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jinxedruby · 4 months

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Ambush at the Bridge: Chapter Three

In which Warriors and Time show up. (Heads up for blood and injury in this chapter as well.)

AO3

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Warriors sliced through some of the bokoblins before him, sword tearing through three monsters of different kinds. He at least recognized the pinkish ones from Sky’s era, having fought them during his journey. But the purple ones with white, mop-like hair and the pig-like ones with large ears were unfamiliar to him. Why there were so many at once and why they were all ganging up on him, he didn’t know. He brought up his shield just in time to block a blow to the side of his head, at the same time keeping the monsters to his left at bay with his sword. A weapon glanced off the back of his chainmail, tearing through his tunic. He gripped his sword and spun in a vicious circle, clearing the immediate area around him. He barely took two steps before the monsters surged forward again, hemming him in once more.

A sharp yelp of pain caught his attention. He cut down the bokoblin before him to get a glimpse of the worn bridge. His eyes widened. Hyrule lay dangerously close to a hole in the bridge, desperately fighting to get a lizalfos and bokoblin off of him.

A cleaver slicing through the crook of his arm forced Warriors to tear his gaze from Hyrule. A quick thrust disposed of the bokoblin that had cut him but another took its place just as quickly. He scowled, parrying one attack and responding with a slash that killed three monsters at once. He barely got a glance at the bridge before more monsters swarmed into the gap he made. A hard blow to his back sent him stumbling forward, right into another monster’s attack. He barely managed to block it with his shield, extremely thankful he had chainmail to cover his blind spots. Another struggled shout from Hyrule. Warriors clutched his sword, adrenaline flaring.

“Out of my way!” he roared. He twisted to one side, readying his sword. Then he unleashed spin attack after spin attack, plowing through the bokoblins. His ears rang from the sheer number of monster screeches as bokoblins fell to his blade. He came to a stop, panting, head spinning a little from the overexertion. He turned, trying to get his bearings.

CRACK.

He whipped around just in time to see a section of the bridge collapse. The section Hyrule was on. He and the monsters on top of him plunged into the frothing river below.

“Traveler!” Warriors shouted. He dashed toward the bridge. Another wave of bokoblins stopped him in his tracks. He cursed, cutting through them as fast as he could, arms burning from the strain.

“I got him!” he heard Wind shout.

“Wait!” Twilight yelled.

Warriors couldn’t see what was happening past the monsters before him. No matter how many he cut down, more would pop up. Why were there so many? If he didn’t know better, he’d think they were in his era. What he wouldn’t give for Legend’s fire rod right then. But he didn’t know where the veteran was. He couldn’t tell where anyone was, with all these damn monsters in the way.

A blade cut through the back of his knee and he yelped. He spun and skewered the offending bokoblin, only for another to stab at him from behind. His chainmail prevented the blade from piercing him, but the force of the blow knocked him forward, a bruise surely developing where he’d been hit. A sword whistled toward his neck. He yanked up his shield, deflecting the weapon upwards, the tip of the blade grazing his scalp just above his ear. His skin prickled as warm blood flowed from the cut, matting his hair. He executed another spin attack, muscles protesting the whole way.

“Captain!”

Warriors turned at the shout to see Time on the other side of the swarm of monsters. The old man held a giant barrel over his head, teeth clenched.

“Heads up!” Time shouted. With a grunt, he chucked the barrel into the middle of the mass of monsters. It wasn’t until he heard hissing that Warriors realized what the old man had thrown. He spun away, cutting an opening in the bokoblins and diving forward, tucking into a roll. The barrel exploded with a deafening boom. A wave of heat blasted past Warriors, knocking him flat. Monsters sailed past him, smoking and not all in one piece. Warriors covered his head as weapons and smoldering bokoblin parts rained down around him. Once things settled, Warriors scrambled to his feet, whirling around to pick off any stragglers. A blur of silver and gold flashed on his right as Time fell into step beside him, cutting down the bokoblins in his blind spot. With one final slash, Warriors cut down the last remaining monster. He turned, sword raised, searching for any he might’ve missed. After a long moment he sighed, letting the tip of his sword fall to the ground. He turned to Time, skin tingling with the dregs of adrenaline left in his system.

“Thanks for the save, old man,” he said. “That was one hell of a bomb.”

A hint of a smile flickered across Time’s stoic expression. “Goron powder keg,” he explained as he wiped the black blood from his sword. “I’ve been saving it for a time such as this.”

Warriors huffed a laugh, glancing at the carnage littered around them. “Well, it sure did the job.” Then his eyes widened. “Traveler. He fell in the river-“ He started forward but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“Our sailor and rancher have already gone after him,” Time said.

Warriors shrugged off Time’s hand, ignoring the flinch of pain the motion caused. “Well, we should still go after them. Or find the others. They might need help-“

“You’re hurt,” Time interrupted.

“What? No, I’m fine-“

“Captain.” Time leveled him with a glare usually reserved for the more reckless members of the group. Warriors stared at him for a moment longer, a protest on his tongue. Then the last of his adrenaline burned away. Cuts he didn’t know he had flared up in pain. His muscles ached fiercely, limbs trembling from the exertion of the battle. The side of his head prickled and he reached up to find blood soaking his hair and trailing down his neck. He hadn’t realized how deep the cut above his ear was.

“Ah,” he managed. His knees failed him at that moment and he stumbled. Time quickly caught him, gently lowering him to the ground.

“Easy, Captain,” the old man said, kneeling beside Warriors. Warriors took a deep breath, reaching into his bag for a bandage. His hands shook and he narrowed his eyes, as if glaring would ease the trembling. There was pressure against the side of his head and he winced. He looked up to see Time carefully wrapping gauze around his head, stemming the flow of blood from his wound. Warriors reached up to take the gauze from Time, but the old man just shook his head. Warriors lowered his hand with a sigh.

“Thanks,” he said as Time finished wrapping his head. He glanced around as Time reached into his bag for more bandages. Aside from the sound of the rushing river, the woods sat quiet and still. “Did you see where the others went?”

