#so yeah i think its just the way she feels emotions very strongly and switches between them very quickly that makes me think hm maybe | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

daddykohli · 4 years

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you make me live, you’re my best friend

i’ve been in my feelings about singing in the car with spencer on my morning commutes so I decided to write about it!

warnings: fluff, reid inadvertently outs himself to the team (no angst or upset at all), alcohol, cursing

bi spencer x bi fem reader

2.8k words

mornings are for coffee and contemplation. and sometimes singing.

Despite the peppy attitude he arrived to work with nearly every day, Spencer Reid was not a morning person. He needed a good combination of things to get him to peak performance including at least two strong coffees with a mountain of sugar, his mismatched socks and you. Well, you and the speakers blasting your favorite music on the way to work.

You had an eclectic taste and a loud mouth, frankly, and Spencer didn’t get everything you played for him but he was game to sit in the passenger’s seat with his sunglasses on, watching you belt along with whatever 80′s power ballad, mid 2000′s country hit or latest TikTok trendy song you’d gotten stuck in your head.

Thanks to a combination of his eidetic memory and an embarrassing and constant urge to please you, Spencer pulled up the lyrics on his phone to every song you played for the first time, committing them to memory forever. This was a blessing and a curse; it wasn’t helpful to be on a case and find he’s been looking at bodies, mumbling “I'll take my chances in traffic, she suckin' on dick, no hands with it” absently under his breath, but nothing in the world made his girl happier than him singing along by her side loudly, badly at 7 am.

This also wasn’t an activity Spencer shared with the team. If you asked any one of them at any given time, they’d collectively decided that you two were having sex in the mornings because nothing else could explain why you tumbled in the door together, giggling and ready to take on the world while the rest of them were dragging their feet, squinting in the harsh white lights of the bullpen.

There were certainly more humiliating things for the team to find out about, but Spencer didn’t particularly want to listen to the team hounding them to join karaoke night once they knew Spencer had no real qualms with making a fool out of himself while singing.

As it was, one night when you were out with the girls, 3 cocktails and half pitcher of blue long island ice tea in, you accidentally spilled the beans. It was the damn DJ—if he hadn’t played “Africa” by Toto, none of this would’ve happened. You were leaning on Emily’s shoulder when you heard a familiar beat and shrieked, patting Emily’s arm rather aggressively.

“This is me ‘n Spencer’s song,” you told the group, closing your eyes and smiling, swaying along to the music. The ladies laughed, shaking their heads in disbelief.

“It’s not your song, there’s no way,” JJ protested, rolling her eyes, not bothering to hide her laughter.

You huffed, irritated that they couldn’t read your mind. “Well it’s not our song but it’s our car song!”

Your friends brows furrowed almost in unison, making you giggle.”Car song...?” Garcia asked, chin in her hand. You gasped dramatically, shaking your head in denial.

“NO, nono no, Spence said-we can’t talk about the car songs, I can’t-forget I said ‘nything,” your hands were moving wildly, subconsciously mimicking the way your boyfriend used his hands to express his own emotions. This was the wrong reaction, which sober you would have had the sense to realize beforehand. JJ, Emily and Garcia leaned in, suddenly extremely interested, matching mischievous grins on their faces.

“Explain. Immediately,” Garcia demanded, slapping her hand down on the table in front of you. You mimed zipping your lips closed and throwing the key across the bar, shaking your head.

“Mm-mm,” you mumbled, shrugging. There was no way you were going to lose your morning singing buddy because of your loose lips. Sober you also would have known that Spencer (who lived with you) wouldn’t stop riding to work with you or singing in the car with you over his team finding out, but you tended to be a little one-track-minded when you drank.

The girls finally relented, switching the conversation gears to people-watching, playing a lighthearted profiling game with the other patrons. There was someone in the group, however, who hadn’t forgotten and wouldn’t forget by Monday morning either.

When Monday morning rolled around, Garcia laid in wait for her target to arrive. When he did, she snatched him by the hand and dragged him into her Batcave. Derek made a particularly un-manly noise that Garcia would file away for later, but right now she needed his guidance.

“I’m gonna do a bad thing,” she greeted, plopping down in her chair.

“Woman-” Derek began, still half asleep, heart racing from being kidnapped at 7 o’ clock in the morning.

“No time,” Garcia interrupted, “I have information.”

Derek raised an eyebrows, sitting down in the other chair in the room, indicating that he was interested.

“Our resident baby and pretty boy sing in the car in the mornings,” she stated.

Derek stared, opened his mouth as if to say something and then closed it. “Sing?” he finally asked, voice dripping with skepticism. “I mean her, sure, but Spencer? Are you sure?”

Garcia nodded, turning to her computer. “A certain cocktail induced confession. Now here’s where I need you to convince me it’s a bad idea to hack into her dash cam so we can see the show.”

Derek huffed out a laugh and put his head in his hands. “Baby girl, you know I would never miss out on a chance to humiliate Reid, but are you sure this is what’s happening? Because if it is, I’m bringing the rest of the team and providing popcorn,” he warned.

Garcia’s smile grew to luminous proportions. “You know, I only asked you to stop me because I knew you’d be the least likely to do so?” she asked.

Derek just laughed, shaking his head. “You are so bad”.

You and Spencer woke up in rare form on Tuesday morning. You both felt well rested (that didn’t stop you from guzzling two coffees each before you hit the door) and in high spirits. Since you woke early, you had a lazy morning in bed, kissing and whispering and giggling, tangled in the sheets. You showered together instead of apart and had an actual solid breakfast rather than a granola bar split down the middle on your way up the elevator at headquarters.

By the time you made it to the car, (Spencer in a button up and cardigan, dark pants and his converse and you in a dress that complimented your eyes with a blazer as an afterthought, in case you needed to go out into the field unexpectedly today) you were both a little bummed that your good moods were going to be dampened by paperwork shortly, but you still had the commute ahead of you and you knew it’d take no convincing to get Spencer to sing along with you today.

Meanwhile, at headquarters, Garcia, Rossi, JJ, Emily and a very reluctant Hotch were crowded around Garcia’s computer. Suddenly the screen came to life showing a clear, albeit off-color video feed of you and Spencer in the front seats of your car.

Garcia gasped, clapped her hands delightedly, and everyone else stepped closer.

“We’re acknowledging that this is a huge invasion of privacy, right,” JJ asked absently.

“And a gross misuse of government property to do so,” Hotch added gruffly, lips pressed into a thin line.

“Yeah, yeah,” Rossi and Emily dismissed in unison, squinting at the screen. You and Spencer already had big smiles on your faces, chattering on about some movie you’d watched together last night, Spencer talking about the logistics of life on Saturn and you explaining to him that the movie was about lesbians in space and you didn’t care whether it was sustainable to live on another planet.

The team couldn’t help but smile at their two youngest co-workers so obviously, comfortably in love.

“So what’ll it be today?” Spencer asked, after relenting that gays in space was enough of a plot line to hold a film despite its obvious scientific pitfalls.

You fiddled with your phone, deciding on a playlist while waiting for him to buckle up for the drive to work. Finally, you decided one one simply named “drive” that included all the songs in your library that got you excited to be alive.

“I think we’re going high-energy today,” you announced to Spencer, smiling as you felt his warm hand push up the hem of your dress slightly to land in its familiar spot on your bare thigh, fingers curling to rest against the sensitive skin of the inner portion.

Spencer nodded, leaning his head back and running a hand through his hair as music filled the car. He didn’t bother to pull out his phone, this playlist was a frequent choice of yours and he already knew all the songs on it by heart.

“Did you know that listening to the music you love actually causes your brain release more dopamine, a crucial neurotransmitter for humans’ emotional and cognitive functioning? It’s connected to the brain’s reward experience, enjoying a piece of music, deriving pleasure from it, wanting to listen to it again, being willing to spend money for it, strongly depend on the dopamine released in our synapses,” Spencer explained happily, feeling safe in knowing you’d never get tired of listening to him share information.

“That explains a lot!” you replied excitedly, nodding as you put the car in reverse and slowly pulled out of the driveway and onto your quiet street. Well, yours and Spencer’s.

You bit your lip, smiling at your internal correction. Spencer had been your best friend for so long that sometimes you forgot that you were a couple now. Sure, there was a lot more kissing now but he was still just your Spencer and it sent the butterflies in your tummy into a frenzy whenever he touched you in a way that he wouldn’t have allowed himself when you were just friends.

“C’mon now, let’s fuckin’ go,” you cheered, getting your heart racing and ready for the day, not catching Spencer looking at you with so much love written all over his face that it was sickening and a smile that could overshadow the sun.

“They’re disgusting,” Emily said fondly, watching her friends interact onscreen. She was seeing a sillier side of Spencer, a more gentle and carefree side that made her feel warm in her stomach. It made sense that he was happiest when he was with his girl and no responsibility at hand but she wished they could all see him like that more often.

The team all laughed, eyes fixed on the screen when the door opened and the smell of melted butter wafted in. Morgan had a large bowl filled with popcorn and Garcia clapped, laughing and reaching for a handful.

“I told you I’d get snacks for show!” he stated, grinning as he sat in the only empty chair left in the room. “What’d I miss?” he asked, munching on a few pieces of popcorn.

“AND I MEANT EVERY WORD I SAID, WHEN I SAID THAT I LOVE YOU I MEANT THAT I LOVE YOU FOREVER,” you and Spencer were scream-singing “Keep on Loving You” by REO Speedwagon until your throats were sore, giggling in between verses. You had one hand on the wheel (that had been a point of contention between you and Spencer for awhile but it had been some months since he’d stopped spouting accident statistics at you and started to trust you behind the wheel) and one elbow resting on the console and both felt utterly invincible.

When the song ended, it faded into “What I Need” by Hayley Kiyoko and you groaned, tossing your head back dramatically against the seat. “I’m so gay,” you stated, thinking about the girl with blonde hair and dance moves you daydreamed about far too often.

Spencer laughed as he sang along, tapping out the rhythm with his fingers on your inner thigh, sliding on his sunglasses. “Would you leave me for her?” he asked playfully, nodding his head toward the radio.

“In an instant,” you replied, shrugging and tossing your hair before really getting into the song, body rolling and catching glancing at Spencer’s face, reveling in his shameless ogling.

After Hayley’s voice cut, the playlist moved right into “Plum” by Troye Sivan and Spencer groaned in a mock of your groan from earlier. “I would leave you for Troye Sivan,” he told you, nodding as he hummed along with the song.

“I would be insulted if you didn’t, given the opportunity. I would love it if you left me for Troye Sivan, it would be an honor,” you both fell into giggles and when Spencer slid his sunglasses off his face, he accidentally dropped them on the floor at his feet. To make matters worse, in true clumsy Spencer fashion, he bumped his head on the dash when he reached down to pick them up.

You snorted, reached out and patted his cheek. “And they call me the bi disaster,” you teased, shaking her head.

“I’ll admit that sometimes I earn that title,” he replied, face reddening.

There was dead silence in the Batcave, the longest silence that the team had ever participated in, perhaps.

They already knew you were bisexual, tiny flag on your desk and they really did call you the “bi disaster” in the company of those you were out to, clumsy, flirty and loud as you were. But Spencer. This was new information.

Hotch was the first to speak up. “I told you this was a bad idea, I’m calling it off,” he stated, shaking his head, wondering how the hell he was going to advise his team to handle this.

“No, no, wait,” JJ spoke up. Everyone looked toward her, surprised. “Look,” she began, tugging on Hotch’s sleeve to bring him back down into his chair, “we already know. They’re 10 minutes from headquarters now, how much more private information could they possibly reveal?”

She had a point. They’d come this far in what had originally been a harmless plan to embarrass Spencer about his bad singing and make his face turn a delightful red. Hotch sat down slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose as he did so.

“Go on,” he told Garcia begrudgingly and she obeyed, cranking the volume again to hear Spencer taking on a solo in “Love Story” by Taylor Swift. It would have been a crime to miss this.

After tackling One Direction and The 1975, you were about 5 minutes from work when it came time for the coveted Last Song of the Drive. It was an important one, it set the mood for the day and sometimes you and Spencer spent half of that time choosing the perfect one. Today, it only took one skip to land on “Truth Hurts” by Lizzo.

You and Spencer looked at one another, grinning and cheered, you bouncing in your seat and him pounding on the dash with his fist.

“WHY ARE MEN GREAT ‘TILL THEY GOTTA BE GREAT,” you both screamed, cracking the windows so everyone within a 5 mile radius could hear your terrible, delighted voices.

You and Spencer were holding hands, just broken apart from a few stolen kisses in the elevator when the doors opened, revealing your entire team, clearly on pins and needles. They’d been waiting for you.

You frowned, reaching for your phone instinctively. “Did we miss a call...?”

Rossi shook his head, coming forward, all fatherly and gentle.

“So what had happened was-”

“I hacked your dash cam so we could hear Spencer singing and accidentally found out you’re bisexual,” Garcia blurted, feeling responsible for the whole debacle. She was ready for any ill will pointed her way, but she wouldn’t let Rossi take the responsibility of confessing on behalf of what was her idea.

You felt Spencer’s hand tense in yours for a moment—his sexuality wasn’t something he hid, but he wasn’t vocal about it like you were. You looked up into his handsome face to see a small, sheepish smile on it.

“It’s not a secret,” he informed his family, shrugging. “Just didn’t think it was necessary to announce it in a newsletter”.

The whole room still felt thick with apprehension and you were ready to fly off the handle if anyone teased your boyfriend about this.

Spencer pulled his hand from yours and moved forward to rest it on his chosen sister’s shoulder. Garcia smiled at the contact. “It’s okay,” he told her gently, sputtering as she swept him into a crushing hug that lifted him off the floor.

The rest of the team crowded around and your heart grew 3 sizes watching your family smother Spencer with love and support, him tall, red faced and pleased right in the middle. Morgan strode over, winked and grabbed you by the hand to pull you into the group hug, making you laugh and you were crushed in alongside the people you love the most.

“So...Spencer, would you say you’re 98% or 99% or maybe...100% That Bitch?” Emily teased, bringing fire to Spencer’s cheeks and laughter to the rest of the team, including yourself.

