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mareastrorum · 2 years ago

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WIP Wednesday: TF&TS Scene

This will probably be my only WIP Wednesday because I’ve got the one story, but here’s a scene from a longfic I am working on. It is abbreviated TF&TS for now, though I’ll finalize the title later. I expect to start posting chapters once every 1-2 weeks beginning around June or July. I want to build enough buffer for regular updates.

Fanfic Summary: Mollymauk Tealeaf survived the encounter with the Iron Shepherds, but a short time later, a spirit had begun hunting him, claiming that he stole his body. This Campaign 2 AU begins with Episode 26 and continues on from there.

Of course, this inherently has spoilers, so you have been warned. I hope you enjoy it!

Chief Engineer Gren Copperfall was quite proud of his track record at the Hupperdook Assembly Yard. That, his gnomish intellect, and his expertise with brumestone were why he had earned the lead position on the Dwendalian Empire’s latest pet project.

When they handed Gren a design, he made it real, always better than they had planned. His team primed a prototype two weeks ahead of schedule, caught potential pitfalls before they caused any problems, and were prepared to proliferate a pack of copies once they received a military requisition. Gren’s team had passed every audit with perfect reviews, as predicted.

Which is precisely why he was perturbed to hear that yet another officer from Rexxentrum had decided to show up unannounced for a surprise inspection.

Gren made his way across the massive tent to the entrance, shaking out his annoyance before meeting with whatever high-and-mighty bureaucrat decided they needed to see this project up close. Half of them pulled this stunt just to get a sneak peak at the latest and greatest coming out of Hupperdook. Gren was certain he would have cut almost a day—maybe two!—out of the construction time if he had been allowed to tell them off.

The trio was easy to spot at a distance. They were just permitted entry by the guards at the front, now looking up at Gren’s masterpiece. A red-headed human dressed in a formal Righteous Brand officer’s red and yellow uniform, more suitable for a parade than the battlefield. Then an elf and a halfling, each dressed in proper military garb, weapons at their sides and on their backs. All three looked bored, as if they did not want to be there. They weren’t even impressed!

Perhaps this was a legitimate inspection after all.

“Well, we shall plan accordingly,” the Bright Queen said once the Mighty Nein had provided their information to the court. “They will rue the day they tried to assail us on their terms.”

Gren did not understand the meaning, but he recognized that the human started barking things out in Zemnian.

Oh gods, a Zemnian bureaucrat. This was going to be terrible. And boring. And thorough. And waste so much time.

By the time Gren walked up to the group, the officer was already badgering some of Gren’s assistants to start the walkthrough. He did not even look up at them while speaking. The man just read something off of a stack of papers. So rude.

“Excuse me, sir, I am Gren Copperfall, the Chief Engineer for Project Albatross,” Gren interrupted. “I understand you are here for an inspection, sir?”

“Hallo, I am Captain Leucht Jäger,” the Zemnian responded in a flat voice and a thick accent, casting only a brief glance down at Gren before he handed down several papers. “You are correct. Let’s be quick about it, ja?”

Gren hesitated a moment. He thought he saw a red light in the captain’s eyes, but no, they were just an icy blue, almost silver. They must have caught the reflection of something.

“May I be so humble to ask what that plan might include?” Beau asked.

Gren did not appreciate the attitude, but considering that this bureaucrat wanted to be quick, he could forgive some impropriety. The documents looked to be in order. Oh, he had been delayed in arriving, and he had a short deadline to return to Rexxentrum. This wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Now that Gren was closer, the two guards the captain had brought with him looked more sick of the officer than anything else. Well, spending a week with someone that dour would probably do the same to anyone.

“A walk-and-talk then, sir? This way,” Gren replied as he turned and waved frantically to his assistants. “Go prepare for launch, we’re doing a test flight A-S-A-P!”

“That is not of your concern,” the Bright Queen replied, “but we appreciate your diligence in offering us this information.”

“O-oh, uh, sir, but,” one of the assistants replied (Gren always forgot her actual name, but she was Pigtails), “we’ve been loading supplies to do that long-distance test today. Should we tell the crew to stop loading? They’re almost done though.”

“Ah, right, just finish it quickly, we’ll do that as soon as the inspection is done,” Gren replied as he led the captain away. Pigtails nodded and ran off, calling out orders to the team.

The captain was staring Gren down when he looked back at the trio.

“If I may offer one more word, my lady?” Beau added cautiously. “Being of the Empire, what we can for sure tell you is that they do not take kindly to being bested or embarrassed and they will retaliate with the full force of everything they've been working towards.”

“Apologies, you caught us right before we were going to do a long-distance flight test,” Gren explained with an ameliatory smile. “As I’m sure you’ve read, Project Albatross is an ambitious experimental skyship that we hope to shift into production within the next month. It’s designed for speed, combat, and distance, and as you can see, we’ve achieved that by making the build much leaner.”

Gren indicated up to the only fully-constructed skyship in the tent, two in-progress builds visible beyond it. Unlike most skyships, which were usually constructed to transport cargo, his Albatross clearly had very limited storage space. It was almost as long as any other skyship, but thin and only had a single deck. However, the stern rose up another twenty or so feet and connected down to the deck at a sloping angle, ending just at the base of the main mast.

A bevy of workers started gathering around the ship, removing tethers and quickening their pace to load boxes marked with white W on the side. Two armed guards escorted some workers carrying a single iron chest marked with a green R.

“As you can see, an Albatross features a sharp deadrise hull to minimize drag, and in the event of a water landing, to ensure a quick pace at sea,” Gren continued, indicating the dramatically pointed hull as they walked towards the bow.

“If I am correct in my beliefs, this is retaliation for our retaliation,” the Bright Queen noted.

Gren pointed out the stands holding the skyship upright, “The ground landings can be a bit tricky because of the need for support beams, but they are easily deployed from the ship itself, and the ship can hover via brumestone until they are in position.”

He continued his usual rant about the ship’s design, which he had memorized after the tenth time doing it. The trio still looked bored, but Captain Jäger made some notes on his papers as they went.

Gren spotted two rather burly workers, a tabaxi and a really tall human (maybe?), carrying crates up the planks rather than using ropes to lift, but he supposed that made sense given that they needed to be quick.

“Yes, it's a lot of retaliation,” Beau agreed.

“There are three key prototype features that we have been testing on this initial model,” Gren explained as they walked up several ramps to the deck. “First and foremost, there are five modified brumestone crystals built into the stern, designed to provide ‘thrust’ to propel the skyship forward rather than just allow the ship to hover. Of course, there are four normal brumestone crystals built into the hull for typical skyship hover-flight.”

“This will continue until one side cannot retaliate,” the Bright Queen responded, “and we hope with a swift enough and well-planned plot laid out with this information, perhaps we can keep them from being able to retaliate for some time.”

“Second, there is the arcane engine, which is designed to consume an experimental fuel—primarily made from whitestone or residuum—to power the modified crystals, allowing for a consistent rate of twenty-five miles per hour and bursts of up to fifty miles per hour, respectively, not taking wind speed into account. As you know, the average skyship can only manage ten miles per hour safely. Third, the masts feature collapsible yardarms and several sails designed to withstand greater wind speed and high altitudes, particularly useful for long-distance flights, all controlled remotely from the helm. They are even enchanted to change color between white and black to avoid detection, day or night.”

It bothered Gren that he had to list the wizards’ contributions to the project before his own, but they all knew none of it would have worked without a properly designed skyship to hold everything together. That engine could power modified brumestone all damn day, and it wouldn’t do anything useful if his ship wasn’t stable enough to maintain direction or hold itself together while going at high speed.

And those sails! They were gorgeous! He even designed some of them off of a splendens fish fin for added elegance, but no, all the Rexxentrum elite cared about was wizards. Damn Assembly.

As they reached the deck, Gren could see that most workers had left the fuel crates on the deck for the two larger grunts to pick up and bring below. Good, that would minimize the number of workers in the way. Now that Gren got a second look, that wasn’t a human, that was a goliath. Well, all the better to do the heavy lifting.

“I am no war strategist or battle advisor,” Beau began, “but if you want to live for this vendetta and to retaliate another day, I would highly consider evacuating your troops from Ashguard Garrison and defending amongst the border.”

Gren briefly showed the trio the quick access to the engine room through the hatchway openings on the main deck, which could be covered and secured when flying at high speeds. He then herded them towards the helm room, which was built into the abnormally tall stern with a door on both the right and the left side. There was a massive glass window halfway up the front with a barely perceptible green hue, allowing them to see inside.

The two guards at the helm room saluted Gren and Captain Jäger, then one opened the left door outward for them. Gren walked in, admiring the brain of his ship for a moment. He never tired of looking at the piping and mechanics built into the walls of the lower room. The engineers stayed below to observe and record during each test, while the crew worked elsewhere. Everyone else loved the helm room or the engine room, but this was Gren’s favorite part of the ship.

“After the inspection, we planned to do a long-distance test flight to and from the Wuyun Gates in a single day,” Gren continued. “We’ve loaded more fuel than necessary, enough for a few trips at maximum speed and some additional uses that I’ll cover in a bit. But it is best to have too much rather than trying to obtain rare fuel in the middle of nowhere if anything were to go awry. In the event that a crew runs out of fuel, they can still pilot as a normal skyship, though its speed will max out at perhaps fifteen miles per hour in good weather.”

“Trust that we do have military advisors,” the Bright Queen insisted. “We have individuals who have dedicated their entire existence and multiple lives to being tacticians on the battlefield. But you mentioned Scourgers. What can you tell me about these Scourgers?”

As they ascended the narrow stairs, Gren went on, “However, we have two more scheduled tests for the engine before any additional engines can be constructed for subsequent ships. For now, this baby is one-of-a-kind.”

The first thing anyone ever noticed was the view out the massive window to the front of the ship and a smaller window to the back. A helm room with windows!

Then there were the control panels on each side of the helm with several levers and gauges. The simplicity belied the complex mechanisms used to remotely control each of the many sails, eliminating the need for a rigger except in the event of serious structural damage.

In fact, the ship could operate on a skeleton crew of just two: one to steer and the other to operate the engine during high speed flight or to act as a gunner when the ship had slowed to attack speeds. Of course, a crew of at least four was recommended, as redundancy was always encouraged for experimental technologies, plus they should always have an engineer on board in case of emergencies.

Oh, Gren had said most of that aloud and not noticed. Well, it was important, and they should know it. Damn wizards demanding that he leave out details about his engineering marvel.

He should’ve stopped thinking out loud.

“I know a fair amount,” Caleb began. “Years ago, I was training to be one. I-I made it quite far in the process before I was cast out. B-but I know things.”

“Anyway, if you’ll stand at the helm, you’ll see that there is actually a glass panel to view the engine room from here,” Gren droned on as he walked to the panel that was partially built into the floor that displayed a frontal view of a metal contraption built into a wall rather than the floor below. “We arranged a set of mirrors so the engine room and helm room can see each other. There is a call box in each room so the helmsman can communicate with the crew. The glass panels are also reinforced magically to ensure that it can withstand combat, explosions, and high wind speed. Those stairs at the back of the room lead further down to the engine room, storage, mess, and crew’s quarters. It’s a very barebones layout, intended for combat missions only.”

Captain Jäger stood at the helm and looked it over, as well as through the panels. He seemed satisfied, even interested for a Zemnian. Meaning that he looked neutral instead of bored.

Caleb continued, “And I know I'm retreading past ground, but I hope that as you protect your people and your kingdom, you will consider instead of utter destruction, there are people on the other side of those mountains who are not happy with the ones running the show.”

Gren went on to his usual explanation of the need to seal the helm room and deck at high speeds, the various levers and controls for the sails and yardarms, the reference manuals that he wrote in plain Common (but a crew really wouldn’t need them, it was all so intuitive after a single test flight), and on and on…

And then he could get the last juicy part.

“Finally, there are the two arcane cannons we have built into the ship,” Gren said as he motioned to the oversized bow, visible through the window. “One can be lifted up from the hold, moved on wheels, and affixed to either side of the ship. The other is built into the front of the bow, capable of shooting ahead in a 120 degree arc. Either is capable of firing lightning or, well, fire, at an accurate distance of up to 100 feet or 150 feet, respectively. They both operate using the same cartridges as the engine, so the crew needs to ration them out accordingly, but each whitestone cartridge has enough power for ten shots. We included the extra fuel I mentioned just in case there’s some need for combat, but it’s really just a precaution given our planned route. Finally, each cannon can be operated by a single crewman.”

“Use us,” Caleb insisted. “Use us for your ends. Use us to find this other missing relic. Use us and our contacts to help supplant the Cerberus.”

Gren looked out at the deck and saw that it had been sealed, all the ropes had been removed, and the top of the tent had been pulled open. The mirrors showed the two workers below were organizing the crates to clear space for the crew to operate properly. It was a cozy fit, but six crew, four guards, himself, an extra engineer, and the captain should be comfortable during the test. The ship was designed to quarter up to fifteen anyway. Now he just needed the workers to disembark and to call up his test crew.

Loud rumbling echoed from below, and the ship shook. An earthquake perhaps? Not uncommon given Hupperdook’s prized volcanic Underbellows, even if it was a little ominous.

No, just a small shake, it would be fine. Yep.

Peachy.

The captain and his guards looked up, then through the window, concerned.

Gren waited a moment for the ship to settle before speaking assuringly, “Ah, that happens sometimes. Nothing to worry about! Just some typical seismic activity in this area and definitely not a volcano erupting. That would just be, haha—no, no, we’re good.”

“We can help you break the cycle,” Beau added.

There was another, stronger shift as the rumbling returned, boisterous and continuous. Then Gren heard screaming. There shouldn’t have been screaming.

Oh gods, it was finally happening, Gren never wanted to live near a volcano, he told Pofan, he told him that was the worst decision they ever made, but no, he wanted to live near famil—

The rumbling overlapped, multiple sources below, and getting closer. Suddenly, a burst of dirt and stone shot from the starboard, pelting the deck with debris as a trilling roar filled the air, then a second, then a third. Then chirping, overlapping buzzing louder and louder, so much like a swarm of crickets.

Gren swore he saw a column of lava rise up, visible just at the right edge of the helm room window. It tore through the side of the tent. But lava was not purple and did not have yellow teeth and spikes.

No, that’s a worm. That’s a purple worm.

“Krick attack! To arms!” someone bellowed from below, barely perceptible over the din of screaming workers, roaring worms, and shrilling crickets.

“The cycle cannot be broken, until there is nothing living,” the Bright Queen responded somberly.

“It sounds like it is time for an emergency launch, ja?” Captain Jäger said with a hint of urgency. Maybe that was how Zemnians panic. “Get to it.”

“R-right, yeah,” Gren replied, frozen a moment before he slapped himself and got to work initiating the launch. “Make sure the engine room is secure! We’re going to need speed!”

Gren quickly activated the brumestone crystals in the hull as the captain’s guards rushed down the stairs and the captain went after them. As it began lifting, he reviewed the panel to confirm that all systems were normal and that the yardarms were secured.

Once the ship had lifted several feet, Gren triggered the pulleys to retract the landing struts onto their horizontal resting place parallel with the bulwark. He heard the mechanism loudly turn and lock in place.

It would take perhaps half a minute to lift out of the tent, and then they could activate the engine and rush away from whatever chaos the Kryn were unleashing.

It’d be fine. Totally fine. The skyship’s fast.

“All we can do is our best to keep it slow.”

“Open the door on the wall!” Gren barked rapidly into the mouthpiece by the left panel while watching the mirror network. “As soon as you see out that window that we are passing the lip of the tent, add one cartridge of whitestone fuel to the opening, seal the door, and flip the left-most lever!”

The guards and workers in the engine room started at Gren’s voice, but the tabaxi and goliath quickly began opening a whitestone crate to pull out a cartridge. The elf kept an eye out a port window. The halfling opened the engine intake and looked over the rest of the controls.

Good. Gren had only mostly recited the manual he wrote, so it seems it really was plain enough Common for anyone to figure it out. He also heard the doors below locking, likely done by the captain. At least he was helping. Better than most bureaucrats would do, anyway.

The ship was not yet halfway to the top of the tent when a single cricket’s chirping intensified.

