it."
He stared at her, bewildered as she cackled, then stepped closer.
"I think itâs slipping, spymaster."
He blinked. "Whatâs slipping?"
She rolled to her tiptoes, her mouth dangerously close to his ear. It made shivers run down his spine as his eyes focused on the training dummy on the far end of the ring covered in long slashes, the filling spilling out in a few spaces.
"Your facade." She whispered, her hand coming to rest on the back of his neck.
He stiffened. "I donât know what you mean-"
"Oh cut the crap spymaster, I see right through you."
Az turned his head to meet her gaze. "And what do you see?"
"I can see you, starting to like what you see."
It was like a cold breeze passed through the room, turning his body cold before his heat regulating system turned on again, making him feel hot all over.
"And what do I see?"
Azriel knew his game was over, knowing she knew he was beginning to like her, but he was not going to give in to her easily.
"Me. You see me, Azriel, and you like it." She stepped back, letting her hair loose as she manoeuvred around him. "Pity, you are not getting any of this. Not now, not anytime soon."
He turned on his spot, watching as she stalked away, and he knew damn well she was swaying her hips more than she usually does just to add salt to the wound.
Being a spymaster, he took note of the minute details, of course.
Before she vanished down the stairs, though, she turned to look at him. Her eyes roved leisurely over his figure, and when her eyes met his, she smirked, puckered her lips, blew him a kiss, and then sauntered off.
A challenge.
Azriel wasnât known to be the most competitive person in the inner circle for no reason.
She had just challenged him, and Azriel would be damned if he lost.
He was going to win this one, and oh was he going to win spectacularly.
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December 1st
December masterlist
General masterlist
Feyre and Rhysand had a calm evening at the River House.
The fire was lit, and they were snuggled together on the couch. Nyx had already fallen asleep, and the couple took the opportunity to have some alone time.
âI have a painting from their mating ceremony to Nesta and Cassian, a new cookbook to Elain and a perfume to Mor,â Feyre listed up Winter Solstice gifts she had planned for her family. However, she was missing one. âBut I donât know what to get Az.â
Feyre looked up at her mate and saw how he was deep in thoughts. She lifted her hand and carefully cupped his face. He leaned into her hand. His eyes met hers and she felt his strong emotions. He was filled with both gratitude and love, but also grief.
âYou know Az wonât celebrate Winter Solstice with us,â Rhys told his mate.
âYes, but that doesnât mean I canât get him a present.â
âYes, it does,â Rhys started. âAz hates Winter Solstice. Iâm afraid giving him a gift will only bring back bad memories.â
Feyre sat up on the couch and watch her mate with a careful gaze.
âWhat happened?â she asked.
She saw how the grief covered Rhysâ face, and she felt how powerful the feeling was. She almost started crying just from that alone. She reached over, held Rhysâ hand and gave it a small squeeze.
Rhysand answered with taking a deep breath and started to explain.
âY/N was the daughter of my motherâs best friend. She was about two years older than me, but we became friends quickly. She grew up at Windhaven too, but we didnât see each other often. She was my motherâs apprentice, and therefore also a seamstress. We started to become better and better friends and then Cassian came along, and she became good friends with him too. She ended up moving in with us when she was nineteen, after her mother passed away.
âY/N was like an older sister. She took care of our injuries after training and did her best to help us with our hangovers, unless her hangover was worse than ours. She was the steady stone that helped all of us through everything. When we lost my mother, or when any of us was scared for whatever reason, she was there. She had the best hugs and made the best stew. Neither Cass or I had ever had a big sister before and neither one of us have ever loved someone that dearly.â
Rhysâ eyes were glistening with tears, but he forced himself to hold it together.
âWhat about Az? Wasnât she an older sister to Azriel?â Feyre couldnât hold back her questions. She had heard a little about Y/N, but never this many details.
âNo, she was definitely not a sister to Azriel,â Rhys said with a loving laugh. âThey were mates.â
Feyre felt her eyes grow wide. How had nobody told her that Azriel had a mate? However, she soon realized that something must have gone very wrong for her not to know about this before now.
âThey spent centuries crushing on each other, but neither one of them dared to admit it. Y/N was in multiple different relationships and Azriel crushed on Mor, but both eventually realized that they were suppressing their real feelings. Their mating bond snapped only weeks before I got stuck Under the Mountain. They were going to have their mating ceremony only days after Amaranthaâs party.â
Dread filled Feyre. Amarantha had destroyed so much for so many years and for so many people. She couldnât imagine spending fifty years under her reign. Feyre had, after all, not even survived three months.
âThey decided to be stupid and waited for me to get back before they accepted the bond. They waited for fifty years, just so that the entire family would be there.â
Rhys swallowed in dread and his voice was shaking as he spoke.
âThey had their mating ceremony only two days after I returned and then spent a week in their shared apartment. After they returned, I needed Y/N to go on a mission. She needed to use her charm to get some people on our side again after Amarantha. Azriel initially refused to let her go, but eventually Y/N convinced him that it would be okay if they went together. However, they never got to where they were going. They were ambushed and when Azriel woke again after, Y/N was gone. Nobody knows what happened.â
Both Feyre and Rhys had to dry tears at the end.
Feyre hated to be away from Rhys, sometimes even seconds apart was too much. She couldnât imagine not knowing if he was okay, or if he was alive. Even the thought made her nauseous.
âY/N loved Winter Solstice. She would decorate the entire Town House and there was always cookies or hot chocolate in the kitchen. Without her, Azriel havenât been able to enjoy the holiday. Azriel havenât been the same.â
Dividers by @issysh3ll
#acotar#azriel#azriel fanfic#azriel x reader#azriel x y/n#azriel x you#azriel shadowsinger#azriel x oc#azriel x original character
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Sebastian Stan Tells All: Becoming Donald Trump, Gaining 15 Pounds and Starring in 2024âs Most Controversial Movie
By Daniel D'Addario
Sebastian Stan Variety Cover Story
It started with the most famous voice on the planet, the one that just wonât shut up.
Sebastian Stan, in real life, sounds very little like Donald Trump, whom heâs playing in the new film âThe Apprentice.â Sure, they share a tristate accent â Stan has lived in the city for years and attended Rutgers University before launching his career â but he speaks with none of Trumpâs emphasis on his own greatness. Trump dwells, Stan skitters. Trump attempts to draw topics together over lengthy stem-winders (what he recently called âthe weaveâ), while Stan has a certain unwillingness to be pinned down, a desire to keep moving. It takes some coaxing to bring Stan, a man with the upright bearing and square jaw of a matinee idol, to speak about his own process â how hard he worked to conjure a sense Trump, and how he sought to bring out new insights about Americaâs most scrutinized politician.
âI think heâs a lot smarter than people want to say about him,â Stan says, âbecause he repeats things consistently, and heâs given you a brand.â Stan would know: He watched videos of Trump on a loop while preparing for âThe Apprentice.â In the film, out on Oct. 11, Stan plays Trump as he moves from insecure, aspiring real estate developer to still insecure but established member of the New York celebrity firmament.
Weâre sitting over coffee in Manhattan. Stan is dressed down in a black chore coat and black tee, yet heâs anything but a casual conversation partner. He rarely breaks eye contact, doing so only on the occasions when he has something he wants to show me on his iPhone (cracked screen, no case). In this instance, itâs folders of photos and videos labeled âDTâ and âDT PHYSICALITY.â
âI had 130 videos on his physicality on my phone,â Stan says. âAnd 562 videos that I had pulled with pictures from different time periods â from the â70s all the way to today â so I could pull out his speech patterns and try to improvise like him.â Stan, deep in character, would ad-lib entire scenes at director Ali Abbasiâs urging, drawing on the details heâd learned from watching Trump and reading interviews to understand precisely how to react in each moment.
âAli could come in on the second take and say, âWhy donât you talk a little bit about the taxes and how you donât want to pay?â So I had to know what charities they were going to in 1983. Every night I would go home and try not only to prepare for the day that was coming, but also to prepare for where Ali was going to take this.â
Looking at Stanâs phone, among the endless pictures of Trump, I glimpse thumbnails of Stanâs own face perched in a Trumpian pout and videos of the actorâs preparation just aching to be clicked â or to be stored in the Trump Presidential Library when this is all over in a few months, or in 2029, or beyond.
âI started to realize that I needed to start speaking with my lips in a different way,â Stan says. âA lot of that came from the consonants. If Iâm talking, Iâm moving forward.â On film, Stan shapes his mouth like he canât wait to get the plosives out, puckering without quite tipping into parody. âThe consonants naturally forced your lips forward.â
âIf he did 10% more of what he did, it would become âSaturday Night Live,ââ Abbasi says. âIf he did 10% less, then heâs not conjuring that person. But hereâs the thing about Sebastian: Heâs very inspired by reality, by research. And thatâs also the way I work; if you want to go to strange places, you need to get your baseline reality covered very well.â
A little later, Stan passes me the phone again to show me a selfie of him posing shirtless and revealing two sagging pecs and a bit of a gut. Heâs pouting into a mirror. If his expression looks exaggerated, consider that he was in Marvel-movie shape before stepping into the role of the former president; the body transformation happened rapidly and jarringly. Trumpâs size is a part of the filmâs plot â as Trumpâs sense of self inflates, so does he. In a rush to meet the shooting deadline for âThe Apprentice,â Abbasi asked Stan, âHow much weight can you gain?â
âYouâd be surprised,â Stan tells me. âYou can gain a lot of weight in two months.â (Fifteen pounds, to be exact.)
Now heâs back in fighting form, but the character has stayed with him. After years of playing second-fiddle agents of chaos â goofball husbands to Margot Robbieâs and Lily Jamesâ characters in âI, Tonyaâ and Huluâs âPam & Tommy,â surly frenemy to Chris Evansâ Captain America in the Marvel franchise â Stan plunged into the id of the man whose appetites have reshaped our world. He had to have a polished enough sense of Trump that he could improvise in character, and enough respect for him to play him as a human being, not a monster.