You’re never happier than moments like these. Among your best friends.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic #spencer reid #my fic

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navalcriminalimagines · 4 years

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🥺 its me again, the one that requested the ex wife. Just wanted to say the jealousy one was amazing as well!! I adore your writing. However I def hope you get to use the ex wife one as well! 🥰 lots of love sent to you during this time!

thank you so much for your messages!! it warms my heart!!! i really hope you’re going to love this one too :) sending love to you too, from my little town in france!!

based on S12, EP11 : Check

If someone told you years ago, you would date a man that got married four times, you’d have laughed very hard. You were a big believer in marriage, forever love and everything mentioned in the vows. But also, if that same person told you, you would fall deeply in love with someone almost 20 years older than you; paramedics would be on their way.

But here you are now, dating this man. Being in love with him like you’ve never been in love before. You actually wonder if you were in love with your exes, because it was nothing comparing to what you feel for Jethro. Sometimes it scares you and you ask yourself a lot of questions. Obviously, he didn’t have love feelings for his three latest ex-wives but he liked them, he married them and it ended the same; they broke it off.

It’s not always easy to know how Jethro feels, he’s pretty good at hiding his emotions and feelings. Does he love you or like you? Is he in love with you? Isn’t he marrying you because he is afraid or because he doesn’t love you enough? At some point, you wish this relationship will go forward. Like move in together... but is he ready for that step?

After weeks of driving yourself crazy, you decided it was time to ask. He obviously isn’t going to be the one to ask, so it’s up to you. If he says yes, you’ll be the happiest you’ve ever been. If he says no, you’ll probably going to put this relationship into perspective. You know he is having a complicated case, and these past few days, you have been on night shift at the hospital.

At 7am, you stopped at the Dinner - his favorite place - to get something to eat and his usual ; black coffee, no sugar. You’re not sure you’re going to ask him to move in together this morning, but you can at least spend a little time together, join him under the sheets...

One thing you definitely didn’t expect to see when you entered his living room was the sight of him snuggle on the couch with some girl. One thing that hurt you the most was his fingers intertwined with hers. That’s something special for you ; it’s like a connection. Tears threatened to fall, your hands were shaking. The only sound that came out of your month was his name. Like a broken sound.

Jethro woke up, confused and surprised. He didn’t plan any of that. The woman woke up too and stood up. Your eyes switched from her to him and a single tear escaped from your left eye. Your boyfriend stood up to be right in front of you, “That is not what--” he started to say.

“Yeah, it’s never what it looks like!” you yelled, “don’t bother, Jethro,” you wanted to leave but he strongly held you back.

“That’s Stephanie, my ex-wife, and--”

“Oh, which one is that again?”

“I think I’m going to--” Stephanie started to say, grabbing her purse and shoes to leave. “They keep getting younger and younger, J,” she smiled at him. She smiled. That bitch slept with your boyfriend and she just smiles. You felt the urge to stand in front of her and slap her. But something stopped your arm in the air ; Jethro. Damn that man can be fast.

“Stephanie, just leave,” he told her.

“I’ll call you,” she said before leaving.

You couldn’t face Jethro. You were trying to be strong and hold back your tears. You tried to run upstairs to avoid him and of course, he caught you in the way and strongly held your body against his. “I didn’t cheat on you, Y/N.” he said, confident. “I promise. I’ll never do that to you.”

Your back was against his chest, his hands was firmly on yours. “She was in your arms, Gibbs. Her hand is yours,” you cried.

“I know, it looks bad” he sighed, “and I’m very sorry about that. We talked, she apologized for cheating on me. It’s a part of her 12 steps program,”

“Good for her,” you said sarcastically.

Jethro made you spin around so you were facing him. He held your face in his hands to lock your eyes in his blue ones. “I guess I could have find a better moment to tell you this, but-- I love you, Y/N,” he confessed, “We simply fell asleep. I didn’t touch her or kiss her or anything,” he tried to softly kissed the corner of your month, but you moved your face at the last moment. You were still crying. You want to believe him, a part of you do but it doesn’t take away what you saw.

“I feel stupid,” you confessed.

“Why is that?”

“I wanted to ask you if you wanted to move in with me. Or at least, me with you. But I--”

“Yes.” he immediately said, not letting you finish. “I want to. I want you everyday here with me. I’ll make it up to you, baby. I promise,” he tried to kiss you again and this time you didn’t move your face. It was soft and tender.

“You better do something big, Jethro.” you sniffed. “And I’ll never call you “J” ever again,”

He smiled, “I prefer when you call me “my love” anyway,” he kissed you again with passion this time. He was trying to make himself forgiven already.

#Leroy Jethro Gibbs #jethro gibbs #jethro gibbs x reader #jethro gibbs imagine #leroy jethro gibbs x reader #ncis #ncis fanfiction #ncis fandom

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gypsydanger01 · 4 years

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Fandom: The Boys (amazon prime series)

Requested by @seasalt-888: can you do a starlight X an ex who she broke up with because he didn't show he cared enough? Something like him coming back and showing her he's trying to change for the better?

Word count: 1850 words

A/N: I’ve got to say, this was a challenge for me because I wasn’t quite sure how you wanted it to go. That’s the reason why I gave this a more or less open ending. I hope you enjoy it!! Let me know if you want a continuation, or how you want Annie to deal with his reappearance in her life. Will it work or not? It’s completely up to you, dear!

Let me know what you think!

Reviews, constructive criticism and requests are always welcome!

Disclaimer: I don’t own Amazon Prime’s The Boys or any of its characters.

10 pm confessions

Walking groggily through her living space at the top of Vought Headquarters, Annie pulled her sneakers on and a sweater over her shoulders. She grabbed her grocery list off of the kitchenette counter and headed towards the door. The building had long since gone quiet, and her fellow team members were either out, or off to sleep for the night. She sighed, impatient to do the same. Nonetheless, she’d realized a while back that buying groceries was best done near closing hours at a small store a few blocks away. She could collect the products she needed without being bombarded by fans, or reporters. Sure, she loved the attention and the impact she knew she could have on their lives. She liked to be around people and spread a positive influence. But she also knew to value her time alone, those quiet hours of the night when she could finally think in a peaceful silence.

In the elevator, she felt her phone vibrate from an incoming call. Brad. She rolled her eyes, and bit her lip. She felt herself grow hot in the stuffy elevator, a cheery tune sounding from the speakers. In the metallic interior, she stared at her image, pulled and twisted like a fun house mirror.

She let her thumb hover over her phone, conflicted with the decision she was about to make. Finally, she let it fall and accepted his call.

The elevator had reached the ground floor, but she let the doors close on her once again. She brought the phone to her ear.

“Annie?” his voice questioned.

“Brad.”

“Annie, how are you?”

She sighed, “Brad, I’m doing fine. Why are you calling?”

“Look Annie, you were right, and I just really need to talk to you--”

“Brad, the time for that has passed; you know I’m in New York, I can’t do this right now”

“I’m here in the city, I came here for you. Tell me a place and I’ll come see you,” he rambled trying to convince her. “Please, Annie, I need to do this.”

Leaning back against the elevator wall, she soaked it in. He was in New York. He was there to see her. And if this had happened two months ago, she would have been ecstatic. She wouldn’t hesitate. And yet, prolonged disappointments and neglect tend to numb you in front of these occasions.

“Annie?”

His plea hanged in the air along with another more somber tune. The melody the elevator music switched to felt appropriate, both distant and melancholic. Detached, even.

“It’s always about what you need, Brad,” she sighed softly.

After a moment of silence, “Annie, that isn’t what I meant. I want you to hear this from me, because after everything you deserve it. You deserve it.”

“Please,” he finally added.

“I’ll send you a location,” and with that, she hanged up.

Sighing deeply and now fully awake, she sent him the grocery store address. Might as well finish running her errands. She wasn’t at his beck-and-call anymore. She was her own person. She had places to be. She would not re-arrange her plans for him. He’d since lost that privilege.

Pressing a button on the side of the elevator, she let the doors slide open, and walked towards the exit.

There was no denying the slight twist in her chest as she crossed the street in front of Dave’s Shop. He’d beg for her forgiveness reopening both of their wounds, she surmised.

Upon entering, she was greeted by the store owner, Dave McCall, a middle-aged, lanky man with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He was the type of person to crack jokes, or hand out candy. Annie had fallen in love with the grocery store mostly due to the simple, yet gleeful atmosphere its owner perspired. It made her feel normal and reminded her of the good in people.

“Good evening, Dave.”

“Hello, Annie, how are you this fine evening?”

“All right, I guess. Busy” she said smiling, and held up her grocery list.

“Ah,” he nodded approvingly, “I guess that’s something I can help with.”

“Yeah, do you have any fresh bread left over?”

“Let me check in the back, you know New Yorkers...,” he trailed off, moving to the back.

She wasn’t sure where his train of thought was leading him, but she began to look for her usual items. Packing them onto the front counter, she waited for him to reappear with her usual order of baked items.

“There you go, will that be all?”

“Yeah, that’s everything for tonight.”

He ringed her items up and she payed. With a charming smile, and crinkled eyes he waved at her on her way out.

Once on the street, she let her nerves tug her towards a bench where she sat. She understood New York had a traffic issue. And not knowing where Brad was staying, she decided to give him the benefit of doubt.

Not even five minutes later, she saw him approaching and cross the street on his way towards her. She immediately stood.

“Annie,” he came to a stop a few feet from her. “Thank you so much for agreeing to see me.”

She only nodded, while he moved his feet about.

After a few moments of awkward silence, she cleared her throat, “Listen, I really--”

“I’m so sorry Annie.”

She stood still and cautiously listened.

He looked at her in her eyes. “I was such a jerk, and I shouldn’t have ever blamed you for it all. That was me deflecting, and not believing I could ever push you away.”

“Brad.”

“I truly blame myself for it all. You’re amazing, Annie. Brilliant. And I’m not even talking about your powers, or even you being part of the Seven, though that is incredible. I’m talking about just Annie. Just you and your kindness, your resiliency, your strength. You always see the good in people, and you truly do want to help people. Saying you’re brilliant doesn’t even scratch the surface. You’re genuine, and you carry a light...” he trailed off, “so bright, I’m glad so many more people can see it.”

He continued, “And I took it for granted, couldn’t really see the damage I was doing to us until you had to end it.”

Letting his eyes fall to the ground, he cleared his throat and finally said it, “I regret it.”

Annie felt herself get choked up with emotions that hadn’t surfaced in a long time. She collected herself and spoke up, “Brad why are you here, exactly. What was the point of reliving this.”

He moved a step closer. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I just don’t. But I did want you to hear what I had to say-- what I’ve come to realize. You deserve it-- to be told just how incredible you are.”

She smiled bitterly, as her inner turmoil threatened to manifest in the form of tears. She kept them at bay. Time had passed, she shouldn’t feel this way-- and so strongly, too.

“Annie, I got a small apartment here. I signed for a month...” he seemed unsure on whether he should proceed. “If you want me to leave, I will, I swear. But I thought we could try again. Y’know I could move here, and we could start back at the beginning.”

She looked at him long and hard.

“Of course, if you disagree I will respect that, and you will never hear from me again. It’s up to you, Annie. I just don’t want to ever lose you like that again... but I don’t want to hurt you anymore than I already have, either.”

Tired and feeling vulnerable, she wrapped her arms around herself, swinging slightly from side to side. A part of her didn’t want to forgive him, it wanted to hurt him inside. And yet, she realized it also meant self-inflicted pain, fresh wounds on top of their already brutal break-up. They’d loved each other in a very truthful way. He’d strayed, and forgotten what they were, what they had.

Nevertheless, he’d remembered when she’d finally left.

He was important to her, just as she was important to him. Maybe he’d truly changed. Annie deeply wanted it to be so.

Watching him with softening eyes, she finally made an offer.

“How about we talk about this tomorrow? We can go grab something to eat in the afternoon.”

He immediately lightened up. It may have been an extremely small, almost non-existent progress to some, but it was still a step forward to him.

“Sure, that’s perfect. If you have a place in mind you can text me a time and address and I’ll be ready”

“Okay, I might be late. Things tend to pop up at the last minute--”

“No worries, I’ll wait for you.”

“All right.” She gave him the first genuine smile of the night and he tried to print it into his memory. He’d been so foolish: she was brilliant in every way.

“All right.” He nodded his head towards her and started moving backwards, “Good night.”

“Good night, Brad.”

She could see his big, goofy smile as he turned around and headed off in the direction he’d come from, a certain energy in his step.

“Annie! You never told me you were in the business of making soap operas,” a voice exclaimed.

Twisting around, she saw Dave closing up shop. At her blank stare, he proceeded with what he was saying.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to butt it, but I was kinda stuck in the store. Didn’t want to ruin your moment, y’know.”

Her features immediately relaxed, and she laughed lightly.

“I’m sorry we held you up, and I’m so sorry you had to see that”

“No worries, dear. He seemed sincere,” he thought out loud. “I don’t know what he did, just make sure he respects you, treats you right.”

“Oh that’s a given. I think he’s learned his lesson, though.”

Dave shook his head lightly, chuckling.

“Well, I’m off. Do you need help?”

Lifting all of her heavy groceries without any apparent difficulty, he raised his hands, “Of course, forgot about that detail. I think I might actually slow you down.”

“Thanks anyway, Dave, I’ll be seeing you in a week.”

“Anytime, dear.” He hopped into his car. It started it with some questionably dark fumes rising, and he was off.

Annie started walking back, forgetting her surroundings, the bags in hand, her own tiredness. All she could do was fixate on Brad, and his words. The tired look in his eyes mirrored her own, had the break-up really weighed on him as much as it had on her? Was he sincere? Like Dave said, he did seem truthful.

Finally back at the Tower, she pushed the thoughts away. She’d deal with them later, after a long and refreshing night of sleep. Once she’d packed her groceries into the fridge, she could do nothing but sigh at the sight of her soft, warm bed.

g.e.