Through the window, Gren saw a flash of silver and purple as a Kryn soldier covered in chitinous armor landed on the deck below, their purple cloak swirling behind them. They wielded a massive glaive, with a shield strapped to their back and a sword hanging at their side.

The two Righteous Brand soldiers guarding the doors charged with weapons drawn, but the Kryn felled both in six sweeping slashes, cutting them down as sprays of gore painted the deck.

“Why can’t the cycle be broken?” Jester asked.

Gren froze and stared through the glass. It happened so fast. Just a few seconds for one Kryn to kill two soldiers.

And then the Kryn looked up. They vaulted onto the main mast and leapt off it into the air towards the window. Immediately after the jump, a shadow apparated inside the room, a gray copy of the Kryn mere inches in front of Gren.

It was looking at him.

Gren had to run, had to move, but he could not get his body to do anything. Where would he even go?

The Kryn switched places with their shadow (how did they do that? Gren thought that was made up, that’s ridiculous), impaled Gren on the glaive, then flung him to the side in one fluid movement. He couldn’t even scream as he bounced off the wall and collapsed.

It hurt. More than Gren ever imagined what he could suffer, it hurt, it stung and it was sharp, even with the blade gone. The world was askew, and his own blood formed a growing puddle on the floor. He felt colder, rapidly colder. Oh, this was not what he wanted either. He should have never come to Hupperdook.

“Because life is pain for many,” the Bright Queen explained.

“Fáilte,” another man said blithely.

Gren did not recognize the voice or that word. He shifted his eyes to Captain Jäger, who stood at the head of the stairs as though he had just arrived. No one else had come up, but that had not been a Zemnian accent, nor did it sound like that language.

The Kryn stared down the captain, who had not even drawn a weapon. It was surreal to see the bureaucrat’s spotless decorative uniform of red and gold and the Kryn’s bloodstained armor of purple and silver only a few feet apart.

“Tragic,” the captain commented languidly as he smirked at Gren. ”I had use for that one.”

Gren saw it then. He had been right before. There was a red light in the human’s eyes.

The captain looked back at the Kryn with a smug grin, “Fair trade, I suppose.”

“Jealousy, strife…”

The Kryn did not seem to care, thrusting forward with their glaive to skewer the captain as well and hoisting him up to keep him on the blade. The human almost looked upside-down from Gren’s point of view, crimson spilling from his gut up to the floor.

Bright light suddenly burst from the windows, daylight illuminating the scene clearly.

Gren had difficulty paying attention over the agony, but he was certain he heard a wheezing laugh from the captain. It did not sound right; not a he anymore, an it. Did not sound like a Zemnian, not even like a person.

It got louder. Why did it echo?

The captain gripped the glaive, and black ooze slithered out from his sleeves and hands down the weapon like a snake. Gren felt all the warmth drain from the world in an instant, his own weak breath and the others’ all visibly puffing in the air. The light from the windows dimmed to almost nothing.

“Oh, I like you,” the captain drawled in two layered accents, one Zemnian and agonizing, and the other lilting and predatory. “We’re going to get along so well.”

“Some need to conquer.”

The last sight Gren Copperfall saw before everything went dark was an outpouring of luminescent silver and red glass in inky mist rushing into the air from the captain’s orifices and wound, swarming the Kryn in a horrifying storm of bloodied mirror shards and writhing shadow.

The last sensation he felt—beyond the cold and pain—was the floor sliding below him as the skyship accelerated.

The last sound he heard was two voices laughing in unison.

#wip wednesday #critical role fanfiction #TF&TS #the tombtakers #lucien critical role #lucien nonagon #mollymauk tealeaf #Azazel!Lucien

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dollarbin · 1 year ago

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Dollar Bin #17:

Ian Matthews' If You Saw Thro' My Eyes

I had big plans for this weekend's post. My famous brother has been jawing of late about how I will kneel in perpetual penance before Stephen Stills' altar of jock rock greatness the moment I listen to a Manassas record and I will then declare Stills a rock and roll god. One would think my brother is famous for devilry and nonsense.

Indeed, so confident am I that Stills will forever suck that earlier this week I got down on the weathered floor of my local dollar bin (they know what they're doing in my local shop: all of Stills' records are relegated to a neglected, ground level cardboard box, while The Incredible String Band section towers at chest height over Stephen's treasure chest of trash) and hauled out their cheapest copy of Manassas's debut double album (there were plenty of copies to choose from; no one wants to own Stephen Stills records).

My grand plan was to spend a glorious Friday afternoon playing a drinking game of my own invention wherein I'd drink every time I heard a note that did not suck in Manassas's monster ode to mediocrity and I'd admit to each chug in print. I had no fears about a hangover heading into this adventure; I knew I'd emerge stone cold sober.

Fair Reader, I extend to you my sincerest apologies. You'll simply have to wait, with baited breath, for that future entry. The truth is that moments after gleefully cracking open a cold one and dropping the needle on Side 1 of Stills' pretentious piece of pomposity I heard Stephen open his crack (I honestly could not tell which it was, face or ass) and realized I did not have the spirit for it.

Simply put, the very real terror being inflicted upon our fellow humans in Gaza and Israel makes the musical terror Stills inflicts upon us both unfunny and utterly incidental. Please join me in praying for the safety of all innocent people now living in war zones, most especially the children in harm's way.

So, at least for now, I propose that we put off any further pulverization of the guy who thought it was a great idea to name his new band after the Confederacy's first and greatest victory in the Civil War.

Instead, let's consider some fragile and largely unappreciated beauty by spending time on Ian Matthews' first and greatest solo record, If You Saw Thro' My Eyes.

Nick Drake and Sandy Denny both hold and deserve sainted status in the history of popular song. Almost 50 years after their tragic deaths they remain the yin and yang of cosmic British folk music, their all too brief careers forever marking them as the only true peers we have to Neil Young and Joni Mitchell. Of course all four artists owe a heavy debt to Dylan, but each was also consistently capable of creating something Dylan, for all his greatness, has often chased after fruitlessly: beauty.

A consummate recognizer of genius, Joe Boyd saw Sandy Denny sharing the stage with Matthews in Fairport Convention in 69 and understood all of this. So he decided that Ian Matthews needed to take a hike. Denny and her almost equally talented bandmate, Richard Thompson, both loved Matthews but agreed with Boyd; so Matthews got his walking papers, leaving Sandy gloriously alone before the microphone.

Everybody knows the more famous version of this story: George Harrison similarly traded in his forever bronze medal in The Beatles then went on to make the truly Olympian All Things Must Pass.

But Matthews story is a bit more complicated. Rather than settling down and producing a masterpiece, Matthews acted like a restless, slightly panicked (but still quite handsome!) toad, jumping from scheme to scheme. Between 69 and 74 he founded two entirely separate bands (Matthews Southern Comfort and Plainsong) and put out 7 (!) albums. All are Dollar Bin winners, but only one, 71's curiously spelled If You Saw Thro' My Eyes, is transcendent art.

So let's talk about it!

A good introduction is the album's second track, Hearts.

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Matthews is not considered a songwriting genius; after this record he increasingly turned to covering other artists. But here he shows early equal promise to Young; indeed it's great to listen to Hearts alongside Young's equally tender track Birds, which was recorded just a year earlier. Both songs portray young men setting aside the bruising and dumb elements of their assigned and culturally dominent gender; indeed it's hilarious to compare these songs' equally androginus yearnings with the way an artist like Young was marketed at the time. Just look at the image below.

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All he needs is a bullwhip, a fedora and a groveling look of worship from the babe on his hip to complete the image. But there's no macho macho man to be found in either of these lovely songs, and the gesture is missing from every note of If You Saw Thro' My Eyes.

Even so, there are plenty of men making music on this record and they all shred. That's none other than Richard Thompson you hear bubbling and bending on lead guitar all the way through Hearts, and he is a full contributor throughout the record, lending his unmistakable tone and gesture in ways that are frankly more successful than his contributions to Drake's first two records. Richard may have given Matthews the boot, but the two guys still literally lived together in the same house and clearly understood one another's gifts.

And then there's Keith Tippett. My famous brother will now crawl out from under his Stills' shaped rock of shame to shake his fist at me in exasperation when I admit that I know nothing about this guy. But he's clearly some kind of genius. Listen to his quavering, elemental piano work alongside Thompson's guitar on Never Ending.

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Seriously, why did the 74 zillion people buy Tea For the Tillerman then skip on this record?

And that's none other than Sandy Denny playing the harmonium behind Thompson and Tippett. While in Fairport together, Denny and Matthews either traded off vocals masterfully, as in the band's version of Suzanne, harmonized conventionally around one another or stood to one side altogether while the other sang.

But on this album's title track, If You Saw Thro' My Eyes, they finally learn to lean in together. Like lovers, friends or even enemies, they perch on the opposite banks of some terrible chasm, reaching out palm to palm over the breach to hold one another up. High above turbulent seas we listen as they leave the land and soar away, taking us with them.

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I hope all of you are safe, and I hope you can find some way to reach out in love and peace to someone else this weekend. Even if it's Stephen Stills.

#ian matthews #sandy denny #richard thompson #stephen stills still sucks #Youtube #https://doomandgloomfromthetomb.tumblr.com/

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hot-girls-corner · 1 year ago

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reading books is the greatest hobby y'all, argue with the wall 💅 - 24th August, 2023

BOOK: Unknown | kth

#rr 24th August, 2023 Thursday 1:04 AM

I loved this book so much, i fucking cried at the V gone scene, and the whole book was a great masterpiece, a perfect mix of comedy, romance and action. I fucking loved it and i love YOU author. just marry me at this point bruh-

no like seriously i only have a few favorite books even though i read hundreds and it's in the top <3

love y'all, hopefully i'll read it someday again when i forget about it, i love when i forget books cuz i can reread it :)

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reading books is the greatest hobby y'all, argue with the wall 💅

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books make me feel emotions i didn't knew existed in me.

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I'm going to reread Creation next, the jjk ff. i had teary eyes and a broken heart in Unknown, but Creation made me fucking cry more than i did when i was depressed-

coughs

anyways- so another book that made me cry (very vulgar, sexual and violent stuff) was very memorable and fucked up, which was Just Us, and i swear i fucking don't want to re-read it, it will literally fuck up my mind again. when i first read it, my brain wasn't functioning properly for a few days like wtf-

but ngl the book was great and VERY memorable cuz even after a year i CLEARLY remember it because of the intense and excessive scenes. the last chapter had be crying, and the author was so brutal she didn't even leave any comdic quote and end to cheer me up again so i ended up depressed the whole day… fuck it, i loved it.

Creation had me pretty fucked up for a few days too, but more in a lovesick way, i would cry whenever than scene came up in my mind, and not to mention that i cried for an hour straight after that book ended… like THAT'S what you call true love bitches, argue with the goddamn wall-

i hate when good books come to an end, because my imaginary world fall apart with it

i should start studying physics now, tomorrow is my exam… can't believe i read 54 chapters, a goddamn book, instead of studying a mere chapter of physics for my exam-

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fuck it, i'mma just take a nap for 90 mins then wake up and study, too depressed to do anything now lol

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nvm i ended up sleeping, my exam went average, enough to pass

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i'm re-reading Creation again with my bestie, we started at the same time. I'm loving it lol. 10/10, would highly recommend 😎

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just finished work, 11:30 pm

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lmao sorry i ended up finishing it at around 2 am and i was crying for 2 hours straight 💀💀💀

#dear diary #wattpad #reader #book lover #fanfiction #bts #taehyung #jungkook #exam season #exams

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animebw · 3 years ago

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I think what’s throwing me off about Wonder Egg Priority is that the final episode doesn’t even feel like a finale.

Say what you will about some other legendary botched endings- Charlotte, DarliFra, Promised Neverland, whatever- at least they very clearly are endings. But WEP’s final episode, to borrow one of my Discord friends’ observation, feels more like the first episode of an entirely new season. Not just how how inconclusively it ends, but in how it seems to be setting up entirely new plot threads than what the show was exploring before. And that makes it really hard to parse my complete thoughts, because the show as a whole does not feel complete. It feels like it stopped right in the middle of the action and I should still be anticipating another ten/eleven episodes.

Ironically, the show felt more complete without this new special. The first twelve episodes (including the recap) feel like the season 1 of a show that’s meant to go on for quite a bit longer; even the ending of episode 12 feels like an acceptable cours break in terms of dramatic characterization and plot progression. If that was all the show that existed, I could accept it as done and pretend it’s a tragically unfinished masterpiece that wasn’t picked up for the second season it needed. But episode 13 doesn’t just throw everything out of whack by starting down a different path before grinding to a halt, it does so in a way that makes me second-guess so many of the things I loved about this show in the first place.

And that’s the real sticking point here. Forget just not ending, this special is so jarring and disconnected from the rest of the show that I genuinely don’t know if I can factor it into my overall analysis. The reveals of Koito’s suicide and Neiru’s sister come right the fuck out of nowhere, and the shift of focus away from the battle against Frill to Neiru’s departure is so out of left field that the episode’s plot barely feels connected to the show that came before. It honestly feels like nothing in this episode was part of the initial plan, and the production issues forced the writers to junk their initial idea and pull something else out of their ass, no matter how contrived or nonsensical. How am I supposed to consider this episode part of WEP as a whole when it comes off more like the first episode of a bad sequel to an already-complete first season? Psycho-Pass 2 sucking doesn’t take away from how amazing the original Psycho-Pass was, why should things be any different here?

Except it isn’t actually a sequel, of course. It’s the canon, official ending we’re supposed to accept. But I don’t accept it. I don’t want to accept it.

Because it’s in no way an ending, not even a bad ending.

Because it doesn’t even feel like part of the same story, characters or ideas that the show was about.

Because if I do accept it... then so much of what made Wonder Egg Priority great in the first place is completely and utterly ruined.

Just... fuck, man. This show could have been the face of anime’s future. It could have been one of the greatest things to ever come out of this medium. And now I don’t know what to do with it. Not yet. Maybe I never will. Maybe this will be one of those things I just keep turning over and over in my head and never find a satisfying answer.

Or maybe in a couple years we’ll get End of Eggvangelion and that will fix anything.

Hey, a guy can dream, right?

Anyway, I wish nothing but the best for everyone at Cloverworks who poured their blood, sweat and tears into this show. They went through absolute hell for WEP, and even though the end result was such a mess, they deserve all the respect in the world for their ambition, their passion, and their desire to create something truly special. I can only hope they never have to suffer through a production cycle this nightmarish again, and that the next project they work on fulfills all the incredible promise they’ve shown here.

#anime #the anime binge-watcher #tabw #wonder egg priority #wonder egg #wep

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betterdaysareatoenailaway · 4 years ago

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RANDOM REVIEW #2: ANY GIVEN SUNDAY (1999)

“This game has got to be about more than winning. You’re part of something.” Any Given Sunday (1999), directed by Oliver Stone and featuring Jamie Foxx, Dennis Quaid, Cameron Diaz, Al Pacino, LL Cool J, James Woods, and Matthew Modine, is my favourite sports movie of all time. Of all time.

I’m not betraying my favourite sport by saying this. The Mighty Ducks is a kid’s movie. It’s okay, but it’s not a timeless classic. I don’t like the Slap Shot series, Sudden Death is fun but silly, and the Goon movies were a missed opportunity. The only truly good scene in Goon is the diner scene where Liev Schreiber tells Seann William Scott: “Don’t go trying to be a hockey player. You’ll get your heart ripped out.”

Such is the sad circumstance of the hockey enforcer. They all want to play, not just fight. Here’s a link to a video in which the most feared fighter in the history of the NHL, Bob Probert, explains that he wanted to be “an offensive threat...like Bobby Orr,” not a fighter: https://youtu.be/4sbxejbMH4g?t=118 Heartbreaking. But not unusual.

