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shellingtons-failed-driving-test · 7 months ago

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Chapter One

4,311 Words

Authoru's Note:

Sorry, this doesn't have a title yet, but I'm trying to think up one. I just wanted to go ahead and post it to see what people think. If you have any suggestions pls put them in the comments.

Oh, my word this got way longer than I'd originally intended. I hope I was okay with the characterisation. I was worrying so much as I was writing it. I hope the interactions feel in character and you enjoy it.

Also, I have changed the ages slightly, which I think is fine because they're unspecified. However, it is canon that Peso has finished Medical school, but in the story, he has not. He's 19 and a half because he went to nursing school right after high school and plans to get a medical degree later.

And, in this universe, all humans are animal hybrids so they have actual hands and feet but still ears and tails. I'm not exactly sure how to explain it, but they're referred to by what type of hybrid they are as well as their race. Certain areas have more common hybrids that correspond to what "regular/normal" animals live there. EX: skunk hybrids are only in the Americas because skunks don't live anywhere else.

Anyway, sorry about my ramblings, and happy reading!

Peso's Perspective:

The big car stops with a squeal, throwing me forward with its sudden breaking. As soon as the door opens the sound of waves crashing and seagulls crying fills my ears. The sea breeze is refreshing after being cooped up in a vehicle for so long.

“Here we are.” The driver says curtly. He’s a state government employee with a scruffy beard that makes him look older than he probably is. He didn’t say a single word the entire drive, leaving me in silence broken only by the occasional crackling of the radio. In a way, it was good because it gave me a chance to do some last-minute studying of the Octonauts handbook pdf I printed out at home. Still, I felt like he was kind of glaring at me in the mirror. Maybe it’s just the anxiety. Maybe he’s just a grumpy person. He had photographs of his children clipped to his visor, but I didn’t see a wedding ring. Divorced, maybe?

“Thank you, sir.”

“It’s just my job. Say, you’re with that team of astro- er, aqua- whatever, scientist, right?”

“The Octonauts, yes.”

“Right, that’s what it was.” He nods as he helps me unload my bags. I gulp a bit at their size. I’m really going to be living at sea for months. I hope my family will be okay.

As soon as he sets the bags down, he closes the hatch and drives off, leaving me once again alone. The other Octonauts, the original Octonauts, have been at sea for a year already. They got a send-off with fanfare at their port in England, all I got was a crumpled map to try and find my way around this place. I’m not jealous but . . . it only reminds me that I’m the newbie, not one of them.

I’m only here as a filler for Dr. Deere, who had to leave due to a research development for one of his projects on land. They’re going to have a proper replacement, someone qualified, in six months at the latest, that’s what they said. It takes a lot to qualify for this programme, the best of the best with years of study in their fields and here I am, just some lucky guy. I’m not even an actual doctor, just a nurse, and even then I still have a few final training courses to complete. All week I’ve wondered, why on earth would they pick me? Am I even good enough?

I blink at the blare of a ship’s horn. Crap, I can’t zone out like that! I need to be prepared for anything, ANYTHING. I will be . . . as soon as I find the ship.

I was sent the training videos, all 600-something of them, on a hard drive the size of my hand, but obviously, I haven’t had time to watch them all and downloading them would’ve taken nearly all of my storage space, so I just packed the whole hard drive instead. The schematics are on the hard drive too, so I have no idea what this thing looks like. They said they’d go over plans and safety once I was settled, but I wish I could at least have a photo. It’s got to be some kind of submarine, right?

The port on the Isle of Skye is a small, but bustling place. The signage is old, and blocked by containers coming in. A crew pulls a fishing net of turtles out onto the dock, and I wince. Then, I see they’re all for studying. Several scientists surround them, scanning red tags on the fins and retrieving cameras from their shells. I smile as I pass them, waving at the turtles, who wave back. I notice one of the scientists, a brown-haired man hurrying around. When he looks at his tablet he jumps in surprise.

“Jumping jellyfish! We were totally wrong about the feeding grounds. This is amazing! I thought . . .”

I don’t catch the rest as I walk on. I’ve never heard someone so excited about being proven wrong before.

As I round the corner, I see it.

Dios mío . . .

It looks like an octopus. Of course, it does. I’m so stupid. It’s the Octopod. A state-of-the-art international research station with laboratories capable of housing a crew of 10 for extended periods. Can I just go in?

I stop when I get to the ramp, hesitating at the bottom, I survey the large oddly shaped submarine once more. My temporary home. As I look up something flickers in the window, like a lamp, or a streak of orange, but it’s gone before I’m sure.

I remember what my 4th grade science teacher, Mr. Perez always said: Take a deep breath. I do, and even after all this time, it helps.

The ramp echoes under my feet in a comforting way, assuring me of the ship’s solidity. A small yellow creature greets me, and I gasp. It frowns.

“Oh, I’m sorry, that was terribly rude of me. You’re very cute looking, you just scared me.”

It makes a chirping sound, which sounds affirmative. Laughing, I follow it into the elevator, as it closes I hear footsteps, someone running.

“Tunip!” A male voice pants, he has a heavy Scottish accent. “Don’t . . . leave me.”

Huffing and a little winded the scientist from before appears. The yellow creature makes a sound that sounds like a scold.

“Ah, well, sorry. I got distracted with the turtles.” the man says sheepishly. He’s the same scientist I saw with the turtles. Now that I can see him better it’s clear that he’s not too much older than me. His chestnut brown hair is messy and his eyes have bags underneath them but are still concerningly bright, He bears the appearance of an overworked uni student, and yet somehow still cute.

The creature blows a raspberry at him and starts to close the lift doors.

“Hey, now that’s not very kind! I was just trying to– Ah, hey! Don’t close the lift on me!”

The creature huffs, sounding almost affectionate, but allows the man into the lift.

Once inside he takes a deep breath, pulling a handful of Polaroids from his shoulder bag, looking at them as if to make sure they don’t disappear. They’re of the turtles, and a few have him in them, but he doesn’t spend as much time looking at them. Finally, he turns to me, as if he’s just noticed me.

“Oh, hello there. Forgive me, I didn’t see you. I’m Shellington.” He doesn’t extend his hand, only nodding, but the greeting is still just as friendly.

“I’m Peso. I’m the temporary medic.”

He nods, more to himself than to me, I think, muttering “Oh, good. It’s dangerous for us not to have one on board, especially with Kwazii.”

As the lift rises, it makes a loud mechanical whirring, as if no one had bothered to dampen it as they do in most lifts. In fact, the whole thing looks industrial and feels about five degrees colder than before the door was closed. I wonder why, I also wonder who Kwazii is. Finally, it dings and the doors open and he steps out into a small dark room. I trip after him, barely able to see a centimetre in front of me.

“Uhhh?”

My foot collides with something and I go sprawling over (except not really because there’s barely space in this room for my body length).

“Owwie! You’ve stood on my foot!”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. But, where are we?”

“Oh, whoops, I must’ve forgotten to mention. This lift is only here because some equipment would be unsafe to carry any other way, either because it contains potentially hazardous materials or it’s simply too large.”

“Oh . . . I suppose that makes sense.”

It would be hard to carry an entire x-ray machine up and down stairs, even a portable one.

“Welcome to my closet!” He says it with his arms wide to indicate the space around us with affected excitement, but the space is small so he can’t extend his arms very much. I can’t help but laugh.

The idea of being in a closet makes me laugh a bit, but I still don’t like dark spaces.

“Can we, um, maybe get out?”

“Oh, right, yes.”

He presses a switch I can’t see and light streams in. With a sigh of relief, I follow him into the larger room. It’s a laboratory. It’s very green, with light green walls, floors and posters. Now that I pay attention, even his shirt is olive green. He must really love green.

I turn to ask him about where I’m supposed to be, only to see he’s already gone back to work. Right, they don’t have time for a bumbling rookie. After a moment of debate with myself, I tap him lightly on the shoulder. It takes a few times before he notices, and when he does he jumps again.

“Excuse me, do you know where it is I’m supposed to go?”

He furrows his brow thoughtfully, “Hmm, I don’t have much to do with the recruitment process, that’s Professor Inkling and the Captain’s job, but I believe you’re supposed to meet with the Captain, he should be in HQ. I have to finish processing this data, but Tunip can take you.”

“Okay.”

The creature, Turnip, seems to smile. He chirps excitedly leading me back to the lift. When he gets in he jumps high enough to press the button that reads HQ. The ride is short and the doors open out to a large circular room. Glass makes up the top half of the room, a large skylight. I can only imagine what it must look like underwater. It must be incredible.

In the centre stands a tall man, not quite old enough to be my father, but a little older than Pogo, with neatly combed white hair, he wears a blue uniform with a tool belt. This must be the captain. He smiles, extending his hand. He towers over me.

“Good morning, you must be Peso. I’m Captain Barnacles, it’s lovely to finally meet you, Dr. Deere told me all about you.” His voice is loud, but kind.

“Oh, h-he did?” It comes out as a question, and I stutter under everyone’s sudden gaze. Even Tunip looks expectantly at me. “I mean, I’m glad he did. And I’m very glad to meet all of you and be working with you.”

“Us as well, we hope you can learn a lot during your time here. Let’s meet everyone.”

He waves for me to follow and takes me to a station full of buttons and computers. A woman gets up when she sees us. She has warm brown skin and hair cut in a fluffy chin-length bob, sunbleached with blond highlights. She’s a bit taller than me

“Dashi, meet Peso, our new medic.”

“Rad! Nice to meet you Peso. I’m Dashi, head of system and operation here in the Octopod. I run all the computer systems and track the weather patterns, but on my days off, I’m a surfer.”

With her Australian accent, it definitely makes sense.

“Ooh, fun.”

“It is, have you met anyone else yet?”

“The Captain, but that was obvious, sorry, and Shellington. He introduced himself as just Shellington, but does he have credentials I should call him by?”

“Not yet, but finished uni and he’s doing his PhD research on this mission, so he will. Have you met the vegimals yet?”

“The what?”

“They’re what he’s doing his research on. Oh, I’m sure you’ll just love them. I think Barrot is with Tweak right now actually.”

At this, Captain Barnacles nods, “Yes, I’m taking him to meet Tweak next.”

“Great, see you around, Peso!”

“You too.” I take a breath as we get back in the lift.

“This must be a lot for you.”

“Oh, no, sir. It’s really fine.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can handle it, but if you ever need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask any of us. I know they can be a bit intense at first, but they’re all good people and they all want the same thing, to help creatures in the ocean. We’re happy to have you and they’ll be happy to help you adjust.”

“Thank you, Captain.” I can tell from his voice just how much he believes in the crew and in me, the only question is whether the crew feels the same, and if I even deserve that belief.

“I do hope you’ll settle in easily.”

“I’ll try my best. The crew all seem really nice.”

The lift dings then, relaising us to what looks like a garage with a large pool in the centre.

I see more of the creatures like Tunip standing next to a machine I can only describe as looking like a big orange shark, holding wrenches. What was it Dashi called them? Vegi-mals? The vegi-mal is as orange as the gup.

“47, please.” a female voice calls. Whoever she is, she has a southern United States accent like I’ve never heard before. I look around for the woman but I only see a pair of fluffy, light green ears sticking out from underneath the metal shark. They contrast oddly with the orange.

The vegi-mal hands her the large wrench he was holding.

“Thanks, screwdriver.”

She reaches up and he puts a small screwdriver in her hand.

“Thanks.” she hands the wrench back, “carrot.”

Huh?

The vegi-mal hands her a carrot straight out of the toolbox.

“Tweak, are you almost finished?” the Captain asks.

“You bet, I’ll be done faster n’ you can say buncha munchy crunchy carrots.”

Just as she pronounces the “t” she slides out from under the machine, half-eaten carrot in hand.

“What’s up?” Her hazel eyes sparkle in a nice way.

“Tweak, I’d like you to meet the new member of our team, Peso. He’ll be our medic for the next few months.”

She jumps up, striding over to shake my hand, “Nice to meet ya, Peso. Welcome abroad, and welcome to the Launch Bay.”

She takes a big bite of carrot, smiling, her green braid swinging as she walks over to the control panel. She’s more muscular than I am, wearing a jumpsuit not zipped all the way so it shows her tank top revealing her build. Her belt is full of tools I can’t even name, she looks like she belongs here.

“Thank you, it’s such a nice space,” I tell her honestly, looking around at all the gadgets. Finally, I spot something familiar. Ring of Fire, it's my younger brother, Pinto’s favourite video game. Seeing it makes me miss him more.

She follows my gaze, “You play? I’m always up for a tournament!”

“Oh, ah, no. My younger brother. I’ve joined him a few times but I always die before the first round.”

“Shame, maybe I can teach you. Perhaps I can even teach you so well you’ll beat Kwazii. Ah, speakin’ of Kwaz, I should probably put Bea way before he comes lookin’ for her.”

Two people now have mentioned Kwazii. I wonder what his deal is? Is he the Octonauts mischievous pet or something? Whoever he is, I really want to meet him now. Meanwhile, there's a bubbling and the orange metal contraption disappears into the water.

The Captain laughs, “Yes, you should. Thank you for taking the time for Peso, I’m sure we’ll be back soon to see which Gup he’ll be riding in.”

“Well I was working’ on a little project . . . but yeah, s’probably best if he just rides with one of us for now. Gup A’s probably safest. You’re going to see the professor?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, well tell him thanks for the book, it’s helped a lot with my design.”

“I will. He’ll be glad to hear it.” The Captain smiles as he takes us back to the lift.

“The Equipment elevator, really, Cap?”

“Well, I thought that—”

Suddenly there’s a whooshing, and somebody lands right next to me.

“Ahoy Tweak!” A male voice shouts.

Tweak looks unimpressed, but I can see hidden affection when she rolls her eyes. “She’s not here.”

“Not anywhere?”

“Nope, ya just missed here.”

He whines, “Tweeeak! When am I gonna get my Gup back?”

“Come on, it’s just repairs, we do this every quarter, you know this.”

“I know, but . . .” he turns, starting to stalk off, then calls over his shoulder, “Fine, but I’ll be back!”

“I’m sure you will.”

While he’s looking at Tweak he stalks right into me. I fall very gracefully onto my butt. He snaps his head back in my direction with surprise, looking down.

“Oh, hey there little fella. I’m sorry about that.” he bends down offering his hand, and after a second I decide to embrace the humiliation and take it. He smiles, “So what brings you here?”

“I-”

“Are you lost?”

“What? No, I-”

“Kwazii.”

“I’m just trying to make conversation, Captain.”

“I know but-”

“Are you here for a tour? I didn’t think they let people do that.”

“Kwazii.” Captain taps him hard on the shoulder.

“Ouch! What is it, Captain?”

“He works here now.”

The man, Kwazzi, steps back, eye wide, then narrowing into basically a slit. I shiver. “Oh.” he lifts his eyes patch, squinting to look at me . . . and then he bursts out laughing.

I feel my entire body heating up with humiliation. Tweak winces.

“Oh, matey, I’m so sorry!” he manages between laughs, “I thought you were a kid. My bad, my bad.” At last, he recovers himself, extending his hand. “You must be Peso. I’m Kwazii, First Lieutenant.”

I don’t shake his hand. He frowns, retracting it and crossing his arms in disappointment. He seems kind, like someone who cares but that only makes it more patronising, only he isn’t wrong. Of course, he thought I was a kid. I am a kid. I don’t belong here with these smart talented adults.

It must show on my face because he softens, he steps forward, then back as if unsure of what to do. I don’t want to be babied. I’m not some creature he has to help. I want to be here to help, and here I am obviously a penguin out of water.

“Oh, I’m not laughing at you, I was laughing at meself, for being so knot-headed”

It’s fine really. I’m used to it, to being underestimated (even though I’m not sure I even have the skills) I don’t let it touch me anymore. (at least that's what I’m trying to tell myself. It’s not working.) I shake my head, not able to help the sign that escapes me. I am so in over my head. I don’t think he meant to be rude (surely not, but maybe insulting rookies is acceptable in scientific communities. Even if he sounds like some sort of pirate, he’s probably waaay smarter than me). “Oh. No, it's perfectly fine, you’re not the first and won’t be the last.”

He stands even farther back, not saying a thing, arms still crossed. His eyes scan over me, as if picking me apart, definitely judging me. He almost looks still, almost, but I can tell he’s not, not on the inside anyway. He can’t seem to truly stand still, his tail and ears twitching impatiently. He rocks on his feet ready to go do whatever it is he does at a moment's notice. Now that he’s as close to still as I suspect he gets I take the chance to really look at him.

The last member of my new team is tall (well, tall to me, and most people are tall to me, so probably medium height), and ginger. Unlike most gingers I’ve seen he’s not actually strawberry blond or a carrot top, but a light shade of orange that changes colour as the light shifts. It’s pretty.

