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quill-pen · 1 year ago

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A Quiet Evening

So @rom-e-o surprised me today with some super romantic pics (featured) of my Wolves in the Sims. And I was inspired! Romey, consider this a show of my gratitude!

Thank you very much!

Sims au I guess. Connie's Eb and Bess' are actually twins named Ebenezer (Connie's) and Ebenezar (Bess') because their dad just sucked like that. Bess' boy 99.9% of the time gets called "Wolf" though. Connie's boy gets called "Adonis" 99.9% of the time. The brothers work together in the business, although Wolf is kind of semi-retired from that now and lives on and works a farm with Bess (Scrooge Acres). But at the same time, he still kinda does what he did because he works with a lot of farmers advising them on stocks and business and financials and such. So I guess he kinda retired into an personal advisory position and still technically works.😅 But he wouldn't have it any other way.

He also has long hair, because why not? It's sexy.

Note: Added some extra details to things that don't necessarily match the pictures.

It's not the song they dance to, but I can't not do this:

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Late evening had descended upon Scrooge Acres (FORGET THE WINDOWS IN THE SHOTS--I SAY IT'S EVENING, SO IT'S EVENING!). The evening chores had long since been finished and animals bedded down for the night; Bess' siblings were away for one of their customary nights at Granny Shaw's, the few staff members had been given the evening off, and the picturesque farmhouse was mostly quiet except for the sound of slow, schmaltzy music coming from the house's stereo system. Some male singer with the voice of an angel (and who Bess thought sounded a good deal similar to her hubby) covering Etta James' 'At Last' was currently playing, the singer's passionate, sultry tones oozing like warm honey through the air. And at the center of it all, the Scrooges slowly danced around their front hall, holding each other close as they swayed to the music.

It was date night for them. Well, actually, in truth, they usually ended up having several date nights through the week, but this night--Friday--was officially their set-aside night to do romantic, couple-y, date night things. A night for them to make it so that they were alone and able to enjoy each other's company without any interruptions. A night for them to ditch their comfy work clothes and get dressed and dolled up for themselves and each other. Though it was doubtful the clothes would stay on for very long.

Sometimes on these special nights, the pair would go out on the town, but other nights, even all gussied up to the nines, they opted to stay home and just have a quiet, lovely evening between the two of them. They'd gone with the latter option this night. And as she was slowly danced around the room by her wonderful mate, her head resting on his broad shoulder as he held her close to him, his distinctive scent in her nose and lungs, and his soft warmth enveloping her, Bess came to the conclusion they couldn't have made a better choice.

The song came to a close, and the couple slowed to a stop, parting only just enough to meet each other face-to-face. The dark-haired woman smiled with a blush up into her husband's face. Her heart beat faster and her body grew warmer as he returned her affectionate gaze. "You look so handsome," Bess couldn't help but bashfully murmur as she squeezed his hands. "Like a fairytale king." King--not prince; Ebenezar 'Wolf' Charles Scrooge had surpassed the status of 'prince' long ago.

Wolf's blush burned brighter. Such compliments never failed to turn him into a tomato. "Don't I always?" he gently teased her, winking a mesmerizing slate-blue eye as he smirked.

Bess' blush darkened to the point her cute little freckles popped as she giggled. "Oh, of course, my love!" she jibbed back. "Without a doubt! It's just... you look especially handsome tonight."

And he truly did. The Englishman was decked out in a new smoking jacket, black velvet, soft to the touch, intricate, golden designs embroidered on the chest, lapels, and around the hems. Beneath that, a soft, pressed white shirt and a silken, burgundy cravat subtly patterned with roses smartly knotted about his neck over perfectly creased trousers and shiny leather dress shoes. And his hair--oh, the gorgeous, silky, silvery-steel mane of his that was finally at the length he wanted it after years of growing it out! Flowing loose instead of in the horsetail he usually styled it as, it made the man look as though solidified starlight flowed from his follicles. When her head had been on his shoulder, Bess had caught the unmistakable, fresh scent of peppermint and lavender coming from his hair amid the musky pine, citrus, and black pepper smell of his cologne and aftershave. And Bess couldn't help but think that that's what starlight should have smelled like if it had a scent.

Wolf chuckled in that way that made Bess' heart skip beats and her tummy do acrobatics, and he pulled her close into him again. He lifted a hand beneath her chin to tip her head back a bit more as he gazed deeply into her enchanting midnight blue eyes. "And you look especially beautiful this evening," he purred, his voice throaty and deep, his eyes a bit darker than usual as he lightly traced her pillowy lips with his thumb. "And that's saying quite a bit, considering you always look gorgeous, my Brightness."

And there was no question as to either statement. Bess looked an absolute vision in the new dress she'd gotten while shopping earlier in the week with their sister-in-law Constance. It was a rich burgundy shade and, like his jacket, was made of fine, luxurious velvet, except for the very bottom of the skirt, which was fashioned of pleated, ornately patterned lace. It's form-hugging quality and off-the-shoulders cut with a modestly plunging neckline spoke to the woman's ever burgeoning acceptance of and confidence in her looks and figure. That alone could make Wolf's heart soar for joy: The wonderful view of her cleavage was just a much appreciated bonus. Topped off with a simple diamond necklace he'd gifted her the past Valentine's Day, white, silk evening gloves, delicate touches of makeup, and sans shoes (because why would she bother when they weren't going out and his favorite footwear for her was no footwear?), his wife only looked more like the entrancing queen Wolf perpetually envisioned her as. Especially when he caught whiffs of peppercorn and roses from her throat, and vanilla and nutmeg from her coal-black waves. Bloody hell, she looked and smelled good enough to eat! He could easily have gorged himself on her!

The American smiled a little cheekily as she brought her hands back to rest on his shoulders. "Well, I had to look extra special for an extra special date night," she cooed, stroking down his upper arms and touching the tip of her nose to his. "I assume you know why it's extra special."

The man chuckled again and let his hands fall to gently grip her waist, bowing his face closer to hers. His eyes softened to a heartbreaking degree and he pulled her in until their fronts were pressed flush to each other. He noted in awe how her blush deepened at the contact. The fact that he, old Ebenezar Scrooge, former recluse and miser, could make this lovely, charming woman blush like a crushing school girl, even after all the time and ways they'd been together was nothing short of one of the Lord's miracles. And he would be forever thankful for it.

"Forgive me if I'm mistaken," he rumbled against her, "but I believe it's the anniversary of the night we first had dinner together and you first kissed my cheek."

Bess practically grinned at his memory. Really she shouldn't have been surprised he remembered something like that when he could just as easily recall the first time she'd belched in his presence or the first time he picked one of her hairs off his jacket. But after her relationship with Oliver, who, honestly, couldn't have even been bothered to remember when Christmas was, Bess still wasn't completely used to someone caring enough to remember so many things involving her. Even after several years it was still a treat. Perhaps it always would be.

"The night I matchmade myself out of a date and you invited me to the not-a-business-dinner-but-actually-a-business-dinner you were having with the Lord Mayor and his wife and the Cratchits."

"Oh, were they there too? I can't seem to recall. I just remember your lovely face glowing and your musical laughter ringing like silver bells all evening."

Bess rolled her eyes and snorted at that. "Oh, Wolf," she huffed. "You can't possibly forget how I danced with the Lord Mayor to sweeten him to yours and Adonis' homeless house pitch."

"Oh, I remember you dancing, certainly," Wolf stated with a nod. "I could never forget that sight: You twirling about in that flowery, blue evening gown with all the grace and beauty of blooming rose while that galumping shadow tried to lead you." Wolf's eyes narrowed just a bit as he focused on said memory for a moment. "I always get annoyed with that shade when I remember that night."

Bess laughed and the mellifluousness of it banished any dark feelings her husband might have possessed.

Turning his full attention back on his wife, Wolf smiled adoringly at her again. "I love it when you laugh," he told her, practically whispering. He trailed a hand up the softness of her arm and took a lock of her hair between his fingers to play with. He watched the soft, black strands for a moment as he twirled them ever so gently, never pulling or tugging. "I love it when you smile," he continued. "I love it when you brush your hair or put on makeup or get dressed or shave or wax. I love it when you talk, walk, run, dance, breathe. I love it when you... exist."

He looked back up into her eyes, bringing his other hand up to cup her soft, freckled cheek as he stroked her cheekbone. "I love you, Bess."

Bess' eyes were soft and shining with moisture as her painted lips trembled into a smile. Comforting warmth settled in her chest and moved out in smooth, calming waves throughout her body until even the very ends of her hair felt toasty. She would never understand how this marvelous man could make her feel so special so easily, but he did. And she couldn't have been happier. "I love you too, Ebenezar," she breathed.

The man bowed his face to hers and her eyes fluttered shut as she leaned in to meet him. Their lips met in the first of many kisses to come on that quiet evening.

Taglist: @luvreadingfics @amazingassash @beascrooge @themostanonymousscribbler @b4bynikii @sparklesphobia @christmasgaybusinessmen @tenodai @witchypandamonium @purgratoriat @neonshoe @orangewierdo @mirthadra @the-enchanted-rose @simp2537 @pandora-native-ayatei @youngsongnerd @crimson-phantom-designs @cila-17 @ry-ichi1 @artist-anon08 @alittlebitbethany @crowwritesthings @hyerizz @crowbones13 @rom-e-o @softmullet @cheesethegodfather @the-house-of-auditore-frye @thephantomofzaun @littlethief78 @oldmanlusting @annsign @juderia637 @mystarsignisno @ray-painter

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inkyblinders · 4 years ago

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Dancing with the Devil: Part II

Part 1

Pairing: Luca Changretta x Reader

Author’s note: This was so embarrassing to write not because of smut...but because I’m crushing hard on Adrien Brody right now. And I can’t even share this obsession with anyone because… he’s kinda niche? Someone please reassure me that I’m just going through a phase because dear God why can’t I stop watching Darjeeling Limited just to see him ahhh.

The story picks up right after the end of Part 1, so I recommend reading that first. Comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated, let me know what you think!

Summary: Following your meeting with Luca Changretta, you face the Shelby family and Tommy's reaction. (2.6k words)

Warnings: Smut, angst, swearing

Tag: Let me know if you would like to be added or removed

@anythingwriter, @rrtxcmt, @shut-chan

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You barely make it into your bedroom before he is all over you. The buttons of his crisp, tailored shirt fall like marbles. He moans when you nip the skin of his neck, right over his tattoo of the black cross, legs tangled together like a depraved waltz.

When he grinds into you, you shudder deliciously at the hardness that meets between your bare thighs.

How easy would it be for him to kill you after he fucks you, leaving your corpse twisted in the bedsheets. You know Tommy would find it when he eventually remembers that he has not seen you for days.

“Signorita, you know I come to you with the most honorable of intentions.” He murmurs, as if sensing your thoughts.

“You're not a very honorable man then.” A laugh that turns into a gasp as he trails his hand lower and strokes between your legs. No, not very honorable at all. And pretty soon all thoughts of honor are forgotten as he coaxes a moan from your throat.

His fingers are magic. The cold outline of his onyx rings scald your skin each time he crooks a finger inside you. Knowing exactly what you need, seeking your depths, swirling, rising to rub the clit, all the while exploring the flushed expanse of your body with his other hand.

Shoulder to breasts to hips and back again.

Without meaning to, you’ve let this stranger take control of your entire being. But God, do you crave this pure ecstasy.

It’s as if he wants to know precisely how much you can take before you're undone. So when you clench around his hand and feel the familiar ache he is right there, helping you ride the wave of pleasure, never breaking the rhythm of his thrusting fingers even as you curse, rake your nails down his back.

You almost cry out his name when you come. But you bite into his shoulder instead.

“Sweetheart, I’m gonna have to hear you next time.” He growls.

His words barely register as you come down from the high. Aftershocks spark like tiny flames. Now you are wearing his scent as much as he is wearing yours.

“Be inside me,” You whimper, tugging at his soft hair, urging him for more.

He rasps an empty warning, “What's my name, sweetheart?”

Of course. All this time you've never acknowledged you know of his identity. There was no use in trying to hide it now.

“Luca,” you breathe. And his eyes gleam with approval.

With a snap of his hips, he plunges into silky warmth. The fullness stretches you to your limit, head thrown back. It’s good, so good. Every withdrawal of his thrust is a blessing because you know what follows next. It’s him inside you again, wrapping you with his touch and the scent of tobacco and roses.

“Does your Tommy fuck you like this? Like the way I do?”

“He’s not mine.” You choke out, punishing Luca with a bite on the neck that elicits a chuckle rather than a yelp of pain.

He kisses you, your foreheads pressed together. “A damn shame for him.” Soon he starts to quicken his pace, going faster, more erratic, his breathing heavy upon your ears.

