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yurimother · 4 years ago

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The Best Yuri of 2020

2020 was hell in every way, and many of us are looking forward to new possibilities and advances in 2021. However, the year brought us many small moments and gifts worth celebrating. Among these, the explosive growth and change within the Yuri genre are among the most precious and most outstanding achievements. This second century of Yuri opened with a bang, as phenomenal new works, creators, and moments made their mark and helped change the future genre.

This annual list is a celebration of just a handful of the fantastic titles, people, and events in Yuri. There are likely some even greater ones that did not make the list because there is so much content in both English and Japanese that even I cannot keep up. However, among the troves of treasure, these titles stood out as shining examples of Yuri excellence. Some were released this year, others were recently adapted into English, and still, others are established titles that rose to prominence to dominate the conversation and my mind this year, but every one of them is worthy of being on this list and in your heart.

Here is the Best Yuri of 2020!

15: The Curse of Kudan Remastered

Japanese Yuri visual novel developers show no sign of slowing down as they continue to push to new heights and try new ideas. These are the same amazing people who brought us the delightful educational Yuri game The Expression Amrilato and the hilarious and surprisingly queer OshiRabu: Waifus Over Husbando’s. However, this most recent release, The Curse of Kudan Remastered, is their best work yet. Released near Halloween, this game brings a new edge of dark mystery and the occult to Yuri audiences worldwide.

The Curse of Kudan is available on MangaGamer, JAST USA, Denpasoft, and Sekai Project.

14: Adachi and Shimamura

English audiences were finally treated this year to Hitoma Iruma’s long-running and wildly successful Yuri light novel series, Adachi and Shimamura. Although the story struggles to gain traction, dedicated readers’ have their patience rewarded with a sweet tale full of gay pining. Alternatively, you can jump into its stellar anime adaptation, with gorgeous visuals and realized characters you will actually be willing to put up with the annoying Yashiro just to see where the title characters go. The series shows no sign of slowing down either, as the manga adaptation is coming to Western audiences next year.

Adachi and Shimamura is available to stream on Funimation. The light novel series is published by Seven Seas - https://amzn.to/3rTSZTK

Honorable Mention: Happy Go Lucky Days

The OVA adaptation of Fragtime got most of the attention this year. Still, director Takuya Satou and Pony Canyon also gave us this much-overlooked “love is love” anthology movie based on Takako Shimura’s manga (Sweet Blue Flowers, Wandering Son). The first short in the film, “Happy,” is easily the best Yuri anime of the year. It follows the beautiful yet realistic queer love story of two women hooking up at a mutual ex-girlfriend’s wedding, only for the relationship to blossom and warm viewers’ hearts. Sadly, while stylized, the budget demanded the animation cut a few too many corners. Additionally, the subsequent stories are at best tedious and at worst alarmingly problematic, which is why Happy Go Lucky Days only gets an honorable mention.

The OVA is streaming on HIDIVE

13: Mieri Hiranishi

The Yuri scene has many colorful creators with a breadth of different ideas and stories in the genre, yet few have provided as much humor and joy as Mieri. This talented creator spectacularly tumbled into the scene with her manga essay The Moment I Realized I Wasn’t Straight, which embodies the brutal honesty and realism of Nagata Kabi and matches it with exaggerated hilarity. She continues to chronicle her painful struggles of being a butch girl in love with butch girls in the monthly series The Girl that Can’t Get a Girlfriend. Alternatively, you can follow her on Twitter for just as much heart and laughter.

Read The Girl that Can’t get a Girlfriend on Tapas and Webtoon.

12: My Next Life as a Villainess: All Routes Lead to Doom!

My Next Life as a Villainess has what can only be described as volcanic bisexual energy. Every character protagonist Catarina Claes encounters is entirely enthralled by her. Of course, she is far too preoccupied with her quest to avoid doom flags and change her ultimate fate to notice any romantic interest. The series is rewarding and well structured, as views are just as focused on how Catarina plans to avoid certain doom as they are with the various romantic misses her band of companions cooks up. While the “friendship ending” did not capitalize on its Yuri potential, it was perhaps the most satisfying possibility for this crazy harem, at least until season two comes out, which looks, unfortunately, to be significantly less queer.

My Next Life as a Villainess is streaming on Crunchyroll

11: Love Me for Who I Am

Kata Konayama’s manga series is less Yuri than a general LGBT work, but it has a lesbian character and explores her identity and struggles in great detail. Few titles before have captured the exciting and nervous waves of emotions that young people feel as they explore gender and sexual identities and try to find themselves. This heartfelt and extremely queer series rubberbands between cute moe dress up to tragic and gripping backstory, keeping readers on their toes the whole time.

Love me for Who I Am is published by Seven Seas - https://amzn.to/3rTSZTK

10: A Summer’s End – Hong Kong 1986

Oracle and Bone’s debut visual novel, A Summer’s End, is set in a vibrant and electric 1980’s Hong Kong. Drawing inspiration from classic Asian cinema, music, and fashion. The worlds of Michelle, a young office worker, and a free-spirited woman named Same collide. The two struggle to comprehend and accept each other’s feelings just as they struggle against society’s expectations and prejudices. An incredibly thoughtful and touching adventure, the creators incorporated vital contemporary elements include Asian LGBTQ rights and growing political unrest in Hong Kong, into this illustrious game.

The visual novel is available on Steam.

Honorable Mention: Goodbye, My Rose Garden

In the same vein as A Summer’s End, Goodbye, My Rose Garden is a beautiful period piece that incorporates LGBT views into its shattering narrative. The story follows a bright-eyed immigrant, Hanako, wanting to make a new life in England as an author at the dawn of the twentieth century. She takes a job as a maid to noblewoman Alice, but their relationship takes a turn when Alice asks Hanako to kill her. This poignant tale is beautiful and an honest depiction of love and its conflict with responsibility and society.

Goodbye, My Rose Garden is published by Seven Seas Entertainment - https://amzn.to/3hFSyaG

9: Shio Usui

Usui’s hit Shaikaijin Yuri manga Doughnuts Under a Crescent Moon could easily take this spot even though it is not even out in English until February 2021. The manga is already making waves and receiving constant praise. The characters and their journey to discover love and self-acceptance are as charming as they are relatable and grounded. However, it is the creator, Usui, who really deserves acclaim. Not just for their work on Doughnuts, but having a second serialized story, Onna Tomodachi to Kekkon Shitemita, in monthly Yuri magazine Comic Yuri Hime simultaneously. It is even more remarkable when you consider these two iconic stories are Usui’s first long-running works, as they only contributed one-shots before.

8: Bloom Into You: Regarding Saeki Sayaka

Bloom Into You is possibly the most iconic Yuri series in the past decade, and while the manga deserves its own place on this list, the best thing to come out of the series as a whole is easily the light novels. This trilogy by Adachi and Shimamura creator Hitoma Iruma dives deep into supporting cast member Sayaka. Readers are treated to a delightful journey as she discovers her sexuality, experiences heartbreak, and finally finds herself breaking free and falling in love. With the help of gorgeous illustrations by Nakatani Nio herself, Iruma masterfully captures Sayaka’s unique voice and emotions in this wonderful series. Whether a fan of the originals or not, every Yurijin must check out Regarding Saeki Sayaka.

The light novel series is published by Seven Seas - https://amzn.to/3hFSyaG

7: Our Teachers are Dating

The best a Yuri can get. This workplace romance follows two teachers at the start of a new relationship taking nervous yet enthusiastic first steps, including saying I love you, going on their first date, and even sleeping together. It is so heartfelt and salacious that readers will squeal the whole time. Additionally, our heroines are supported in their relationship by everyone they know, their students, colleagues, and even the principal. It is a perfect world for these two lovebirds! Our Teachers are Dating would easily be number one or two in any other year, but the competition is fierce in 2020. So even though this is only number seven, it is still a master class Yuri manga.

The manga is published by Seven Seas Entertainment - https://amzn.to/38XY3O9

6: Amongst Us

Who would have thought that a comedy alternative universe story spinoff of a fantasy action series would be the single best Yuri webcomic this year? Shilin’s astounding artwork illustrations the hilarious and irresistible journey of girlfriends Blackbird and Veloce. These two eccentric young women get into all kinds of everyday mischief that bounces between tender and touching romance, completely outrageous comedy, and downright thirst-inducing sorcery. Seriously, you should buy the first volume for Veloce’s back muscles alone. The storyline skips between time, but both their established relationship and their meeting as teenagers are adorkable and captivating.

Amongst Us is available online free on Webtoon and the comic’s website. The first volume is in paperback on Shilin’s site.

Honorable Mention: Éclair

There are a lot of Yuri anthologies out there, and they have done some beautiful things. Many focus on themes like Syrup. Others collect a series of stories by an author into one bound work. However, out of all of them, Éclair is the most successful. ASCII Media Works took some of the genre’s most extraordinary creators and let them do whatever they wanted, and the results are spectacular. The incredible talent behind Éclair somehow packs a full volume’s worth of story and character into just a few pages with every chapter. While the first volume came overseas a few years ago, Yen Press gave Yurijin a gift this year by releasing the entire rest of the series in which readers can get lost.

The anthology series is published by Yen Press - https://amzn.to/38XY3O9

5: I’m in Love with the Villainess

A small trend of isekai Yuri with villainesses emerged recently, and I honestly had few hopes of I’m in Love with the Villainess. The series is pretty popular, but I often find that this does not denote quality, and with isekai having some institutional issues, I suspected this would fall flat. Then the volume three cover showcased an incredible accomplishment, allowing for a lesbian relationship to blossom into a family with children, and it blew me away. Finally, I read volume one and realized that the series has incredible character, some of the best world-building I have ever seen in a light novel, thoughtful discussions of inequality and societal issues, and most impressively, open and frank discussion of queer identity and life Yuri has ever seen! This one is something special.

The series is published by Seven Seas Entertainment - https://amzn.to/3nedvdZ

4: The Last of Us Part II

Yes, I know this one is not Yuri and that a portion of the population despises this game and will likely be exceptionally angry at me for including it. However, I maintain that it was an incredibly challenging masterpiece. Naughty Dog did not take the easy route out and delivered one of the most devastating media experiences I have ever seen. As I said in my article about the game, playing it changed me, and it sticks with me to this day. The Last of Us Part II earns its spot on this list because it pushed boundaries more with LGBTQ inclusion than any other AAA game. From brave inclusion of LGBTQ themes to queer characters and storylines at its center, the game changes gaming and it will never go back.

The Last of Us Part II is available on PlayStation 4

3: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power

She-Ra feels like the culmination of all the LGBTQ progress western cartoons have made over the past few years. From The Legend of Korra to Steven Universe, young people are finally seeing more LGBTQ people represented on the small screen. This epic fantasy concluded with an amazing and powerful lesbian romance, delivering on its queer promise and revolutionized representation in a trope-defying crescendo.

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power is streaming on Netflix

2: The Conditions of Paradise

The greatest single Yuri work of all in 2020 was the English release of Akiko Morishima’s breakthrough manga, The Conditions of Paradise. Initially released in 2007, this anthology detailed the love between adult women. It was in every way a manga ahead of its time, and seeing it finally get a small piece of the recognition it deserves overseas is a true gift. The fact that we can own this legendary piece of Yuri history and Morishima’s other anthologies is nothing short of a blessing from the Yuri goddess.

The Conditions of Paradise is published by Seven Seas Entertainment - https://amzn.to/38bh4xq

Honorable Mention: Otherside Picnic

This eerie sci-fi horror series combines the best of pulse-pounding thrillers, complex and intelligent hard science fiction, and exciting Yuri romance. Author Iori Miyazawa spends as much time crafting a well-paced and intriguing narrative about a mysterious world where occult creatures roam as he does establishing two believable and grounded heroes in Sorawo and Toriko. The romance between the two may be slow to start, but their chemistry is undeniable and as the stakes and story build, so too does their relationship. Not only are the light novels incredible, but the series’ manga adaptation is coming soon to the West as well as an upcoming TV anime in early 2021.

Otherside Picnic is streaming on Funimation. The light novels are published by J-Novel Club - https://amzn.to/3niiv1g

1. Yuri subgenres

For a long time, Yuri was not a genre of its own, but elements of romances or bonds between women found in other works. Now, thanks to an increasing library of works, the advent of social media, and a wider audience, Yuri is a genre on its own, with many creators telling different stories in different styles. However, 2020 saw the continued emergence of something extraordinary, subgenres. Yuri is now so vast, we can actually categorize the works within. Depending on their characters, like classic schoolgirl romances or spicy shakaijin office affairs, their world, such as fantasy or isekai series and thrilling science fiction adventures, and even other elements within. One of my personal favorites is the feminist Yuri that emerges from titles like Sexiled, where women celebrate the accomplishments of other women and dismantle power structures stacked against them. Now, no matter what kind of Yurijin you are, there is something for you to love.

I am happy to leave 2020 behind, but I bring with me a renewed love and admiration for Yuri. 2021 looks to be a somehow even better year for the genre, and I am thrilled to experience every minute of it that I can. Yuri has transformed into something far greater than I ever thought it would be, and let us all enjoy its evolution and expansion together in 2021.

#yuri #manga #anime #top 10 #lgbt #lgbtq #lgbtq+#queer #gay #girls love #gl #adachi and shimamura #otherside picnic #lists #2020 #happy new year #2021 #new year

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cuttoothed · 4 years ago

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Day 8 of @jonmartinweek for the “AU” prompt.

This week has been such a delight to write for, and it’s the most productive and inspired I’ve been in a long time. I've really enjoyed all the great content coming out of this week. Thanks to the organizers for this wonderful event!

CW here for depiction of depression, though the term itself isn’t used. Depression symptoms are also shown to spontaneously improve over time, though it is stated that this is not a complete or permanent recovery.

There is a land with many gods. Gods of war and of peace; of harm and healing; of storms and snows. Gods of life and death; gods of hearth and home. The smallest village has its own small god; the cities have thousands, all clamoring for attention.

There is a valley with a kind and gentle god. He makes sure that the rains fall in spring, and in summer that the sun shines on the fields of growing crops. In winter he tempers the cold winds, gentles the frosts to spare the valley worst of the chill. The people love their god, and trust that he will always care for them.

Until one spring, the rains do not fall, and the clouds do not part to let the sunshine through. A freezing fog rolls in, blanketing the little village and the lands around it; the fields remain frozen, and those few plants that sprout from the frost-bitten earth rot in the clinging damp. The people despair, because their god has never let them down before. Have they done something wrong? Angered him somehow? They will have enough stores to survive one year without harvest, perhaps two; if their god’s kindness does not return by then, they will have to abandon the valley that has been their home for centuries.

The most senior leaders from the village go to speak with the god, in his shrine on the hillside. The god is distressed at their plight, but he tells them he cannot help; his soul is mourning, and he does not know why. He has tried to call on the sun, on the soft rains, but his heart is too sorrowful, and all that comes is fog.

The people of the valley try everything they can think of, to restore their god’s happiness. They bring him gifts, recite stories and songs; they throw a carnival in the foggy village square, with costumes and games and music. They offer to search for anything that will make him happy, if he will only tell them. But the god cannot tell them, and nothing brings him joy, and the fog remains.

One day, a scholar comes to the village. Jonathan Sims is from the city, from one of the temples of knowledge, where they have heard about this valley and its inconsolable god. He walks through the cold, mist-shrouded streets, and up to the hillside where the god’s shrine is.

The shrine is a cottage, small and quaint, with lights in its windows and smoke curling from its chimney; it isn’t like any shrine Jon has seen before. He hesitates before knocking on the door, unsure if this could truly be the home of a god. The person who opens the door looks like a man, with a kind face, and rough, home-spun clothing; he is quite unlike the gods of the city, who are sharp and polished and alien. But one look at his eyes tells Jon that this is the god: they are ageless and endless, swirling like silver-gray fog.

“I’m sorry,” says the god, “I’m not really in the mood for visitors at the moment.”

“Please,” Jon says, before he can shut the door. “I’ve brought jasmine tea—I heard you enjoy it?”

The god hesitates a moment, then says:

“All right, you can come in—but just for tea.”

The inside of the cottage is what Jon would have expected from its outside, cozy and cluttered, with a fire crackling in the hearth. The god fetches saucers and cups and brews a pot of the fragrant jasmine tea, and there are little cakes with dried fruit and honey, which the god tells him were a gift from the village.

“I’m not much of a baker myself,” he admits, pouring the tea. Then he asks: “What’s your name?”

“Jonathan Sims—Jon. What, uh, what should I call you?”

“I don’t have a name,” says the god. “The people around here just call me “the god”, and I’ve never thought to ask them for one.”

“You could always choose one for yourself.” The god gives him a curious look, as if that’s not something that had ever occurred to him.

“I suppose that I could,” he says. He takes a sip of his tea. “This is very nice, thank you.”

Jon has never had tea with a god before. The god asks him about the city and his work for the Temple of Beholding, and Jon finds himself talking freely; this god is very easy to talk to. His face is open and kind, and he listens attentively as Jon talks about the city, its people and its gods, about the work of the Temple to gather knowledge, to understand their world.

“Why did the Temple send you to me?” the god asks at last.

“We heard of what happened in the valley—of the fog,” says Jon, and sees guilt flash across the god’s face, the silver-gray of his eyes darkening. “I came to see.”

“Not to try to cheer me, then?” the god asks. There’s a bitter note in his voice.

“No, not to cheer you. Just to speak. To understand.”

“I’m glad you aren’t wasting your time, then,” says the god. “My people have done all they can to lift my sorrow. And I have tried, every way I know how, to send this fog away, to clear the skies, but I cannot—”

He shakes his head in frustration, lines of worry and grief etched across his features. Jon has the sudden impulse to reach out and comfort him; but this is a god, and besides, they’ve scarcely even met.

“I’m sorry that you carry such a burden,” he says. The god looks at him, and his mist-colored eyes are grieved.

“My sorrow isn’t important, only that it causes me to fail my people.” He turns away, his expression pained. “I’m sorry—I shouldn’t bother you with my troubles. It’s probably best that you leave.”

Jon wants to protest, but he thinks it’s probably not a good idea to refuse a god’s request. He sets down his teacup and puts on his coat, and at the door he pauses.

“May I come back tomorrow?” he asks. The god considers, and then nods.

“I would like that,” he says, with a faint hint of a smile.

It’s quite a lovely smile, Jon can’t help noticing.

In the village, Jon asks about the god. The god has always been there, he learns. The god has always cared for them, has always ensured their harvests are bountiful and their winters are mild. The people of the valley don’t understand why their god is so unhappy now, but they hope it doesn’t linger too long. They need him to be the joyful, attentive god he has always been; they depend upon it.

The next day, he walks back up to the cottage on the hillside; the door opens to his knock, and the god smiles in greeting. They drink tea by the fire, and Jon asks about the valley—about how it is, when the fog isn’t here. The god talks about the farms and the orchards, the beauty of this place in both summer and winter; he talks about the lives of the people, their joys and their trials, how they rely on him for their wellbeing.

“That sounds like a great responsibility,” says Jon.

“They need me to care for them,” the god says simply. “So that is what I do.”

They talk into the evening, and the god insists Jon stay for supper; a rich stew of root vegetables and herbs. The god smiles shyly when Jon compliments the meal.

“I’m a better cook than a baker,” he says.

It’s coming into night when Jon leaves, and the god gives him an oil lamp to light his way to the village. His fingers brush against Jon’s as he hands him the lamp, and there is a jolt of electric sensation; a reminder that he is still talking to a god.

“Walk safely,” says the god.

“May I come back tomorrow?” Jon asks, and the god smiles, his eyes shining silver-gray.

“I look forward to it.”

Jon comes back the next day, and the next day, and the next. Sometimes he and the god talk; sometimes, when the god’s sorrow is too deep for conversation, Jon makes tea and they sit together quietly. Some days they walk in the hills, where the fog coils around the god’s feet like a cat. Jon brings the god the books he’s carried with him from the city, and the god—eventually, shyly—reads Jon a poem that he’s written. Jon is no aficionado, but the soft sincerity of the god’s voice makes something warm curl in his chest.