Itâs one of two transformations this year for Stan â and one that might give a talented actor that most elusive thing: a brand of his own. Heâs long been adjacent enough to star power that he could feel its glow, but he hasnât been the marquee performer. While his co-stars have found themselves defined by the projects heâs been in â from âCaptain Americaâ and âI, Tonyaâ back to his start on âGossip Girlâ â heâs spent more than a decade in the public eye while evading being defined at all.
This fall promises to be the season that changes all that: Stan is pulling double duty with âThe Apprenticeâ and âA Different Manâ (in theaters Sept. 20), in which he plays a man afflicted with a disfiguring tumor disorder who â even when presented with a fantastical treatment that makes him look like, well, Sebastian Stan â canât be cured of ailments of the soul. For âA Different Man,â Stan won the top acting prize at the Berlin Film Festival; for âThe Apprentice,â the skyâs the limit, if it can manage to get seen. (More on that later.)
One reason Stan has largely evaded being defined is that heâs never the same twice, often willing to get loopy or go dark in pursuit of his charactersâ truths. Thatâs all the more true this year: In âThe Apprentice,â heâs under the carapace of Trumpiness; in âA Different Man,â his face is hidden behind extensive prosthetics.
âIn my book, if youâre the good-looking, sensitive guy 20 movies in a row, thatâs not a star for me,â says Abbasi, who compares Stan to Marlon Brando â an actor eager to play against his looks. âYouâre just one of the many in the factory of the Ken dolls.â
This fall represents Stanâs chance to break out of the toy store once and for all. His Winter Soldier brought a jolt of evil into Captain Americaâs world, and his Jeff Gillooly was the devil sitting on Tonya Hardingâs shoulder. Now Stan is at the center of the frame, playing one of the most divisive characters imaginable. So heâs showing us where he can go. The spotlight is his, and so is the risk that comes with it.
Why take such a risk?
The script for âThe Apprentice,â which Stan first received in 2019, but which took years to come together, made him consider the American dream, the one that Trump achieved and is redefining.
Stan emigrated with his mother, a pianist, from communist Romania as a child. âI was raised always aware of the American dream: America being the land of opportunity, where dreams come true, where you can make something of yourself.â He pushes the wings of his hair back to frame his face, a gold signet ring glinting in the late-summer sunlight, and, briefly, I can hear a hint of Trumpâs directness of approach. âYou can become whoever you want, if you just have a good idea.â Stanâs good idea has been to play the lead in movies while dodging the formulaic identity of a leading man, and this year will prove just how far he can take it.
âThe Apprenticeâ seemed like it would never come together before suddenly it did. This time last year, Stan was sure it was dead in the water, and he was OK with that. âIf this movie is not happening, itâs because itâs not meant to happen,â he recalls thinking. âIt will not be because Iâm too scared and walk away.â
Called in on short notice and filming from November 2023 to January of this year (ahead of a May premiere in Cannes), Stan lent heft and attitude to a character arc that takes Trump from local real estate developer in the 1970s to national celebrity in the 1980s. He learns the rough-and-tumble game of power from the ruthless and hedonistic political fixer Roy Cohn (Jeremy Strong), eventually cutting the closeted Cohn loose as he dies of AIDS and alienating his wife Ivana (Maria Bakalova) in the process. (In a shocking scene, Donald sexually assaults Ivana in their Trump Tower apartment.) For all its edginess, the film is about Trumpâs personality â and the way it calcified into a persona â rather than his present-day politics. (Despite its title, itâs set well before the 2004 launch of the reality show that finally made Trump the superstar he longed to be.)
And despite the fact that Trump has kept America rapt since he announced his run for president in 2015, Hollywood has been terrified of âThe Apprentice.â The film didnât sell for months after Cannes, an unusual result for a major English-language competition film, partly because Trumpâs legal team sent a cease-and-desist letter attempting to block the filmâs release in the U.S. while the fest was still ongoing. When it finally sold, it was to Briarcliff Entertainment, a distributor so small that the production has launched a Kickstarter campaign to raise money so that it will be able to stay in theaters.
Yes, Hollywood may vote blue, but itâs not the same town that released âFahrenheit 9/11â or even âW.,â let alone a film that depicts the once (and possibly future) president raping his wife. (The filmmakers stand behind that story. âThe script is 100% backed by my own interviews and historical research,â says Gabriel Sherman, the screenwriter and a journalist who covers Trump and the American conservative movement. âAnd itâs important to note that it is not a documentary. Itâs a work of fiction thatâs inspired by history.â) Entertainment corporations from Netflix to Disney would be severely inconvenienced if the next president came into office with a grudge against them.
âI am quite shocked, to be honest,â Abbasi says. âThis is not a political piece. Itâs not a hit piece; itâs not a hatchet job; itâs not propaganda. The fact that itâs been so challenging is shocking.â Abbasi, born in Iran, was condemned by his government over his last film, âHoly Spider,â and cannot safely return. He sees a parallel in the response to âThe Apprentice.â âOK, thatâs Iran â that is unfortunately expected. But I wasnât expecting this.â
âEverything with this film has been one day at a time,â Stan says. The actor chalks up the filmâs divisiveness to a siloed online environment. âThere are a lot of people who love reading the [filmâs] Wikipedia page and throwing out their opinions,â he says, an edge entering his voice. âBut they donât actually know what theyâre talking about. Thatâs a popular sport now online, apparently.â
Unprompted, Stan brings up the idea that Trump is so widely known that some might think a biographical film about him serves no purpose. âWhen someone says, âWhy do we need this movie? We know all this,â Iâll say, âMaybe you do, but you havenât experienced it. The experience of those two hours is visceral. Itâs something you can hopefully feel â if you still have feelings.ââ
After graduating from Rutgers in 2005, Stan found his first substantial role on âGossip Girl,â playing troubled rich kid Carter Baizen. Like teen soaps since time immemorial, âGossip Girlâ was a star-making machine. âIt was the first time I was in serious love with somebody,â he says. (He dated the seriesâ star, Leighton Meester, from 2008 to 2010.) He feels nostalgic for that moment: âWalking around the city, seeing these same buildings and streets â life seemed simpler.â
Stan followed his âGossip Girlâ gig with roles on the 2009 NBC drama âKings,â playing a devious gay prince in an alternate-reality modern world governed by a monarchy, and the 2012 USA miniseries âPolitical Animals,â playing a black-sheep prince (and once again a gay man) of a different sort â the son of a philandering former president and an ambitious former first lady.
When I ask him what lane he envisioned himself in as a young actor, he shrugs off the question. âI grew up with a single mom, and I didnât have a lot of male role models. I was always trying to figure out what I wanted to be. And at some point, I was like, I could just be a bunch of things.â
Which might seem challenging when one is booked to play the same character, Bucky Barnes, in Marvel movie after Marvel movie. Buckyâs adventures have been wide-ranging â heâs been brainwashed and turned evil and then brought back to the home team again, all since his debut in 2011âs âCaptain America: The First Avenger.â Next year, heâll anchor the summer movie âThunderbolts,â as the leader of a squad of quirky heroes played by, among others, Julia Louis-Dreyfus and Florence Pugh. Itâs easy to wonder if this has come to feel like a cage of sorts.
Not so, says Stan. His new Marvel film âwas kind of like âOne Flew Over the Cuckooâs Nestâ â a guy coming into this group that was chaotic and degenerate, and somehow finding a way to unite them.â
Lately, knives have been out for Marvel movies as some have disappointed at the box office, and âThunderbolts,â which endured strike delays and last-minute cast changes, has been under scrutiny.
âItâs become really convenient to pick on [Marvel films],â Stan says. âAnd thatâs fine. Everyoneâs got an opinion. But theyâre a big part of what contributes to this business and allows us to have smaller movies as well. This is an artery traveling through the system of this entire machinery thatâs Hollywood. It feeds in so many more ways than people acknowledge.â He adds, âSometimes I get protective of it because the intention is really fucking good. Itâs just fucking hard to make a good movie over and over again.â
Which may account for an eagerness to try something new. âIn the last couple of years,â he says, âIâve gotten much more aggressive about pursuing things that I want, and Iâm constantly looking for different ways of challenging myself.â
The challenge continued throughout the shoot of âThe Apprentice,â as Stan pushed the material. âOne of the most creatively rewarding parts of the process was how open Sebastian was to giving notes on the script but also wanting to go beyond the script,â says Sherman, the screenwriter. âIf he was interested in a certain aspect of a scene, he was like, Can you find me a quote?â he recalls.
Building a dynamic through improvised scenes, Stan and Strong stayed in character throughout the âApprenticeâ shoot. âI was doing an Ibsen play on Broadway,â says Strong, who won a Tony in June for his performance in âAn Enemy of the People,â âand he came backstage afterwards. And it was like â Iâd never really met Sebastian, and I donât think heâd ever met me. So it was nice to meet him.â
Before the pair began acting together, they didnât rehearse much â âIâm not a fan of rehearsals,â Strong says. âI think actors are best left in their cocoon, doing their work, and then trusted to walk on set and be ready.â The two didnât touch the script together until cameras went up â though they spent a preproduction day, Strong says, playing games in character as Donald and Roy.
After filming, both have kept memories of the hold their characters had on them. They shared a flight back from Telluride â a famously bumpy trip out of the mountains. âHeâs a nervous flyer, and Iâm a nervous flyer,â Stan says. Both marveled at the fact that theyâd contained their nerves on the first day of shooting âThe Apprentice,â when their characters traveled together via helicopter. âWe both go, âYeah â but there was a camera.ââ
Stanâs aggressive approach to research came in handy on âA Different Man,â which shot before âThe Apprentice.â His characterâs disorder, neurofibromatosis, is caused by a genetic mutation and presents as benign tumors growing in the nervous system. After being healed, he feels a growing envy for a fellow sufferer who seems unbothered by his disability.
