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rayo1-productions · 4 years ago

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Cartoon Network Universe: Earth One - A Tour of California

*REPOSTED FROM FANFICTION.NET

DEVELOPER'S JOURNAL - SUPPLEMENTARY

Unfortunately, no this isn't Chapter 7. But it is something worth reading.

So if you've been following this story for a while, you've probably noticed that there are a few anachronisms in the world of the Cartoon Network Universe. I do have an explanation in mind, but for now, let's just keep it at me having to make certain calls when it comes to merging the worlds of so many Cartoon Network shows, as the majority of them were produced independently from one another.

But I also realized it wasn't entirely fair to you guys, who might not be able to keep track of worldbuilding and expository content.

So, I've come to a decision that I am probably going to regret in the future, specifically in terms of the style and genre. I am going to have, between each 6 chapters, a little cutaway bumper that informs you on the map of this world. This will give me the chance to clarify all things that you might be confused by when it comes to my writing (Honestly I don't blame you. My English isn't the best...which is ironic since it's my first language.)

The reason why I was so apprehensive of this idea at first was because of the tone it might cast over the rest of the story. Informational bumpers like this are a staple of certain anime like Attack on Titan and My Hero Academia, but with this story's subject matter leaning closer to AOT, I feared that these bumpers would create a "history-book" vibe to it. Y'know, like these alternate history stories people write where they go in-depth into the layout and politics of the war.

What's problematic about that approach for me is that it can be a very adult motif, one that can strip the story of any fantastical elements by grounding everything into hard square reality. Furthermore, most fellow FusionFall stories implement a personal touch into their work. Granted, by focusing on the entire cast of NPCs and the larger CNU, I haven't made this job easy for myself. But come future chapters and the personal touch will be essential, just as it was essential with Volume 1.

But I guess that's a bunch of superstition. Right now, enjoy reading the layout of the setting of my story. Be ready for even more creative liberties than seen in the OG Game, because the Map I created here is vastly different compared to that of the original or remakes. This map also comes with nice little exposition blurbs, all of which are set One Month before the Time Travel Experiment and thus two months before the invasion begins. I will be listing heroes that claim these areas or districts within each city. As the story moves forward from this bumper, heroes covered by a [SPOILER] tag will be revealed as they claim positions throughout the war and beyond. For future stories outside of FusionFall, it's also very possible that you'll be seeing this bumper more than once and with updates.

MAP OF TURFS

The Sister Cities - California

SIYENN: The largest of the three Sister Cities situated in the Western state of California, Siyenn City is a melting pot of countless businesses, families, and liveliness, all enhanced by the ever-growing pursuit of innovation. With a multitude of heroes, technological corporations, child geniuses, and casual life, this city is not only fortified, but ensured of a brighter tomorrow!

TECH SQUARE - Dexter McPherson, Simon Astronomonov; Once Siyenn Square, it was rechristened as Tech Square in honor of the astounding technological achievements transpiring there. Home to partnering and competing companies, Dexlabs and Mandark Industries, Tech Square has become the center of innovation and impossibility, inspiring countless geniuses by any standard to look sharp for a fine day for science!

-- Dexter McPherson, founder, CEO, and Chief Scientific Developer of Dexlabs, has announced a private time travel experiment to the public! Seeking to send volunteers or a volunteer approximately one hour into the future! The seclusive but famous scientist reportedly received supplies from various suppliers, such as Goat's Junkyard, Maxwell's Plumbing Services (oddly enough), an unnamed investor rumored to be in Quahog, Rhode Island, as well as MIT and the CERN research project! For any brave and daring volunteers, answer the call, for the time is now! And the test subject can be YOU!

GALAXY GARDENS - N/A; This emporium of greenhouse greatness was marked as a sign of good faith and will towards the ecological salvation of the planet. Galaxy Gardens is a thriving plant and animal sanctuary for all to enjoy, and though some might denote it as a simple zoo, Dexlabs has announced its intentions to study plant-based solutions to climate change and other potential problems facing the planet.

STEAM ALLEY - [SPOILER]; Though the most economically staggered of the city, this district, nicknamed "Steam Alley", held an astounding position as home to leaders of the automotive and energy industries, such as that of the Rainbow Factory and WERK Co. Though with the rise of tech giants like Dexlabs and M-Industries, it's not in that great shape anymore. But before its time, Steam Alley saw rise to oil trade tycoons such as Boss Franklin Fullbright, and even renowned bio-engineers like the late Rafael and Violeta Salazar.

-- Homeland Security agency Providence have been spotted in the area, more than likely in the hopes of opening a city-based installation. Though many people are feeling safer already, some have objected for opposite reasons, as well as the plans not offering any economic resurgence to Steam Alley.

MOREBUCKS TOWERS - [SPOILER]; As part of a housing initiative with the Morebucks Corporation, namely on the behest of Jennifer Morebucks, the city looks to open more housing options for those in the middle class or lower. Using the latest advancements in technology from Mandark Industries, the construction of these houses will be sped up to a considerable rate. The future looks bright for what used to be a normal everyday district.

-- Ms. Morebucks, a former supervillain, made a clear and distinct threat to her markets and shareholders that if they did not invest in the project, she would have them evicted from their houses and would use them for menial purposes. The shareholders were almost immediately confused by the nature of this act, wondering how a threat such as that could be fueled by a genuinely noble and thoughtful initiative. They all chalked it up to an ulterior motive on her part. Nevertheless, they all decided to fund her project.

CITY STATION - [SPOILER]; The heart of Siyenn City is also the best way to get around town; the City Station district is the public transportation staple of the entire city, and even more as its Slider Buses can carry you all the way to Townsville and Bellwood. Its transportation-focused industry has made it the centerpiece for a cultural metropolis, with bright lights lining the skyscrapers, joints and hangouts for people of all ages to enjoy. City Station's refurbished place in Siyenn City was a part of Dexlabs and Mandark Industries' massive technological initiative, building the massive Station Tower to serve not only as a hub for all passengers, but to also provide extra connection services to the entire district. City Station continues to thrive thanks to Dexlabs and Mandark's continued efforts.

-- City Station High School would like to publicly recognize one of its own students, Vana Thunderwarp, for her bravery and heroic saving of Dr. Gale Spacebyte, a government scientist who would have been killed by a malfunctioning slider. But that's not all. The young anthro-wolf student immediately contacted Dexlabs and helped identify the issue that caused the malfunction. We at City Station High School value dedicated study and civic duty within our students, and open our arms to those like Ms. Thunderwarp willing to make a difference in this vast world. (even if our moron Principal is the literal opposite - Noah V., friend of Vana)

GENIUS GROVE - [SPOILER]; The innovation does not stop at the city, as the suburbs of Genius Grove are home to some of the most impossible things the world has yet to see. The birthplace and home of both Dexter McPherson and Simon Astronomonov, they both grew up with like-minded intentions concerning technology, actively working together to see their dreams come to fruition. It is here in Genius Grove where great minds not only think alike, but aspire to be greater.

-- Shady businessman Benedict Uno and his delightful wards recently attempted to close a deal with Alderman Jeff McPherson, father of Dexlabs CEO Dexter McPherson, to open their delightful developments project. McPherson declined, much to the chagrin of Uno. There's been no official word on his next steps, though some say he may attempt to try again in Bellwood's Peach Creek Estates.

ENDSVILLE - Billy, Mandy, The Grim Reaper; Endsville may seem like the most haunted place on Earth, probably because it is. But behind a gloomy and shocking exterior is a community that thrives on liveliness and prosperity. No matter how many people try to escape our beloved town, Endsville is your last stop...to not die, but to...just come here, please. Please?

ORDINAL HEIGHTS - [N/A]; A calmer neighborhood for a calmer time, Ordinal Heights is a place to keep away from the various calamities of the universe and relax. Once you rent a house, you'll never want to leave. So come visit our little town!

-- Due to unexplained bursts of gravitational fluxes and massive surges of radiation emerging from a [REDACTED], Dexlabs and Providence have advised that this neighborhood be quarantined and cordoned off until further notice. For your own safety, DO NOT VISIT.

CRYSTAL COVE - [Formerly] Mystery Inc.; Before Endsville was dubbed the most haunted place on the West Coast, Crystal Cove held that title, famous for being the final place of activity from Mystery Incorporated, and infamous for giving the Ohio-born detective group genuine supernatural threats to investigate before they all vanished and (presumably) disbanded.

MASSACHUSETTS PARK - Mordecai & Rigby; Founded by Curtis Montgomery and his lollilander pupil Stick Maellard in the late 1800s, Massachusetts Park has stood the test of time in blazing through history and struggle. In the center of the park lies the Maellard Residence, providing the area with a feeling of home and safety. Despite reports of the zany, unpredictable, the surreal, and worst of all, various reports of employee misconduct, the Park and its staff stand ready to preserve this historic foundation.

-- Last week was the 2-year anniversary for the death of Pops Maellard, the son of Mr. Stick Maellard and the then-groundskeeper of Massachusetts Park. In what could only be described as launching an entire acre of land into space, the Park was reported to have been caught in a battle between the forces of good and evil in the cosmos, to which Pops sacrificed himself. There has been no comment from the Government-sponsored Galactic Guardian Group (G3), or the Department of Metahuman Affairs and Abnormalities, who specialize in investigation of the cosmically supernatural. All the latter group had to say was that classified intergalactic contacts were looking into the aftermath. The Special Extraterrestrial Containment Team arrived shortly after to debrief all members trapped aboard the Park in launch. In this anniversary, many of the Park's staff were there to pay respects to their dear friend.

- Goat's Junkyard, West Coast Division - Megas (Coop); Originally founded in New Jersey, proprietor and former tattoo artist Scot 'Goat' Rienecker expanded his junkyard operations to the other side of the United States. In Jersey, his junkyard gained a notable reputation for housing a vast array of salvaged technology, with many complaining simply because the city would be destroyed by robots and aliens before they could visit. Goat's Junkyard is the place to go if you're looking for off-hand items and re-engineered technology, no matter how illegal it might be!

TOWNSVILLE: - Powerpuff Girls; The City of Townsville! A safe haven for all, a flourishing and lively populace, a loyal and brave community, and home to the world's youngest and greatest trio of superheroines! This fine city has been under their protection for 10 prosperous years, and the skies have never been brighter since. This fine city is a place to go to see hope before your very eyes. Ignore the high insurance rates and outrageous crime waves, because the Powerpuff Girls will always be there to save you in the City of Townsville!

-- People are still worried for the middle Powerpuff, Buttercup Utonium, who suffered a major blow during a battle with the evil Mojo Jojo. The Powerpuff was smacked far off into the Pacific Ocean and disappeared into the waters. The green Powerpuff returned to her family a week after her disappearance, but has refused to offer any knowledge or word on what happened to her during her absence. We wish our toughest fighter the best in health and spirit as she continues to keep the city safe!

- Townsville Square - Jenny Morebucks; A bustling shopping industry incarnate, this plaza is at the heart of the city and maintains its great variety of malls, studios, and more, with the trademark location of the Sunken Super-Mall, this is a center for consumerism, and we invite YOU to find everything you'll need and want.

-- With the retirement of her father, Oliver Morebucks, young heiress Jennifer Grace Morebucks has since taken over his place as head chairwoman and CFO. Having been in this position for about 4 years now, Morebucks has brought the company into several disputes over acts of corporate greed, villainy, and subversion of ethical...anything, things that were mostly avoided by her lack of ownership in the company when she started her career in villainy. Morebucks has yet to recuperate from the low financial position and brand image the "Princess" has put them in, though Jennifer herself has ceased most villainous activity in recent times.

- Townsville City Hall - The Mayor of Townsville; The headquarters of Townsville's government is a dedication to triumph and might in the face of hardship. Here lies the Mayor's office, and the Mayor himself as he guides Townsville through times of despair, thanks in part to our terrific triplets that the Mayor dispatches to handle situations. It's because of this landmark that this fine city has stood tall and never backed down, even when a giant monster knocks it down.

-- Just today, the Mayor announced the undoing of his latest decree: that all pickle jars be made with paper lids. Buyers of pickles found their food to have been spoilt due to the poor standards of containment imposed by the Mayor.

TOWNSVILLE PARK; This local and public park is the perfect spot for peace and quiet, especially when the city life can be so overwhelming. Townsville hosts many of its local events and celebrations here, as even this peace would not dare be disturbed by villainy.

- Mojo's Volcano - Mojo Jojo; Before even the crime wave, Townsville has always seemed in danger, thanks to the massively slim volcano located near the Park. Nowadays the inactive volcano is under new management: The primate supervillain Mojo Jojo, who lives in his Observatory Lair planning and scheming his maniacal and destructive ideas for destroying the Powerpuff Girls and other villainous acts. However, the city of Townsville is lucky to see Mojo exercise an honor code when it comes to engaging our beloved metropolis, and how fortunate we are that it not occur to him.

-- Following an incident that occurred in 2009, many citizens of Townsville have speculated Mojo's connection to the sudden appearance of green gooey aliens that manifested from glowing plant-like eggs. Speculation also arose from the East Coast, with many citizens of New Jersey identifying the spores to be Gynok, a plant-based lifeform from Saturn that once invaded on a Thanksgiving Parade. However, multiple reports indicated that Gynok was capable of speech, and could mimic objects living and non-living, abilities that were not displayed by these spores, which instead spawned blobby creatures that terrorized various cities instead. Many are wondering what this has to do with Mojo, but have not been able to get a word in due to the primate's limited parole.

MARQUEE ROW - Gangreen Gang; This small but vibrant district holds a special place in the hearts of Townsville's greatest musicians. Currently the focus of the Gangreen Gang's album tour, Marquee Row's impressive auditorium famously held the debut performance of Sunny Bridges, the Atlanta-born jazz-rap musician that currently teaches at Atlanta's Westley School for the Arts; he has since gone down as a legend in contemporary music. It also was notable for holding one of the highest ticket-sales rates for concerts of the West Coast in 2005, thanks to a spectacular performance from J-Pop/Rock duo Puffy AmiYumi. Marquee Row is full of legacy and variety as it has quickly become the hot-spot for Townsville's musicians and many more.

-- The Gangreen Gang are set to perform in the Sunny Bridges Auditorium this July, where they are also set to reveal a new member of their band. Speculation has arisen as to who this member might be, and some rumors report that it's a female backup player. Some have denounced this as pandering, while others have embraced the band's sense of diversity. Others less trusting of the band wonder if this is a ploy to pull off a heist, given their criminal record.

- Harada-Bridges Records; The Harada-Bridges Record Company is a Townsville-based label founded through a joint partnership between former musician/performer Sunny Bridges and Kazuo Harada, former band manager and possible kleptomaniac. Harada-Bridges Records distributes music from many such talents as the TrendBenders, Pizza Party, the Gangreen Gang, Hair to the Throne, Scream-O, and Puffy AmiYumi among others; it even allows for one-time titles, such as "Love makes the World Go Round", or a rather catchy cover of "Surfin' Bird". It also sells redistributions and collections of older albums, including the famous 70s group Shag Carpeting, Fist Pump from the 80s, and smaller names like Mr. Universe. Their building is furnished with a high-end recording studio, in which much of the music they distribute is recorded. Due to Bridges' teaching obligations, the company is partly run by JoJo Melodytour, former manager for the TrendBenders.

-- Famous rappers 'the CrewCrew' were recently excommunicated by the record company for their foul attitude and slanderous speech, and their apparent disrespect towards the memoriam services for Pops Maellard. They have since gone to social media to voice their frustration, only to lose several followers on all relative channels, Instagram in particular.

WILSON WAY;

- Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends; Venture into our quiet and socially vibrant suburban areas to get away from the action, and find a place where the community is tight, trustworthy, and lasts forever. For example? This grand estate that has been a staple of the community since the 1930s. Originally the grand mansion of eccentric heiress Martha Foster, her home has seen a repurposing like no other over the last 60 years. Founded in 1954, the mansion was reimagined as Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends, a place for runaway or outgrown imaginary friends to spend their time and look for new human friends. We in the Wilson Suburbs are proud to see such progressive community work continue for so long, and to maintain a lasting legacy across the country. Regardless of the nanite-related problems that have plagued the imaginary community, Foster's Home keeps its doors open to all real and unreal for refuge and safety.

POKEY OAKS SUBURBS (North & South) - Powerpuff Girls, Professor Utonium; Named after the county Townsville is located in, the Pokey Oaks suburbs are home to many of the denizens of the larger metropolis, appreciating the quieter life contrasting the busy city ahead. In the Northern suburbs, you will find Poakey Oaks' High School, the Morebucks Mansion, the precinct for Townsville PD, and the abandoned home of former supervillain Fuzzy Lumpkins. In the Southern suburbs, you will find the Utonium residence, home to the Powerpuff Girls, Poakey Oaks Kindergarten and Lower School, and the Pokey Oaks highway leading into the larger Townsville city.

-- Not to be confused with the Pokey Oaks county in Los Angeles, California.

HABITAT HOMES - N/A; A thriving suburban community defined for its rising anthro population, Habitat Homes is recognized as a place for...well, whatever it is normal districts do, because this area seems to be set on selling "we have anthropomorphic animals" as their only highlight, which is pretty exploitative. This suburb is home to the Charles Darwin Middle School, notable for having an overwhelmingly anthro-based student body.

BELLWOOD: - Ben 10; This is no ordinary city. Enter a world beaming with possibilities, wrapped up in one of the most popular cities on Earth. Located within Delmarva County and founded in 1638, the city of Bellwood started out as a small town notable as "the most ordinary town on Earth". That has been proven wrong many times over. Since Ben 10 started his super-heroic career at the ripe age of 10, Bellwood has seen a massive amount of attention for sightings of alien life and activity on Earth, and allowed this small town to grow and expand into a bustling city in the same leagues as sister cities Townsville and Siyenn.

- Bellwood Square; The heart of the city and the home to many of Bellwood's landmarks, such as Bellwood Zoo, City Park, a museum, a mall, Madison Elementary, even a Brain Bank!

- City Point; Whoever could forget this small district, host of the annual Summer fair for 20 years in a row, several of which have showcased the Dizzy World Circus hailing from Townsville. City Point also houses the largest amount of alien activity in the entire city, with many wondering how so many aliens appear in and out. But no matter that, City Point is hailed as a place for diversity and acceptance of all lifeforms, no matter how secret.

-- The Dizzy World Circus is set to open business in City Point this summer after a performance in Gateway City, Virginia; this will be the first time they have returned to Bellwood in ten years. However, brand image is being considered as a risk, due to the supervillain Zombozo welding his Ferris Wheel to the ground five years ago and making it near impossible to remove. Architects and engineers are still trying to determine how to bring the Wheel down, as the structure itself appears to be made of Promethium, one of the strongest and most durable metals on Earth.

OFFWORLD PLAZA - Grandpa Max; Seeing humanity's future in the stars, Offworld Plaza was setup in a partnership between Dexlabs, NASA, and Providence whilst being overseen by the Department of Metahuman Affairs and Abnormalities. Offworld Plaza is meant to be the world's first spaceport, with a Dexlabs-modified STS shuttle meant to be the world's first form of public space travel. The project has seen backing from several Bellwood residents, including Ben 10 himself and partners included, and several alien citizens amongst the population. This is being seen as the foremost attempt to fully engage Earth with the larger galactic community.

BELLWOOD SUBURBS/URBAN NEIGHBORHOODS;

- Madison Valley - Ben 10; This mostly quiet neighborhood is close to the Peach Creek community, and is notable for being the birthplace of Ben 10 himself. The neighborhood has received a lot of attention since his public debut last year.

-- Residents of this neighborhood continue to search for Gwen Tennyson, cousin of Ben 10 and former partner in crimefighting. Gwen had reportedly manifested something akin to alien powers, due to alien heritage in the family, and disappeared soon after a conflict involving the Ship-It Corporation and an invasive race of microchips. The search has been continuing for 4 months, and we send the Tennyson family our best wishes.

- Gallagher Commons/Sector V - KND; Home to Benedict Uno, this proud neighborhood prides itself of the progress brought about by its educational system, confident in the molding and shaping of young minds for the larger world. To that, Gallagher Commons also takes pride in its large park statue dedicated to the various superheroes of the world (though due to the lack of heroes in these suburbs, it has yet to be adorned with any holograms or statues). This monument, christened as "Hero's Square", has been the sight of attraction to many, though children seem displeased with the amount of attention it receives, but who cares about them, right?

- Bellwood Sheriff's Department received more reports of angry parents complaining about their kids' whereabouts after school; reports include children whispering secret codes and messages, sneaking out at night, raiding closets of random neighbors of varying ages, and mention of weapons storage in a treehouse. These reports have been dismissed as a case of kids being kids, and parents being parents. Though the mention of a treehouse caught their eye, as there are no reported treehouses in the entire Gallagher neighborhood.

- Peach Creek Estates - The Eds, Rolf, the Urban Rangers; Peach Creek Estates has been a foundation of the Bellwood suburbs for as long as it could remember, founded shortly after the city was built, Peach Creek retains its reputation as the most normal suburb in the entire country, even as the larger city stepped into the larger and more unexpected world. The center of our neighborhood lies in the Peach Creek Commons, a Cul-De-Sac with a loving community that never expect anything out of the ordinary.

-- The Bellwood educational board was happy and elated to give a $100,000 research grant to 16-year old Eddward Zimintator, affectionately known as "Double-D" by his neighbors and friends, for outstanding scientific papers on the applications of nanites towards the reduction of cancer cells, and the correlation between nuclear energy and dark matter. Dexlabs and Mandark Industries, tech companies from Siyenn City, helped pay for the grant, and Mr. Zimintator was excited to have received the honor as opposed to the money. Double-D expressed worry that the large sum of money would be taken advantage of by his friends.

- Bravo Beach City - (formerly) Steven Universe, the Crystal Gems; Bravo Beach City, rechristened after philanthropist and entrepreneur Bunny Bravo, has a history spanning 2 whole centuries, beginning in 1814 with Captain William Dewey founding the city. The city has been under the protection of an alien team dubbed the Crystal Gems, who protected this sub-city of Bellwood for over 200 years since they arrived on Earth. This town has seen alien invasions of lovecraftian/angelic varieties and universe-ending catastrophes unlike any other, and yet it pulled through without the presence of Ben 10. That's worth a look-(#KeepBeachCityWeird - Ronaldo F.)

- Grover Mill - The Amalgam Kids; [REDACTED]

ASTORIA GROUNDS - The Saturdays; Located on the edge of the Pacific Coast, Astoria Grounds was once home to reputable cryptozoologist Doctor Solomon Saturday and his family. After their mansion here was destroyed, the Saturdays maintained operations here by means of their blimp. Astoria has since seen a level of peace unheard of. We have great TV too, renowned for various movie production studios located right here, such as Sumo Slammers: Legends, Weird World (formerly), Tiny'Mon: The Live Adventure, and other great content!

BELLWOOD MOUNTAINS - Camp Kidney, Acorn Flats; Bordering the state of Oregon, the Bellwood Mountains offer citizens a fantastic night-sky view, and a lovely day for campers. The site was recently chosen as the new location for several Midwest-based Summer Camps, such as Camp Kidney and the Acorn Flats Scouts. Originally located in Northern Wisconsin, the Camps were relocated to the West after dangerous reports of robots and monsters were coming in from the nearby state of Illinois, as well as various surreal reports from the nearby city of Elmore. Amongst the Bellwood mountains are the Pimpleback Mountains, Mount Blackhead, and a forest noted for various amounts of exposure to unstable nanites; said site is also reported to be a major hotspot for cryptid activity. Be wary of entering this Twisted Forest.