Donald Brashear, Marty McSorley, Tie Domi, Stu “The Grim Reaper” Grimson, Frazer McLaren: they all had hockey skills. But they were told they had to fight to remain on the roster, so they fought. As Schreiber says in the film: “You know they just want you to bleed, right?” If the players don’t bleed, they don’t get to stay on the team. So they fight, and they pay dearly for it later. Many former fighters have CTE or other head injuries that make day-to-day life difficult. The makers of Goon should have taken that scene and run with it. I was so disappointed they didn’t, especially given what happened right around the time the film came out, with the tragic suicides of Wade Belak, Derek Boogaard, and Rick Rypien, all enforcers, all dead in a single summer. So Hollywood hasn’t even made a good hockey movie, let alone a great one. Baseball has a shitload of good films, probably because the slower pace of play makes it easier to film. Moneyball has a terrific home run scene, Rookie of the Year does too. Angels in the Outfield was a big favourite of mine when I was a kid, plus all the Major League films, and Bull Durham.

Football has two good movies: The Program (1993) and Rudy (1993).

And football has one masterpiece. The one I am writing about today.

A young Oliver Stone trying not to die in Vietnam. ^ Now, I know Stone is laughed at these days, given his nutty conspiracy theories and shitty behaviour and the marked decline in the quality of his films (although 2012’s Savages was underrated). I know Stone is about as subtle as a sledgehammer, but do you want a football movie to be subtle? Baseball, sure. It’s a game of fine distinctions, but football? Football is war. And war is about steamrolling the enemy, distinctions be damned, which is why Any Given Sunday is such an amazing sports film. I love the way it shows the dark side of football. In fact, the film is so dark that the NFL withdrew their support and cooperation, forcing Stone to create a fictitious league and team to portray what he wanted to portray.

This is not to say the movie is fresh or original. Quite the opposite. Any Given Sunday has every single sports film cliché you can think of. But precisely because it tries to stuff every single cliché into its runtime, the finished product is not a cliched mess so much as a rich tapestry, a dense cinema verite depiction of the dizzying highs and depressing lows of a professional sports team as it wins, loses, parties, and staggers its way through a difficult season. Cliché #1: The aging quarterback playing his final year, trying to win one last championship. (Dennis Quaid)

Sample dialog: Dennis Quaid (lying in a hospital bed severely injured): Don’t give up on me coach. Al Pacino: You’re like a son to me. I’ll never give up on you. ^ I know this sounds awful. But it’s actually fuckin’ great. Cliché #2: The arrogant upstart new player who likes hip hop and won’t respect the old regime. (Jamie Foxx)

Cliché #3: The walking wounded veteran who could die if he gets hit one more time. Coincidentally, he needs just one more tackle to make his million-dollar bonus for the season. (Lawrence Taylor)

Cliché #4: The female executive in a man’s world who must assert herself aggressively in order to win the grudging respect of her knuckle-dragging male colleagues (Cameron Diaz). Diaz is fantastic in the role, though she should have had more screen time, given that the main conflict in the film is very much about the new generation, as represented by her and Jamie Foxx, trying to replace the old generation, represented by Al Pacino, Dennis Quaid, Jim Brown, and Lawrence Taylor. Some people think Diaz’s character is too calculating, but here’s the thing: she’s right. Too many sports GMs shell out millions for the player an individual used to be, not the player he presently is. “I am not resigning a 39-year old QB, no matter how good he was,” she tells Pacino’s coach character, and you know what? She’s right. The Leafs’ David Clarkson signing is proof positive of the perils of signing a player based on past performance, not current capability. Diaz’s character is the living embodiment of the question: do you want to win, or do you want to be loyal? Cuz sometimes you can’t do both.

Cliché #5: The team doctor who won’t sacrifice his ethics for the good of the team (Matthew Modine).

Cliché #6: The team doctor who will sacrifice his ethics for the good of the team (James Woods)

Cliché #7: The grizzled, thrice-divorced coach who has sacrificed everything for his football team, to the detriment of his social and familial life, who must give a stirring speech at some point in the film (Al Pacino…who goes out there and gives the all-time greatest sports movie “we must win this game” speech)

Cliché #8: The assistant or associate coach who takes a parental interest in his players, playing the good cop to the head coach’s bad cop (former NFL star Jim Brown).

Best quote: “Who wants to be thinking about blitzes and crossblocks when you’re holding your grandkids in your arms? That’s why I wanna coach high school. Kids don’t know nothing. They just wanna play.”

Cliché #9: The player who can’t stop doing drugs (L.L. Cool J).

Okay, so the first thing that needs to be talked about is Al Pacino’s legendary locker room speech. Now, it’s the coach’s job to rile up and inspire the players. But eloquence alone won’t do it. If you use certain big words, you lose them (remember Brian Burke being endlessly mocked by the Toronto media for using the word “truculent?”). The coach must deliver the message in a language the players understand, while still making victory sound lofty and aspirational. This is not an easy thing to accomplish. One of my favourite inspirational lines was spoken by “Iron” Mike Keenan to the New York Rangers before Game 7 against the Vancouver Canucks in 1994. “Win tonight, and we’ll walk together forever.” Oooh that’s gorgeous. But Pacino’s speech is right up there with it.

“You know, when you get old in life…things get taken from you. That’s parta life. But you only learn that when you start losin’ stuff. You find out…life’s this game of inches. So’s football. In either game – life or football – the margin for error is so small. I mean…one half a step too late or too early and you don’t quite make it…one half second too slow, too fast, you don’t quite catch it. The inches we need are everywhere around us. They’re in every break of the game, every minute, every second. On this team, we fight for that inch. We claw with our fingernails for that inch. Because we know when we add up all those inches that’s gonna make the fuckin difference between winnin’ and losin’! Between livin’ and dyin’!” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m_iKg7nutNY Somehow, against all odds, Any Given Sunday succeeds. It is the Cinderella run of sports movies. You root for the film as you watch it. The dressing room scenes are incredible…the Black players listen to the newest hip hop while a trio of lunkhead white dudes headbang and scream “Hetfield is God.” There is a shower scene where a linebacker, tired of being teased about the size of his penis, tosses his pet alligator into the showers where it terrorizes his tormentors. There is a scene where a halfback has horrible diarrhea, but he’s hooked up to an IV so the doctor (Matthew Modine) has to follow him into the toilet cubicle, crinkling his nose as the player evacuates his bowels. There is a scene where someone loses an eye (the only scene in the film where Stone’s over-the-top approach misses the mark). There are scenes that discuss concussions (which is why the NFL refused to cooperate for the film), where Lawrence Taylor has to sign a waiver absolving the team of responsibility if he is hurt or paralyzed or killed. I wonder how purists and old school football fans reacted to the news that Oliver Stone was making a football film. If they even knew who he was (not totally unlikely…Stone made a string of jingoistic war movies in the 1980s) they probably thought the heavy hands of Oliver would ruin the film, take the poetry out of every play. But the actual football is filmed perfectly. The camera gets nice and low for the tackles. It flies the arcs of perfect spiral passes. It shows the chaos of a defensive line barreling down the field. When Al Pacino asked quarterback Dan Marino (fresh off his own Hollywood experience acting in Ace Ventura: Pet Detective) what it was like to be an NFL QB, Marino said: “Imagine standing on a highway with traffic roaring at you while trying to read Hamlet.” A great explanation. Shoulda made the movie. So the football itself is fabulously done. Much better than what Cameron Crowe did in the few football scenes in Jerry Maguire. The Program had some great football, as did Rudy, but neither come close to the heights of Any Given Sunday. In one of the film’s best scenes, Jamie Foxx insists that his white coaches have routinely placed him in situations where he was doomed to fail or prone to injury, and we believe him because white coaches have been doing that to Black players for decades. Quarterback Doug Williams, who led his Washington Redskins team to a Superbowl victory in 1987, was frequently referred to by even liberal media outlets as a “Black quarterback,” instead of just “quarterback,” as if his skin colour necessitated a qualification. Even now, in 2021, the majority of quarterbacks are white, although the gap is gradually closing. The 2020 season saw the highest number of starting Black quarterbacks, with 10 out of a possible 32. Quarterback is the most cerebral position on the field, and for a long time there was a racist belief that Black men couldn’t do the job. Foxx’s character is a composite of many of the different Black quarterbacks who came of age in the 1990s, fighting for playing time against white QBs beloved by their fan base, fawned over in hagiographic Sports Illustrated profiles, and protected by the good ol’ boys club of team executives and coaching staff. Foxx’s character isn’t demoted because he can’t play the game. He wins several crucial games for his team en route to the playoffs. He’s demoted because he listens to hip hop in the dressing room, because he recorded a rap song and shot a video for it, and because he’s cocky. Yes, the scene where he asks out Cameron Diaz is sexist, as if her power only comes from her sexuality, not her intelligence and business acumen, but it’s meant to show how overly confident Foxx is, not that he’s a sexist prick. Any Given Sunday isn’t a single issue film. It’s basically an omni-protest piece. It gleefully shows football’s dark side, and there is no director better than Oliver Stone for muck-raking. He’s in full-on investigative journalist mode in Any Given Sunday, showing how and why players play through serious brain injuries. How because they are given opiates, often leading to debilitating addictions (this happens in all contact sports...Colorado Avalanche player Marek Svatos overdosed on heroin a few years after retiring from injuries). As to why, Stone gives two reasons. One, team doctors are paid by the team, not the players, therefore their decisions will benefit the team, not the players. And two, the players themselves are encouraged to underreport injuries and play through them because stats are incentivized. James Woods unethical doctor argues with Modine’s idealistic one because an MRI the latter called for a player to have costs the team $20k. But the player in question, Lawrence Taylor, plays anyway because his contract is stat incentivized and if he makes on more tackle he gets a million dollars. Incentivizing stats leads to players playing hurt. And although I loathe this term, a lazy go-to for film critics, Stone really does give an unflinching account of how this shit happens and why. When Williams is inevitably hurt and lying prone on the field, he woozily warns the paramedics who are placing him on a stretcher to “be careful…I’m worth a million dollars.” It’s tragic, yet you’re happy for him. The film really makes you care about these guys. Thanks to the smartly written script, the viewer knows that Williams has four kids, and you’re pleased he made his bonus because, in all likelihood, after he retires, his injuries will prevent him from any kind of gainful employment (naturally, they give the TV analyst jobs to retired white players, unless Williams can somehow land the coveted token Black guy gig). Stone is not above fan service, a populist at heart, and he stuffs the film with former and then-current NFL players, a miraculous stunt given the fact that the NFL revoked their cooperation. Personally, I think this was a good thing because it meant Stone didn’t have to compromise (the league wanted editorial say on all issues pertaining to the league…meaning they would have cut the best storyline, which is the playing hurt one). It also meant that they had to rename the team and the league. While I’m sure this took away from the realism for some fans, I’m cool with it. It also allowed the moviemakers to name the team the Sharks, a perfect name for this roving band of predatory capitalist sports executives. In another example of fan service, the call-girl Pacino’s quintessential lonely workaholic character rents a girlfriend experience from is none other than Elizabeth Berkley of Showgirls, who had been unfairly blacklisted after the titular Verhoven/Esterhaz venture, a movie my wife showed me one day while I was dopesick, which I became so transfixed and mesmerized by that I forgot I was. As mentioned above, the only misstep in the film is one of the offshoots of the Playing Hurt arc, where a player loses an eye on the field. Not because he gets poked, but because he gets hit so hard his eye simply falls out. A medic runs onto the field and puts the white globe on ice. Stone cast a player with a glass eye in order to achieve this effect. No CGI! Still, the scene is unconvincing, a tad too over-the-top. But this is Oliver Stone. At least Any Given Sunday’s sole over-the-top moment is a throwaway scene lasting all of thirty seconds. It easily could have been a secondary plot-line in which government officials try to sneak a Cuban football prodigy out of Castro’s communist stronghold but the player is brutally murdered the morning the officials arrive at his apartment to escort him to the private plane. Or else the team GM is revealed to be a massive international cocaine dealer. Or the tight end is one half of a serial killer couple. The film follows its own advice, focusing more on the players growth, particularly Beamon’s (Foxx). The anonymity of the title, Any Given Sunday, elevates the game, not the players. Thank God, the movie doesn’t force Beamon to assimilate into Pacino’s mold. He buys into the team-first philosophy without renouncing his idiosyncratic POV or his fierce individuality. This is a triumph. One of my biggest problems with sports is the flattening effect it can have on creative individuals. Players take media training in order to sound as alike as possible during media interviews, a long row of stoic giants spouting cliches. It’s boring. Which is why media latch onto a loudmouth, even while they scold him for it. All sports are dying for an intelligent mouthpiece who can explain his motivations in a succinct, sound-bite-friendly, manner. Sports are entertainment. As much as I love Sidney Crosby, in my heart I have to go with Alexander Ovechkin because Ovechkin is far more thrilling, both on and off the ice. Unlike almost every other NHL star before him, all of whom were forced to kneel and kiss Don Cherry’s Rock Em Sock Em ring, Ovechkin defiantly told the media he simply did not care about Cherry or Cherry’s disgusting parental reaction to one of Ovie’s more creative goal celebrations (called a “celly” in the biz). On the play in question, Ovechkin scored the goal, then dropped his stick and mimed warming his hands over it, as if his stick were on fire. As cheesy as the celebration appeared to the naked eye, it’s both a funny and accurate notion. Ovechkin was the hottest scorer in the league for many years and his stick was on fire, metaphorically speaking. The only celly I can think of that matches up in terms of creativity and entertainment value came from Teemu Selanne in 1993, who scored a beauty of a goal, threw one of his gloves straight up into the air, then pumped his stick like a shotgun while “shooting” his glove. Of course, Cherry took exception to it. Cherry’s favourite goal celebration features Bobby Orr putting his head down and refraining from raising his hands over his head. Cherry’s idea of an appropriate goal celly is no celly at all. This from a man who claims “we’ve got to sell our game.” But when an arrogant player shows up and he’s not white, he’s in for a shitload of bad press. Foxx’s Beamon illustrates this beautifully when he yells at Pacino after Pacino cuts him for an older QB who has lost four games this season. “Don’t play that racism card with me,” Pacino warns. “Okay…okay…” Foxx nods, “Maybe it’s not racism. Maybe it’s ‘placism’…as in…a brother got to know his place.”

youtube

Here is the original theatrical trailer, featuring Garbage’s classic “Push It.”

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Above Lawrence Taylor begs Matthew Modine for Cortazone. There’s also a great scene where Pacino is trying to figure out where he has gone wrong and Diaz just looks at him. “You got old,” she says simply. No enterprise is more cruel to an aging human being than sports. And this movie makes football a big giant corporate machine that chews players up and spits them out, injured and drug addicted, after four or five years. Those who play for a decade are lucky. This is still how the NFL works. And the NHL is increasingly becoming a young man’s game. Experience matters less and less.

When I started watching hockey in the 90s, players regularly competed into their late 30s. Not so anymore. Players peak at 23-24 now, and are often out of the league by age 35. Thornton and Chelois are exceptions, not the rule. After more than two hours, Any Given Sunday finally lurches across the finish line, bravely refusing to give its viewers a traditional happy ending, in the great tradition of underdog sports films like Rocky and Rudy. The bombshell dropped by Pacino’s character at the end feels less surprising than inevitable, but by now the movie has explored so much of professional sports' seedy underbelly that you're glad it's over. The film is great but exhausting. Stone seems to be advancing the notion that the sport itself is pure, but the people in it are corrupt. If money weren’t involved, the game would be played for its own sake.

I agree with this. People playing pond hockey are engaging in wholesome fun, not necessarily practicing to make a professional league. Commerce corrupts the purity of the game, and the extent to which it corrupts is directly proportional to how badly the individual in question needs the commerce. Of course, the sport is highly racialized, with people in positions of authority white, and those being told what to do with their bodies Black.

Any Given Sunday is an important film, but it never sacrifices entertainment for the sake of moralizing. That it pulls off such a strong moralistic stance is a testament to the actors, who are all incredible, and the material, which is among the strongest of Stone’s career.

He never really made a great movie after this one. So check it out sometime.

#betterdaysareatoenailaway #anygivensunday #al pacino #jamie foxx #dennis quaid #james woods #matthew modine #jim brown #lawrence taylor #cameron diaz #ll cool j

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junquisite · 4 years ago

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Literature Department 2

WORD COUNT : 1.5K

GENRE : Fluff

WARNING : There are handwritten Love letters involved - might give heartache

PARTS : 1 2 3 4

NOTE : I tried my best with the letters, i hope they have a slight old-ish vibe to them but please know they are set in the modern world so..