Yes, you urge him, come on, now.

And this is your chance. In a flash you roll on top of him, pinning down his shoulders with your hands. He tries to arch up but you stop him with a knee.

“How many men did you bring, Changretta?” You ask, making your voice rough to mask the lust, pressing your hands around his jugular.

It's a pleasure to see him like this. Shocked at your actions, maybe even scared. Naked with want but unable to do anything to relieve it. Unless he tells the truth.

“Fifteen. Why baby, am I not enough for you?” He laughs breathlessly, hands trailing goosebumps along your hips, tracing the contour of your breasts. The jib doesn't hurt you. After all, men have said worse. He tries to surge into you again, and his hot member pulses on your thighs.

“Do you swear on your honor? That you’re telling the truth?” You insist, squeezing him harder. The touch brands his skin as much as it brands yours.

In a voice full of self-mockery he says, “Yes I swear on my honor. Now let me in, clever Isabel.”

You take him in you, the sensations amplify a thousandfold. You try teasing him, going slowly in and out, but soon you are caught up in the sensation of him completely at your mercy and you ride him, faster, until you keen his name, until he too is undone.

****

Through the haze of dawn, he stumbles out of bed and gets dressed. Before he dons his hat once more, Luca leans down to whisper in your ear, as soft as sin.

“You tell Tommy Shelby he may expect a visitor in the night. I'm coming for him as the angel of death. The vendetta has begun…” He kisses your hair.

“I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.”

The door clicks shut. You rise from your pillow, and a small, hard lump rolls next to your hand.

It is a signet ring of onyx and gold.

****

“So we all get a death letter from the mafia, but Izzy gets jewelry?” Ada huffs as the family filters into the betting shop. As usual, Tommy holds court at the front of the table, brooding over a glass of whiskey. You roll your eyes as Arthur and John try to cover their snort of laughter with a cough.

“If you want it, you can have it, Ada. He’s probably planning on killing me too.”

“Doubt it. You’re not a Shelby, and we’re the ones who killed his father. Well, someone did, to be precise.” She shoots a bitter look at Tommy, who doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed.

Despite Ada’s matter-of-fact tone, the words cut to your heart. Not a Shelby.

It’s not her fault. No one knows you’ve been sleeping with Tommy, not even your dearest friend. It’s a lonely secret to keep, but at least you can look at the family square in the eye and not have to worry about the things they say behind your back. Or worse, pity you.

You can handle the violence and moral ambiguity of Tommy’s business. But to lose the love and respect of the Shelbys would break your heart.

“What was the mafia man like, Izzy?” Finn asks eagerly. It’s obvious the boy is thinking of the dashing, gun-wielding gangsters he’s seen in the pictures.

“He was a wrinkly old brute. Kind of like your arsehole brother Tommy.” A smile to take the edge off the insult. But Tommy only looks off into space. As if he hasn't paid attention to this entire conversation.

Arthur clears his throat. “Now, let’s get one thing straight. It was me who pulled the trigger on his dad, so the blame falls on me.” He pats Linda’s hand even as his voice is heavy with guilt.

“No one’s blaming you Arthur, you weren’t the brains behind the operation, no offense.” Ada says. He is about to say something when Polly cuts in.

“Stop squabbling like children. We’ve all voted for truce, despite everything Tommy’s done to us—” The words nearly having us hanged hover pointedly in the air. “—So let’s focus on the matter at hand." She fixes Tommy with a sharp look.

“What’s the news from Camden Town? Will Solomons help us?”

“No.” He says tiredly. And all of a sudden you feel sorry for teasing him. He look gaunt. There are shadows under his eyes, even more so than usual. Without you to remind him to eat, you can imagine his diet for the past few days consisted more of alcohol and cigarettes than anything substantial.

“Spent three hours on a fucking tour of his bakery and another pretending to drink his piss-poor rum. I think he was trying to get me sloshed so I’d forget what I came for.” Tommy rubs his head.

“He’s refusing to send his men to help. Said he’s not going to go after another oppressed people.”

“Did you tell him the Italians are rounding up Jews in their country as we speak?” Polly asks incredulously.

“Wouldn’t make a difference to Alfie. Besides, that’s just an excuse. He’s really just a fucking coward.”

Polly looks troubled at this, as does the rest of the family. Everyone had been counting on Alfie’s friendship with Tommy, however peculiar, to help them with the vendetta. What they hadn’t expected was his extreme sense of self-perseverance. How are they going to protect themselves now?

“Before everyone panics, I’d like to say something.” Tommy clears his throat, setting down the whisky.

“As you may all know, two nights ago our Izzy encountered Mr. Changretta in the Garrison. He bought her a drink and asked her to deliver an official beginning of the vendetta.” He chooses this time to finally look at you. You hold his gaze until he looks shiftily away.

“We can also assume that he has been scoping out Small Heath, looking for any weaknesses on our turf. Now, Izzy has something to share with you all.”

You stand up uncertainly. The last time a woman other than Polly tried to speak her mind at the table it had been Esme, who still refuses to come to the betting shop unless Tommy is not here.

“While Mr. Changretta was, er, indisposed at the Garrison, I found some items in his coat that I think could be useful.” You fish out a passport and a stack of papers from your skirt pockets.

“Good job, Izzy! Oh, I knew we could count on you more than my idiot brother.” Ada beams.

“Becoming a right little spy, eh?” John ruffles your hair good-naturedly. As everyone gathers around, Polly gives a low whistle.

“Goodness, if this is your definition of an ugly brute, I wonder who’ll really catch your fancy, darling.”

You flush. The documents were obtained shortly after Luca had fallen asleep. It was an exercise in agility, trying to extricate yourself from his tangle of limbs, especially when you wanted nothing more than to stay in bed, encased in his warmth.

To your own credit, the papers were highly useful indeed. Some were maps of Birmingham, circles drawn in places where the Shelbys are known to frequent. The Garrison. Charlie’s Yard. The Arrow House. There was also stationary from The Stanton, a hotel just outside of the city.

There had been another piece of paper in the stack, a letter. But you kept that for yourself.

“We all have Izzy to thank for bringing us this valuable information.” Tommy’s voice rises above the chatter. “I will be personally examining all the documents and think of a plan. In the meantime, everyone stay alert, stay armed, and stay together.”

“Now if no one has any further questions, I need to have a private word with her. Alone.”

*****

You twirl the onyx ring around your finger as everyone filters out. It’s much too big but you still wear it anyways. The thick band of gold is comforting in its own way. And despite what you told Ada earlier, you don’t want to give it to anyone else.

Tommy’s curt voice snaps you from your reverie.

“Was it good, then?”

A small muscle tics on the underside of his jaw. His previously blank expression is now cold. The coward in you compels you to feign ignorance.

“What do you mean, Tommy?” You ask lightly.

“Did it feel good to have that fucking wop inside you?”

You burst out laughing. “Christ, Tommy. Did you pick up that word from Alfie? You sound bloody ridiculous when you’re trying to be crass, you know.”

“Don’t fucking change the subject, Isabel.” Tommy snaps.

“Oh, so I’m Isabel, now? You only call me that when you’re trying to get me in bed. Is that what you want? A bit early in the evening if you ask me.”

“What I want for you is to tell me how it felt having that man inside you, inside---”

You blaze with anger. “My sex life is none of your business, even if you are an occasional participant. I did what you would have wanted, and now I’ve got intel on the Changrettas that could save your arse!”

“Do you know how dangerous it could have been? Fraternizing with the enemy is exactly what got us into trouble with the Changrettas!”

“And fraternizing with them again has given us an advantage. We know how many associates he’s brought with him, and where they are staying. Good God,” Your eyes widen as you see the mutinous look on Tommy’s face. “Are you jealous?”

The silence of the room presses in until it's almost palpable. Finally he rubs a hand over his eyes, looking utterly defeated.

“I have no right to.” He says, pained. “But I am, just the same.”

The admission of his feelings would have made your heart soar a few days ago, before you met a man who enchanted you in the Garrison. You only laugh bitterly.

“What makes this different from all those other times you made me seduce the men you wanted to spy on?”

He says nothing. But what else is there to say? The past is in the past, and so many hurts have been caused by the both of you, it would be impossible to untangle it all.

You soften your voice, laying a hand on Tommy's arm.

“Let me continue seeing him. He wants me, and we can use that. You know it will be help, you know it might save us all.”

A breath flutters in your chest as you wait for his decision. If Tommy allows it, you’ll do it in a heartbeat. The Shelbys are your family, whether you're one in name or not.

But if he refuses, then perhaps… Perhaps he might actually care for you, deeper than jealousy, deeper than he admits.

“Very well.” Tommy says finally, and something in your heart shatters. The corners of your mouth curve up in a wobbly smile.

“Thank you for trusting me, Tommy. I won’t let you down.”

“You would never let me down, no matter what you do. Just…Be careful, Izzy.”

He closes the distance between you and enfolds you in a hug. You enjoy this quiet warmth, as fragile as spider's silk. With a small laugh, you pull away, patting his arm before turning to the door.

You don't look back to see if he follows.

#luca changretta #luca changretta smut #luca changretta x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #tommy shelby

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thewanderer-000 · 2 years ago

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The Random Adventures of Daniella "Danie" Spadina

(Note: this'll be random fanfic series with miscellaneous themes, many media themes, other thing and a touch of nonsense)

The neon sign illuminated the back wall of the bar Daniella inhabited, her new friend Sharky invited her to an after party at his cousins Hurk Jr.'s house. What could it hurt, Sharky said the magic word moonshine, a 'shine called Eden's Bliss, made specifically from a cults special tonic- narcotic, or something. But she was curious, what could go wrong, Danie already jumped time-lines already. What could a drink of another cultist beverage hurt? Plus Mayor Hancock gave her addictal stuff that makes addiction less addicting, like.

___________________

"Thanks for driving us Pratt, you're not as much of a dick everyone says you are. Maybe you'd like to try this 'shine me and Hurk made, I haven't tried it yet, but considering you're not on duty maybe you could take a load off" Sharky said as Officer Pratt drove us to Hurk Jr's dads. He kept looking at me as Sharky ramble on, obviously knew I wouldn't from around here, though I could understand the suspicion. Odd characters out there tonight, me, them three brothers that dropped me off at the edge of town were suspicious. Cute but suspicious. Big red asked a lot of questions, felt like a survey so I fired back questions as well. Except the marriage question, people never answered truthfully about that. They're attached to one person, or many, you never know.

"Hey, so you rode with the Seeds?" Pratt asked as we got there, Sharky went to go find Hurk Jr., I was startled since I zoned out reflecting on them three handsome brothers.

"Uh, yeah. Odd bunch, attractive but odd. All of them named with "J" initial, John, Joseph, and Jacob. If they have another brother I'll bet his name is James. The older brother asked a lot of questions, I answered but I asked questions too, it seemed like I passed their survey" Pratt chuckled at my jib, but he looked haunted after a moment which made me feel uneasy. Was that bad? Did I want to ask what it was about, probably best not to, not tonight I wanted to try this 'shine. Couldn't be worse than that brotherhood of steel cultist radioactive juice on Far Harbor.

"Hey! Hurk already started and Nick and Kim and some others are here. Senior is drunk out of his mind, the moonshine is a hit" Sharky said happily, I look and see the truck the three brothers were riding as I get out of Pratts car. I wave just to be friendly since they drove me through mountains and the country side to the edge of town, probably didn't see me but maybe they did.

Lovely people the Reyes, they left early since Nick had to be ready for a couple flight lessons in the morning. They didn't try the moonshine but it was understanding. Hurk senior was put to bed by his son and nephew, that was a shock to them since the old man can handle his drink, I didn't think much of it. But how could I when I kept seeing a few of the Seed brothers here and there when I blink. I drink more and more to see what would happen, Pratt/John/Joseph/Jacob take the bottle from me as I stagger to a lawn chair. And as he goes inside to grab me some water, minutes pass then a big wolf goes running, red lines was set on the head, I go to check on the creature. Grabbing the bottle of moonshine to help the big animal since it wasn't going to help me, except to get drunk.

"Hey, come here boy-, girl? You poor creature come on- back here, you're hurt. Come on, puppy, puppy. Come on- baby" I say chasing this behemoth of a wolf around the Drubman fishing hole, the beast out runs me. I still head in the direction of where I can hear distant foot steps ahead of me once we-, I cross the main road. I chase till I reach a cabin, and it's suspicious and it oddly stinks of the moonshine.

"Oh shit, where'd you go. I can't hear you, baby. Come on, you're hurt-, oh God, I'm outta shape and hella drunk" I looked down and realized that I took off without my boots, that explains why I could feel everything as I ran. I sit on the cabins stoop since I couldn't catch up. Taking a drink as I accept that I couldn't help the big beast.