Time glanced up from the wound in the crook of Warriors’ arm he was wrapping. “The sailor and rancher went downriver after the traveler. Champion went flying into the woods over that way.” He jerked his head in the direction of the trees to their right. “I didn’t see what happened to the other three.”

Warriors arched a brow. “What do you mean, Champion went flying?”

Time sighed with exasperation that said ‘these boys are making me go gray.’ “He used his shield to catapult off a bokoblin’s head.”

“Wh- how?” Warriors spluttered, laughing.

Time heaved another sigh. “I don’t know.”

“Well-“ Warriors coughed in an attempt to reign in his chuckling. “-we should probably go after him, make sure he’s alright. I’m worried about Traveler, but Sailor and Rancher are both helping him.” He bit his lip to keep himself from tacking on ‘I hope.’

Time nodded. Warriors moved to stand but Time grabbed his arm, pulling him back down.

“Your wounds, Captain,” Time reminded him.

“They’re really not that bad, old man,” Warriors protested.

“Maybe not.” Time withdrew another bandage and began wrapping it around Warriors’ knee. “But I don’t want you losing any more blood.”

Warriors sighed but didn’t argue any further. He knew the old man was right, he just hated the idea of taking time to tend to himself when the others might need help right now.

“You won’t be much help if you’re stumbling around from preventable blood loss,” Time said, as if reading Warriors’ thoughts. At the captain’s stare, he looked up with a half-smile. “Heroes’ minds think alike.”

Warriors huffed a laugh. “You got me.”

It only took a couple more minutes for Time to finish dressing the worst of Warriors’ wounds. The cut in the crook of his arm was the deepest and responsible for the tremble in his hand. The large bruise on his back protested as he stood, chainmail rubbing uncomfortably against it. Time glanced at him when he winced but Warriors just flapped a hand.

“I’ve had worse,” he said. Then at Time’s look, added, “I won’t do anything I can’t handle. I’ll tell you if it gets worse.”

Time watched him for a moment longer before nodding and turning away. “I’ll hold you to that.”

They started in the direction Time had seen Wild go. Slowly at first, as Warriors had underestimated the pain from the cut in the back of his knee. Pain rippled through his skin with each step, and he did his best not to limp too heavily. Time offered him an arm for support but Warriors shook his head.

“I’m not so fragile, old man,” he said. To his surprise, Time actually chuckled.

“No, you’re not.”

Warriors blinked. He opened his mouth to rib the old man about giving him what sounded suspiciously like a compliment. A gut-wrenching scream cut him off. His eyes widened. Without a word, he and Time broke into a sprint. Warriors ignored the spikes of pain driving into his knee with each pound of his boot on the ground. The scream sounded dangerously like Wild. They ran blindly through the forest, tearing through the underbrush. Warriors looked around wildly, searching for any sign of the champion. Another strangled cry came from somewhere to their left, much closer and much weaker than the last one.

“Sorry, I’m sorry!” Another voice carried between the trees as Warriors and Time changed direction. “I have to stop the bleeding, I’m sorry, I know it hurts.”

Warriors recognized Four’s faint voice. He slowed and turned, Time slowing with him, trying to pinpoint where his voice had come from. He cupped his hands around his mouth.

“Smithy!” he shouted, words swallowed by the trees. “Where are you?”

“Over here!” Four screamed, desperation thick in his voice.

Warriors took off in the direction of Four’s voice, Time close behind him. He spotted a blotch of colors between the trees and sped up, a new wave of adrenaline muting the pain from his wounds. Four spotted them crashing through the underbrush, his eyes wide in panic. He knelt over Wild who lay on the ground, hardly moving.

“Help!” Four yelled. “Captain, over here!”

Warriors and Time sprinted over, the sight becoming clearer as they approached. Four’s nose twisted in a way it probably shouldn’t, dried blood coating his upper lip and chin. He held his hands tight against the area between Wild’s left shoulder and chest. Blood soaked his hands, the fluid pooling around his fingers. Warriors fell to his knees beside them, yanking a wad of bandages from his bag.

“Move your hands,” he instructed. Four pulled back to reveal a horribly deep stab wound. The moment the pressure left, blood spurted from the wound in force. Warriors cursed and stuffed the bandages into the wound before pressing down with his hands. Four put his hands back as well and Wild whimpered, head rolling to the side. The movement caused the blood pooling in his collar to run down his neck, soaking into his hair splayed out on the ground beneath him. Warriors pressed all his weight into Wild’s wound, the flow of blood only barely slowing. Time knelt beside them, brushing Wild’s bangs from his face, strands sticking to his skin. Wild’s eyelids fluttered open, clouded blue eyes darting around with little recognition.

“I’ll find a fairy,” Time said before jumping to his feet and charging into the forest.

Wild’s breath came in short, shallow gasps. All color had drained from his face, lips white. Sweat beaded on his brow, trailing down his temple and mixing with the blood on his neck. Warriors had seen wounds like this before. In soldiers whose limbs had been severed or cut so deeply that the artery broke. He’d watched men die within seconds that bled like this.

“Smith, do you have any bandages?” Warriors asked, forcing his focus on the present.

“A- a few,” Four stammered, face pale.

“Whatever you have, put it in his wound.”

Four reached into his bag and Warriors doubled the pressure he put on the wound, desperately trying to keep as much blood from escaping as he could. Four held out a small roll of gauze and Warriors snatched it, packing it in beside the other soaked bandages. He and Four replaced their hands and Warriors glanced around, searching frantically for Time. Fingers grasping at his hand brought his gaze back down. Wild clawed weakly at him, hand closing around Warriors’ wrist and limply hanging on.

“Stay with me, Champion, c’mon,” Warriors said, voice pinched with what he refused to admit was fear. Wild’s grip on him loosened, breaths shortening even more. “The old man’s on his way, just hold on, please.” He frantically looked around, hoping for any sign of the silver and gold armor but there was nothing except trees swaying gently in the breeze.