"So you're telling me not only did you got permission to go to that library whenever you want to, you also stumbled upon a couple of letters signed by someone as K.S. and you left a reply too?" Junhee asked Yoona while they were walking to their Part-time job.

"In a nutshell, yes." She said, nodding.

"What did you sign your letter as?"

"K.Y."

"And why are you telling this to me and not to Kana so that she can help you find him?" He asked again and she shrugged.

"I kind of don't want to find out who he is yet." She said and he just stared at her. Following behind her, he entered the cafe he worked at and waved at the owner.

"Sir, this is my friend I told you about. She wanted to work here." He said and she bowed to the owner.

"Aah Kim Yoona-ssi! I have heard a lot about you from Junhee. I'm Im Sejun, and if you have any questions, you can either ask him or me." He said and she blinked at him.

"That's it? I'm hired?" She asked and the owner chuckled.

"I have known Junhee too well so I'm going to trust him with you. So yes you are hired!".

When Sejun left Junhee elbowed Yoona slightly, "Don't you dare fall for the owner. He's only a couple years older than us but I swear to god if you date him, I'll kill you." And Yoona just raised her hands up in surrender.

Seungwoo and Seungsik entered Sejun's cafe and took their regular seat. When Yoona went to take their order, she gasped which made both of them look up at her.

"Professor Han!" She said and he smiled at her.

"What are you doing here?" She asked and Seungwoo chuckled.

"Have coffee preferably. But this cafe is our friend's so we come by frequently. Since when do you work here?"

"Oh, today is my first day. And Sejun-ssi is not in right now. He left for some personal work."she said and Seungwoo nodded and Seungsik asked him who she was.

"Aah. Seungsik-ah, she's the political student I gave that pass too." And Seungsik nodded.

"So you're the student who left his room smiling. Doesn't happen much, ask someone in our department." He said and she giggled and left after taking their order.

A while later she came back with their coffees but with cakes too and Seungwoo said they didn't order them and she nodded.

"It's from me sir. A thank you from me."

When Seungwoo insisted on paying, she strongly refused and at the end he resigned.

"Never knew a library permission would get me cake." He mumbled and she laughed.

"Why didn't you enroll in the literature department only?" Seungsik asked her and they saw how her face fell for a second before she smiled at them.

"No reason."

They both nodded in understanding. Must be some reason she didn't want to share with people she didn't know. They respected that.

"Yoona, let's go! Our shift is done. The other part timers are here!" They saw a male Calling for her and she nodded and after bowing to them, left.

But Seungsik froze.

"Yoona?" He mumbled and Seungwoo looked up at him.

"Hyung, what is her name? Do you know that?" He asked hurriedly and a wide eyed Seungwoo said, "uhh Kim Yoona I think. Why?"

'not even from this department'

'From, K.Y.'

"Kim Yoona. It's her. She found and replied to my letters."

Dear K.Y.,

I hope we don't have to address each other as strangers now and you will call me K.S. for the time being.

As per your ardent (a word I fell for when I fell for the greatest masterpiece by Jane Austen) request, here I am writing to assure you that I will gladly write back to you. For you. To make you happy.

And I might just allow you to seek the romanticism these imply. But do keep in mind things take time and when it involves paper and ink, too long. I hope you'll wait.

You mentioned you're not from this department? Then how did you gain access?

And when you love literature so much, why aren't you in this department? This department lost a great literature lover who might have found my letters seven months back only. Who knows what would have happened then.

Can I be bold and say I want to know you personally now? Pen pals you said? How about we reveal things everyone knows for starters and then reach the point of things which no one knows and swear to take each other's secrets to grave?

I won't ask much but your age and if I ever come to this library, a thing that'll separate you from the others and just sway me towards you.

Yours,

K.S.

P.S. - I hope I'll find yours in an envelope as pretty as I envisage you as.

P.P.S - you can keep them, I guess they were all written for you. But know that I am keeping yours too.

She sighed again as she read the Letter and she won't lie to anyone, that letter made her heart flutter. And who's won't? The way he writes these letters made her want to fall in love with him but again, what did she even know about him?

So she took out a stack of papers and envelopes from her bag which she bought just yesterday just in case he would respond so soon.

It has been barely 24 hours but here she was, writing a response to a man who makes her heart skip a beat and she doesn't even know him. She wasn't expecting to find a letter just the next day but her heart was hoping and she bulk purchased stationary after her part time yesterday with a Junhee judging her constantly.

Half an hour later, she got a message from Junhee and left the library to see him standing outside waiting for her to walk home.

Seungwoo and Seungsik were coming from a meeting in another department building when Seungwoo nodded at the leaving figure of Yoona and Junhee.

"Isn't he the guy that was yesterday with her too?" He said and Seungsik nodded.

"She must have left a letter for you. Let's go. And ask her if she's dating someone in the next one." Seungwoo said and Seungsik rolled his eyes at him.

"I can't just ask her that hyung."

Seungwoo looked sideways and Seungsik followed and narrowed his eyes at the scene in front of them - Junhee was pulling Yoona close to him and had his arms around her shoulders while she was laughing at something.

"Don't get too attached too soon Seungsik-ah." Seungwoo said as he patted him on the shoulder.

Dear K.S.,

I think this is the first time I'm hearing a man say something good for Jane Austen and you already have my heart. And I have to say, it makes me very happy that you'll write to me.

Makes me feel special.

I was surprised to find a response from you so soon. Dare I say, were you hoping for one? And checking for one daily?

If the romanticism that you're making me dream of makes me wait for years, I'll gladly do but only with the promise of finding peace in your arms once the wait ends. And maybe a true love's kiss?

Was that too forward? Maybe it’s the fact that I am not in front of you that’s making my words bolder than they have ever been.

To answer your question, I guess you can call me a special case who managed to win over Professor Han of your department with my love for literature and earn a special pass for your library. I have to say, I'm jealous of your department for having someone as good looking as him and feel pity for the female students who must find it hard to concentrate on his words rather than him. Oh how I envy them!

As far as me being in your department is concerned.. Since you shared about your grandmother with me, I guess I can confide in you that my parents thought I'll have no future if I go for literature. Hence here I am, in the political science department.

But I still got your letter so I guess it was fate?

I have to say your comment about wanting to know me made me shiver, good ones I assure, but shivers nonetheless.

If you want to find me, the one girl who'll be engrossed in any book in the first print section after the end of classes for At Least two hours, that'll be yours truly.

Yours,

K.Y.

P.S. - I am turning 22 this year.

"At this rate I'll be in love with her by the next letter." Seungsik mumbled and Seungwoo chuckled from front of him as they sat in his office.

"Who told you to woo her like that in the last letter? When did you get so bold?" He asked and Seungsik shrugged.

Something in him wanted to woo her.

And hopefully he'll be able to.

#victon #victonwriters #victon seungsik #seungsik fluff #victon fluff #seungsik kang seungsik #victon scenario #victon scenarios #victon imagine #victon imagines

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wesleyhill · 3 years ago

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The Voice from the Whirlwind

A homily on Job 38:1-11, preached at Trinity Cathedral, Pittsburgh, on the Fourth Sunday after Pentecost 2021

Our Old Testament reading today is taken from the book of Job. Many scholars consider Job to be a literary masterpiece and its poetry the most beautiful in the entire Hebrew Bible. In light of that, I’m going to read our text again from the King James Version, which does better than most any other version at capturing the grandeur of the language.

Then the LORD answered Job out of the whirlwind, and said, 2 Who is this that darkeneth counsel by words without knowledge? 3 Gird up now thy loins like a man; for I will demand of thee, and answer thou me. 4 Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth? declare, if thou hast understanding. 5 Who hath laid the measures thereof, if thou knowest? or who hath stretched the line upon it? 6 Whereupon are the foundations thereof fastened? or who laid the corner stone thereof; 7 When the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy? 8 Or who shut up the sea with doors, when it brake forth, as if it had issued out of the womb? 9 When I made the cloud the garment thereof, and thick darkness a swaddlingband for it, 10 And brake up for it my decreed place, and set bars and doors, 11 And said, Hitherto shalt thou come, but no further: and here shall thy proud waves be stayed?

This portion of Job comes from the very end of the book. In the thirty-seven long chapters that precede it, we have heard the story and the voice of Job, as well as the rebukes of some friends of his that have come to visit him.

Let’s recall that story so that we have the context for the portion we just heard. Job is a kind of Everyman character, a timeless figure. He does not seem to be descended from Abraham; he is not an Israelite. He is from Uz, some faraway city, and he is described as “the greatest of all the people of the east” (1:3). We might picture a wealthy sheikh with a palace and a retinue. His city and his lifestyle are meant to transport us into a sort of fairy tale setting (and remember — as C. S. Lewis and the Inklings remind us — that doesn’t mean the story is any less true! To be swept up in a good fairy tale is to be forced to grapple with something true about us).

One day, according to the story, an accusing, adversarial angelic figure makes a proposal to God in his heavenly court. He claims that Job only worships God and lives a virtuous life because it’s easy for him to do so. “But stretch out your hand now,” the adversary tells God, “and touch all that he has, and he will curse you to your face.” And God gives the adversary permission to take away Job’s family (his ten children are all killed), his wealth, and his health. And Job’s response is to continue, through it all, to worship God: “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return there; the LORD gave, and the LORD has taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD” (1:21).

At this point in the story, three friends of Job travel from far away to see this greatest of all men reduced to sitting in an ash heap scraping his inflamed skin with a shard of pottery. For seven days they simply sit in silence with Job (as Jews to this day practice sitting shiva with the bereaved), “for they saw that his suffering was very great” (2:13).

But then, for the next thirty-five chapters of the book, Job howls out his innocence in poem after poem, speech after poetic speech, and his three friends remonstrate with him. They rebuke him for his arrogantly supposing that he can call God to account, and he retorts, “Miserable comforters are you all” (16:2). Back and forth it goes. So many words. So many “vain,” “windy words,” as the poet calls them at one point (16:3, KJV; NRSV).

And then, out of a storm that overwhelms all the words, the LORD finally speaks. Job had earlier wished that the day of his birth had been shrouded in darkness, but God turns that wish around and asks Job why he has shrouded everything with ignorant speech: “Who is this that darkeneth counsel by words without knowledge?” Then the LORD declares that He intends to question Job: “Gird up now thy loins like a man; for I will demand of thee, and answer thou me.”

And then comes some of the most memorable imagery in the entire book. I encourage you to open your Bible at home and read the passage again later, slowly, and pay attention to the striking imagery and metaphors. The LORD asks of Job:

You who are so full of opinions and recriminations, where were you when I was hoisting the rafters of the universe? Where were you when I was taking a plumbline to the Milky Way? Were you there, Job, when the roar of exploding galaxies sounded like a thundering choir of praise? Were you there when the ocean’s water broke, and I wrapped the sea with clouds like a mother wraps an infant in a warm blanket? If you know so much, Job, tell me, were you there? Because I was!

The LORD goes on like this for four whole chapters, giving Job a tour of all the wonders and terrors of creation.

And it’s at this point many readers have felt that the book of Job is at its least convincing. Here is Job, in psychological and bodily agony, crying out from the depths, “Why me?” And God’s answer is… to talk about oceans and stars and ostriches and crocodiles, as if merely asserting His power as the Creator were enough to put an end to honest, gut-wrenching questions, as if God were saying, “Shut up and just look at how much bigger and stronger than you I am.”

That’s a common interpretation that people have of our reading for today, but I don’t think it does justice to the text. Because God isn’t silencing Job so much as He is inviting Job to see in a new way. The LORD is not simply cataloguing His creatures for Job, as if He were curating a nature exhibit. Job has been trying to relate to the LORD as if He were a contractor; the LORD is trying to tell Job that, from the very beginning of creation, He is a covenant-maker. The LORD is reminding Job that back behind and underneath Job’s calculus of guilt and innocence; deeper than tit-for-tat human schemes that would supposedly sort out all the rational, moral reasons for why things happen in the world the way they do; beyond all this, at the heart of everything there is an unending, un-endable generosity, a light that can never be extinguished, an unfathomable source of life and goodness and wisdom. This isn’t merely some impersonal source of inspiration or fortitude that will get you safely through grief and out the other side; this ceaseless gift comes from the presence of the LORD Himself, the God who addresses Job, who speaks with Job, who seeks Job out precisely in his pain and loneliness. Beyond all deserving or undeserving, the LORD comes to Job. The LORD reveals Himself. Job is not given a platitude; he encounters a Person. The LORD is there — in majesty and mercy. And ultimately, in repentance and trust and hope, Job says to God, “I had heard You with my ear, but now my eye perceives You. Therefore, I recant and relent, being but dust and ashes” (42:5-6, NJPS). Job has not had his questions answered, but he has met the One who made him — the One who will open a future for him beyond all deserving or comprehending, the One who asks not for comprehension but for humility and trust.

Some of you may have seen Terrence Malick’s film The Tree of Life from ten years ago. It was nominated for multiple Oscars and struck a chord with many Christian viewers in particular. It opens with a blank screen and the words from our reading, the words that the LORD speaks to Job: “Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth… When the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy?” The movie follows the story of a family with young children in Waco, Texas in the 1950s. I don’t want to spoil it for you (if you haven’t seen it, I encourage you to), but I will say that tragedy of the most awful kind strikes this family, and throughout the film, the characters return to that haunting question God asks of Job, “Where were you?” — except, in the film, it is the people who say it to God, rather than God who says it to them. Where were you?

Astonishingly, the movie tries to visually depict God’s speech to Job by taking a full 18 minutes — roughly an eighth of the entire film — to show the unfolding of creation, from the big bang to the emergence of dinosaurs. It sounds bizarre, but it’s extraordinary to see. One minute you’re watching one ordinary family in Waco in the 1950s navigate ordinary human sorrow, anger, remorse, and longing, and the next minute you’re watching nebulae and planetary rings and cell divisions. At the same time that you’re seeing one particular family’s life play out in all of its quotidian drama, you’re seeing the dazzling, awe-evoking origin of all life.

Where were you? the characters ask God.

The answer to that question that the LORD gives to Job is, in essence, “I am here, and I was here before you, and I will be here ahead of you. I am here, speaking to you, addressing you, seeing you, knowing you, redeeming you. I, the Maker of heaven and earth, am the same God who draws near.”

One scene in the movie takes place at a funeral, in a church. The text for the sermon is the same one we have heard this morning. And you can hear the priest say (and by the way, in real life, the priest in the film is an Episcopal priest who helped write the words he would perform!), “Is there some fraud in the scheme of the universe? Is there nothing which is deathless? Nothing which does not pass away?”

And at that point the camera slowly pans away from the character sitting in the pew listening, who has endured and will endure so much grief in the course of the story — the camera pans up to a stained glass window where we see the LORD of Israel who spoke to Job — the LORD as a human being, the man Jesus, bound with ropes, crowned with thorns, looking out from the glass with eyes of grief and unceasing love, ready to give His life for the world He had made.

It is He whom Job meets. It is He who is alive and here with us today, who speaks to us, who feeds us with His own Body and Blood.

Amen.

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sz-amare · 3 years ago

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12. Muira and Berserk

A few days ago, I woke up to the disheartening news of Miura’s passing. Kentaro Miura passed away at the age of 54 on the 6th of May. If you don’t know who Miura is, he is the mangaka of Berserk, arguably the best manga of all time. I found myself in total disbelief at first. My jaw was wide open for several minutes when I heard the news.

It upsets me that I only saw mangakas as a source of my entertainment and not actual humans. Although I have a lot of respect for Miura as a fan of Berserk, I can tell I think of him as the author of Berserk than an actual individual who happened to make an amazing series.

However, I am ever so grateful to Miura for his work and effort. Even though I had other plans for my 12th post, in honor of Miura, I would like to post a story of how Berserk changed me to create a better book and forever changed the way I look at any anime/manga. I will make a follow-up post in the next few days on the beauty of Berserk and its absolute brilliance. This post will not contain any spoilers.

Funnily enough, Berserk is the first manga I have ever read. I really wanted to get into manga, but I knew I would feel exhausted if I tried. To me, anime is like being spoon-fed, while reading manga is like feeding yourself. So, to motivate myself, I thought, why not start with a highly acclaimed manga to hopefully convince myself to get into reading. I would have read One Piece from the start, but it was still fresh in my mind. But one manga that I noticed that was praised by many was Berserk. But not just as an anime/manga, but also for having the best protagonist, best antagonist, excellent world-building, etc. It was either in everyone’s top ten, or they never read it. Considering Berserk didn’t have the greatest anime adaptations, I thought Berserk would be a great place to start. And so I did.

