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prettywordsyouleft · 4 years ago

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The Cowboy - Part 1

Summary: Leaving the city for a rural area called Blayne seemed simple enough. Your task was to convince the people to agree with selling their land for a resort redevelopment. But once there, you soon realise that your city ways are entirely different to theirs. Winning their trust was going to take some effort, and when you start to fall for a local cowboy, you wonder if you really needed Blayne more than the city life after all.

Pairing: Jung Jaehyun x female reader

Genre: cowboy au / drama / romance / if you squint there’s some enemies to lovers up in here.

Warnings: Jung Jaehyun is a cowboy, need I say more? (a bit of angst and drama, and it sometimes might feel like you’re reading a Nicolas Sparks book, so I’m told lol)

Word count: 1952

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

“Give me a break,” you said with a groan as your best friend Natalia handed you a thick novel. Barely glancing at the title as you placed it down on your coffee table, you then cocked your head to the side. “This isn’t funny.”

“What? I thought it might give you some hints on how to handle country life.”

“A Nicolas Sparks novel?!” Shaking your head as Natalia giggled, you then gave her another pointed look. “I’m not going to the country to find love and I better not end up in any tragic accident, either.”

“So you have read them,” she teased, following you into the bedroom where you had several suitcases ready to take the disarray of your belongings you had pulled out from the closet.

“I’ve seen a movie or two,” you reminded, looking in her direction again. “You made me watch them with you whenever you got drunk on wine, proclaiming they’re the best kind of love stories.”

“Okay, whatever! My sentiment still remains. Moving to the country will come to you as a huge shock. You were born and raised in this city.”

“So there won’t be a Starbucks nearby. I’m sure the diner or café or even a tearoom if they have one, will be able to make me a coffee when I need it. Plus, Amazon should service the area if I need to order more pods for my own coffee maker.”

Natalia shook her head. “You’re too used to the fast pace of this world right now. Blayne is light years away from this.”

“Yes, because you’ve totally been there, Natty,” you mused, shooting your friend a toothy smile. She didn’t join you in your amusement. “Okay, so I’m a city slicker. I’ve never seen a cow up close or bare land in every direction for miles. But I am adaptable.”

“This isn’t a resume, Y/N. This is a relocation.”

You nodded. “And it’s only for seven months, at max. I’ll just go down to Blayne and make it less plain. How hard can that be?”

“Wow, I almost hit you then because that was so lame,” Natalia breathed, gripping her wrist in her other hand for effect. “I still don’t think you’re the right person for this job. Country people are different. Their values are in the land and the community, not in big investment. I used to spend my summers on my grandparents’ farm. It’s nothing like the city, Y/N.”

“I will aim to prove you wrong,” you announced confidently before holding up two pairs of stiletto boots. “You don’t think I’ll need these, right?”

After almost two days of travelling, you hit the final township before Blayne. Your initial excitement for a road trip had evaporated, much as the urban lifestyle in these parts. You were seeing lesser homes, lesser businesses, and just less in general.

Pulling into a gas station on the outskirts, you filled up the tank to your car, confused as to where the concierge had gone.

“I can fill my own tank. It’s no problem,” you convinced yourself, wiping your hands off on your jeans when you screwed the fuel cap back on. Retrieving your wallet, you walked inside and marvelled the tiny storefront as you moved towards the counter.

“You’re not from around here,” the middle-aged man announced and you smiled politely as you held over your card. “Oh, we don’t do that here.”

“Don’t do what? Accept payment?” you asked with a chuckle, insisting on him taking the card.

The store clerk stared at you blankly before leaning on the countertop. “Where did you come from, city slicker?”

“Does it matter? Will you take my card to process the payment?”

“Around these parts, we don’t really use cards, you see,” he mentioned, shrugging when your mouth fell ajar.

“Then how do you pay for things?”

“Good-old cash or barter,” he answered simply, and you gasped nosily.

“B-Barter?”

“We also do tabs, but if you’re not from around here, we can’t offer that.”

“I’m moving to Blayne,” you mentioned, and the man stared at you once again, making you uncomfortable in the process.

And then he burst into hearty laughter. “You’re good at making jokes, Miss.”

“It’s not a joke. I’m on my way to Blayne Hill Estate.”

“To Old Jung’s house?” he asked, and you nodded. “Wow, you don’t seem the type.”

“The type for what?”

“For all of this.”

“Well, I’m adaptable,” you told him with a tight smile, rummaging around in your wallet after retracting your card. “How much will it be? I’ll see if I have some cash still on me. I haven’t used it in about two years with card and mobile payments being more accessible.”

“All these young kids leaving the weight of their lives in the hands of tiny devices and cards. What is this world coming to?”

“It’s all about modern advances,” you told him, shooting him another smile. “You’ll have to catch up with the times around here sooner or later.”

“Miss, I’m pulling your leg.”

“Huh?” Glancing over at the card machine that seemed to have appeared out of thin air, you flushed with annoyance whilst his laughter boomed around the store. “Ah, right.”

“We might seem out of date to you, but you’ll find that Blayne is the type of place that’s happy being just how it is.”

It was dusk by the time you arrived at your destination. Of course, the GPS in your car stopped working once you left the gas station, and had you not printed off a map just in case, you wouldn’t have had any clue on how to get to Blayne.

“Modern advances mean nothing if you’re not able to use them,” you muttered to yourself with some relief when you saw the end of this gravel road actually had a house on it. You had been dubious to turn down it at first, despite confirming your place on the map repeatedly. And after ten minutes of bumpy terrain, you pulled up in front of the modest homestead that you assumed was to be the house of your stay.

“Why not put me up in a hotel?” you had asked and your boss Pierce looked over at you and laughed.

“Y/N, there’s no hotels in Blayne.”

“Motel? Inn? Bed and Breakfast?” you listed and then laughed lightly. “Surely they have something.”

“The family who has held together the community down in Blayne for generations are the Jung’s. They have a small homestead they offer out to people wanting to experience the Blayne life.”

“Why isn’t there accommodation on the main street?” you wondered, and Pierce pointed to the map of the settlement. He then drifted his hand across to the township before Blayne. “Ah, people stay there instead?”

“No one goes to Blayne to stay,” Pierce mentioned, smiling widely. “Until now.”

“This house better have good mobile data reception,” you grumbled as you looked up at it, hauling your most-needed suitcase out of the trunk of your car and then attempted to wheel it to the veranda. The ground was uneven, so you reached for the side handle and heaved it up the three steps to the front door. You then checked your phone for the instructions on how to get inside.

“Pierce said there was no key to pick up on the way, but there’s no keypad on the door to get in with,” you observed out loud, scrolling through your offline messages and then blinked rapidly at the answer. Staring up at the door frame, you stretched onto the top of your toes and felt around blindly until your hand connected with a key-ring.

Retrieving the set of keys, you then slotted one into the door, unlocking it. “Well, I’ll be damned. Anyone could get in here if they knew where the keys were kept. What a poor security system.”

Looking around at the lack of civilisation before stepping inside, you soon chuckled. “Then again, there’s no one around for miles. I guess I don’t need to worry about leaving the security guard back at my apartment building anymore.”

Closing the door behind you and placing down the keys on the entryway table, you then reached for the light switch and flicked it on.

Nothing.

“What?!” you exclaimed, pushing the switch up and down. “Why isn’t it working?!”

Moving over to another wall, you had the same luck with that one. “Ugh! Why?!”

You squealed when a sudden ringing sounded, and after a disoriented moment, you realised it was coming from within the home. Fumbling about, you managed to find the older styled phone and picked up the corded receiver. “Hello?”

“Miss L/N?” a cheerful voice crooned, and you sighed with relief.

“Oh, thank goodness. I’ve just arrived to find there’s no power on at this house.”

“That’s because we don’t leave the fuse box on when no one is there. My son was meant to ride up this morning and power everything up, but we’ve had steer problems and-”

“I see. Could he ride up now?”

“Awfully dark out to be riding now,” she mentioned patiently, and you groaned inwardly. “But he’ll be there in fifteen.”

“Riding?”

“No dearie, in the truck. You’ll hear that old thing rumbling down the driveway long before you see it!”

“Ah, ha-ha. Thank you, Mrs Jung, right?”

“Please call me June. If you need anything, you just go about ringing this number. It’s written down in the phone book in front of you.”

“Phone book. Of course,” you replied, and after saying goodbye, you placed the receiver back down on the phone stand.

And then you began to laugh hysterically.

No power? That meant the refrigerator and freezer would need time to reach appropriate temperatures. I don’t need to worry about food too much yet, you mentioned, not having brought a lot of groceries with you anyway. But as you stood there waiting for June’s son to turn up, you grew cold.

What was the central heating like in a place like this? Casting your eyes around the dimly lit room, you spied a fireplace. Would you have to cart in wood to keep yourself warm?

Maybe Natalia was right after all. You only knew of high-rise buildings and fast lanes. Whilst you hadn’t been spoiled, you suddenly realised the privileged life you had up till now. Everything had always worked, and if you couldn’t get it to, there was always someone on the ready to help you.

“Just how much longer do I need to wait?” you wondered aloud, rubbing your arms in attempts to keep warm.

It was then that you heard the rumble of a car engine, and you dashed out onto the veranda grinning when you saw the headlights. Waving animatedly and leaping on the spot, you were relieved not to be alone anymore.

“He’s probably a teenager,” you assumed when you saw the state of the old truck, the spluttering noise that came out of it when it stopped worrying you somewhat. “Who lets their kid drive such a death trap?”

The door creaked open then, and you waited to see your young saviour, your hand still raised in greeting. It dropped when he stood upright, much as your mouth did.

“Oh hey, you must be Y/N, right?” he said, walking over to your side.

Blinking slowly, you allowed your eyes to travel up from his cowboy boots to his very adult frame, finally landing on his handsome face. Tipping the hat he wore in greeting, he then shot you a wide dimpled smile.

You didn’t want to admit it. But this was starting to feel awfully like the start to a Nicolas Sparks novel.

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Part 2

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cinemavariety · 5 years ago

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Cinema Variety’s Top 25 Favorite Films of the Decade

This past decade has been a monumental ten years for the state of cinema. To think that there were actually still video rental stores all around the country, to almost becoming nonexistent, is statement enough to show how vastly audiences have changed the way they consume media. Through much thought and careful deliberation, the following 25 films are my personal favorites of the decade and are what I think best represent all that indie, international and arthouse cinema had to offer over the past ten years. Honorable Mentions: Shame Green Room A Ghost Story The Lost City of Z Knight of Cups 20th Century Women Jackie Blade Runner 2049 The Lighthouse Ingrid Goes West A Hidden Life

#25 - Suspiria (2018) Dir. Luca Guadagnino

“It’s only hours afterward that Guadagnino’s film will cohere for you and yield its buried treasures: the bonds of secret sorority, the strength of a line of dancers moving like a single organism, the present rippling with the muscle memory of the past. It’s so good, it’s scary.”

#24 - Call Me By Your Name (2017) Dir. Luca Guadagnino

“The final beats of Guadagnino’s adaptation galvanize two hours of simmering uncertainty into a gut-wrenchingly wistful portrait of two people trying to find themselves before it’s too late.”

#23 - American Honey (2016) Dir. Andrea Arnold

“Part dreamy millennial picaresque, part distorted tapestry of Americana and part exquisitely illustrated iTunes musical, “Honey” daringly commits only to the loosest of narratives across its luxurious 162-minute running time. Yet it’s constantly, engrossingly active, spinning and sparking and exploding in cycles like a Fourth of July Catherine wheel.”

#22 - Post Tenebras Lux (2013) Dir. Carlos Reygadas

“Some metaphors score and some miss, but this is leap-of-faith cinema: the rewards entail some risks.”

#21 - The Revenant (2015) Dir. Alejandro G. Iñárritu

“Pushing both brutal realism and extravagant visual poetry to the edges of what one customarily finds in mainstream American filmmaking, director/co-writer Alejandro G. Inarritu, cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki and a vast team of visual effects wizards have created a sensationally vivid and visceral portrait of human endurance under very nearly intolerable conditions.”

#20 - Her (2013) Dir. Spike Jonze

“What begins like an arrested adolescent dream soon blossoms into Jonze’s richest and most emotionally mature work to date, burrowing deep into the give and take of relationships, the dawning of middle-aged ennui, and that eternal dilemma shared by both man and machine: the struggle to know one’s own true self.”

#19 - Annihilation (2018) Dir. Alex Garland

“A shimmering example of what Hollywood sci-fi can achieve when the aim is high, Annihilation is a gripping, mystifying adventure and proof that a transportive experience is more rewarding than a story with clean-cut resolutions.”

#18 - The Neon Demon (2016) Dir. Nicolas Winding Refn

“Spectacular, gross and delicious (so unsavory it’s almost sweet), the film is more proof of Refn’s mastery of his trash aesthetic and more fun than anything this indulgent and empty-headed has any right to be.”

#17 - Waves (2019) DIr. Trey Edward Shults

“Propelled by color, energy, electronic music and a quartet of career-making performances, here is that rare sort of cinematic achievement that innovates at every turn, while teaching audiences how to make intuitive sense of the way it pushes the medium.”

#16 - Mother! (2017) Dir. Darren Aronofsky

“Mother! is something truly magnificent, the kind of visceral trash-arthouse experience that comes along very rarely, means as much or as little as you decide it does, and spits you out into the daylight dazzled, queasy, delirious, and knock-kneed as a newborn calf.”

#15 - Melancholia (2011) Dir. Lars Von Trier

“The vision is as hateful as it is hate-filled, but the fusion of form and content is so perfect that it borders on the sublime. Melancholia is a remarkable mood piece with visuals to die for (excuse the pun), and a performance from Dunst that runs the color spectrum of emotions.”

#14 - Song to Song (2017) Dir. Terrence Malick

“Any number of sequences find feelings both externalized and hidden intermingling within the same shot, continuing in a subsequent image that carries the impression, the feeling, without replicating the exact tenor of what has just been seen. They exist simultaneously as certain backstories and what motivations they may inspire delicately unfold. Malick has found a way to translate how a familiar song has the ability to transport you back to a particular time and conjure a specific set of emotions. Whatever he’s been exploring over the past few years pays off here.”

#13 - If Beale Street Could Talk (2018) Dir. Barry Jenkins

“What Jenkins gets most right—what astonishes me the most about this film—is Baldwin’s vast affection for the broad varieties of black life. It’s one of the signature lessons of Baldwin’s work that blackness contains multitudes. In some ways Beale feels less like a movie than a well-staged, meticulously shot play; a period piece that floats beyond its specific time and place and into the realm of allegory.”

#12 - Samsara (2012) Dir. Ron Fricke

“Simply put, Samsara tells the story of our world, but onscreen, it is so much more than that. A darker and more ambitious meditation on impermanence, Samsara relies on blunt force and unforgettable imagery, overcoming the hazy logic of Fricke's editing to earn your awe.”

#11 - It’s Such a Beautiful Day (2012) Dir. Don Hertzfeldt

“A highly original and utterly enthralling film that touches on staggeringly expansive themes - more typically expected in the work of master auteur and persistent award-winner Terrence Malick, than from animations. An existential flipbook and a heartbreaking black joke: stickmen have never looked so alive.”

#10 - Upstream Color (2013) Dir. Shane Carruth

“You may not be able to figure it out, but that's part of the point of this sensually-directed, sensory-laden experiential (and experimental) piece of art that washes over you like a sonorous bath of beguiling visuals, ambient sounds and corporeal textures.”

#9 - Hereditary (2018) Dir. Ari Aster

“It’s a supremely effective gauntlet of supernatural horror that’s also, at blackened heart, a grueling domestic drama about how trauma, resentment, and guilt can seep into the roots of a family tree, rotting it from the inside out.”

#8 - Spring Breakers (2013) Dir. Harmony Korine

“Spring Breakers seems to be holding a funhouse mirror up to the face of youth-driven pop culture, leaving us uncertain whether to laugh, recoil in horror, or marvel at its strange beauty. Full credit to Korine, who sustains this act of creative vandalism right through to the finish. Spring Breakers unfolds as a fever dream of teenage kicks, a high-concept heist movie with mescal in the fuel tank.”