“Captain.”

Warriors looked toward Four at the smith’s raspy voice. The little hero stared down at Wild, face white. Warriors looked down. Wild’s chest spasmed as he struggled to breathe. His movements slowed and his hand slipped from Warriors’ wrist, sliding off himself and to the ground.

“No,” Warriors breathed. His hands clenched around the bandages in Wild’s wound. The kid didn’t even flinch. He’s just unconscious, he told himself. He just passed out from blood loss, that’s all. He’s… he’s not… Wild lay horribly still. His face relaxed, still terribly white. Warriors pressed against the wound even harder, muscles cramping. Blood still flowed from it, which meant Wild’s heart was still beating. Even if the flow was slowing. Even if his chest barely moved with breath. Even if the involuntary twitches of pain had stopped. Even if… even if…

“I found one!”

Warriors’ head snapped up. Time crashed through the underbrush, twigs and leaves stuck in the joints of his armor. He burst into the clearing and ran faster than Warriors had ever seen him move. A pinkish light zipped after him, darting past him once Wild was in view. Warriors couldn’t breathe as they approached. Couldn’t breathe as the fairy landed on the back of his hand, glowing more fiercely as it pushed magic into Wild’s wound. He felt a hand on his shoulder, Time’s low, rumbling voice thrumming in his ears. You can move your hands, Captain entered his brain but he shook his head, staring at the fairy. Four hadn’t moved either, eyes flitting between the fairy and Wild’s face. Something pressed back against Warriors’ palms. The fairy hopped up and down on his hand and he blinked confusedly. Hands closed around his wrists.

“Captain, move your hands,” Time said, firmly pulling his wrists away. Warriors fought against him instinctively before realizing what was happening. The gauze and bandages he had stuffed into the wound began pushing up out of it as the fairy knitted the flesh back together. He sat back and could nothing but stare as the fairy moved from his hand to hovering above Wild’s wound, flying in quick circles above it. The bandages pushed out further and Four quickly swept them away as the fairy worked. Warriors stared. Did it always take this long? It felt so much faster when he was on the other side, when he was the one being healed by a fairy. He stared as the fairy zipped around Wild’s chest. Some of the blood flooding his collar began trickling back into the wound. Droplets raced back along his neck, leaving red tracks on his skin. The fairy slowed and came to a stop on Wild’s shoulder. It paused as if inspecting its work before darting over to Time. He held out a hand, the other still holding one of Warriors’ wrists, and the fairy landed on his finger, whispering something Warriors didn’t understand. Numbly, instinctively, Warriors reached out and placed two fingers on Wild’s neck. His skin was far too cold, clammy with sweat and coagulated blood. Then he felt it. A weak pulse against his fingertips. He laughed, weak and breathy. Four gasped, snatching up one of Wild’s hands in his own and watching the champion’s face.

Time sighed in relief, head drooping. “Thank you,” he breathed to the fairy. The fairy made a sound like a quiet chime. It flew in a quick circle around Time before flitting away into the forest.

“Cook?” Four said, rubbing Wild’s hand between both of his own. When Wild didn’t respond, Four’s movements became more frantic, leaning closer. “Come on, Cook, please.”

“The fairy said she tried to give him back as much blood as she could,” Time said, placing the back of his hand against Wild’s pale cheek. “So much of it soaked into his clothes and the ground, though. He… he’s lost a lot.”

Four took a shaky breath, continuing to rub Wild’s hand. Warriors had no idea why and he suspected Four didn’t either. Warriors gently felt at where the wound had been. All that was left was a shallow cut in the flesh, shaped like a thin diamond. A sword, then. He glanced around. There were no monsters or weapons lying around aside from Wild’s sword laying in the grass beside him. Black blood decorated the tip and Warriors’ eyes narrowed. He looked to Four, opening his mouth to ask what happened.

Wild’s groan interrupted him.

Warriors’ gaze snapped to Wild, question forgotten. The champion stirred weakly, head rolling from side to side. He seemed to register Time’s hand on his face and turned his head into the touch, eyelids fluttering. His blue eyes blinked open, gaze sliding around before loosely landing on Time. He opened his mouth but all that came out was a weak croak with a hint of words. Then his eyes started to slide shut again.

“Champion!” Warriors called as Time and Four also exclaimed. Wild blinked slowly, meeting Warriors’ gaze. “Cough, I need you to cough.”

Wild squinted in confusion but complied, weakly coughing. Warriors gently encouraged him as he did, rubbing the kid’s arm. The coughing grew stronger and Wild opened his eyes wider, growing more alert. He took a shuddering breath and got a better look at the three heroes surrounding him.

“Champion, can you hear us?” Time asked, leaning into Wild’s field of view.

Wild slowly nodded, eyes darting over Time’s form. Then he looked to the side, gaze landing on Four.

“Sm… smith,” he croaked, voice crackling. “Are you o… di’ you… is ‘e…”

“It’s okay, he’s gone,” Four said as Wild struggled to string together a sentence. “Everything’s fine.”

Warriors glanced at Four, trying to catch his eye. Four glanced up and shook his head slightly. Later, he mouthed.

Wild suddenly tried to sit up, groaning.

“Easy there, Champion,” Warriors said, he and the others all reaching out to support Wild. “You lost a lot of blood, be careful.” Wild nodded clumsily, blindly reaching out and grasping onto the first thing he felt which happened to be Warriors’ scarf. Warriors could feel the champion’s hand shaking as he struggled to get a grip on the blue fabric and pull himself all the way up. Time placed a hand in the center of Wild’s back, gently pushing until he was seated upright. Wild took several deep, shuddering breaths before promptly tipping over. Warriors caught him as Wild collapsed against him, eyes squeezed shut.

“Why’m I… s’ dizzy?” Wild murmured, words slurring together.

“You lost a lot of blood, kid,” Warriors told him again.