"Oh, now that packs a punch. I wonder what the survey thing was, I wonder if big red was attached to anyone-" a howl made me jump as I take another long and unfortunate big gulp, I hiccup and burp feeling like I am either very lucky or unlucky for that.

"Hck, shit. Oh- mm" I lay back on the floor feeling weirder than usual and hot, the smell of the green barrels fueling my disorientation.

"Are you ok?" A cool voice said, I look over my form drunkenly and it's big red, I feel a warm tingle after, warm tingle all over. I try to not think about that and suppress it or that warmth would be running down my leg. Not the first time I pissed myself in front of people though this would be the first I wasn't on a toilet. And giving a sample for a bunch of lab coats.

"Why'd you- hck-, look so good?" I say not suppressing the warm tingle, and carefully laying my head back. I close my eyes then that was it as I fell asleep, I had the craziest dreams of mountains and this floating feeling, like I was being carried by the warmest clouds. I go through a door to an office like setting, very familiar like a lobby or activity room. I could only focus on how felt sticky the clouds feel but I enjoyed them since they didn't smell like the green barrels.

___________________

I woke up in a room that I didn't remember entering, I roll out of the bed I was sleeping in and wonder why my pants weren't on. I remember seeing the one balcony door open and someone telling me to "go to sleep", then I think I turned to the voice and obnoxiously cuddled on to them. I don't know what happened after, most likely fell asleep.

I walk over to the balcony door and opened it to see everyone out there moving around and then I heard him, the voice from last night, far off yelling orders and encouragement to people. It was the handsome older brother, I get out and lean on the balcony to see where he was. We made eye contact once I found him, I wave and smile before going back inside to look for my pants and my boots. And that bottle of moonshine, but I might have drank it all.

"Where the hell did I leave my pants and boots? What happened to my socks, they're all dirty?" I say picking them up, at least I think these are mine, I rethink that they were mine. Just then a knock at the door startled me, I drop the random socks and stand as inconspicuous and alluring as possible.

"Come in" I answered quickly. "Jacob" entered, his stare made me realize that I forgot my pants, and the fact his face went a few shades red hinted at it. He immediately looked up so as not to stare at my cute panties, it made me blush because of course I'd forget.

"Well ain't you doing all the good?" Jacob remarked as he went to leave but I cross the room and pulled him back, man is tall and heavy. No easy feat pulling him back but I did it, I had questions and needed answers for what, how and why.

"Hold up, I have questions, nevermind my half dressed bawdy?" I say the last bit jokingly to lighten this awkward situation, though I felt a bit dizzy like the moonshine was still in effect. He made eye contact for the sake of not looking down than needed, I wasn't very tall.

"OK, shoot honey. I ain't got all day" I'm slightly caught off guard with his little southern twang, then I focus because I felt a cool breeze through the open balcony door.

"Where's my pants and boots, where am I and how'd I get here?" I asked hands on my hips, Jacob looked down then up and away.

"Look here. I don't care and besides didn't we sleep together-." I think and grow red as Jacob begins to pinken.

"Uh-, nevermind. You know what I meant-. I'm hungover and just waking up, my way with words has left me" I say just going and grabbing a drawer and grabbing the first pair of pants and slipping them on, my slutty mouth has to say the worst sentence at the moment. Could I make this more awkward, I had to leave before I said more gonk things, I suppose Johnny was right. My talking when awkward or intoxicated is too much, I swear he was the best and worst. How the hell was it cute though, fuck that guy and his Silverhand, it grabbed too hard during sexy times. Well not all the time but sometime. Jacob stood there as I quickly grabbed things that weren't mine, probably confused by the fact that I was grabbing stuff and heading out the door.

"Uh- did you want to? It can be arranged, Danie, if you wish?" Jacob said, I dropped the jacket and looked at him intrigued, not declining but interested. He's got a good physic, from what I could remember, granted I was just using part of him like a pillow. But who knows how long I'll be here, did it matter I'd have to leave this universe too eventually. And he oddly felt familiar but I couldn't place what it was that made me feel a degree of comfort about him.. This wouldn't be the first time I unintentionally joined a cult, hopefully they wouldn't deny. The amount of cults I came across they'd deny it.

"Ummkay, I could stay for a while, then look for my pants later" I picked up the jacket and put it back on the desk and dropped trou-, more like wiggle and boom I was pants less once more. But he quickly pulled them back up and came very close pushing me towards the double doors leading to the hall.

"Come on, I know a place" he said in my ear before laying a kiss below my neck, I immediately suspected this would be a good outdoor trip.

_______________________________

"What the hell!?" I whisper as I couldn't be more wrong as the tent we fell asleep in, after sexy time activities were done. A bunch of wolves surrounded us, well, me. Jacob must have went out for a bit, I could hear the wolves play fighting with an animal limb or something they hunted, I just seen their shadow. I wasn't ready for that, I was looking for my clothes but unfortunately I can't find them. This is probably what I get for making fun of that TV show about the naked people in the woods in that one dimension. I sift through the sleeping bags and blankets and find Jacob's shirt, I put it on then hear the distant sound of a vehicle. The wolves weren't forgotten just because it got quiet out, till I heard a rustling at the opening of the tent, a wolfy snout pushed its way in.

"Shit, this is where and how I end, or just get mauled a bit more. Jacob Seed, you were great in sleeping bag, and by camp fire" I whisper as the tent zipper gave way with a whole wolf pushing in to the tent as the vehicle got closer and closer. But the wolf made way and clumsily got in sniffling and snuffling, I was expecting hungry, vicious animal. The wolf seemed to be looking for something or someone as the large thing started to paw at sleeping bags and blankets. Then found me as the scent it was tracking was on me or me?

"Oh fuck" I murmur as the large beast snuffle Jacob's shirt, the size of the wolf was humongous, this looked larger than any wolf I saw before. I waited for it to bite and rip me out of the tent but nothing. Plop, she rested in my lap just cozy, I go to pat but she sees and naws on my hand.

"Oh! I'm sorry" I panic for a moment but realized that this wasn't a mad bite but something else. I wonder if they knew Jacob, maybe they followed us and watched us last night. I wouldn't remember or hadn't noticed since I was immensely preoccupied.

"Hm? You are pretty nice, like domesticated and very cute but still dangerous" I say as cautious as ever while the wolf licked and softly naw on my hand as my other hand pet her. The vehicle finally made it, after a moment the engine cut and a door opened and closed.

"Danie?" Jacob called, probably suspected that the wolves scared me off, but this isn't the oddest thing to happen, I've seen odd and experienced it quite a bit.

"Yeah, I'm being weighed down by a large soft girl with the cutest ears" I hear a sigh of relief as Jacob walked over to the tent.

"I brought you some clothes since I didn't know where the wolves took yours. We'll let you change" a sentence I had never heard from anyone, yet, I liked it. Because, well, wolves. Jacob handed me the bag and whistle to the wolf to follow him as he closed the tent.

"Thank you, oddly this isn't new, I lose clothes here and there, and judging by the shirt and jacket they took your stuff too" he chuckled lightly as his shadow displayed him giving affection to his wolves.

"They did, underwear, and jacket. If you're not careful they'll take your important shit, if not them the raven's will take stuff too. And now I have questions as to how, why and where you've lost clothing, sounds like interesting stories and adventures" I ponder on that, as I pull on the donated clothes, which smells like campfire and Jacob's fancy smell good spray. I found it in one of the drawers, I don't remember putting it back in my search for pants. I absent-mindedly left it out to smell later, though once Jacob came into his room it was instantly forgotten.

"I'm aware, wolves, raven's and corvids. All in cahoots, kinda cute. Though. I think I may have too many stories, it's all usually shoes, jackets, hats, though maybe few times I lost full outfits. That's not including the ruined clothes" I step out of the tent while doing a quick braid, I think on my adventures and remember.

"Once, I fooled around with a musician/former military guy. I went to a bar where this after party was, the guy was drunk, flirty and hella forward too. I avoided him at first but then when I was at the bar getting a few drinks for me and the group I befriended, yeah. He shot, his shot, my drunk self said something flirty and insulting an hour later we were getting busy in a restroom stall at the bar. Then I went to his place where it continued on the way to then against his apartment door. So clothes have been shed, sexy times have been had, I wake up clean myself up and as I'm about to look for my clothes I hear him talking to an irate woman on the phone" I stand trying to remember what happened next, being young, drunk and trying to hide from a one night stands significant others is stupidity I gradually learned not be in, in the past. I've been kinda better just had time-line jumping added to my messy mix.

"And shit, she was mad, and for good reason, her friends saw him a couple days before taking a woman to his place. I only grab what I can see, which are my bag and phone, he rushes in and says 'I don't have time for this' wrapped me in his bedsheet and told me to wait on the fire escape. I don't, I go down, duck in the nearest unlocked window grab some random shoes that fit while I hear him and the woman argue. I hear his window open and luckily I'm in some random apartment, I laugh out of regret because I've been in that same situation before. Their fight is louder, I change into some random woman's clothes, because Johnny and his woman are still arguing, even as I'm clothed and leaving out the front door of some apartment. I return the bedsheet, the fight isn't as loud she still sounds suspicious but he's putting on a good enough act to sway her. I just leave the bedsheet on the floor next to his door, and shake my head then leave, I had stuff to do and was so ashamed. I didn't want to add to the number of women she said he cheated with, three other women, ugh. I didn't see him for weeks but she broke up with him then we fooled around some more, I was cross with him but damn was he charming. His band mates seemed unphased, but they were nice like, I only was around for-, I think roughly half a year. Then work took me elsewhere, that was long ago, definitely a time to remember" who could forget a world with robotic like limbs and Night City, what a trip. Jacob gave me a look I wasn't quite ready for, did he know I wasn't from this time-line. I look away thinking of another memory where I lost clothing and nothing too out of the ordinary but that was difficult since I myself wasn't ordinary or from this time line.

"You're not from here, huh?" Jacob said inquisitive tone level as his eyes looked for evidence of my birth home. I see his eyes, searching me for answers, like he could recognize the truth through all my false efforts.

"Hehe, uh. What are you on about, like I'm not from Montana but-" he moved close caressing my cheek in a very familiar way, and like that I remember it. We met before, a long, long time ago, I knew those eyes, we found each other.

"You're Jake, Jake from Juvie" I say softly, remembering how I got picked up by police because the portal dropped me on a cop car. Luckily, they were patrolling kinda slow but the drop still hurt, I think I was 16. 16, no id card, my bag of belongings didn't help me, I was thrown in a juvenile detention facility for putting up a fight with the police. The lady who was my case worker fudged some documents for me, I knew enough but they took my time travel stuff. Plus, I had to wait for it to charge, this universe beat the earth that had human size bugs on it. Or I think it was earth. And there he stood, a husky tall redhead, big, bruised and bloody knuckles. I wasn't sure about this, I had a weakness for boys like him and I was right. We insulted each other but I knew, I knew it would only inspire more down the line.

"Hey, jailbait" I fumed at that Insult, why did guys use that and on me. Johnny Silverhand, Eddie, that Ted boys dad, and my professors snarky assistant.

"And good bye" I turn to leave only for Jacob Seed to laugh then close the space and wrapped me up in his arms. I thought I'd never feel this again or see him or this universe again.

"Don't be like that. You know, I never thought I'd see you again, I actually hoped that I would again. And for awhile I pushed the idea you ever happened away, for a long time, I looked all over for you once I was well. But the information given was false and the case worker had passed on, I only knew you by Danie. But any trace of you was gone like that light" I hold on to his hands, it's been too long since we been close. Too long, I seen his one coat had been from the army and I wonder what life he lived once I left.

"I hoped to see you again too, I never thought I would, sadly. I just had to keep moving, well, more like I had to buck up. Moving wasn't my choice, I wished it could be my choice" Jacob let me go to turn me to him, I did and look into his eyes and I felt like the teenager I met before was back in front of me. Then realization hit me, we were both 16 in juvie, Jacob looked older, I wasn't 40. Shit, shit, shit.

"So what's it like time traveling?" Jacob asked, I felt like my soul left my body, he wasn't going to beat around the bush. At least I won't have make up a long ass lie, besides I don't think I could make up a lie to cover the fact I am very much in my twenties. Late twenties but still, I smile at him not being freaked out, though he probably was freaking out before he returned to this here campsite.

"Ah, yeah. It feels confusing and I don't know how I got back to "this", this time-line. And the fact that we met in our teens. And it's given me more questions but I'll figure it out, and if I find my professor I'll have to talk about this and a hypothesis on why my device brought me back. The bonds maybe tied to this, we bonded while in juvie before I jumped-." I say giving it plenty of thought on it.