SHARED LOCATIONS:

- CITY SQUARE (Currently under construction); As part of the Movement Ink Initiative, the Three Sister Cities of California are coming together under a united cause: to open new avenues of business and provide a safe and healthy environment for all. Meant to be the most technologically advanced area between all three cities. The Movement Ink Initiative will also see construction of a center studio to foster all creative and health-related activities.

OTHER LOCATIONS OF INTEREST: (INFORMATION TO BE UPDATED BY DHAWAR AIRLINES)

NOWHERE, LAS VEGAS - Agents Black and White; [REDACTED]

- Area [REDACTED]

PORKBELLY CITY, ALBERTA - Johnny Test; Alberta's least notable city, built upon the morally dubious legs of the meat-grinding industry, has seen a surprising rise in the extraordinary over the last five years, with various mutations and technologically influenced threats appearing over time. More often than not, a kid from our suburbs has to save the day, but it also happens to be his fault. For Porkbelly, things just seem to balance out.

-- Congratulations to local scientists Susan and Mary Test for getting jobs in the states with Dexlabs! We'll miss you while you're away very much! Just don't blow anyone up and don't cause a massive chemical accident!

SOUTHEAST UTAH - Rex, Providence; [REDACTED]

ORCHID BAY, SAN FRANCISCO - [SPOILER]; Arguably the second largest district of the city, this beach-side town is big enough to call itself a city on its own. Renowned for its beach city theme and harbor history, Orchid Bay has been a cultural diaspora, giving children a welcome touch of life from all areas and ethnicities. Admittedly, there have been supernatural occurrences here and there, but it's not like an ice castle is going to rise out of the water.

MARZIPAN CITY, VLATAVA- N/A; This small European city in the Romanian Province of Vlatava is well-known for being home to Mung Daal's Catering Company, one of the world's tastiest European cuisine menus. With their food and this city, you can never go wrong with your vacation.

-- Mung Daal has reportedly taken up a search for a potential apprentice. More details are to follow.

LANGLEY FALLS - CIA, Department of Metahuman Affairs and Abnormalities; [REDACTED]

If you've noticed any inaccuracies or liberties taken with these settings, then I apologize for the liberties taken to make all of this work. When I started my story, my aim was to tell the most grounded FusionFall story I possibly could, which meant that to realistically illustrate the various shows of CN in the same setting and together, I had to change various tiny details (such as the location of Camp Kidney) or massive details (such as moving Steven Universe from the East Coast to the West Coast). Really sorry about that. I wasn't intent on simply transposing the map from FusionFall, which would have simply been mashing all the locations together. Each show has its own unique setting, some of which are integral to the shows' aesthetic. I wanted to honor that as much as possible, and every major change made hurt to make, especially since it fits into the grander plan.

Now obviously, scenic descriptions aren't going to be much help, but since I can't really draw out a map of the CNU’s California here, I'd like to direct you to my associated Deviantart page: https://www.deviantart.com/noahvilgaxsane. I might be able to draw out the map and post it there.

If you've already clicked, you might notice that I've created a non-spoiler wallpaper for this wonderful project! Not just for FusionFall, but for the series I have planned as a whole.

Thank you all for letting me give you the layout of the Cartoon Network World so far, and I'll see you guys in Chapter 7, written on Fanfiction.net. Make sure to leave a review and follow the story if you’re interested!

#cartoon network universe #earth one #fusionfall #fanfiction #fanfiction advertisement #commercial break #new map #new world #remember to review #dexters laboratory #ben 10 #powerpuff girls #samurai jack #lots more #worldbuilding

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theaurorfileshq · 4 years ago

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V E S P E R B R A N W E N / A U R O R C O R P O R A L

AGE: Thirty

BADGE NUMBER: U73E82

BLOODSTATUS: Pureblood

GENDER/PRONOUNS: Genderfluid, They/Them

IDENTIFYING FEATURES: White Serpent Tattoo on Their Upper Arm, Designer Leather Jackets, Tight Jeans

STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES:

(+): Metamorphmagus, Offensive Magic, People Skills

(-): Memory Problems, Defensive Magic, Impatient and Quick to Make Reckless Decisions

BACKGROUND:

(tw: abuse, mind control/manipulation )

(i.) –– waking up.

There’s confusion, when they wake up at the hospital. A strange white room. Strange white sheets. A head that feels like cotton. A hospital bracelet around their wrist that says Jane Doe, which is –– which doesn’t sit easy in their chest. They don’t know what else should be written there, they don’t know a lot of things that they probably should.

They open their eyes, and they look around in confusion, and there’s a man sitting asleep in the chair beside their bed. He looks tired and gentle, looks dear and worried, and they have absolutely no idea who he is. In his sleep he looks peaceful, and they feel unsettled and relaxed all at once. There are warring instincts in their confused mind that warn them against him, in the same moment they feel cared for.

The nurses are kind, the doctors are kinder. It’s a very nice hospital, and they have magic at their very fingertips. When they ask who the man is, they’re told that his name is Rafael, and he’s the one who brought them here. He’s a government official. Very important. Very well respected. Very powerful. sRafael de la Cruz comes to see them every day, and so the story unfolds.

They are a lost and damaged bird, and he found them on the streets. Wandering, cold, confused. Empty headed and hurt. They must have been attacked, someone must have hurt them, and someone must have obliviated them afterwards. The damage was vast, and that’s why they don’t remember who they are, where they are. The medi-wix’s that work on their case are hopeful that with time, it will come back.

(ii.) –– rebirth.

Not much comes back at all. A name. Vesper. They pick the surname on their own, something that sounds cool, something that they see in one of the magazines that sits beside their bed. Bright, pastel things that Rafael bought for them to read. Vesper Branwen feels like an identity, and Rafael feels like a friend.

They aren’t sure why he wastes his time on them. Why he comes to see them every day, why he’s paying for the best of care. He tells them that he’s fond of them, that he could have never abandoned someone who needed help. He has a glint in his eyes, and a smile on his face, and he brushes their hair away from their face. The warring instincts inside them have leveled out, and more than anything they’re glad that someone cares about them.

Things blossom fast, with them and Rafael. It starts when a nurse tells them that they’re ‘just the cutest couple,’ and shifts into lightspeed when Vesper gets released from the hospital. They need somewhere to stay, and Rafael rents them a room in a hotel that feels far too nice for them. They have nothing, so they accept it, so they let Rafael buy them pretty dresses and nice food, a place to lay their head. They have no one, so they’re breathlessly glad when Rafael presses a gentle kiss against their lips.

Their entire life is in his hands, but his hands seem strong and safe, and Vesper trusts him. It’s like a fairytale, so people say. Vesper must feel like the luckiest person on earth. And they do.

Within two months, Vesper moves in with him. Within six, they’re engaged. They feel perfectly safe and perfectly kept, neatly tidied away. They don’t have to worry about who they were, Rafael tells them, because they’re making him the happiest man in the world. So suddenly, all Vesper cares about is making him happy.

Rafael’s family is terrifying, and wedding planning is a blur. Vesper lets their soon-to-be mother in law do most of the planning. Lets her pick the flowers. Lets her pick the dress. Lets her tell Vesper how to act, what’s expected of Rafael’s wife. It’s almost nice to have the rules neatly laid out for them. They learn how to smile just right. They learn what to say and how exactly they’re supposed to look. Raf likes their hair blonde, so they keep it that way. Raf likes them soft around the edges. Raf likes them pretty. They could be different if they wanted, they can look however they dream, but they stay the way that Raf likes them –– at least while people are looking.

Sometimes they look like someone else. Sharper edges. Darker hair. Masculine, still pretty, they hope. Rafael doesn’t like that as much, so they save it for their private hours, hoard it carefully away. They stand and look in the mirror, at this familiar yet alien face, and feel an ache. They stand and try on the pretty dresses and pretty underwear, and wonder if they wouldn’t like to wear other things sometimes.

But what they want isn’t important, and they should be happy with what they get. That’s what Rafael snapped at them, the one time they had asked. They should be grateful for what he spent his money on, just for them, when he asked for so little in return.

(iii.) –– becoming.

It’s Julián –– brother in law, friend, something dear and unexpected –– that gives them the idea to become an Auror. While their past remained cloudy, their knowledge of magic came back like muscle memory. They were proficient, and they had skills, and they were bored out of their mind. Alone for hours in that big house, waiting for Rafael to come home. The quiet suffocates them, leaves them dazed and lonely and at odds with the world. It makes them feel like a ghost, and they wonder if that isn’t what they are. A lost thing. A shadow. A pretender.

They’re choking with a feeling of wrongness, the sensation of something being not quite right. Sometimes they look at Rafael and they feel scared, sometimes they wake up and feel like they’re trapped. They fill out the application for auror training in a fit of desperation, and then forget about it for three days. They do that, sometimes. Go to sleep and then forget, time slipping away from them, moments lost to whatever is wrong with their brain. Sometimes, they think they’re losing their mind. At their most paranoid, they think that someone is stealing it from them. Rafael tells the family that Vesper is delicate, something to be treated with kid gloves. Prone to forgetful episodes, prone to flights of fancy, prone to sullen moods and depressive periods. And people say how kind he is, to put up with them. People look at Vesper like they’re very lucky, like they’re a burden on a kind man, and they feel it cut down to the soul. They have a simple, pretty life, and they should be grateful.

They find the application tucked away in their drawer, and remember filling it out only when they’ve reread it, only when they’ve traced their signature with a fingertip. They submit it, and don’t tell Rafael until they’ve been accepted. It feels like a leap of faith, like they’re a fledgling bird jumping from the nest, unsure if their wings are strong enough to carry them.

They tell Julián, before they tell anyone else. Dearest brother in law, with the look in his eyes like he genuinely believes in them. It’s strange. They don’t think Julián looks at many other people in the family that way. But then again, Vesper is kinder to him than most people. They have a long history now of sharing smiles, snarky comments, finding each other at parties. He’s the one who see’s their other face, who lets them be that person for a few hours every now and then. Julián doesn’t prefer the pretty armor. They feel proud when they tell him they’ve been accepted, that they’re going to the Academy. Vesper needs him to tell them it’s a good idea again, that this is something they’re allowed to do, allowed to have.

Rafael is explosively angry, for a while. A feeling of betrayal, a feeling of anger, of being lied to. He’s always liked Vesper small, after all. Always liked them to be within arms reach, to be waiting when he came through the door. He liked it when they shaped themself for him, so they fit perfectly into his hands. Rafael expects Vesper to back out, they know. Expects them to turn down the Academy at his command. And he’s angry when they don’t. Explosively angry, violently angry, smashed glasses and harsh hands. They don’t know what strange bravery fosters itself in their heart, but they remember Julián’s supportive eyes and they don’t give it up. He comes around in the end, of course he does. He loves them, after all. And they still feel bad for hurting him. I just worry about you, he says, brushing their hair away from their face. What if you get hurt? And it’s an argument, it’s a fight, but they find their compromise and they make it work.

They wear a different face at the Academy, at work. Shift back and forth with so much frequency that it becomes second nature to them. Their perfect blonde persona didn’t feel like the truest self – or not the only true version of themselves. They cultivate dark hair and a sharp smile, clothes that will stand up to the ware and tear of training. They thrive at the academy, and they thrive after, in a certain sense.

Things get better outside the house, they aren’t as bored anymore, their confidence grows and their personality blooms. Things get worse at home, sometimes. Conflict comes and goes in waves. Raf is more critical than ever, and Vesper can never do anything right. There are stony silences and harsher moods, and he wraps rough hands around their wrists now, makes them feel smaller than they ever have before. He leaves bruises against their skin, and they feel frantic with it all –– because Rafael loving them is the most important thing, because they’re nothing without him, because he’s the center of the universe and he likes it that way. So they try harder, they fight more for the balance. They don’t talk about work and they make sure they’re good, when they’re home, exactly who he wants them to be.

They start at Pacific Squad early. A metamorphmagus with their innate and mindless skill is an asset. They’re good at magic and they can think quickly on their feet. People think they’ll go far. They hope so. As hard as it is to navigate around Rafael’s feelings, they feel for the first time like their life is their own, like they own some part of it. They get their own money, and buy clothes that he’d hate to see them in –– to be kept an open secret, changed out of before Rafael will talk to them for the evening, before he’ll really look at them.

They become a true shapeshifter, a double of themself. There’s Vesper Branwen, auror. And there’s Vesper Branwen, trophy wife.

(iv.) –– fractures.

Everything changes, and nothing does. Vesper goes to work and thrives. Rafael disapproves and Vesper makes up for it with demure, submissive looks, with oral sex and anything else that he wants. He hurts them in some small ways, every now and then, but that’s okay. It’s what they deserve. They still wake up sometimes, from nightmares that seem cyclical and scheduled. Their depressive and unhinged episodes bring nightmares, bring fear and paranoia and they wake up in cold sweats and feel so scared of Rafael that they can’t breathe.

And then things get foggy, for a day or two. Sometimes, they wake up and feel like they’ve forgotten everything they knew, everything they were supposed to do. Rafael brushes their hair and changes them, and sends them off to work. They forget a name here, have to re-read a file for the case they’ve been working on for weeks. It comes back, slowly but surely. People are used to Vesper being weak, being foggy and ditzy in the head every now and then. So their heart doesn’t flail in panic when they look at a dear friend and their brain halts, when they have to smile and say ‘hey, you’, until the name comes back to them hours later. They never forget anything that gets them in trouble, and so it doesn’t really matter.

They work and they climb ranks and they still feel like a ghost, sometimes. They’re notoriously reckless in the field, and it holds them back. Vesper will do anything to solve a case, anything to save a life, including die. It leads to frustration, in the squad. This startling concept that Vesper has some kind of death wish –– and maybe they do, for a minute there. Because what do they really have to live for? It all changes, anyway, they learn to live for something.

The pregnancy is unexpected. Vesper doesn’t remember if they were trying or not, doesn’t remember exactly when it happened. They aren’t sure if they wanted a baby, so it must have been an accident. A happy accident, they suppose. Rafael is pleased. Happy with them, for once. They’ve done something right. They’ll give him a baby and be a mother, raise a perfect child that will grow up to be just like him. Vesper doesn’t know if they’re happy about it, themself, but then that makes them feel sick with guilt.

They decide that they have to be happy, there isn’t any other choice. Rafael tells them to do less work in the field, when they find out. So they do paperwork at their desk, for the most part. And the squad gets used to Vesper with soft features and blonde hair, a younger face. Because it would feel wrong, somehow, to look like someone Rafael hated while they were pregnant. It feels wrong regardless, but that’s a sensation that they can try to cover up.

It’s a distressing pregnancy, near the end. They’re sentenced to bed rest at the hospital, high blood pressure and risks they don’t really understand. Rafael could stay the night with them sometimes, but he doesn’t. He goes home. The wrongness of their life seems heightened in those weeks, in that room. When the baby comes, it feels like Vesper is having some kind of mental breakdown. They want their mother, someone they don’t even remember. They feel wrong and out of place, and they tell Julián because strangely they trust him. They whisper that they’re not supposed to be here, that they’re scared. In some fit of delirium, they make him promise to look after the baby, when something bad happens to them.

They feel better in a day or two. After a long nights sleep, they wake and their head feels foggy again, a feeling that lingers for a day or two. But they aren’t upset anymore, and it doesn’t feel wrong. Their world is narrowed down to a pinpoint, to a baby that someone places in their arms. Pandora Branwen de la Cruz. She’s such a tiny baby, the smallest thing on earth. Vesper loves her dearly, feels a hook in their heart that they’ll never be able to pull out again.

Vesper wants so badly to be a good mother, but in reality it’s hard. They’ve always been a delicate soul, after all, as Rafael said. In need of gentle handling. Prone to sullen silences and depressive moods, forgetful spells. Their moments alone with Pandora are rare, and Rafael hires a nanny when they get home from the hospital with her. They spend a long maternity leave sharing space with a woman far too stern, in their mind, sharing the baby they want to hoard selfishly for themself. It’s just one of those things that they learn to accept, that they have to. They don’t have any other options, don’t have any other choices.

In a way, going back to work is a relief. A chance to step into skin they haven’t had the privilege of in months, a chance to spend real time with people who love them in different and interesting ways. They’re more careful now, than they were before, death wish faded away fast. Less reckless, still hoping to be good for something, still hoping to be a person in charge of their own existence, in some small way.

#vesper branwen #auror #written by wren

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sciencespies · 4 years ago

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How Apollo 8 Delivered Christmas Eve Peace and Understanding to the World

https://sciencespies.com/history/how-apollo-8-delivered-christmas-eve-peace-and-understanding-to-the-world/

How Apollo 8 Delivered Christmas Eve Peace and Understanding to the World

It was the final months of 1968 and throughout the year, the stability of American democracy had been called into question again and again. When Reverend Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated in Memphis in April, civil unrest erupted throughout the United States. The “confidence of America’s allies and friends around the world” had been shaken, Leonard Marks, the United States Information Agency (USIA) director told President Lyndon B. Johnson. “We have suffered a blow from which it will take a long time to recover.”

Two months later, on the other side of the country, presidential hopeful Robert F. Kennedy was fatally shot shortly after he made his California Democratic primary victory speech. Then, in late August, violent clashes between protestors and police at the Democratic National Convention broke out in Chicago, casting more doubt on the U.S. political system. Parallels were quickly drawn between the Chicago riots and the Soviet Union’s suppression of the Prague Spring that same month. At the end of the year the USIA concluded that the Vietnam War, protests, assassinations and upheaval throughout the country led “many persons abroad to question whether the vaunted American system might be on the verge of decay and disintegration.”

Tear gas, body counts, protests and riots all appeared on television sets around the globe and in international newspapers. The House of Representatives Foreign Affairs Subcommittee observed that “the mental picture that many foreigners have of our nation is increasingly that of a violent, lawless, overbearing, even sick society.”

Operation Moonglow: A Political History of Project Apollo

Since July 1969, Neil Armstrong’s first step on the Moon has represented the pinnacle of American space exploration and a grand scientific achievement. Yet, as Smithsonian curator Teasel Muir-Harmony argues in Operation Moonglow, its primary purpose wasn’t advancing science. Rather, it was part of a political strategy to build a global coalition. Starting with President John F. Kennedy’s 1961 decision to send astronauts to the Moon to promote American “freedom” over Soviet “tyranny,” Project Apollo was central to American foreign relations.

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Read More About Apollo 8

Then, in late December, Apollo 8 offered an antidote: an image of a nation striving for grand goals, inclusive and focused on peace and unity. The crew’s broadcasts from the moon would capture the attention of a billion people worldwide. Inclusive language during the broadcasts, as well as the soon-to-be-iconic photo Earthrise, amplified the USIA and State Department messaging that the American space program was “for all mankind.” When the world felt divided—between democracy and Communism, among generations, races and genders—it would be Apollo 8 that would offer a moment of unity and a sense of connection.

From the start, Apollo 8 commander Frank Borman understood his flight and then later promotion of the space program abroad as part of his service to the country, not as a purely scientific pursuit: “If you think I would’ve devoted that much of my life simply to exploration or science, I wouldn’t have, I’m not built that way, that’s not my thing.” The cold war threatened the security of the U. S., and his role as an astronaut was part of confronting that threat, lessening Soviet influence on the geopolitical landscape.

Shortly before his launch, as Borman engrossed himself in training, his phone rang. It was Julian Scheer, NASA’s deputy administrator for public affairs.

“Look, Frank,” Borman recalled Scheer explaining. “We’ve determined that you’ll be circling the Moon on Christmas Eve and we’ve scheduled one of the television broadcasts from Apollo 8 around that time.” Scheer pointed out that more people would hear the crew’s voices than had heard any voice in history. NASA estimated that a billion people around the world would be following the flight. He then added the simple but imposing instruction: “So, we want you to say something appropriate.”

One in four people on Earth—roughly a billion people spread among 64 countries—listened to the broadcast on Christmas Eve from Apollo 8 (from left: James A. Lovell Jr., command module pilot; William A. Anders, lunar module pilot; and Frank Borman, commander).

(NASA S68-50265)

For help, Borman turned to his friend Simon Bourgin, the USIA science advisor. The two had become close during the Gemini 7 diplomatic tour of Asia. When Borman prepared for interviews, he would ask Bourgin for advice.

Bourgin suggested a simple and short broadcast. “With six television transmissions, you are overexposed . . . and with that much time you could be tempted to pad, ham it up, or try to entertain. Avoid all of these.” In other words, he explained, “Keep your audience hungry.”

For the Christmas Eve broadcast, start with a description of what you see, he suggested: “I have a feeling that any direct message that you might compose reflecting on Christmas Eve, conditions on Earth, and the way you feel about it at the moon, could get awfully sticky; it would be difficult not to sound pretentious or patronizing.” In its place, end with a quotation.

Bourgin had called his friend Joe Laitin, assistant to the director of the Bureau of the Budget, and his wife, Christine, for advice. Christine came up with the idea of reading Genesis. “Why don’t you begin at the beginning?” she asked.

The first ten verses of Genesis from the Old Testament would have “universal appeal and a sense of reverence that is called for,” agreed Bourgin. As he told Borman, “About the only thing I can think of to match the majesty of the occasion, and the evening, is to read the opening lines of Genesis.” When Borman shared the idea with crewmates James Lovell and William Anders, they also agreed. The passage, typed on fireproof paper, was inserted into the Apollo 8 flight plan.

On December 21, like much of the nation, the first thing on President Lynden B. Johnson’s agenda was to watch the early-morning launch of Apollo 8. At 7:51 a.m. EST, Borman, Lovell and Anders became the first humans to ride the huge Saturn V rocket into space, one of countless firsts that the astronauts would claim on the mission. Susan Borman, Frank’s wife, found it “awesome . . . like watching the Empire State Building taking off.” As the spacecraft glided out toward the stars, the astronauts departed the Earth and stopped experiencing sunrises and sunsets. Another first.

An entry pass to the viewing stand for the Apollo 8 launch at Kennedy Space Center, December 21, 1968, is held in the collections of the Smithsonian’s National Air and Space Museum.

(NASM)

Also in the museum’s collections is Apollo 8 astronaut William Anders’ spacesuit, engineered to provide a life-sustaining environment during unpressurized spacecraft operation.

(NASM)

Lunar module pilot William Anders wore this intra-vehicular glove during the launch of Apollo 8.

(NASM)

The Genesis scripture that the astronauts read on Christmas Eve 1968 can be found neatly typed in the pages of the Apollo 8 flight plan.

(NASM, courtesy of the Alder Planetarium and Astronomy Museum)

When Apollo 8 astronauts splashed down on December 27, 1968, they were airlifted safely aboard this rescue net to hovering Navy helicopters.

(NASM)

The image Earthrise, taken aboard Apollo 8, swiftly became a culture touchstone, appearing on this bumpersticker and elsewhere across the American landscape.

(NASM)

The mission would prove a boon for American ambassadors and other officials, who were invited by local media for interviews on the flight. “An excellent opportunity to get positive exposure through a variety of media in many countries,” the USIA advised. The agency would record the heaviest placement of its media material in memory, providing hundreds of photos, thousands of feet of TV film, and “reams of copy” to local newspaper, radio and television outlets around the world.