“Did I…? Oh… yeah, th’ rancher… st…”

Warriors went stiff at Wild’s words. The rancher? Was Wild going to say that Twilight did this?

“Shapeshifter,” Four said quickly upon seeing the expressions on Warriors’ and Time’s faces. Warriors’ gaze snapped up to Four but the smith didn’t elaborate, watching Wild with a pinched expression and continuing to hold his hand. Warriors’ thoughts spun. A shapeshifter? One that looked like the rancher had attacked Wild and nearly killed him? Warriors needed the full story, but a glance at Four and Wild told him it was going to have to wait.

“I don’t want to rush things,” Time began. “But we should move. We need to find the others so we can regroup and get somewhere safe.”

Warriors nodded and carefully shifted Wild into a comfortable hold. “I’ll carry him. Should we head back to the bridge?”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Time said. “Hopefully the others have had the same thought.”

Warriors began to stand, Wild’s form gathered in his arms. But in the chaos, he’d forgotten he was injured. His wounded leg trembled and he bit his lip, trying to force through it. Then Time was there, gently taking Wild from his arms.

“I’ve got him,” he said gently. Warriors felt like he should argue, but something about how small Wild looked in the old man’s arms stopped him. So he simply nodded as Four helped him to his feet. He thought Wild had fallen asleep until the champion grasped at one of Time’s hands, looking around blearily. Time ducked his head and said something in a low voice. Wild nodded after a moment, settling back in his arms, head resting against Time’s chest. Four retrieved Wild’s sword and the three began making their way through the forest, heading roughly in the direction Time and Warriors had come from. Time led the way, Warriors and Four close behind him. Warriors cast a glance at Four, eyeing the way his nose twisted and how the purplish-black bruise enveloped the smith’s nose and stretched out beneath his eyes.

“I can straighten your nose once we get back,” Warriors told him.

Four shot him a grateful look. “I’d appreciate that,” he said. He stumbled suddenly, Warriors darting forward to steady him.

“Smithy!” Warriors exclaimed as Four righted himself, using Warriors’ arm as support. Time glanced back over his shoulder at them, concern filling his eye. “Not hiding an injury from us, are you?” Warriors asked.

“No, I’m alright,” Four said, pushing away from Warriors. “Just exhausted. My limbs feel like the cook’s egg pudding.”

Warriors chuckled at that, some of the tension in the air lifting. “I can carry you, if you want,” he said, only half joking.

Four snorted, shoving him playfully. “I can still walk, Captain.”

“Only a suggestion!” Warriors replied, holding up his hands in a harmless gesture.

Four smirked. “Maybe I ought to carry you, given your limp of drama.”

“Hurt! Ful!”

The two laughed, continuing to rib each other as they followed Time back to the bridge.

#linked universe #linked universe fic #linked universe fanfic #lu warriors #lu time #lu wild #lu four #whump #ruby writes #what you think just because i put tags I have to put something funny? bet you don't think i should have a GUN NEITHER

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largemandrill · 24 days

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About those Omen with Cloaks

(I’ve found only two of this enemy variety in the game, if there’s any more of them please tell me because they intrigue me so much)

These specific type of omen are quite a rare find, I’ve only managed to find them in two areas:

Leading a small group of commoners in front of the minor erdtree near the draconic tree sentinel fight in the outer capital

2: Deeply hidden within Azuria Hero’s Grave seemingly guarding the crucible winged talisman

These locations are notably very close to one another, both being a similar distance from the main entrance the Tarnished has to the Capital. The omen in the Hero’s Grave, admittedly, has less implications so I’ll be mostly skipping over him (sorry bud)

Going back to the omen next to the minor erdtree, he’s not the only one in his group with a unique model compared to his enemy type. He is surrounded by commoners (who are normally adorned in a pale cloth) wearing pitch black clothing.

They also don’t throw fire pots like other commoners (think the ones in Fort Haight) Instead, they seem to just be chucking regular stones or maybe a pot with no noticeable elemental damage (I’ll do further testing if needed)

The next question is simple: Why the distinction between models compared to the rest of their enemy variety? The answer to this comes in a few different forms, leading with a fact about the Omen present at the scene: He uses Fia’s Mist.

This is the only spell the Omen uses, all of his other attacks are melee with his cleaver. This leads me to believe that this group not only worships the Prince of Death, but that they have specific associations with Fia herself.

The first thing I wanted to prove is that he was actually using the sorcery and not just spitting it out like basilisks and wormfaces. Luckily for me, the symbol of the Death Sorceries, Godwyn’s half of the Centipede wound, flashes in front of his hand when casted (wasn’t able to get a pic of him casting it sadly)

With this Fia association, we can also put the mystery of the unique models to rest. While much dirtier and more withered compared to her clean and soft robes, it seems like these “cult” members are mirroring her appearance. Wether any of these enemies have actually met her in person is a mystery to me. However, if I had to guess, Fia comforting an Omen isn’t entirely out of character for her. She’s always had a soft spot for those oppressed by the golden order. It also wouldn’t be out of character for Fia to gain some allies from a being that has grown to hate the GO for their entire life. Thus, these omen have pledged allegiance to her cause in some form, and to show this commitment, they adorn themselves with replication of the attire that comforted them

Also notable is the specific tree in which the omen are located. This has been pointed out before in This VaatiVidya vid (along with some of the other stuff mentioned here) is that this Minor Erdtree could possibly be the one that Godwyn himself was buried under.

These two tree’s don’t align perfectly on the map or in world, but their proximity to each other is deeply notable. Maybe there was an intended alignment that was harder to implement due to the locations of the other underground areas, but I’ll bite at the worm anyway that this is supposed to be the same tree. How else could the rotting that is only seen in this tree be explained anywhere else? The trees in the Mountain tops are broken off at the too, but this one is visibly dying in a way unique to itself.

In conclusion (?)