His eye does the same. I can only see the right one and it's hard to tell because he keeps twitching but I think he has heterochromia, the rarer kind where one eye has two colours. The eye that I can see is brown with an amber in a ring around the middle.

But that’s not the strangest thing about him, one of his ears has a piece missing from it. I shiver at the thought of what could’ve done that. Did he get it while on a mission? Luckily they said I won’t have to go on missions . . . probably.

The Captain coughs awkwardly to break the silence. “Kwazii is field personnel, so he spends most of his time outside of the Octopod. You most likely won’t be seeing each other too often.” he looks at me as if trying to assure me. I know it’s unkind, but it makes me feel a bit better that I won’t have to spend much time around Kwazii. He's loud, seems unpredictable and looks dangerous (though I’m sure he’s not).

“That must be very exciting. I’m sure we can get to know each other some other time, then.”

He smiles but like all cats he has fangs, so it’s all teeth. I try my best not to gulp. Thankfully Captain leads me toward the lift. As we walk away I hear Kwazii whisper to Tweak “Huh? Where are they going?” I don’t even know why I turn around, but I do.

“Why aren’t you using the octochute?”

“The what?”

“The octochutes, haven’t you been using them?” I can tell he’s not trying to be mean. He looks so genuinely confused that it’s almost comical. His face is like the "???” expression in real life. It makes me laugh a little, releasing the tension.

“No.”

“Well then how’ve you been getting around, then?”

“I just took the lift.”

“But . . . it’s for equipment?”

“Yes, Shellington told me.”

He still looks incredulous. “The equipment lift? Why in the seven seas would ya do that, matey?”

“I don’t know, I just . . . did.”

“Matey, we ONLY use it for equipment, plus it’s sooo slow, and cold.”

Oh, that would explain why it isn’t nearly as fancy as the rest of the ship and opens into closets. I feel dumb for not realising it before. I guess I just thought they were cramped for space, but of course not. How stupid of me.

“Kwazii. Be polite, I told him too. It is his first day, after all. The octochutes can be a bit shocking at first, and he’s already come a long way to get here. I wanted to ease him into it.”

Kwazii droops, face losing the confusion and entering to a neutral state with no expression at all, after seeing him so energised it looks wrong like excitement is the natural state of his particles.

The Captain leads me away, back into a second equipment lift (I didn’t know there were two), I exhale when it closes and Kwazii and Tweak disappear.

After escaping another closet, we step into a bright blue and white room. It’s filled with medical equipment. This must be the Medical Bay. Through the door’s small window, I can see through the window across the hall. In his laboratory, Shellington is typing away on a desktop. Probably finishing the data he was talking about earlier.

“Here we are.”

I turn back to where the Captain stands.

“This is the Medical Bay, where you’ll be working for the next few months. You share a sleeping pod with Dashi and there’s an Octochute that will take you there.”

“Sh-hare?” I mean, sure, I’m gay, I’ve known that since I was young, but still, wouldn’t Dashi like her privacy? I’d like my privacy. We barely know each other!

“Oh, not like that, this isn't a sleepaway camp. We’re all professional adults, she gets one half and you get the other, there’s a wall in the middle with an Octochute. If you want Dashi to show you how to use it she’ll be happy to, I’m sure.”

“Oh, okay. Thank you, Captain.”

“I hate to leave you all by yourself, but I have a meeting with Tweak to discuss her latest project. If you need anything just find one of us.”

“Oh, okay.”

He leaves, and then I’m alone. The Octopod must be soundproofed to outside sounds because I can hear nothing but the air system cycling. I pull my phone from my pocket for music, but the battery is dead. Great! And then, I’m not even sure exactly why but I start to cry. I’m an idiot, trapped on a ship with people I don’t know who probably think I’m incompetent and unqualified for a job I didn’t even sign up for. The meeting with Kwazii showed me exactly how much I don’t know. Now here I am, pathetically crying. I miss my family.

There was a cat in my class in primary school, an orange tabby just like First Lieutenant Kwazii. He’d been held back a year so he was taller and bigger than all of us and he was loud too and would always bully the smaller kids and get away with it. I don’t even know why I’m remembering him all of a sudden. I know he and Kwazii aren’t the same, but I’ve never liked loud unpredictable people. They scare me. Maybe that’s why.

And something tells me I’ll be seeing Kwazii in the Medical Bay somewhat often. I’m not sure how to feel about that. I don’t dislike him, of course not, but I feel . . . wary.

Oh well. I won’t allow him or anyone else to interfere with my job. I will prove to myself and them that I can handle myself for a few months. And then it’ll all be over and I’ll get to go home again.

Taking a deep breath, I keep busy by familiarising myself with the workings of the Medical Bay and everything in it. It’s fully stocked with any supplies and equipment I could need so all I brought were clothes. There isn’t much to do, so I resort to cleaning the space that’s probably already sterile, just because it calms me down.

After a while, an announcement comes over the speakers that we’ll be departing for the Mediterranean Sea to aid in the preservation of coral at sunrise tomorrow.

Before I know it I find myself falling asleep at the work table. Too tired by the day’s events I let myself drift off.

(A/N: Poor Kwazii, he can be kinda scary without meaning to be. He’s just so confused as to why someone wouldn’t want to use the super duper fun octochutes. LOL)

#octonauts #kwazii #kwazii cat #peso #octonauts peso #octonauts kwazii #kwazii x peso #peso x kwazii #kwaso #pazii #octonauts fanfic #octonauts fandom #fanfic #fanfiction #octonauts fanfiction

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itsgirlcraft · 3 months ago

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Aafrgrsehwsvrgrgr goD- I saw this post from Jorge Rivera-Herrans abt the differences between Epic and The Odyssey and just. Oh my god how have I done this to myself.

((This will be a long yap))

Okok so!! That video was from a year ago and I hadn't seen it until like two days ago, after listening to the Wisdom Saga and just! How the hell have I managed to recognize the themes but perfectly inverted!

Okok no not like- no I knew the Odyssey wasn't going to be happy-go-lucky or something. No, it's- I've literally been inspired by the musical for basically an entirely inverted theme for one of my fics.

As you likely know, it's Reverse Quest - my Rainbow Quest Roleswap AU. So in the video Jorge says that Odysseus' arc consists of him learning to embrace ruthlessness for the sake of protecting what matters most.

So uh- like, Reverse Quest already existed before I even knew abt Epic. Really, the musical is just a really good hype soundtrack for creating, especially for Reverse Quest. Here's the thing- Epic as a whole has been particularly good when it comes to putting the themes of Reverse Quest into words.

When it comes to themes, Epic is like a hero's journey to base Rev. Quest!Sabre's arc(s) off of. Well, really, take notice of the overarching narrative, and comparing that to mine.

I think, when it comes down to it, there is one major difference: Sabre is ruthlessly merciful. His mercy is violent, his protection is intense, and, above all - it is emotional.

At first, Sabre simply wants to save those he could not. Now that he was back at the beginning, he could try to force fate's grip on those he loved. Orange/Rainbow, Dark, Funny, Elemental, Galaxy, Time, the hundreds of kingdoms and villages he failed, all those he killed when rampaging deep in the darkness. Wouldn't you?

He had spent several years alone, teaching and caring for Origin, growing into his god form. He had a lot of time to think, a lot of time to mourn. He had made statues for everyone, in the hopes of never forgetting them, their stories.

Though he could never truly share the details with his godling son, Sabre still entrusted him with the feelings, the experience of love and loss and mortality. When he wasn't teaching Origin, Sabre was stuck in nostalgia and the past, trying to move on when there was only one way forward. Origin was his world.

And then Sabre realizes he has to willingly leave. And there, in the roleswap timeline, he finds himself lost in a sea of possibilities. Going from crippling loneliness, his son the only thing left, to the entire universe, full of people who he desperately wants to protect...and warn before it's too late.

His memories, his experiences, the stories of others he desperately wants to tell them all, preserve them all. He is haunted by his past, as he literally relives the exact same story all over again. His journals, his meticulous nitpicking of details, his plans, that is all he has to hold onto, to ensure the safety of all of Stevekind. His desire to protect them extends even to the villains - he sees his reflection in the entire world around him, and he's got his eyes set on preserving the beauty, the people, leave the grass unscathed and the skies bright.

But of course, he knows he can't do it alone. He won't let himself, Orange, ANYONE, fall to the darkness. Never again. He knows now, that what they need is a support system. He needs to unite the kingdoms before the 3rd hero is created. He needs to stop history from repeating - and he's willing to change and change and change and hurt and cry to do it.

And so, when he sets off on the seas with 600 men, he tries his best to follow mercy, and teach all he meets to greet the world with open arms. He takes pity on Seer, on Nightmare, on Rainbow Red. He sees now, why they hurt others. He knows now, what to say.

In the past, all he had was words - he could not fight, he could not build, he couldn't even wield his words all that well. But now, his words are powerful, tinged with genuine kindness and haunted by trauma. He trusts that the world can be kind, despite the ruthlessness, despite the darkness, despite it all. He will face the deepest, darkest depths of his heart, and pull as many up with him. Even when he falls, he trusts and loves and loves and loves and LIVES.

Ultimately, Sabre learns to not only wield his words with a sharper blade - but to wield his heart, his mind, his experiences - as shields, as weapons, as armor, as torches. And, eventually, his godhood, too. He essentially re-ascends while fighting TFC and his roleswap equivalent, taking on a mixed look between the og timeline and the roleswap timeline. A testament to all he's been through, and all he can be.

In the end, Sabre's arc is about learning to greet the world with open arms, to trust, and to be honest with what he knows and what he's experienced. He understands what ruthlessness is - don't doubt for a second that he isn't unable to use force and violence. But he turns away from that, and, even in the face of ruthlessness, he will seek out mercy. He develops it as a skill, and goes on to spread this message.

And you know what? He makes it out alive. He fails, he falls, he hurts himself and others, yes. But in the end, he is already ruthless enough. His love is violent, his trust is terrifying, and his protection is unyielding. Even when it may in fact hurt and horrify those he loves most.

When it comes to Epic, there's many songs and verses that could define Sabre's journey. In particular, here's a few.

Love In Paradise - Calypso's firm and intense interest parallels Sabre's protectiveness in arc 6, where he tries to keep them from being changed. He wants to give them their own choice, and not let them be swept away by fate into something they didn't want. But by preventing any change, he is refusing their choice to be swept away.

Open Arms - in many ways, Sabre is both Polites and Odysseus, optimistic and tired, doubtful and haunted. Many times in the AU, his loved ones pull him out of the darkness by repeating what he taught them.

Wouldn't You Like - Sabre realizes he has to be infected by the crystals (just like the darkness) in order to gain any upper hand in fighting and in overall power. And so this song would be about him wielding the infectious crystals - and darkness - in order to face Rainbow/Void on their levels.

Scylla - one of the major ones. Sabre would've told his crew what had to happen. He directly tells many people their fates - and asks if they are willing to accept this. Whether that be a necessary sacrifice or against stubbornness, it's the same. Will you take the step forward and risk it all for the greater good, or not? And, ultimately, he's not angry when they refuse. He himself wishes he could have the choice, and the ability to say no. But he won't let himself say no.

The entire Underworld Saga - this is a vibe and you all know it. But, more specifically, this would be Sabre facing the truth of his fate, his role, his past, and his beliefs. In particular, the line "When a god comes down and makes a fleet drown, is he scared that he's doing something wrong?" is my favorite. Yes, yes he IS scared. Sabre knows the villains he faces are just like him. And, oftentimes, he views his godhood as a curse, a curse of power and responsibility. It doesn't matter if he's willing to carry this burden, he knows he must. And, sometimes, he must make a fleet drown. And he is terrified of being perceived as a danger, that his own friends will be afraid of making him mad. Every step he takes trying to regain his humanity, is another step back- mindfulness, meditation, honesty, genuine love, it all looks like miracles to others, feats that they cannot fathom doing themselves.

#favremysabre #my post #rainbow quest #rq roleswap #epic the musical #reverse quest au

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hallucinosims · 5 years ago

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You know how people are like “Here’s my editing progress through the years” and stuff me included i wanna see ya’ll worst editing decisions through the years when you thought they were bumpin. Here’s mine. Can i tag people in this? I want this to be a tag anyway i tag @liliithvatore @softpine @sadb0ysims and @cheesehair Update because I also want to tag @literalite I don’t know if i know you like that to tag you in anything but here i am doing it anyway

Reagan in the hallway, June 2018

Who did i think i was? Light from the window and hair strands done with a mouse horrendous never again I’m sorry ya’ll had to see this in retrospect (5/10) Not the worse but not the best

Jack’s funeral, also June of 2018 cause i was speedrunning when i first started. Maybe july idk

Not nearly as bad but that’s now how depth of field works and it was just super brown for some reason. Also before i decided on Marion’s hair length (2/10) not bad at all i’ll let her live

Kassidy dancing I’m pretty sure this is August 2018

After I started doing the cinematic bars so it’s pretty good. Now this isn’t bad at all HOWEVER THIS STYLE OF EDITING DOESN’T WORK IN ANYTHING OTHER THAN NATURAL LIGHT HOLY SHIT THE REST OF THIS SET WAS ORANGE (1/10)

The gang on the balcony i defenitly want to say it’s summer 2018 maybe late august because i remember editing this at the atrium at Lincoln center

By this point i knew better which is why it makes me so angry. I had just learned about adding that sweet sweet crunch that all the simblrs use it’s a photoshop extension i don’t remember the name i still have it but i don’t use it anymore (3/10) holy shit they are so crunchy and the lighting is weirdly flat but i liked the look for maybe a week

The night Maren ran away I think this is October 2018

I had just changed my editing style again and like many others i’ve done, looks good in the light but a bit shit in the dark. Not bad, but i do wish i knew how to edit better because none of the originals of this era exist anymore which means i have to retcon this weird gray pink editing everything there’s a flashback also no good cc yet (6/10)

This christmas post I know for a fact this was October of 2018 because that’s when i started getting traction because of the Dorian/Reid not really sex but technically sex scene that also happened to get nuked in the tumblr’s nipplegate that December

Yes bitch give us NOTHING. I was like “Oh sims lighting mods look good enough let me hit that up with some Gaussian blur and levels and we’re good) the fact that i tried to make a pose for this DOESN’T HELP (6/10)

No such thing as love flashback November 2018

This shit enrages me honestly because I stand by these ones looking nice AND THEN I NEVER BOTHERED TO EDIT THE REST OF MY STORY POSTS LIKE THAT I’M (2/10 not bad just bitter)

Reagan’s vision late december 2018

Fun fact about this i stole those trails from the Billie Eilish music video because the ones i drew turned out a bit shit (3/10)

I kinda got my footing then went AWOL what is this January 2019?

WHY IS IT CRUNCHY? WHY DID I DECIDE TO DRAW THE SNAPCHAT STUFF? I WAS ROOTING FOR YOU WE WERE ALL ROOTING FOR YOU (7/10 because it was going so well and i was like this could use some crunch and diy)

I forgot when this was but uh... Lilith and Caleb fight

There was a huge clip where the glass roof would come through so i was clone stamped it out and was like “ooh bitch she seamless” HA no she aint (5/10)

The party def the summer of 2019 because again at the atrium in lincoln center

I hated how this sequence looked especially after following Rowan’s acid trip this shit turned out gray i hate it here (10/10 no i’m not over reacting because the posts surrounding it looked so FUCKING PRETTY)

I don’t remember when this was but uh... right after west side story technically Summer? I think??

Eyes... that’s it that’s really it. I know how to draw them now but... i rebuke these(9/10)

And finally since i haven’t really changed my editing style in the last several months aside from the shadows so really the only things left are flares so uh...

HOHMYGOD THE BLOODIN THE CALEB FLASHBACK SCENE I EDITED THESE IN AUGUST AND DIDN’T POST THEM UNTIL OCTOBER 2019

THAT BLOOD LOOKS SO BAD HOLY SHIT I’M DOING EVERYTHING IN MY POWER NOT TO GO BACK AND FIX IT BUT UGH (10/10 ugly shit for an important scene)

#a bitch really thought she was doin something in some of these #nonsims #saviorhide #hall posts #also this is me procrastinating on going in game for the tribes post and the next story post #i have well over 600 story post sets so that's why this is so long i'm sorry #this also doesn't even include my other simblr attempts in fact this doesn't even include atmt #ya'll don't need to rate yours i just wanted to i've been watching too much tiktok

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babeydollx · 3 years ago

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"I Love You." {John B Routledge}

Warnings: none

Pairings: John B Routledge x Fem!Reader

Summary: After having a crush on John B since you were kids, you finally confess your feelings and to your surprise, he feels the same way.

Word Count: 600+

a/n: welp I got more draft stories so... might as well post them lmao.

John B Routledge Masterlist | OBX Masterlist | Navigation

You were sitting in a hammock with your best friend John B. The two of you were sitting there watching the sun set. You had asked him to come out here with you. You had a secret that you had been hiding for years that you were finally ready to get off of your chest.