Stanâs co-star, Adam Pearson, was diagnosed with neurofibromatosis in early childhood. Stan found the experience challenging to render faithfully. âI said many times, I can do all the research in the world, but am I ever going to come close to this?â Stan says. âHow am I going to ever do this justice?â
Plus, he had precious little time to prepare: âHe was fully on board, and the film was being made weeks later,â director Aaron Schimberg says. âZero to 60 in a matter of weeks.â
The actor grappled for something to hold on to, and Pearson sug gested he refer to his own experience of fame. âAdam said to me, âYou know what itâs like to be public property,ââ Stan says.
Pearson recalls describing the experience to Stan this way: âWhile you donât understand the invasiveness and the staring and the pointing that Iâve grown up with, you do know what itâs like to have the world think you owe them something.â
That sense of alienation becomes universal through the filmâs storytelling: âA Different Manâ takes its premise as the jumping-off point for a deep and often mordant investigation of who we all are underneath the skin.
The film was shot in 22 days in a New York City heat wave, and there was, Schimberg says, âno room for error. I would get four or five takes, however many I could squeeze out, but thereâs no coverage.â
Through it all, Stanâs performance is utterly poised â Schimberg and Stan discussed Buster Keaton as a reference for his ability to be âcompletely stone-facedâ amid chaos, the director says. And the days were particularly long because Oscar-nominated prosthetics artist Michael Marino was only able to apply Stanâs makeup in the early morning, before going to his job on the set of âThe Marvelous Mrs. Maisel.â
âEven though I wasnât shooting until 11 a.m., I would go at like 5 in the morning to his studio, or his apartment,â Stan recalls. The hidden advantage was that Stan had hours to kill while made up like his character, the kind of person the world looks past. âI wanted to walk around the city and see what happened,â Stan says. âOn Broadway, one of the busiest streets in New York, no oneâs looking at me. Itâs as if Iâm not even there.â The other reaction was worse: âSomebody would immediately stop and very blatantly hit their friend, point, take a picture.â
It was a study in empathy that flowed into the character. Stan had spoken to Pearsonâs mother, who watched her son develop neurofibromatosis before growing into a disability advocate and, eventually, an actor. âShe said to me, âAll I ever wanted was for someone to walk in his shoes for a day,ââ Stan recalls. âAnd I guess that was the closest I had ever come.â
âThe Apprenticeâ forced Stan, and forces the viewer, to do the same with a figure that some 50% of the electorate would sooner forget entirely. And that lends the film its controversy. Those on the right, presupposing that the movie is an anti-Trump document, have railed against it. In a statement provided to Variety, a Trump campaign spokesman said, âThis âfilmâ is pure malicious defamation, should never see the light of day and doesnât even deserve a place in the straight-to-DVD section of a bargain bin at a soon-to-be-closed discount movie store, it belongs in a dumpster fire.â The campaign threatened a lawsuit, though none has materialized.
Asked about the assault scene, Stan notes that Ivana had made the claim in a deposition, but later walked it back. âIs it closer to the truth, what she had said directly in the deposition or something that she retracted?â he asks. âThey went with the first part.â
The movie depicts, too, Ivanaâs carrying on with her marriage after the violation, which may be still more devastating. âHow do you overcome something like this?â asks Bakalova. âDo you have to put on a mask that everything is fine? In the next scene, sheâs going to play the game and pretend that weâre the glamorous, perfect couple.â The Trumps, in âThe Apprentice,â live in a world of paper-thin images, one that grows so encompassing that Donald no longer feels anything for the people to whom he was once loyal. Theyâre props in his stage show.
âThe Apprenticeâ will drop in the midst of the most chaotic presidential election of our lifetime. âThe way it lands in this extremely polarized situation, for me as an artist, is exciting. I wonât lie to you,â says Abbasi.
When asked if he was concerned about blowback from a Trump 47 presidency, Stan says, âYou canât do this movie and not be thinking about all those things, but I really have no idea. Iâm still in shock from going from an assassination attempt to the next weekend having a president step down [from a reelection bid].â
Stanâs job, as he sees it, was to synthesize everything heâd absorbed â all those videos on his phone â into a person who made sense. This Trump had to be part of a coherent story, not just the flurry of news updates to which weâve become accustomed.
âYou can take a Bach or a Beethoven, and everyoneâs going to play that differently on the piano, right?â Stan says. (His pianist mother named him for Johann Sebastian Bach.) âSo this is my take on what Iâve learned. I have to strip myself of expectations of being applauded for this, if people are going to like it or people are going to hate it. People are going to say whatever they want. Hopefully they should think at least before they say it.â
Itâs a reality that Stan is now used to â the work is the work, and the way people interpret him is none of his business. Perhaps thatâs why he has run away from ever being the same thing twice. âI could sit with you today and tell you passionately what my truth is, but it doesnât matter,â he says. âBecause people are more interested in a version of you that they want to see, rather than who you are.â
âThe Apprenticeâ has been the subject of extreme difference of opinion by many who have yet to see it. Itâs been read â and will continue to be after its release â as anti-Trump agitprop. The truth is chewier and more complicated, and, perhaps, unsuited for these times.
âAre we going to live in a world where anyone knows what the truth is anymore? Or is it just a world that everyone wants to create for themselves?â Stan asks.
His voice â the one that shares a slight accent with Trump but that is, finally, Stanâs own â is calm and clear. âPeople create their own truth right now,â he says. âThatâs the only thing that Iâve made peace with; I donât need to twist your arm if thatâs what you want to believe. But the way to deal with something is to actually confront it.â
#Variety#Sebastian Stan#Photoshoot#A Different Man#The Apprentice#Thunderbolts*#Marvel#Interview#mrs-stans
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Astarion x Reader
Astarion x Mage Apprentice!Reader* & Pt2*
Mistaken Identity
heart, home*
chilly
Astarion x Rogue!Tav Headcanons
Astarionâs Pre-Cazador Love
Virgin!Reader Feeding*
Gentle Cuddles
Pampered
Scotophobia
Anchor
Fangless
Training*
Where Heâd Take You In The City
although I was burning, youâre the only light*
Gale x Reader
Good Boy*Â & pt2
Karlach x Reader
Burn Heals*
Halsin x Reader
Sneaking Off*
Bred*
Wyll x Reader
Giving In & Part 2
Teasing*
Misc
Kiddo (Gortash & Reader, platonic)
Lists
Supportive Headcanons
Shy Reader Kisses
Reader Often Ignored
Short Reader
Ascended Fiend Raphael HCs*
Dirty Headcanons*
Socially Anxious Reader
Companions help Reader in Pain
Pregnancy & Parenthood Headcanons
Reader Waiting for Rejection
Reader Worried Nobody Would Want Them
Reader Wearing His Clothes
Roadtrip AU
Comforting Headcanons
Trouble Sleeping
Reader Who Hides Their Face & Female Companions
Reader Who Says Theyâre Glad They Met Him
Reader With Skin Condition
Reactions to Calling Companions Mummy/Daddy*
Reactions to Companions Calling You Mummy/Daddy*
Reactions to You Hiding an Injury
Reader Sad About Being Ignored
BG3 Men Reactions When You Tease Them*
Companions Realising Theyâre In Love With You Mid-Battle & Reverse
Companion Reactions to a Reader Who Can Change Sex
Modern AU Picnic in the Park
Bard!Reader Serenading Them
Reactions When Youâre Self-Conscious About Your Laugh
Halsin & Astarion Realising Youâre Strong
Reactions When They See You Self-Destructing
Birthday Celebrations*
When You Think Your Love Is Unrequited
Reactions When You Say Their Love Will Pass
Reactions To You Drinking The Elixir of the Colossus*
How Female Companions Go Down*
Reactions When Youâre a Selkie
Reactions When You Become Dominant*
Companions Help You Get Fit
Rainy Day Cuddles
Reactions to a Reader Who Loves to Cook
BG3 Ladies & Breast Play*
Reactions to You Coming Out as Ace
BG3 Ladiesâ Reaction to a New Facial Scar
Pregnancy Cravings
How the BG3 Ladies Cuddle
Companions Falling For You Mid-Performance
How the BG3 Ladies Talk in Bed
BG3 Men & Reader Who Can't Read
Reactions to Awkward Comforting
Saying You Love Them Mid-Argument
#bottom graphics by bhaalism!#bg3 masterlist#astarion x reader#gale x reader#gale of waterdeep x reader#halsin x reader#wyll x reader#wyll ravengard x reader#karlach x reader#lae'zel x reader#shadowheart x reader#jaheira x reader#minthara x reader
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Moon 4
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Happy New Year!
///
âWe would've had our warrior ceremony by now.â
Fogpaw groans at his sister, pushing past her as they climb higher up the mountain, paws farther from their territory than they've ever been. The terrain and the scents are unfamiliar and the rock is hot under their paws, baking in the greenleaf sun. They canât go back, so they press on. âDon't start with that. I'm not in the mood for reminiscing right now.â
âNo, no, listen to me.â Moonpaw bounds ahead of her brother, cutting him off and leaping atop a large rock. She puffs her chest out, head held high. âIt's been twelve moons since our kitting, right? That means we should have our warrior ceremonies.â
Fogpaw eyes her dubiously, but Moonpaw spies the small smile that creeps across his muzzle. She grins, feeling flush with victory.
âWhat do you think Pitchstar wouldâve chosen for our warrior names?â
âWhy don't we pick them ourselves?â Moonpawâs tail wags playfully. Fun and ceremony like this feels sorely needed after their long, lonesome travel. It's been four moons since their camp caved in and the two of them were forced to head out on their own. It's about time they have some fun. âI'll pick a name and you can name me,â Moonpaw says, patting the rock she stands atop with a paw, âand then we swap â I'll give you the name you pick.â
âOkay,â Fogpaw laughs. âI want to do yours first. What's your warrior name going to be?â
âMoonpool.â
âYou didn't even have to think about it?â
âIâve been thinking about it,â Moonpaw says, and itâs true, she has. Sheâs had a long, boring few moons to mull it over in her mind. âOkay, swap with me, give me my name!â
Laughing, the apprentices trade places, Moonpaw hopping down from the rock so Fogpaw can scramble atop it and look down at his sister.