"Huh? Well, we did more than bond from what I remember back then" I blush, male ego. But can't deny he was my first relationship, amongst other things. I could choke him, or smother him in kisses, I try to think of something, anything else but how could I? I was fixing to take him with me, we'd have been jumping through time. Almost to adulthood but shy off 2 years, instead of a car I had a time traveling device that could take me to any point. All that stuff is the past now. We had some catching up to do till the particles magnetize and put me somewhere else. And who knew when, I had a reader for it but sometimes it moved faster than I could keep up at times.

"I'm almost surprised that we didn't get caught sneaking out or were caught going at it. You were always so loud, still are actually" Jacob rolled his eyes but smiled wickedly. I knew what that meant, I stepped back only to be lifted as Jacob roughly snuffled me while rubbing his beard into me. I scream and laugh, he stops to steal a few kisses.

"You're not going to make me say uncle? Are you, I kinda don't mind this as opposed to that stubble you had back then" he grimace at me then laugh.

"I think I'll shave now, thank you" I gasp, knowing I should have just enjoyed it and not said anything, I'll be sporting beard burn now.

"So rude, you're lucky you are handsome" Jacob stuck his tongue out.

"And you're beautiful, even when covered in beard burn and hickies" I couldn't help but blush at the prospect of doing that again, we could have some fun before I have to leave this universe/ time-line.

#alternate universe #Time line jumper #Jacob Seed #Far Cry 5 #The Random Adventures of Daniella 'Danie' Spadina #Daniella Spadina #old fallout 3 character #didn't get a last name till recently #mentions #Fallout 4 #Cyberpunk 2077 #writing

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tangledinmdzs · 4 years ago

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nobody’s town - xue yang hc

running away from home with xue yang

the sky is darkening, sun setting bruising the sky in dark hues of purple, orange and pink

you lean on the handle of your bike, as a gentle almost spring breeze pushes your hair out of your face

the streets of your small suburban town are empty now,

as expected

as always expected

life in this town was monotonous, cyclic, repetitive

no this town was not boring

this town was stagnant

even after living here for so many years, raised on the same streets

there was nothing melancholy about the dullness that you saw all these years

everything had always been the same as it had always been

and honestly you didn’t even think there was something wrong with that

but then, one day, you meet to Xue Yang

he didn’t fit in, never had ever since the day that he had moved here all those years ago

he wasn’t like everybody else

if the his dark ensemble, crooked smile and suspicious baggage was anything to go by

your parents warned you not to get too close with flitting looks and stares

you friends would make passing remarks and jibs if you happened to see each other in the school halls

but now, as you’re peddling your bike after dwindling rays of sun light, you’re glad that you never really heeded their words

the small backpack on your back thumps lightly against your spine as you pedal a bit faster

you reach the end of your street just as evening is setting in around you

the corner that you know so well suddenly feels ominous at this later time

you stand, waiting

the sounds of the night drift through the air, clearer now that you were standing outside and not in the comfort, easy comfort, of your normal bedroom

in the time that you wait, you briefly wonder, if it was a mistake to run away

follow a boy you barely knew,

out to somewhere you don’t know any better

but you end up pushing away the doubts that you’ve created

because, after all, even if you stayed here

what would be left for you?

you also don’t have time to turn around and rethink this whole running away idea when another shadow bikes up to you from the opposite side of your street

Xue Yang’s bike is similar to yours, a bit older and rickety, so the sound you can hear come from a few feet away

he pedals close to you, stopping by your side just as the evening begins transitioning to true night time

“took you long enough,” you tell him, slightly annoyed at having been made to wait

he gives you a pearly white smile under the dim headlights of your small town

“just follow me,” Xue Yang doesn’t so much as elaborate before pedaling off again

you blink at him, his little fanfare, his little care,

turn back one last time to look at the street that you had always known, different in a new way under the cover of night now

and then you turn back around,

you pedal after him

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whatsarasaid · 4 years ago

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title: the interview. fandom: control. rating: general audiences. word count: approx. 1100. characters: dr. casper darling, jesse faden, dylan faden.

Ordinary, Maine.

Darling loved it. The name. It was overly on-the-nose, bringing him a strange childish delight. The only thing that could have made it better was if it were Wisconsin or something. Cheese curds and cows and Midwest monotony would have further sharpened the contrast.

Though, judging by the sleepiness, this particular New England town wasn’t too far off. The Federal-style architecture gave it a sense of primness it had no right to possess. The dilapidated gas station on the corner certainly took away from the red brick and cream eaves. Somewhat Idyllic But Mostly Boring Until Very Recently, MI, he renamed it in his head. If the place still wanted to be literal with its naming conventions, things would have to change.

Darling chunked open the metal door of the school, case files and morning coffee in hand. Their makeshift headquarters was comprised of hijacked teachers’ desks and heavy equipment crates. Personnel was busy scribbling and typing, diligently working to solve. Twenty-four hours straight of swabbing surfaces, collecting samples, and snapping pictures, but the question of what caused the AWE remained unanswered.

Time to pick through the human data.

Primary sources were rich with information, responding to direct questions with direct answers. The quantitative—statistics, algorithms—gave scientific discovery validity and generalizability. But it was through the qualitative—observation, interviews—that theories were born. Unfortunately, every adult in Ordinary up and vanished rapture-style, meaning all witnesses were under sixteen. And likely, new orphans.

Darling knew absolutely nothing about children, his work was his offspring, but he knew the devastation an AWE could bring. He caught sight of the kids through the gym windows yesterday. They were sitting on rows of military cots with their khaki blankets and emergency Dopp kits, waiting until they could be questioned by the FBC and processed by the Office of Children and Family Services. None of their personal belongings could be released until they had been screened for possible Altered Items or OOPs.

These interviews would be undoubtedly bleak.

The first subjects were the Faden siblings. An agent reported they’d began frantically babbling about a landfill the moment the FBC showed up at their door and so were moved to the front of the line.

Follow the strangeness.

That was how this worked.

Darling frowned at his lab coat, wrinkled from the drive. White coats held power. Sometimes inciting trust, but other times ire. Didn’t most people like doctors? Hopefully, the children would. Even if he was the research kind. He straightened his bowtie.

He found the Fadens in the kindergarten classroom, where they'd been told to wait. They weren’t as young as he thought they'd be, but what had he expected? Infants? He needed to brush up on his human development. They sat in primary-colored bean bags. The younger, the boy, was staring out a window, picking at the bag’s seams. The older, the girl, was stiff beside him, sharp eyes clicking to Darling when he walked in.

Darling gave them what he considered to be his most unoffending smile.

The girl frowned.

Darling scanned for a chair but found somebody had robbed the teacher’s desk of its adult-sized one. He resorted to dragging a miniature plastic stool in front of the kids and crunching himself onto it, knees almost to his chest, coffee and case files an awkward pile in his lap. “Good morning. I lead the scientists studying your home. I hear you have some interesting information for me.”

The boy turned and blinked at him with owlish eyes.

It was the girl who spoke first, her voice quiet but resolute. Darling liked the cut of her jib. “We know what caused everything. We found a slide projector in the dump, after it got bigger.”

"The dump got bigger?"

"Yeah, bigger but the same. Deeper?"

Darling couldn’t put his coffee down fast enough. He ruffled in his chest coat pocket for a pen and scooched the stool closer, inciting two high-pitched squeals from the rubber-knobbed legs, eager to take notes. Silly of him to not bring a tape recorder. “Mm-hm, yes, go on.”

The girl eyed him, cagey again, “Each slide took us to, um, different places. The places weren’t here.”

"'Here' as in Ordinary?"

“No. Earth.”

Likely other dimensions. “How did that work?"

"We'd put in a slide, project it onto a wall, and just go through."

Definitely other dimensions. "Can you describe these other places?"

"They were all really weird. Some were scary."

The boy interrupted, “Do you know where our parents are?”

The girl snapped her mouth shut and wrinkled her nose, looking as if she were forcing back the sudden sting of tears.

“No,” Darling said gently. As he noted earlier: bleak. “I don’t. But that’s the thing about the scientific process: it can lead to all sorts of discoveries. Maybe even the location of your parents. I can’t make any promises, though.”

The boy nodded solemnly, “Tom thought the Not-Mother took them.”

Darling’s mind reeled as he scribbled notes. 'Not-Mother' had been mentioned in the police reports. Was it an entity they found through the alternate dimensions in the slide projector? Their nickname for something else? What motives did it have in taking the adults? If any? Dear God, so many questions all at once, branching and vining in a thousand directions.

"Where's Tom? In the gym? I'd like to speak with him, too."

The children exchanged looks but said nothing.

Darling peeked at his wristwatch. They would need more than their scheduled fifteen minutes. Much more. He needed to call Trench and deploy a team to the local landfill ASAP. Before anyone else got sucked into a different dimension and met this ‘Not-Mother.’ They should probably just transport the whole site to the Oldest House for safety since it evidently...shifts. What an endeavor. He’d have to lead that. Someone else—a child psychologist, probably—should finish interviewing the kids. They'd better know how to navigate the delicacies of their experience while retrieving the needed information.

As if on cue, the boy’s stomach warbled a growl. Some positive reinforcement might be in order before Darling subjected them to a marathon of questions. A Paranatural Aptitude Assessment would be wise, too. He had a feeling he’d be getting to know the Fadens quite well.

Darling clapped the file shut, “I haven’t had breakfast yet. Have you?”

The children shook their heads no.

“Let’s go get some cereal,” he said, gathering his pile and inelegantly pulling himself up from the stool, “Or muffins. Do you like muffins?"

The boy followed.

The girl did not.

“Come on,” he called to her as he jerked his head toward the door, “After we eat, I'm going to introduce you to more people who can help. You’ll be having lots more talks with them.”

She finally trailed after.

But not without giving him one final glance.

#control #control game #control remedy #casper darling #jesse faden #dylan faden #ficlet #writing: mine #pardon me as i bend some canon

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adultswim2021 · 4 years ago

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The Finkel Files | July 18, 2002 - 3:30 AM | Special

There is no hell in Judaism. Therefore, one must be created. That is where the Finkel Files comes in.

Finkel Files is about a young boy named Joshua Finkel attending Rabbi school, which is also a summer camp. Young Joshua doesn't actually want to be a rabbi. In fact, he'd rather be a rock musician. In this pilot episode Joshua's love of playing rock music is barely explored, instead it's a story about him and his friend, an extremely orthodox little guy, being bullied into building a raft so they can go across the lake to have sex with Catholic teenage girls.

There's a lot of Jewish humor in this, and there's sex-related jokes that exist in that weird grey area of being too juvenile to exist on Adult Swim and a little too risque to air on children's television. There's a lotta circumcision jokes, which I always find a little puzzling when it's so clearly claimed as being a Jewish thing. I'm far from Jewish, and grew up in a shitkickin' retarded redneck town where everyone was cult-member-level Christian, and my dick and every other dick I sucked, I mean, saw, was cut. They cut all them little boy dicks. I literally never even saw an uncircumcised dick till I was in my 30s while watching some European pornography. Circumcision jokes are like the Israel of dick jokes, if you think about it. I’m not elaborating on this, because I don’t want my blog to get deleted.

Anyway, this fucking sucks. It sucks so fucking much. It's easily the worst Adult Swim original to air up until this point. I know what'll unseat it eventually, and good lord, I am not looking forward to it. But this is one of the most laughless eleven-and-a-half minutes I've ever spent. I've seen this maybe three times now and it's about four times too many.

Created and written by Adam Mutterperl, who has this entire pilot on Vimeo. I once characterized him as a guy who probably pestered Jewish day camps into letting him show this pilot and doing a Q&A. I bet he's done a few of those, and I'm sure it goes over okay with kids of a certain age. I did a little digging and found out he's written on various bad late night talk shows, and he wrote for (gulp) jib jab, one of my most hated comedy creations on earth. But, he seems like he's doing better than me. Good for him.

MAIL BAG

Anonymous writes:

What's your beef with ToonZone? I knowing having a messageboard dedicated to talking about cartoon is inherently a little silly but it's probably was the most thoughtful and intelligent one going. Walked a perfect line between blind fandom and willful contrarianism. If you don't like that then too bad. Eggos for you.

Oh, I don’t have much of a beef with ToonZone. Part of me just got swept up in the fact that I posted on a different, COOLER message board than them. They seemed like the enemy because they were a more successful version of the board I posted on. There were also a lot of genuine dorks on there. Also a high-level poster there called my wife a cunt once (I’m not joking about this lol).

I guess if push comes to shove I’m pro-ToonZone because when I did research for this project initially they were a very consistent source for air-date information. I got all my Capt. Linger dates (and other stuff) from just chronologically making my way through review threads. It’s an important resource for sure. But yeah, the people.