You wanted to tell him that you liked him. Well, it was more than the fact that you just liked him. You were in love with him. You have loved him for years but, you were always too scared to tell him. Anytime you would try to tell him you would back out.

You were worried that he would not feel the same way about you but, what worried you even more was the fact that if you did tell him how you felt, it could ruin the friendship you had with him. You could drift apart or you guys could even stop being friends because of it.

Kiara had told you that you should just go for it since you don't know what's going to happen. She said that she had a good feeling about what would happen if you told him. You felt like she knew something that you didn't know.

The two of you watched the sun set and then it was dark. You had a hard time seeing him now that it was dark but, maybe that would make it easier for you to tell him.

"John B.." You said.

"Yeah?" He asked.

"I can tell you anything, right?" You asked. You felt the hammock shift slightly when moved, sitting up to face you.

"Yeah, of course you can. Why do you ask?" He asked.

"Because, it's just... I have something that I really need to get off of my chest but, I don't know how you will react. I'm just nervous to say anything I guess." You said with a sigh.

"You don't have to be nervous." He said. "I am your best friend. You can tell me anything and everything. Whatever it is, you can tell me." He said as he reached out and grabbed your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. You nodded in the darkness.

"Okay.." You said and took a deep breath.

"Don't be nervous, just let it out. You'll feel better when you say it." He said. You nodded and took another deep breath before deciding to just say it.

"I love you." You blurted out. Even in the darkness you could see shock on his face. You began to feel your cheeks heating up. Did you make the right choice by telling him? What was he going to say next? The silence was killing you.

"You do?" He asked.

"Yeah, I have for awhile now." You said quietly.

"For how long?" He asked.

"Since we were kids.." You confessed. It was silent for too long. You felt your anxiety rise when the silence lasted longer than it should have. "I- I'm sorry. Maybe I should have just kept quiet.." You whispered.

"No, no, it's okay." He said as he gave your hand a gentle squeeze. "I'm not mad.. just shocked." He said. You nodded and held onto his hand.

"Honestly, I am glad that you brought it up because, I love you too." He said. His words put you in shock. He loved you too? He felt the same way you did?

"I- wait- you do?" You asked in shock.

"Yeah.. I've been in love with you for so long now." He confessed. You smiled and carefully crawled over to him, getting onto his lap. You then planted a soft kiss to his lips. You pulled back and rested your forehead against his.

"John B Routledge, I love you." You said with a smile.

"I love you too, Y/N Y/L/N." He said smiling back.

a/n: I hope y'all liked this story!

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norahastuff · 4 years ago

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Why do I love Cas’ arc but am so profoundly frustrated with it at the same time? Well from my understanding, for Cas’ arc, there was a 3 pronged resolution that needed to happen - that the show had set up to happen:

1) Cas’ guilt over all the damage he’d inflicted on heaven

It’s been a running theme for years that all the angels hated him and felt like he had destroyed heaven and had abandoned them, not to mention all the rumours that flew around about his relationship with Dean (that they perhaps knew each other in the biblical sense - that’s barely even subtext, it’s just what all the angels and demons assumed.) That’s not something Cas every wanted, to be hated by his own kind, but I think what truly shook him to his core was his conversation with Naomi in 13x19 (a phenomenal scene by the way, maybe my favourite of the entire season) where he discovered that there were just nine angels left in heaven. Cas was devastated, and from that moment on it was clear that whatever else happened, Cas would have to play some role in restoring heaven.

Now technically he did get to do that. That’s something right? Yeah sure...a 10 year arc that’s always been one of the primary conflicts for Cas as a character, that’s driven so much of his story, affected his relationships with Sam and Dean in very significant ways, a conflict that was very clearly being set up to be resolved as part of Cas’ character arc in a very tangible way since 13x19, was wrapped up with a two word acknowledgement:

“Cas helped.”

So yes, that part of his arc was addressed but it was so thoroughly unsatisfying and not given any sort of narrative weight, it almost feels insulting. Those two words are the only allusion to Cas having any kind of agency or being a real character that existed on this show for 12 years. He deserved more than those two words.

2) Cas understands the power of love

Oh boy this one. Well we all know about this one. Bobo did a phenomenal job with this. As did Meredith Glynn, it’s her and Bobo who have been setting this up since s14 at the latest (if we’re talking about when I think they started pushing for an explicitly textual love story) but in my estimation since s12. You can disagree with me if you like but I’m just going to yell “mixtape” at you and run away. Anyway I’ve rambled about this enough in the past so instead of writing another 600 words on it I’ll just link to the last time I did that. The main point is to look at how much Cas had changed over these 12 years. His run on the show may have ended like it started, saving Dean Winchester, but Cas most certainly did not end up the same being that he was when he started. All those years ago he saved Dean for duty, this time he did it for and with love. The power the simple act of loving another person could have? The power in allowing yourself to fully feel it? Nobody understood that better than Cas.

This was satisfying. This made sense.

3) Cas gets to hear that he’s loved

And then we get to part three. How long have they been setting up this particular plot point for? How far back do I have to go? Ok to be fair, let’s stick to the Dabb era. How about when Cas told the entire Winchester family that he loved them? When Dean gave him a mixtape that Cas sort of kind of maybe but not quite recognised the significance of? When The Empty told him it knew who he loved and how there was nothing for him there? When Dean lost all ability to function without him and Cas knew nothing about it? When Cas wonders why he was brought back and Dean tells him it was because “we needed you back” and Cas concludes that he was brought back to prepare for war...when the truth was that Cas was brought back purely because of love? He was brought back because of Dean’s love, because of Jack’s love, but that’s something Cas is never made aware of. How about when Michael in Dean’s body tells him that Dean doesn’t care about him and only tolerates him because he feels he owes him for saving him from hell? Or when Michael continues to twist the knife and talk about how all Cas has done since then is make mistake after mistake? Or when in a moment of anger Dean says the same thing? And I don’t think I’ll ever forget when Jack says he know Cas loves him and he wants to love him back but he can’t, and Cas responds with “You can’t yet.” Did none of that feel like it was setting something up?

Cas’ arc wasn’t just to learn that he could love without expecting anything in return, it was also to learn that he was loved without being expected to do anything for that love. He was loved for him. He wasn’t just needed, he was wanted.

Cas got to resolve 1/3 of the main story threads that were set up for him, 1.5 if I’m being generous about point #1, which is still a hell of a lot more than any of the other characters, but it’s a far cry from being in any way satisfying. There’s definitely a point to be made about how by not letting Cas hear/learn that he was loved and valued (explicitly romantic or not) they did a true disservice to Dean and who he was a character and how deeply we know, and have been repeatedly been hit over the head with, he feels for Cas, but that point has been made many times in the past few weeks so I’ll just leave it at that.

Anyway, I know I’ve been contradicting myself since the finale about how I feel about how Cas’ story ended, so I figured it was worth it just to put it all together in one post to kind of make sense of it all.

#castiel #my spn thoughts #destiel #spn #15x18 #spn meta #15x20 #oh cas

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vegalocity · 4 years ago

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Peachtea/TripSun angst idea. Nobody knew Wukong would disappear for 500 years so they're mourning until Xiaotian starts training with him. Tang composes himself to wait a little longer but Wukong just ignores all the signs. Until he gets into an argument with Tang and Tang ends up snapping "Why did you disappear for 500 years?!"

Okay so here’s the thing, I can only get behind the whole ‘The other Pilgrims ALL thought Wukong was dead and are PISSED at him now’ stuff, only, and I mean ONLY if Wukong either thought they all didn’t want to hear from him again anyway, or if he thought they were dead too.

....I mean my only contributions to all those ‘Reunion with Baije and Wujing’ posts were both ‘Wukong thought they were dead too’ so CLEARLY thats my read on the whole thing. I sincerely can’t see him just... NOT telling people he cared that much about that he was gonna bounce for that long to be alone on FFM, so if he knew they were alive he would have told them.

And then you know someone spotted that little shrine with the origami figures in the Special and I was there like:

So like, lets do something we’ll both enjoy here then because all of those reunion fics are almost exclusively centered around the trio, and we oh so rarely see Sanzang (whether he is Tang or not) get involved.

So like first off, assuming LMK is on a sci fi alternate earth instead of being in the future, there’s still a solid nine hundred or so years between the end of the Pilgrimage and the supposed time Wukong disappeared for Monkie Kid timeline (JTTW is set in like the 600s or so if i remember correctly, might be wrong about the exacts tho) so lets assume those nine hundred years were uneventful.

So yeah, idk the hows, the hows don’t matter. What DOES matter is Wukong somehow loses contact with the others and is somehow convinced they were all killed, had his last stand against DBK and then went off travelling for a century to come to terms with his brothers and his precious, darling, beloved Master all perishing due to his inability to protect them.

and meanwhile for the others he was just... GONE. Like he’d vanished off the face of the earth, And the last the three of them ever saw of him was the staff rooted into the mountain that now kept the Bull King below. Just in case maybe the tree of them would periodically head off to Flower Fruit Mountain and check in with the monkeys that could still talk, but after about a century it was clear. If he WAS still alive, he wasn’t coming back. And the idea that he’d purposefully leave all of them behind just for the hope that he WAS still alive would do his memory a disservice.

So when Wukong returns to FFM wouldn’t it be great if he like, JUST missed that last visit? Like DAYS after Sanzang, Baije and Wujing had been there for the final time to hold an impromptu funeral for their dead friend on his homeland and finally accept that he was gone, Wukong returns to the mountain and builds his little shrine for his dead friends... the Monkeys all look at eachother awkwardly and shrug, assuming this will be settled soon enough, surely it’ll be solved before too long.

And then another 400 years of kingly depression naps and the others falling in and out of contact with eachother as they adapt to the ever changing world around them later, Xiaotian snatches the staff from the bull family.

And... Look... It’s been a ROUGH 500 years on Sanzang now called simply Tang. He’d only recently tracked down Baije-now-called-Pigsy in the past... what Ten years? and was only tangentially aware of what Wujing-now-called-Sandy was up to. And... Look... LOOK. It’s ridiculous that he’s still hung up over losing Wukong as much as he is. He’s Well FUCKING aware it’s ridiculous. He should know better, he quite LITERALLY reached immortality through enlightenment. He KNOWS he should know better.

So why-... Why can’t he say his real name without his gut still twisting into knots? He still tells the stories because telling them behind a wall of detachment, pretending he wasn’t there on the action for most of them helps in some small way, but why does he have to always call him ‘the Monkey King’? What a question, he knows why. He gave his heart away when he was still mortal, and so mortal his heart will forever stay. Dead and returned to the stone with the impulsive monkey he’d given it to.

And then It’s not dead. Because he’s not dead. and honestly at first it’s just shock, it’s just reeling with the sheer tidal wave of feelings he had to spend hours meditating just to sort through. The three of them meet up after Xiaotian and Xiaojiao have turned in for the night to discuss what the FUCK just happened, and all three of them come away with different conclusions.

Baije is furious and will refuse to seek out Wukong unless its to tell him off for letting the three of them belive him dead, Wujing is sad and would like to see Wukong again to simply ask why he’d decided to cut the three of them out of his life like that, but doesn’t want to do it alone. And he’s...conflicted.

He wants this to be a joyous discovery. he wants to be so relieved and euphoric at his monkey still being there, having ALWAYS been there, that he wouldn’t be able to stop smiling for days on end. But he can’t. It’s all so... messy inside and he’s going to need to keep his distance if he wants to be able to approach Wukong with a level head. This was why attachments such as these were foolish he should have known better all those years ago but it was centuries too late now, and this confliction is what he has to suffer through as the result... wanting to laugh and cry and scream all at once because Wukong is ALIVE, he’d spent SO long in mourning for him, and HOW DARE HE ignore them all and let them assume the worst?!

So he hides behind that Scholar Tang persona while he sorts through his emotions. And it works for the most part.

And then New Years happens.

And... Look, Wukong’s been THROUGH it in the last 500 years. He’s done everything he could to just... GET OVER the loss of his love His Master and His brothers. he went through all the damn stages of grief,

Spent that first decade in denial poking around everywhere he could to see if any of them-ANY of them were in hiding somewhere, spent another three decades wandering the world and starting fights with other cultures divine warriors (and that Aphrodite chick was DEFINITELY hitting on him the entire time, extolling about how rarely she got to use her ‘Aria form’ whatever that meant) to work through his rage without actually getting himself in trouble with his own heavenly court. Spent another twenty years or so looking through as many underworlds as he could find, no matter how many of them really wanted to test just HOW immortal he was (Answer: Too Immortal for any of them) to see if ANYONE had anything he could work with, and always coming up empty. eventually crossed the ocean to the other landmass because he was tired of looking at all of these places and seeing either memories or wasted time looking for bargaining chips, and spent a decade or so deciding he hated Mexico and went back to China. and then spent another thirty years just procrastinating returning home to his mountain.

When he returns to flower fruit mountain its as though he’d never left. His monkeys greet him with excitement but he’s standing on the shores of his home he hasn’t seen in a century and... feels nothing. Like his ability to feel anything for anything beyond the people he’s lost is gone. He makes a little shrine that spends most of its time on a shelf that's difficult to be able to look at full on without craning your neck weirdly and if any of his subjects notice that he takes a bit too much care in folding the little paper figure of the monk as he sets the four figures up along the edge of the little thing none of them judge him over it. He’s rarely got the energy for tears anymore, but when he does it’s usually when that little figure catches his eye.

By the time Xiaotian crashes into his life he’s... getting better. At least he thinks he is. having the loud excitable boy in his life is helping chase the shadows away a little bit (though when they return oh how they scream) and he hears some stories of his friends on training days and... geez sometimes he’ll tell this or that story and Wukong will be so THOUROUGHLY reminded of someone that it just... hurts.

And then New Years happens.

And he finally sees him again -- And he finally meets Xiaotian’s friends

And he still doesn’t know how to feel it’s all SO MUCH -- And they feel familiar so he gives them all a quick glance with golden eyes

And he can only do the one thing that feels safe right now -- And oh... that makes sense. How lucky they all found eachother again after reincarnating.

Sanzang hides behind the Tang persona and lies with an energy that could only be harvested from the sheer maelstrom of emotions fighting for dominance -- and Wukong leaves before he says something incriminating because now he knows and he can’t Un-know.

He should have known better but its centuries too late. And it doesn’t even matter that he doesn’t know how to feel about this whole thing he HAS to keep seeing him, he can NOT let him vanish again -- This was a mistake, this was a mistake, he cannot face them all and see lack of recognition, he cannot have his brothers treating him only as Xiaotian’s mentor he can NOT handle looking at him and seeing a stranger.

He needs to at least TALK to him -- He can’t stay away

Wukong doesn’t start out hanging out at the Noodle Shop on down time, that’d be too much too quick, especially since Baije-.. Since Pigsy is clearly still pretty steamed for the whole ‘letting Xiaotian into the world of magic and monsters’ stuff. But he’ll often shapeshift and keep an eye on things like that... No he is NOT eavesdropping on the reincarnations of those three out of the ridiculous desperate desire to feel close to them again. Because he’d rather just love him miss them from afar than be treated as a stranger.

But of course Tang notices when he does. Every time. And every time he wants to say something but his throat feels too tight. That first day he’d fallen on the persona because it was all he felt he COULD do but now the very idea that he’d have to pretend to be someone else just to be able to speak to his monkey not his not anymore Him was completely out of the question. Tang’s actually surprised with himself the first time he finds his voice.

The conversations come quickly, neither of them quite content to ignore the other now that its become obvious. The conversations are mostly stilted, awkward. Wukong seems both unable to help himself from talking to him, but unwilling to LOOK at him. Tang’s best guess is that he somehow doesn’t recognize him, Had he really changed that much in the time they’d been apart? Had he really lost so much affection for his old master that he could no longer recognize him beneath a slight change in appearance? That might be the reason the Hurt finally starts to win in the eternal standoff between Joy and Sorrow in how this whole thing makes him feel.

And maybe it’s something simple, maybe Wukong is just barely starting to lower his guard a bit. Maybe just sharing a space with the man who once was the love of his life his master was finally starting to chalk over the rough edges his long since broken heart would constantly stab into him with. and he just SAYS something. Something probably innocuous, something he’d said a million times on the Journey alone. And to Tang it just... feels like he’s mocking him, like he’d known this whole time and had just been playing with his emotions in a way he wouldn’t have tolerated back then- so why should he tolerate it now?

And the first words out of his own mouth are “Bad Monkey!” and Wukong freezes as Tang begins to lecture him

How he’d spent a solid third of his time immortal in mourning over him, how he’d been the one to tell Baije and Wujing that it would be a disgrace to his memory to believe him alive and instead that he’d chosen to cut the lot of them out of his life, despite how much HE’D wanted to believe it too. How hurt he was to find out that not only he HAD been ignoring them for so long but also that he’d apparently had apparently not even recognized any of them when they HAD all seen each other again! How much he’d missed him, how happy he’d still been to see him again.