The Voice of America radio network provided live coverage of each stage of the mission, from launch to splashdown, in English, Chinese, Russian, Spanish, Portuguese and Arabic. American embassies in Eastern Europe assembled exhibits in their windows with pictorial explanations and a step-by-step schedule of the flight. As the crew completed stages of the mission, embassy staff would post announcements. The U.S. Embassy in Sofia, Bulgaria, reported that the window display “drew exceptionally large crowds, despite cold and snow.” In warmer climes, inhabitants of Martinique followed radio coverage of the flight so carefully that consulate personnel reported walking down the street and hearing status updates from shopkeepers and acquaintances.

Apollo 8 reached the moon three days later. The crew fired the service module engine, slowing the spacecraft down just enough to put it into orbit around another celestial body, another first. On the fourth orbit, Borman rotated the spacecraft, tilting its nose back toward Earth. Its small windows framed the Earth seemingly rising above the lunar horizon. The view caught the crew by surprise, even though mission planners had anticipated that the moment would come.

“Look at that picture over there!” Anders called out. “Here’s the Earth coming up. Wow, is that pretty!” With a Hasselblad camera in hand, Anders snapped a photo. Most of the photography scheduled for the flight focused on the moon. NASA needed detailed images of potential landing sites for future missions. As Anders watched the Earth rise above the lunar horizon, the black-and-white film magazine mounted to the camera’s boxy body would not do. Only color film could capture the contrast of the gray moon and the bright-blue Earth that Borman called “the most beautiful, heart-catching sight of my life.” Anders called out, “You got a color film, Jim? Hand me that roll of color quick, will you . . . hurry up!” After a swift swap of film magazines, Anders started snapping again.

“Look at that picture over there!” Anders called out. “Here’s the Earth coming up. Wow, is that pretty!” The image Earthrise became one of the most famous of the Space Age.

(NASA )

He caught the Earth above the gray-chalky lunar horizon, the sun illuminating parts of Africa and South America. Eddying clouds suggested an alive, dynamic planet. Earthrise, as the photograph would come to be known, amplified the beauty—and rarity—of humans’ home planet. Shortly after the crew splashed down a few days later, this photograph would grace the front page of newspapers around the world and become one of the most famous images of the Space Age.

Food packed for the crew that day was tied up in fireproof plastic green ribbons and labeled “Merry Christmas.” Inside Borman, Anders and Lovell found turkey with gravy and a fruit-cake coated with gelatin to prevent crumbs from floating into the spacecraft’s systems.

At 9:30 p.m., during the second-to-last lunar orbit of the flight, the crew began their last broadcast from the moon. Taking a cue from Bourgin, they turned the camera toward the moon and took turns describing their perspectives. Borman called the moon a “vast, lonely, forbidding-type existence, or expanse of nothing, that looks rather like clouds.” Lovell agreed, commenting that “the vast loneliness up here of the Moon is awe inspiring, and it makes you realize just what you have back there on Earth.” Anders added, “The sky up here is also rather forbidding, foreboding expanse of blackness, with no stars visible.”

“We are now approaching lunar sunrise,” Anders explained to the television and radio audiences around the world. “For all the people back on Earth, the crew of Apollo 8 have a message that we would like to send to you.” Minutes before the spacecraft slipped behind the moon for the last time, the crew took turns reading from Genesis.

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“In the beginning, God created the heaven and the Earth,” Anders read.

Borman ended the passage, adding “and from the crew of Apollo 8, we close with good night, good luck, Merry Christmas, and God bless all of you—all of you on the good Earth.”

Around the world, television sets glowed with the broadcast. One in four people on Earth—roughly a billion people spread among 64 countries—listened to the reading. Within 24 hours, recorded broadcasts of the address from the moon reached people in another 30 countries. Audiences in North and South America as well as Europe tuned in live thanks to the recently launched Intelsat 3 satellite. Comsat put the satellite into operation a week ahead of schedule so that international audiences could follow the flight.

Frank Borman had at first been skeptical about the addition of heavy television equipment on missions because weight and time were at a premium. But the broadcast, and world reaction, would change his mind. “Probably [the] most important part of space,” he later reflected, “in view of [the] impact on people of the world.”

Reactions to the telecast were unprecedented, and the USIA won a significant public diplomacy victory with the carefully chosen, inclusive wording of the Christmas Eve address. A BBC correspondent commented that the reading “struck on instantly as a stroke of genius.”

In Latin America alone, 1,353 stations carried the VOA broadcast, breaking records. Even Radio Havana picked up VOA coverage, an anomaly for the official Cuban-government–run station known for transmitting programming created by the North Vietnamese, North Koreans and Russians. The station cheered the mission as “a total success.” Borman received some 100,000 letters of appreciation for the Christmas Eve broadcast from around the world, with just 34 letters making complaint.

The Apollo 8 crew had traveled farther and faster than any humans in history. They saw what no other eyes had seen: the far side of the moon, and the Earth from a great distance, blue and white and shining. They became the first humans to ride the mighty Saturn V rocket, break the bonds of Earth’s physical pull, and enter the gravitational field of another celestial body. But the mission, and the program more generally, “did much more than just advance the country scientifically and technically,” Borman, argued. “It advanced it—in my opinion—diplomatically just as much. It cast the country in a favorable light, at a time when there were many things that cast it in an unfavorable light.”

On Christmas Day, the front page of the New York Times carried an essay by the poet Archibald MacLeish inspired by the mission: “To see the earth as it truly is, small blue and beautiful in that eternal silence where it floats, is to see ourselves as riders on the earth together, brothers on that bright loveliness in the eternal cold—brothers who know now they are truly brothers.”

#History

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impalalord · 6 years ago

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I didn’t understand why they did it at first, I probably still don’t. I used to live on a farm on Moloch V. Me and my mate, Kina, were bought to work there. It was a Jelk couple, and I thought that they treated us right, they gave us food and shelter. They even gave us one of their own vidscreens for our room occasionally. We were treated better than most Vikka. It was a good life. Then I saw it on the news, the Conglomerate had made contact with a new species. I thought they looked like furless Strossansians when i first saw them, only a lot bigger. Humans, they called themselves.

First contact is fairly rare but most people have seen at least one in their lifespan. I was there when the Dryzal joined the universal community so I knew what was coming. They needed to build working translators, establish currency exchanges and connect them to the extranet before the humans could properly interact with the rest of the galaxy. The whole process took at least 3 cycles, but it wouldn’t be perfect until about 30-40 cycles.

The strange things didn’t start happening until 4 cycles later, when the first human world was connected with the extranet. I was lying down on my bed, with Kina tending to my body. I accidentally left the gates open and one of the Drucs ran onto the road. You can guess what happened next. My Masters punished me, which I probably deserved. Drucs are expensive to grow after all. Anyway, that was when I saw it on the news. The humans had read about servitude on the extranet and they were mad. Very mad. Madder than my Masters. Maybe they never had servitude on their homeworld, but wanted their own Vikka? Well, it’s a bit self entitled to expect people to give them Vikka. They started shouting at the Council Meetings, hundreds of humans travelled to the capital, and angry about something. At the time I thought they were being ungrateful, the Conglomerate had opened up to them, and they in turn spit in the Conglomerates face. It was strange.

Things started escalating after that. The humans began threatening violence, I still didn’t understand why they didn’t just buy Vikka. The Conglomerate shrugged of course, I mean these humans couldn’t beat the Masters. The Conglomerate had always been there.

Soon my mate was carrying my child. We began worrying. If the Masters found out, they would kill her. I didn’t know what to do. We decided to hide it, but in a cycle it was going to become obvious. That was when the humans began their war.

They started fighting against the Conglomerate, targeting servitude centers and stealing the Vikka. Did they want us for themselves? They were showing footage of a taken servitude center, the press were allowed in. The translators were still buggy but I could understand most of it. A human was talking about things like ‘rights’ and ‘equals’. Vikka weren’t allowed to get an education so I couldn’t understand but I knew that equals was a math thing. Then he said something, directing it at Vikka everywhere. It translated perfectly, but I didn’t understand the meaning at the time, “We are all born free and equal.”

I figured it didn’t matter anyway, the humans would be destroyed by the conglomerate. I was wrong.

I didn’t know this at the time, but the humans grew up on war. There was always war on their world, and it didn’t end until hundreds of cycles after they left their solar system. War was all they knew until the ‘Peace Era’ as they called it. I guess that’s why they decided to fight. Doing nothing was alien to them, I suppose going to war must have felt like coming home.

Of course I didn’t know this at the time, so when it was shown that the humans were managing to survive in their fight. Not only that, but it looked like some Vikka were fighting alongside them. I couldn’t believe my eyes. This wasn’t good news, and it only added to the stress of my mate. We still didn’t know what we would do. It didn’t matter, because the masters found out anyway.

I thank the humans for what happened next. I didn’t really understand it, but then freeing servitude centers meant that my mate became more valuable, so they spared her life. Instead they would keep her and sell our child. We were happy that we were spared.

The humans did something even more impossible, they stopped simply surviving their battles against Conglomerate troops and began winning. They pushed themselves all the way into the central planets, and even made it to Moloch V. I saw their drop pods, it was as if the stars themselves were falling from the heavens. Me, my mate, and our masters all went into a makeshift underground bunker when we saw them coming.Eventually the humans were in the house. We tried to keep as quiet as possible so they wouldn’t find us, but it didn’t help, and they found us anyway. When they marched down the stairs with their projectile weapons, they looked like the beasts my mother told me stories about back at the servitude center. They were black all over their bodies, you couldn’t see their faces, you didn’t know where the weapon ended and the body began. They were not the same humans I had seen on the vidbox. One of my Masters grabbed me and forced me in front of him. He started shouting, “Stay back! Stay back or I swear I’ll cut him!”

The humans stared at me, probably waiting for their translators. Then they looked at each other and simply nodded.

A bright flash came from the end of their weapon-hands and the noise almost deafened me. My master dropped to the floor, while my other master shrieked which I thought would definitely deafen me. One of the humans grabbed my master and took her away.

The other human walked towards me. I stepped backwards, not knowing what he would do. That was when my mate started screaming, all the stress had caught up to our child. My translator kicked in. “Oh shit. JENKINS GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE, SHE'S GOING INTO LABOR!”

It’s been 10 cycles since that day. The humans won the war. Executed the heads of the conglomerate, put themselves on top and rewrote a bunch of laws, banning servitude. They created clinics that helped Vikka re-enter society, as citizens instead of slaves. Taught me how to do math, which was very useful, among other things. I get paid for my work now, and I can use it to buy nice things for my mate. I still don’t understand why they went out of their way to help us, why they sacrificed so many of their own kind to end something which has been going on for so long that nobody even thought to question it. But after watching my daughter go to her first day of school, I think I am close to understanding it.

#humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are weird #humans are space oddities #earth is space australia #space australia #space orcs #humanity #humans #space

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stillness-in-green · 4 years ago

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Changeling: The League (3/3)

Bonus Miscellanea! A sampler round of various other villains and some AU-of-the-AU versions of the story and characters, including some alternate takes on characters using other game lines from the World of Darkness.

This post is the last one I have in mind for the concept, but I hope everyone who was curious enough to read them enjoyed them. There’s some fun stuff in this post in particular, I think--the Word of Darkness really is a very versatile setting. Find the explanations and the League of Villains here, the follow-up with the Meta Liberation Army here, or just hit the jump for the bonus material.

THE MINIONS

All for One’s direct loyalists and followers. All are dual-kithed or otherwise eyebrow-raising in kith/seeming combination, and all have a high enough Wyrd that their kith abilities are starting to evolve--serving AFO does have its benefits. With AFO imprisoned back in Faerie and the cycle stalled out, AFO’s followers are finding themselves facing an unclear future, and so each is having to come up with what they want to do going forward. Mostly want Tomura to come back and get things moving again, having little sense that there is a world out there that’s more “real” than the one they currently inhabit.

Kurogiri

Type: Palewraith Darkling, Chatelaine dual kith. Once a caretaker for Tomura, he opts to find Tomura out in the real world in hopes of resuming that directive. When Tomura does not show even a shred of recognition, Kurogiri opts to set up a bar in the local Hedge, making himself “available.”

Mantle: Winter, season of secrecy. Has a servant’s circumspectness with a loyalist’s desire to keep his secrets, as well as a deep, very old melancholy that even he doesn’t really remember the reason for anymore.

Contracts: Fleeting Winter I, Sorrow-Frozen Winter I-III, Dream I-V, and Smoke I-IV. For Smoke, he has the old 4-dot Smoke-stepping clause rather than the more modern Murkblur, which is something of a tell regarding his true age.

Ujiko

Type: Chirurgeon Darkling, which shouldn’t actually be possible by the categorizations as the fae understand them. He’s been in AFO’s hands for a long time, though. Current fear: what’s going to happen to the realm if the cycle continues to stall? Gears can only grind against one another for so long before something explodes!

Mantle: Autumn. A mad scientist with a deep appreciation for breaking things open to find out how they tick.

Contracts: Artifice I-III, Shade & Spirit I-IV, Spellbound Autumn I-III, and Goblin Delayed Harm III.

Gigantomachia

Type: Stonebones Elemental, Gargantuan dual kith. AFO’s most loyal monster. Would have tried to find Shigaraki sooner, but he’s far too removed from the human he once was to be able to find his way through the Hedge without aid. Probably spends the first few parts of the story giving All Might trouble in Faerie.

Mantle: Courtless. Has no emotional affinities that don’t track back to All for One.

Contracts: Oath & Punishment I-V, Communion (Earth) I-III, and Stone I-V. Like Geten, a close replica of his canonical powerset.

OTHER VILLAINS

Muscular: Bloodbrute Ogre. Ex-gladiator; current terror.

Moonfish: Gristlegrinder Ogre. Current cannibal; also current terror.

Mustard: Blightbent Elemental. Looks cuter because he doesn’t have to wear the gas-mask to protect against his own fumes.

Stain: Razorhand Darkling, give or take a Pischacha dual kith. Broken very deeply by Arcadia from the strict and upright man he once was, but Lost society was pretty much created to provide a safe haven for that kind of damage. A Summer Court enforcer of some notoriety.

Gentle Criminal: Windwing Beast. Refuses to be ground-bound, and is posting videos of himself doing impossible stunts that are drawing some attention, for better or for worse.

La Brava: Drudge Wizened. Falls in love with Gentle for showing her that you don’t have to shrink into what other people tried to make of you. Has absolutely dyed her hair bright pink. Somehow amazing at stealth anyway.

Gag Inclusion That Makes No Sense With the Lore But Is Perfect Anyway So I’m Not Changing It:

Overhaul: “Don’t be ridiculous. There’s no such thing as magic.”

A banality-riddled Dauntain, from the previous incarnation of the game. This is how Magne survives--he doesn’t kill her, but rather nukes her glamour reserves/Wyrd score access so badly she has to spend the next three months in the motley’s Hollow living in as much fae decadence as they can afford her, dining on hedgefruit, pampering herself, and keeping up with her various dream pledges while she recovers.

ALTERNATE UNIVERSES, ALTERNATE TAKES

Hero Court, Villain Court: There is a version of the story where Heroes and Villains are old labels from a time when the freehold was built around a now-collapsed Sun Court/Moon Court dichotomy, headed up by All Might and All for One. In the days following the catastrophic last battle, changelings of the Hero Court and the Villain Court alike have begun picking up the pieces and realigned to what everyone hopes will be a more stable Seasonal Court model. Endeavor is the Summer King, a changeling who somehow had four three children when it’s all but unheard of to have even one.

Final Boss Shigaraki: There is a version of the story that centers on Deku, and in that version, what Shigaraki learns is this: everyone and everything has an end waiting for them somewhere. As the game story progresses through power creep and mounting stakes, dramatic revelations and shifting priorities, Shigaraki moves away from Autumn and becomes more attuned to the fatalistic but liberating philosophy of Dusk. As such, he gains the Entropy Contract clauses, I-V. In this fashion, Shigaraki is paralleled by Final Battle Deku, rising champion of the Dawn, who is likewise gaining mastery of the Contract of Shonen Protag Powers Potential. Will they be enemies in the end? Allies? Either way, their fates are connected.

Changeling All for One: There is a version of the story in which All Might and All for One are both changelings, in which the entirety of My Hero Academia is a story being played out in some far realm of Faerie. All for One here is not Shigaraki’s Keeper, but merely a mentor who, when expy!Kamino happens, takes the opportunity to get Shigaraki out, knowing that he himself has been gone from the world for far too long to ever make the return trip through the Thorns intact. In this version, All Might is an unknowing Loyalist who follows Shigaraki out, determined to capture him “for the good of society”--which would, of course, entail dragging him back to Faerie.

Destro the Revolutionary: There is a version of the story in which Desto is not one of the Gentry, but rather a changeling from years past, one who was spearheading a huge movement advocating that the Lost should reveal themselves to human society writ large--that Faerie predation could never be stopped as long as humanity didn’t know about it, and changelings had the power to, well, change that. And weren't they tired of living in hiding; didn't they wish they could tell their loved ones the truth? And that was a message that a lot of changelings liked, but it was also a message that terrified changelings in equal measure, and so in the end, an operative/operation from the Seasonal Court freehold put Destro down.

In that take, Re-Destro is a successor to Destro as someone who came out of a similar durance and the MLA is a group planning a retributive war against the Seasonal Courts for their perfidy. Shigaraki and the League could either stumble across the plot or be actively approached as a potentially sympathetic party after Shigaraki's relationship to AFO comes out and endangers his position in his own freehold.

Re-Destro the Prince: There is a version of the story in which Re-Destro is not a changeling at all, but rather a vampiric prince, heir to a forbidden blood discipline. He and his followers catch wind of the League motley: not vampires, but not normal humans, either. They seek the motley out to find out what their deal is and whether it will be a complication to the MLA’s plans. Vampires are far more immediately dangerous than changelings, but changelings have so many wonderful little tricks up their sleeve, especially against people who are careless with their battle banter. (But I’ll be real, I hardly know a thing about Vampire: The Requiem--I’m much more familiar with Masquerade. This version of the story mostly exists because I’m a Shigaraki/Re-Destro shipper and I am not immune to adventures in sexy blooddrinking.)

THE WIDE WORLD OF DARKNESS

There are many other spins one could put on various MHA characters that would be fun to explore. I kept all the relevant characters fae (or Fae) because if I started thinking about all the things the characters could be, I would actually never stop--and anyway, I’m more familiar with Old World of Darkness meta than I am New World of Darkness. A lot of the ideas were still fun, though, so for your perusal, here are some of the ones I came up with:

The Shie Hassaikai is an extremist Hunter cell dedicated to weeding out supernatural creatures of all sorts.

Ujiko is a wildly amoral retired Hunter running a mad scientist lab funded by dubiously sourced money from his fae patron, as long as he’s spending a requisite amount of time per month working on AFO’s projects.

There exists a Sin-Eater and his resident Geist who have become so tangled in each other that they no longer retain separate identities, and are now merely “Kurogiri.”

Kurogiri is a changeling. Yamada Hizashi is a Sin Eater. Aizawa Shouta is a Hunter, and he and Hizashi both are trying to dig up information on what happened to Shirakumo Oboro, but neither one of them is anywhere near getting at the truth of the matter. (This one might actually be true for the purposes of the main Changeling!AU story.)

Midoriya Izuru is a mortal taking his first, faltering steps into the great wide world. He’s had no durance, no first change, no sire, no awakening--he’s just a young man who stumbles across a secret and has to decide what to do with it.

#bnha #kurogiri #ujiko #gigantomachia #bnha stain #bnha overhaul #gentle criminal #la brava #vanguard action squad #changeling: the league #changeling: the lost #world of darkness #my writing

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thetrueghostqueen · 6 years ago

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Day One and Already a Bad First Impression- A Fated Prophecy

masterlist cover characters prologue chapter 1

Over the course of the week the Gods kids settled in. Most of them stayed in their lodgings and only spoke to each other. A few of them left and met some people. BamBam for instance met a group of girls who called themselves DreamCatchers.

The DreamCatchers were a seven girl coven of Dark witches. BamBam had to admit that they were smokin' hot. He also met some druids and nymphs that he wouldn't mind spending more time with.

It was a pretty good week. They all seemed to adjust to their new surroundings, even if they all weren't thrilled with coming here.

It was the first day of class. BamBam was finishing the last embellishments to his outfit when Yugyeom, Adarra, and Jungkook came into the main living area. Although the rest of the family was awake it was only the four of them that had to leave early. They would be at second period when the others went to first.

BamBam and Adarra had all of their morning classes together. Jungkook and Yugyeom had their first period together. All 15 of them would meet up for lunch and then go their separate ways until dinner. Hoseok and Jackson were teasing them about their early start. BamBam and Jungkook adopted Adarra's finger habit and flicked them off as they left for the day.

The four of them made their way to the main campus of the school. They said their good byes and split off into two's. In class BamBam and Adarra found seats beside each other and sat down. Adarra placed her bag behind her like a pillow and lifted her legs to lay across the desk.

A few of the guys in the class tried to catch her attention and BamBam chuckled as Adarra blew them off with her obscene finger gestures.

After a couple of minutes the Professor or the class appeared and called everyone to order. Adarra took the time to lay her head back. The Professors eyes landed on the two new additions to the school and slithered his way around the desks towards them.

The Professor spoke to the Gods kids. BamBam couldn't help but notice that he sounded like he was speaking parseltongue from Harry Potter. "Rule number one of my Classss. No Glassessss unlesssss they are needed for reading."

BamBam removed the sunglasses that he was wearing. They had all taken to the glasses to stop people from staring at their unusual eyes.

The Professor looked at Adarra when she made no move to follow the rule. " You too." The Professor spoke again. Adarra still sat there ignoring him.

"Sir, she can't remove her glasses." BamBam spoke up.

"Jussst becausse you are sspecial doessssn't give you sspecial privilegesss." The Professor argued. "Two, I do not need you to ssspeak for her Sshe hasss a mouth."

The Professor's slithered speech began to annoy BamBam. "Adarra is the daughter of Ryujin and Asherah. Both her eyes and her voice put any not of full GOD hood under her thrall. Now if you and everyone in this class or school would like to obey her every command by all means continue to push." As BamBam spoke a glow began to form around him until the brightness overtook the room. " If that is not what you want, I advise you to LET IT GO!!"

The Professor stared at BamBam for a moment before audibly swallowing and nodding. " Forgive me son of RA." The Professor made his way back to the front of the classroom to begin the lesson about the wars of mortal men.

Class went by quickly after the initial hiccup. The next class was outdoors for weapons or power training. The whole school participates at the same time. Adarra made a mad dash over to Jinyoung as soon as she saw him. BamBam joined Yugyeom, Jungkook, and V. Over on the other side of them Namjoon, Jin, Mark, and Yoongi stood together. Adarra was with Jinyoung, Jaebum, and Hoseok. Jackson was with Jimin and Youngjae.

For those that were in power training, which meant the Gods kids, Demi Gods, Druids, Witches, Fae, and some other magical based creatures they were ushered towards a stadium that was created to be a safe space to harness powers without destroying anything.