Anonymous writes:

Brak is for babies. Anyone whose defending it is still a baby. The only thing that keeps this from being on regular cartoon network is that the animation is shit and Zorak sometimes says something nasty/sexual especially to Brak's mom. Fuck this show. Worse than Mr. Pickles by a longshot.

I do wish they’d just bleep out Zorak’s mean-ness and play it on Nick Jr. or some shit. Just imagine face introducing it. New promos of Brak and that big frog from Gullah Gullah Island hanging out. What an ideal world that would be.

Anonymous writes:

Hi the Brak Voting guy again. You have turned the tables on me I see. Wow. I never thought I would be the one getting questions. Makes me feel like a big guy. Also, whose that woman who asked about me? Can we connect somehow. I live in Michigan if that helps. Anyway, I would vote for Galrog. Brak's Dad would lose interest a week past inauguration. He's a very fickle character. This is my honest opinion so you can't get mad at it. You have to respect the honesty. Hook me up with that broad.

Hey man, nice to hear from you. Sorry I came down hard. I’m also a Galrog guy and I was only guarded with my opinion because, and I’m sorry for saying this, but you came off as a Dad supporter and those people are literally fucking nazis. But I made a mistake and I’m sorry and to make it up to you I’m going to let you fuck that woman

Kon writes:

I've KIND OF come around on this era of Birdman. Not my cup of tea but no real reason to be mad at it. Some jokes are fine even! I'm gonna check out Jagged Edge becuz of you

Yeah, I agree it’s nothing to be mad at, but I sure don’t particularly like it! Also Jagged Edge is solid, it’s once of those movies that people online are always like “ah they don’t make ‘em like this anymore! movies for adults! yeah baby! do I make you horny baby??” but then some people see it and they get a little too excited watching it and they have to be like “MARGARET THATCHER ON A COLD DAY MARGARET THATCHER ON A COLD DAY”

#adult swim #finkel files #adultswim2021

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mrmethbook · 4 years ago

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Chapter 2, First test and none of the rest.

WORNING!!!;...THIS POST MAY BE A TRIGGER TO ANYONE WITH PRIOR MATH HISTORY.

Finley after leaving that never-ending situation, Mr. Later tells me to do the usual driving maneuvers. Turn here, turn there, turn around here.

After all of that, he tells me to drive out of town toward the old drive-in.

Heading out that way, he tells me. “Do you remember when I mentioned (misdirection is key) Bone’s, you’ll hear me tell you such and such is a key. Mr. Bone’s this is one of those times.

These things I tell you are keys to this little big city. Those such and such are like keys on a keychain, there the keys that will open the doors to this dark world.

“I’m teaching you these things to not only keep you safe. But more importantly, in this case, to keep me safe which is always most important. Understand?” He asks.

Do I understand? Fuck yeah I understand, you're talking straight and not all that twisted jib-talk*. I think to myself.

Looking at him I simply nod, then I tell him in an almost mocking tone of voice. “Yeah, I understand there like keys on a keychain, or like tools to use at my discretion.”

“Bone’s I can't stand a mockingbird, I go out of my way to swat the little bastards with my favorite tennis racket every damn time I hear one.” He tells me with a hornet's sting to his voice.

Then after what felt like four hours. But in actual none jib-time* is only a half an hour.

“Pull in the lane on the right-hand side just after the old drive-in,” Mr. Later tells me.

Pulling into the lane I notice a no trespassing sign that reads. IF YOU COME ON MY PROPERTY. I'LL SHOOT YOU IN THE FACE!!!.

I also notice three vehicles for sale out front by the road. The first one I notice is a rusted out chevy cavalier, the second car is an old station wagon with no front bumper and is packed full of styraphome. Last I see a

GMC Vandura A-Team van. It's black and red with the spoiler and everything, the only difference is there are no tires or rims on the van.

The lane is a half-mile off the road, with water-filled potholes, a few left and right turns. Both sides of the lane consist of treelines on both sides and cornfields as far as the eye can see.

I hope I never get lost and spun out here. It would be a horrifying labyrinth of lostness.

The lane ends in what looks like tall junkyard fencing, its twenty feet tall and keeps on going into the blistering horizon.

Pulling up to the metal fence I look to my left then to my right. All I can see is a twenty~foot wall as far as I can see.

What in the hell kind of place is this? I ask myself.

Sitting in the truck waiting for my next order, I notice a big ass pile of pop cans the size of a large dog house. Mr. Later tells me to turn off the truck, I have no idea what's going to happen next.

“Well Bone’s first things first let's get high, but before we turn the bolts on this monster meth

machine, I’m going to show you how to make your very own smoking bulb.” He tells me with a sideshow doctor’s demeanor.

“Have you ever smoked meth out of a light bulb before boy?” I’m asked.

“I've heard about using a light bulb, personally I've only used aluminum foil,” I tell him with immediate regret because of the look of, You fucking dumbass, is all across his face.

By the look on my face, I can tell he knows I have no idea why he's making that face for.

How in the hell am I supposed to know why in the fuck you're making that face for, no ones ever told me about any of this shit before. Of course, I don't tell him this.

“You fucking tard aluminum foil gives you Alzheimers you dip shit, hasn't anyone ever told you anything before?” The calculative criminal asks me.

I can tell this is coming from a man with no personal interest and has been in the jib-field* for many man-hours and light-years.

“Well Bone’s today's your lucky day, I’m going to show you first hand how to make your very own smoking bulb.” The self~made man tells me.

“Let's get out of the truck. We'll need adequate construction space, we’ll have to use the hood of your truck to complete this unforgettable feat.” He instructs me with an erector set master prowess.

Getting out of my truck, I walk to the front hood of my S10 truck.

“This is my M.T.S. Bone’s, or its also known as my mini~twak~sack*. Every Jib~Gyver* is required to own one, they're very important to tweakers all across the land.” Mr. Later tells me while taking off his camo fanny pack from his shoulder, it has pockets all the way around the fanny pack.

I give him an inquiring look.

“This is what I keep all my tweek shit in.” I’m told with lowered eyebrows. ”What the hell else would it be.” He finished with panther in his voice.

Standing in front of my truck, Mr. Later perseids to start taking various items out of his M.T.S.

He starts pulling out a brand new light bulb, needle nose pliers, salt shaker and one small hand torch. Amongst other miscellaneous tweek-tools*. He lays these items across my truck hood like a surgeon getting ready to perform surgery on his grandmother's favorite poodle.

“I don't know if that rattle brain of yours can handle any more priceless knowledge Bone’s, are you ready?” He asks me with an all~knowing tone.

“Yes Mr. Later, I’m always ready to learn, like they say knowledge is power right?” I tell the wisdom maker.

“That's the smartest thing I think I’ve heard you say, boy.” He tells me with a sly smile across his graces.

With bulb in one hand and needle-nose pliers in the other, holding the bulb upside down, he starts to tell me. “The first thing I’m going to show you is that you have to smash the dark glass with the side of your pliers when the dark glass is smashed you have to take off the flat round metal tab.”

“Then use the needle nose part of the pliers to dig out the dark glass, making a circular motion until all the glass falls out, all that should be left is the lighting element that's inside of the glass bulb.” Mr. Later the magician shows me so I’ll wont have to relearn the precious process ever again.

At this point, I’m looking at him in awe like a magician's apprentice.

“Now it's time to remove the lighting element, to do this you have to insert the tip of the needle-nose pliers into the newly made hole, once again make a circular motion breaking the lighting element, Make sure to be extra careful not to break the glass of the light bulb, it's easy to break around the light socket part.” He shows me on the bulb exactly where not to break.

“Once the element is broken you have to shake all the glass out of the bottom of the bulb when the glass is all out, there is a wire that is attached to the sidewall of the bulb, use the needle-nose pliers to break the wire-free.” Once again he shows me the wire, he breaks the wire, so I can see it.

“After the wire is broken, its time to shack out the lighting element. Now for the salt shaker, pour some salt into the light bulb, it won't take much, put your thumb over the hole and shake until all the white coating is off the sides of the glass.” While doing this, Mr. Later continues showing me while he works his magic.

“If you don't get all the salt out it will leave little black burnt specks inside the bulb when you use it, then you’ll waste your dope.” Mr. Later tells me.

With mouth dropped I soak up the knowledge like a sponge, lighting the small hand torch he tells me. “Now this is the most important part, the carb. If you want a good blast you have to have good airflow like a fuel-injected carburetor on a 440 engine.” I'm told with precision.

Putting the opening of the bulb to his mouth. He starts to blow constant pressure into the bulb with his mouth, then he puts the tip of the torch flame on one spot of the glass, making tiny circular motions.” The constant pressure in the bulb and the heat of the flame will pop a hole in the glass after a few seconds.” The glassmaker shows me the technique.

After a few seconds, I hear a pop, the hole popped out of the glass like a rabbit popping out of a magician's hat.

Mr. Later looks over the beautiful bulb for any modifications like a new mother looking to see if she has a six-fingered newborn baby.

Mr. Later tells me. “Now we arrive at the final conclusion, the most important part, getting high as fuck.”

“If I’m packing* the bulb your smoking the dope till it's all gone.” I’m told with wide eyes.

“Of course I’ll be showing you first hand how to properly get a blast from the present past.” He tells me smiling.

“If you're a fast learner you’ll learn to melt the dope and not burn it up.” I’m told from the criminal savant.

“You smoke the hell out of the jib* while I go to meet some ignorant fool that's interested in buying one of the lemons for sale out by the road.” He tells me.

How could I possibly say no to that, free meth, you can count me in.” I think to myself.

But instead, I tell Mr. Later. “okay sounds good to me. When do I start.”

“If that's what you want, let's get started.” He tells me while pouring methamphetamine a third the way full in the light bulb.

“Bone’s I’ll hit the bulb a few times so you can get the jest of this precious process of never~ending endurance.” He tells me while hitting the bulb a few times in a row.

Each time Mr. Later puff twist, puff twist, then he blows out a cloud of smoke so big I want to catch it in a ziplock baggie to save for later.

“I'm going to leave you to the jib~vices* while I use your truck to go meet those dumb fucks that want to buy one of my shitty cars.” He tells me more then asks.

Mr. Later puts away his tweek tools into his M.T.S, then slides into my truck without a second thought.

Pulling down the lane Mr. Later slows to a stop in front of me. “Hay Bone’s if you get a chance between hits, sort that big ass pile of pop cans into the five~gallon buckets by the fence, if you don’t forget to put the bulb down it will send you into a time warp, Okay?” He tells me pointing at the pile of cans.

“One more thing, don't let oblivion drag into its undertow of impending darkness.” Then he pulls down the lane humming that song again.

~Mr. Later at his finest~

Pulling down the lane Mr. Later thinks to himself. If this one passes the first test he's lucky he has a strong mind. That's the real test.

Almost to the front of the lane, he sees a creepy looking van with the front passenger side fender taken off so the tweekers can scrap the metal to buy Mr. Later his L7s*.

Thanking to himself. I love a tweeker that will do whatever it takes to get my beans*. It brings warm fuzzy feelings to my heart.

Parking the truck, Mr. Later sees a pure twack~star* of a sub~human experiment gone way to wrong standing by the rust bucket of a Chevy Cavalier for sale.

The creature has a headlamp on his head and a bandana covering the lower portion of its face, the scarrow crow of a man has a twack~sack with what looks like tweek~tools spilling out everywhere as he moves. This is all happening right in broad daylight.

My kind of twack~ien* if you ask me.

Slick Eddy stops whatever in the hell he was doing, then he walks straight for the truck.

Slick Eddy yells. “YO LATER IS THIS CAR FOR SALE.” The dumb fuck yells at the top of his lungs.

“That's what the sign says don't it, you remedial shit.” Mr. Later tells him in a shitty voice.

Then Mr. Later hears someone yell from the creepy~ass van. “Hurry up, we have to go.”

“I thought I told you to leave your sideshow of a wife at home you fuck, she creeps me out.” Mr. Later tells Eddy with spital coming out of his mouth.

“You know how bitches are, they always have to come, or else.” The side-show tells Mr. Later.

“I got your box’s*of pseudoephedrine.” ecactuly at that moment Mr. Later cuts him off. “HAY YOU NUMBNUT FUCK, I’ve told you to call them L7s if you can't do that then kick rocks, you none remembering mother fucker.”

Then Slick Eddy tells him. “Sorry, Mr. Later won't happen again.” Then he asks. “Don't you have a daughter?”

“FUCK NO I DON'T HAVE A DAUGHTER AND WHAT IN THE HELL DOES THAT HAVE TO DO WITH ANYTHING YOU SLIMY SHIT!!” Mr. Later yells at him.