#7 - The Master (2012) Dir. Paul Thomas Anderson

“Two things stand out: the extraordinary command of cinematic technique, which alone is nearly enough to keep a connoisseur on the edge of his seat the entire time, and the tremendous portrayals by Joaquin Phoenix and Philip Seymour Hoffman of two entirely antithetical men. Written, directed, acted, shot, edited and scored with a bracing vibrancy that restores your faith in film as an art form, The Master is nirvana for movie lovers. Anderson mixes sounds and images into a dark, dazzling music that is all his own.”

#6 - Interstellar (2014) Dir. Christopher Nolan

“It’s a bold, beautiful cosmic adventure story with a touch of the surreal and the dreamlike, and yet it always feels grounded in its own deadly serious reality. An exhilarating slalom through the wormholes of Christopher Nolan’s vast imagination that is at once a science-geek fever dream and a formidable consideration of what makes us human.”

#5 - The Place Beyond the Pines (2013) Dir. Derek Cianfrance

“A brilliant, towering picture, The Place Beyond The Pines is a cinematic accomplishment of extraordinary grace and insight. The movie succeeds both as a high-stakes crime thriller as well as a far quieter and empathetic study of angry, solitary men proves that Cianfrance has a penchant for bold storytelling and an eye for performances to carry it through.”

#4 - Black Swan (2010) Dir. Darren Aronofsky

“A full-bore melodrama, told with passionate intensity, gloriously and darkly absurd. It centers on a performance by Natalie Portman that is nothing short of heroic. This is, no doubt about it, a tour de force, a work that fully lives up to its director's ambitions.”

#3 - Drive (2011) Dir. Nicolas Winding Refn

“From the beginning, it's clear this is not a standard-order action film. It takes its characters as seriously as its chases, shootouts, and fights. Drive dynamically merges a terrific film noir plot with a cool retro look. It's an unapologetically commercial picture that defies all the current trends in mainstream action filmmaking.”

#2 - Blue Valentine (2010) Dir. Derek Cianfrance

“Cianfrance and his actors, Michelle Williams and Ryan Gosling, have not made a cold or schematic film. They aim instead for raw emotional experience, one that's full of insight into the ways a relationship can go astray, but mostly feels like a slow-motion punch to the gut.”

#1 - The Tree of Life (2011) Dir. Terrence Malick

"The Tree of Life is a film of vast ambition and deep humility, attempting no less than to encompass all of existence and view it through the prism of a few infinitesimal lives. I wrote earlier about the many ways this film evoked my own memories of such time and place. About wide lawns. About a town that somehow, in memory, is always seen with a wide-angle lens. About houses that are never locked. About mothers looking out windows to check on their children. About the summer heat and ennui of church services, and the unpredictable theater of the dinner table, and the troubling sounds of an argument between parents, half-heard through an open window.”

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thepulta · 4 years ago

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A/N: Written because I have nothing to do with my life except stare at the turtle tank that now inhabits my desk, play Sunless Sea, and write fanfic. Probably a sub-canon piece too because idk about Fitzroy willing his shit to the rest of the crew; I just made that up on the spot. Maybe we can assume it wasn’t a whole lot.

If anyone is reading the Westlie-Series who isn’t on the Pyrrhus already, this is about three weeks? after they left Port Prosper together. There was an Incident of Self Sacrifice on behalf of the captain because @nicktosaurus likes murdering beloved NPCs in dramatic and horrible ways. We had the chance to save him while running away from the Glorious even though they started shooting up the whole island while Fitzroy was getting surgery, Selmer fucked up his roll and Capt’n died. Cue horrified drama onboard the ship as we picked up Selmer and got the fuck out of there without even our dead Captain’s body. We also had like three days of fuel left. Aaand scene:

-=-

No.

No, no, no, no, no.

No, no, no, no, no, no.

Marion slammed the door to the engine room. Selmer hurried after her. Lizzie had already vanished. Elijah stood next to the stove, possibly making tea, but his hands were shaking; he grabbed a cup, put it on the counter, grabbed the kettle, put it back down, picked up the cup and filled it with water; poured the water out and filled up the kettle. Owen had already left, vanished.

No.

Westlie stepped into the hallway, holding out a hand to steady herself against the wall as she made her way to the map room.

No. No, no, no, no, no, no.

She stumbled inside, locked the door, and slid down to the ground, her back to the rest of the Pyrrhus. Everything was numb. Westlie opened her mouth, out of air. Was this what fainting felt like? She had to breathe. Breath, Westlie, breathe.

I can’t. She dug her fingers in her hair. I can’t breathe. I can’t feel anything.

Fitzroy is dead.

Her soul screamed in anguish.

No. No. This wasn’t real. This was a bad dream, a nightmare. She’d stared too long out the window. Selmer had stared too long out the window; he had to be wrong.

But there still wasn’t Fitzroy on the ship - sleeping or up and about. There was no careful, courteous gaze. No knock on the map room when she put a book away too loudly. The last time he’d been up and about - Westlie laughed bitterly through her tears - it was past midnight and he’d knocked briefly on the door, letting himself in to find her knee-deep in charts. Westlie remembered smiling when she looked over her shoulder, seeing it was him. She’d caught herself after in surprise; she’d never done that to anyone. Maybe Morgan. But he was welcome because he simply looked over her notes and pulled out another book. And that was bitter. Stars, it was bitter. She had so much to learn. She had so much to learn.

Westlie covered her mouth with her sleeve and screamed into it, shoulders shaking as the tears rolled down her cheeks. Fitzroy, what do I do? Tell me what to do. You’re the captain. What do I do?

Books. She always had books.

Westlie stumbled to her feet, drunkenly leaning on the bookshelf as she blinked her way through the tears. Charting, charting, charting, navigation; biology, maps, one of Fitzroy’s journals; she scrubbed her eyes. Some books on the Queen’s fleet, a small book on the Glorious - shame, they could have used that - charts, charts, charts, navigation, diagrams of engines, diagrams of boiler rooms. Bediveres, Altanis, Molochs, Parsivals, Miscllaneous Reclaimed engines. She pulled a few of the books off the shelf onto the ground. Please, please, please, please, please let there be something. Abnomalies, a study of gravity, propultion, engineering, boilers, repairs, navigation, navigation, navigation, Pellinores, Pellinores, Pellinores, engines, repairs. Westlie cried harder as she knelt in the chaos, scanning the last row of books. Repairs, repairs, the Glorious, a series of notes in Fitzroy’s handwriting titled “Cargo Purchase and Sale References”, Pellinores, shipyard references, exploration of the reach, dangerous encounters in the reach, history of the reach, old captains, old engines, dead engines, engine scavenge log. Nothing on crew and captains or reviving dead men.

She’d never felt so helpless.

There wasn’t a hole in her heart, she wasn’t lonely, it was a hole in her stomach that made her want to hurl until there was nothing left; an abomidable chimera of grief and fear. Westlie pounded the bookshelf, feeling the tears drop off her chin into her lap. She should have done something. Anything. Should have stayed behind with Selmer, should have fought the Glorious off. They could have found a better doctor. They should have saved him. Fitzroy deserved to be saved. He deserved to be alive. Westlie sobbed harder, sinking against the bookshelf. All of them had failed, and now Marion was without a father, Westlie was without a teacher, Owen was without a job, Selmer and Elijah were without a friend.

At some point her eyes ran out of tears and she still cried until they burned. She didn’t remember anything else except waking up in the pile of books, every bone in her body aching. There was only a soft fungal luminescence outside the window. The Pyrrhus was deathly quiet, the engine hushed like it too was mourning its Captain.

Oh they were almost out of fuel too.

Westlie hurt too much to feel anything. She stood, facing the desk, her body wanting to sit but immobile. Her eyes felt dead. Without thinking she turned around and unlocked the door, slipping into the open hallway. It was too open, she felt exposed, but too lethargic to care. She made her way to the cab room. All the readings were fine if a bit low. There was some comfort in checking the pressure gauge, something she could touch; something she had control over.

Westlie opened the door to the catwalk of the engine room and looked down. The engine itself hissed softly, the coal bin was almost empty. Marion was curled in her cot, Selmer and Lizzie nearby. Westlie watched them for a second, then shut the door again. She walked down the hall to the now-empty cargo hold. The beds where the tiny family slept were still up, otherwise it was empty. Down to the crew quarters. Her bed was empty in the corner. Owen and Elijah were on the opposite sides of the room. The first sleeping, Elijah awake and... doing something by candlelight. Westlie couldn’t quite see, nor did she care. She turned away without being seen, hesitating before Fitzroy’s cabin.

She hated herself for standing there, for just staring at the handle with her dead eyes and empty soul and finally, like a ghost was moving for her, opening the door and stepping in.

It looked like he left it. It looked like he would come back any moment. There was cold coffee on the desk from at least two days ago after their escape from New Winchester. Someone made the fucking bed. There were book out, his reading spectacles on the nightstand. Westlie felt the tears well up again her but it just made her eyes burn worse. There was blood on the floor by the bed. She should clean that. Later. Tomorrow. She stepped to the far side of the room, making a circle around the stain in respect for the dead, and picked up the book by his nightstand. “Captain’s Log: Nov 1903 - ____”

She couldn’t take it. Westlie bit her lip to keep from letting out a sob as she grabbed the book and fled, still carefully to keep her footsteps hushed and not let the door sound. She escaped back into the map room, locked the door again, and sank down like earlier. She hated herself for opening the book. She hated herself for skipping most of Fitzroy’s neat, precise scribbles and going all the way to the last few pages. They were shakey and succinct.

Difficulty breathing from gunshot wound. Aid must be administered but our only chance is a homestead. Lustrum is too far; suggested course for Father Apollyon.

[Blood dotted the last entry from a coughing fit.]

Set my will in order in case of surgery failure. Pyrrhus command will be passed to Westlie; I trust the crew to help her. Estate portions for the rest of them; Selmer might forgive me for my lack of trust when he can easily support his mother. Documents filed in letters for London. May I be remembered as a good man if I do not live.

Westlie set the book down and covered her face with her hands. Fitzroy you fool. Fitzroy you FOOL.

Why didn’t he pick Elijah? Elijah deserved it. Kind, loyal Elijah. She couldn’t see Selmer or Marion taking command, but Elijah would do alright. She could follow him. But her?

Westlie felt the overwhelming urge to cry for the fifth time that night; truly overwhelming because a few tears leaked down her cheeks despite her puffy eyes. She was new, quiet, incompetent, and hotheaded. The crew didn’t trust her- for fuck’s sake she’d lost the battle with Marion over that fucking smoke shell. And Marion ended up being right; if they’d fought the Glorious would they have come out in one piece? Westlie let out a bitter laugh. She might as well die with Fitzroy and pass it to someone else that way.

Why Fitzroy? You knew I wanted to be a navigator. You knew I was good at it. You must have figured I’d never be a good captain. My father is a monster. I’ve done horrible things. They’ll look to me for guidance and I have empty palms and a checkered past. You put me as First Mate because I was good at paperwork and good at numbers. I’m nobody’s friend. Not even Lizzie’s. Why would you let me lead?

Why did you let me come with you?

If Fitzroy was there in the room with her, Westlie would have punched him. Lost her temper, told him to fuck off and check his pipe for honey; she was incapable, she was absolutely not ready. He was her captain but he was wrong.

But he was her captain.

Westlie tossed the book onto the earlier pile by the bookshelf and curled against the wall. Damn him. Damn him for dying. Damn him for jumping in front of Selmer. Damn the Glorious. ... She had to listen didn’t she. That was his order. Not only his last order, but his dying wishes. Who could refuse that? She would just... have to be as much like Fitzroy as she could remember. Westlie laughed a little bitterly. Well she knew who not to be like; she could start there too.

It was stupid. The whole thing was stupid. She was stupid. Stupid death, stupid timing, stupid her, stupid decision. The situation bared its full weight on her and she couldn’t even tell it to fuck off because she couldn’t muster the strength to be angry. She didn’t want to fight; she was tired of fighting. She’d gotten her hopes up and the world had put her in her place. She would always, always be alone. Westlie balled herself up tighter against the wall and cried herself to sleep a second time.

#westlie #skyfarer #skyfarer rpg #the crew of the pyrrhus #crew of the pyrrhus #the adventures of the pyrrhus #I don't feel like writing every characters reaction to it especially because I think we should all write these pieces individually #I just felt like writing Traumatized!Westlie per usual #I feel like this is low-key important to her characterization as well #(so I'm shamelessly writing this to make me a better RPer)#because she knows instinctively Fitzroy is both a good person and a good captain. he's not emotive not expressive but he's helpful and good #she's never had a leadership roll in her life personal or work related it's all very based on Do What Other People Say #And then once fitzroy is dead and there's nobody to tell her what to do; it's Group Opinion because she feels like Fitzroy wouldn't do #anything the crew didn't specific want him to do; which is very fair. He didn't anticipate getting tangled in with the Glorious #and otherwise he told selmer and elijah and marion pretty much everything; he wasn't closed off #but then (I haven't fanficed nor do I plan to fanfic this) Elijah starts needling her to take responsibility and stop deferring to others #she defers to Not Being Like Arthur which I think is going to be her moral guide for a while #it's a pretty good guide #arthur is an asshole #eventually she might have to toss that too but not for now #I wanted to write a short piece where Fitzroy explains why he allowed her on the Pyrrhus in the first place with her father being an arse #but I figured that would be better left in nicks hands #sunless skies

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sojourner-between-worlds · 5 years ago

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Burn the Ships, Chapter One

Summary: All in all, this mission could have ended a lot worse than spending Christmas with Hawaii’s elite task force.

Fandoms: Alex Rider/Hawaii Five-0

A/N: Oh look. My hand slipped. For the record, I never said I was actually good at writing and this fought me, so it is what it is, ha. I’m better at angst and emotional drama, but the action parts of this are necessary, too, so... *shrugs*

I...don’t really have a specific season in mind for this to take place during, but it’s somewhere in 5-7.5 because I love Kono and Chin and Max but also Lou and Jerry, so there’s that. Also disregards Never Say Die for what will be obvious reasons (if you’ve read it) once we get a few chapters in, haha. . . .

Chapter One

Standing in an interrogation room with a soggy teenaged boy handcuffed to the chair was definitely not how Steve had anticipated spending his Christmas Eve, but, he supposed, there probably were worse places he could be right now.

A little before five that morning, a boat had exploded just off the coast. The Coast Guard had responded immediately, spotting said teen swimming away from the wreck. There had been no other survivors, and when HPD couldn’t get him to talk, they’d called Five-0 in, hoping Steve would have more luck.

Steve sighed. He’d been here for a half-hour already and had gotten nowhere. The kid was staring passively at his bare feet and resolutely ignoring Steve.

“You know you’re not actually in trouble right now, right? I mean, the only reason you’re handcuffed is because you almost knocked out a member of the Coast Guard, and we can write that off as momentary panic. The only reason you’re stuck here with me is because you won’t talk to anyone. You’re the only one who knows what happened out there, so just tell me and then both of us can get out of here. It’s Christmas Eve, after all. There’s gotta be somewhere you’d rather be. Me, personally? I’m supposed to be helping my partner, Detective Williams, get his house ready for our annual Christmas party. I need to pick up a few last-minute things from the store, then head over to start setting up by myself until he and his daughter get done with this beach clean-up thing they do every year. Between you and me, he’s not gonna be a happy camper if he gets there before I do. So if you could help me out, that’d be really great actually.”

Stone-cold silence descended over the room again. Steve let it sit for only a moment before he spoke again, tone bordering on exasperated.

“Okay, kid. What’s it gonna take, huh? Name it. What will it take for you to just tell me what happened?”

The teenager shifted in his chair, handcuffs clanking lightly against the metal chair. When he spoke, his voice was eerily calm and cold. “I don’t talk to cops.”

