#i think he should be allowed to retire rn ACTUALLY | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ironmandeficiency · 3 years ago

Text

pedro boys + at the pool

pedro boys included: oberyn, javi p, frankie, max, pero, jack, javi g

word count: 789

summary: just modern au thoughts on how some of the boys would act at the pool

a/n: this is not what i thought i’d be writing rn tbh but at least it’s something. there should be more content besides this posted by the end of the week

oberyn — this cheeky bastard can hold his breath for longer than humanly normal & uses this ability to dive under & scare you from behind. is also one of the best at packing snacks and typically has a frozen cocktail or wine within reach at all times, probably munching on a handful of berries (either blackberries or green grapes usually). will be the last one in the pool long after most think it’s too cold or too late. makes the BEST pool day playlist you’ve ever heard & it keeps the vibes high the whole time. any party hosted by oberyn is guaranteed to be an absolute rager & that sentiment never disappoints.

javi p — doesn’t take his shades off for anything. usually relaxing in a donut floatie with a beer (water if you fuss at him enough) in hand, but can be convinced to get in more if the water feels nice. enjoys sunbathing like a lizard & never needs sunscreen; he just tans and looks like a god afterward. just for the sake of laughter, he will push you into the water and laugh when you sputter indignantly at him. you quickly forgive him once you see his smile, knowing that those used to be much harder to bring to the surface.

frankie — he’s also a floatie guy & will be much more relaxed with his little girl sitting on it with him. otherwise he’s sitting on the edge of the pool with his feet in the water, hyper vigilant in case she needs him. she won’t need him, simply because frankie put her in swim classes as soon as she was old enough to learn & might as well be a fish. he brings extra towels, sunscreen, drinks, popsicles, snacks, and even another pair of sandals. the delta guys laugh at his overpacking… until that uncrustable starts calling their name (cough cough BENNY cough). does enjoy a good chicken fight once he’s got a beer in him. it’s either him & benny against will & santi, or any combination of them against baby girl morales (the defeats here are extra dramatic and it makes her laugh every time).

max — he won’t swim in a public pool. period. he will refuse & fight the idea until hell freezes over. instead, he will either charm someone into letting you both use their pool, or will have a private indoor pool built exclusively for your shared use. this also eliminates the need for sunscreen or worrying about privacy. gets a hot tub built in too & it’s hard to convince him to get out of it most times. will paint the bottom of the pool black and it’s such a trip the first several times you swim in it.

pero — it takes a lot to convince him to actually swim, the spaniard much more content to lounge in the sunshine. one run-in with a sea urchin on the valencia coast made him reasonably apprehensive of swimming in large bodies of water. to him, other people’s unattended children can pose the same level of danger & annoyance as various sea creatures. will swim when it’s almost empty of people, enjoying the solitude that comes with calmer waters. he floats on his back just relaxing, but the moment you dunk him, it’s game on and he fights dirty.

jack — him at the pool can be summarized in one word: showoff. he is proud that he can still flip off the edge & will gladly brag about this feat. if there’s a diving board, even better. he is a champion at playing chicken and every non-newbie statesman agent learned the hard way at a summer retirement party for agent lager. was not allowed to be in charge of the playlist after that party because it did not go well (he played “what’s new pussycat” by tom jones on repeat for 20 minutes because of an inside joke). when he’s finally ready to relax, he chills on a massive floatie with a drink in both cup holders and a straw cowboy hat on his head (think kenny chesney vibes).

javi g — he hosts the BEST pool parties hands down. everyone in attendance is always kind because javi prioritizes everyone feeling safe while having fun & security takes their job very seriously when it comes to not tolerating bullshit. plenty of snacks and drinks (alcoholic & otherwise) are provided for everyone, and the music is the perfect mix of hype and chill to keep the vibes just right. there are fairy lights and torches scattered around, and a cabana exclusively for when you and javi sneak away from the hubbub to find some privacy. when a few stragglers wake up on his floor the morning after, he provides them with breakfast & money for a ride home like a gentleman.

216 notes · View notes

kaito-is-baby · 4 years ago

Text

Sasuke uchiha x reader

Plot years after Sasuke left konoha to get stronger and fulfill his revenge someone knocks at your door asking for help (it's obviously sasuke lmao)

I'm blocked rn and I decided to go back to my starts to read my first fanfic ever, of course it was going to be with Sasuke and it actually gave me very cool ideas to rewrite some of that fanfic scenes

You heard a knock on your door at midnight, lucky for whoever it was you had trouble counceling sleep since he left, if not for that you would be asleep by now

You found him when you opened the door

Older than the last time you saw him, stronger and sadder

“Sa-” before you could finish calling his name his hand rested on your mouth, keeping you silent whike entering the house

“I’m injured and I heard you became a medical ninja, help me” you nodded, incappable of saying anything, you were still processing the fact that Sasuke was back just infromt of your eyes

“Show me” you demanded and he retired his hand from his clothes, showing his skin covered by blood

“Oh my-” you exckamed when you saw his abdomen, soon guiding him to your bedroom and treating his wounds

“Why did you come to me? Orochimaru could heal this too and you are risking yourself coming here” you asked once the wound had healed

“Because I trust you, you are the only one I trust”

You knew that, you knew he trusted you. You only expected him to stop thinking about you when he left the village

Just like you should have done

But he kept you on his mind

Just like you did

“How did that happen?”

“That’s none of your bussines” he declared roughly

“It is if it means you may die any time soon” maybe he was never coming back to konoha but where ever he wanted to go you did not want him dead

“I won’t”

“And how will I know that? You are running away from all of us” your voice raised with unintentionally

Sasuke shushed at you, reminding you that no one outside of those wall could know he was there

“If I ever get hurted again I will come to you, you will know if something happens because you will be the one to attend my wounds”

“And what if you die?” you asked desperately, it was not the first time the idea of his dead came to your mind and you were terrified about it

It was probably the reason why you weren't sleeping in the first place

“I won't. I promise I won't” Sasuke’s hand reached to your shirt, opening it slowly “Can I?”

You allowed him to see the scar his hands left on you the day he left

“It doesn’t hurt anymore” He nodded at your words with his eyes glued to your chest “You don’t hurt anymore”

“I’m glad about that, you are better here” His voice finally showing any kind of emotion, sadness

“You look sad” you affirmed placing your hand on his cheek “...and lonely, I could-”

“I’m not staying here” The now rogue ninja pushed your hand aside with a slap and stood up “and neither are you coming with me," he finished before leaving the room

"goodbye"

He left your bedroom, your house and konoha but he left something even worse, he left you with a new opened wound on your chest just by seeing his face again

#sasuke x reader #naruto imagines #sasuke x you #sasuke x y/n #sasuke imagine #naruto x you #naruto x y/n #sasuke uchiha x reader #sasuke uchiha imagines #sasuke uchiha x you #akatsuki x reader #konoha imagine

282 notes · View notes

verdantmoontruther · 3 years ago

Text

thought i should do one of these to welcome you to my naruto hell

Favorite male character: gai

Favorite female character: tsunade

Second and third favorite male character: shino and sai

Second and third favorite female character: tenten and kurenai

Favorite and second favorite clan: aburame and uzumaki

Favorite kage: gaara

Favorite Hokage: tobirama

Least favorite Hokage: sarutobi hiruzen (kys old fart <3)

Favorite tailed beast: matatabi

Favorite canon couple(s): inosai and naruhina

Favorite almost canon couple(s): sasukarin and leeten

Worst canon couple: sasusaku

Least favorite fanon couple(s): narusaku, sns, sakuino, sasodei, kakuhidan

Favorite yaoi couple(s): kakairu or yamairu

Favorite yuri couple(s): i once saw kurenai x mei and haven’t slept soundly since

Couple(s) that you ship romantically and as friends: kakagai, naruino, sasusai (now hear me out on this one)

Favorite protagonist: tsunade

Favorite antagonist: haku and zabuza

Favorite Akatsuki member: kisame

Favorite Akatsuki couple: sasori and deidara (not romantically, i just like when they argue)

Which character do you think deserves more appreciation: shino, kankuro, fuu, and tenten out of the younger generation (i don’t watch or read boruto). anko, kurenai, and genma from the middle generation. maito dai from the older generation

Which character do you think deserves less appreciation: sakura (annoying and i don’t like her but im too tired to go into that rn), itachi (idc who told him to, mans still killed his entire clan and tortured his younger brother several times), and sasuke (you all appreciate him for the wrong reasons!!!! love him for being a revolutionary, not for rejecting his ideology in the end)

Which character(s) didn’t deserve to die: neji, haku, and zabuza (he should’ve lived to see his country be given stability under mei, he deserved it, argue with the wall)

Who do you ship Naruto with: hinata mostly but a small part of my brain screams ino

Which character do you think looks good with everybody: sasuke

Which character out of Teams 7(don’t forget Sai),8,10, Gai would join the Akatsuki: depends what akatsuki we’re talking about! original akatsuki whose goal was world peace through diplomacy? choji, lee, naruto, kakashi, gai, hinata. the akatsuki the characters actually interact with? neji, asuma, tenten.

Hottest female character: tenten or kurenai

Hottest male character: DON’T FLAME ME FOR THIS BUT KAKUZU LMAOOOO

Would you eat Ramen: yeah

Pro-ending or anti-ending: pro

How would your version of Naruto ending and Boruto play out (don’t be shy, make it VERY LONG, out touch the smallest details):

1. neji would live because hiashi sacrificed himself in place of his children. i dont really have anything further planned for him in my head but rest assured that he is alive.

2. konoha involves itself in inter-clan business and makes it a criminal offense for hyuuga main branch members to torture the side branch members. no new seals are placed.

3. boruto is not named boruto because what a weird fucking name, no thanks!

4. the truth about both the uchiha massacre and the destruction of uzushiogakure and konoha’s roles in them are revealed to the public.

5. the villagers and ordinary shinobi play a more active role in the running of the village and it moves away from bureaucracy and to tobirama’s original vision of a democracy. the hokage is actually elected, rather than proposed by officials to the daimyo and that’s that.

6. academy starts at age 8 or 10 and finishes at a soft 16 - if a student is particularly gifted, the lowest age they can graduate at is 14.

7. we actually get a scene between naruto and karin where they acknowledge and talk about their shared roots.

8. no sasusaku i’m sorry i just really hate it. sorry sarada. i think sasuke should be allowed to stay single.

9. more children!!! more babies!!!!!!! naruto and hinata have about 4, ino and sai have 2, karui and choji have 3. stop the population from dwindling

10. i actually like the fact that hinata and choji are like retired from the shinobi industry, i dont think they actually ever really wanted to be parts of it. but hinata plays an active role in the improvement of hyuuga intra-clan rapports, even if she’s not clan head.

11. i’d have killed off iruka and kiba but that’s just me. not because i hate them (i love iruka to the moon and back) but i think their deaths would’ve been realistic and meaningful (and also hurt a lot - can you imagine naruto’s reaction to iruka’s death, or kiba dying and leaving akamaru? pain)

12. naruto doesn’t become hokage. he’s a jounin-sensei :D

13. the older generation pairs off as well!! my heart goes soft for gai and anko, i think maybe they have a kid together

14. none of the electronic advancement you see in boruto. i want my bitches to continue suffering

15. orochimaru is either in prison or executed. in either case anko, yamato, and the other people they hurt get justice.

16. choza dies alongside shikaku and inoichi (again, not because i don’t like him), even if he isn’t at hq

17. no fucking rabbit goddess jesus fuck that storyline just about took me out lmao

71 notes · View notes

heybeybey · 4 years ago

Text

Sunshine on a Cloudy Day

Pairing: Rivetra | Levi x Petra

Summary: Forced to retire from the Scouts due to a major injury, Levi thinks he'll be spending the rest of his days in domestic solitude. Petra, however, has another idea.

Loosely based on The Way of the Househusband.

Or: Captain Petra x Househusband Levi canonverse AU

AO3 Link

A/N: Okay I've had this outlined for WEEKS (no ending in mind tho) but I never got around to actually drafting it. But....... I had some time this morning and the inspiration after seeing this post so yay.

Thanks to @sleeperswakewriting for introducing me to The Way of the Househusband. It's cute and funny and DEFINITELY RIVETRA in another universe.

This is going be a drabble series btw but no assurance on when I'll be updating each chapter (My Royalty AU draft is glaring at this fic rn tbh). Some chapters will be based on the Netflix show but Levi's condition is a bit different from Tatsu's so it'll probably be loosely based at best.

And yes, the title is from the song My Girl. But I like this version since I think it fits Petra the most :3

Also also, we all know deep down that Levi wants to be a househusband so here you go.

- - -

Chapter 1: The Ceremonies

There was a time when his mind wandered to how his career in the Scouts would end. Levi always thought he'd die on the battlefield, just as he witnessed among his comrades. He'd accepted that reality, sometimes even waiting for it despite his will to continue fighting on.

For some reason, retiring has never crossed his mind.

"Honorably discharged due to major leg injury, incomplete spinal cord injury, and loss of right eyesight."

He can still hear the pity and sadness from Erwin's voice from that day in the hospital when they talked over where he will go from there. The doctors mentioned that his spine will heal over time, but his leg is broken way beyond repair. It's worse enough that amputation was considered at one point. He'd be good as titan food should he retain his current position in the scouts.

At first, he wanted to scream. He wasn't the type to show some outwardly emotion (except for when he's beating down new recruits or the three males in his squad) but being a part of the Survey Corps is what gave this shit of a life some meaning after he was pulled out of the underground.

Frankly, he didn't know what's next.

"Hey, Captain." Petra's sweet voice snapped Levi out of his thoughts and he forces himself to get out of his bad mood. This was her day and he'd be damned if he ruins it for her.

Levi takes her in and the corner of his lip quirks up. He feels pride fill his chest as his eyes strays a bit on the insignia freshly pinned on her uniform.

"I think I should be the one calling you that, Ral." He replies. "Congratulations."

Wheelchair-bound for what may be the rest of his life, Levi and his squad had to sit down and talk over what's next for the Scout's elites. The obvious choice was Eld, but Levi and the rest of the team were surprised when the blonde man turned down the promotion. He says that while he had the leadership skills and the years of experience that makes him more than qualified, he knew that he didn't have the same burning dedication to the cause as much as he'd witnessed in others.

