#until they decide to finally settle down and most likely donating magic instead of actually having a kid

[askfallenroyalty]

Since chara’s true name is based off the pun ‘chara’cter would Aslo’s siblings true name be Uma based off of h’uma’n?

that wouldn't really work aslo is a full monster (half boss). aslo more so represents Asriel and Asgore's poor naming conventions. (Asriel is a combo of Asgore and Toriel)

its a nice thought tho! by your logic if chara were to have a kid they'd be name Manny (human) or Monty (monster) since they're not human anymore

#ooc #tbd #not art #NOT that I see my chara ever having kids or at least until they decide to give up their immortality #considering a big part of the reason asriel had a kid was to age alongside Frisk and everyone else they know #since Chara chose not to do that and plans on staying immortal i'd see them fully committing to that #living as a guardian to their family and friend's decedents throughout time #until they decide to finally settle down and most likely donating magic instead of actually having a kid #but who knows what kind of person chara would be 1000 years from now? maybe they would want to be a parent eventually! its so far off into #the future there's no way of knowing what Chara would do then. #but yeah i think its poetic that chara who's entire life changed because they tried to die at mt.ebott (and sadly succeded the second time) #then becomes immortal and wishes to stay immortal #like that? thats growth. they've literally learned to embrace being alive and the future to such an absurd extreme ahah

[elisaphoenix13]

To Lose Everything... (Ch.3)

Over the next couple of days, Stephen had helped Peter get settled into his room in the Sanctum. A big part of that was going to the apartment so Peter could figure out what he wanted to bring, and what he would give away. When they first got to the apartment, the sorcerer had asked if the teen wanted him to wait out in the hall, but Peter had shook his head and they went inside. Nothing was done for the first ten minutes, and Stephen stood off to the side so Peter could take it all in one last time. He wouldn't be coming back here again.

The teen's room was first after he had managed to pull himself together enough to do what they came to do, and they were both grateful for Stephen's magic. It made moving much faster since they could throw things through portals (the doctor was pretty sure a book had hit an unsuspecting Wong when he passed), and when they got to May's room, Peter faltered. He looked around like he wasn't sure what to do, and Stephen gathered that maybe he didn't want to get rid of her things. At least not yet.

So he offered a solution. "I can make room at the Sanctum if there are some things you want to store away for now."

Peter nodded with relief filled eyes and they boxed up and sent all of May and Ben's things to a room for a later time when the teen would be ready to go through it. Everything after that had been easier to deal with. Furniture was left to either stay for the next tenants or to be donated, the tv in the living room was sent to Peter's room at the Sanctum, and the rest donated or sent to be stored. The food was definitely kept.

Leaving the apartment behind was faster, but harder for the teen. As soon as everything was taken care of, Peter had stepped through the portal without looking back. It was one thing to step into a place that was filled and homely, it was another to leave it bare. Looking back would have only rubbed salt into that wound. So Stephen was quick to follow and close the portal and finds himself in Peter's room. It was in complete disarray from them literally throwing things through portals.

"Do you need help?" Stephen asks.

"No...its something to do...you know?" Peter replies quietly.

He did know. It was a distraction, and in some ways, a ritual. Peter would make it his space and it would give him time to adjust to his new circumstances. At least properly now that he had his things. So Stephen left him to it as he went to the library to gather together his copies of the adoption papers Kate had brought for her home visit (Stephen had followed through on his promise to Peter to wipe her memories of his alter ego after everything was settled). He would need them when he went to the teen's school to update their contact info on Peter.

"How much longer do I need to do your job?" Wong grumbles as he joins Stephen and sits on the other side of the table.

"Don't complain. You haven't had to do anything. Things should be wrapped up tomorrow once I get back from Peter's school. I'm putting you down as an emergency contact by the way." Stephen says as he puts aside the paperwork and grabs a book on the mystic artes.

Wong furrows his brows. "How can you do that when--" Stephen pulls a cell phone out of his pocket and slides it across the table to the darker man. "If Peter spams me with text messages, I'm going to send him to Mount Everest."

Stephen snorts. "Once he comes out of his shell, he most definitely will, and you will do no such thing."

Wong grins. "Stephen Strange. Former neurosurgeon, Master of the Mystic Artes, Sorcerer Supreme...Mom."

Stephen stares at him incredulously. "Mom?! Shouldn't I be Dad if anything?"

"Not the way you've been hovering." Wong says with a snort.

Stephen throws his hand up on the air before opening his book and both men read quietly. At least he thought they were being quiet until Wong kicked his shins under the table and told him to stop mumbling. The doctor just responded with a glare and promptly smacked the other man's head with a nearby rolled up magazine. Something of Wong's. Stephen didn't read magazines.

"Very mature of the Sorcerer Supreme."

"If you want a hot meal then you'll shut up."

___________________

For the first time in a week, Peter was happy when he saw Ned walking down the hallway in his direction. He had just left Stephen at the school office and he stood in the middle of the hallway feeling completely alone (at least until he saw his best friend). He had thought he would have to go through school by himself, but he still had his best friend. The first thing they did? Their handshake...and then a hug. Peter had to make sure Ned really was there after all.

"Dude, you have no idea how happy I am to see you!" Ned exclaims. He then frowns when Peter barely manages half a smile. "Are you still upset about Mr. Stark?"

The young Avenger blinks back oncoming tears. "Not only." Peter looks around the crowded hallway and drags his best friend over to and emptier off section. "May...May is gone too."

Ned's eyes widen at the news. "Peter-"

"I'm..I'm not okay...but I'm better." He admits quietly.

"Did you get put into the system?"

"No. That's only because I ran from the social worker." Ned frowns. "I almost froze to death but Doctor Strange found me."

"Who's Doctor Strange?" The darker male asks carefully.

"He's a sorcerer. Someone I fought Thanos with." Both teens wince at the name. "I'm staying with him now."

The bell rings shrilly, something Peter actually missed even though the sound made him grind his teeth, and the two teens male their way to class. Throughout the day, Ned kept a close eye on Peter, and when he asked why the other teen hadn't stayed home to give himself more time after May's death, Peter had said that he needed something familiar. At this point all that was left that fit the bill was school.

Most of Peter's friends were snapped so he had a few more familiar faces to survive school with, MJ being one, and unfortunately Flash as well. At least his bully was content to leave him alone for now. Everyone needed to adjust to the new faces.

Everything had gone well for his first day back at school after all that had happened, but it all came to a quick end when someone snapped. Peter immediately felt his breath catch in his chest as his mind went back to those final battles. He looked down to find his hands shaking violently and he barely processed someone calling his name. It sounded muffled, as if he were under water, and he didn't even notice when he was being pulled out of his seat and lead somewhere. All he saw was his body turning to dust again. Some little part if his mind knew that this wasn't really happening, but the panic was drowning out the logic.

"...guardian...here...soon." A voice filters through the teen's panic and he snaps his head up and looks around. He was in the office, but that was all his mind would let him acknowledge. He could look as much as he wanted but he didn't see.

"Peter? Are you okay?"

That voice. It was familiar. He couldn't think though. He couldn't put the pieces together because he was too busy trying to breathe properly. Just thinking about trying to do something that he did all day, every day, made the task even harder. Why was it so hard to breathe?!

"Peter...listen to me. Breathe in." A deep voice commands and the teen obeys after a few sputtered attempts. "Now breathe out slowly."

Peter focused on the commands and after what seems like forever, he could finally breathe without conscious effort. He looks around again as his pounding heart slows to a more normal pace and he quickly discovers Stephen kneeling in front of him and Ned standing a bit to the side, watching nervously. His backpack was sitting by his chair on the floor, and the secretary was returning to her desk now that Peter had come back to reality.

"Do you know where you are?" Stephen asks.

"S-school. In the office." Peter stammers out.

"Okay. Do you know what triggered your panic attack?"

Peter nods numbly. "Someone snapped."

Stephen winces before standing up. "I'm taking you home." He says calmly. "I think you've had enough for today."

Ned nods in agreement. "I can get your assignments from the rest of yours classes and call you later."

Peter was too tired to argue with either of them. Stephen was right, he had had enough for today. The panic attack had wiped him out and now all he wanted to do was take a nap. So he nods to both Ned and Stephen and promises to talk to his best friend later as the sorcerer signs the teen out. Once the doctor finishes, he turns back to Peter and waits for him to grab his backpack and stand on trembling legs before leading him out of the building. Stephen creates a portal back to the Sanctum, Peter steps through, and then makes his way up to his room where he drops his bag next to his desk and crawls onto his bed.

The next twenty minutes were spent tossing and turning though. He was exhausted but he couldn't get over the fear in the back of his mind. He felt alone. Peter had an idea on his to rectify that, and decided to act on it before he lost his nerve. The teen rolls out of bed and sluggishly leaves his room to look for Stephen, and found him not two minutes later on a couch in the foyer. Thank god. He silently approaches the man studying a book and drinking tea, and slumps onto the couch beside him to curl up into a ball. To his surprise, Stephen hadn't said a word. Instead, he had his cloak float over and cover him as he turned a page in his book. Knowing his company was not unwelcome helped, and Peter was able to finally doze off and take his much needed nap, unaware of the coming conversation.

"See? Mom." Wong says as he passes by and Stephen throws one of his books at him.

The other sorcerer stops and sniggers as he dodges the projectile and it lands with a thud on the floor. Stephen glances down to make sure he hadn't disturbed Peter. "Just wait. He'll be calling you Uncle Wong. He's that type of kid."

"If I hear him call you Mom, I'll endure it because it will be worth it."

"What makes you think he won't decide to call me Dad if he does give me some sort of title?"

"Because Tony was Dad. He just never got the chance to call him that." Wong points at him before Stephen can start wallowing. "Still not your fault."

"Either way, he's a long way off from calling me anything if he ever does."

"I can speed up the process and tell him you astral projected and watched him at school today." Wong threatens and Stephen responds by throwing another book and laughing when it hits it's mark on the other man's forehead.

"Don't threaten the Sorcerer Supreme."

#peter parker #stephen strange #wong #ned leeds

[varricmancer]

Written in the stars | 1

Pairing: Varric Tethras x Bethany Hawke

Word Count: 2,019 (A little short, but I’ve been super busy with work and I wanted to get this started. Hopefully it’s still good!)

Summary: When his best friend Garrett Hawke decides to follow his dream and open his own movie studio, Varric is more than happy to offer help in the form of a huge donation and ignore Garrett’s pleas for him to write them a script. Until he learns Garrett’s sister Bethany is meant to be their main actress. Varric may never feel worthy enough to act on his infatuation with the sweet girl, but he’ll do anything in his power to make her a star. 

Notes: A modern au! Obviously. Still set in Thedas, but it’s been fiddled with to adjust to my vision. Mages are still treated like crap. Val Royeaux is basically Hollywood and Garrett’s dream is to make his own studio right there in Kirkwall to rival theirs. This is only my second DA fic and my first time trying to capture the entire Kirkwall crew, so I’m a little terrified over how this will go. I’ll do my best! 

If there was one thing that he was certain all of Thedas knew about him, it would be never wake up Varric Tethras before noon. This is how he knew that whoever was knocking at his door at seven in the morning - only three hours after he’d finally gone to bed, mind you - was either an idiot or suicidal. 

He reluctantly left the warmth of his bed and threw on his favorite red silk robe before shuffling to the front door, where the soon to be dead person was now banging on it hard enough that he was surprised it hadn’t been smashed in yet. 

With a weary sigh, he flung open the door and the witty reproach he’d been preparing on the way there vanished from his head when he spotted the unrepentant grin of his best friend. 

“Hawke. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company this morning?” he drawled, letting the much larger man stroll past him so he could shut the door. 