Everyone was told to take a seat and would get their turn in time. Adarra and Jinyoung were first. Jinyoung attacked with various forms of magic. Summoning dead warriors, creating deadly plants that spit acids and nasty venoms, and the list goes on.

Adarra deflected everything Jinyoung threw at her before shifting into a dragon. Her dragon form was a sight to behold. Her scales were the same color blue as her hair in human form and they were etched with gold markings. She is a cross between a European and a Japanese dragon.

Once in dragon form she charged Jinyoung and pinned him down. The mock battle was ended when she licked his face and he tapped out. She shifted back and with a silent laugh slung her arm across his shoulder and went to sit down.

The nest hour they saw Demi-Gods, Druids, Witches, and Fae take their shots. Jin and Yugyeom were the next God kids called.

Both were given the instruction to concentrate and feel the power within. This was the time to discover who they were not show off like the first two members of their family did.

Yugyeom was the first to succeed. The non existent wind in the arena began to pick up until it was reaching category four hurricane territory. With a struggling nod from the Professor, Yugyeom cut off the winds.

Jin summoned a Hunt. Ghost like archers appeared all around the arena. Before he could cut off the power his body began to charge with electricity and the booming sound of thunder could be heard.

Youngjae and Yoongi were next. Youngjae summoned a golden chariot that eerily matched Apollo's and he summoned a group of slain warriors that charged at Yoongi.

Yoongi whom up until the warriors began to charge appeared to be sleeping raised his arm and poppies and gold dust fell around the arena. The warriors disappeared and he was asleep on his feet once more.

Jackson shifted into a large black panther and summoned Hades' Hell steads and chariot. Jaebum shifted into a massive lion. Mark was able to manipulate any power he saw. He was also able to shift his person and voice to match anyone he wanted. Hoseok brought the sound of Thunder and made lightning dance around the arena.

BamBam took center arena. Greenish fog rolled around him and the arena got brighter and brighter until a Professor yelled enough. He gave a sheepish smile when he noted a few druids had gotten scorched.

Jungkook, Jimin, V, and Namjoon had no success bringing forth their abilities.

Class ended for the day. The Gods kids were ordered to stay behind. They kept their seats and waited. Once the arena was cleared the Professors began to speak.

"It has come to our attention that some if not most of you have been less than accepting of integrating with Wieland. You were given a week to acclimate and in that time only a couple of you were seen mingling with others. Every super natural and mythical species attend here. Just because you are Gods doesn't mean you are above or more special than other beings."

Another Professor continued. "This place was established to help and train beings such as yourselves to be the best that you can be for the betterment of our world. To work with you to achieve your full potential. Let us help you."

" Help us?" Jinyoung scoffed. "The classes you have us in are crap. This school should be renamed Remedial Learning for Morons. You actually teach classes that explain you are a werewolf because you have fur every moon cycle and turn into a rabid man dog. How does that help us?"

The first Professor spoke again. " It helps because knowing what you are and why will help you be stronger and better in the future."

"You actually believe that?" V Scoffed this time. " You honestly believe we need a class that tells us You are Gods because your God mother and your God father screwed each other and here you are?"

The first Professor sighed. " In a way yes. Not every student understands why they are what they are. Many ponder why they were born this way. It's our job to teach and help."

"Did we wake up in a different universe? Are we in Harry Potter where a muggle can give birth to a witch?" Jinyoung asked incredulously. " This is the real world. You can't be a GOD born to two human parents. You can't be..."

"Demi Gods are born by a human all the time." The second Professor cut Jinyoung off.

Jinyoung stood. His fuse was finally blown. "We're not Demi Gods you moron. We are full GODS. You have never dealt with OUR kind. Yet you stand there and tell US you, YOU know what's best for US!"

His tirade was cut off by Adarra tugging him back into his seat. The Professors looked at each other not knowing what else to say and not understanding how they lost control of the discussion. They looked to the Gods kids and saw the glares directed towards them. Without another word they turned on their heels and quickly walked out leaving the Gods kids alone in the arena.

The Gods kids remained for a few moments longer. Namjoon and Jaebum trying to convince everyone to just go with it for now. Even though they themselves agreed with Jinyoung and V. But they were stuck here for who knows how long and constantly butting heads with the Wieland Professors would only hurt them in the long run.

For the most part everyone begrudgingly agreed and headed to their next class. Only Jinyoung and Adarra remained.

Adarra had been with Jinyoung long enough to know just how angry he was without needing him to say it. She just sat there rubbing calming circles against his back.

She had been in love with him for 8 years. They had always been close. The kid of an unpredictable dragon God and the kid of a terror and War God connected them on a deep level. They both had volatile tempers and learned early on that only the other could calm them down.

In a way you could call it fate that a few years later the close friendship they had would progress into love. Adarra was 12 and Jinyoung 15 when they first kissed. 16 and 19 when they first uttered I love you. 18 and 21 when they made their relationship official by getting married.

Jinyoung was the first to hold her when she was brought to their home at 3 months old. It was kismet in a way that he would be the one to hold her always.

Adarra felt the moment the anger dissipated from Jinyoung. She leaned in and placed a chaste kiss to his lips. " What say we skip the rest of the day?"

Jinyoung chuckled and turned his head to look at Adarra. " That sounds wonderful. Cuddle up in our bed and watch those cheesy movies you love so much?"

Adarra grinned and kissed him again. " Yep, but don't lie love. You love those cheesy movies as much as I do. Although I say we don't start with the cheese. We start with..." She paused for a second in thought. " I feel the itch to watch Harry Potter."

Jinyoung let out a bark of laughter and covered his mouth. " I love you!"

" I love you too!"

Off they went to lazy the day away with cuddle time and movies.

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asinglewallflower · 6 years ago

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~ T H E W O R L D : O V E R V I E W ~

The formations of one’s landscape are what define the physical quality of a world. At first glance, what can be seen? What is noted? What stands out? What requires a closer look to be noticed? What makes a world truly unique from others?

Asgard serves as the home realm to the reigning deities, the Aesir. Asgard is located directly above Midgard, at the center of the world. Geographically Asgard is beautiful. The flora is plentiful, but not overbearing. The rock formations all have a sort of artfulness about their placement, and the fauna are completely docile. The highlight of this realm is the castle placed in the center, surrounded by a circular hole in the realm. This hole is crossable, but only with the proper tools and magick. If one falls through this hole, they will most likely end up in Midgard... but as a corpse.

During the Magick Explosion in Midgard, the Aesir welcomed a select number of creatures into their realm. They accepted the Hydra, placing it at the foot of the Bifrost. They had to coax the Alicorn to join them, as it originally intended to head to Alfheim with its brethren, the Unicorn and Pegasus. Eventually, the wise and noble creature realized it was likely best it tried to stay on the good side of the Aesir and joined them in Asgard. The Aesir royalty ride on the backs of the Alicorns whenever they are leaving the city so that they can easily cross the hole in the realm.

Midgard, the realm of the human race, rests in the very center of the world. It consists of a vast ocean, which is littered with islands of varying sizes. These islands are ruled by the human nobility... which is vast and often wars with itself. The ocean is surrounded by a large serpent that is so long it must bite its own tail to completely encompass Midgard.

Midgard is the realm in which the Magick Explosion took place, and is home to the largest number of frightening beasts and powerful creatures. One of the island kingdoms currently uses a Minotaur to guard its people. They can be seen wandering the borders of the island. As a result of this choice, all of the towns are protected by walls and travel between towns is hazarded against unless accompanied by a group of elite militia. Another kingdom has placed a couple of Naga in their dungeon. The prisoners dropped into these dungeons are often never heard from again. The majority of Dragons still remain in Midgard, though they have taken refuge on the highest mountain peaks and in the deepest caves.

Those are just a few prime examples of the creatures inhabiting Midgard... and how the humans living with them have adapted to their presence.

Alfheim is the realm constantly lit by a soft, golden, light. The realm is physically the fullest of life. The vegetation here flourishes, and the light elves see no reason to attempt to reign it in. Nature is one with everything that resides in Alfheim.

Reserved for the light elves and placed on away by itself, this realm seldom has any visitors. The light elves themselves are receptive to visitors... but they do not encourage such things. They will share their knowledge... but they will not freely hand it out. However... they can be swayed to do so through an exhibition of either art or music. They may be borderline hermits... but they are patrons of the arts.

Because of this peaceful beauty, a few of the creatures created in Midgard when the Magic Explosion occurred have taken refuge here. These creatures are the more intelligent of the bunch. They have acquired a conscience and have been imparted a vast wisdom. A few of the creatures to escape here are Unicorns, Pegasi, Griffins, and the majestic Silver Dragons.

The realm of Muspelheim is constantly changing. The world is hot… so hot it would burn the skin and flesh right off of a human if they dared to step inside. The scenery is blackened and the sky is covered in dark smoke. Volcanoes are constantly erupting, and the vibrantly colored magma is always seeping across the ground. One look at it and many a human dubs it hell. A place where none should be able to survive, and if they do not, they are surely monsters.

The inhabitants of this realm surely fit that bill though. Lacking a soul and pumped full of magical energy, the demons that live there are nothing short of frightening.

After the Magick Explosion, a majority of the Fire Dragons fled to this realm. The heat did not affect them strongly, and they need not fear attacks from the demons as they had the humans.

Vanaheim is the home of the oldest gods known to this universe, the Vanir. It is here that they have “retired”, so to speak. These gods are experienced with the gift of foresight. They will teach it to those who come... but only after they have proven themselves worthy of such a powerful magick.

The realm is filled with climbing peaks and lush forest valleys, with a lake at the center of it all. It is in this lake that the old gods rest... and there that a summoning ritual must take place if one wishes to request a council. Those doing so must bring suitable offerings- usually a limb or even the head of one of the Aesir. The Vanir will then depart the most ancient of magicks to the adventurer.

Such a task is nearly impossible to complete, seeing as the island where the lake is located is placed in the middle of a raging sea, where deep water currents and maelstroms are always present. The sea is also constantly under attack from an intense storm. Few have ever survived to reach the island.... and even fewer have survived a meeting with the Vanir.

Jotunheim serves as the home for the Giants. This race is not exactly on friendly terms with the current powerful gods, the Aesir. This realm consists of rocks, wilderness, and dense forests. Lake and river formations are also present, and teeming with life. The Giants live off of fish that have been caught from these bodies of water, and what animals they can trap in the forest. For all its vastness, Jotunheim holds no land that is suitable for farming. The dirt is devoid of any nutrients.

When the Magick Explosion happened, Basilisks made Jotunheim their home. They entered into a never-ending fight with the Giants that occupied the realm, both battling it out for complete control. Currently, the two are at a stand-still, the Basilisks having claimed the mountain peaks, and the Giants contented to stay by the forests and water where they can feed themselves.

Niflheim, the realm of mist and fog, is arguably the coldest and darkest realm of the nine. Its shores are often covered in mist, as the temperature difference of the water meets that of the frozen tundra. Foliage is bountiful but often covered with a thick layer of frost. It is speculated that Niflheim was not always frozen over... but how exactly it reached such a state is still unknown.

How the Merfolk inhabited such a place, is merely speculation. The Merfolk that have migrated to Midgard no longer speak of their home realm... having long forgotten about it under the gentle rays of Midgard’s sun.

The Magic Explosion brought two kinds of dragons to Niflheim: the Water Dragons and the Frost Dragons. Some of the Water Dragons remained at Midgard, but when the humans started to hunt them many chose to flee instead of cowering in constant fear.

Helheim is a place devoid of light, spare a single moon that hangs in a clear ring in the sky. This moon serves one purpose: to guide the dead to the darkest depths within, where they will spend the rest of their time as spirits before they are reborn. Helheim is inhabited only by the souls of the dead and two gatekeepers, both statues that have been brought to life. Anyone who ventures into this realm with the breath of life still in them will perish within seconds.

Svartalfheim, the realm of the dwarves, is dark and full of caverns. The dwarves that live here are miners and metal workers. They have extremely good vision... though if they leave for the surface they are instantly, and permanently, blinded by the brightness.

It is here, in the realm of the dwarves, that all the other races tend to seek out weapons. The dwarven craftsmanship is not revered without just cause.

After the Magick Explosion, the dwarves allowed the Earth Dragons to live with them in their mighty tunnels. These dragons have settled in quite peacefully with the jolly metalsmiths. The two have come to a sort of agreement, and cohabitation has never been easier.

#dpr extras #em writes #world building #dpr world building #dpr universe #disney princess rainbowcy #dpr #the worlds #so many words #holy guacamole #Moodboard Monday

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ethenell · 7 years ago

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Best Films of 2017, Part II

5. Blade Runner 2049 (dir. Denis Villeneuve)

“Mere data makes a man … A and C and T and G … The alphabet of you, all from four symbols.”

Making a satisfactory sequel to a widely beloved masterpiece like Blade Runner is a borderline impossible task – the weight of expectation is oftentimes simply too great. In keeping with that wisdom, Blade Runner 2049 is not at all a satisfactory sequel - Luckily for fans of the groundbreaking original, it is much, much more than that. A daringly-conceived blockbuster epic that flies in the face of today’s rapid fire genre filmmaking rulebook, 2049 is the kind of bold, visionary sequel that Blade Runner has always deserved, but most of us lacked the optimism to hope for.

With a gargantuan runtime and an average shot length dwarfing that of the average blockbuster, it’s hard to understate the sheer ambition of what director Denis Villenueve has brought to the screens with 2049. But the true miracle is that the magnitude of 2049’s ambition is matched by its achievement every step of the way, thanks in no small part to the partnership of Villeneuve and cinematographer Roger Deakins, whose Oscar-winning work (!!) on 2049 deserves consideration alongside the best of his unparalleled career. Their collaboration is central to the hypnotic mood and texture of the film – a significant departure from that of Ridley Scott’s 1982 film. It would have been easy for Villeneuve and Deakins to replicate the look and feel of the original – many have done it over the years, with varying degrees of success. But rather than do what was easy, they took the original’s oft-imitated cyberpunk world and filtered it through their own creative lens – coming out on the other side with some of the most indelible imagery the year in cinema had to offer. That the film also treads novel thematic territory in the well-worn debate on the existential border between man and machine, cements 2049’s status as one of the all-time great film sequels.

In keeping with the film’s heavy Tarkovsky influences, Villenueve focuses more on finding the right way to ask the hard questions than on constructing tricky ways to answer the easy ones. But Tarkovsky, as brilliant as he was, never made a film that looked anything like this. It’s with this delicate marriage of grand imagery and even grander ideology that Villinueve has defied the odds and done what most thought was impossible … He’s made a brilliant follow-up to an undisputed masterpiece.

In doing so, he just might have made one of his own.

4. Lady Bird (dir. Greta Gerwig)

- Lady Bird. Is that your given name?

- Yeah.

- Why is it in quotes?

- I gave it to myself. It’s given to me, by me.

All too often, authenticity in filmmaking is synonymous with directorial transparency - passive camera and observational direction have become the du jour techniques to achieve a realist aesthetic. But there is a special authenticity to crafting a film that fully and authentically inhabits a specific point of view. Greta Gerwig’s splendid semi-autobiographical debut Lady Bird is just such a special film. Far from being passive and observational, Gerwig’s distinctive voice as an actress transitions beautifully behind the camera as she bottles up all the emotional tumult of high school and unleashes it through a powerhouse performance from one of cinema’s best young actresses.

Though a realistic Oscar push never quite developed, Soairse Ronan has now delivered two performances more than worthy of the honor - at 23, she is already far overdue for greater recognition. As Christine “Lady Bird” McPherson, she works in perfect harmony with Gerwig to deliver big-time laughs and well-earned tears while casting even the most tired coming-of-age tropes in a fresh new light. And, while it’s not clear whether it’s even possible to steal the show from a performer of Ronan’s caliber, leave it to the reliable character actress Laurie Metcalf to give it her best shot. Her big-hearted but overly-critical mother is career-best work that often serves as the film’s emotional backbone. She’s the perfect foil to Ronan’s bursting-at-the-seams teenage rebel, and their fraught relationship is the crux of Gerwig’s film.

The best thing that can be said about Lady Bird – and there are more than a few great things to say – is that it simply rings true. It’s earnest portrayal of a young girl clashing against the boundaries of her world, and herself captures something deeply true about the contradictions of young adulthood. Despite it’s modest packaging, Lady Bird is a genuinely moving and supremely confident debut, bursting with creative ambition and boasting immaculately-realized characters expressing ideas that resonate with audiences beyond the film’s pointedly narrow scope. If that’s not the sign of a brilliant filmmaker, then I don’t know what is.

3. Call Me By Your Name (dir. Luca Guadagnino)

“Nature has cunning ways of finding our weakest spot.“

On the heels of Moonlight’s stunning Best Picture win, few would have expected another masterpiece of LGBTQ cinema to emerge so quickly. But the consensus best film from the Sundance Film Festival’s 2017 iteration was just such an effort. Luca Guadagnino’s entry to the festival was immediately pegged as one of its more buzzed-about titles. His previous two films, 2009’s I Am Love and 2015’s A Bigger Splash - both featuring characteristically excellent performances from Tilda Swinton, with the latter boasting a very uncharacteristically off-the-walls and thoroughly underappreciated turn from Ralph Fiennes - established Guadanigno as a premiere actor’s director. But Call Me By Your Name showcased a newly-subdued directorial style, giving his impressive cast of players even more room to shine.

On this note, it’s hard not to point to Guadignino’s pairing with 2017 breakout Timothee Chalamet as a gift of fate. Working with Guadanigno, Chalamet is revelatory. He delivers a performance with nuance and complexity far beyond his years. As the film follows Chalemet’s Elio finding first love, he projects confidence only to be betrayed by moments of utter vulnerability, hitting those extremes – and every note in between – with absolute perfection. In this year’s Best Actor category, Gary Oldman had the perfect industry narrative, but Chalamet gave the most deserving performance – no one will ever convince me otherwise. Surrounding Chalamet’s masterful work is a stellar ensemble, of which Michael Stuhlbarg is the clear standout. In hands-down the best moment in the year of film, Stuhlbarg delivers a monologue for the ages with his voice hardly rising above a whisper. His is an absolutely brilliant performance that, like most of his unerringly impressive character work, has been criminally ignored.

Call Me By Your Name is destined to join the ranks of the all-time great LGBT romances, but it’s thematic reach and the appeal of its characters are universal. It’s a masterpiece of storytelling that perfectly captures hesitant intimacy blossoming into the kind of love that burns bright and leaves marks that last a lifetime. Guadagnino guides us gracefully through the tender connection at the film’s center without sacrificing the complexity of Elio and Oliver’s emotional journeys. These moments of self-discovery – and discovery of a part of yourself in another – are never straightforward endeavors, but Guadagnino’s warm camera conjures the melancholic beauty in every intricate detail as though he’s recalling a fond memory. Times like these call for films as tender, earnest, and full-hearted as Call Me By Your Name. It’s unmissable.

2. Dunkirk (dir. Christopher Nolan)

“You can practically see it from here ...

What?

... Home.”

Leave it to Christopher Nolan, who already revolutionized the superhero movie, to produce a war film unlike any I’ve ever seen. Like Saving Private Ryan before it, Dunkirk throws out the playbook and finds great power outside the bounds of convention. An absolute masterclass in structure and formal editing – in many ways more ambitious even than the groundbreaking structure of Nolan’s grandiose mindbender, Inception – Dunkirk juggles three different storylines, all of which occur over different timeframes, until they all converge in a breathlessly tense climactic sequence. Weaving these threads effectively is a gargantuan task, but Nolan proves himself more than up to the challenge.

From a directorial perspective, Dunkirk is not far removed from Nolan’s previous efforts. His precise technical command and vision for spectacular set-pieces is nearly unmatched in modern studio filmmaking – but this isn’t news for anyone who’s familiar with his previous work. Where Dunkirk improves dramatically over Nolan’s previous efforts – particularly his more uneven films, like Interstellar and The Prestige – is on the page.

One of the biggest knocks against Nolan as a filmmaker has always been his over-reliance on expository dialogue. (Honestly, how many different perfunctory monologues did it take for him to explain Inception’s dream-within-a-dream structure? Or wormhole travel in Interstellar?) So how did he respond when writing Dunkirk? With a ruthless editorial pen, he chipped away at each bit of dialogue until all that remained were the truly essential elements. The result is the most sparse film of Nolan’s career – it also happens to be the best.

Even with the lack of dialogue Nolan’s cast is given to deliver – or perhaps precisely because of it – Dunkirk is filled with memorable ensemble performances. Cillian Murphy’s shellshocked sailor, Tom Hardy’s steely, resilient pilot, Mark Rylance’s calmly resolved civilian, and yes, even Harry Styles’ fearfully cruel foot soldier, all leave a lasting impression despite limited screen time. It’s a testament to the efficacy to the show-don’t-tell philosophy when embraced by a director as immensely talented as Nolan.

Filling in the gaps is composer extraordinaire Hans Zimmer’s droning score, which might very well be the best, most thematically effective work of his career. Propelling and underlying the cacophonous atmospherics is the simple tick of a clock – so ubiquitously present that you only notice it when it suddenly drops away. It’s a simple gambit that makes for one of the most thrilling moments of the cinematic year. Without Zimmer’s score, it never would have materialized. His work elevates the film – there’s no greater compliment that a composer can be given.

Like The Dark Knight before it, Christopher Nolan has also crafted Dunkirk to be uniquely resonant in the present geopolitical landscape. It’s a morally resolute film, firm in its assertion that certain battles are worth fighting and unambiguously optimistic about the willingness capacity of good people to do so, no matter the cost. It’s an empowering message, harkening back to a day when Western civilization was left with no choice but to do away with equivocations and rise up to face an unambiguously evil force at work in the world. As we see hints and shadows of that same fascistic ideology re-emerging in our present politics, Dunkirk reminds us that we are capable of defeating it, but only at a terrible cost.

1. Phantom Thread (dir. Paul Thomas Anderson)

“Kiss me my girl, before I’m sick.”

With each subsequent entry to his already-legendary filmography, Paul Thomas Anderson further stakes his claim as American cinema’s greatest living auteur. His latest, Phantom Thread marks a particularly fascinating step along his journey to filmmaking greatness. As with all of Anderson’s films, there’s more to Phantom Thread than initially meets the eye. What initially appears to be a peculiar period romance slowly reveals itself to be a devilishly subversive take on power dynamics and love. The film’s austerity and elegance belie it’s prickly subtext, but (of course) it is this exact contradiction that makes Phantom Thread so damn interesting ... There’s not a film this year that has more frequently occupied my thoughts.

In what is reportedly his final role, Danial Day-Lewis is as impressive as ever, doing away with the towering theatrics of his best-known performances (there’s hardly a hint of Daniel Plainview or Bill the Butcher, here) in favor of the meticulous character work that initially brought him to critical esteem. In his hands, Woodcock’s cartoonish mannerisms feel thoroughly organic with nary a false beat to be found, while bringing Anderson’s words to life with extraordinary skill. Lines that could feel like throwaways to another actor take on legendary status as delivered by Day-Lewis. If it is indeed the final time that he will be gracing our screens, then he’s picked a finale befitting his storied career.

As if taking cues from his star and uncredited co-writer, P.T. Anderson directs his latest masterpiece with an uncharacteristically gentle hand. Thrown to the wayside is the visionary flash and technically prodigious camerawork that defined his earlier greats. Instead, Anderson hones in on his unmatched sense for interweaving character and theme and lets his actors the heavy lifting in largely still frames. Unsurprisingly, the results are brilliant, the product of an assured and confident master working at the very height of his powers while refusing to lean on his past successes.