#the boys #the boys amazon #amazon prime #annie january #starlight #ex boyfriend #fanfiction #one-shot #the boys tv #the boys comic

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casually-inlove · 5 years

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aah i agree im vry disappointed in this chapter ! like its good like usual, but its kind of a let down after the last 5 chapters... ht rly exposed himself minutes before, and comedy aside, MGS answered him by ignoring him, and then saying "were not friends, were not as close as you think we are". it must have been hurtful for HT, its basically a rejection of recognizing HT vulnerabilities. and its totally In character for MGS to say this, so im not disappointed by it 1/?

i mean HT lay his heart down for Mo to see and theyve known each other for 15 DAYS, its too soon for anybody and especially for Mo who have mistrust problems to respond in the same way ? so running away and deflecting the declaration is cool, i wasnt excepting a "ill never abandon u!!" lol. but then HT being cool with this rejection and having a slapstick comedy just after doesnt feel right. mb show HT swallowing and being disheartened, and then put his usual facade and only then have comedy 2/?

would have been good, bc we would have known "oh ht is actually hurt by MGS reaction but doesnt know how to say it, so he plays it cool and change the subject bc hes still not at ease with being vulnerable". a realistic situation would have been "ht tried to be vulnerable but it was too soon, too much for mo who rejected him, so it confirmed ht biased thinking that showing vulnerabilities is bad and it will prevent ht to be vulnerable in front of someone in the near future". 3/?

i mean it could have been a nice although sad conclusion for this mini-arc, especially since ht have been grieving (?) his mother just this morning. a little step back, and then smth else happen and cause ht to crack completely but then mo is able to respond present and its a step forward. ok im daydreaming but that would have been climatic lol. instead this..ah i dont know i feel cheated, i know its ox' work but still haha ! like when they do an abrupt change of scene after an emotional page 4/

its a trick ox use often and after 300 chapters it feels old n cheap. when u engage in a emotional scene, u cant just do "oops i change my mind!!" and put slapstick comedy or ignore totally what just happened and dont have a progression. u have to stay on this road : u cant put traumatizing backgrounds and mafia affairs and mature problems (kidnapping, mother being threatening into prostitution,etc) n just.. not stick with it and making ur characters not traumatized by it and just 'lol comedy'.

sry im kind of monopolizing ur askbox lol, i guess im kind of frustrated ! it just the last chapters were so good and it was a while since ox use this cheap trick of not going through an emotional scene that i kind of forgot how terrible they were at handling transition between drama and comedy. theyre a good artist all in all (or i wouldnt be this disappointed!!), but they have this failing in their writing an it drives me nuts each time lmao. haa i hope next chapter will be better...5/5

Hell yeah, DEFINITELY, that sums up my thoughts. Also, you don't have to apologize, it was an interesting read and I can tell that you feel strongly about it. While I can’t say that I’m flat-out disappointed, as I wrote in my original post, I’m definitely feeling lukewarm and indifferent about the recent ch.

OX touched upon a few serious matters a couple of chapters before: namely She Li’s fucked up goading and the way it unsettled He Tian -- unsettled in no joking manner as follows from his reaction. Then we get He Tian swearing to beat up anyone who dares bully Mo, and the whole profound monologue from the previous chapter. Just as you say, He Tian truly laid himself bare there. One could argue that He Tian listed the reasons he was enamoured with Mo, or one could argue that he subtly commented on the milieu he grew up in, or one can even read it as He Tian admitting/reflecting on his flaws out loud. There are many ways to construe this scene, each of them is extremely meaningful. Not to mention it took HT visible effort to say these things out loud.

The problem which both you and I noticed is that OX left this mini-arc/mini-subplot unresolved. Instead, they abruptly switched to comedic relief. Much like you, I wasn’t expecting a big reaction from Mo -- no grand verbal declarations at very least. What I expected was a panel (maybe a close up of Mo’s face as I mentioned in my original post) that indicated he actually HEARD what HT told him, that it gave Mo some food for thought.

As you mention, Mo getting disconcerted and doing the tsun-tsun escape is fairly in character for him. Still, a panel like this would have been very welcome to emphasize his confusion and to justify him not gracing the other boy with an answer, ignoring HT showing his underbelly (which is something that doesn't come easy for him, as we readers know). Okay, sure, OX handled it differently this chapter -- we get Mo silently running away and blurting out the first comeback he could think of. No problem. It works to show that HT’s words had an effect on him, albeit it’s much less pronounced, than, say, the Aquarium scene -- again one would have to wonder why: HT’s “don’t abandon me” is just as strong, if not stronger, than “I’m afraid you’ll forget me”, so it follows that Mo should have been just as affected.

The problem is the way an emotionally charged moment quickly fizzled out into comedy. As you said, Mo blurting out “we are not friends, we are not familiar enough, so I don’t care what you think (of me)!” SHOULD have hit HT harder. Just minutes before we had HT being genuinely disturbed by the idea of someone looking to intentionally hurt Mo, seeking physical comfort, being disquieted by the idea of getting abandoned and losing someone he likes, confessing that he admires the other boy -- yet when Mo utters yet another curt rejection of sorts, we are not shown HT’s reaction, which, logically, should have been there.

And all of that emotional build-up is cheapened by an accidental dick slap comedy.

Indeed, showing HT being hurt (disquieted? deflated?) and then putting on a cool guy mask, and ONLY then switching to a slapstick humour would have been more appropriate. It wouldn’t have taken a big or an overly dramatic scene either -- just, IDK, show HT’s eyes widening, or his throat clicking, or his posture slumping, anything to indicate that Mo’s words affected him -- that the whole thing mattered to him. Otherwise, it leaves a bad taste in one’s mouth: “so Imma confess to the person I like and swear to protect them and beg them to put up with me -- oh! forget anything serious that I said, Imma touch some dick now”. While I don't have an issue with comedy coming into focus again, I do wish it hadn't been this abrupt. Had there been a better transition between these scenes, there wouldn't be this "lol jk" vibe that I’m getting.

So yeah, I, too, feel a little cheated. OX certainly has an issue with drama-comedy transitions, which are sort of hit-and-miss for me. Sometimes they work well to alleviate the grave mood, other times they appear to be out of place. The recent chapter is the latter case. Dangling a possibility of climatic resolution for the subplot and then intentionally subverting it just doesn’t work in favour of the plot here. It cheapened the emotional part and made the comedy feel much less fun for me. Of course, no one says that writing is an easy task. Plenty of mangakas, for instance, work with writers to strengthen their script and plots, so it’s challenging when a single person is responsible for both drawing and planning the story. OX is undoubtedly doing a tremendous job. Still, I wish they wouldn’t stick to using the old trick this monastically because it's becoming a trite writing device and works against them on occasion. It’s totally fine to keep the comic light-hearted yet it’s not good to ignore the needed dramatic development.

#19 days #long post #anonymous #ask #q&a time

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terramythos · 4 years

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TerraMythos' 2020 Reading Challenge - Book 3 of 26

Title: Shriek: An Afterword (Ambergris #2) (2006)

Author: Jeff VanderMeer

Genre/Tags: Weird, Memoir, Historical (like... in a fictional world lol), Horror, Fantasy, War, Mushroompunk (yeah), Postmodern, Female Protagonist, Disabled Protagonist, First Person, Unreliable Narrator.

Rating: 7/10

Date Began: 1/19/2020

Date Finished: 1/29/2020

Shriek: An Afterword is a pseudo-memoir by a woman named Janice Shriek about the troubled lives and relationships of her and her brother Duncan Shriek in the strange, fungus-riddled city of Ambergris. While Janice believes Duncan is dead, he's apparently found her manuscript and makes extensive edits and commentary throughout the story. (This is indicated in parenthetical sentences, like this one.)

The closer I get to the end, the closer I get to the beginning. Memories waft up out of the ether, out of nothing. They attach themselves to me like the green light, like the fungi that continue to colonize my typewriter. I had to stop for a while -- my fingers ached and, even after all that I have seen, the fungi unnerved me. I spent the time flexing and unflexing my fingers, pacing back and forth. I also spent it going through a box of my father’s old papers -- nothing I haven’t read through a hundred times before... On top, Duncan had placed the dried-up starfish, its skeleton brittle with age. (I kept it there as a reminder to myself. After your letter to me -- which, while reading this account, I sometimes think was written by an entirely different side of your personality -- I wanted to remember that no matter how isolated I might feel, separated from others by secret knowledge, I was still connected. It didn’t help much, though -- it reminded me of how different I had become.)

To qualify my rating, I have to be honest. This book is officially separated into two parts, and I found Part I -- which makes up about 60% of the novel -- pretty boring. On the other hand, Part II is brilliant, and everything coalesces beautifully in this second act. Is it worth it? I thought it was, but I understand anyone who tries and gives up.

Even though Shriek is technically a standalone, I would strongly recommend you read City of Saints and Madmen (#1) first. Both Duncan and Janice are key characters in two of those stories (The Hoegbotton Guide to the Early History of Ambergris and The Transformation of Martin Lake, respectively), and there are references and connections all over the place. I’m not sure if Shriek does a great job introducing Ambergris to new readers, so people starting here will be pretty lost without reading the first book.

Just to clear the air, I really liked this book... overall. As I said, the first half-or-so of the book was pretty rough, but the second half redeems it in a lot of ways, even justifying certain writing/plot decisions that didn’t gel with me at first. However “it gets good eventually” is not really an excuse for the rough first half. Hence the mediocre rating. I was close to giving this book a 6/10, but I found that I appreciated the first half much more by the time I got to the ending, so that bumped it up a little. Maybe I’ll enjoy this book more on a reread when I can see the patterns and know where they’re leading ahead of time.

Before I dive into my issues with it, I’d like to discuss the strong points of this novel.

At a base level, VanderMeer is a great writer. He has a mastery of the English language that always delights me when I read his stuff. So even when I struggled to like this story in the first half, his wordplay and prose were entertaining and thought-provoking.

I loved the format. The story basically has two protagonists, since you see things from Janice’s point of view and then Duncan’s interpretations-- but it’s in a very postmodern way, not just a perspective switch like most novels do. Duncan’s commentary often brings much needed humor or heartbreak, depending on the situation.

In particular, any scene in which Janice and Duncan interact directly is brilliant. Janice recalls a scene, but her memory is faulty (like anyone’s), so sometimes she forgets what they talked about, or interpreted an interaction in a certain way. Then Duncan dives in with his own commentary, supplying information Janice didn’t include or forgot, or correcting something she said, or offering an alternate interpretation... these scenes were fascinating to read and some of my favorite parts of the novel.

There’s a lot of fun revelations and Easter eggs for people who read City of Saints and Madmen. In particular:

My favorite story in the first book was The Cage, which is a work of fiction within the universe of Ambergris by a man named Sirin. In particular there is a very creepy and distinct monster that plays a pivotal role in the story. However, since it’s technically fiction within fiction, that monster and the events didn’t really happen in canon... right? Imagine my surprise in this book when Janice encounters and describes a very similar monster. This struck me as odd, until I got to epilogue/afterword at the end... written by Sirin, and everything clicked. He got the idea for his “fictional” monster from Janice’s account in this story. He doesn’t state this outright, but it’s the only explanation that makes sense. I loved that. It was like putting a puzzle together and it would have been so easy to miss. And there’s the extra horror that something like that really exists in this world. There was other stuff like this but this one stood out to me, and I’m sure there’s other things I missed.

This mostly concerns the second half, but the war sequences and memories are horrific and brilliant. It's very World War II-esque with a unique twist to it (the awful fungal bio weapons one of the sides uses). In particular, the war is introduced with a chapter about a ceasefire opera staged in the broken city... without spoiling it, it’s an excellent and intriguing self-contained story.

And the horror chapter about the Festival, which is conspicuously absent in the rest of the story? Just so goddamn good. VanderMeer strikes just the right chord with me when it comes to horror. It’s always fresh and intensely creepy.

If you told me this during the first half, I wouldn’t believe you -- but I ended up loving the characters and finding most of their relationships fascinating. This is a heartbreaking story and it really hit home by the end.

With that lofty praise, what’s my issue with Part I? The simplest way I can put it is that the struggles Duncan and Janice face are so mundane. They would maybe be interesting in a generic work of fiction, but here they felt out of place. For example, Janice’s arc concerns her rise to fame, which leads to success, which leads to lavish parties and orgies, which leads to excesses and a drug addiction, which leads to a suicide attempt, which leads to rehab, which leads to a diminished life of poverty. Yes, these can be interesting and harrowing problems in the right context, but the strongest point of these books is the setting, and there was nothing that tied these events to Ambergris. You could easily go through and change the character/place names and it wouldn’t seem off.

Duncan is a little more interesting in this regard, because his is a story of obsession. In particular, he’s obsessed with the gray caps (strange humanoid mushroom creatures that haunt the pages of these books), and it takes over his life until he becomes totally discredited as a historian. But even he falls into this trap when he becomes a college professor and has an affair with one of his much younger students (Yikes! Though it is treated as creepy within the story, at least). That takes over most of his character’s emotional core from that point.

Said student -- Mary Sabon -- is a core antagonist in the story. Janice in particular obsesses over her and her personal vendetta against her, and honestly even with the second part I was never really sold on this or cared about it all that much, so I was disappointed it took up so much of the story.

All of this would be one thing, but there’s all sorts of tantalizing hints about more interesting things. The gray caps probably have some ulterior motive that no one knows! There’s this crazy eldritch Machine hidden underground! Duncan is sort of turning into a mushroom! But these are only teased before the story pivots back to something comparatively uninteresting. Rather than encouraging me with the cool foreshadowing, it just got grating because it meant there were more interesting events and stories going on that I didn’t get to see for some arbitrary reason. Janice also rambles and goes back and forth quite a bit. This is clearly intentional (after all, you learn in the end this is a mostly unedited draft -- at least in the fiction of the story), but even so, it can be hard to follow at times.