Yes, yes, pathetic, emotional baldy always bursting into tears at the simplest of things nothing’s changed etcetera etcetera- He hadn’t been lying on new years when he said he had a million questions, but all he really wanted to know was why? Why did he cut them out of his life, why did he shut HIM out? Why did you disappear for 500 years Wukong?

And Wukong reaches out, his hand is- shaking? and removes the glasses from right off his face--normal glass obviously, Baije had insisted they completed the scholarly look and annoyed him into compliance--

“You’re-” he hesitates, looks, almost afraid? “You’re not a reincarnation..?”

Oh...

Well now they both looked the part of fools.

Two sobbing fools clutching to eachother in the alleyway behind Pigsy’s shop, and oh MAN did they have some things to talk about, because Wukong was DEFINITELY coming back with him to his apartment for the night and then first thing in the morning he was going to visit his brothers to internalize that THEY weren’t reincarnations either and then he was going to have to explain where he’d been for that first century while they were all still looking for him to THEM too.

And yes he should have known better than to get attached to him in this way in the first place, it was disgraceful, the sheer misery it had brought alone was proof enough of that. But Wukong was nuzzling into his shoulder, and pressing those strange feeling monkey kisses across his cheeks and jaw, and his breath was hitching with pure relief and joy and it was for him-

And fuck it, he just didn’t care.

#Peachtea #Tripsun #hell yeah hell yeah hell yeah #Y'all should read 'from here the rain falls' on AO3 #REALLY great fic for this ship #and i haven't seen the Chow movies but i could follow along p. easily so there's that #letters to vega #it seems as though epople are sending me many things for this ship and i say #Keep em coming man we must make the content we wish to see in thsi world #hoo boy did this get LONG though

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1000roughdrafts · 4 years ago

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Criminal

DeanxReader request from @rileynicole1967 based on the song Criminal by Britney Spears

A/N: I watched the music video to get an idea for how to go about this, so this fic is similar to that story line :) AND I HAVE A COMPUTER NOW, so I can finally post and write! <3

Warnings: mention of spousal abuse in the beginning, lots of fluff, eludes to sex, some swearing, violence, somewhat of an OOC Dean at the end, you’ll see why

Word Count:2.2k

Something people commonly say about a reason someone might stay with their abusers is that after the bad, the abuser will buy them flowers and jam them into a vase as empty as their apologies. But it's not always flowers. It's surprising them with lunch at their job, or taking them to dinner on a night they least expect, or they clean the house because they just know they've been working extra hard lately.

Y/N hid the bruises well under long sleeve shirts, hooded jackets, and she always wore pants. If eyes really are windows to the soul, how does one hide those kinds of injuries? Luckily these are more difficult to spot than marks on the skin, but sometimes someone will pop up who can read one's eyes like a book they've flipped through so many times the ink is smudged on the edges.

Y/N thanked her lucky stars that both happened in one night. Flowers came in the form of a trip to the bar she initially met Damian in, the man she spent six miserable yet wonderful years of her life with, and the latter came in the form of Dean Winchester.

In the back corner of the bar, at a table with a fake candle, she sat cradling a drink in her hands. Strings of lights hung on the walls and ceilings above five pool tables, four of which were occupied by loud, though respectful, groups of people. Damian droned on about something regarding work, a story he'd told about five times already, but she hadn't the spoons to bring that up.

She kept herself entertained by watching and listening to the people around her, noticing right away as two men walked through the door. The first man's eyes shot straight to the bar, his feet following suit. That's a man with a purpose, she thought. The other let his eyes scan the entire building along with the people in it before he'd even set foot inside. When his eyes ping ponged back to center, they landed on Y/N's, and in an instant, they read her story.

The man smiled, following the tall one to the bar. They ordered and sat to talk for a while, the man's eyes floating from the pool tables to the man in front of him and on occasion, her. She couldn't be sure what Damian was saying, but she was certain about the sneaky glances she shared with the mysterious man in the leather jacket.

"Dean," she heard the other say in an attempt to gain his attention. Dean, she thought, how fitting.

"Are you listening?" Damian hissed, waving a hand so close to her face she thought he might hit her.

Her eyes darted and narrowed at him, body jerking back. "Of course I am," she glared.

Dean's eyes burned like lasers into her until she returned the glance, his brows turned down in worry.

"Bullshit," Damian scoffed. His voice raised, "what did I just say then?"

She looked back to him, "something about work," she said and sighed.

He scooted the chair back, the metal scraping against the floor in a shriek. His shoulder tensed as he mildly shouted, "you know, I was fucking right about you. You have absolutely no respect whatsoever, do you? I oughta teach you a fucking lesson."

Dean, overhearing the conversation, shook his head and gulped down the last of his beer. He let the glass slam against the table on it's way down and when that wasn't enough to get that asshole to step back, he walked over to the vacant pool table, dramatically clearing his throat. He looked overa t her table, and then at the groups around him.

In a tone of authority he attracted the attention of the nearby groups, asking for one brave enough to take him in a bet. Sneaking a glance at her table, he hid his gaze by scratching his jaw as his head turned.

Damian distractedly looked over at the table, making eye contact with Dean before scoffing. Dean nodded at him with a smile, but Damian turned his attention towards Y/N. He relaxed his upper body, leaning his elbows on the table. Shaking his head, he muttered under his breath, "what a tool."

She masked her chuckle in a scoff, uttering a soft, "yeah."

He began talking about something unrelated, as if the last five minutes simply vanished into thin air, but she was just grateful the heat of his words were taken off of her. She looked over at the pool table, Dean's eyes already on her. His eyebrow raised in a question, and she flashed a quick, small smile in response.

He nodded, slipping the pool stick between his fingers to line up a shot. His eyes remained on hers as he bent down, aiming and missing. The group bellowed a laugh, and Dean's opponent lined up to make quite a few shots, ending the game with a sunken 8-ball. The men cheered, gaining the attention of Dean's main goal for an opponent, Damian.

"Ah, better luck next time," one of the men said to Dean through laughter, patting him on the back.

"Guess so," Dean smiled, looking at his feet.

Damian chuckled smugly, leaning forward to pull his wallet from his pocket. Y/N looked him over as he counted the wad. Stuffing the wallet back into his pocket, he gulped some of his beer, eyebrows hopping as he told her to "watch this", and set the drink down. She jumped a bit, gripping onto his wrist to pull him back into the chair.

She knew a hustler when she saw one. Damian didn’t like to be wrong, and he certainly didn’t like to lose. He ripped his arm away and leaned down.

His pitch was high and voice soft, as if he was talking to a toddler, “this is easy money, baby. Did you not see that guy just get his ass kicked?” he laughed again, licking his lips before looking over at Dean. Looking back at Y/N he spoke even quieter, winking, “drinks are on him tonight.”

“But,” she protested, but he was already halfway to Dean who stood chalking the tip of his pool stick.

“You up for a game?” he asked, "500."

“Oh, I don’t know,” Dean said, patting his wallet. “I just lost a good chunk of change, I-”

Y/N playfully rolled her eyes, resting her chin in her hand to watch the game.

“Tell you what,” Damian said, a tight, smug grin on his face, “you win, it’s double,” he shrugged, “I win, it’s just 300.”

Dean looked up at the ceiling for a split second, tilting his head while he contemplated the offer. His lips swished from side to side and then he smiled, “deal,” he said, holding out his hand.

By the time solids were wiped out and the 8 ball was left, Dean smiled at Y/N when Damian's back turned, slipping the pool stick between his fingers to line up a shot.

Eyes moving to Damian, he grinned, “8 ball, corner pocket,” then glanced over at Y/N. Damian just stood with his arms crossed. Dean kept his eyes on her as he bent down to aim and sunk the 8 ball.

He stood slowly, barely concealing his smile. Y/N felt a smile creep onto her face as well, dropping it when Damian threw the pool stick onto the table in a tantrum.

“This is bullshit,” he grunted, flipping around and marching over to Y/N. Stunned, Dean froze until Damian gripped her wrist, digging his nails into her skin as he yanked her so hard she nearly tripped over her own steps.

“Let’s get out of here,” he grumbled, taking his anger out on her wrist as he tugged.

“Hey!” Dean shouts, waving a hand as he shuffled sideways to get out from behind the pool table, “wait!”

Damian’s grip felt like a growing fire the more she tried to wriggle free. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Dean running up at them just as Damian whirled around.

He yanked her into him. "Stop fighting me,” he said through his teeth, bearing down on each word.

She loosened up, letting him keep his firm grip on her arm, but she was knocked back by Dean shoving Damian. He stood between them. Only surprised by the interaction, he charged at Dean, which only served as more of a pack to the punch Dean threw at him. He was knocked back with another punch, landing on the floor.

Dean shook out his fist, taking a few breaths before turning to face her. With his hand resting on her shoulder, he bowed his head to look into her eyes, “you okay?”

Shocked, she just nodded, her mouth agape as she looked at Damian. She looked back at Dean with next to no expression before running over and falling at Damian’s side.

Dean felt his insides squirm and weaken, like he’d just reached the end of a rollercoaster. He was sickened by the thought of how he treated her, and for her to just run to his side hurt him. But she surprised him when she reached into Damian’s pocket for his wallet, ripping out the 600 in bills before throwing the wallet onto his back. Dean chuckled a bit, but stowed it when she turned around to jog back to him.

"I believe he owes you this,” she shrugged, handing it over.

He laughed, looking down as he grabbed it. Stuffing it into his back pocket, he looked up at her, head tilted. “Dean,” he smiled, holding his hand out.

“Y/N,” she said, shaking his hand.

Dean rolled over, wrapping his arm around Y/N in the bed of his motel room. She flinched a bit, but hummed when she came to her senses. Smiling, she rotated to face him, tracing the outline of his tattoo with her fingers.

"Nice tat," she cooed, and he couldn't quite tell if she was being sarcastic or not.

"Thanks," he said, banking on sarcasm being the safest bet, "it's to keep me from being possessed by demons," he said with a lift of his eyebrows.

Her eyes bounced between his before she busted out in a laugh, "right," she played along. Her attention shifted, "and the gun is for?"

Confused, he glanced over to the nightstand, gun placed next to the clock.

He chuckled, "you don't want to know."

She pulled her head back a bit, but half of her lips turned into a smile, "mysterious," she laughed. "What are you, a drifter with a gun collection?"

"Something like that," he smiled, dipping his head to her neck, pecking small, soft kisses.

She'd never felt like she was the focus of another's attention until her time with Dean, and perhaps that was dangerous, but in the moment it was everything to her. He kissed her like he'd been kissing her for years, like he knew just how to get her going. She didn't want the night to come to an end, but with the sun bleeding through the curtains of his motel room, she knew she'd have to say goodbye soon.

"Are you a criminal?" she blurted out. In a laugh, she added, "I just can't take the suspense anymore."

He laughed, "in some states," with a small nod before rolling over to sit at the edge of the bed.

It was hard to keep up with him, to tell when he was being serious and when he was being sarcastic. She just smiled, sitting up to gather her clothes.

When dressed, she found a pen. Reaching for his arm, she rolled up the sleeve to his flannel, smiling before writing her name and phone number on his forearm.

"When you're in town next, or not too far away, call me."

---

Dean had never done this for anyone before, but something with this connection was different. It was like she saw him for what he really is under everything on the outside. They'd met up at least fifteen times since the first night, and he had yet to figure out what exactly drew him to her.

She knew exactly what she liked about him, though. The bad boy, criminal type that treated her like she should be treated, even if they were just hooking up. The kind with a soft side that bled from him in moments he least expected it to, moments where he was really trying to show just how ‘bad’ of a guy he is.

"Let me come with you," she said in a rushed breath, gripping onto his arm before he could turn for the car, "whatever you do, I want to join. I don't have a life here," she relaxed her arms, letting her hand fall from his and back to her side. "Not anymore, at least," she said, softly shaking her head.

"Y/N, it's not safe," he said softly. Taking her with him meant confessing to all the lies he's told her, unraveling the truth about what he does; saving people, hunting things, the family business. He rolled his eyes at himself.

She gripped onto his arm again, "I'm serious, Dean," she said firmly, her eyes piercing into his, "please."

Dean glanced at Sam, who gave him a look she could only translate to meaning ‘no’, but then it softened, and he looked at her. Dean just nodded, opening the door for her. Dean knew that she would learn soon enough why tagging along was a bad idea, and she’d leave when she knew what was good for her. He’d learn to never let anyone in the way he let her in, but until then he’d enjoy the company of anyone other than Sam. Y/N was just excited for a new adventure, whatever that may come with. Her mama would be disappointed, but all reason aside, she just loved the guy.

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#supernatural #dean winchester #dean x you #dean winchester x you #dean x yn #supernatural fan fic #spn #dean x reader #supernatural x you #supernatural x reader #supernatural fan fiction #song fic #dean winchester fic

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germanicseidr · 4 years ago

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Frisians

We are picking up from where we left off on my post about the Frisii. The Frisians were a germanic tribe/kingdom located in modern day Frisia, Noord-Holland, Zuid-Holland, Zeeland, Utrecht, Groningen, Drenthe and Overijssel in the Netherlands, east-Frisia in Germany and north-Frisia in Denmark. They are the oldest Germanic culture that still exist until this very day with their own unique history, flag, traditions and language.

During the great migrational period, which also marks the end of the iron age and the start of the medieval age, new settlers, mostly Saxons, settled themselves in former Frisii territory. Most of the Frisii had abandoned their homeland and migrated either southwards or to the west to Britannia. Only a very few Frisii remained in their homeland, too little to continue their population.

Around the 5th century AD these migrants were now settled properly and called themselves Frisians. They quickly turned their homeland into a powerful seafaring nation now bordered by the Christianized Franks to the south and the still pagan Saxons to the east, the Frisians were still pagan as well. By 500AD they were possibly the most powerful sea power in western Europe, a power they gained from their long history of sailing and trading.

Since the collapse of the Western Roman empire, the economy in western Europe was in a very sad state. Poverty and hunger were considered to be normal while ancient Roman settlements started to decay and slowly disappear. Between 300-500AD, trade was pretty much dead and time appeared to have stopped moving for the people in western Europe. This all eventually changed thanks to the Frisians who were able to restore trade routes and opened up a path for the now so famous vikings.

During the late 6th century, the Frisians set up wide-spread trading routes all across the north sea, east sea and the Rhine area. In all of these trading areas, settlements grew like cabbage thanks to the wealth that these Frisian traders brought, settlements like: Ipswich in England, Ribe in Denmark and Medemblik in the Netherlands. Already existing settlements such as London and Dorestad grew thanks to this trade. Dorestad, a city which was located in modern day Utrecht, the Netherlands, even became the most important trade hub of western Europe, it was also the capital of the Frisian kingdom.

The Frisians were in fact so dominant in their trade that the term Frisian became a synonym for trader in many Germanic languages until around 1000AD. Curiously enough, many of the trading settlements were not fortified with walls or forts, the 6th and 7th century were relatively peaceful times. It was also the Frisians who reintroduced the concept of money in the form of sceatta coins. The word sceatta itself is Frisian for treasure. Archeologists have found these sceatta coins all around the North sea coast, England, Denmark, Germany and the Netherlands. These sceattas were based on earlier Roman coins. So you can thank the Frisians for the fact that we use money instead of the old trading system.

So what did the Frisians trade exactly? They traded both luxery goods and more mundane goods per example: Fabrics, skins, pottery, metal, cattle, fish, flesh, salt, wine, dairy products, fur, milling stones and even walrus, sea lion and reindeer products which they got from the far North in Scandinavia. They also traded in human lives because the slave trade was a lucrative business and slaves were essential for the early medieval economy.

Who ruled the Frisians? It is not known when the Frisian tribe turned into a kingdom but we do have written sources of some of the earliest Frisian kings. The oldest yet quite unreliable source comes from the epic poem Beowulf which mentions Finn Folcwalding as the first king of the Frisians. It is however doubtful if Finn actually really existed since Beowulf is not exactly a reliable historical source. According to the Poem, Finn was the son of Folcwalding and married a Danish princes, Hildeburh.

Here is a quote from the Beowulf poem: "The warriors returned then to seek their houses, bereft of friends, to see Frisia, their homes and high fort yet Hengest the death-stained winter spent with Finn, in a place with no fellowship at all; he remembered his land, though he could not drive on the sea the ring-prowed ship: the sea welled in storm, fought against the wind, the winter locked the waves in icy bonds, until came another year to the courtyards, as it still does now, those which continuously carry out their seasons, gloriously bright weathers." Beowulf

The first Frisian king of whom's existence we actually got archeological evidence, is king Audulf, who ruled Frisia between 600-630AD. The most famous Frisian ruler however is king Redbad/Radboud who ruled Frisia from 690-719AD. His story is recorded by the Franks, the enemy of the Frisian kingdom. According to these records, Redbad refused to convert to Christianity exclaiming that he would rather spent an eternity in hell with his ancestors than to go to heaven.

