#if i have to have the jingle jangle song stuck in my head this morning

[thatswhatsushesaid]

huaisang, do you have spurs that jingle jangle jingle as you go ridin' merrily along--

#to that niche subset of cql/mdzs fans who are also fallout new vegas fans #i am sorry for the song that you now have stuck in your head #but in my defence #if i have to have the jingle jangle song stuck in my head this morning #then it's only fair that you do too #mdzs shitposting #mdzs #cql #the untamed #nie huaisang #nie mingjue #let him have birds!! 🕊️

[not-krys]

[Repost] Flowers - Clara

Part of this set of WIP Wednesdays

Notes: Incomplete, Silvio being his wonderful self, Clara x Rio romance path mentioned but not the focus here

-----

The packet of rose seeds had finally arrived in Benitoite, much to Clara’s joy. Though she loved living near the briny sea, she felt pangs of homesickness every once in a while, missing the sweet scent of the year-round roses of Rhodolite. She didn’t know how the roses will stand the salty air, but she wanted to give it a try, to have a little taste of home away from home.

After asking permission, she found a small patch in the royal gardens and got to work, her big straw hat shading her from the bright sun overhead. She soon found herself humming as she moved soil and made a few small holes. She wasn’t much of one for singing, but something about Benitoite sea shanties stuck in her head, making her giggle. One in particular always put her in mind of a certain brother-in-law of hers.

“What do we do with a drunken’ sailor,” she sung softly, a smile taking over her face, “what do we do with a drunken sailor, what do we do with a drunken’ sailor, early in the morning~”

After a few moments into her little song, Clara saw, or rather heard, someone approach. The jingle jangle was unmistakable. Even his shadow looming behind her had glitters of gems from the sun.

“Oi, sass woman.” His voice spat.

Clara, standing and dusting her hands on her apron, gave her best cheeky smile.

“Good morning, Prince Silvio,” she said, “glad to see you up so early.”

The man grumbled while rubbing his head.

“Please stop singing that infernal song.”

“But I like it.”

“You always sing it when I’m near you. It’s pissing me off.”

“Rio taught it to me, so… no I don’t think so.”

Silvio huffed.

“Rotten mutt. Of course it was him.”

Clara giggled and went back to her plot, covering the seeds with dirt.

“What are you doing anyway?”

“Planting some seeds. Rose seedlings.”

“Of course you are.” Silvio sighed. “You know we could have imported that easily if you wanted some of your damned roses.”

“I don’t know, something about growing them myself, just feels more special, you know?”

“Sounds like work.”

“Most things worthwhile require a little work.”

Silvio grumbled again.

“As much as you and that mutt keep yapping in my ear.”

“You might like the work. You never until you try, Prince Silvio.”

“No thanks.” he shrugged, “I’ll let you and that mutt have your fun playing in the dirt. Where is he, anyway?”

“He had some business with His Majesty this morning, so he left early, promising his evening for me. And the afternoon if he can swing it.”

“Rhetorical question.”

“Should have phrased it that way, then.”

#krys's adventures in fanfiction #wip wednesday #ikemen prince #ikepri oc #silvio ricci #clara laurent (oc) #repost queue

[writersrealmbts]

All I Want for Christmas

Description: You’re ready for another Christmas at the shelter, but Taehyung has other ideas, and brings you home with him instead. You never thought you’d receive this many gifts.

“For the Christmas request, can I please request a human!Taehyung x Calico cat hybrid!fem!reader where he adopts her and brings her home on Christmas? It’d be so cute because she’d be so happy to have a home and it’d honestly be the best Christmas for both of them🥰🐈💜”

Warnings: Fluff and stuff

Posted: 12/17/2020

Tags: taehyung x reader, hybrid au, hybrid reader, calico cat!reader

1,779 words

A/N: For @kpopgirlbtssvt​

You stared out your window at the glittering, snow-covered scenery, while you played with the Christmas-bells bracelet that your secret Santa had gotten for you. You loved it. You liked the gentle sound it made instead of the harsh jangle of the bells that someone had hung on your door, a cacophony of dissonance that made your tail curl.

You winced, turning toward the door as it opened. You weren’t sure why it would be opening, you’d just returned from breakfast and it wasn’t time for activities yet.

A stranger stood in the doorway, holding papers and a small gift bag. And while he didn’t look familiar, he smelled very familiar.

The one that had been observing everyone for adoption purposes for the past two weeks.

He smiled softly at you. “Hello, y/n. My name is Taehyung. I got you a Christmas present.”

You felt excitement bubbling up within you, and you slowly moved toward him.

He met you half-way, holding out the bag.

You carefully took it, bowing slightly, then carefully pulling the gift from the bag.

It was a charm bracelet, pretty and gold and shiny and it had three charms. One was a sleigh, carefully and intricately made with a bag of presents in the back. Another was a cute, but realistic looking bear. The last were simple mark-tags, ones that displayed your basic information and your owner’s….

You slowly looked back up at him. “You’re adopting me?”

He shook his head. “I have already adopted you. I’m bringing you home. I have more presents for you at home. I hope you can accept my first gift, though,” He said, looking hopeful.

You grinned and eagerly put it on behind your jingle-bracelet, admiring it in the morning light. You were being adopted!

He laughed a bit. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” You agreed, vibrating with excitement. You were getting the best Christmas present ever! You had an owner! You were being taken to a home!

“Y/n, your things?” The shelter worker prompted.

“Oh! Right!” You bounded toward the closet and grabbed your two dresses, your socks, and your shoes, putting them into the laundry sack, then got your 2 pairs of pants and 2 sets of pajamas and 3 shirts. “Ok!”

“Pillow? Friend?”

You squeaked in alarm and raced to the bed to grab the pillow and your stuffed calico kitty that had ears and a tail exactly like yours, then hesitated, hand on the old, worn blanket that you kept carefully folded over the end of your bed.

The worker nodded, smiling softly. “It’s yours.”

You grinned again and shoved those things into the sack as well. “Ready!”

“Uh, you might want to wear some shoes instead of slippers,” Taehyung suggested gently, looking just as happy as ever. Not scolding.

You stared down at your slippers for just a minute too long before diving into the sack and grabbing your shoes.

“Relax, kitten. We’ve got time to get home, it’s not going anywhere,” Taehyung said in a soothing tone as you fumbled with the straps of your shiny, black shoes. They looked cute with your red Christmas dress with the pretty white furry lining. You didn’t care what that know-it-all tabby three doors down said, you thought the shoes were cute. And they fit you, it was rare for shoes to actually fit properly, though the shelter tried their hardest to make sure all of you had at least one pair of shoes that fit properly, outside of the slippers which were bought in the proper sizes for everyone.

“Y/n! I found the…sash….” The other hybrid peered into the room, swallowing hard. “Oh…are you….”

“I’ve been adopted, Jiyoung!” You squeaked happily, dragging your sack over to her. “What did you find?”

“The sash, to the dress,” She said eagerly, grinning in happiness for you and then whipping the white sash around your waist and tying it in a big, fancy bow behind you. “There! Now it isn’t just a sack! I will tell you again, though, it was made to be a costume.”

“It’s pretty and soft,” You argued, hugging yourself.

She kissed your cheek. “Good luck in your new home, y/n. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” You responded, voice a choked whisper. You were leaving your friends.

Someone gently took your sack of belongings from you. “Come on, y/n. Let’s go show you your new home.”

You looked back at the gentle, understanding expression on Taehyung’s face and melted a bit. “Okay.”

Jiyoung patted your arm and hurried back down the hall to the donations room where she helped out. She was one of the owner’s hybrids, so at least you knew she was loved.

“Everyone else is in the main room, they’ve been told you’ve been adopted and are waiting to say goodbye,” The shelter worker said gently, noticing your hesitation.

You nodded and took Taehyung’s offered hand, going to the main room.

And maybe you gave your jingle bracelet to the grumpy tabby from three doors down because you knew she’d been jealous of it and you wanted her to be happy and your secret santa had given you an approving smile.

You sort of bet that Taehyung might get you another if you asked really, really nicely.

Taehyung’s car was very nice, nicer than any vehicle you’d ever been in before, and he played Christmas music softly on the radio as if knowing you were nervous as well as excited.

“I understand the sleigh, because you’re adopting me on Christmas, right?” You asked, attention on the charm bracelet again.

He nodded, smiling.

“But what about the bear?”

He looked a little sheepish. “Um…well, I have this song. It’s called winter bear, so I thought after a while if you look at the bear charm you’ll think of it as part of me.”

You were purring before he even finished speaking, holding your wrist and the bracelet close to your heart while you stared out the windows at the Christmas decorations the people all bundled up.

He parked at a large apartment building, grabbing your things and offering to hold your hand again. “Anyway, I do sometimes travel for work. And I was hoping the charm might remind you of me if I’m not able to take you with me. I’m going to make sure to try and get you in every trip, because you’re my responsibility now, but there will be times even when you’re with me on a trip that you might be at the hotel while I’m working. If you can’t go with me on a trip, you’ll probably stay with my parents, and they’re really nice so I think you’ll like them and I won’t do anything you’re uncomfortable with. And—”

“Taehyung-ah,” You whispered, trying to be respectful since you weren’t sure how he wanted you to address him yet. “It’s a little cold outside.”