Mr. Later hears the other sideshow in the front seat of the van say. “I told you he doesn't have a daughter Eddy.”

Slick Eddy turns back around yelling at his fat ass whale of a wife. “Shut the fuck up you fat bitch and quite picking the dogs face, it looks like mutilated monkey meat and your the silverback gorilla, you stupid cunt,” Then she just goes back to picking the dogs face.

“Eddy put the L7s in the floorboard of the Cavalier. "What you're looking for is in the console of the van, no, not your van you dumb shit, how could it be in your van already?” Mr. Later tells Slick Eddy when he starts for his own van.

Looking over at Eddy’s van Mr. Later tells him. “Never bring that fat ass whale blubber of a wife here again.If you do I'll shoot her with a harpoon, do you understand me, you creep show?” Slick Eddy’s told by the striking viper that's sliding into the S10 truck.

Pulling back down the lane Mr. Later hears a dog howling like he just got his nuts frozen to the train tracks. I wonder if Bone’s has sorted and counted the cans if he has I’ll be spunder~struck*.

When Mr. Later pulls down the lane I look at the bulb in my hand thanking. It's time to find out what smoking meth out of a bulb is all about.

I start hitting the bulb making sure I don't let the flame touch the glass of the bulb. just like Mr. Later showed me.

I start puffing and twisting, puffing and twisting, my mind into a stuttering light speed.

Then finally I look over to notice the pile of smashed cans the size of a large dog house.

I look at the bulb, then back again, finally it clicks.

The pile of cans Mr. Later asked me to sort them into the five~gallon buckets while he’s off doing whatever in the hell he's doing.

Personally, at this point, I don't give two shits. I think to myself. If this is obvilion I’m holding on with my two hands and one of yours, never letting go.

After two more hits, I sit the bulb down looking at the row of buckets against the fence. There are different kinds of pop/beer cans nailed above each bucket, Coca Cola, Budweiser, and A.&.W cream soda.

At this point, I start sorting the cans at sub~jib light speed with complete one hundred percent accuracy of three~handed precision, after what felt like five minutes of frisbee tossing, in actuality is forty~five minutes of hindsight what the fucks.

What in the hell is time when shit is this fun?

After playing frisbee, I walk over to the five~gallon buckets, looking in them, I realize each

bucket looks like they have the exact same amount it each of them.

For just a second’s pause, I think. Is this me looking too far into this hole, the same amount of cans in the bucket thing? I ask myself.

I start to count each bucket of cans. The first bucket has 23 cans, the second bucket has 23 cans, the third bucket has the same. Why 23 cans in each. I wonder.

There must be 23 cans in each bucket. I assume.

Looking up I see Mr. Later parking the truck, the first thing he asks is. “How many cans in each bucket Bone’s?”

I look back at him with a quizzical gaze.

He asks again. “Damn it boy, how many canes Bone’s?” This time he asks more intently.

“23,” I answer him with a, I know I’m right kind of ring to it.

Mr. Later strikes back with. “No you fuck 22cans in the fifth bucket, Why didn't you count each bucket, you wanting to get back to your bulb on the brain time?”

I came straight back with. “Fuck no I didn't count them all, it would have taken too much time from what did you call it, My very own personal downward spiral,” I tell him.

Mr. Later thinks to himself. This one put down the bulb long enough to sort the cans, just the fact that he put the bulb down means he might just have the right kind of mind for this lifestyle if he's lucky.

Mr. Later simply tells me. ”Mr. Bone’s like you told me earlier, without knowledge you have no power of the mind. Is that what you have a weak mind? People with weak minds are something I do not keep around me, or my family, that's for damn sure.” He tells me with a matter of fact tone of voice.

Family? I wonder.

“Well Bone’s, are you ready for this fractured wonder opera adventure I’m calling a mishap?” He asks me while waiting for my answer.

“Why not, I like adventures,” I tell him, with the thought of family still spinning in my revolving brain.

“Boy, this is going to be one hell of an adventure. I can guarantee that.” Mr. Later tells me with his Grinch smile.

“Get the hell in the truck, I’m taking you in. Not too many make it past the gate, although you may have the right kind of eyebrows to continue on this slaughterhouse adventure of twist and turns you'll never forget in a million meth years.” He tells me with a showmen's smile.

I start my truck while he opens the gate, then he waves me in.

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recurring-polynya · 5 years ago

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Saw your tags on the 6th Div's artwork and man, not to sound dramatic (still a bit is ngl) but if you ever write something about Ginrei and/or Soujun, know that I'll love you forever ! ;v; They deserve more love ;A;

I am working on a Ginrei story!!

Okay, right now, I am about halfway through the next story in my RenRuki slow-burn epic, The Heart is a Muscle, which was supposed to be about Rukia passing the vice-captain’s exam, but has somehow become about Byakuya facing all the grief he’s suppressed for the last 150 years (it’s a comedy, obvs). It somehow now incorporates a whole-ass Hisana backstory and I had to make up a name for Byakuya’s grandmom/Ginrei’s wife (she’s super dead), which is why I was doing Kuchiki research. If anyone’s interested, I ended up naming her Sonoyo, which means “night garden”, and shares the character for ‘night’ with Byakuya’s name, since all the men in his line have colors in their name, I don’t even speak Japanese, how did I get like this?? Ginrei gets mentioned a lot, as Byakuya realizes that having a headstrong young shinigami in the house who wants to run around fighting people for $0 kinda sucks, actually, especially when you love that idiot young person and would like them not to die, and he sorta kinda, starts to have, like, a molecule of empathy for old Granddad.

ANYWAY, the next story after that is about Ginrei coming to town and making Byakuya miserable and I’ve already started it, even though I knew I shouldn’t’ve. Like all of my Kuchiki nonsense, it is Extremely Disrespectful-- I honestly can’t believe actual Byakuya fans like my writing, but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I only love Byakuya because he is Awful, and I love Ginrei even more because he is like if you combined the Awfulness of Byakuya with the Awfulness of the Captain-Commander, that whole storyline with Kouga is my absolute fav. Anyhoo, G’s retired now, and living his best life. (I think Bleach Brave Souls finally came out and said he had died and I do not care, I do what I want).

We know absolutely nothing about Soujun except that he was adorable and he is dead, but he just seems So! Pure! I have made the point in my lt’s exam fic that one of the reasons Byakuya is being a butt about Rukia taking the exam is because Soujun died a vice-captain. If you have read my writing long enough, you will know that I sometimes get attached to random throwaway lines and eventually spin them out into short fics. I can *feel it in my bones* that I have a Soujun fic in me, but I’m not sure what form it’s going to take yet. I’m sure he would have made a very poor Clan Head, but I hc that he was the emotional insulation between Byakuya and Ginrei that made Those Kuchiki Boys a family. True Kuchiki can’t live with each other without having a big softie once a generation to keep the peace.

Anyway, because I love it when people ask me about my writing, here’s an extremely early excerpt from the Ginrei fic:

When Byakuya emerged from the captains’ meeting, a patiently waiting Hell Butterfly fluttered up from a nearby bush and alighted on his finger. The voice of his adjutant echoed in his head. “Hey, sir, hate to tell you this, but he was early.”

Byakuya said an extremely dirty word (it was “curses”), startling Captain Hitsugaya thoroughly, and flash-stepped back toward his division.

It was worse than he expected.

Ginrei had every shinigami in the company lined up in the training yard, and was shouting them through various sword forms. Renji stood off to the side, looking thoroughly amused, and gently correcting the form of some of the younger officers in the back lines from time to time.

“Abarai!” Byakuya hissed.

Renji sauntered over.

“Are you letting my grandfather run drills?”

“He wanted to.”

“You cannot just let him do whatever he wants!”

“He’s just running the drills I was gonna run. Figured there were a lot worse things he could be getting into. He sure looks like he’s having fun.”

Ginrei smacked Fifth Seat Kuchiki on the foot with his practice sword and yelled something at him. Then he glanced up, and a pleased smile spread over his face. “Lieutenant Abarai, take over for me!”

“Sir, yes, sir!” Renji barked,

Renji dashed over, relieved Ginrei of the practice sword, and promptly whacked Fifth Seat Kuchiki on the other foot with it.

“My ungrateful grandson has finally found time within his taxing schedule to welcome me!” Byakuya’s grandfather announced while striding over.

“You were due to arrive at 2,” Byakuya stated coolly. “At the Manor. Rukia and I both arranged half-days. It is eleven.”

“We made good time,” Ginrei explained flippantly. “And we did stop by the Manor, I left everyone else back there. I wanted to see how the old division was making out, and what’s the sense in stopping by when you were expecting me?”

Byakuya’s eye twitched. “And… how did you find it?”

“Running surprisingly ship-shape in the absence of its captain!”

“I was not absent. I was in a captain's meeting. It was an hour.”

“By gaw, I do like that new adjutant of yours.”

Byakuya blinked. “You… what?”

The both looked over at where Renji was criticizing the Eighth Seat by wobbling his elbow so that he lost his grip on his sword, bobbling it wildly.

“You wrote me a ten page, strongly worded letter when I hired him,” Byakuya frowned. “As though the Gotei were overflowing with literally anyone else who had passed the lieutenant’s exam at the time.”

“Well, that was then. You’ve got him now, and I like the cut of his jib. He showed me around while Genryuusai was wasting your time. The division is looking very modern. I was impressed by the new weight room.”

Byakuya felt a headache coming on.

#byakuya kuchiki #ginrei kuchiki #my writing #squad 6 is jerks

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creativewritingbyfabio · 5 years ago

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Wizards Apprentice 2

Hello and welcome back to the second addition of the wizards apprentice. In my attempt to continuously improve upon my creative writing skills I am trying to write a little bit each day and since I had so much fun writing this yesterday I’d continue the story.

Part 2

Edward: *breathing heavily. “ Thats it’s! All I gotta do is fake my own death, skip town, aaaand live forever in a cave in the mountains until I die. Because no one. And I mean no one can find out that I accidentally killed the beloved Jhet! They’ll never forgive me! Aw gosh no what will Brenna think of me? Wait will...... will she still go to the autumn ball with m-“

Jhet:” My God’s boy pipe down before you kill me again with all that jib jabbery! Sheesh”.

Edwards: “ but...but I don’t understand. I just killed you. Oh master I’m so sorry. I’m the worst apprentice ever”.

Jhet: “ aw no that’s not entirely true”.

Edward: “ you mean it? I’m really not the worst apprentice ever”?!

Jhet: “ What?! Oh gods no, no you are without a doubt the worst apprentice any master could ask for. No my boy, I was correcting you. You see that didn’t really kill me, just my body. Moments before the flame of Helios completely melted me I managed to pull off a sealing spell and bound my soul to my library.”

Edward: “whew what a relief. For a second there I thought I actually made a mess of things u-“

Jhet: “ Ohhh nooo. You merely destroyed my mortal flesh. Believe me boy I am beside myself with rage like you’ve never seen! ( deep sighs ) thank the heavens I am still able to continue my mission....although things will get a bit more difficult now”.

Jhet scratch his ghostly chin as his corporeal spirit form wisps and moves throughout the library. His soul bouncing from book to book he tests out his new form yet he seems vacant as if in deep thought.

Jhet: “here” he explains as a ghostly arm shoots out from the boom shelf and tosses a particularly heavy book at Edwards head knocking him to the floor.

Edward: “oof! ....hey you did that on pur-“. Edward stops and looks up to see the ghostly spirit of Jhet standing before him arms crossed and his head his low with sadness.

Jhet: “ after all this time Edward....do you know why I chose you? Surely you’ve formed some hypothesis by now”.

Edward: *rising to this feet “ because you see great potential in me unlike anyone you’ve ever met?!”

Jhet: “no....no my boy if only it were that simple. No, no fate has something far more sinister in store for you.....open that book.”

After several minutes of unlocking various clasps and buckles, Edward was turning through the pages of a beautiful violet and black smoulder-skin bound book. Each page felt heavy as if the very ink on the page held weight. Instructed by Jhet, Edward flipped through page upon page of ancient text, sacred spells, arcane wisdom, Druidic monsters, and delicious recipes for lemon cake until finally reaching the right page.

Jhet: “ I am so sorry Edward. Fate would have it that you would have to bear the burden of my greatest mistake and hubris.....the great genie of sovace, Malcoz.”

Looking down at the page Edward saw one of the most frightening images he’d ever seen. While the page remained still the images on the page seemed as if they were alive. There stood a silhouette of a large figure veiled by dark black clouds and blue lightning. A pair of ruby red eyes peered back at Edward through the chaos of storm and wind. They felt enticing and even kind almost like a long lost friend. Yet something deep behind them felt a cold heartless evil energy unlike anything Edward had ever experienced. With great effort Edward tore his eyes from the book realizing he was in a cold sweat and out of breathe.