The kid’s heavy British accent didn’t escape Steve, but he was willing to set that aside for the moment. “Well, that’s perfect, then. I’m not a cop -- never went to the academy, myself; I got my training as a Navy SEAL. So tell me what happened.”

Steve knew he finally had the teen’s attention when his head snapped up, finally meeting his gaze. He didn’t trust cops, but he trusted the military, maybe? Steve couldn’t be sure, but if it got the kid talking, that’s all he really cared about at the moment.

He frowned. “You still have a badge, though.”

“Yeah, well, the Five-0 task force still isn’t strictly police. We operate a little differently.” Steve paused. “Look, if you’re worried about who you can trust, I’m promising you right now that you can trust me, okay?”

“Words mean nothing.”

“No, you’re right, but I have over ten years of active service in the Navy, six of those as a SEAL, that show I can be.”

Silence weighed heavily over them again, but this time Steve let it. He had to wait it out now, let the kid have time to decide if could trust him or not. If he decided not to -- well, there was nothing else Steve could do about that.

Several long minutes passed before the teen’s quiet voice filled the vacant space. “It maybe wasn’t entirely an accident. I may have rigged an explosive near the fuel tank and jumped overboard before it detonated.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I couldn’t let it get to port.”

“Okay. How come?”

“You wouldn’t believe how many kilos of illegal narcotics they had. I don’t know exactly what it was, just that it was something new -- something highly addictive. I wasn’t about to let it get here. That’s all.”

“And you wouldn’t just call it in because you don’t trust cops, right?”

“Yeah. Heard them talking about an ‘inside man’. Can’t say if they meant in HPD or not, but…” He shrugged. “Better safe than sorry.”

“Right.” Steve paused. “Okay, so here’s the million-dollar question, then: what were you doing on that boat? You obviously weren’t working for them since you kind of sunk their product to the bottom of the Pacific.”

“Yeah, well --” he breathed a shaky sigh -- “that’s a very long and unpleasant story, and I believe you said you had somewhere to be, so…”

At that moment, Steve’s phone vibrated in his pocket. Seeing the caller ID, he didn’t hesitate to answer. “Max. What have you got?” He listened intently for a moment as his friend and colleague filled him in on the identities of the bodies pulled from the wreckage before hanging up and turning back to the kid. “That was our chief medical examiner. He got hits on the IDs of the other two bodies from the boat. Turns out they’ve got pretty deep ties in the underworld, so I can’t say I’m sorry you took them out to be honest.”

“Wait, wait -- two bodies?”

“Yeah, why?”

He shook his head, face paling. “No, that’s wrong. There were five of us on that boat.”

“So you’re telling me that two more potentially got away somehow?”

“Yes. Since the bodies haven’t been recovered already, I can practically guarantee they’re still alive somewhere. And there’s another thing: those drugs were sealed air-tight. So if they got away, it’s possible they got away with their product -- or some of it, at least.”

There goes Christmas Eve, Steve thought as he pulled his phone back out to call his team in.

. . .

“Alright, let’s go. Let’s stop this thing hopefully before it starts.”

As the rest of the team split off to their duties, Steve stayed standing at the holotable, watching as Jerry pulled open the door and made his way over.

“You wanted to see me?”

“Yeah. Thanks for coming in. I’ve, uh, got a job for you, but I’d prefer it if you would keep this quiet for now.”

“Of course. What’s up?”

“I need you to run a name for me, through missing persons and maybe TSA -- see if you get a hit on a passport possibly. Unfortunately, all I’ve got for you is a first name -- Alex -- and a description.” He took a folded sheet of paper from his pocket and set it on the table between them. “Find out as much as you can, please.”

Jerry picked up the page and glanced down at the scrawling handwriting. “Can I ask what your interest is? I mean, I thought you caught a case, and this seems irrelevant?”

“It’s not entirely. This kid is the reason we’re working today at all. Something just… doesn’t seem right. There’s definitely more to this than what he’s told me -- granted, he hasn’t said much at all, but…” He paused. “I just have this gut feeling I’m not going to like what you find.”

. . . . . Tag list: @diekatimitdemhutohnehut (If you’d like added/removed, let me know!)

#alex rider #hawaii five-0 #crossover fanfiction #fic: Burn the Ships

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alteredphoenix · 5 years ago

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First Impressions Chapter 50: The Stables Incident (WIP)(Heroes of the Storm)

A/N: So, some context in a nutshell: First Impressions is an out-of-order anthology series that has Sylvanas as the MC in a more Looney Tunes-style Nexus, a central hub where all universes converge and diverge at a singular point due to the Powers That Be that may or may not have summoned them here for purposes that are unknown to them. Except anyone that is brought to the Nexus is infected with a condition called the transition, aka the in-universe term for Out of Character; even the native-born Nexians are not exempt from this, and those that are pulled from their timeline never age, and if they should die they are very shortly brought back aka respawn.

I haven’t touched First Impressions in a long while, mainly because of work, doing WoW fics, and a lot of family drama IRL from 2018 onwards that nearly made me quit writing altogether. But I have felt the itch to get back at it again, even though Heroes of the Storm got its e-sports sector gutted and is running in a slow, lumbering maintenance mode. I’m not really sure if HotS still maintans some semblance of popularity as it did in the past year; I’ve been out of the loop for a while, although I’m sure the minor leagues and community-driven events are still ongoing.

Regardless, I’m posting this preview for archival purposes. I’m also posting it because this marks the start of the legendary Stables Incident, an event in which Sylvanas is accused of slaughtering innocent farm animals (at a place where people store their mounts for matches) out of nowhere. This chapter, however, shows what really happened (spoiler alert: Sylvanas didn’t do it, it was actually an accident, Hammer pressed the button on her tank by mistake during a squabble and, as a result, caused an intergalactic news circus over it).

I’m also posting this because: I love writing smartass-give-no-fucks!Sylvanas, and there must be more of it in the fandom.

“TURN DOWN FOR WHAT!”

The music kicked up in a roar so loud it threw Sylvanas off the bench onto the ground as though an invisible hand scooped up her from underneath and bowled her over. She awoke with a painful groan, twisting round onto her stomach to sit up on her elbows. Her ears twitched and swiveled, searching for the source of the music.

“TURN DOWN FOR WHAT!”

They flattened down against the sides of her head, shaking more from the vibrations that were causing the ground to quake, the bench to jump, and the squirrels and birds on their respective tree branches to bounce off in chattering, chirping squeaks and squawks than the force driving a jackhammer into her brain. Sylvanas looked behind her, in the direction of the auto body shop with its garage doors opened all the way.

A large, single-barreled cannon was poking its head out, connected to a red plated chassis on massive treads.

Sylvanas snarled, pushed to her feet, and stormed toward the garage.

“TURN DOWN FOR WHAT!”

“HAMMER!” Sylvanas yelled, but she could only hear the word in her head; it was like walking into a nightclub on full blast while the mother of all earthquakes, the Even Bigger One (bigger than San Andreas!), was bringing about The End Of The World As They Knew It. The tools on the walls racks and on the benches were rattling. The overhead fluorescent lights and spotlights were flickering and swinging back and forth. Darkness, even the fuel tanks way in the back were shaking in their cages! And Hammer…

Hammer was standing up out of the manhole, swaying and bumping and grinding like a turkey on antihistamines.

“HAMMER!” Sylvanas yelled again, feeling her throat work to outdo the noise. But Hammer still kept on dancing, oblivious to the world. The Banshee Queen glanced around the area. She saw a boombox from the Twenty-First Renaissance Era (which looked like a pyramidal A-track player) on a workbench...but no, nothing was coming out of it. She’d seen and heard it play before; whatever was running at the time would sound like it was being phoned in from a tin can in another municipal district from across an ocean. Then her eyes flicked behind the tank where, some distance away, were the ‘administrative’ offices that were reserved for quiet paperwork, faxing, phone calls, Internet, and maybe a few Jet Briggs’ beer and Easy Green joints were drunk and rolled in private enlightenment (that definition seemed to wax and wane over the years, apparently, but it usually ranged from a blissful stoner’s high to confusion and then to an agoraphobic fear of unseen, probably imaginative eldritch horrors that ranged between pink elephants, hyperrealistic eyes on the walls, and crab people with the heads of famous celebrities dead, alive, and not yet born crawling all over the place). Her eyes went to the ceiling where the speakers were located...but they shook as well, and offered no indication to her addled ears that the music was coming from them.

That left only one other place. “HAMMER, TURN THAT DOWN!”

“TURN DOWN FOR WHAT!” were the words Sylvanas could read from Hammer’s lips. “WHAT! WHAT! Doo doo-doo doo doo! Nuh-nuh-nuh! Doo doo-doo doo doo, doo-doo-doo--”

“TURN DOWN FOR WHAT!”

Sylvanas clenched her fists, her body shaking in time with the music. She mimicked taking a breath, reared back, and, calling upon the dark magic inside her, focused the font of power to nestle in her lungs and up her throat. Then she leaned forward and screamed. “HAAAAAMEEEERRRRR! TURN THAT THING OFF!”

The last syllable finally knocked Hammer out of her dance-induced stupor, blowing her back (and, Sylvanas thought morosely, not ass over tea kettle off the tank) from the amplified force. She caught herself, looked around, and saw the Banshee Queen glaring death and mayhem below her. “AW SNAP! SORRY, SORRY! EH, UH, G-GIVE ME ONE SEC! HOLD ON! WHERE’S THAT DAMN...AHA!” She doubled over, rooting around for the stereo, and when she found it turned it off.

Sylvanas had never found complete, total silence to be such an aether-given blessing until today. Like nirvana for mind, body, and soul. The quintessential out-of-body experience where one became attuned to nature and all that is not industrial.

Until I leave and she starts up again, she concluded. “You’re welcome,” Sylvanas drawled sardonically.

“Girl, I’m so sorry! I didn’t even know you were down there!” said Hammer. “Y-You weren’t waitin’ long, were ya?”

“I was waiting for an hour.”

Hammer clapped her hands to her cheeks. “Holy shit! Damn, girl, I’m really sorry--”

“Yeah, you should be. I actually just got here.”

“Eh? What? Really?”

“Yes, really!” Sylvanas said. “I was having a nice, simple rest on the bench outside and your stupid music woke me up! I swear to Darkness, woman, are you trying to move the Anchors out of position? Do you want to get us all killed?”

“N-Nah, girl, not at all! It’s just”--and Hammer flailed--”It’s such a nice day out, ya know? And it’s Sunday, which means all the auto shops are closed. An’ that also means I can work to mah heart’s content! No disruptions! No phone calls! No Kaijo suddenly tearing through the fabric of the space-time continuum! I can actually get stuff on time now, and at my own pace!”

“So I guess if I brought a motorcycle in, I’ll be expecting it by next spring as a belated Winter Veil present.”

“What? No! Girl, I ain’t that slow!”

“A tortoise, a snail, and a sloth could compete against you and they’d still win the race.”

“Hell no they wouldn’t! I have a tank, they don’t. I would just run ‘em over!”

Sylvanas rolled her eyes. “You are such a humanitarian it makes my heart bleed.”

“Well that’s what they’d get for messin’ with a siege tank!”

“You do realize there’s a noise ordnance of seventy-five feet, right?”

Hammer grinned wolfishly. “Ain’t no such thing as a noise ordnance if there’s no one around to complain about it.”

“Except for me,” said Sylvanas.

“Are ya really gonna tell on me?”

“No, but I’ll have ten reasons to tell you where to go if you do that again.”

“Ten reasons?” Hammer quirked a brow.. “What are they?”

“I punch you in the face with my left fist and then punch you with my right fist. If I add onto that, I’ll have ninety-nine reasons and a headbutt to make you quiet. Let’s also not forget I can just kick when you’re down, and by that point I’ll have lost count.”

“That’s a helluva lot of reasons to have...and money! Lots of money to pay for medical bills!”

“I can think of ways to accrue the cash and avoid jail time. You think this lackadaisical government can stop me?”

“Well,” Hammer said, digging a pinkie finger into her ear, “they are a little slow on the uptake. They ain’t exactly unnatural like we are. They’re more...what’s the word...normal.”

“You’re far from normal,” Sylvanas muttered.

“Eh? What?” Hammer asked.

“I said, what the hell are you working on that’s made you put the music on full blast?” Sylvanas lied smoothly. “What about it is so important you haven’t had the cops called on you yet?”

Hammer laughed uproariously. “This? This! My good friend! Is the latest in Jeetilopolis technological warfare!”

Sylvanas appraised it with a slow, long sweep of her eyes. “A single shot cannon?”

“Not just any single shot cannon! It’s a single shot cannon bought straight from the auction block all the way in Jeetilopolis! I spent just about my entire checking account on getting this thing, and spent almost the entirety of my savings on shipping and handling!”

“You can’t be that stupid.”

“What people think is stupid is actually smart! Besides, how’s a woman gonna get by in life if she can’t dip a little?”

“Hammer, spending every copper, silver, and gold on a cannon that is more than likely going to be faulty is not dipping a little. That’s jumping headfirst out of a plane without a parachute and hoping you time your angle just right so you can land in a lake that’ll be deep enough to sustain your impact and not kill you on the spot.”

“And when I hit rock bottom, will it be filled with gold?”

“Whatever it is, I won’t be joining you to find out.”

Hammer made an annoyed sound by blowing her lips. “Aw, c’mon! It’ll be fun!”

“Maybe for you, but I have no intentions of going into bankruptcy.”

“That ain’t gonna happen! You know why?”

“No,” Sylvanas drawled dryly. “Tell me why.”

“Because there was one other thing I got while I was in Jeetilopolis. One little thing that’ll give this baby here one helluva big wallop that’ll scare the bejeesus out o’ people! You wanna know what that is?”

“Not really.”

“Guess!”

Sylvanas sighed. “Do I have to--”

“Yeah! Come on! Take a guess!”

“Fine. Let me think.” Sylvanas feigned contemplation, making a show of looking away and tapping her chin. Then she snapped her fingers. “I got it. A brain.”

“Nuh-uh! Already have one,” said Hammer, and rapped her fists on her helmet for emphasis.

“Two brains.”

“No!”

“Three.”

“Now what am I supposed ta do with that many brains, eh? Play tsukkome and bokke with one while the other plays the straight man...brain...thing? Actually, on second thought,” Hammer added, thoughtfully, “I could probably palaver with them and get some pretty neat ideas for the tank. Yeah.” She nodded approval. “Yeah, that ain’t such a bad idea! But, uh, that ain’t what’s in this thing! It’s somethin’ better than a brain!”

“And that would be…?”

“Aether,” Hammer breathed. “I got me some gods be damned aether in a bottle for fifteen thousand gold! That’s cheap!”

Sylvanas gave her a blank stare, then nodded complete and total understanding. “Okay. So you get blitzed off the life-energy of the universe. It all makes sense now.”

“Did you just call me stupid?”

“No.” Sylvanas shook her head slowly, and drawled dryly, “No. Why would I ever say that?”

“’Cause this ain’t just the life energy of the universe!” Hammer slapped a hand down hard on the base of the manhole. “This is the answer to all my problems! This baby right here can store so much oomph in here...why, I think I might have just become a god!”

“Aether-based weaponry is banned from the League.”

Hammer grinned wickedly. “Not if they don’t find out! All’s I have to do is get the energy output tuned to its usual optimized settings and those old bats and goats in the Houses will be none the wiser! Ahahahahahaha! I’m a genius, Sylvanas!” she cried, throwing her arms up in the air. “A bonafide, grade-A genius!”

“Joy to the world, God is good,” Sylvanas grumbled, shaking her head.

“Hey, I’m thinkin’ of taking the tank out for a test firin’ out in the Shadowskirts in a bit; don’t want the authorities to catch wind of this! You wanna check ‘er out before I go?”

Sylvanas shrugged. “Why not. Not like I have anything better to do.”