But while the continued collaboration of Anderson and Daniel Day-Lewis sits at the center of any assessment of Phantom Thread, it’s greatness is often solidified by the masterful contributions outside of this titanic duo. Another frequent PTA collaborator, Radiohead guitarist Jonny Greenwood, turns in his best work since his groundbreaking score for There Will Be Blood. His lush piano work and elegant strings match the film’s beats to perfection, rooting out its subtleties and amplifying them beautifully. And Day-Lewis’ co-star, the previously unknown Hungarian actress Vicky Krieps, may well be the most exciting discovery of the year. Acting alongside Daniel Day-Lewis must seem a daunting task to even the most experienced of thespians, but Krieps fearlessly matches him step for step.

Phantom Thread, though it’s the director’s most austere film to date, is a P.T. Anderson film, through and through. By that I mean that it’s deeply strange and continually surprising, but ultimately narrows its gaze on something uncomfortably and fundamentally true about our common human condition. It’s gorgeously made and subtly provocative cinema from a virtuoso filmmaker … What more could you ask for?

#best films of 2017 #best films of the year #film review #movie review #film #cinema #phantom thread #dunkirk #call me by your name #lady bird #blade runner 2049 #denis villeneuve #christopher nolan #greta gerwig #luca guadagnino #saoirse ronan #timothee chalamet #paul thomas anderson #daniel day lewis

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sleepwalker-in-me · 7 years ago

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Daenerys and Ode to Joy

Critics of Dany often mock the phrase ‘break the wheel’ as an invention by David & Dan . Though the phrase has not been used by GRRM, books are sprinkled with clues to this endgame. Dany is the only character in ASOIAF who is directly called as song of something. She is the song of joy in GRRM’s words.

Xaro to Dany: “………….Give me a son, my sweet song of joy !” ( A Clash of Kings - Daenerys V)

Song of Joy is a popular song by Miguel Ríos and is set to the tune of the Ninth Symphony by Beethoven. Words sung in the symphony are taken from the poem Ode to Joy. Ode to Joy ( written by Schiller) has the themes freedom, peace, and unity of all mankind. Dany is working towards this ends.

“Words are wind, even words like love and peace. I put more trust in deeds. ( A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys IV)

See how the name Joy is connected to nine in a clever play of words, alluding to the ninth symphony. Also Dany’s birth is related to nine. Cersei relates birthing to magic and how messy it is, this is similar to Dany being born amidst a storm.

Joy is my late uncle Gerion’s natural daughter. A betrothal can be arranged, if that is your wish, but any marriage will need to wait. Joy was nine or ten when last I saw her.” ………. Joy was a sweet child, albeit a lonely one. ( A Feast for Crows - Jaime VII)

She had been born on Dragonstone nine moons after their flight, while a raging summer storm threatened to rip the island fastness apart. ( A Game of Thrones - Daenerys I)

The tumblers who came next failed to move her either, even when they formed a human pyramid nine levels high, with a naked little girl on top. Is that meant to represent my pyramid? the queen wondered. Is the girl on top meant to be me? ( A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys VIII )

"Wait until you birth a child, Sansa. A woman's life is nine parts mess to one part magic, you'll learn that soon enough . . . and the parts that look like magic often turn out to be messiest of all." ( A Clash of Kings - Sansa IV )

Prophecies are usually sung or chanted, like the one about Dany by Dothraki.

As swift as the wind he rides, and behind him his khalasar covers the earth, men without number, ..The bells in his hair will sing his coming. ( A Game of Thrones - Daenerys V) Irri and Jhiqui had braided her hair and hung it with a tiny silver bell whose chime sang of the Undying of Qarth, burned in their Palace of Dust. ( A Storm of Swords - Daenerys III) “The wind returns, the wind!” Dany looked up to where the great cog’s sails rippled and belled as the lines thrummed and tightened and sang the sweet song they had missed so for six long days. ( A Storm of Swords - Daenerys I)

The words of the poem Ode to Joy matches with Dany’s role as a revolutionary. Joy is the daughter of Elysium (Heaven). Elysium is the abode of the blessed after death in classical mythology . Dany is called daughter of death and star of heaven. The lyrics are as follows:

Joy, bright spark of divinity,

Daughter of Elysium

Marry me, bright light, and sail the ship of my heart. I cannot sleep at night for thinking of your beauty.“ Dany smiled. Xaro’s flowery protestations of passion amused her, but his manner was at odds with his words. ( A Clash of Kings - Daenerys III)

Child of three, they had called her, daughter of death, slayer of lies, bride of fire. So many threes. Three fires, three mounts to ride, three treasons. ( A Clash of Kings - Daenerys V)

"With what coin, sweet star of my heaven?" ( A Clash of Kings - Daenerys III)

Fire and the magic powers reunites mankind. The strong motivation moves forward a stagnant civilization and works for a better world. This gives all mankind hope despite their differences and allow them joy in that hope.

Fire-inspired we tread Within thy sanctuary. Thy magic power re-unites All that custom has divided,

The fire is mine. I am Daenerys Stormborn daughter of dragons, bride of dragons……..for the first time in hundreds of years, the night came alive with the music of dragons. ( A Game of Thrones - Daenerys X)

Until they stand together, Meereen will know no peace. “Arise.” Dany settled onto her bench. The hall rose. That at least they do as one. ( A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys I) Instead a large round table had been set up in the center of the hall, with tall chairs all around it where men might sit and talk as peers. (A Dance with Dragons - The Queen’s Hand)

All men become brothers, Under the sway of thy gentle wings.

Even warring khalasars put aside their feuds and shared meat and mead together when they were in sight of the Mother of Mountains. In this place, the crones of the dosh khaleen had decreed, all Dothraki were one blood, one khalasar, one herd. ( A Game of Thrones - Daenerys IV)

All creatures drink of joy At natures breast.

. . . drink from the cup of ice . . . drink from the cup of fire . . .. . . mother of dragons . . . child of three . . . ( A Clash of Kings - Daenerys IV)

What kind of mother has no milk to feed her children? ( A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys VI)

Just and unjust Alike taste of her gift

The Seven Kingdoms have need of you. Robert the Usurper is dead, and the realm bleeds. When we set sail from Pentos there were four kings in the land, and no justice to be had.” Joy bloomed in her heart, but Dany kept it from her face. (A Clash of Kings - Daenerys V) There is no peace in Westeros, no justice, no faith and soon enough, no food.When men are starving and sick of fear, they look for a savior.” ….. Stronger than Tommen, gentler than Stannis, with a better claim than the girl Myrcella.A savior come from across the sea to bind up the wounds of bleeding Westeros.” “Fine words.” Tyrion was unimpressed. “ Words are wind. Who is this bloody savior?” “A dragon.” The cheesemonger saw the look on his face at that, and laughed. “A dragon with three heads.”

Beethoven in ninth symphony had to camouflage his libertarian aspirations among the monarchs of Europe according to writer Harvey Sachs . GRRM describes anecdote of the part songs, play among the peaceful people who live among violent men.

One day she hoped to see this fabled isle of Naath. Missandei said the Peaceful People made music instead of war. They did not kill, not even animals; they ate only fruit and never flesh. The butterfly spirits sacred to their Lord of Harmony protected their isle against those who would do them harm. Many conquerors had sailed on Naath to blood their swords, only to sicken and die. The butterflies do not help them when the slave ships come raiding, though. “I am going to take you home one day, Missandei,” Dany promised. ( A Storm of Swords - Daenerys VI)

Before the First Men came all this land that you call Westeros was home to us………In the world that men have made, there is no room for them, or us.“ She seemed sad when she said it, and that made Bran sad as well. It was only later that he thought, Men would not be sad. Men would be wroth. Men would hate and swear a bloody vengeance. The singers sing sad songs, where men would fight and kill.( A Dance with Dragons - Bran III)

Expressions about universal brotherhood in Ode to Joy were similar to the ideals put forth by the French Revolution and Beethoven had to play to please the elites on whom he depended. Ode to Joy has remained a protest anthem in popular culture and Dany is called as a world revolutionary. It is said that Schiller originally wrote an Ode to Freedom and changed it to an Ode to Joy.

Drogon,“ she sang out loudly, sweetly, all her fear forgotten. "Dracarys.” Freedom!“ she sang out. "Dracarys! Dracarys!”“Dracarys!” they shouted back, the sweetest word she’d ever heard. “Dracarys! Dracarys!” And all around them slavers ran and sobbed and begged and died, and the dusty air was filled with spears and fire. ( A Storm of Swords - Daenerys III)

Beethoven’s symphony is considered a statement of freedom in the repressive political environment of Europe after the Congress of Vienna and declaration in favour of universal brotherhood. The works of Byron, Pushkin, and Beethoven, were subtly linked by this “ hidden thread ” of expressing in art a “quest for freedom: political freedom, from the repressive conditions that then dominated Europe, and freedom of expression, certainly, but above all freedom of the mind and spirit. - ( Sachs)

Not a queen,” said Dany. “A khaleesi.” She wheeled her horse about and galloped down the ridge alone. The descent was steep and rocky, but Dany rode fearlessly, and the joy and the danger of it were a song in her heart. All her life Viserys had told her she was a princess, but not until she rode her silver had Daenerys Targaryen ever felt like one. (A Game of Thrones - Daenerys III)

The Mother’s Hymn in ASOIAF is supposed to be sung to the tune of Ode to Joy, Dany personifies mother in the books representing nurture and fierceness when her children are threatened.

The freed slaves parted before her. “Mother,” they called from a hundred throats, a thousand, ten thousand. “Mother,” they sang, their fingers brushing her legs as she flew by. “Mother, Mother, Mother!” ( A Storm of Swords - Daenerys IV)

Dany’s character is in part inspired by the heroine Maris in GRRM’s Windhaven for whom he have mentioned a poem, an ode to flying.

She might live for years amongst the sunbaked rocks of Dragonstone, riding Drogon by day and gnawing at his leavings every evenfall as the great grass sea turned from gold to orange, but that was not the life she had been born to. So once again she turned her back upon the distant hill and closed her ears to the song of flight and freedom that the wind sang as it played amongst the hill’s stony ridges. ( A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys X)

In Windhaven the character which later inspired Tyrion gives the heroine a reality check on the consequences of making radical social & political change.

Barrion thought the world of you, Maris, but he also thought you were naive. You can’t change one note in the middle of a song, he told me. Once you make the first change, others have to follow, until you’ve redone the whole thing. Everything relates, you see?”- Windhaven

Epilogue of Windhaven describes song written by the heroine’s brother, Coll, who had died some years before. The song is Coll’s last testament to Maris.

young Coll takes the guitar or whatever and does a song of his own composition…an ode to the joy of flying. Maris completely misinterprets the song - GRRM in a letter to Lisa Tuttle.

This is similar to how Dany misinterprets the vision she has of Rhaeger telling her about song of ice and fire and three heads of dragon.

and whenever he came back he would bring a song. When you heard him play his high harp with the silver strings and sing of twilights and tears and the death of kings, you could not but feel that he was singing of himself and those he loved.“( A Storm of Swords - Daenerys IV)

Quote for the epigraph in Windhaven is similar to the quote Tyrion says about the wonder of seeing a dragon.

“For once you have tasted flight you will walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward; for there you have been, and there you long to return.”— Leonardo Da Vinci Once a man has seen a dragon in flight, let him stay at home and tend his garden in content, someone had written once, for this wide world has no greater wonder. Tyrion scratched at his scar and tried to recall the author’s name. ( A Dance with Dragons - Tyrion IV)

Different prophecies pointing to Dany, is like a symphony which “belongs to each person who… attempts to listen to it attentively.” We may never agree what it means, but all can agree on its wonder. ( Sachs)

The tales are not the same,” insisted Armen. “Dragons in Asshai, dragons in Qarth, dragons in Meereen, Dothraki dragons, dragons freeing slaves … each telling differs from the last.”“Only in details.” Mollander grew more stubborn when he drank, and even when sober he was bullheaded. “All speak of dragons, and a beautiful young queen.” ( A Feast for Crows - Prologue)

There is truth in songs about Dany.

The singer had been bringing back all manner of queer ………….. one about the dragons and could not recall the details. “Dareon may have made up the whole story. Singers do that. They make things up.” “They do,” said Maester Aemon, “but even the most fanciful song may hold a kernel of truth. Find that truth for me, Sam.”( A Feast for Crows - Samwell III)

Dany is well aware that her aspirations for a better world are a bit whimsical. But change starts from dreams.

She wanted to lose herself in the words, in other times and other places. The fat leather-bound volume was full of songs and stories from the Seven Kingdoms. Children's stories, if truth be told; too simple and fanciful to be true history. All the heroes were tall and handsome, and you could tell the traitors by their shifty eyes. ( A Storm of Swords - Daenerys VI)

Finally Jon and Dany’s theme is titled Truth and it is more than just a romance. It is their destiny to remake the world or as Dany says “ break the wheel.”

#daenerys targaryen #daenerys meta #asoiaf meta #asoiaf #daenerys #jonerys #tyrion lannister #game of thrones #rhaegar targaryen #jon x daenerys #jon x dany #dany x jon #daenerys x tyrion #daenerys x jon #my meta #daenerysmeta

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ofalderaan · 8 years ago

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@motherofasgard | random starter

“ Oh, Frigga, he’s beautiful, ” Breha cooed, looking at the infant cradled in her friend’s arms. “ He’s absolutely perfect. ”

#motherofasgard #(USE. THOSE. ICONS.)#(you know which ones.)#v:: the bright center of the universe ( before the wars )

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infinitum-imaginaerum · 7 years ago

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The 38th Parallel // Kihyun [M]

Y’all doomed. Rated M for I wrote sex for once in a long time. It’s most definitely like almost 4am; so Goodnight. Professor!Kihyun +5,928 words

“The Korean War had its immediate origins in the collapse of the Japanese empire at the end of World War II in September of 1945. Unlike China, Manchuria, and the former Western colonies seized by Japan in 1941 and 42, Korea, annexed to Japan since 1910, did not have a native government or a colonial regime waiting to return after hostilities ceased. Most claimants to power were harried exiles in China, Manchuria, Japan, the U.S.S.R., and the United States. They fell into two broad categories. The first was made up of committed Marxist revolutionaries who had fought the Japanese as a part of the Chinese-dominated guerrilla armies in Manchuria and China. One of these exiles was a minor but successful guerilla leader—”

It seemed like he could talk forever, like he didn’t even take a breath.

His voice was soothing to listen to, but man was he distracting.

You sat at the back of the lecture hall, your feet kicked up on the table to the side of you. You were a good student most of the time, but people typically couldn’t tell by looking at you. It seemed like you never really paid attention in class, but you always maintained good grades. You weren’t exactly the most approachable type, so it was hard to tell with you.

A black leather clad senior who rode motorcycles and probably did cocaine for all anyone else knew. The motorcycle thing wasn’t far off, but the cocaine thing was getting a little out of control.

“Kim Il Sung, right?” you called from the back. “He was a Major in the Soviet army after receiving training in Russia.”

“Very good,” your professor commented, though a little annoyed with you for interrupting him and speaking out. “Moving on; the Korean nationalist movement drew its inspiration from the best of science, education and industrialism in Europe, Japan and America.”

“They were called ultranationalists and they were split into rival factions. One of which centered on the first ever president. He went to a Methodist school before receiving a Ph.D. from Princeton University in America. He was a dictator, basically. He threw out everything the UN had to say about the war hoping Korea would unite again, and look where we’re at,” you laughed at the end of your speech, looking around the room.

“It’s a wonder you’re even in this class,” your professor stated and crossed his arms. “Perhaps you’d like to come up and teach the rest of it?”

You grinned nervously, quite embarrassed by this point. “My apologies, professor Yoo; it won’t happen again,” you claimed and sunk deep into your seat.

Yoo Kihyun pressed his glasses higher up on his nose and took a heavy sigh, crossing his arms again before pacing back and forth, continuing on his explanation of the Communist party, Kim Il Sung and the UN’s responsibility for the South.

The class seemed to go on forever as you sat there, computer closed in front of you just waiting to get out of there. It ticked by so slowly, you thought you were about to go insane. Your eyes stared at the clock, watching the minutes go by and you thanked the lord when he dismissed class early. You threw your laptop in your bag and flung it over your shoulder, trying to get out of there as soon as possible.

Typically professors weren’t so annoyed with your knowledge on whatever subject they were talking about. You admitted your delivery could use some work, but Yoo Kihyun was just completely disturbed with you interrupting his class. You were booking it for the door, trying to hide in the classmates before he called you out by name.

You froze, letting the others pass you until there was nobody left. Slowly, you turned to face him. He just stood and waited for all of the other students to file out and then instructed you to close the door. You moved slowly, wondering what this was all about, but did it nonetheless.

“I’ve heard so much about you, and let me say, you didn’t disappoint,” he told you.

“Oh, great,” you muttered out loud.

He chuckled. “Try not to take it as a bad thing,” he said, wandering over to the pedestal where all of his things were. “Just been talking to some other professors, since I’m new here; they’ve all told me what a bright student you are, always reading ahead and knowing the material almost better than us. At first I didn’t believe them, but they were correct.”

You just stood there nervously, holding your arm at the elbow. “I guess I’m surprised. I know the material isn’t necessarily new, but this is a focused course and you already know more than I expected.”

“Thank you?” you asked, confused. “You seem more annoyed than anything,” you finally said.

“I guess I’m just… shocked, is the best way to put it.”

He was packing up his things, getting ready to move to the next class which the both of you were going to be late for. “Yoo Kihyun,” he offered his full name and offering a respectful bow. You did the same, though he already knew your name. It just seemed like the right thing to do. “I look forward to more classes with you,” he said and disappeared through the door before you could even formulate a reply.

This was going to be an interesting class.

By the seventh week of sixteen, you and Kihyun were getting along rather well. You sat at the front of the class now, which wasn’t typical for you. He learned that you’d already graduated, and now were taking classes for fun, you were his age, and the two of you had a lot in common—especially your interest in each other that seemed to grow every day.

Most days of lecture that you sat in the front row, it was just to get a close-up view of him. He knew it, too. He had a bad habit of pacing as he lectured, but when he passed you, he’d typically walk extra slow, make eye-contact once in a while and even would send you a wink now and again. On days he was feeling some type of way, he’d dress a little differently.

One particular day you remember, you were sitting in the middle of the front row; Kihyun wore a pair of nice pressed slacks and a black button up. You remember it was a button up, because it quite simply wasn’t buttoned up far enough for you to maintain sanity. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and hot damn did he look good. He remembered that day equally as vividly because he stuttered in his speech when he looked at you, watching your tongue pass over your teeth and lips, a hungry type of look in your eyes.

Needless to say, that night he took you out to dinner.

The interaction went a little something like this:

Class is dismissed and the students begin clearing out, but you remain seated. Your right leg bouncing a bit, crossed over your left as you sit and wait patiently. He comes over to you for a small interaction, voices low to keep words out of the ears of passing students.

“You know, I don’t typically prefer the style, but ripped jeans are particularly flattering on you,” he compliments.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask him, giving him a look.

“I mean,” he pauses and looks around, not a single student left, so he leans over to your ear, planting a hand on both armrests to the sides of you, “I’m not typically for girls like you, but you’re distractingly sexy,” he says. “Especially so as you sit here giving me looks like I’m your next meal all through class.”

He’s bent over enough that his shirt drapes enough for you to see down it. You smirk before biting your lip. “That’s the exact shit I’m talking about,” he says, grabbing your chin to pull your lip from between your teeth with his thumb. “Looking at me like you could just have me,” he almost growls, his thumb brushing over your lip, but draws away quickly once he realizes what he’s doing.

“Be careful what you say around here, Kihyun; I’m still your student,” you tease.

“You’re my student, and it’s so not fair, the way you look at me; I’m trying to teach,” he reminds you, but you don’t need reminding.

“I know, you’re trying,” you reply, pushing yourself out of your seat to push him back as well. “But don’t think it’s fair that you go strutting around here like this; a teasing sliver of this milky skin, perfectly fitted slacks that are meant to hide everything but just make you look so good,” you tease, a finger touching that aforementioned sliver of skin, tracing down the V of his shirt to the first closed button.

“You could get me fired right now, should anyone walk in,” he tells you.

“Are you gonna punish me?” you ask, putting on your best pout and innocent eyes.

“I could put you over my knee, right now,” he growls back, his nose wrinkling just a bit as his hands grip the side of his desk, the back of his thighs just barely hitting it.

“I think I should go back to sitting in the back of the class if you can’t even control yourself,” you torment some more.

“I think you should go home, put on something nice, and be ready for me to pick you up at seven,” he suggests. “And if you’re a little too foggy right now, as your eyes suggest, I’ll simplify: I’m taking you out for dinner,” he tells you, his finger tracing your jaw as he tilts your head up for your eyes to meet his.

“Yes sir,” you purr to him.

You disappear from the classroom after slipping him your number; he listens to the click of the door behind you—only two more classes to go. And those classes seem to go by slower than any day in the history of both your lives. You can’t even concentrate in either of those classes; all you can focus on is him.

So when you are finally let out of your last class, you rush home to jump through the shower. You stand in your towels, looking over the three outfits you’d picked out over your bed. You really wish you knew what he was wearing to make the best selection. You opt for a glittery silver long sleeve dress. It only went mid-thigh, but if it was any consolation, you didn’t need to wear something revealing to get him to check you out, obviously.

Seven o clock approached quicker than you are ready. Now, the time is ticking by too fast. You check your phone for a just a second as you pull on your dress and you have a text that had come in nearing fifteen minutes ago that he was on his way—basically, you were late.

You throw your shoes on, gather everything in your purse, and double check your hair and makeup. You told him earlier you’d meet him outside, so you head down the hall of your building to the elevator, already profusely apologizing for being late, but when you got outside, you’re not sure he has arrived yet. All of the cars were parked, and none of them seem to be on, so maybe he was just running a little late.

You look at your phone again to check for a message just in case you missed one. You turn away from the parking lot while you’re checking, but your thoughts and actions are easily interrupted by a soothing and familiar voice.

“Waiting for me?” he asks you from the driver’s seat of the car.

A smirk crosses your lips before you turn around. “Maybe a little bit,” you tell him.

“Let’s go?” he asks, not wasting a lot of time. The both of you were already running late for the reservation he made, so as little small talk as possible is the best until you are in the car.

He looks you over real quick, his eyes soon back on the road, but it isn’t as if you miss that little lip bite, especially as he reaches over to place a hand on your knee. You look at him, sliding his hand a little bit towards you to rest fully on your thigh, your hand curling over his to hold it there.

“Are you going to be good?” he asks you.

“What do you mean?” you laugh.

“I mean, are you going to behave, at least until dinner’s over?”

“I think it’s you who needs to behave,” you laugh, feeling his fingers pressing into your thigh. “But if it takes me behaving for you to behave, I’m sure I can manage, until dinner’s over.”

And behave you do. It’s a short but sweet dinner at a much fancier place than you were anticipating. There’s a lot of talk about things he didn’t know about you just yet. He spends a lot of time being caught daydreaming as he looks at you, his focus a little too lost as his chin rests in his hand. A lot of you reminding him to stop staring—mostly a joke, but a little serious, too. He does equally as much talking, thankfully, telling you about himself and why he chose to teach history especially at a college level while still being so young.