Eld said that he'd be glad to support the next team captain instead. Oluo, while skilled, had often been too focused on his kill count. Gunther has a strategic mind but didn't really have the charm to bring people together.

So they all turned their attention to Petra.

To be honest, Levi had always wanted to promote Petra as his second-in-command. However, Scout regulations demanded a certain number of years that she didn't have yet at the time he first chose his elite squad. He'd never had a problem with Eld, but his and Petra's ability to synchronise on the battlefield is the reason why he'd always turned to her when he needed a second hand.

It makes sense in his eyes and to the rest of the team, even when Erwin and the other soldiers were doubtful of his choice. They've seen how ferocious Petra is during expeditions, but still had the heart to cry alongside her dying comrades. She's kind and helpful, but knows when a hard decision is needed to be made. She'd pitched in her ideas and opinions every time she accidentally passed by the officers' meeting sessions (she always brought them tea so she sometimes hear the conversations). This was often met with a surprised look from her higher-ups but having worked with Petra for quite some time, Levi would just smirk at his fellow veterans.

She's still rough around the edges and she definitely still has more room to improve, but the potential is there. He wouldn't have chosen her as part of his team in the first place if he didn't see that fire.

He wasn't surprised that Eld, Gunther and Oluo supported her, even when Petra was terrified to accept such a responsibility. Levi was firm in his decision.

In the end, Erwin stamped on his approval.

Levi was the one who pinned the insignia on her signifying her new position during today's pinning-on ceremony.

- - -

"Hey, Captain!"

"I think you should stop calling me that, Petra."

"Sorry. Habit." The ginger blushes slightly as she steps closer inside the apartment, basket in hand. "I bought something for you."

She brings out a few fruits from the basket, laying it down on the dining table in his humble apartment. "The farmer's market was on sale today and I had the chance to pass by before they closed."

"You didn't have to buy me all these, Petra."

"I had to use my pay raise for something, Captain," she jests. He wheels himself towards her to assist her with unloading the basket and they both work in silent contentment.

"So, how's your first day?" Levi asks after washing the fruits. Petra's face lights up at his question and the whole room seems to come alive as she chatters on.

"Holy Maria, Captain. I didn't know the team can be this stupid. No wonder you had dark eyebags after training us for years!"

- - -

It's been three months since he resigned from the Scouts. The new captain never fails to come home to the apartment he's renting near the Scout HQ everyday.

Come home? Tch. How delusional can you get.

He'd welcome her back every expedition and every training day. A part of him feels a bit of guilt gnaw on him when he sees how tired Petra is whenever she comes home, thinking of the time when he was her direct commanding officer.

"Captain, can I sleep here tonight?"

Now, he sees the sorrow and fatigue in her eyes. "You're always welcome here, Petra."

He offers to give up his bed for the night but she declines, saying that she'll be fine on the couch. She's unnaturally quiet, but he knows that this is how she typically is after expeditions.

They're both on the couch right now and she snuggles closer to him. Levi motions for her to lay her head on his lap, their boundaries thinning with every single visit.

He's quiet when he sees the tears start to fall from her eyes. Soon, Petra's sobbing and she wraps her arms desperately around him. His hand starts to slowly run through her ginger locks, hoping it gives her some comfort.

"She was the last in my and Oluo's batch." She starts, voice shaking and he gives her space to talk and mourn her comrade. "I wanted to save her... but it was either her or compromise the mission. I had to give the order."

"I'm sorry." Because if someone understands her better, it's him.

- - -

"Levi?"

It's the scout's day off today and they're all allowed to leave the vicinity to visit friends and family, or simply just to fuck around if they wanted.

Petra, not surprisingly, decides to spend another weekend with him.

"Hmm?" He's currently preparing their lunch, wheeling himself around the kitchen area.

"Did you ever think about settling down when you were still in the scouts?"

He cocks an eyebrow at her question. "And leave a widow crying on my grave? I didn't even have the time to date, Petra."

And he didn't even want to date someone else. Not when he kept having wet dreams about his own subordinate at that time.

"Well, you have a chance now, right?" Petra starts to help with laying down the dishes on the table. He looks at her, eyes taking in her body language. She's doing that thing with her hands again where she tries to occupy it with things to do whenever she's nervous. She's too tense for this to be some absent chatter.

"Just spit it out, Petra."

"What I'm trying to say is that I'm always here. In this apartment. Whether I'm back from training or meetings or expeditions," she starts. Levi wheels himself forward to grab their food from the small kitchen but he attentively listens to each of her words. Seeing that he won't be replying, Petra decides to continue.

"I like coming home to you, Levi. And I'm still devoted to you." Petra nervously says, the redness on her cheeks intensifying. Levi feels his heart thump at her last sentence. He stops what he's doing and looks straight into her amber eyes, the same moment as she reaches out to delicately hold both of his hands. "I'd like to continue doing so... if you'll have me in another way."

Bold as ever is the first thing that fondly came to his mind. He feels emotion start to climb up his throat but he never wavers in staring back at her. The next thing that came to mind wasn't exactly a thought, and the answer leaves his mouth with a certainty he didn't know he had.

"Okay," he quietly replies. Not much of a talker, as usual. Still, his sure answer was quite a surprise to the both of them.

Was it loneliness? That fear that he'd most likely die alone because of his automatic ability to push people away? Maybe it's some deep hidden desire to live a domestic life with someone—something that he allowed himself to fleetingly dream of while he was still in that underground hellhole��that he has since accepted wouldn't be in his future.

Until now.

He and Petra decided to have a shotgun wedding that same afternoon.

#rivetra #rivetra fic #rivetra fanfic #levi ackerman #petra ral #rivapeto #levitra #shingeki no kyojin #aot levi #aot petra

74 notes · View notes

hermannsthumb · 4 years ago

Note

Idk if you doing requests or not rn buut, feriowind has been posting a bunch of vampire!Hermann and I needs some modern vampire Hermann and professor Newt...

uwu ily

SO I feel like I should open by saying a WIP fic with this concept by @coloredpencilroses exists and I Love it, so read High Stakes for something much better than this lol (and leave a nice comment). HAPPY OCTOBER!!!! warning for very mildly implied sexy stuff. EDIT: and of COURSE I forgot to tag @theloccent for my extremely belated fill for the “Vampire” square on my bingo card :/

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

Newt has always been an extremely persistent type. He considers it, naturally, one his greatest strengths—no theory goes untested, no question goes unanswered, no experiment goes…well, unexperimented. You don’t get more PhDs than you can count on one hand if you’re not persistent. You don’t get a date with the hot new engineering professor down the hall if you’re not persistent, either, but Newt is finding this venture is taking a little more effort than usual. That’s fine, though. He likes challenges.

Dr. Gottlieb was hired by the university at the start of the semester, after the head of the engineering department—who’s nearing her seventies—finally decided she’d had enough and announced her retirement somewhat last minute. He is, frankly, unlike anyone Newt’s ever seen before, a weird combination of cheekbones, wide lips, and a turn-of-the-century old-fashioned air that carries over into everything from his wardrobe to the stiff way he carries himself. He wouldn’t look out of place in a black and white photograph, Newt thinks. Or maybe even the illustrations of a Dickens novel. That’s not why Newt’s into him, though—well, not the only reason why.

In the entire month and a half Gottlieb’s been here, he hasn’t spoken a single word to anyone his contract doesn’t require him to; when he is forced into conversation, he scowls and snaps and mumbles his way through before making a polite excuse as to why he needs to leave the room right now, immediately. No one knows anything about him other than the bare minimum—that his name is Dr. Gottlieb, he lectures in engineering, and he exists. Shit, Newt doesn’t even know his first name. The little plaque outside his office just says Gottlieb.

The mystery just makes Gottlieb all the more alluring to Newt.

Anyway, his continued failures in winning Gottlieb over aren’t a result of a lack of trying. On Gottlieb’s first day, Newt stopped by his office to introduce himself. He didn’t bother knocking. Maybe that was his first mistake. “I’m Newt,” he said. “My office is a few doors down from you. You’re the new department head?”

Gottlieb looked stricken, but he nodded. “Yes,” he said. He didn’t say anything else.

“Cool,” Newt said. “Anyway, I’m technically in the bio department, but I teach a few interdisciplinary courses with engineering, so I requested they stick me over here to get a bigger office.” He cracked a grin. “I guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

“Hm,” Gottlieb said.

Newt tried again the next day.

“Your office is so dark,” he said, conversationally, because it was—lights all off, books stacked up everywhere, maroon drapes drawn tightly in front of the single small window. Dark and stuffy. “Feel free to stop by my office whenever you want a break from it. I have a corner one, so I have two windows.”

“I requested this office,” Gottlieb said, not looking up the article he was marking up.

Newt became desperate by his third attempt and did something that’s left him burning with shame even now, weeks later, and that would probably warrant the immediate transfers of sleep-deprived engineering majors out of all his courses if word ever got out it was him: he deliberately broke the department coffee machine. “Man, I can’t believe that thing is busted again,” he declared to Gottlieb. “Good thing I have a Keurig in my office.” Newt had gone out and purchased a Keurig immediately before destroying the coffee pot. “Seriously, come by whenever you need caffeine.”

Gottlieb blinked at him, long and slow, and Newt had the strangest sense that he knew exactly what happened to the coffee pot. “I never drink… coffee,” Gottlieb finally said.

For all Newt’s troubles, the list of things he knows about Gottlieb has expanded by two pitiful points: that his accent is English and posh, and his voice is low and sexy. Helpful.

It’s a chilly day in late October when Newt finally decides to enlist the aid of his interdisciplinary undergrads. Some of them—he learned after poking around their registration records—have a seminar with Gottlieb, and they seem his best bet at learning anything. A spouse—a first name—Newt would take Gottlieb’s favorite color, even. “So,” he starts class, unwinding his scarf off his neck, “that Dr. Gottlieb sure is weird, huh?”

In Newt’s firsthand experience, undergrads love to gossip about their professors, and his certainly don’t disappoint. Gottlieb’s classes are all held in the basement of the engineering building. All run well into the evening, after the sun’s set—most not finished until nine—and Gottlieb hustles out of the lecture hall the moment he can. He walks with a cane and a slight limp. He always dresses like that. He’s never mentioned any sort of family, and wears no wedding ring. He’s scary good at math. No one knows his first name.

“You’ve been an invaluable help,” Newt tells them all seriously.

He mulls the new information over in his office later as he grades some tests. So Gottlieb is a bit of shy, reclusive, genius. No surprise there. Well, his apparent hatred of sunlight is kind of weird (if unsurprising, given how pale he is) but maybe he just has sensitive eyes or something. Who is Newt to judge? At least he knows how to improve his next plan of attack—he just has to ask the guy to come over and sit in a dark room in silence with him. That’s probably Gottlieb’s dream date, actually.

There’s a knock on Newt’s office door. Newt looks up and drops his pen: it’s Gottlieb.

“Uh. Hey, dude!” he squeaks, unsure of how to proceed in this entirely unfamiliar territory. Gottlieb, willingly interacting with him? Willingly leaving his office? “Is there…can I help you with something? Did you want that coffee after all?”

“Most definitely not,” Gottlieb says coolly. He’s standing far enough back from the door that not a single sliver of lamp light from Newt’s office hits him, instead shrouded by the shadows of the dark engineering department. Newt didn’t realize how late it had gotten. “My students informed me that you were interrogating them about me.”

It’s not a question. Newt is struck by a wave of nervousness that he doesn’t quite understand—maybe it’s the sour expression Gottlieb is giving him, something in those dark brown eyes that are piercing through Newt. He feels, foolishly and briefly, like cowering under his desk. He swallows. “Yes,” he says, and adds, stammering, “I mean—I wasn’t interrogating them. I was just asking a few questions.”

“Why?” Gottlieb says.

“Uh,” Newt says. “I guess I was…curious, about you?”

He works up the guts to look Gottlieb in the eyes; he sees Gottlieb’s eyebrows jump the tiniest fraction of an inch. “You’re attracted to me,” Gottlieb says, another non-question, though Newt hears a flicker of surprise.

“Yeah,” Newt admits.

“I see,” Gottlieb says. Then, to Newt’s surprise, he suddenly smiles. “I’d like if you invited me over for dinner, Dr. Geiszler.”

“Dinner,” Newt says. He feels strangely dizzy; but, shaking himself, he quickly gets over it. “I mean, dinner! Yes! Shit! When?”

“Tonight, I should think,” Hermann says.

Tonight is Friday, which means they don’t have work tomorrow. By the time they make it off campus it’ll be almost ten—way later than people eat dinner—and besides, Newt already had a sandwich at around seven. Is dinner a euphemism? Is Gottlieb propositioning him? God, why didn’t he wash his sheets with the laundry this week? “Tonight,” Newt says. He stands up abruptly and grabs his leather jacket with trembling fingers. Why is he trembling? Nerves, he guesses. He’s about to hook up with total hottie Dr. Gottlieb, he’s allowed to be nervous. “Fuck yes. Let’s go now.”

Gottlieb is not impressed with the messy state of Newt’s apartment, and even less impressed with the state of Newt’s refrigerator and freezer. “Dinosaur chicken nuggets and canned Lime-A-Ritas,” he says with a sniff. “Hm. You ought to be getting more vitamins, Dr. Geiszler. I’m certain you’re deficient in something.”

“You sound like my dad,” Newt snorts. He throws his car keys on the counter and shrugs off his jacket. “There’s some leftover Chinese on the second shelf if you want it—just some lo mein. Or I could put a frozen pizza in the oven. Or I guess we could order something too?”

Gottlieb shuts the fridge door delicately. “How kind of you to offer,” he says. He doesn’t sound like he means it. Newt is suddenly struck by how bizarre a sight he is in the midst of Newt’s chaotic kitchen: buttoned up to the throat with his stupid shirt and blazer, prodding at the fraying lime lizard-shaped rug by the sink with the end of his ornately-handled cane. Out of time and out of place.

“It’s Newt,” Newt says. “Please don’t call me Dr. Geiszler, it makes me feel ancient.”

“Hm,” Gottlieb says.

“And what,” Newt says, deciding to test his luck a little, “uh—what should I call you?”

Gottlieb considers him. “Hermann,” he says.