I was right about reading manga being mentally taxing. After a long day of school, I could only read a couple chapters of Berserk before needing a nap or moving on. Even if my mind was fresh, I couldn’t read it for more than two hours at a time. But after finishing Berserk, I realized something peculiar: there was no way I could call Berserk a masterpiece. Don’t get me wrong, I really enjoyed it, but it seemed like mindless fun with some slightly deep elements to it. An A-tier manga at best. The protagonist was an S-tier protagonist for sure, but I just couldn’t understand why he was in many people’s top ten lists. I didn’t think the antagonist was all that special either. I could see some parallels and contrast between the two, but nothing that great.

This had me confused for quite some time. How could so many people call Berserk a masterpiece and one of the most well-written pieces of fiction ever created. Keep in mind; I am saying ‘well written’ and not ‘the best’ or anything like that. Many people may say MHA is the best anime of all time, but they say that because it has many hype moments, and it brings out their emotions. But you don’t see many who say MHA is the best-written anime.

Anyways, the other thing I found funny about Berserk is that it didn’t have any noticeable flaws. I can usually notice any weaknesses in most anime, but that was difficult for me when it came to Berserk. Regardless, I was so perplexed as to why Berserk was held to such high regard. I almost decided to write it off as people being overhyped by an edgy/dark fantasy manga, like the Tokyo Ghoul anime.

Maybe a day after giving up on Berserk, I watched a video by The Masked Man (A.K.A. The Asura), who was reviewing One Piece (I like drowning myself with One Piece content when I’m bored). I highly respect The Masked Man’s opinions, and I enjoy the majority of his reviews/analysis and his top ten manga lists. But he said something quite shocking. He stated that “One Piece isn’t a deep story, but that isn’t what makes it great in the first place.” Blasphemy! What was so ironic to me was that he stated many of the deep points and themes of the story, but he said it wasn’t deep. He then proceeded to give examples of stories with deep elements, such as Monster, Vagabond, Oyasumi Pun Pun, and, well, Berserk.

I haven’t read those first three, but I felt like something was wrong at this point. I couldn’t tell if he was oblivious, if he was mixing some other term up like “mature themed,” or if there was something I couldn’t see. I realized that if it was the last possibility, there could potentially be a whole new world of story writing that I have never seen. Even if that chance was small, I wanted nothing more than to learn what it was.

So I made a YouTube playlist titled ‘Depth?’ and added many analyses on Berserk and other anime/manga The Masked Man considered as “deep.” I also made a list of 25 manga and 25 anime that were widely considered masterpieces or classics. This includes Monster, Oyasumi Pun Pun, Vagabond, Gurren Lagan, Made in Abyss, Magi, Fate Zero, Degrey Man, Great Teacher Onizuka, and so on. I numbered each anime and manga 1 through 50 and used a number randomizer to decide what I would read/watch.

(Panel from Monster)

After a month of tons of research on what the hell “depth” was and reading/watching tons of manga and anime, I finally found out why Berserk was so great and what I think The Masked Man meant about depth. From my understanding, I believe he meant ‘complexity.’ A manga like Berserk is VERY complex on many levels. I had to listen/read dozens of hours’ worth of analysis just to start understanding why Berserk was so highly acclaimed. Each analysis helped me understand an element or two on Berserk. Sometimes more. It’s a bit hard to describe all this without getting into spoiler territory, so I will elaborate more in the next post.

It would be an understatement to say a whole new world of story-writing was open to me after discovering this. After looking at what I drafted for my story, it felt like a joke. Berserk has motivated me to push myself further and to create an even better story. My original plan was to start writing my first book this month, but after seeing the intricate, complex, and well-thought-out story that Miura was able to create, I felt like I had to reach the same heights myself. Ever since then, Berserk has made it higher on my top ten list for being such a well-crafted story and because of how it inspired me.

(In honor of Miura, everyone is posting their favorite panels of Berserk. This here is mine.)

Thank you Miura. Thank you for inspiring me and changing the lives of many others. Thank you for all the effort and time you have put into a beloved story. Thank you Miura.

#ThankYouMiura

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amarabliss · 5 years ago

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Oath and Hearts - 14 (Ignis Scientia/Reader)

So this is a crossover between FFXV and Dragon Age Inquisition.

You fell through a rift into the fade fighting the demons you swore to protect your world from. When you popped out you were no longer in the lands of Ferelden instead trapped in Insomnia. The gracious king allowed you to say recognizing power when he saw it. One thing led to another and now you were part of the procession of the prince to his wedding years later. Before the final battle, after years of fighting, losses, and love…your friend…your king…Noctis has asked you to change it all…

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

Rain…

It trickled down your face as you watched the Chocobos pull each heavily decorated funeral cart. You shivered looking down to your hands. You looked up when you felt a warm coat fall onto your shoulders. Nyx smiled at you, “It’s almost done.”

You smiled at him pulling the Glaive coat around you tightly, “What about you?”

He shrugged a little, “I’ll manage. I can’t let you get sick. Specs would hang me for sure.”

“What about getting reprimanded for not being uniform?” You glanced at him as another cart passed by carrying caskets dressed in Glaive and Crownsguard insignias.

“Funny thing…when you save the city…they promote you.” He smirked a little, “Only person who can dress me down is myself and the king…Noctis doesn’t seem like one who is tight on protocol.”

You chuckled to yourself nodding a little, “You’re not wrong…”

“Rarely am.” He smirked more and laughed when you nudged him in the side with your elbow.

“I’m really glad you’re here.” You looked at him finally before looking at the final cart moving past them, “And not on one of those.”

“You can’t get rid of me that easily.” He put his arm around you, “Might lose a limb or two…but you’re not going to lose me.”

“Does it hurt?” You glanced at his left side where his arm use to hang.

“A little phantom pain here and there…and a burning sensation from time to time…” He sighed as you both took your place behind the carts walking in the rain along with the rest of those that lost someone, “A price worth paying…”

Warmth spread through you when you walked into the citadel. Still broken in places but structurally a masterpiece that can be restored. Nyx stood by your side helping your through the crowd as people consoled one another.

“There he is…” Nyx smiled as you pointed across the way, “I’m surprised he didn’t come see you first.”

“He has a duty to his king.” You smiled as you saw Ignis speaking with Gladio and Prompto. They seemed eager to push him away and even pointed back at you. Ignis turned and smiled at you.

“No no no…that’s too easy…” A dark voice spoke behind you, “No happy endings here…”

You turned seeing Ardyn walking toward you, “…no…”

“Yes. Let’s try again…shall we?” Ardyn grabbed your neck squeezing it tightly. You gasped trying to get air as you clawed at his hand that lifted you from the ground, “Thank you for all the details this time…you must be getting tired…This next go around I think we’ll play more on hidden desires…”

“What’s happening?” Cor watched the heart monitor go crazy as Dr. Reed rushed over. You were seizing shaking in the bed.

“I don’t know! Get back, we need to work.” Dr. Reed ordered as help moved in, “Where is Scientia? He may need to make some decisions.”

“I’ll find him, but no matter what you need to protect that child!” Cor barked at him as nurses ran inside, “Do you understand?”

Reed waved him out of the room as he began ordering for sedative to be administered. Across the city Ignis was frantically running upstairs trying to reach his apartment with Prompto.

“Why are we here?” The blonde asked huffing and puffing behind him.

“I need a book.” Ignis shoved the fourth-floor door open running down the hall to his apartment. He had the greatest sense of surrealism one could have as he opened the door.

Everything was exactly as he left it. Being on the northeast end of the city had been a blessing as most of the attack was near the center and west quarters. He didn’t waste any time to dwell on that fact and rushed to his bookshelf.

“Aw man…whew…” Prompto leaned against the door, “What…what book is so important it’s going to help Y/N?”

“It’s a book about her…” Ignis began pulling out thick journals quickly opening them and then discarding them to the floor.

“Her? I don’t follow…” Prompto leaned forward putting his hands on his knees, “I’m…I’m gonna…sit…”

Ignis glanced back at him briefly sitting on the ground as he pulled out another one, “You’re aware that I interviewed her for a time when she first came…”

“Uh…kinda…I was wrapped up with exams…” Prompto scratched his head thinking back, “Had a lot of training with the guard too…”

“Well I did…” He let another book fall, “I had asked her about how she got here…her response was the Fade.”

“The place she said before zonking out. Where is it?” Prompto was beginning to focus in now.

“That’s hard to explain…” Ignis scanned the book in his hands finding what he needed, “She explained that is was a space between worlds or realities…”

“I don’t follow.” Ignis leaned forward picking up his coffee taking a sip.

You stood up walking toward the window of his office thinking to yourself. Finally, you turned back to him, “Look at the window.”

“Alright.” He adjusted in his seat watching you.

You turned back around looking at the window, “We’re here…and you can clear see the world outside, which can be anywhere else…your city, my home…. The fade is everything in the glass.”

He looked at the glass seeing your reflection as you continued on, “It’s this strange place that is exactly like here, but different. It’s a place you can experience your greatest desire and your deepest fear all at once. You can’t trust anything you see, but you want to so badly.”

“I follow that…but how is it you passed through there to here. Just like the window it’s a barrier from one world to the other” You looked down at your hand as he spoke.

“I was given a mark by chance.” You held up your hand to him showing what looked like a strange dark burn, “It allowed me to open and close rips in the veil. It gave me a link or something…you’re not supposed to go to Fade physically, you’re only supposed to let your mind go there.”

“Why can’t you go physically? You obviously have…” He began writing down some notes glancing up at you as looked down to your hand tracing the pattern.

“Going there…it’s a nightmare. In a dream your mind allows you to rationalize things. When given the impossible…” You started to say.

“Your mind fills in the blanks.” He finished for you, “So when your mind goes there it looks more real?”

“Yes, actually. Accounts say you’ll have a hard time distinguishing it from reality. We can lose a lot of mages to the Fade if they aren’t prepared enough.” You crossed your arms looking back at the window, “But physically…you only see parts of reality…if you were to actually be part of the glass do you think it would look this clear?”

“No, of course not.” He tilted his head, “It’s made of several different particles and substances…”

“So, you would see that…and the chair you sit in…the table would be encrusted with glass fragments. Your coffee would look full, but it would be all solid.” You frowned looking back to him, “The monster you saw that day in the courtyard comes from there. Demons of all varieties, all strong enough to take over the strongest minds and feed off of them until you become part of the Fade.”

“We have something similar here…It’s more like a sickness for us though derived from a substance called Miasma. It’s why at night and dark situations deamons show themselves…Miasma can’t flourish in the light. I wonder if it’s related to your Fade.” He thought absently before writing something down again as you turned to the window, “Tell me, do you think you could find a way back into the Fade?”

“Why?” Your head snapped back to him worry lines creasing your face.

He looked at you as your tone shifted, “I don’t intend to go there…it’s sounds like an unfit place to be. I simply wanted to know if there was a way, and if you were looking for it.”

You stayed silent for a long time before stepping back over to your seat, “There’s always a way. It’s…in a way a substance that pierces through the world. Back home…the barrier, we call it a veil, has thinned so much it’s easy to accidently fall into the Fade by making camp in the wrong spot. It’s not the same here, so I’m not sure what it would look like.”

“How so?” He watched you grip the back of the chair tightly.

You looked at him trying to find the words, “I can’t really explain it…back home it looked like…like a shimmer. It’s a wave, but not…I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.” He smiled at you thinking back to your arrival, “I think I saw what you meant your first day here. It was like a green wave of light…”

“If you walked toward a dense part…you’d more than likely slip into it somehow, but I haven’t seen or felt it here…I certainly don’t glow anymore…” You told him quietly looking back to your hand, “It’s like your veil is whole. I’m sure we could find a weak point, but I wouldn’t want to subject your people to the risks of opening the Fade up. It’s kind of a relief actually…”

“I understand, I wouldn’t mind hearing more about it someday.” He smiled at you trying to set you back at ease.

“She’s in the Fade.” He pointed to the open page, “She must have found a thin part of the veil in the city somewhere, probably caused by all the magical energy used during the attack.”

“Okay…that explains what is happening to her, but how do we pull her out.” Cor looked at him not liking the look on Ignis’ face.

“I need to go back where she fell in…and I need to go after her.” Ignis told everyone.

“Out of the question.” Cor shook his head.

“I’m not asking you…any of you.” Ignis looked at his friends who insisted on being part of the explanation, “Noctis has already released me for the time being. I don’t need anyone’s permission.”

Noctis shifted on his feet glancing over to Cor, “I did…but Iggy…”

“I can’t let her stay there…I love her and she’s the mother of my child.” Ignis shook his head speaking firmly, “I’m not going to lose her to something as trivial as a dream that I can pull her out of.”

“Sounds a lot worse than just a dream, Ignis.” Gladio sighed as he crossed his arms, “More like a potential nightmare.”

“All the more reason I need to get her out. The longer she stays the harder it is for her to break away from it.” Ignis told him, “And the more likely it becomes real and affects her out here.”

Cor took in a deep breath looking at him, “It already has…”

“What do you mean?” Ignis looked at him eyes filling with worry, “What happened?”

“The only thing the doctor came up with was she felt like she was drowning or suffocating…” Cor told him, “It was brief…but enough to be troubling.”

Ignis looked at them all before nodding, “I’m not going to waste any more time…I’m going to get her home.”

You took in a deep breath as your eyes slowly began to open. You hadn’t felt so comfortable in a long time. An arm slithered around your waist making your smile, “I thought you would have been up hours ago.”

You turned freezing for a moment at the face you saw. Nyx smiled lazily at you, “Me? Really?”

“Wha…” You moved away from him, “Nyx…”

“Babe, what’s wrong?” He sat up as you moved off the bed away from worry filling his eyes, “Baby…”

You stared at him as your chest rose up and down as you shut your eyes, “I don’t…something isn’t…”

“Y/N…what is it?” He moved to the edge of the bed reaching for your hands.

“Don’t!” You slapped his hands away opening your eyes looking at him, “I-I…Nyx….”

“It’s okay.” He raised his hands calm coming over his features. He reached out to you holding his arms open, “Baby, it’s okay…”

You started to shake as tears filled your eyes, “Nyx…I…”

He stood up moving to you wrapping his arms around you tightly, “It’s okay…the doc said this might happen for a while. You hit your head really hard.”

“I don’t…I don’t remember…” You shook your head as you hugged him feeling cold as you did, “Why can’t I remember?”

“Shh…” He rubbed your back in soothing motions as he spoke, “It’s okay, we got this. Things will start coming back slowly. Just…just take a breath and tell me what you remember?”

You took a deep breath in through your nose letting it out through your mouth before you spoke, “I…don’t…”

“Let me help.” He pulled away looking at your face, “You were on the way to the citadel to meet…”

“…Ignis…” You nodded a little shutting your eyes, “we had a meeting. I took a cab…”

“Yeah, you did.” Nyx smile showed in his voice, “What happened next?”

“We didn’t stop and…” You looked at him as he touched your face sending shivers down your spine, “and…there was a truck…”

“Yeah.” He nodded before resting his forehead against yours, “Thank the Six for airbags…it could have been a lot worse if you had been flung from the car.”

“It rolled over.” He nodded again frowning as your head came to rest on his chest, “Why didn’t I…”

“Like I said…” Nyx took your hands in his kissing them, “you hit your head…”

You stared into his eyes and nodded. There was this strange sensation buzzing in the back of your head as he kissed your forehead, “I’m sorry.”

“You’re fine, babe.” He looked over to the clock on the bedside table, “I do have to go though…”

“Fine…” You frowned a little as he squeezed your hands.

“I can stay…” He looked at you worried, “I’ll tell them, they’ll understand.”

“No, you need to go work. The king needs you.” You told him taking your hands back, “Go.”

“Sweet Shiva…” You heard him say as he turned away. It made your skin crawl. Every syllable sounding wrong in your ears, “you’re too understanding.”