Don’t forget the compliments. Lots of compliments.

He keeps it PG for the time being, but he talks about your dress, how flattering it is. How nice your hair looks and how beautiful you are overall. For him being your professor, it surprisingly isn’t awkward; it probably has to do with the tiny age gap. You speak to him as if he’s just another guy that you’re beginning to take interest in.

Only, that beginning interest was a tiny bit deeper. Maybe it’s the dynamic. It’s interesting and different. A sort of behind closed doors relationship… very strange but very exciting.

“I thought you said you were going to be good?” he questions you, the proper head shift accompanying his question. Your peep-toe covered foot gently strokes up his slacks-clad calf and even though it’s a tame gesture, it’s an implicative gesture.

“I am being good,” you feign like you have no idea what he’s even talking about.

Thankfully the meal is already over, so it’s not as if you were interrupting anything. But man does he have this look in his eye that just makes you want to do it more. So, you do, your foot strokes up the inside of his calf this time, instead of the outside and you can see him shudder, despite it being a small and almost unnoticeable movement if you weren’t locked onto him.

“You’re implicating,” he says.

“I think you’re reading too far into it,” you reply, foot trailing up the outside of his leg now and he clearly isn’t having any of it anymore when he reaches down to grab your foot and place it in his lap. His soft hands stroke over your calf now, trying to send the same message he’s getting from you.

“Am I?” he asks you, just as the waiter brings dessert. Your sparkling eyes look up at him to thank him kindly, acting as if Kihyun isn’t flooding your mind in this very moment. He sets it down between the two of you, two spoons on the plate to share before disappearing as quickly as he arrived.

“Wow, this looks delicious,” you comment, looking down at the chocolatey dessert in front of you, totally trying to change the subject. Kihyun is one hundred percent onto you, but he lets you have it, your leg slipping away from his grip to join the other under the clothed tabled. You take a spoonful of the spongey cake and make the most heavenly sound to Kihyun’s ears. He watches your face, watches your eyes flutter closed and lick the remaining chocolate off your lips which he would have rather done himself—

You hold a spoonful in front of his face, which he doesn’t noticed right away.

“Do you want to try it, or will it hurt your man-pride?” you ask.

“You really are as I imagined, and I actually really like it,” he says, talking about you, but tries the bite nonetheless. You aren’t really listening when he starts speaking, too caught up in looking at him. Small giggles and short conversation follow as you eat all that you can, hardly finishing half the dessert, it’s too rich. You’re anxious to leave, and Kihyun holds out a hand for you to help you up after paying the bill.

“I didn’t get a chance to say earlier, but you are sharp,” you tell him, a hand wrapped around the inside of his elbow as he escorts you to the car. And he is sharp. Nice polished shoes, perfectly fitted slacks with a perfect half-break. His shirt was pressed and wrinkle free, fitting across his torso magnificently, and his jacket compliments his shoulders nicely. His tie—an impeccably executed Eldredge knot.

“You don’t need to kiss up anymore,” he reminds you.

“I’m not kissing up,” you tell him. “You’re incredibly sexy, and I’m not ashamed to tell you that,” you add as he goes for the handle of the door for you, but you turn around to face him, to look him in the eye to make sure he knows you aren’t messing around.

“I’m trying to wait until we at least get to your door, but you’re not making it easy,” he says, pinning you against his car as he stares into your eyes, a finger under your jaw lifting your face so he could do just that.

“I’m not opposed to you losing a fraction of self-control,” you encourage.

“You are an a bad influence to the highest degree,” he almost complains, his face drawing near yours; so much so, you can feel his breath on your lips, shooting a tingle through them which then resonates down your spine, arching you into him. His right hand, upon feeling you roll into him, takes the arch of your back and pulls you in, arching it a little bit more. “It would be backless,” he speculates, talking about your dress after his index finger brushes a sliver of your skin.

“You want to sit around here and accuse me of being a tease when all you do is stand here and ant—”

He muffles your words when his mouth slants over yours. Instantly, your left hand is on his shoulder, your right disheveling his hair until your fingers daintily place themselves on the back of his neck. You can feel your heart leap to your throat, your lungs fighting for air—he’s kissing you breathless. Both his hands firm on your hips, holding you steady as his tongue touches your lip. You are too anxious to try to tease, so that tongue easily slips passed your lips, the kiss deepening especially as he tilts his head a little more.

Kihyun hums into your mouth, the tension that had been building up for so long being at least slightly releases for just a moment. He doesn’t waste much time with your lips, much to your dismay, as he’s already kissing over to your neck.

“A little needy, hm?” you ask, your hand gripping the back of his neck a little tighter, the other hand grabbing a hold of his forearm for grounding.

“A little?” he asks, giving you a gentle roll.

“What, you could have me a moaning, writhing mess already?” you retaliat, but your head is definitely spinning. He knows just where to kiss, just where to touch, just where to bite to have you unraveling for him. You try to put on this tough façade, like he doesn’t affect you the way he does; fruitless, though you tried your best.

“Mmhm,” he hums into your neck.

“Let me remind you, however, we’re still in public.”

He groans in disappointment. You’re right, but he doesn’t want to stop. You can hear the door pop behind you, and soon you are whisked back so he can fully open it. He plants a soft kiss against your lips, knowing they are a little neglected, before you fall into the seat once more. Kihyun is quick to the other side to take the both of you to your apartment. His hand rubs your thigh, sometimes a little high and a little too close—to which you politely guide him back—for a bit of grounding, to keep the goal in mind and get him focused.

But when you finally make it to your apartment, it seemed all bets are off. The two of you kick your shoes by the door, his jacket flung over the back of your couch, his fingers working the complicated knot around his neck while yours are quickly and efficiently flicking open the buttons on his white dress shirt. Your soft hands on his skin have him quivering, goosebumps forming under your fingertips as you push him towards your bedroom; his tie and shirt long forgotten in the living room.

You push the door closed behind you with your foot, even though you lived alone. His eyes are drinking you up, especially as your hands move for the straps of your dress, pushing them off your shoulders. You continue to walk him back until the back of his knees catch your bed, his rear on the mattress in another second, the same second it takes for your dress to flutter to the floor and pool around your feet.

He looks over you, taking in every curve of your body, every inch of skin before his eyes come back to yours when you plant a hand on either side of his hips. He tucks your hair behind your ear before that same hand cups your jaw, accepting your lips in a passionate kiss full of soft bites and gentle swipes. Your nimble fingers navigate his belt, sliding it around his hips and down to the floor, hitting it with a quiet clink. Next, the button and then the zipper; he lifts his hips for you so you can slide his pants down to pool around his own feet and you plant a knee on either side of him where your hands used to be, not once breaking the kiss.

Nervous hands touch your underwear clad hips. He can feel the stringy elastic clinging to them, especially as he has to hold you tight to stop his small shakes.

“Are you nervous?” you ask him after a moment, breaking the kiss for a full breath of air.

“Not nervous, just… unsure if this is the right move,” he admits.

“Do you not want to?” you ask, reeling back a little, but not in offense—just trying to understand.

“No, I do,” he reassures you. “Trust me, I do,” it turns into a growl.

“Is it the teacher-student dynamic?” you ask.

“No, not that either. Just…” he pauses, “want to make it clear that I’m not using you. I intend to continue to pursue something very serious with you.”

“Then, there’s no need to worry,” you reply with a genuine smile and give him another tender peck. “Because I’m more into you than I can possibly fathom.”

It boosts his confidence, because he grins back and collects your lips, only to lift the two of you and flip you over, laying your back onto the bed. Your hands are in his hair when his lips are on your collarbones and lower. You bite your lips, feeling him tease your bra-line, kissing over your smooth and mostly untouched skin. His hands are at your hips, entertaining the elastic of your panties after snaking his way between your legs. Your knees close on his hips, squeezing any time he would touch you just right, which happened to be often.

Those same lips trail down your sternum; down, down, down to kiss above and below your navel. Your breathing becomes noticeably labored when his tongue swipes just above your underwear.

“Oooh fuck,” you mutter.

His thumbs toy with the divot in your hips, tracing your hipbones as his teeth gently take the fabric of your underwear and pull, only to let it slip back against your skin. His eyes find yours, as you can’t help but look down and enjoy the view. He bites his lip, just a small show for you before his focus goes back south. He kisses lower and lower, mere centimeters between each kiss and your head falls back to its original position.

That is, until he nips you playfully through your underwear.

You squeal, legs warming his ears for a second and relax again. His lips trail the inside of your thigh, his hand the outside. The warmth and softness of your leg against his cheek is a feeling that’s pleasant albeit unfamiliar. It’s not long, however, until he kisses back up your body, playing with the front clasp of you bra until it pops open and he pushes it away from you. Eventually, it finds the floor; the sound of that clink not nearly distracting enough to take your senses away from his warm hands palming you which are soon replaced by his warm and firm chest as he kisses you.

Your arms drape around his neck, your legs spread for him to settle in between, two really inconvenient layers between the two of you which he tries to compensate for with gentle grinding. He greedily swallows every pleased sound that would have otherwise slipped from your lips. The dry grind was teasing as he was, but mildly satisfactory by comparison to nothing at all.

But those whines and moans aren’t swallowed for long when his lips move away from yours and back to your neck. “Do you want me now, or do you want me to play?” he asks. You blush, hard. His voice brings you out of your pleasure filled trance to fully realize what you’re doing. “Because I’m pretty sure I could go now,” he says, fairly certain you’d perforated through both pairs of underwear.

All you can do was nod in agreement, but that doesn’t answer his question.

“Now?” he asks; you nod again.

He kisses your cheek before rolling off you, finding his pants to fish out the proper protection. You watch his backside, watch his muscles shift as he pushes his underwear down. You plead to see what’s on the other side, too curious for your own good. You can hear the distinct sound of a foil wrapper.

Instinct takes over and you stand, shuffling up behind him to wrap your arms around his middle. “Let me help,” you mumble into his back, reaching with the assistance of his guiding hands to roll the latex down over him. You can feel his weight in your hands and you bite back a moan as your cheek presses against his warm back. He’s definitely thicker than you imagined.

“Wow,” you say, taking a deep breath. He turns around but can hardly look at you, the embarrassment of the first time interaction a little nerve-wracking, especially since it’s the first time you are seeing him fully naked and the same vice versa. You swallow hard before your eyes trail up his torso to his face. “I’m slightly intimidated,” you admit.

He lets out a rough breath, as if it was the beginning of a chuckle to never be finished. “Don’t be. I promise I’ll take care of you,” he tells you, thumbs slipping into the band of your panties to push them down. Never does he break eye contact with you, even as he sinks. The only time he does is when his eyes close to kiss your stomach. Your hands balance yourself on his shoulders as you stepped out of them and he waits for your subtle cue.

Kihyun’s hands start at your hips to slide around and run his palms flat over your nude rear and downwards to take the back of your thighs. With your hands on his shoulders and a trusting small leap, you’re lifted up enough for him to get his knees on the bed to move the two of you to the middle. He maneuvers himself to a crisscross position and settles your knees on either side of him. He can hear your hard breathing.

“It’s okay; when you’re ready,” he reassures you.

You kiss his lips, trying to take your mind of the reality of the situation and just continue to be in the mood. It doesn’t take long, especially considering his tender touches, the way he rubs the back of your legs, head tilting up to kiss you. Your hands are in his hair, looking for a little grounding as you push it away from his forehead, pull it off his neck, move it away from his ears—anything really. Your hips roll a bit, creating a little friction that had him humming into your mouth.

His hand leaves your leg for a moment and you can feel him poising at your entrance before it comes back. His hands slide down to your knees. He waits for your soft nod before he pulls them towards him, easing you down onto him.

He’s definitely thicker than you are ready for. You wince, but wiggle your hips to take him inch by inch. His eyes look at your face, watching for any sign for him to stop, but none come. You’re fully seated on his lap, taking a minute to adjust to him, and when you do, your hips create the rhythm. His teeth take your bottom lip, gently biting until he’s swallowing your moans again.

His hips move with yours, your head falls back to let those moans and hard pants hit the stale air. He doesn’t care that you were noisy—he loves it. It reminds him he’s doing something right. For the most part, you keep your eyes closed; they only open when his wide hand takes the back of your head and tilts it back up so he can look at you. You watch his tongue dart over his lips, dry with his pants and hard breaths.

Meeting eyes with him like this has to be the most sensual thing you’d ever experienced. Half the time guys you were with couldn’t even look at you—that’s how you knew the connection was real. He wants to look at you no matter what, even when he prompts a kiss, leaning in to the best of his ability.

You can tell he really wanted to go at you. This position was good, but he couldn’t get a fast pace going. His hands impatiently grab at your hips, wanting to just take you to the end. With a whole lot of abdomen and leg strength, he hoists the two of you onto his knees before laying you on your back.

“Let me know if you need me to stop,” he tells you, tenderly kissing your lips, then your cheek as his hands plant at your sides. You’re preparing yourself, your hands gripping his strong forearms, legs hooked on his as he delves back into you. Your head pushes back into the pillow, a needy whimper filling the air of your bedroom.

His pace is slow at first, hips having more freedom to roll and buck as he chose. He definitely keeps you on your toes—just when you think you can guess his pattern, he switches it up. It has your toes curling, your fingers grasping, your body tensing and back arching before he’s really going at you. The sound of his hips hitting yours would have echoed through your room had you not been a moaning and writhing mess. Your hand knots in your hair, keeping it away from your face as he lays you into the mattress. Your free hand touches against his chest, previously rubbing but now there for grounding.

An occasional grunt comes from Kihyun’s dry lips as he works you over. Your head is spinning, your brain already mush, you barely have motor skills to open your eyes, much less try to speak.

“K-Kihyun,” you try but your voice is barely audible.

“Yes, baby,” he asks but it sounds more like a statement.

Your eyes open only for a moment, spotting the perspiration on his forehead and you reach up to brush it away. He gives you a sweet smile, especially as your fingers trail down the side of his face and over his jaw. A slight pull had his lips on yours in an instant, only slightly throwing off his groove.

Your mouth looks for words, slightly ajar, which you can barely even formulate at that point. Your eyes try their best not to roll in the back of your head. So instead of what you wanted to say, something else comes out like word-vomit.

“You feel so fucking good, Kihyun,” you tell him.

“No, baby, you feel so fucking good,” he responds. “So good, you make me wanna come.” He bites his lip, eyes roll back until they close. His arms are getting shaky, holding himself up over you. You can feel how slick your bodies had become, wet with sweat as he slides against you with ease. You can feel his hand low on your abdomen as he tries to find balance on his right arm until his thumb brushes your special little button and you’re already in a tizzy.

It was a few seconds more until his thumb rubs you good. He hisses, able to feel you start clenching around him before you finally come undone. His mouth fell open with yours when you call for him, he can feel your nails digging into his forearm and you get tight, so tight he can barely move. Only a few more thrusts pass before you’re milking him, a long and exasperated groan falling from his mouth as he’s sure he helps you ride it out.

You’re convulsing when he pulls out, getting up to get clean after you’ve fallen limp. It takes a solid few moments for you to regain cognizance enough for you to open your eyes to look for him. Still shaking when he comes back, Kihyun’s hand finds your hip as he spoons up to your back.

“Feel good?” he asks you.

You don’t have a voice to reply, so you just nod.

“Good. Clothes?” he asks.

“Yes please,” you respond. He pulls a new pair of underwear out of a draw totally by guess to put on you, and shirts you with his button up. It smells like him, concentrated.

“May I stay the night?” he asks, as if you’d want him anywhere else but by your side right now.

“I would be offended if you left,” you tell him.

He smiles, though you can’t see it because you’re facing away from him. But you know he’s pleased with your answer when he kisses your cheek, curling up into your back after pulling a throw blanket that had been at the edge of your bed over the two of you, too lazy at this point in time to get fully under the covers.

#kihyun #kihyun scenarios #kihyun smut #monsta x scenarios #monsta x smut #yoo kihyun #hahahahah i'm a piece of shit #also I'm bad at endings but you know #I just never want to end anything #anyway get fucked by kihyun #literally #;) ;) ;) ;)#*suggestive eyebrow waggling*#Yeah it's stupid late and I'm tired as fuck

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exadorlion · 7 years ago

Text

GODS AU I MADE WITH PARKER

@theinevitablesense Washington - God of Paternity, Leadership and Time Entire Back Love

Washington is the leader of the Gods. ↳ Having been one of the first two born from nothing ↳ Together, with Martha, he created all life and the major gods ↳ He wanted a happy family, but got a petty, squabbling messes that just makes him sad and tired

Martha Washington - Goddess of Maternity, Children and Space Entire Front Hatred

Martha is a gentle, but firm, goddess. ↳ She was one of the first two born from nothing. ↳ With Washington, created all life and major gods. ↳ Also wanted a happy family, but is happy with her less-than-ideal clan. Looks for the bright side.

John Adams - God of Communication and Compromise Right Hand

No one likes John Adams ↳ The eldest and most powerful of the Washington’s creations ↳ Uses his powers to assert his superiority ↳ Gets pissy when people talk about him behind his back ↳ When pressured, can bring even the most divisive of enemies to reach an agreement

Adams V Hamilton Adams, when he was but a few moments old, invented spoken language and taught it to the Washingtons. When humans were created, Adams taught them the language too, so that way they might be able to communicate with each other. Adams prided himself on this achievement, lauding it above his godly peers. Eventually, Hamilton got fed up with it and claimed that anyone could do what Adams had done, if given the chance. Adams challenged Hamilton to prove his claim, certain the younger god couldn’t. Hamilton, trying to show Adams up, not only created a new language, but created a visual language, writing. Hamilton taught his new language to the humans, proving both languages equally useful. Which is how Hamilton stole Adams’ spotlight and got an extra domain to rule.

Alexander - God of Sun, Writing, and Life Right Arm Quill Hamilton is a salty, jaded bean. ↳ Major Gossip ↳ Messes with Burr at every opportunity ↳ Calls Seabury the God of “Being An Absolute Fuckwad” ↳ Secretly just wants love ↳ Touch-starved and longs for affection ↳ Fights everyone.

Burr - God of Moon, Patience and Death Left Arm Spear

Burr is tired out soul who wants peace. ↳ His job as the god of death exhausts and saddens him. ↳ Doesn’t dislike Hamilton, is just often annoyed by him ↳ Good friends with Jefferson ↳ became one of two gods that Jefferson would speak to after the death of Martha J.

Theodosia and Burr During the early days of humanity, Burr fell in love with a human woman named Theodosia. ↳ When she died, Burr turned her physical body into the stars and scattered them across the night sky, so he might see and be with her forever.

Jefferson - God of Agriculture and Nature Fingers

Jefferson is a pure little bean. Really sheltered and innocent. ↳ Doesn’t know slang (daddy) ↳ Plays with hair when nervous ↳ Hid from Hamilton at first ↳ Wears silky togas

Grows drugs without knowing what they are. (High most of the time)

Death of Martha Jefferson ⇒ Seasons When the world was young, Thomas fell in love with a human woman, who inevitably died. Heartbroken, Thomas shut himself away in his garden. Winter is when the anniversary of her death rolls around and he gets sad. The rest of the time, he manages to distract himself well enough.

Jefferson’s Garden is a Holy Place ↳ No one can die while in the garden. ↳ Laurens cannot enter the garden. ↳ When Martha J was dying, Thomas attempted to save her by bringing her to the garden. ↳ However, she didn’t want to live forever, and was willing to die like humans should. When Thomas turned his back, she walked out and dropped dead before he could stop her.

Legends of Jefferson After losing Martha, Jefferson locked himself away in his garden for millennia, refusing entrance to humans and gods alike. Only his two closest friends, Burr and Madison ever saw him, and soon many humans and some gods began to doubt he even existed. Some claimed the grief of losing Martha caused Jefferson to fade from reality, leaving behind the garden as the only sign he was ever there. Others simply thought Jefferson had abandoned them, and therefore turned their backs on him. It was only once Hamilton happened upon him that people began to realize the God of Nature was not gone or had abandoned them. He was simply very high and very sad the entire time.

Madison - God of Healers, Health and Disease Neck

Madison is a quiet, cold god. ↳ Good friends with Jefferson ↳ Constantly sick ↳ Volunteered to bear the diseases of humanity so that some humans might survive ↳ Secretly loves humanity, though often keeps his distance ↳ Tries to get intoxicated but is unable to get drunk

Madison and Jefferson After Madison took on the illnesses for humans, Jefferson offered to help him find treatments to either cure various diseases or at least alleviate symptoms and pain. The two work together, Jefferson creating plants with different properties and James giving him advice based on what worked and what didn’t. They accidentally created weed together. Even when Jefferson sealed himself away, he let Madison in to continue their work.

Franklin - God of Hearth, Creation Stomach

Franklin is everyone’s grandfather and crazy uncle rolled into one ↳ Born from literal fire ↳ Taught early humans how to harness fire and make tools ↳ Constantly goes down the human world to try out new inventions ↳ It doesn’t always go well ↳ Tries again anyway.

Angelica - Goddess of Wisdom and Knowledge Eyes (General Area)

Angelica is smarter than you ↳ Loves her sister goddesses, especially Eliza and Peggy ↳ Hella feminist ↳ Visits Human universities and schools often Swore a vow of celibacy

Angelica v. Humans ↳Angelica is frustrated and annoyed by humans ↳They come to her for advice, and she’s just as likely to point you to another god or lie to you than actually help you out ↳ Eliza tries to get her to be more compassionate, but all Angelica wants to do is learn, read and not be bothered by dumb humans

Jay - God of Judgement and Justice Wrists

John Jay is done with everyone’s shit. ↳ Jay likes going to human courtrooms and watching the proceedings ↳ Very sick

Lee - God of Honor, Deception Left Shoulder Blade

Lee tries his best but always comes up short. ↳ Based on the duality of honor and deception ↳ Lee is either the most virtuous god out there or one of the worst, depending on the day ↳ He oversees human affairs of honor, watching duels and deciding the victor ↳ Liars, manipulators and other conniving individuals also look to him for guidance ↳ Followers of Lee are often very self-centered individuals

Lee v Laurens

Eliza - Goddess of Emotion, Forgiveness and Passion Chest

Eliza just wants everyone to get along, please. ↳ Finds herself cleaning up after the other gods’ mistakes ↳ Healing divides driven between people as a result of godly action ↳ She tries to foster positive relationships between others ↳ Though the friendliest of the gods, often walking among humans openly, when she is crossed bad things happen to those who hurt her. ↳ Her sorrow and anger are just as powerful as her joy and love.

Eliza and Hamilton At one point devoted to each other, Hamilton cheated on Eliza with Mariah, because he’s a hoe and generally slept with everyone at one point. When Hamilton fesses up, Eliza turns from him, leaving him a lonely bitter bean. No one feels bad for him.

James Monroe - God of Information and Prophesy Forehead to Ears

James Monroe is often overlooked, but content to chill. ↳ Hangs out with Angelica a lot ↳ Never answers questions plainly, everything’s in goddamn riddles with this guy ↳ Only tells people as much as he wants to ↳ Chill dude ↳ Either liked or disliked, no in between.