Their fingers brush over tea cups and the spines of books, each touch sending that little electric thrill through Jon’s nerves, and a warmth that has nothing to do with divinity. He knows it’s foolish—utterly ridiculous—to harbor such feelings for a god. But the god is kind and caring and clever; he sometimes makes terrible jokes, and when they walk, he insists on stopping to greet every shaggy brown cow they see.

The god is also sad, a bone deep, aching sorrow whose roots are unfathomable. He tries to explain it to Jon: he has always felt such sorrow, from time to time, as if all the joys of life were far away, seen from behind glass. But it has never lasted for so long, and it has never before prevented him from fulfilling his duties; he has always been able to push it aside, to do what he must.

That, Jon thinks, is part of the problem; his god is too kind, too devoted, too willing to sacrifice himself for his people.

His god, and when did Jon start to think of him that way? Not in worship, but in growing affection?

More than anything, the god loves to hear of Jon’s travels. He has journeyed far and wide in service to the Temple, and the god listens raptly as he describes distant places he has been, sights he’s seen, people he’s met.

“I’ve never traveled anywhere,” the god admits. “It sounds quite wonderful.”

“It can be,” says Jon. “Though it’s best when you have somewhere to return to.”

One morning in midsummer, the fog curls denser than ever, and Jon can scarcely find his way to the cottage through the murk. He hurries as fast as he can, worried that something might be astray. He worries more when the god does not open the door to Jon’s knock; Jon wonders for a moment if he might not be home, but they had agreed to walk and visit the cows today. His god would not forget.

He hesitates, then lets himself in.

He finds the god curled by the fire, sitting on the floor with a heavy blanket around his shoulders. His face is drawn and tear streaked, and as Jon approaches another shuddering sob tears itself from his throat, fresh tears flowing from his silver-gray eyes.

“Oh—” Jon drops to his knees on the hearthstone, his hands flying up as if to touch the god’s face, but instead hovering helplessly above his shoulders; they have never touched, but for those accidental brushes. Does he have the right?

“Jon…” the god says, his voice rough and choked. “I’m so sorry, you shouldn’t have to see me this way.”

“Don’t say that,” says Jon, distraught. “Are you well?”

“I’m fine,” says the god, even as another sob shakes his shoulders. “I’m—there’s nothing wrong, not really. I’m just being...selfish. Absorbed in my own foolish melancholy when my people—“

“Forget your people!” Jon snaps, more sharply than he intends, and he sees his god flinch. “Just for a moment, think of yourself. I beg you.”

“My people—this place—they are me,” says the god. “If not for them, what would I even be?”

“You would be dear to me,” Jon says, hoarsely, and the god’s fog-colored eyes go wide, startled. The truth, then, and this time Jon does press a hand to his god’s soft cheek. The touch sends that familiar, tingling thrill through his palm, the feeling that Jon has learned to love.

“Oh,” the god whispers, and his hand comes up to cover Jon’s on his cheek. He leans into Jon’s touch, smiling even as the tears continue to flow.

There comes a day, in autumn, that dawns with sunshine and blue skies.

Jon wakes with his god curled beside him in the warm nest of their bed, and watches the light shining in through the window with wonder. It isn’t precisely a surprise: the fog has been lessening these past few weeks, the clouds growing less gray, but still he had not dared to hope that the sun might return—to the sky, and to his god’s heart.

After a time, the god wakes as well—slowly, as he always does—and his tousled head turns towards Jon. His eyes blink open, and their color is the clear blue of summer skies.

“G’morning,” he says sleepily, and Jon’s heart swells with love for him.

“Good morning,” he says. “The sun is out.”

The people of the valley rejoice with the return of the sun. This year’s harvest is lost, but they can begin to plan for next spring’s planting. The leaders of the village go to the shrine to give thanks to their god, but the strange scholar from the city answers the door and refuses to let them inside.

“He’s busy,” the scholar says, and shoos them away.

“You know that the fog may return, in time?” The god’s fingers twine gently with Jon’s. “I love you more than breath, but love cannot guard against such inborn sorrow. It comes when it wills, regardless of life’s joys.”

“Let it come,” says Jon. “I have loved you in the fog, and I will again. You own my heart, however heavy yours might be.”

He lifts his god’s hand and kisses his fingertips, feeling the buzz of bright sensation against his lips.

“My dear,” his god murmurs. “My heart.”

It isn’t long before Jon receives the letter that he knew would come; the fog has lifted and there’s no more to be learned, he is to return to the Temple at once.

He reads the letter once, then burns it.

“We should go somewhere,” Jon says, one evening. His god smiles, fingers stroking through Jon’s hair, leaving little trails of electric sensation behind.

“That’s a pleasant fancy,” he says. “I would love to travel with you, see those wonderful places you’ve told me about.”

“Why shouldn’t you?” Jon urges. “Just for a time?”

“I-I couldn’t,” the god stutters. “My people—“

“Your people would carry on without you,” says Jon. “You have given everything that you are to this place and its people for so long; you’ve suffered through pain and sorrow in silence, until you could conceal it no more. You have thought of nothing for yourself, love, and so I must think of it for you.”

His god is staring at him now, his blue eyes wide and wet with tears. Jon grasps both of his hands, feeling the little sparks of divinity dancing across his skin.

“Come away with me,” he pleads. “Be selfish, for a little while.”

“Jon…” His god breathes his name like a prayer, and Jon wonders at the fortune that brought him here. His god smiles, bright and glorious.

“Yes,” he says.

They lock up the cottage before they leave, an empty shrine, but only for a time. The spring sun is shining, and in the valley below they can see people working in the fields, planting for their next harvest. The god gives a worried sigh, and Jon takes his hand.

“Your people are well,” he says, gently. “And we won’t be too long away.”

“I know,” says his god, and squeezes his hand. Then he smiles, wry and mischievous. “I had a thought; since we’ll be out in the world, I should choose a name. I expect most people won’t take kindly to calling me god.”

“That may be wise,” Jon agrees, laughing. “Have you thought of the name you might want?”

“Well…” his god says. “I was fond of the protagonist in that novel of yours—The Life and Adventures of Martin Blackwood?”

“Martin Blackwood, eh?” Jon says, considering. His god—Martin now, perhaps—tilts his head quizzically, his blue eyes shining.

“What do you think?” he asks, and Jon smiles.

“I think it suits you.”

#the magnus archives #tma #jonmartinweek2021 #my fic #jonmartin

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whorphydice · 3 years ago

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Bread When I’m Hungry

Happy Re-opening, Heres a new fic.

Bread When I’m Hungry

Those were words that, in the dead heat of summer, have Orpheus waking from a dead sleep. Somehow, despite the blazing temperatures, he wakes in a cold sweat. Fear likely responsible for the chill he felt in his heart at the memory. It was a nightmare, quite literally, that he would never recover from. Eurydice, clinging to his hand, begging him to just listen please, we need food. A nightmare, a memory, that every night now, he experienced again in his head. Eurydice, his wife, his love, starving in front of his eyes.

Even when he woke, breathing hard and heart trying to beat itself out of his chest, he cannot shake the feeling. He always looks to his right, where his wife is there in the flesh, alive. The gentle rise and fall of her shoulders with her breathing comforts him, bringing him out of his fear. Yes. She was alive, she was here, and she was safe.

And yet, despite the very physical evidence of her beside him that they were safe… it all ate at Orpheus. The memories, the nightmares. The look on her face when he had come for her, the hope in her eyes when she told him she needed so little-- bread, fire-- so long as they were together. He owed her- he owed her the most basic of comforts.

He had promised to see her needs, to meet them. He would be damned before he failed to provide for her again.

It is that next morning, right after the peak of summer, when he kisses his wife’s sleeping face, whispers a promise of “I’ll be back soon,” and slips out towards the door. The fact doesn’t escape him (he’s gotten better at remembering important things) that his wife had mentioned she was going to be helping Persephone and her mother with gardening all day and likely would not be home until that evening. Perfect.

He is the first person at the market that morning, with a cotton tote over his shoulder. He makes a beeline way directly to the corner stand that is filled with freshly baked goods, leavening agents, and a plethora of flour products. It’s earlier than he’d wake normally, but he can remember hearing about baking early in the day, and bakers waking before anyone else. Yes, this is what he had to do. What he wanted to do. He practically runs up to the stand, absolutely beaming at the town baker, despite the early hour.

“Good morning!” Orpheus greets, pulling a notebook from his pocket, as well as a pencil. “I have some questions for you.”

The baker, an older man, who had been baking in the town before Orpheus had even been born, looks up over his shelves of goods, a curious expression on his face. “Why, good morning Orpheus! What are you doing here so early, and where’s that girl of yours? Unlike you to be alone!”

A warm blush comes to Orpheus’ face, as he fiddles his pencil between his thumb and forefinger. “That’s actually what i’m here about. I want to learn to bake. Bread, actually. I promised her she’d have a home with warm bread. I need to make sure I keep that promise.” He gestures to the flours and sugars around him. “And, to be quite honest, I don’t even know how to start.”

The baker is a kind man, and he chuckles under his breath. It was just very..Orpheus..to take on a project and a promise with no idea of how to go about completing it. He wipes his hands on his apron and holds out both hands, gesturing for Orpheus to hand him the note pad and paper. “You’re the only man I know like you.” He remarks, scribbling down instructions on the notepad. “You’re going to start simple, alright? No starter, no add ins. Just a basic, white bread.”

Orpheus nods excitedly, clasping his hands infront of him. “Yes, yes, thank you! I appreciate it, and Eurydice will too.” It was fact, in the town. That Eurydice was nearly as beloved as Orpheus, maybe even more so, for the way she brought him the joy that she did. He is glancing around at the ingredients around him, trying not to show the level of overwhelmed he felt. “I can- what do I need to do that?”

“I’ll set you up right, don’t worry about it. And when you’re done here you’re gonna stop down there for your butter. It’ll be nice and fresh. Melts real well on the warm bread. And stop and grab some fresh eggs too. You can make a real nice toast for your girl in the mornin;.” The Man hands Orpheus the list back, and then begins to hand him the proper products he needs from the document. “If you really want to impress her, You make a few loaves, then it pushes you through the week. Shows forethought.”

Orpheus gives the man a genuine thanks and exchanges payment, before he carries on stopping at the rest of his target vendors. He grabs the additional ingredients, careful to follow the instructions exactly. He has to make sure Eurydice enjoys it, he has to make her see that he listened to her needs.

Orpheus enjoys the walk home, noting to himself how melodic the birds sound. He finds himself humming in response, a beautiful distraction to exactly how exhausted he is. The combination of the lack of sleep from the nightmares and the early start to the day are surely to catch up to him. But for now, in this moment, he is simply too excited to surprise his wife.

Orpheus arrives home, tossing his shoes to the side as he soon as he passes the threshold of their apartment. They’ve lived above the bar since their return, Orpheus himself having lived their longer. They’ve talked about looking for more of a home, with a yard for their own garden, space out of the town where they could be alone. There was no rush, though. They were together, they were each other’s home. The four walls around them wasn’t what mattered most, anymore.

Eurydice is gone, he can tell that much in their studio space. Besides the obvious of the lack of her physical presence, he notices the lack of her boots, the absence of her laugh, the missing smell of warm spices and earth. It used to be that her absence, even temporary, would set a panic in his chest. She’s gone, she’s never coming back. She left again. Doubt plays on repeat in his head, time and time again until he finally broke down to Eurydice one day. He verbalizes his fear, and doubts, and through more than a bit of tears from them both they made it through. He can rationalize now, that when she went out to work with Persephone, she’d return at the end of the night.

Now the pang he felt was just that he always did, when she was gone. Just a feeling of a man who loved his wife and missed her presence.

Orpheus sits his groceries in their kitchen, setting them out before him. He grabs his work apron, the only one he had, slipping It over his head and then tying it behind his back. He re-reads the instructions diligently (one, two, then three) times before he begins preparing his work station and beginning his first loaf.

Maybe it was the summer heat beaming down on her all day, or maybe it was the practically sun up to sundown shift she worked today, but Eurydice was exhausted. Not that she was ungrateful, no not that at all. She thanked Persephone, and often her mother, profusely for allowing her to come help work around the farm and assist the goddesses. Yes, Eurydice was exceptionally grateful for all the opportunities Persephone helped to provide her with.

Eurydice’s thankfulness did not negate that sometimes, at the end of a long day in the field, she was bone tired.

“Love.. I’m home..” She pushes the door open, and after settling her keys on the table right inside their door, she has no chance to drop her bag or shoes before she is met by her husband directly inside.

He stands there, directly on the other side of the door, a goofy, proud smile on his face. He is still wearing his work apron from earlier, though rather than the usual drink stains, he is covered in a light flour dusting. Most importantly, now, is that Orpheus holds his arms out fully extended to her, with a steaming golden loaf of bread in his hands. “Look! ‘Rydice I did it!’

Eurydice looks out in-front of her, eyes going incredibly wide when the situation processes through her head. Bread. That is fresh bread. That is fresh, steaming homemade bread. That is fresh, steaming homemade bread created by her husband. Orpheus made this for her. Her husband did this for her. “You.. did that? Orpheus?” She’s in disbelief as she drops her bag carelessly and reaches out her hands to wrap around his. Her dark eyes flicker between his hands and meeting his face. Once she truly realizes what’s happened, the brightest smile spreads from her mouth to her eyes, and a little laugh of disbelief coming out. “you made us this?”

He nods so quickly that his head barely can move, gently transferring the loaf to her hands. “I wanted you to know I remember. I remember the promises I made you. I promised you would always have bread when you are hungry- and I am going to keep my promises, this time.“ Orpheus leans in and wraps his now free (but still warm) hands around her cheeks, holding his entire world in them. “I will always make sure you have enough to eat, Eurydice. I promise.” He leans in, now, to give her a kiss on the center of her forehead. His lips linger for a few moments, before he pulls back. He rests his forehead on hers for a few minutes, hands still cupping her cheeks.

Orpheus is struck with recollection, then, as he pulls back from his wife. “oh! And follow me! I have some fresh butter for you. I have a few more loaves to finish, but you can eat that one while the others bake. They told me, at the market today, to make a couple so we can have them all week!” He gestures for her to follow him towards the kitchen area where, on their dining table, flour is spread out after a few smaller piles of raw dough.

He goes back to kneading, as Eurydice follows him into their home. If he notices her tears forming, he does not mention it. Eurydice breaths deeply as she stares at the loaf in her hands, thumbs brushing over the golden crust. It is heavy and warm, fresh but ready to be eaten, in the palms of her hands. She would love to blame the feeling in her chest as a mix of exhaustion and love but Eurydice knows that, really, it’s the feeling of love and adoration alone that Orpheus is so capable of making her feel. No, exhaustion is not why her heart felt so heavy now.

And here he was, providing for them. Not that she had doubted his dedication, no, and she wasn’t expecting him to support her entirely either. They were a team. They worked together to meet the needs of them both. Yet this loaf of bread in her hands made by the man kneading another small portion at the table, was a far cry from the boy who didn’t hear her pleas for food and firewood not that many seasons ago.

Eurydice wipes at her eyes with the back of her hand, directing her attention instead to her husband and his work.

She couldn’t help but stare at him, now. The way his hair had just a bit of sweat on the ends, a result of the hard work he had put into the heat of the kitchen all day. Then there was the way he bit his lip and furrowed his eyebrows in concentration. The way his arms from his shoulders, the muscles of his upper arm, to the tendons in his lower arms twisted and contorted with his effort into the dough. His stature now, also, was quite a development in comparison to the thin, frail boy who came to hell and back for her. She supposed a healthy harvest and work did wonders for the body. Most of all, she was not ignoring his skilled fingers folding and flexing in the bread dough, as he incorporated extra flour. Kneading, she realized, was just another thing to add to the list of the things Orpheus’s nimble fingers were so good for.

Eurydice snaps herself out of her reverie, breaking the bread in half with her hands. The crackling of the crust has him looking up at her, and he gives her one of the most brilliant grins she had ever seen. “Is it good?”

Without even tasting it, Eurydice just nods. “Wonderful.”

#yeah im still on this hellsite #still in hadestown #oh wel #happy reopening #Bread boy orpheus is a passion #hadestown #hadestown fic #hadestown fanfic #orpheus #eurydice #orpheus and eurydice #orphydice #orphydice fics #this is actually based on Anna Art #fun fact

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expensiveglasses · 4 years ago

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Charming chapter 6

Summary: Prince Jungkook was as infuriating as he was beautiful. In line to one day be king, he requested your guidance in the ways of his people. In turn he will make you laugh, give your family fine gifts, and become an invaluable friend. Unfortunately, he will also make you fall in love with him. But the most unfortunate thing of all was his betrothal…to Snow White

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Fantasy, Angst, Snow white/au

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: 4590

Warnings: This is the chapter the warnings have been about. It’s a heavier chapter in the second half dealing with “death” and attempted suicide. Nothing is graphically described, but if you are sensitive to that subject matter, you may want to avoid the last few paragraphs.

Trigger warnings are TW: Major character “death” TW: Thoughts of suicide TW: Attempted suicide.

. .

A month had passed since Else’s wedding and the summer was slowly coming to an end. It made it easier to do chores when the air was cooler; more pleasant to sit outside and do the washing. Though you’d mostly neglected that for the last few weeks.

You hadn’t seen your friend as much since her marriage and so you’d spent even more time with the dwarfs and Snow in their cottage. The prince joined most nights, bringing food and humor with him. You’d quickly learned he was a master of terrible jokes and couldn’t help but like him all the more for it.

This morning your mother had sent you in search of berries. She claimed to want to make preserves, but you were wise enough to know she just wanted to go see a friend and gossip. You didn’t mind so much as you chose to dawdle around the edge of the forest, plucking blueberries from bushes and placing them in your basket.

You saw the prince making his way towards you long before he reached you. The sight of him made your insides feel funny, like little wings sweeping delicately against your ribcage and you bent down to survey a raspberry bush, plucking eagerly at the juicy red fruit.

“Good morning.” The prince greeted as he reached your side and you stood straight to gaze up at him.

“Good morning, Jungkook. You’re out very early today; normally I don’t see you until evening.”

“I finished my lessons early today.” He grinned, something mischievous in his twinkling eyes, and you felt that perhaps he’d snuck out before actually finishing his training.

“I hope you won’t get a tongue lashing for this.” You teased, moving further up the path towards a strawberry bush and plucking one to try. “Mmm, they’re amazing right now. Would you like to try one?”

You moved to take another bite of yours, but the prince was faster, grabbing your wrist and pulling the berry towards his mouth, allowing plump lips to encircle the rest of the berry and separate it from its calyx.

For a moment, everything stilled, your heart thumping wildly in your chest as his fingers remained delicately around your wrist. His gaze was wild; heated on yours as he stepped towards you. Heart racing, you let the end of the strawberry fall from your finger tips and onto the ground.

“Sweet.” He murmured, licking the juice from the corner of his mouth and your vision was pulled toward the sight before you quickly looked away.

The prince paused before stepping back, staring down at the strawberry bush and into your own basket. “You’re picking berries this morning? May I help?”

“Yes, of course.” You nodded, turning back to the strawberry bush and plucking fresh fruit to drop into your basket. “There’s more in the forest.” You signaled, beginning to walk and he followed after you.

“What were you studying today?” You asked as you began to pick from new bushes. Jungkook stood nearby, loading his hand with blueberries.

“Foreign politics and language specifically. These are topics that I studied in school as well, but my father wants me polished in the policies of our own kingdom, of course.”

“Are foreign policies of other lands so different from our own?” You asked, walking closer to him so he could drop the berries in his hands into your basket.

“It depends on the country.” He mused, crouching low to pick from more difficult spots. “The ones nearby are very similar, but across waters it begins to diversify greatly. Of course, all people are human at their core, intrinsically the same if we’re all torn down to the beginnings, but traditions and belief systems vary. It’s good to have a working knowledge of any land we may come to have dealings with.”

“Ah, the duties of a king.” You smiled softly as he stood to his full height beside you. The prince drifted closer to you as you weaved your way deeper into the forest. Close enough that you could feel the graze of his sleeve against yours, smell the fresh saffron against his tunic.