The name rings a bell in the back of Newt’s head. He swears he’s heard it somewhere before—an article, maybe. A book. Has he stumbled across Dr. Gottlieb’s research before without even realizing it? He’s on the verge of asking what publications Gottlieb’s been featured in when Gottlieb suddenly snags hold of his hand; then, raising it to his mouth, he kisses it. His lips are as cold as his skin. “Would you like to show me to your quarters, Newton?” he murmurs.

Newt shivers; he nods.

“Hermann Gottlieb,” Newt says aloud later, while Hermann redresses himself. “Now I know where I’ve heard that name before.”

“Yes?” Hermann says. He’s lacing up one of his Oxfords.

“I worked with his research in one of my dissertations,” Newt says. “Another Dr. Hermann Gottlieb, I mean. He was a brilliant mathematician from—God, 1830-something. German. His work was groundbreaking for the time, or shit, for our time, too.” He remembers seeing a portrait of that Hermann Gottlieb in one of his sources; the whole of the similarities between him and Newt’s Hermann Gottlieb (the dark eyes, the mouth, the cheekbones) are a little too much to be entirely coincidental. “You must be related to him, right? Like, he’s your great-great-great—”

“Yes,” Hermann cuts him off quickly. He turns to Newt and smiles. “A distant ancestor, certainly. I believe you are the first in some time to have made that connection.”

“Always thought he was cool,” Newt yawns. “Man, I’m tired.” The romp with Hermann had been fun, if not unexpectedly exhausting, and a little…out of the ordinary. The dude apparently has some sort of weird biting kink that left Newt’s neck stinging a little bit, but it’s cool, Newt doesn’t mind. It was like boning a vampire or something. Kinda hot. “Do you need me to show you to the door, or can I just stay here? I’m serious about spending the night though. I really don’t mind.”

Hermann fiddles with the laces of his other shoe, then, slowly, draws the whole thing back off. “If it’s not an imposition,” he says, and smiles again, shyly. “Though, I warn you—I’m a bit of a late sleeper.”

“Good, so I am,” Newt says. “Could you toss me the sweatshirt hanging on that chair? You can grab one for yourself too, if you’re cold, I’ve got another hanging in the closet. No, not--yeah, that door.”

They dip under the covers and get cozy, Newt taking on the task of big spoon, because Hermann is a cold sonofabitch and could use a little insulation. The last thought on his mind before he drifts off to a comfortable sleep is how strange it is he can’t feel Hermann’s heartbeat—though, he realizes, it’s probably just muffled by their clothing.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous

69 notes · View notes

tundrainafrica · 4 years ago

Text

Title: A Free Spot

Summary:

"While she was still a commander in the midst of a war, she had to shut out all raw emotion while she watched Levi take down titan after titan, as the airship took her further away from where she had wanted to be. She did too good of a job turning off her emotions then and her last memory of Levi had become a free spot in her mind.”

Slight AU! Levi sacrifices himself in Chapter 132 instead of Hange and Hange deals with the consequences years later.

Written for @levihanweek Angstober 2020. Prompt: Free Spot

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Notes:

A part of me felt like Levi should have gone instead of Hange. That is, if one of them had to go. I'd still rather they both lived and got their happily ever after

I’m in the middle of writing for the greetings and farewell prompt but it's really just not looking to good rn so I'd rather not share it for now. Hopefully, I manage to get the motivation to finish it up. I’m probably gonna write some fluff and domestic Levihan after this. These prompts are just too heavy haha.

Either way, I had so much fun writing for angstober. I hope you enjoy and do tell me what you think!

You know Levi, it feels like my time has come. I want to act as cool as possible so let me go out like this...

It had been two years since the rumbling had stopped for good. Eren was dead. The Eldians and Marleyans had established a peace treaty and the survey corps was declared redundant, replaced with a special defense squad.

Mikasa and Armin willingly took over what was left of building the defense-oriented military. Having seen enough violence and loss to last a lifetime, one soldier slowly and quietly stepped down.

That one soldier helped build what became the new city of Paradis, but still felt the burden of responsibility. Disappearing from society and retiring to some farmland on the outskirts of central Paradis felt wrong although tempting.

That soldier had seen things first hand that most people would never experience, so it was easy to take on a job as a teacher. This was especially since most Eldians did not want a repeat of the last war and who better to teach the future generation than one who had experienced it at the front ranks.

The subjects taught were easy to pick up.

Math. Science. Languages. History.

Most kids would end up mastering the basics anyway and that was more than enough for most jobs. What most people from both sides had failed to master though, was how to empathize and how to critically think. They failed to learn how to talk things through or how to question orders.

How to talk things through. How to question orders.

That was what motivated the soldier-turned-teacher, to supplement lessons with anecdotes from the Survey Corps days. It was like living in one's dreams again. The anecdotes before and after lessons kept the students entertained and it also kept the memory of one important person alive.

Three months into the lesson, one of the students had turned out to be more invested than the others and had raised her hand in the middle of one of their story times.

"Did you marry Levi?"

Maybe the former commander did get carried away.

"The soldier I mean. The one in your stories," the young girl clarified.

“Lena, you shouldn’t have asked that,” another student muttered.

Lena jumped up and bowed her head in embarrassment. "I'm sorry… You always got so excited when you talked about him that I thought…"

Hange only realized then that for a second she had not moved from her spot. She put a hand to her face to see that it was wet. She hastily looked back at the blackboard and wiped her face with the collar of her sweater.

"What would make you think we married?" She managed to ask as she looked back at the young student. Most of the kids in the room were roughly twelve to thirteen years old. At that point, she was still figuring out what could be mentioned and what couldn't to a bunch of preteens.

Lena blushed. "My big sister talked about her boyfriend like that and now they're married."

"Well that story could wait another time. It looks like classes are done for the day." The teacher quickly gathered up her learning materials into one messy pile on the table, thanking whatever god existed for the timing of that question at least.

Some students protested but the teacher did not budge. The latter looked back again at the blackboard as she listened to the students pack up their things and file out of the classrooms.

As soon as the last student left, Hange quickly closed the door behind her, slid on the floor and buried her face on her hands.

Why are you crying? It's been fucking years.

She slammed the floor with her fists, letting the pain that shook through her wrists, act as punishment for that random bout of emotion.

How many stories has she told them?

They had started off as stories detailing the lives of the survey corps members who had given their lives to fight a war fueled by the hate of two nations. Somehow, the stories had shifted to her own relationships. She had talked about Moblit and Erwin, the values they had upheld for the greater good of humanity.

How had she described him for the students to think they married?

Before she knew it, she had started to talk about the strongest soldier with ironically, the most unwavering regard for human life.The one soldier who was probably capable of taking down fifty soldiers without so much as a scratch was the same soldier who would ask her privately after meetings, if she could think of a better plan which would cost less lives than the one they had thought up just a while ago. He was a soldier who would always voted on alternatives that could preserve more lives.

At that point, Hange could not even recall what words she used or what tone she kept. She started to treat those story times she promised the students after every lesson as a reprieve, a way to just imagine once again the past that she had missed, and the memory that made her relax the most was that of Levi.

It had been three months since she started teaching. She guessed that she had probably started bringing him up after the first month. It had occurred to her until that moment that she had never really implied his actual fate.

Did she talk about him in present tense?

Did she say something to make them think that he had survived?

You know Levi, it feels like my time has come. I want to act as cool as possible so let me go out like this…

Her chest constricted as she remembered how she felt saying those words. At that moment she thought she was going to die.

How to question orders. How to talk things through.

Levi had never questioned her orders or tried to talk things through in public, in fear of undermining her position. At that moment, right in front of everyone, Levi had said, "No. You're the commander. They need you out in the field. I'm not letting you die."

He had made a good point as he prepared his gear. Although he was humanity's strongest soldier at that time, he had become a little more than deadweight due to recent injuries. Either way, everyone had enough fate in his skills then, to know that even with those injuries, he'd still have enough power to take down a few titans and buy them some time to launch the ship.

While she was still a commander in the midst of a war, she had to shut out all raw emotion while she watched Levi take down titan after titan, as the airship took her further away from where she had wanted to be. She did too good of a job turning off her emotions then and her last memory of Levi had become a free spot in her mind.

Levi is alive. Levi exists in all nighters back in the office. He exists in the late nights in the forest, injured and half asleep.

As she allowed herself to relive that moment of two years ago, the only moment Levi blatantly disobeyed orders, the dam of emotions she had kept closed somewhere inside her started to flow free. She poked a few holes into it, allowing herself a few tears as she carried herself home.

It felt like it took ages but Hange finally found herself inside her empty apartment. She locked the door behind her and slid down once again on the cold wooden floor. She neglected to turn on the lights. The darkness that slowly swallowed the room as the sun started to set, only reminded her that she was alone, alone to her own devices and her own thoughts.

Levi existed before but now he is dead.

The free spot in her mind started to disappear, replaced by what should have been the raw emotion at seeing him burn and fall into the deep ocean. The grief came in large waves and Hange drowned in the emotions she had failed to release a year ago.

She called in sick the next morning and the day after and she sat alone on her bed, only standing up to eat or use the bathroom.

By what seemed to be the fourth day, it was as if she were floating. The waves had receded and she was left to survey for any damage.

Did you marry him? Another burning question came up from within her.

Hange rephrased it, given her present circumstances. Would I have married him?

Would marrying him have meant experiencing a continuation to those late night trainings as new soldiers?

Would it have meant a sequel to those late night conversations in the commander's office over tea?

Would it have meant someone welcoming her home every night after a long day’s work?

Would it have meant someone would be sitting beside her at that moment, hugging her, while she was too paralyzed by emotion to even get up?

Hange shook as she tried to imagine how it felt like again to be hugged. She knew she could have easily called someone, Mikasa, maybe Armin for a little company. Levi though was the last one she felt completely comfortable crying to, the last person she had ever shown complete vulnerability to.

And without him, she was alone.

The cruel truth was that that memory of Levi alive had overpowered her memory of his death. That sudden realization came as the memory once again became vivid, at a time where she had no more responsibilities of keeping soldiers alive in the midst of a battle.

Hange kicked her side table and watched as it toppled over, her belongings spilling out from underneath. She smashed her chair on top of the side table then the flower vase on the dresser.

The crown and the military had given her enough compensation to replace everything and that small afterthought was what only fueled her motivation to just release the pent up emotions. Everyone she had ever lost died for them anyway.

She went for the dresser to the side of the door and pulled out the drawers one by one, spilling out the contents on the floor before smashing them into the pile of remains of the furniture she had broken only a while ago.

She stopped at the third drawer when she saw the familiar green cloak and the wings of freedom insignia. At Levi’s last moments, she was wearing his cloak since she had expected to be the one to go.

As she spread out his cloak on the floor, she smelled traces of the familiar odor of titan’s blood. A year cooped up in the drawer had preserved the original scent. She buried her face on it and started to make out the scent of blood and sweat. At a certain point, she also made out the traces as well of the scent of old wood. The cloak had also started to adjust to the new world with no titans.

She threw the cloak on her still intact bed and sat cross legged on the floor.

Am I the only one who hasn’t moved on? She let out a burst of laughter, and sprawled on the cold wooden floor.

The Titans are gone. The Survey Corps is gone. Everyone is dead. He’s dead.

Free Spot

In total, Hange took a week out of work. She used that extra time to clean up and apologize to her neighbors after that breakdown.

Surprisingly, most of them had been understanding. Hange though did not want to use the excuse of being a shell shocked soldier to be a bother to anyone and had compensated all those who lived closest to her.

When she finally showed up back to the classroom, she was surprised to see all the students on their seats as if they had expected her to be back that day.

Of course, the substitute probably told them.

“You’re surprisingly behaved today.” Hange commented as she emptied her book bag on the table.

It was Lena who came out from behind her desk with a box and placed it on the teacher’s table.

“We heard you got really sick for a while so we got you a present which could maybe help you stay healthy,” she explained, still looking apologetic.

“Thank you.” Hange blushed as she started to untie the bow and opened the box underneath. Hange fought back a wave of nostalgia and the stinging sensation in her eyes as she opened the box to find a tea set, complete with a bag of black tea on the side.

“My dad told me tea is good for the body,” one student volunteered.

Hange put one hand to her mouth, as she felt her lips tremble. A part of her wanted to laugh and a part of her wanted to cry. She had told them enough stories to keep them busy for months but she had never mentioned tea. It was an irrelevant detail in the grand scheme of things, of course she wouldn’t. “He liked black tea. We spent a lot of our free time talking over tea,” she admitted as she traced the rim of the tea cup, holding it the same way she had seen him hold it countless times before.

For a second, Lena looked panicked. “I’m sorry we didn’t mean to… You don’t have to talk about it anymore. ”

“No. It was my fault. I’m sorry.” She stood up and put her hand on the head of the young girl. “It looks like everyone pretty much guessed what happened to that soldier huh?” She smiled, keeping her tone deliberately light.

A lot of the students kept a sullen look and Hange was sure someone had explained it to them or at the least, they had picked it up on their own.

“Well, that’s the reality of war. A lot of the soldiers don’t get to marry and have kids. Just so that everyone here could live in peace.”

That night, Hange emptied the contents of the gift box on her kitchen table.

Levi would have liked the tea set. Hange thought to herself as she allowed the black tea leaves to boil on the kettle. The smell of the black tea wafted through the air and Hange closed her eyes as she allowed herself to be brought back again to those many nights when he was the one who would serve her a cup of warm tea.

Did I add too much water? Did I add too much black leaves? Would he be disappointed?

She poured the contents of the kettle into the cup and watched the tea leaves settle to the bottom of the cup.

She positioned her hands on top of the teacup, attempting to hold the cup just like he used to. The heat right on top of the boiling water, almost scalded her palm and Hange gave up after a few tries.

I never really understood how you did it.

The warm malty taste of black tea in her mouth was nostalgic. Hange only realized then that she had unknowingly abandoned this luxury right after the war. It was as if her subconscious had been protecting her from a breakdown just like the one she just had.

The smell and the taste of black tea had always been about Levi who was long gone by then. As she caressed the intricate linings of the cup though, she also started to think of the efforts of the students who had thought up the present and saved up for it.

She looked back at the memories leading up to his sacrifice at the hands of the colossal titans. The pain was still there but it was far from excruciating. It was bittersweet. Somehow, she did not need to delude herself anymore. She just had to let that bundle of emotions and memories within her untangle themselves.

Levi was gone. To Hange though, he was still alive.