Monroe V. Hamilton After Hamilton’s affair with Mariah, Monroe (having seen this as a prophecy) confronts Hamilton about his actions. Hamilton confesses, but swears Monroe to secrecy. Unfortunately for Hamilton, Monroe had already delivered his prophecy, and the other gods grew suspicious. Hamilton, forced to confess his affair, gets pissed at Monroe, and attempts to go to war. Burr managed to step between the two of them before too much damage was done, but the rift between the two gods has never been mended.

Monroe and Prophecy Being the God of Prophecy, Monroe is gifted with visions of the future. He has always been accurate. When a vision needs to be communicated to humans, Monroe uses human Prophets to speak for him. Monroe has predicted most things, including the apocalypse.

Mariah - Goddess of Seduction, Love and Lust Boob Area idk Chest too?

Mariah doesn’t want to hurt anyone but ends up doing it a lot anyway. ↳ Though often depicted as a seductress, Mariah also rules over all form of love, sexual or not ↳ Honestly has good intentions ↳ Her solutions to problems aren’t always the best ↳ Kind of a sucker for a love story ↳ Despite being the Goddess of Love, Mariah is often the loneliest, searching for her own love.

James v Mariah Once, in her attempt to find herself a companion, she was tricked by a human named James Reynolds. Reynolds lured her into his home, trapped her through some means I haven’t thought up yet, and forced her to marry him. He treated her poorly, abusing her despite her godliness. The other gods searched for her, but is was Burr who found her one night during his travels over Reynolds’ house. Upon being rescued by Burr, Mariah turned Reynolds into a slug.

Friedrich Von Steuben - God of Fertility and Sexuality

Battle Axe

Von Steuben is kind of like that one uncle of yours that isn’t actually related to you but everyone likes him so it’s cool. ↳ Steuben throws the best god parties ↳ Likes to hang out with Lafayette (and his giant harem/party gang) and Franklin ↳ Drinks fire for fun ↳ Doesn’t like pants

Ben Walker Ben Walker was a normal human, just minding his own business, when he happened to run into a disguised Steuben at a festival. The two were instantly taken with one another, but when Steuben brought Ben to one of Lafayette’s parties, Ben was disgusted with the decadence and left. Confused, Steuben pursued Ben, who wanted nothing to do with the gods and their lifestyle. Steuben, determined to win Ben over, promised to give up his partying ways for a year. Steuben courted Ben relentlessly, delivering roses each day to the human man. At the end of the allotted time, Ben had fallen so hopelessly for the god, agreed to join Steuben in the godly realm. Granted immortality, Ben stays by Steuben’s side, though he still disapproves of Laf and his harem.

Lafayette - God of Food, Wine, and Travels Legs Sword

Lafayette’s a good guy as long as you don’t touch his wine or threaten his friends. ↳ Has a giant group of humans, nymphs, other creatures and minor gods that follow him around in a constant party ↳ Likes to crash the houses of the richest humans and take their shit ↳ Has lots of good stories, but is a horrible storyteller ↳ Fell in love with lots of gods, never had his feelings returned ↳ Avoids tough situations (runs away from confrontation, usually consists of people asking for his hand in marriage.)

Lafayette’s Followers Lafayette is always attended by a grab-bag of creatures, humans, and minor gods that follow him around. The group lives in an almost constant state of partying, often drunk or high as well, and sometimes it just becomes an orgy. While with the group, all of Lafayette’s followers are granted temporary immortality, which is only revoked when the person in question leaves. As a result, some of his followers have been around him for centuries.

James Armistead Lafayette A human that travels with Lafayette, James Armistead was a slave to a wealthy but cruel landowner. When Lafayette’s band of merry drunks crashed the landowner’s house for the night, James Armistead was forced by his owner to entertain the group with stories. Lafayette, quite impressed by the man’s skill, mentioned this to the landowner. James Armistead was then offered as payment to get the God and his followers to leave. Offended that another human would be offered as payment, Lafayette turned the landowner and his wife into the first vultures. As an apology, Lafayette offered James Armistead a place in his party as his Official Storyteller. Grateful, James Armistead accepted and took Lafayette’s name as his own last name.

Lafayette and GWash Lafayette adores and loves gwash, above any other god. At the beginning of time, Washington gave Lafayette the sword he chose to be his death weapon. During the apocalypse, Lafayette is sent to kill Washington, as everyone assumes Lafayette might be the best candidate to actually pull it off. It doesn’t work, however, and Lafayette (while happy Washington lives) is devastated. He hands Gwash his sword and is killed on the spot.

Mulligan - God of Spies, Tailors and Weavers

Dagger

Mulligan is an extremely friendly guy for what half of his job is. ↳ Knows how to make just about anything out of yarn, thread and fabric ↳ Hangs out with Martha Washington and sews with her ↳ Doesn’t talk about the other half of his job unless he has to ↳ Has a habit of letting captured spies go free, slipping them away from their captors and back home

Laurens - God of War, Revolution and Righteous Revolt. Half Human // Half God

Gun Laurens is reckless but loyal. ↳ Laurens is a cursed god, forced to ‘die’ everyday, but regenerates pretty quickly. ↳ Really flippant about it. ↳ Does dumb shit because it doesn’t matter if he dies. ↳ Secretly hates it. ↳ When presented with a conflict, Laurens is more likely to take the side of the underdog. ↳ Especially revolutions, it is a rare day when Laurens supports the reigning power.

Laruens’ Birth Laurens was the last of the gods to be born. Washington and Martha, running out of energy to fully form a god, asked Burr to give them a recently deceased human. Using the empty body, the two parent gods used the rest of their power to give life to Laurens, stuffing his Godly soul inside the human body. As a result, Laurens’ very being and his physical body are constantly at war. Laurens is forced to ‘die’ once a day to keep himself whole, but is reborn with each sunrise over the Godly realm.

(I mean,,, unless you can think of a better reason why Laurens has such a shitty existence.)

Laurens and Hamilton Really chill best friends. Laurens and Hamilton occasionally use Laurens’ death curse to do dumb shit, like drop him from as high in the sky as possible to earth. One of the only people that can touch Alex due to his lack of need to keep himself physically safe, Laurens has died a lot from hugging his friend. Though the constant cycle of death upsets them both, they joke around with each other to make it bearable.

Peggy - Goddess of Orphans, Homeless, and Other Forgotten People

Peggy will fight you, whenever, wherever, she’s ready to go. ↳ Like her charges, Peggy is often forgotten by humans, or considered a minor goddess ↳ ↳ Nothing makes her more angry than to be dismissed as ‘unimportant.’ ↳ When people hurt those she’s tasked with protecting, she goes hardcore in her punishments ↳ Can be found in homeless shelters, orphanages and other such places among her people, trying her best to help ↳ There’s too many under her umbrella, though, and her power is often stretched very thin

Seabury - God of Religion, Faith and Priests

Seabury considers himself better than he is. ↳ Only god to have a shrine or statue in every temple, even those not devoted to him ↳ Protects those who devote their lives to service of the gods, no matter which god they choose ↳ Stickler for ceremony ↳ Hates it when the other gods act childish or otherwise ‘tarnish their reputations.’ ↳ Big whiny baby. Actually pretty pacifist comparatively.

Seabury V. Hamilton While King George III was around and doing his false prophet thing, Hamilton and Seabury had an argument about how much harm King George was doing, if any at all. Hamilton shouted at Seabury, threatened war, and Seabury backed down. Humiliated, Seabury decreed that all church proceedings had to take place either at night, in the shade, or indoors. Hamilton just laughed at him and occasionally pokes his head through church windows to mock him.

Philip - God of Poetry, a branch of Hamilton

Philip will roast his dad, but gods help you if you try to do it.

Hamilton’s son, Philip is one of the many Gods Hamilton spawned to take charge of different writing styles. Looks like Laurens because Hamilton wanted his first son to look like his best friend. When humans invented rap, Philip fell in love with the art form. What I’m saying is he rap battles humans. Constantly.

Philip and Hamilton Philip adores his father, but the affair affected him deeply. He sided with Eliza, whom he considers his mom, during the fall out. Since then, their relationship has been healed somewhat, partially due to the Eaker Incident. He will drag Hamilton, but gets highly protective when others do it.

Phillip V Eaker When the news of Hamilton’s affair reached the humans, one young man began to insult Hamilton. Philip took offense to the blasphemous talk, and challenged Eaker to a duel. Though Philip could not die, he agreed he would lose if he took damage that would kill a normal human. Eaker cheated during the duel, however, catching Philip off guard and hitting him in such a way that made Eaker win. Philip, highly upset, turned Eaker into a quill, which Philip uses to write poetry, sometimes about how stupid Eaker was.

Paul Revere, William Dawes, Samuel Prescott and Sybil Ludington - The Four Messenger Gods

REVERE ↳ ↳

WILLIAM ↳ ↳

SAMUEL ↳ ↳

SYBIL ↳ ↳

OTHER NON-HUMAN CREATURES:

Sally Hemmings - The first nymph. Created by Maria in an attempt to make Thomas feel better after Martha J’s death. Upon gaining sentience, she decided to make her own life, and left Thomas behind.

Thomas Paine - Immortal traveler who wanders, telling stories about the Gods

Ben Walker - Immortal Companion to Von Steuben, was once human.

James Armistead Lafayette - Immortal follower of Lafayette, storyteller that travels with Laf’s eternal party.

HUMANS: Martha Jefferson - Pure Human that Thomas fell in love with. Theodosia - Pure Human that Burr fell in love with. Her body became the stars after her death. James Reynolds - Human Asshole that trapped Maria and got his shit kicked in. Eaker - Dumbass Human shit that gets turned into a quill by Philip King George - False Prophet Sam Adams - Human who introduced Laf to brewery Henry Knox - Human warrior that gained Laurens’ favor by leading a tiny army to victory against a larger force.

IMPORTANT RELATIONSHIPS

HAMILTON + BURR

Eclipses are Basically Hamilton messing w/ burr and Burr being DONE. Solstices are the one day of each year when one of them sleeps in. Equinoxes are the two days they are pals. Burr is prophesied to do the impossible by killing Hamilton, and thereby bringing about the apocalypse.

JEFFERSON + HAMILTON

SUNFLOWERS. Thomas made Sunflowers for Alex because Alex was sad humans couldn’t look at him.

JEFFERSON + BURR

Hamilton didn’t believe Jefferson existed for a while, tho Burr knew and Hamilton thought Burr was just fucking with him. Burr and Jefferson hang out because shared dead human girls.

PHILIP + EAKER

Philip and Eaker’s duel is because Eaker was being blasphemous and Philip got offended and ended when Eaker cheated so Philip turned him into a quill.

HOW TO KILL A GOD 101:

Each and every god as a weapon/item special to them that must be used to kill them. It is the only object that can hurt/kill a god and each god has a unique item.

#long post #godau

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flourish · 7 years ago

Text

My life with comics

My best friend as a child has issues of Witchblade. Her parents bought it for her? Maybe. She has video games too, other things that I am allowed to engage with at other people’s houses but that I am not encouraged to bring home.

I love the sexy, powerful women in it. I don’t know that I want to be them, but I want to look at them forever. I don’t know how to get more issues. I know my mother wouldn’t approve.

I’m in high school. My best online friend is involved in scans_daily, and I’ve seen how much she loves superhero comics. I want to get into comics so I can talk with her about them.

There’s a comic shop about a quarter-mile from my house and I walk there in the Central Valley heat, ignoring the catcalls from the road. I’m used to it: in my suburb girls with long blonde hair don’t walk anywhere, and when they do they are fair game for any and all harassment. I’m still in the closet about being bi, still always femme, still painting my mouth with bright red lipstick. I don’t know any other way to be yet.

I get to the shop. It’s in a strip center that’s seen better days, and if you didn’t know it was still in business already, you might assume it was abandoned. I’ve been places like this to buy Magic cards before, got in and got out quickly, keeping my head down. I knew what happened when I played Magic with strange boys: they laughed at me, beat me hollow. After a few experiences like that I kept the cards not to play but just to look at the illustrations and imagine the worlds beyond them. I wanted to play, but I didn’t want to be humiliated.

No one speaks to me when I enter. I thumb through longboxes, feeling the eyes of the men behind the counter on me. I can feel the sweat drying on my back. I don’t want to ask questions. “Shopping for your boyfriend?” one of them finally ventures.

In retrospect, it was probably meant as a kindness.

At the time, I fled.

A few months later I’ve met a guy online. He’s into comics, so I gather up the courage to try again. This time when I go in to the same shop I can say “yes” when they ask whether I’m shopping for my boyfriend, but it’s not true. I have heard about Neil Gaiman’s 1602 and I want to get it weekly.

I go back over the course of months to pick up my one, singular comic. Once or twice someone tries to pick me up. Once the sales guy quizzes me on my knowledge, holding the issue hostage behind the counter as I struggle to explain that I don’t have a history with comics, that I just picked this one up because I like Neil Gaiman. He finally, grudgingly, gives it to me. “You should read—” he says, but then he catches himself: “it’s not out in trades and I don’t think we have all the issues.”

It doesn’t matter. I couldn’t afford to buy a long run of single issues anyway. My parents could, but I don’t have pocket money, and I’m supposed to be focusing on school, not getting a job. Or reading comics.

I like 1602, but I don’t get it. It’s so referential to characters I don’t know, storylines I can’t track. Every time I go into the shop, I feel more like an outsider. I’ve crossed the Rubicon. I am a regular, or anyway, a person who regularly comes in, even if I still don’t know anyone’s name. So why do I feel more left out than ever?

I end up at the same college as the guy I met online. He runs the comics library. Even after we break up, I’m welcome there. I finally feel like I can come in and flop down, pick up any comic I want, read it. I don’t have to talk to anyone if I don’t want to, and if I do talk to people, they are people I already know. I will not be quizzed.

The comics are in hardback books comprised of many single issues. I know they’re sent to a monastery to be bound together. (This is, though it seems fantastic, true.) I suppose that the monks are puzzled by the contents. My imagination doesn’t yet stretch to consider that some of the monks probably loved comics as boys, that they probably enjoy illicitly reading the issues as they bind them.

I can go back as far in comics history as I want to, here. There are first issues of all sorts of things. But I don’t. Every time I pick up something from the 80s or before, it’s too old, I don’t get it. When I try to pick things up in the middle, even the spots where people say “here’s where to start,” I feel that shivery misery of out-of-placeness. Maybe I’m not made for these. Maybe these are not made for me.

I read the full run of Ultimate Spider-Man, because I don’t have to know anything about what came before. I read V for Vendetta. I read Bone. I read Blankets. I read zines published by local artists. I don’t read any more superhero comics, after awhile. It’s not any individual person’s fault. It’s my fault, for not being more persistent. I shouldn’t have been put off by those actually-nice-guys who were just trying to be welcoming in an awkward way. After all, no one ever did anything really offensive. I should have listened more to my kind feminist boyfriend, to the scans_daily friend, even to my childhood best friend who somehow managed to get her hands on all sorts of pop culture that I wasn’t privy to. I shouldn’t have been daunted by canons that stretch back years before my birth. It’s me. I’m the one who’s at fault.

I watch people love superheroes from, it feels like, a long way away.

What if I loved superheroes?

I wax poetic about the new Spider-Man movie, about how much I hated the Tobey Maguire films because they weren’t really about a high school student. I scream with delight when the trailer comes on at SDCC, when I’m in Hall H and suddenly Peter Parker is in a high school comedy and Zendaya is flirting with him and it’s so great. Elizabeth is startled to find out that I care at all.

What if I was a fan of Spider-Man?

It’s not possible that I am a fan of Spider-Man. I know nothing about him. After all, I’ve only read Ultimate.

I feel confident at Comic-Con, going to the CBLDF party, walking around the floor. I know a lot about this stuff compared to most of the people here. I am a True Nerd.

I’m not a True Nerd. I only know a lot about comics compared to the Muggles.

The fact that I call them “Muggles” and not something else, something comics-specific, only illustrates that fact.

I read indie comics. My husband likes them more than me. I can’t compete with his expertise. I can’t compete with anyone’s expertise. So I begin to say, “I don’t read comics.” This is a lie.

I personally buy many of our comics, but they still feel like they belong to him.

I don’t look femme anymore, at least not high femme. I see myself in zines I buy at Printed Matter or at St. Mark’s Bookshop or online: people with long eyelashes and men’s haircuts. I don’t, somehow, connect these people with Witchblade, or with 1602. Their work is sold in bookstores. Their work is sold in Artists’ Alleys. They aren’t comics. Or they are, but they’re not that kind of comics.

They’re the kind of comics that I can read, not the kind of comics I can’t read.

I lift weights a lot. My favorite shirt reads THE SAVAGE SHE-HULK. I have never read a comic about She-Hulk.

I begin to think I might be non-binary, but I don’t care enough to insist on pronouns.

Maybe I do care enough. But I am set in my ways. People assume I’m straight, people assume I’m absolutely female. When I send up a test balloon about it, the reaction is stark: what the fuck. I don’t want to get into the argument.

I also don’t want to get into the argument about comics. I would rather not read superhero comics than have to defend my enjoyment of them, or have to fight my own instincts in order to enjoy them. So I don’t. I’ll study them and know all about them, intellectually, and I’ll watch the movie when it comes out but I won’t give my heart away.

This makes me a coward. I have recently come to recognize that I belong in Slytherin. I guess it comes with the territory.

I study fandoms for work. My closest colleague loves to read single issues, loves Marvel and DC. She follows a million superheroes, she writes criticism for fun in her off hours, she brings great insights. We do projects to look at superhero fandoms together and I know I’m resting in the fact that I can focus on just the parts I feel comfortable with and leave the rest to her. If I squint it’s almost like I’m just engaged in the fandom spaces I always have loved, the spaces that are familiar to me. The internet spaces where people write fanfic and make fanart. The spaces that are mostly female and enby.

On the internet nobody knows you’re a dog.

So why is it that I know so many women, so many women who are much more femme than me, so many women who are much more women than me, who embrace superhero comics?

Who identify as comics people, even if not superhero comics people?

Why can’t I seem to do it too, no matter how much I read?

I don’t normally self-disclose this way, for a lot of reasons. My work involves actively trying to ignore personal feelings about fandoms, checking and double checking against data to make sure that they’re being represented accurately and truthfully and honestly and fairly, and I think I do it pretty well. More to the point, I do it with a team, and we check each other.

Fansplaining involves criticism of fandom as well as celebration of it. A lot of times our experiences as hosts are beside the point. When Elizabeth said she thought we needed to do a big quadruple episode and address racism in Star Wars fandom, my stomach sank. Star Wars was my jam. I wept at the new movies. I owned a whole bookshelf of extended universe novels at one point. I didn’t want to look at how the fandom was flailing (and failing). But she was right. And my feelings were beside the point.

Still, it’s impossible to set aside everything you feel.

Are we really negative about comics on Fansplaining? I can’t tell. Or, I can: I combed through every time we’ve discussed them, and was satisfied that we weren’t. But then I got to the end and had another email from another listener saying that we were. I know from experience that perceptions are untrustworthy. My perceptions are untrustworthy. Relying on your gut means you get things wrong.

I resent that I feel obligated to write this post. I don’t want to talk about how easily intimidated I am. I don’t want to talk about my life as a teenager, when everything to do with gender felt momentous. And I don’t want to have my voice, as an upper middle class white person who isn’t usually visibly non-binary, be the voice that’s heard on this subject, when our interviewees on Fansplaining have surely been speaking from experiences of racism as well. But I guess I’m writing it anyway.

I don’t know how to unpick this knot. I don’t want to be unfair, but I don’t know how to be “neutral,” not in the podcast that Elizabeth and I manage to produce by the skin of our teeth around everything else in our lives. If it were my job I could do it. But I already have a job, and I do have to be neutral there, and I can’t do it any more than I already do.

There’s no answers here, but maybe there’s something useful.

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ships-and-saints · 8 years ago

Text

Draw With Me [Feyre x Rhysand Modern AU]

!!! it’s here !!! thanks anon (also ur not weird for being a slut for angst because I am too!)

I have this automatic instinct to apologize for how i write and what i write, and I’m determined NOT to do that anymore. I will say i am sorry for how long this took me (school is GETTING IN MY WAY), and I REALLY hope people enjoy it even though it’s not perfect!! I had a lot of fun writing this and building a backstory for it - Also it’s nearly 6,000 words, so hold on to your hats!

I don’t want to spoil anything (HELION), so please feel free to read and give me your thoughts - i’m debating writing a second part depending on interest. :) thanks!!

FST/Soundtrack: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0XZJ5mD6nSU Word Count: 5764 Read it on: [ Fanfiction ] [ AO3 ]

Draw With Me

I was the first to enter the classroom.

It was 7:40AM on the first day of classes, and the hallways were already filled with students and professors as they made their way to their destinations. I had just breezed past two people, students I assumed, who were hovering in the hallway near my classroom.

I was practicing an introduction in my head, just in case, Hi, my name is Feyre Archeron and…

And what? I wondered if I should mention my age… or my preference for paints…

Caught up in my own thoughts and believing that other students had already entered the classroom, I just waltzed right in.

And slowly stopped in my tracks because… I was the first. And the classroom was completely empty. Whirling around, my eyes caught on the nondescript black clock above the door.

7:41AM.

I knew I was early since class began at 8AM sharp, but… I had passed students and professors on my walk here. Well, since I was already here, I might as well choose my seat.

My eyes roved over the classroom, and while shrugging my backpack off, I picked my way over to an easel stationed on the western side of the classroom.

Just before I reached the easel and stool, two students sauntered in – the same two that I had breezed past just outside the classroom. They quickly surveyed the room and selected a seat, just as I had.

The female student was beautiful; she had warm brown eyes, and her long, blonde hair was braided and fell down the center of her back. She had chosen to sit at an easel nearby me, but closer to the door.

The woman eventually looked up and caught my gaze, and I narrowed my eyes at her.

Her brown eyes remained impassive as she just shrugged her narrow shoulders, her floor-length sundress rustling along the tiled floor, and gave me a small, guilty smile. Sorry.

Hmm. She didn't look wholly repentant. They had purposely waited for someone else to enter the classroom first, but why…?

"The first always gets noticed." The other student answered my unspoken question.

What does that mean? My eyes snapped to where he was seated across from me on the eastern side – in a chair with a drawing pad on his lap, twirling a pencil between his fingers.

Now that I really looked, I noticed he was also very good-looking, even with the hood shadowing parts of his face. He was dressed more simply than the female student, and I wondered if they were together. He wore a slate-colored, cowl neck sweatshirt, slim-cut black pants, and black combat boots.

I tilted my head, confused, but he didn't seem inclined to say anything more. As I assessed him, I couldn't tell whether he was an ally or a foe; his expression was mild but unreadable, although my predator's instinct warned me that I was likely facing another predator.

However, his slumped position in the chair seemed relaxed enough, with both legs sticking out in front of him. I had no idea what to say or whether to ask him what he meant, but I figured, perhaps I would find out soon enough. So I ducked my head behind my easel and continued setting up my things.

After all, we were in the advanced introductory drawing class at a prestigious art university, the Velaris School of Design. Months after submitting my application and portfolio on a whim, I received a heavy, cream-colored envelope containing my acceptance letter as well as other important documents, including a course schedule. A note clipped to the schedule stated that I had been placed into a more advanced drawing class, but I had been more than thrilled that I had been accepted into the university at all.