Edward: “ what....what was that”. * Edward panted as he struggled to catch his breath. He closed the book tightly between his hands and looked down at the oddity.

Jhet:” that merely a suggestion of his power or rather the sheer malice he holds. Sit Edward. Please have some tea. It will help. It is time I tell you the truth of my work here. The truth behind my great power and your future. The seeing stone tells no lie and for you Edward I have seen you become an even greater sage than myself. You become a true hero....you become......Edward?”

Jhet looks toward Edward who lays fainted on the floor.

Jhet: *shaking his head and pinching his brow. “ oh bother, this is going to be an ordeal”.

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sasquatchcool · 2 years ago

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called-seas-answer · 6 years ago

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an incoming storm

“Haul away the bowline, boys, haul away today! Haul away the bowline, boys, we’re here to make your pay ~ Nevermind the weather, boys, haul away today! Haul away the bowline, boys, get cracking on your way.”

Their voices echoed over the water, the air eerily quiet even for the rush of dark water as the tide rose and the wind rolled over them like a thick, damp blanket. A warning heralding the storm clouds building on the horizon and moving inland. Steely grey clouds, climbing higher and denser and blocking out the sun, the blue of the ocean reflected along their low laying bottoms.

He encouraged them to sing while working – especially when they were in ports and loading and offloading goods. It kept them going, kept them from ruminating in the sun as sweat beaded down brown and burnt and wind seared backs, kept them from wondering too much about the way the forest spilled like a gloomy stain out of the hills in a slow march toward the shore. He knew they could feel the oppressive strangeness that Drustvar had been enveloped in, could see the wisps of blue and black, and the gnarled roots like hands grasping hungrily for anything else to devour.

“Kitty’s in the marketplace, Maude is in the town – when we get to port again, we’ll dance them ladies ‘round! Hoo! When we’ve had our fun ashore, our money spent with glee – we’ll pack our bags, be off again, once more on the sea.”

Arawn canted a ladle of water over his sweat-soaked hair and slicked back the fiery locks as their curled around his ears, his storm laden gaze drifted over the shores of his homeland beneath a knitted brow. They ported here because the town was cut off otherwise, and the dockmaster didn’t mind their colors as long as they brought provisions. Some of the more adventurous crew always went ashore and helped the local guard hunt down some of the more.. bold creatures and they were rewarded will good ale and the kind of comely welcome that they needed on occasion – especially the younger crew.

“Haul away the bowline, boys, haul away today,” he sang alongside them, making his way across the boards and up toward the forecastle deck and then balancing along the bowsprit, clinging to sail and jib lines as he went. The redheaded Kul Tiran dropped down to straddle the thick spindle of wood, eyes on the two boats that were rowed to and from the brigantine to shore and back – the Rambler’s Bane was too big to port properly here on the coast, but she was more than capable of dropping anchor in the shallows.

He kept it to himself that he preferred that bit of safe distance between them and the forest, though he was sure some of the crew from Drustvar understood without saying. He wasn’t the only one from this wildwood who cast longing, mourning glances toward the familiar shoreline.

“Me mother often told me, when I was just a lad,” he murmured, along with the jaunty tune of the men and women singing heartily on the ship proper, “Never go to sea, me boy, you’ll end up old and sad..”

The line reminded him of his mother, always did, and her many warnings. The sea had never been one of them – now, the depths of that now haunted forest had always been her caution. He lifted a hand to rub at his scruff, eyes lifting from the boats to pin on the creeping poison fog lingering like a ghost in the hollows of the gnarled crimson wood of his youth. A nightmare now, when before it was a sacred place of beauty and gods.

“Oi! Pendry!”

Arawn straightened and turned to find the quartermaster on the edge of the bowsprit, a hand cupped around his mouth to be heard over the low roar of the wind as it picked up.

“Last boat came in, we’re ready to shove off!”

“Aye, aye! Get ‘em tied down then, be right there.” Arawn called back, gracefully swinging to his feet and making his way back toward the ship proper, testing lines and shouting an order or two as he made it to the main deck again.

He felt eyes burning into the freckled skin of his spine, little hooks finding hollows in his bones. But he ignored them, and the whispers, as he always did. The wood was not his home anymore, and nothing in the siren’s call of rustling leaves could sway him from his path.

The storm snapped and groaned above them, lightning flashing and forcing townsfolk back indoors and the crew to work harder to get their load squared away. The chinks and grind of the enormous chain of the anchor were drowned out by the singing of the crew, the creak of the wood and groan of the ocean as the ship settled back into her demanding flow were commonplace. One by one, as the lanky first mate signed paperwork, and clapped the backs of panting, bright-eyed crewmen, the sounds dimmed and left nothing but an eerie, rumbling growl from the blackening clouds above.

Lightning flared in the depths of his stormy sea eyes, as he took his place on the forecastle deck once again, and lifted his hands, the sea swelling up beneath his sternum and the battering wind of the storm shifting to push them out to sea. The sails snapped like whips, catching the new direction, as the navigator called and the helmsman answered. The ship eased back out of the alcove of land and deeper into open water, rain opening up on the town as they went.

The storm never touched the boat, their sea singer at the fore with the wind in his flame hair and the tide in his eyes. And the crew kept singing as they worked.

“Haul away the bowline, boys, haul away today. Haul away the bowline, boys, we’re here to make your pay ~ Nevermind the weather, boys, haul away today. Haul away the bowline, boys, get cracking on your way..”

#intro post of sorts #stories

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 7 years ago

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To Capture The Dead (Part 1)

This was going to be a one shot but now I think it’s gonna be a three-parter (maybe more). An AU where Zuko dies in the Agni Kai with Ozai. Azula doesn’t want to believe. All of the adventures from Avatar State to Crossroads still happened, but Zuko is a figment of Azula’s imagination. Iroh takes it upon himself to try to help her recover.

Also kind of an impotent note; I have 6 fics I’m going back and forth between. To decided which to continue first I’m going to factor in reviews, comments, and likes. If this one does end up spanning over three parts it’s going to be placed in that pool of fics where likes are a factor.

She remembered seeing him the night after. She remembered taunting him about the ordeal. She remembered very clearly that he told her to leave him alone and she remembered well that he had thought that she was their father coming to check on him before he left. Azula was one of the first people to see the burn mark on his eye, in fact. And days later, she had made a secret journey into the shadier parts of the Capital to see how he was doing. She had told him to change the bandages lest he got an infection. She got a kick out of his misery but she didn’t want her brother to die. She knew that it would break her if he did. She knew because it felt awkward and lonely with his chair as empty as their mothers at mealtimes. Her father was often preoccupied with matters concerning their nation so mostly she ate alone. Mostly she studied alone. She did mostly everything alone. So she was left to wonder how Zuko’s quest for the avatar was going. Not very well she suspected, it would be a long time before she saw him again. Unless she sought him out anyways. She thought of doing so on many occasions but, recalled that Iroh had acquired them a ship. It was curious, but unsurprising all at once that her uncle was so will to leave his luxurious lifestyle to accompany Zuko.

So she was alone with her father until he called her to find Iroh...which meant she would be chasing Zuko. She thought it odd though that he only mentioned Iroh. Iroh the fugitive traitor who had tried to assassinate Ozai for some reason or another. No wonder he had taken off with Zu-Zu. Zu-Zu who wasn’t spoken of at all, even though he was with Iroh. It might have been a good thing that their father didn’t hate Zuko enough to have her hunt him down. But she would do it anyways, it had been far too long since she’d given him a good mocking and this would be the perfect opportunity.

She found them in a resort on the Su Oku River, a lovely place, she had to admit. She noted to herself that she would return one day if she ever got some down time. A few days of searching and interrogating lead her to a teeny rental house in the surrounding village. They of course, weren’t there when she arrived. She fretted that they may have vacated already, but she couldn’t see Uncle Iroh leaving behind the pearly shells he had collected. So she made herself cozy, reclining in the nearest chair and inspecting each shell. How drab, she thought, poor Zu-Zu must be going out of his mind. The little things like seashells and talks on the beach held as little appeal to him as they did to her, maybe even less appeal. She’d give him something to think about. From wide open windows came a fluttering breeze that took to lifting her hair. She supposed that it was pleasant enough to keep her company until the door fell ajar. “Hello, brother. Uncle.”

Azula didn’t expect any warmth from Iroh, he never seemed all that fond of her, most people weren’t. But Zuko, he was a display of clashing emotions. A sprinkle of anger, a touch of hope, and a whole lot of fear. The princess smirked. Without so much as a greeting he questioned her sudden re-appearance in his life. “In my country, we exchange a pleasant hello before asking questions, have you become uncivilized so soon, Zuzu?” She got to her feet, pacing leisurely towards him.

Iroh narrowed his eyes in confusion. He had a question for her, but whatever it was it when unvocalized. Instead he asked, “To what do we owe this honor?”

It was vexing really, how they had no desire for small talk. She accented her irritation by snapping one of Iroh’s shells, she could see his lip twitch in irritation, though he didn’t speak up. Even if he wanted to she was already weaving her lie together; a pretty tale about assassination plots and Ozai wanting to be with his family. To Zuko she added, “Father regrets your banishment. He wants you home.” He didn’t give her the joyous reaction she had hoped for, something that filled her with pangs of annoyance. “Did you hear me? You should be happy. Excited, grateful, I just gave you great news.”

Again Iroh looks at her as though he want to tell her something. “Your brother is…” he starts.

But she isn’t talking to him. “Don't interrupt, Uncle!” She snapped. He always liked to cut in whenever she tried to talk to her brother. Her brother who still hadn’t acknowledged her offer, however false it was. “I still haven't heard my thank you, I'm not a messenger. I didn't have to come all this way...” she trailed off.

Zuko muttered something, such and such about how he couldn’t believe it. Iroh stood behind her, his face twisted in fear. It didn’t matter, she had said her piece and now all she had to do was wait. “I can see you need time to take this in. I'll come to call on you tomorrow. Good evening.”

But they never showed and they had cleared out by the time she had made her way back to the resort village. Scowling to herself, she chided herself on letting them evade her so swiftly. It was odd, Zu-Zu usually ate that kind of praise right up. Now she would have to address the village and put out a watch. Her father wouldn’t be pleased. After many days of tracking she let Lo and Li convince her that it would be well to get an extra hand or two and replace the royal procession. She wasn’t at all opposed to reuniting with Mai and TyLee, surly they would put some of her boredom at ease. Attaining TyLee’s hand was easy enough—the girl could take a hint. Mai though, was nearly more trouble than she was worth. But she had ended up leading Azula right to the Avatar, so that hostage situation had its pay off. She had a choice then, who she wanted to seek out more—her brother or the Avatar. The Avatar of course, was her brother’s goal. If she captured him, Zu-Zu may very well come crawling out to her. And so she pursued, finding out that—for an airbender—this Avatar wasn’t so stealthy. His bison was leaving her a fine trail, one that lead her to a ghost town. A fine place for a show down really, it was a shame that Zu-Zu couldn’t be there.

“All right, you've caught up with me. Now, who are you and what do you want?”

“You mean you haven't guessed? You don't see the family resemblance? Here's a hint.” She held her hand up to her eye, and in her best Zuko voice spoke, “I must find the Avatar to restore my honor!” The joke seemed completely lost on him. It was as if he hadn’t heard Zuko bellow something of the sort before. “It's okay, you can laugh. It's funny.”

He squinted at her, “maybe if I knew your brother.” He replied.

It was her turn to narrow her eyes. Zuko’s quest must be going worse than she thought if the Avatar didn’t even know of him yet. It was so typically embarrassing of little Zu-Zu.

“So now what?” The Avatar inquired.

“Now? Now, it's over, you're tired and you have no place to go. You can run, but I'll catch you.” She stated and she would. She would have him before the night was out. To her luck he declared that he wouldn’t be running. All the easier, she thought. “Do you really want to fight me?”

The timing was so perfect; Zuko swooping in and throwing his bamboo hat to the ground. How needlessly dramatic. And he was alone too. She wondered how long he’d been stalking her, waiting to emerge. She also pondered upon the whereabouts of her Uncle and why he wasn’t with Zu-Zu. She hadn’t much time to dwell on it, the fight was about to get that much more interesting. And yet the Avatar stood more impassively than even she. Had he even acknowledged Zu-Zu’s sudden appearance? “I was wondering when you'd show up, Zuzu.”

This time the Avatar did laugh. “Zu-Zu?” Somehow Azula felt that he was laughing at her. Not at her jib. No, at she herself. Already she was growing to dislike this boy. This boy who refused to laugh when he was supposed to and chuckled when it was out of place.