“Duty, I find, is a very inconvenient thing.” He looked at you and you pondered his words curiously.

“What do you mean?” You inquired gently, slowing your pace to match his.

“Always to be bound to one’s duty, never to allow the heart to decide.”

You paused a moment. “And what does the heart wish for?” You whispered, looking up at him. He’d come to a stop and you stilled as well, turning to face him.

“I think you know.” He returned just as softly. The weight of his words was heavy to bear; it brought with it a joy you’d felt was impossible. You had hoped he would say something like that; that he’d been feeling what you were feeling. You were flush with warmth at the admission.

“But your heart cannot have its desires?”

He smiled sadly, eyes softening as he looked at you. “Duty, you see. It seems it bends for no one.”

“I wish it would.” You admit timidly and he sighed, taking your hand carefully in his own.

“As do I.”

“Snow says we mustn’t worry now, after all, the future continues and we do not know what it holds.” You smiled, feigning an optimism you didn’t really feel. If even a prince could not choose for himself, why should you feel things could be any different for you?

At least you knew you weren’t the only one wishing.

“Should we go see her?” Jungkook smiled and you nodded. He released your hand and you strode ahead of him, leading him further into the forest and eventually into the clearing that held the dwarf’s cottage.

Snow was not alone when you arrived; however, and the two of you stood startled in the doorway as you took notice of her with a young man by the hearth of the fire. They looked up at the two of you as the door swung open and Snow smiled, coming to pull you into a hug.

“You’ve come!” She cried happily. “I was so hoping you would. I wanted to introduce you both to my friend, Diterich. He’s the one I told you of, who saved me.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, your majesty.” Diterich said, bowing low. “Ma’am.” He said, inclining his head towards you and you smiled in return.

He was a handsome young man, dark, shaggy blonde hair and bright green eyes. He was well built and had a bow strapped to his back; you wondered if that was his profession. He was certainly not close to Snow in rank, but he held himself as though he were made for something more than his station in life and you liked that quiet confidence. You supposed Snow did too, based on the way she looked at him.

Love sick. It made your heart ache for her and you looked carefully over at Jungkook. Destiny had not been kind to any of you.

“I’ve heard of your kindness to my friend.” Jungkook said, “When everything is well again, you should be rewarded.”

Diterich shook his head, staring down at Snow, the same look of love she’d bestowed on him, and smiled. “With all due respect, your majesty, I didn’t do it for reward.”

“I like you all the better for it.” Jungkook smiled. “How did you come to find her, though?”

“Snow sent me a communication through letter. One of the dwarfs found me in Snow’s kingdom, at her direction, and delivered it personally. I am indebted to him. It has given me much comfort to see her safe and well. I am only sorry I could not bring her some of her clothes.”

Snow waved his comment away. “It is a small inconvenience. Besides, I am far happier to have your company than to have all my dresses back. All three of you. Will you be staying for supper?”

She looked to both Jungkook and yourself and you smiled with a shrug. “It’s still so early in the day so it’s hard to say, but I imagine I’ll be able to spare some time this evening.”

“I should hope so! By the way, did you happen to notice if there are any gooseberry bushes nearby? I want to make a pie tomorrow.”

You nodded, pointing out the window. “Yes, in fact, there are some just before the tree line. Over there.”

“Wonderful!” Snow cried, clapping her hands together. “Then tomorrow you can expect some pie.”

“I’ll be looking forward to it.” You said.

“Snow has said you’ve been friends since childhood.” Jungkook said suddenly, “but I never did ask how the two of you had met.”

He inspected them with the same interest you had and you wondered if he could see what you could. The prince was intelligent, so you imagined the shared looks of longing had not been missed. Diterich looked to Snow before answering.

“We met as children. My father was a huntsman in their court and I was raised to take his place. As children, we would play in the castle together. We got into trouble a lot,” he grinned, “a princess wasn’t meant to be wrestling with a common boy. Kindred spirits, my mother would say. When my father passed, I took his place as a huntsman in the royal court. Youngest in Vildüngan history.”

His chest puffed as he said it and you smiled. “Your family must be very proud.”

He nodded, expression dropping suddenly. “My mother and sister are all I have left. They’re in hiding, though. As am I. The queen found out about the pig’s heart and ordered my head. It’s why I came here; to warn Snow.”

You looked to the princess in alarm, but she smiled at you with all the serenity of one whose life isn’t in perpetual danger. “She doesn’t know I’m here.” Snow assured, squeezing your arm. “All is well.”

“We need to start thinking of ways to get you back to your kingdom. You’re its rightful heir!” Jungkook insisted and she tutted, moving away from the hearth of the fire and towards the kitchen to keep her hands busy.

“It will all work out somehow, I have faith.” She replied flippantly and Jungkook looked angry.

“Why won’t you take this seriously?” He chastised. “She wants you dead and is actively seeking your heart. Let my father help, we can do something; go against her.”

“No.” She insisted, turning sharply to look at him. “I don’t want anyone else to be pulled into this. No one need inconvenience or injure themselves on my behalf. I’m already uneasy with how many people are involved; how many lives are directly affected because of this…I won’t have anymore.”

“But,” Jungkook began once more but was silenced as she frowned at him.

“I said no, Jungkook.”

The prince sighed, rubbing at his forehead in frustration. “Fine, I can’t make you take your safety more seriously. I must return home.” He bowed before turning towards the door and you looked from Snow back to Jungkook before following him out into the clearing, basket full of berries swinging from your arm.

“Jungkook!” You called, rushing to his side. He didn’t slow so you walked with him through the forest in silence. Just as the trees were thinning, Jungkook slowed his pace, sighing loudly.

“I’m afraid I won’t be seeing you again until the day after next.” At your questioning look, he proceeded. “My father and I are expecting foreign dignitaries this evening and we will play host until tomorrow evening as well. I won’t have time to spare while they’re here.”

“Duty, as you say.” You smiled. He returned your soft smile, nodding and reaching for your hand.

“I will be seeing you.” He said, leaving a soft kiss on the back of your hand before making his way back up to the castle. . .

Your mother was in the garden when you returned, cutting cucumbers from their stalks. She looked up as you came through the gate, waving you over.

“Why did it take so long to pick berries?” Your mother asked with a frown, taking the basket from your arms.

“I went to say hello to the dwarfs while I was in the area.” You said, bending down beside her and helping to dig up carrots at her direction.

“You’re there too often these days; what business does a young woman have visiting 7 old men so often? Aren’t they in the mines at this time of day anyway?”

You sighed, brushing hair from your face as you dropped a couple carrots into the basket beside your mother. “Well, now that Else is married I don’t always have anyone to visit.”

Your mother frowned. “Perhaps you should think of getting married soon.” She said and you looked up at her startled.

“Get married? It’s not that easy, mother. I’m not even being courted.”

She gave you a look, eyes shifting over to the house. “If you gave a little more effort where prudent, perhaps that wouldn’t be a problem.”

You sighed, shaking your head and pulling another carrot from the dirt. “I’m not in love with Peter.” You whispered.

Your mother laughed, wiping her hands on her skirt. “Love? We don’t have that luxury, my dear. You know that.” She stood, hands extended for the basket full of vegetables and you handed it up to her before standing and grabbing your own basket with berries. “I expect you here all day tomorrow. You’ve been neglecting your duties and it’s time you start preparing to run a house of your own. Time waits for no one, you know.”

She walked into the house and you watched after her, chewing on your bottom lip as you willed the tears of frustration back. You wiped your hands on the apron over your dress before walking into the house and out of the sun.

Peter and your father were in the corner, both working with new fabrics. Peter looked up at you, offering you a small smile before returning to his work and you sighed softly to yourself. Why couldn’t you just love him? . .

Your hands were sore. You’d been at the river all morning with your mother washing linen. It had been your job to beat the linen with a poss-stick as your mother insisted that’s what youth was for. You wondered if you’d ever be able to move again. What good was youth if it was wasted away on chores?

Hands feeling like they might just fall off, you wrung out the last of the fabrics before dropping it in your basket and heaving this onto your hip. Your mother chatted aimlessly as you walked from the riverside and around the edge of the forest towards your home.

You cast your eyes up towards the castle as it came into view around the bend of the trees and wondered idly what Jungkook was doing today. You knew he was entertaining foreign dignitaries, of course, but you couldn’t even imagine what that entailed. Perhaps they were holed up in some room discussing trade.

“Can you imagine living there?” Your mother asked, taking note of your gaze. You sighed, looking from her and back to the castle.

“Only in our dreams, mother.”

She hummed, shifting her own laundry basket in her arms. “If we lived in a place like that, I imagine we could have someone else tend to our washing. Our cooking, too. What must their food be like, hmm?”

You chuckled, kicking a pebble across the dirt path. “I suppose we’ll never know. Grand, I imagine, though. Warm potatoes and bread, sweet dessert’s whenever we ask for them. I would eat everything and die happy if I were them.”

“Thanks to the prince, we can have some share in their prosperity.” Your mother commented and you could see her looking at you from the corner of her eye. “He’s been very generous, as of late.”

You nodded; eyes trained on the dirt path beneath your feet. “Yes, he has been very kind.”

“He was never so kind when he was a boy. I wonder at the change.” She remarked and you wondered if she suspected more than she let on. She’d never seen the two of you together; aside from when he and his father had visited your home a few months ago.

“Perhaps he had a very good education.” You said as the roof of your home came into view. “Rumor has it he went to a school for training.”

“Rumor, you say?” She asked and you nodded, pushing through the gate in front of your house.

Conversation stopped then as the two of you went about hanging the laundry from the lines and working in the garden. Peter and your father were working on mending clothing in the home, so you didn’t feel like discussing the king and his son in their presence. It seemed your mother was also of the same mind set.

As the sun waned and the evening became cooler, Peter left your home with goodbyes and well wishes. You were only just finishing supper when the wind outside began to howl. Your father peaked his head outside the door and you watched as you ladled stew into bowls.

“A storm is approaching.” He commented softly. “I must make sure the animals are secured.” He left the home to the small stable behind your house and you listened as the wind whistled loudly from outside the walls.

“We’ve not had rain in a while.” Your mother said, helping you to bring the food to the small table. “It will be good for the crops.”

The storm raged loudly through the night, rain pounding against the timber frame of your home. It was difficult to sleep with all the noise; thunder and lightning bursting loudly across the sky. You could hear your father snoring from the small room next to yours and it soon lulled you into a fitful sleep. . .

Mornings after a storm were your favorite. The calm as opposition to the fierce raging of wind the night before a reminder that brighter days always followed the rain. You’d managed to convince your mother to allow you to check on the dwarfs this morning. You imagined they were mostly protected from the elements in their place among the trees. Even so.

After a quick breakfast of pottage, you dressed and made your way towards the forest. The sun was already sitting comfortably in the sky, illuminating the crystal blue sky and you listened happily to the sounds of birds singing as you walked through the fields.

You found, to your surprise, the prince already waiting by the forests edge. He sat upon a boulder; legs draped out in front of him as he pulled blades of grass apart as distraction. He looked up as your footsteps roused his attention, smile spreading across his lips.

“Y/N.” He beamed, standing and coming to meet you.

“I’m surprised to see you so early!” You exclaimed. “Won’t your father be missing you?”

“Actually, he and our guests drank well into the evening. They will be spending the next few hours recovering in bed.” He said with a roguish grin and you chuckled, making your way into the forest.

The prince followed quickly. “Did you not drink yourself, your majesty?” You teased and he smiled at you.

“I did, but only a little. I knew I wanted to use the opportunity to see you.”

You looked away with a small chuckle, smoothing hair away from your face.

“Well, here I am.” You smiled. Before you could continue, there was a heavy rustling in the trees and both you and Jungkook stopped, watching with unease as something came crashing through the branches.

To your surprise; it was the dwarfs who came rushing into sight and they stopped suddenly, panting before you.

“Y/N, your majesty!” Doc gasped, clutching at his rounded belly as he took deep steadying breaths. The panic in his tone was palpable and your back straightened in alarm.

“What’s wrong?” You asked. Jungkook seemed just as tense from their unusual greeting and you waited with baited breath for your friends to continue.

“It’s Snow.” Doc finally said and your alarm rose.

“What of her?” The prince asked sharply and all eyes turned to him. The dwarfs were still breathing heavily from their run; disrupting the usual quiet of the forest.

“Your majesty!” Sleepy blubbered, hardly able to contain himself. “Snow has died.”

“What?!” You gasped, eyes swiveling desperately to each face, each as stricken as the next.

“How?!” The prince demanded and Doc was quick to try and calm the atmosphere.

“She has not died.” He pacified. Your chest was so tight you thought it might burst. How could someone possibly die and not die all at the same time? “She’s been put under a spell; a sleeping spell.”

“I don’t understand.” Jungkook said tersely. You’d never seen him look so distraught.

“Allow me to explain.” Doc continued, “An old hag came to the cottage when we were away. She had a basket of apples. I’m unsure how, but Snow came to acquire one.”

“It was poisoned and that foolish girl took a bite.” Grumpy cried furiously.

Doc tried once more to continue, but Happy spoke first. “We chased the hag, but it was difficult in the storm. Chased her up the mountain but she slipped and fell off. It was the queen, your majesty. It was her stepmother.”

“Did you capture her?” Jungkook asked angrily, back ramrod straight as he paced back and forth. “Did you tie her up to be tried for her crimes?”

“No need,” Bashful said, shaking his head. “The queen is dead. She died from the fall.”

“What of Snow?” You rasped, “where is she?”

“That’s why we were coming for you, your majesty.” Doc said once again. “It was old magic the queen used; ancient. Unless she can find true loves kiss, she’ll remain asleep forever. We can take you to her.”

“True loves kiss?” Jungkook asked, voice cracking in his grief.

The dwarfs nodded. “It’s the only cure.” Sneezy bemoaned. “That’s why we came to find you, your majesty.”

“Me?” Jungkook asked, looking to you and back to the dwarfs.

They looked to you; gazes filled with pity before Doc spoke once more. “You are her betrothed, your majesty. If not you, then who?”

The pain in your chest was severe. Fracturing from the loss of a friend; ripping apart as the prospect of losing the one man you truly loved loomed like a shadow over you.

“What do I have to do?” He whispered and you looked up at him.

“True loves kiss.” Dopey murmured, eyes shifting over to you sadly and then back to the prince.

It was silent for what felt like eternity, the gravity of the situation sinking in and you felt buried under the weight of it; the forest floor waiting to accept you. The prince looked to you, tears already in his eyes, but your own vision of him quickly blurred.

“I have to try.” Jungkook choked and you could feel your heart break a little more, “she’s one of my closest friends. I can’t sit back and do nothing; I couldn’t live with myself. I have to try.”

“I understand.” You murmured. “What if you’re able to wake her?”

Jungkook paused, his eyelashes fluttering closed, a line drawing between his eyes. “Let’s not think about it right now. I have to go.” He gave you one last glance before darting further into the forest with the dwarfs and out of sight. Was it possible to die from a broken heart? You were sure the question had been asked before…you were also sure the answer was yes. Your heart ached in a way you’d never imagined it could.

The love of your life was running to the side of another woman, and though you knew his reasoning was righteous and sound, you ached for the inevitable outcome. A prince was meant to be with a princess. This was no fairy tale, not for you, at least. You can’t always have what you want.

But as you stood there in the grass, surrounded by your broken dreams, you mourned what you could never have had. Even if Snow had not eaten the apple, even had she not been born at all, you would never have been given your heart’s desire; your class was decided before you were born and you would do well to remember it.

When Snow awoke, as she inevitably would, you would be left to watch them marry. Worse still, your father would likely be commissioned to make Jungkook’s wedding clothes and you would be expected to help. That was a bitter truth you could not swallow. To carry the wedding clothing of the man you were desperately in love with…only for him to wear them with someone else.

You could not do it.

Your feet began to take you before your mind could catch up. The dwarves’ home, tucked delicately between the trees and the stream. The lighting surrounding the cottage was dim despite the morning hour, the house dark in the absence of the once warm lighting; filled with the dwarfs and Snow’s laughter and song.

Now it felt as empty as your heart. The evening turned chilly, the storm from yesterday taking with it the sun from the late summer and you shivered at the thresh hold, lifting your hand carefully to push against the door.

With a soft creak, the door swung open and you glanced inside. In their haste, everything had been left exactly as it was. An uncooked gooseberry pie sat on the counter top, flour strewn across. The fire in the fire place had long gone out. And there, by the table, an apple with one bite.

You stood in the door way a moment, staring down at the beautiful red skin of the nearly pristine apple. Contemplating. You could not bear to face a future without him in it.

With three quick strides, you picked up the apple and ran from the house, seeking out the privacy the trees afforded you. Not far from the home, in a particularly dense part of the forest, you stood staring down at the beautiful, red fruit.

A choice, so simple yet so difficult. One bite; you knew that’s all it would take…but was it really worth it? The light was fading fast this deep in the forest and you shivered, looking around in the darkness.

You thought of Jungkook again, of his handsome, smiling face. His kind and gentle heart, his loyalty and good nature. Was he with Snow White now? Had she already woken up? He was no longer your Jungkook; forever the kingdoms Jungkook and your heart wept.

You wouldn’t even be missed.

Staring down at the apple you closed your eyes, breathing slowly out of your nose before bringing it to your lips and taking a bite. It was bitter, acidic, and it burned. You coughed, dropping the apple to the ground and fell to your knees, spluttering, eyes watering as your tongue swelled and you felt your blood turn to ice in your veins.

Everything hurt, your limbs felt like they were made of fire, burning, burning, burning and then black.