#heroes of the storm #first impressions #sylvanas windrunner #fanfiction #preview #mywriting

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marythegizka · 6 years ago

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Bodyswap AU - Part 8 (here are the links to: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7)

The Ark Angel took off and dashed over the valley, piercing through clouds of ash as it made its way up. Aphra punched the coordinates into the computer. In a matter of hours, she would be home. A mental scoff followed. 'Home'. It wasn't home, really. Never had been. Just a bed and a roof. And if there was one thing she hadn't planned on doing with Vader, it was bringing him along to pay her father a visit. But there was little choice in the matter. Aphra sighed, a slightly louder wheeze, casting Vader a brief glance. Maybe she should give him a heads up, just in case. Or maybe not. It had been such a long time since she'd last seen her father, he would hardly notice the change. She'd blame suspicious behavior on 'the booze'. At least that he would believe, with all the credit he gave her. All they had to do was show up and mention the Ordu Aspectu, and he'd just roll with it. Things would be fine. Probably.

She turned towards Vader, then towards Ahsoka, and towards Vader again. None of them had spoken since they had taken off. The hyperdrive whirred and hummed, filling the gaps between her breaths, and a sense of discomfort hung around like stale air, making her throat clench a bit. Subtle wafts of emotions flowed her way, spikes of anger and dips of guilt, surges of hope followed by dread. Although she knew they came from them, she couldn't pinpoint which was whose. It was like bathing in feeling-soup. She didn't like it.

Ahsoka made an attempt to break the silence.

"So... do you intend to spend the whole trip pouting?"

Vader didn't bat an eye.

"Why not."

Oh, Aphra fully believed that. Vader had never struck her as the most cheerful person to be around, and she'd gotten used to his 'moods', as Triple-Zero called them. Even so, the atmosphere was a little tense for her taste.

"Hey, not that this is any of my business," she said, "but why all the drama? I'm... picking up bad vibes. Literally. I think."

"I do not routinely engage in conversation with traitors." Vader snapped. "Forgive my lack of practice in the matter."

"Traitors?!" the girl blurted out. "You tried to murder me but go off I guess."

"That makes two of us."

Ahsoka fell silent, and the air grew heavier. Her eyes were glistening, Aphra noticed. She shifted in her seat, unsure of what to say.

"Oookay... How about music then? I have Jatz, Quenk Jazz, some old Rodian Rock... any preference? "

Her hand hovered over the dashboard, waiting for an answer she half-suspected wouldn't come. It didn't. She sighed, and pressed "on". An engaging Zeltron dancer began jiggling over the holo-player, casting the camera sultry looks. Vader gave her a side look.

"Stop judging," she said, opening the food-safe.

"I'm not judging."

"Right," she said, handing him a can of cheap blue mappa. He eyed it with suspicion.

"You won't get drunk on that," she reassured. "Trust me, you've got training."

He grabbed the can, took a sip and coughed. Oh dear. And after all those years on vitapaste he wouldn't call himself picky.

"I will pass."

"Snob."

"What?" He knew what she had said - the vocoder was more suited to barking orders than mumbling - but the word took him by surprise. He wasn't snobbish, really. Just... direct.

"Nothing," she said, turning towards Ahsoka. "Ahsoka, would you like a drink? You look beat."

The girl snapped out of her stupor and looked at them numbly, her eyes moist with silent tears.

"I'm fine," she said feebly. "Thank you."

There was a time he would have attempted to comfort her. Now she was a traitor. She could have joined him, become an inquisitor, a Sith apprentice maybe. She chose the Rebellion. Perhaps it was a good thing then, that this time was long gone. His throat clenched. Perhaps.

Aphra shrugged.

"Hm. Well if you change your mind... you know where the hooch is. There's food too."

Ahsoka tried to smile.

"How about you?"

"I uh... I just drank weird stuff from a straw. I'm good. Sort of good."

Vader snorted. Weird stuff from a straw. That was one way to put it.

The music switched to dissonant Leap-jump.

"They used to play this at Dexe's", Ahsoka said.

"Dex. It's called Dex."

Ahsoka sat upright, pointing her chin up.

"Dex. It's called Dex," she parroted.

"Quit it, Snips."

This time, Ahsoka actually smiled.

"You just called me Snips."

"I thought you hated it, Snips."

"Not anymore, Skyguy."

"Don't. Call me. Skyguy."

"Or what?"

"Permission to intervene, Masters?" Triple-Zero chimed in.

"Denied," came their joint reply.

The droid left the cockpit.

"No Beetee, this doesn't look promising. Humans these days."

Aphra looked at the navicomputer. Two hours left. And the ambient tension lingered.

"By the way Ahsoka, why don't you grab some sleep? You look exhausted. My bunk is..." she paused, remembering the girl's confusion upon finding them there. "You know where it is. Make yourself at home."

"You're right. I am exhausted."

Ahsoka stood up.

"Thank you," she said, bowing her head slightly before leaving the room.

The tension eased a little. Now Aphra had two whole hours to ruminate about her boss meeting her dad. And the longer she dwelt on it, the more the thought worried her.

Ahsoka jerked awake as he ship hit the ground, bouncing like a spring on its landing gear. She had feared the nightmares, but her sleep turned out dreamless. Yet she remained exhausted. But she had been prepared. Her last encounter with Anakin had left scars on both of them, and as much as she hoped, as desperate as she was for another glimpse of that faint flicker of light, she knew nothing would ever be the same. And it hurt. Malachor had hurt them. And it had changed her. With nothing but Sith artifacts to engineer her escape, she had delved into their secrets, tapped into their power... and made it hers. She had found it, in the end, her one and only way out: one last portal through the Force. She had found it, used it, destroyed it. But for that to happen... A sob escaped her. She had to. It wasn't really falling if you didn't lose it, right? Not if you could claw your back to the Light. It couldn't be. It mustn't be. And now that she was free, she would help Anakin break out. She had to. For the Rebellion. And for her friend.

Aphra leaned back in her seat, not quite succeeding to stretch in the cramped space, and switched the engines off. A red light remained on at the bottom of the dashboard, signalling a leak in the secondary fuel tank. Aphra stood up.

"See? This ship is a keeper. Told you the leak wasn't that big. We still have quite a bit," she said pointing at the fuel gauge. "I'll check it up in a minute."

Vader shook his head. Her faith in that piece of junk would be the death of her. She stood there and stared at him, hands firmly planted on her hips. She must have picked up on his exasperation.

"Say it."

"Say what?"

"What you've just been thinking," she said.

Vader gave her a wry look.

"Doctor, what makes you think you're allowed in my head?"

In truth, it was unlikely she had sensed a clear, fully-formed thought. The occurrence was rare, even for him. A general feeling of aggravation? Definitely. But thoughts were another matter. A delicate matter, one that required control.

"I didn't..." She paused. "You can read thoughts?" she asked, which such incredulity Vader could almost hear her popping round eyes at him.

"It's not that easy."

And it was lucky, really. He remembered one time, walking through a busy street, when the minds of passers-by had suddenly become as clear as pure water. It had felt like an assault. "If I don't pay Black Sun..." - "Senator Mothma said..." - "So if that's ten credits..." - "Who's that?" - "Monster" - "Freak" - "Don't come near"... The incident had barely lasted a minute, and had left him exhausted, his blood pulsing in his hears, physically struggling not to slash through the crowd. He'd stood there paralyzed, feeling like a proton torpedo ready to explode. "Are you alright, sir?" "Get away from me!" He hadn't told his master. There was no point.

"Is that a challenge?" Aphra asked.

"No," he snapped, pointing a finger at her. "Do not try it."

Vader heard steps behind him.

"Hi!" came Ahsoka's voice.

Aphra greeted her with her usual enthusiasm.

"Good morning," he said reluctantly. "Why don't you join Doctor Aphra? She's got a leak to fix."

"It's no big deal, really, I can do that on my own."

Vader shot her an icy look.

"On second thought, maybe I could use a hand. After that we'll go meet my... contact."

"Sure."

Ahsoka followed her into the engine room.

"You don't really need a hand do you?"

"Nope. I've got two," she said, wiggling both arms. "Kidding. Really."

Ahsoka shook her head.

"Would I be wrong to assume he's always like that?"

Aphra chuckled, lifting a panel behind the tank. There was a thin drip on the side on the container, but that was nothing she couldn't manage.

"What did you expect?"

"Honestly? I don't know. A lightsaber in the heart was always a possibility."

Aphra nodded.

"I know the feeling."

Ahsoka gave her a wan smile.

"Yet you're staying."

"Yes." Aphra bit her tongue. Things were getting awkward. "Right. There's a plasma welder right under your left foot."

Ahsoka handed it to her.

"Thanks. Aaaand there we go," she said, sealing the breach. "Easy. Now if you could keep an eye on the kids?"

"Kids?"

"Droids. Just in case. We'll be back in a bit."

"Okay but..."

Aphra waved a hand.

"You'll do great!"

She could still feel Ahsoka's stupefied look as she left the engine room, heading straight for the cockpit.

"There, patched it", she said.

"Then let us not delay."

Vader followed her outside.

They had landed at the foot of a grassy, stony hillock, the top of which was crowned by a small, hive-shaped mud house.

"Is this where your contact lives?"

"Yes, but he..."

Before she could finish, Vader was leaping up the dirt stairs. There was no point in delaying. The door had been left ajar. He knocked and pushed it.

"Hello?"

The place was, to put it simply, an absolute junkyard. Stone tablets lay scattered all over the clay floor, amidst heaps of old books and worn-out artifacts - there was even a kyber on top of the fireplace. The stew that simmered over the hearth gave off a musty smell, like the underside of a sun-beaten evaporator. At the center of the room, half-hidden by a pile of books, an oldish man was bending over a manuscript, mumbling in... was that Proto-Basic?

The man hardly noticed him. Vader stepped inside.

"Sir, we have need of you."

The man looked up from his work, his eyes popping round.

"Sir?"

"What else should I address you as?"

The man flinched as Aphra entered the room as well. His mouth fell open, but no sound came out.

Aphra sighed, pinching the nose of her mask.

"Oh kriff... try 'Dad'."

>Part 9

#bodyswap au #vadaphra #my fics

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sadisticsmiles · 6 years ago

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Celebrity Love Adventure Episode 4 (Revived Celebrity Darling Fanfic)

Wave’s First Banter

Back in Café Darling, Nanaka had returned from Shibuya. She saw Runa smiling with lunch ready in the middle of the first floor. No customers at the moment. Just their usual small dining table present, which could seat up to four people. Yet with Nanaka’s arrival a few weeks ago, it had just been Runa to eat during meals. Nanaka saw her sister-in-law’s daffodil ankle socks and egg shell Mary Janes since Runa was not behind the counter in preparation for anyone who would stop by the café. She took her seat, which was always facing the staircase, to join her already seated family member sitting across from her.

“Grape jelly on your omurice again,” Nanaka eyes stared as she frowned slightly. “It’s nice on eggs if you serve it on a biscuit with meat, but don’t you ever want a change of pace when it comes to omurice, Runa-san? Salsa isn’t bad to have on the egg.”

Runa’s smile did not budge. “This is my favorite, though. Anyway, how was Shibuya?” She took a small spoon with her right hand, dug into her food, and took a bite of it.

“There were a bunch of girls screaming,” Nanaka replied, taking in some of her food and swallowed. “They were looking for some human men, but not to worry; they were over on the other side of the buildings to my left, so no harm was done.”

“Humans are quite fueled with energy,” Runa stated. “They’re quite unlike magicians, but Shibuya does have a lot of them around. I’ll still worry for you if you decide to go there often. Outside of Ikebukuro, you’re unprotected.”

Nanaka swallowed again after eating some more. “You didn’t mention going to other magic-filled areas in the Human World. Onii-sama, Taiga-san, and Nao-san are safe, so I’ll be fine as well.”

Runa finally frowned. “Yes, but danger follows you frequently, Nanaka. It’s not as though it’ll always be a safe zone, wherever you are. This world in particular will not allow magicians to stay anywhere without slowly draining your stamina. Return to Ikebukuro often.”

“I’ve not forgotten, but there is something I’d like to think about to myself later,” Nanaka proclaimed. “You know I can never forget. But, I do appreciate the sentiment, Runa-san.” A faint, yet somewhat soft smile appeared on her visage, adding to the beauty and adorable looks she had.

Runa smiled once more. “Having you here with me is a large comfort. To think we’re able to spend time as a family is more than I could’ve thought possible.”

They two of them resumed to eating, enjoying the other’s presence. It seemed as though the two of them had were getting to live together for the first time again in Ikebukuro. The days had passed by since Nanaka entered the Human World with Eri to escape the danger surrounding the Thai tea-haired girl. Yet…

Was the guy I met today a threat to my existence? Nanaka pondered. I didn’t feel anything bad about him. Then again, he broke through my magic and something enabled him to see through my invisibility. The other humans, on the other hand, did not notice my presence. What could be going on?

Nanaka glanced at her sister-in-law and asked, “Runa-san? Is it fine if I stay in my room for a while longer? I’d like to rest.”

“I don’t mind,” Runa replied. “I can handle work around here. I’ll stay down here if you need anything.”

With a nod, Nanaka said, “Thanks.”

Then, she headed upstairs to her room. She walked over to her bed, which was all the way to the wall across from the door. It had blue-green sheets, a fluorescent blue blanket, and a picton blue pillow. She climbed onto it, placing her blanket over her body and stayed on her left side, falling asleep in an instant.

♡💓♡

Meanwhile, Sho Kiriya was inside the locker room before dance practice was about to start. He was already dressed in a white V-neck shirt with mid-length sleeves, a pair of black knee-length shorts, a pair of white ankle socks, and black sneakers, along with a white wristband on his right hand. He paused to look at something inside his shoulder bag in his locker. His other band mates were already leaving, but one person stayed behind with him.

Ryota Miike, who had auburn hair and eyes, was wearing a black T-shirt and a pair of charcoal sweatpants with bronze thin stripes on the side of them, smiled casually. “Sho, we should get going or the dance teacher will be peeved at us.” His eyes widened a bit in bewilderment. “Hey, what’s up with you? Are you even listening to your best friend?”

Sho felt a jolt before he turned around on his left side. Not even a shockwave had made its way to the back of his right side and he saw the impatient look and frown on Ryota’s visage. “Uh, sorry, Ryota! I’m just not into the idea of having dance practice and singing lessons these days.”

Ryota was still frowning. “I know that you’re not as into them as before. Not when you’ve been getting a lot of job offers. You’re more swamped then the rest of us with our separate jobs. Kazuma’s gotten busier with married life, coming back and forth between Neon and Earth, Kyosuke’s relationship with Sakura is adding to Wave’s overall publicity, Yoshito’s… somewhere for the most part, and I’m getting more drama roles. But you, Sho. You’re in dramas, commercials, press conferences, and films. There’re more promotional offers with magazines and other photo shoots.”

“I-I can’t help it,” Sho blushed, embarrassed by his own popularity. “The president’s accepted as much as he can to fill my schedule… And today wasn’t good for all of us getting chased by fan girls. And now—” He stopped himself.

“What is it?” Ryota asked, his frown finally erased from his face.

“N-Nothing.”

“Uh-huh,” Ryota eyed Sho suspiciously. “Lying won’t help you. Not to me, of all people.” He exhaled softly. “Let’s go. We’re probably late now.”

Sho’s shoulders fell in resignation. “Right.” He pushed his locker room door dejectedly with his right hand.

Then, the two of them walked out into the practice room, where the others greeted them.

“Yo, you two,” Kazuma said. His jet black hair with his bangs parted on his left side (some of his bangs were growing there) were still the same as always; so were his dark medium gray eyes full of kind understanding. He had on an azure long-sleeve jacket and sweatpants, a light gray shirt, and orange athletic shoes.

“Kept us waiting for a while,” Kyosuke Nakanishi said. His hair was umber, parted in the middle and his eyes silver pink. He wore a black tank top and a pair of golden brown pants. Plus, his tennis shoes were a mossy color and did not have any shoe laces.

“Ew, Kyosuke,” Ryota rolled his eyes. “You look disgusting like that. Your shoes are the worst.”