Garrett shrugged and started walking towards Varric’s office, having been here so often he knew exactly where everything was. 

“Can’t a guy come say hello to his bestie?” 

Garrett went straight to the spare coffee maker that Varric had set up in there for late night writing sessions. He hummed loudly while he scooped out coffee grounds and filled the machine with cold water. 

“Uh huh. And why didn’t you use your key?” 

Varric settled into his highback brown leather chair that was starting to crinkle with age. His friend was up to something. He’d normally have it all figured out by now, but he was still only half awake. 

“That would have been rude.” 

“I see,” Varric snorts. Garrett throws a look behind him that said he knew perfectly well what he’d done wrong and wasn’t sorry in the least. 

“You realize, of course, that by waking me up mere hours after we last saw each other I am now honor-bound to kill you and everything you love.” 

“Then I hope you’re ready to die today, my friend.” 

“Damn that was smooth,” Varric grumbled aloud. 

Garrett chuckled as he started up the machine and pulled out a couple of mugs from the bottom cupboard. He was still humming obnoxiously loud, but Varric was too tired to protest. Instead, he slumped into his chair and closed his eyes, listening to the gurgling of the ancient machine as it began to fill the carafe.

Just when he was beginning to nod off, a steaming cup of black coffee was shoved under his nose. He supposed it was too much to hope Hawke would have mercy on him. He sighs sleepily and accepts the mug, slurping down the hot brew with practiced ease. Garrett pulls a chair closer to the desk and settles in with his own drink, studying Varric over the rim like he’s waiting for the caffeine to take effect before he strikes. 

“So,” Varric finally rumbles after the coffee had settled in his stomach a little. “What do you need? Money? Contacts? An alibi and an extra shovel?” 

“No to all of those, but I’ll keep that last offer in mind for the future,” Garrett grins. “I’ve done it, Varric.” 

Varric’s foggy mind couldn’t quite grasp what he’d supposedly done. Knowing his friend, it could be anything. He quirked an eyebrow in question, leading Garrett to lean forward with maniacally bright eyes. 

“My dream. I finally found the perfect place to open my own movie studio. I’d done a favor for the owner of the building and they lowered the price for me so I was able to afford it. It needs a little work, but it’s a start.” 

Garrett’s face is practically glowing with joy, and Varric couldn’t be happier for his friend. Ever since they’d met back in their college days he’d had to sit through so many rants during movies nights. “That’s the problem with those big studios in Val Royeaux, Varric. Everyone is too afraid to take risks anymore. It’s all about the money. When I get behind the camera, I plan to change the world.” 

“Shit, that’s great! I’m happy for you, Hawke. Anything you need, just ask. I can help fix up the place and buy equipment to get you started. It’s going to be a lot of work to get it up and running.” 

“Actually,” Garrett started slyly, “I had hoped to ask you to help with something specific.” 

“Which brings us to why you’re really here,” Varric grunted with a smirk. 

“Indeed. How would you like to be the first official employee of Hawke Filmworks? 

Varric chuckles. “I’m happy to slip you some cash or recommend some talented workers, Hawke, but I’m rather fond of being self-employed.” 

“Don’t worry! You can still work from home in your underwear most of the time! I need a scriptwriter, Varric. Who better to help me turn the entertainment industry on its ear than my best friend?” 

Varric scrunched his nose and huffed. “I don’t know about that, Hawke. I write adventure tales and stuff that’s basically shitty erotica. I don’t know the first thing about writing a script.” 

“Please! I will kneel and grovel. There’s no one else I would entrust my dream to. Varric, my dearest friend. My love for you has - “ 

“Andraste’s tits, shut up. And get up, you idiot,” Varric rumbled at Garrett, who had fallen dramatically at Varric’s feet, grasping his ankle like the drama queen he was. 

Varric sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I’ll think about it. I’d have to do some research. Are you sure you don’t just want some money? What would I even write about?” 

“I have some ideas! Don’t worry about that. We can work on it together. Beth is going to be a mage that overthrows the monarchy and becomes the country’s first elected leader. Imagine that! A mage in power! It will be a little more complicated than that, of course, and lots of political subtext. And there will be a love story with the former Prince...and DRAGONS!” 

Garrett had lost him after the name he’d mentioned, Varric’s chest aching as it usually did when her name was mentioned. 

Bethany Hawke, Garrett’s little sister. A beautiful and kind woman that was so far out of Varric’s league - though it didn’t prevent him from daydreaming occasionally. 

“Bethany is going to be in on it?” 

“Of course. The whole gang is. Bethany is going to be our lead actress, Marion is going to do her stunts. Carver is our sound engineer and whatever else we need. Issy says she’ll help with costumes. Aveline has agreed to come in and help too. I was thinking of calling her our Executive Producer. Meaning she gets to do all the boring sitting at a desk and making phone calls to hire people and secure locations, make sure we’re all doing our jobs. The lot mom.” Garrett chuckles. 

Varric’s fingers began to twitch with the need to grab his pen. His mind was suddenly filled with images of Bethany as a warrior mage, her silken black hair flowing in the wind as she gazed deep into the viewer's soul with her striking amber eyes. She’d strike down her foes with her powerful magic, and give the people hope with her gentle smile. 

And...Hawke said a romance. Would she giggle over stolen moments? Stare up at her lover passionately as they towered over her? Would she sigh or moan when the Prince- who looked remarkably like Varric in his mind - pressed kisses to the little mole on her collarbone? 

Varric gulped and forced himself to focus, feeling guilty for thinking such things about his friend's sister right in front of him. 

“Bethany does realize that a role like that, especially with the way mages are still treated even here in Kirkwall, would bring a lot of attention to her? And not all of it good. She could be in danger.” 

Garrett nods. “We thought of that. I was going to hire an actress, but she said she wants to do it. She thinks if we can tell the right story, it might help change the way people treat mages. Aveline is going to hire someone for security.” 

Varric sighs. “If she’s going to put herself in the public eye like that and basically draw a target on her forehead, I’ll do it. I’ll feel better if I know I have some control over how she’s portrayed.” 

Garrett reaches over actually pulls him into a hug, slapping his back harshly in excitement. 

“You’re the best, my friend. I feel much more confident knowing we have you in our corner. And I know Beth will be happier knowing you’re helping too. She would have been sad if I’d had to tell her you’d said no. And you know that Bethany Hawke sad is a bad thing. Flowers wilt, crops perish, stars fall from the sky.” 

Varric scoffs. “Like you didn’t know you’d get me to agree eventually.” 

Garrett smirks and stands up. “I’ll leave you to your rest then. Come by later to check out the building. I’d appreciate your opinion on where to start.” 

“Oh, now that he’s caffeinated me he’ll let me sleep,” Varric grumbles as he follows his friend to the door. Garrett laughs and pats his head. 

“You know you love me.” 

Varric shrugs and grins as he opens his front door and kicks Garrett’s ass outside, literally. 

“Yeah, yeah. Send me the address. I’ll take a quick nap and come by with some food. Sound good?” 

“Perfect! Later, Tethras!” 

Varric waits until his friend has safely driven away before he closes his door with a sigh. What he’d actually agreed to was finally soaking in. He’d avoided interacting with the extended Hawke family as much as possible the past few years. They’d questioned it a few times, especially considering he’d once practically lived in the Hawke home he’d been there so much. 

However, being tempted so often by someone he could never have had gotten too hard to deal with. There were so many reasons he could think of for Bethany to never even consider him an option. He was older than her, with an often bitter and jaded outlook on life and relationships. She was literal sunshine and was so kind and gentle that it was like she’d walked right out of a fairy tale. She was stunningly beautiful, tall and shapely. He was...well, a dwarf. Though he admittedly took more care with his appearance than many of his kind. They were complete opposites in so many ways that there was literally no reason for them to ever be together beyond one - That Varric adored her and would do anything to make her happy. 

Unfortunately for him, what would make the entire Hawke clan happy was for him to apparently attempt writing a script for the ages. 

Varric yawns and scratches his belly as he trudges back to his bedroom and the comfort of his blankets, visions of warrior mages with gentle amber eyes floating through his head. 

#dragon age #dragon age fanfic #dragon age fanfiction #da2 #varric tethras #bethany hawke #varric x bethany #au #movie studio!au

[diningpageantry]

Honor The Name

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15909690/chapters/38860574

Chapter 12/16 of Love You All, Die For This

Word Count: 1674

Chapter Summary: Oliver’s coming home

Tags: @fight-surrender

BAZ

The past few months have felt more like a blur than an actual, viable space and time.

The visits to the house, the background checks, the childproofing, the visits to Oliver. All of it.

Snow’s taking it surprisingly well; despite obviously being anxious over the confirmation, he’s a tad more cheerful than he’s been for the past year or so. I’ve found him, on multiple occasions, spread out in our office once I get home with piles of homeschooling, his tail slowly swaying behind him to the music playing on the Bluetooth speakers. He’ll just look up on those days with such a big smile, telling me what he’s planning on teaching as he glues pictures to large note cards, information on it on the back.

Some days, I join him, wrapped around him from behind as he works almost robotically. He’s all warm and calming, his wings almost creating a blanket around him as he works.

Most days are dedicated to fixing up the bedroom now. Snow got Oliver to talk about a month back, managing out a few words on occasion, like what his favorite colour is, to which he said “Orange.”

The walls of his room are now an orange-creamsicle colour with a white trim.

Simon, thankfully, let me get all the furniture, setting up comfortable blankets around his twin bed and a full toybox. Fiona kindly donated a few rocks that she said are toys. I did not put those in the box.

It feels nearly unreal. The stuffed bear on his bed, the closet and dresser filled with clothes, the tiny dress shoes and wall paintings and the hugs he gives Simon as we leave. It’s surreal; it’s somehow heartbreaking and spirit-rising simultaneously.

He hasn’t quite warmed to me, though. I try to remind myself that he’s skittish and the only reason he’s warmed to Simon so well is because he’s an automatically sweet, comforting person, yet at times I can’t help but think that it’s something wrong with me. Granted, I’m not the kindest person to be around, but I think back to Malcolm and my upbringing. All of those strict stares and no hugs but all handshakes. Proper dinner seating. Everything has its place, and every order is as such for a reason. Man marries woman. Have children. Honor the family name.

Sometimes I look at Simon, Simon Snow Pitch, and I remind myself that I am honoring the name.

When we decided that we’re giving Oliver the singular last name ‘Pitch’, I became sure that I’m truly honoring the family name, blood or not.

Now comes the time to take him home, to let him sink into our lives as abruptly as he came into it.

Snow anxiously shifts every few moments of the car ride, mind running through what he’s to say, what he’s to do. I want to remind him that there’s no right or wrong way he’ll greet Oliver into our lives fully (at last), but then again, I feel myself questioning how well I’ll greet him. If I offer him a hug, will he take it? I refuse to outstretch a hand; he’s not even four. He’s a child, not a businessman.

Instead, I just comfort Snow with the squeeze of my hand and the rub of my thumb against his wrist. I hear his sigh and I catch his head turn towards in the corner of my eye. “Are you ready for this?” He asks, voice careful as ever. I’m not entirely sure he’s asking me this, rather than himself.

“I’d like to think I am,” I state back, voice leveled. “We’ve spent months preparing, after all.” I pause, trying to find comfort in what I’m saying. Part of me is envious of Snow’s ability to be so close so easily to Oliver; I get choked up every time they hug because he’s so close already, but I’m afraid he’ll never be close to me. I remind myself, though, that even the best of people need reassurance. “He already loves you, Simon. He talks to you, he smiles at you. You’re his dad, love; you can already tell it on his face. You’ve got this.”