It was also under Redbad's rule that the Frisian kingdom reached its peak. The Frisians and Franks were continuously at war with each other as the Franks tried to expand their empire. Not only did the Franks aspire to add more land to their already massive empire, they wanted to convert the Frisians to Christianity as well which they eventually did with quite some violence. Bonifatius and Willibrord were send to Frisia with orders to built churches and convert the local people.

Bonifatius started to chop down sacred trees throughout Frisia, oak trees which were dedicated to Donar, which were used not only for religious purposes but also for judicial purposes. This angered the Frisians greatly and eventually the mob turned against Bonifatius killing him and his followers out of anger and revenge.

Redbad managed to keep Frisia largely pagan until his death in 719AD. After his death, the Frisian kingdom was quickly conquered by the Franks who divided the kingdom into three parts, East-Frisia, Middle Frisia and West-Frisia. One thing I want to mention is that there is a very popular post going around the internet saying that Redbad is the last Frisian king, this is however not true. The last Frisian king was Poppo who ruled Frisia between 719-734AD. It was during Poppo's reign that Frisia was conquered by the Franks, perhaps the reason why most people conveniently leave him out of history.

By the year 734AD, the Frisians were now largely converted to Christianty but some pagans still remained. The latest pagan burial dates back to around 1000AD and some pagan habits like placing offerings in moors and swamps continued on well into the 18th century. It took a very long time before the Frisians accepted Christianity, almost 1000 years before the Christian faith fully got its hold in even the smallest settlements.

Not only Frisia was conquered and converted by the Franks, the Saxons were also invaded by them which led to the Saxon wars which took place between 772-804AD. These wars eventually led to the destruction of the Irminsul and the forcible conversion to Christianity. Countless of pagans were murdered for refusing to convert. The Frisians provided military support for the Saxons in their uprising but it sadly failed. With the arrival of the 9th century, continental Germanic paganism has almost completely died with the exception of Denmark.

The Frisians were no longer independent and by 839AD, the reign of Frisian counts began. During the 9th century, the Frisian territory, now part of Lotharingia, was repeatedly attacked by the vikings. Thanks to the vikings, the Frisians lost their status of the most powerful seafaring nation and an age of terror began. Dorestad, former capital of the Frisian kingdom, was raided several times by the vikings until the city eventually slowly died. It was rediscovered in 1842 during archeological research conducted by L.J.F Janssen, conservator of the rijksmuseum van Oudheden in Leiden.

Since the Christianization of Frisia went so slowly, many of its people still believed in the Germanic Gods by the time the vikings were active. After the passing of Louis the pious, king of the Franks, in 840AD, a power struggle broke out between his three sons which resulted in devastating civil wars. The Frisians, who are genetically and culturally identical to the Danes, decided to stop defending their territories from Danish raiders and so Frisia fell in the hands of Danish rulers. The Frisians and Danes actually had good relationships with each other as their culture and religion were the same. It is believed that many Frisians turned viking as well and joined the Danes in their viking raids.

Eventually the viking raids stopped but the Frisians, now known as the West-Frisians, continued their good relationships with Denmark, a friendship which continued for many centuries as Holland and Denmark later united to battle the Swedes, in fact this friendship still endures until this very day and was recently celebrated between both governments.

The counts of West-Frisia, who governed on behalf of the Holy Roman Emperor, ruled over the area which was formally part of the Frisian kingdom, modern day Noord-Holland, Zuid-Holland, Friesland, Groningen, Drenthe, Utrecht and east-Frisia. The first known count is Dirk I who governed over Frisia between 916-928AD. This line of counts continued until count Dirk V of West-Frisia declared himself as count of Holland and so the province of Holland was born.

The climate of Europe changed again between 800-1200AD, the medieval warm period had begun. This eventually led to a gigantic flood, the Sint-Lucia flood, which created the Zuiderzee and separated West-Frisia from East-Frisia. Eventually east-Frisia became known as simply Frisia but West-Frisia, now reduced to an area connected to Holland, continued to exist under its former name. The remaining part of West-Frisia refused to join Holland which resulted in the West-Frisian wars which lasted around 160 years.

West-Frisia was eventually absorbed into Holland by count Floris V during the late 13th century after series of battles and a mass slaughter committed by the Hollanders on West-Frisian men, women and children. Even though West-Frisia is nowadays part of Holland, they still remain their own unique identity, anthem, flag and dialect. the province of Holland grew into the most powerful province of the low lands and eventually revolted against their Spanish overlords in 1568, a struggle now known as the 80 years war for Dutch independence which resulted in the free republic of the united provinces in 1648, the creation of the Netherlands as a united land.

Meanwhile east-Frisia, now known as Frisia, continued to resist against every power that tried to conquer the territory. Frisia became an independent territory around the year 1000AD and continued to be independent until they decided to join the Dutch revolt against the Spanish. Frisia joined the union of Utrecht and became part of the Dutch republic and still continues to be part of the Netherlands until this very day although some Frisians want to reclaim their independence again.

I am sorry for this long post on the history of the Frisians but they have a very long history that deserves to be told since they greatly influenced all of Europe and are the oldest still existing Germanic culture of Europe.

Here are images of: a map showing Magna Frisia, the Frisian kingdom at its peak. An image of king Redbad/Radboud, Frisian traders, artist unknown, A map of the Frisian trade network, Frisian sceatta coins with a depiction of Wodan, a map showing West-Frisia before the formation of Holland, A photo that I took myself of West-Frisian remains badly maimed by soldiers of Holland during the West-Frisian wars, Current territory of West-Frisia, map showing present day Frisia and east-Frisia

#Germanic #Germanic tribe #pagan #Frisia #History #Dutch

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musedblues · 4 years ago

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Happy almost 600!!! It's cliche, but could you do a blurb of Joe with "And there was only one bed!" Thank you!

Carrie! Thank you dearly. Order up for one cliche blurb!

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

You’d been in London for twenty four hours, and you already felt like dying. Not only was this your first major role, and your first major film premier- you had a major crush on one of your costars. Maybe it was Joe’s natural charm, the way he’d walk back the long way he’d left from just to tell a cameraman he really liked his jacket. Joe was easy to like. Everyone seemed to light up when the guy walked in the room whether he paid them any attention or not. And that’s where your problem really was. Joe paid a lot of attention to you. He offered to stay late for a month after every table read, to help you learn lines and feel more comfortable on the intimidating set. He went out of his way like that for other people. He helped other actors with their nerves. You weren’t special, you knew. But you couldn’t help but melt a little, when he told stories about you at event panels. You couldn’t help but swoon over the comments he left on your Instagram posts. You couldn’t help yourself from falling for him, and after tomorrow night's premier, only God knew when you’d ever cross paths with Joe Mazzello again.

After the last talk show appearance had been filmed, you followed the rest of the foreign cast to the hotel suite the studio rented for you all to spend one glorious weekend in. The premier was tomorrow night, and you were already a nervous wreck. On the lift up to the room, you and one other pal were the only two of your peers with bags in tow. Everyone else got here earlier in the day. God, how nervous could one person be?

“There’s only one room left, so you’ll have to fight to the death.” Another of your co stars explained, dashing into the suite. While most of your other co stars wished each other goodnight, the only room left was snatched up by your pal who’d raced toward the bed calling dibs all the way.

Much to your dismay, you found the couch had been taken too, and in the midst of you and a helpful friend brainstorming a space for you to settle, Joe spoke up.

“You can stay with me if you want.” He breezed by, like his offer meant nothing. And you struggled to hide the way you blushed at the idea. But if your other costar noticed, they didn’t care. They simply shrugged and wished you a peaceful night’s sleep before the big day tomorrow.

So that was that, you could either follow behind Joe, or stand in the minikitchen and give away just how nervous you were. You sucked in a breath and went on your way.

Joe took his turn in the ensuite first, swearing he wouldn’t use up all the hot water. You chuckled as you tossed your bags in the corner and struggled not to scream in a panic. You found clothes to change into and just kept telling yourself not to think about it. Not to worry. Not to give yourself away. You averted your eyes when Joe stepped out in a pair of pale joggers and dashed to ready yourself for bed. Joe was only being kind. You knew this. But that didn’t stop you from muttering a string of curses as you showered and took too long worrying over your appearance when it was all said and done.

Joe was kicked back on the bed, scrolling through his phone when your time ran out. You shuffled quietly toward the opposite side, switching out the light closest to you.

“You don’t wanna stay up till dawn and party?” Joe teased, sounding sleepy despite his offer.

“As much as I’d love to, sleep seems more important. Tomorrows going to be… well you know.” You waved, turning back the covers.

“Are you nervous?” Joe asked, clicking his phone off and tossing it aside.

“Yeah.” You sheepishly admitted. Of course you were. While he followed your lead switching out the last light and settling under the covers, Joe promised you had nothing to worry over. He said it was a guaranteed good time, watching the project you’d been working on for months finally stitched together on screen. You hummed, set at ease by his pep talk, for tomorrow, and now. For a moment, you felt fine with a few inches of space between you and Joe, as you settled to fall asleep in the same bed.

But then he turned on his side to face you, lessening the gap, with more questions to ask.

“What are you going to wear?” He wondered, like a school girl daydreaming with friends. You couldn’t help but giggle as you dared to peer over at Joe, only a reach away. Then you described the outfit you fretted over choosing, happy with the one you’d decided on. Joe listened, you felt his eyes on you, his piercing gaze. You couldn’t look over again until he asked his next question.

“Will you be my date, then?” Joe wondered, biting his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Why, will we match?” You wondered, trying desperately not to give away how flustered he made you feel.

“I mean, I’m wearing black. So it wouldn’t matter.” Joe pointed. “I’d just like to show up with you on my arm, is all.”

The worst part was that you couldn’t tell if he was flirting because he was so naturally inclined to do so, or if he really meant what he said. So you had no choice but to look at him once more, despite the way your face flushed like you’d been caught red handed in love.

“Do you really?” You asked through a petrified smile. Joe kept his lip between his teeth as his eyes drifted over the features of your face. His brows lifted and Joe gave you a little nod, and your heart threatened to jump right out of your chest and into his grasp if he’d only promise to catch it. And you sifted through about seven million questions as your gaze locked on Joe’s. His jungle colored eyes were still so bright in the dark of the room.

“In case I haven’t made it embarrassingly obvious, I really like you.” Joe nearly whispered.

And then you really felt silly. For being so nervous, all this time. For still feeling nervous now. But you smiled, a stupid giggle escaping your lips as you peered to Joe, closer than you’d ever been before.

“I’d love to be your date.” You agreed, with glee.

Joe let his grin widen then, but you only caught a glimpse of it before he was closing the gap to press his lips against yours. His kiss was soft and sweet, better than you’d dreamed it might have been. And when you kissed him back, and reached out to pull him even closer, you weren’t so nervous anymore.

Almost 600 Celebration Blurbs

#joe mazzello #joe mazello x reader #Almost 600 Celebration

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twixtandshout · 3 years ago

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Tagged by @pidgeonpostal! And not tagging anyone else because I have SOILED the original template (soiled it!!) in deference to my [brushes off skirt] mostly clean public-facing appearance.

...I’ve been making a lot of Spongebob memes lately for someone who has not seen Spongebob.

How many works do you have on AO3?

71!

What’s your total AO3 wordcount?

...306,834. Jesus.

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Uh. Many! I do a lot of one-offs (and/or start long things I never finish) in many different places. My top three fandoms by fics written are RWBY (29), Undertale (25), Gravity Falls/Transcendence AU (4).

Bet you can’t tell where my hyperfixations have fallen.

I’ve also got some Pokémon and Sonic the Hedgehog fics back on my ff.net account, or I think I still do, anyway, but let’s never go back there pls

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. Sweeter Than Honey (Undertale): Taking a Completely unsurprising first place, with over 600 more kudos than the runner-up, the haphazard Underswap fic featuring a post-college self-insert I wrote just after high school! I shake my head some at how overblown and ridiculous the gap between this and all my other stuff is (c’mon, guys, I’ve written way better fics), but this is also the fic which prompted me (and at least one other person!) to start using they/them pronouns. I’ve gotten a lot of really sweet comments about how seen and appreciated it’s made people feel, so I can’t get down too far about it.

2. To Be A Hero (BNHA): I don’t count myself as part of the BNHA fandom, for a number of reasons, but for something that’s arguably the main motivation for the entire plot, Midoriya’s quirklessness is something I’ve never thought has been handled well. This fic marked the first time I (somewhat tentatively) claimed the disability label (thanks again to Sweeter Than for prompting that realization) to hold that lens over canon. It also really shot up my chart, dang! It’s the only thing here I’d consider “recent.”

3. Three-Sentence Shipping (Undertale): Self-explanatory.

4. Brothers Beyond Bonedaries (Undertale): Ah, the way-overcomplicated AU³ I got nowhere close to finishing. One of the things I really like about Undertale is the interface screw, how Toby Fox uses the medium of the video game to pull off crazy things and enhance his game, but most of the fic written for the fandom seems dedicated to explaining it away, grounding it, rather than taking it to the next step and messing with the medium of fanfiction when you keep the story going. I tried to do something cool like that here, playing with questions like narrator and authorship and breaking the fourth wall, even taking the “final boss” fight to a “totally separate” fic reached through the first by link – but, well, then I never finished it, which probably didn’t make anything less confusing for the poor folks who missed the intent.

5. Spirit and Such (Gravity Falls: Transcendence AU): A whole fic written to line out a particular image I had, which, naturally, never made it to the page. I consider it a bit of a cautionary tale for myself when it comes to writing (near-)original content; there’s a lot I look back on and cringe. I still love the characters, though – well, the important ones – and I think just stepping away from the tried-and-true Mizar formula nets it a star sticker here.

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

>w>; I try, but a lot of the time I just don’t have anything to say? Like, oh, you liked it? Neat. There’s not much to respond to in comments like that, and then I’m weighing falling down on an ~obligation~ to respond to every message in my inbox vs annoying people with copy-paste fluff responses all down the page. Plus I know I make more of an effort to comment on things that didn’t get the attention I feel they deserve, so if I’m driving up my own comment count with nonsense, am I preventing myself from being in a position to receive more comments later? And then if I do comment, am I being too effusive or running people’s ears off explaining things they don’t actually need to know? Sometimes people just want to express interest or admiration and don’t necessarily want a whole peek and guided tour behind the curtain.

Can you tell I have anxiety? x3;

Anyway, I do respond when I can. And I keep most of the comments I’ve gotten to go back and reread.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Hm, hmm. Lots of stuff in the TQ Nonsense series would probably qualify! I’m thinking of Unfixable, Wolfsong, and Ethanol. And there’s Bursting Through A Blood-Red Sky (I Can Live, I Can Breathe), of course, but that was always intended to have a fix-it epilogue. It’s just that I wrote it in a couple of hours day-of, stared at it, and decided I didn’t wanna just then. But now that’s As Long As You’re Still Burning Bright (I’m Still Awake), and that’s probably the best romance I’ve written, so that one worked out.

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve ever written?

Now and then! When the urge strikes. Uhhh, I’ve got a series of Doctor Who x Undertale crossovers I actually made a whole dang verse for that never made it to print. Get a couple great comments on that every few months or so. I think the World Trigger x Undertale crossover is probably weirder, though, by virtue of WT being a very small fandom. My enthusiasm kinda sputtered out on that one.

Mostly I just daydream crossovers with whatever happens to catch my eye at any given moment. I have a lot!!!! Though odds are out on whether I manage to remember any of them once the initial thought’s passed, lol.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Gotten a couple eyebrow-raising comments, but I think mostly I’m just too small a writer to draw that kind of attention.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don’t? think so? Think my tastes are a little niche for most people to bother ^^;

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I had someone apologize once for any language mistakes in their comment cause they had to run it through a translator! That’s not what you asked (the answer is no), but it’s very flattering to think that someone liked my fic enough to read and comment despite the language barrier.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! :D @pidgeonpostal was gracious enough to agree to co-write Five Nights at Denny’s with me off an idea about shoes. This has fulfilled a long-held dream of mine (collabing with someone, not the shoes) and also introduced me to some lovely people.

What’s your all time favorite ship?

Who has time for just one? ;3c Honestly, I care more about the characters and how the relationship – any relationship – between them changes them than I do about ~A Ship~ as a solid, bounded noun-object. I’ve got characters I like more and less and feelings about who does and doesn’t have chemistry in which directions with whom, but finding anything that agrees with those preferences is hard, harder when you take alloromanticism into account. I’ll play in any sandbox with cool toys, especially if other folks have already built sick sandcastles there.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

[kicks every single unfinished fic further under the bed] What nooo no WIPs here, everything on my account is either finished or does not exist

I’ve got a couple extra chapters of Sweeter Than floating around unposted, but 1. that fic’s a mess 2. high school Twixt and post-college Twixt are different people and trying to contort myself into three other me-shapes just cause people Like this fic is not something I’m super interested in 3. it’s headed for an emotional dip and I’d rather leave it where it is than post two chapters, stall out again, and leave folks with a bad end.