He blinked at you, then his eyes widened and his eyebrows rose. “You don’t have a coat!”

You shook you head.

He hurried you into the building then ran back and grabbed the sack when you pointed it out, before punching the button to the elevator and muttering about warming you up so that you wouldn’t get sick and how he was a terrible owner.

You patted his arm. “You’re not a terrible owner, and I’m not that cold. See, I’m not shivering. We can still have a nice Christmas.”

“Right,” He breathed, sounding relieved. “You sure you’re okay?”

You nodded, smiling up at him.

“Right, oh, and you can just call me Taehyung.”

You nodded again, smiling and blinking up at him.

He led the way down the hall once the doors opened, holding your hand again, unlocking the door to his apartment (it had a pretty wreath on it). “It isn’t much but this is home.”

You stepped in and took off your shoes, then realized you didn’t have your slippers out.

He caught your panicked looked and smiled gesturing to two pairs of slippers, one pair smaller than the others that looked adorable and comfortable. Like fairy slippers. “I got those for you. They told me your sizes so I could get you some things.”

You felt warm all over and you carefully tried on the slippers, purring at how soft they were.

He looked relieved that you liked them.

Then you saw the rest of his apartment and gaped. Not because of the Christmas tree, which really was delightfully decorated, but because it was very large. You’d seen other apartments before, for home visits before adoptions that fell through at the previous shelter you’d been in as a child. This place was…expensive.

“Wow,” You breathed.

“Like I said, it’s not much, I don’t really even have that much furniture. I just sort of moved in a couple months ago.” He rubbed his neck.

You stared at him, then at the apartment. “It’s huge. You lived here alone?”

“Oh…well…yeah. That’s also why I got you, I’m not used to living alone and the others drop by now and then and I drop by their places now and then but…it’s not the same as what I’m used to and then I saw the shelter and I just got curious and…I didn’t want to be alone anymore and you were so bright and lively that I thought…you’d help me liven the place up. Help it feel warm in here instead of empty.” He looked embarrassed.

You smiled. “I can certainly try.”

He smiled back at you. “Ready for your presents?”

“I feel bad, I don’t have presents for you,” You replied, worried.

“You being here and enjoying what I’ve gotten for you will be enough,” He reassured you, looking happy again.

You nodded and let him lead you through the apartment to a door with a ribbon stuck to it.

“This is your room, y/n,” He whispered, then opened the door.

You squeaked in surprise as you looked around the absolutely plush room. Big bed, lots of pillows and blankets, and pretty pretty furniture. Gentle colors, pretty colors. A lamp, a ceiling fan. And he had some clothes in the dresser and the closet, and some books on the shelves.

He was watching you hopefully, waiting to see if you liked it all.

Your eyes filled with tears and you raced over you hug his waist tightly. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” You breathed, locking your arms around him.

His lips pressed lightly to your temple. “Merry Christmas, y/n.”

“Merry Christmas,” You whispered back.

#Christmas story madness #taehyung x reader #bts x reader #calico cat hybrid!reader #hybrid!reader #cat hybrid!reader #bts #kim taehyung #kim taehyung x reader #bts v

[animatedminds]

Pixar’s Soul: Review and Reaction

The first sentence I’ve always used to describe Pete Docter and Pixar’s Soul since watching it has nothing to do with the plot. It’s instead is a starstruck comment about the music: the movie begins with a cover of a Duke Ellington classic - Mercer Ellington’s “Things Ain’t What they Used to Be.” It ends with a jazz rendition of a classic from several decades later - but still quite a bit in our past - Curtis Mayfield’s soul classic “It’s Alright.” On a personal level, this would say way more about Soul that most other descriptions of it might to get me to watch it - were I not the kind of person who was absolutely intent on watching the movie day one regardless. Though I am myself a few generations after either of those artists were around, their music has been a part of my life since I was a kid and are essential on any playlist in my opinion. Curtis Mayfield’s music, especially, deserves all the love in the world, and hearing by surprise someone cover his work in a Disney movie made my entire day - and it would have, even if the film weren’t the meaningful ride it is.

But before we get into all that, lets also look at those songs. “Things Aren’t What They Used To Be” is played a la a teacher and a higher school band class: the students are learning and a bit difficult to listen to, while the music-loving teacher cringes at the front. But the choice of song tells us a lot. It’s a jazz standard: which means when it comes to jazz, it’s one of the essentials - a tune every band learns to play, and every jazz fan has heard before. The teacher is a jazzman - you can probably guess who - and the whole time he’s listening to the song you can hear him wanting to sit down and make it sound as perfectly as he hears it in his head. Remember that analogy. Heck, when you watch or rewatch the movie, remember the mindset Joe - because that’s who that teacher is, Joe Gardner, is in for that whole teaching scene in the first place: and remember how important the desire to make things perfect is to the greater story the movie is trying to tell.

“Things Aren’t The Way They Used To Be,” indeed. By the end, you have to wonder: isn’t that the point? Now the second song. “It’s All Right” is a smooth number for dancing to - not frenetic and wild dancing, but more a slow jam sort of vibe. BUt it’s the lyrics that are the most befitting the themes of the movie. Like several of Curtis Mayfield’s tunes “It’s All Right” is an ear worm of an R&B number that’s actually about being a peace with yourself. “You’ve got soul” - ha, I get it - “and everybody knows, that it’s all right.” Or, to quote instead my favorite verse of the song (I did say Mayfield was one of my favorites): “when you wake up early in the morning feeling sad like so many of us do, hum a little soul, make life your goal, and surely something’s gonna come to you.” This is before the spoilery part of the review, but they could not have picked a better song for the movie’s themes if they wrote it themselves.

Soul, after all, is ultimately a movie about how the things we do, the things we love, even the things that define us and should make us feel good in and of themselves, can become a shackle that prevents us from feeling the things that we adopt them to feel. Dreams - especially dreams deferred - can consume us rather than uplift us, and sometimes in pursuing them we may forget to live, and forget that others are living in this world and dreaming alongside us.

This, as you might be able to tell from the way I’ve described it, is a movie with a very strong, and most importantly very well related message that - as we’ve come to expect from Pixar’s output at this point - touches us in our jaded adult hearts. As a creative person with lofty dreams who has almost literally been where the protagonist is in this film - and as many in my generation also have gone through - it definitely feels like a film that was directed straight at the generation that first watched Toy Story as kids decades ago, and now feel somewhat unfulfilled as adults going into the world. Same as Inside Out (a movie specifically designed to make adults cry, in my opinion), the SparkShorts and arguably Onward (I definitely related to Bailey, some). So much like my review of Jingle Jangle, you have something of an idea where this review is going to go before the jump, but that’s okay. This movie did have ups and downs, but its just the kind of up Pixar is good at: they know they’re audience, and especially did for this gem. By the end, it can definitely make you feel as though you too can make it through, as long as you have a little Soul. However, it is not just the message, but the nuances and skill in which they relate that message (and they do come close to making decisions that could have ruined it, at times), which means it’s very difficult for me to put why this movie works into a review without SPOILERS. If you want to avoid SPOILERS, don’t hop over the pic and instead treat the above as your non-SPOILER review.

Soul is the story of one Joe Gardner, played by Jamie Foxx a brilliant early middle-aged pianist with lifelong dreams of becoming a jazz musician, who we first meet teaching part time band at a local high school. The inciting incident is an interesting choice: Joe gets a major offer - he can come on as a full time teacher, making his occupation a career! But Joe believes very much in the adage that “those who cannot do, teach” - in the sense that he wants to do. He cannot accept the position - over the advice of his mother - because that would mean giving up on his dream of being out there playing music for a living: a dream that has consumed him his entire life but which has given him nothing in return. Until now. While agonizing over the decision to take the position, Joe's life then gets a big twist: a former student of his, remembering him fondly years after they knew each other, has a hook for him to join the band of a famous jazz singer and saxophonist - played by Angela Basset (side note, here: jazz has long had a reputation for being something of a boys club, especially for certain instruments, and the choice to have the lead saxophonist and famous idol whose band Joe wants to join be a woman is a great choice that my entire jazz-loving and living family took note of). Joe is instantly elated - he rushes over and naturally aces the audition for the part in the band, and so is on cloud nine...

Until he dies. That’s when the plot really starts. Joe falls down a manhole like an astronomer in an aesop fable, and is now stuck on the slow escalator to The Great Beyond. Naturally, he’s not for that and tries to escape - pursued by overeager spiritual soul-accountant Terry - ending up in the Great Before instead, and leaving his body in a still-living coma (the implications that coma patients in general are people who are choosing not to die when they’re “supposed” to is something I’m sure the writers didn’t intend, so I’ll let it slide). There, Joe is pressganged into mentoring a pre-prepared soul for birth, helping them find their Spark for life - which Joe interprets as the one true purpose and dream they are meant to fulfill. Once he gets them their Spark, he will be able to steal a badge his mentee earns as fully fledged souls and . Luckily for his intended very morally suspect intent on spiritual larceny, he ends up with Soul #22 - and that’s #22 out of hundreds of billions - a soul who has simply never found a Spark despite having been in the Great Before for thousands of years. #22 doesn’t want to live, so she agrees to give him her patch when they’re done. But no mentor before has been able to inspire her (well, technically #22 is genderless, as she demonstrates in the story at Joe’s request, but she is voiced by Tina Fey), so how can Joe? When that proves to be too hard indeed, #22 instead decides to help Joe get back - mostly because she’s intrigued at why anyone would want to cling to life so badly - with the help of some mystics who astral project while in the Zone: where everyone goes when they’re fully immersed in what they do. This almost works, but at the last second everything goes awry: #22 gets mixed up with Joe when he returns, and so he doesn’t quite get back the way he wants to...