He was alive in the black tea she had allowed herself to enjoy once again.

He was alive in the anecdotes she had told her class in between lessons.

He was alive in every single person who was alive because of his sacrifice.

It’s the living who give meaning to the soldiers’ deaths. It's the living who keep the dead alive.

#levihan #levi ackerman #hange zoe #levihanangstober #fanfic #levi x hanji #levi x hange #attack on titan fic

51 notes · View notes

pendragyn · 5 years ago

Text

First Line Tag

I was tagged by @gaslightgallows

Rules: Post the first lines of your last ten fics read or written and then tag others to do the same.

Tagging: @raevenlywrites @froglesbianwriting @mperialscribe @teaflint @writingamongthecoloredroses @moniquill @napoleonscat and I know I am forgetting people, please join in on the fun and tag me if you do!

So.. Er, haven’t read much of anything but my own stuff on AO3, trying to get back into writing because everything sucks rn. It’s Good Omens with a dash of Discworld all the way down, below the cut.

In The Garden; pre-fall, pre-canon fic of them in the Garden of Eden.

BEFORE THE BEGINNING...

…Was darkness. That’s what happens when the sun isn’t up, and as it was almost the middle of the night —the first night, leading into the first day in the Garden of Eden— darkness was only to be expected.

The Great Plan was being set in motion. The countdown to start the countdown to the end of the world had begun. Things were getting down to the wire and the Heavens were in a tizzy to make sure everything went off without a hitch during the official launch.

Down in the Garden of Eden, all was peaceful. This was also to be expected. The only living beings in the entire Garden were two corporeal but unconscious angels reposing among the roots of the Tree. They’d been held in stasis since their incorporation a number of days earlier and weren’t due to wake until things were officially under way. Ostensibly this was to allow them to acclimate to corporeality, but in reality it was to keep them out of everyone’s metaphorical hair.

Of course, even the best laid plans never do go quite as planned, do they?

There was no Heavenly fanfare heralding the occasion, no Celestial sign except the eternal march of the stars across the sky, nothing at all to indicate that something was being set into motion as midnight of the day in question rolled around.

But down in their resting spots, the angels awoke.

Serpents And Ladders; what happens after the end of In The Garden.

After the fall of the Garden, for the first time that any could remember, change came rapidly to Heaven in the form of the instant adoption of corporeal forms amongst most of the archangels, much to the bafflement of some of the oldest Celestials who were gently prodded to a quiet retirement out among the stars. Heaven itself shifted to accommodate their altered forms, which forced the rest of the Celestials and the Elementals who did most of the day to day operations to adopt similar seemings.

Of course, Aziraphale and Crawly knew why it caught on, not that anyone ever thought to ask them. The reasoning was simple enough, if multi-faceted. Firstly, corporeality is a surprisingly potent antidote to knurd[1], with built in buffers against the harshness of reality. Really no surprise that it was popular.

Secondly, Celestial beings come in a great many shapes and sizes and types and having them all conform to one generally accepted shape was much more convenient, especially when it came to paperwork. (No one knew where paperwork had come from, since paper was technically not a thing yet, but there you go. It’s ineffable.)

Thirdly, with the increasing tensions between certain factions within the Host, having your firmament safely ensconced inside of flesh and bone made it that much harder to be spied on, making secrets that much easier to keep, especially once they discovered how to hide their wings.

And last but not least, though it took Aziraphale and Crawly a long while to fully comprehend the ramifications of it, it was because the humans began to believe, in great enough numbers, that that was how Heaven and the Host looked.

1. Being knurd is to be unintoxicated to such an extent that all comfort stories are stripped away from the mind. This makes you see the world in a way 'nobody ever should', in all its harsh reality.

Ask Not For Whom The Bell Tolls (It Tolls For They); the church in ‘41 and what happens, and doesn’t happen, after. (total tearjerker)

Crowley ran, ran and ran, heart pounding, almost blind with panic, hissing with pain as their foot hit the edge of consecrated ground, but it didn’t matter, because they were in time and like a snake shedding their skin the panic slipped away as they yanked open the door and hot-footed their way into the church under the confused eyes of a trio of nazis and an angel moments away from a fate worse than death.

A church, for fuck’s sake? Can’t the angel see it’s a setup? A trap? Dealing with nazis on holy ground, giving them holy books, even if it’s supposed to be a double-cross, a double double-cross. “Sorry, consecrated ground. Ugh, like being on the beach in bare feet.” Crowley fervently kept that thought in mind, because in reality, it was far far worse than that. Crowley was very good at imagining not being on fire, and that belief was all that was keeping them from falling to ash inside that church.

Aziraphale continued to stare at Crowley in shock, for a moment wondering if they were actually hallucinating the way humans could during moments of high stress. Because consecrated ground discorporates demons, and yet. And yet, Crowley was somehow really here. Why the he heaven is Crowley here? “What are you doing here?” Aziraphale hissed, the nazis and the gun momentarily forgotten.

“Stopping you from getting in trouble,” Crowley hissed back, dancing from foot to foot just an arm’s length away from Aziraphale. Play it cool, play it cool, play it cool, if you panic you’re both done for.

Stacking The Deck;

Harriet wanted to be asleep. She’d just had a baby a few hours earlier, and all she really wanted was sleep. They had given her something for the pain, but it didn’t stop her having to use the restroom, which was NOT FUN right now, and it took a while for things to settle back down and she just. wanted. sleep.

What she got, was voices.

A few she recognized, distant and muzzy, as the nuns who’d helped deliver the baby. There was also the one not-nun who’d shuffled in during the chaos, wrinkly as an old apple with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, who had actually delivered the baby before quickly shuffling back out again. The nuns had treated her with deep respect, whispering to each other about ‘a touch of the Old Adam’ she carried about her.

There was now a lot more raucous laughter coming from down the hallway, and some singing of what were definitely not religious hymns. Mingled in were the voices of men, which some deep part of her brain realized were from her supposed security detail, who’d abandoned her the minute the live feed with her husband had ended.

But under those voices was another voice, one that she’d learned to listen to when it whispered a little too loudly to ignore. And it was telling her to check on the baby, to check on Warlock. Right Now.

With a muffled groan Harriet slid her legs over the side of the bed and eased herself to her feet. With the dimmed lights and muddled by whatever they had given her, it took her a moment to realize that the bassinet wasn’t there. No Warlock. And no guards. And no nuns.

The coolness of the linoleum felt good against the bottoms of her feet and she shuffled dreamily out of the room into the empty hallway, too well medicated to feel panic, but the little voice was getting louder. And it was talking with an odd accent, which was weird. And it was calling her by her full name now, which was even more unusual. Find your baby, Harriet Sibyl Dowling. Find him now or lose him forever.

Nature vs Nurture; raising the antichrist

After the handshake, Crowley left in a hurry to set some of their plans into motion, with promises of talking soon and a casual ciao tossed over their shoulder before slipping out of the shop and roaring off down the road. What Aziraphale didn’t see was the demon pulled over a few blocks later, pressing their forehead against the steering wheel of the Bentley and letting out a shuddering sigh of relief that the angel had finally, finally, agreed to help them save the world. And wondered, briefly, if God hadn’t been right to kick Crowley out, because how much of a right proper bastard did you have to be to knowingly ask your best friend to do the most dangerous thing they could ever possibly do?

Aziraphale’s first course of action was to make sure the shop door was locked before retreating into the back room to think, away from the demon’s so very temping influence. It didn’t take the angel long to convince themself that it had to be the right thing to do, because otherwise it wouldn’t be hell starting the war, but heaven, and surely heaven didn’t want a war. Once that was settled, Aziraphale began to really set their mind to finding the solutions to the multitude of problems their scheme would surely entail. The second course of action was to retrieve the ancient tome of magic they kept safely secured in a secret room on the second floor of the shop and settling it reverently on to the desk to start their research.

Setting Things To Rights; Adam Young gets a visit from Agnes Nutter after the world doesn’t end.

“Come back. Please.”

Adam stared down at his best friends in the whole universe, sure his heart was breaking as they turned and ran away. He knew then he’d messed up bad, maybe beyond fixing. He tried to call them back, to beg even, but no sound would come and he closed his eyes against the sting of tears. Come back! Please! he wanted to say, pressing his hands to his tear-dampened face. I’m sorry!

You don’t need them. You can have new friends. Better friends. All you have to do is show us the way.

A low growl and a familiar waft of doggy breath as a wet tongue lapped at his cheek had Adam opening his eyes, and he hugged Dog tightly in relief. “Oh Dog! I’m so glad you’re here,” he whispered hoarsely, smiling when Dog licked him again. “I am sorry, you know that, don’t you?”

Dog whined and licked him again in answer.

“Thanks boy.” Adam let out a much heavier sigh and rubbed at his eyes when tears threatened again. The dream had been so real, too real, more memory than dream, and frightening in ways he didn’t want to think about. It hurt, knowing he’d hurt his friends so bad they’d stopped being his friends. And even though they’d forgiven him in the end, would they ever really trust him again? Especially when he could still do what he’d done? Would he trust someone who had done that to him?

In the silence there were two faint but distinct knocks that Adam heard clear as a bell. Dog’s ears perked up and Adam blinked and they both looked around the room for a source of the noise. There wasn’t much light but it was more than enough to show that nothing was out of place.

Still, Adam found himself saying, “Who’s there?”

A faint glimmering form stepped through the door. It was an old woman, dressed in really old clothes. “I have waited a long while for this meeting, Adam Young.” She bowed at him, a faint smile on her lips. “I be Agnes Nutter, witch. And ghost.”

Ineffable Bastards; the one I’m stuck on. :/

Groaning brakes pulled Crowley from their thoughts and they led Aziraphale off the bus, waiting until it had pulled away to turn towards their building. There was a sharp twinge in their stomach when they looked to the empty spot where the Bentley was usually parked. They felt another twinge when they looked at Aziraphale, who was staring up at the building with a distant blankness of expression that Crowley understood all too well. “C’mon, angel, I think we could both use a drink.”

No sound came at first, but Aziraphale managed to croak out, “Yes,” after a moment. They felt strangely distant from their feelings in the odd silence and they trailed behind the demon into the flat, which was both nothing like and exactly like what Aziraphale would expect from Crowley. The art got a few blinks but there was no energy to consider what they might mean after the day week decade they’d had.

Unlike the bare concrete walls in the other rooms, the kitchen was slick with creamy white marble and terrazzo tiles, ebony cabinets that gleamed and stainless steel appliances that had never been used or even plugged in, though they were well stocked with food and drink. Crowley grabbed a bottle at random and a couple of glasses, bringing them over to the chrome and glass table with a small collection of colorful orchids in the center. “Salute.”

The angel lifted their glass to toast before downing the drink and holding it out for a refill. Crowley obliged and they sat in silence for a while before Aziraphale asked, “Now what?”

“Eh, now I fall down and sleep for a while and you…” Crowley pulled off their glasses and gave the angel a long look. “You don’t really sleep do you? You should try it, great for getting away from your thoughts.”

“Rarely. Doesn’t seem to work that way for me, I’m afraid.” Aziraphale sighed and shook their head. “I just keep thinking about Agnes’ prophecy. Face the fire.” They shuddered a little. “You know what that means, don’t you?”

Rubbing at their tired eyes, and the sting of unsheddable tears, Crowley nodded. “You’re in big trouble, angel.”

“You know full well we’re both, as they say, in for it,” Aziraphale corrected, smiling a little when Crowley gave them a look. “I’ve toed the line for a long time, but you, my dear, have danced around it to the point that I’m not sure they even know where they drew the line to begin with. If Heaven is going to ‘fire’ me, what’s Hell going to do to you?” Saying it aloud had tears burning in their eyes and they wiped at them hastily.

Wilde Card; my take on why Aziraphale had a set of Oscar Wilde’s works.

“Aziraphale?”

“Hmm?”

Crowley tried to find a subtle way to ask, but curiosity had been eating at them to the point of distraction since the former angel had let slip that humans could have preternatural ancestry. “When you said, you’d never… with a human.”

Aziraphale gave them a confused look that melted into amused understanding when they realized Crowley was blushing. “My dear, are you asking me about my experiences?”

“Uh… Just, I seem to recall you mentioning a lot of gentleman’s clubs...” Crowley let their head drop back against the couch and covered their face when Aziraphale chuckled. “Ugh, angel!”

“I won’t judge you, you know,” Aziraphale murmured, smiling tenderly when Crowley looked at them. “If you, uh, found human companionship-”

“No! Ugh, no, it’d be like… no, I can’t help but think of them as children,” Crowley admitted. “Even Nanny Ogg, which tells you something about me I suppose,” they said, making Aziraphale laugh.

“I am in complete agreement with that sentiment,” said Aziraphale. “And it wasn’t just gentleman's clubs I frequented, there were quite a few for women if you knew where to look and who to talk to. You do know a lot more went on in the clubs than just sexual intercourse, don’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah, I should’ve known better, just, uh...” Crowley reached over and took Aziraphale’s hand. “There must have been quite a few poor smitten fools vying for your attention.”

Apple Of My Eye; complete fluff I wrote because of a pic I saw on tumblr

Crowley looked up from their mobile, barely able to contain their grin. “Hey, angel-”

“No.” Aziraphale didn’t even have to look up from the book they were reading to know the former demon was up to no good.

“I haven’t even said anything yet!” Crowley protested, still grinning at seeing the amusement crinkling around the reformed angel's eyes.

Aziraphale looked over at them with a feigned put-upon sigh. One look at Crowley’s grin had them asking, “Oh somebody, do I even want to know?”

If anything, that only made Crowley’s grin grow. “So I’m thinking maybe it’s time I branch out, try some different styles of shades. Whaddya think?”

Aziraphale spluttered into startled laughter when Crowley turned the mobile around, revealing a pair of spectacles where the rose tinted lenses had been shaped into breasts. “Why in the world-”

“Ain’t humans grand?” Crowley said, grinning down at the picture before sliding a sly look at Aziraphale and raising a hand, fingers poised to snap. “I could just…”

“You would too, wouldn’t you,” Aziraphale said with a shake of their head, pretending to go back to reading but watching Crowley sidelong. “Well I would rather you didn’t but I can’t stop you from going around looking, looking like a right proper tit if you want to,” they said with feigned primness, barely hiding their smile when Crowley laughed. “I wouldn’t want you to make a spectacle of yourself.”