He stays silent for a minute, his gaze trailing down to our joint hands as he gives mine a reassuring squeeze. “He’ll warm up to you too,” he says back.

I swallow audibly, barely managing a nod in response. Will he, though?

We stay quiet until we arrive, wordlessly unbuckling seat belts as Snow grabs the manilla file out of the car door, holding it close to him as we step inside.

We’re greeted by our caseworker, Oliver, and a staff member in the lobby as we step inside. There’s a single suitcase of Oliver’s belongings, as well as a box held by the staffer (I can already feel the wand inside; it’s old, old magic). They all turn their heads once the bell aboves us dings and Oliver grins, waving to Snow gleefully. In return, Snow rushes from my side to greet Oliver, offering his arms to pick him up. He nods, and he’s scooped up into Snow’s arms.

I stand awkwardly, nodding to the adults without moving a step. Our caseworker nods back as she stands, her briefcase at her side. “Shall we step back for the finalized paperwork? All of it’s been approved, we just need signatures now.”

“Of course,” I respond, waving a hand briefly to directly them back, all four of us following her lead as Simon coos and speaks with Oliver joyously. It nearly makes all of the waiting feel like a blink of an eye; we’re here now.

We all take seats at a table, the papers going back and forth between Snow and I for signing until it’s all finally done, the last bit of ink touching the documents and officially settling that Oliver is now our’s.

Simon grins and offers his hand out to Oliver, who lays his palm down against his. “Are you ready to come home, Ollie?”

The child--our child--nods, grinning and keeping his palm pressed to Snow’s hand. The staffer offers his bags over to me silently, to which I take with a mutter of a “thank you”. As Snow and Oliver start out, I speak to the case worker briefly about her first settling visit in six weeks and wish her a nice day before whisking off to the car. I listen to Snow’s chatter as he buckles Oliver into his car seat while I load the boot, closing it without a slam and taking my seat in the front.

The car ride home is music-less, but Snow’s hand against my knee calms me enough as we ride, taking the long trip back to the house.

By the time we’re there, it’s late afternoon and Oliver’s dozed off in the back seat.

I don’t dare to get him.

Snow does instead, carefully unbuckling him and holding him against his front, magically keeping him asleep I grab his bags before unlocking the front door.

Snow’s feet are heavy against the stairs, the muffled thumps echoing down the halls of our usually empty house.

It isn’t empty anymore, though. We’re a family now. Or, at least, legally. I’m a father now; I have a child’s seat in my Mercedes and we have childproofing on low cabinets. I’m listed as a parent, a guardian, a caretaker for a child that barely even looks at me. Despite all that, though, now I stand as a father, leaned against my kitchen’s island and trying to take a deep breath as it all hits me at once.

I love him. I truly do. I don’t know how I’ll ever show it without fearing that I’m too cold to be a parent, but the way he smiles and felt comfortable enough to sleep around us makes my chest swell and eyes sting. He’s ours; he’s home, and I’ll do anything in my fucking power to make sure that he’s safe for the rest of his life. He’ll get whatever he wants whenever he wants it; I’ll fight a fucking pack of merwolves if they even snarl at him.

He’s my son.

I say it out loud.

“He’s my son,” I say into the empty air around me. It echos very slightly from the tiled kitchen, bouncing back to me. He’s my son. I break into a smile, feeling myself choke up as I hold the countertop tighter. He is; he’s my son. I repeat it, saying it over and over to nobody but myself. “He’s my son, he’s my son, he’s my son--”

“He’s our son,” Simon says, leaning against the stairway with a grin. I snap my head to see him and respond with a faint smile back. He steps closer, wiping my eyes and pressing a kiss to my cheek. I lean into it. “He’s our son, and he’s home.”

I nod against him, my smile breaking wider as I shamelessly sniffle. “Yes, he is.” I straighten up my composure, recollecting myself. “I should make dinner, he’ll be hungry when he gets up.”

“Don’t overdo it, love. We won’t need a feast; we have stuff for a roast and some potatoes. That’ll be good, especially since it’s nippy out.” His lips rest against my cheek again, breath tickling my skin. He’s on his tiptoes to reach me.

“I won’t; I’ll keep it simple.” My arm hooks around his waist, dragging him in front of me as I firmly place a kiss to his lips. He takes it, staying for a second and humming against me before pulling back and kissing my jaw, setting his feet flat on the ground.

He breaks away after a long moment, staring up at me with glassy eyes as he grins from ear to ear. “We’re a family now. The family we wanted,” he says quietly. This time, I’m sure he’s talking to himself, but it makes me nod and press my nose into his curls, inhaling slowly.

“Yes, yes we are.”

#carry on #snowbaz #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #tyrannus basilton grimm-pitch #baz pitch #baz #simon snow #simon #mine #fanfic #fanfiction #fic #love you all die for this #lyadft #finally yes an update #i apologize for taking forever #it's dedicating so much to this cobb fic i swear lkdsfjsalfjds

[imagine-loki]

Monsters and Magic

TITLE: Monsters and Magic

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 3/?

AUTHOR: nekoamamori

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine you’re a vampire who helps the Avengers defeat an evil seethe of other vampires, and Loki befriends you after you end up in their custody

RATING: T (so far)

NOTES/WARNINGS: Also on AO3 click here

     “You’re looking better, love,” Loki greeted you the next time he came down to visit. You bounced up from the cot and over to the glass of the cell when he spoke. He looked you over more closely when you were standing in front of him. “Yes, much better.” You saw earlier in the small mirror that you actually had a complexion again and the dark smudges under your eyes had faded. The not casting a reflection thing was only true in really old mirrors that still used actual silver for the backing. New mirrors didn’t cause you any trouble. You weren’t all the way well, not just with one small taste of blood after so long, but you were doing much better.

    “Thank you,” you told him sheepishly, still embarrassed over drinking your friend’s blood, especially straight from the vein…

    He saw your discomfort and didn’t acknowledge your thanks. Instead: “You still do not appear to be feeling completely well,” he started, a bit hesitantly, unsure, though wanting to make sure that you were ok. You wondered briefly why he cared so much about the monster who had literallydrank his blood.

    “Thanks ever so,” you told him sarcastically, choosing to pretend he was insulting your appearance so you didn’t have to answer his actual question which was whether you needed more blood. Before he could rephrase and actually ask and corner you into an answer you didn’t want to give, you changed the subject slightly. “How’d you get in here anyway? I thought you said that thing limits your powers,” you gestured to the piece of tech on his arm.

    “It does,” he replied, inclining his head. “So my teleporting is limited to the boundaries of the tower. I have been forbidden to help you escape, but…” he shrugged.

    “That doesn’t stop you from being able to come in and visit.” He inclined his head again. You wondered why he hadn’t before, but it was probably to keep up the appearance that he couldn’t, since he already wasn’t really supposed to be down here. You took your seat in front of the glass. “Did you finish reading The Hobbit?” you asked him.

    “Not yet, I decided to reread the Sarah Vida series first,” he replied too casually as he took his chair on the other side of the glass. He gave you a knowing look with those words. The Sarah Vida series was the first vampire book you had recommended to him, the one that was the most accurate. He wanted answers about vampires, which is why he was bringing the book up.

    You sighed heavily. “Stubborn god. You aren’t going to let this go, are you?” you asked. He kept finding ways to circle the conversation back to what he wanted to talk about.

    “Of course not. Surely you cannot blame me considering the state you were in yesterday, little one,” he replied pleasantly. Too pleasantly. He was worried about you, for rather good reason, but still… You also knew the pleasant tone wouldn’t stay around if you didn’t give him some answers…. or if you didn’t hesitate in a more acceptable manner.

    You twined your fingers together nervously. You hated talking about or thinking about what those stupid vampires had turned you into. “Can we have this conversation after I’m out of this stupid cell and can actually do something about the situation?”

    He thought about that for a moment. You saw he wanted to press for answers, but he finally inclined his head. “Very well,” he said with a knowing smirk.

    You caught the smirk and couldn’t help your excitement that nearly had you bouncing out of the chair. “You know something?” you demanded excitedly.

    He held a finger to his lips, though his smirk widened to a proper smile. “Soon, love. Soon enough that I am willing to wait patiently for more answers until then,” so really soon. Loki was not the most patient person ever.

    “More interference?” you asked.

    “Not directly. My last bit of interference was discovered, I’m afraid, and Director Fury is most displeased with me for it. So unfortunately, I cannot pull that same trick again, since they are watching for it. However, since it has come to the team’s attention that I’m down here every day spending time with you, they have asked my opinion on the subject. Not that I believe it did any good, given my past…” his voice was bitter at the last, but also, too modest. You wondered what he’d done that he wasn’t admitting to. Still, his bitterness made you sad and there was nothing you could do about it.

    “Loki…” you said softly and placed your hand against the glass. It was all you could do.

    He gave you a warm smile, obviously touched by your concern. “Don’t fret over me, love,” he bid you warmly. “Will you answer one question for me, though?” he asked softly. You nodded, much as you hated to answer any questions about what you were. “Are you going to be alright for a couple more days?” his tone was serious, truly concerned and wanting an honest answer.

    You thought over his question carefully and you saw that he appreciated that your answer would be thought out and truthful. You knew better than to try to lie to him. He was a human-shaped lie detector after all. “If it’s an actual couple of days and not Clint’s constant promise of a couple more days, then yes, I’ll be fine,” once you were out of this stupid cell you could figure out how to acquire something proper to eat. You’d have to convince them to let you out of the tower. Or write a super embarrassing shopping list.

    That was a bridge to jump off of later.

    Right now you and Loki both jumped to your feet when you heard all of the footsteps and voices coming down the hall. You waved to Loki and darted back toward the cot. You didn’t want to get Loki in trouble for being here when he wasn’t supposed to be. Loki vanished in a shimmer of green magic as expected. You were not expecting him to reappear right next to you in the cell. You would have shrieked in surprise if he hadn’t clamped a hand over your mouth. “Shh,” he hissed in your ear. You nodded and he let you go. “That’s the entire team coming. I don’t know what they’re up to, but I dislike it, and I dislike leaving you alone to face it,”

    “Loki, go. You’ll just get in trouble for being here,” you told him softly, urgently. You wanted your friend out of danger.

    He chuckled, but obviously appreciated your concern. “Don’t fret over me, love. They won’t know I’m here unless they do something to you,” he told you. He placed his lips against your forehead with a warm smile. There was another shimmer of green magic and a little green snake was on your bed.

    “Right, shapeshifter,” you commented and lifted the pillow so he could hide under there. You sat on the bed with your book and were settled just in time to see the entire group of Avengers appear in front of your cell. You closed the book and looked up at them, wondering why they were all down here.

    “Hey, Kid,” Clint greeted you kindly. And because he was kind and liked you, Nat liked you too. You waved to them and stood from the bed, stepping toward the glass, though you heard the snake under your pillow hiss. Silly Trickster should’ve picked a better shape if he had wanted to stay with you when his brother’s idiot friends came to visit.

    “Where is Loki?” Thor asked you. He was always direct, but kind. You still hadn’t found out why he had nearly started crying the day they had brought you here. You’d have to ask Loki if he knew.

    You shrugged. “How should I know?” you asked instead of answering Thor’s question. There was no way for you to know where Loki was if he wasn’t in plain sight, at least not according to the others. If you didn’t answer the question, he couldn’t claim you were lying.

    “We needed to ask you about what happened yesterday…” Clint started. He didn’t want to ask, you saw it in his eyes.

    You were going to deny that anything happened, going to try lying to them, to protect you and Loki both, but Cap stopped you in his no nonsense way. “You drank his blood,” he told you simply.