There is a chance that Fia’s worshipping of Godwyn is not only shared by her and TWLID, but by others spurned by the GO and Erdtree. A few Omen found comfort in her and believed that her cause could maybe assist in bringing them back into society as accepted beings. I cannot decide if this possibility is sweet or deeply unsettling.

#Elden ring #Put a cut on this post and still didn’t expect it to get this long #If you have any more input or theories on these goobers I’m all ears #I’ll tag Fia and Godwyn to just for funsies ig #fia deathbed companion #godwyn the prince of death #elden ring omen #I’m ruling out then being general worshippers of something like the Deathbirds because it seems like they have so association with Godwyn #I may be wrong in that though so correct me if needed #There also could be some of these guys in the shunning grounds but I doubt it due to their horns being excised

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fuckyeah-jessicabiel · 1 year

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Jessica Biel for Elle USA - June 2007

From the moment she appears, Jessica Biel is gracefully deflecting the attention of men. Wearing Roger Vivier white pumps and snug True Religion jeans, her hair tightly pulled back in a ponytail, she walks out of the elevator in the Hotel Gansevoort in New York City's Meatpacking District at a rapid clip, shedding two young men who had the incredible good luck to have ridden down with her. She nods them off nicely as they walk away grinning and no doubt mentally compiling lists of buddies who'll be receiving the following text message: "DUDE! I WAS JUST IN AN ELEVATOR WITH THE SEXIEST WOMAN ALIVE!"

Next in the gauntlet is a Moby-looking scenester with a paunch who descends upon her in Ono, the Gansevoort's bustling, dimly lit Japanese restaurant, introducing him- self as if he's an old friend. The fact that he's wielding a Treo device like a video camera goes unnoticed by Biel, who later refers to said implication as "creepy." She dis- patches him into the darkness with a tight smile and walks through the large restaurant to a back booth, caus- ing a ripple of chopsticks to go still as heads turn.

If the rhythms and rotations of the mass entertainment media complex are to be trusted, we are currently living in Jessica Biel's Big Moment. After getting her foot in the door in 1996 on the show 7th Heaven, the now-25-year- old actress won the hearts and minds of the boys with her badass ability to wield a meat cleaver in the 2003 remake of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre and a bow and arrow in 2004's Blade: Trinity. Her turn in 2005's Stealth, which bombed (literally), may have gone largely unnoticed, but the trailer highlighting Biel under a waterfall certainly didn't. Then in the fall of 2005, Esquire bestowed on her the magazine's "Sexiest Woman" honorific. Last summer, she deftly skipped over the threshold from hottie to respectable actor with her supple performance as an early-twentieth-century duchess opposite Edward Norton and Paul Giamatti in The Illusionist and since then has become a red-carpet flashbulb magnet, wearing Valentino to the Golden Globes and, to present at the Oscars, a fuchsia halter-top Oscar de la Renta dress that strikingly revealed her toned shoulders.

And yet "it's still a struggle," Biel says, sitting up straight with the alertness of a ninja. Her tan sleeveless Preen turtleneck highlights her muscular arms. "I thought the Esquire cover was going to be really positive for my career," she says. "But it wasn't, really." Biel recalls being told by one director, "I'm not looking for the sexiest woman; I'm looking for the girl next door."

"Parts that I really want aren't going to me," Biel says. "Like The Other Boleyn Girl with Scarlett Johansson and Natalie Portman." But she stops herself. "I don't want to say that there's nothing I love that I can have. But there's still the occasional script that the director doesn't want to see you for. They want that top tier of girls."

So how does she go from Big Moment to top tier? Gaug- ing from her acting heroes-Meryl Streep, Cate Blanchett, and Annette Bening (with whom she will costar, along with Sean Bean, in a screen adaptation of Oscar Wilde's play A Woman of No Importance)-it seems she has good taste. And in addition to working with Nicolas Cage and Julianne Moore in the recent thriller Next, Biel is finally getting a turn at comedy-something she's been longing for-opposite Adam Sandler and Kevin James in I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry, due out next month.

"Jessica is a great actress who also happens to be smart, sweet, and funny," Sandler says. "But the best part of working with her was watching her beat Kevin James at arm wrestling." Not that the movie, about two firefighters who pretend to be gay in order to claim domestic-partner benefits (Biel plays their lawyer), refrains from reveling in her sexiness-she sheds her clothes for a gawking Sandler, and when his character first sees her, his world goes into super slow-mo.

"She's capable of attaining the Julia Roberts crown," says Chuck and Larry director Dennis Dugan, referring to Biel's healthy-American-girl vibe and comic timing. The actress herself is wary of such pronouncements.

"The scary thing about having this opportunity is that if it's 'your moment,' that eventually disappears," she says. "I think about reaching for 'the moment' but never really achieving it. That way, I'm always striving."

BIEL CARRIES HERSELF WITH THE CONFIDENCE OF A DANCER OR AN ACCOMPLISHED JOCK-BOTH OF WHICH SHE HAS BEEN.

When Biel walked onto the set of The Illusionist, director Neil Burger was impressed with her athlete's readiness and resolve. She carries herself with the confidence of a dancer or an accomplished jock-both of which she has been. "She completely gave as good as she got" with her Oscar-nominated costars Norton and Giamatti, Burger says. "That's a testament to her poise and her talent."

Early in the production, Biel had a scene with Norton that put the two of them in a stream in the Czech Republic in March. "It was essentially liquid ice. It was like an elec- tric shock, and it knocked the breath out of both of us and Jess turned blue," Norton says. "When we watched it back on the monitor, you could see it hadn't played out exactly right. Neil and I both wanted to do it again, but some- times you have to give up perfect for safety, and we were hesitant to ask her to get back in that water. But she said, 'It wasn't right, was it? Let's do it again.' And I thought, All right, she's a pro."

"She doesn't take herself too seriously," says her friend and producing partner Michelle Purple.

Stephen Collins, who played Biel's minister father on 7th Heaven, agrees: "She has an incredible goof-off, tom- boy streak," he says.