That’s enough plot summary for now. That’s all just the set-up anyway, for the choices in writing and concept that I’m about to talk about. As you might have been able to tell from that ominous last note, the middle chunk of Soul - almost right up until the climax, in fact - is actually a body-swap movie, a la Freaky Friday. #22 ends up in Joe’s body, so he has to get her to do the things he needs to get ready for his gig and get through the day while they wait for the mystic to bring a way to set everything right. And did I mention he’s in the body of a cat? Having been following the movie, this wasn’t entirely a surprise, but it was still not something I was entirely ready for coming in. I tend to shy away from that kind of story on a personal level, as body-swap narratives are nearly predominantly based on cringe moments and awkward misconceptions - and that sort of thing usually tends to make me want to leave the scene in question and get a cup of water until after the awkwardness passes. However, this isn’t really part of the review in the sense that I perceive that the movie being in that genre is a flaw - because ultimately that’s just an aspect of my personal taste. Rather, I use it to show just how strong a movie Soul was and how well its narrative choices resonated with its themes that ultimately while it did indeed partake in your typical body-swap narrative cringe moments - “look, the [redacted] in Joe’s body just ran into his boss / mom!” / “look, the [redacted] is having a bizarre conversation with Joe’s friends!” / etc - those moments actually add to the narrative rather than take you out of it. Joe as “friends,” as exemplified by the barber he goes to to get his hair ready for the gig when it inevitably gets ruined in a bout of hijinks (the barber being that extremely well-designed bearded character the internet went wild over). He goes to that barber all the time, talks with him constantly, and believes he knows him well. But it turns out that Joe’s so wrapped up in his wants and desires that he’s never even asked him about his life - he just assumed that the barber was like him, born to do that one thing he was good at. It takes #22′s innocent, slightly off-kilter and occasional philosophical questions about what the heck all this “life” stuff is about for Joe to learn that this person in his life didn’t even want to be where he ended up initially, he ended up there because that’s the way his life turned, but he loves it because it’s life and he appreciates the world he’s come to create around himself. Likewise, he runs into his mom, but while Joe has come to expect his mother to be dismissive of him and his dreams, it takes an accident with #22 for him to realize that he’s been so caught up in his desires and her in her preconceptions that neither of them have ever had a real talk about their relationship, nor given a chance to grow in each other’s eyes. You might notice a trend. One of Joe’s students - a brilliant trombonist - comes to tell him she’s quitting band, but she doesn’t really. She’s just insecure because the other students make fun of her. Joe knows this already - it’s become commonplace to him - so the doesn’t feel the need to do anything about it and instead focuses on his own needs. But #22 decides to talk to her on a whim, and this push and pull of insecurity but joy in what one is good at fascinates her, while it bores Joe. While - like any other New Yorker - public transit is a chore to Joe, the melting pot of people and music draws #22 in: best evidenced by the moment where Joe and #22 meet another great musician playing for tips in the subway. Joe, despite being capable of relating as a musician, just walks past him after appreciating the sound for a sec, while #22, entranced by the things people do, leaves something for him. The world is drab and lacking in vibrancy from Joe’s point of view, as evidenced by the very accurate grimy look of the high school he work at - but from #22′s seemingly jaded eyes seeing it for the first time, it’s full of wonder.

This actually creates an interesting character contrast on top of the one we already know: Joe is the idealist, and #22 is the cynic... right? Well, it turns out Joe doesn’t have much of an appreciation for the world around him - not intentionally, but still to a very strong degree - whereas #22 simply hasn’t had the chance to experience life yet and thus never knew what it was that made people want to be part of it. Life itself becomes her Spark, though neither of them realize it at the time. Lets just get the aesop out of the way now. Your dream is not your life: that’s what Soul wants to say. Things that compel you as a person may consume you, even embitter you, and prevent you from seeing the world around you for what it is. But that doesn’t make dreams a bad thing: people everywhere find that Spark from the dreams to keep moving forward - it’s just that it shouldn’t preclude living, nor should living preclude your dreams. Life is a delicate balance, and man is this movie serving up some complicated life lessons here. I immediately took this as a far more mature take on the message The Princess and the Frog stumbled somewhat through years ago (man, I’m turning out to be pretty hard on that movie in this blog). My biggest issue with PATF is that it tells us that Tiana should be less intent on her dream and find love instead, but doesn’t show us. It’s just characters chiding her for not settling down until the plot ultimately pushes a man in front of her and she realizes she should’ve been finding one all along. That’s a very harsh way of putting it, but it condenses what I’m trying to say: ultimately PATF pushes Tiana to realizations she doesn’t seem to need, whereas Soul has a similar message about life and does so by focusing on character development, about how the protagonist doesn’t have as firm a handle on his life as he thought, and thus brings us a take on the lesson that’s far less cut and dry.

If you’re a fan of The Incredibles, the comparison to Mr. Incredible is fairly easy. Joe, though well meaning and decent overall, is a very self-centered person who happens to be so for very sympathetic and relatable reasons. He just wants to do the thing he feels he was born to. He'll do anything to get back to life and do that thing, even for a single night. He’s consumed by this desire so much that he's oblivious to the people around him, unable to connect to the people he loves, and unable to find joy in anything but his dream. And man, as a young writer who knows in their heart of hearts they can do great things and feels pain at the idea of not doing so, that hits different let me tell you.

The lessons Joe learns from #22 even stick. It turns out that part of what caused Joe’s dream to fail all those time was because of that lack of connection with life. He never presented himself in a way that got people to take notice of him, he never pushed for that position he wanted even though people said no, he never made himself and his life so vibrant that he glowed in the eyes of others (and again, that hits different). That’s maybe the most simplistic message of the bunch, but as a person in the creative field it’s true that sometimes being the smartest person in the room isn’t enough: it’s making himself shine that ultimately clinches Joe the gig even after he almost lost it thanks to the day’s shenanigans.

But in the end, it doesn’t feel like he thought he would.

Remember when I said there are parts where the movie comes perilously close to kiboshing its message? That moment is one, it’s the one. Not that that moment is bad - far from it, it’s the best moment in the entire movie (and you can fight me on that if you want to). It’s because it’s the crossroads, the pin, the core of the entire film: depending on the choice they made after that point, that moment could have either been the best moment in the entire movie, or the moment that toppled everything.

The realization of Joe’s dream doesn’t feel like the explosion of confetti and catharsis that he expected. It was just another moment of his life, a great one, but it’s still just part of his life. So what does Joe do? Does he panic? Does he keep going until it feels good? Does he - as he would in a lesser movie trying to give a cookie cutter aesop - immediately quit and realize he should’ve been teaching all along? No, he does none of those things. He absorbs the moment. He realizes that at the end of the dream you’re still just living life, and that you have to appreciate that. Joe isn’t wrong for pursuit of his dream. He’s not wrong for believing that hopes and dreams make life so much more worthwhile. He’s wrong in thinking that those dreams are all that define us, and that their realization is all that makes people themselves worthwhile at all.

And in the end - though I may be getting a bit too referential for this - the unexamined life is just so much less fulfilling than the alternative.

And all that a message and a half! It hits different. It’s mature as all heck. It’s something people my age (especially in my generation), twice my age, half my age never learn. It’s a callsign that sometimes Pixar is still make movies for the people who were kids way back when Toy Story was released, and are now insecure adults wondering why the world isn’t as wonderful as they saw on the screen. It’s brilliant. I said before that Joe interprets the “Spark” to be one’s purpose in life. The one thing that makes them who they are, that they are on the planet to do. He is wrong, absolutely and utterly. And in that misconception, when #22 finally does get their Spark just from being on Earth and seeing what its life, he accuses them of leeching self-actualization over his own personal ambitions, fully believing that they didn’t find a “purpose" on her own, but just copied his. But the Spark, as it turns out, is just the joy of living, the thing that makes people want to live. It can come from a dream, or just from watching the beauty of the sun set over a leaf drifting in the wind. Only in understanding this can Joe finally understand what he’s been missing in life, only then can he reconcile with #22 and help her finally be born, only then can he walk into the world and know how he’s going to live it.

We never find out what Joe decides, whether he goes back to teaching, or continues with the band. The choice is open to him, but we never find out which one he takes - another choice that keeps the aesop from falling apart. The point of all of that wasn’t that Joe has to do one thing or another to be happy, it was that Joe needs to be happy and secure in himself before he chooses what his life should be. Either of those could make him happy. Neither of those could. But now he’s in a much better place to see it, and do what he can.