As for other fics... it’s looking more and more likely that v7 of my Yellow Brick Road AU will never actually make it out. >w>; I’ve got some really great ideas, but not enough to make me feel like I know what I’m doing, and that’s a big roadblock. Plus trying to engage with RT’s Atlas-Mantle worldbuilding in any serious capacity is... a headache. I can’t recommend the Happy Huntress Cinematic Universe enough, but it leaves some pretty big shoes to follow! And I’ve got small feet. <w<;

What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue’s fun, probably as an extension of characterization. I love tearing into what makes people tick, especially against the backdrop of their environment, the story they’re in, and the people they’re up against. Voice is a double-edged sword; I’ve been told my writing is really recognizable and individual, but on the other hand, I’ve been growing frustrated with with the limits of my narrative ability. There’s a strong rhythm I keep when I write (you might notice it here, even) but that leaves me feeling predictable and stale. I’m not sure I’m great at setting as a matter of course, but I’m pretty good at describing setpieces where the need comes up; that comes from my background in poetry, as does the fun I have with sublimating and abstracting complex imagery. And I think I bring some needed nuance to the universal. For good or ill, I don’t do what “everyone else” is doing.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Well, writing, for one thing. If I don’t know how something’s going to go and don’t have the urge to write it, it isn’t getting done, which means there’s a billion things that will never see the page and a few hundred more that are never getting finished. I lose momentum easily and have a hard time getting started, and I put way too much standing on finding a foothold with other people; as critical as I am of my work, I have high expectations for the stuff that passes muster, and it never seems to measure up. I’m also really uncreative. Yeah, I can mix up elements and extrapolate events, but coming up with things wholesale is really hard, which is why I avoid it wherever possible and steal/reskin stuff from other places instead.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Something along the lines of “Hoo boy, I am Not qualified for this but hopefully it’s decent anyway.” Maria’s Spanish lines haven’t been a big deal – I’ve used it sparingly and, as a Latin language, it should be easy for English-speaking audiences to pick up on the gist – but I’ve had a harder time with Tai’s Chinese, both because I have Even Less background there and because it is, of course, an entirely different language system. If I write it out in English or Romanized italics, am I colonizing it or changing the meaning? If I write it out in the presumed-original characters (presumed because it’s Google Translate and who knows if I’m even barking in the right forest), am I confusing or alienating my presumed-majority-English-speaking audience? Where should I put the translations? Should I put the translations? And for Frisk’s sign language, thinking back, are the brackets I used instead of quotes alienating/infantilizing? I like that different characters give the text between a different feel, but I’m not an ASL speaker – and I’m pretty sure the word is “speaker,” which would only reinforce that that demographic would rather I didn’t do that. It’s important for all these characters, I think, that they use non-English language where it makes sense; it’s part of who they are. But as a white monolingual English-speaker, I don’t think I can really weigh in.

What was the first fandom you ever wrote for?

Thaaaat’d be Pokémon, followed closely with Sonic the Hedgehog. Whether those fics are still on my ff.net account or not (pretty sure I’ve purged them, but you never know) I’ve still got a couple saved to a folder on my current laptop, ostensibly so I can look back and see how far I’ve come and more practically to allow for the possibility of furthering group cohesion through public shaming.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

I still like the idea behind The Man Who Is Atlas, and Burning Bright (Still Awake) gets props for being my current fic, though it’s currently in that spot where I’m excited to get new chapters posted but also quietly marking everything up in red pen. I think Harbinger gets the crown here, at least for now.

#answerin' stuff

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thomcantsleep · 3 years ago

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My Relationship with Twitter

C/W: R/W Conspiracy Theories

I recently left Twitter for what is probably the tenth time I would’ve said. I also would’ve said that my reasons for leaving each time were the near enough the same.

Simply being on it, through one way or another, drives me up the wall.

This time though, I feel like I’ve properly re-evaluated my relationship with Twitter and come to real conclusions about the reality of the kind of place that it is.

It’s been fairly recent that Twitter has properly blown up into the monster that it is and it coincides with Facebook becoming uncool which I would’ve said to be around 2015 or 2016 at a guesstimate. i’ve been in an on-again/off-again relationship with the blue bird since 2012 when I was thirteen which is not a great age to be on it now. It wasn’t really a problem back then though because no-one used it. If you look at tweets from 2012 from major brands, you’d struggle to find a post that reached 300 likes. Celebrities might not get to 300 retweets whereas now, the likes of BTS easily clock 100k RTs and gobble half a million likes for breakfast.

I’m not one for crowded places for a start. I’m susceptible to a sudden wave of extreme and overwhelming self-consciousness which is otherwise known as a panic attack and only a couple of things activate it. Heterosexual nightclubs or vulnerability in an online space although I’ve been far better in recent years. Essentially, I get too emotionally invested in something publically and I walk in on myself and see all these eyes staring at me so I clam up. That’s one thing about Twitter that frightens me.

Something that I used to thrive on but have since rejected was pointing at conspiracy subscribers and laughing but, living in this current world, it isn’t really something that you can laugh about anymore. It’s just a downer never mind it being a broken record. There’s only so much material you can wring out of them before you find yourself alone in your house being angry at an invisible person with a bunch of numbers in their handle and an egg for a face. Whilst scrolling through Twitter, anything could be delivered to you and often, you don’t have any control over it.

Sometimes, you do have complete control. I have no idea why I have an impulse to open a reply section when I know exactly what will be inside it and that’ll definitely set me off for the rest of the day. If you don’t use Twitter or that you don’t use it that often, you might say “Well, it’s easy to just block or mute words or phrases”

Here’s the funny thing.

Twitter will do it’s best to make sure you see it anyway. It not being the specific post or person but the same sort of thing whether you like it or not because Twitter is supposed to be for everybody. You can not escape.

For context, I muted over 200 words or phrases and blocked over 600 accounts. Twitter encourages you to have arguments with people or come out with controversial hot takes so you can rack up the twat points and that can’t be healthy can it?

I don’t like having arguments and I never have. They almost never go anywhere or lead to any conclusion and just leave me feeling cold. Whenever I get into any slight disagreement on Twitter, I just feel frustrated because it’s no place to be having a nuanced discussion about anything. You start treating debate like firing missiles in a battlefield because you have to pick what bases you want to cover, how you want to make sense of it all and how it is explained clearly for the recipient so you can achieve a victory. The moment you click send, you have to start preparing your rebuttal because the other person is already preparing their counter-strike.

Why? Who gives a fuck? Who are these people? Why do we insist on combative conversation?

It’s the same reason why I don’t bother responding to people on this website messaging me calling me a cunt because I didn’t like Life Is Strange. What’s the best that they are hoping for? It’s the same on Twitter, same anywhere.

The reason why I like Instagram and that I’ve never fallen out with it is that it doesn’t really suggest conversation of any kind. It’s not the primary focus of the app (outside of the gathering of data), the primary focus is for looking at whatever images you like. It definitely does have it’s harmful side if you follow a great gambit of influencers but, unlike Twitter, if you don’t follow them, you won’t know they exist. I just follow my friends to see the serene scenes of their jogs up to Loch Lomond or walking their dogs in the Argyll country. Folk are generally happier on Instagram and they aren’t likely to post paragraphs of their thoughts and opinions on the new Zack Snyder movie. It’s comforting to be on it.

Because Twitter can make you laugh now and again, you want to stick around for the craic so you forget about all the times you’ve seen the same joke repeated. This does have a bit to do with how I’ve became sick of Twitter as well. I find that good jokes on Twitter get ruined immediately with either folk stealing it, rehashing it or repackaging it because, as per discussed, everyone is looking for the high score that’ll get them a pocket pussy sponsorship or whatever. So no meme is safe from being butchered and bastardized by someone who has “Turn Notifications On” in their bio. Not to sound like your grandad but it does feel like you’re living in an echo chamber - an echo chamber of crap patter.

The best part is that you can’t “mute” an image so you can’t see that fucking annoying lord of the rings meme template often enough.

Long story short; that’s why I’ve stopped using Twitter.

I still have a Twitter account though that has been privated for the moment but it’s just so I can post the new Tumblr posts to let folk know what I’m up to. If I have any updates about the books that I’ve got in the cannon then I’ll tweet a wee thing saying what I’m doing. But then I get the fuck out of there because scrolling down is practically an addiction and I need to get to sleep at night.

#twitter #mental health #social media #social media anxiety #social anxiety #anxiety #depression #anger #self-esteem #wellness #mindfulness

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bryanastar · 3 years ago

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Getting a Creative Writing Internship: Writing Update 13

Howdy Tumblr! So, from the title, you can probably tell that I’ve been busy this week. I already mentioned briefly in the last post that I was writing a story to try and get a writing internship, but I actually only officially became a part of the team, like, last Saturday. More information down below.

Novels:

N/A

Short Fiction:

So, for this internship I had to write basically a flash piece (the word count was between 600 and 1000) based on a social issue that the organization had yet to cover, and I chose… human trafficking. Don’t ask me why. I really don’t know.

Specifically, the aspect I wanted to cover was how our most vulnerable and voiceless members of society (the poor, immigrants, undocumented, etc.) were the ones most at risk of exploitation because they’re very easy for society to forget they exist.

It was, to be frank, quite a heavy topic to cover in under a thousand words (which is of course why I had to go over and ended up with 1100). Still, I was quite proud of the story when I finished, even though I wrote it in basically two days on my notes app. It was also, admittedly, hastily edited, and I was more concerned with getting the word count down than making sure the story read well (or even making sure I didn’t make any basic typos or grammar mistakes).

I sent the story in on Saturday in the evening, and heard back from the founder the next day in the morning. She absolutely loved the story, and the prose itself, as well as how I handled the social issue within the piece. She heaped a level of praise that was on par with the acceptance letter from Rhodora Magazine. It was great.

After that, the head helped me get set up on the site itself. I set up a Wix account, changed my username, and edited my role in the organization (they call writers here Storytellers, which is just… so fancy and bougie and I love it!).

From there, she talked about the organization itself, and we basically just had a pretty casual conversation about my role going forward (she said she absolutely was not letting me go after the trial story because she was that happy with my piece) and her own experience as a young writer (she got a novel published at 14, which is just… like, literal teen writer goals). She also said that we’d have another meeting in, like, two weeks to introduce me to all the other teen writers (which I’m super excited about).

So yeah, I’m a writing intern now, and I’m super excited for my future with this organization. Apparently, they have a reach of twenty-one thousand people! How crazy is that?! This could really be how my audience begins to grow, and I hope it is the start of a life-long writing career.

That’s all for now. See you next week Tumblr!

#creative writing #writeblr #teen writer #writblr #writing #short fiction writing #young writer #writing internship

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shima-draws · 5 years ago

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Shima Shima Shima please tell us all about your Wonderland AU for Tododeku!!!

Oohhh! Ooohh I would love to okay let’s see

Honestly it would probably just be easier for me to explain the original movie’s plot rather than just. Trying to make sense of what you don’t know with Izuku and everybody else’s involvement so.

Note that all of this is purely from memory having seen the movie once like, a couple weeks ago in theaters LMAO so there’s definitely gonna be some things I’m hazy on. But! The movie’s online now so after I watch it again I’ll update this post with a better summary!

Under the cut for MAJOR spoilers and also bc it got really long!

So! The Wonderland! It’s about a girl named Akane who isn’t terribly self-assured. She has friends and has a good life but she’s sort of…timid, so she doesn’t put herself out there when she should. This causes issues within her group of friends and even with her own mother, who Akane is sort of distanced from.

The day before her birthday, Akane’s mother sends her to meet up with her older friend Chii to receive a birthday gift. Akane does NOT want to go because Chii’s very…overbearing, and excited, and very very outgoing, completely opposite to her. Chii travels all around the world gathering antiques for her shop (mostly light fixtures tho) and is a pro at haggling trades and prices. Akane calls her a witch bc she rips people off sometimes lmao

Akane arrives at the shop and finds a strange slab with an indented handprint. Akane fits her hand into the indent and finds that it fits perfectly!! This causes a reaction which calls upon a resident from Wonderland, an alchemist named Hippocrates, to arrive from Chii’s basement (which is basically just a little storage hole). Chii immediately gets a broom and starts hitting him with it, calling him a creep and an intruder LMAO

Hippocrates explains that Akane is the Goddess of the Green Wind, and that Wonderland needs her help. Next to Akane, on the table, a little doll springs to life, who’s revealed to be a tiny little chibi character named Pipo who works as Hippocrates’ apprentice. (He’d been hiding there all morning, I guess to scope out the person whose hand would fit into the indentation.) Akane’s hand is still stuck in the little slab by the way and she keeps freaking out. She says she absolutely does not want to go to Wonderland to help them, so Hippocrates gifts her with an item called the momentum anchor. Essentially it’s an item that forces a person to keep moving forward and looking ahead when they try to go back. (Basically it’s an item that forces character development which is pretty wild lol) After Akane gets her hand free, the momentum anchor forces her to accompany Hippocrates and Pipo to Wonderland. Chii decides fuck it she’s going on a magical adventure too, and tags along with them!

When they arrive in Wonderland, they end up at the top of a large sort of watchtower/nest for a huge ass bird. Chii befriends the bird, who is protecting her eggs. As they make their way to the nearest town, they run into a man and his mother, whose ride/carriage cart thing was destroyed by an enormous machine that Hippocrates calls the “armored mouse” (because it kinda looks like a mouse). The armored mouse attacks the cart and essentially swallows it, including the sweater that the old lady had made. Inside the armored mouse, the Main Antagonist ™ of Wonderland greets the newcomers. His name is Zan Gu, and he’s intimidating as all hell. He’s not openly cruel, just quiet, and isn’t afraid to assert his villainly dominance. Most of his face is hidden, but he seems to have a skeletal, sort of robotic body. His cohort, a little cat person named Doropo, teases them. Doropo’s basically a mischievous troublemaker who enjoys making fun of others and getting in people’s way.

Zan Gu and Doropo continue on in the machine, and they head straight for the watchtower. The armored mouse starts to tear up the iron staircase, disrupting the tower. Chii rushes over and manages to save one of the bird’s eggs. Hippocrates calls upon the sheep from the nearby town to come help (and they’re HUGE and FLUFFY and adorable). The sheep crowd in on the armored mouse, and Zan Gu is forced to retreat.

The man who they had saved introduces himself as the mayor of the nearest town. The group walks over to the town, surrounded by hundreds of sheep. Hippocrates explains on the way that the land is dying because there’s a lack of water, which is one of the reasons why he brought Akane there. Akane’s like “How the hell am I supposed to help you get your water back”. They pass a gorgeous flower field which slowly gets worse and more dried out.

The villagers are relieved to see Hippocrates there, who is pretty famous in this world bc of his status as an alchemist. They also jump on Akane, super excited that the Green Goddess of the Wind is here to help them! Night falls and Akane freaks out, because she’d obviously wanted to go home like hours ago, and her mother is probably worried. Chii, on the other hand, is super nonchalant about everything that just happened, and is like “Well we’re already here and it’s late so we should stay, it’ll be fine!”

The group has dinner with the mayor while his mother starts to knit a new sweater to replace the one she lost to Zan Gu. Here we get a bit more into Wonderland’s history–the mayor explains that the flowers and sheep are what they use to make these sweaters and other clothing, but they aren’t selling as well as they used to anymore bc of the water crisis. He’d originally been on his way to a place called Sakasatongara Market with his mother to enter her sweater into a contest. Hippocrates takes over and discusses the water crisis in more detail. The original Green Goddess of the Wind had come over 600 years ago, and had saved Wonderland when they were in a similar crisis. Apparently, there’s a ceremony that is performed every year called the drop mist ceremony, which properly distributes water to the whole land. This ceremony is supposed to be performed by the prince, who supposedly has a lot of magical power, coming from a generation of royalty who can control water. According to Hippocrates the prince has been gravely ill over the past year, and this is because his parents had died, leaving him to grieve and become very sick as a result. Hippocrates believes that Akane, being the new Goddess, has the power to heal the prince and allow him to perform the ceremony. Akane again denies that she has any sort of power like that. During all this Chii keeps pointing out contradicitons in Hippocrates’ story and it’s hilarious because it makes him very angry and flustered LMAO and Akane’s like “Chii-chan, you’re being super rude right now”. I can’t remember if it’s here or not, but Akane sees a picture on the wall of the previous Green Goddess, and she looks really familiar…kind of like her mother…?