Part II justifies a lot of this because these hints do pay off. You DO get to see a lot of the interesting stuff in detail at this later point of the story, and it’s not always what you expect. There’s overt and subtle dramatic irony and contrast between what characters go through in the first half versus the stranger, more profound traumas of the second half. You learn Janice is suffering from some severe PTSD and it explains a lot of the manic style in the first half. But again, is it worth 245-ish mediocre (to me) pages? I think that probably depends on the reader. I had a problem with it-- but clearly a lot of people don’t, based on reviews I’ve skimmed. Many put the book down and don’t finish it, but that’s true for any book. Hell, lots of people preferred the first half, so who knows.

Ultimately, I’m glad I read this book. For me it really does come together in an amazing way toward the end, and I found myself really caring about Janice and Duncan. If you read City of Saints and Madmen and want more of the characters and the world, then definitely give this a try. But it is a pretty niche book as these things go, so I can’t recommend it to everyone.

Anyway, I’ve come this far -- so I’m going to read Finch, the final (for now?) installment in this universe.

#taylor reads #7/10 #2020 reading challenge

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theorynexus · 4 years

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Double Fives are first, today-- or two together-arranged, 55, I should say.

Also, we’re at Meat 30. It would seem Jake, Karkat, and Dave are spending time together, this time.

Oh gosh... I hope Karkat wasn’t made to endure that, considering he supposedly only ever left his house once per year, even if that might be a hyperbole. @w@ His interests and Jake’s are strongly opposed on that from, it would seem. Thus, it might have been bad for deal-making, for reasons of souring Karkat’s mood; regardless, let’s see whether their other interests might align, or some non-detrimental arrangement (for Karkat, but hopefully for Jake too) might be found between them.

Ouch. On the other hand, at least Karkat seems to have (likely) become more comfortable with outward signs of his blood’s color. I doubt he would have failed to realize that it likely gives that impression, even if he originally intended it to be a sign of his closeness with Dave. He almost certainly would have semi-paranoid-ly weighed the pros and cons for his emotional well-being and/or all other consequences involved, and only come to the decision that the suit was acceptable for him to wear after deciding both connotations were acceptable.

Honestly, all things considered, Jake is very much correct. Considering the boost from all his rungs on the escheladder, there’s no way his physical capabilities should be that bad. ... Though Jake’s estimates probably would be wrong for any other sort of being that was traveling with him. I don’t think his expectations are probably all that well gauged to the individuals in his company. It’s not that I think poorly of his intelligence, mind you. It’s just that Jake can be... rather oblivious, sometimes, if memory serves.

Yeah, his judgment is totally based on his own experience. Still, though, even coated in like 5 layers of fur, Karkat shouldn’t be that worn out. At least, from a world-building perspective, this doesn’t contradict the established rule that-- oh, wait, that was ghosts changing to fit the person’s perceptions, not God Tier players’ appearances, wasn’t it? Hmmm.

Yes. Karkat’s diplomatic skills are impeccable. There is absolutely nobody that can beat this guy when it comes to maintaining good relationships and reputations among the important powers of the world--- nobody!

I would suspect that Alt!Calliope is being petty, here, but I think it’s just Karkat being so tired that his coordination has dropped a bit. (Also, this is honestly rather cute, and I appreciate the opportunity to giggle at it.)

Frack, Dave is good at bringing things up in the most awkward way possible. Also, that Karkat only estimates himself as being able to beat 99% of all humans in a “threshecution threshing match” is both quite comical and somewhat sad. ._. One Percent is a whole lot of people.

***facepalms with the greatest of groans*** SHE REALLY SHOULD FRICKING NOT!!! (Internet freedom for all!) That said: GAH, Dave, are you trying to sabotage Karkat’s chances, here? On the other hand: Maybe this propensity for blunt, careless words is one of the reasons that he decided he didn’t want to run for President, himself. If so, good on him, I guess, for knowing himself that well.

( I will say, though, that that was honestly a nice segue, despite the fact that he sortof botched the lead-up to this via his rudeness. Karkat gets a pass, though, because everyone knows he’s crude, and that’s part of the appeal.)

The real question is: Are these campaign dollars as in a certain allocated amount that is allowed for each candidate, or money which was donated to the campaign by those who support them and/or Dave/Karkat? That is a pretty important distinction, politically. Not that either will likely be addressed and/or matter directly to the outcome of the race, probably. Oh, and those adds sound incredibly silly. I am not 100% sure that they will actually in all likelihood be effective, but they sure do sound comic-(sans)-ical. On the other hand: Jake seems to be trying to mentally suppress what’s happening to him, probably due to his feelings toward Jane. Welp. :|

This is a very complicated issue, and for the sake of not offending either side, I shall choose to remain silent on the real world matter at hand, here. On the other hand, I love the way that Karkat is just like, “SHUT UP, ALREADY.” XD

Reminds me of Caliborn. Indeed, that is definitely the reason why such committees are actually put into place (other than the compelling economic reasons incentives). Doesn’t mean that they actually succeed in doing so perfectly, however. It just makes it a grey “I guess maybe they were involved,” regardless of whether the person actually suggested such adds ought go into effect or not. Buuuuut... I’m going to refrain from pushing my promised non-commentary further than that-- and only did comment with this because of its relevance to Jake’s thought process.

It seems that Karkat agrees with my assessment of this matter. Also, Alt!Calliope sure is quite sassy, compared to the grim and highly reserved person I thought she was. I wonder if it’s because she’s been watching essentially television for eons in order to properly understand humanity+maybe the trolls or whatever, or if it’s because she’s doing it on accident, as was my initial guess/impression, as related earlier in my liveblogs.

That’s not the point, Dave. The point is that, for one, it probably makes the audience think of you as irresponsible; secondly, it wastes the most precious resource in politics: the citizens’ limited attention spans; finally, it may actually make the two of you come off as being condescending and/or not having any actual idea what you’re talking about, which would be absolutely horrible for your chances, come election time. While campaigns can indeed turn around in the latter months of election season, first impressions are also very important!

That is a very interesting point/question. And very ironic for him to ask; not that Dave actually can’t be properly understood through his layers of irony-- but rather, while he does indeed have a talent for that, his other qualities obscure it so badly as to make it seem quite unremarkable and hidden. And there Dave goes again, saying “thats basically true [sic.]”. Magnificent. ***will not touch the matter of how straight-forward Dirk is***

... Man. Hopefully, this will serve as a lesson to the both of them. Jake’s reaction is so bloody on the point, though. @w@

I do honestly appreciate that too. Wow, though, he is being surprisingly civil and respectful as a result of this. It shouldn’t honestly be a surprise, considering who Jake is. It’s just... wow. I really appreciate the breath of fresh air.

Yeeeeesss!!!~ <3 I love everything about this that follows! While he can be quite oblivious at times, I have always thought that Jake’s intelligence was top-notch, and I quite appreciate his flexing it, as well as that wonderfully noted breath of FREEDOM whizzing into his sails!

Boooooo!!!~ I really quite appreciate the correct and excellent display of entomological knowledge, here, but DANG, if Dirk isn’t a slimy piece of garbage, sometimes! I mean, my gosh, the sociopathic logic, here. It’s horrific! As for Jake: I am very proud of him, and appreciate his very appropriate question. Everyone should ask the qualities that politicians bring to the table, policy-wise, and their (+ dis-)advantages--- not just how charismatic they are. Of course, such a statement is stating the obvious. ‘s still good to see it in practice. ... Wow, I really love Alt!Calliope’s sass. So much.

HECK YES! :’D

***grooooaaan***

FINALLY, CERTAINTY!!!

Aside from his lack of attraction for her, which says nothing of importance, I do in fact agree with Karkat, here. This is essentially the equivalent of the moment when the United States switched to the Constitution, and the country absolutely needed a Washington. If Adams had actually been elected, instead of getting the second-highest sum of votes, then both the contry and the entire world could have turned out quite differently. I, too, do believe that Crocker could be reasonably said to have a fair chance at acting as a President who doesn’t really shake things up too terribly, and actually manages to set a perfectly fine, perhaps above average standard for Presidents to come. There are, however, certain points in history which require great leaders if things are going to pan out well in the long-term. Crocker just presents far too many potential problems while not offering enough in the way of positives for me to give a strong endorsement of her, despite my desire to see a female president eventually take office in the United States’ equivalent of the station she and Karkat are competing over.

(SUPPORT KARKAT FOR HIS BETTER APPRECIATION OF FUNDAMENTAL PHILOSOPHICAL ORDERS OF IMPORTANCE.)

Yeeeeaaaahhh... She was already quite twisted up (read: pained) inside during the session as a result of her concern for maintaining appearances and manipulating peoples’ perceptions of her, unless my memory is horrible in this particular act of dredging up long-ago readings’ implications, so I could certainly see that growing to be a problem as she grew up. I’d sortof hoped that that would cease to be so much of an issue, after their session was won, considering the rewards involved/gained as a result of that. :/

... Yeah, that is a good deal of whiplash. I am honestly pained.

Dangit, I was so swept up in my spiel about the direct political consequences of that decision/strategy that I forgot to emphasize the very obvious danger of it actually alienating Jake from her!

***sobs*** I am so proud of him! (Though this is not exactly the best reason for choosing one’s political decisions, I can definitely get behind the idea of him striving for independence from that manipulative cur.)

What Dave said, but less profanity-laced! Also: Am I incorrect in remembering that God Tier players past a certain Tier are able to wield any weapon they desire, regardless of whether they have a Kind Abstratus of the appropriate sort in their strife specibus? That could become relevant, some time in the near future.

#Homestuck Spoilers #Homestuck Liveblog #Homestuck Epilogue #Political Theory #Homestuck Analysis

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eerythingisshaka · 5 years

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The Coffee Prince Pt. 9

(T’Challa x Reader)

*Part 1* *Part 2* *Part 3* *Part 4* *Part 5* *Part 6* *Part 7* *Part 8*

Word Count 4.6k

Okoye looks at you with heightened concern. Looking from your belly to your strained expression she continues to walk you away. “(Y/N), please, sit down and calm yourself. We cannot risk you miscarrying at this moment. Breathe!”

You stop in your tracks, staring at her with a deadly expression. “Then take me to him now. I won’t interfere and I’m not glass, I’ll be fine. I just need to see his face.”

Okoye locks her jaw looking around a moment to think, switching her spear from one hand to the next. “You are brave to talk to me like this.”

You swallow hard but remain steadfast. “I don’t meant to, I just want to know he is alright...ugh…” You bend over clutching one side of your stomach.

Okoye tuts at you, helping you to standing position. “Ok, ok. You get five minutes; less if things are...out of hand.” Okoye holds you up slightly as you both walk towards Shuri’s lab facility.

Voices are raised as the elevator opens to the floor T’Challa is on. They’re distant so you and Okoye follow them as they become louder. Passing one examination area, you see Erik lying peacefully on bed with an oxygen mask on his face. He didn’t even look like he was hurt, just taking a nap from the looks of things. Two Dora Milaje stand outside his area on guard. Okoye whispers something that didn’t sound nice in tone in her native language as she rolled her eyes at him and carried you on.

The journey to where T’Challa laid is a strenuous one as your stomach contracts relentlessly.

“We are almost there…” Okoye whispers, nodding at you in encouragement. You were starting to regret your stubbornness to see T’Challa immediately during this unknown fit of pain until you finally see him.

Shuri and a couple of others were working overseeing him, laying bandages across parts of his body, checking his vitals around his bed. The woman in green is beside her too, questioning the numbers on the board. Shuri instructs one of her assistants when you catch her peripheral vision. She clenches her jaw as she says a few more words to the others before coming out.

“Okoye, what is she doing here?” Shuri says strongly.

“I can speak for...myself Shuri. How...is he?” You gasp between the twists happening in your guts.

Shuri looks you over, laying a hand on your shoulder. “You do not look well. What is happening? Are you in pain?”

You try to wave off her concern, pushing past her. “I don’t care about that right now, I want to see him!”

Shuri blocks the way to T’Challa. “I need to get you in a room and examine your pregnancy. You are obviously experiencing trauma to the point of a possible miscarriage.”

Okoye steps between you two. “Princess, I suggest allowing her to speak her peace with the King at once. Delaying her request only makes the situation worse, she is so very determined to do this. Forcing her otherwise could make things worse, in fact.”

Then, the woman in green appears from behind Shuri. “Hello, I know we have not met but I am Nakia, a friend of T’Challa’s. I am so sorry you have had to go through this today, but I assure you everything is fine now. Shuri, are you letting her see him?”

Shuri puts her hands on her hips defiantly. “You only get-”

“Five minutes, yeah yeah. I’d have seen him by now at this rate.” You say sarcastically. Nakia smiles at you before walking down the hall. Her walk is elegant, voice like butter on bread, just smooth and flavorful. You hold it in your mind to ask about her when things calm down.

As you approach T’Challa the assistants notice your presences, stepping back to give you access to him. You feel yourself calm as you lean on the bed, looking over him. One eye is swollen, lip cracked from a hit. A bandage covers one area of his chest; the cause of the wound you’d rather not know.

As he lies down with his eyes closed, you don’t even notice the subsiding of your pain, getting caught up in the image of your love lying there helplessly.

“He should be fine, I assure you. Luckily with the Heart Shaped Herb, he has a fast, regenerative healing ability. We are just helping the process along.” Shuri says from a distance.

You nod mindlessly, only wanting to watch him rest, wanting so badly for him to awaken.

“Ohh, T’Challa. What have you gotten yourself into?” You whisper to him. Your hand travels to his face, lightly caressing his widow’s peak as you love to do. Your throat starts to feel tight as your eyes burn with tears. This is why he didn’t want to tell you. If this was the kind of life he was living, you would be feeling this way for who knows how often. You rest your head on the pillow space not occupied by him as tears ran across the bridge of your nose.

“Ahh, umhle…” he croaks.

Your head pops up at the exact moment he speaks. “T’Challa? You’re awake?”

His face looks strained as he stirs a little. “Maybe a little too soon…”

Shuri rushes in to look over his vitals. “Good to have you with us, brother. You’ve given us quite a shock with your condition. Worse than usual.”

T’Challa groans. “I must be ok if you have time for jokes.” T’Challa peers over at you, stretching his bruised hand out. “(Y/N), what happened to you? You have a mark on your head.”

You reach up, forgetting about the remnants of the crash you still display. “Oh, right. Don’t worry about it, I just got a little banged up during the whole thing at the club.”