âI, Fogpaw of NimbusClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down uponâ what're the words?â
Moonpaw rolls her eyes. He should have let her go first. âLook down on this apprentice,â Moonpaw recites easily. She's been looking forward to this since her nursery days. Itâs not anything like how she dreamed it would be, but having Fogpaw smiling down at her makes the unorthodox celebration worth it. âThey have trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code, and I commend them to you as a warrior in their turn.â
âWow, you seriously have that memorized?â
Moonpaw carries on, ignoring him. âDo you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend your Clan, even at the cost of your life?â
âWell, do you?â Fogpaw leans down on the rock, gesturing to Moonpaw.
Emotion swells in Moonpawâs chest. âI do.â
Fogpaw smiles warmly at her and sits upright. âThen by the powers of StarClan, I give you your warrior name. Moonpaw, from this moment on, you will be known as Moonpool.â Fogpaw cocks his head at her, a considering expression on his face. âStarClan honors you for your judgment. We welcome you as a full warrior of NimbusClan.â
Fogpaw leaps down from the rock to rest his muzzle atop Moonpool's head and she licks his shoulder in turn, eyes misty with emotion.
âThank you,â She whispers when he pulls back.
He grins at her. âDon't get sappy just yet, you have to do mine now!â
âRight, right, okay.â Moonpool hops up onto the rock, the greenleaf sun warming her shoulder blades. âDid you think of a name?â
Fogpaw's eyebrows draw down in thought. âHmmâŠâ
âHow about Fogfreckle?â Moonpool suggests, pointing at him with her tail. âOn account of your markings?â
He looks over his shoulder at his dappled pelt. âOkay. Yeah, I like it.â He turns back to smile up at her. âFogfreckle it is.â
Moonpool grins, then draws in a deep breath and recites the ceremonial words once more.
âBy the powers of StarClan, I grant you your warrior name. Fogpaw, from this moment on, you will be known as Fogfreckle.â She watches as Fogfreckle swells with determination. Her eyes shine, and she continues without hesitation. âStarClan honors your courage. We welcome you as a full warrior of NimbusClan.â
She hops down to rest her muzzle atop Fogfreckle's head, and then both cats tip their heads back and bellow across the mountain.
âMoonpool! Fogfreckle! Moonpool! Fogfreckle!â
Filled to the brim with excitement and ceremony, the pair of them chase each other around the mountain, laughing and leaping at each other and wrestling across the warm ground.
âSo, are we going to stand vigil?â Fogfreckle asks, panting with exertion from their play fight.
âStand vigil where? We don't have a camp to guard.â
âWherever we find to sleep tonight,â Fogfreckle shrugs, a smooth roll of his shoulders under sun-warmed fur. âWe can take turns, like with the names. I'll guard you first, and then you can guard me. We're warriors of NimbusClan, and we protect each other.â
Moonpool smiles at him, having to fight back the beginning prickle of emotion behind her eyes. âPitchstar would be proud of you, you know. Not only as your mentor, but as leader.â
Fogfreckle grins at her. âYou basically mentored me the rest of the way.â
âMe?â Moonpool is surprised, her eyes widening. âHardly! You didn't need any of my help,â she laughs.
âI learned a lot from you. I'm still the better hunter,â he adds without an ounce of modesty, and Moonpool laughs and throws her shoulder against his, âbut I don't think I could've done this without you by my side. Youâre⊠I really look to you for guidance. I probably would've been killed by those cats if you hadn't come to rescue me on the border that day. You're more⊠you think first, which Iâll admit I donât always do. You'd make a good leader, I think.â
Moonpool is shocked, embarrassed, but nonetheless pleased. âCome on. I got scared by a mouse earlier. That's hardly leadership material.â
Fogfreckle shrugs, but he's smiling. âLeaders can always use a bit of humility. Either way, you'll make a great warrior, Moonpool.â His smile turns teasing. âEspecially with me by your side.â
She knocks her head against his affectionately and then races up the mountain, calling after him to chase her.
[Previous] [Start] [Next]
#the first comic page of 2025 how exciting!#clangen#warrior cats#wc#waca#moonpaw#moonpool#fogpaw#fogfreckle#moon 4#my babies are growing up!#ignore that the text portion is set during the day and the comic at night#as i was drawing it i decided i wanted the moon to be out but didn't feel like rewriting the story to match lmfao#fun fact moonpaw being named moonpool was one of the first things that solidified my decision to turn this run into a comic#i was like 'how main character energy of you'
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Picking Up Strays [Obikin | A03 | â]
This year, I made a poll to decide what fic I would write for Christmas. Cat!Anakin was the (rightful) winner of this poll. So, I wrote and posted this fic over the previous days leading up to Christmas. This fic is now completed!
(Yes, I'm a day early. My math didn't add up. Merry Christmas if you celebrate, and otherwise a very happy end of December). Also, there's bonus content at the bottom of this post!!
Synopsis:
A mission on Dathomir to find a rumored Sith Temple turns wild when Anakin is transformed into a cat. Obi-Wan, unaware of this transformation, believes Anakin has been kidnapped by the night sisters. Called back to the Temple, he returns with a cat rather than his Padawan.
Anakin is in the unique position to learn his Master cares about him from Obi-Wan's shoulder. He also learns why animals take a shine to his Master. Obi-Wan is very good with animals, Anakin included.
Tags: Top Obi-Wan Kenobi Bottom Anakin Skywalker Praise Kink Cursed Anakin Skywalker Fluff Animal Transformation Anakin Skywalker Is An Adorable Cat (According To Obi-Wan) Mutual Masturbation
(Also, there's no beastiality. I realize I never specified that)
The boy refused to look him in the eye, staunchly turning his head when Sidious tried to catch his gaze.
It was infuriating.
If the boy tossed him one more scornful side-eye, pouting like Sidious had killed his family -- wasn't that an ironic observation? -- Sidious would do something he would regret.
Kenobi sat by the boy's side, clutching the boy's hand. Or the boy clutched Kenobi's hand. Sidious couldn't tell, and he really didn't care. There was no explanation for anything that had happened.
When they had parted, the boy had looked at him with soulful eyes, pouting that he couldn't reveal where he was sent next. Sidious had noted that once the boy was his apprentice, he would have to clarify that one should never mention one was sent on a secret mission.
The naivety served him well currently, though.
Yet, the boy wouldn't be his apprentice now. No, a decade of hard work was ruined by an event Sidious wasn't part of. The boy refused his calls and turned his invitations down. When Sidious tried to visit the Jedi's temple, the guards turned him away, too.
The humiliation burning in his stomach was a powerful emotion that would help him snap Kenobi's and Skywalker's necks instantly. It was only the reminder that he was more powerful than they could imagine that kept him in his seat.
As a last-ditch attempt to talk to the boy, he had engineered peace talks with the Separatists. Skywalker and Kenobi were the obvious Jedi representation after Sidious had dropped a few hints.
He hadn't seen the boy since he was sent on a secret mission, but he had returned with new ears. He also purred when Kenobi grabbed his thigh, and it had taken all of Sidious' decennia of training to refrain from lashing out.
They were disgusting. Everything about this farce was wrong.
Amidala had wiggled her way into these negotiations, and the Bonteri wench was making fast friends with her. No, this was not going according to Sidious' plans at all.
He could adapt, though. His plans were as flexible as his mind. He would prevail here. Whatever perceived evil misdeed had the boy in such a tizzy, he would smoothen out. He had done so before.
During a break in a meeting that strayed further and further from his plans, he finally intercepted the boy. The boy had remained glued to Kenobi's side throughout the meeting. As a precaution, Sidious had volunteered Kenobi to show the appointed Separatist negotiators the coffee area.
"Anakin," he called out to Anakin, pitching his voice grandfatherly. The boy always reacted well to his warm voice.
Now, the boy jumped a foot in the air, twisted, and hissed.
He hissed at Sidious.
This revealed two sharp incisors.
Sidious regained his composure quickly, forcing his expression to remain placid.
"Anakin, would you mind escorting this old man to the restroom?" he asked.
"No," Anakin refused.
Movement in Sidious' periphery caught his attention. A tail swished in a slow pattern, reminding Sidious of a predator eyeing its prey. This was a warning -- or perhaps a threat.
"No?" he echoed dumbly.
He knew people watched, their shock palpable in the air to a Force-sensitive.
"No," the boy repeated smugly. "I will not."
Then, he turned around and hurried in the direction Kenobi had taken the Separatist representatives, almost tripping over his feet and tail in his eagerness.
This wasn't supposed to happen. For the first time since Sidious had stood over his Master's corpse, he felt ill-equipped to deal with a situation.
The remainder of the day went worse, all his scheming amounting to nothing. Skywalker and Kenobi still held hands as they left the Senate Rotunda, not even trying to be subtle.
It didn't matter. Sidious would find a way. He always did. He would also get his revenge for the utter humiliation of picking Kenobi over his most generous offer. The Jedi were weak; he would show them true power.
When he returned to his office, his nose itched. Irritated, he slumped in his seat, brushing animal hair from the furniture futily.
Did the boy shed in Sidious' office?
Oh, this was a disgrace. Sidious sneezed multiple times in succession, a headache building above his nose. His revenge would be sweet.
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Taken To Another WorldÂ
âčââĄâA Multifandom Fantasy AU Themed 5K Celebration Writing ChallengeâčââĄâ
Special thanks to @ghostboneswrites2 for inspiring this!Â
Interested? Keep reading!Â
There will be two prompts for each genre; a pair for fluff, a pair for smut, a pair for angst, and a pair for horror. Each prompt comes with its own criteria, so read carefully!Â
How To Participate:Â
Reblog this post (for reach! thanks!)Â
Pick a prompt (or multiple)Â
Write your ficÂ
Post it and tag me (feel free to send it to me directly if I donât see it!)Â
Use the tag #luciferâs 5k fantasy challengeÂ
The fandoms this challenge is open to are as follows:Â
Obey Me!, Creepypasta, Marble Hornets, Batman (and all related media), Jojoâs Bizarre Adventure (all parts), and any original characters/universes.