We also never find out what #22 is like when she (or he, etc) is born. The two of them never meet past the point where #22 goes to Earth. Their time together has passed, and #22′s life is now their own. And that’s a great choice either. I’ve seen the occasional person feel that the choice made in this paragraph or noted in the previous one made the story confusing, but they’re ultimately what make the story what it is. The answer isn’t the necessity of resolution, its the reaffirmation of the journey. It reminds me somewhat of Wreck-It Ralph (an example of the main Disney Studio delivering a complex aesop, rather Pixar delivering them all), where being a villain wasn’t Ralph’s problem - it was that he wasn’t happy doing the thing he loved. You have to live, from living you will learn, and from learning you will do. The sheer incredible execution of this message (as you may have guessed, it’s a fairly difficult one to relay adequately in a film narrative, and the movie goes non-traditional in conclusion to maintain it) would have made this film a recommend for me even if it wasn't also beautifully animated, very well acted, funny (there’s a Knicks joke that floored me), heartwarming and relatable. But it’s also all of those things, so I have to recommend it twice as much. It is, regrettably, another movie with a black lead where the lead spends most of it transfigured into a form that’s not a black person (a soul, and then a cat), and I’ve already seen some grumbling that instead for much of it a character explicitly coded as a white woman is in his body instead, but I perceive that as an issue that’s endemic to the industry than a fault in this movie specifically. Everyone does that, but this is the only movie I’ve seen where doing that is an essential part of how the narrative develops the characters (Joe has to not be himself in order to understand his life from an outside perspective, a la Scrooge as a ghost watching his own history), and so I don’t scorn the movie for it. I, however, would very much like Hollywood to start doing that less, and - hey - as a prospective writer that’s one of those things I plan to do my part to combat. This movie, however, gets a pass in my book in ways that the general usage of this concept does not. In short, you should see it. If you get the chance to see it right now, you should take it to feel good at the end of this incredibly insane year. If you don’t want to have to sign up for Disney+ to see it now, I get you and understand, but if you get a chance to see it later do not pass it up. It’s one of the few movies I’ve watched that are an instant buy when it becomes available on digital - and the last time a movie did that for me was BlacKKKlansman. Whatever you choose to do, do it well. Keep the spirit alive, always keep searching for the real you - because it’s not always easy to find, but it’s worth looking for - and always remember that you could always have a little soul.

#Soul #film review #Disney Pixar #Pixar #Pete Docter #Jamie Foxx #Tina Fey #the afterlife #self actualization #jazz #curtis mayfield #duke ellington #animated film #animation review #animated minds for animated times #Joe Gardner #22 #recommended

[fantastic-fantasy-fanfics]

HERE COMES SANTA CLAUS

link to the song is HERE

A/N: Christmas is in 8 days... (one week for me hehehe)

Sam Wilson x reader

Word count: 950

Summary: despite being over the age of 6, you still believe in Santa Claus.  Your boyfriend Sam is a bit frustrated and confused...

Warnings: Sam being a bit mean (it gets fluffy)

(GIFs not mine)

Here comes Santa Claus, here comes Santa Claus, right down Santa Claus Lane

Vixen and Blitzen and all his reindeers pulling on the reins

Bells are ringing, children singing, all is merry and bright

So hang your stockings and say your prayers, 'cause Santa Claus comes tonight

  Christmas music softly played in the background as you stitched Peter’s name into his stocking.  Everyone else had a stocking, even the “Guardians of the Galaxy” had stockings that you made for them.  Peter had one at his and May’s apartment, but he needed one here too.  Needless to say that the mantle was full. You even made Wanda a Hanukkah stocking… in the shape of a mitten.

“Hey Sam!” you called as he walked out of the kitchen, eating his usual ham sandwich on rye for lunch, “I need you to find the stocking I made you last year, it wasn’t in the bin,”.

Sam nodded, sipping at his protein shake.  “It’s just in my closet,” he said, “I’ll hang it after lunch,”

“Good- because otherwise Santa won’t know where to put your treats,” you grinned, tying off the knot on Peter’s stocking.

Sam just chuckled, “yep- that creepy, old dude breaking into our high-security tower and leaving us gifts we could have bought ourselves,”.

You frowned.  “Be careful Sam, you might end up on the naughty list…”

 He's got a bag that's filled with toys for boys and girls again

Hear those sleigh bells jingle jangle, oh what a beautiful sight

So jump in bed and cover your head, 'cause Santa Claus comes tonight

You sat on the big couch by the fireplace, writing on your very decorative piece of paper, using your favorite gold, glitter gel pen.

“What are you up to, (Y/N)?” Sam asked, coming up from behind you on the couch.

You grinned, “hey sweetheart,” you greeted, looking up at him and grinning, “just writing my letter to Santa,”.  You hummed, sighing the letter at the bottom.  “I asked for new boots, and that weighted blanket I saw online”

Sam frowned.  “I love you… but you are not twelve…” he sighed frustratedly, “why are you writing to a fictional character?”

You turned up your nose and puffed out your chest.  “For your information, Samuel, I happen to have the Christmas spirit,”

“That’s one of the dumbest things I’ve ever heard,” he huffed, walking away.

 He doesn't care if you're rich or poor, he loves you just the same

Santa Claus knows we're all God's children, that makes everything right

So fill your hearts with Christmas cheer, 'cause Santa Claus comes tonight

“This is so HARD!” Peter cried, struggling with the wrapping paper and tape.  To be completely honest, it was hilarious watching him.

“Here, let me help you,” you chuckled, placing another perfectly wrapped package back in the pile.

“Why are we wrapping so many presents?” Sam asked, trying to tie a good bow.

“It’s for the Santa visit at St. Jude’s,” you said, “and we’ve got 600 presents to wrap- we’ve only wrapped 236,”

“I thought Santa was supposed to bring these?” Sam taunted, wrapping gift number 237.

“We’re Santa’s little helpers,” you responded as Peter stuck a ribbon to a big present.

“Yeah- Tony’s donating to the unfortunate kids because Santa prefers the rich brats…” he muttered

“Y’know, Sam, Why are you so irritated by this?  I’m just trying to have a good time,” you huffed, slamming tubes of wrapping paper down, “I just want to have a hope in something,”.

“Smooth, Romeo,” Peter said

 He'll come around when chimes ring out that it's Christmas morn' again

Peace on Earth will come to all if we just follow the light

So let's give thanks to the lord above, 'cause Santa Claus comes tonight

Tony bit his lip as you sighed.  “What do you mean Rhodey can’t do it?” You asked, trying to stay calm.

“He’s flying out to see his family earlier than I thought, I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” he explained.

“Who’s going to play Santa now?  Those kids are depending on him…” you whined, slumping.

“Santa?” Sam asked, butting into the conversation

“Yeah- the trespassing nationalist…” You sassed, not wanting to deal with him.  You groaned, stomping to your room to calm down.

 “Rhodey usually plays Santa for the kids at the children’s hospital,” Tony explained.

Sam frowned.  That’s why you believed in Santa.  Not because you thought he was real, but because the children needed him to be...

 Vixen and Blitzen and all his reindeers pulling on the reins

Bells are ringing, children singing, all is merry and bright

Hang your stockings and say your prayers, 'cause Santa Claus comes tonight

You smiled as you watched the children laugh and play games.  Some of the team was visiting and taking pictures with them.

Steve And Bucky were there, Tony, Carol, Wanda, T’Challa and Okoye even came!  Hopefully that would make up for the fact that Santa wouldn’t show up…

“(Y/N), where are the gifts?!” Peter whispered in a panic.

Your stomach sunk.  “They’re not in the hall by the exit?!” You asked, trying not to let the kids hear

“No!” He cried quietly

 “Ho ho ho!” You both heard, surprising you and Peter into silence.

“Santa!” The kids cheered

“Santa?!” The team gasped

“Merry Christmas!  I see you’ve all been good this year!” The Santa Claus grinned, pulling out his long naughty and nice list, “I see Sarah, Ellen, Gene, Barry, Clyde, Tessa…”.

You looked at Tony with a quizzical glare.  He just shrugged.

“Wait…” You hummed, seeing red wing drag the big bags of presents in.

You and Sam-ta Claus’s eyes met and he winked.  Your boyfriend was a keeper.

#sam wilson #falcon #aryschristmaswritingspree #here comes santa claus

[im-a-riverdale-slut-blog]

Apricity C3

CHAPTER THREE -跳动的心

Mixing both sides of the tracks seemed like a recipe for disaster, but maybe that didn’t mean something bad? Just because she was born into class didn’t mean deep down Madsie wasn’t as dangerous as Pea - so what chaos would these two hurricanes cause together?

You know when you’re a kid, and its Sunday morning, sitting in bed in your favourite pyjamas, the soft, worn-down material gently caressing your skin, and although it’s early, and the birds morning song echoing outside, you’re watching your favourite TV show and you feel like there is nothing better in the world, this ball of content and excitement in your stomach? That’s exactly how I’m feeling.

I woke to the birds chirping, the sun beams sneaking through the sides of the curtains and the heat radiating through creating a warm atmosphere. And before five minutes passed, a massive grin formed on my face as I recalled the night before. A small squeal escaping my lips as I rose my hands to cover my face as I’m sure a blush crept on my cheeks.