Kyosuke smiled slightly smugly. “My, Ryota. Look at how cute you are. Better not let our dance teacher see you scowl like that.”

“…” Ryota’s mood crushed under a tiny weight as he narrowed his eyes. “Whatevs.”

“By the way,” Kazuma said. “What kind of fun chat did you two have in the locker room?”

“Nothing special,” Sho smiled reluctantly. “Just work as always.”

Yoshito Fujisaki stared. He had fallow hair with a full set of bangs like Ryota and Sho, but most of his were slanted toward his left side, like Ryota’s. His eyes were pale taupe and he was wearing a purple short-sleeve zip-up hoodie that was made of light material, just that it was opened to reveal the beige V-neck T-shirt underneath. He wore a pair off messy faded light blue jeans and hazel wood athletic shoes. “Hm. Sounds fishy.”

“Pssh,” Sho laughed. “As if. We’re usually too busy with work to think about anything else, right? There’s nothing wrong, Yoshito.”

“Is that so?” Yoshito blankly inquired.

Sho gave another laugh. “You know how it is, seeing as we’re top idols.”

“Hm.” Yoshito’s eyes were still on his band mate.

He was staring at something in his locker, Yoshito noted in his head. Something in his bag, perhaps. On the other hand, his laughter wasn’t awkward.

Kazuma continued. “It looks like the dance teacher is still running late. We can take some more time to talk about anything, you know.”

“Oh?” Kyosuke cocked his head to his right. “Well that sounds nice coming from our leader.”

Kazuma laughed wholeheartedly. “Ahaha, we do deserve some time away from work and training.”

“Yes!” Sho and Ryota exclaimed jovially together.

“…” Yoshito was as nonchalant as ever. He was evidently the quiet one of the group.

Ryota grinned adorably. “So, Kazuma. How’s married life going for you and Rui?”

Kazuma’s eyes widened at the curious nature of the question. “You want to know about our married life?”

“Well sure,” Ryota continued, not removing his grin. “You two used to stay in this world together before and when you were dating. Not like your relationship pleases her dad even now, I would think, but… You’ve been quite busy going back and forth between our two worlds. Is everything alright?”

Kazuma looked flustered with deep pink tints on his visage, but then he looked normal—his usual tranquil self. “It’s a complicated matter at home in Neon. Rui’s working as well, but she’s often at Takuji-san and Asuka-san’s place.”

“Her parents’ house?” Ryota blinked twice. “What’s going on for her to stay there?”

“I reiterate: it’s complicated. Nothing to worry about, but she’s busy as well.”

Ryota frowned. “More like she’s being overprotected by her dad even more now that you’ve married her.”

Kazuma frowned as well. “It’s been over a year now. I can’t exactly complain to my father-in-law about being lenient towards me.”

“Although,” Sho said with his regular smile, “he was more lively and cheerful before Rui was born. Can you believe how he was like in 2007? Everyone loves him, even if he’s not the same as before.”

Kyosuke brought up, “Then again, Satsuki and Yuzuki Kitaoji, and their friends are long-time friends of Takuji and Asuka Uramoto. The thought of friends being separated by two worlds must have been eternalized by Takuji’s supporters. He’s still popular and well-respected, so he’ll always be a huge part of their hearts.”

“His fame isn’t going to die down,” Yoshito nodded. “It’s escalated ever since he came to the Human World. The popularity of magicians is beyond what we can reach.”

Sho frowned. “Come on, Yoshito! You’re making it sound as if we’re not actually at the top of the entertainment industry. Try getting optimistic more often.”

“…” It was as though Yoshito glared, but his visage did not display any irritation or anger.

Sho felt a chill run down his backside. “Wh-Whoa… Don’t be like that…”

Yoshito sighed with his eyes closed and opened them. “If you think we made it to the top just because we’re popular idols, take a jab at what our popularity means.”

Sho blinked twice. Ryota did too. They were like an inseparable pair.

“What it means?” they asked in perfect harmony.

“It means the entertainment industry in our world prospers without magicians,” Yoshito explained in disdain. “We’re a generation apart from the last time there were any whose popularity soared above humans. Yet, we’ve recently gained a few magicians to work with.”

“Now that you mention it,” Ryota replied, “the biggest hits were Nao Kujo (née Aozora), Multi-Star Clover, and Frenzycs over twenty-one years ago. Only one human female was in Multi-Star Clover and that was Kuruha, but who knows what her marital status is.”

“I agree they were the best during their time,” Sho complimented. “Frenzycs disbanded earlier, but they were a band full of guys, who worked with MSC since they debuted together. They were quite impressive for a short-lived group.”

Kyosuke smiled helplessly. “Hey, don’t jinx us.”

Ryota stuck his tongue out. “We’re not Jade, and they’ve got a female magician.”

Kyosuke shrugged. “She has a name, you know.”

Ryota replied sarcastically. “Of course anyone would know Chitose Sakakibara. Jade’s famous because of her as the female singer in the group. She and Haru Shindo do duets together.”

Kazuma smiled in a strained manner. “…Well, a band is different from an idol group. We’ve never had a magician who performed by themselves as an idol, other than Nao.”

“Married and still a legend,” Kyosuke mused. Then, his eyelids raised, as though he thought of something. “Wait. That applies to you too, Kazuma. But. You’re still an idol, so you’re active in the entertainment industry. Otherwise, where would Wave be without our leader?”

Sho closed his eyes, simultaneously laughing. “Pfft. Right? Having Yoshito as our replacement leader would be way different!”

Ryota said, “We’d certainly be a quieter group, and less upbeat for our fans. They’d probably cry until we continuously decline in the numbers without Kazuma around. Wave wouldn’t be at the top anymore.”

“Hey,” Kazuma stated with a frown, “you’re being rude to Yoshito.”

Yoshito shrugged. “Not really. It’s the usual stuff.”

Kazuma’s frown became concerned. “If you say so.”

Kyosuke pondered for a bit, staring at the ceiling. “Hmm. Do you think Nao has any kids with her husband?”

“Huh?” Ryota asked.

“What makes you say that?” Sho said with a puzzled expression on his face.

Kyosuke looked at his fellow Wave members. “I don’t know much about magicians, even though I’m dating Sakura, but it’s a possibility that Nao could have a kid or two. Married couples concerning magicians may have up to two children, but if there are any siblings among the children, they’re really close in age. Not that all married Neonian couples have kids, but this is just a notion I have.”

“And what if she doesn’t?” Sho asked. “For all we know, you could be wrong, Kyosuke. As an idea, it’s plausible, but look at reality. We know for a fact that magicians aren’t conceived easily. What do you think school’s taught us about them?”

“And yet,” Ryota muttered, “we don’t even have magician teachers for the Magicians Studies elective classes offered in school.”

“The school curriculum changed in the 2008-2009 school year so we could learn more about them,” Kyosuke iterated. “We barely had any knowledge about them in the years before that, except for some facts.”

Ryota was getting tired by the older member’s words. His visage was in discontent with his eyes barely narrowed, and his shoulders slumped as though a small load was placed onto them. “Urgh…! Kyosuke, everyone knew they at least existed even back then.”

Kyosuke’s smile curved a bit at the edges. “My, my, Ryota. Your temper’s not good for your health and development. Perhaps your pubescent mind hasn’t gotten control these days because we’re all too occupied with our jobs.”

“Pubescent, my ass,” Ryota retorted. “Nothing’s wrong with me, but you’re too impure to have fans. Are you even treating Sakura right, or are you too sexually involved to care about anything else in your relationship?”

Kyosuke wagged his right index finger, still smiling. “Tsk, tsk. Don’t tell me you’ve evolved into a gentleman just because you’re worried about us. I’m not mistreating my girlfriend, young man.”

Kazuma frowned. He was somber and grew tired of the listening to the discourse of his boyband members. “Cut it out, Kyosuke. You’re making things worse for all of us.” He looked at the second youngest member. “You too, Ryota. It’s best not to lose your temper.”

Ryota took a deep, silent breath. “…Right. Sorry.”

Kazuma’s smile was kind and gentle. “Well, as for Kyosuke’s question, I’ll just answer. Nao has a daughter who’s currently in the Human World.”

“Seriously?” Sho asked.

“Well, yeah,” the Wave leader replied. “She’s married, though.”

“Uh,” Sho continued, “you’re talking about Nao’s daughter, right?”

“Of course I am.” Kazuma wasn’t sure why Sho was confused.

Sho responded a frown of his own. “You tend to be vague about details, Kazuma. Are you not supposed to tell us more information about magicians and all?”

“Oh,” Kazuma understood right away. “I guess I could since we’re in the same idol group, but how much do you want to know?”

“For instance, who is Nao’s daughter married to? We don’t need to know her name, but tell us more about the family.”

Well I don’t want to spoil the fun, but Sho’s gotten curious, so it wouldn’t be a bad thing to let the guys know, Kazuma thought.

“The Prince of Neon. That makes the Aozora family in-laws with the Royal family.”

As the other members were astonished, Sho shouted, “WHAT?!”

#Sho Kiriya #Ryota Miike #Kazuma Honda #kyosuke nakanishi #Yoshito Fujisaki #wave #voltage inc.#celebrity darling #wave cd #love 365 #otome games #otome fanfics #voltage fanfics #voltage inc. fanfics

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scripturienss · 7 years ago

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Interstellar

Title: Interstellar on FF.net Rating: G Genre: Drama/Sci-fi Prompt: Fantasy & Sci-fi AU because two is better than one, or so goes the old adagio. Word Count: 2,201

You're so down to earth and I'm up in the stars, So show me the sea and I'll take you to Mars.

CS1: OK. The fuel is go; about 1 ½ g's; cabin pressure is just coming off the peg; the O2 is go; we have 26 amps.

CS2: Roger. Pitch 88, the trajectory is good.

CS3: Roger, looks good here.

CS1: OK, there. We're starting to pick up a little bit of the noise and vibration; not bad, though, at all. 50 secs., more vibration.

CS2: Whenever you're ready, de-pressurize the cabin and exit the vehicle. Your trajectory is marked, you only need to find the probe and change its solar panel.

MW0: Roger. Readings are good, pressure is OK. I'm making my way to the Rover.

CS3: I'm picking up some static on my line.

CS2: Roger. Mine too. Ishida, do you copy us?

MW0: Barely. You're breaking up a little - check the transmission engine and long range receptors.

CS1: It could have something to do with recent solar flares - the magnetic fields mess up reception sometime.

CS3: Roger. We're re-starting the system, don't be alarmed for a few minutes silence and don't lose visual.

MW0: Roger.

There's static on his line and suddenly, there's only silence. It has been 163 days since Ishida Yamato arrived at the International Space Station, roughly at the same time the H-II Transfer Vehicle Kōnotori, and this is his first time walking the moon's surface.

CS1: Ishida, I reconnected to check in on you. It'll be half an hour at least before we can make contact again.

CS1: Do you copy?

MW0: Roger. I'm sorry, the view ... it's really something else.

CS1: [chuckles] Roger. Don't stray from course, you're doing fine.

Space is terrifying. It's vast, unimaginably so, and darker than anything Yamato has ever seen. Working outside the station is always a humbling and terrifying experience, being tethered to something solid only through a limited band, but walking over the moon is an entirely different sort of scary. He can see the maria in the distance, the tides preserved by what was once volcanic lava. His breath hitches and it sounds incredibly loud in his over-sensitized ears.

It's dark, his path illuminated only by the hi-tech lantern on his helmet, the Rover he occupies and the stars above.

Yamato speaks into his recorder:

"Ishida Yamato, hour 14:06 Earth-time. I'm on my way South of the Earth's moon. I have been assigned to recharge and repair the Moon Impact Probe. We anticipate SELENE's Kaguya will orbit around the same time and have arranged for a possible check-up. Communication with the Space Station is down. The silence is ... " A twinkle catches his eye and he pauses, blinking fast. "Overwhelming."

15:22 Earth-time.

"It's been little under an hour and a half and Command hasn't checked in. Transmission is grainy at best, interference is impossible to deal with. Mission's course remains true."

He can hear himself talk, like a recorder, and it feels like a caricature of sorts. The technical details of his expedition are important but so is the overwhelming terror of being utterly alone. He can hear himself breathe, clear and loud and when he's thinking about this, he is deafened by the sound of his own pulse. Rationally, he understands that this is routinary and that many others have done it before him; the risks are too low to be considered a real liability. Fear isn't rational though, and Yamato has to pause for a moment before continuing his slow trek.

17:49 Earth-time.

"It has been three hours and forty-three minutes since Command's last communication. I arrived safely at Lunar Station 00, data is downloading for revision on the ISS and reparations for the solar panels should be done in little over an hour. It's grown darker but there are sporadic bursts of bright light. I suspect solar flare activity is picking up and remain wary of exposure. Must've been what damaged the panels..."

He turns off the microphone and looks outside the window. The Lunar Station 00 is a small laboratory facility installed upon the moon's surface as a safe-house for astronauts on repair or reconnaissance missions. It also collects all data pertaining lunar activity and is continuously feeding both the International Space Station and several other international agencies back on Earth. It is not a manned post and as such, it is not equipped to harbour guests for more than a few hours of hard work. There are emergency supplies, batteries, oxygen tanks and a special command button that can only be accessed through individual codes in case of a red alert. Yamato needs only to plug in his coordinates and update the travel log. He's almost done when he sees it.

In the horizon, a sharp beam of light flashes and then disappears. He stands abruptly and immediately takes his equipment, double-checks the seals on his suits and the vaccum entry and emerges into the inhospitable surface once more. The low gravity is tenuous at best and moving as easily as he did on Earth is difficult but Yamato is very quick. As he steps in behind a boulder and in front of the source, blinking fast, he holds up one hand and on the other, a laser heat gun.

"What the..."

The thing shines brightly, contained in unspecific, ever-changing shapes but he cannot determine an exact source. There hasn't been anything like this in any of the logs, nothing indicating any sort of sentient activity. Yamato stops, riled at the invasive thought of sentient life. He takes a deep breath, willing his heart-rate down because he can't hear anything and there's a strange sort of ringing in his ears, like wind-chimes in a spring breeze. Yamato's teeth are grinding hard and his jaw feels sore and tense.

The ringing in his ears intensifies and it sounds like—,

—laughter.

18:25 Earth-time.

"I'm going to approach the object for samples."

The sounds are jarring at times, like an out-of-tune old radio transmitter and the source of light appears to be solid and then liquid. When he steps outside the boulder, the ringing stops and he swears he hears a gasp. He approaches the source of light slowly but firmly and when he's close enough, the sight stuns him.

It's a woman, or something that looks vaguely like one. Yamato's voice fails him and he can only gape, mute, as the creature rises from the crater-like surface with surprising ease. Her body is made of what appears to be pure light, shimmery and insubstantial. There is no depth to its proportions, he can see right through it as it—she, approaches.

He thinks, this is how I die, but his body reacts quicker than his mind.

"State your purpose and origin," he hears himself say, despite the absolute improbability of the situation. The light that comes from within this being burns bright enough to force his eyes shut and when he opens them, it is already gone.

There is no evidence whatsoever of what he believes he saw. The camera shows nothing but blank space and dust and his microphone picks up no signal but his own voice. He knows he can't delay his return to the station and so he returns to the base and finishes the work he was sent to do. He flexes his fingers consciously in an effort to will some warmth back into them.

"It's the silence," he reasons. "It's driving me crazy."

The trek back is quiet, as quick as he dares to move away from this lonely, inhospitable place. He can see already the ship and releases a breath he hadn't realised he was holding.

There is a crack in the static and the light turns green.

CS1: Commander Ishida, do you copy? I repeat, Commander Ishida, do you copy?

MW0: Roger. This is Commander Ishida.

CS1: Oh, thank fuck. Sorry there, MS Young.

CS2: Mind your language, MS Hughes. Commander, what's your status?

MW0: Stable, on route back to the capsule. I should be back at the space station within two hours.

CS1: Roger. Any novelty at the base?

MW0: [pause]

MW0: Nothing to report, sir.