Donât see your fandom? Youâre still free to use these prompts (and please tag me if you do so I can see it,) but it unfortunately will not count as an entry for this challenge!
Rules:Â
Feel free to pick multiple prompts, but you cannot enter more than one fic per prompt!Â
The fics can be part of your own ongoing series, but they must be able to stand alone as their own piece without the additional context of the seriesÂ
Please state which prompt you chose somewhere on your postÂ
Feel free to cross post your work to another site such as Ao3, but please, do mention that it was part of my challengeÂ
Anyone can participate in this challenge, however I ask that minors stay away from the NSFW promptsÂ
You are free to bend the prompts as you wish, there is no mandatory time period or settingÂ
My inbox and messages are always open if you need to ask questions, consult me, or just want to discuss ideas!
The fics can be Character x Reader, Character x OC, or Character x Character; relationships can be platonic or romantic as you wish
Some prompts are written with pairs in mind; feel free to modify this to fit in as many characters as youâd like. Poly relationships included!
Absolutely NO incest OR pedophilia under any circumstancesÂ
NO AI, NO using other peopleâs writing, and NO using a piece youâve already written
Pay attention to the criteria! Prompt 1 will have a required quote, and Prompt 2 will have a required plot point/action
The Deadline is currently undecided. This will be updated soonÂ
Winners:Â
I will choose up to 3 finalists for each prompt.  The finalists will be presented in a poll, and the readers will choose the winner.Â
The winner of each prompt will get their own shoutout/promo post including an analysis of what I liked about their fic, & at least 3 fics I recommend from them and why.Â
Does all that sound like fun? Good! Hereâs your prompts:
Over The River, Through The WoodsâŠ
Fluff + Faeries
Prompt 1:  In a fit of rebellion, a naive royal flees from the castle and into the woods. They stumble upon a faerie who, against all theyâve ever been taught, seems ratherâŠkind.Â
Necessary Criteria: âAnyone can do a good thing if they try.â / âWellâŠhow often do you try?â
Prompt 2:Â Fae donât often leave their villages, except to gather. Unfortunately, one foolish faerie has found themself entangled in a trap left behind by a human hunter. Even worse, the human has returned to see what theyâve caught; although, they seem far more curious than hostile.Â
Necessary Criteria:Â One of the characters teaches the other a new word in their native tongue.Â
Magic Begins In Superstition, And Ends In ScienceâŠ
Angst + AlchemyÂ
Prompt 1: The job of an alchemistâs apprentice is rarely an easy one. Magic is a fickle mistress, after all. When the apprenticeâs companion tries to pull them away from their work, the argument gets heated, until the pressure becomes too much and causes an intense explosionâŠliterally.Â
Necessary Criteria:Â âYouâre not even smart enough to understand what I do, and you think you get to tell me when to stop working?!â
Prompt 2:Â The alchemistâs work is starting to consume them. Blinded by their pursuit of knowledge, they recklessly decide to slip a bit of their newest experimental concoction into their companionâs meal without their knowledge. The alchemist convinces themselves this is all for the greater good, and surely nothing all that bad could happen, but soon comes to regret it.Â
Necessary Criteria:Â A horrible transformation.Â
The Tongue May Be Twice As Sharp And Thrice As Lethal As The BladeâŠ
Smut + SwordsÂ
Prompt 1:Â A rivalry between two swordsman gets a bit out of hand when the pair decide to make a salacious bet over a duel: whoever loses must play submissive to the other, starting from the moment they drop their sword.Â
Necessary Criteria: âDonât think Iâll surrender that easily.â / âMm, I didnât think you wouldâŠI like it so much more when youâre fiery.â
Prompt 2:Â A courageous knight rescues a royal from the clutches of peril, and their majesty simply canât let their hero leave without thoroughly rewarding them for such bravery.Â
Necessary Criteria:Â The pair narrowly avoid being caught in the act.Â
Cursed Is The Man Who Dies, But The Evil Done By Him SurvivesâŠ
Horror + Hexes
Prompt 1:Â Foolish explorers accidentally wander into a witchâs garden. One of them canât resist plucking a berry from a bush, not giving it a second thought as they swallow it down, only for the horrific consequences of a curse to start taking form the next day.Â
Necessary Criteria: âPleaseâŠyou have to tell me you know how to make this stop.âÂ
Prompt 2:Â While treasure hoarding is generally frowned upon among honorable bounty hunters, some simply canât kick the habit. This quickly proves to be a terrible mistake, though, as a cursed trinket starts to warp its ownerâs mind and plunge them into a darkness that turns them on the one they love most.Â
Necessary Criteria:Â Creative use of an everyday object as a weapon.Â
Final Reminders:
Most importantly:Â Have Fun!Â
Make sure to read the rules carefully!Â
Youâre always free to ask questions!Â
Tag me in your entry + use the tag #luciferâs 5k fantasy challenge!Â
Happy Writing, everyone!
(even if you donât plan to participate, please reblog and share this post so others will see it!)
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â of creation & devotion
PAIRING â mairon | sauron x female!elf!reader
WORD COUNT â 6.7k words
SERIES â of sauron & the moriquendi
WARNINGS â more childish yearning, mentions of torture, fighting, mentions of blood
AUTHORS NOTE â welp here we are, again hehe, though this time I do have a plan and someone will kind of get revenge for this little mishap hehe. @enseekay you wished for me to tag you â€ïž
SUMMARY â years pass, and mairon settles into his new life while you yearn for what may never come to pass.
PARTS â masterlist
âHe seems utterly captivated by you,â EĂ€rlindĂ« remarked, her tone light with amusement as you walked past the forge. The clang of hammers on anvils echoed through the street, the apprentices bustling about their work, but you hardly noticed them. What caught your attention was the familiar sensation of Maironâs gaze upon you, a weight you had grown accustomed to. His emerald eyes lingered, stealing a moment to take you in as you passed. It was never difficult to tell when he was watching; his presence was a part of you now, woven so deeply into your being that even VairĂ« herself might envy the threads that bound you together.
And yet, that was all it had been since he had taken over the forgeâstolen glances, fleeting smiles, and polite nods as your paths crossed in the market. You had hoped, desperately, that he would seek you out after the moment you had shared in the glade. His touch, his words, his very presence had awakened something within you that could not be silenced. But he had kept his distance, offering no more than the warmth of his gaze from afar.
âI doubt it, EĂ€rlindĂ«,â you replied, clutching the basket of soiled linens a little tighter. The previous night had been a joyous oneâthe town celebrated the arrival of a new babe, and your heart had swelled with pride as you placed the child into its motherâs arms. The look of wonder and love shared between the parents had been beautiful, a reflection of Ardaâs harmony in its purest form.
But as you had stood there, watching the couple bask in their shared joy, a quiet ache had settled in your chest. Your thoughts had drifted, as they often did, to him. You yearned to know what it might feel like to have his arms around you, to be held as though you were his entire world. You imagined him looking at you with the same adoration, his smile radiant as he beheld a child born of your union, the fruit of a bond unshakable and eternal.
It was foolish, you told yourself. A naĂŻve maidenâs fantasy, nothing more. Surely, he could not feel the same yearning that you did. If he did, why would he keep his distance, leaving you to wrestle alone with this unrelenting harmony that sang between your fĂ«ar?
You sighed, shaking off the thought, but EĂ€rlindĂ«âs teasing glance told you she had seen through your words. She always did. Still, you walked on, carrying your burden of linenâand of longingâwith you.
âWould it warm your heart to know he refuses any advance, MornelĂłtĂ«?â EĂ€rlindĂ«âs words caught you off guard, and you turned to her, trying desperately to keep the sparkle of hope from betraying you. Her knowing smile only deepened as she continued. âSome of the maidens have tried, trust me, but he only has eyes for you.â
Her voice held a teasing lilt, but there was sincerity in her gaze. She paused for a moment, the hint of a youthful grin lighting her face. âI think you both are acting like two juveniles, dancing around what is so apparent to everyone else.â
The heat rose to your cheeks, and you quickly looked away, pretending to busy yourself with the basket of soiled linen in your arms. The weight of her words settled over you, and your thoughts spun with the possibilities they suggested. You dared not let the hope grow too strongâit was too fragile, too preciousâbut the warmth in your chest was impossible to ignore.
As the two of you approached the waterâs edge, the gentle murmur of the stream mingled with the sound of EĂ€rlindĂ«âs soft laughter. You glanced at her from the corner of your eye, your heart both lifted and burdened by her words, the ache of your longing now tempered by a faint glimmer of possibility. Â
Laying his hammer down, Mairon removed his leather apron with practiced ease and draped it neatly over the wooden table. With a cloth in hand, he wiped the soot and grime from his face and clothing, a faint smile touching his lips. There was a quiet satisfaction in this work, in being the Master for onceâa role he had never truly held, always serving under the will of another.
Now, he found a new joy in shaping not only metal but the minds of the young men who apprenticed under him. Their eager hands followed his guidance, their unformed talents beginning to take shape under his instruction. Through them, he could nurture his love for creation, order, and harmony, weaving his ideals into the very fabric of their craft.
They, of course, knew nothing of the depths of his true skill or the shadowed history that accompanied it. Nor did they grasp the full nature of the one they called Masterâa being forged in fire and ambition, whose light was entwined with darkness. It was better that way, he thought. For now, he could simply revel in the act of creation, even as the weight of his true self lingered just beneath the surface.
Though echoes of his past still stirred in the depths of his fĂ«a, haunting him in quiet moments, Mairon pressed onward. Sleep was a luxury he rarely indulged in, for he had no true need of it. Instead, his nights were consumed with workâdesigns and creations meant for other purposes. But not all his labors were practical or mundane. Some were more indulgent, more personal.
He toiled over creations of vanity, shaping wonders of unmatched beauty, treasures that no one could mistake for the work of another.
Jewelry for an elven maiden.
The one whose heart harmonized with his own, your soprano a perfect counterpoint to his baritone, weaving a melody that resonated through the very fabric of his being.