    You sighed. “I assume there are cameras?” you asked them. You should have expected cameras. Tony nodded. You hesitated, but they were demanding answers. Needed to know how dangerous you were. “Then I’ll also assume that you saw that I was so weak from hunger that I couldn’t move?” you asked with just a touch of temper. They were really treating you unfairly. “That he had to offer multiple times, that even starved nearly to death he wasn’t in any danger, hurt in any way, or allowed to donate any more than the bare minimum to keep me… alive for lack of a better word?”

    “So it’s true? You really do need to drink blood to survive?” Clint asked hesitantly. He had deluded himself into thinking the human food was enough.

    “Trust me, I hate it just as much as you undoubtedly do,” you told them firmly. You hated what you’d become just as much as they thought you a monster. “It doesn’t mean I’m a danger to any of you, or humans in general. There are much more civilized and humane ways for vampires to get what they need than attacking humans,” you finally told them, still more grumpily than you should. They were accusing you of something that hadn’t happened. Except, you saw in their expressions that they weren’t accusing. This wasn’t an interrogation.

    Clint gave you a bright smile. “Thanks, Kid. Don’t worry, you’ll be out of here soon.” He told you kindly. You rolled your eyes. He’d been saying that for awhile. “I mean it this time. Your testimony just now and the footage should give us the last bit of leverage for Fury and SHIELD,” he explained. They actually stayed and chatted and you finally saw that though they hadn’t been around, they were all doing things to help your cause, and while the stupid glass cell sucked, you were partially here because it was safely underground. It still sucked, but the entire team promised it was just a few more days.

    “If you see Loki, would you kindly tell him I wish to see him?” Thor asked as they were all leaving. You promised that you would.

    Loki turned back to normal once they were all gone. He turned to you and grabbed your upper arms in a vice-like grip as he held you up on your tip-toes, forcing you to look at him. “Loki!” you protested, wondering what was wrong to make him so angry like this. “What is it? Put me down and talk to me,” you told him urgently. You squirmed, but his grip was tight and you were nowhere near up to full strength with only one small blood donation. Already the strength from the blood he had given you was fading.

    “What do you mean ‘bare minimum to keep you alive’?” he snarled. “You said you were ok,” he added, hurt and upset, thinking you’d somehow lied to him.

    “I said I’d be ok for a couple of days,” you reminded him with tears in your eyes. You hadn’t lied. You were careful in your wording. “Do you know how much I hated even taking that much of your blood, of anyone’s? I hate what I am and what I have to do to survive. You’re my friend and you never should have seen that side of me,” you told him, desperate for him to understand.

    “You’re the only one here who is remotely pleasant to me, and… my friend,” he told you firmly, though the word sounded foreign, or maybe like it wasn’t strong enough, but that couldn’t possibly be. “You’ve been here for months, why didn’t you tell me they were starving you to death, why not them?” he demanded, hurt that this had happened.

    “I didn’t want you to worry, and they already think I’m a monster without them seeing me drink blood straight from the vein like a heathen,” you told him. One of the many reasons you’d hated the vampires who had stolen you away. They ate humans and not volunteers either. “And it was only a couple more days, followed by-”

    “A couple more days,” he finished. He sighed and lowered you back onto your feet and wrapped you tightly in a hug. You sagged against him and laid your head on his chest. “Please, love, let me know what I can do to help you,” you looked up at him, hesitant, afraid of breaking your friendship.

    “You won’t think less of me?” you asked him softly.

    “Not a bit. You’re the strongest, most intelligent, and wonderful, caring, gorgeous lady I have ever met. You’re not a monster, and I won’t think less of you, I swear it,” he told you. You flushed under all of that praise and more-than-friendly compliments.

    You should have known better, but you finally nodded. “Alright…” you said softly. “I can’t summon things from here…” you started and sat on the cot. Your powers were drained too.

    “Just ask,” he told you gently and sat next to you. It had taken you forever to be comfortable enough in your friendship to ask him to get you books from the library upstairs. Asking him to use magic on your behalf was even harder. Especially when you had power of your own, but just not enough right now.

    “C-can you get a glass of red wine?” you asked softly, nervously. He didn’t ask why, didn’t ask questions, the glass just appeared in your hands. “You promise you don’t mind?” you asked him one more time.

    He rolled his eyes. “Y/N…” you were stalling, nervous, and didn’t want to ruin your friendship over something like stabbing him.

    “Do you have something sharp?” He always had daggers and one appeared in his hand. You took it from him and took his cold hand. “I’m sorry,” you told him softly and sliced his finger carefully. “I’m sorry!” you told him again at his soft hiss of pain.

    “It’s fine,” he reassured you as you flipped his hand over and let the wound drip blood into your glass of wine. It took a moment to get a proper concentration of blood in the wine. It wasn’t terribly much. When you had, you lifted his hand and licked his finger, closing the wound with vampiric power, just as you had before. “That’s it?” he asked dubiously. You had made a big deal out of a little blood in a glass of wine. He was expecting something bigger, more impressive.  You’d also taken less blood than you’d typically use for this.

    You nodded and summoned a little tongue of flame to heat the liquid in the glass. “It’s not the best Yarbarah, blood wine,” you clarified at his confused expression. “I’ve ever made, it’s better with mulled wine, but with limited means,” you shrugged and vanished your little flame.

    “Care to explain?” he asked, gesturing to the glass of wine you were sheepishly sipping on now that it was the proper temperature.

    “Civilized vampires drink Yarbarah, a glass every night. That and a shot-glass or so sized glass of undiluted blood once a month is usually enough to keep a vampire happy and healthy. It doesn’t have to be human blood either, animal also works,” you explained softly. You hated talking about vampire eating habits, but it seemed important to him to know. You peeked up at him, but he didn’t seem concerned or disgusted by what you’d told him, or what you were currently drinking. He was thinking over what you’d said and explained.

    “Oh, I was supposed to tell you that Thor’s looking for you,” you told him with a grin, hoping that he didn’t notice that your fangs were visible when you grinned. It happened, especially when you were actively drinking blood. He laughed, he had been in the room when Thor had made that request.

    “So I heard. I’ll go find him when you’ve finished that,” he gestured to the glass of wine. He’d make sure the wine glass vanished too so the others wouldn’t question it yet. You’d have to reexplain all of this later, but he’d help you now. So you sipped on your glass of wine and he told you old embarrassing stories about Thor. The glass vanished when it was empty. Loki stood from the cot and you joined him.

    “Thank you, for everything,” you told him softly, touched that he cared. He smiled and lifted your hand to bow over it and kiss your knuckles.

    “It is no trouble, love. No trouble at all for a dear…friend,” there was that hesitation again, was he so unused to having a friend? Or something else? He kissed your forehead. “Soon, love, I swear it,”

    “I know. Thank you again,”

    He gave you a warm smile and vanished in a shimmer of green magic.

    *

    Loki returned again the next day, materializing directly in your cell. “Sorry, love. I can’t stay long. My idiot brother is being more moronic than usual,” he looked truly apologetic.

    “It’s alright. You’re not exactly allowed to be down here,” you reminded him as you went over to him and only barely kept yourself from hugging him, unsure if it would be welcome. He seemed so reserved most of the time, except when he was initiating things like kissing your forehead. You still weren’t sure, though. Maybe you’d pluck up the courage before he left this time. He smiled and shrugged.

    “I don’t mind a little trouble, and no one minds that I’ve been keeping you company. I am supposed to be helping out the team in penance after all,” he told you with a grin. He considered you part of the team. He waved his hand and a new book and a glass of wine appeared on the little table beside the cell door.

    “Is that-?” you asked, looking at the glass of wine. He grinned, pleased by your response.

    “Of course it is,” he replied warmly, smirking too innocently. He’d thought this little surprise out. Of course he had, silly Trickster.

    “Loki, you shouldn’t have!” you protested, surprised by his thoughtfulness, and surprised that he would make the Yarbarah for you, and you knew exactly whose blood he had used for it: his. You could also smell from where you were standing that he’d even been listening when you’d told him it was better with mulled wine, since that what it was made with. You hadn’t meant or expected him to make you Yarbarah. He chuckled at your surprise and looked pleased with himself.

    “It was no trouble, love, but I really do have to go,”

    You stood up on your toes to kiss his cheek, surprising the god in return. “Thank you,” you told him softly.

    “You’re welcome, little one.” He vanished in a shimmer of green magic.

    *

    At Loki’s next appearance he walked up to the cell. “Hello, love,” he greeted you warmly as you jumped to your feet.

    “Hi, Loki,” you replied brightly.

    “I have something for you,” he told you with a Cheshire cat grin.

    “And what would that be, silly Trickster?” you asked with a smirk. He was up to something and having too much fun about whatever it is. He held up a hand and from his long fingers dangled a set of keys. Your eyes lit up in excitement. “Finally?” you asked, too excited.

    “Yes, finally,” he replied and opened the cell door. You rushed out of that stupid cell and wrapped your arms around Loki’s neck. He stiffened in surprise, but chuckled, your excitement and happiness infectious, and his arms circled around you. “Come on, love, let me show you around. There are only a couple of floors that have been set up for you, but Stark is working on more,”

    You let him go and took a step back, flushing a little at your impromptu hug. You were just excited, and he was a friend. “What do you mean set up for me?” you asked him curiously. He just smiled and gestured down the hall.

    “You’ll see,” he replied with a hint of mischief. Silly Trickster liked his surprises. At least they were all pleasant surprises so far. He led you down the hall to the elevator.

    “What time is it?” you asked him nervously as he pushed the button. You’d lost track of days and times, but it felt like it was daytime.

    “Noon,” he replied. “I know, you should be asleep at this hour, but I wanted to make sure you knew what I meant by ‘set up for you’,” he explained with a teasing smile.

    “You’re incorrigible,” you informed him and stuck your tongue out at him. He chuckled. You stepped into the elevator with him and watched as he pushed one of the buttons. The elevator started to rise out from underground level that the cells were on. You realized when the elevator broke the surface that the walls were glass, and faced the outside. “Loki-” your voice was scared as you stepped backwards toward the doors and away from the light to hide from it for as long as you could.

    “I know, love,” he told you and pulled you to him, shielding you from the light with his body. “Shut your eyes,” he added gently, even though his hand was on the back of your head, holding your face against his chest. You did as he told you, trusting your friend. “It’s just for a moment,” he promised. You tried not to notice as you were pressed safely against his chest, how muscled he was, or how good he smelled. The elevator doors opened and Loki turned you and steered you through the doors. “It’s safe now,” he told you warmly, his voice an amused whisper in your ear. You opened your eyes and shrank back into him. The walls were full of huge windows and the room was light, so very light. Loki chuckled and held you firmly. “It’s alright, love,” he told you kindly.

    The light didn’t hurt, you realized when your brain got past terror. You stepped out of his arms and into the middle of the bright living room and its many couches and huge TV. “I don’t understand,” you told him, looking in awe at the natural light on your skin. Indoor lighting didn’t bother you, but sunlight…

    “Stark had all of the windows replaced on this floor and the floor your rooms are on with these special windows that let in the light, but not the… UV rays? I apologize that I cannot explain it more clearly, we don’t have the concept on Asgard,” he explained. “Regardless, this floor and your rooms are safe for you according to Stark, and it appears he was correct. The elevator is next on the list,” he added quickly. “You don’t have to fear the sun here, love,” he told you warmly.

    “I-I can’t believe it,” you told him and went to one of the windows. Loki followed, amused by your reaction. “I haven’t seen the sun properly in years,” you told him a little sheepishly.