“I swear this is the only place in Riverdale people care about.” I laughed as Sweet Pea and I sat in the booth at Pops, the one furthest in the corner, hidden away. The laugh that came out his mouth was angelic, despite the bad boy vibe that emitted from him. “It’s the best place in Riverdale, apart from the Whyte Wyrm on the Southside.” Just as I was about to answer, Pop Tate came over with two menus in hand which he placed in front of us. “Good to see you Sweet Pea, and especially with a young lady.” He raised his eyebrow at the teen before walking away, at which Sweet Pea laughed to himself. “I like your tattoo.” I said, as it once again caught my attention as a vein popped right through the centre of it when he laughed. “Why’d you get it? Every tattoo has a meaning, right?”

He raised his fingers to lightly trace over it, “I’m a part of the Southside Serpents, a gang, and every member has one.” My eyes widened slightly at the mention of him being in a gang. “Don’t worry, princess, we’re not bad, that’s not us, that’s the Ghoulies. Jughead’s a serpent too, his dad is the leader of us all.” At the mention of Jughead being a gang member made me laugh cynically, not being able to imagine the beanie-clad kid with a snake tattoo and in leather. “So, is the Whyte Wyrm like your… ‘hangout’?” He nodded lightly, and his lips parted slightly as if to talk but a strawberry milkshake was placed in front of us pulling us out of conversation, “On the house.” the old man smiled before returning back behind the counter. “Take me one day, Sweets.” Smirking at me, he took the cherry that sat atop the swirl of cream and placed it into his mouth, “I’d love to, princess.” There was a brief silence, where the air around us was filled with comfortability, as if we were friends that had known each other for years.

“Okay, Mr. Tall, Dark and Mysterious, tell me something about yourself nobody else knows.” He cocked his eyebrows in suspicion and surprise, but quickly shook his head with a chuckle at my antics. “I hate tomatoes. I think they’re pointless and a waste of time.” Rolling my eyes playfully, I crossed my arms and leant back into the soft material of the booth seats. “Dig a little deeper.” Sighing, he copied my stance, his muscular arms folding as he thought hard, and as I looked into his eyes I swore I could see tiny little cogs turning and twisting as he dug through his brain. “I still have my nans wedding ring, in the original box. I kept it after she died.”

My heart was pounding at the thought of last night’s events, at the thought of the beautiful, raven-haired guy with a ridiculous name that asked me out but before I could think more about it, my phone pinged loudly, resonating throughout the silent room. Looking at the screen, it read: Meet me at the park in 30 minutes – Vee x.

*    *    *

After meeting at the park, she took me to this beautiful river; it was soundless, and serene. Besides the echoes of our shoes, the only noise that could be heard was the satiating song of the birds sat in the trees that surrounded us, as well as the flow of the water, washing down the river. “I don’t think our lives have ever been this peaceful,” Ronnie sighed, in a tone of content, as if she was finally happy with how life had presented itself. 

“Our lives definitely weren’t peaceful when our tea parties didn’t go our way,” We laughed, remembering the countless play dates we shared as children which we had supervised by anyone but our parents as they were whisked away in their studies, discussing and planning business strategies and campaigns. “I don’t think Smithers or Wentworth appreciated the tantrums when they refused to put on tiaras and tutus.” We stopped, sitting on a rock placed beside the river. “Eventually they obliged, we were, kind of, their bosses,” Veronica laughed, taking in the view before us.

“Mija, why don’t you and Madsie, go to your room and maybe get ready for bed?” Hiram instructed, as he gestured for his business colleagues to step into his office. As usual, we both nodded, hiding away into Ronnie’s room, away from anything business related. “So.” She started, as she took her hairbrush and patted on the bed for me to sit. As I did, she combed my hair, the butter-coloured locks falling to my waist. “For your 14th birthday party… you have to invite Dominic!” I felt a red hue form on my cheeks while a quiet giggle escaped my lips, “No, I can’t.” I said quietly, trying to hide the excitement in my voice. Out of habit, I fiddled with my hands, twisting the silver rings that were located along my slender fingers. “Why not! C’mon, you like him, he likes you, this is your chance!” She slightly shook my shoulders, making us giggle at my hopeless crush. And that’s all it was – a hopeless crush. Dominic had been one of my best friends forever, and I never want to ruin what we have. Especially over something as stupid as a crush.

“And what about you Vee? Which dashing boy will you be taking as a date to my party?” She sighed, standing up from her position on the bed and walked over to the dresser, taking out a bag of her facial creams and silk shorts and shirt. “Honestly,” She paused, sighing once again and placed a blob of moisturiser onto her fingertips, “Wes, if anyone, but strictly as friends, platonic friends. I’m not the boys-orientated girl out of us.” Rolling my eyes, reached out of my bag across the bed and pulled it to my chest, a mischievous smirk forming on my face. “Your parents are going to be busy for a while, right?” I asked, carefully reaching into my bag. “Yeah, why?” Ronnie asked, tentatively walking closer to me, each stop slower and slower as she rubbed the cream into her olive-tinted skin. “I thought,” I dragged out my words, pulling out a couple of sticks from my bag, twiddling them between my fingers, they were white in colour with one having blue striped over the paper and the other green. “We could have some fun… take off the stress of boys, and school and parents…” Ronnie returned my smirk, taking one them from my hand and downing it without any more talk. “Where did you get these?” She asked, as I joined her motion, taking the Jingle Jangle, and we threw the packaging into her bin. “Nick St. Clair,” She nodded, shrugging off the curiosity of my dealer. “Maybe, I’ll take him to my party, he always knows how to have fun. Who knows?”

We talked for a while: about New York, the time between Ronnie moving to Riverdale, her new life and it felt like nothing had changed. She did seem kind, caring and a new person but I couldn’t let myself be caught up in the web of lies she’s stuck everyone else in, I wouldn’t let myself. I knew deep down that she would never change from who she was, is. Manipulative, fake, deceitful and a murderer. After that night, neither of us were going to change who we were – it was too engrained in us. A permanent stamp, burned into our soul and in the DNA that made us who we were.

After saying goodbye to Vee, I went back to the Five Seasons and as I placed my hand on the door handle, I overheard mutterings and I paused. For a few seconds I let myself linger, trying to overhear the inconsistent muffled voices through the door but to no avail, I simply opened the door slightly before I heard the voices raise into shouting and then into screaming. “Stop! Richard. This isn’t going to help the business in any way, it’s stupid, foolish and will ultimately lose us so much money!” I didn’t want to move but I didn’t to listen to it anymore. The battle in my head rendered me unable to move, my feet stuck to the ground, every muscle, and every bone in my body frozen exactly into place. “But what if it goes right, Natalie. Yes, it’s risky, I’m not denying it, but it will work out, trust me.” For about a minute, they argued back and forth and I remained where I was.

Building up my courage, I walked in and aimed straight for my room, ignoring and avoiding all contact and conversation with my parents – not wanting to alert them in anyway. Over all the years, they had never fought, or at least I’d never seen them do it, they were always this picture-perfect couple. Shakily sighing, not wanting to overthink the situation, I pulled out my phone and hovered over one contact. And I debated whether it was a good idea to call them, if I was being heedless and should let it go. Without further thought, I pressed it down and it dialled. It rang a few times before they picked up. “Hey, princess, what’s up?”

“Um- can,” I paused, playing with the hem of my shirt, biting my lip subconsciously, “can you come over?”

*    *    * “I don’t know how you just snuck me past your grandad but-” Sweets had just made into my bedroom, I closed the door slowly, trying not to wake anyone. “Grandad? That’s Wentworth – the butler.” I said nonchalantly, but Pea quickly shot me a look of surprise and confusion, his eyebrows raising and his lips parted slightly. “Butler? Perks of being white, rich, skinny and pretty, right?” He said, kicking off his shoes along with his jacket and laying on the bed. “Now,” He said, reaching out his arm as if for me to lay next to him, and rolling his eyes as if to say ‘It’s a cuddle for fucks sake, not sex’, “Talk to me.” Huffing, I copied his actions and took off my shoes and sat beside Pea, his strong arms pulling me further into him until I felt the rise and fall of his chest, and surprisingly felt solaced by someone I barely knew. “My parents were arguing and I know it’s not even that big of a deal but it’s not normal for them and I don’t want them to split up.” I felt his body stiffen and then move as he sat up, “Hey, hey, stop.” Looking up at him and into his brown eyes, they were filled with unease, “People, couples, argue, it’s normal. They’re not going to split up.”

Smiling slightly, feeling better just by his presence, he got up and opened my wardrobe. “Let’s look through the princess’ ball gowns, shall we?” I shuffled closer, sitting on the edge of my bed, watching him flick through the masses of fur coats, blouses and skirts. He pulled out my pink fur coat, and as he did his head caved back and his face became disgusted. “I can’t believe you murdered and skinned an animal for this.”

“What do you mean? It’s faux.” I said, crossing my arms, and shaking my head. “Fucking faux my ass. You definitely skinned a care-bear for this.” He laughed, chucking the coat at me, and shivering in disgust at the baby pink fluff ball he had held.

“Does all of this,” he paused, turning and gesturing to the masses upon masses of clothes, shoes and handbags littered in the wardrobe, “make you happy?” He crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow, waiting for my answer. “Yes.” I lied. I thought it did. But I never made that choice, from the minute I could comprehend life I was having dress fittings, hair appointments and blue box presents – I never had a choice in whether I liked my lifestyle. “Really?” He questioned, walking over and gently placing his thumb under my chin to look into his eyes. There was a sparkle in his eyes, something that compelled me to tell him the truth. “I don’t know. It’s lovely and the clothes are beautiful but, would I prefer jeans and something more casual? Yes. Would my parents kill me? Probably.”