Jewelry making had never been a craft he favored; his love was for the grand and the enduring, for structures and tools that shaped the world itself. Yet for you, he found himself drawn to this finer art. He imagined the way the delicate pieces might adorn you, enhancing the radiance that already surpassed the stars.
He would do it for youâfor the chance to see you graced with jewels forged by the same hands that had once shaped mountains and rivers. For the chance to give you something as eternal and exquisite as the bond that tethered his fĂ«a to yours.
So he toiled deep into the night, his chamber filled with the faint glow of candlelight and the sound of his quill scratching across parchment. Designs littered the room, crumpled and discarded in frustration, none meeting the impossible standard he sought. His mind, normally so precise, faltered in its pursuit of perfection. Inspiration eluded him, and the longer he worked, the more the ache in his chest grewâa dull, unrelenting reminder of all he had lost.
In a rare moment of reprieve, Mairon leaned back, twirling the silver band between his fingers. It was a relic of an age long past, forged under the light of the Two Lamps before their destruction. The silver gleamed softly, its surface unmarred by time, yet the inscription on its outer curve remained obscured. It was as if the words had been veiled from his sight, their meaning withheld by some unseen power. His darkened heart throbbed faintly with the weight of it, an ache he could neither name nor escape.
He pondered the mystery, his mind drifting. Would the inscription return if he placed the ring upon your finger? Could your light, so pure and untouched, rekindle the meaning lost to him? Or was it gone forever, another casualty of his fall from grace? Perhaps it was a folly to even imagine such a thing. He had turned from Aman, from the purity of its light, and sworn himself to Melkor. What right did he have to hope for redemptionâor to dream of you?
With a bitter sigh, he set the ring on the wooden table before him, its gleam dulled in the shadowed room. The thought nagged at him, unwelcome and relentless: something created in the brilliance of the Lamps could never truly shine in his grasp. His hands, once vessels of beauty and creation, had spent countless ages forging horrors in the dark halls of Angband, weapons to enslave and destroy the very people he now walked among. What right had he to even look at you, let alone dream of binding his fëa to yours?
Melkorâs voice echoed in his mind, a phantom that had never truly left him. He could almost hear the cruel laughter, sharp and biting, as if his former master stood before him. âYou grow soft, Mairon,â the voice sneered. âDo you truly think she would accept you if she knew whose servant you were?â
And worse, Melkor would twist the blade deeper: âYou are weak. A servant, nothing more. You were never meant to be a masterâyou exist only to obey.â
The rage surged in Maironâs chest, hot and all-consuming, threatening to break free. He clenched his fists, the silver band forgotten on the table, as memories flooded his mind. When the Valar had come for Melkor, when Tulkas himself had dragged the Dark Lord screaming into the Void, Mairon had fled. He had abandoned his master, not out of defiance but out of fearâfear of what repentance might mean, fear of the light he had once embraced, fear of losing himself entirely.
And so he had wandered, hiding in shadow, evading both the eyes of the Valar and the judgment he knew awaited him. Melkorâs most faithful servant had become a coward, and though the Valar had never found him, he had never stopped fearing the day his master might return.
For when Melkor returned, there would be no forgiveness.
The thought chilled him. Melkor would exact vengeance with cruelty unmatched, and Mairon could imagine it all too vividly: his body torn apart, limb by limb, only to be pieced together again for further torment. And worseâMelkor would use you against him. He would fill Maironâs mind with visions of your suffering, your demise crafted in every horrifying way his masterâs twisted imagination could conjure.
âYou will know, Mairon,â the phantom voice whispered in his mind. âYou will remember who the master is. And you will bow.â
He shook his head violently, dispelling the dark thoughts before they could consume him. The candlelight flickered as if in response, casting long, wavering shadows across the room. His hands trembled, and his jaw tightened as he forced himself to breathe.
But the silver ring lay there, unmoving, its quiet gleam a reminder of the harmony he longed for and the darkness that would never let him have it.
So now, as he stepped away from his forge and toward the sweet, melodic sound of laughter drifting from the streamâs edge, Mairon allowed a small, wistful smile to grace his lips. He would find the courage to let your light pierce the darkness within him, to fill the hollow ache in his heart with warmth once more. Even if it was only for a fleeting moment, a brief chapter in the eternity that weighed upon him, he would cherish itâthis harmony with youâbefore the shadows of his past claimed him again.Â
The sound of laughter and playful giggling grew louder as Mairon approached, cresting like a song reaching its peak. His steps slowed as the scene unfolded before himâyou, radiant and carefree, and EĂ€rlindĂ«, your lively companion and the fishermanâs daughter who seemed to bring out the childlike joy in you.
This time, the two of you were engaged in a game so simple, so innocent, it could only belong to childrenâor those who had momentarily cast aside their burdens. You splashed each other with water, squealing and laughing as the forgotten task of washing linens lay abandoned on the streamâs edge.
Mairon stood still, watching, captivated by the sight. He did not know what lighthearted whim had brought you to this, but it filled him with a warmth he had thought long lostâa warmth he had not felt since the golden days under the Lamps or the shimmering glow of the Trees. It was a fleeting joy, a glimpse of something pure, untouched by shadow, and for a moment, it eased the ache within him.
Though his time watching you was intrrupted, and with his courage wavering he sulked back into the shadows of the forest.
âCalandil!â EĂ€rlindĂ« called out, her laughter trailing off as she noticed the tall warrior striding toward the waterâs edge. You turned, catching sight of him just as he approached. âBrother, it is so good to see you once more,â she said brightly, moving to greet him. He chuckled, his arms wrapping around her in a warm embrace.
âIt warms my heart to see you both well,â he said, his voice deep and steady, though his gaze shifted to you with a mock sternness. âThough I see neither of you has grown past your childish ways.â
You shrugged with a playful smile as EĂ€rlindĂ« swatted at his chest. âAnd you must tell us of your adventures! Surely traveling with the great FinwĂ« has brought many tales of might and glory?â
Calandil looked down at his younger sister, his expression softening as he chuckled. âI can certainly share my stories,â he said, a hint of fondness in his tone. âBut first, Mother requests that both of you join us for supperâif you are finished acting like unruly youths.â He winked at you, the playful gesture enough to draw a flush to your cheeks. It was not the searing heat Mairon could stir in you, but Calandilâs admiration for you was clear, as it always had been. His devotion had been unwavering, and you knew he would not let Mairon claim your heart without a fight, should it ever come to that.
EĂ€rlindĂ« laughed, but her words came with a teasing lilt that betrayed their sincerity. âCome now, brother, MornelĂłtĂ« is pledged to another.â
Calandilâs eyes narrowed slightly, his expression turning curious as he released his sister and stepped closer to you. âIs she now?â he asked, raising a brow in challenge. âDo show me this man who is worthy of your beauty, Meldanya.â The endearment, rich and unguarded, slipped from his lips effortlessly, and you felt your cheeks warm again under his gaze.
âEĂ€rlindĂ« speaks of things she should not,â you said sharply, your glare shifting to her as she began gathering the freshly washed linen, clearly pleased with herself. Ignoring your scolding look, she stepped away from Calandil with an innocent smile, leaving you to wade back to the shore alone.
Calandil moved toward you, stretching out a hand in assistance, but you hesitated and did not take it. Your heart was already bound, and his kindness, though genuine, could not sway the truth that sang within you.
For all of EĂ€rlindĂ«âs teasing, she had not lied. Your heart was pledged, irrevocably so, to the fiery being who worked tirelessly at the forge. To the man whose gaze met yours with a resonance that echoed the very fabric of creation. Every stolen glance, every imagined touch, every unspoken word that lingered in your thoughts was his. His song was intertwined with yours, the melody eternal and undeniable.
Even if it took an age, you would wait for him. You would wait for Mairon with a patience your heart could barely bear, even if the ache of longing threatened to consume you. For you knew, in the depths of your fëa, that your destiny was bound to his, as surely as the sun to the day and the moon to the night.
As you walked in step with EĂ€rlindĂ« and Calandil toward their parentsâ home, your thoughts were elsewhere, your gaze drawn instinctively toward the forge. There he was, Mairon, toiling away in the amber glow of his craft, the movements of his hands precise and almost hypnotic. You chewed the inside of your cheek, hesitating as the urge to go to him warred with your sense of decorum.
Calandil noticed your faltering stride and gently grasped your arm, his touch careful yet questioning. âMornelĂłtĂ«?â he asked softly, his voice tinged with concern. You turned your eyes to him, offering a gentle smile in reassurance, though your heart felt anything but settled.
âI will join you both in a moment,â you said, your tone steady though your resolve wavered.
EĂ€rlindĂ«, ever perceptive, tightened her grip on her brotherâs hand and gave him a slight tug, motioning toward the man in the forge with a knowing look before pulling him along down the street. You caught the fleeting exchange as Calandilâs gaze darkened momentarily, his expression hardening as he glanced toward the fiery-haired smith. He thought he masked it well, but you saw the flicker of disapproval in his eyes, a silent challenge cast toward Mairon.
For a brief moment, you lingered there, the weight of Calandilâs protective nature pressing against the pull of the melody that tied you to Mairon. And as the siblings disappeared around the corner, you drew a steadying breath, steeling yourself for what would come next.
âAre you taking commissions?â you asked softly, stepping closer to Maironâs forge. The heat of the embers radiated toward you, but it was nothing compared to the warmth of his presence. He had sensed your approach long before you spoke, and as you drew near, he paused his work, setting his tools aside with practiced ease.
âNot at the moment,â he replied smoothly, his voice carrying a note of intrigue, âbut what does the lady have in mind?â The smile that curved his lips was magnetic, drawing you closer as you leaned your hip against the edge of his work table. Your cheeks warmed, not just from the heat of the forge but from the intensity of his gaze. You hadnât yet thought of what you might request, and the realization made you hesitate.
Maironâs eyes glimmered with amusement, and he chuckled softly, seeing through your pretense. âIf you wished only to speak with me,â he said warmly, âyou neednât invent an excuse. You are always welcome.â
Your gaze fell to the table, shame blooming in your chest as his words hung in the air. You turned over the thoughts that had plagued you for so long. Mairon was a master of his craft, a smith whose skill could rival the greatest of the Noldor. His creations were coveted by lords and envied by those who could never match his artistry. And you? You were a simple maiden, without standing or title, your only claim being the quiet, unassuming life you led among your kin.