T’Challa tries to sit up.

“Lay yourself back down! You are not properly healed yet, and I really need you to talk less. (Y/N), two more minutes.” Shuri reminds you.

“Enough! You get so bossy when I’m away.” T’Challa tells her. “I’m so sorry you got in the midst of all of this, my love. It shouldn’t be this way.”

You shake your head, holding his hand tightly, playing with his ring. “You couldn’t help what that asshole was planning. You did all you were supposed to, and with Shuri and Ayo’s help, I am alive. This scar is nothing for what could’ve been.”

T’Challa nods, blinking slowly. “That is good to here. But what about…” His voice trails off as his eyes linger on your midsection. You look down, taking his hand to spread it across your stomach. All you could do is nod for the amount of emotion stirring underneath the surface of your calm demeanor. T’Challa’s head falls back on his pillow as he closes his eyes.

“Thank Bast. I prayed I wouldn’t awake to a loss.”

You swallow, keeping your voice as level as possible as you spoke. “I was not sure about this before, ChaCha, I really wasn’t. With all that has happened, I felt even less like I wanted to bring a child into this world if it meant its father was doing this stuff. But, seeing you just now and thinking over all the good I have experienced with you and your family supporting me…” Your voice cracks as your vision blurs. T’Challa caresses your face, running his thumb over your edges comforting you.

You lean over to kiss him softly. While chapped and cracked, it was still electrifying for you as ever.

When you part, T’Challa says, “You continue to lift my spirits whenever I am with you, a feat I will never ignore.” Suddenly he goes into a coughing fit.

Shuri lays a hand on your shoulder. “Guys, let’s go ahead and take a break so we don’t get worked up again. (Y/N), I’ll let you know when T’Challa is ready for another visit, but it’s time for him to rest now.”

T’Challa takes your hand, kissing it. It takes everything within you to walk away from him, but you took solace in the fact that he is getting well.

Heading back to the elevators with Okoye, a man with scars on his face in a blue patterned blanket stands outside the area Erik is laying.

Okoye slows her pace calling out to him. She and the man talk back and forth rapidly, voices sharp and strained at certain parts of the conversation, but no way could you decipher.

Okoye looks back at you. “Apologies this is my significant other W’Kabi, emphasis on the ‘other’ at the moment.”

W’Kabi side eyes Okoye. “Do not make my first impression an ill one, love. I hear you are the apple of our King’s eye at the moment, eh?”

Okoye answers for you. “She is not a moment, do not be rude. And don’t even think about hounding T’Challa about Klaue, he is not our concern anymore.”

W’Kabi perks up. “T’Challa killed him?”

Okoye sighs. “He died during the fight.”

W’Kabi squints at Okoye. “T’Challa didn’t kill him? Why? Who did? How?”

You were over W’Kabi’s attitude and decide to take control of the situation. “Ughh, ohh, I don’t feel well…” You clutch your stomach, heaving.

Okoye holds you, walking around W’Kabi to the elevator. “I have other obligations W’Kabi, let us be for now. Keep watch over your men at the border.”

Finally you and Okoye make it into the elevator to travel to the intended destination.

“Thank you for breaking that up. I know you weren’t actually unwell. I appreciate that.” Okoye says, maintaining her gaze straight ahead.

You nod, relaxing. “Sooo...what is his deal?” You ask.

Okoye’s shoulders drop as her eyes look around for an answer. “His history with the man that worked with the outsider that is here is extensive. Klaue was the cause of many deaths here in one day, including his parents. He has wanted revenge for as long as I can remember and T’Challa promised that.”

“Sounds like something he would do. Are they friends?”

Okoye nods, smiling slightly. “Since they were boys, pranking each other and messing around with the rhinos. W’Kabi holds him to high esteem.”

You tuck your lips, feeling silly as you ask your next question. “And what about you guys? How long have you been together and shiiiit?”

Okoye turns to you wide eyed. “Excuse me? Your language needs to be clean around me, understand?”

You shrink within yourself. “Sorry.”

Okoye shakes her head straightening up again. “But to answer, we have known each other since I started training to be a Dora, so 15 years? A couple for six.”

“Woooow, that’s good. The best one start as friends, I always hear. And I like you seem to wear the pants and all.”

Okoye’s mouth opens and closes a couple times before continuing. “We balance each other out, (Y/N). So, even though I could kill a man an infinite amount of ways before he could blink, W’Kabi has as much say as I do in what matters to one another personally. He is not weak, and I am not expected to remain strong at all times...which can be nice…”

The elevators open to a floor with low lighting. It appeared more lowkey compared to the bright and bustling vibe of Shuri’s lab. Okoye goes up to a door typing in a code to unlock them. As they roll open, you are lead into a living space.

“This is where you will be staying.” Okoye announces as you continue to look around.

You were impressed by the space; tall ceilings, large windows covered by heavy curtains. You could see parallels between the style of T’Challa’s condo and this room.

“Thank you, Okoye. I really do love it!” You walk over to sit on the couch, lounging back on it.

“Well, like it or not, this is it. I will come by in the morning with word on T’Challa’s condition. You focus on resting yourself, it’s been a long day, eh?”

“You can say that again.” You say as Okoye dismisses herself from the residence. You basked in the comforts of a soft surface to lay on, looking at the sunset through the cracks in the curtain parts. The exhaustion from the last two days catches up to you as you lay there, feeling pressure on your eyes as you fight to keep them open. Your hand rests on your stomach, followed by a fluttery feeling.

“Ohhh, you caused me a lot of trouble today, so don’t even right now.” You scold your belly as you lift your shirt a little to see. Your stomach still looked like it’s usual self, but you felt better staring at it knowing a little you and T’Challa rested inside.

“So I have decided to keep you, little one. Wow, saying it out loud is a revelation. But it’s true so flutter if you’re happy.” You wait a moment before being greeted by a tickle. “There you are….yeah I just don’t think I can give you up after all of this. Your dad is pretty damn cool, lemme tell you. But you already know, you’re super cool already, growing all fast. Don’t grow too fast though, huh? You’re my first, I wanna savor this, and tell people about it before you get here.”

Your eyes can’t keep up with the conversation as they drift. “I might be crazy for this, but I want you to see all of this for yourself. I need someone else to see this so I know I’m not dreaming. ChaCha makes everything feel like that though, you get used to it…” You meant to make it to the bedroom to rest properly but that’s just how good the couch is. You probably said a few more things but they became lost in the dreamscape of your mind as you fell asleep.

Your mind is busy while you’re sleeping, replaying all of the days events over and over again with varying outcomes. One dream consisted of you running through the holding area Tavia’s in, being chased by something you couldn’t see. The voices were loud and clear though, cursing you and demanding you to stop as gunshots rang out. You called for T’Challa in vain as the voices came closer, shots ringing right by your ear until suddenly a hand wraps around your waist.

You sit up quickly, hyperventilating and sweating in the calm of the living room.

“(Y/N)?”

Your heart stops as your body jolts away from the voice looking in its direction.

T’Challa looks at you empathetically, laying a hand on your knee. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, umhle.”

Your chest heaves with breath, trying to calm down as you stare at him feeling your forehead for fever. “You’re warm, do I need to call Shuri to examine you?”

“DO I NEED TO CALL SHURI TO EXAMINE YOU?? You were just laid out in that hospital bed on your last leg, and you’re wondering what’s wrong with me?!” You exclaim in confusion. Looking him over, turning his head back and forth, amazed by no sign of a black eye or swollen lip. Pulling at his shirt roughly to look down and find no bandages.

T’Challa just smirks, unphased by your outburst as he sits next to you on the couch with one arm wrapped around you. “I missed you too, my sweet.”

As his arms came around you, you felt the flutter in your stomach again, as if to remind you to be kind and calm to its father. Laying a hand there, you snuggle to T’Challa, closing your eyes and sighing deeply.

“I have missed you T’Challa. I’m just so confused and in shock, I couldn’t bear doing all of that alone.”

T’Challa’s head rests on top of yours. “I’m so sorry I lost you. Erik kept me pretty busy and I just couldn’t keep up anymore, but you have my word that won’t happen again, you are too important to me.”

“You don’t have to promise me that. I know your intentions are good and things will happen, but you aren’t to blame.”

T’Challa sighs, holding you tighter. “I have been kicking myself for not letting you in since I met you. Maybe if I was more forthcoming, you would’ve been more prepared for something like this-”

You look up at him, laying a hand on his chest. His eyes moistened but resisted any tears from falling. “Stop beating yourself up! You got enough of that already today. ”

T’Challa smiles weakly as you lay your hand to the side of his face. “I understand why this would’ve been difficult to tell me about now. I probably would’ve laughed in your face, especially describing your suit, cuz that leaves little to the imagination, ok? But whatever could’ve changed from telling me, it doesn’t matter now, because I am safe, lying here with you ok?”

T’Challa shakes his head, eyes twinkling in admiration. “That’s why I am crazy about you. You know just how to reset me when I short circuit.”

You giggle before stop short. “Wait, that is a joke, right? You’re not part robot, or something?”

T’Challa chides you as his hands find your sides tickling you into submission. “Fine, FINE! You’re not a robot, staaaahp!”

You share a hearty laugh together, the first good one in what felt like ages. “But what did Erik do to you to make you so bruised and shit? You did not look good at all ChaCha.”

“He got his too, trust me. And he gets up a lot slower, might I add. But it’s a blur really, at some point he tricked me playing dead and when I retracted from my suit, he got ahold of my necklace, so that’s when the bruising really occurred since I had no armor.”

“Wow, were you trying to kill him?” You asked cautiously.

T’Challa shrugs. “Not necessarily, but if it had to happen so he would stop, I was willing. Especially after he shot me.

“YOU GOT SHOT!?” You exclaim, ready to tear into him for details.

Suddenly your kimoyo beads light up, interrupting the good time you were having. It was Shuri.

“Hey! How are-”

“Where is T’Challa?!” Shuri asks rather rudely.

Before you could speak, T’Challa sticks his head around. “Hello sister! I hope I haven’t worried you!”

Shuri rolls her eyes aggressively. “Your monitors made it look like your heart had stopped, and then I check on you to see you’re gone, OF COURSE I AM WORRIED!”

T’Challa sighs. “I am well, just catching up with (Y/N). Erik is still knocked out?”

Shuri nods. “Yes, contained and under sedation until we go to question him. Well, let me not keep you two. (Y/N), since he is feeling so well, remind him to make you a proper meal in the morning for you and the baby, ok?”

T’Challa responds, “Oh, if you could put in an order for me with the kitchen staff? We would like-”

“....umntu ovila (lazy person). Boy bye!” Shuri says followed by a swift hang up.

“T’Challa, stop giving your sister such a hard time. The girl has done a lot since you were gone, and patching you up too! I still cannot believe...”

T’Challa crosses his arms. “Ohh, she has a high tolerance, built up by years of experience. But I’m glad you are so chumy with her. Did you make your acquaintance with anyone else?” T’challa asks, changing the subject.

You roll your eyes but continue. “Yes! Actually, I did. I met couple Dora Menage’s, Ayo and Okoye. They all are so damn cool, with the bald heads and spears and strength, it’s dope!”

T’Challa chuckles. “Dora Milaje, my love. And yes, they are Wakanda’s most trusted protectors for centuries, so they are indeed awesome.”

“They are hundred of years old?? Oh my God, do they get a serum too for immortality?” You ask excitedly.

“No! What are you- I meant that their position has been around for years, not them specifically. We aren't immortal, that’s crazy.”

You side eye T’Challa. “Oh ok, of everything I’ve seen THAT is the craziest, cool.”

T’Challa rubs your back tutting at you. “It’s ok, you get used to it quickly. Now what else happened while I was under.”

“Umm, I met your mother, Queen Mother to be specific. She is soooo beautiful T’Challa, and a personality to match. We had a great talk about things going on, and the baby, she really spoke to me like we knew each other forever.”

T’Challa’s face smiles warmly. “Yes, she is great. I’m happy to hear that.”

“Other than that, just a bunch of people here and there, but those were the main ones.” You pause before continuing. “T’Challa, what’s going to happen with Erik and Tavia? I can’t imagine they will be treated lightly for what has happened.”

T’Challa looks away from you as his face drops. “Well, we don’t have to talk about that tonight. I have kept you up long enough.”

You shake your head vigorously. “No, I’m up now, we can talk some more.”

T’Challa gets up, taking you by the hand. “Can we just go to bed?” T’Challa raises his eyebrows suggestively. You scoff at him, crossing your arms, not moving.

T’Challa looks up to the sky before sitting down by your legs. “Bast and the ancestors. Listen (Y/N), I have plans to see them tomorrow to question them and their motives and from their, I honestly have no plans yet for them after that, ok?”

You marinate on his words. Tavia told you of some of the plans they had, but you weren’t sure if you should tell him or wait for them. “I spoke to Tavia the other day, before you and Erik came back together.”

T’Challa’s expression turns serious as you spoke. “What did you all discuss.”

“The obvious: how could she do this to me as a friend and to you as my boyfriend. How could a guy make her so crazy to even be down for this.”

“And? What did she say?”

You hesitate. “T’Challa, if I tell you, you won’t have any reason to question them tomorrow.”

T’Challa holds up his hand in surrender. “I plan to give them a fair trial either way, please, tell me. This is important.”

You think he sounds calm and collected enough, so you did. You told them about Erik planning to take the throne from T’Challa and even that they were possibly related.

T’Challa shakes his head. “That is not possible, my uncle had no children and has long been presumed dead.”

You shrug. “That is what she told me. Shuri could just run a blood test for that, right? And then you both could-”

T’Challa shakes his head, holding his hands together in frustration. “That’s not going to happen. It’s impossible, so why waste the time.”

You peer at T’Challa. “ChaCha, this isn’t something you should brush under the rug. At least consider it.”

T’Challa looks at you with an unreadable expression. He may not have even been looking at you exactly, just your direction while his mind was elsewhere. You sit up, scooting towards him laying your hands on his shoulder. “Don’t go into this with a heart overrun with unchecked emotions. You hold the cards now, so look at this objectively. I wanted to keep this from you for these reasons, I tell you, it’s tough keeping secrets.”