    “It’s wonderful to see you happy,” he told you warmly. “This is the living room,” he told you, drawing your attention away from the windows. He showed you the rest of the rooms on the floor, mostly a dining room and huge kitchen. There was also a small medical bay. You would have kept staring at the sun, but hid one too many yawns behind your hand. Loki chuckled and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “Come along, love. It’s well past bedtime for sleepy vampires,” he told you warmly and steered you back toward the elevator. He again shielded you from the sun with his body in the elevator and promised that Stark was fixing the windows soon for you. He steered you down the hallway when the doors opened again, and pretended he didn’t notice your head on his chest as his arm was around you. The sun was shining through the windows on this floor too, but again, they didn’t hurt and you couldn’t help smiling like an idiot about it. He opened a door just down the hall. “These rooms are yours. Get some sleep,” he bid you warmly. “I shouldn’t have brought you up so early, but I wanted to make sure you knew you’re safe here,”

    “Thank you, Loki,” you told him brightly, then thought of something. “Where do you live?” you asked, wondering if you were going to have to wait until nightfall to find your friend. He gestured to a door across the hall.

    “Right there. I’ll be around if you need me,” he told you and kissed your forehead. “Off to bed with you, little one,”

    “Goodnight, Loki.” He smirked at your choice of farewell. You kissed his cheek in thanks for everything and as a properly, purely friendly and nothing more farewell, and slipped into your room, closing the door gently behind you. You found the bed and nearly fell into it, passing out as soon as your head hit the pillow. Loki was right, it was well past bedtime for sleepy vampires.

#Loki #Lover #Imagine #Submitted fic #submission #monsters and magic #chapter 3 #nekoamamori

[sylvieusedhyperbeam]

annnd hacking away in my own little corner

just.  casually hammering away on my own Villainous AU don’t mind me folks.

AU isn’t really titled yet so for now i’m’a just call it ‘Virtuous’.  idk i’ll think of something better.  if there’s an AU out there called Virtuous already then i’ll work faster to think of something better and change it.  for now i’ll... just have to ask you to be patient.  :I;;

White Hat

Not much different from other White Hats of various other AUs, though the backstory/origin is different.  As a youngling incarnation, he was an embodiment of good that went about the multiverse to keep things in balance against the Chaos, which his fuckhead ‘bro’ Black Hat embodies, respectively. 

Used to be a lot more erratic and somewhat violent in this purpose, since in those first few early millions/billions of years, he operated a lot more around instinct than reason or logic.  He was a force that didn’t really have a chance to... think about what he was doing.  In other words, yeah, in those early ages of the multiverse he saw things in very black-and-white terms and he and Black Hat caused some shit for some worlds.

Of course, he does know better now and has developed a much more refined, intelligent response to evil and malevolence.  And nowadays, rather than a mansion of splendor and indulgence, he lives in what some might describe as a white and turquoise airship that comes down to base to settle every now and then, lending it the appearance of a mansion. 

He runs a business similar to Black Hat’s, where he gives heroes that serve the Light shields, cures, elixirs, all the stuff they need to help balance the multiverse and drive back the Chaos.  He doesn’t do it for money, of course, though heroes ARE inclined to give him some generous donations because ‘eeeey, airships that sail the multiverse don’t keep themselves in repair, not without White Hat seriously taxing his reserves, anyway.

These days he’s very polite, as well as far kinder, more compassionate than he was in his early days.  He’s also a huge dork with a soft spot for antiques who loves learning about the cultures and shit of other worlds, since even as old as he is, new worlds emerge in the multiverse all the time and so he feels very humbled by it all and seeks to always learn more!  Loves gardening, loves cooking, loves art, loves anything involving the act of creation or bringing harmony, really.  Also really loves singing, and his singing voice is very soothing, pleasant, with the inherent ability to help ease away sadness or anxiety. 

Standard design for him might be like any standard White Hat, though I’m contemplating teal on him instead of blue.  :|a  HMMM.

Doctor Trug

To answer potential questions, roughly translated, trug can mean a lot of things.  One of which includes ‘deception, swindle, elusiveness’, meaning yeah, Trug was basically a conman alchemist who worked his way up to a professional thief of many talents.  Being well versed in both dark magic and evil sciences as well as being manipulative as shit, he served the Chaos and sought to undermine the Light as a more direct agent.  How he managed to get the direct attention of the eviler Embodiments, well slap my ass and call me Betty, that’s anyone’s guess.

Buuuut a mission gone wrong with an attempt on the life of an early Embodiment kinda found him facing some hard-ass time in a multiversal prison.  Which... yeah, a questionably normal human facing time in THIS particular prison, it was bound to be a preeeeetty bad time.  Because you don’t wanna end up at in a multiversal prison.  You really don’t.

Until of course White Hat intervened and opted to ‘rehabilitate’ him, and seeing a chance out of serving time at Holy Shit Eldritch Horror Sing-Sing, Trug of course ‘jumped’ on the chance and played it up all ‘OH THANK YOU SIR WOW SIR SUCH MERCY SIR’ thinking ‘wow what a fucking sucker’.  He assumed that working for White Hat would be simple enough if he just played on White Hat’s kindness but... yeah, it’s a hell of a lot more taxing than he originally thought it would be.  TEEHEE.

Anyway, Trug is rude as shit and looks out for number one.  He’s an ambitious motherfucker though, with a really solid work ethic based mostly around prideful standards he holds himself to whenever he’s researching a cure or a counteraction to a villain’s bullshit.  He thinks nothing of experimenting on human beings or using dark magic for his own means, but White Hat forbids it on all counts, and well... talented as he might be, Trug isn’t stupid and knows better than to try going toe to toe with an Embodiment. 

He can also be very manipulative when he wants to be, and often is for either something he wants or just for the hell of it.  He’s the kind of asshole who will literally argue that the sky is green just for the sake of arguing, if he’s bored enough.  He hates people, for the most part, though he does enjoy people-watching to an extent and making up bullshit backstories about them (if you’ve ever seen Always Sunny in Philadelphia, you get my meaning here). 

Don’t really have a design in mind for him yet.  LMAO i act is if though i’ll actually draw them, or that i actually CAN draw for that matter.

Gemencia    

A very peppy young girl with a few magical abilities, in lieu of the more physical/likely genetically mutated abilities of her respective counterpart.  Gemencia is a girl who can utilize telekinesis, as well as low-grade stasis fields that can freeze people or objects in place for a short time, about ten or fifteen seconds or so.  How she does this, well, she can’t say even she knows.  She doesn’t really remember much about her own backstory, just that she kinda-sorta raised herself in the more nature/magic based world she came from before she decided to become a treasure hunter.

And BOY HOWDY does she love treasure hunting.  Like, the girl is GOOD GOD unafraid of anything on so many levels, so she often tends to do crazy parkour shit on the face of rocky mountains, pick fights with people ten times her size, annnnd maybe do a whole mess of shit without really thinking.  She tries to do RIGHT by people, don’t get me wrong, but if the rules look like they need bending or broken?  She’ll bend ‘em a little.  Or a break ‘em.  A lot.  And not give any shits.

Her impulsive love for adventure and helping people in her own crazy way eventually led her to hear tales of the Embodiments, super eldritch beings that maintained the balance of a neat nifty thing called the multiverse, and instantly became determined to see it all for herself.  Loving to do things for people and help people, of course she wanted to seek out the Light Embodiments and become the most awesome treasure-hunting hero the multiverse had ever seen.

SO!  Seeking out White Hat to be her teacher seemed as logical an action as any!

With the help of some magic users who showed her how to travel to other worlds, she kinda world-hopped and bummed around for a while in search of White Hat until she finally found him, when his airship settled in the same world she was in by pure chance. 

She just... kinda started following him around.  And when he got back to his airship one day he just sorta found her there, where she was all ‘HEY ‘SUP I’M STAYING HERE NOW LOOK I BROUGHT CHIPS :D’ and White Hat just kinda... sighed and rolled with it.

Gemencia loves, loves, LOVES spontaneity.  She’s a wanderer at heart, and loves seeing what entire worlds have to offer.  She loves a good brawl every now and then, cartoons, hard hitting punk rock music, collecting artifacts and treasures, and has a refined interest in mythology and lore that might surprise people who don’t know her very well.  As a treasure hunter, she’s been inside old temples, ruins, torn palaces, catacombs, all things that have exciting stories of old war and battles and ancient evils falling at the hands of ‘super TOTALLY badass’ heroes, and it’s from these legends that she became inspired to strike out on her own and become ‘THE MOST SUPER BADASS HERO’ that ever hero’d. 

Not above swearing, indulging (be it huge meals or drinking), or pulling dangerous/impulsive stunts though when White Hat doesn’t keep her in line.  If you befriend her, you have a fiercely loyal buddy for life who will fuck others UP if they try to mess with you, but be warned that you’ll be getting dragged along for a few... adventures when the mood strikes her.   

Her design includes light blue hair, and rather than a lizard hat, she has a big-ass fox hat with long fox-styled hair.  :U  I chose this because foxes are natural foragers, known for leaping to literally pounce into the ground to find their prey.  Gemencia is about the same as a treasure hunter, known to leap right into things in search of the various rare jewels and treasures and ‘OOOH NEAT’ artifacts that she kinda hoards away even if she doesn’t know WTF they even do.  Also tends to wear orange and black stripes, in lieu of Dementia’s magenta.  :T 

EDIT you all thought i forgot 505′s counterpart didn’t you?  ....well you’re half right.  i half-forgot, half-okay-what-the-hell-am-i-doing.  but anyway, here we go!

404

404 was originally an animatronic for a family restaurant - no not THAT one this ain’t a FNAF crossover get that shit outta here.  He was a regular animatronic up until Trug decided it would be super funny and edgelordy to reprogram it to not only frighten kids, but hell, rob the restaurant’s safe during closing hours and bring him the loot.  The restaurant owners kinda pitched him, Trug took him, and installed a few more fun TRICKS on him while he was at it to make him a better partner-in-crime.  Because why not, it would be a waste of perfectly good machinery otherwise.

Of course, it began smoothly enough at first... until 404′s AI kiiinda-sorta gained sentience.  After that point, he became lazy, grouchy, and at times outright refused to obey Trug’s orders on the grounds of ‘I don’t feel like it fuck you’. 

Trug deactivated him and decided to use him for spare parts, but kinda never got around to disassembling him.  When White Hat took on commuting Trug’s sentence, the two traveled to Trug’s hideout so that Trug could pack in order to feel as comfortable as possible while out traveling the multiverse with White Hat.  White Hat took notice of the big cuddly looking bear and whoops reactivated him, and then promptly forbade Trug from deactivating him again because LOOK AT HIM ALL HE NEEDS IS LOVE.

Trug wishes 404 would rip White Hat’s leg off and beat the shit out of him with it.

404 won’t do it out of pure spite.

Anyway, 404 contrasts 505 by way of being pessimistic, coldly logical, seeing no point in frivolities and only wishing to lie around all day and eat.  Thanks to Trug’s alterations, he does have nifty things like heat sensors, night vision, and even a vehicular mode where he can turn into a small car for quick escapes, but good luck getting him to actually use a single one of these things without bribing him with honey. 

He also contrasts 505 by being... well, mechanical, instead of organic. 

404′s design consists of purple fur, and atop his head is a little satellite dish instead of a flower.  His eyes are big red iris shutters, the kind you see on camera app logos, with a yellow center.