How could he ever lower himself to someone like you, whose worth seemed so insignificant in comparison to the brilliance of his presence and the magnitude of his skill? The thought weighed heavily on your fëa, and yet, the melody that resonated between you refused to be silenced. It called to you still, whispering of possibilities you dared not believe.
âI do wish for something,â you breathed softly into the warm glow of the forge, the embers casting flickering light into his emerald eyes. They seemed to burn with the same intensity as the fire behind him. âBut I hardly believe you would lower yourself to it.â The words felt heavy with doubt, and you averted your gaze, surprised at the vulnerability that spilled from you. It was the effect he had on you, the way his presence unraveled all your carefully guarded composure.
Mairon tilted his head, a flicker of curiosity and tenderness crossing his features. Without hesitation, he stepped closer, his dirtied hand reaching beneath your delicate chin to guide your gaze back to his. The warmth of his touch sent a ripple of comfort through you as his steady eyes met yours.
âMy dear,â he began, his voice as smooth as flowing silver, âthere is no request you could ever utter that would be lower than I.â His thumb traced softly along your cheek, his touch grounding you even as it made your heart race. âFor I am the lower being. You are the finest creationâone even my hands could never have shaped, no matter how much I might wish for it.â
A heat bloomed in your cheeks at his words, a shy smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. His own lips curled into a satisfied smile, clearly pleased with the way he had chased the doubt from your mind.
âThenââ you began, your throat tightening as your lips struggled to articulate the thought swirling in your heart. The hesitation felt insurmountable, the weight of your emotions too great to put into words.
âMori,â he murmured softly, the affectionate nickname slipping from his lips like a caress. It was a name he alone had given you, a kindness that turned the townâs harsh moniker into something beautiful. âPlease, do not hide your desires from me. I only wish to fulfill them with all my heart.â
His words, tender and unyielding, stirred something deep within you, and the harmony of your shared fëar swelled in unspoken promise.
He meant every word of his promise, and the warmth of his gaze gave you the courage to finally speak the desire that had lived in your heart for so long. âCraft me a ring,â you whispered, your voice steady yet soft, âso I may bind myself to you, and our fĂ«ar may finally sing in the song that only we shall know.â
For a moment, his emerald eyes widened, a flicker of surprise lighting their depths. But then, a slow, tender smile graced his lips as he leaned closer, his grime-streaked nose brushing against yours in a gesture so intimate it made your heart flutter. âAnd what,â he murmured, his voice low and filled with affection, âif I already have one?â
Your hands lifted of their own accord, your fingers gently tracing the contours of his face, brushing away the soot that clung to his skin. âThen place it upon my finger,â you said, the words filled with quiet certainty, âand let us wed, as I know we both desire to.â
The forgeâs warm glow wrapped around the two of you, and for a moment, the world fell away, leaving only the unspoken harmony that sang between your souls, ready to be bound for eternity.
Mairon slipped the silver band onto your finger, the very band he had forged so long ago in the days when the yearning for an unknown being had first stirred in his fĂ«a. Now, he realized, you were that beingâthe one he had unknowingly crafted it for, the one whose presence had filled the void that once consumed him. As the bluish inscription glimmered to life upon the silver surface, the fear that had long plagued him faded. His fĂ«a reached out instinctively, and he felt yours respond, the tendrils intertwining as the bond between you sealed, eternal and unbreakable.
âIt is beautiful,â you murmured, holding the ring up to the light of the forge. Its glow danced upon your features, and your words were filled with wonder. âFairest of maidens, in the moonlight, you shall find me, for we are never truly parted.â
Your voice, soft yet sure, carried the words etched into the bandâa mystery that had haunted him for ages. He had not known their meaning when he inscribed them, guided only by the melody in his heart. But now, as you spoke them aloud, they resonated with a truth that made his chest tighten. A smile graced his lips, and his hand lifted to cup your chin once more, his touch tender yet possessive, as if to ensure you would never slip away.
âI would find you even in darkness, my sweet Mairon,â you whispered, the words laced with conviction, ânothing could ever take me from you.â
Oh, how he longed to believe it, to cling to the hope that your love could withstand all that might come. Yet in the depths of his heart, he knew there were forces that could tear you apartâforces far beyond his control. Still, he let the moment linger, cherishing the promise your words carried, a vow he held onto with fervent desperation. Even if the darkness claimed him once more, even if time itself conspired against you, he would find you. For your bond, sealed now and forever, would endure, waiting to reunite you at another point in the endless melody of creation.
Your breath hitched as he leaned closer, his emerald eyes fluttering shut, and your heart swelled in anticipation. After what felt like an eternity of waiting, the song that had bound your fëar to his was about to reach its crescendo. The air in the forge grew stiflingly warm, his fiery presence enveloping you like the sweetest embrace. And then, after a moment that stretched endlessly, his lips met yours.
The world around you dissolved as the harmony of your shared melody surged to life, wrapping around you both like an intricate, unbreakable thread. It was delicate yet unyielding, a reflection of the bond you had nurtured and the longing you had endured.
His kiss was soft at first, tender and reverent, but the intensity grew quickly, as though he could no longer contain the depth of his desire. His lips teased at yours, pulling at your bottom lip, and his touch deepened, exploring the taste of your sweetness as if it were a gift he could scarcely believe was his to claim.
His strong arms encircled you, drawing you closer against him, as if he feared you might slip away. In his embrace, the forgeâs heat was nothing compared to the fire that surged between you, igniting a connection that felt as eternal as the stars.
The moment shattered as you felt a firm arm snatch you away from Maironâs grasp, tearing you from the warmth and harmony you had longed for. Your blissed-out mind struggled to catch up, your lips still tingling, aching to feel his pillowy kiss once more.
Blinking, you turned to face the intruder, your tongue sharp and ready to scorn whoever dared interruptâbut the words caught in your throat as your gaze met white hair and piercing blue eyes. Calandil.
A lump formed in your throat as the intensity of his expression struck you. His eyes burned with a fury that rivaled Ulmoâs great wrath, his jaw clenched as though he were holding back the full force of his anger.
âMornelĂłtĂ«,â he said, his voice low but trembling with restrained rage, âwhat is this?â
You swallowed hard, your throat dry as your eyes darted back to Mairon. Your heart sank at the sight of his darkened gaze fixed on Calandil, his emerald eyes now sharp and unreadable. In all your prayers to the Valar, you had hoped this moment would never come to pass, this clash between the fiery smith and the stalwart warrior.
The weight of the silver ring on your fourth finger pressed against you like an anchor, a stark reminder of the bond you had chosen. The luminous inscription, which had moments ago filled you with joy, now felt heavy under Calandilâs burning scrutiny.
Words faltered on your tongue. You did not know what to say to Calandil, his expression a storm of betrayal and fury. Nor did you dare let Mairon speak, for fear of the provocation that might follow. Calandilâs anger simmered just beneath the surface, and you knew too well the rashness that could overtake him in such a state.
Desperation filled your chest as you stood between them, caught in the rising tension, praying silently that the fragile harmony of the moment might somehow be preserved. But it was not to be and among your silence, Calandil pulled you from between them and walked over to the smith.
âYou think you can come here,â Calandil hissed, his voice trembling with barely contained fury, âshare in our goods, take up the post as our cityâs smith, and all would be well.â He stepped closer, his face now mere inches from Maironâs, his posture bristling with indignation.
You moved instinctively to intervene, your heart racing as the tension between them grew. âCalandilââ you began, but your words were cut short as he pushed you gently but firmly back to where you had been standing. The action left you stunned, a flicker of concern flashing in Maironâs eyes as he glanced briefly toward you. But the moment passed, and his attention returned to Calandil, his expression composed but steely.
âAnd now,â Calandil growled, his voice low and sharp, âyou wish to defile one of our maidens?â His words dripped with venom, and your breath caught at the accusation.
âCalandil, please, it is not like that at all,â you pleaded, your voice trembling as you stepped forward once more. But the elf turned to you sharply, his blazing blue eyes cutting through you like a blade.
âYou will silence your tongue,â he barked, the force of his words making you flinch. Tears threatened to spill as you gazed up at him, the sting of his harsh tone a bitter reminder of how much had changed.
This was not the Calandil you had knownâthe gentle, soft-spoken elf who had once protected and cherished you. His time away, wherever FinwĂ« had sent him, had transformed him. It was clear now that the journey to the West had not been what he had hoped. The brightness that once filled him seemed dulled, replaced by a hardened anger that lashed out, even at you.
He would never have spoken to you this way before, nor would he have jumped to such cruel accusations. Something deeper was wrong within him, and it pained you to see it, even as his fury consumed the moment.
To your surprise, Mairon had remained silent, his lips pressed into a firm line as his piercing gaze stayed locked on the elf before him. He made no effort to defend himself, no attempt to argue against Calandilâs fury. But then your breath caught as you noticed his hand slowly glide toward one of the tools laid on the worktable. The motion was subtle, deliberate, and it sent a chill down your spine.
You shook your head sharply at him, your silent plea carried through the threads of your bond, tugging gently but urgently at his fĂ«a. Donât. Your eyes met his, wide with stress and desperation, imploring him to let it go.
For a long, tense moment, Mairon regarded you. Then, with a subtle exhale, he shifted his hand away from the tool, resting it instead on the edge of the table. Relief washed over you, though the tension in the air remained thick and unyielding.
Calandil turned back to him, his voice cutting through the heavy silence. âWhat do you have to say for yourself, smith?â he demanded, straightening to his full height, his presence radiating authority and challenge.
Finally, Maironâs voice filled the forge, smooth and steady, its calmness a stark contrast to the storm brewing between them.