“Tell me about it.” T’Challa says flatly.

You reach for his widow’s peak, stroking it gently as your belly flutters. “We are counting on you to be a great man, which you already are. Don’t overcompensate where it’s unnecessary.”

T’Challa takes your wrist, bringing your fingers down to his lips, kissing their tips. “You have my word, and my heart...and my undivided attention.”

T’Challa reaches for your hips, snaking his hands down your thighs to bring you across his lap facing him as you straddle.

“Shuri said I am 6 weeks at least.” You whisper in his ear.

T’Challa beams with pride, grabbing your waist and rolling small circles over your stomach. “My Bast, our little bean must be excited to see the world.”

“Little Bean, that’s cute ChaCha.” You feel at home in his lap, those big beautiful eyes looking up at you is the best view you can imagine. There had to be a reason for falling for him so fast, one that was not in vain. Maybe your future child is one but your inner confidence being fortified by T’Challa’s cosigning and being exposed to a new world, much better than any you have known so far, seemed to help to assure you were on the right path as well.

You rest your forehead to T’Challa’s feeling a need build inside of you that he must have felt himself as his hands dipped between your legs to feel you through your bottoms. Kissing him deeply, it felt good to express your love without worry, as the night concluded with passion uninhibited.

---

The next morning, you look over to T’Challa laid across the bed, out like a light. So much for breakfast, as you check the time reading 11 am. Getting up to get dressed, you take your time, feeling more and more at home with the Wakanda lifestyle. The closet was filled with choices, all in your size of the latest Wakandan fashion. You smile to yourself feeling the sturdy yet soft fabrics of all sorts of colors, thanking whomever (most likely Shuri) for being so accommodating. You stay conservative, in a maroon colorblocked top with a tail in the back and some black leggings and sandals.

Looking around the living area, you find a clear glass door with food behind it that appears to be the fridge. You have an apple with a chocolate spread that is even better than Nutella, and if the label was right, carried enough nutrients for a balanced breakfast.

You rubbed your belly or ‘Little Bean’ as your body digested and began to grow restless. You decide that you want to see what Shuri is up to, just to get out and do something until T’Challa wakes.

Getting on the elevator, you make you way to her lab floor, still buy but way more normal than yesterday. As you walk down you pass the area in which Erik is located. You would’ve missed it since no Dora were guarding at that point. He looks as rested as T’Challa is, still sedated as he lays. No one was in the hall to stop you as you walk towards his bed. Looking him over, you can see his attractiveness. T’Challa wasn’t wrong though about getting his licks in; one eye blackened, the other has a decent gash above his eyebrow. There was bruising around his nose, and a similar cut on his lip like T’Challa had. The locs give him an irresistible edge to his symmetrical features nonetheless. A sheet covers most of his body, but you notice some keloids along his shoulder that put you off.

Moving the sheet carefully, you notice they travel a long ways down his torso. Did T’Challa do this? No, couldn’t be, these are healed scars, right? How did he get them in such abundance? As you move the sheet back, you notice a necklace laid across his chest with a ring on the end. Deja vu hits you as you reach for it, picking up the ring to study it. Your mind flashes back to the ring that T’Challa has, the one that is on his hand as he caressed your belly while wounded. Why would they have the same ring?

Quicker than you could react, Erik’s hand snaps out from the sheet to grab your wrist hard making you yelp.

His face is maniacal as he sits up pulling you towards him. “Hey princess. Bout time you brought your ass back around here.”

Part X

Masterlist

My Ragtag

@sweetpeachjones@scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade@universalbri @therevolution-willbelive@you-like-this-chain @sarcastic-sunshines@airis-paris14@afraiddreamingandloving@kreolemami@lalapalooza718 @syreanne@thiccdaddy-mbaku@she-is-golden @wakanda-inspired@90sinspiredgirl@bidibidibombaclaat@sithlordslut@brujademente@chaneajoyyy@slimmiyagi @lewatigress @shesakillerkween @queentearra @fiercedeception @yaachtynoboat711 @yofavcocoa @katasstrophey @zxddy-panther @babygirlofwakanda @destinio1 @heyauntieeee @ambthegamer

#shakafic #t'challa fic #black panther au #black reader #t'challa x reader #t'challa x you

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musicalmukebox · 6 years

Text

Let’s Get (Back) Together | l.h. (2A)

Ctto of the gifs used!!

AU: Parent Trap Dad!Luke

Summary: A strong love which led to a strong marriage and twin daughters. Yet in the end, it didn’t turn out so well. You strongly refuse to encounter him ever again. But what happens when both of you coincidentally send your twin daughters to the same summer camp in Florida after 10 years?

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: slight swearing and some shade too

A/N: This part is divided into 3 because it shows yours, Luke and the twins’ side of life after 10 years. Heads up, the twins’ names are Rebecca and Stella. Anyways, this part is focused on Luke 10 years later. Enjoy!

I don’t own Parent Trap and its ideas. It’s only used as inspiration.

1 / 2A / 2B / 2C / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15

Feedback/Questions/Others? Here.

Now, it’s the year 2034.

It’s around 6 pm in Sydney. Luke stood by in the arrival area of the airport, wiping some sweat on his forehead when he was bombarded by some paparazzi on his way inside earlier. As he recovered, he feels a vibrating buzz on one of the pockets of his jeans. Bringing out his phone, it was a text.

“Just arrived, dad! Give me around 5-10 minutes, just waiting for my luggage.” He reads. It was from *Rebecca*.

Jokes on him, it’s actually Stella. Originally, it’s Rebecca with Luke then Stella with you. Nope, they switched. But hey, let’s just stick to *Rebecca*.

This trip to Florida was the first time Rebecca travels abroad by herself, and boy he missed her, even it’s been a month and a half.

His little girl alone and gone? Shit.

He was hesitant at first when she asked you about this camp, adding how Scarlett Irwin, Ashton’s oldest daughter, had fun there 2 years ago. Yet, why not? It’s a small start with teaching her some independence, especially since he himself traveled without any family when he was in his late teenage years, not even counting the boys.

But calling each other wasn’t an easy thing, trying to find the middle ground always. They talked for the first two weeks, which then abruptly stopped on the last half of her stay in camp. He couldn’t blame her, especially since camp is physically tiring. Not only that, he grew very busy too with working on new music. Even up to this time, the band is still making music.

But the next album would be the last since he wants to focus on his family, on Rebecca. The boys felt the same, especially since they have families of their own. If that was the case, then he would gladly be satisfied with working as a music producer and lyric composer for other artists and bands. Just as long as music is involved, everything is well.

“Dad!” Luke’s attention shifted. He immediately looks up to see a short, blonde girl with her favorite black ripped jeans and suitcase. His stressed expression turned happy.

“Come here, you little poppet!” He exclaims, kneeling down to her level and spread his arms wide open. Rebecca runs to him despite her luggage, and gives him a warm hug, being lifted by him too. How she missed him, all this time.

“I missed you so much, dad.” She mumbles in his ear.

“I miss you too, Becks.” He uses her other nickname before he lets her go from his grasp and then they do their special handshake, air-guitaring in the end. He begins to notice a few changes.

“You cut your hair! I thought you loved your black dyed ends?” He starts.

“Well, Florida was just as warm as Sydney, dad! I couldn’t help it.” She states, tugging a piece on the back of her ear.

“You got really tan and a bit sunburnt too, huh?” Luke observes.

“Yeah, but it was worth it. Camp was really fun.” She says as she reminisces what she calls the best summer of her life so far. Suddenly, she felt some tears going down her cheek.

“Oh no poppet, what’s wrong? Did someone break your heart already?” Luke worries, wiping away some tears.

“It’s nothing. I just really missed you, and time felt so long when you’re in a different country.” She answers, sniffing a bit.

“Hmm I see, poppet. But don’t you worry, you’re back with me now, okay? I got you always.” He reassures before getting a hold of her wheeled suitcase.

“How about you talk more about what happened in camp on the way home, yeh?”

“Sure thing, dad.” *Rebecca* bubbly answers, finally glad to use this word after so long.

“Here’s one thing I want to point out, dad. I love you and all, but it’s weird when some camp counselors knew you from way before I was born and talked about how good-looking you were and still are and wanted to marry you. They even wanted you to make a sudden appearance!” *Rebecca* cringes, getting a slight shiver in her bones. Luke laughs at her emotions as his eyes maintained at the road.

“Well, I’m flattered. So far as I’m concerned, you’re the only girl I have in my life right now.” He professes.

“Welp, that’s the second time I’ve cringed on this trip home.” She jokes.

“So what else happened? Did you do anything mischievous or rad?” Luke tried to act cool like he says he was, but he did try though.

“Cringing for the third time, oh no.” *Rebecca* facepalms.

“Now come on, tell me more.” Rebecca ponders on other funny stuff that happened, despite most of the time, it was spent arguing and competing with Stella before they maturely put aside their difference. All of a sudden, this one really crazy experience hit her mind: when she lost that game of poker. She changed the perspective into the real Rebecca’s, of course.

“Well one time, after dinner and before curfew, the girls and I played poker and boy, I got a lot of candy and American knick knacks afterwards. Also, this one girl challenged me to a best of 3 rounds and I won! To top it off, I made her do a forfeit!” *Rebecca* excitedly shares as Luke drives.

“Oh no, what did you make her do?” Luke asks, smirking at his daughter’s antics. Rebecca is a very cheeky, mischievous girl, always having tricks above her sleeve and tactics to pursue them. Just like her dad.

“I made her jump in the cold lake, commando. The other girls and I stole her clothes too, leaving only her shoes.” She reveals, followed by a hit of laughter from her.

“You evil little girl. But very smart must I say for an 11 year old to have nudity involved.” Luke commends. As a father, he is very open. If she has questions, he makes sure to answer them as truthfully as possible. Thank the heavens she hasn’t asked the where-do-babies-come-from question ever.

He also doesn’t want to be a harsh and strict one, which could lead to Rebecca lying to him a lot in the near future, yet he doesn’t spoil her too much and corrects her when she is wrong or does wrong things. He wants her to trust him and vice versa.

“Well thank you, 37 year old dad.” *Rebecca* gives a funny comeback.

“Don’t push it, poppet.” Luke chuckled. From his peripheral vision, he noticed *Rebecca* looking the sunset.

“Missed seeing that?”

“Yup. Nothing beats it.” *Rebecca* says as her eyes gleam at how beautiful it was. It was nothing compared to Los Angeles. She was gazing at it when they reached a stoplight, wherein it was a chance for Luke to plug his phone to the aux cord of his car and then presses shuffle on his music.

“I don't mind, letting you down easy but just give it time.” He sings along. It removed *Rebecca* from her daze as she knew this song too, so she sang along with him.

“If it don't hurt now, but just wait, just wait a while, you're not the big fish in the pond no more.” She sings back. When the chorus played, they were jamming hard, not giving a damn with what the other people from the outside and other cars would think.

“I definitely missed singing songs in the car with you, poppet.” Luke confirms, holding *Rebecca’s* hand. Before they knew, Luke saw a familiar white house at the end of Braxton Lane.

“We’re home.” Luke says as he drives through the garage, parking it there. As they got out of the car, *Rebecca* admired how lovely the house was. White and huge, just as the real Rebecca described to her.

“Felicia, we’re home!” He shouts from outside. Felicia is the nanny of the family since the beginning and always helps out in any way she can. He opens the trunk of the car, and yanks out *Rebecca’s* luggage. She just kept looking around while he did such.

“You really missed this huh?” She nods. They both walk the pathway to the front door, and as Luke opened the door, it was dark as they got inside. But when they closed the door, the lights suddenly turned on, seeing a lot of ‘new’ faces from *Rebecca’s* eyes.

“Welcome home, Rebecca!” They burst out. This whole time, Luke planned this surprise a few days before. He wanted it to be perfect. *Rebecca* was overwhelmed with the surprise, yet enlightened to see the close loved ones of her dad. She felt welcome.

“Oh you’ve changed quite a bit, little Becks.” An elderly woman walks up first to *Rebecca* before embracing her. *Rebecca* quickly analyzes her face, trying to recall who she is from the family tree the real Rebecca taught her.

“Aww, Granny Liz! How I’ve missed you!” She remembered. As they let go, a teenage boy walks towards Rebecca.

“Got a bit tan over there in Florida, Becca?” He compliments. *Rebecca* analyzes again, Then it hit her.

“More than here, Max.” Max is her oldest cousin on Luke’s side. He’s 17 and specifically, Jack and Celeste Hemmings’ only child.

“Oh no, this diva is back.” Joining in the conversation is Alex Clifford, Michael’s 12 year old and oldest son. The real Rebecca mentioned to her that he’s her ultimate best friend since they knew each other for so long. But little did the real Rebecca knew is that *Rebecca* finds him really cute.

“What’s it to you, loser?” She banters along with a sassy tone.

“Wow, it’s not even an hour yet and you guys are all sassy already.” The last person to join the conversation was a middle-aged redhead with her arms crossed.

“Oh Felicia, we’re really like this. You tolerated us for it.” The “Felicia” Alex referred to is the nanny the real Rebecca grew up with.

“Hmm. Well if you excuse me, Alex, let me give some love to my poppet while you and the other kids go ahead and play games or whatever your generation does nowadays.”

“Alright. Bye, Felicia. Catch up later, Becks.” Alex leaves the scene, probably going to talk guy stuff with Max.

“So how are you, poppet?” Felicia begins.

“Great, a bit tired from the trip, but still great.”

“That’s nice to here. Anyways, I prepared your favorite meals, like 5-cheese macaroni and cheese, roasted chicken, brownies. Go and get something to munch on, afterwards you better tell me stories about camp.” *Rebecca* nods as she grabs a plate and serving the good food on her plate.

Meanwhile and much later, also to Luke’s dismay, his parents had to leave ahead because they have an early flight to London the following day. Luke was then chatting with the guys with their wives by the patio while the other teenage and adolescent children were playing Frisbee and other games by the backyard.