So what was a tomboy doing in the front rows at fashion week in Paris early last March? ("An intimi- dating and overwhelming environment," Biel says.) Scoring some clothing, including the Preen number she's wearing now, and also celebrating her twenty- fifth birthday. "Someone said, 'You have five years till 30.' I started to think, Wow, over the next five years, my life could really change personally," Biel says smil- ing, with a slight squint of her catlike eyes.

When the tabloids started spotting Biel with Justin Timberlake in January shortly after his breakup with Cameron Diaz-the two were seen snowboard- ing together in Park City, Utah, during the Sundance Film Festival; sharing a glass of champagne at Prince's Golden Globes party; and backstage at Timberlake's concert in San Diego-her personal life suddenly became of great interest to the public. She dodges a probe about her relationship with Timberlake while knocking back shrimp tempura with aplomb, saying that she was in Park City with girlfriends and holding

"WE DIDN'T LOCK OUR DOORS," BIEL SAYS OF HER COLORADO CHILDHOOD,

meetings for her production company, Iron Ocean Films. Nor does she want to discuss her past relation- ships with actors Ryan Reynolds and Chris Evans, or Yankee star Derek Jeter, "for no other reason than I can't even go to the dry cleaner by myself anymore," she says. "You're seen in public with anybody that you might not even know, and you're speculated about."

Asked if the constant attention makes dating hard, she says, "It makes everything hard because you can't even go to pick up a prescription without somebody trying to snap a photo of what you have in your Longs Drugs bag. Thank goodness I'm a nice person," she says. "Thank you, Mom, for teaching me that.

"The day after Biel was born, in Ely, Minnesota, her parents took her to a dogsled race; it was 30 degrees below zero. By age one she was in a canoe. Her mother, who is "New Age," grew up in Colorado, hunting for arrowheads as a child; her father was a "mountain man" who ran an Outward Bound school and worked as an international business consultant. His career took the family (her brother, Justin, is three years younger) from Texas to Connecticut and, finally, to Boulder. "We didn't lock our doors," she says. "We snowboarded, hiked, climbed, rafted. We grew up without a fear of the world."

Although Biel thrived at athletics, she doesn't remember a time when she wasn't dancing or sing- ing. At age 11, she signed up with a talent agency in Denver, which got her to the International Modeling and Talent Association convention in Los Angeles, which in turn got her into meetings with managers and agencies.

"I wanted to be Whitney Houston for a long time. I would be onstage and I would just come alive," Biel recalls. "I begged my parents to let me go out for pilot season."

When she was 14, she landed her central role in 7th Heaven, playing the oldest daughter of seven kids in a wholesome Christian family. But after a few years, she wanted to mix things up personally and professionally. At 17, Biel posed seductively for a Gear magazine photo shoot, topless with scant bottoms. It was a clear sign that she wanted to be off the show. "I was all over the place," she says now. "I was being a rebellious teenager." She feels that she was exploited by the magazine, but 7th Heaven's producers cut her out of the series. (She eventually returned in a more limited role.)

"The Gear thing, while embarrassing, wasn't exactly bad for her career," Collins says. True enough, in that between Gear and Esquire Biel worked on seven major films. But none of those movies had anywhere near the impact that taking off her clothes did . Julianne Moore says that Biel's "extraordinary" beauty appears as if "she were carved from marble," but she also has a body that you'd think only a comic book artist could draw-curvy in just the right places-and yet still healthy.

"WE SNOWBOARDED, HIKED, CLIMBED, RAFTED. WE GREW UP WITHOUT A FEAR OF THE WORLD."

Biel works out three times a week, primarily heart-rate training, doing fast-speed soccer exercises, squats, and running. She also does yoga regularly. Still, she feigns dismay at the suggestion that she looks buff.

"What do you mean? This is the thinnest and the least muscular I've been in a long time," she protests. "I'm so lean and feminine!"

As we order tea after dinner, the large party of 20 at the banquet table perpendicular to ours has mostly disbanded, allowing four of the men left at the table to reshuffle themselves so that eventually they sit on one side, facing her. It's as if they're at dinner theater. Biel may feel she has yet to land the role that breaks her out, but until that time, she has no shortage of fans who will be happy to watch her along the way.

When asked to go bowling two days later, after her ELLE photo shoot, Biel scarcely raises an eyebrow. She throws on a black ensemble and arrives ready to roll at Chelsea Piers between two lanes of bouncy seven-year-old girls. Despite doing pretty poorly, losing for eight frames, she pulls a spare, a strike, and two nines at the very end to win the contest. "I was really sucking, but I'm a closer," she says gamely. "You should see me at beer pong."

#jessica biel #elle magazine #cover #articles #interviews #2007

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inkformyblood · 8 months

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Nearly there!! This will be posted tonight I am Manifesting

“Ready to head out, Johnny? Any other injuries?”

“Just the one, LT.” Johnny grins and something in Ghost’s chest relaxes, the air tasting of smoke and blasting powder. There’s an undercurrent of iron there too, a scent that hadn’t gone away when Ghost had moved into the room, and he looks over Johnny closely.

When Simon had been a butcher, he’d been trained to start at the joints, slam the cleaver down like he means fucking business if he didn’t want to spend the rest of the afternoon practicing after hacking into a prime piece of meat, and then he could move onto the detail work, carve the meat into chuck and sirloin and every other distinction. Ghost breathes in deeply, swallows against dust and grit and blood. “What aren’t you telling me, Soap?”

#SoapGhost #ghostsoap #johnny soap mactavish #ghoap #johnny mactavish #simon ghost riley #simon riley #cod mw2 #my writing #fanfic

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tarnishedinquirer · 1 month

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Case: Morne Massacre (Conclusion)

Unsurprisingly, there were more gallows in back, but they didn't have corpses stacked up under them like the gallows on the ramparts. So this is where the other gallows came from. Nobles get locked in cages, soldiers get hung, and commoners get tortured. All die to the Confessors in the end.