“Back off, Azula! He's mine.” Zuko scowled. His impulsive temperament had only seemed to grow since she’d last seen him.

Azula’s eyes wavered between he and the Avatar. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Clearly.” The Avatar muttered.

She held her ground waiting for either to attack. The Avatar seemed to be stuck in the sand, but Zu-Zu didn’t disappoint. In one graceless punch of orange flame, the fight was in motion. A blur of blue and orange of dodging and ducking. And the Avatar, he was just standing around like a dolt with his mouth agape.

“This is crazy.” He whispered to himself. Over her own fire, his foe, the same girl who’d nearly gotten him in Omashu, didn’t hear him. He had to admit, she was putting on an elegant show—he’d never seen flames of that color nor firebending so fast and elegant. Yet it was no show, the girl was truly fighting as if she had an opponent to get the better of. An opponent that wasn’t he, himself. He was thankful for it though, it took her attention from him. The girl, though completely out of sorts, was powerful, the sort he didn’t want to tangle with. He cursed his luck that she had happened upon him. It would seem that her attention was less divided than he anticipated, for the minute he tried to make his getaway, a jet of blue flames whizzed precariously close. She gave more chase, following him through a maze of crumbling buildings. He’d nearly lost her when dashing into one so deteriorated that it no longer had a roof. She’d almost fallen, but her balance was as frighteningly keen as her bending. It was bizarre, uncanny. How she was so cool and collected and yet she was fighting two people when there was only one person for her to fight.

Azula dropped to the floor. Zu-Zu had given her quite a show, quite literally falling without a scrap of dignity, into the Avatar’s trap. That would put him out of the fight for a while. How convenient. Equally so, the Avatar had sprung his own trap. That tiny building looked so very flammable. She decided to give her theory a test and set it ablaze. With a slice of fire she had the boy trapped beneath a heap of debris. With fingers poised to deliver the finishing blow, she gave him a smirk. A smirk that was swiftly cut off by a flow of water around her fingers. The Avatar’s companion, the waterbender, had finally made an appearance. The princess scowled, Mai and TyLee must have failed. For that she would be fighting The Avatar, three more of his friends, and Zu-Zu.

Azula pushed her way past the waterbender only to run into the boy, her brother, Azula assumed. And that stupid boomerang. She gave him a good bolt of lightning, enough to get around him. Her victory was short in nature as the ground shifted beneath her feet. The earthbender. And then Iroh. She was being outnumbered, overwhelmed, and cornered. If they caught her then, her mission would be a complete waste. She sighed to herself, twice in a row Iroh and Zu-Zu would be escaping her, a disappointing track record. Even so, she’d make a bigger disgrace of herself if she let them snatch her away. Her best option was to talk her way out of it, to deceive. A few slick words and a carefully placed blow was her best chance. “Well, look at this. Enemies and traitors all working together. I'm done.” She lifted her arms, to punctuate this. “I know when I'm beaten, you got me. A princess surrenders with honor.” She looked between her foes, sizing up each one with a quickness. Iroh, Iroh was the most opportune target. She lashed out in a lick of fire, relying very heavily on the shock value. When their attentions turned, she made her escape.

Zu-Zu was going to kill her for this one.

.oOo.

Iroh knew then that it had been a mistake to pursue his niece. The waterbender, was generous and seemed to have no qualms about helping a firebender. She might not have been so willing if she knew just who he was. But the earthbender he had talked to, that enduring stranger, had spoken kindly of him. He had offered her tea and advice that he had hoped was taken well. She had run away from home and then from her friends, it reminded him so very much of something Zuko would have done. It tore at his heart to mention him to the girl. As the waterbender worked to alleviate his pain he thought back on the conversation.

“People see me and think I'm weak. They want to take care of me, but I can take care of myself, by myself.” The blind girl had said after he offered to pour her a glass of tea.

“You sound like my nephew, always thinking you need to do things on your own, without anyone's support. There is nothing wrong with letting the people who love you help you. Not that I love you, I just met you.”

“So where is your nephew?”

“He is dead.” He hadn’t said it out loud before then. “Killed by his own father.”

“So what are you doing out here then, old man?”

“It’s a long story.” He admitted. “I’m a fugitive to my own nation. I tried to take the life of the man who killed my nephew. And that man sent my niece to bring me to justice.”

“And you’re hiding from her then?” The girl asked.

“Actually, I’ve been tracking her.”

“Is she lost?”

“Yes, a little bit.” He looked up, gazing more at the skyline than at the girl he was conversing with. “Her life has recently changed and she's going through very difficult times. I’m sad to say that I didn’t think it would bother her, but it did. The death of my nephew is hurting her too. I don’t think that she wants to admit that he’s gone…”

The girl seemed confused, “so you’re following her?”

“I know she doesn't want me around her right now, or ever. We never got along, but if she needs me, I'll be there.”

“Your niece is very lucky, even if he doesn't know it. Thank you.”

It was one of the most compelling conversations he’d had with someone he’d met on the road. He was thankful to have her among those helping tend to his injury. He might stay with them for some time before returning to Azula.

Returning to Azula…

He had just told himself that going after her in the first place had been a mistake.

Yet, he wanted to be true to his words that he would be there if Azula managed to get herself into too much trouble.

Even so, the move felt terribly placed. He felt, for one, like it would be taking the healing the waterbender had just done for granted. For another, she was now seeking out the Avatar, by all means she was dangerous. By all means, she was to an extent, an enemy if she was so willing to give the world’s last hope over to her father. But Azula was not in a particularly stable place. She had been subjected to the same abuser as her brother. She needed help, a way to get out of the tangle, and he didn’t see anyone else reaching out.

So he would extend his hand, just as he would have done for Zuko.

#Azula #Zuko #Iroh #Avatar #Fanfiction

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focalwriterworks · 13 years ago

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CHRONICLE

Here’s one of those rare moments where if you go into Chronicle blindly or lower your expectations you’ll come out probably shocked at how well the whole damn thing comes off. From the trailers I expected low budget, P.O.V. camcorder coverage like we get in the Paranormal Activity films. Which my thinking there instantly is been there, done that. And like Paranormal Activity there are no stars, outside of Michael Kelley, from The Adjustment Bureau (2011), who plays father to one of our main characters here, and Michael B. Jordan who was a kid star in the Keanu Reeves baseball film Hard Ball (2001), also playing a prominent role as one of the Tuskegee pilots in the WWII film Red Tails. In Chronicle, the story revolves around teen boys, so right there upon seeing the trailer I know I’m not the demographic the filmmakers are aiming for (that’s not to say I didn’t secretly enjoy The New Guy (2002)). Not a problem since I’m looking at Chronicle critically, from a broader perspective, not just for my personal entertainment. But how wrong I was, on all assumptions, solely based on the trailers and yearly timing of its release, and how right Chronicle gets it.

The Story: Chronicle is a blend of movies that use found-footage filmmaking traits, and it’s also a superhero origins film the likes of X-Men (think Magneto and Xavier). The missing tapes or missing film can movie is now better in and of itself as a genre, after films like The Blair Witch Project (1999) sort of started it, and Paranormal Activity (2007) perfected it, and Chronicle uses it as a way to make the story more realistic, more personal. That’s the kicker. Three teenage guys, Steve (Michael B. Jordan), Andrew (Dane DeHaan) and Matt (Alex Russell) discover a crater with a giant parasite-like, tentacle covered crystal that upon seeing it (it looks like it has worms crawling on it), getting near to it, the boys develop superhuman abilities of telekinesis and levitation, which slowly but surely escalates to flying and being able to leap tall buildings in a single bound. But it also causes nose bleeds with every “growth” spurt, every advancement in superhuman ability, and questions arise as to what limitations, successes or horrors these boys will incur, if any.

The Goods: The found-film phenomenon submerses us into a false perspective. In Chronicle, no one is necessarily finding the film. We’re already looking at film that was supposedly left behind from our main characters or has been accumulated from well-documenting, cell phone carrying bystanders or from devices like security cameras that are perpetually capturing images. We are never looking at events unfolding in real time. That’s a little bit of make-believe that goes a long way in suggesting these events are real. Like finding a diary from a person who suffered immeasurable horrors during a specific time in history. The minute the first shot comes up we’re looking at Andrew in a mirror. He’s recording with a consumer grade camcorder while his father demands to enter his room. Andrew accuses his father of drinking and tells his father he’s recording it all and the drunk father walks away.

It’s Andrew’s way of empowering himself against such conflict in his life, and thus upon seeing it’s successful results arms himself with camera everywhere he goes and films everything within his so called teenage life.

This is how the audience becomes a part of the film, how that plane between audience and actors is broken and our world synthesizes with theirs, especially Andrew’s as characters good and bad look into his camera, talking to him, bullying him, making fun of him, telling him how “creepy” his filming is…they too are looking and talking to us.

Their world is soon not unlike our own, no matter what age we are we acknowledge all of that teen angst and anxiety and interpret it as our own. This is the greatest part of what makes Chronicle different from any other teen film, or film of what slowly also becomes science fiction.

Blended genres are probably the closest we’ll get to anything resembling originality or freshness in Hollywood. And what makes it even better is the almost seamless way Andrew’s fascination with filming all events, and his newfound Jedi ways of the Force (more dark side than light), lends itself to a style of handheld, jib and crane, steadicam and Andrewcam, cell phone, pad and securitycam style of omnipresent camera coverage that reality TV can only dream of.

The Flaws: We get to know everything about Andrew and the other teens in the film by way of exposition which tells us more than shows us. Not always the most interesting of ways to develop characters or story. Matt, Andrew’s cousin and best friend, and Steve, the popular kid running for class president, talk like regular teens and their dialogue parts are strong. Stronger than the average movie, and so much so we get a greater sense of character development with Matt and Steve.

Andrew, in contrast, is made to seem weaker, his voice lacking confidence, his character not as developed which is really not a flaw it’s actually pretty well done since for long spurts of the film he’s heard from behind camera more than seen even though his voice is annoying. Andrew, with his mother dying and his father a drunk who blames Andrew for his wife’s misery, cracks from this type of pressure and the kind of chastising other teens throw his way.

And Andrew’s voice cracks too about as much as his character with the kind of serious, humorless approach he has toward life. You can see his unraveling coming from a mile away as he goes Carrie (1976) on our ass, which is fine if it’s just Carrie but it’s also pouty Anakin Skywalker, or really Hayden Christianson from Star Wars: Episode II (2002) and III (2005), Fairuza Balk from the Craft (1996), Peter Sarsgaard from the Green Lantern (2011) and it’s so heavy handed it feels massaged by student hands.

Essentially Andrew is a teen movie cliché, then a superhero teen cliché. And suddenly the feelings of insecurity I feel for the casting of DeHaan as Andrew is confirmed in what I feel is an immature and poorly casted role. Especially when compared to the other actors in Chronicle. Or when compared to someone like Vincent D’Onofrio’s Private Leonard ‘Gomer Pyle’ Lawrence in Stanley Kubrick’s Full Metal Jacket (1987), or John Travolta’s George Malley in Phenomenon (1996). Even Sean Patrick Flannery in Powder (1995).

The Call: Before you know it Andrew unravels into an antagonist while his cousin Matt is thrust into the protagonist part. It’s as good as Greek tragedy at this point, cousin pitted against cousin, for the safety of humans and to stop Andrew from destroying everyone and everything around him due to this anger he has toward life. Their battle on the streets of Seattle (really it’s Cape Town, South Africa, which also brings to mind the sci-fi P.O.V. of District 9 (2009)…) is better than Star Wars: Episode III’s Anakin and Obi Wan showdown. While Chronicle moves a little slow and rests too often on the redundancy of these teens playing with continuously newfound powers, the film eventually starts to rise in climactic moment after climactic moment better than most films do today into a crescendo that will leave you quite satisfied.

Chronicle isn’t as polished or filmed to perfection like say a Scorsese or Spielberg film, or better yet a Michael Bay film. Nor is it anything remotely similar in appearance to the high production value of the Marvel films. But after seeing Chronicle I’m reminded that it doesn’t matter, and that who gives a crap if it’s not perfect so long as it’s entertaining which also means it must be somewhat refreshing. If not for content then for form, or vice versa meaning that if we take a premise, plot device or cinematic trait that is familiar and then do something with it that exceeds expectations while still retaining familiarity it’s enough to engross an audience without alienating us or making it too foreign. What’s important is that there are still filmmakers out there that can surprise us.

Spend the ten. Chronicle is shockingly worthy of your time, and your dough. Rated PG-13 for intense action and violence, thematic material, some language, sexual content and teen drinking. Running time is 1 hour and 24 minutes. Written and directed by Josh Trank. This is his first feature film.

By Jon Lamoreaux

#chronical #josh trank

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