You watched him freeze before turning to you again, a smirk coming to his face, “I said something wrong, didn’t I? Damn…I thought for sure this would be the one. Handsome gentleman…potential for you to screw it all up by having an affair…death destruction fighting…”

“What is this…” You started to back up slowly away from him.

“Haven’t you pieced it together yet, Inquisitor?” His eyes blackened as ooze began to drip from them, “You brought me here…and I’ve met so many friends who’ve taught me how this place works.”

“Ardyn…” You hissed as you ran toward the door.

“We have a winner!” He shouted after you, “Using this form is so much fun…You did love him didn’t you, almost as much as that retainer.”

You grabbed the handle and it disintegrated in your hand. Panic started to fill you when you turned around. A monster in Nyx’s body strode toward you, “You make it too easy girl!”

You shut your eyes awaiting whatever was about to happen, when a deep burly voice sang out, “Not this time!”

“Who are you?” You opened your eyes seeing Ardyn in his true form holding off some sort of energy attack.

“Never you mind.” The voice was familiar as it spoke with cocky confidence, “It’s time for you to go.”

The light faded for a brief second letting you see a silhouette wielding a staff summoning for another string of bright energy attacks. Ardyn cried out in pain before shimmering away. Your eyes adjusted slowly at the approaching person.

“Inquisitor, are you alright?” They asked as you sank to the floor the façade around you began to fade away with each of his steps, “Y/N?”

“H-Hawke?” You grabbed onto his arms feeling how warm he felt. This is what a person was supposed to feel like, “It’s really you?”

He smirked a little despite looking tired and ragged, “Who else would it be?”

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morganaw14 · 4 years ago

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i’ve been thinking about this since folklore came out and i can’t keep it in my head anymore

my favorite lyrics (lyrically, musically, and emotionally) from each song on folklore

the 1

“i thought i saw you at the bus stop, i didn’t though”

“you know the greatest films of all time were never made”

“if you never bleed you’re never gonna grow”

“in my defense, i have none”

“and it’s another day, waking up alone”

cardigan

“when you are young they assume you know nothing”

“but i knew you, dancing in your levi’s, drunk under a streetlight, i”

“once in twenty lifetimes”

“you drew stars around my scars, but now i’m bleeding”

“tried to change the ending, peter losing wendy”

“i knew you, leaving like a father, running like water”

“i knew you’d haunt all of my what ifs”

the last great american dynasty

“and the town said “how did a middle class divorcee do it?””

“it must’ve been her fault his heart gave out”

“she had a marvelous time, ruining everything”

“they say she was seen on occasion, pacing the rocks staring out at the midnight sea”

“free of women with madness, their men and bad habits, and then it was bought by me”

exile

“and it took you five whole minutes to pack us up and leave me with it”

“i think i’ve seen this film before, and i didn’t like the ending”

“i can see you starin’ honey, like he’s just your understudy, like you’d get your knuckles bloody for me”

“i’m not your problem anymore, so who am i offending now?”

THE WHOLE BRIDGE, from “so step right out” to “you didn’t even see the signs”

my tears ricochet

“and if i’m on fire, you’ll be made of ashes too”

“and you’re the hero flying around, saving face”

“some to make a diamond ring”

“you know i didn’t want to, have to haunt you”

“cause when i’d fight, you’d use to tell me i was brave”

THE BRIDGE!! perfection. from “and i can go anywhere i want” to “you hear my stolen lullabies”

“you had to kill me but it killed you just the same”

mirrorball

“hush, when no one is around my dear, you’ll find me on my tallest tiptoes, spinning in my highest heels love, shining just for you”

“i can change everything about me to fit in”

“you are not like the regulars, the masquerade revelers”

“i’m still a believer and i don’t know why”

“i’ve never been a natural, all i do is try, try, try”

“i’m still trying everything to keep you looking at me”

seven

“i was high, in the sky, with pennsylvania under me”

“love you to the moon and to saturn”

“passed down like folk songs, this love lasts so long”

“then you won’t cry, or hide in the closet, and just like a folk song, our love will be passed on”

august

“but i can see us, lost in the memory”

“i remember thinking i had you”

“wanting was enough, for me it was enough”

“to live for the hope of it all”

“you weren’t mine to lose”

“remember when i pulled up and said “get in the car””

this is me trying

“i didn’t know if you’d care if i came back, i have a lot of regrets about that”

“pulled the car off the road to the lookout, could’ve followed my fears all the way down”

THE WHOLE SECOND VERSE!!

AND THE BRIDGE, she’s a mastermind

illicit affairs - i love the whole thing but, these the most

“look at this godforsaken mess that you made me”

“look at this idiotic fool that you made me”

“and you know damn well, for you i would ruin myself, a million little times”

invisible string

“time, curious time”

“bold was the waitress on our three year trip, getting lunch down by the lakes”

“time, mystical time, cuttin’ me open, then healin’ me fine”

“one single thread of gold, tied me to you”

“time, wondrous time, gave me the blues and then purple pink skies”

mad woman

“they strike to kill, and you know i will”

“women like hunting witches too, doing your dirtiest work for you”

“i’m taking my time, cause you took everything from me”

“she should be mad, should be scathing like me”

“you made her like that”

epiphany - another fav, but the specifics;

“some things you just can’t speak about”

“hold your hand through plastic now, doc i think she’s crashin out”

“only twenty minutes to sleep, but you dream of some epiphany, just one single glimpse of relief”

betty - i can't ever be specific, i LOVE

the whole song

peace - A MASTERPIECE

the whole song

hoax

“your faithless love's the only hoax i believe in”

“my barren land, i am ash from your fire”

“you knew the hero died so whats the movie for?”

“you knew it still hurts underneath my scars, from when they pulled me apart, but what you did was just as dark”

“my broken drum, you have beaten my heart”

#I love Taylor with my whole heart #I've been thinking about this forever #taylor swift #taylornation #folklore #sorry this post is so long

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amydancepants-peralta · 5 years ago

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A surprise little update to my longest (and nearly oldest) fic - an AU called Brooklyn, in celebration of my 1 year writing anniversary. ♥️🎄😁

(And a quick thank you to all of you who have supported me over the last year, whether it was letting me crazy rant about something that won’t write itself, or liking/reblogging my work. There are some lovely people here, and I'm thankful for all your support. 🥺💕☺️)

Brooklyn.

Chapter Sixteen: All I Want For Christmas Is You (ao3)

Jake taps his hand impatiently against the thin plastic armrest of his airplane seat, narrowing his eyes onto the screen in front of him in a desperate attempt to keep himself distracted. It would appear that not even Die Hard, his favourite Christmas movie ever, could stop him from wishing that this plane would just hurry up and land.

It was just under a week ago that he’d been pulled into Holt’s office, and requested by his captain to travel to Milwaukee for assistance with a case. An elusive robber by the name of Dixon - whom Jake had caught two years prior, but thanks to a greasy lawyer had managed to walk away uncharged - had resurfaced in Wisconsin of all places, and their fellow members of the force were determined not to let him get away this time.

Although reluctant to be away from his family for any period of time, let alone a week before Christmas, Jake also understood the need to finally see justice be served, and so he’d made his way to the Badger State. Things had gone relatively well, with the quick thinking of the combined detectives, Dixon had been captured and charged within five days of Jake arriving.

And then the airline that Jake had been booked on to travel home went on strike. And, being Christmas Eve, all other flights were completely full.

It had taken nine different types of prayer; seven confusing phone calls, a forty minute Uber pool with five strangers (one of whom had yet to discover the magic of deodorant), and a ninety minute train ride before he made it to Chicago, where he then begged and pleaded (literally, down on his knees) to be let onto the last flight to New York. By the grace of all that is good in the world, there was one last seat on the flight, and in four short hours he would be home.

It was now three hours in to what would undoubtedly go down as the longest flight in the history of the world, and for the eighth time since take off Jake resisted the urge to call over a flight attendant and offer to get out and push the plane home, if it’d mean they would get there faster. He’d felt off centre all week - like there was a part of him that was missing, and he was willing to bet everything he had that he wouldn’t feel complete again until he was home.

Truthfully, he ached for Amy something fierce. He missed the home that they’d made together, the feeling of her arms around him every morning when he woke up, and the smell of her perfume that always managed to linger on his pillow. He missed their daughter, Mia - an endlessly beautiful combination of Amy’s smarts and Jake’s humour whose presence never failed to make Jake’s heart smile. He missed his family - this world that they’d made of their very own, where nothing seemed impossible and love was the most valuable commodity.

Sighing, Jake reaches into his pocket and pulls out his cell phone, activating the screen and staring at a photo of the three of them together for the umpteenth time. Next time his captain asks him to leave his family before Christmas, he is undecidedly going to say no - repercussions be damned.

“Is that your family?” A voice pops up from his left, and Jake turns to his seat mate with a polite smile, nodding. She was a mature aged woman with purple rinsed hair, wire rimmed glasses and a friendly face, and briefly he feels rude for not acknowledging her presence before now. “You look very happy in that photo” she continues with a kind smile, and Jake nods again.

“Yeah, this was the first time my wife and I had taken our daughter out to build a snowman. It wasn’t the greatest result, but you can just tell this version of Frosty has a heart of gold.”

The woman laughs, asking another question, and before Jake knows it he’s retelling his and Amy’s entire story - and how one chance encounter over spilled coffee had changed their lives infinitely for the better.

“We got married six months after that, in a quiet little chapel about an hour out of town, and I guess you could say that we all lived happily ever after.” He still remembers the feeling of his heart leaping into his throat as Amy appeared at the end of the aisle, angelic in white lace with her father on her arm. Her smile was tied to his own as she drew closer, growing larger by the second, and while he knows that there were vows - and quite sweet ones at that, if he does say so himself - all Jake can truly remember about the ceremony is the sight of Amy in front of him. She was stunning (is stunning, after all these yeras) and in that moment Jake truly felt like the luckiest man in the world.

Four years ago, Mia had arrived, and then they had everything.

The captain interrupts their conversation in what feels like only minutes later, announcing their descent into NY airspace, and with a quick glance at his watch Jake realises that he is now only thirty minutes away from Amy and Mia. His heart skips a beat at the thought: finally, his world is returning back to normal.

Jake’s only just begun to stride through the arrivals hall, clearing through the automated doors when he first hears a voice he would recognise anywhere.

“Daaaaddddyyyyyyyyyy!”

Tiny gold sparkly shoes slap across the tiled floor as his daughter comes barrelling towards him - and without hesitation Jake drops his backpack to the floor, crouching down to meet Mia’s outstretched arms with his own as she crashes into him.

She wriggles, clambering onto the knee that Jake has bent slightly until she’s resting against his thigh, wrapping her tiny hands as closely around her father’s neck as she possibly can and squishing her face into his chest. A contented smile crosses over Jake’s face, both arms wrapping around his daughter as she nestles in, and with every passing second, he can feel himself begin to reset. This is what he had been needing.

Mia mumbles something about missing him, and making him a drawing, all of which is muffled by her position against Jake’s shirt, but he can’t bring himself to ask her to move. It has been five days without his daughter, which is five days far too long, and there’s a part of him that is hoping that she’ll never want to let go.

“Welcome home, babe.” The sweetest voice in the world pipes up, and Jake lifts his head from his daughter’s hair to smile up at Amy, craning up to meet her halfway with a kiss. “Mia and I missed you so much, didn’t we cutie?”

Jake feels his daughter’s head shuffle up and down, still unwilling to move from his embrace, and his heart swells all the larger. “I missed you two. So, so much.”

Mia’s head pops up, enchanting Jake with those deep brown eyes of hers in the same way she’s been doing for the last four years - a trick she undoubtedly inherited from her mother. “Did you see Santa in da sky, Daddy?”

“Hmm,” Jake responds, stroking his chin as though deep in thought. “You know, I did hear some sleigh bells, but maybe that was just the wind?” She looks so crestfallen at his answer that Jake backtracks quickly, “It’s a little early for Santa, baby. I’d bet he’s still at his workshop, putting together the last of the presents.”

Mia studies Jake’s response so carefully, and she’s so much like her mother it makes his heart ache at times, and slowly she nods - clearly accepting Jake’s suggestion. When she turned into this little person, he’s really not sure, and when he turns to glance in Amy’s direction, he notices that she’s got a similar look on her face. “Time to go home, bubba?”

Another nod, this one a little more enthusiastic as she tightens her grip around Jake’s neck, and he stands slowly keeping one careful hand on her back.

“You wanna show Daddy the drawing you did for him, Mia Moo?” Amy asks, trying to catch the eyes of their daughter as she remained koala-gripped to Jake’s chest.

“Mmmfphff a prfffapa ofmus” is Mia’s muffled reply, and Jake shares a puzzled look with Amy before hooking one arm around her shoulders, pulling her in for a three-way welcome home hug.

He has learned a little bit of Mia-ese over the years, and so he replies - “It’s a what of what?”

With a flop of her dark curls Mia pulls herself away from Jake dramatically, giving him a Look before repeating “It’s a picshure of us, Daddy!”

Keeping her chuckle quiet, Amy reaches into the back pocket of her jeans, quickly unfolding the masterpiece for Jake. And it’s a multi-coloured jumble of shapes and stick figures, with some fun bonus love hearts added in for good measure, and it may not be perfect but it’s the greatest thing Jake has ever seen, and he gives Mia a big thank you hug as the three of them walk through to the carpark. He’d had to fight hard to find his way home today, but he’d do it all again in a heartbeat just for moments like these.

The following morning is Christmas, and there are teeny, tiny little feet pattering down the hallway of the Peralta-Santiago home not long after the sun rises. Jake can hear it, no matter how hard he tries to bury his head into his pillow, and from beside him Amy groans.

“Your child is awake, Peralta.”

Not yet willing to open his eyes, Jake wraps a heavy arm around Amy’s middle, pulling her closer and nuzzling into her neck. “She’s your child too, ya know.”

“Not at this time of the morning, she isn’t.”

Dropping a kiss to Amy’s shoulder, Jake opens his eyes and lifts himself onto one elbow, keeping the other hand resting against his wife’s waist. “Nuh-uh. You can’t go making Lion King references against me on this, Ames. No matter how good it is.” He brushes away a loose section of Amy’s hair, revealing her smile as she tries so very hard not to laugh.

She opens one eye, lashes fluttering as she focuses on Jake, closing it again quickly. “I can’t help it if our daughter wants to watch Disney movies all. day. long, babe.”

“No doubt about it, the girl has good taste.” Amy smiles in response, grabbing the hand from around her waist and holding it close to her chest as she buries her head back into the pillow. They’d stayed up late last night, pulling out all of the presents they’d been hiding until the Christmas tree was well and truly stocked with gifts, setting the scene for Santa’s visit to keep the illusion alive.

After Amy stole the cookie that Mia had left out for Santa before Jake had a chance to (which resulted in a vanilla flavoured kiss for him a few minutes later, so really - who is he to complain?), they’d taken advantage of their quiet apartment with a shared bottle of wine and hours of talking.

Moments of peace were so treasured amongst the two of them, even after six years together, and not for the first time Jake had felt bewildered that there was ever a time that he truly didn’t believe that love was real. Amy had crashed into him one afternoon, never to leave again, and the thought of any type of life without her was simply unimaginable. She was his best friend, and the greatest person he’s ever known, and now as the mother to their beautiful daughter she sparkled all the more.

The footsteps grow louder again, this time paired with excited squeals as Mia obviously discovers the presents under the Christmas tree. Within seconds she’s running through the entry to Jake and Amy’s bedroom, flying towards their bed with total abandon as she cries out “CHRIMMAS!!”, landing in between her parents with a flop.

“Oof!” Amy cries out in surprise, her sleepy eyes now wide open. Mia reaches for her mother, snuggling into her shoulder and whispering “Merry Chrimmas Mommy” before turning towards Jake and repeating the action, and it’s so adorable that both Jake and Amy pull her in for a hug, squeezing her tight as she giggles from her position between them.

“Santa came, Santa came!”

“He did, baby? That’s exciting!” Jake replies, and although he’d once sworn that he’d never teach any future child the myth that was Santa Claus, it takes one look at his daughter’s ecstatic face to know that sometimes the belief in a little thing called magic was worth holding onto while you can. She grabs onto his forearm, pulling it with all of her tiny strength in a futile attempt to get Jake out of bed, throwing him a look before trying the same with Amy. Her determination was second to none, and it made Jake endlessly proud whenever it was on display.