#villainous #villainous au #i told you fuckers i was a sucker for AUs #but you didn't believe me #WHY DIDN'T YOU BELIEVE ME #white hat #i might write from THIS au from now on just a heads up

[soulstream-rp]

HAZEL MARGARET PETERS | SEVENTEEN | MEDIUM | “HERETIC”

DATE & PLACE OF BIRTH: October 16, 1999 / Washington, USA SEXUALITY: Asexual OCCUPATION: Unemployed FC: Maia Mitchell CLOSED

BACKGROUND:

Hazel’s mother, Maggie, had always been angry that she had been born without the gift, a rarity in her long family line. Instead, Maggie resorted to giving fake tarot readings to tourists. Her boyfriend had left her when he found out she was pregnant, which only made things worse when she discovered that she was having twins. But all that changed when Hazel and Silas were born. Even without her gift, Maggie could tell that Silas was powerful, and decided almost immediately that he was destined for greatness. She became fixated on him, leaving Hazel to be raised by their grandfather, Thaddeus. He took up the job of taking care of the twins while Maggie worked, and, when she was old enough, started teaching Hazel magic. She took readily to the art, and It wasn’t long before she started started casting spells of her own. Despite their separation and their differences, the twins grew close. The two would explore their father’s shop of magical items or play pretend with the old spell books until Maggie was done doing readings for the day. They were too young to understand why their mother always seemed to favor Silas, but Hazel never resented him for it; her grandfather gave her just as much attention as her mother gave Silas. However, as much as Hazel loved her grandfather, she wanted desperately to be accepted by her mother. Maggie was always more focused on Silas, especially after he was diagnosed with leukemia when he and Hazel were 5.

The diagnosis was a blow to the whole family. Since the disease made him vulnerable to other types of infection, Silas was confined to his mother’s apartment, and Hazel had to move in with her grandfather. The few times Hazel was allowed to see her brother was at the hospital, when she was being tested to see if she could donate to Silas. As far as Hazel was concerned, her mother was just taking away one of her few friends, and her own resentment towards Maggie grew. The strain between mother and daughter grew as Silas got worse, finally coming to a head a year after the diagnosis. Desperate to save her son, Maggie turned to the dark arts. Against Thaddeus’s warning, she tried to perform a spell to exchange Hazel’s life for Silas’. The spell backfired and, as Hazel watched, horrified, it consumed Maggie. It nearly consumed Hazel too, but Thaddeus intervened and managed to contain the spell before Hazel was taken completely, although she was left very weak. The town was quick to discover what Maggie had done, and whether or not the townsfolk believed the story, the entire Peters family was shunned. Hazel’s life outside of her grandfather’s shop became a nightmare; humans called her a witch, and tuners and mediums tried to prove that she was just as bad as her mother. On top of that, Hazel began seeing things; spirits, shadows following everywhere she went. Her grandfather was quick to realize what had happened. When her mother’s spell tried to take Hazel, it had opened her senses to the Flow, making her a medium like her brother. With the mounting pressure of being treated like outsiders, plus Hazel’s newfound abilities and her weakened state, Thaddeus eventually pulled her out of school and taught her and Silas himself. A few months later, Thaddeus decided to leave Ilwaco. He and the twins headed north, eventually settling in the town of Port Ashborne. The rumors and tales of Hazel’s mother followed the family, but to the new town, they were just that: rumors and tales.

As Hazel got older, she became more and more independent.  On top of honing her connection with the Flow and the magical arts, she was given more responsibility in the shop. Thaddeus was getting older and at the same time, he considered it his duty to help Silas master his own, unique gifts. By that time, the family had discovered that Silas was a Tuner, and a powerful one at that. Training him to use his gifts became all the more important to Thaddeus. Left to her own devices, Hazel began to delve deeper into magic and its connection with the flow. She became interested in Anathema, and she saw it as something to be studied, not shunned, by the spiritual community.. Thaddeus warily encouraged her studies, but other Tuners started keeping a watchful eye on her, even though she swore not to practice the forbidden arts. Since she was still Silas’ twin, she was often in and out of the hospital with him, giving blood or whatever else he needed. Silas was still, for the most part, confined to the apartment, so Hazel also became responsible for connecting him as much as possible through the outside world. She accomplished this through drawings; drawings of places, of animals, of people. And for every drawing, there was a story to go with it. Some were real and some were made up, but each one gave the twins a connection to each other and to the outside world.

Hazel’s medium ability stemmed from her experience with her mother’s spell; when it backfired, her exposure to the stream enhanced her abilities.

Due to her homeschooling, Hazel is actually ahead of most students her age, and she’s gotten a couple college offers, all of which she’s turned down.

FAMILY: Thaddeus Michael Peters (grandfather) Margaret Grace Peters (mother/deceased) Silas Anthony Peters (twin brother)

CONNECTIONS: 

Silas Anthony Peters (twin brother): Even though Hazel doesn’t resent her brother for the way their mother acted, she’s still a little bitter about him being a tuner. In the back of her mind, she’s envious of Silas’ abilities, and part of her wishes that she was the Tuner. All this makes her guilty about the way things turned out, especially since she knows that Silas didn’t ask for things to turn out the way they did.

PERSONALITY

Hazel isn’t a talkative girl, but she isn’t shy. More often than not, she’s simply lost in thought. Her head is constantly full of stories and drawings, although she’s reluctant to share her work with strangers. When she wants to be, she is friendly, although her experiences with how mean people can be has closed her off somewhat. Thanks to her gifts, she’s more likely to be found chatting with ghosts than humans. She is also incredibly loyal to her family. Despite what her mother did, she is willing to defend herself and her family name to the end. More than once, she has gotten into fights over a nasty remark behind her back or a wrong look towards her brother. She is not afraid to stand up for others too, but only if she thinks it is a cause worth fighting. At her core, she’s an artist. She loves to create, and tries to find something beautiful or unique in everything.

SKILLS:

Although she is not as strong as her Tuner brother, Hazel is still a powerful medium. She can interact with spirits without trouble. Her strong mediumship also means that she is especially vulnerable to possession and is likely to draw attention of spirits with ill-intent.

Being almost consumed by a forbidden spell left permanent damages to her. Her heart cannot endure excessive physical activities. Her immune system is weaker than average and thus, caution is required. 

From her long family tradition, Hazel practices Nature Magic, one of the older branches of magic. Using elements of nature as a base for their spells, this branch emphasizes the ideals of natural harmony and balance. Spells and rituals often involve natural ingredients such as plants or one of the elements, and are strongest when performed in a natural setting. In certain cases, spells can also be cast through specific gestures or chants, although these are weaker and temporary. The caster's life-force is channeled through the ritual, combining with it to manifest. Nature magic is one of the safer branches, if it is used appropriately.

She is an incredible artist, and she has a knack for making up stories about the people she draws. She also enjoys playing the guitar, though not usually in public.

#maia mitchell fc #rp #ghost rp #magic rp #supernatural rp #sost:bio #sost:oc

[footloosewithkhyatitushar]

Judaism- A Monotheistic Faith and its presence in Ahmedabad

Prologue

The Metropolitan Opera, or simply ‘The Met’ at Manhattan, NY brings for its audience some of the finest operas. Its productions are lavish and experimentations in terms of narratives, themes and compositions is wide enough to encourage both creativity of artists as well as sustain spectator interest. What is more, for audiences who cannot travel to NY, like me, there are HD productions, which are broadcast live to over 2200 cities globally. In Mumbai, the Godrej Dance Theatre in the NCPA Complex is one such theatre where HD Live screenings of the Met can be experienced. Last month there was one such HD live screening at the Godrej Theatre on 11th January,of ‘Akhnaten’ , an unusual story for an Opera written by Peter Glass .Jatan, my son, who was visiting us on his annual break and I grabbed the opportunity to experience this acclaimed Peter Glass opera.

Being at such a show at the Godrej is in itself a very different feeling- one is surrounded by the vintage charm of Parsi audience; with a few odd spattering of younger persons or persons from creative fields like theatre or media. One may also spot veteran columnists like Bachi Kakaria whom you see at close quarters while sipping cold coffee served in wine glasses before the show or during intermission breaks. But I am digressing…

Akhnaten begins at Year 1 with the funeral of Amenhotep III, leading to the coronation of Akhnaten. At the Window of Appearances, the Pharaoh reveals his intentions to form a monotheistic religion. Akhnaten and Queen Tye begin to make the changes that he has promised. In Year 17, Akhnaten and his wife,Nefertiti dwell in an insular world of their own creation with their six daughters. The priests of Amon emerge from the gathering crowds and break through the palace doors. Queen Tye and Nefertiti are also separated from Akhnaten, who is finally killed. Meanwhile the new Pharaoh, the young Tutankhamen, is crowned in a ceremony similar to that of his father, and the old polytheistic religion is restored.

Source: https://www.ncpamumbai.com/event/akhnaten

Unlike most classical operas that are either sung in Italian or were written by Italian/German composers and therefore the language may become a barrier to enjoyment at times. Which made Akhnaten quite different- The Arias are from original texts ( 3000 years or older Egyptian texts), Biblical Hebrew and a poem penned by Akhanaten himself! And all these are linked together with the commentary of a narrator in modern language! I particularly enjoyed the singing by Anthony Roth Costanzo who played the role of Akhnaten. He is a Counter Tenor- the male equivalent of a Mezzo Soprano, whose voice added to the authenticity of a narrative pertaining to an earliest civilization; which incidentally is being pieced together after discovery of the tomb of Tutankhamen only in the early 20th century. Tutankhamen ( King Tut), incidentally succeeded Akhanten as the Pharoh in ancient Egypt!

Monotheist Beliefs- Ancient and not so ancient

About 1300 years before Christ, Akhnaten, the Pharaoh, had taken the ancient civilization by storm by establishing a new system of belief in only one god- the Sun God Aten. The establishment, being the priests at the Temple, put him to death and branded him as a heretic.

In retrospect, he must have been a bold thinker. For it took more than another millennium for monotheism as we know today to take birth – ironically in the same holy city of Jerusalem. Judaism, Christianity and Islam all took birth almost at the same time and all are widely practiced forms of monotheism that we know today. Is Hinduism monotheist? Hinduism is both monotheistic and henotheistic. Hinduism is not polytheistic. Henotheism (literally “one God”) better defines the Hindu view. It means the worship of one God without denying the existence of other Gods.

Source: https://www.google.com/search?q=monotheism&oq=Monotheism&aqs=chrome.0.0l8.4430j1j8&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8

Amongst the monotheist faiths, Judaism, for whatever the reason, cropped up during our conversation , as Jatan and I drove back from the Godrej Theatre on Mumbai’s southern tip to our home in suburban North Mumbai. He mentioned that one of his fellow grad students at Brown had inquired of him, when he told her that he had done his secondary school education at Ahmedabad, whether he knew about a Synagogue at Ahmedabad. He looked at me for a quick dispersible knowledge pill, but I too was blank on the subject. So we parked the matter and decided to deep dive into the matter during our visit to Ahmedabad which was scheduled a couple of days later. Until then I goggled and reinforced my fundas as follows:

Judaism is characterized by a belief in one transcendent God who revealed himself to Abraham, Moses, and the Hebrew prophets and by a religious life in accordance with Scriptures and rabbinic traditions. The three main beliefs at the center of Judaism are Monotheism, Identity, and covenant (love of God). The most important teaching of Judaism is that there is one God, who wants people to do what is just and compassionate.

Beni Israel Jews in Bombay Presidency- Jews who settled around Alibag in Maharashtra were nicknamed the shanivār telī ("Saturday oil-pressers") by the local population as they abstained from work on Saturdays. Some families later migrated to Ahmedabad around 1840.