“Alright angel, alright, you’ve convinced me. Wouldn’t want to put you off being seen with me.” It was a joke, mostly, and Crowley was still grinning as they said it, but inwardly that age old doubt still lingered.

Aziraphale knew it was there of course, having many of the same insidious worries about their new togetherness, and gave them a fond smile. “I assure you my dear, that having adored you in spite of that dreadful hairstyle you had in Paris, I would barely blink to see you in a pair of breastacles.”

Crowley blushed at the mention of adoration, sneered at mention of the hair and burst into raucous laughter at the name. “Only you’d think up a proper sounding name for it. Breastacles. Brilliant.” They darted in and grinningly kissed them. “And here I thought you’d appreciate me seeing the world through rose-titted glasses. But, as you wish.”

Aziraphale laughed and beamed at the phrase, taking their hand and lacing their fingers together. “Thank you, dearest. For everything. And especially for sparing everyone that.”

#Good Omens #good omens fanfic #snippet #first line tag #tag game #Pendragyn writes #long post #readmore #ao3 #Ineffable Bastards

3 notes · View notes

punkscowardschampions · 5 years ago

Text

Ali & Carly

Ali: [Weds night before her bday] Ali: woman you home Carly: not mine y? Ali: because ITS YOUR BIRTHDAY Ali: and I need to come bearing gifts Carly: now? k then Carly: ill get there before u Ali: you @ one of the lads then? Ali: no rush 'cept I do wanna be the first so like b4 midnight cinders 🎃👠 Carly: i werent born @ 12 tho & u kno that from doing my chart 🔮🌟 Carly: but ur so cute Ali: tru but Ali: i'm excited Ali: can't start the party without guest of honour 7 Carly: aw Carly: i wont take these 15 💊s yet 👼 Carly: we can party together Ali: 🎁? Carly: idk can u call it a 🎁 if u have to give back Ali: Boo 👎 Carly: not what he said when we were done Ali: 🙄 still Ali: not very festive of him Carly: idc its been fun Carly: coulda stayed in w ma & da but its not a retirement party in the works like Ali: for now Ali: but I got better plans than either Carly: yea? Ali: 'course Ali: who am I Ali: who are we Carly: 🐅💙🐇 Carly: i barely knew u on my last bday 😢💔 Ali: it's insane Ali: you're so important and integral to me how did we not get together before then Ali: I'm not the only one with plans tho 🌌💕 Carly: too many lads to swap first ha Carly: i kno my ma has been planning all wk but idk cuz shes learned to be subtle somehow Carly: must b her new man teaching her things Ali: Eskimo sisters for life, baby 😂 Ali: 👀 come thru shaz Ali: sounds promising Carly: 🤞🌌🔮 Ali: not her new man, obvs Carly: hes no cavante tho still only a few yrs older Ali: if I beat you I'll hit her up for the scoop Carly: 🍀 Ali: 😬 Ali: I guess we've got her answer for the age old experience vs stamina Carly: could b where i left her wine drunk in the hot tub still Carly: falls asleep there more than the marital bed Carly: mermaid energy ha Ali: not wine drunk Ali: worse energy than coke rage, I swear Ali: watch out cat lady, protect your children Carly: aw ill look after them Ali: 👼 Ali: I'll take any bday bumps for you 💪 Carly: never liked coke or wine soz ma if thats my 🎁 Carly: still my hero 💙 Ali: those people are the worst Ali: lemme buy something for me and give it to you Ali: no sharon THAT IS NOT 👏 IN 👏 THE 👏 SPIRIT 👏 OKAY 👏 Carly: my gma does that every yr! xmas too Carly: so boring unwrapping that bible each time Carly: good rolling paper tho Ali: 😂 Ali: the lord is in you, it's what she wanted Ali: just in your lungs but you know Carly: ha Carly: what r u bringing me boo? Ali: don't you want the surprise babe Carly: idk last time u really surprised me it was w a divorce so u could get ur man Ali: 😥 Carly: 😂 jk u kno i love surprises Ali: just devastated you're calling me predictable for the last, how many months Ali: cut me deep, birthday girl Carly: i dont surprise easy Carly: y the lads like me Carly: dont b sad baby Ali: never Ali: not when there's partying to be done Carly: yay Ali: and a 👸 to celebrate Carly: ur sweet 🍬🍭 Carly: i dont look like a princess rn Carly: no running away Ali: you always do Ali: even when you running from ogres Carly: ur gonna make me look worse when im crying too Ali: meant to save them for the party Ali: but I'll never tell Carly: ha its been a few yrs since a bday tantrum Carly: really had to wait for that bike tho Ali: and #werk baby Ali: you were as adorable then, how your parents didn't spoil you is a mystery to me Carly: ask them if u do get here before me Carly: but before i was medicated i wasnt as 👼 could b the answer Ali: lecture 'em on how wrong they were, more like Carly: ur a bias little 🐱💙 Carly: & u didnt kno me then even if u do remember i grew into my 👂s Ali: 😂 Ali: well I never grew into my 👁s and my 'tudes no better either and you still love me so Ali: deal with it, Walsh 😜 Carly: aw u were the cutest 👶 Carly: & u get cuter every yr Ali: hey, don't spoil my heartfelt message in your card! Ali: 😏 Carly: im sorry Carly: ill have 1 for the road & forget Ali: I think one of the boys just catcalled me without offering to give me a ride in their white van/carriage Ali: see me struggling here lads, is that part of the appeal? probs Carly: which y? ill threaten to uninvite him from the party Carly: 1* Ali: not the kinda bitch to resort to racism 'cos I'm mildly upset or angered but they really be looking the same behind the wheel of a transit, like Ali: think it was one of Ronan's brothers? Ali: and in fairness, never slept with you so whaddya owe me, kind sir Carly: ha Carly: if he could see & be seen @ the wheel then i reckon i kno Carly: & i have slept w him so he will b 💔😢 if he cant celebrate w me Ali: my hero 💚 Carly: 💙 Carly: been thru every1 old enough in that fam now ha Carly: gonna have to move like Ali: I wish I could tell you the surprise was a hot new fam Ali: alas Ali: wouldn't fit them on my back, like Carly: 😢💔 Ali: I've let you down Ali: how could I Ali: gonna eat my feelings 🎂 Carly: 🍯🐝 no Carly: never Ali: what's the dresscode for this shindig then Carly: idk not allowed to go w bday suits Carly: my da overruled me Ali: gotta whittle down my knock you dead options Ali: even with those stifling guidelines, tah Mr Walsh, I should manage it Carly: i believe in u baby Ali: 👼👼👼 Carly: im back btw Carly: used my wings mayb Ali: damn Ali: was really hopinh for some 1x1 with your ma Carly: she will scoot over in bed for u Carly: not just me who misses u Ali: awh Ali: can we convince her to give you your present early or nah Ali: I say yeah Carly: me too so 2 votes Carly: my da will b asleep too deep to cast his even if she says no weve outnumbered her Ali: 💪 Ali: I'll put the phone down and run Ali: gimme 5 Carly: k Carly: be careful tho Carly: some of the 💡 r out Ali: 👌 Ali: my middle name Carly: fun is ur middle name Carly: how many do u have? Ali: as many as you want Ali: 😉 Ali: but just the one, actually Carly: hot Carly: u can have 1 of mine then wed both have 2 each Ali: are you actually 👑 Carly: my ma wishes Carly: queen of the site tho Carly: ha Ali: I've not bought her a crown Ali: not soz Carly: its k shes got her prom tiara somewhere Ali: memories 🎶 Carly: am i gonna peak before 18 too? Ali: never Ali: only way is 📈 baby Carly: u make me feel really happy u kno Ali: ☀🌻🍓🍯🐝🐰 Ali: it's mutual boo Carly: im crying Carly: & smiling Carly: its the 💊s ma Ali: it's the 💘 Ali: she gets it Carly: aw Carly: yea shes really 💘 w the lad from the chemist Carly: knocking our 💙 off the top Ali: can't be having that Ali: got all weekend to prove we're 🥇 Carly: til ur bf shows up Ali: nuuh Ali: it's all about you Carly: ur so nice to me Ali: you'll see feel and believe it ✨ Carly: 🔮🌌 Carly: r u gonna stay? Ali: can I? Carly: yea Ali: then yeah Carly: aw ur my 🎁 Ali: I haven't copped out that hard, don't worry Ali: come help me Ali: not very gentlemanly of me but I wanna be with you before we've gotta hear about the prom queen's glory days Carly: k Carly: 💪💙

2 notes · View notes

momo-de-avis · 6 years ago

Note

Hi! Just wondering about your opinion that if the Catholic Church sold its art&treasures it would no longer be there for the world to enjoy and would fall into private hands&be hoarded away (many saying the church should sell rn) I've often sat in cathedrals like Notre Dame and marveled at what palaces were built for the masses to enjoy. Like a little luxury for all of us, even the least of us. I know you are an art historian and wondered what you thought of this. : ) hope you are well : )

Thank you anon! I hope you are well too!!

To be frank, this is actually a legal question. And as such, it varies from country to country.

The Notre Dame, for example, is not owned by the Catholic church. I think France has very similar laws in this respect to my country, and what that means is: the monument, itself, is a National Treasure or National Monument (I don’t know the correct definition, but what it means is: it’s a building highly classified, of not just historical interest to the country, but in heritage as well, and as such is prioritized above others).

In my country, for example, if I am not mistaken, churches that are not classified as National Monuments do not belong to the church entirely (they are allowed financial compensation from the Vatican, which should be employed in restoration, but then priests… you know), but if they aren’t, then the State has to stay away from it. This is because our Constitution states the separation of Church and State, and it’s a double-edged sword: if you wonder why stuff like the infamous restoration of that Jesus painting by Dona Cecilia happened, it’s because the church it’s the sole holder of the building and every artefact inside of it. Stuff like that actually happened several times over in our country: because there is no legal classification of the building, nor the artefacts inside of it—thus no legal protection from the State—priests do what the fuck they want and hire retired 80-year-old painters to slap some plastic paint on an 18th century mural (I wish I was kidding but this shit actually happened).

Again, I don’t know how it goes in other countries, but in Portugal, since the law defines ‘culture’ as something that belongs to everyone, everyone is allowed—and motivated to—act if they see a certain building decaying or believe it to be in danger. This is actually something a lot of people don’t know, and instead take it to facebook, but as a citizen, you can walk into your local city hall and present a form of petition (I sincerely forgot what paperwork this involves) requestion for the monument in question to be classified as ‘in danger’. As soon as that classification happens, the withholder of the monument will be inquired, and if anything happens to it, the owner will be fined.

So, what I mean to say is: the actual Catholic church actually doesn’t own lot of the churches out there classified as Monuments. One thing that also helps to preserve these monuments and to maintain them as public property—actually, now that I think of it, I think it completely forbids governments from selling a monument to a private owner—is if they are classified by Unesco. If it’s got a Unesco stamp of approval, it’s public and cannot be private, I believe (though correct me if I am wrong).

When it comes to privately owning art, however… I am for the opinion that art belongs to everyone, and though you are entitled to own art privately, you have to keep in mind that it is not yours, but everyone’s, and thus SHOULD allow for the art you possess to be viewed by the public. I don’t mean display it in a museum, but work towards images and information of the artwork you own to be made public and accessible to everyone. I say this because portuguese art history is a nightmare. You have an insane amount of incredible artists from the 19th century, and the vast majority of their works, you can’t even find an image.

See, I teach art history, and it’s absolute hell for me. I remember telling my students, super frustrated, that I couldn’t find a single picture of more than 2 or 3 paintings by Aurélia de Sousa. And what is more frustrating is that, the more you progress through history, the less resources you find. Portuguese Neo-Realism is inexistent. If you google it, this is what you get:

The most important painting, the one that set the movement, isn’t even on the first few pages. Now would you believe if I told you we actually have an entire museum dedicated to neo-realism? Would you believe if I told you it was one of the most important artistic movements in the end of second world war, and an incredible voice against fascism at a time? Probably not, because we don’t really have anything out there to be seen.

This happens because, since our market is tiny and absolute shit, most things that exist are privately owned—usually, heirs of the painters or people who bought it in auctions for pennies—in other words, people you have to wait to die out to actually see the paintings. And there’s something incredibly cruel there. I teach this shit and I have nothing to teach, no tools to teach my students, because these private owners of art refuse to share—and I mean refuse. Aurélia de Sousa, for example, was a passionate photographer, which is something people don’t know. Why? Because the man who owns her photos, for years, refused to let anyone even touch them. This raises another issue as well: if you refuse to let anyone get close, then you suck because art needs to be preserved. 19th century photos in particular wither away. With everything, happens.

With that in mind, there’s also the issue of how these privately owned artworks are preserved. Paintings, if you don’t know, cannot be exposed to natural light, especially sunlight—particularly older paintings. Photos and film have to be preserved at a particularly cold temperature. Wood has to be constantly polished, but because of how old it is, it requires the right technique and materials. Same with silver, gold, etc. Of course, a museum, a cathedral, or what have you, they all have teams at ready for that sort of conservation—but when a private owner acquires a piece of art that isn’t legally classified in any way, they can very well be responsible for its distruction.

We’ve had two very important works burn because of that. First, this painting by Vieira Portuense, who is the only other name we have to have defined neo-classicism (it was short-lived here, we were to busy having a civil war or fending off the french). It’s an emblematic painting for its time, because it’s an embryonic moment of transition between neo-classicism and romanticism. But it’s gone, because the house it was in burned down. Another one I don’t remember the name, but it was Josefa d’Óbidos—the first female painter to have her own workshop here in Portugal. Again, a flood caused a short-circuit which caused for the house to burn down, and the painting was lost.

If a painting (and I think other artefacts as well) is classified in some way (National Treasure, National Interest and uhhhh…. there’s a third one I forgot D:), the owner IS forced to keep it preserved. He is forced to clean it and restore it. If he damages in any way, he is fined and the painting can be confiscated from him. Same for buildings that are classified as anything below National Monument. But if it happens to be a work of art that isn’t classified in any way, legally speaking… Well, if it disappears, it’s gone, and the owner just loses a painting.