Here’s the second to last chapter! The 7th is already finished and in editing. I hope you loved this chapter as much as I loved writing it and I can’t wait to hear from you! <3

#jungkook scenarios #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #bts jungguk #bts jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook

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ask-october-fox · 4 years ago

Text

A Gift

I hope that this gets to you before you leave for the year. I’m not an artist, but I am a writer, and I wanted to take some time to make something as a thank you for the great comfort you give everyone around you. Thank you for everything you do. Lots of love, -Pennington Inkwell ————————————————-

There was a chill in the air, one that pushed just on the border between crisp and biting. Autumn was still far from over, but October could feel that her time was nearing its end for this year. She was always sad to say farewell to the many spirits who came to visit her year after year for her short month in the world of the living, but it was always accompanied by a sense of overwhelming relief. This year had been trying for the entire world, and she was no different. There were many more than she had been expecting needing her guidance to the other side, and she had performed her duties with all due diligence for each one. Now, though, she was going to be able to rest. She’d sleep away her exhaustion for another eleven months and return again as the spirit of the season next year. She had returned to her favorite resting spot, a wide tree stump that seemed to refuse to rot. She often wondered if the resting place for her lantern had somehow been enchanted by her presence, but it was of little consequence. It was her spot and she enjoyed it, and that was all that mattered. She curled her three perfectly-groomed tails around herself, resting her chin on them as she let out a yawn. She was ready. Or so she thought. Her ears perked up involuntarily as she heard the crackling of leaves and snapping of twigs approaching. She could tell by the pace and the gait that it was a human, a fact that momentarily confused her. She could count on one paw the number of humans who would venture this deep into her forest and still know their way, and none of them had been able to visit this year with the state of the world being what it was. She considered hiding, but decided to wait it out. If worst came to worst, she was more than capable of defending herself. The human was indeed a stranger to her, but she could tell that they weren’t a threat. They were caught in that perilous position of being too old to be a child and too young to be an adult, but they moved as if they had the weight of the world on their shoulders. Curiously, October could see a wandering spirit traveling alongside them, watching just over their shoulder as a small wisp of light. She watched them as they caught sight of her, their breath catching in their throat. For a moment their eyes met, and silence fell as they each stared at one another, one curious and the other fearful. They held up their hands in a placating motion. “I don’t want to hurt you.” October chuckled internally. “I never believed you did.” She smiled and rested her chin back on her tails. “You’ve come a very long way to be here, young one, this forest is full of perilous creatures. Why?” The human squirmed somewhat. “Y-You’re the Fall Fox, right?” October felt a small flare in the embers of her rage for her predecessor, but she didn’t let it show beyond an annoyed flick of her third tail. “You’re 300 years too late, I’m afraid. I am October, his… successor.” “But… you still guide spirits to the other side?” the human spoke almost in a whisper, what little confidence they had quickly dissolving. “Indeed.” October glanced again at the spirit floating alongside them. They clearly weren’t capable of seeing it, themselves, but it wasn’t out of the question for humans to be able to sense a spirit’s presence. “Did you come all this way to ask me to take someone beyond the veil?” The human nodded again, slowly walking up to the tree stump in as non-threatening a way as possible. Once they’d come close enough, they fell to their knees. They took one long, shuddering breath and bowed their head. “I-I think I’m ready to go…” October recoiled, the last vestiges of sleepiness vanishing in a moment of unadulterated shock. She blinked several times, trying to process the request. “I don’t- Are you certain that you understand what I do?” she asked. “My work is for the spirits of the dead, child! I don’t have any domain over-” “I know.” The human sniffled, and October could see tears dripping from their face. “Like I said, I’m ready.” They were walking the knife’s edge of despair, and needed to be brought back to safety. October knew that, even if they weren’t dead, this was another lost spirit, a VERY lost one. Perhaps, even if it wasn’t necessarily her place, she could bend her rules enough to help guide them to safety. She rose to her feet and hopped down from the stump. She seated herself directly in front of them, fixing her piercing orange gaze on their eyes. “Why?” As much as she wanted to give them nothing but comfort and softness, she forced a terse edge into her voice. She expected an answer, a truthful one, on the first try. “Why not?” They couldn’t hold her gaze, turning away. “Look around. Everything’s gone to hell. The planet’s dying, no one can really advance their station if they want to, people are dying in throngs, it feels like half the world’s on fire, and every day we hear more bad news…” they buried their face in their hands, as if it could hide their weeping growing stronger. “The ones who have power are the ones who are selfish enough to take it for themselves, and the ones who need help-” their breath hitched in their throat, and October could see the spirit that had accompanied them move closer, as if trying to comfort them. She could feel the strength of the bond and the love between them, and she understood why and how they’d found their way here: the spirit couldn’t save them, so it had come to her. She stepped forward, putting a paw on their chest and resting her chin on their shoulder. Her tails shut out the cold night as they were both enclosed in her gleaming fur. “Young one… There are many who question the meaning and purpose of life. It is an immutable rite for every living creature to question why they live at all. In good times, they wonder why it has to end and what the pleasure amounts to. In bad times…” She tightened her tails slightly, pulling them closer. “In bad, they question why the pain must exist, and themselves along with it. Sometimes, they are at fault for their own suffering, but much more often it is something beyond their control that inflicts such a cursed doubt on them.” She felt tears of her own brimming up as painful memories resurfaced, stories told to her by the many spirits that had passed through her care mingled with pangs from her own long life’s memories. "I wouldn’t aspire to the lofty title of ‘Oracle,’ but would you like to know the answer that I’ve found over my years?“ She felt them nod, unable to speak through the tears any more. "It is true that the world can feel uncaring or cruel. It may fall to pieces and lose parts of what we think are the very heart of it all… But that doesn’t mean it cannot be pieced back together… together.” She leaned back slightly to move and press her forehead to theirs. “When the summer sun dims and winter’s winds blow across our hearts, we gather together around an autumn campfire and warm ourselves with fables. We remember heroes that never existed so that we can, through the whole of the world, make them real. When we are fearful and trodden upon, we look to others to help us rise, and then look to lift up others. And when we find ourselves with… a hole in our hearts, one that feels as if it could never be replaced, we mend it with memories and love, both old and new. The hole remains, of course, but it is no longer the doorway through which despair can enter our souls.” She sighed, feeling the pangs in her heart soothed by the memories of the countless spirits who came back to her every year, always more enthusiastic than ever. Some were joyful, some would seek to help her or please her, and some would need guidance or comfort. It never meant that what she had lost was replaced or returned, but… “I’ve found that the heart is boundless. We can always fill it, piece it together, and make it grow anew if we throw ourselves into others. Helping them, laughing with them,” she smiled in spite of herself, “or even crying with them, when need be.” The human’s sobbing had slowed to a stop, and their tears had become a tiny trickle dripping off their chin, now. “S-So what should I do?” they whispered, their voice still wavering. “If you find that humankind feels beyond help, involve yourself in humankind. You’ll find that you’re never so alone as you feel in your beliefs. If you feel the world is beyond saving, save the part of the world you can, in what little ways you can. It can be helping someone across the street or a spirit across the veil. The more you help others, the more you’ll find your ability to help grows, and the joy you bring will be twofold: for them and for yourself.” She had to stop for a moment as another yawn forced its way past. “In my experience, THAT is the balm of a broken heart.” It couldn’t have been more than a minute that they sat in silence, but it felt like an eternity. For a moment, October worried that her words had fallen on deaf ears. When the human reached out and pulled her into and awkward hug, however, she smiled and knew that she had been heard. “Thank you.” “You are always welcome, child…” She did her best to reciprocate the hug with a squeeze of her tails before the two of them were separated again. She hopped back up onto her stump, seeing that the human was wiping away their tears and wearing a melancholy smile. They seemed unsure of what to say, but October knew just how to fill the silence. “I expect to see you again next year, child. Do you understand?” They seemed surprised at the assignment, but soon smiled wider, with a little more joy to their expression than grief. “I promise!” As they departed back into the trees, the spirit hung back, floating up to her and hovering just over her muzzle. October could already tell that they weren’t prepared to go, but she could feel the gratitude washing over her in waves. She only gave an understanding nod before the wisp flew away again, hurrying along to catch up to their beloved companion. With that last odd pair of spirits accounted for, October once again curled herself around the warmth of her lantern and settled into a comfortable position. As she felt herself dozing off into that deep sleep, she wondered what kind of world she would awaken to next year. If this year had truly been so painful, then there was no telling how much love would blossom as humanity sought to heal. Even if only that one soul would take her words to heart, she knew it would be a world deeply changed for the better.

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thebladeblaster · 4 years ago

Text

Heart of the Vanguard Concept Chapter final part

(Concept chapters are basically just to test to see if people will like a fic idea I have. This fic crosses over Yugioh Duel Monsters and Cardfight Vanguard.)

Yugi

Hand: 0

“Now, I end my turn.”, Yugi said.

“I draw and I activate my own Pot of Greed allowing me to draw two cards!”, Aichi started.

Aichi

Hand: 4

“I summon Valkriyan Knight and I attack your Guard!”, Aichi declared.

Aichi

Hand: 3

“Because of its effect it can’t be destroyed by monsters with more than 1900 attack points.”, Yugi explained.

“But you still take damage.”, Aichi pointed out.

Yugi LP 1000->500

“I end my turn.”, Aichi said.

“Dang it! Where did all your equip cards go?!”, Kamui questioned as he grabbed Aichi’s arm and shook him, causing him to sweat drop.

“I’m really on the edge right now. This next card will decide everything.”, Yugi thought as he drew his next card.

“I set one card facedown. I end my turn.”, Yugi said.

“I draw and summon Noble Knight Borz.”, Aichi started.

Noble Knight Borz

ATK 1700/ DEF 909

Aichi

Hand:3

“I activate the effect of Wingal from my graveyard to equip myself to Borz. Due to Borz’s effect he becomes a dark type and gains 1 level more importantly I can reveal 3 Noble Arms from my deck and my opponent chooses one of the 3 to add to my hand the rest go to the graveyard.

Aichi held up the back to three cards for Yugi to pick. Yugi was unsure of which one to pick. Honestly any equip card he uses could be potentially bad for him. He chose the card on the far left. Aichi revealed the card Yugi picked it was Gwenhwyfar, Queen of Noble Arms. Aichi sent the other two to his graveyard. Aichi decided to not use Gwenhwyfar now.

Aichi

Hand:4

“I set Manju to defense mode and attack you with Borz.”, Aichi declared.

I activate my trap card Magical Hats. My Guard is sent face down and I set 3 traps from my deck face down and shuffle their positions.”, Yugi countered.

“That means I only have two chances.”, Aichi said.

“You were cautious. You probably thought my set trap was Mirror Force, that's why you set your monster to defense.”, Yugi replied, making Aichi sigh.

“You're right I am cautious. Well I can’t do anything about it now. I attack the two inner hats.”, Aichi replied.

Yugi revealed the cards to be Fake Trap and Trap Jammer. Neither of them were Yugi’s monster. Many of their spectators gawked in disbelief.

“That luck is unreal.”, Emi commented.

“It’s called the heart of the cards.”, Yugi replied.

“So, dumb luck.”, Misaki replied.

“I end my turn.”, Aichi said.

“I draw and I activate Monster Reborn to bring back Gaia.”, Yugi started.

“I attack your Borz with Gaia.”, Yugi declared.

Aichi LP 3700->2800

“That was smart.”, Kai commented.

“Uh why?”, Anzu questioned.

“If I attacked Valkriyan he would have brought back Majesty Lord Blaster. Not to mention I stopped him from adding more equip cards to his hand.”, Yugi explained.

“Right he could use an equip card to try to get over Gaia.”, Honda realized.

“With Gaia’s effect he gains 2600 attack. Now I end my turn.”, Yugi said.

Gaia ATK 2600->5200

“I draw.”, Aichi started.

Aichi

Hand:5

“I summon Noble Knight Gawayn and I activate Double Summon. I tribute Gawayn and Manju to summon Incandescent Lion, Blond Ezel!”, Aichi continued.

Incandescent Lion, Blond Ezel

( BEAST-WARRIOR / FIRE / EFFECT/ ATK : 3000 / DEF : 2500 / LV 8

Effect: Once per turn, you can reveal the top four cards of your deck; choose one warrior or beast-warrior monster among them and special summon it if you do this monster gains attack equal to half that monster’s original attack, then shuffle the rest of the cards you revealed back into your deck. The monster special summoned by this effect can cannot be used as material for special summoning except warrior or beast-warrior monsters.)

“That’s the card he won from Kourin in Battle City.”, Kamui commented.

“It’s all or nothing I activate the effect of Blond Ezel to evacuate the top 4 cards of my deck if one is a warrior or beast warrior monster I can special summon it and Ezel gains half its attack points.”, Aichi said.

“Come on! Draw something like Kuriboh!”, Honda said.

Aichi revealed the top 4 cards of his deck: Blaster Dark, Mirror Force, Noble Arms Gallatin, and Noble Knight Iyvanne.

Any semblance of a poker face Yugi had dropped when he saw the first card. Yugi’s expression looked completely pale as he saw Blaster Dark.

“I am so glad this wasn’t a shadow game.”, Yugi said as slumped.

“That doesn’t sound good, Yugi.”, Anzu commented, sweat dropping.

“C-crap! Blaster Dark seriously?! I thought you only had one like Blaster Blade?”, Honda questioned.

“Actually Ren gave me 3 when he gave me the Ignoble Knight deck.”, Aichi replied, causing Honda to gape.

“Ren probably owned all of the Blaster Darks in circulation considering he had his own 3.”, Miwa added.

“Now, just imagine if he had 3 Blaster Blades.” Shin said.

“I frankly don’t think I want to.”, Honda replied.

“I chose Blaster Dark which means Ezel gains 1050 attack. And Blaster Dark returns. How funny I was hoping for a Dark monster to equip Gwenhwyfar to.”, Aichi continued.

Incandescent Lion, Blond Ezel

ATK 3000->4050

“I activate Blaster Dark’s effect tributing Valkriyan Knight to destroy Gaia. Now, I attack you directly.”, Aichi declared.

“Yeah…Umm...I lost. Man, he should duel you Yami next time.”, Yugi said.

Yugi LP 500->0

“It seems our bonds with our cards are equal. Hmm. It was an entertaining duel.”, Yami said.

Aichi blinked for a few seconds looking completely stunned as if he was still trying to process his victory.

“Oh my god! I beat Yugi!”, Aichi gasped.

“You did it bro!”, Kamui cheered, pulling Aichi into a hug.

“Aichi!”, Emi called out, hugging her brother.

“Good job.”, Misaki said.

“That was the most wicked duel I’ve ever seen!”, the brown haired teen said.

“Man, your really getting strong bud.”, Miwa commented.

“Well of course he had me as his master after all.”, Morikawa proclaimed, making the others sweat drop.

“Congrats.”, Yugi said.

Aichi’s blushed at all the congratulations.

“Well, looks like I’m up next Aichi. If you’re up for it.”, Kai said.

“Of course!”, Aichi accepted, instantly practically bouncing with joy.

If he was a puppy they could imagine his tail would be wagging right now. They had plenty of more fun duels that day. They kinda lost track of time too not noticing it changing to night. Aichi and Yugi sat down next to each other the former seeming rather exhausted.

“Maybe next time you can duel me and Yami together.”, Yugi said.

“I don’t think I could beat you both working together even with Psyqualia.”, Aichi replied as he rubbed his eyes.

“Really? You seemed pretty strong using it?”, Yugi questioned.

“Well...I’m not so sure besides it’s not just something I can turn on and off whenever I want. It just kinda activates and deactivates its own. I’m not sure I would feel comfortable using it if I could. ”, Aichi replied.

“You can’t?”, Yugi replied, stunned.

“Well, I don’t even understand how it works. It just kinda does. I don’t even know why I have it and others don’t.”, Aichi replied.

“Maybe we’ll find out one of these days. Gods know I still hardly understand how this puzzle works. Though, I really liked the duel with just the two of us with no supernatural forces involved. Thinking about it has been awhile since I have just relied on my own strength and won. I think I have more to grow by myself then I won’t have to rely on Yami all the time.”, Yugi replied.

Aichi smiled at this a rather sleepy smile but a smile.

“Yeah, I still have a lot to grow too. I got lucky against you and Ren. I need to become strong enough to win without luck.”, Aichi replied.

“Hehe. I think I was luckier than you in that duel.”, Yugi replied.

Yugi sweat dropped as Aichi seemed to dip in and out of sleep.

“Come on, Aichi don’t fall asleep in the chair your back will hurt.”, Emi told her brother with motherly worry.

“I’mmmm alright Emmm...zzzz”, Aichi replied, before falling asleep.

“Aichi! Seriously I swear you could never get by without me or mom!”, Emi said angrily, shaking her brother.

“Ffive mooore minutes…”, Aichi replied groggily.

To be continued…

So, this isn’t actually how the fic would actually start its just to give you an idea of what it would be like. Since I added in some Vanguard cards I decided to give Yugi and co. some of their newer support cards to balance things out. Not sure when I’ll officially start on this fic maybe when Dark Circuit is done and I’m a bit further in Tamer ZERO. Who knows honestly my attention span sucks. I was supposed to be writing Dark Circuit and I ended up writing this instead. I’ll try to get to it after I’m finished with my rewatch of the Avatar series and my trip soon. Honestly, I just need to focus one at a time and I’d get stuff done. Hopefully, I can finish Dark Circuit before the end of the Summer. I have had a hard time writing it for the past few months for some reason.

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chrysalispen · 4 years ago

Text

Prompt #29 - Paternal

set the night before last year’s fill #27, “palaver.”

AO3 Link HERE

=========================

Eighty-nine. Ninety.

The bristles dragged through her hair in a soothing rhythm, marking a routine she'd once kept daily and all but forgotten.

She'd been lulled into a half-dozing state by the sound of the wind as it whistled around the eaves of the manor - it was very cold but there was no snow or ice for once - and every northerly burst made her feel as though she'd stepped back in time a good ten years.

A knot from one of the logs popped in the hearth-fire. She started and exhaled, then raised the brush again.

Ninety-one. Ninety-two.

There were differences, of course. No rattle from a nearby ceruleum space heater, and no worry that her aunt might come knocking for one of her talks. But she was no longer that girl of eighteen summers and this was not the borrowed guest-chamber her aunt and uncle had assigned her in the family compound in Garlemald. This was Ishgard and over a decade had passed since she had been that girl. If anyone in her family spoke her name now it was to curse it for the shame her actions had undoubtedly brought upon them.

But she had no regrets. Things had happened that no reasonable person could have foreseen, and she had done the best she could under the circumstances.

Ninety-three.

When one thought of it in that light, Aurelia supposed she hadn't done so poorly. Granted, hers was something of an extraordinary case, but even Warriors of Light weren't invincible and before all of this had started, she had just been a normal woman no different from any other on the star. If she had known what she-

A rap on the heavy door.

"Mistress Aurelia? Are you awake?"

She set her brush down. "I am," she said. "What do you need, Saulette?"

"The Co-- er, Lord Edmont's asked for you."

"Give me one moment." Aurelia reached for her soft house coat and stepped into her slippers, then made her way to the door. It opened with a creak and the girl on the other side looked distressed to see that she was still fumbling with the belt at her waist.

"Oh, miss, you should have said-"

"It's fine," she said, smiling. "I hardly need assistance to put on a robe, and Lord Edmont will likely have been winding down himself. Where is he?"

"The parlor, miss."

She padded down the hallway and up the stairs at Saulette's heels. The young maid opened the door and bowed, stepping aside to allow Aurelia entry. Edmont de Fortemps sat in his customary chair, warming himself at the hearth and dressed in bedclothes of his own, careworn features drawn and pensive, silver-streaked dark hair perhaps a touch less neat than he might have allowed during daytime hours. It was a rare look at a man who was as controlled and dignified as her own father had been.

"Mistress Aurelia, my lord."

"Thank you, Saulette. Pray excuse us. I would like to speak with her alone."

The girl bowed. "Of course, my lord."

The door clicked softly shut at her back. Lord Edmont was smiling at her in a way her own father had never done, and gesturing at the chair nearest him.

"Well, come in, my dear," he said. "It's too cold to stand in the stairwell, you'll catch a cold from that draft." She smiled in return, drawing closer to the fire and curling up in the plush upholstered chair. "Are you nervous?"

"About tomorrow? A bit, but in that public speaking sort of way, you know."

"I do know, as it happens! Between you and me: that is the one bit about being the official head of the House that I have not missed." He reached for a porcelain teapot sitting on a tray at the nearby end table. "All the heres and wherefores and endless worry about my public image and how it might or might not reflect poorly upon the family as a whole."

"Indeed."

"I wish Artoirel joy of it. He's been chomping at the bit but I suspect reality will set in soon enough."

"I think he'll do well," Aurelia said, watching him pour the cup.

"He will. I love the boy, you know. Very much his mother's child. A bit stuffy at times, but he's a good man with a good head on his shoulders, and he's not mired in Church politics the way some of his peers are. He'll do the Fortemps name justice, I think." Edmont's dark eyes shone with cheer as he lifted the filled teacup and offered it to her. "...You had a great deal of influence there, you know."

"You give me far too much credit that I cannot claim, Lord Edmont. Artoirel is his own man."

"So he is. But you've always led by example, and you taught him some valuable lessons I think he might not otherwise have learned. Cream and sugar?"

"Just a bit of cream. And one lump." She paused, cup halfway to her lips. "...You really don't miss it at all?"

"There are some habits I miss. But it's rather like losing a tooth, you know. Strange at first but then everything falls into place over time and you barely notice that part of the routine was ever missing at all. No," he said, watching her sip, "I think it will be no great effort to make the adjustment. Being a private citizen does have its perks. And I'm still the family patriarch. That hasn't changed."

"No," Aurelia smiled over the rim of the cup. "No, it hasn't."

"Which brings me to the reason why I had Saulette bring you to me."

"What? Oh dear. That sounds rather serious," she said, trying to keep her tone lighthearted as she set the cup aside. "Tataru didn't ring you in the middle of the night for some emergency or other, did she?"

"Fury forbid!" he guffawed. "No, nothing like that. I have something I want to show you, but first I must beg your forgiveness."

"What? Why?" Aurelia was honestly curious. He set his cup aside and reached for a small, varnished spruce box sitting upon his ottoman, grunting softly with the effort. "Why would you need to apologize to me for anything?"

Edmont paused, one hand caressing the grain of the wood. That pensive expression had returned to his face, the one she had caught just before Saulette had announced her presence.