CS2: We'll fill you in on your way back, Commander. Good job.

MW0: Roger, I look forward to it.

CS1: Roger. We'll see you soon, lucky dog.

Yamato wonders at that expression as he listlessly follows the procedure and way back into the ship that will take him to the station. His colleagues are at a loss for an explanation on why the devices failed and so all exploratory missions are halted until they reach a satisfactory answer.

Lucky, he thinks.

Some nights, he dreams about a being made of light with eyes as fierce as the sun. Some nights he comes to her in his dreams, so close he can touch her shimmery hair and bathe in the tinkling sound of her laughter. Once, he swore their lips touched. Most nights though, he only watches her from afar and when the song is over, he shakes his head and in the nanoseconds it takes him to realize he wants to see her up close, she has already disappeared.

Tonight is one of such nights, at least until his eyes fly open and he is met with a look of pure, molten gold.

"What are you doing here?"

You were calling for me.

"I was?"

In your sleep.

Yamato shifts, sitting on his bed with his arm dangling just off his knee. He peers curiously at her, wary as his hand darts out to touch her.

"Just what are you?"

She is proud, he learns, and a little vain. Up close she looks more like a woman than ever, or an echo of one with gleaming, translucent skin. The light she casts is paler now, hurts less to see her and he wonders briefly if this is for his sake. But she moves swiftly, just out of his fingers' reach and her laughter is all around him once again.

What am I? I am ... light. Stardust and cosmic energy.

Yamato isn't an unreasonable person. He knows he needs to address the issue of his hallucinations sooner rather than later and briefly considers looking for counseling when he goes back home. He is almost at the end of his mission and the thought of returning to Earth looms dauntingly in the back of his mind.

He lies on the floor, the cold material against his over-heated, over-sensitized skin keeps him grounded. She hovers above him, a mirror of his position though her expression seems to be amused and teasing. His eyes travel involuntarily (or perhaps less so) down her translucent body, lower than her waist where ribbons of light form what he can only think of as a long gown or a fish's tail.

"What is your name?"

Men have called me many things before. It's all the same to me.

He has never been a particularly keen conversationalist and his approach is objective and precise. She answers both freely and lavishly and seems to be more curious of his questions rather than him, as she so very rarely asks.

"Do you know my name?"

I have glimpsed it.

"Can you say it?"

Here, she hesitates.

I don't know how.

It seems only natural to kiss her. He reaches towards her, supporting himself on his forearms and elbows and she doesn't react at first, so he continues until his lips touch hers. He had expected everything but the soft sensation of lips, something warm and wet and soft. Yamato feels his chest swell and when he draws back, her eyes, clearer now, are wide open.

"It's Yamato," he says.

And for the first time, like a song dispelled, she murmurs, "Yamato."

He wakes up on his own bed, alone. His memory of last night's dream is blurry, too bright in some places and completely dark in others. He shifts as he prepares for his last day on this mission. He will be boarding the Soyuz within hours with two other colleagues and within four orbits, will land somewhere in the grassy plains of Kazakhstan. It'll be a few more days before he's cleared to leave to Japan, too.

Instinctively, he touches his lips and isn't entirely surprised when his fingers are coated by a thin film of fine, glittery dust. On Earth, she will be an old, blurry memory, a cold lump of rock that once carried the secrets of stars.

"Wait for me, Mimi-san."

Notes: I was a little stuck and then got very busy, but I have every intention of finishing this small collection. A few things to consider about this one:

1. The dialogue is actually at least partially faithful. I was inspired after reading some transcripts for the Apollo Mission disasters.

2. Did you know there aren't very many stories about space mermaids? It was the original concept.

3. I'm tempted to actually write this story but for the purposes of this collection, this was a good place to stop.

#digiOTPweek #digimon adventure #ishida yamato #tachikawa mimi #mimato #day 3: fantasy & sci-fi #i'm sorry i'm so late pls love me

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talesfromagemini · 5 years ago

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SCORNED: THE LAST VISIT (SHORT STORY)

Written By: Harley Winston (TalesFromAGemini)

Janiah sits on her Queen-sized bed with tears in her eyes. The young woman heart is shattered...again. The so- called man she fell in love with has left her for another woman. One in a million things are going through her mind. She doesn't know who to turn to. Not to mention she's thinking the unthinkable.

"Since 2012," she says to herself quietly. "Since July of 2012, I've been nothing but loyal and faithful to this man and this is the thanks that I get." She damn near laughed. Anger was building in her core and her mind was clouded she couldn't think straight. Janiah rose up off her bed and slowly walked up to her mirror, Janiah couldn't look at herself she felt ashamed, she felt ugly. What was once a semi-happy young woman; was now a young woman ready to self-destruct in any minute. She gently brushed her dark-brown shoulder-length hair into a neat ponytail. The dried tears were cleansed away from her face. "Today Janiah is the day of your rebirth," She spoke with confidence to herself. "You will finally be free from your pain." She chuckled say, holding back tears that were trying to form in her eyes again.

She threw on a black tank top and a pair of black sweat pants, she dialed the newly unsaved number in her phone. The call went straight to voicemail, Janiah's blood began to boil ten times hotter.

Downstairs, her mother was preparing dinner for the family. Her younger sister was in the home office talking on her cellphone and watching television. Both unaware of the pain Janiah was going through.

Dressed and car keys in hand, Janiah walked up to her mother and gave her a kiss on the cheek which was rare and went and hugged her little sister tightly.

"What's wrong with you?" Her mother asked, confused. "You've been in your room mostly all day."

Janiah faked a smile, "Just being in my thoughts."

"Where are you going?" Her mother noticing the duffle bag.

"To drop off something to Marcus, "She lied.

"Be home on time, Janiah."

"I will," Janiah assured before walking out the door.

It didn't take long before Janiah was on the East-side, coming off her exit, her adrenaline began to rush. She wasn't sure if she was excited or scared. Pushed to her limit of no return Janiah was ready for whatever went down but she wasn't going down without a fight. Parked and posted around the corner from her ex- boyfriend Marcus's house, Janiah faced a blunt and took a few shots of Hennessy, she checked her social media and her heart sunk more. Marcus posted a picture of an ultrasound.

"She's pregnant?"

Janiah took another sip and got herself together. One last look in the rear-view mirror, Janiah smiled at her beautiful reflection. "You are beautiful and today is your rebirth. Happy Birthday, love."

She responded to herself, "Thank you." She exited out of her car, she walked to the back of the car and popped the trunk retrieving a medium size black duffel bag.

Janiah approached Marcus's house and knocked on the side door, she saw his truck in the driveway so she knew he was home. No response. She knocked on the door a little harder. A few moments later she was hearing foots steps coming, her heart started racing she hasn't seen Marcus since they broke up a few weeks back. She wasn't sure if she could go through with this.

Moments later, she laid her eyes on the man who once made her heart skip a beat. Marcus Raymond opened the door surprised and a little pissed to see his ex-girlfriend at his door step.

He sighed of irritation, "What are you doing here, Janiah?

She smiled ignoring the fact she's not wanted right now, "I just came to talk and have one last drink and blunt with you. Then I'll be on my way. I came peaceful with no drama."

Marcus thought about it and decided to let Janiah in. Not realizing he just put himself in danger. Janiah sat her duffel bag on the chair in the living room.

"What's in the bag?" he asked.

"Just some of your old stuff I'll put it in the attic before I leave. Let's have some drinks," she slurred a little bit.

"It sound like you already had some." He chuckled.

"Just a few shots before I got out the car."

"I guess. Well I'm in the room," he walked to the back of the house.

Making sure Marcus was in the bedroom; she pulled out a bottle of chloroform and poured it on a black cloth. Drinks poured and ready, Janiah was ready for a night of fun. When she walked in the bedroom, Marcus was on his Sony PlayStation 3 playing the latest game NBA 2K13. She placed his drink by him and sat in her spot behind him.

"So what do you want to talk about?" he asked never taking his eyes off the screen.

"Becoming friends after this if that's possible." Janiah pulled out an already rolled blunt out of her purse.

Marcus grabbed his cup and took a sip, "Friends?"

Janiah nodded.

"What's this? Henny?" He asked after taking a sip.

"Your favorite," She smiled. "I want us to be great friends. I still love you and I know you in a relationship and all but that doesn't mean we still can't be close." She sparked the blunt and took a hit. Inhaling the good shit and then exhaling the bullshit. Three more hits and she then passed it to Marcus.

She took another sip of her drink and sat it on the nightstand, "And I also want to thank you for everything that you taught me and forgive you for everything that you done wrong to me."

He paused the game and faced Janiah confused.

"I realize that what we had wasn't strong enough to be a true relationship I was hoping being friends will bring it to that some day."

Marcus took a huge sip of his drink, "You right...You live and you learn." Then turned his attention back on the game.

"I will always love you, Marcus," Janiah sat up. "But just so you know...... I will never forget." Janiah pulled the black cloth out and covered Marcus's mouth and nose with it. "It's time to have some fun, baby."

Once Marcus was knocked out she took a few more hits of the blunt and finished her drink in one gulp. Retrieving the duffel bag from the living room, she pulled out hand cuffs and duct tape and began handcuffing Marcus's hands and feet to his bed rail. She covered his mouth with duct tape.

"Time to get to work." She cracked her knuckles.

Marcus lying unconscious, she slowly caressed her fingers on his smooth, light-skinned faced, "To bad our children would have looked beautiful."

She drew her fist back, "It's time to wake up!" and punched the shit out of Marcus waking him in a panic. Realizing he was tied up, he searched around for answers mumbling under the duct tape. He saw Janiah standing over him with a smile on her face. She snatched the tape off his mouth, "And you were saying?" with a raised eyebrow.

"You crazy bitch! Get these cuffs off me now!" he yelled in pain from the tape snatching damn near his mustache.

She calmly spoke, "That's no way to speak to a lady, Marcus." She open-hand slapped him. A faint-red hand print was left on the side of his face.

"Fuck you!" he spat. "Get these cuffs off me!" Ordering her like he was in control of the situation.

"Now why would I do that?" Janiah pondered, tapping her chin. "Marcus for the last two going on three years I have dealt with your bullshit. The countless lies and cheating and I am tired of it. You left me for another woman not to mention you got the bitch pregnant. So today Marcus we are going to see how much pain you can take. Janiah felt powerful. She was finally in control. "There is nobody on this earth Marcus who is going to stop me from inflicting the pain that's coming to you." She laughed evilly. "Now I need you to shut the fuck up." Placing a new piece of duct tape on his mouth.

Marcus struggled to get the cuffs off but he couldn't. Never once in a million years did he think Janiah would do this to him. He never thought she had the guts to even come at him like this.

"I wouldn't fight if I was you it only fuels my rage." She warned him.

Rummaging through her duffel bag, Janiah pulled out a surgical blades, surgical retractor , rib shears and a small bush cutters. Marcus's eyes grew big, he didn't know what Janiah had in store for him but it wasn't pretty. An evil grin crept up on her face. He was no longer staring into the eyes of the sweet innocent woman he met almost two years ago, but the eyes of a menace. Janiah pulled a butcher knife out the bag and Marcus began to panic, she placed her finger across his covered lips, "Shhh! Baby. For walking all over me. You don't need your legs anymore." She began to stab Marcus repeatedly in both of his legs. He screamed and kicked, but she continued to jab away, blood was splattering all over them.

"You in pain yet!" She screamed. She wanted him to feel it, but it wasn't enough for her. She pulled down his basketball shorts, exposing his man-hood that she loved and made her feel good the times they was together. "See this guy,Marcus." She gripped his manhood tightly in her hand. "This the little fucker that got you tripping on me! That got you running the streets being a fucking a hoe!" Tears and evil filled her eyes. Brand new bush clippers were sitting in the corner of the bedroom and she instantly got an idea. She placed his man piece in the middle of the clippers. Janiah stared Marcus deep in his pleading eyes and whispered, "Snip...Snip Pretty Boy." With that Marcus penis flew across the bed. His horrific screams were muffled by the duct tape. The piece that made him feel like a man was now lying next to him limp and bloody. Deep inside he knew he wasn't going to make it out alive. Janiah was just getting started.

"Don't pass out yet," Janiah whispered in his ears. "I don't think you felt enough." Marcus eyes were rolling in the back of his head. His body was uncontrollably shaking.

Marcus was scared for his life. He turned Janiah into a monster before him. "Let's get rid of this shirt." She cut his white T-shirt from the middle exposing his tatted chest. "I loved your tattoos, Marcus. Especially when you was fucking me right. Just watching the sweat drip from your body made me cream." Janiah started from his belly button and licked him all the up to his neck. "Mmmmmm." She moaned, savoring his flavor. "You still taste good." It was time for the real fun, she sat aside her scalpel and rib shears. "I'm going to take something from you, Marcus."

Just like at work watching the surgeon on YouTube, Janiah made an incision straight down the middle of his chest. Marcus could no longer cry and scream he was too exhausted. Blood was gushing and squirting everywhere, but Janiah didn't care; she was digging for gold and she wasn't going to stop until she had his heart in her hand. She quickly grabbed the rib shears and began cutting away at the rib cage, she could see his heart barely holding on to a beat in his chest, "It's almost mines." She squeals.

She placed the retractor in his chest exposing his slowly beating heart, her eyes lit up like a Christmas tree.

"You are so strong baby. What are you holding to? Life? Oh! my dear that's already gone." Picking up the surgical scissors, "I loved you with all my heart Marcus," She placed a kiss on his forehead. "I will see you in hell." She began cutting his heart out. Marcus began shaking suddenly his body went still. Finally! In her hand, she held the heart of her lover. It's so pretty. She thought. She couldn't believe she actually cut out his heart. She stared at Marcus's lifeless body and squeezed his heart until it burst in her hand.

She was finally free.

Janiah calmly grabbed her cellphone and dialed 9-1-1.

"9-1-1 what's your emergency?" The operator answered.

She spoke into the receiver, "I've just cut out my lover's heart." Then hung up the phone. She took one last glance at Marcus. A tear rolled down her face. It was a tear of happiness.

She walked outside into the backyard and looked up into the night sky, "God forgive me for I have sinned," She prayed before pulling out a 9MM pistol and pointing it to her temple. Janiah closed her eyes and dropped to her knees before releasing the trigger.

POW!