âI hardly defile your maidens,â Mairon said smoothly, his tone calm but firm. âFor I have asked MornelĂłtĂ« for her hand.â His emerald gaze remained steady as he watched Calandilâs reaction, the disbelief flashing in the other elfâs blue eyes like a storm. To Maironâs mild satisfaction, there was more than disbelief thereâthere was hurt. It was subtle but unmistakable, a crack in the warriorâs hardened facade.
âIs this true?â Calandil asked, his voice low but edged with emotion. His piercing gaze flickered toward you, searching for the truth in your expression.
Mairon didnât move, his heart attuned to yours, pulling at your fĂ«a as though urging you to speak. Say the words, and be mine, he thought silently, his eyes never leaving you. He could see the conflict in your watery gaze, the way your throat worked as you struggled to form the words.
Finally, you took a trembling breath and answered, your voice barely above a whisper. âYes, Calandil,â you said, your tone resolute despite the emotion laced within it. âHis song matches mine in every melody known, and I cannot ignore what is destined.â
The words hung in the air, heavy with truth, as Calandilâs expression shifted, his hurt deepening. But your declaration was unshakable, your choice made. And Mairon, though calm in his outward appearance, felt his heart surge with a quiet triumph.
For all his darkness, Mairon felt a light and warmth now that rivaled what he had once known in Aman. You were his, and nothing could compare to the quiet triumph that swelled within him as your declaration echoed in the forge.
But the moment was fleeting. Calandilâs fist struck hard against Maironâs cheek, the force of the blow staggering him backward. Pain bloomed sharp and immediate, but Mairon steadied himself, his gaze flickering briefly toward the enraged elf. He knew well that elves rarely turned to violence unless driven by absolute necessity. But the fury in Calandilâs eyes mirrored something Mairon recognized all too clearlyâthe same blazing fire he himself once bore in service to Melkor. It was the look of a predator consumed by wrath, striking without mercy or thought.
The blows came again, one after another, but Mairon did not retaliate. He stood firm, enduring the onslaught with a stoic resilience that only seemed to fuel Calandilâs rage. Each strike was met with silence, Maironâs emerald eyes calm despite the chaos around him.
For Mairon knew. These blows, these moments of fury, would one day be avengedânot through violence, but through the quiet and unshakable bond that had been forged between you and him. In time, his triumph would echo louder than any fists could, and Calandilâs fury would fade into nothingness against the weight of destiny.
Though as he looked up at his attacker, he felt something else. The silent but deadly voice of his master. âYou weak being, letting a mere mortal torment you over something so beneath you. I should flay you for your weakness.â Maironâs eyes clamped shut as the taunting laughter and more degrading words echoed through his mind. His rage over came him and he pushed Calandil back with a forceful kick of his boot. The elf fell back on to the stone floor of the forge and in his consumed fury Mairon did something, he had never wished for you to see.
His fingers wrapped around the elfâs neck, squeezing down on his windpipe, drawing the air from his lungs. âShe is mine,â he snarled at the choking elf. Eyes black with fury as the dark lines of his true nature stretched underneath his eyes. âHer fĂ«a sings for mine, elf, not yours and you will do well to remember what Eru proclaimed in existence. Her destiny is with me.â Mairon snarled. Though in all his consumed fury and rage, your voice cut through him like a knife.
âStop it,â You cried out. âStop it, your hurting him.â You continued with tears in your eyes as he looked up to see the fear and desperation for him to cease his tight grasp on Calandilâs throat. That tiny amount of light inside him pulling and flowing once more, softening his gaze until he released the elfâs neck. Mairon moved off him and sat back against the work bench, trying his hardest to regain his breath as Calandil took in what he had been deprived of.
"Is there a problem here?" The question cut through the tension like a blade, as two guardsmen approached, their boots crunching against the cobblestones. Their stern gazes flicked between you and the commotion, shadows from the burning forge dancing across their faces. You turned, mouth half-open, ready to explain, but before your words could find air, Calandil surged forward, his voice trembling with a mix of fury and triumph.
"Arrest this man!" he commanded, pointing an accusatory finger, his hand shaking with indignation. "He dares to lay his filthy hands on me!" His breath came in ragged gasps, his face flushed, and the gleam in his eyes was that of someone savoring the power of the moment.
Mairon stared at the man in disbelief, the faint metallic tang of blood sharp on his lips as he wiped it away with the back of his hand. His chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, but his glare remained fixed, defiant even in pain. You turned sharply as the guardsmen approached, their deliberate steps carrying them toward Mairon, their expressions unyielding and devoid of question.
âPlease,â you said, your tone steady yet pleading, like a balm over the fraying tension. âIt was only a minor dispute. Escort my lord back to his home so he may recover in peace. I will see to our faithful smith.â The two elves exchanged a brief glance before inclining their heads to you. Wordlessly, they bent to hoist Calandil to his feet, the defeated lord sputtering protests as they guided him away.
You crossed the space to Mairon, your steps quiet but deliberate. His body sagged slightly, the tension in his shoulders melting away. Relief washed over him like the cool mist of a morning breeze, and his eyes fluttered closed as if seeking refuge behind the darkness of his lids.
You couldnât suppress the flicker of satisfaction that stirred within you at his eventual defense of your honor. Yet, the events that followed left a shadow over your heart, a chill that gripped you tighter with each passing moment. The gentle, soft-spoken Mairon you had always known seemed to dissolve before your eyes, giving way to a darknessâraw, potent, and unfamiliar. It was a presence unlike anything you had felt in all your countless years among the spirits and the nurturing embrace of Arda.
Your fingers moved instinctively, tracing the curve of his split lip, the skin rough beneath your touch. They traveled upward, brushing aside strands of his fiery red hair, damp and clinging to his sweat-slicked brow, to reveal the bruised cheek beneath. The sight tugged at something deep within you, and you let out a soft tsk, the sound both chiding and affectionate. A faint smile curved your lips, tender yet tinged with unease.
âMy sweet Mairon,â you whispered, your breath mingling with his as you settled yourself fully onto his lap, your knees bracketing him, steadying him as your hands ghosted over his injuries. Each touch was careful, reverent, as though the very act of tending to him might erase the pain he had endured. âYou didnât need to take such blows for my sake.â
A strong hand rose, his fingers curling around your left one with a firm yet tender grasp. Slowly, his eyes fluttered open, and the familiar softness of his emerald gaze pierced through the lingering tension. Without breaking his gaze, his lips pressed a lingering kiss to the silver band on your ring finger, an unspoken vow in the tender act.
âYou are worth every torturous blow,â he murmured, his voice low but unwavering. âIf it means that each man in this city knows whose heart you hold, who you belong to.â Heat rushed to your cheeks at his words, and your face warmed despite the coolness of the room.
âMori,â he continued, his voice laced with an almost pleading tone, âI love you with all my being and wish for nothing but your happiness. Though I am sorry you had to see that side of me.â His tone shifted, laden with regret, but before he could say more, you silenced him with a soft shush, your free hand rising to cup his bruised cheek. Your thumb moved in delicate circles, careful not to worsen his pain, your touch a balm to his unspoken wounds.
âI love every inch of you, Mairon,â you said, your voice steady and filled with truth, âeven the darker parts of you.â The weight of your words hung between you, unnoticed by you, but searing into him. For in that single, sincere statement, you unknowingly etched the lines of your destinyâan ending that would sear your place aside one of Melkorâs dark servants for eternity.
For now there would never be a place for you in the Blessed Realm. No white ship could bear this burden of darkness that you had pledged yourself too.
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I saw a post recently about what couldâve happened to Arabella post-game, but what I need to know is what happened to Yenna.
tldr Larian tell me what happened to my girl wait nvm ik whatâs canon to me
Did she stay safe in the Elfsong during the Netherbrainâs attack? How did she feel when all of her heroes left the inn one last time? Whose care did they leave her in?
And then once the dust settles and the fractured remains of the party come back to celebrate, what then?
Maybe after weeks of her helping in the kitchen, the Elfsongâs chef finally begrudgingly admits heâs impressed and takes her on as an apprentice, and she becomes Baldurâs Gateâs finest. She grows up as the gate grows back.
Maybe Rion meets her in the midst of celebration and sees a companion for Fig in her, and asks if she wants a quieter place to sleep. Elerrathinâs Home finds a new balance as she settles in. Slowly, she has a family again. A home.
The companions might have something in mind for her. In awe of Tavâs magic, she could admit she wants to learn, and Gale enrolls her in the finest wizarding classes in Waterdeep. Shadowheart decides a little extra help on the farm wouldnât hurt. (Dad)Astarion, longing for rest, suggests quietly that she can come with him, just for a while. If she wants! That on the road they might find a little peace, if not a little adventure too. (In my hc heâd only be brave enough to suggest it if heâs with Tav but I digress.)
Maybe her path only crosses with the companions again once sheâs a little older. Minsc meets her in the city and recruits her good heart in his quest to change the Guild. Wyll and Karlach or Laeâzel return to the gate and find sheâs become a young adventurer, a Baldurian through and through.
My favorite of her potential fates ironically is whatâs most likely to be canonâHalsin sees her after their celebrations. Sheâs so tired. Their fellowship is breaking, and so is her something of a family. He knows the exhaustion hovering over fear in her eyes all too well. He wants to see light in them again.
So he takes her with him. Back in nature, she learns how to be a child again.
Brb going to go cry over Yenna. I love that little girl.
(I know weâre not getting a BG4 from Larian at least, but imagine a little sequel where you play as Yenna a few years later. Or any of the kidsâMol, Arabella, Fig. That would be so special.)
#bg3#bg3 headcanons#baldur's gate 3#baldurs gate 3#Yenna#bg3 yenna#bg3 halsin#bg3 spoilers#astarion#bg3 karlach#gale dekarios#bg3 lae'zel#gale of waterdeep#bg3 Wyll#bg3 astarion#bg3 minsc#bg3 jaheira#bg3 gale#baldurs gate is melting my brain#bg3 act 3 spoilers#bg3 hcs#bg3 ending#dadstarion#halsin#halsin headcanons#bg3 prompts#bg3 orin#baldurâs gate 3#drin drin the paladin#bg3 fic prompt
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