"I've little idea what to do for something like this. I only ever had sons, you see," he said. "I have loved all three of them. Now I don't delude myself into thinking I have been a perfect father, or even a particularly good one, but I like to think I have done well enough by them. ...Two of them, at least. At any rate, I'm told that in Garlemald, the tradition is for the bride to take with her into the ceremony something old, something new-"

"-something borrowed, and something blue," Aurelia finished. "Yes, it's an old wedding custom the Empire never saw fit to dismantle. Just a sort of mnemonic, for good luck. But I would hardly say it's a requirement."

"Be that as it may," he said, his fingers working the catch on the box open, "I would very much like you to wear these tomorrow."

Within the box lay a delicate lace-trimmed handkerchief of sky-blue linen, faded and discolored in places with age, folded into a neat triangle and lying atop what appeared to be a bundle of old letters. Edmont unfolded the corners with as much care as if the cloth was some priceless artifact, and within lay a small, simple pendant, an aquamarine cut into the shape of a teardrop. Firelight reflected upon the individual facets until the jewel sparkled.

"It's stunning and I'm honored that you would trust me with it. Did these pieces belong to the late countess?"

His smile trembled. "No," Edmont said. "They belonged to Haurchefant's mother."

"Oh..."

"My wife would have destroyed all of it, so I concealed this box within my personal effects. I intended to give all of this to him when he married, but-"

Aurelia bowed her head, staring into her cup.

"It bears repeating," his tone was gentle, "that I do not blame you for his death. I have never blamed you."

"But-"

"I grieve him, as does any parent who has had to bury their child, but I have never blamed you. I would give anything to have him back. Yet I cannot deny my pride in having raised a son who would be selfless enough to-" He swallowed, the bob in his throat swift and almost violent in its movement. "...Well, we'll never get through this if I start crying. Take it."

He passed her the box. She stared down at the pendant.

"Lord Edmont, I-"

"No titles necessary, my dear. I think at this point we've moved well beyond formality." He cleared his throat and glanced into the fire. "Well, I'm certain your own parents would be very proud of you."

Oh hells. Her throat felt hot and tight and her vision blurred.

"I very much doubt that," she said, her voice even but only just. "Oh, I doubt that."

"Why so?"

Aurelia's fingers clutched the edges of the box until they dug into her palms.

"...I shouldn't burden you with this-"

"By all means, my dear. Go on."

"It's... my background is much like Haurchefant's, in truth." She sighed. "My mother was a musician and an actress. She had top billing in one of His Radiance's personal favorite troupes, in fact. She enjoyed a good deal of renown when she still toured the imperial playhouses. But fame or no, she came from common stock and my uncle wouldn't have the match. Father broke a betrothal and defied his family to marry her. He even left the capitol at their request."

Edmont had leaned against the armrest of his chair to listen, his expression patient and focused. She glanced into the mirror over the mantelpiece and saw her face, as ever, staring back. Her father's broad nose and high cheekbones and golden hair, her mother's eyes. No matter where she went, she could look in a mirror and always see her mother's eyes. Usually, it was a comfort, in its own way. Tonight-

She chewed on her lower lip.

"They didn't know about her weak heart until I came along. It took so much out of her, and she never recovered from my birth. To say that my father was unable to deal with the loss would be putting things kindly."

"I can well imagine."

"There were so many times over the years I would see him looking at me and the expression he had on his face when he looked away, it- ...I used to think that he hated me. Knowing what I know now, I can see his side of things better than I ever wanted to. He lost himself in his own despair and had no time for anything else. But I think that if he had been given a choice, he would have taken my mother without a shadow of a doubt. I'm certain I'm not the only child to have ever been in this situation, neither the first nor the last. But his greatest sin, his greatest failure as a father, was letting me know it."

Something hot trickled down her cheek but she forced herself to keep talking.

"He wasn't a father to me. How could he possibly have been a good father? The moment she left us he gave up on everything."

Edmont said nothing, and she could see nothing of his face through her tears. But she heard the sound of the chair scraping as he stood, and the tap of his cane upon the floor. A warm hand descended upon her shoulder and squeezed. Gently he plucked the box from her hands, set it on the table, and pulled her to her feet.

"Any parent should be proud to have raised a child like you," he said, "and I doubt your mother would have held any of your choices against you. You are an exceptional woman - not just by your deeds, but by your heart - and even if she had known beforehand what would happen to her I suspect that much like Haurchefant, she would not have changed a thing about her decision. Sometimes our sorrows are so great in scale and so close together we think the world will never be anything else. But there is joy, great joy, in living." He tucked a stray sheaf of her hair behind her ear. "And there is joy in the hope you bring to others and in your presence in their lives. Let that be her enduring gift to you- as you are to us."

Smiling, albeit with a great sadness in his eyes, he opened his free arm and let her come to him.

"Had I ever been fortunate enough to raise a daughter," he said, "I like to think she would have been a great deal like you. If you can ever bring yourself to say it, it would greatly honor this old man to be your father in truth as well as bureaucracy."

Wrapped in his embrace, she smelled cloves, coffee, aged paper, and the earthy sweetness of pipe tobacco. She inhaled on a choked sob and nodded, unable to speak. Tomorrow would be for joy and joy alone. Tonight, she wept for the father she had lost years before he had left her, and for the gift of another.

And before the warmth of the great hearth, basking in the warmth of the parental love she had always wished to know for herself, she let the last ancient tatters of her grief burn away to cinders.

#ffxivwrite 2020 #prompt 29: paternal #edmont is a good dad despite everything tbh #aurelia laskaris #edmont de fortemps #cw: pregnancy mention

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angelicichor · 5 years ago

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Hi, I just read your somft bois post. Hypothetically speaking, if one were to test you, how much softer could you go? Theoretically, of course. (In all seriousness I really loved it and I’m deadass gonna read whatever else you have to spare my grubby gremlin hands 💖)

You dare?? Question my somftness skills??

Bubba Sawyer:

♥ Bubba’s whole existence is softness personified. This boy is the walking manifestation of warm summer days at the beach with wind blowing in your face, but keeping the sand away, he’s the ice cream, the laughter and the joy of lying face-front in the sun, with the essence of dummy that comes with the realization that you did not put on sunscreen and are now burned. Worth it.

♥ Just the way he waves his hands in excitement when he sees you after a long time (so more than 6 minutes) is enough to make your day so much better than it was before and you ain’t even close to him yet.

♥ He’s the essence of love, pulling you into a tight bear hug, enveloping you in his soft self, squishing air out of your longs and nuzzling your cheeks with his masked ones, it’s a bit disgusting, really, but he’s so happy to do it that you honestly don’t even care.

♥ Bubba’s a damn gentleman is what he is. He’ll take your coat if you’ve been out, sit you down, undo your shoes, pass you your slippers and proceed to take of that funny looking hat he gave you at some point and that funky scarf you’re wearing that was Nubbin’s gift, you don’t dare to question where either of them got those things, but you adore them never the less, makes you feel like a part of the family and I mean - You are! You’re Bubba’s darling! His angel, his everything!

♥ He makes sure you know that by showering your freezing face with warm, sloppy kisses and pulling you into another hug, gasping in offence when you weasel your hands under his shirt, stealing his warmth.

♥ This man is a gosh darn walking radiator, fight me on this, I WILL WIN.

♥ Once you’re all dressed for staying home he takes your comparably tiny hands and after being stuck with an awestruck expression for a moment (because how can your skin feel so nice to touch?!) he’ll guide you to the main room and sit you down for a nice, warm meal.

♥ He’s already eaten, so instead he crouches by the table and looks at you lovingly, with those big, adorable eyes. And when you pet his head they close in immediate bliss and he shifts to hug your waist and lie his head on your lap while you’re still eating.

♥ In that way he’s like a cat, you’re stuck now, you cannot move him until you finish your soup. By then he’ll leave by himself to show you proudly a platter of cookies he made with his brother.

♥ They might or might not have razors in them, knowing his bastard brother, so he cracks each one of them open to check if he’s right. Yes, he is. With a lot of huffs he steps out of the room to be angry at Nubbins and you can’t help but laugh a little.

♥ And no, Nubbins doesn’t hate you… he’s just… being Nubbins.

♥ After a few rumbles and crashes your boy is back, dusting off his hands in an almost comedic way and picks you up without a warning to carry you to a couch with a TV in front of it.

♥ He sits you down, pats your head to make you stay and you nod at him with a happy smile, watching him leave and come back just a moment later with the cracked cookies. Scooting you over a bit he sits down, the couch creaking under his weight ever so slightly and he puts the platter on the small coffee table before lying down and pulling you on top of him, gently, carefully and only once he notices that he’s alright with moving you.

♥ The satisfied noise he makes once you’re on his chest and belly force you to hold back a squeak, because it’s just so adorable.

♥ “You’re taking a nap, Bubba?” You ask gleefully, pinching his masked nose lightly. He nods eagerly and just huff a laughter. “Okay, but an hour and no longer, okay? I got work to do.” He pouts a bit and traps you in his arms. You’re not going anywhere before he gets his rest, he’s worked hard for it!

♥ The TV is turned on and before you know it your boy is snoring underneath you, his expression stuck in a stupid little smile that makes your heart flutter.

♥ I hope you don’t need to pee, because you’re stuck on him for an hour now.

Thomas Hewitt:

♥ Moving in with Thomas (without a real choice, but you CAN’T complain) turned out to make your days way more busy, with Luda Mae and Hoyt keeping you on your feet, tending to the house, it’s surroundings and it’s occupants if they needed anything. Thomas had a similar treatment, but being a country boy he was used to it, your city self couldn’t get accustomed that fast, so you worked slower than him, but a bit were a bit more careful with every task, so Luda was more than happy to have you help. Less dishes being broken that way and all.

♥ So at the end of the day you’d be completely wasted and wanting nothing more to just sit down and rest, but almost always Monty would call you to do one more thing, just to see you frown and pout and mope your way back to him to ask what he wanted.

♥ Except this time you don’t make it to his wheelchair, being lifted in the air and placed on a firm shoulder, your hands hitting a familiar, muscular back and your eyes spotting a very squeezable butt that could only belong to Tommy.

♥ Monty’s about to say something, but the Behemoth is quick to turn to him and squint his eyes, daring him to steal you away from him when it was HIS time to have you to himself.

♥ You weren’t dating, at least not yet (at least you’re pretty sure you ain’t???), but you were dear to him and each time someone made you do something when he was just about to grab you he grew just a bit more agitated and it showed. His walk was stiffer, more determined than usual and you were happy that his frame was so solid, keeping you from bouncing with his every step, huffing something under his breath, but you knew better than to expect any words to actually come out. Though he did speak sometimes, simple words, nothing more.

♥ He brought you upstairs into the room he rarely uses and slammed the door behind him with another huff, letting you slip down from his shoulders, you then giggling at his tired eye roll. You knew Hoyt made him chase after a group of teens today, too lazy to do his own damn work, so this Giant was W A S T E D.

♥ To confirm that, he kicked his boots off and slammed onto his bed, jumping a bit as he hit the mattress face first, groaning into the soft pillows. You couldn’t help but laugh at how over-dramatic he was being. Very few people knew this, but Tommy is a sassy bastard when he’s not around Hoyt.

♥ With another creak you saw Thomas turning, a lazy smile hidden under his mask, nudging his head towards the dresser, where a radio was laying, a few CDs right next to it. “Ya want me to play us somethin’?” You asked and he nodded quickly, sitting up and hunching forward slightly, eyes fixed on you as you looked through the albums. “Metallica will do?” you didn’t look back this time, so he just hummed in agreement and lied back down, letting the soft bass at the start of Enter Sandman hush his mind.

♥ This man looks so damn peaceful when his eyes are closed, his usually furrowed brows relaxing and head bobbing slightly to the rhythm of the music, barely paying any attention to you moving onto the bed and sitting on your legs right next to his chest, only opening one eye to see what you were up to.

♥ Didn’t expect to see you pouting though.

♥ Quietly you poked his covered cheek and he understood, lifting his tired body up and turning so you faced his back. Your heart skipped a beat, realizing how much trust he was putting in you, as your small fingers undid the belt that held the dark leather mask to his face, his hair falling down in cascades as he pulled it off, his breath stuttering slightly. It did every time, because even if he trusted you not to make fun of him or flinch in disgust, his trauma was still there and just like always he moved to press himself into the pillows as quick as possible, grunting, clearly displeased.

♥ Taking the opportunity you climb on his back and lay down, groaning as you felt every muscle on your poor, sore back relax. He laughed under you when your arms went around his neck in a nuzzling hug, turning his face to look at you and blushed ever so slightly when your lazy smile welcomed him.

♥ ”Allo, handsome.” You joked and he huffed in annoyance, lifting himself and throwing you off him in the process, letting you fall to his side with a small ‘oof’. “Rude.”

♥ He knew, but it’s an eye for an eye. At least now he’s actually facing you and you grin at his face, disfigured as it might be, you honestly didn’t care.

♥ ‘Sad But True’ rolled on and he starred at the radio, letting his head rest on his fist. Not a favorite for either of you, but still good.

♥ You adored those evenings with Thomas, quiet, calm, chill, spent on listening to music and helping each other relax, cuddling, laughing at each other, play wrestling, banging you heads to the rhythm of the music and massaging sore muscle if needed. Tommy was great at the last part, well, he was amazing at all of those things, but his fingers were literal magic, kneading your back just right for you to relax, not even expecting you to do the same, because he knew your fingers hurt when you massaged him, muscle does that and it makes your hands sore after.

♥ But with those darling moments it always made you wonder just WHAT were you. It wasn’t just a friendship, you weren’t dating and there was no sex involved so, what then?

♥ Not bearing the question any longer you shoot up, startling him a bit and pinning him under you, eyes determined, making him chuckle at your sudden courage, ready to pounce back if you wanted to wrestle. “Thomas Hewitt Brown.” You start and he tilts his head in confusion, one brow raised, waiting for your next words - what did he do NOW? “What…” your gaze shifted to the side, not unnoticed by him and now both of you were blushing slightly. “What… am I to you?” finally you break the silence and look back at him, only to find his eyes wide in shock.

♥ It wasn’t your question, but the sudden realization that he has NO IDEA.

♥ Cue the slightly panicked shrug and him sitting up, holding you in place on his lap, making you blush at just how close he was. Usually neither of you would mind, but now with both your thoughts racing and ‘Wherever I May Roam’ surprisingly rolling up, the closeness was suffocating.

♥ He looks away, thumbs drawing circles in you back, furrowing his brows before smiling lightly, a cocky grin and a spark of deviousness in his eye as he pulled you closer to him by gently placing his hand at the back of your head.

♥ ”Tommy?” you asked, your body trembling when his dark eyes met yours in a heated daze, asking for something and when he inched closer, tilting his head slightly to the side and you didn’t shove away he knew he found his answer, kissing your lips softly, his heart clenching with pure joy and warmth when you kissed back, again and again, sweetly and carefully. Once he pulled away you were both blushing like crazy and with a happy giggle he pushed you down to his chest and slammed his back into the bed.

♥ You were huffing and puffing in embarrassment and he just laughed, petting your hair.

♥ “That answers no–” “Mine.” He cut you off and you rose slightly, amazed to hear his voice vibrating through his huge chest, the cocky grin not leaving his lips. With another huff you decided to just lay on him, digging your chin into his chest in a form of revenge, feeling his whole body shake in warm laughter.

♥ “FINE. But that doesn’t explain a thing!” you groan jabbing at his side with your fingers and the way he catches your hand you know that you just brought a round of rough housing on yourself. “Oh, you’re ON.” you hiss and attack his sides, determined to win against him this time.

♥ Spoilers: You absolutely won… not.

Michael Myers (RZ):

♥ To say that Mikey is a problem child would be a SEVERE understatement.

♥ It’s not even his violent tendencies or his obsessive behavior, but the years he spent in the sanitarium, being feared by every single nurse, orderly, guard and doctor taught him, that he has enough power to just take what he wants whenever he wants it.

♥ Even if it meant holding you hostage in his ridiculously huge and strong arms, pressing his chin against the top of your head and sitting on the floor, because your protests made you fall of the couch and he’s NOT giving you the chance to slip away from him AGAIN.

♥ You’re both sitting there, brows furrowed, because he won’t let you go shopping and you are STARVING and it’s HIS fault because he’s just too damn big for his own good and ate ALL YOUR FOOD.

♥ And he won’t even apologize! No, instead he’s forcing you to give him love and affection! That touch starved bastard!

♥ “You’re such a dick.” you groan , trying to jab him with your elbows, but his hold is just too tight. Noticing your struggles he tenses his muscle to squeeze you inside him, making you squeak at the sudden tightness. “MICHAEL!!” you raise your tone and he groans, standing up with you and before you can even think of breaking free he’s throwing you on the sofa, falling onto you right after, knocking the air out of your lungs. “MICHAAAAEEEEEL!!!” you whine, shoving his arms to no avail. You know damn well that his gosh darn mountain of a man ain’t moving an inch unless he wants to humor you and he’s being a grumpy bastard right now.

♥ A low growl runs through his throat and his gaze shots up to you, making you shut up immediately. “Shut up and pet me.” he complains, nuzzling into your chest angrily like a damned child.

♥ You open your mouth wide, shocked, appalled, distraught, how DARE HE.

♥ “MICHAEL I’M STARVIIIIIIING!!” you moan, slipping your hands from under him (he let you because how are you supposed to pet him otherwise) and brutally ruffling his mane of dirty blonde hair. He catches your hands and squints at you, huffing a loose strand of hand off his face, unmasked for once. You gulp and push further into the sofa, making yourself smaller as he loomed over you, a wide grin slowly rising on his face as he realized something that would give so much trouble. “Michael… we’re both adults… be rational.” you try to reason with him, but he’s already off you, moving towards the kitchen to look for something. Your face pales as you realize what he’s look for and jump of the sofa in PURE FEAR.

♥ You can hear a faint hum of approval as he found the object and is now turning towards you, his eyes squinted in a sinister smile and soon you can hear the whip of rope being pulled together, a lumbering laughter echoing from his chest.

♥ “Mikey, no.” you warn.

♥ “Run.” But his warning sounds stronger, and you’re sprinting off with a laughing shriek as he chases after you with a wide, childish grin on his face.

Am I grinning while writing those??? A B S O L U T E L Y.

Does my face hurt from doing that? Y A

Hope this is somft enough for u bc I am just…. S HAkinG. So much fluffiness, we a pillow factory in this binch now. Amazing.

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breaniebree · 4 years ago

Text

Sneak Peek Chapter 239

She prowled out of the lift and into the DRCMC, turning only when a rough voice called out her name.

Zee turned to offer a small smile to Amos Diggory. He’d been on a vacation with his wife since the middle of June. He’d returned sometime last week, but she hadn’t seen him. His eyes widened at the sight of her.

“Holy Helga! Black knocked you up?”

Zee placed a protective hand over her stomach and glowered at him. “Sirius and I created life, Amos, yes, how kind of you to notice.”

He realized his words because his cheeks flushed. “Er, I mean, I apologize, Zacarias, that was... congratulations. Children are the light of your life. You’ll see.”

She nodded, her anger evaporating when she saw the flash of hurt in his eyes. He and his wife had taken off for the summer, both distraught with the one year anniversary of their son’s death.

“Thank you, Amos. I can’t imagine how tough this summer was for you and Piper.”

Diggory nodded. “Thank you. Er, meeting in ten in the conference room for all department heads and level three agents.”

Zee thanked him and made her way to her office. Lady Godiva made herself comfortable on the large lounge pillow by the wall taking up the only extra space in the office as Zee moved behind her desk. Her eyes fell on the photos she had there. One of Sirius with his arms around her on the beach in Barbados and the other of her, Harry, and Sirius in Moscow. The photos of Sirius winked at her and she smiled back. Seeing him was painful, but it brought joy to her as well in a way that she couldn’t explain. It made him feel like he was still close by.

She grabbed her parchment pad and self-inking quill before she made her way down to the conference room. She was only a little surprised to see Minister Bones there.