#blackfemalewriter #urbanthriller #urbanfiction #wattpadstory #detroit #author #my writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr #free write #thriller #karma

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punkscowardschampions · 6 years ago

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Rio & Grace

Rio: Gracie! Can't tie either parental down so you're unlucky enough to be my first port of call Rio: If I come down this week (half term, right? God I feel old not knowing, ick!) how many of yous are gonna be about? Wanna catch all of you if I can Grace: I'm not surprised, Nico thinks mum's charger is the most fun thing EVER and you know dad still kicks it like he's at some 70s disco instead of a restaurant kitchen. So cringe! Grace: Iggy's took off in the van and Pablo's never here even when he is (ugh we get it, you're hanging shush) but everyone else maybe? Grace: Unless Junior's nerding it up idk Rio: Bless them, you'll miss them when you go Rio: Mum and Dad, the cats, only your faves and Nico is a little bitch 😂 Rio: Good enough for me! Sure enough I'll only hold any of yas down for a hot second regardless Rio: What've you been up to? Got any fun plans then? Grace: 😂 No way they're the worst and won't give me the chance Grace: Ask Janis they're always in her grill now she has a bf she can't ever peel herself off of Grace: Gurl you better make time for me! 😚 London's like another planet and I need that goss Grace: Gotta keep uploading that 🐰🐣 content Grace: but keeping it lowkey 👌 Rio: They're highkey nerds, tis true, least they give a shit, eh? 😘 Rio: Fucking knew it, sneaky bitch. I asked her at NYE and she said nah but I KNEW Rio: Ugh, gonna give her SO much shit when I come back 😂 Rio: Duh! My goss might not set the teenybop influencer world alight but think you'll be into it Rio: Also, got some lush bunny ears from work you can style up if you like, there's the content Rio: Very Ariana Grace: We're so blessed 🙏 Grace: OMFG THANK YOU 👏 she's such a lying bitch Grace: And they are so 😍💍💘 it's HONESTLY disgusting like I can't Grace: YAS 👑!! babes I knew I was missing you Grace: Such a mood Rio: 🙌 Rio: Steady on 😂 Fill me on the beef before I'm taking sides Rio: Can't roll like that babe 🙉 Rio: Is he a twat? I could barely get a look in, hot property with the whole fam that night not just Jan, like 😏 Rio: Right? My turn to THANK YOU 'cos all the other girls were raging after me lemme tell you, saying it reeked of misogyny and cheesy old school playboy Rio: Not educated in Hef paving the way for ladies being allowed to be sexual, ESP the sistas 💣💥 Rio: Its iconic, yeah? Like hush Grace: Honey not even! Now he's got her feeling the 💖 we all benefit Grace: Like from 💀 to 😍!! Grace: Here's the thing he's NICE!! 😮 How and who tf !! 😂 In THESE ends Grace: He's pimped my feed with his 📷 more that once. Lush! Grace: Trust her to find the one decent lad Grace: OMG how shaming! it's literally so on point I feel bad for how off they are. Beyond awkward Grace: 👯💜 Rio: Can't argue with that Rio: It'll be nice to see her happy Rio: All of yous Rio: Yeah, had noticed your new lad was off the feed Rio: Just not the one or do I need to crack skulls on YOUR behalf? Spill! 😘 Maybe Gus has had his 💔 Rio: Right? Not complaining when they were raking in the tips and looking fly doing it, this is why Vinnie listens to me and not them though so 💋 win win for me Grace: 🤞 Grace: UGH don't go there babe Grace: I'm off men rn 🙏 so you can relax Grace: Give Gus and Diego their time to shine 😂 Grace: OMG PLEASE say you can finally get me in sometime soon! 💋 Rio: Good girl 👍 Rio: Me too, more trouble than they're worth, and I'll always check what they're worth, feel me Rio: Love 'em 😂 I'd say they keep me sane but not with the shenanigans they still manage to get themselves into, nah lads Rio: You're old enough that I can vouch for you with him to get you in but Imma need to go out in Dubo with you first Rio: See how you handle your liquor, can't be risking the boss' license if you're gonna get #WGW 😏 Grace: I 100% swear down that D has a 💘 at his school but he's pulling a Jan over it so Grace: Yay! I'm buzzing Grace: Say when and I'll be on it Grace: The vibe looks EPIC in every insta it's 💕 Rio: Surely not! My babies! 😭 Rio: I've changed all ya nappies, it ain't right, I tell ya! 👵 Rio: Whenever you can pencil me in darling 💋 If you come back on the plane with me you'll only have to do the one back alone Rio: Unless you want to bring a mate but you've gotta vouch for them 'cos I don't know them enough to put my name on the line, they ain't my little sister 💛 Grace: 😂😂 I had to go full spa on him cos he was 🙎 and not vibing with the sheet masks he'd been stealing from me for WEEKS 😂😂 Grace: He's so 😍 for someone Grace: This is HAPPENING 👌 Mum'll say yes cos it's obvs for my mental health Grace: It's enough for collab our schedules tbh imagine trying to get the squad hooked up Rio: Aww! What a little sweetie! 😭 Giving me so much fodder to get 'em all with, yas gurl! 🙊 Rio: She defs knows the benefit of letting ya hair down and if she disagrees then she ain't our Muvva 👽 Rio: Same when I was your age, so many parties, so much time stretching ahead...ugh, hark at me Rio: Speaking of though, Pabs has managed to keep outta the drunk tanks since my last visit, yeah? 🙄 Chief Grace: I'd say go easy cos the acne is !! but where was mine was I was a 🍕 me and payback are bitches that have each other's backs like 😂 Grace: So welcome 💋 remember who treated you right hun 😚 Grace: Oh babe that's proper tragic 😂 Are you okay?! Grace: 🙄🙄 Grace: I'd lie to spare your feels but I can't even cos he is not forgiven! Fuck him truly Rio: Way harsh babe! Gotta share that knowledge and spot treatment 🙏 older sib duties ✌ you only gotta look out for them 3, feel MY pain when I wanna be a petty bitch please 😉😂 Rio: Clearly not, like...What tf am I like? 🙈 Rio: Still in the dog house then...I hope little miss tiny tits is too, seen her being snide on the 'gram Rio: we know she's no 😇 so as long as she's getting her share of the 💩 from you, I ain't judging on the Pabs score 👌 Grace: 😈 LMAO jks obvs I'm living for getting to flex like that Grace: Nobody else lets me near their face, their loss but still BOO Grace: Ugh yes cos he doesn't even see that he did me WRONG she was trying he's just an idiot and its like BOY NO Grace: Never learning them lessons Grace: 🚫 No worries there she's BEYOND cancelled 🚫 Grace: I hate that bitch Rio: That's why you gotta get them clients honey, just you wait, people will be BEGGIN' for your time and expertise 😘 Rio: Yeah, he's a fool in general though Rio: Not to say that ain't valid, 'cos 100% babe, but it wasn't personal, like Rio: Try to remember that 'cos he's not that boy, no matter what typa foolishness he's caught up in rn 😒 Rio: 👏 I like what I'm hearing, Gracie! So much growth! Rio: Here for it Grace: I feel you but also it's like idk it was personal to me cos she was my best friend and he knew that Grace: On some level idk Grace: Whatever I'm trying to be over it Grace: There's bigger 🐠 Rio: Fair Rio: Idk if he knows he knew...Mouthful Rio: Give him time and a chance, but that's it, sensible big sister said her piece on that, you're free to go on doing what you're doing 😜 Grace: Thanks 👑 Grace: Rio, I can forreal come to london right? Like you're not just shhing me Grace: I'm so done with this place atm Rio: Of course you can Rio: As long as the 'rents sign off on it, you can stay for as long as you like Rio: That's Dubo for ya...gets under your skin Rio: Anything else I can do, tho? Grace: 💜 Grace: Ugh it's just everything Grace: There's barely anything I can do Grace: Ignore me I'm a hormonal 👾 Rio: Have you had your B12 and folates checked? Billie and Edie were anaemic you should double-check 'cos that will have you feeling rough as Grace: 👼 You're adorbs Grace: Enough of my chatter anyway, how are you? Rio: 👀 okurr but we're coming back to this later Rio: 'cos I'm same old same old Rio: Nothing beyond the promised goss of London to report Rio: No boys, remember? Grace: 🙄🙄 Grace: Oh please you always have a boy Grace: Spill it Rio: 😨 Swear on my life, babe! Rio: Nothing and no one Grace: We're twinning then 💕 Grace: Do tell Janis 😂 Rio: Coming for ya brand Rio: Shameless 😏 like to think I could pass, not that old or having THAT crisis tho, jfc Grace: 👯💣🔥 Grace: You're flawless babe don't even stress Grace: when I'm your age I'll have to pray Rio: Aww, you doll, extra brownie points for boosting my ego 💋 Rio: What you chattin'?! We're all babes, lbr Grace: 😂 shhh avó be repping herself hard in me and no offence 👵 it's not goals 💔 lmao Grace: obrigado,... mas não, obrigado like she rocks it but she's also way old so Grace: the struggle is real 😂 Rio: You're mad gal Rio: don't be wasting your youth hating on what you'll miss Rio: though we all age like fine wine, avó paving the way 💣 Rio: Ma was onto something having us so young Grace: Don't let her hear you say that Grace: My ears are still ringing from her calling me out Rio: umm Rio: BISH YOU WHAT Grace: 🤷 No drama just Rio: You weren't on the pill? Or missed a day? Rio: We've all had the scare but I never got as far as needing to tell Mum Rio: You poor thing! 😨🙈 Grace: Well obvs that was my bad but she only made me die about a thousand times Grace: I survived Rio: Eeep! Rio: At least she didn't march you down the clinic in a shame cone like most would round here Grace: OMG like she made me go but my ootd was my own doing 🙏 Rio: Not so much as a high collar in sight 🙌 Rio: Explains your hormones though, babe, that shit will FUCK you up for ages Rio: so no worries there Grace: I know exactly what I'm in for Grace: Ugh Rio: Forreals Rio: Who'd be a fucking woman, eh? Grace: Mia. To fuck over the others Grace: kms Rio: 😂 Rio: Fueled by her PMS that one Grace: [Sends her 2 very similar selfies} which one do you vibe the most with? Rio: 1st one, s'more natural Rio: smile ALMOST reaches your eyes Grace: lmao Grace: Thanks babes Rio: if you gonna fake it 'til you make it Rio: gotta keep you the realest, ain't I? 😉 Grace: gotta keep me 😂 Rio: Wanna Rio: Blood ties aside 😘 Grace: 💜 Rio: Best get ready for work Rio: Could use you here to do my look for me, cba tonight 😐 blah Grace: I'd be living for that you know it but you'll be killing it with or without me, honey Grace: You got this gurl Rio: Cheers 🍸 Rio: I'll get the first round in when I see ya boo 💋 Grace: Yay! So excited 😚

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erinderossi-blog · 8 years ago

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first attempt at writing up a little bio about this doofus so if there’s any mistakes or i repeat myself or make no sense at all it’s because it’s after 5am and i haven’t slept yet omg. anyway, this is erin and she’s open to any and all plots:

erin was born in chicago to an italian chef and a chicago native kindergarten teacher (is that what the teacher of tiny humans is called in america? i have no idea) and is the middle child of five. she had a quiet childhood; one filled with good memories and an absence of drama -- unless you count the time her hamster died when she was seven. you’d have thought someone was being murdered by the sounds of her cries. she spent most of her time with her older brother and was quite the tomboy and made a point of being one when she flushed her barbie down the toilet a mere hour after receiving it as a birthday gift. SHE WANTED A PAIR OF SOCCER TRAINERS INSTEAD. parents never listen -- and mostly, in erin’s case, that was actually the case. she definitely suffered from middle child syndrome and was often overlooked in favour of the success of her older siblings or the potential and growth of her younger siblings. she tried her best, but more often than not it was “why can’t you be more like your brother, erin?” or “is that really the example you want to set for your younger siblings?” it was a real struggle.

when she got to her teens, however, she began to care less and less about gaining her parents’ approval and more about gaining that of her fellow classmates. she got involved in the party scene, made friends with a few questionable people, and did things that would probably make her mother faint if she was privy to the entire truth. she had finally decided that if they couldn’t notice her then she sure as hell would make others notice instead. it worked, but; ultimately... not in the way she had envisioned. her adventurous and no limits attitude often led to trouble for both her and those around her and after stealing a car while intoxicated and driving it into her neighbour’s tree, people began to get tired of her behaviour. and, honestly, for a while she did too.

the thing was, erin doesn’t like change. she didn’t want to change for the sake of her parents and she definitely didn’t want to change for the people who were supposed to be her friends, so she ditched school at the age of 15 without qualifications and distanced herself from those she had once been attached to. this didn’t sit well with her parents. in fact, there was a screaming match which resulted in erin being shipped off to stay with her strict aunt in nevada.

she refused to attend school while there, but her aunt didn’t want her hanging around doing nothing so she used her connections and got her a small cleaning job at the local radio station. it didn’t take long for erin to fall in love with the place and even less time for her to decide that she no longer wanted to clean the place, she wanted to run it. she wanted to be the one in the swivel chair with the headphones on talking into the microphone. it was the first time she had truly felt ambition.

she worked for several years in that radio station, doing odd jobs here and there; learning the ropes in every department that she could, until one day she was offered a chance to get inside the booth and host a small segment for herself. ever since then she has only grown in confidence and stature on the air and for the past two years of her life, she has been working at a bigger radio station with her own time slot. she’s slowly but surely making a name for herself and it only took leaving school and moving 1,747.4 miles to get her to that point.

she’s a partier and loves to socialise, but more often than not its fueled by alcohol. she’s a little more grumpier and reserved in her sober state, but can still hold a conversation or two up... unless it’s with a child. she cannot for the life of her handle children and is incredibly uncomfortable around them. she doesn’t see herself being a mother at all in the future because of this. ew kids.

she still holds a no limits approach to life and will pretty much do anything.

as for sexuality, she has not once labelled herself or put herself into a category and has been known to have been with men and women. if it makes her feel good then she literally doesn’t care, though she’s only ever really in it for a physical thing. she is yet to have a relationship that stretches past a year and a half (which, to date, is her longest ever relationship), and when she sleeps with someone she doesn’t sleep over/they don’t sleep over. it’s literally wham bam thank ya ma’am now get out of my apartment with her.

commitmentphobe

she’s lactose intolerant but will still chow down on anything and everything that she’s not supposed to. a moment of glory is definitely worth the sickness that comes after it.

she doesn’t involve herself in the gambling side of living in vegas all that often, but that’s mainly because she has a TERRIBLE poker face and has at least three tells (tucking her hair behind her ear, left corner of her mouth twitching and inability to hold eye contact are her main tells) when it comes to detecting whether she is lying or not.

dimples.

she hasn’t spoken to her father for nearly 12 years now and this actually hurts her but she is far too stubborn to admit so, her mother checks in every once in a while to make sure she’s doing okay, but mostly erin knows that it’s just a routine she can’t get out of at this point since she knows her social media is stalked by her. her mother pretty much ‘likes’ everything she posts after all.

she hates romantic comedies with a burning passion, but isn’t against using one if it means she’ll get laid at the end of the night #priorities.

there’s also a turtle in a tank in the left hand corner of her living room, his name is dave.

is left handed.

#( ooc ;; )#vivaintro #( about ;; )

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ecotone99 · 5 years ago

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[SF] From Here

From Here

It’s a hell of a view.

The sound of the escaping air. The quiet hiss of my time slipping away. If I didn’t have to listen to it, maybe it would be better. Maybe I could ignore the fact that my remaining time was more easily measured on the ticks of a clock versus the pages of a calendar. If I could just ignore everything, I suppose. It would all be easier to just slip away, to fall asleep.

To fall asleep. That’s the blessing of slow oxygen deprivation, isn’t it? To slide into delirium, into sleep, then deeper; into death. Easy. No muss, no fuss. I can just lay here, my face pressed against the transdurasteel canopy of my inert and drifting coffin, and succumb to the end.

The End. I’m not usually such a dramatic person; sorry for that. I’ve been called gregarious, loud, brash. Hell, I’ve been called an obnoxious pain in the ass by people I considered to be my closest friends. Well, when you’re staring out into the void of space listening to the last of your air leaking out of a seam in the carbon plates just somewhere above and a little to the right of where my head is currently laying, I guess anyone could wax a little drama. At least the view is lovely. It really is a hell of a view.

The view. The far reaches of the eastern arm of some unknown spiral galaxy fills the canopy. Millions upon billions of stars before me, like countless grains of salt, each maybe homes to planetary systems, life maybe; their faces looking to the light and the warmth of their home star. Light years away from me, light years away from any sort of salvation. From here, all i can touch is the vast emptiness. From here, I can just see but never feel that warmth.

From here. I wonder, (not for the first time) if this expanse of galaxy spread before me is the Milky Way. Pop quiz: can you pick your home galaxy out of line-up? Which of these five millions-light-year-wide spirals do you call home? I said the eastern arm; that’s east relative to me, of course. What of direction in space? What is up, down, east or west? Bah, that’s just academic frippery anyway; irrelevant. Endless discussions about orientation in space is best left at a table where talk of such things goes well with slightly bitter coffee and even less slightly uncomfortable chairs. All that really matters in the end when you’re out here is if you have enough fuel to see yourself home. It doesn’t matter if you call it left or right, Sol-word, hub-word, or just towards the light and the warmth. It just boils down a couple of measurements of volume: The volume of oxygen contained within finite capacity tanks, and the volume of gravimetric particles endlessly circling a null-time void.