So it’s an incredibly delicate issue. On the one hand, privately owning art is necessary for artists, and I speak of both galleries and auction houses. It keeps the flow of the art economy going (though the art world is RIDICULOUS INFLATED economically speaking, but that’s a whole other conversation) and the market value of artists that are alive and, well, need to eat, is raised every time they sell something. Also, a country’s art market increases if they manage to sell more of their art alongside international artists (why Portugal fucking sucks in that respect), so that in itself is of great interest to artists who are alive and practicing, as well as for the country itself.

But on the other hand, it’s really a double-edged sword. Because I still maintain that art belongs to everyone, and no matter how many artworks you own, you have to keep that in mind. I had the chance to work for art collector who was very conscious about this: he lent his art constantly without charging anything and he kept his every artwork so well preserved he actually had restore works after lending them to museums. Now if everyone had that conscience, the world would be a better place.

So I put it this way to sort of generalize it, because I don’t believe, for one second, the church is exempt from this in any way. In Europe, they detain a great part of many country’s heritage. In our own country, they hold like half of our shit. But again: double-edged sword.

You said something that is very accurate: churches like the Notre Dame were built for the masses. They were built for everyone, because it is the House of God where everyone is accepted and welcomed. Yes, it initially had a purpose, bore a function that doesn’t serve entirely anymore (though mass is still held in it, the fact that it is today a touristic attraction has shifted the church’s initial purpose, so to speak). So to think that the Catholic Church would close it down, or simply decide that suddenly they couldn’t allow people inside because they own it goes against not just (in our case) the legal definition of cultural object, it goes against the very principle of catholicism—something they turn around easily by opening its doors free of charge during mass. There is a huge debate in my country every like, two summers, because some cathedrals you have to pay to get inside—and something about that isn’t right. If you have to pay to enter, that means the building in itself is important enough that it’s classified as something, at the very least National Monument, but by charging money to get inside, you’re already breaking the very definition of cultural object, legally speaking: everyone is allowed to experience culture. This is a serious debate that happens every so often, and reason why it’s moved certain parties to try and end this shit of pay-to-enter churches, which is maddening to me (supposedly, they say, it’s to tame touristic masses a bit, but we all know that ain’t it).

What’s graver, as I said, is the case of small parishes that happen to own ancient artefacts like statues from the 18th century. Because priests aren’t educated on the matter, they think, oh this is a pretty little nativity scene! And hire some old dude to paint over a fresco. The example I mentioned above, where this happened?

This is what it looked like before:

this is after:

Yeah. I mean, I laugh every time cause it is fucking funny, but you gotta do it not to cry lmao

So like, for me, if we are going to entrust the Catholic church with artefacts and monuments—not necessarily sell them, you can legally lend them, like a legal guardian sort of agreement (I’m sorry, there’s a correct legal term for this but I don’t know it, the shit about law is that you have to address things with the right word)—you gotta force these fuckers to respect what they own. Force them to have restorations made, to clean their shit, to maintain their possessions. Force them to make an effort into bringing awareness to the existence of these things. For the love of God, FORCE THESE PEOPLE TO MAKE AN INVENTORY. Bitch, HIRE ME, I’LL DO YOUR INVENTORY FOR YOU.

And bring these artworks into the world. Create a website. Make pictures of these artworks publically available, free of charge, so that people can look at it, study and it and have free access to it. Have you ever walked into a museum and got told you aren’t allowed to photograph the works inside? I’ll tell you that’s bogus. Sure, flash damages the work, but no flash causes no harm. When a museum does that, I can guarantee you it’s one of two things: one, the artwork you are forbidden from photographing is privately owned by some Elongated Muskrat who thinks they’re above everyone else because LoOk aT mE I oWn ArT, and two: the museum is telling you to buy a catalogue.

What museums usually tend to not understand is that the free circulation of images of their artworks is actually what brings MORE people to their museum. Like, this is a fucking proven fact—that’s why they sell postcards, prints and tote bags with their paintings on it. Case in point? London: you think they give a shit if you take up-close photos of their paintings in Tate Britain? I know they don’t cause I was the idiot photographing paint drips on a goddamn William Holman Hunt. And you don’t even pay to get inside. But do you remember what artworks are inside the Museo Reina Sofia in Madrid—aside from the Guernica? Yeah, which one has a strict policy in not photographing their paintings, you ask? Well.

So, tl;dr: if you’re gonna own art, make it available to the public, whether by putting it in a museum or making information about it—including pictures—accessible to all, and the government should be all over your ass annually to make sure you’re not damaging the artworks, otherwise lose custody of the baby and pay a fine. If you’re not gonna abide by these principles, then I am of the opinion that you don’t truly know the real worth of what you’re in possession of, and therefore shouldn’t be allowed to have it. AND THAT MEANS YOU TOO, VATICAN. Fuck your parishes, hire me. There’s a bunch of qualified people to do the job for you, you guys are just lazy and are keeping the Vatican’s money in your pockets.

#damn this got long sorry anon #Anonymous

19 notes · View notes

bubblepop-32 · 8 years ago

Text

Skyfall - Angoscia [A KHR Fanfic] Chapter 2: The Pillars of Vongola

Tis Bubblesss! XDD Welcome to the second chapter of Skyfall – Angoscia!

KHR does not belong to me; it belongs to the awesome Akira Amano!

- Beta'd by chewybillabong~~

Now snuggle up and enjoy!

Tsuna's heart thumped uncontrollably in his chest like a jackhammer on steroids. Tsuna swore he heard a crack from one of his ribs directly in front of his racing heart. "R-Reborn?!" He gasped in utter surprise. He did not expect him to answer his hails at all, and yet there he was, joining in the group screen meeting. Well, not exactly because he was audio only.

Both Takeshi and Hayato shared similar reactions, but their hearts were beating more like rubber hammers rather than jackhammers against their ribs. Their eyes expanded double their size, mouth agape with surprise and shock. Tsuna hoped that their eyeballs wouldn't suddenly roll out.

And then another voice came through; "Uncle? How does this game work?" a feminine voice asked, most likely asking Reborn.

Tsuna immediately recognised the voice, the voice of a girl that produces the same sky flames as him, the Decimo of the Giglio Nero Famiglia, the girl that sacrificed her life in order to revive the deceased Arcobalenos in a parallel world. "Y-Yuni-chan?!" Tsuna gaped at the audio.

"Hmm? Is that Tsuna?" There was the sound of a faint ruffle, and miraculously it could be heard over the brain-rattling background noise. "Uncle, are you calling Tsuna right now?" Yuni asked, piqued with curiosity when she heard a small voice from her Uncle's earpiece.

Reborn spoke up. "Yes, we are." He answered lightly. "I was hoping to keep our promise today, but a troublesome ex-student decided to hold an important meeting."

'After all the other meetings that I asked - pleaded you to attended, you finally decided to join!' Tsuna huffed internally. He was very annoyed and slightly angry at Reborn for ignoring all his previous calls, where all of them were as important as the one he's holding now.

Yuni's voice travelled out from the speakers again. "It's okay Uncle, you can always teach me how to gamble another time. Plus, gambling doesn't seem like my kind of thing, but it is pretty fun." She replied, completely happy to let Reborn participate in the Vongola meeting. "You've already made this a great birthday, Uncle!"

Tsuna was already shocked enough that Reborn finally decided to partake in this, and now, from what he's heard, he's introducing gambling to this little angel?! As if Gamma would allow that to happen! But then again…he hasn't heard Gamma's voice from the audio just yet.

"Reborn! Why are you letting her gamble?!" His voice rose whilst he fussed. "We all know gambling can turn into an addiction and is she even old enough-"

"Maa maa Tsuna, I'm sure they have their reasons." Takeshi cut in before they all got an earful of Tsuna's complaints about mental health and all sorts, probably moving onto something off topic along the way. He gave a quick smile for effect. He was relieved that Tsuna was still awfully wary about everyone's health, even after all these years of being in the cold and ruthless mafia world, and he was thankful for that. He hoped that his caring and kind nature won't disappear… "But teaching Yuni gambling sure is peculiar."

"Oi, shut up baseball idiot. Juudaime's right." Hayato retaliated, defending his dear boss, in which he (thinks) already wrongly offended today. He wanted to somehow compensate for his shameful actions, and keeping a sword freak quiet was one way of compensating.

A small giggle chimed from Yuni as she listened. "Tsuna-san, I'm eighteen already, and don't worry," she informed, "I'm only trying gambling because I am finally old enough to do these things." She purposely left out the fact that she's already tried a small glass alcohol earlier on too, just in case Tsuna doesn't start worrying his head off.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry Yuni-chan! I forgot that today was your eighteenth birthday." Tsuna exhaled. He pressed his right hand to his forehead and rubbed it slowly. "I guess my memory's starting to degrade too." –'I need to now shake the rust off both my HDWM and my memory.' He was going to say that he should retire, but remembering Hayato and his little episode of drama beforehand, he decided to keep quiet.

Tsuna's phone, which was placed on the table, vibrated. The screen displayed a text message from Lambo. Tsuna had previously told him that if he had any tests for school during the designated time for the meeting, education should always be his priority.

Coincidentally, being at the nostalgic age of twelve, he had many grading tests, and toady was one of those days where almost every period had a goddamn test.

Lambo: frikkin test day today. Can't join. Whatever you're thinking, go with your gut. Don't worry, I'm not texting u during a test, it's 5 min break rn.

Tsuna exerted a small sigh and placed his phone aside. "Lambo's busy." He announced to his group. 'Go with my gut feeling, huh?'

"Stupid cow." Hayato muttered in distaste. 'Idiot! Juudaime's rarely holds a meeting with all his guardians, and you don't attend!'

Before Hayato could go on a rant about how lazy and idiotic Lambo is for not joining the meeting, Tsuna averted to another topic whilst they waited for the others to appear-

Just on cue, another part of the screen flickered on, sparing Tsuna from probably going off topic. A serene scenery appeared, and a very familiar yellow bird flew from somewhere outside of the screen and landed on a shoulder.

Who's shoulder?

A voice, cold and toneless, slithered ominously out from the speakers. "Herbivore, I will bite you to death when I come back." It growled dangerously low. The person, who's wearing a black yukata, glared murderously through the screen and right through Tsuna's soul.

Tsuna felt a shiver run down his spine. "Hibari!" Tsuna exclaimed in surprise.

Indeed, it was the one and only tenth generation cloud guardian of the Vongola Famiglia.

'Does Hibari usually introduce himself with a threat?' Tsuna questioned himself. He has long grown out of shaking in fear whenever Hibari appeared. This was possibly due to the fact that Hibari has already lost countless times to Tsuna when sparring with him, maybe also because he's already been with him for more than seven years. During those years, he's seen a lot of his guardian's raw emotions, including Hibari's (which Tsuna promised not to tell anyone).

Though a certain storm guardian was not going to take that threat lightly. "Bastard! Did you just threaten Juudaime!?" Hayato vexed with anger. "How dare you!" He clenched his fists tightly and took a firm step towards Hibari's screen.

Takeshi overlooked the situation with slight amusement. He always does. "Gokudera, calm down." He called, but Hayato refused to listen. Hayato continued the glaring competition with the independent cloud.

Hibari glared death at Hayato's advancing figure. "I will bite you to death after I bite that herbivore to death." He seethed with vicious threat.

"Like hell that's going to hap-" Hayato was going to shoot back a sharp reply, but immediately fell silent after Tsuna commanded him to stop, almost like an obedient puppy.

"Gokudera! Shh!" Tsuna hissed, but gently. 'Why is my family still so hard to manage, even after all these years?' sighing, he thought about how synchronised Dino's men are compared to his. His guardians are like barbaric animals compared to them. "Ah, um… Hibari, why do you want to bite me to death…Do you not like the mission I gave you to go to Japan?" He asked, voice ending higher to signify that he was diffident about his question.

Tsuna swore he heard Reborn stifle a laugh. He was missing something important.

There was no reply, so instead, he continued elaborating. "Did something happen? Did I forget something-" That seemed to strike something. The muscle under Hibari's right eye twitched slightly with annoyance.

Takeshi observed the background to Hibari's screen carefully, then gave a small laugh as he figured something out; possibly why Hibari wanted to bite Tsuna to death. His lifted his eyebrows in amusement. "Ahahaaa~!" He laughed heartily, "It's been so long since then Hibari-san! Are you still-"

Hibari's now frightening gaze immediately snapped towards the rain guardian, as if telling him to shut up or else things were going to happen. And those things would be painful.

Sad thing is that this is a video conference and each of them were in different places around the globe, so he couldn't slip out his tonfas and start beating some proper discipline into those disobedient herbivores. But since screen travel isn't in fully working order yet (Giannini's actually inventing the device – though it's probably going to be very dodgy), he spared one last murderous look towards Takeshi.

Never did the group know that a pair of secretive mists were already watching all this action from the very start. "Ara ara~ never knew this skylark still cowers from Cherry Blossoms~" A tall, lean person with the signature midnight blue pineapple hair-do gracefully emerged from a purple mist behind Tsuna's seat and stepped into the open. He trailed a hand possessively around Tsuna's shoulder and under his chin, smoothly skimming his neck with brisk fingers. "Heh~"

All Gokudera could see was a long whisk of dark blue hair that trailed from a figure dressed in black, before finally realising that his dear boss was taken hostage by a damned old pineapple. "What the fuck!" He unintentionally swore from shock.

Tsuna wasn't exactly surprised that his mist guardians travelled back from Russia via their handy mist travel, in fact he already knew they were in the room through his Hyper Intuition. But for Mukuro to suddenly wrap his arms around him almost like a protective python? Oh hell no.

"M-Mukuro!" Tsuna gasped because of the hand that was touching his neck, then his mind wondered off to what Mukuro mentioned- 'Hibari doesn't like Cherry Blossoms?-' Then he remembered the time when Mukuro was still their enemy and how Hibari got injected with Cherryitis. 'Oh…I forgot…and it's April too…Oops.' He grimaced, 'But I'll deal with that later!'

His eyes flickered down and saw a trident's tip advancing towards the exposed skin on his neck, dangerously accurate. Without hesitation, he grabbed the hand with a firm hold and smashed it harder than anticipated on the table in front. If his hand didn't immediately pin Mukuro's other hand against the table, he would have been pricked by his small trident, which would mean that Mukuro would've successfully possessed him.