When I'd opened the letter, Elain had been home tending to the garden but when she heard me screaming, she ran into the house and screamed with me. Then we called Nesta, who surprisingly picked up on the first ring.

"I had a feeling it was good news," Nesta declared after I finished speaking, and then she added, "Congratulations, Feyre. You deserve it."

She had sounded happy for me, proud, even. It was rare for Nesta, the coldest of us three, to show feeling, so her praise meant a lot to me.

I was shaken from my reverie by the sound of students gradually filing into the room, some in pairs and trios, and others streaming in alone. I fiddled with the arrangement of my pencils and graphite sticks, glad I had gotten here early so that I had a chance to observe my fellow classmates.

As I cast a wandering gaze around the room, I could easily identify which students had money, and which didn't. Nobody noticed me, and nobody bothered to introduce themselves but I was happy to keep to myself.

I also noted that there weren't enough easels, so students who filed in later would only have the choice to sketch on chairs loosely arrayed around the podium. Or stand.

Sounds of students chattering and chairs sliding filled the room; the familiar sounds of art tools clattering was both comforting and nerve-wracking at the same time. Sunlight streamed in overhead through narrow, horizontal windows on the northern wall and panes of long, vertical windows on the eastern wall of the room.

I glanced at the clock again; there were still 5 more minutes before class started.

I tried to look preoccupied with the materials I had laid out, and my mind wandered again...

It had been years since Hybern's War, and luckily, my family and I had made it out alive – well, me, my two older sisters Nesta and Elain, and my father. My mother had died of disease during the early years of the war, but before she passed, she had made me promise to take care of our family.

I always wondered why she didn't ask Nesta, or Elaine…

But I promised her. I said yes, and… I'd learn to provide for my sisters and my father, on my own. Alone. I hunted and killed, did things I wasn't proud of…

As the war raged endlessly, the borders and lands of Prythian had been bent and disrupted, including our hometown. We lost our home, but saved our most precious family valuables along with whatever we could. It was many years before the war ended, but afterwards, the country slowly rebuilt and reknit itself because the High Courts of Prythian all united for the cause of rebuilding our war-torn lands.

As the war was winding down, my father took advantage of society's momentary lapse in maintaining law and order, and he slowly began to rebuild some of his prior fortune. The money he slowly accumulated was just a fraction of the prior wealth we had all known, but it was more than we had had in a long, long while.

I still remembered and resented my father had been a lifeless husk, useless after his wife, our mother, had passed into the void…

However, even though it took a while, he saved enough money to eventually move us to Velaris, the City of Starlight. The city had been closed off for hundreds of years, but after the war, the High Lord of the Night Court had welcomed all those who wished to seek refuge.

Moving us to Velaris was perhaps the best thing our father had ever done for us. Within a year and a half, Elaine had met and married well to a serious but kind man named Graysen Tolliver. And Nesta was off doing, well, whatever it was that Nesta did – within a few months, she had quickly enrolled at a university in Velaris that focused on literature and knowledge.

But now I was here, in this classroom. It wasn't the time to be thinking about the past.

Better to be grateful for what I had now, and the future.

I took a swig from my water bottle to try and clear my mind, noticing that the students near the door were starting to shift nervously and whisper in a hush. My eyes snapped to the focus of their attention – a woman now sweeping into the room, who I assumed was our art professor.

Her bright red hair was streaked with thick strands of white, lending evidence to her older age. I noticed her eyes next, which were ice-blue and hawk-like, as if she could simply see right through you. She wore a long, slim, navy-blue gown with pearls dotting her ears and silver bangles on her wrists.

Briskly, she stepped onto the podium with a no-nonsense demeanor. She commanded most of the room's presence, as the students around me silenced near instantly.

I didn't know too much about our art professor, only that she was renowned for her skills and that many lords and ladies often commissioned incredible works from her. So perhaps, it was to be expected that the fire-haired artist would feel so intimidating to students in an introductory art course.

I took a moment to relish in that thought – finally, finally I had the luxury of taking art courses, of honing artistic skills beyond my penchant for painting. I had worked hard, fought hard for my family, and now I finally had the chance to do something for myself. To attend university, and pursue art…

The professor stood on the podium. Clasping her hands behind her back, she cleared her throat. Every single pair of eyes in the classroom was already on her.

Her hawk-eyes were initially trained on the door, but eventually her penetrating stare roved around the room. "Well, it seems like most of us are here. Welcome, students. My name is Anaxandra Agnes. I do not want to waste precious class time with too many words, so I will assume you have all perused the syllabus before you stepped over the threshold. If not, there are copies of the syllabus on the table in the back."

She gestured towards the stack of syllabi with one hand, and some students turned to look towards where she pointed. Then she clasped her hands behind her back again.

Professor Anaxandra Agnes began pacing slowly in a circle. "For today's class, you will be showing me what you can do. If you are serious about art but cannot handle the pressure or expected to get an easy grade, you should probably leave now."

She paused, and the whole room held their breath, collectively wondering if anyone would leave.

Instead, the door creaked open, and the whole room directed their attention to the tall, dark-haired man that slipped into the room, wearing an impeccably cut black tunic and pants. I craned my neck and watched as he immediately slunk off to a corner, seeing all of the eyes upon him.

Nobody got up to leave, so Professor Agnes continued. "I also don't tolerate tardiness" – she turned and looked pointedly at the male who had just entered – "and contrary to popular belief, there is such thing as stupid questions."

"My apologies, Professor. Prior engagements ensnared me." The gentleman in the corner sketched a bow. I was surprised to hear that he sounded confident and that his voice was rich and deep, like red wine.

Recognition crossed her face, and to everyone's surprise, the professor huffed a sigh and placed a hand on her hip. "Oh, Rhysand. You know I don't like to make exceptions, either.

Even though I could barely see him, I was willing to bet money that the tall man – Rhysand? – was smirking.

Professor Agnes cleared her throat. "Now, let me introduce you to our model for today. You will be sketching him during the first half of class, and I will be walking around and observing. I'll also be using your drawings as teaching examples in the later half. So please, do your very best." She stopped pacing and looked towards the door again.

"Helion, if you please." The red-haired professor called towards the door and waited.

Not a minute passed before Helion strode in, wearing nothing save for a white towel wrapped around his waist. Some of the female students began talking in hushed whispers, while several male students shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

Helion was gorgeous, possibly the most beautiful man I had ever seen. His powerful muscles rippled as he walked, his skin was a sun-kissed brown that reflected the sun's rays, and his onyx hair was wound in tight curls. He walked up to the podium and surveyed the room.

For some reason, Helion's watchful, amber eyes caught mine, and I willed herself not to look away. He winked slyly, and I swore I heard a chorus of quiet sighs ripple throughout the room.

Meanwhile, I was willing the blush not to creep up my face any further. I ducked behind the easel, both to hide my flushed face and to avoid some of the women shooting daggers at me with their eyes. I thanked the Cauldron that I had gotten here early so that I could hide behind the easel, because when I peeked back at the podium, I felt another pair of eyes staring at me from across the room.

I willed myself to get it together; I would have to stare at Helion, our model, for like the next hour or so anyway, to capture him on paper… So I'd better get it together.

The professor continued explaining what to expect from our two hour block, and eventually we began sketching.

Sometime between now and then, Helion had lost the towel and was now posing completely nude. I coughed behind my hand and heard several others do the same.

Smirking inwardly, I refocused my attention on him.

Helion sat on the stool, his feet planted firmly on the ground. His left elbow rested on his left knee, and he rested his head in his hand. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, I could not see his... equipment below the waist very well. He locked his lofty gaze in our general direction.

I did a quick sketch of his general pose first, observing the contours and lines of his body, memorizing all the places where shadows struck and light danced…

I wondered if it was a sin to be so beautiful, or if there were some price to pay… Surely no one could get away with walking around and looking like that? What if he were devastatingly handsome but also pathetically stupid?

I scolded myself for thinking so pettily and focused on my sketchbook; I wanted to prove myself, wanted to show everyone what a nobody could do, show everyone what my dreams and passions and struggles had taught me…

So I threw myself into capturing Helion. I drank up every detail, seared his image into my brain, and reimagined him onto the sheet in front of me.

Helion had a square chin and prominent cheekbones; there were deep, expressive lines on his face, although I would be hard-pressed to capture his unfathomable expression at the moment. His eyes were a lovely amber gold, like honey dripping from a honeycomb. My attention drifted to his scar-flecked hand and then to other scars on his body. I absentmindedly wondered how he'd gotten them, how he'd gotten so many…

I blocked out everything around me, ignored the wandering eyes of my peers as they tired of their own creations and looked around for a respite, or perhaps for inspiration…

My only inspiration would be Helion. He was enough. His skin glowed effortlessly as the sun continued rising up over the east. Seated in the chair, his pose cast dancing shadows, and I labored as the shadows moved with the sun…

I sketched and drew and redrew, until my arms ached.

Finally, it was over. Class was a complete whirlwind, and before I knew it, I was packing up my supplies to leave. Students were already hustling out the door, heading to their next class or some other engagement.

My mind drifted back to what the male student had said at the beginning of class… What was it again? The first always gets noticed.

The professor had, indeed, recognized me. Well, not at first… eventually.

As we all diligently worked on our drawings, Professor Agnes had strolled purposefully around the room, observing students as they labored and occasionally making insightful comments to most of the students.

I had been dreading the moment she would approach my work to assess my poor sketch of Helion with her calculating gaze, with eyes that had seen thousands upon thousands of artworks, possibly some of the greatest works known to mankind…

I tried to shake off the feeling of intimidation, immersing myself in my work as sweat gathered on the nape of my neck and the sun beat down on my brow. I sensed her pause behind me at some point, but she didn't make any remarks to me.

After the timer went off, Professor Agnes rounded the room again. This time, she stopped to assess every work she had skipped over before on her previous rounds.

Finally, she stopped to appreciate my mostly completed sketch of Helion. She stared at it for a long while, and I couldn't read anything past the cold, analytical expression in her blue eyes.

She clucked her tongue, and I braced myself as she opened her mouth to speak – "I surmise that you frequently work with paints. Even so, this work shows your potential." She nodded approvingly at my attempt to capture Helion's radiant skin and the complex array of shadows and light that danced across his posed figure.

"Thank you, Professor," I replied gratefully, and then added, "I'm… Feyre. Feyre Archeron."

She surveyed me with those frost-blue eyes, like staring at an iceberg. But she didn't seem cold in her demeanor, she seemed… approving. "Keep up the effort, Feyre."

I nodded and stepped back to allow her to walk over to the last few students she hadn't made comments to. Letting out a quiet sigh, I glowed with the praise and tried to ignore the eye-rolls of eavesdropping students around me.

I overheard a few others who received similar comments, but for the most part, she was methodical and objective in her criticism. But never harsh.

Most students had already left the classroom, and I moved towards the door with a wrinkled, folded map in my hand, ready to figure out where my next class was in this sprawling building.

Helion was standing in the hallway near the door still, talking to someone it seemed like… I was surprised to see him, what was he still doing here? I assumed he wasn't just a model with a little too much time on his hands.

He glanced towards the door just as I was walking through, and I tried to keep the expression on my face neutral, casual, even though my heart skipped a beat.

"Feyre?" His voice was deep, lilting. I nearly stumbled, hearing my name fall from his lips. How did he know…?

"Uh… Yes?" I replied hesitantly as I paused in my steps. My eyes flickered over his shoulder to students milling in the hallway, but I didn't catch who he might have been speaking to.

"I overheard your name, in class. I was wondering if you might want to grab a coffee with me later. After your classes are over, of course." Helion's voice was rich and lightly accented, but it was unlike the Velaris accent I had grown accustomed to after living here.

"Coffee?" My attention snapped back to his amber eyes as I tried to glean his intentions.

After all, I was a nobody. I didn't know anybody at this school, and I had lived in Velaris for less than two years. And, I certainly didn't know anyone who looked like Helion.

Helion bowed his head slightly and held out a large, tanned hand. His eyes met mine and he smiled slightly. "I apologize for my rudeness; I should have introduced myself. My name is Helion Cleavar. It's nice to make your acquaintance."

I reached for his hand automatically and shook it. "Feyre… Archeron. It's nice to meet you, but… maybe you've got the wrong person?"

"Feyre." His voice was practically a purr as he rolled the end of my first name. I swore I heard someone cough in distaste from behind me. "Do you drink coffee? I've never seen you around, so I figured you were new. Maybe I can show you this lovely café nearby."

"Oh, umm… Sure, I guess," I stammered slightly. Helion's dark, thick eyebrows raised in delight.

Well… I mean, what else would I have said instead? I suppose I could have simply said no but… Coffee was necessary, and I did need to eat eventually. And who said no to somebody who looked like Helion?!

Plus… he had known that I hardly knew anyone here, suspected that I was new to Velaris. So… perhaps I was a little curious to see where this game led, although I hated that I wasn't in on the rules. Or that I didn't know who all the players were. But I intended to find out.

Helion and I exchanged phone numbers, and I headed off to my next class, which I was glad was only an hour instead of two.

My second class of the day passed much more uneventfully than the first, to my wary relief. After class ended, Helion texted me the address of the café, and I ambled over.

It was a beautiful Autumn day in Velaris and unseasonably warm. The leaves on the trees were slowly turning color, lovely and brilliant hues of reds and oranges splashing across the bright blue sky. Puffy, white clouds lazed low across the sky as the sun voyaged across.

True to Helion's word, the café was a short walk away. It was near campus, but in a more upscale part of the city. The café was beautiful from the front, with lovely, blue sloping canopies and large, open windows where I could see all of the round tables and the customers and employees.

Café Valeria was neatly etched onto one of the windows, with a menu tacked underneath. I'd never been to this café before because it was relatively expensive; although I love coffee, I'd rather save money for art supplies. But the inside of the café looked so warm and inviting, I figured it couldn't hurt to splurge once in a while, right? I had some money left over from a part-time job I had worked after we moved, but not much…

Helion arrived while I was still outside looking in, lost in my own thoughts.

"Cold feet, already?" Helion's voice was light, teasing, and I turned to see him smiling dazzlingly, like the sun.

I decided to answer with my own brilliant smile, to show that I wasn't intimidated by his radiance – although I was. A little bit.

"I've never been here before. I was just… I like to watch people." I admitted. I moved towards the door, but Helion beat me to it.

He opened the door and waved an arm at me. "After you, Feyre, love."

Feyre, love? My mind went blank at how casually he dropped the term of endearment.

Helion was smirking, but it was almost as if he were laughing at a private joke. But I brushed it off and walked past him into the shop towards the counter where customers were ordering.

He fell into step behind me and started recommended things that were good on the menu. After deliberating for a few minutes, I chose a hot cappuccino and a sandwich he recommended. He simply ordered an espresso.

"You're not going to eat?" I questioned, raising my eyebrows.

He shook his head. "No, I'm not terribly hungry at the moment. Come, this way."

Shrugging, I followed him as he led us to a table tucked by the wall. Our coffees and food were brought to us by a waiter, who folded in a bow and disappeared as soon as we told him that we didn't need anything else.

Idly, Helion and I somewhat awkwardly made small talk. He seemed to be anticipating something, but I didn't know what, so I simply waited for him to… bring it up maybe?

Finally, I heard a slightly familiar voice.

"There you are. I've been looking for you."

I turned to see the man that had entered class late, the one dressed in the rich, dark tunic and pants. He looked to be slightly younger than Helion, perhaps in his late-twenties, and I could hear the Velaris accent in his speech.

But he wasn't speaking to me, and he sounded slightly irritated. He was speaking to Helion, who barely gave him a cursory glance. "I'm busy, Rhys."

"I can see that," the man – Rhysand, was it? – drawled, with a lethal quiet. He plucked a stray thread from the breast of his jacket and brushed off invisible specks of dust. "But we need to attend to business."

Helion's amber eyes rolled, and he gave me a lazy, knowing smile that showed his gleaming teeth. "If you'll excuse me, Feyre, love, I have business to attend to."

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the muscle in Rhysand's jaw twitched as he tried to hide his frown.

"Of course. Don't let me keep you." I gestured that he should go off and do whatever it is that he needed to do.

Helion slid easily from the seat, and took my hand, bringing it up to his lips. "It was so nice to meet you, Feyre."

"Uh… Yeah, same to you," I replied self-consciously, retracting my hand. Rhysand stalked out of the café, and his demeanor reminded me somewhat of a bird whose feathers had been ruffled. Helion casually followed behind.

I sipped on my cappuccino as they exchanged words outside the front of the café. Unfortunately, I couldn't hear them, and my gaze drifted to Helion's seat. He had already paid for the both of us – a bill was slipped underneath his empty espresso cup.

Raising my brows, I turned to look back towards where they were standing – just in time to see Helion leaving, continuing along the sidewalk past the front of the café.

The bells on the door jingled as Rhysand entered again, one hand in his pocket. He seemed more relax; his gait was graceful and confident, feline-like.

"He apologizes for leaving so suddenly," Rhysand explained wryly, slipping into the seat where Helion had been sitting. A deep purple, collared shirt peeked through the top of his black jacket.

As he lightly dusted off his pant legs, he smiled crookedly at me.

That crooked smile left me breathless.

While Helion's lazy beauty had been like staring into the sun for too long, Rhysand's attractive features was a slow, smoldering devastation. Rhysand was beautiful… He had a strong jawline and high cheekbones, but what astonished me the most were his eyes.

I had never seen anyone with eyes like his. They were a lovely hue of dark blue, or perhaps violet – honest-to-the-gods violet – and I could've sworn they were flecked with pale white specks, like twinkling stars among a twilight canvas. His eyes were framed by long, dark lashes.

I wondered if I could ever capture what I saw in his eyes with even the best of paints… I doubted it.

"So, where were we?" He propped his head up on one arm and looked at me.

I raised my eyebrows. He had the audacity to ask me that? I had no idea what was happening! And to top it off, his expression was completely unreadable.

I shook my head in disbelief.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that? I don't know you. I hardly know Helion. But I know you two know each other. So why don't you tell me what's going on?" I said coolly, tipping my chin up at him expectantly. I was already tired out from this morning, and I wasn't in the mood to play around. Or be a pawn in whatever odd game they were playing.

Rhysand's face darkened, although he dutifully tried to hide it. "I apologize, my name is Rhysand. Please call me Rhys. And I'm sorry about – about Helion. He was… messing with me, and you got caught up in it." The lethal edge in his voice returned.

My brows knit together in confusion. "But… I don't know you, Rhysand… Do I?"

Rhysand coughed into his hand. "Ah, really, call me Rhys… nobody calls me Rhysand except for my family and old people. And no, we've never met… But uh… Well, you see, I'm a patron of the arts, and my… family has donated a lot of money to the university. So," he shrugged, "I'm not really a student, since I'm welcome at the school any time. And also, Professor Agnes is a friend of my family's."

Disbelief and suspicion must have shown on my face, because I held Rhysand's gaze long enough that uncertainty flashed across his – just a flash.

Something about his story didn't add up, but I wasn't sure I wanted to pry. But I did want to know what was going on…

"So… what does this have to do with me?"

I swore Rhysand's face turned a shade pinker, although he still smirked confidently at me. "Well, there's no use beating around the bush, I suppose. I saw your portfolio, and I was very impressed by it. Especially since you weren't trained in Velaris."

He saw my portfolio? My mind was reeling. I didn't know how to process it at first – waves of emotions flooded through me, anger, confusion, hurt, pride, embarrassment…

"You – you saw my portfolio?" I managed, needing to understand or confirm although I didn't understand why. How? What? Why?

Rhysand seemed unsettled by the tangle of emotions that must have been written across my face. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. I just meant… I just meant that your work was very good."

I took a moment to think, to process what he was saying.

"Are you… are you the reason I was accepted?" My tone was indignant, although I tried not to sound too accusatory.

Rhysand stilled, and the answer he gave was slow and carefully worded. "No. No, Feyre, I mean… I'll admit, I'm a part of the admissions department, but we don't see the names of the applicants. Just their works and some general information, like gender and age. We don't find out the names until after the decisions are made. And… that's when I saw your file, after you were accepted. But I didn't know what you looked like. That's why I was curious to find out."

That crooked smile again. But there was the nagging feeling again, the feeling that something in his story didn't quite add up. He was guarded, and while he looked relaxed, I could tell he was poised and cautious.

"And… Helion? Is he like you, a patron of the university as well?"

Rhysand closed his violet eyes and sighed deeply. "No – well, yes, Helion is like me to an extent, but no, he is not a patron of the university – although, as you saw he will occasionally pose for Professor Agnes. Helion is currently visiting, and his favorite thing to do while visiting me is to bother the shit out of me and my friends."

I snorted. "Doesn't he have anything better to do?"

Rhys's eyebrows raised and a light danced in his violet eyes. "I ask myself the same thing every day. Anyway, he was around while I was casually flipping through portfolios of accepted students and… he noticed that I noticed yours. Which is why he asked you on this date – to mess with me. Which it has."

I couldn't help but laugh at his exasperated tone. He muttered up at the ceiling, "I was the one who wanted to ask you out for coffee or lunch sometime."

I was trying hard not to furiously blush, and hoping I sounded more confident than I looked, I replied, "He looks radiant, but he really does seem quite devilish. When does he go back to his home?"

Rhysand gave a dramatic sigh, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead for added effect. "Tomorrow, thank the gods. I've had enough of his glowing, dewy, naked complexion."

I laughed. "Well, what was his goal? To try and get in my pants?"

Rhys's brows raised suggestively. "Well, he certainly wouldn't have said no. But no, it was mostly just to get on my nerves."

His violet eyes pierced mine, and I tried not to balk at the intensity of his gaze. "So, Feyre. Tell me about yourself. How you got into painting and such."

So I told him my story, bits and pieces at first. How some days, the only comfort I found in the world was through my paints. How my sister Elain had saved up pennies and spare change to buy me a new set of watercolor paints for my birthday one year, when we didn't have money to spare for nonessentials. I mentioned that we recently moved to Velaris, only a year and a half ago, and he nodded, smiling sheepishly.

"Sorry to sound like such a snake, but I noticed that in your file, as well. If you ever need any recommendations, just let me know. I know the city quite well." That twinkle had returned to his eyes, like little stars laughing. I smiled.

"Thanks, I appreciate it. And… thanks for what you said, about my painting too. I just… I just painted for myself. And to share with my sisters, I suppose… But mostly for myself."

Rhysand's eyes simmered with an emotion I couldn't quite place. "It shows," he said quietly.

I checked the time on my phone; it was almost time for my last class of the day, Color Theory.

Rhys followed my gaze. "You have to go."

I smiled apologetically. "Yeah, I've got class."

"Well, don't let me keep you. It was nice to meet you, although I wish it had gone differently." His expression was somewhat sorrowful, but he winked at me, and I struggled to control the sudden pounding of my heart.

"Let's exchange numbers," I blurted out, my heart jumping in my chest. Why not? I had given my number to Helion earlier today, although to be fair, he had asked me…

Rhys smirked and leaned towards me. "Okay. Let's meet again."

His words promised me a new beginning.

#feysand #feysand modern au #feysand fic #feyre archeron #feyre x rhysand #rhysand #helion #helion of the day court #acotar #acomaf #acowar #relatively spoiler free #velaris school of design #oyasumi writes #acotar fanfiction #feysand fanfiction

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