Amelia Bones had reportedly been having full conference meetings with every major department in the Ministry over the last two weeks, but Zee hadn’t heard anything about her sitting in with the DRCMC. She looked for an empty seat and her eyes widened when she recognized Charlie Weasley sitting there. He patted the seat next to him and she sank into it gratefully.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m a man of mystery.”

She laughed. “In other words, it’s a surprise?”

Charlie only shrugged in response.

Lou Bannerman, the Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, stood up, claiming everyone’s attention. “I thank you all for coming. We have a few important topics to discuss today. Minister Bones has kindly agreed to sit in on our meeting and may have a few thoughts to bring to the table. As you know, a good portion of you have been working with the new Defence Department to help with the different units. This is a new and bold move for the Ministry and more than ever we need to make sure that we’re allied with all magical creatures.”

At everyone’s murmurings, Bannerman continued. “The Werewolf Capture Unit will be working closely with the packs in the Terra Troops and with the Hit Wizards in the DMLE. I want every wolf registered with an address and contact information within the Werewolf Registry as we go along with these new measures. The DMLE has reported wolf attacks all over the country in the last few months. Some of them have even happened when the moon isn’t out. The Alphas have assured us that this isn’t them and as there have been multiple reports over the years linking Greyback and his rogue wolves into doing this, I believe them. We need a concrete list of which wolves are on our side both for the safety of our allies and to help us distinguish who we can and cannot trust, especially after the kidnapped children disaster we had in August. Yes, Walters?”

“The packs have all come forward and registered with us no problem,” Elizabeth Walters, an agent from Werewolf Support Services, explained. “Some of them were hesitant, but with the new program teaching them to Apparate and the Basic Magical Training courses for them being put into motion, they want to help. By lumping them in with Greyback, we’re only falling back on our old ways.”

“I agree,” Bones said standing up. “And that’s part of why I’m here today. As many of you have noticed, the construction on the new fountain is almost complete. I want the fountain to show that we are supportive of change. These changes are slow moving and they won’t happen today, tomorrow, or even six months from now. We have laws in place that are centuries old and if we’re going to make changes, we need to overhaul everything. And I want to first start with this department.”

Everyone stared at her and Bannerman spoke up. “The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Who can tell me what’s wrong with our name already?”

“Sir, with all due respect, magical creatures do need to be controlled and regulated. Why just the other day the centaurs were fighting elves in Ireland! If we hadn’t stepped in, a war might have broken out!” Diggory exclaimed.

“The centaurs are one of the few magical creatures who refuse to cooperate with us,” Bannerman said. “And in time, I hope that we will be able to make peace with them. But in the meantime, we need to cut back on the control and regulations we do have in place. Some of the wolves have expressed an interest in joining the WSS and I agree with it. We have two goblins from Gringotts willing to come forward and work in a goblin based department. I want magical creatures to be able to come here in peace and welcome, to work together with witches and wizards to help create a better life for themselves and for our community.”

Zee raised her wand. “Sir, does this mean that we’ll be able to take another look at the House-Elf disposition I presented at the beginning of the year?”

“Yes, Zacarias. We want to bring that forward immediately and urge all of you who have house elves in their employ to come forward. We want to have a new department just for elves.”

#a second chance #breanie #harry potter fanfiction

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frogocado · 5 years ago

Note

Can I request 138 and 57 for the prompts? Thank you!

I cannot believe I forgot to include a person in my ask. Can it be Damien or Shayne?

138: “ Are you cold? ”

57: “ Is that my shirt? ”

how about BOTH (this turned into a shayne/damien/reader thing and it’s uh 900 words and like a year late, sorry)

Your bones were ice. You knew that if one person flicked you and you fell, you would shatter all along the Good Mythical floor. It would be such a mess for the other PAs. Shayne poked his head out of the squad’s conference room, glaring at you. “Stop stomping around, I’m trying to tell jokes on my Instagram story and all I can hear are your dumb shoes.”

Shivering, you turned to him, hoping some of the intense cold shifting through you would transport through your glare to him instead. For half a second, when your eyes meet, you swear you saw the blonde idiot shiver. “I can’t,” you snapped. “You fucks like this office so cold so you can layer in summer and–”

Shayne gave an overdramatic sigh and pushed up the sleeves of his jacket, revealing a sweater that looked vaguely familiar beneath it. “So go talk to Matt about the thermostat.”

“You know I hate it when you interrupt me. I already talked to Matt. He told me to go put a sweater on but–”

“I know you hate it but you also know that when the heart is on the door knob, you know it’s because we love you but need you to shut up,” Shayne countered, stepping out of the conference room to point at the collaboration piece Noah and Keith had created: a golden loose glitter heart with “STFU” graphically written sobeautifully that Banksy would be jealous.

You roared when he interrupted you again. Shayne laughed aloud at the noise, his ruse of anger falling away into softness as his voice rose into what Damien called his “Joy Octave,” the shrill giggle that would line Shayne from the tip ofhis head to his feet, burning and infectious.

Right as you were about to lunge for the boy, Damien’s voice hit you. “If I thought waking you two up this morning would drive you into madness, I wouldn’t have been so quick for breakfast in bed.” Your own anger subsided and a new chill ran through you, turning to look at the other boy.

“What’s wrong with you?” He questioned, head tilted to the side as if he was sober and composed Watson and Shayne was the bumbling and manic Sherlock. Your entire abdomen was shivering. “Are you cold? Where’s the sweater you brought?”

You began to open your mouth when Shayne interrupted a second time. “Damien, is that my shirt?”

Damien’s ears turned a soft pink. “Yes,” he responded quickly and shyly, his professionalism faltering for a millisecond.

“I haven’t even had a chance to wear it to the office yet!” Shayne began to whine, giving another large and incredibly dramatic sigh. “Now everyone is going to think that I stole it from you and they’re going to think you have all the fashion sense in this relationship–”

“Excuse me?” You barely have time to see Damien’s adorable blush as his eyebrows raise and you whirled around on Shayne, your balled fist barely making an effort to punch before it dissolved into instinctively and affectionately grabbing the material that was keeping your touch from his skin.

“Whoa, yikes, time to backpedal on that one, baby,” Damien offered blankly to Shayne over your shoulder.

Shayne giggled at your attempt, lovingly knitting his hands in yours before pushing them off of him. “If you don’t stop, HR’s going to have a lot of paper work to get through.”

As he removed both sets of hands blocking your view, you took in the sight of your office hoodie. It hugged tight across Shayne’s abdomen, a size and a half too small. It looked damn good, of course, but that didn’t excuse the action. “That’s mine!” You cried as you registered the stolen item. “You spent five minutes teasing me about losing shit and all along you–”

The two boys knowing you so well normally backfired for you but today, Damien was not expecting you to lunge at your other partner in the middle of your workplace. Shayne couldn’t decide whether to move away or catch you and chose neither. The two of you collided and he stumbled back against the couch as you ripped his stupidly adorable denim jacket, hands clawing to get your item back. It was nearly impossible to hear Damien demanding the two of you stop over Shayne’s shrill laughter and then suddenly, an office door opened and the three of you were frozen in action.

Damien, struggling to take off Shayne’s shirt in hopes that you’d stop your own antics. Shayne, almost totally flipped over the back of the couch with a lavender hoodie up and off his shoulders. You, straddling your boyfriend’s hips and fingernails in Shayne’s skin. Ryan and Ian had just emerged from the conference room. Like a disappointed father, Ryan was meeting each set of eyes with a stern expression. “What was the one thing you three agreed on?”

Damien sighed as he gave his boyfriend his shirt back, shoulders slumped as he helped you and Shayne both detangle. “No paperwork,” he murmured in return.

“I’m sorry, what was it y’all decided?” Ian, totally not helping, never ever fucking helping, quipped.

As Shayne pulled his own shirt on over his head, he elbowed you. Your hoodie now sliding over your own t-shirt, you felt all of your bones settle from the cold. “No paperwork,” you answered.

Ian sighed, slumping against the door to his office. “That’s enough presidential duty for me in a single day. Damien, get a shirt that belongs to you and get back to work.” He disappeared into his office, closing the door behind him.

#ordinarily-maddie #this has the same energy as suspicious change my mind #smosh imagine #shayne topp imagine #damien haas imagine #smosh fic #mine #fic #request #shayne topp x damien haas x reader #damien haas x shayne topp x reader

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 6 years ago

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Heart of Steel - XIX

Description: Sir James is known throughout the lands as the most fearsome and honorable warrior. Ballads have been written about him. Men fear him. He is the most trusted knight of King Henry. So why has he given up the glories of war and pledged his loyalty to Princess Y/N?

Pairing: Medieval AU -Knight!Bucky x Princess!Reader

Word Count: 3,294

Series Masterlist

Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months. Yet the war continued.

It was the kingdoms’ misfortune that they underestimated their mutual enemy. Hydra must have been preparing for this war long before anyone could ever realize. And now all of them were paying the price.

Y/N helped as much as she could from the confines of the castle. She continued to oversee the food, water, and medical supplies that were delivered to the front lines. She also visited the town folks as much as possible. People weren’t just suffering physically, but emotionally as well.

Y/N tried to keep herself busy. The more time she allowed herself to get lost inside her mind, the crazier she felt and the more depressed she became.

Steve wrote to her. He couldn’t give her specifics on the war in fear that their letters could be intercepted. But he did tell her how much he missed her. It seemed that writing and thinking of Y/N was the only source of light he had during such dark times.

Tony helped with Zamora’s army from the castle too, having meetings with generals and advisors.

King Henry forbid him to ride to battle. After all, he was the heir of Zamora.

Tony hated it. He wanted to be fighting like his friend Steve. But Zamora’s customs were different than those of Midgard’s.

Y/N often sat in council meetings. She learned it was better to observe everything, listen to every man’s opinion, and then save her own for when her and Tony were alone. He always listened to her. Always.

“You were born to be a king, not me,” Tony had recently told her with a sad smile before shooing her off to bed.

To Y/N’s surprise, Bucky did not flee Zamora. He stayed at her side. But things had changed between them. There was no longer that draw between them. The knight was cold and distant, but still watchful of his princess.

Y/N thought it was best to ignore him as well as she could. It was hard, especially after years of feeling a draw to her knight.

Slowly the princess stopped seeing him as Bucky. He was Sir James to her now.

-------

It was the end of a long day now. Y/N had been helping the medical ward that had been set up in the town square. There were men injured from war that could not return to battle. Some didn’t make the journey back to their kingdom. The rest were now placed on cots.

The princess was no physician or surgeon. But she helped where she could. Sometimes it was just getting fresh water or holding a lonely man’s hand as he died. But it was better than doing nothing.

Y/N was exhausted.

But more than anything… she was sick of watching her people die.

Y/N was lost in her thoughts, barely even having the strength to walk to Moon and ride back to the castle.

So when her foot caught a bump in the footpath, she wasn’t even strong enough to regain her footing or catch herself.

Just as she accepted that she would be falling, a strong pair of hands gripped her waist and pulled her upright.

Y/N blinked slowly, too exhausted to fight the grip of a stranger.

It felt like a dream as she looked over her shoulder to see that it was Bucky who was steadying her.

How long had he been following her?

She hadn’t seen him anywhere in sight when she was helping the wounded.

The knight observed her face and body for a moment.

Y/N wished he kept his grip on her hips just a few seconds longer. But he let go as soon as she was steady.

“When was the last time you ate something, Your Highness?” Bucky

Y/N touched her forehead, suddenly realizing how lightheaded she was as well. She shrugged and shook her head. Not really answering his question, but brushing it aside altogether.

Bucky sighed in disappointment.

Y/N barely heard him whistle to Persephone.

His loyal steed came cantering to his side.

Without warning her or asking for permission, Bucky lifted Y/N into his arms and planted her on top of the saddle. There was barely a second before he was swing his legs over and placing himself right behind her.

Y/N wanted to yell at him, to reprimand him for manhandling his princess.

But she was so exhausted and she realized how much she missed him. Though he had frequently been at her side, he was distant in every other way.

So Y/N welcomed the feeling of his warm body pressed against her back and his arms wrapped around her as he reached for the reigns.

“Thank you,” Y/N muttered so quietly that she doubted he could even hear it.

“You would have fallen off your horse and broken your neck,” he scolded before making a clicking sound to urge Persephone forward.

Y/N gave a lazy smirk. It felt like old times for just one moment.

She decided to say nothing.

“You have worked yourself to exhaustion…” Bucky continued.

Y/N rolled her eyes, even though she knew he couldn’t see it. “My people need me.”

“Yes, but they also need you alive and healthy too.” He countered.

She didn’t have the strength to argue with him.

The ride from the town square back to the castle only took half an hour or so.

But Y/N was so tired and relaxed in the arms of Bucky that she fell asleep. Her head rested back between the knight’s right shoulder and bicep.

“Is she alright?” Y/N recognized the voice of Peter in her sleep. It sounded like a dream.

“Do not wake her,” Bucky hissed in a hushed voice.

Y/N could barely feel herself being moved from the saddle to someone’s arms.

————— Wanda watched as Bucky carried Y/N’s sleeping body into her bedchambers and carefully slid her into bed.

The servant girl’s heart warmed as the knight pulled the covers up to the princess’ chin.

When Bucky turned to leave, he stopped at the expression Wanda gave him.

“She misses you,” the servant muttered quietly. But there was malice in her eyes.

“I have not left,” the knight answered before continuing his walk past her.

“You know what I speak of, Sir James.” She closed the bedroom door behind her as she hurried after the knight. “Why did you push her away? She told you she loved you! She gave you her heart, the thing she has protected most in her whole life... and you trampled it!”

“Enough, Wanda!” Bucky groaned.

“No!” Wanda snapped and grabbed his arm, whipping him around to face her. “People sing songs and tell tales of your bravery. But I see you for what you truly are: a coward.”

Bucky remained emotionless by her insult.

Then he looked at the ground. “I…I cannot give her what she wants. You know this. I know this. And so does she.”

“But do you truly not believe sharing your true affections is still worth it?” Wanda whispered.

Bucky clenched his jaw and stared into the servants eyes before shaking his head.

He turned and rushed to the door, throwing it open. “You will regret it,” Wanda told him.

He paused in the doorway, letting the words settle over him.

But he gave no reply before storming out the door.

—————————

6 Months Later

Y/N was laying in the grass of her garden, staring up at the clouds and trying to figure out what each one reminded her of. She had been forbidden from helping the wounded or monitoring the rations today.

Tony and Bruce had rallied against her. She suspected Bucky might have had a secret role, as well.

If she couldn’t help, she would hide away. It had been months since she visited her garden. Part of it was because of the changing seasons. The other part was because she had been avoiding it.

Y/N was punishing herself, ridding her life of anything that caused her joy.

She never went riding, only using Moon to travel back and forth to the town square. She didn’t read her favorite books, telling herself that she had better things to do than spend time on such hobbies. Lastly, she avoided her garden because it brought her solace…solace that she didn’t deserve. Furthermore, being there reminded her of Bucky and the few stolen moments that life was charitable enough to allow them.

Now it was fall, she’d missed the beautiful blooming that spring brought and the bright colors summer then provided. But now she saw the leaves changing and heard the crinkling of them with every breeze, and she remembered how much she loved autumn.

Y/N was brought out of her daydreaming when she heard and felt heavy footsteps approaching.

She knew Bucky was the only one with access to the garden besides the greenskeeper. Yet she was still surprised to see him.

Y/N noted the tension in his body. But his face remained calm. It didn’t mean anything though: he was trained to never show panic or fear.

“What is it?” Y/N asked him. He had not come to her garden since the last time they kissed. She knew he would not enter unless it was something dire.

“I think it is best you come to the courtyard, Your Majesty.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes in confusion. “Why? What has happened?”

“The tower watchmen spotted a couple riders approaching the castle. One was riding with a banner of Midgard.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “Steve!” She gasped before jumping to her feet and running past Bucky.

She was barefoot. Her hair in a wavy mess that was far too improper for a princess. She was in a dress that even a commoner would wear, for she did not know she would be forbidden from helping wounded that day.

But she wasn’t thinking about how she looked as she sprinted to the courtyard. But she didn’t stop there. She kept running and ran straight through it and to the gates at the castle walls. She didn’t even notice the crazy stares she got from townsfolk, nobles, and guards.

Y/N walked onto flying bridge and stared into the horizon.

She saw Dame Natasha first, her red hair sticking out from everything else.

Next she saw Sir Clinton and Sir Samuel.

Then Y/N let out a gasp of relief when she spotted Steve amongst the four of them. He rode at the back of the group, which was why she didn’t see him at first.

It worried Y/N that her two knights were accompanying a foreign king. Was it possible that they were all that was left of Zamora’s army?

Suddenly, Y/N felt a presence behind her.

She turned around to find Bucky standing guard. But he wasn’t looking at the princess or the approaching riders. Instead, he was scouting the horizon to see if there was an enemy lingering or some surprise attack trying to be executed, using Steve as bait.

Y/N squinted when she saw that only one of Steve’s hands was holding the reigns, while the other one was holding a sack of some sort.

The four riders came to a halt quickly. Y/N had to take a quick step back to prevent herself from getting trampled.

“What is it? What has happened?” Y/N looked up at Steve only.

He tossed the sack on the ground and it rolled to the princess’ feet.

Y/N felt sick when she saw there was blood soaking the bottom of the sack.

“King Alexander’s head,” Steve clarified darkly.

Her eyes widened, realizing what this meant. If Hydra’s king was dead, then that must mean…

“The war has ended,” Steve declared.

Y/N was about to smile, but then she finally took Steve in. His skin was pale and sweaty. There was red shadows lingering on his skin beneath his eyes.

Suddenly, the king’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and he started sliding off of his saddle.

“Steve!” Y/N screeched and rushed forward.

Bucky beat her to the king’s saddle thankfully and caught Steve before he could hit the ground. He lowered him to the ground and called over his shoulder for a medic.

Y/N instantly kneeled to the ground and was cradling Steve’s head in her lap as she called his name.

She looked up at the knights that had accompanied him back. “What happened?”

Natasha looked just as shocked as her and was shaking her head. “He-he said he was scathed in battle... b-but that it was nothing to worry about…” Her voice was numb.

Y/N’s fingers were desperate as they unbuckled his armor and rid his body of it. When his chest plate was removed, she saw a huge stain of blood on the right side of his torso, just under his pectoral muscle.

“Steve? Steve, please!” The princess begged as she rain her fingers through his hair.

His eyes fluttered open at her calling.

But he closed them before smiling almost with delusion, “Hello, my love.” His voice was but a mere sigh.

“Please, stay awake.” Y/N urged him.

Steve nodded numbly, trying his best to calm her and listen to her pleading.

Suddenly Bucky was pulling her away from him as servants ran a canvas stretcher to the king and carefully placed his body on it.

Y/N tried to rush after them as they hurried Steve away. But Bucky pulled her against his chest and stopped her from moving.

“You have to let them help him,” he whispered comfortingly in her ear.

Everyone was too preoccupied with Steve to notice the intimate solace the knight gave his princess.

Y/N allowed herself to go limp in Bucky’s arms…but only for a moment.

She pulled away slowly and wiped away her tears with the back of her hand.

Bucky leaned forward and brushed her messy hair off her face. Then he brushed a lingering tear on her cheek away with his thumb. “It will be okay,” he whispered reassuringly to her.

Then it seemed he snapped back to reality and realized they had an audience. He quickly dropped his hand and took a step away from her.

By some miracle no one seemed to notice the intimate moment except Natasha, Clint, and Sam. They looked at him almost pathetically, seeing how hard it was for Bucky to be near Y/N when she was in distress and not able to do anything to help her.

Y/N’s eyes fell on the sack filled with King Alexander’s head.

Taking in a deep breath, she grabbed it and headed back toward the castle. She marched into court, knowing her father and mother were lingering there.

The ignorant and pompous nobles gasped at her attire and the sack she held that was dripping blood at her feet.

Y/N looked around the room and then found the eyes of her father and king.

When she did, she tossed the sack forward. “The King of Hydra is dead. The great war is finally over.”

People blinked in shock before processing the words she actually said. Then the room erupted in cheers. But Y/N saw no cause for celebration. How many lives had been lost to get here? Yes, the suffering had ended. But the scars would remain.