I jumped down to the shallows below. The entire area was filled with purple-black spirit jellies. They were different and somehow more solid than the blue-white ones I've seen elsewhere, but no idea what that could possibly mean yet.

The grace pointed towards a gate sitting alone on a sandbar, obscured by golden fog. Whatever answers I was looking for were here, and the fog told me that I'd have to kill someone to get them. I summoned Edgar and without a word, walked through the gate.

One of the chimeras, bigger than the others, and with a wild mane of red hair. The voice called it "Leonine Misbegotten" which I guess is what the chimera are actually called. Its chosen arena was a small spat of solid land on the sandbar, packed with grave stones and with bodies piled high beside them. It fought with both ferocity and surprising skill, but we had numbers and magic. It fell, and I claimed the sword it was guarding.

There are advantages to my prison mask. It means that Edgar could not see the anger in my eyes as he left to go rescue his daughter. He let me keep the sword, though it was useless to me and unsightly to boot. I briefly considered chucking it into the ocean out of spite, but I'm above such things.

I sat down to compose myself and focus the facts. The voice said this place was called the Moangrave, which seems a bit redundant. Unless... if you consider the root of the word, it could refer to a complaint or accusation. Therefore, this could be the Grave of Accusation, or maybe The Accused.

Is this what Grace wanted me to see? This strange keyhole grave?

I turned to the sword, far too heavy for me to ever use, to see if the voice could provide answers. It said

The storied sword of Castle Morne. A revenger's weapon, it is burdened with oceans of anger and regret. One of the legendary armaments. A lone surviving champion from a country now vanished was so determined to continue fighting that he claimed the swords of an entire clan of warriors.

So. It belonged to the nameless revenger. He claimed the swords of an entire clan—perhaps his own fallen, perhaps a rival's—and forged them into this massive sword. He assaulted this castle and fell at the hands of Godfrey. However, he gained enough renown that they were forced to build a monument to his courage.

And perhaps, buried him with honors... on a sandbar. So that one day his body and his legend would be washed away.

It felt right.

Only the grave had persisted. They built a gate to bar access to it, maybe even tearing down the outer wall's gate to rebuild here.

The only other thing I could glean was the crest on the grafted blade. It looked like a heraldic wolf, or perhaps fox, with a bushy mane. Was this the symbol of the nameless revenger and his clan?

Maybe it'll make sense one day, when I have more information.

Thoroughly grounded, I teleported away to check on Irina. Maybe her father had found her by now.

Unfortunately, he had. Irina was dead.

Edgar was inconsolable. He cursed the Misbegotten and vowed revenge. Said he would hunt down every last one of them for taking his daughter.

My grudge against Edgar aside, this hurt. Irina had done nothing wrong. I could have joined him in his vow and revenge, but instead I retreated into cold, hard reason. They had ignored her last time I was here. Her blood was fresh and wet, and her body hadn't even cooled yet.

Her killers ignored her until they knew that Edgar was on his way. Whoever killed her wanted him to find her body fresh. They wanted him to see the cleaver, stained with her blood. Perhaps if I had arrived earlier she would have been able to choke out last words, but no, that would've been too unpredictable. No way they could control what she said.

It occurred to me just now that Irina had described a "frightful howling from all around."

Misbegotten don't howl.

Conclusion: There were forces at work beyond my knowledge. Someone wanted to break Edgar. They wanted him to suffer. For his crimes? For the wholesale slaughter at behest of the Confessors? No... even that felt like a means to an end. So many, dying in suffering, seeking to purge some heresy or infection, creating the very environment for the sickness to spread... it feels ritualistic.

The Misbegotten rose up, perhaps to stop the slaughter, perhaps to purge the infection in their own way. They let Irina leave because she was an innocent, not knowing she could also serve as a capstone to the ritual. A final sacrifice.

Somehow, I know this ritual.

Questions

Why would Grace point me towards the revenger's grave?

Why did the red-maned Misbegotten seem to revere his sword?

Why must Edgar protect it at all costs, and why was it okay that I carry it instead?

What is the symbol of the maned wolf?

Who was howling?

What was the purpose of the ritual?

Who really killed Irina?

#elden ring #elden ring lore #in character #in character blog #in character post #let's play

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the-text-butcher · 2 months

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excuse me, but do you have a moldy chuck?

[[Cleaver is tracking through snow. If you look closer at it, it’s tiny white ones and zeros]]

Don’t keep nuthin’ xpired.

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chattingwiththelightkeeper · 1 year

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Most people reading this likely understand that BDSM stands for bondage, discipline, dominance and submission, sadism and masochism, and how everyone feels comfortable in the lifestyle depends on which words they pick for their definition. Even with the official words, some other ideas are floating around out there. Here are four fun ones:

The creepy ‘internet dom’ will often want the S to stand for sex because they want to get their kinky bow-chicka-wow-wow on.

Another cleaver version is often paired with “I Love” - Bananas, Dragonfruit, Strawberries, and Mangos.

If you are a fan of Italian food then this might work for you – Best Damn Spaghetti & Meatballs.

There is the snarky variant out there for those who are frustrated with the lifestyle - B for bullsh*t, D for drama, S for sh*tty behavior, and M for mature people are sadly lacking.

While you may have chucked at a couple of the meanings and I am sure if you have been around the lifestyle long enough, the snarky variant has been in your mind probably more than a few times but here is an alternative that fits nicely with the originally mean(s) of the acronym.

B – Believe in yourself. Believing is important, no matter your role in the lifestyle because the decision to explore the lifestyle as well as to join/grow within it requires each individual who does this to have confidence they are making the right choice for themselves. While everyone struggles with self-confidence, people who are truly at home in the lifestyle find their confidence grows as they mature into the role that fits their soul.

D – Doing the right thing. While there are bad actors within the lifestyle, see number four above, most people who are involved in the lifestyle are here for the correct reasons while endeavoring to do their best at making choices that are proper for themselves and those they care about. Plus this fits with believing in yourself because at points in your lifestyle journey there will be times when you have to have faith in yourself and make hard decisions to do what is best for you, even if these choices mean making others unhappy.