Exploring Ahmedabad’s connect with Judaism

 It was finally in the morning of 19th January; on the very last day of our one week stay at Ahmedabad that Jatan and I dashed down to the walled city area of Ahmedabad to see for ourselves the Synagogue of Ahmedabad. Located in a neighbourhood of  Bukhari Mohalla near Khamasa Gate in the old walled city , its only about a kilometer away after one crosses the Ellisbridge over the Sabarmati river from West bank. You take the Astodia Road and take a left after the I P Mission School, run by the Indian Presbyterian Church. Its best to get off your car/ auto rickshaw at the junction because the whole street is full of vendors who squat on footpaths on either side hawking their wares, while the eager clients take up over half of the street. And there is the magnificent edifice of the Synagogue, diagonally opposite an equally imposing Fire Temple called an ‘Agiyari’ by the Parsis who follow the Zorastrian faith. The location of  the Synagogue is notable for being in close proximity to other houses of prayer, including a Hindu temple, mosque, church and the Agiyari that I just mentioned. This rare neighborhood of many religious places of worship attests to Ahmedabad’s many years of multiethnic culture and diversity.

Magen Abraham Synagogue, Khamasa, Ahmedabad

The synagogue’s symmetrical façade, finished in chunam (a plaster of polished shale lime and sand), consists of two square piers or pylons each with a pair of tall and narrow windows  

Some vital statistics:

Construction Start date- 19th October 1933

Architects:  Daniel Samson and Ellis Abraham Bhinjekar

Construction Contractor: D V Patel

Consecration Date : 2nd September 1934.

 One had to make way through the mid-morning crowd of eager customers, the hawker and his wares (mostly ready made garments) to reach a firmly latched iron gate in the centre of an equally high wall that ran across in front of the Synagogue. A sign outside the Synagogue read that on a Sunday the timings were 11 am to noon.  We had reached at the correct time and were wondering looking for a doorbell or something to summon someone to let us in. A helpful bystander advised us to call ”Johnnybhai”. We did say the magic word once or twice and were soon actually accosted by Johnnybhai! A middle aged, who seemed mildly irked by our unsolicited presence asked us for identity proof. He wasn’t satisfied with seeing the proof. He wanted a photocopy for records. We quickly ran to a photocopying booth located two lanes away and again hailed Johnnybhai, who did not seem to have bothered to even throw a cursory glance at the document. Instead he signaled us towards another gate in a by lane which opened into a courtyard. The courtyard itself was, to our utter amazement a State Reserve Police outpost! Not going towards their camp, but instead veering to our right past a clothesline on which hung the morning laundry, still dripping wet, unto the side entrance. Once we were assured of the entry into the prayer hall after removing our footwear, our heartbeats became gentler as our anxiety receded and curiosity took over!

The galleries for ladies are supported without pillars, merely on brackets and protected by a period guardrail.

 Johnnybhai, who actually revealed his full name as Johnny Pingle, opened the huge wooden doors and ushered us into the Synagogue.

During our interesting conversation that followed, Johnnybhai informed us that there are only about 147 Jewish families living in Ahmedabad today. Among his own children, he has a daughter who has married a person of Jewish faith and resides at Ahmedabad; while his son is a teacher by profession. Forefathers of the entire Ahmedabad Jewish population are from the Bene Israel (Children of Israel) sect who arrived to Ahmedabad in 1848, migrating from Konkan region of today’s Maharashtra. It was about 50 years later that Dr Solomon Abraham Erulkar, who was Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi’s personal physician, made a generous donation so that their community could have a proper synagogue. In honor of Dr. Solomon Erulkar’s father Abraham, who had been involved in the formation of the congregation a generation earlier, the synagogue was given the name Magen Abraham, which in Hebrew translates as Shield of Abraham. This was the only synagogue in the northern part of India until Judah Hyam Prayer Hall in New Delhi was constructed in 1956.

Johnnybhai, who uses the space to tutor young children, gave us an insight to some of the features of the Magen Abraham, which is constructed in the ‘Art Deco’ style,  so popular in Europe in 1920s.  The ornate ceiling in plaster of paris, the twelve fans, hanging lights, etc have been preserved and looked after all these years by the small community of Jews. The lights in the menorah have been replaced by local supplies, since the original made by Philips and imported from Netherlands have long been phased out of production!

 The Hanukkah menorah , a nine-stemmed candelabrum (eight flames plus one “helper candle,” known as a Shamash. ) used on that holiday. Distinct from the seven-candled menorah used in the ancient temple in Jerusalem, the hannukiyah symbolizes the miracle of the holiday, when an amount of oil suitable for one day of light burned for eight days.

 The central feature of any synagogue is its Aron Hakodesh (Holy Ark also called Heckal)  which is used for storing the ‘torah’ scrolls.

Tebah  (‘bimah’/raised platform with a reader’s table for the Torah scrolls)  in the centre of the prayer hall flanked on either side by the free standing benches.

Adjacent to the heckal are two special chairs: one for the prophet Elijah, and the other for the brit mila, or circumcision ceremony.

 Johnnybhai also explained to us two other features at Magen Abraham as follows:

Mezuzah

A small box containing verses from the Torah written on parchment, affixed to the right doorpost of the entrance door that is a standard feature in all Jewish homes too.It often displays the Hebrew letter, Shin, the first letter of one of God’s names.

Later I googled and learnt that the practice of affixing a mezuzah derives from Deuteronomy (6:9):

“And you shall inscribe them on the doorposts (mezuzot) of our house and on your gates.”

One can get more fascinating details about Magen Abraham by following this link:

http://indianjews.org/en/research/jewish-sites-in-india/49-magen-abraham-synagogue

  We were curious to see what was inside the Ark. Johhnybhai, who by now was conversing with us in his native Marathi, smiled and told us that their religious practice dictates that the torah scrolls can be accessed only if at least 10 learned Jews who have been ordained with bar-mitzwah are present. So while the community assembles on Sabbath (Saturday) at Magen Abraham, it is difficult for them to perform all rites and observe all traditions as prescribed in the Commandments.

On Shabbat, the weekly Torah reading is divided into seven sections and the honor of making a special blessing before and after the chanting of each section is distributed to different people in the congregation.

In "2009", Magen Abraham celebrated its platinum jubilee, and a gala event was held at the synagogue marking this achievement. As part of this momentous occasion, government authorities issued commemorative postage envelopes highlighted with the insignia of the synagogue.

Epilogue

Among the several forwards that we forward on Whatsapp to each other , I was pleasantly surprised soon after return from Ahmedabad by a you tube link to the song, ‘ Golde, do you love me?’ forwarded by my friend Vijendra Trighatia . This is from the film adaptation of  the famous 1964 Broadway musical ‘Fiddler on the Roof’.  As some of know, the musical is based a series of stories by Sholem Aleichem wrote in Yiddish between 1894 and 1914 about Jewish life in a village called Annatevka in the Pale of Settlement of Imperial Russia at the turn of the 20th century. The principal characters are the dairyman Tevye who leads a simple life, steeped in Jewish traditions along his wife, Golde and six Daughters. His greatest dream was that if he became rich, he would spend seven hours praying at a Synagogue! As time goes by, each of his daughters fall in love and get married, as the traditions held so sacred by Tevye, crumble one after another!

The life of each and every Jewish person is governed by a set of rules, customs, and traditions, that need to be followed in order to live as per the commandments of God. They believe that those who follow God and His commandments are the ones who will be rewarded.

So what is it in Judaism that makes believers of this faith so passionate about their traditions, their prayers and their beliefs to which they cling on steadfastly- no matter what ??

The answer probably lies in history of Israelites whose Second Temple was destroyed during First Revolt and the subsequent destruction of Jerusalem itself, accompanied by the exile of its inhabitants, during the Second Jewish Revolt, in 132-135, that Judaism made a sharp turn from being a temple-based cult that relied on daily sacrifices to its god. It became a mobile faith that revolved around law and prayer, and whose members soon spread out around the Mediterranean basin, and later to more distant points. Prayer took the place of animal sacrifices. Here’s another link to the history of Judaism:

https://www.haaretz.com/jewish/.premium-history-of-the-temple-in-jerusalem-1.5256337

 So before I end this blog about a recent visit to Magen Abraham Synagogue Ahmedabad (now a world heritage monument), that prodded me to read a bit more about Judaism, I attach a link to the powerful opening number from ‘Fiddler on the Roof’ as a respect to the followers of Judaism who value traditions and have therefore put them on a high pedestal in day to day living.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gRdfX7ut8gw&list=PL0CE0B83589DFA567

#heritage ahmedabad #magen abraham #bene israel #indian jew #khamasa #peter glas #metropolitan opera #the met #akhanaten #jashan

[brownstonearmy]

2019-10-11: Official Business

June 25 (Thursday Morning)

As the party assembles at SHART HQ on an overcast morning after the events at the perfumery, Dave greets them with solemn news. He has received an angry letter from the mayor:

Tell your interns or whatever you call them that they have a meeting with me on Friday at 1:00PM after the auction. This is not optional. -Mayor Shepherd Dunwall

No one is sure exactly what's gotten the mayor so mad, and Dave requests that they don't come in to work until after the meeting as a precautionary measure. Left to their own devices, the party ambles about town and does whatever it is people do when they have a sudden abundance of free time. Grieg went hunting and Q flirted with Lady Jangles. Maybe some people took naps? The mayor presented his final session in his three-part self-defense series on how to avoid getting kidnapped, but the party thought it best to avoid any interaction with the mayor until absolutely necessary.

June 26 (Friday morning)

After a light rain the night before, the weather is back to being overcast again. Q is feeling especially girlish today as they don the stage name Dazzle for today. There's still a good turnout at the weekly auction in the town square, and the party heads there to kill time. Grieg briefly entertains the idea of buying a 100GP shack in town to store all his collectible wolf statuettes, but decides against it.

Several notable items are available on the auction block today: a scroll of Green Flame Blade, an Eye of Minute Seeing, a Potion of Stone Giant Strength, a Potion of Longevity, Bracers of Archery, a Mace of Disruption, and half of a broken mask that appears to be made out of bark. After examining the items at auction, the party is reasonably confident about the ballpark figure each item is worth... Except for the mask. Kalani looks for anything that might identify the purpose or provenance of the mask, but finds nothing. They go up to Harold, the town crier and chief auctioneer, to ask about the item. Harold has no idea who brought the mask to auction, or what the mask is, and starts the bidding at 1GP. Since everyone at the auction is mostly here to gawk at magic items, the broken mask is not as attractive a purchase to most people. Kahlani opens the bidding on the mask at 1GP and no one else ups the bid. Kalani is now the proud owner of a broken mask!

However, since Kalani is a druid, they see something on the mask that no one else does. What looks to be small scratches on the edge of the mask is actually a message written in the secret language of the druids, and it mentions a particular spot in the Grove of Eldath where something of great value is located. But before Kalani can set off on a quest, it is near time to meet with Shepherd Dunwall at the Mayoral Manor on the eastern edge of the town square.

Mayor Dunwall is a short human who professes to have dwarven heritage (despite having no formal way to prove it). The first floor of his manor functions as his office and city hall. Once the meeting starts, Dunwall pulls no punches. Q and Grieg try to take control of the situation, but their efforts do not go alter the mood by much. According to the mayor, SHART has been derelict in its duties. The party refused to investigate a potential health violation submitted by fellow dwarf Gimgen Brawnanvil when The Hole first unveiled its eating contest. Additionally, Dunwall claims that when the party took an unscheduled leave of absence for several weeks, the sewers backed up and trash didn't get collected. Although the town's charter specifies that there must always be an organization dedicated to the maintenance of the sewer system in Brownstone, it doesn't specify where the funding has to come from. And Mayor Dunwall is running on a platform of fiscal responsibility and thinks cutting funding for SHART is a quick and easy way to balance the budget and punish SHART as an unnecessary and redundant organization.