Void. The oxygen is depleted and what is left in this cockpit is slowly escaping into exhaust into space. From here, I can even see where the leak exits on the outside of the ship. On the edge of my vision through the canopy I can see a rime of ice build-up. The ice that was the slight moisture in my breath, escaping from my body, then escaping into nothingness. I had hoped, (still hope) that this build up of ice might seal the crack, at least temporarily, buying me precious moments of time. How much time? I already feel light-headed. That could be shock, lack of food or drink, lack of sleep. It could be those things, but I know that it’s lack of oxygen. Even if it did seal the breach, giving me a stay of execution, there’s more than one void on this broken bird.

A bird struck through with the pellets of a hunter’s shot. Micro-meteors, grains of cosmic salt pelted the hull. I watched the passage of the fragment that created the leak next to me. I felt in that split-second moment that I could reach out and catch the deadly fragment, slowed as it was from impact to mere hundreds of kilometers an hour from thousands. I could just extend my hand and grasp that deep space voyager. Ridiculous, of course. It would have punctured a polite hole trough my gauntlet, through fabrics, through skin, muscle and bone, and out the back side of my hand in an instant. At that velocity, I’m sure I just imagined seeing it, anyway. There’s no way my eyes could have tracked such a fragment, even with the enhanced optical hardware I have implanted within my skull.

What of the other void, then? The gravimetric field generator could create energy to power this stricken bird into perpetuity. The generator fed itself, an endless cycling loop of gravimetric particles with enough output to power the fold-space engines. Endless power, unless it itself is struck by hundreds of grains of salt moving at speeds I’ve already mentioned. Being struck, the loop becoming deformed, twisting out of true. The energy to bend space time released in a cascade into the surrounding structure, instantly vaporizing four-fifths of a craft three kilometers in length. The sealed door ten meters behind where my head currently lay drifting into delirium would open onto nothing but vacuum if I chose to crack it open. I wouldn’t choose to do that, would I?

Would I? What lay before me? From here, from what I can see, my options are fairly minimal and bleak at best. The lights that remain lit on the console before me are ticking over to a harsh red one by one. Not that I need their notification; the hiss is slowly decreasing in volume. I can still hear it, but it’s getting harder to with each passing moment. It would be nice to go for a walk outside, to escape this inevitability.

It’s getting cold in here. Maybe it’s been cold in here, and I just hadn’t noticed. My suit keeps my body temperature at a balanced level, so I shouldn’t feel it. And yet; it’s getting cold in here. I do notice now that there is some ice build up on the inside of the canopy before me.

I don’t want to fog up the surface, so I hold my breath.

It’s getting dark in here, too. The light of those millions of tiny points flood into the cockpit, illuminating my gloved hands laying against that surface to the sides of my face more noticeably than before.

I could reach out and touch.

That warmth.

But my arms are too heavy. I leave them where they lie.

Drifting.

The view.

It’s a hell of a view.

From here.

(02/27/20)

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breaksandbites · 8 years ago

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Beware boys and girls! This post has lots and lots of beauty-full sights and dramatic experiences; you may end up wanting to go to subject location, very badly. Read at your own risk! And there is a special video at the end of the post as well. Having said that, let me share the happenings and spectacularly beautiful landscapes of one of the most lovely days we enjoyed during our trip to South New Zealand. We stayed at Te Anau only to visit Milford Sound, as I stated earlier in this post. Our cruise ride was booked for 2:30 pm so we left Te Anau early around 10ish (to our understanding). The map was showing 1 hr 45 min drive to destination but what the map did not revealed were the breathtaking sights and lookouts we will be passing by in that brief drive and that leaving at 10 is horribly late (keep reading and you will find out why I used such a strong adjective this time).

Anyways, the drive to Milford Sound was super duper scenic. We bumped into Fiordland National Park which is a beech forest trail on the sandy Milford shore. Signboard leading to Lake Mistletoe was the first point we stopped at but we chose not to advance towards it since the return time to car park was 45 min (according to board) and we had to hike all the way to lake which definitely would be a bad idea with E in our hands all the time. So we dropped the plan and resumed our trip.

The lovely highway

Colors <3

We then reached at Eglinton Valley and the moment we crossed the forest trees and stepped into the canyon, we were spellbound. It looked like a scene from a movie; mountains at the far end, river flowing, tall grass dancing to the tune of wind, pretty flowers, trees at the back and no one else around. It looked so serene and captivating that we did not want to leave but we had to reach somewhere else at a specified time, so we marched back towards the car and hit the road once again.

The Eglinton Valley

We HAVE to pose everywhere

Next lookout was Mirror Lakes on the way. Check out the pictures and see for yourself the clean and clear water showcasing mirror image of the whole peaceful setting.

Mirror Lakes

Check out that board

Reflection of sky on water

Our next stop was Pop’s View overlooking the stunning valley of Hollyford with clouds gliding through the mountain peaks. Here I would like to mention that the government has managed everything very well, you will find washrooms even in some of very remote locations as well.

Hollyford Valley in view

Amazing scene

Falls Creek‘s magical scenery blew our mind and we could not resist stopping by the waterfall flowing right beside the single lane road. At one side it was thundering down like a gigantic water spout and toppling into the ecstasy rocky pool at the other side of road. Oh my god, that was heavenly! I have never seen so much beauty in my entire life, seriously!

The left side of road

Right side of road

Came across Monkey Creek along the highway and we turned the car towards it. Here we spotted ‘Kea‘ – a native bird typically large species of parrots. They were quite comfortably posing for our cameras. Have a look at them down below.

Kea posing for me – Later on it flew and came to sit on the side mirror of my window (I was terrified for an instant) #embarassingMoments lol

Monkey creek

Time was passing by like water was flowing through the rocks around us – very quicklyyy! We arrived at the Homer Tunnel situated at an altitude of 945m above sea level, surrounded by snowy peaks and so many little waterfalls flowing through them.

Little waterfalls

Way to Homer Tunnel

O yes, thats me *posing*

Highway in view from tunnel

Homer Tunnel – one way it is

We started to feel the cold we were about to experience ahead, the wind was telling us that we are nearby our destination and we were quite on time BUT how can our day pass by without any drama?

The Drama:

HI looked at the fuel tank pointer and it said that we were running out of petrol. And let me tell you, there are no fuel stops or gas stations at Te Anau – Milford Sound Highway. As a matter of fact, there is one at the end of road but sometimes it is out of petrol and we were NOT in a position to take risks at that time. We got to know by fellow drivers that there is a ray of hope 20 kms in the opposite direction where we can find fuel so we turned the car without giving it a second thought and raced back towards the location. HI over-sped through the narrow lanes and finally, we approached the spot ‘Gunns Camp‘.

Interesting directions – Check out the pointer towards Heaven… lol

Suspense:

The next challenge was to open the fuel tank door, the clock was ticking and every passing second was taking us away from our cruise ride and everything else decided to give us tough time! Aaarrghh. At last the door opened, we filled up the tank, turned the car and accelerated towards Homer Tunnel once again. We travelled 40 kms extra that day and that too with lightening fast speed.

We did not stop at any other lookout after that nerve racking occurrence and pulled over directly at Milford Sound Cruise Terminal at exactly 2:30pm. And the drama continues, I literally ran towards the counter only to find out that the cruise has left already and that was the last one for the day by that company.

Cruises at Terminal

isn’t it stunning <3

Climax:

I sat there in dismay thinking what to do next because this was the only day we had there. Instantly we took the decision to get on the scenic cruise managed by another company, rushed towards their stand and bought the last tickets of the last cruise they sold for the day. Had we taken one more moment in deciding, we would have missed it. Phew, the drama ends! We performed well, right?… haha

We boarded the cruise and took a sigh of relief. It was a 2 hour scenic cruise along the picturesque and idyllic setting of Milford Sound. The moment we stepped onto deck we saw beauty that cannot be described in words, truly extraterrestrial! There was no reception of signals, far away from the hustle bustle of world, just us and blissful natural beauty all around. We took so many photographs and recorded videos but nothing is doing justice to what we saw with our eyes. Catch some of the glimpses below.

It was too cold for her

Fur seals lazing around as always

breathtaking

we were cruising among clouds

I got myself drenched in this waterfall – ecstatic feeling

The captain of our ship ;)

HI pose too :p

Sereneee

We came out smiling and content of the terminal after the tour, it was more like a feeling of winning a race against time. Our day was not wasted and we achieved what we wanted to. Yayyyy! :D

Afterwards, we advanced our way towards Queenstown where our accommodation was booked for 2 nights. As soon as we hit Milford – Queenstown highway we realized that the day is not over yet and more pleasing panoramas are awaiting us down the road.

Queenstown highway

Those deers were surprised to see us

Check out these lamas – they are like ‘whateverrr’ lol

bee-you-tea-full

that landscape though

We kept on moving forward treating our eyes with the enthralling scenes every twist and turn was unfolding until we reached Devil’s Staircase Lookout. It is one bewitching location about 50 km away from Queenstown. I fell in love with the colors and serenity of that place immediately. We gasped in astonishment at the fact that it was about 9 o’ clock at night and the sun was shining bright, see for yourself.

Devils’s Staircase

Lovely colors all around

Did you guys noticed that we did not eat the whole day? There are no shops or eateries along Te Anau – Milford Haighway. We were hungry like crazyyy and the hunger levels elevated exponentially upon entering the amazing city of Queenstown. We headed straight to the Turkish Kebab shop at 31 Beach street which Noman bhai had told us without looking here and there and devoured their shawarmas as our lunch, snack and dinner – all in one. Later on, we grabbed some coffee and while roaming lazily on the streets of city concluded that we had Formula Rossa type of amazing day – Loved every bit of it!

Stay tuned to find out what we did in Queenstown the next day ;)

Until then… enjoy this enchanting summary video of our day.

Mesmerizing Milford Sound – Trip Of Lifetime Day 15 Beware boys and girls! This post has lots and lots of beauty-full sights and dramatic experiences; you may end up wanting to go to subject location, very badly.

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itsroxananovek-blog · 8 years ago

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I think it is evident that such a scenario has been created by the hard real man's hand of none other than Dougie Brimson. It seems to me, a priori, that everything connected with football hooliganism, belongs to one, perhaps not the only, but the genius of football, first of all as a lifestyle, rather than as a normal sports game. The first Dougie's book, was unfortunately not the "canonical" story "Wherever we went", the first of his works written in collaboration with his brother Eddie, but a more worldly story "All about Billy." This determined my notorious idea of all the subsequent reading from his repertory. I started with the male version of "Bridget Jones" and continued on the rise, going deeper into the world of real football violence, brutal violence, trying to find the reasons for this and come to the sources, in order to find the ways to understand and prevent it. If you read "Football Fever" by Nick Hornby earlier, I advise you not to carry out any parallels: Brimson writes about more immediate and painful, about what is much deeper than a professional documentary look at what is happening. And this "more urgent and painful" took its peak, in my opinion, not in Dougie Brimson's journalism, despite the fact that he opened the same storyline deeper and with new perspectives later in such football guidebooks as the "Days of the derby", "Fans", "Raging army". The appearance of football violence, and in his first scenario. Is Green Street Hooligans another football story among so-called “missed” or real drama? You know, I'm not inclined to agree with the idea that these "specific" in-kind movies close exclusively in any one theme circle. No, this is absolutely not the case. This is not the first and not the only film that touches the realm of football. But even for those who are "in the know", this British picture has become furious fireworks that definitely should not be compared with Nick Love's "The Football Factory", which shows life from Saturday to Saturday, and all the more, it does not fall under the category which shows the price of cocaine tracks, fights, sensuality, obscenity, and freedom of speech. This film is expanded to the maximum of its story line, not in order to show the topical drama of some bullies but to explain that hatred can exist parallel to love and friendship is only until death. The British Empire always sends us two gift parcels. Great Britain is the birthplace of gentlemen and criminals, fine ladies and sex scandals, football culture and fierce football hooliganism where two hearts coexist and two souls become related. Great Britain is both the dominance of the monarchy and anarchy at the same time. "Green Street Hooligans" is a rigid set of laws, which is not subject to any authority than the heart. This is a movie-paradox, which has got a cover like a high-end sports publication, but with a real taste of gall football inside. Thus, the film begins with a particularly unattractive scene about the encounter of two groups of London football fans - West London Hammers fans and the fans of the north London "Tottenham", who have been sworn enemies for ages. All subsequent events in the film will narrate exactly about the supporters of London's "United", about a long lasting reprise of their prayers protracted where there are no gods. Let's continue. Are you at Harvard? Does your future profession require you to gain such professional qualities as the subordination, the ability to adapt quickly, communication skills, the ability to find a common language even with those who, in principle, have no language? Do you go past the legendary boutique's brands «Burberry» and «Fred Perry» on a daily basis? Do you think that you had better not wave your fists after a fight, and still have never been to England - the promised land of the world of football hooligans? Then it is a disease that you will be helped to cure. Matt Buckner, a journalism student, was expelled from Harvard for a crime he did not commit. His promising career went down the drain. In search of refuge he goes to Albion to his sister Shannon, where by coincidence, he makes the acquaintances with the younger brother of her husband, Pete. And then the man who had lost his armor, learns what the Green Street Elite is. Green Street (the original name of the film) is the name of the street where "West Ham United" stadium - «Upton Park» is situated. The bile of this film is not topical stories, such as those described both in the local London tabloids and in major British tabloids, it is hidden deep under the cover of all urgent clearly expressed problems: it lies neither in the conflicts between fathers and children, nor in family disorders, nor in matters of honor and valor, nor in boring lies, it lies in three unpretentious words "West Ham United". In this case, it is not just a football club or an idol to worship, it is not even a matter of life and death, it's much, much more important, as Bill Shankly once put it. But, nevertheless, the fights for the sake of fighting mean not only the idea that to insure someone who clings to you and to destroy the one who crossed your path is the most important thing. It is fanaticism. And what is actually fanaticism? Is it the strength, or the lack of it? And what is the very strength? Is it the ability to wave one's fists? No, there is something beyond. John King, the author of the novel "The Football Factory", has simplified the task of all, giving a simple definition of hooligans - "adrenaline junkies." Now the main thing is just to realize that power is nothing more than the edge of madness, which makes you an intravenous injection of the virus of violence by a thin blade. And it is even more important to realize that the protagonist himself chose this path and can not go back. It's like in aviation: there is such a thing as a "point of no return" - the limit when it is even possible to deploy aircraft, and there will be enough fuel in the tanks to return to the departure aerodrome. So "the point of no return" for Matt is his choice between an empty house, where no one is waiting, and friendship to the grave in the truest sense of the word. The strength lies in the ability to make a choice. Matt did not give back, but on the contrary, having realized the depth of his football hooligan soul he fell on the battlefield, alongside with those who tied him to themselves, namely, an avid soccer hooligan Pete and his company. Although it would sound sickly and dirty, extravagant and straightforward, but after Matt had joined the group, he became a "pugnacious whore", finished everywhere and with everyone. “Hooligans” is a visual aid of a real "shit" - based, absorbed into every cell of all existing characters which carries a medal with two back sides. Once a Hollywood drama, without a shadow of a doubt, it would have been under the standard scheme a la "the power of forgiveness", but not in a harsh reality which Lexi Alexander shows to us.Everything is real here, manlike, as they say, there is no place for prejudice and principles, just good old-fashioned revenge, which gave birth to a wild feud between the two football clubs. Matt who had suffered many times from beating, would bear in his eyes not only the grievances, fears, and pain because of the loss of other people, but also he would bury in himself the death of an innocent boy. To hate enemies stronger than Israel hates Palestine, to love family more than Sid Vicious loves Nancy Spungen. Yes, it is possible that after such films somebody will have a desire to fill a pair of tattoos on an aggressive theme with protest quotations, as it is now fashionable, to get self-confidence, and inspiration to start attending a gym, creating a malice in himself to people never affecting your weaknesses. And someone may forever prioritize between cheesy tastes and family. But both in the first and in the second case it will be one's personal choice. And, without a doubt, this film is an excellent ground for reflection in your leisure time and another "scribbling" to the press. Gentlemen, we are not at school. This film is above estimates.

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