As he sat beside me, he placed his hand over mine, and our eyes met. “Why are you so caught up in others opinion of you?” He said, his face confused, “And you’re not?” I retorted, standing up and pulling away. “You hold back from doing things just because they don’t fit your ‘image’, and you shouldn’t. Live the life you want to live; it doesn’t matter who or who doesn’t see because it’s for you.” His voice was slightly raised, as if annoyed or angered. “Me stopping myself from…wearing jeans and a t-shirt, because of my posh girl image, is like you, not going to a dog shelter because puppies don’t match your bad boy image. We both do it.” My arms were in the air, and I laughed lightly at his reaction.

“Okay.” He huffed, picking up his boots and lacing them up. “Where are you going?” I asked, puzzled. He ignored my question, doing up his coat and chucking one at me. “Pea!?”

“We are going to the dog shelter. If that’s what it takes you to do something that fucks up your image, I’m going to do something that fucks up mine.” Shaking my head, I shove the coat back at him “No.” I laughed, at which he got up, standing directly in front of me. He towered over me, a giant grin adorning his face, a mischievous grin. We stood staring at each other for a few seconds, taking in the others stance, trying to read one another. Rapidly, he picked me up, his giant hands gripping my hips tightly and threw me over his shoulder. “C’mon Rapunzel, let down your hair for once,”

*    *    *

When we arrived, my heart swelled at the sight of all the puppies: some sleeping, some playing, some eating. “Sweets!” I squealed eagerly, clutching his arm as I tried to calm myself, at which he laughed at me. Throughout the field of puppies and some older dogs, there were groups of them. An old-looking, greying golden retriever sat watching as these pug puppies started chasing each other around, their tiny yet mighty barks attempting to initiate a play fight with one another.

Out of all the puppies, one caught my eye. It was a tiny grey husky puppy, curled up into a ball in the corner staring at their surroundings, a wallflower. Just as I saw it, Sweets had taken a liking to her as well as he dashed over there and as picking it up smiled so widely I felt myself match his happiness. “She’s beautiful.” I sighed as I gently ran my fingertips over her coat, the soft fur tickling my skin. “She’s a beauty,” he agreed, and put the dog down. “And I’m not only talking about the dog.” He confidently, crossed his arms, his signature smirk appearing on his face. “Smooth.” I laughed, flippantly shoving his shoulder. Which he rolled his eyes at, before grabbing my hand and encasing it in his much larger ones. And as he looked at me, my stomach fell and my heart began racing, “Guess what?” He whispered, loud enough for only me to hear. “What?” I managed to force out, the lump still stuck in my throat, showing no sign of moving. And my heart pulsated so irregularly and sharply, I swore it felt like it was going to cut right out of my chest, right there and then. “I’m going to get it. The puppy.”

TAGLIST:

@quinn-e-dawson @misskarynie @mildy-human

#apricity #c3 #sweet pea #Sweetpea #sweet pea x oc #sweet x reader #madeline hastings #madpea #sweet pea x madeline hastings #x madeline hastings #riverdale fic #riverdale #fanfic #fanfiction #veronica lodge #jughead jones #archie andrews #betty cooper #fp jones #fangs fogarty #toni topaz #cheryl blossom

[trashforprincipalhoney]

thanks @village-skeptic for the tag! 

to anyone reading this who’s bored... I TAG YOU!

favorite colors: blue, it is after all the warmest colour!

three favorite foods: cheeseburgers from kebab shops, chicken sandwiches from M&S and the tears of my enemies.

song stuck in my head: the theme tune for the podcast Seek Treatment at 2x speed, it’s a good track and a great podcast! a close second is the Rita Ora theme from Who? Weekly, who needs songs when you can have podcast jingles?! third is thank u, next

last song i listened to: Both Sides Now by the Toy Story 4 trailer. I love being emotionally manipulated by toys!

last movie i watched: V for Vendetta on November 5th because I’m a revolutionary

time: 9.45pm

top three shows right now: Riverdale is my one and only love. Just binged the Season 2 episodes of Station 19 and it’s better than Season 1, I love improvement! The Haunting of Hill House was my favourite thing from October, CAOS could never!

books i’m currently reading: About halfway through Band of Brothers and I’m liking it but there’s no surprises because damn did the show follow it to a t! why you gotta be so historically accurate HBO?

last thing i googled: Stan Lee

how many blankets do you sleep with: just one at the moment, currently in that space where I’m a bit cold when I wake up in the morning but still haven’t got my winter duvet out and put it in the sheet. I love slowly but surely freezing!

dream trip: Jingle Jangle or Fizzy Rocks, they both seem like a good trip. get it... drugs! but actually though: Italy, Japan, Peru

anything you really want: peace on Earth. actually forget that: a Young Avengers movie.

[liderfin]

Gaming: About Me

Tagged by @thevikingwoman yay, sounds fun :) thank you :)

favorite game from the last 5 years?  The Witcher 3 (including both DLCs), Shadowrun Dragonfall, Prey, Dishonored 2 and maybe Divinity: Original Sin II, in that order. Was I supposed to mention only one? :P 

most nostalgic game?  Planescape: Torment and Vampire: The Masquerade - Bloodlines, both are still very special to me... my two favourite games of all time

game that deserves a sequel?  Dragon Age: Inquisition because we all want to see Solas story continued, right? And Alpha Protocol!!!!! PLEASE I want Alpha Protocol 2, such an underrated spy RPG...that game was brilliant in so many ways!!!

game that deserves a remaster?  Planescape Torment - I’d love to be able to relive it. I was so obsessed with it back then as a kid. I would play it for a whole night without sleeping and then go to school next  morning :) The setting, the writing, some actual philosophical questions, the amazing characters unlike anyone you meet in other games, the wonderful music, the choices and the mystery. Finally, the protagonist that is NOT there to save the world but to actually save himself.

favorite game series?  Deus Ex

favorite genre?  it’s RPG. I started by playing some space combat but mainly FPS games - like old DOOM, Heretics or Duke Nukem when I was a kid hehe before I could understand enough English to play a story driven game :) and then I played Betrayal at Krondor - my first RPG and everything changed. I still treasure that game, the world and the story were so captivating!  Actually I kept naming my pets after the characters from that game - that’s how much I loved it :)

least favorite genre?  I cannot play horror games :D I just can’t.  

favorite song from a game? The Witcher 3 - Lullaby of Woe 

Dishonored: Honor for all 

and most recent favourite : Prey -  Semi Sacred Geometry  it got stuck in my head :P

oh and Fallout New Vegas Soundtrack - Jingle Jangle Jingle   - but that’s an olllddd song :)

favorite character from a game?  Gann of Dreams from Mask of the Betrayer, The Outsider from Dishonored,  Olgierd von Everec from The Witcher 3: Hearts of Stone, Fall-from-Grace from Planescape: Torment, Beckett from Vampire the Masqerade: Bloodlines, right...

favorite ship from a game?  Well, Solavellan that is. I also loved the relationship between the main character and Fane - the undead Eternal in Divinity: Original Sin II  :)

favorite voice actor from a game? Jennifer Hale as in Mass Effect / female Shepard, Michael Gough for a role of Beckett in Vampire: The Masquerade - Bloodlines.

favorite cutscene?  Maybe Geralt and Ciri father-daughter moments? like Snowball fight:

or Piggyback Ride

favorite boss?  I remember that boss at the end of Arcanum: Of Steamworks and Magick Obscura, how you could talk him out of it all or better yet - he could convince you to his cause and there was no fight at all (BTW. this game is a true masterpiece). Generally I'm not such a fan of boss fights, they can be annoying, like in Thief 4 grrr...

first console?  I don’t have one. In fact I never did.

current console or consoles? none

console you want?  I have no clue :P

place from a game that you’d like to visit? Rapture from Bioshock, but maybe before it went wild :) .

place from a game that you’d like to live in?  I love the design of towns in Dishonored games, so I could definitely live there, maybe Karnaca - minus the flies and the witches of course :) 

ridiculous crossover that would never happen but would be super fun? that’s hard, imagine Solas waking from Uthenera into a futuristic world of Mass Effect or better Deus Ex, and still trying to find his people, magic vs technology fun, that’s something for me :) 

book that would make a good game?  hmm Gateway by Frederik Pohl would make a great sci-fi exploration-mystery game, or Nova by Samuel R. Delany, that would be a crazy-good space-opera RPG :)  Oh and Chronicles of Amber by Zelazny - that one PLEASE! Actually it seems there already is a game from ‘85, but come on, that’s old. I’d do a lot to make it happen.

show/movie that would make a good game? Darkcity (movie) or Firefly (show).

games you want to play?  I need to finish Torment: Tides of Numenera first (that one is so good). Hellblade: Senua's Sacrifice, Seven: The Days Long Gone, Pillars of Eternity II: DeadFire (I was not that amazed by the first PoE even though I supported it on Kickstarter, is DeadFire better or worse than the first, anyone?), oh and Horizon Dawn Zero but I’d need a console,which I don;t have right now.

have you gotten 100% completion in a game?  Never. I mostly finish a given game once only, so usually it’s impossible to get 100% in one PT, but I guess I’m not even trying that hard. Then again I can be a silly completionist in a game like Inquisition - I would always finish ALL of the small boring quest first before I could move on :P It’s not always that bad - there are games like The Witcher 3 where a smallest silly quest can be a real gem and a pleasure in itself :)

have you cried over a game? I think so? at the end of Planescape: Torment for sure :) There are also lot’s of super sad quests in The Witcher 3, maybe I didn’t cry, but I was moved.