“Well mates and gals, the night is pretty young. Let’s drink to that!” Ashton brings his beer up, urging everyone to bring their drinks up. They clinked them together, which was followed by a set of “woo’s”.

“It’s been a little while since we’ve had something like this, right?” Luke asks as he continues to indulge his beer.

“Yeah. I feel like we’re in our twenties again. Those were some fucking good years, well before the kids.” Calum reminisced as he lit up his second cigarette of the night.

“We’re lacking weed though.” Michael says with realization, getting chuckles from everyone.

“I have to say, Rebecca’s changed quite a lot, yeh?” Celeste acknowledged.

“Yeah! Her hair is short, which is rare.” Crystal points out. Yes, they got married, which is pretty cute. They have three kids, Alex, Beatrix and a younger boy named Nathan, or Nate.

“She might’ve grown an inch or two since the last time I saw her.” Eleanor, Calum’s wife, adds. They met when Eleanor was one of the tour photographers for the band, wherein she was always on Calum’s side of the stage taking photos. He gradually grew a liking for her, starting with having lunches together and photoshoots pretty much anywhere. Then, then rest is history. Marriage and an only son named Nicholas, or Nick.

“She’s grown a bit shyer and quiet too. I don’t know, but I’m not used to her not like this laid back, and she would always arrive at a party like this with a loud hello.” Bryana addresses. She and Ashton sorted things out and tried again. Now, they’ve been married for more than 10 years, also with 3 kids, Scarlett and two boys named Oliver and Topher.

“Give her a break, love. The poor girl just got off a really long flight.” Ashton intervenes.

“Hold on, is Sierra still coming over, mate?” Jack changes topic, about Sierra. Deaton to be specific, also known as the singer Essy. She’s also a close friend of the band. Even a friend of yours too before.

“Sadly, she couldn’t. Working in the studio still for that next album.” Luke answers. Oh no, this topic.

“Oh yeah. So when are you gonna tell Rebecca about you and Sierra? She onlys knows you two as good friends.” Crystal brings it up a lot further.

“Shit, I don’t know. Soon perhaps?” He replies, really unsure.

“Well, you gotta do it fast. You’re getting married again in a month, God damnit!” Michael reminds, putting his head on top of Crystal’s shoulder. Luke’s stress levels rose. He didn’t know to approach this situation, especially since Rebecca didn’t have an actual motherly influence after the divorce.

Hmm, unless you count Felicia.

“Again, lol.” Michael points out that word jokingly, which gave an immediate shock everyone in the room.

Picture a lot of Kermit the frogs drinking tea. It was like that, except with alcohol and cigarettes. Shady indeed. If there was the “He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named” from Harry Potter, then this was the Topic-Which-Should-Never-Be-Brought-Up.

Much to their luck, Luke didn’t rage or anything. He was unresponsive and just continues to finish his second beer of the night. But he felt a pang of pain. Regret even, but he didn’t want to set the evening with bad vibes.

“Drunk already, Clifford? It’s only 9 pm.” Calum breaks the silence, getting a chuckle from Eleanor.

“Not really, but I’m not as strong as I used to be, Hood.” Michael mumbles, and right before he takes another sip, Crystal grabs his beer from him.

“And I believe you’ve drank too much for tonight. You’re driving, or better yet, I will.” She says politely out of safety. Michael grins like a Cheshire cat, grabbing back his beer.

Despite those past topics, the group continued on talking, never running out of things to say or share. Not to mention indulging more alcohol, except for Crystal, Ashton, Eleanor and Jack. They’re the designated drivers.

Ashton shared that he tried to answer the where-do-babies-come-from question from Nate one day, while Luke shared what *Rebecca* told him earlier in the car about the camp counselors, Jack told about his trip to Sweden with his family, and lastly, the most amazing one which is from Calum and Eleanor.

“We’re expecting.” Eleanor announces, receiving hugs and congratulations from everyone. Time passed so quickly, and eventually, midnight hits. The boys and girls still had work in the morning.

Good luck to them, especially Michael. As they all left, Luke crashed instantly on the couch, his tipsy eyes about to close after drinking a lot of beer.

“Someone looks dead tired.” It was *Rebecca*, commenting on his exhausted physique and sits beside him.

“Imagine working in the studio, driving for 30 minutes to the airport to fetch you, then organizing and entertaining this little party for you.” He responds, his arms reaching out to her for a cuddle. Hesitant at first, but eh, she wanted to treasure everything she missed out on with him. Kissing the top of her forehead, Luke speaks up again.

“Tomorrow, we are spending the whole day together. Anything you want to do, poppet, let’s go for it.”

“Well, that whole day starts now, dad. Let’s start with sleeping.” She suggests as he nods. Lazily, they stood up.

“Good night poppet. Don’t let jetlag win you over.”

“Noted. Good night, dad.” As Luke was the first to walk away, Rebecca speaks up.

“Good luck with your future hangover.” She adds, jokingly.

Oh this girl, he thought. Today is bound to be good.

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asimpleclosetwriter · 5 years

Text

Chapter I part II

She woke up in the middle of the night, her back and head soaking wet from a nightmare she couldn't remember. She assumed she'd been dreaming of the dark man, so she decided to light on her lamp, but the power seemed to have been cut. Damn it. She fumbled around in the dark to try and find her phone. When she finally reached it, she switched on the flash and using this make-do torch lamp, she got up and went out of her room. She got down to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water. As she was looking for something to eat, she saw two small and bright circles in the corner of the room.

“No, not circles”, thought Melody as she studied them closer. Eyes. Wait, eyes? What could they belong to?

She heard a deep rumble and checked the window to see if a storm was breaking out outside but she saw nothing of the sort, it was a calm night. She felt a drop of water fall on her finger. Then another. Then another. It kept going until she was completely covered by a layer of raindrops. The rain followed her movements as she moved her arm and took a step. She knew she should've felt wet with so much water surrounding her, but as she touched her skin with her other hand, she felt dry skin with no water around it. She looked back up and it wasn't one pair of eyes that stared back at her, but dozens of them, one on top of the other. She heard howling, and suddenly the rain fell, dripping on every inch of Melody's skin. Terrified, she went back running into her room and crawled to her bed as she fell. She heard loud banging and howling through her door, and she closed her eyes trying to make it go away.

Then... She woke up. Soaking wet again, her heart beating so fast and so strongly she thought it was about to pierce through her chest. A she got up, her knees started shaking from her nightmare, she saw her legs were wet too, like in her dream. Confused and scared, she went into the bathroom and took a towel from the pile on the side of the shower. As she dried herself, the smell of morning dew invaded her senses and her mind bringing her to a world at peace with a beautiful sunrise. She shook her head and tried not to think about how the dew-smell fitted conveniently into her dream. She went back to bed to sleep a bit more, since she still had school in the morning, but she couldn’t forget all of the different feelings and emotions that had filled her: the peace as she was surrounded by the rain then the genuine terror that had overtaken her when the dew had fallen. She tossed and turned and fussed for half and hour but finally managed to get some sleep, undisturbed by nightmares or dreams until her alarm clock rang and she had to get up.

She yawned as she stretched her arms as she always did in the morning, and then cracked her fingers. She opened her eyes to meet with an odd vision: a blue tint covered the tips of her fingers, as if she had dipped them in paint then tried to wash some of it off. She sat up and blinked three times to check whether she was still asleep or not, then pinched herself to double check. He fingers didn’t change: they stubbornly kept their light blue shade. Melody couldn’t help but think this must’ve had something to do with her dream and the morning dew smell that still stuck to her skin this morning. She got up and walked to her mirror and saw that her hair tips had also faded to the same unusual color. She tried to arrange it in a way that could hide it, lifting it in all sorts of ways, but her tips always found a way to make themselves visible. In the end she gave up and got dressed in her usual grey outfit, but decided to change for a blue grey hoodie to try and blend her hair with her clothes and make it less noticeable.

She anxiously got down, a bit scared about how her parents were going to react. They seemed to notice the hair — good, she wasn’t going crazy then — but not the fingers — ok maybe she was going crazy —.

“What’d you do to your hair honey?” asked her mom.

“Oh, uh, I put a bit of color on it to celebrate a great grade I got on an essay. I got an A with more bonuses for later papers. Is that ok?”

“Well even if it wasn’t, it’s done now.” said her mother with a smile. “But of course it is, honey. Just as long as you don’t dye it all…” added her mother with a warning look.

“Yeah, no, I know the rule mom.” answered Melody.

“Good! Then I have nothing to add, except, why is there a puddle of water in front of the sink? I thought there might’ve been a leak…”

“Oh, uhm, yeah sorry I got up in the night and I dropped my glass but I was kind of asleep I think.”

“Right… Well, no worries, no damage done, just don’t forget to take a bottle next time ok? Less work for me. Now, get to school you! Oh and don’t forget you paper!” said her mother as she pointed to Melody’s essay, sitting on the kitchen table.

“Thanks mom! Bye!” said Melody as she grabbed the essay and left the house.

***

So, apparently Melody was cool now.

Having colored hair had lifted her social status and people were now asking to sit with her at lunch. Many asked her how she’d done it and if her parents knew about it or if they’d be mad when they learnt, and hundreds of other questions that Melody had to lie through. Every kid in school stared at her in the corridors or whispered to their friends, never taking their invading stares off her. Unused to this kind of attention, Melody sought refuge in the girls’ bathroom where she locked herself in one of the toilets and sat down.

She relaxed her tense shoulders and took a few deep breaths while closing her eyes. When she was feeling better she grabbed her bag, and searched for a specific item: a black beanie she always kept in he bag in case the weather changed drastically in the middle of the day. She shoved it on her head and tucked her hair in it, hoping this would at least attenuate the staring. She unlocked the door and closed her eyes again for a few seconds, standing in front of the door. As she opened it, the door almost hit three girls that were standing in front of it, obviously spying on Melody. They quickly moved away and let Melody pass. She sighed: it seemed the beanie wasn’t going to do the trick since everyone on campus already knew her. She bitterly took it off, walking towards the bathroom’s mirrors as the three girls silently watched her every movement. She gave them an exasperated look and they took off as fast as they possibly could. Here was a perk of being popular: authority. Maybe this whole thing wasn’t so bad after all. Then she remembered the feeling of the stares on her neck and shoulders and the whispers following her everywhere she went and decided that a bit of authority wasn’t enough to cancel those downsides. She stared at herself in the mirror and noticed another small change in her appearance. Her usually grey eyes were now lined with a small circle of blue around the edges of her irises. At least this wasn’t very visible, except if you studied her very closely. Which was what everyone was currently doing. Damn it. How was she supposed to explain that now? She thought about how weird people would think her fingers were if they could see them. Yeah that was fortunate, otherwise this whole situation would’ve been much, much worse.

She looked at her watch and saw that she was late. She snapped her finger as she shouted “DAMN IT”. A coat of raindrops instantly appeared around the hand she’d snapped as the smell of morning dew invaded her senses once more and peace overtook her as she watched the rain follow her fingers’ movements. Amazed, she snapped her other hand and watched the little raindrops appear around her second hand.

Captured in the quiet contemplation of her hands, she forgot time, school and her life. She snapped both her hands' fingers at the same time, and felt the atmosphere around her change as the rain crawled from her fingers to the tips of her hair to her shoulders, back, legs and toes. She felt her body fill with a new sensation: wholeness. She stayed in this position for an undetermined lapse of time, closing her eyes and crying dry tears, from an emotion she couldn’t quite place, that joined their sisters around Melody’s body. When she moved she felt like she was made of water, moving as a wave does in the sea. Every inch of her all the way to her core shifted with every move. She sensed the water pulsing around and inside her and her skin tingled with every breath.

A sharp ringing brought her back to reality, breaking her peace and just like that, the water evaporated, leaving her breathless. This time it didn’t pour on her, but only returned to its original place in the room. It took her several seconds to realize the ringing was from the school, notifying students and teachers alike that classes were about to start. She shook herself from top to bottom and checked her watch. She’d missed 2 classes already! Melody ran out of the bathroom to her next class, hoping they would let her in, even after missing 2 hours. Fortunately, her teacher had been late so she got in right before he closed the door. She felt the stares again, but didn’t care anymore.

As she sat down, she tapped her index against her table, trying to figure out what triggered the dew and immediately saw rain cover her finger, called to her skin. She hid it under the table and tapped her other fingers around it, which instantly extended the dew to those fingers. Caught up in her observations, she didn’t hear her teacher asking her to present her essay. He had to repeat it three times before she snapped (quite literally) out of her daze.

“MISS LAVISH! Do I need to threaten you with detention or would you rather kindly hand in your paper and come back to our world?” asked the irritated teacher.

“Oh uhm, sorry sir. I was… uh… daydreaming.” said Melody as she gave her teacher her paper.

“Yes, I saw that. Do you think dying your hair blue now allows you to not pay attention in class?” answered the teacher.

“No, no… I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.” said Melody with her best contrite look.

“Good. If I catch you at it again, you will get detention this Friday.”

Melody shook her head as an answer and her teacher proceeded to collect the rest of the papers. She banged her head with her hand for being so careless, but noticed the blue tips of her fingers had grown to her first knuckle. She wondered if her hair had done the same thing. And her eyes. Were her eyes going to turn entirely blue some day? She stopped herself from continuing this line of thoughts as she felt herself drifting away again. She focused on all the small noises around her to anchor herself to reality, tuning in to the other students’ whispers, their pens clicking as they changed colors, or their legs shifting positions. All of these small sounds kept her grounded for the remainder of the day.

***

Back home, Melody went straight to her room, excited to try her new “dew-powers” without interruption. She was about to snap her fingers when her mother knocked on her door. Melody sighed but got up to open her door.

“Hey honey, you principal called. He said you were late to three of your classes, and that you weren’t paying attention in any of them. He said he’s worried about you and asked us to check in on you to see if there wasn’t anything going on at school, maybe with the other kids… What happened today?” asked her mother, sitting on her Melody’s bed.

“I don’t know, I couldn’t focus today… I was pretty tired too.” Melody quickly invented.

“Does it have anything to do with you dyeing your hair? And wearing contacts?”