Y/N slipped out of the room with the chaos of jubilee that had now taken over the room.

She heard Bucky following a few steps behind, but tried her best to ignore his presence.

The knight already knew where she was going.

Y/N turned the corner to the infirmary.

Bruce seemed to be expecting her already, knowing the princess would not be able to stay away from her betrothed.

“He will be just fine, my dear.” Bruce told Y/N gently.

“He fainted and fell off his horse. That wound… H-how will he be fine?” She challenged.

“Because he did not treat the wound immediately, it continued bleeding. Blood loss causes lightheadedness. And he lost a lot of it. But I cleaned the wound and stitched it up. Right now... he just needs rest, Your Highness.”

Y/N let out a giant and shaky exhale.

Bruce gripped her shoulder and gave her a small smile. “You can go in and sit with him, Your Highness.”

She nodded before quickly going inside.

Bucky waited outside, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword that was strapped at his waist.

Steve sat up in bed when he saw Y/N enter. His eyes lit up with love, but it flickered when he saw that she was glaring at him.

“Do not scare me like that ever again,” Y/N snapped and she made no move toward him. Instead, she stood her ground and crossed her arms.

“Forgive me,” Steve muttered, eyes genuinely fearful of his betrothed’s wrath.

Y/N stance seemed to soften then. “Can it really be true? Is the war truly over?”

Steve nodded, “I promised I would not return until it was won. I brought his head as an offering to you. Hydra cannot harm you ever again, Y/N.”

“You really know how to woo a woman, Your Majesty.” Y/N couldn’t stifle her giggle.

Steve’s heart melted. “I have missed that sound.” Then he blushed when he realized he had said it aloud.

And just like that, the Steve she had first met returned and the general king was hidden away once again.

Steve reached a hand out to her. “Please, come here.” The distance between them was growing more and more torturous.

Y/N did as he requested, already deciding to give up her tough love act.

She sat down at the edge of her bed. But that wasn’t enough for Steve. He pulled her down so she was laying in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder.

Silence settled between them. Neither of them really knew what to say. They had been apart for so long. But ever so slowly, they started to remember the problems they had left unresolved when Steve went to war.

“I have missed you,” the princess whispered ever so quietly.

“I promise... it was not as much as I missed you,” Steve countered as his grip on her body tightened ever so slightly.

——————

Bucky couldn’t sleep. It was nothing new. But tonight, he felt extra restless. Perhaps it was because he was still worried for Y/N. Bruce had confirmed that Steve would be fine and make a full recovery.

The knight had no idea how Y/N would react if anything were to happen to the King of Midgard.

Bucky knew she loved him to some degree. He saw it in her eyes. But what he saw even more was how hard she had to try to hide her feelings for the king. Bucky wondered if it was easier or harder than it once was hiding her feelings for him.

But the knight was brought out of his reverie when there was a harsh knock at his bedroom door.

His body tensed.

But his hand immediately went for the knife he hid under his pillow every night.

When he opened the door carefully, he was met with Dame Natasha.

He said nothing, waiting for the lady knight to speak first.

“The King of Midgard wishes to see you,” she told him.

----------------

Part XX

Just a heads up, there are only a few more chapters left in this story. Don’t panic lol

#heart of steel series #heart of steel #knight!bucky #knight!bucky x princess!reader #knight bucky barnes #bucky knight au #medieval!avengers #medieval marvel au #medieval!bucky x princess!reader #king!steve rogers #king!steven rogers x princess!reader #king!steve rogers x princess!reader #medieval!steve rogers

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thesimplyluxuriouslife · 6 years ago

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223: 23 Ways to Have a Great Start This Fall

“The French have a special word for it, La Rentrée; in English it is simply referred to as ‘Back to school’. However we choose to call the September post-vacation return, and no matter how far our schooldays are behind us, few would deny that this really is the moment in the year that shouts ‘new beginnings’, ushering in a renewed sense of resolve and purpose that has far more potency than any January resolution. As grown-ups, the brand new pencil case and shiny new pair of school shoes that signal a fresh start are replaced by the new-season updates that we hope will deliver so much more than just the latest look: the confidence-boosting coat, that uplifting new shade of lipstick . . . But it really is the change of attitude that matters most, the yearning to be smarter, more balanced – in short, the eternal quest to finally get life ‘right’.” – Lucy Yeomans, editor-in-chief Porter magazine

The attitude we approach anything with undeniably plays a role in how successful the endeavor we are embarking on will play out, and while here in the states businesses don’t shut down entirely for the month of August or July as well sometimes as they do in France, when Labor Day travel winds down, there is a shift in everyday routines, expectations at work and at school, and a mental shift is expected to occur.

The French expression “À la rentrée” is loosely translated to “See you in the fall!” (literally translated to “at the return”), but it is understood September is the date at which all will return – from their extended vacations, from their respite from school, from everyday expectations and regular activity that occurs the other 10 or 11 months out of the year.

Studies have shown, repeatedly that taking the time to literally get away from work, putting down the technology and truly being on vacation can have highly beneficial effects on the brain. When we allow our brains to rest and think freely – problems magically seem to have solutions, creative ideas spring up like daffodils in early spring and we are renewed and reenergized.

So no wonder the French celebrate the return from their vacations. September and thereafter offers an opportunity to put our best self forward, to, as the quote above states, ‘finally get it right’. And while nothing will ever be perfect, improving and fine-tuning will always continue to bring different results than if we did the same thing over and over again.

Over the past handful of years, I have written posts to help ensure a strong fall. With one short list here, and another short list there, some of them shared a few similarities, while also offering new ideas. However, none of them have been a podcast episode, and now I have a few more items I would like to add. So today, I’ve made a list of 23 ways we can all welcome the beginning of fall (or spring for my southern hemisphere readers!) with optimism, hope and the best possible path too living a more balanced and enjoyable everyday life. This is the actual list I look at each year (and as I mentioned, it is tweaked and improved each year as my life evolves), and I have organized into arenas of our lives: health, wardrobe, beauty, organization, sanctuary, and regular balance/tranquility. In some arenas, things may be moving along quite well, but perhaps in others we know we could improve. Home in on where areas you want to improve, and take a day, or a few hours in a quiet, relaxing setting to curate a life that excites you to wake up to each day.

Overall Health (physical & mental - peace of mind included)

1. Ask yourself this question, “What has made my life more enjoyable these past 2-3 months?” or “What routines/habits have made my life easier, healthier and brought more contentment these past 2-3 months?”

Often when our schedule changes with the summer months, we unconsciously change our ways of living, ways that we love (or not so much as it will depend upon the individual). However, I have a feeling, you have a few habits that you will miss when the fall season begins. Ask yourself, and be honest, is there any way you can bring them into your year-round routine? Can or should you shift your priorities if it indeed is bringing so much joy and satisfaction into your life? Remember, simply because we used to do something one way or do something at all, doesn’t mean we cannot stop and incorporate something more fulfilling. In fact, we should.

2. Create a default capsule weekly menu & establish a food shopping plan.

~Learn more about TSLL's seasonal capsule menus here (summer will be posted this Wednesday - August 22).

3. Stock your Épicerie

As I was taking my lunch break today, I was reminded that I needed to restock my favorite balsamic vinegar which reminded me that having our épicerie stocked and ready for whatever meal we’d prefer to cook is a simple thing to do now to enhance the seamless flow of a day that has little time to wiggle. Here is a post to remind you of the necessities to have on hand.

4. Plan a regular fitness routine that works with your daily work/school demands. Be honest with yourself about what you can achieve. You don’t want to burn out and quit altogether. Remember it is consistency that will make the difference. So choose activities that blend enjoyment with challenge.

5. Balance your budget and know where you stand financially. Due to your schedule potentially changing, financial expectations may change as well, so know exactly where you are and how much you can spend.

6. Make appointments now

Just as our schedules change, so do the schedules of our doctors, dentists, aestheticians and other professionals we wish to make appointments with. While their schedules may have been more limited, but as well, with more availability during the summer months, often that changes in the fall. So why not be proactive, and design your schedule with what works best for you by making those appointments early?

Optimal Organization

7. Clean your home/office/bedroom/car thoroughly. It will simply make you feel better when you enter each and every time.

8. Purchase any necessary supplies for your office, desk and planner

9. Spruce up and stock up your handbag

Whether you have found your favorite go-to day handbag, take a few minutes, to clean out, and then restock for the new season. Chapstick, Tide-to-Go, hand lotion, breath mints, a favorite pen, anything to get you through your day – stock it up, and then toss the rest so that it is neat and tidy.

Wardrobe

10. Assess your wardrobe

On Saturday September 1st TSLL Fall Seasonal Shopping Guide will be posted here on the blog (no longer do you need to subscribe to receive it!). Full of splurge and save items when it comes to the new trends as well as many items I have hand-picked for your fall capsule wardrobe, knowing exactly what you need makes the shopping easier and brings fewer regrets. (Have a look at the 2018 Spring Shopping Guide here.)

~Shop TSLL Capsule Wardrobe Boutique here to view the essentials for each season.

11. Take anything to the dry-cleaners that you’ll be wearing for fall (coats, tops, dresses, skirts, sweaters, etc)

Beauty

12. Stock up make-up supplies that are running low. Visit your make-up counter for make-up to try out the new fall products.

~Why Not . . . Automate It? 12 Ways to Improve the Everyday

13. Confirm and/or schedule your regular hair appointment

14. Plan/Schedule Beauty Routines and/or appointments. From the beauty routines you can do at home - pedicures and manicures, to the seasonal facials at your local spa to not only give yourself a luxurious hour or so to relax, but also help your skin, tend to these appointments is a way to feel and look your best, but also find a balance in your everyday routine.

Creating Regular Balance & Tranquility

15. Stock up or put together a home pampering kit (bubble bath, truffles, wine, candles, music, etc). There will be days when your heels are ready to be taken off, your mind is a jumble and emotional stamina has been exhausted. Be prepared in advance and have what you need to relax stocked and ready to go.

16. Do you have a travel coffee mug or water bottle that works? For only $15 make sure you have a reliable mug that you can take with you to meetings, lectures, on the commute to help you get your day started off right.

17. Create a morning routine to look forward to and set the right tone for the entire day.

~11 Ways to Start the Day 'Smart'

18. Create a bedtime ritual

The amount of sleep we receive each night is a strong determiner in the day we will have, so be cognizant to the small details that you have control over. You might be surprised of the significant benefits you will reap each evening when you turn in. A few things to try: remove the television and all technology (especially your phone), light a soothing scented candle (lavender, chamomile, bergamot, jasmine, or sandalwood) – this is my favorite as it has a fantastic scent and lasts for 60 hours, write in a gratitude journal to end your day on a positive note, meditate (find out how & why here), or read a book.

19. Order or Check-Out/Put on Hold Reading Material to Enjoy

I can’t wait for the time to snuggle in when it’s raining out or I’ve wrapped up my to-do list, and dive in. A true simple luxury. And since now I have the time to peruse and put them on my wish list, I can rest-assured I will always have reading material to enjoy.

20. Pick up a journal

As I mentioned above, the daily ritual of writing in a gratitude journal is a simple idea to end the day on a positive note. And even if you’ve had one of those days, there really are things to be grateful for – check this list if you find yourself at a loss for what to write down. Simply taking note of positive events (or non-events – the car didn’t break down!), can be a wonderful reminder that things are going better than we might have first thought.

Create a welcoming sanctuary

21. Visit your local nursery

Fall plants will begin appearing at nurseries to finish the blooming season – check out mums, daisies and sunflowers. Add a few to your porch or vases throughout the house.

22. Look closely at your home's decor

Perhaps you traveled this summer, or maybe you attended a course in which you saw personal growth and a shift in what you value and/or love. Welcome in who you now, let go of what no longer inspires you, and create a space that best reflects you and welcomes you home as well as you guests.

Putting It All Together

23. Set your intention

Often when a yoga class begins, one of the reminders at the beginning of our session is to set our intention – what do we wish to receive or achieve by attending class – do we want to push ourselves further, do we simply just want to make it through class, do we want to be more aware of staying focused and letting go of outside thoughts – whatever our intention is, it is ours. So what will your intention be for the fall season and beyond?

Choose one, write it down and reflect upon it from time to time. Create daily rituals and habits that help this intention become your reality. I think you will be surprised that what you focus on, you are more likely to create – much like the attitude we bring to any new venture or beginning. If we’re excited, that excitement spreads and invigorates, but if we’re leery or cynical, moments of wonder are less likely to be enjoyed and discovered.

Wishing you a lovely start to a beautiful new season, and thank you for stopping by.

~PODCAST NEWS: Season 5 will begin on Monday September 3rd, and the new schedule for Season 5 will be shared right here on the blog on Monday August 27th in lieu of a podcast episode. Don't worry, there will always be a motivating post to kick off your work week - right here on TSLL blog. I will explain the entire schedule (there will be 30 new episodes in the coming 12 months) and share specific dates when episodes will air. Looking forward to another season and so tickled we have had such an amazing four years!

SIMILAR POSTS/EPISODES FROM THE ARCHIVES YOU MIGHT ENJOY:

~11 Ways to Start Your Day "Smart"

~Why Not . . . Gradually Prep for La Rentrée?

~11 Steps to a Fresh Start

~The Importance of a Daily Routine & How to Create One You Love, episode #164

Petit Plaisir:

Mini Portable Chargers

RAVPower Mini Portable Charger (seen below)

Anker PowerCore+ mini lipstick size portable charger (many different colors)

Hengtai Gaotok mini portable charger (multiple colors)

~The Simple Sophisticate, episode #223 ~Subscribe to The Simple Sophisticate: iTunes | Stitcher | iHeartRadio | YouTube | Spotify

Tune in to the latest episode of The Simple Sophisticate podcast

#tsllpodcast thesimplesophisticate

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elisaenglish · 3 years ago

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“I must move myself first, before I move others,” Sylvia Plath writes in her journal of September 1958. Although mired in the purgatorial torment of her art diminished beneath the stagnant weight of marital domesticity, I feel less drawn to the obvious contemporaneous comparisons with The Feminine Mystique and more in need of that musing at the root of all creative things, first alluded to over two millennia beforehand when Socrates declared, “Let him who would move the world, first move himself.”

Shift. Change. Progress. Paradoxically an outward act and an inward process – and God, the necessity of it. And me, as I always am at this time of year, gathering the words, measuring the hours in that unconscious way of sifting the lines of this life – and maybe the one that could arise – by harnessing those seeds of inspiration.

It’s never quite the same, one late summer to the next, and I don’t want to write great screeds of my own when the point is percolation. Something for me, but left here too for your contemplation. And no, not Plath – but Tchaikovsky and his 1878 letter to his benefactress, Nadezhda von Meck. Seventy years back from Plath, and just shy of the same between Plath and now, and me and you, and it’s all the fucking same. Or maybe it’s my substitute for madness.

Who knows? But we link, and I deliquesce into the movement of it:

“How much joy your letter brought me today, my precious Nadezhda Filaretovna. How immeasurably happy I was that the symphony pleased you, that when hearing it you experienced the feelings with which I was suffused when I wrote it, and that the music sank into your heart.

You asked me whether there is a definite programme to this symphony? Usually when this question is put to me about a symphonic work my answer is: none! Indeed, this is a difficult question to answer. How can one put into words the intangible sensations which one experiences when writing an instrumental work without a specific subject? This is a purely lyrical process. This is, fundamentally, an unburdening of the soul in music, with its essence distilled into sounds, in the same manner in which a lyrical poet expresses himself in verse. The only difference is that music has much more powerful means and a more subtle language with which to express thousands of different emotions and frames of mind. Usually the seed of a future work will manifest itself suddenly in unexpected ways. If the soil is fertile, i.e. if there is a disposition to work, the seed will take root with remarkable power and swiftness, allowing buds to emerge from the soil, followed by leaves, branches and, ultimately, flowers. I cannot define the creative process without resorting to metaphors. The difficulty lies in the fact that the seed requires favourable conditions in which to germinate. Everything else happens by itself. It would be futile for me to try to express to you in words the immeasurable bliss of all the feelings that seize me when a main idea appears, and when it begins to flourish into a particular form. I forget everything and become literally like a madman, everything within me shakes and pulses, with barely time to scribble out my sketches as one idea runs into another... Sometimes in the midst of this magical process, some external stimulus will jolt me out of this somnambuilistic state. Somebody might call, a servant enter, or a clock will strike and remind me that I need to go out on business... Such breaks are inexpressibly burdensome. Sometimes inspiration will fly away for quite a while. It's necessary to search for it, and often in vain. It is frequently necessary to fall back on an altogether cold, rational and technical working method. Perhaps it is because of this that the greatest masters have moments with an absence of organic flair, where the seams within the whole appear artificially sewn together. But it is impossible for it to be otherwise. If the condition of the artist's soul called inspiration that I am attempting to describe to you were to be continued without interruption, it should be impossible to live for a single day. The strings would snap, and the instrument should be dashed into smithereens! Only one thing is necessary: that the principal idea and the general outlines of all the movements did not come about by striving, but rather that they present themselves as a result of that supernatural, incomprehensible, and unfathomable force that is called inspiration.

But I have digressed on an aside without answering your question. In our symphony there is a programme, i.e. it is possible to express in words what it is trying to say, and to you, and only to you, I am able and willing to explain the meaning both of the whole and of the separate movements. Of course, I can do this only in general terms.

The introduction is the seed of the whole symphony, undoubtedly the main idea. This is Fate: this is that fateful force which prevents the impulse to happiness from attaining its goal, which jealously ensures that peace and happiness shall not be complete and unclouded, which hangs above the head like the sword of Damocles, unwaveringly, constantly poisoning the soul. It is an invincible force that can never be overcome — merely endured, hopelessly.

The bleak and hopeless feelings grow stronger and intense. Is it not better to escape from reality and to immerse oneself in dreams. Oh joy! Out of nowhere a sweet and gentle day-dream appears. Some blissful, radiant human image hurries by and beckons us away. How wonderful! How distant the obsessive first theme of the allegro now sounds! Gradually the soul is enveloped by daydreams. Everything gloomy and joyless is forgotten. Here it is, here it is — happiness!

No! These were daydreams, and Fate wakes us from them. And thus all life is an unbroken alternation of harsh reality with fleeting dreams and visions of happiness... No haven exists... Drift upon that sea until it engulfs and submerges you in its depths. That, roughly, is the programme of the first movement.

The second movement of the symphony expresses another aspect of sadness. This is that melancholy feeling which comes in the evening when, weary from one's toil, one sits alone with a book — but it falls from the hand. There come a whole host of memories. It is sad that so much is now in the past, albeit pleasant to recall one's youth. Both regretting the past, and yet not wishing to begin life over again. Life is wearisome. It is pleasant to rest and look around. Memories abound! Happy moments when the young blood boiled, and life was satisfying. There are also painful memories, irreconcilable losses. All this is now somewhere far distant. It is both sad, yet somehow sweet to be immersed in the past.

The third movement expresses no specific feeling. This is whimsical arabesques, vague images which can sweep past the imagination after drinking a little wine and feeling the first phases of intoxication. The spirit is neither cheerful, nor sad. Thinking about nothing in particular, giving free rein to the imagination, which somehow begins to paint strange pictures... Amid these memories there suddenly comes a picture of drunken peasants and a street song... Then, somewhere in the distance, a military procession passes. These are completely incoherent images which sweep through the head as one falls asleep. They have nothing in common with reality; they are strange, wild, and incoherent.

The fourth movement. If within yourself you find no reasons for joy, then look at others. Go out among the people. See how they can enjoy themselves, surrendering themselves wholeheartedly to joyful feelings. Picture the festive merriment of ordinary people. Hardly have you managed to forget yourself and to be carried away by the spectacle of the joys of others, than irrepressible fate appears again and reminds you of yourself. But others do not care about you, and they have not noticed that you are solitary and sad. O, how they are enjoying themselves! How happy they are that all their feelings are simple and straightforward. Reproach yourself, and do not say that everything in this world is sad. Joy is a simple but powerful force. Rejoice in the rejoicing of others. To live is still possible.