S – The S better represents how wonderful it is to show your lifestyle partner, or partners if you are poly, love. I believe that for those of us who are involved in the lifestyle being loved and showing those you love just much you care is truly amazing. When we find our home in this lifestyle, we love at a higher level than we ever dreamed possible, and the S here represents the joy in expressing it.

M – Making the world a better, brighter place. While there is not any scientific evidence to back up this claim, many of the people in the lifestyle put in the effort to improve the cosmos. Often it starts with working to be a better version of themselves and grows outward from there. Sometimes it can be as simple as working to make their in-person or online group better or making the time to get involved in their vanilla communities to lend a helping hand.

With so many truly amazing people involved in the lifestyle, it is great to see the acronym take on a greater meaning other than just the four letters that describe the lifestyle we choose to enjoy. Also, if you are new to the lifestyle, please keep your head held high because while at times it might feel like you are trapped in a kinky version of The Walking Dead,surrounded by hoards of flesh-eating zombie-like internet trolls, know there are amazing people out there to connect with, become friends with and maybe, just maybe, fall in love with that special someone.

What positive words/meanings would you make from BDSM?

As with all of my writings, please see this disclaimer.

©TLK2023

#daily thought

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jantea · 2 years

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Uggg someone tell me that what I have written of this one shot is good so I have the motivation to finish it. 😩

Captivity

(An angst one shot about Aizawa and Izuku escaping captivity together. ⚠️ Warning for kidnapping, MCD, medical torture, child death⚠️)

...

"Left turn, thirty seven steps, right turn, locked door..."

Aizawa had it all memorized, but it seemed to put the kid at ease to murmer the steps of their escape plan as they went.

"I'll hand you the lock picks and-"

Just so, Aizawa let go of where he was supporting Izuku's legs around his waist, trusting the kid to be strong enough to cling to his back on his own. Their lockpicks consisted of a bent needle and a long nail, both of which Izuku had stashed in his tangle of green curls. The boy extracted their tools and handed them to Aizawa, who got to work on the lock.

"This step should take between three four minuets..."

It would take less than thirty seconds, if Aizawa wasn't doing this blind and with an uncurable tremor in his hands.

"And the three other guards should have found us by the time we get it open."

Click. The door popped open with a creak, and Aizawa wasted no time dashing into the next hall as fast as he dared while blind and carrying a child on his back. Just as they planed as their first objective upon entering every new space, he felt Izuku let go of him with one arm and rear back, ready to chuck a rock at the light above them with the pinpoint accuracy that Izuku had drilled over and over in their cell, hours upon hours worth of practice paying off now as Izuku took out every light they came across, leaving their journey to be tackled in darkness, their enemies now just as blind as Aizawa.

Just before Izuku let the rock loose...ahead of them...footsteps, a lot of them running, clothes rustling, rounding the corner ahead of them.

"There they are!" A voice shouts.

"Five seven two!" Izuku shouts over the other, just as his arm snaps forward and there's an earshattering crash and an electric hum as the rock presumably passes straight through the single bulb illuminating overhead.

Five-there are five enemies, not three like they were expecting.

Seven two-the enemy's formation. There were three men rushing them directly, one of them slightly ahead of the the other two. The last two were hanging back, and one of them had jumped to hide behind the corner.

...

"Shhhhhh..." the air hissed quietly passed his chapped lips as Shouta whispered, "...you'll wake him."

Hizashi didn't answer. There was a long, weighted moment of silence.

"He's been through a lot." Shouta finally choked out, voice breaking and cracking. "He deserves to rest." Shouta ran dirty fingers through greasy green curls.

"Shouta..." Hizashi's voice was wobbly, scared. "I think we need to give him to the paramedics. I think we need to get you to the paramedics, too."

"No." Shouta's fingers tightened where they gripped a thin shoulder, pulling a small torso closer into his body. A little head rolled against his shoulder.

"Sho..." Hizashi sounded choked. He was audibly crying.

"No." Shouta panted, hunching forward. "I can't. I can't. let him. go." His breathing started comming too fast. "You can't ask me to let him go!" He wished it was possible to close his eyes even when he didn't have any. Shouta settled for tucking his head into his knees.

"...hey, heyheyhey! It's alright! It's ok!" Hizashi frantically tried to reassure. Shouta clung to the sound of his voice. "Its going to be ok, Shouta! Nobody is asking you to let the little listener go!" Hizashi was outright sobbing now.

"...Izuku." Shouta whispered into his knees.

"What's that baby?" Hizashi sniffled and leaned his ear a little closer.

"Izuku." Shouta said, a little louder. "His name. Its...Izuku." Shouta raised his head up, and hoped his wobbly wrong smile was directed at least vaugly at Hizashi's face. "You'll like him." Shouta said, a strange, soft fuzziness to his voice. "You'll love him. He's so cleaver." And then Shouta was rushing to get it all out,

"He made our plan to escape, and he helped me. In there. In that place. And I helped him. And we...we worked together, to escape...I wouldn't have made it without him. He saved me, Zashi!" Shouta clung to his husband's sleeve, outright sobbing himself now. "And I...and I...I saved...I saved him..." Shouta's shoulders shook with the force of his heaves, he almost wanted to throw up with the motion. "I saved him...! Zashi... tell me I saved him! Tell me he's asleep!" Shouta sobbed, weeping.

"...you saved him, Shouta." Hizashi's voice breathed in his ear. "You got him out of there. You did everything right. You did everything right, and you saved him, and you don't have to let him go, but babe..." here he choked, "...babe, he's not asleep. And you need to let the paramedics take care of things."

...

"He was mine!" Shouta cried out. "He was my son! He was my boy!"

#mha #bnha #aizawa shouta #izuku midoriya #tw mcd #tw child loss #mha fanfiction #dans fic ideas #dans snips

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