I took me so long again to do it, but the last few days were hard, a lot has happened in my life :( but anyways, that was fun!!!!

#video games #A bit about me #personal #thevikingwoman

[letterstoocean]

some re writes fro you to enjoy when you are ready

Greywater Tales

Ben, the song of Miss Luna and Vern the gargoyle

Ben was afraid to find a room and call it his own.  

Miss Luna had said whatever room he could imagine would be there for him.  

“Any room at all Ben.” She had told him as she brushed his now long hair out of his eyes. All you have to do is open your mind and let it happen.”

But he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

All his life, whenever he felt like he had a home, a place he could stay, a place that he would get comfortable with, he would have to leave it.

Ben leaving.

Ben going.

Ben gone.

Every time that happened, it hurt even more than the time before.

He didn't want that to happen at Greywater.

He was beginning to love Greywater.

That love was stirring that fear in him that he wasn't going to be allowed to stay.

He was sure the pain of leaving this place would hurt so much that it would kill him.

He convinced himself that if he actually didn't have a room, no place he called his own, then maybe he could hold off the move.

So he would just sleep whenever and wherever he got sleepy.

There always seemed to be a comfortable couch, a hammock, a big poofy, something that would call to him. Every morning he would wake with a comfortable fluffy pillow under his head, and an incredibly comfortable blanket covering him.  

These were the best sleeps he ever had in his life.  His dreams were so vivid that when he woke he couldn't wait to write them down in his journal.  To sketch them out.

He actually wanted to tell the stories that were building inside of him.

Ben was afraid to call a room his own, but here lately he was sleeping more and more in the room with the library door in it.

The library would call to him and he would go up, find the books with the loudest voice then return to the room, flop on a couch or chair and  read until he fell asleep.

He liked the room.  The room wasn't his and therefore he didn't have a room and therefore he wouldn't have to move.

Ben also loved the night.

He had always felt comfortable and safe when the sun set and the day went to sleep. No one was around to bully him, yell at him or make fun of him.

It was like the world was his and his alone.

There was a music Ben could hear at night.  He wasn't sure exactly what it was, but to Ben, it was the music of people sleeping.

He imagined the music was peoples dreams as and it helped him with his stories and his drawings.

At least that was how he felt.

The room to the library was the perfect place to do this.

He could stay in the room and create or go out on the balcony, look at the sky,  the lake,  the calmness of the night and listen to the strange wonderful ever changing music of Greywater.

Ben liked to act out the stories that came to him.  He liked it, because he felt like he was on a stage and the night was audience and his music as well.

Ben would do all the different voices, all the sound effects, everything needed to write the story down.  Or get the images on paper.

He wasn't sure when he started doing it, but he called the room before the library the dream room.

Ben and Rhea had returned from the library, each one with a stack of books in their hands and big smiles on their faces.

They each found a couch and they both had fallen asleep that night.

“The dream room.” Rhea had nodded in approval the next morning when Ben told he what he wanted to call it. “It just seems right.”

He liked it when he could impress Rhea.  

Because that was very hard to do.

He was starting to understand her a little bit, just a little.

He was starting to understand the house and some of the things in it as well.

It started with the old radio in the corner of the dream room.

He had seen one like it before in one of the places he had stayed.  There was an older couple and their favorite thing to do was sit by the radio, rock back and forth in their rocking chairs  and listen to music.

Ben would sit on the floor and write in his journals.  

One of the better memories Ben had.

He wasn't sure if it had always been there or just appeared that day, but when he saw it in the dream room, he was sure it was the same radio.

Or was it a stereo?  Ben thought about it, and he was certain the couple called it a stereo.  

 The stereo looked like a long dresser until you lifted the lid. Inside was a record player, something called an eight track  and a cassette player.  There was also a radio.

Ben could never get anything to work and just figured it was broke.

It was the first night Ben was stuck with a story he was working on and couldn't sleep that the stereo lit up and started playing a song.

Hey, Mr. Tambourine man, play a song for me I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to Hey, Mr. Tambourine man, play a song for me In the jingle jangle morning I'll come following you.

After the song was over the stereo went dark again.

Ben tried and tried to get it to play again but the radio refused.

That night Ben drifted to sleep with the song in his head.

The next morning he woke up and knew what he wanted to write. It seemed so obvious.

He immediately grabbed his journal and started writing.  Humming the song from the night before as he did.

It was like the stereo knew he needed it.

Ben started to notice whenever he was having heavy thoughts, trouble creating or sometimes just needed some guidance of where to go or what to do, the stereo would play a song it seemed he needed.

But as always, if  Ben tried to hear a song and get the stereo to work, nothing would happen.

“Guess I will call you Mr. Moody.” Ben said after another failed attempt..

The stereo lit up and the sound of applause and trumpets blared from the speakers then went dark again.

Ben nodded as he laughed, “Mr. Moody it is then.”

Searching for Rhea and having no luck, Ben went to the library grabbed the books that called to him and went to the dream room. He sat in a chair next to the balcony door and read until he fell asleep.

He heard a song in his sleep. It was the most beautiful song Ben had ever heard.

“Mr. Moody?” Ben asked sitting up and rubbing sleep from his eyes.

Ben looked over to see the radio was dark and the music was coming from outside.

He walked out to the balcony and looked around.

The music was even more beautiful and clear outside. Where was it coming from?

The song?  

The voice?

It?

Words could not form in Bens head to explain the music.

It was like he felt the music in his heart. In his stomach, like it was a soothing feeling in his head he had never thought before.

The voice, the voice was like, what?

As Ben looked around for the music he noticed the moon was so full and bright it was like the world had a white sheet thrown over a lamp.

He could see everything

Everything looked gray but he could see all the statues in the yard.  The tree house.  The lake looked like a gray ink spreading over the hill.

Ben thought it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

He turned to look up at the moon, and there was Miss Luna standing on the roof above Ben.

It seemed the moon was right above her head and she was shining just as bright as the moon.

She was the one singing and she was singing to the moon!

Ben couldn't move even if he wanted to.

The more she sang, the brighter both she and the moon grew.

Ben felt wonderful goose bumps rise on his skin.

Miss Luna's long white dress draped over the roof and down the shingles. Her long white hair looked like rays of moonlight on her pale skin.  Her pale skin even seemed to blend into the night like she was part of it.

It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.  It was the msot beautiful music he had ever heard.

He wanted to run back inside, to grab a blank canvas and a journal and write what he felt down.  To pu this image on canvas. But he was frozen in his tracks.

He couldn't move from that spot if he was on fire.

Miss Lunas voice grew even louder and she spread her transparent arms to the night.  She and the moon started to shine even brighter.  So bright that had to cover his eyes.

And then the music stopped.  With his eyes covered it sounded it echoed out through the night as it vanished.

When he uncovered his eyes, Miss Luna was gone. But the moon.  The moon was even brighter and closer.  All he hadd to do was reach his hand out and he could touch it.

“I wouldn't do that. Not just yet.” said a voice to his right.

Ben was so used to voices appearing that he didn't even jump anymore.

He stopped reaching for the moon, took his hand down and looked to see a gargoyl abut his size sitting on the edge of the house.

He had seen gargoyles all ove rthe yard.  Many of them in different shapes and forms and doing different things.

This one was sitting on a stone cahir.  One leg draped ove rthe other and it was holding a stone book up to its nose.

The gargolye was looking at Ben over its book. Just staring.

“Did you say something.”

The gargoly seemed to go from stone to felsh in an instant.  It put the book down on tis lap and looked up at the moon.

“Very few get to hear Miss Lunas song, even fewer get to touch her in her full form.  May I suggest you embrace you what you have experienced and not go any further.  It could be too much.”

Ben looked a the moon and rememebred the feeling the song gave him. Perhaps the gargoyle was right.

“Where did she go?” Ben asked

The gargoyle raised its eyebrows and gave Ben a small grin.

“She didn't go anywhere She is still here.” replied the gargoyle.

“I don't understand.” ben said

“Nor should you.  Not right now.”

The gargolye stood up stretched its arms, and spread its wings out and shivered like it was stretching after a long rest.

“I am Vern.” the gargoyle said.

“Vern the gargoyle?” ben asked trying not to laugh.

Vern raised his eyebrows again.  

“Some thing funny about my name, Ben?  Ben going?  Ben there?  Where have I Ben?”

“No no, not all. I didn't mean to laugh. It is just. Well I expected a gargolye to be named different.”

“And what do you think a gargoyle should be named, Ben congused a little?”  

Ben thought about it for second, but really couldn't come up with anything Not wanting to offend the gargoyle any more than he had already, Ben said as much.  

The gargoyle smiled.

“Then Vern suits me just fine don't you think?”

Ben nodded.

“Come let's leave miss Luna to her song and hed back inside.