The next day, the group of four (Hippocrates, Pipo, Akane and Chii) decide they’re going to travel to Sakasatongara Market in order to deliver the mayor’s mother’s sweater to be entered into the contest. The market is on the way to Timeless Rain Castle, where the prince resides. The sweater is placed into Akane’s care, who promises she will deliver it. They’re given a car, which will help greatly with the journey, and then they set off!

Akane and Chii admire the scenery of Wonderland as they travel, but are saddened when they begin to see areas that have a clear lack of water and have died out from neglect. Meanwhile, in a grungy, dark city, Zan Gu approaches a man and brings him more metal. Apparently the armored mouse had been going around collecting metal, which we find out later that it’s so the armored mouse can be upgraded and reinforced even more to wreak more havoc (along with one other essential upgrade, which I’ll get to later). The man says he needs more metal if he wants to make something out of what they have. Zan Gu does his whole “threaten the victim” schtick, and guarantees he’ll bring more, as long as the job gets done. (I might be remembering these sections out of order but it all happens within the same timeframe, more or less.)

Back to Akane and co., they’re driving in the desert and they head right into the biggest fucking dust storm in the world. They take shelter under a large rock, hiding out there until the storm blows over. They were given huge fluffy suits (bascially fursuits) that were made from the sheep. They’re pink and comfy but horribly embarrassing for Hippocrates in particular to wear LMAO but they’re a great shelter for the storm. After the storm subsides, Hippocrates attempts to fix the car, but finds it’s getting late and that they’ll have to wait until the morning to do so. In the middle of the night, Akane wakes up to see Chii standing outside, looking at the stars. It’s absolutely gorgeous and beautiful.

The next morning, Hippocrates fixes the car! Hooray! With that they drive further north and arrive in a very snowy little village. Akane hears more stories about how things were when water was plentiful, and they’re exposed firsthand to how the shortage has caused people to become greedy. Zan Gu shows up while Hippocrates is out refueling and Doropo threatens the inn owner into giving up food and water. Zan Gu has an intense staredown with Akane but doesn’t do anything more before leaving.

Hippocrates sees the armored mouse on the move and follows them. At this point the mouse has been upgraded and looks more terrifying than ever, and can bulldoze and tear things apart much easier. Zan Gu goes to receive new materials, which are revealed to be missiles for a cannon. Hippocrates intervenes, but Doropo uses his magic to turn the alchemist into a fly.

Akane and Chii worry about Hippocrates’ whereabouts, but with some prodding, decide to head to Sakasatongara Market without him since they’re on a bit of a time crunch, seeing as the drop mist ceremony has to be performed the next day. They pass by Hippocrates’ house (but Pipo informs them nobody is there) and Pipo’s childhood home in the trees, where tons of other little chibi sprites hang about. The girls travel through a steep mountain range as Hippocrates tries to guide them–but being a fly, he keeps getting ignored and brushed off, even by Pipo, who can’t tell it’s him. Eventually they have to drive over a rickety wooden bridge, and Chii teases Akane about her nonexistent love life at school in an attempt to keep things lighthearted and distract them from the terrifying ride over the bridge. Akane pokes back and makes fun of Chii for her failed conquests of men. One of the planks breaks and Chii steps on it, and they’re both screaming as they cross the rest of the bridge LOL

At some point during all this we cut to Timeless Rain Castle, where everyone is preparing for the drop mist ceremony. The prince’s closest advisers decide to go up and visit, and it’s revealed that the prince isn’t ill at all–he’s trapped within a little metal doll’s body, a curse placed upon him by Hippocrates’ “rival”. (He’s a good guy tho too, apparently.) This rival has been asleep for a long time, and is nearly impossible to wake because of how hectic his magic is. (We later see a scene in which several guards attempt to rouse him. His house is literally sitting on the edge of a cliff on one corner, the rest of it floating in the air, and he’s sleeping. No wonder they’re cautious about waking him up LMAO) Because this other magical user has been asleep, the prince has been trapped in this form for nearly a year. They scramble to find out a way to revert him to normal before the ceremony the next day.

After that it seems to be easy going for the girls. Pipo warns them nanoseconds before they drive off another bridge–and land in a giant lily pad! They’re on a huge pond now, with koi fish the size of whales. Pipo douses himself with magic dew that lets him breathe underwater and makes sure his clothes don’t get wet. Chii happily jumps in after, and Akane, after hesitating, also joins them. They ride the giant fish, who push the lily pad with their car across the pond. Akane picks up some sea shells at the bottom of the pond and puts them in her pocket to save for later.

Akane, Chii, and Pipo (and Hippocrates, still a fly) finally arrive at Sakasatongara Market!! First they have to go through customs, in which they’re judged by a group of talking cats (which Chii finds HILARIOUS). Akane is declared as a guilty party bc a few days before, she’d pulled her cat’s tail for sitting on her face. Her cat is revealed to be the leader of the group. She’s briefly given a cat tail herself, which is pulled on, so she understands how much it hurts LOL while Chii teases the rest with catnip and treats. They’re allowed entrance into the city. From the distance, they can see the prince arriving as well, presumably in the royal carriage. They have no idea he’s still in doll form.

In the prince’s tent, Hippocrates’ rival finally arrives. (Guess they managed to wake him up lol) The others beg for him to turn the prince back to normal. The wizard points out that the doll they’ve been guarding so carefully all this time is, in fact, not the prince at all. He uses his magic to transform it–revealing that it had just been a stuffed toy, acting as a decoy. Everyone panics, wondering where the actual prince has gone.

Akane and Chii gaze on as Pipo points out the well where the drop mist ceremony takes place. Sitting in the center of the city (which is p much set up like a giant stadium, with steps leading down to the middle), the well is a huge symbol of peace for the land! And it’s a central part of the ceremony, as well. Chii rushes off to bargain and barter while Akane and Pipo go to enter the old lady’s sweater into the contest.

As they’re walking around, they catch sight of Doropo, who just stole goods from a nearby shop. Pipo orders Akane to chase after him, which she does. As they follow him to the outskirts of the city, Pipo realizes that Doropo might be one of his friends from school, another chibi sprite named Ron. Ron had gone on to apprentice with the wizard, and Pipo with Hippocrates, so Ron had always viewed them as rivals.

On the outskirts of the city, Akane and Pipo see that the armored mouse is there. Moved by her own determination, Akane sneaks into the machine to see what Doropo and Zan Gu’s plans are. Hippocrates follows them in.

They catch a conversation between Doropo and Zan Gu. Zan Gu seems to be getting increasingly frustrated and hasty, and Doropo keeps blowing him off. Zan Gu eventually snaps at him, and the truth comes out. Apparently they plan to destroy the well before the ceremony can take place. If this happens, no water will come to Wonderland ever again, essentially dooming everybody. Zan Gu had gathered the missiles and upgraded the machine with a cannon to achieve this. Zan Gu blames Doropo for everything that happened to him, saying that while Doropo is obviously hesitating, he had been the one to transform him into a monster in the first place. Doropo sadly admits that he just didn’t want the prince to hate him…and this is the part that hit me HARD because we realize that Zan Gu has been the prince this whole time!! We get a flashback to when the prince was actually trapped inside the doll. He angrily says to Ron that if he could allow him to speak, he could turn him back, right? Ron makes an attempt, but he’s not that experienced with magic, so it ends up in a total disaster, transforming the prince into a basic corpse.

It’s at this point where things are set into motion. Akane eventually reveals herself. Pipo calls out Doropo on his disguise, and he transforms back into Ron. Zan Gu prepares to bust through the city walls and destroy the well. The wizard releases all of the magic Doropo had caused, making Hippocrates transform back into his regular self. Zan Gu busts into the city, and Hippocrates tries to stop him. Right as he’s lining up to take the shot at the well, Akane grabs onto him and starts her Grand Heroine Speech. She points out that Zan Gu–the prince–was scared, and that’s why he was doing this, because he was trying to run away from his responsibility. The prince explains his story in detail.

The drop mist ceremony, being a very important one among their family for generations, had been successfully performed by his father and grandfather. However, pressure from his parents, peers and all of Wonderland was too much for the prince to handle, so he started to reject any practices of the ceremony. After his parents passed, that pressure became even worse, because he was the only one left able to perform the ceremony properly. He got angry and scared and started to push everyone away and lash out at those who tried to help. Eventually it got so bad that the wizard had to come in and use his magic to transform the prince into the metal doll, essentially trapping him there as punishment and as a way to reflect on his mistakes. This obviously angered the prince, being trapped in a body that couldn’t move or speak, which eventually led to Ron’s involvement and his transformation. The prince wants to destroy it all, either out of revenge or maybe because he just has little to no empathy in this form and is only full of negative emotions, who can say…

Akane goes on to encourage him again despite all this, and tells him he’s not alone, that she promises she’ll be there to help him. She tells him how inspired she’s become traveling through Wonderland, getting to meet all of the wonderful people, and seeing how beautiful it is. She says she wants to save it, and that she wants to help the prince. Her words, and her change, break the curse on the prince, transforming him back into his adorable princely self. The prince agrees to perform the ceremony. Chii meets up with the group and apologizes to Akane for leaving her alone to deal with everything. Akane asks Hippocrates if they can make another momentum anchor for the prince, because the one she has helped her a lot along her journey and pushed her in the right direction, and she feels like that’s what the prince needs, too. Akane promises to return the next morning before the ceremony to be there for the prince.

Hippocrates, Akane, Chii and Pipo travel back to the alchemist’s house. Together they spend the night making a new momentum anchor, which requires a lot of magic. Akane gives it her all to help! They successfully make a new one, and hurry back to Sakasatongara Market. It’s morning now. Akane rushes to greet the prince, and gifts him with the anchor. She says that they match now, both having anchors. (The prince gets all soft and blushy and it’s very cute.) The prince talks with his adviser, who warns him what will happen if the ceremony fails. The prince knows it’s a huge price to pay, but says he’s ready to do it.

Akane is dressed up in Green Goddess robes, similar to the ones her mother wore. She and the prince cross the bridge which hangs over the well, which is so deep that you can’t even see the bottom. With Akane’s encouragement, the prince performs the ceremony. Nothing happens. The prince knows what has to be done–he strides up to the edge and prepares to throw himself in. Akane understandably freaks out and tries to stop him. The prince explains that if the ceremony fails the performer has to offer their body as a sacrifice to make water flow again. Akane’s like I’m NOT letting you do that, and the two of them start to struggle. The prince manages to make it to the edge–and Akane topples over with him. Both of them fall into the well.

Before they hit the bottom and inevitably die, they’re saved by the wizard. He explains that it was basically a sort of test–the prince had to show he was willing enough to make a sacrifice that big. He says that Akane is special, and that the prince should thank her properly for all her help. They’re sent back up to the bridge! The ceremony begins, and the prince rushes to get into position. The well erupts with water, straight up into the sky, an enormous geyser for all the world to see. The prince takes out his sword and starts to slice the water with it, which turns them into water birds. The water birds fly all over Wonderland and rain down on the land, restoring its vitality. He turns to face Akane to see that she is crying in joy, as is Chii.

After the ceremony ends, Akane and Chii go with Hippocrates and Pipo to return to their world. Akane frets over how much time has passed since they left. Hippocrates explains that, while three days have passed in Wonderland, only three hours have passed in their world. Akane and Chii realize that if they were ever to return, everyone they met probably wouldn’t be there anymore. Apparently the original slab with the hand print Akane’s mother had made was repaired–and Akane stumbles right into the wet plaster, printing her hand there for the next generation. She attempts to give the momentum anchor back to Hippocrates, but he tells her that it had vanished a long time ago, and that Akane had been moving forward by her own momentum and decisions. Akane and Chii kiss Pipo goodbye, and they say their farewells. Hippocrates gifts Akane with a little textile with a sword on it. They head back…and emerge from the basement of Chii’s shop. When they look back at it again, it’s just the storage compartment, and nothing else. Their adventure is over.

Chii goes to take a long nap. Akane rushes home to see her mother. By now she’s made the connection that her mother was the original Green Goddess of the Wind, who saved Wonderland over 25 years ago. Her mother notices the textile and compares it to the same one Akane has in her room. Akane thinks that she feels a lot closer to her mother now. And that’s where the movie ends!

Ofc there’s tons of extra stuff that I missed LMAO but that is the basic plot of the whole thing. Now, as for the AU…Izuku is Akane, obviously, but instead of having her reluctance to go on an adventure, he’s willing, but doesn’t think he’s worthy of being a hero to anyone, and is constantly stopped because of his own fear.

Ochako is Chii–she fits perfectly with her personality lol. Iida is Hippocrates, both being super punctual and easy to fluster. Kirishima is Pipo, and Bakugou is Ron/Doropo–good fits with their characters, and also. Kiribaku moments? *eyes emoji* Todoroki is obviously the prince/Zan Gu! In the AU I’m probably going to extend things a bit further, so Izuku and Ochako stay in Wonderland a bit longer, and Todoroki falls in love with Izuku >:’D As for the smaller roles, I haven’t really decided those yet. Toshi is probably going to be the mayor, and Nana as the old lady. I’ve gotta rewatch the movie again to help me decide on the rest :’D

Buuut yeah! I’m gonna take a lot of liberties with the AU and expand on the movie waaay more, and try to fill in all the plot holes. A lot of the narration felt really abrupt so I’m gonna have fun weaving it all together so it flows! And tons of Tododeku moments because uh YEAH

That’s all for now!! If you’ve got more questions hmu, I’m super down to chat about this more!

#Shima answers questions #The Wonderland #Birthday Wonderland #The Wonderland spoilers #Tododeku #BNHA #Boku no Hero Academia #My Hero Academia #MHA #The Wonderland AU #Shima's AUs #Izuku Midoriya #Shouto Todoroki #Katsuki Bakugou #Eijirou Kirishima #Tenya Iida #Ochako Uraraka #Long post #I'M SORRY IT'S LIKE SUUUPER LONG AMDKASMDALDS

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pollylynn · 5 years ago

Text

Just About, Chapters 1–5 (Loosely linked Caskett Rabbles, Set in Season 1)

A/N: I started this “series” (if one can call it that) a while ago—very short things set in Season 1. It had been sitting at four chapters for a while. I wrote the fifth tonight. I’m just going to post them all here, with separators, because they’re so short.

Title: Just About, Chapter 1: Everything and Nothing WC: 300

A/N: I don’t know. I need a palate cleanser after finishing Season 8, and I was “inspired” by an Elvis Costello song. So 300 words here, and plans for a few more of these, most likely all set in season 1.

She smells like heaven. Well. Not really. She doesn't even wear perfume. She smells like drugstore shampoo and coffee. But it's heaven to him. Legitimately the stuff of dreams. Or it would be, if he slept. But he can't sleep, because she smells like heaven.

Because her cheek blushed when he kissed it, and the warmth still lingers on his lips. The silk-smooth feel of her skin stays with him, and he absolutely cannot sleep.

It's ridiculous, really. He asked, near enough.

Why? So I can be another one of your conquests?

Or I could be one of yours.

He put it out there, and she turned him down. Shot him down, if he's honest with himself, and that's that as far as the possibility of any after-hours "research" between the two of them goes. That's that.

But she smells like heaven, and he can't decide if she's adorable or dead sexy or both at once. He can't decide if it's her legs he's into or her eyes or the fact that she's a complete bad ass. Or maybe it's how smart she is. Book and street and everything in between, and then there’s the mouth on her. She’s funny. Cutting, but not quite mean. Not quite, and she’s not the least bit impressed by him.

Not the least bit, and can’t be that, can it?

It might be that, because he hasn’t worked like this for anything in ages. For anyone. He hasn’t had to. Hasn’t wanted to, and what the hell is it about her?

Maybe it's everything. She catches him, flat-footed and tongue-tied all the time, and maybe it’s every damned thing about her.

Maybe whatever it is, he needs to get over it.

He asked. She shot him down. And that's that.

********************************************

Title: Just About, Chapter 2—Seemingly WC: 400

A/N: More palate cleansing.

He was supposed to be bored by now. Long before now. She'd have bet on it. She has bet on it, in a manner of speaking. She's been confident. She's brushed off innuendo and anted up to Lanie and Espo and Montgomery. Anted up to everyone brave or dumb enough to give her so much as a sidelong glance about it. About him and their "arrangement."

A week, tops . . .

A couple . . .

A few . . .

But they've barreled past a couple, and if she's honest, a few is already disappearing in the rear-view mirror, and he doesn't seem bored.

He seems a lot of things: Callous, immature, smug, vain, obtuse, reckless, and oh-so-very annoying. He seems hell bent on really playing out whatever this is. Ego, maybe?

But that doesn't fit. Not exactly.

She thinks back to the street. To what she'd meant to be her parting shot and the moment right before.

Or I could be one of yours . . .

She thinks of what he seemed then. Boyish, delighted, smitten. Shy, or something very near to it.

She thinks of all the other things he's seemed since. The not-so-terrible things she isn't always big enough to admit: Curious, astute, invested, feeling.