Leaning in to place a gentle kiss to Amy’s temple, Jake shifts until he’s no longer under the covers. “Pancakes, Miss Mia?”

Mia squeals again, wriggling her way down to the bottom of the mattress and taking half of the blanket along with her, racing towards the kitchen for the Santa Stylez Pancakes that Jake has been promising all week. With a grumble, Amy slowly begins to untangle herself from the bed linen, and Jake leans in for one more good-morning kiss before heading into the kitchen, where an unattended Mia has the potential to lead to disaster.

Within the hour the living room has turned into a scene of wrapping paper decimation, a kaleidoscope of colours and patterns covering the once clean hardwood floors. There were new toys everywhere - dolls and toy cars, books and puzzles and everything in between, and Mia sits in the middle of her circle of destruction, currently fascinated by a talking bear plush.

Amy sits to his left, one hand resting on his thigh as they sit together watching Mia play. The new earrings he bought her for Christmas are sparkling gently against the lights on the tree, and around his wrist sits a brand new probably-too-fancy-for-him watch, the kind he’s always wanted but never dared to buy. They’d spent the morning fielding phone calls from family and trying to negotiate their daughter into calmly unwrapping one present at a time, all plans of which flew out the window when she raced to the living room and turned into a flurry of wrapping paper and sticky tape. There’s nothing quite like the enthusiasm of a child on Christmas morning though, and both Jake and Amy had sat back and let Hurricane Mia do her thing.

Waiting until their daughter has turned her attention to a new puzzle, dumping out the pieces onto the floor with an already concentrated grin on her face, Amy leans into Jake’s side, dropping a gentle kiss to his cheek before whispering, “I’ve got one last present for you, babe.”

Jake turns towards his wife, momentarily struck into dumbfounded silence as he realises that even now: in her pyjamas with still messy bed hair, sitting on their living room floor surrounded by torn up wrapping paper, Amy is still easily the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. She raises her eyebrows at his silence, and Jake blinks rapidly as he backtracks his thoughts. “One last present, hmm?” He rests a finger underneath her chin and leaves a chaste kiss against her lips. “Does it start with Sexy and end in Timez, I wonder?”

Amy furrows her brow, blinking in confusion. “Huh? Oh! … No.” Shuffling slightly closer to the tree, she reaches in to the middle branches, pulling out a tiny rectangular box before returning to Jake. “I mean, yeah - that’s totally happening later tonight, once our little munchkin is asleep. But I have one more actual gift for you, babe.”

Jake takes the box from her outstretched hands, blushing slightly at his sex-related assumptions, and pulls Amy back in for another kiss. “Thank you, Ames. I already love it.”

She rests her forehead against his, closing her eyes for a moment. “You’re such a smooth talker, Peralta. But open the present, I’ve been dying to give it to you since last night.”

Eagerly pulling at the surrounding ribbon, Jake casts aside the lid of the box before pushing the surrounding tissue paper away. And then he stares at the contents, and his heart skips a thousand beats.

“Ames?” He looks over at her, tears beginning to pool in his eyes, and Amy bites down on her lower lip, nodding quickly.

His eyes return back to the gift in his hand. Inside the box sat a tiny rectangular photo of a sonogram, resting on top of a positive pregnancy test. They were having another baby.

He blinks again, hardly believing it to be true. They were having another baby!

A millisecond later, Amy is wrapping her arms around him, her own happy tears streaking down her face as she buries her face into Jake’s neck, and the two of them begin laughing happily as Jake holds her close to his chest. “Ames, I … what?!” He mumbles, still in shock that the little brother or sister for Mia that they’d been hoping for was finally going to happen.

“I found out the second day you were away,” Amy answers, pulling back slightly to pepper tiny kisses all over Jake’s cheek, resting adjacent to him on the floor but keeping her legs draped across his lap. “And it just didn’t feel like something you should find out over the phone.” Jake nods, pulling her in for another kiss, a longer one this time as the elation begins to kick in. “You don’t know how many times I nearly told you last night, babe.”

“Probably a few million?”

“Try a hundred billion. I’ve just been bursting at the seams, Jake. I’m so excited!” Her hands move to either side of his face, eyes turning gentle as they take in his own exhilaration. “I love you so much, Jake Peralta.”

“I love you so much too, Amy Santiago.” He pauses as Amy leans in for a kiss, running his hands gently up and down her back. “You’ve made me the happiest man alive, and this is literally the best Christmas present I could ever get.”

From the other side of the tree Mia cries out in triumph as she slides the last puzzle piece into place, already taking after her mother with her impressive puzzler mind. She giggles with joy as her parents applaud her, scrambling across the floorboards until she’s resting in Jake’s lap (it’s one of her favourite places to be).

“We have to figure out how to tell her, next” Amy whispers into Jake’s ear, and he nods. The birds and the bees talk seemed waaay too soon, but he knows Mia’s curious mind won’t take for just any old line for an answer. He wraps one hand around his daughter, placing the gift in his left hand carefully on the floor beside him before pulling Amy closer, sighing in contentment as all three of them sit together in front of the Christmas tree. Decisions like that could wait. The whole world could wait, really - because he had everything he needed, right here in his arms.

#myfic #holy one year anniversary batman!#time flies when you're having fun #peraltiago au #b99 fanfic #peraltiago fanfiction #b99au #mine #Jake x Amy fic #jake x amy fanfic #hope you enjoy #it's fluff city #peraltiago fluff

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caliversatile · 4 years ago

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CALI-BLOG!

Blog title: "Introducing Me, CAYLIE VEGA!"

Written in: July 29, 2020

Edited: April 10, 2020

Hi fam! So this is yours truly, Caylie Vega aka Caliversustheworld. And yes I'm a foreign invader from outerspace who's quite obsessed with writing, daydreaming, reading, making cartoons/arts, binge-watching animes, and listening to music especially rock. I used plenty of pseudonyms before settling down to my new name (Caylie Vega aka CVTW), due to some "personal" reasons of course.

Moving on from that part, I started becoming a writer since I was like 9 years old. I am a certified bookworm and I wanted to write the idea that just popped out of my head, so my first story was like written in a stolen piece of yellow paper from my parent's room, and it was a tale about a certain magical angel mermaid whatsoever. Let's just say that she was a product of both Angel and mermaid blah bla blah. That story was followed by another children's masterpiece which was entitled, "BEA THE BEE" and had some cute illustrations in every page. And just as when I fin'lly reach my last year in Elementary (writing for academic purposes since 4th grade isn't counted) I wrote another fairytale story again, and this time was about a statue princess. Innocent as it may be seen, those pre-writer works are all just made out of unutterable boredom, no aspirations involved. What truly moved me to dream of becoming a published author someday is when I discovered about the glorious existence of electronic books. Teenfiction e-books are totally different from the usual non-fiction/academic books I used to read during my boring childhood. The context is awfully written and there's so many loopholes and grammatical errors like adding some unnecessary things like emojis or exaggerated sound effects like, "BOOOOOOGGGSHSHSH!" "SPPPLUUURTRT!" "SKADOOOSHHHHH!!!!". I also noticed that the authors are prefer informal character point of views instead of using the omniscient perspective. However, It's not like I'm criticizing those minor flaws but I rather find it amusing in a way that I like how funky and deviant it is from the standard — it's like eating ice cream in a new flavor. In simpler terms, I fell in love with e-books like how should girls my age fell in love with their first love.

And because of that stimulus, I began to aspire writing novels — solely for fun and curiosity. However, if you think that I've already published a lot of works already because I started from that age, well that's a big mistake. In fact, I haven't. I do but can't even finish one due to my "writer's block" syndrome. Having this as a condition is one of my greatest challenges in this endeavor. It makes me frustrated enough to doubt myself, if whether I was born to become a writer or nah. Year by year, I always come up with a lot of good story ideas (a whole village of 'em) but none of them are finished or even written in the first place, 'cause it's either I keep them hidden in the darkest part of my mind or I always ends up stopping after losing all the enthusiasm in the middle of writing it. I know, that feeling is horrible. I also wanna smack myself but what else can I do anyway? I'm emotionally vulnerable, I easily get inspired and fired up like how I easily get tired and depressed at the same time. Whenever I get the chance to read other people's works, I always tend to feel frustrated with my own when I shouldn't be comparing my chapter 1 to other people's chapter 50. Guess I should've known better.

I kept on asking why God seems like preventing me to do it, until 2020 happened to me. Amidst this life-changing global pandemic, I have learned a lot of things not just from my own self-realizations but also from the online communities I recently joined in. I finally understood that making novels isn't meant for me during my younger years because it's waiting for my growth as a writer now. Before, I thought writing is just a hobby, but now it feels like a permanent career opportunity that I would love to do even when I grew old. I used to think that novels are just written for fun, now I am seeing it in a better, professional perspective. I wanna be a writer whose works give positive impact to my readers. I wanna be a writer whose works are written beautifully like how great painters do their crafts. I wanna be a writer whose works passed the ethical and moral standards of my target demographics and also to our community. (but If I'd still crossed some borderlines, I'd always put a warning about reader's discretion)

So, I decided to break the barricades and write a story for real starting this year — without stopping halfway anymore. I also tried to assess what could possibly be my mistakes from the past (of why I'm feeling the WB syndrome) so I can make a new strategy that I can use against it. From an innocent-writer-wannabe, I finally graduated as a plotter novelist. Yes, I plot my stories now before drafting them. I'm also setting a writing schedule daily so I won't miss the deadline I pinned for myself.

Anyways, thank you so much for reading aliens! Watch out for my next update while stay safe from COVID19. Keep invading and get crazy romantic! 🌷

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stirred-tea · 5 years ago

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The girl no one noticed Ep. 11 (last episode)

Warnings: Loads of fluff, mentions of sex

Summary: The day for Y/N becoming a true Serpent is closing in, but what about that Sweet Pea had asked for a week prior?

Words: 2912

Ep. 1

Ep. 2

Ep. 3

Ep. 4

Ep. 5

Ep. 6

Ep. 7

Ep. 8

Ep. 9

Ep. 10

The weeks past by and the night of your grand reveal was upon you, you were a bit nervous, mostly because Sweet pea had no idea what was about to happen. There was a knock on the bedroom door. “Y/N can I come in?”. Sweet Pea asked softly. “Yeah of course, come in” “Ummm…”. He scratched the back of his head. “You know that date I was supposed to take you on?” “I have some weak memory of it yes”. You said with a smirk while brushing your hair while sitting on the bed. “Well I never got to take you, and these past weeks have been so busy I haven’t been able to ask you about it again. Do you have any plans for today?” “Nope, but I’m meeting Toni later tonight” “Would it be a bad idea if I took you out now?” “Not at all! Let me just get ready and we can go, if you don’t have any other things you have to take care of before we go. By the way, where are we going?” “It’s a surprise princess, can’t tell you”. He walked up to you, standing right in front of you. “Sweet Pea?”. You asked looking up at him. “You are so damn pretty…”. Was all he said before gently pushing you in to the bed, hoovering above you.

“S-sweet Pea! W-what are you doing” “Oh don’t be so shy Y/N” “I-I’m not”. You said fiddling with his collar. He stroked your face and before you knew it he crashed his lips on yours, pushing you up towards the headboard. You placed your hands on his cheeks deepening the kiss. Your hands got under his shirt and stroked up his sides while his found their way up your neck up to your scalp. When you both were out of breath, you broke the kiss and Sweet Pea just looked at you with the softest face you had ever seen him have. “Come on Princess, lets get this date started”. He stood up and gave you his hand to take. “Did it get too much for ya?”. You asked with a grin. “Don’t know what you are talking about”. He replied and looked to the side. “Haha, you are I got you blushing” “Oh shut up Y/N”. He chuckled. You took his hand and he helped you off the bed. “I’ll be right out ok, maybe you need some time to cool down, have a cool shower or something”. You nudged his side and smirked. “I’ll show you a cool shower!” He said lifting you throwing you over his shoulder. “Let me down!”. You shrieked and laughed at the same time as you hit his back gently. “No way Princess, I’m getting you in the shower”. He was laughing just as much as you were. When you got to the bathroom he put you down in the shower. “Are you ready?”. He asked with a smug face, reaching for the handle. “Oh my god stop!”. You giggled. He turned the handle just enough to only let a few drops end up on your head. “There, now you got what you deserved”. He said with a huge smile and stroked your face. “You are such a dork”. You said sweetly. “If we are going to have that date, you have to let me get out of this shower and get dressed”. You pushed him out of the shower and let you pass.

When you were ready, you stepped outside, Sweet Pea were already waiting by his bike. He was shoving some gravel around with his shoe. “Ey hot stuff, what are you doing out here all by yourself?”. You said and walked towards him. “Damn Y/N, you look stunning”. He said almost blushing. “Thanks”. You replied with a sweet smile. He gave you his helmet and you drove off.

You had no idea where he was taking you, but when you arrived your eyes lit up. “Damn Sweet Pea! This is so pretty!”. Without telling him, this was the place you and your mother used to visit. “I figured you would like it”. He said putting his hand at the small of your back leading you forward. “What is this?” You asked when you noticed a blanket and a basket sitting on top of this. “Did you do this?” “Maybe?” “How did you even have time for that?” “I have people you know”. He smiled at you. “Fangs?”. You asked raising your brow. “Who else?”. He chuckled. “You really put a lot of thought in to this didn’t you?” “I guess”. He replied pulling you with him to the spot right in front of the lake where everything was set up. You sat down, with your legs crossed in front of you, your hands behind you as support. You looked out at the lake, where you had been so many times before, smiling at the memories. “What are you smiling about?”. He asked with a gentle smile. “Nothing, just memories” “What kind of memories, I hope no one else has taken you here, that would ruin the whole thing…” “Just my mom, so I it doesn’t ruin anything, more the opposite, it’s making it even more special”. You said smiling, putting your hand on his. “Your mom used to take you here?” “Yeah, this was our get away place. I haven’t been here since she died” “I’m really sorry about all that” “Thanks, but there’s nothing we can do about it now. At least I know what happened and it’s been a couple of years, so I figured something bad had happened. Just wished she would have talked to FP so he could’ve helped us out…” “It will be ok Y/N, you have me now and all the other Serpents, even though you are not an official one” “Talking about that, why haven’t you asked me if I want to join the Serpents?”. You asked glancing at him. “Because I don’t think it’s important, you are important, not what gang you belong to”. He said looking up to the sky. You let your answer linger a bit before answering: “Would you be mad if I became one though?” “Nah, it would only make me more proud of you”. He answered looking straight into your eyes. He looked down at your lips and back to your eyes. “Stop staring at my lips and kiss me already”. You smiled at him before pulling him towards you by his shirt.

Between make out sessions you talked about everything and nothing, you told him about your mother, how you got her eyes and personality but how you got your father’s looks. He told you about how he grew up, mostly about how he joined the Serpents and how got to know Toni and Fangs. You had a great time, it was the first time you really had the time to talk about your lives as things had been quite hectic since Jughead had dropped you off at his Sweet Pea’s place. “You know Y/N, I’m really happy that Jughead came to me for help and not someone else. I don’t think I would have ever got the chance to meet you if it wasn’t for him. I used to think he was a jerk for not joining the Serpents, he had such privilege as his dad was the King and all, but he just threw it in the bin” “You know he had his reasons though, right?” “Yeah I know, I respect him for his choices even though I don’t always agree with him” “Want to know a secret?” “What’s that?” “Neither do I”. You said grinning. “Really? I thought you did everything he told you to do”. He said sarcastically.

Suddenly your phone started to buzz, you looked at the phone, it was Toni who were calling. “Shit!” “Something wrong?”. Sweet Pea asked with a worried face. “Oh not really, but we really have to get back, I promised that I would meet Toni twenty minutes ago and I’m never late so I think she’s really worried” “Alright, I’ll take you back”. You texted Toni telling her you were on your way, that Pea had taken you on that date you were supposed to have several weeks ago. You only got a: Ok, see you soon ; ) as an answer.