“Uhm, won't you fall through the floor?” ben asked looking at the size of Vern.

Vern smiled again, “i am very light on my feet, Ben.  We will be fine.”

Vern was right, it seemed Ben had a heavier footstep than the Gargolye.  Vern barely made a sound on the hardwood fllor as he crossed the room and opemned the libarary door.

“I need to replenish my stock of books.  Walk with me.” Vern said as he began to climb the stairs.

Ben followed in step behind the light footed gargoyle and they headed into the library....

[letterstoocean]

my ocean,

so here is more of the ben and song of miss luna story. (laughing) great googly moogly my hands could barely keep with my brain it came out so well.  i will edit later. but i was so excited about it, i just wanted to share it with you now. lol 

Greywater Tales

Ben and the song of Miss Luna

Ben was afraid to find a room and call it his own.  

Miss Luna had said whatever room he could imagine would be there for him.  

“All you have to do is open your mind and let it happen.” she had told him as she brushed his now long hair out of his eyes.

But he just couldn't bring himself to think about it.

All his life, whenever he felt like he had a home, a place he could stay, a place that he would get comfortable with, he would have to leave.

Every time that happened, it hurt even more than the time before.

He didn't want to happen at Greywater. He liked it here and he was sure the ain of leaving this palce would hurt so much that would it kill him.

He was beginning to love Greywater.

And that love was stirring that fear in him that he wasn't going to be allowed to stay.

He convinced himself that if he actually didn't have a room, then maybe he could hold off the move.

So he would just sleep whenever and wherever he got sleepy.

His first week at Greywater he slept a sleep he had never known existed.  Running around finding all the things the place had to to reveal  exhausted him and by the end of the day he barely remembered falling asleep.

There always seemed to be a comrtble couch, a hammock, something that would call to him.

And every morning he would wake with a comfortable under his head, and a comfortable blanket covering him.  

These were the best sleeps he ever had in his life.  His dreams were so vivid that when he woke he couldn't wait to write them down in his journal.  To sketch them out.

To tell the stories that were building inside of him.

Here lately he was sleeping more and more in the room with the library door in it.

The library would call to him and he would go up, find the books with the loudest voice then return to the room, flop on a couch and  read until he fell asleep.

He liked the room.  The room wasn't his and therefore he didn't have a room and therefore he wouldn't have to move.

Ben had always loved the night the most.

He had always felt comfortable and safe when the sun set and the day went to sleep. No one was around to bully him, yell at him or make fun of him.

It was like the world was his and his alone.

He always imagined he could hear peoples dreams as they slept and it helped him with his stories and his drawings. Like he could help them hear something they forgot.

At least that was how he felt.

After a week at Greywater he started to wake up at night again.

The stories inside of him calling for him to get them out.

The room to the library was the perfect palce for this.

He could stay in the room and create or go out ont the balcony, look at the sky,  the lake, the calmness of the night and be himself.

He liked to act out the stories that came to him.  He would do all the different voices, all the sound effects, everything needed to write the story down.  Or get the images on paper.

It was like a movie in his mind.  He started sleeping ithe dream room, that was what Ben started calling it, doing this enough, that when he woke up at midnight, there would be several new blank journals, blank canvases on easels and plenty of paints, pens and pencils for him to create.  

He wasn't sure when he started doing it, but he called the room before the library the dream room.

Even Rhea had started calling it,

They had returned from the library, each one with a stack of books in their hands and big smiles on their faces.

They each had their favorite couch and they both had fallen asleep that night.

“The dream room.” Rhea had nodded in approval the next morning when he told what hee he called it. “It just seems right.”

He liked it when he could impress Rhea.  Because that was very hard to do.

He was starting to understand her a little bit and the house.

He was even starting to understand the old radio in the corner of the dream room.

He had seen one like it before in one of the places he had stayed.  He was staying with an older couple that loved music. The short time Ben had been with them, their favorite thing to was sit on sit in front of the radio, rock back and forth intheir rocking chairs  and listened to music. Ben would sit on the floor and write in his journals.  

One of the better memories Ben had.

When Ben first saw the radio in the dream room, and the fact was, he wasn't sure if it had always been there or just appeared one day, he was quite certain it was the same radio.

Or was it a stereo?  Ben thought about it, and he was certain the couple called it a stereo.  

 The stereo looked like a long dresser until you lifted the lid. There was record player, something called an eight track player and a cassette player.  There was also a radio. But Ben could never pick up any radio stations.  

When he first started sleeping in the room or even just reading, the radio would suddenly light up and started playing a song.

The funny thing was, it was the first night Ben was stuck with a story he was working on and couldn't sleep.

Hey, Mr. Tambourine man, play a song for me I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to Hey, Mr. Tambourine man, play a song for me In the jingle jangle morning I'll come following you.

He had drifted to sleep that night with the song in his head, and the next morning the story came out with out any problem.

Ben started to notice whenever he was having heavy thoughts, trouble creating or sometimes need some guidance. The radio would play a song that fit the moment perfectly.

Funny thing was, when Ben really wanted to hear a sng and tried playing the radio nothing would happen.

After searhcing for Rhea and having no luck. Ben went to the library grabbed the books that called him and then sat in a chair next to the balcony and read.

As usual he fell asleep and he thought he was waking up to the radio playing a ong.  

It was the most beautiful song Ben had ever heard.

Ben looked over at the radio and realized the radio was dark and the music was coming out from outside.

Wiping sleep from his eyes he walked out to he balcony and he lookeda round.

The music was even more beautiful out ehre.  The voice of tht music was? What was it? Ben thought.  But words would not come in his head to explain it.

It was like he felt the music in his heart. In his stomahc, like ti was a soothing feeling in his head.

The voice, the voice was like, what?

Ben noticed  moon was so full and bright it felt like it was daytime.  Like the world had a white sheet thrown over a lamp.

He turned to look up at the moon, and there was was Miss luna standing on the roof above Ben.

It seemed the moon was right above  her head and she was shining just as bright as the moon.

She was the one singing. Singing to the moon.

The more she sang, the birghter she and the moon became.

Ben felt wonderful goose bumps rise on his skin.

Miss Lunas long white dress draped over the roof and down the shingles. Her long white hair looked like rays of moonlight on her pale skin.  Her pale skin even seemed to blend into the night like she was part of it.

It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.  It was the msot beautiful music he had ever heard.

He wanted to run back inside, to grab a blank canvas and a journal and write what he felt down.  To pu this image on canvas. But he was frozen in his tracks.

He couldn't move from that spot if he was on fire.

Miss Lunas voice grew even louder and she spread her transparent arms to the night.  She and the moon started to shine even brighter.  So bright that had to cover his eyes.

And then the music stopped.  With his eyes covered it sounded it echoed out through the night as it vanished.

When he uncovered his eyes, Miss Luna was gone. But the moon.  The moon was even brighter and closer.  All he hadd to do was reach his hand out and he could touch it.

“I wouldn't do that. Not just yet.” said a voice to his right.

Ben was so used to voices appearing that he didn't even jump anymore.

He stopped reaching for the moon, took his hand down and looked to see a gargoyl abut his size sitting on the edge of the house.

He had seen gargoyles all ove rthe yard.  Many of them in different shapes and forms and doing different things.

This one was sitting on a stone cahir.  One leg draped ove rthe other and it was holding a stone book up to its nose.

The gargolye was looking at Ben over its book. Just staring.

“Did you say something.”

The gargoly seemed to go from stone to felsh in an instant.  It put the book down on tis lap and looked up at the moon.

“Very few get to hear Miss Lunas song, even fewer get to touch her in her full form.  May I suggest you embrace you what you have experienced and not go any further.  It could be too much.”

Ben looked a the moon and rememebred the feeling the song gave him. Perhaps the gargoyle was right.

“Where did she go?” Ben asked

The gargoyle raised its eyebrows and gave Ben a small grin.

“She didn't go anywhere She is still here.” replied the gargoyle.

“I don't understand.” ben said

“Nor should you.  Not right now.”

The gargolye stood up stretched its arms, and spread its wings out and shivered like it was stretching after a long rest.

“I am Vern.” the gargoyle said.

“Vern the gargoyle?” ben asked trying not to laugh.

Vern raised his eyebrows again.  

“Some thing funny about my name, Ben?  Ben going?  Ben there?  Where have I Ben?”

“No no, not all. I didn't mean to laugh. It is just. Well I expected a gargolye to be named different.”

“And what do you think a gargoyle should be named, Ben congused a little?”  

Ben thought about it for second, but really couldn't come up with anything Not wanting to offend the gargoyle any more than he had already, Ben said as much.  

The gargoyle smiled.

“Then Vern suits me just fine don't you think?”

Ben nodded.

“Come let's leave miss Luna to her song and hed back inside.

“Uhm, won't you fall through the floor?” ben asked looking at the size of Vern.

Vern smiled again, “i am very light on my feet, Ben.  We will be fine.”

Vern was right, it seemed Ben had a heavier footstep than the Gargolye.  Vern barely made a sound on the hardwood fllor as he crossed the room and opemned the libarary door.

“I need to replenish my stock of books.  Walk with me.” Vern said as he began to climb the stairs.

Ben followed in step behind the light footed gargoyle and they headed into the library....