It's the last one that gets her. It interests her, or it would if she'd let it.

Because for all his antics, she's seen him somber, too. Gut-punched when he does the math on how many I'm so sorry for your loss calls she must've made over the years. Coldly furious at a foul-mouthed prep school punk, who's used to getting away with everything, and that doesn't seem new at all. It doesn't seem recent, and she wonders about it.

She'd wonder if she'd let herself, but she won't. She bites her tongue to keep from asking and tries remember what she knows about Richard Castle, best-selling novelist. What's known about him out in the wide world, because that's where he exists. On billboards and book jackets and slick studio sets. At rooftop book parties and on the mayor's speed dial.

That's where he exists, and she'd do well to remember that, whatever he seems, now and again. Whatever it is he's determined to play out.

It's ego, she decides, and it doesn't pay to wonder. He'll be bored soon enough.

A month, tops . . .

A couple . . .

A few . . .

(But he doesn't seem bored.)

*********************************************

Title: Just About, Chapter 3—Just a Little WC: 500 A/N: A continuation of this Drabble series, because, for the moment, they keep coming.

Sometimes he thinks she likes him just a little.

Most of the time he's absolutely sure she doesn’t. She yells a lot, and she’s prone to violence. Not the fun kind, either. She pokes. Hard. And she has this thing about twisting his ear like he's some Dickensian street urchin. At any given moment, he’s pretty sure she doesn’t like him one bit.

But every once in a while, he catches her staring straight ahead with the corners of her mouth turned down hard. Every once in a while, he spies a wicked glint in her eye, and he's pretty sure she trying not to smile. He racks his brain every time. He drives himself up the wall, trying to remember what he just said or did. What he didn’t do that she thought he’d been thinking about doing . . .

It’s stupid. Insane, really, because what does it matter whether she likes him or not? He’s in. One strategic phone call and absolutely everything he’d wanted has fallen into place. Absolutely everything.

He’s writing like a fiend. He’s up nights willing his fingers to keep up with his brain. He’s scrawling down details every waking moment on every scrap of paper that comes to hand. His mind hums along, four levels deep, while they work. While they bicker and joke and turn each other inside out to get the job done. His and hers.

It’s everything he’d wanted all those miserable months with his marriage unraveling and the words gone. Every last thing, so what does it matter? Smile or no smile. Whether she likes him a little or a lot or not a bit. What does it matter?

There’s the obvious answer. The obvious conclusion that everyone's jumped to. His mother. The whole damned precinct. Alexis. That bothers him more than he'd like.

You always say you have to love your characters . . .

The glint of cynicism bothers him. The flash of fresh scars from all the upheaval with Gina. The divorce. Before and after. Everything up until these last few weeks, and it bothers him that even his kid thinks it's obvious that Kate Beckett is the shiny new thing. That "research" is code for business as usual.

It bothers him, because it's ridiculous. And because it's kind of a fair cop. It has been, historically, but he’s done with that. Mixing business with pleasure. A lousy metaphor for him and Gina, anyway, which is why he's done with anything that even looks like a relationship.

You always say you have to love your characters . . .

It's ridiculous. He doesn’t have to. And he definitely doesn’t . . .

And so what if he did? So what if he mentally goes to tape and draws up freaking battle plans to see if he can leave her fighting off a smile?

So what if he loves Nikki Heat? Kate Beckett is definitely not Nikki Heat, and she doesn't even like him.

Except every once in a while, it seems like she does. Just a little.

A/N: 500 words this time. The first and second were 300 and 400, respectively. I'm not going to lock into that pattern, I don't think, but each came out close, and so I decided to challenge myself to shape them into an even hundred.

******************************************

Title: Just About, Chapter 4—Kind of WC: 600

A/N: Another 600 Words

He’s kind of a dork.

She’s trying to process that. Still trying to process it. She’s been sitting with it a while, and a lot has happened. Nothing at all and a lot.

She’d told him. About her mom. About her dad. About her, more or less. Maybe a little less, but more than most people know. Quite a bit more than anyone but Lanie, maybe. More altogether than Ryan or Espo or even the Captain, though they know her in bits and pieces. They know her from guarded revelations over the occasional beer. From gossip that never quite gets stale. Never quite.

But she’d told him. Castle, who is a thorn in her side. Who is the nosiest, interfering-est, most emotionally tone deaf person she’s ever met when he’s caught up in one of his parlor trick cold readings. Castle, who loves to run roughshod over everyone and everything, especially her.

Castle, who’s kind of a dork.

She’d told him.

She can’t figure it out. He’d been happy enough with his own story.

I noticed your watch. It’s your dad’s, right?

He’d been more than happy enough, and she’d like to think it was about knocking him down a peg. She’d like to think telling him was about wiping some self-satisfied look off his face, but there wasn’t any. Not by then. Not after White Plains and an eerily calm conversation about fathers and daughters and getting away with murder, and even that’s not it. Sudden, absolute confidence that he could’ve kept the secret. That he would have if she’d asked him to.

And even that’s not why she’d told him. Not entirely.

Because she’d started telling him well before that. She’d started the minute she let her feet carry her to his doorstep for some unfathomable reason. She’d started telling him before he even opened the door. She’d started telling him as she lingered in his hallway, stalling long enough that she was suffocating in her winter coat. Feeling wordlessly stupid for being there and finally screwing up the courage to knock.

She’d started telling him the minute the door opened on that bizarre scene. Violent green mud masks and his hair standing straight up. She’d gone there for words—for an ending to Melanie Cavanaugh’s story—and wound up in the moment that hasn’t quite ended yet, even though she’s been home a while. She’d wound up pouring her heart out and leaving him there at her desk like the fixture he’s become.

It isn’t because of who he is, though she sees now that’s what had brought her there. She sees now that she’d gone to see her favorite author. The man whose words have given her the only kind of closure she’s known for a decade, but that’s not who she’d found when the door swung open.

That’s not who’d perched tentatively on the desk next to her, self-consciously trying to smooth down his hair. Really, really wanting to switch off the storyboard with its skeletal outline. Really, really wanting to explain that he’s not usually home of an evening playing laser tag with his kid. Really, really wanting to point out that his mother lives with him, he doesn’t live with her. Really, really wanting to slip back into the skin of who he pretends to be a lot of the time, but not letting himself.

She’d knocked on the door of her favorite author and found him instead. She’d told him her life story. The bits it’s been boiled down to. She’d told him. Because he’s kind of a dork.

A/N: This one is set just after A Chill Goes Through Her Veins (1 x 05). The others are more loosely woven throughout S1, but this episode has always felt like an important turning point to me.

*********************************************************

Title: Just About, Chapter 5—Turns Out WC: 700

A/N: Finally, the new stuff.

It's good to have her here again.

Again

He's a little too giddy about that particular pair of syllables. Giddy enough that he's definitely compensating—scrambling on the inside, overdoing it on the outside. He’s pitched his voice somewhere in the vicinity of just-north-of-Barry-White pitch, and he’s flicking a heavy-lidded gaze across the desk at her as he lets the words roll around in his mouth.

Bare

Glistening

Breasts

Oh, he’s definitely compensating. Then and now–on the page and in real time—but he doesn’t really see many alternatives.

She's here. Again. And that's good, even if she doesn't look one bit like she agrees. Even if the look she's shooting back at him makes his bedroom voice crack—even if he did sort of trick her into it this time—it’s still definitely good, because there's a this time, and that implies that there was a last time, and there was no trickery there.

And there's the giddy again, when he thinks about her backlit in the hallway, head cocked and brow furrowed at the strange picture they must have made: He and Alexis and his mother, in for the night and up to their typical shenanigans, and then, suddenly, her at the door. And as stunned as he was to see her—as back-of-the-mind perplexed as he was, because how does she even know where he lives?—he still remembers thinking, Finally.

Finally. That was unquestionably the word looming largest in his mind when Kate Beckett showed up on his doorstep.

It’s troubling. It’s as troubling as the giddy feeling that comes with Again, because it's not as though he'd been waiting for her. He hadn’t been, hasn’t been, isn’t waiting for anyone. He’s so very not waiting for anyone that he’d wrecked the bedroom with his ex-wife just that morning.

And that helpful point of information his brain offers up, just as she is on the absolute verge of leaving, is the opposite of helpful. That point of information is something that he discovers in the moment he actually hates the hell out of, and he doesn’t have time to sift through the why. He’s taken the Bare. Glistening. Breasts. gag to the absolute edge of too far and she’s leaving.

And he doesn’t want her to leave.

And he doesn’t want Meredith to come back.

And those two facts are unquestionably intertwined in ways that he suspects are quite complicated.

Because it’s not merely that he does not want Meredith back in New York—although he certainly does not want Meredith back in New York. It’s not that his crush on, attraction to, infatuation with Kate Beckett was any kind of proof against taking the path of least resistance when Meredith dropped her bags, her fur, and her dress in short order.

But having Kate Beckett here in his home—again—makes it blindingly clear that she is the kind of woman he wants in his home. And Meredith is most definitely not. He wants her intelligence and her empathy and her work ethic. He wants her curious mind and the challenge she presents to him in every possible way. He wants a good woman in his own life, and as if these sudden revelations weren’t complicated enough, in his daughter’s life, too.

It’s another shocking turn of events—and another thing it turns out he was somehow expecting. She brings up Alexis—Kate does—and he’s simultaneously furious and abashed, because Alexis doesn’t, by and large, miss her mother. And no one thinks it would be a good idea to have her back in town. Absolutely no one thinks that, and he’s ashamed.

So he hits out. He goes on the defensive. And she hits out in kind. She goes for the jugular. They yell back and forth about deep-fried Twinkie sex, about how shallow he is. She looks gratified that he’s living down to her expectations at last, and he aims to please.

He wishes he could stop himself. He wishes he could stop the conversation cold and just tell her how glad he is. He’s simply glad that she is here. Again. A/N: Here, too, for some reason the episode itself—Always Buy Retail (1 x 06)—got chatty

#Castle #Caskett #Castle: Season 1 #Castle: A Chill Goes Through Her Veins #Castle: Always Buy Retail #Kate Beckett #Richard Castle #Meredith Castle #Fic #Fanfic #Fanficiton #Fan Fic #Fan Fiction #Writing #Drabbles

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finelythreadedsky · 5 years ago

Note

Why is there no Jewish narnia? (As you mentioned in your last post) I have some suspicions, but would love to read your thoughts!

This is a long answer but I wrote a 20 page paper on this so:

It’s essentially because fantasy (mostly high fantasy) as it has developed through the last century is an inherently Christian genre. Works of specifically Jewish speculative fiction tend to be sci-fi, alternate history, or historical fantasy NOT in the vaguely medieval setting common in fantasy. There are Jewish works of fantasy (Maggie Anton’s Rav Hisda’s Daughter, Helene Wecker’s The Golem and the Jinni) and high fantasy (The Princess Bride, Shira Glassman’s Mangoverse), but there is not a fantasy world that is Jewish in the same way that Narnia is Christian (Shira Glassman comes closest, but Jewish theology is not interwoven into her work the same way Christian theology is in Narnia or Middle Earth).

read more for analysis of fantasy’s theological inclusivity, relationship to the past, and tension between nostalgia and modernity!

Modern fantasy as a genre has been largely shaped by Tolkien and Lewis, deeply religious men whose works are infused with their Christianity (arguably also by GRR Martin, who is a former Catholic, but it’s too soon to tell). Fantasy also derives its origins from A Pilgrim’s Progress, a seventeenth century Christian allegory that was incredibly influential for subsequent literature, particularly the idea of a fantasy quest that also prompts a character’s moral/spiritual growth. The quest narrative is inherently Christian in its origins, and its effect of a character’s moral/spiritual development and coming of age is also fairly Christian.

Usually actual Christianity isn’t present in vaguely historical fantasy worlds, but fantasy worlds’ religion/spirituality often vaguely resembles (what the author believed about) Western European pre-Christian pagan practices. Middle Earth in particular very heavily parallels Zoroastrianism and Mithraism. We end up with a world poised on the edge of Christianity, that could easily incorporate a Christ-figure. Essentially because Tolkien and Lewis were really into the myths and cultures of pre-Christian Europe, their own stories reflected an interest in integrating those myths and cultures into their own worldview as legitimate, though incomplete, predecessors to Christianity. Their fantasy pagans are primitive precursors to Christianity, getting a glimpse of divine truth but not yet achieving fulfillment through Jesus. A corresponding ‘pre-Jewish’ fantasy world wouldn’t work or make sense, not only because Judaism pre-dates or is contemporary with most of the mythologies and cultures that interested Tolkien, Lewis, and other writers: Jews don’t have the same theological imperative to reconcile pagan mythologies with their worldview, because that imperative comes out of an understanding of one’s own religion as the only source of truth. Historically Christianity has been very concerned with whether people who were not christian because they lived before Jesus (or before Christianity reached the area they were living in) could still be righteous/saved, but Judaism holds that people who are not Jewish are just fine as they are and so has no need to insist on the partial divine inspiration of non/pre-Jewish peoples as Tolkien and Lewis do for non/pre-Christian peoples.

Likewise there isn’t really a Jewish need to create moral/theological allegories, which is the basis of modern fantasy, from A Pilgrim’s Progress to that bit we all hate with Susan being no longer a queen of Narnia, because Judaism is not concerned with spreading and teaching its values in the same way that Christianity is. Fantasy tends to come out of a Christian perspective on a cosmic battle between good and evil that is also a battle over the individual soul of the protagonist. Will God or the devil, good or evil triumph over Middle Earth or Narnia? Will moral purity and a sense of what is truly valuable defeat the appeal of the present at hand for Dorothy Gale and Bilbo Baggins? The duality of good and evil and pitting them against each other in a battle for an individual soul is a Christian thing. The idea that the fate of the entire world can rest on a single soul? Also a Christian thing.

Tolkien/Lewis style fantasy is infused with an inherently Christian relationship to the past (i.e., return to a prior golden age). Fairly obviously, Jews have a more complicated relationship with medieval and pre-modern Europe, which is the groundwork of a lot of fantasy. The sort of pastoral nostalgia on which fantasy is built doesn’t really work for Jews, who tend not to be so eager to imagine themselves in the past in that way. Hence the preponderance of Jewish sci-fi, which imagines a better future from authors who see the present as better than the past and hope for a future even better than the present. The ability to romanticize the past is a privilege, and it is not one Jews have historically had very often. And fantasy, aside from looking to the historical past for its setting, often takes place in a world that is aware that it has lost its golden age and is attempting to restore it. Middle Earth and Narnia have seen better days but have ‘fallen’ from that temporal Eden through corruption, requiring characters who can vanquish the evil and restore the glorious golden age. Implicit in this is a very Christian perspective of the biblical fall from paradise as an unequivocally bad thing that humans should seek to reverse, as well as the implications of a second coming of Jesus in the restoration of a golden age. Fantasy rests on the assumptions that the past is an authority and something to be restored, historically as well as in-universe, and that the modern age is inferior to its predecessors. Neither of those assumptions work with the experiences of Jews. It’s a Christian idea of the circularity and cyclicality of time and history, where I think a linear perspective is more appropriate to Judaism. And the cyclicality prevents any progress toward modernity— the Narnia books cover two and a half millennia, but the world is stagnant in the Middle Ages the entire time. Jews have a vested interest in progress and modernity that has no place in such fantasy.

(A side note that neo-pagan/anti-Christian fantasy literature from the 60s, 70s, and early 80s is a really interesting contrast to the absence of Jewish fantasy worlds. More than a few authors turned to the same pre-Christian traditions as Tolkien and lewis, but depicted them as wholly un-Christian and explicitly in conflict with Christianity or proto-Christian traditions.)

In doing my research for this I came across A Canticle for Leibowitz, which has the premise that the world is destroyed in a nuclear war but you know what survives and flourishes? The Catholic Church. It consists of three parts, separated by 600 years each, centering monks in the order of St. Leibowitz, an engineer at the end of the world who committed himself to preserving knowledge as it was being destroyed. Question that never got answered: WHY did this 20th century Jewish guy convert to Catholicism and become a priest???? Anyway, the book is Very Catholic. It plays into the Christian cyclicality of history BIG time, which means it hits an interesting place between sci-fi and historical fiction/fantasy, since its 26th century resembles the early middle ages, its 32nd century looks like the Renaissance, its 36th century seems like what someone might have projected for the 22nd century, and all throughout the characters think of the 20th century like we have approached classical antiquity for the past 1500 years. Unfortunately, I did not enjoy it, though there were a few cool bits that dealt with the wandering Jew motif. Not surprisingly, if the premise of your book is that it’s about post-apocalyptic monks, I’m not really into it.

#the princess bride is jewish fiction FIGHT ME #mine #ameliapondthechristmasqueen #also i LOVE the jewish response of non-medieval vaguely historical fantasy!#ask

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