"Oya~ I thought I was going to succeed this time." The mist guardian purred. "You're getting stronger, young Vongola, and that just makes me want your body more~" He gave a satisfied smirk and hopped back, freeing his arm in the process.

Hayato's fuse finally broke. He failed. He was a failure as the right hand man to the world's boss of the strongest mafia Famiglia. "YOU BASTARDDD!" He broke into a run, charging with pure hatred and rage towards the idiot that dared to touch his boss, and he didn't care if he was the mist guardian or not.

The room wasn't that big, and with the speed of a professional Mafioso, he could've tackled Mukuro in less than a second. But Tsuna was definitely not going to let that happen, considering how much of a pacifist he is. And he simply hated his guardians hurting each other. He never really liked this mafia business from the very beginning, but since Primo's blood was flowing through his veins, it made him awfully good at all this even if he didn't like it.

Tsuna kicked back in his leather chair so that it wheeled right between raging Hayato and smirking Mukuro. Hayato, of course, couldn't react fast enough to stop, but Tsuna expected that.

Just as the silverette was going to ram into Tsuna who was calmly sitting down in his chair, the brunette grasped the other's arm with soft precision. Using his other hand, he gently palmed Hayato's stomach which, adding to the momentum of him charging, caused him to flip into the air, his legs forming a graceful arc. In a split second later, Hayato changed from a raging storm that was going to beat the crap out of Mukuro, to a stunned octopus standing upright on the other side of Tsuna's office chair.

Hayato blinked. He was sure he was going to bang right into Tsuna, yet he was standing still, completely balanced, next to him. "Gah." He felt as if he went to heaven and back for a moment. 'JUUDAIME JUST DID SOMETHING AMAZING! A-and…woah…' He swayed on his legs before staggering forwards, slumping against the wall next to the loathed pineapple. His resentment for him hasn't ebbed away just yet.

"Juudaime, why do you still trust this guy? He might turn out like Daemon." He fumed. "He's going to grab your body and betray us." Hayato has been extremely touchy about this subject ever since Daemon's 'visit', and no one really blamed him for suspecting Mukuro, but that doesn't mean they agree with him either.

Tsuna glanced at Hayato, unhanding Hayato's arm as he previously staggered away, and smiled slightly. "Gokudera, it's ok. Mukuro isn't Daemon." He stated firmly. "I trust him, like I do with all of you too."

Hayato side-glanced with minor embarrassment, forming a small pout on his lips. He was Tsuna's all-knowing right hand man yet his boss was indirectly pointing out his flaws. He pressed his brows down, forming a flustered frown. Instead of wallowing in his discomfiture, he averted his attention to Mukuro. "Tch, If only I can punch you in the face for what you've done."

"Please, no violence." Tsuna exclaimed wryly, "Hibari, I'm sorry for making you go to Japan. So please calm down." He wheeled himself back to his table and rested his elbows on top, a boss-like posture.

Hibari indeed did look like he was going murder the entire population of pineapples, face twisted into a ruthless growl, mouth pulled into a line as taught as a drawn bow. But the hunter instincts in him clicked, telling him that if he doesn't settle down he will be the one hunted instead.

Tsuna held the video conference as a meeting, not a simple gathering and he's about had enough of the drama. As nice and caring as he is, his years as boss made him somehow relentless.

"Chrome, we'll discuss your trip to Russia later on, but for now, please come out. I need your opinion on this matter too." - 'Because we're a family, after all. I can't leave you out even if Mukuro's already here.'

Reborn gave an impressed grunt, and Yuni could be heard 'wowing' in the background at how boss-like Tsuna acted just then. It was like Tsuna had finally turned into a decent boss. They seemed to have moved from the noisy casino to a place without all the interfering cacophony.

A female appeared out from a cluster purple mist, similar to Mukuro's, and nodded her head with acknowledgement towards everyone. "Bossu…we're back. The information we received was odd." She informed briefly. Chrome, dressed in her light purple spring casual wear, took her respective place next Mukuro.

A few seconds of impregnable silence passed, but Takeshi broke it. "Hmm," he hummed, leaning back in his comfy and spacious first-class seat. "I guess it's only Sasagawa senpai now." He indicated unobtrusively.

"Tch, stupid turf-top." Hayato rested a leg across the other and crossed his arms. "Keeping us waiting." He muttered.

"Well, he is the busiest out of all of us, being the 'healer' and all. He's been travelling to places to people in desperate need of being healed." Tsuna defended his sun guardian righteously. Ryohei was indeed the busiest out of all of them, excluding Tsuna of course. Tsuna was busy, but just not in a way where he used his flames excessively until his body gave out.

As if coincidences have graced the Vongola for the day, Tsuna's phone rang, buzzing obnoxiously loud on the table. He instinctively reached out for his phone, thinking, 'whoever is calling my personal number…something must've happened to them.' He nearly dropped it when he saw that it was Ryohei calling.

This meant something bad. His guardians would only call him in the case of extreme situations, and when he means extreme, he means fractured bones, internal and external bleeding, things aren't going as planned, war or possibly even a kidnapper bantering for something in exchange for a hostage – i.e, one of his guardians.

He was almost afraid to pick up, but if he didn't he would possibly be putting a life in danger. Ryohei's life. Tsuna would rather jump off a cliff all chained up rather than putting his guardians in danger.

His family is everything to him, his treasure, his pride, his hope, his life.

Before the phone would fully slip out his hand due to how weak and shaky it got all of a sudden, he pushed his finger resolutely down on the big, fat, green button, almost like the judgement swing of a gavel. He brought his hand up hesitantly, pressing the phone lightly against his ear.

The guardians may seem completely uncaring towards each other's wellbeing and hardhearted, not considerate and being complete assholes when someone did something they didn't like (excluding Tsuna himself, Ryohei and Takeshi; they were always cool with each other), they were quite similar to Tsunderes. They may look constantly pissed on the outside, but inside, they really do care.

Despite everyone's stern expression, each of them fidgeted slightly in some way when Tsuna reached for his ringing phone.

Tsuna opened his mouth, hesitating and taking in a breath before shakily breathing out, introducing himself over the phone. "H-hello, Sawada Tsunayoshi spea-" But before he could finish it, a voice erupted from the phone, cutting in.

"Ah! Good afternoon to the EXTREME Sawada!..." A belated, flamboyant and loud voice shouted louder than needed. "I apologise for calling you instead of EXTREMELY finding my laptop-" a stifled loud yawn rang through, breaking the sentence. "I'm feeling too EXTREMELY tired right now…to even keep my eyes open."

Hearing the voice of his energetic sun guardian being completely fine (only a little tired – actually, maybe very tired), and not writhing in pain, lifted ten tonnes from his shoulders and heart. He sighed, eyes fluttering to a close in pure relief.

Though, he wasn't particularly glad that Ryohei was tired to the point where he can't even keep his eyes open, considering how much of a lively and energetic person he is.

"It's…it's fine. Oh god Ryohei, you gave me a huge scare just then." Tsuna let your breath out of relief. He slouched back into his chair, shaking subsiding a little. "I'll connect you to the interface, give me a sec…"

With great effort, he heaved himself from his seat and walked over to a slick black box with cables protruding from it. He found the cable that could connect with his phone and plugged it in. Within a few milliseconds, the link was secured and an audio-only interface appeared on one of the monitors.

The guardians calmed down too; Hayato took in a slow breath, then exhaling just as slowly, body relaxing against the wall. Hibari leant back and propped back a hand, looking his usual 'Don't annoy me' resting face though his gaze was still sending death threats to the idiotic long-haired pineapple. Mukuro only smirked, as mysterious as ever. Takeshi gave a distinct sigh before putting on a smile again.

"Ahh…Sorry for being late guys, I just arrived at the hotel EXTREMELY tired." Ryohei exclaimed stridently, though obviously sounding very weary. There was a faint ruffle, the sound of a wooden chair being dragged then a 'plop'.

"Ok, well then." Tsuna returned to his seat, gracefully sitting down and finally taking out the envelope after nearly half an hour of waiting in his inner breast pocket. "Gokudera. Come here." He called imperatively, holding out the letter out to him. "The meeting is now starting."

Hayato pushed himself from the wall and uncrossed his arms, slipping out his reading glasses. He stood sternly next his boss and took the letter, briskly taking out the letter from the envelope. The room was no longer filled with its previous clatter of triviality, instead, the atmosphere did a 180 and it was now saturated with formality.

And Hayato started reading.

It was around 6 PM when Ryohei woke up again, and by then the meeting had finished ages ago. Streaks of elongated light which had found its way past the curtains marred the carpet, almost like fresh scars against skin. The sun guardian found himself slumped on top of the roll-top desk which he sat at just after he called Tsuna.

Ryohei uttered a small groan as he lifted his head up, and it felt like lead. "Ahh…I must have EXTREMELY fallen asleep during the meeting..." he pointed out to himself. He could feel himself dozing off again, back to the wonderful realm of sleep, but he wasn't going to let that happen just yet, not until he checks his phone for important messages.

Slapping his bandaged hands to his face with force, he made sure his cheeks stung enough to keep him awake. Tiredly reaching out a hand, he slowly reached out for his phone and reeled it back in as if his hand was a fishing rod that has caught a big and adamant fish.

He sluggishly manoeuvred his fingers around the edge, searching for the power button, and when he finally found it, he pushed. The screen immediately burst on, streaming with blinding light.

"Gah! Too bright!"

He squinted and indeed, there were messages. Quite a few messages from Hayato about the content of the meeting which he missed half of, and surprisingly, one from Takeshi.

Takeshi never texts. He usually doesn't have much to say, and if so, he would use some other sort of media.

'Well, this better be something EXTREMELY interesting…'

He selected Takeshi's message, inputted his million letter long password, and then read.

I have a bad feeling about Tsuna going to the meeting. Get back to the Vongola mansion as soon as possible. I think we need a doctor on site just in case…

'We need a doctor.' Was the first thing Ryohei noticed. He was definitely confused. But over the years, he's learnt that Takeshi had the potential as a hitman, possibly even as strong as Reborn, and he's possibly even more observant than an eagle.

Touché! I get that organised early tom morn.

Before his eyelids' muscles were going to give out, he put one last effort into pressing 'send' and as he did, his head helplessly clashed with the table top, returning to his long, tiresome journey of replenishing his flames.

Depending on how much I write, next chapter will be quite eventful ;P It will take about 2 – 3 weeks, as assignments are drowning me.

Shoutout #2

- Human Burrito buddies for life!

Have a shoutout? Pls add it to the end of your comment.

Fanart…? Nah…I'm asking too much from you guys '/3/' Please do email them to me at [email protected] ! Anything is fine (Maybe a depiction of me…actually nah, for some reason I imagine me as a bubble popping and meeting the end of my short bubble life DX)

Comments and thoughts on this would be absolutely great!

-Bubblesss

#vongola decimo #vongola #sawada tsunayoshi #gokudera hayato #yamamoto takeshi #katekyo hitman reborn #giotto #Skyfall - Angoscia #not bothered to do the remaining tags

1 note · View note

enigmaticpink · 4 years ago

Note

scott has always been shitty, people have just ignored it until this came out. he has constantly worked with and paid bigots, his artists for example and a couple of people in his little fanverse project (people are ignoring their actions and bigoted behavior atm as well. can't wait till that gets big too).

he's very involved with his fandom, even to the point where he's acknowledged the fan p*rn and hate he receives. so it's most likely he's aware of this and the constant discrimination & bigotry in his fanbase.

scott's bigorty is hinted in his work and negligence. it's telling why he ignores the hatefulness towards minorities in his own fanbase. it's telling why he allowed his artists to insert their fatphobic & transphobic views into his franchise, allowed writers to go ahead with the offensive and godawful 'representation' in his books, why even HE created a character that's literally a racist caricature

People continuously baby and coddle this forty yr old white man just because he made their fave horror game. who cares if he donated to charities before all this, this doesn't change the fact that he also donated thousands just to have many people like me killed. he's literally old enough to know what he's doing, old enough to do his research. he knows that his racist white reddit community are always going to back him up, that's why he expresses no care in his actions

he uses us minorities as money machines, and we're literally nothing more to him. and it's ashamed that i'm even seeing people like me sticking up for his shitty actions. idc if he changes or not. he's done far too much damage to be forgiven. and it's a shame that there are people (mostly white mind you) that are saying they would forgive him even if he apologized (which he stated he wouldn't anyway)

fuck scott and all his redditor freaks. i hope his ass does choose to retire he won't be missed

I agree, and it's becoming really tiring to see people defend him. You're right, he's being straight up babied.

It's been becoming increasingly obvious that he doesn't give a shit about the minorities in the fandom, but so many want to turn a blind eye to it, because they don't guts to be acknowledge that the creator of something they like is actually kind of terrible.

I think alot of people who are defending him now are doing so because they want to continue enjoying the games without so much as a critical thought because they don't know how to say "hey I really like this series/this series means alot to me but I know the creator is actually really terrible so maybe I should stop financially supporting him and be more critical of my interest in this thing" and they're willing to through lgbt and minority people under the bus for their interests.

#and of course there's the ones who straight up hate minorites and are just jumping to defend scott bcus they share his shitty views #asks

11 notes · View notes

jacknicholson1963 · 7 years ago

Text

Bargain basement Type 31e – the Lidl frigate or an industrial miracle?

The RN published its outline specification for the Type 31e on 7th September this year. The £250 Million-per-ship price cap that has been set for the project is remarkable. If the project can deliver a credible ship at this price it would be something of a miracle and represent the most affordable western frigate design on the international market. The goals of Type 31e can therefore either be seen as ambitious ‘blue sky thinking’ or compromised and unachievable.

The new National Shipbuilding Strategy has adopted most of Sir John Parker’s recommendations. Unsurprisingly his most controversial idea that shipbuilding funds should be ring-fenced to avoid uncertainty and delay was not taken up. The NSS is an otherwise sensible document and appears to offer a pathway to expanding UK warship building and getting back into the export business. Sir John argued that economies of scale would drive down costs. With an initial requirement for just 5 ships for the RN, Type 31e will need to attract plenty of export orders if the unit cost is to be reduced and the overall price is to be so tightly constrained.

Defence analyst Francis Tusa has studied UK shipbuilding patterns since 1945 and argues against the whole industrial ethos of Type 31. He says that shipbuilding is most efficiently done by a single company on one large site. He suggests that because ship construction numbers are relatively low, the benefits of competition are outweighed by no single yard having the skills and economies of scale to drive down costs. BAES would probably agree.