Grieg opens a door leading to Dunwall's private office and storms through. Dunwall protests, but before he can stop the intrusion, Grieg rummages through the papers and snatches a document with numbers and figures that looks more budget-y than the other documents on the desk. Having successfully stolen something from the unpleasant mayor, Grieg allows himself to be escorted out of the manor with the rest of the party.

Back at SHART HQ, the party gives Dave a summary of what went down and hands over a copy of what Grieg hopes is the budget (Spoiler: it is). Dave makes note of some of the inflated figures in the budget, and says that this isn't the first time someone has withdrawn funding for SHART. The party discusses contingency plans, some of which involve the assassination of the mayor, and other plans that involve leaking the news to Dash Wooten, the community reporter. SHART has gone through lean periods before, where the organization had to rely on nontraditional funding and donations to continue services to the community. Although he can't officially require the party to do this, he hands them a flyer for the upcoming annual Battle Cart tournament. There will be cash prizes that the winning team could potentially use to fund SHART for the next few months.

The party is willing to help, but they want to renegotiate their contracts upon entering the Battle Cart tournament. Dave has been relying on "criminal labor" and conveniently "forgot" to pay them. When Kalani points out that they are not a criminal and just joined SHART because they were homeless and hungry, Dave realizes that this is not an argument he will win. Back pay for everyone!

With that administrative detail settled, Dave explains the basics of what every battle cart team needs: a team name, matching outfits, a flag, a cart and/or wagon outfitted with weapons and armor, and some method of propulsion. Since this whole thing started because the mayor is a jerk, the team name comes up almost immediately. Henceforth, they shall be called the Dungwalls and their team outfits will look like the mayor's daily clothes. Initial suggestions for the team flag involve King Chonk taking a massive dump from atop a brick wall, but there will definitely be more debate about what exactly the design will feature.

The party heads to Jangles' house to ask about designing a propulsion system for their wagon. Specifically, the party is interested in harnessing Jangles' previous experiments to make a fart-powered engine that can zoom around the arena without requiring horses. Jangles agrees to help, though it will require the construction of a suitable pressure chamber at at least 32 ounces of strong acid. Construction of the engine will take about 3 days, though collecting the necessary acid from the alchemy jar will take at least an extra day beyond that. Grieg sets to work helping Jangles with construction, while Q and Kalani head toward Robin Stormblossom's ranch to ask if SHART could give a shout-out to Robin's animal rescue operation during the battle cart tournament. Also the party hopes to get permission to use King Chonk's likeness as a mascot for their team. Robin is 100% okay with both requests.

While Q is chatting with Robin, Kalani saunters off toward the Grove of Eldath to partake in their own mission. The druidic script on the mask indicates that there was once a tree in the grove that has long since fallen. Where the stump once was, a rock sits there instead. Kalani finds the rock in question and discovers a small wooden box underneath it. Inside the box is the other half of Kalani's mask, as well as a single Sending Stone. When Kalani puts the two halves of the mask together and casts Mending, the wood stitches itself together. The druidic inscriptions on the sides of the mask glow and then disappear as the bark-like mask seems to draw some of the energy of the forest into the mask itself. The mask seems to fill with life and becomes green and verdant. This is the treasure the druids know as the Mask of the Woodlands.

Stay tuned next time for more!

#Dungeons and Dragons #shits and giggles #fishdavidson #adventure log #5e #teamwork #auction #budget #mayor

[soulstream-rp]

Hey Andy! This was a particularly long process but we are happy to bring Hazel into our world! Needless to say, it took a lot of effort to create Hazel and her story is fascinating. We can’t wait to have her around!  Please make sure to follow everyone on our masterlist and our gossip blog. Follow the tags for announcements, starters, follows & unfollows, as well as events. Also, make sure that your submit is activated for OOC chat link purposes. Congratulations!

OOC info.

Second Character App

IC Info. Original Character

Character Name: Hazel Margaret Peters

Age: 17

Character Type: Medium

True Name: “Heratic”

FC: Maia Mitchell

Sexuality: Asexual

Date & Place of Birth: October 16, 1999/ Ilwaco, Washington

Occupation: Student, psychic

Family: Silas Anthony Peters (twin brother), Margaret Grace Peters (mother), Thaddeus Michael Peters (grandfather)

Connections: N/A

Background: 

Hazel’s mother, Maggie, had always been angry that she’d been born without the gift, a rarity in her long family line. Instead, Maggie resorted to giving fake tarot readings to tourists. Her boyfriend had left her when he found out she was pregnant, which only made things worse when she discovered that she was having twins. But all that changed when Hazel and Silas were born. Even without her gift, Maggie could tell that Silas was powerful, and decided almost immediately that he was destined for greatness. She became fixated on him, leaving Hazel to be raised by their grandfather, Thaddeus. He took up the job of taking care of the twins while Maggie worked, and, when she was old enough, started teaching Hazel magic. She took readily to the art, and It wasn’t long before she started started casting spells of her own. Despite their separation and their differences, the twins grew close. The two would explore their father’s shop of magical items or play pretend with the old spell books until Maggie was done doing readings for the day. They were too young to understand why their mother always seemed to favor Silas, but Hazel never resented him for it; her grandfather gave her just as much attention as her mother gave Silas. However, as much as Hazel loved her grandfather, she wanted desperately to be accepted by her mother. Maggie was always more focused on Silas, especially after he was diagnosed with leukemia when he and Hazel were 5.

The diagnosis was a blow to the whole family. Since the disease made him vulnerable to other types of infection, Silas was confined to his mother’s apartment, and Hazel had to move in with her grandfather. The few times Hazel was allowed to see her brother was at the hospital, when she was being tested to see if she could donate to Silas. As far as Hazel was concerned, her mother was just taking away one of her few friends, and her own resentment towards Maggie grew. The strain between mother and daughter grew as Silas got worse, finally coming to a head a year after the diagnosis. Desperate to save her son, Maggie turned to the dark arts. Against Thaddeus’s warning, she tried to perform a spell to exchange Hazel’s life for Silas’. The spell backfired and, as Hazel watched, horrified, it consumed Maggie. It nearly consumed Hazel too, but Thaddeus intervened and managed to contain the spell before Hazel was taken completely, although she was left very weak. The town was quick to discover what Maggie had done, and whether or not the townsfolk believed the story, the entire Peters family was shunned. Hazel’s life outside of her grandfather’s shop became a nightmare; humans called her a witch, and tuners and mediums tried to prove that she was just as bad as her mother. On top of that, Hazel began seeing things; spirits, shadows following everywhere she went. Her grandfather was quick to realize what had happened. When her mother’s spell tried to take Hazel, it had opened her senses to the Flow, making her a medium like her brother. With the mounting pressure of being treated like outsiders, plus Hazel’s newfound abilities and her weakened state, Thaddeus eventually pulled her out of school and taught her and Silas himself. A few months later, Thaddeus decided to leave Ilwaco. He and the twins headed north, eventually settling in the town of Port Ashborne. The rumors and tales of Hazel’s mother followed the family, but to the new town, they were just that: rumors and tales.

As Hazel got older, she became more and more independent.  On top of honing her connection with the Flow and the magical arts, she was given more responsibility in the shop. Thaddeus was getting older and at the same time, he considered it his duty to help Silas master his own, unique gifts. By that time, the family had discovered that Silas was a Tuner, and a powerful one at that. Training him to use his gifts became all the more important to Thaddeus. Left to her own devices, Hazel began to delve deeper into magic and its connection with the flow. She became interested in Anathema, and she saw it as something to be studied, not shunned, by the spiritual community.. Thaddeus warily encouraged her studies, but other Tuners started keeping a watchful eye on her, even though she swore not to practice the forbidden arts. Since she was still Silas’ twin, she was often in and out of the hospital with him, giving blood or whatever else he needed. Silas was still, for the most part, confined to the apartment, so Hazel also became responsible for connecting him as much as possible through the outside world. She accomplished this through drawings; drawings of places, of animals, of people. And for every drawing, there was a story to go with it. Some were real and some were made up, but each one gave the twins a connection to each other and to the outside world.

Additional Information: Hazel’s medium ability stemmed from her experience with her mother’s spell; when it backfired, her exposure to the stream enhanced her abilities. || Due to her homeschooling, Hazel is actually ahead of most students her age, and she’s gotten a couple college offers, all of which she’s turned down. || Even though Hazel doesn’t resent her brother for the way their mother acted, she’s still a little bitter about him being a tuner. In the back of her mind, she’s envious of Silas’ abilities, and part of her wishes that she was the Tuner. All this makes her guilty about the way things turned out, especially since she knows that Silas didn’t ask for things to turn out the way they did.

Personality: 

Hazel isn’t a talkative girl, but she isn’t shy. More often than not, she’s simply lost in thought. Her head is constantly full of stories and drawings, although she’s reluctant to share her work with strangers. When she wants to be, she’s friendly, although her experiences with how mean people can be has closed her off somewhat. Thanks to her gifts, she’s more likely to be  found chatting with ghosts than humans. She’s also incredibly loyal to her family. Despite what her mother did, she’s willing to defend herself and her family name to the end. More than once, she’s gotten into fights over a nasty remark behind her back or a wrong look towards her brother. She’s not afraid to stand up for others too, but only if she thinks it’s a cause worth fighting. At her core, she’s an artist. She loves to create, and tries to find something beautiful or unique in everything.

Skills: 

Hazel is an incredible artist, and she has a knack for making up stories about the people she draws.  She also enjoys playing the guitar, though not usually in public. Although it’s not as strong as her brother’s, Hazel is still a powerful medium. Due to her family’s history, she’s also skilled in the magical arts, specifically Nature Magic, a branch of magic based on nature and balance. However, Hazel is physically very weak and has a hard time with strenuous physical activities.

Sample Paragraph: 

The cafe was filled with chatter and the smell of pastries. Sunlight streamed in,  illuminating the dust that swirled in the air every time someone moved. Waitresses bustled in between tables, distributing coffee and hot stacks of pancakes soaked in syrup while the cooks clattered and shouted to each other behind the kitchen doors. Hazel watched all this from her seat near the window, her worn notebook balanced on her knee. This wasn’t a new place for her; she’d spent hours seated in the faded arm chair, watching the flurry. In between the spots of life, she could glimpse shadows- ghosts, drifting from one place to another. Although they were dead, Hazel didn’t consider them all to different from herself. Most of the time, they were invisible, silent watchers. Whenever one passed by her, Hazel would give it a small nod, but she tried not to start a conversation. She didn’t need any more rumors spreading around. After watching the cafe for a little while, Hazel selected her subject for the day; a frazzled young woman nursing a cup of coffee at a booth in the corner. The blank page quickly became a mirror, capturing her tired, yet content expression. Over her shoulder, Hazel felt a soft presence- one of the dead had taken an interest in the drawing. She leaned to the side, looking between the sketch and the spirit. “What do you think?” She asked softly. The ghost gave a satisfied nod, and Hazel returned to her work, filling the details. To one side, she began to take notes on who her subject might be. For this woman, Hazel decided she was a stay-at-home mom, given a short respite from her children (at least three, all under the age of 8), maybe by a neighbor or a domineering mother in-law. Her husband was no help of course; he always seemed to be down at the office. Some nights, his meetings ran late into the hours when no one should be awake. Those nights, his dinner plate was left cold on the table while the woman waited for him in the company of soap operas and late-night talk shows. With her work completed, Hazel sat back and regarded the woman for a minute, looking for anything she might have missed. Out of the corner of her eye, the spirit that had approached her flickered, and she took that as her cue to leave. Besides, it was almost time to open her grandfather’s shop, and she couldn’t wait to show Silas the latest addition to her collection of stories.

#magic rp #ghost rp #supernatural rp #maia mitchell fc #rp #sost:accepted