That, my dear friend, is all I can explain to you about the symphony. Of course, this is vague and incomplete. But an intrinsic quality of instrumental music is that it does not yield to detailed analysis. Where words end, music begins, as Heine remarked.

It's already late. I'm not writing anything to you about Florence at this time, except that its very, very pleasant memories will stay with me for my whole life. At the end of next week, that is, around the 24th (by our style), I am thinking of going to Switzerland, where I intend to live quietly for the whole of March, gradually writing compositions in a variety of small forms. And so, when you receive this letter, my address shall once again be: Clarens, Canton de Vaud, Villa Richelieu.

Thank you, my dear, for today's letter. I still have had no word from my Moscow friends. I will write to you about my opinion of them in detail.

P. Tchaikovsky

P. S. Just as I was about to put the letter in an envelope, I re-read it and was horrified at the incoherence and inadequacy of the programme I sent to you. This is the first time in my life that I have attempted to translate musical thoughts and images into words, and I could not manage to do this adequately. I was severely depressed last winter when writing the symphony, and it serves as a faithful echo of what I was experiencing. But it is known as an echo. How can it be translated into a clear and coherent succession of words? I do not know how to do that. I have already forgotten so much. They remain general recollections of the passions and mysterious feelings that I experienced. I am very, very curious about what my Moscow friends will say. Farewell.”

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thewidowstanton · 7 years ago

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Archive feature: Guillaume Saladin and Artcirq

2018 seems to be a year of important circus anniversaries: 250 years since Philip Astley created the first circus ring in the UK, 40 years that Laszlo Simet has been performing on the high wire and Semaphore, 25 years of Cirque Eloize, and 20 years of Artcirq, the circus set up in Igloolik in the Arctic Circle to try to combat the high suicide rate among young people there.

To mark Artcirq’s anniversary, we have chosen this feature – by The Widow’s Liz Arratoon – from 2005. We first met the inspirational Guillaume Saladin at the after-party for Cirque Eloize’s show Nomade at the Barbican in London in 2003 and instantly became friends. Struck by his passion and commitment, I interviewed him – during a trip to Paris to see Nomade at the Folies Bergère – to learn about his plans, before he headed off to the frozen north. It was in the days of dictaphones, and just after we’d finished chatting for about an hour we noticed the tape had snapped! Drama! But Gui calmly said: “We’ll do it again.”

There cannot be many circus artists who would willingly give up the bright lights of showbusiness to spend a year living on an island in the Arctic Circle. But after touring with Cirque Eloize for the past three years and performing in its show, Nomade, almost 500 times, that is exactly what Guillaume Saladin is going to do. Seven years ago he set up a circus project in the tiny Inuit village of Igloolik. Saladin says: “It’s called Artcirq. I started it in June 1998, just before I started circus school, after two of my old friends committed suicide, to try to prevent further young people in Igloolik from doing the same. It had been like that for many years, a lot of suicides.” Since then the 32-year-old French Canadian has been back every year for up to three months at a time to teach his students more and to help them put on shows.

Now Saladin has been asked by the village to return to Igloolik to spend a year running the community centre, where the students train, and to provide workshops. He says: “In July, after my last Nomade show in Christchurch, New Zealand, I’ll move to Igloolik to a little hut lent to me by the missionary. I will schedule next year’s activity for ten artists that will end with the shooting of a movie I devised with the film-maker Marie-Helene Cousineau. With these ten we’ll create a solid base, but each week we’ll provide open workshops for the community and the kids will help me teach them. So we’re already giving back knowledge from local people to local people. For the Inuit people, by the Inuit people.”

It is Saladin’s unique upbringing that has led him to this point. Both his parents are anthropologists and his father spent almost 50 years working in the Arctic with the Inuit community as an expert in Inuit Shamanism. Although Saladin was born in Quebec City, he spent much of his childhood in Igloolik. He was baptised by its queen and given the Inuit name of Ittuksardjuat. That name relates him to a family with whom he stays whenever he goes back, so he feels very strongly that he is part of the community.

“I was raised in Igloolik and spent all my summers there until I was 15. Then I didn’t go again until I was 24. My father continued to go there to conduct his research. I started out training to be a sociologist and I decided to finish my Sociology degree there with Isuma Productions who were shooting the film, Atanarjuat, The Fast Runner. I realised then that there was a dark side to the reality to life there that I never saw when I was a kid. Kids are lost in the generational gap. There is a loss of meaning in their lives. The elders still have the old knowledge but the kids are disconnected. There are so many images coming at them from the TV, but it has no meaning for them. There are no local role models. That’s why Isuma are trying to create Inuit stars with their movies. Artcirq is trying to do the same thing at ground level. We’re not that big.”

As well as circus skills, such as juggling, acrobatics, Inuit straps, unicycling and trapeze, the kids also have a chance to learn such things as lighting, set building, costume, dance, theatre, acting, writing and video-making. It is intended to give them career opportunities and a purpose in life. Their job prospects otherwise are limited to becoming cashiers or sewage truck drivers. Saladin has a network of about 15 potential trainers and is looking forward to working with an old friend from circus school.

“Janju Bonzon will be helping me. He’s a teeter board and BMX specialist and has been working with Circus Zip Zap in South Africa. As soon as he’s finished there he’ll join me in the Arctic. He’ll be in the movie as well. I’m also going to bring other circus people to provide speciality workshops. I’ll be there the whole time, the other artists will come to bring specific training. The end of the movie will be the beginning of the show that we want to present to other local communities. It will be a full-length movie about a year in the life of two young kids from a remote community close to Igloolik, who do stupid things, and one is caught by the police. He has to do social work at the community hall and gets in touch with the circus group.”

Early on, Saladin’s project began to address the problem of a rising number of suicides in Igloolik that local residents had debated for years. Before Artcirq there were an average of four or five suicides every year but, dramatically, 12 months after it started, they were able to celebrate a suicide-free year. But it remains a bleak place for kids. The island has only 1,200 inhabitants and is surrounded by ice for eight months of the year with temperatures falling to –60 degrees C in January, when there is no sun.

“It can be brutal. It’s never banal, never flat; life is either very high, beautiful, powerful, very strong, then suddenly, very dark, deep, violent, with a loss of meaning. Kids there need to find themselves as teenagers, find out who they are. Traditionally there, men were hunters, women were mothers. That’s still the same in Igloolik, but not many people are hunters anymore. Lots are just like teenagers anywhere. They have lots of energy, they listen to hip-hop, rap, rock ’n’ roll, they always ask: “Yo, what’s up?” And the answer is always: “Not much.” And it’s that ‘not much’ that causes the problems. They are stuck on an island, stuck in a village, everywhere is a dead end, every street, and it’s flat, flat, flat. Just gravel and tundra. For eight months a year, it’s all white and for four, it’s summertime. Then there is an explosion of life. Everyone breathes again. In winter people stay inside. The kids have school until they are 16 and then are free to do whatever they want. Everyone is an artist inside and trying to express themselves, sometimes this will be by drugs, alcohol or sports. We’re trying to bring back another way of expression. Another possibility.”

At present, Saladin explains, the young people have three ways to escape. “Igloolik has two little hills; one way is the airport, then the village and the other is the cemetery. They can look out and see two exits. One way out is when you die and another is if you leave the island and don’t come back. Education is free, so it’s possible to leave the country. They go and study in the white world. It’s not connected to them, but it’s a possibility. Another possibility is if you commit a crime and kill someone, you will go to jail down south, so it’s a way to leave. Another way to leave is if you shoot yourself. Or you stay home in your own environment and do things that make sense of your life, and try to mix where you come from with where you want to go and find a meaningful job. We’re trying to provide meaningful expression that could be transformed into meaningful careers.”

Sadly, even though the suicide rate in Igloolik has been reduced by 80 per cent, there are still deaths among the young people. Last year the elder sister of one of Saladin’s 12-year-old students hanged herself despite being clever at school and apparently having a bright future. “She was 14. We don’t know exactly why she did it. I arrived three or four days afterwards and we worked with her sister for a month. We did a 45-minute show last summer that we presented ten times to the community. And for the last show she juggled with us. She’d come a long way. Inside she was always sad, but she stayed with us because it brought her joy and happiness. But at the same time she was not full of life. She had to work, work, work. It was meaningful for her to show her father how she could juggle. She did that, her family was there and they were all crying.”

Saladin first became involved in circus while he was studying for his Masters degree in sociology. A friend suggested he join her at a circus class and he loved it so much that he decided to give up his studies and enrol at Montreal’s National Circus School, where he met Karine Delzors. They became performing partners and specialised in hand-to-hand balancing. Delzors is also involved In Artcirq, as are others from the Nomade cast. Bartek Soroczyński, one of the clowns, is another of the artists who has visited Igloolik on several occasions to run workshops for the kids and help with the shows. Acrobatics, juggling, unicycling, hand-to-hand have all featured in the productions, which always have a local theme and feel. The shows are filmed by the students, some of the activity taking place in igloos or out on the ice pack.

He and Delzors have now been performing together for seven years. ”We were taught by Alexandre Arnoutov, who comes from a famous Russian circus family. He’s in his sixties now and is still doing hand-to-hand with his wife. The other two men who have influenced Karine and me a lot, and therefore Artcirq as well, are Daniele Finzi Pasca, our artistic director in Nomade, and Krzysztof Soroczyński, Bartek’s father, our head trainer at Cirque Eloize. He has a lot of knowledge about different techniques. So, those three men have been very important to us.”

In Nomade, Saladin displays his own wide-ranging talents. Due to his stature and strength he forms the base of a four-man column, he sings, plays the trombone, juggles and performs acrobatics. But it is his stunning hand-to-hand display, performed with Delzors under a fine mist of water, that provides the show’s finale. Despite losing one of the key members of its troupe, Cirque Eloize is committed to supporting Artcirq. It has sold red clown noses at all performances of Nomade to raise funds for the project, which has always been run on a shoestring. “They are also providing training space in Montreal, their own circus equipment that they no longer need and they are buying specific things for us, like juggling clubs. They are a great partner. They are sensitive. Krzysztof can also come to Igoolik to lead a workshop if we need him.”

Saladin has many hopes and dreams for the future of his project. “One is working with the Inuit trying to bridge the cultures, and the other is to create a show with Cirque Eloize one day. Karine is part of Artcirq and she’s staying with Eloize, so I’m sure they’ll propose her for it. Daniele will also be involved. If the timing is right, everyone is in place.”

His altruism puts most people to shame but he sees Artcirq as a lifelong project and appears to carry his responsibilities lightly. “It’s a promise I made myself when I was a kid and I’m just following that. My Inuit name means ‘the little old man who will grow’. This man, Ittuksardjuat, was a powerful Inuit leader in the 1930s, a great chief. Inuits say that through the names they’re passing the knowledge also, so the one called Ittuksardjuat will be a little like him. If my name was not Ittuksardjuat I’m sure my life would have been different. I feel connected to him. I feel I’m going back for me also. To save my life, to make sense of it because when I was a kid I used to live there. I was baptised with an Inuit name which joins me to their culture. I can’t say I’m not part of it. I’m just trying to mix everything that I am inside and use it to communicate and to share. If you don’t realise someday that sharing is the best way to live a happy life and that you can’t just live for yourself, you’ll feel sad at the end and alone. That’s my motivation; to be happy.”

Saladin already has an invitation from a festival in Salzburg for the Inuit troupe to perform there if they ever go to Europe. The Inuit Cultural Centre in Paris is also open to help them in any way. “There are many places we can go. This is one dream, to set up a tour, then to perform somewhere else. My mother is also involved with aboriginals in Amazonian Peru and when I was there I was surprised to see similarities between the two cultures. That would be a nice exchange. What one has lost can be relearnt from the other. But those are my dreams and I don’t want to impose them. It’s their own destiny. It’s for them to express and direct.”

Saladin is passionate about Artcirq and determined to preserve its heritage. He stresses: “It’s important to combine the circus skills with traditional dance and music. Last summer we recreated an old legend in a month. It made me realise how willing the kids were and how good they are. We’re trying to find the roots of circus in Inuit culture. Through that we’re trying to bring back meaning and not lose everything from the past. If you want to run forwards you need to know where you’re coming from. Our goal is continuity. Artcirq is not a little fire that will burn for a month and then go out.”

Artcirq’s website. To make a donation to the company contact Guillaume Saladin at [email protected]

Twitter: @isumaTV

Follow @TheWidowStanton on Twitter

We’ll be catching up again with Gui in the next few weeks and posting an interview to further mark Artcirq’s 20th anniversary.

This feature first appeared in Spectacle magazine. A shorter version also appeared in The Stage.

#artcirq #guillaume saladin #circus feature #circus250 #Cirque Eloize #isuma productions #inuit circus #inuit #igloolik

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hillbillyhippiemusicreview · 4 years ago

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Going to the Woods: A Look At Live Music in a COVID World

Laurel Cove.

Simply hearing a name so lovely elicits visions of grandeur; however, gazing your eyes upon this venue in person is more breathtaking than any figment of the imagination. Full of mystique and tucked deep in the lush woods of the Appalachian Mountains in Pine Mountain State Resort Park, Laurel Cove is an enchanted location perfect for a musical escape—and that’s exactly what Bell County Tourism director Jon Grace has made his mission throughout the latter part of 2020 amidst the COVID-19 pandemic. As a part of the “Laurel Cove Socially Distant Mini Series,” Jon has brought several fabulous acts to the stage in one of the most picturesque hollers in the state. Pineville, Kentucky is on the road to become one of the top music destinations in the area and for perfect reason: the dedication to not only the tunes and visitors’ enjoyment, but also exceptional attention to safety during a pandemic, has certainly put the area on the map for other establishments and venues to follow as a model in these uncertain times, as the music industry struggles to find its footing among capacity restrictions, lack of funding, and unfortunate shutdowns. When asked how the miniseries came to fruition, Jon remarked:

"We’ve been wanting to utilize Laurel Cove for a few years now and every time, have had bad luck strike. Last year with our first Laurel Cove Music Festival, we got rained out and had to move it inside. This year, COVID-19 prevented us from doing a full-scale festival. However, when we reviewed the Kentucky Safe at Home mandates for Events and Venues, we found that Laurel Cove could be a perfect spot for us to host some reduced capacity, socially distanced events. We created a detailed safety protocol plan that was approved by the Kentucky Parks Department and have been able to host a handful of shows over the late summer and fall. It's been extremely rewarding on a few fronts...first and foremost to see that people appreciate and have positive reviews of our safety plan and that they follow it so well. Our compliance has been absolutely amazing. Also, just being able to finally showcase this beautiful venue to everyone. Having events during a pandemic are WAY more detailed and more difficult to plan, but it was worth it and then some. We appreciate everyone who has come out this year.”

The first show in the sequence of events featured a jaw-dropping lineup comprised of Arlo McKinley, John R. Miller and the Engine Lights, and Dave Shoemaker, with an appearance by John Clay. It was the album release show for Arlo’s first record with Oh Boy Records, and it was the perfect evening of tunes and fellowship. Despite the forecasted rain, spirits were high and the excitement to be in the presence of live music again was permeable, oozing from attendees to performers in an almost emotional osmosis and filtering down to everyone involved behind the scenes. I made the trek from Alabama to be on location for the monumental occasion, and it was at this moment surrounded by friends and fellow music lovers engrossed in the magic of the forest that I became enamored with the area and its atmosphere. Show-opener Dave Shoemaker echoed my sentiments:

“It was an honor to be standing in front of a crowd again, let alone a sold-out crowd for Arlo’s album release of Die Midwestern. I felt really fortunate to have so many friends and family in attendance for such a big night, in what I believe is the most beautiful and natural venue in the state. Everyone was very respectful of the social distancing guidelines, and I think everyone in attendance had a wonderful night of music. Kudos to Brother Jon Grace and Jacob Roan for taking the chance and bringing live music to Southeast KY during these trying times.”

Rather than dancing on “Hardwood Floors” like many did pre-COVID, concert goers once again grooved outdoors to the sweet, lonesome sounds of Lost Dog Street Band, Matt Heckler, and Charles Wesley Godwin for the second concert in the miniseries set at Laurel Cove. When I believe its impossible for Jon to concoct yet another stellar lineup, he somehow blows my mind once again—and this show was no exception. Unfortunately, I was unable to attend this event; however, when attendee Stephanie Meg shared her thoughts with me I felt as if I had experienced the evening alongside her:

“Walking into Laurel Cove for the Charles Wesley Godwin, Matt Heckler and Lost Dog Street Band show was quite literally a breath of fresh air during all of the restrictions that have pummeled the music industry during the last 6 months. It was a beautiful, early fall evening, and I was surrounded by trees, mountains, and like minded music folk who were there for the same reason as I was, to fill our souls that had been deprived of the live music scene that truly gives us energy. The spaces were blocked off so that groups could sit together while being distanced from other groups. Masks were required when entering and while walking through the venue, but as soon as you were in your spot, they could be removed to enjoy the fresh mountain air. The acoustics were amplified through the wilderness while three of my favorite Appalachian artists took the stage, and I sang along and danced in my spot from the first note to the last. I couldn't have asked for a better experience (under the existing regulations), and I hope to return to soon!”

Following the phenomenal lineup of the second concert in the series was the inaugural event for Black Mountain Management, a Kentucky-based management agency featuring a roster of astronomical talent including DeeOhGee, Nicholas Jamerson, and Eric Bolander. Deemed “Going to the Woods,” the concert was a showcase full of adventure as a kickoff for their artists and new operation. Unfortunately, prior to showtime, Nicholas Jamerson became ill and was unable to perform; however, members of his backing band, the Morning Jays, are also members of the incredible group Brother Smith, and they happily stepped up to bring their easy-listening brand of tunes to echo throughout the forest. Unlike at the first show in the series, the rain did not hold off, though attendees danced in the downpour and sang their hearts out—the mountains were positively alive with the sound of music and reverberating with joy. When asked why Laurel Cove was chosen as the prime location for their first event, co-founder of Black Mountain Management Tiffany Finley said:

“Black Mountain Management’s mission is to highlight top-notch regional talent and hosting the launch event at an amazing (and possibly overlooked or undiscovered) KY venue seemed perfect. We felt like once folks discovered a place like Laurel Cove - they would fall in love. The same is true for the artists we represent.”

The final concert in the “Laurel Cove Socially Distant Mini Series” will surely rock the venue like never before, as The Steel Woods, 49 Winchester, and Dalton Mills take the stage on October 17th for an evening of some of the best southern rock and folk tunes Appalachia has ever heard. Hearts will be touched and faces will surely be melted with that level of talent all in the same place, and while I am deeply saddened to miss it—I vehemently urge readers to grab your tickets and experience those three sensational acts in one of the most lovely venues in all of America. It is surely an unforgettable experience and you will long for the chance to return. Eric Bolander summed up the mutual feelings shared by attendees, performers, and staff alike:

“Jon Grace's efforts are clearly driven by his deeply ingrained passion for genuine live music. This is only matched by his work ethic. Jon, and his amazing crew, did everything they could to make a safe socially distant event that made folks feel comfortable and safe. I'm honored and humbled to be able to call him, and many others in that region, friend! #blackcherrymafia”

After my time spent in the area and speaking with attendees and artists, it is quite clear to me that all are unanimous in their their appreciation of Jon Grace’s dedication to live music and their admiration of the venue’s allure. I personally have been rendered spellbound a time or two immersed in the aura, perched on a bench amongst the trees, gazing upon the reflections of the acts in the pond as they shared their gifts with those in their presence. Words simply cannot do it justice.

Recently, sitting by a waterfall in Alabama restless with a heart full of wanderlust, I penned the following lyrics:

“Like an uncut agate in an untamed stream You were the jewel of the mountain in an Appalachian dream More beautiful than all the hollers and the hills Nothing could compare to the way you made me feel”

Perhaps rather than writing about a person, I was writing about my beloved Laurel Cove. Go visit her sometime—you’ll see what I mean.

Peace, love, & music,

Lyssa

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*This is an independent review. The Hillbilly Hippie Music Review was not compensated for this review.

*The opinions expressed are solely that of the author(s).

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