The NSS recommendations about internal governance, management and accountability are particularly welcome. However, in the excitement around the new strategy, there has perhaps been too much focus on exports and the build process an not enough on the product.

“To win increased exports sales, ships must instead be designed with exports in mind from the outset… We have set a maximum £250 million per ship price for the Type 31e, as we judge that the capabilities that the UK requires can be accommodated within this limit and that beyond this price the ships would not be attractive to the sector of the export market we are targeting.” (National Shipbuilding Strategy)

No Western nation has built a credible frigate even close to this price. The modular Danish Iver Huitfeld frigates (built 2008-12) at around £300M are closest, but their hulls were built in cheap East European yards and re-used equipment from old ships. The average cost of light frigates in the 3,500 tonne range built in the last decade is around £350M. Germany’s new Braunschweig class corvettes cost approximately £400m each and are certainly not frigates. The successful French warship exporters DCNS are building 5 FTI frigates for the Marine Nationale which are priced in the region of £580m. The FTI intermediate frigate is far cheaper than a Type 26 but represents a sound mid-range design. DCNS agrees with the MoD’s assessment that there is a global requirement for around 40 medium-light frigates in the long term.

The French Frégates de taille intermédiaire (FTI). Pig ugly and more than double the price of Type 31 but a fully credible ASW platform, built to warship standards.

The original Type 31 concept of arresting the spiralling cost of warships was fundamentally sound but delivering an effective ship at the target price appears unachievable. £250M will place the Type 31e at the very bottom of the range for frigates and may well attract foreign buyers with less demanding requirements than most NATO navies. The weak pound could also potentially help export orders for ships actually built in the UK, not just licensing the design and technology for construction abroad. Despite this, by pitching itself towards the budget end of the market, the Type 31e may find itself in competition with cheap Asian warship builders who have much lower overheads than UK yards. If the price has been set at £350M per ship it would be closer to the ‘sweet spot’ offering a balance between price and performance.

Further pressure is added to a very challenging project by the requirement that the first ship must be in service in just 5 year’s time, by 2023. A taught schedule is desirable and the RN needs new frigates quickly. Far too many projects have been delayed, while costs spiralled and the specifications changed but a whole new of level of client discipline and competent project management will be required to meet this target. On top of this, the new ships must be constructed by English yards that have limited recent warship construction experience.

Go big or go home

The outline specification reveals that alarming compromises required to keep within the price cap are already recognised. Most seriously the ship will be constructed to “commercial shipbuilding standards by default”, only “enhanced in places where a clear requirement or benefit exists”. Watertight sub-division, blast protection and redundancy are a big part of what defines a warship. Compromise on this can cost lives in action and may allow the ship to be quickly sunk or crippled by even minor damage. The USS John S. McCain and USS Fitzgerald both suffered very serious collisions with merchant ships in 2017. Both ships are still afloat because they built to full warship construction standards. Real warships can survive to fight another day. Many deficiencies in a warship can be remedied by upgrading equipment over its lifetime but if the hull is not initially constructed to high enough standards, it is virtually impossible to address without rebuilding almost from scratch.

A Point defence missiles system such as Sea Ceptor are ‘optional’ for Type 31e with a CIWS (i.e. Phalanx) as the minimum. Without PDMS the Type 31e would have little vale for escorting other vessels. Anti-ship missiles are also optional and there is no requirement to fit sonar at all. Hull mounted and towed array sonar are ‘desirable’ but not part of the minimum spec. If a frigate is incapable of effectively hunting submarines what exactly is it for?

The RN has always said it does not want a two-tier navy but the frigate plan looks likely to provide exactly that. We appear to have abandoned the middle ground with an exquisite high-end Type 26 and budget low-end Type 31e

At the inception of the Type 31 project, the then First Sea Lord Admiral Zambellas was very clear that the ship must be “credible” – capable of escorting the aircraft carrier and operating in a high threat environment. At the start of discussions, the original ballpark budget must have been more generous, but at the time of writing the RN is facing another swathe of cuts so reducing the future frigate budget by about £500 million was probably an attractive saving. Now retired, and speaking recently Zambellas said “I would be very surprised if they are able to create a properly capable platform for 250 million Pounds”

youtube

Theoretical routes to success

Either the Type 31e will be a corvette dressed up as a frigate, industry must work a miracle or a cost compromise must be reached. The final design will not be selected for at least a year so meaningful judgement on the precise merits of the ship cannot be made at this point. Maybe the MoD has deliberately started low so as to have more flexibility in negotiations. Perhaps the result will be a £250M hull with the main sensors and weapons funded separately. The intention has always been that export customers could select an equipment fit to suit their requirements and budget.

Perhaps the ‘baseline’ Type 31e will be quickly evolved by retrofitting better weapons and sensors. History shows RN warships constructed ‘fitted for, but not with’ equipment rarely ever received the additional items so this approach could be a trap. This route is also not really consistent with the NSS which recommends the RN should aim to keep ships in service for a much shorter period and then sell them on second hand, to be replaced by new construction. Perhaps some of the weaknesses of the platform can be offset by major investment in off-board autonomous systems that give it reach and power beyond its modest conventional equipment fit.

At this early stage there appear to be deep concerns but we fervently hope this innovative project can succeed, balancing benefits to the UK economy with the urgent needs of the RN fleet.

Critics see hole in Royal Navy’s new shipbuilding strategy (FT.com)

Francis Tusa, editor of Defence Analysis, taking about Type 31e (YouTube)

from Save the Royal Navy http://www.savetheroyalnavy.org/bargain-basement-type-31e-the-lidl-frigate-or-an-industrial-miracle/

#Save the Royal Navy

0 notes

davidcdelreal · 7 years ago

Text

How to Retire with $2 Million [Case Study]

$2 million is a lot of money.

But let’s face it, it’s not as much as it was a decade ago.

So when a hopeful retiree approaches me with a nest egg worth $2 million and wants to know if they’ll be able to successfully retire, there isn’t a clear-cut answer as many would think.

There are many factors that go into the equation such as:

Retirement goals

Spending habits

Dependents

Desired retirement location

Health

Investment risk tolerance

And much more

This is what makes financial planning tricky but also a ton of fun because every situation and story is unique.

The following is a sample case study of retirees who are seeking to retire with a nest egg worth $2 million. Some of the details have been changed for their protection.

While this case study focuses on soon-to-be retirees, this should also be an important lesson for any Gen X’er or Gen Y’er wanting to retire one day.

A portfolio worth $2 million does not grow overnight.

And while it may seem impossible for some to attain, it’s very doable with discipline and a plan of attack.

The Petersons' Story

First, here’s some of their back story:

Joseph Peterson is 58 years old, started working for Ameren Corporation at age 24 as a lineman, and is now a Training and Simulation Supervisor – part of Ameren’s Crisis Management Team.

Joseph is looking to retire in four years at the age of 62. Joseph currently has a tax-deferred 401(k) plan worth $671,045. Four years ago Joseph opened a tax-exempt Roth IRA and contributes $6,500 per year – it's worth $28,517 today. Joseph also has a Traditional IRA worth $219,714. Additionally, Joseph has a defined benefit pension plan as part of his employment benefits with Ameren. The current value on the pension plan is $650,000.

Debra Peterson is 57 years old, started working as an RN at 22, and at the age of 30 she quit working to become a full-time stay-at-home mom. Debra stayed at home with her children for 10 years and went back to work at age 40 as an RN.

She has tax-deferred 401(k) plan worth $159,305 through her employer at the hospital. Debra opened a tax-exempt Roth IRA five years ago, and contributes $6,500 per year – it's worth $36,496 today.

Together, Joseph and Debra have a checking account balance of $83,000 and a savings account valued at $153,031.

They currently owe $155,033 on their mortgage, Joseph owes $15,000 on his truck loan, and Debra owes $20,035 on her car loan.

Joseph and Debra have three children: Matt who is 27 years old and works as a line cook in St. Louis; Morgan who is 25 years old, still lives at home, and is in the process of finishing graduate school; and Samantha who is 18 years old and is getting ready to start college. Joseph and Debra are going to pay for Samantha's college education.

Here's a total of their assets and liabilities:

Assets: $2,001,108

Liabilities: $315,068

Total: $1,811,040

Joseph and Debra wish to have $90,000 per year for retirement and have certain goals they wish to fulfill while living comfortably in retirement.

First, when Joseph retires he plans to spend $25,000 to buy a new car for his son Matt, and then two years later $25,000 to buy a new car for his daughter Morgan, and then four years from now $25,000 to buy a car for Samantha.

Joseph and Debra also want to start traveling as soon as Joseph retires so they plan to have $10,000 budgeted per year to travel for 10 years straight. They wish to travel to Italy, Rome, and Greece together. They also want to take their children to New Zealand.

In 2023, five years after Joseph retires, he plans to buy a lakeside cabin for him and his family where they can spend their summers. He plans to spend $30,000 on the cabin.

Our Unique Process

If one of my clients asks if they can retire with $2 million, we have to go beyond the numbers to find a solid answer.

That’s why before we get begin the number-crunching, I like to get the clients really thinking about retirement and what the next few years is going to look like. Here's the simple question I ask them:

“If we were meeting three years from today – and you were to look back over those three years to today – what has to have happened during that period, both personally and professionally, for you to feel happy about your progress?”

Obviously, their investments' performance and us working together will be a part of this equation, but I want to know more:

What will a typical day look like for them in retirement?

What do they think will keep them the most busy?

What will they be doing in retirement that they are not able to do now?

What are the challenges, opportunities, and strengths that will either help them or prohibit them from achieving these goals?

After they answer some of those questions we dive into the numbers. We use an account aggregator called Blueleaf which allows all our clients to see their entire portfolio in one place. I’m amazed how many people will have multiple 401(k) investment accounts spread out amongst five, six, seven, or eight different institutions, but never look at it under one microscope. That’s what Blueleaf offers.

Initially, we’ll just take a look at their current allocations and then start conducting stress tests to see how those portfolios will hold up over time.

Based on the risk tolerance and their income needs, we determined that Joseph and Debra needed roughly 60% of their investments in stocks and 40% in bonds for the first 10 years of retirement. After some of their goals of buying a timeshare and buying their kids' graduation gifts, then we felt we could tone down the allocation to 40% stocks and 60% bonds (that's what these two graphs represent).

I tell all our clients that the output is only as good as the input so we have to do our best to have a clear understanding of our financial goals and what our income needs are going to be in retirement.

I know this is difficult for some, but it just reinforces how important having some sort of budget is if you want to have a successful retirement.

Are They Going to Make It?

Based on all these numbers, do the Petersons stand a chance? Can they retire with $2 million at Joseph’s desired age of 62? Let’s take a look.

According to our financial planning software, they have a 90% probability of success of achieving this goal.

What exactly does this 90% number represent?

The financial planning software runs 1,000 different scenarios taking a look at every single market that we’ve experienced, good and bad, and the takes a look at their income needs adjusted for inflation. So based on all of this, they have a 90% chance of succeeding with their goal of not running out of retirement money which would be at Joseph’s age of 95.

In case you’re wondering, this is good news. Typically, we like to see clients in the 85% or above range, so anything in the 90s leaves us feeling pretty confident.

Shortfall Analysis

So is there a chance that they’ll run out of retirement funds? Is there a chance they’ll really run out of money with $2 million in their portfolio?

A shortfall analysis looks at the mean age of when they run out of money based on the 1,000 different simulations.

As you can see, the average age shortfall is 87 which is well past their most crucial years in retirement.

The other factor we’re assuming is that their retirement spending is increasing due to inflation each and every year.

I tell a lot of clients that usually retirement spending is more like a bell curve where the first couple of years they're spending much more of their retirement nest egg.

After the first years of traveling and doing things that they've been waiting to do in retirement the bell curve starts to decline and their spending decreases. This is typically the case, but usually predicting the future isn't easy.

The Tricky Business of Prediction

As you can see, there are many factors that go into prediction. Predicting the most plausible performance of a portfolio is no easy task. In fact, it's tricky business.

Thankfully, there are a number of tools available that can help financial advisors give the best possible advice to their clients. But the problem is that many of these tools are underused and the right questions usually aren't being asked.

Consider this, too: Just because a certain investment performed a certain way for a certain number of years, that doesn't mean the investment will perform similarly in the future. Past performance is not directly correlated to future performance. It can be easy for clients – not to mention financial advisors – to forget this and make assumptions without considering all the possible consequences of a particular action.

That's why when I sit down with clients I remind them that even though there may be a high degree of certainty of this or that outcome, there is still a possibility that a different outcome may come to pass.

While there's no way to predict the future with 100% accuracy, one may become better at prediction by considering all of the known factors such as planned vacation time, major purchases, and more.

Financial Advisors Who Promise Fantastic Gains

I, for one, am always careful when suggesting future performance of a fund. Scott Beaulier writing for Forbes has it right when he asserts:

“Just” being average in the world of finance is actually being pretty darn good.

If you hear a financial advisor claim they can consistently get you a 12% return year after year, that might be just one of many reasons you should fire them and run the other direction.

The Petersons have a good chance at living the retirement dream they envisioned, but if I were to cast their projections into a more favorable light, I would probably be giving them too much confidence. The truth is, there is a chance that they might run into unexpected setbacks. It's not likely, but it's possible, and they need to know that.

Find a Financial Advisor Who Discloses Risks and Makes a Plan

Can the Petersons have a comfortable retirement with $2 million? Most likely, yes. But they need to understand the risks involved, as little as they may be.

Can you retire with $2 million? How about $1 million? Mitch Tuchman writing for Forbes says:

You can retire with a million dollars – or any other amount – by setting your sights on a goal and taking saving seriously. A well-designed investment portfolio will get you there, almost inevitably.

The key words here are that you need a “well-designed” investment portfolio. How do you get one of those?

Sit down with a professional, make sure they consider as many variables as possible, and design a plan. Take your time when you're asking yourself if you can retire with any particular amount of money – you can't afford to get it wrong. You can also check out our unique financial planning process The Financial Success Blueprint.

The post How to Retire with $2 Million [Case Study] appeared first on Good Financial Cents.

from All About Insurance https://www.goodfinancialcents.com/retire-with-2-million

0 notes