When you stood outside Toni’s place he pulled you into a warming hug, his arms really made you feel safe and you didn’t want to leave. You kissed his cheek and told him that you would meet up later. “Y/N I was so worried when you didn’t show up!”. You barely got inside the trailer before she started to ask questions about the date. “I’m not here to talk about the date, we are in a hurry if I’m going to be able to do this thing tonight”. You said rushing in to her bedroom. “Where’s the clothes?” “Right here!”. Toni replied holding up the goodie bag. “Thank god!” “Are you nervous?” “A bit, mostly because I had to rush here, and that Sweet Pea will see me in these”. You said blushing a bit when you looked at yourself in the mirror. You spun around a couple of times to see how it looked. “You look great Y/N, never doubt that ok”. Toni said smiling gently towards you, it almost looked like she was checking you out by the look of it. “Are you checking me out Topaz?” “Ummm, what?”. She said looking confused. “Are you checking me out?” “What?! No, well maybe”. She said while a small hint of pink creeped up her cheeks. “It’s ok, I think you are pretty hot too, but right now I’m with Sweet Pea and I think you are having something going on with someone, am I right?”. He just stood there, speechless. “Come on, I’m teasing you. Even though I wouldn’t mind spending more time with you”. You said winking at her. “Damn Y/N, you are so bold now when you are comfortable around others” “I guess so, but I’m honest as well. I think you are a great person and I’m really happy to have you as my friend” “Same”. She said hugging you. “Lets get the makeup on” “Can you help me with that? I’m not the greatest at it” “Sure, sit down on the bed and I’ll paint a masterpiece for Sweet Pea to rough up later” “Hush you!”. You said while nervously playing with the hem of the bodysuit.

When you were all glammed up, Toni took you to the Whyrm. You sneaked behind the bar, hoping that Sweet Pea wouldn’t notice you. Luckily, he was distracted by a game of pool with Fangs and some others. Fangs made a thumbs up as he saw you. You got in place and as the lights went out you could hear Sweet Pea say: “What the hell, we were playing here!” “Come on, something is going on over there”. You heard Fangs tell him. Then the lights on you came on, next was the song you had chosen which was: I’ll Be Waiting by Lenny Kravitz. You had chosen it for two reasons. One, you had always had a crush on Sweet pea and no matter who you had hooked up with you couldn’t shake off the feeling that you wished it was him instead, not that you had been with that many. Second, you could have waited all your life for only one night with him, you could’ve done almost anything for him to notice you.

You were facing the back wall as the song started, leaning your back against the pole. “Who is that?”. You could hear Sweet Pea ask Fangs. At that moment you turned around, threw your legs around the pole and slowly slithered down it. You could see how Sweet Pea’s jaw dropped down and how he took a hold of Fangs shoulder. “OH MY GOD! IS Y/N BECOMING A SEERPENT?!”. He almost screamed in Fang’s ear. Meanwhile you squirmed around the pole before unzipping the dress and your whole attire showed. People started to cheer and clap their hands and Sweet pea tried to get them to look away, he didn’t want anyone to look at you in that kind of way. He almost got in to a fight because of it, it didn’t make you stop dancing though. You swung your hips to the music, placed your hands on the pole and climbed it, leaning backwards before sliding down once again. When the song where coming to an end, you faced the pole one last time and swung your whole body around it and leaned back as the song ended. As it did, both Toni and Jughead came up on the stage holding your mother’s old Serpent jacket. “Here’s for our new member, Y/N L/N, no longer the girl no one notice!”. Jughead said as him and Toni helped you on with the jacket. People started to cheer even louder, some people hollered at you and as you jumped off the stage a furious Sweet Pea came at you, but as you placed your hand on his chest and looked up as his eyes and asked: “What do you think of my outfit?”. He just took your hand and pulled you outside. “What the hell was that?” “I just became a Serpent!”. You said with the biggest smile on your face, but you noticed that Sweet Pea wasn’t having it. “Why did you let people look at you, wearing that?!” “Oh come on Pea, it was only for one song and I’m fully covered, sure it’s lace and it’s partly see through but this is what I wanted to wear, also, I decided I wanted to become a Serpent and this is what I have to do to be able to be one” “I know… I just don’t like others looking at you like that… I want to have that to myself, not even I have seen you without clothes…” “So that’s what the problem is, you are jealous?”. You walked up to him, placing your hand on his chest and tried to be as flirtatious as you could. “Y/N, stop…” “Awww, Am I touching a sensitive spot?” You asked as you reached up to kiss his neck. “God damn it…” “Oh I think I am”. You said proudly. “Can we go home now? Please?”. He asked with a flustered face. “Nope, I have to talk to Jughead before I can go anywhere”. You said and walked back inside. When you walked up to Jughead he had a very confused look on his face. “Why are you looking like you just got a jackpot?”. He asked. “Ask Sweet pea”. Was all you said with that smile plastered all over your face. “Oh my god Y/N!”. “No! Not that”. You said waving your hand in frustration. “I should get back to him though, I’ll see you guys tomorrow? I would hope FP can give me that tattoo” “Sure thing Y/N”. You heard him say as he walked up to you. “I never thought I would see you wear a Serpent jacket, but damn, it fits you so well” “Thanks FP, I hope I made mom proud” “Of course you did, everything you do makes her proud” “Maybe not everything”. Jughead said snickering and you hit him in the chest. “What was that for?!”. He asked. “I think you know that”. You replied with a serious face. “I’ll see you tomorrow then! Good night!” “Night Y/N!”. Jughead said giving you a hug, which ended up in a group hug as Toni and FP joined in.

When you got back out, Sweet Pea was standing in front of his bike, with his arm crossed. “are you still mad at me?”. You asked as you got on his bike. “No, but you could have told me that you were going to join the Serpents” “I kind of did earlier today” “When?” “When I asked why you haven’t asked me to join” “Right…”. Was all he said. You wrapped your arms around him, leaned against his back and he drove off to his home. He parked his bike and then he turned to look at you. “What?”. You asked. “I was going to ask this at a later time, but I think this is as good as any other”. He took out an envelope out of his pocket, you looked at it, shook it a bit. “What is this?” “Open it”. As you did a key fell out. “Pea, what is this key for?” “To my trailer”. He answered stepping closer to you. “I figured that you could stay here with me, instead of finding your own place”. He said putting a strand of hair behind your ear. “Oh my god Sweet pea! Are you serious?” “Does it look like I’m joking?” “No”. You said throwing yourself at him. “I would love to stay here with you, until we find a better place” “A better place? What’s wrong with this one?” “Nothing is wrong with it, but it would be nice to have a bigger place, don’t you think?” “I will only move if we find a place here at the south side” “Of course dufus, I’m done with the Northside” “Then I’ll consider it”. He kissed your forehead and swept you up in his arms, opened the trailer door and said: “Welcome home Princess”.

Fin.

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A/N: English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes. This was the last chapter of “The girl no one noticed” and I want to thank all of you who have read it and liked it. This is the first fic I have written and finished and I’m quite happy how it all turned out.

Taglist:

@addictofsupernatural

@broke-into-pieces-by-myself

@reblogserpent

@blablasomethingblabla

@anahgiedd

@p-marie-sp

#riverdale #riverdale fanfiction #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea #fp jones #jughead jones #toni topaz #fanficion #xreader

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klanced · 6 years ago

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soooooo i was late on asking for the second movie but i call dibs for whenever ur organized enough to infodump it: What Happens In The /Third/ Movie Katie Klanced?

I meant to post this last year but then I got suspended and forgot smh -_-

Anyway it’s been almost a year, so here are a few links to refresh your memory on the masterpiece that is my Despicable Me au. In fact, here’s the tag because I love this au.

In my correct opinion, the third DM movie is definitely the weakest in the franchise, and I pretty much ignored its canon plot and wrote my own. So sorry if there’s a few loose-ends/plot-holes. But this is a Despicable Me au, I am beholden to no gods, no rules.

Roughly a year has passed since the events of the second movie. Coran and Alfor have finally gotten together (they’re either dating or married, I haven’t decided yet). Allura is away at college because I have way too many characters on my hands and I have to sideline out of necessity. Sorry, Allura.

The movie opens up with the entire family getting ready for an award ceremony at the AVL happening that night. It’s about as hectic a scene as you can imagine. Lance is running around without a shirt on. Pidge is wearing three shirts. One is her pajama top, the second is Lance’s aforementioned missing shirt. No one has any idea where the third shirt came from.

When suddenly, the phone rings!

Krolia picks it up, paying only 1/3 attention to the person on the line before she yells that it’s for Coran. Coran limps over, half a chewed shoe in his hand, the other half still on his foot. His right eyebrow is smoking. He is, understandably, a little terse when he shouts to be heard over the background din into the phone.

The screen diagonally bisects, to show Coran on the phone and… Shiro on the other side of the line!

Shiro introduces himself as the new CPS worker assigned to Lance/Hunk/Pidge’s case. Coran immediately has a heart attack and runs to his soundproofed study, slamming the door behind him as Shiro continues to just. Awkwardly talk on the phone lol.

Coran, internally: oh shit oh shit oh FUCK oh shit why now why nowwww oh lord is he calling to take away the kids? is he going to take away my BABIES??

Shiro: sorry for the late phone call sir, i meant to call earlier but i dropped my phone in a puddle and- i mean! the life of a cps worker is just packed hahahahahahahahahaah (WHY are you still laughing you IDIOT) ha-ahem! anyway. i’m the new cps worker, have i mentioned that yet? because i am. it’s just that, after we realized that the kids’ last foster home and agent let a supervillain just walk out with them - uh, no offense, sir! i just meant that, well, supervillains are generally understood to be bad- not to imply that you’re evil of course! Haha of Course Not, even though you were Literally voted the world’s most evil and accomplished supervillain several years in a row, but! That’s neither here nor there. Of course. :)

DM!Verse Shiro is a bit of a nervous doof but he also has a spine of steel when it comes to kids and making sure their living situations are safe. And he is very skeptical of Coran and his parenting skills, which is honestly pretty reasonable considering he’s an outsider looking in.

I mean, someone who was arguably the world’s greatest villain suddenly deciding to move to suburbia with his three (stolen) adopted kids does… seem like a bit of a stretch. And pretty sus lmfao.

Coran and Shiro eventually stutter their way into a productive conversation and arrange for Shiro to conduct a home visit/other CPS survey stuff very soon. Coran politely bids Shiro farewell, hangs up the phone, and has a panic attack because suddenly it feels like all his worse fears are coming true. Because the other shoe has finally dropped.

Life has been so kind to Coran lately, between his loving marriage and his lovable kids. It’s sad to say, but he’d half-expected something like this to happen for a while. Because people like him don’t deserve this kind of uninterrupted happiness.

Alfor quietly knocks on the door and takes in the scene before him. Coran reaches out, and he immediately rolls to his husband’s side.

Coran collapses against him and catches him up to speed. There’s a pause as Alfor pauses, absorbs, and digest the information, before he starts making calming shushing noises.

Insert Supportive Spouse Speech. Alfor reminds Coran that, for all he’s done in the past, he has damn well earned his present life. Alfor can attest to that, as can Krolia and, most importantly, their children.

It also doesn’t hurt that the internationally recognized Anti-Villain League is both a sponsor of and willing to provide a character reference for Coran. That counts for something, and Coran finally calms down.

This is what we in the writing business like to call “foreshadowing” :)

Scene cut to the AVL award ceremony. Krolia and Coran are both being recognized for their incredible heroics from the past year, etc etc, blah blah blah. Their speeches are very true to their character.

At the end of it, Kolivan goes up and stage and announces he’s retiring. Krolia, who knew this was happening in advance and fully expects to be named as his replacement, starts checking her lipstick in her hand mirror- only for Kolivan to introduce a ‘Commander Hira’ to the crowds.

FML, this is exactly the plot to the Spongebob Squarepants movie.

The entire Wimbleton Smythe-Altea Family freeze, mid-applause. Hunk awkwardly puts away his ‘CONGRATULATIONS KROLIA!!!!!!!!’ banner. Krolia shatters her hand mirror in her fist.

Within her first month, Hira makes some dramatic changes to the AVL. One of which is the agency’s complete separation from anything having to do with villains, including its rehabilitation program.

“Once a villain always a villain” essentially. Hira insists that villains are simply too evil to ever truly become good again, and that so-called “former” criminals are simply biding their time until they can enact their revenge.

As a result, Coran is fired. Alfor protests Hira’s decision, and resigns out of solidarity. Krolia calls Hira a bitch and is also fired.

The kids are ecstatic that their dads + aunt are home 24/7 now. Krolia is less pleased. She’s been an active agent for more than half her life, so this sudden and forced turn for domesticity has her clawing at the walls.

One of the sub-plots is Alfor trying to convince Coran to become a superhero, “just like the old times.” (Coran: Love, I was literally your supervillain arch-nemesis).

Coran is hesitant, because 1) He still has low self-value and doesn’t see himself as a hero, and 2) He’s perfectly content to mooch off his billionaire boyfriend and spend his time as a stay-at-home dad.

To take their mind off their sudden unemployedness, Coran and Alfor throw themselves into preparing for Shiro’s house visit. This mainly entails Alfor calming Coran down from an anxiety attack every other hour.

There is a lot of tension in the house.

And then, like magic! An invitation to the biggest supervillain symposium of the year appears, because villain mailing lists are especially evil and refuse to take Coran off their register even though he literally arrests villains for a living.

“So you’re telling me,” Krolia says, and Coran instinctively inches for the door. “That you’ve had an opening into the world’s biggest villain convention, this entire time, and you didn’t tell anyone?”

“W-e-ll,” Coran stutters, slapping blindly behind him for the doorknob, “It just didn’t seem very fair, you know? To ambush them like that, all because of their lazy office workers. That’s not very good sport.”

Krolia and Alfor try to convince Coran that he should go. Krolia is convinced this is the in they need to reclaim their jobs; they’ll infiltrate the Supervillain Symposium, arrest all the biggest bads, call the AVL, rub it in Hira’s face, take a selfie while she’s sobbing in the background, celebrate as the masses drag Hira to the guillotine-

Coran: Krolia I love you, I really do. But you have issues.

Krolia: I happen to be perfectly adjusted for someone in my situation.

Coran is still hmming and hawwing because, now that he doesn’t have to fight villains for a living, he quite likes Not Being In Constant Danger. But then Krolia reminds him that he is both unemployed AND now blacklisted by the AVL, two things which might very well doom him in the eyes of Shiro (and the rest of CPS). He needs to do this if he wants his job back and, therefore, keep his kids.

(…. At some point, Coran shaves off his mustache in a stress-filled attempt at appearing as a better guardian, but no one recognizes him so he has to wear a fake mustache for the rest of the movie)

Coran of course is immediately super gung-ho for this plan and declares they’re leaving ASAP.

The kids of course are raring to go, the adults are vehemently hell no to that idea, and in the ensuing argument everyone forgets that Shiro is coming today.

A series of events thus follows, which can be summarized as:

The adults say that the kids can’t come.

The kids decide that yes, in fact, kids can come and plan accordingly.

The kids are preparing to tail after the adults (after waiting a reasonable amount of time of course (this isn’t their first rodeo) in their own modified plane when they hear what sounds like their babysitter, the Reformed Lotor, coming around the corner.

The kids immediately go into attack mode only to realize, after the dust has settled, that they’ve actually knocked out Shiro.

In their infinite pre-teen wisdom, the kids decide to stick with the plan and load Shiro into their equivalent trunk and take off.

A few moments later, Lotor finally arrives, looks up from his phone, realizes there are no kids to be watched, and shrugs and goes home.

The scene cuts to Shiro groggily stumbling out of the corner the kids have stashed the plane in, only to realize, to his absolute horror, that he’s on an island filled with Supervillains attending a Supervillain Convention.

Hunk: Man… I feel like we forgot something.

*Shiro screaming in the distance*

For brevity’s sake I’ll cut off here, but just know that this is only the FIRST THIRD (IF EVEN THAT) of the movie. I am absolutely off the CHAINS. I still haven’t even introduced Keith yet. I love this au.

#voltron #coran #alfor #krolia #lance #pidge #hunk #alforan #despicable me au #long post #ask #anonymous #katiecanons #if it isn't obvious i'm trying to clear out some of my drafts and. well. i love this au so lmfao #otp: gay dads

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