Damn it. She had noticed the eyes then. So much for going unnoticed. But Melody couldn’t tell her mom “yeah well basically, when I snap my fingers dew appears around them, I have been followed by a dark ghost and I saw dozens of glowing eyes last night”. So instead, she went with:

“I don’t know, mom. I’m not sure what’s happening to me…”

Well, that wasn’t exactly a lie.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” asked her mom, concerned.

“I don’t know what there would be to talk about, since I don’t know what’s going on.”

That wasn’t exactly a lie either. Melody hoped this would do the trick and that her mother would leave, but it didn’t.

“Is this about a boy?” asked her mom with a suspicious tone.

“A boy?” said Melody’s dad as he passed in front of his daughter’s room. “Now that’s a conversation I need to hear.” he added entering the room sitting opposite his wife on Melody’s bed.

Boy, how wrong they were. On SO many levels. But Melody went with it since it was an easy escape.

“Maybe…” she said, with a small voice, which seemed to convince her parents, who gave each other a knowing look.

“And he’s the reason you’ve been acting all strange these days?” asked her dad.

Was it really so obvious?

“I dunno, maybe…” answered Melody, giving them a performance her theater teacher would be proud of. “He’s in my English class.” True fact, there was a nice boy who had a crush on her in that class. There was also a really cute girl. But back to the boy. “He’s my age, and I think he likes me.”

Melody’s parents looked at each other as if trying to decide which one of them was going to handle the beginning of the conversation. In the end the mother was the one to speak.

“I was about your age when I met your dad, you know…” she said.

From that sentence erupted an everlasting description of how her parents had started dating, followed by an endless question time, then a long list of warnings and requirements. Finally, they said goodnight and left her alone with her own thoughts.

She played around with the dew for a few instants, or maybe longer, she still couldn’t tell as she had lost track of time at her second snap mesmerized by the raindrops. She started getting tired and checked her alarm clock to realize it was already midnight. She quickly got into her pajamas and switched off her lamp, drifting into deep and peaceful sleep.

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sterekloveaffairs · 6 years

Text

Kiss me, I hate you - Peter Hale

Author: sterekloveaffairs

Characters: Reader x Peter Hale, Scott McCall, Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski

Warnings: language, threats

Word Count: 1,857

A/N: This was a request from @doviesdawelshie : I tried to make it as close to your request as possible, I already had a story started, so it was quicker to finish that idea, if you’re not satisfied, please let me know and I will try to write a new one, it might take a little while longer, but I’d hate for you not to be happy with it, so let me know what you think!

We had never been the best of friends, and we probably never would be. Peter Hale was the perfect example of everything I hoped I’d never be. He was selfish, rude and downright evil, without remorse or consideration towards other people. That was all bad enough on its own, but I would probably be able to handle it much better if he didn’t feel the constant need to meddle and get involved in things that were none of his business. Or if he hadn't bitten my little brother Scott. I had always been very protective of him, and when I went off to my first year in college, I had been worried sick. It was during my Christmas break that I had found out what had happened. And I would never forgive anyone even just thinking about hurting my baby brother. So yeah, excuse me if I was a little tense around Peter Hale.

I knew I wasn’t the only one that was bothered when he once again showed up at pack meetings in Derek’s loft or decided that his opinion was of crucial importance to whatever we were dealing with at that time. I could often see Derek’s muscles tense, or Stiles rolling his eyes. However, I was the only person actively engaging in conflicts with Peter. I had zero tolerance for the man and absolutely no problem making that clear to him. I did not keep my mouth shut, and Derek and Scott were often forced to physically intervene, when Peter and I kept on working each other up until the point of no return. They only did that because I was human though. They knew that there was little chance of survival for me if Peter decided he was sick of my comments.

Today was one of those days. The faeries had been messing around in Beacon Hills for quite some time now, and we decided it had been enough. So we called a pack meeting to discuss the topic, and of course Peter showed up, and of course he figured that his opinion was the most important one. Add that to the usual derogation he radiated when talking to the pack -because, and I quote, they were just a bunch of silly teenagers- and you can just imagine the fumes coming from my ears. But maybe that's just because it was Peter, because when Derek literally called Stiles a delusional idiot, I didn't really care. Completely disregarding my bias towards Peter, I could feel myself getting more and more wound up with every word he said and eventually with every breath he took. He had thrown me a few looks, but Scott had warned me before coming here that he didn't need the usual crap between me and Peter, so I had decided to just ignore him and not even acknowledge his existence. Unfortunately, I am not the best at keeping my body language subtle, so when I rolled my eyes and let out a sigh after yet another comment –I don't even remember what he said, that's how fucking useless it was- his head shot up and he glared at me as if he was trying to burn a hole through my skull. He probably was, asshole that he was.

"What is your fucking problem?" He snarled, and I nearly missed the 'Oh God not again' that Stiles muttered. It took me a few seconds to take a breath and switch from my annoyed facial expression to a sweet, innocent smile.

"Why are you assuming that there is a problem?" I asked, "Besides you just being a stuck up know it all again and people getting seriously sick of it?" I saw him clench his fists and from the corner from my eyes I noticed Derek and Scott subtly inching closer to us, to jump in between if necessary.

"Stuck up- Listen here, missy, as far as I know, I'm actually contributing to solving this issue instead of just sitting around doing nothing but being a spoiled little brat that is only here because being supervised by her brother is the only way she will not get herself into some sort of trouble that might end up killing her because she can't keep her damn mouth shut!" Peter was on the verge of losing control, and somehow it pleased me a lot that I managed to get him so wound up. I mean, there he was, the self-proclaimed alpha of Beacon Hills and he was set off by a human woman. Way to go, tough guy.

"I was not saying a thing until you asked me a question. A stupid one, for that matter, but I did not expect anything else." He stood up, and so did I, because I would be damned before I let someone like Peter Hale try to intimidate me. Derek stepped in front of Peter, Scott put his hand on my shoulder.

"Scott, back off," I said calmly. Peter grinned.

"They're just proving my point, sweetheart. If I wanted, I could crush you like a bug."

"Then why haven't you? Aren't you supposed to be the mighty werewolf that has Beacon Hills shivering in fear? And you're backing off because of your nephew and a teenage boy. Some werewolf you are."

"You have no idea what I'm capable of, you might want to be careful what you say to me, bad things might happen next time you're wandering around on your own for once, without your brother to save your sorry ass." Scott growled at Peter, I pushed his hand away from me and stepped around him, determined to not let Peter win.

"I don't need his protection. I can't help that people actually like me enough to not set me on fire and slit my throat." I could see his nostrils flare, his eyes locked with mine. They got slightly darker, and I ignored the chills that slowly crawled up my spine. He didn't though. He smirked once again, slowly walked towards me.

"That's right, silly little girl. You do know what I can do." I could feel the tension grow thicker, but I refused to look away. Yes, all of my instincts were screaming to back away. That means I'm not an idiot. The fact that I didn't budge, did mean that I'm in fact the biggest idiot walking this earth.

"Go ahead and try to threaten me, Peter. That's all you're good at anyway. Trying to overpower anyone that sees you for what you really are: a pathetic little man that has nothing to offer but teeth and claws." I could hear Stiles face palm himself, mumbling something about 'that mouth is going to get her killed' but I was too caught up to respond. Peter was close enough now for me to feel his breath on my skin, and I would lie if I said I wasn't at least a little scared. And impressed. I mean, I strongly disliked Peter, but I was not blind or stupid and I had fairly good taste, so I would have to admit that Peter was beyond handsome. Icy blue eyes, sharp jaw, broad shoulders and a shitload of muscles. When he stood in front of me like that, the chills running down my back might not all be explained by a little hint of fear. But he was outrageously annoying, and that was only proof that personality could kill all the charm of good looks.

"I'm getting so sick of your attitude," he hissed, stopping in his tracks when the next step would definitely be on my toes.

"Believe me, that feeling is completely mutual," I spat towards him, still not looking away, "and something else, if you-"

My words were muffled by nothing else but Peter's lips. He moved too fast for me to jump away, or to do anything for that matter. I squealed softly, wanted to pull back, but he put his hand –surprisingly gentle- on the back of my head, pulling me into him. His lips were softer than I could have ever imagined, and my mind and body were flooded with emotions. Disgust was one of them. How dare he kiss me and invade my personal space like that? How dare he assume that I would agree to this and use his physical strength to keep me in this horribly unexpected position? Confused disbelief was the second one. How exactly did this happen? Where in this conversation did he move from 'I might not kill you myself but I would probably celebrate if someone else did' to 'I can no longer resist you, kiss me like there is no tomorrow'? And why did he think that it was the same for me? And oh God, why did I not dislike this as much as I thought I would? Why am I not struggling nearly hard enough to show that I do not want this? Why am I even FUCKING allowing this to happen?

I pushed him away, and despite my strength not sufficing to overpower him, he did let go. He licked his lips while looking at me, and somehow that sparked an enormous rage inside of me. I raised my right hand and slapped him across the face, ignoring the fact that it had probably hurt me more than it had hurt him. But it was a very hard slap. His head turned to the side, and he chuckled.

"How dare you," I said softly. Where was my bitterness? Where was the anger I had meant to put in my voice? Why did I regret no longer kissing him?

He looked back at me, opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, I forgot all about NOT liking him and practically jumped him. I kissed him again, and this time I could feel even more passion. He put his hands on my waist, somehow my arms locked behind his neck. And boy, did he kiss me back.

I forgot all about the world around me, until I noticed Stiles gagging. I pulled myself away from Peter.

"Am I supposed to hit you now?" He smirked. I huffed.

"That’s because you interrupted me."

"My apologies. What were you going to say?" I could feel his hands caressing my sides, and somehow I felt really weird. What just happened? And I couldn't help but notice the slightest hint of sarcasm in his words. Asshole.

"As if you care." My voice suddenly sounded sharper again, and he let his hands fall away, as did I.

"That is by far the most disgusting plot twist I have ever seen," Stiles said.

"Shut up, Stiles," Peter said harshly. I frowned.

"Don't think for even a second that I will tolerate you being like that now!" I hissed. How was this possible? One second I can't get close enough, the next I feel like punching him in the fucking face again. Why was he such a dick?

"Same goes for you," He said darkly before turning around, grabbing his coat and walking through the door.

Something told me that this was far from over.

#teen wolf #teen wolf fanfic #fanfic #peter hale #peter hale x reader #scott mccall #derek hale #stiles stilinski #peter hale fanfic #fluff #fanfic request

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dalhousiediaries · 7 years

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A Suicidal Rant.

♪ Currently listening to: Playlist: Café montréalais by Spotify ♪ 📚 Currently reading: A Tale for the Time Being by Ruth Ozeki 📚

Writing about suicide has never come easy for me.

Or maybe it has, since every time I sit myself down to write about something, that’s the first thing that comes to mind. Perhaps I’m fascinated with death and the idea of the paradoxical “life-after-death” belief so many people possess. But, who hasn’t thought about death once in their lifetime? I’m no exception.

I’ve been really thinking about this topic, whether to post it up on this blog (dalhousiediaries) or whether to start up a new blog entirely, a new personal blog to post content with topics like this, whenever I feel the urge to write about something philosophical or I guess, whenever I feel the powerful urge to write the deep thoughts that linger in my mind. The unspeakable content that rests only in the deepest and untampered portions of my brain.

Personally speaking, as a child I never really thought about the afterlife, or what would happen to me after death. It seemed so laid out to me, almost mechanical. People would mourn, a funeral would be held, a celebration of life that has passed, and then I guess, people would get over the fact that I was no longer breathing on this planet, in this world, living in this time. However, as I grew older, that changed. Not the actual process aforementioned, but the sociological and the emotional process of “getting over someone”. I say this because I’ve felt this firsthand.

Living in Halifax, being separated from my family and friends back home was basically like dying socially. I was no longer present to take part in hangouts, physically be there to make new memories and the only way people could interact with me was through the Internet. You’d think a lot of people would contact me and at least, try to keep in touch, but when everyone’s busy getting their own life together and amid their own worries, I don’t particularly blame anyone for growing distant. It’s just interesting, in the beginning of the semester, so many people missed me, talked to me, and even cried about my departure – just like a real death had occurred. It really made me think “is this what would happen if I died?”. Of course, time stops for no one, and as the months went on, perchance my friends had realized I would be back soon enough or had gotten swamped by the amount of work they had to do in their respective programs, I had stopped receiving such messages and contact from friends back in BC.

I’m not upset about that at all. Despite what it seems like. It’s just interesting from my point of view, almost like a simulation of life on earth after my death – only on a much, much, smaller scale.

Why am I writing about this? Did something happen to make me contemplate my own death? Am I suicidal? No, I am not.

I’m currently reading a novel called A Tale for the Time Being by Ruth Ozeki (a tantalizing read, might I add). The novel talks quite a lot about one’s inevitable demise, whether it be intentionally sparked or a natural one. The setting is partially set in Japan around the 1940s(?), and the other half set in modern-day Whaletown, BC, a very real place on the Cortes Island. The novelist, Ruth Ozeki, encounters a Hello Kitty lunchbox that acts as a safe keep for the diary of a Japanese girl, Naoko Yasutani, who narrates her daily life through purple gel pen ink and a DIY diary.

The perspective switch between Ruth and Naoko is not only well done, but gives a different insight and contrast between the two characters, and their very different lives, despite the same ethnic heritage. The reader follows Ruth as she reads the log of Naoko, following her life page by page, discovering information at the same time as the audience. It’s as if Naoko’s reaching out from the right side, while Ruth and the audience are reaching towards Naoko from the left – hoping to collide in the middle.

Okay so, why did this book spark my interest in death and suicide again?

It’s a topic that Naoko toys with a lot in the novel, or I guess, in her diary. She writes about her and her family’s experience moving from Japan to Silicon Valley in the States due to her father being a computer science programmer or some sort like that, settling down in Sunnyvale, California, where she spent the majority of her life there. Her family dynamic is drastically flipped on its head when her father gets laid off, and Nao (as she’s commonly referred to) and her family emigrate back to Japan.

Nao gets bullied relentlessly by her classmates. Her mother spends all her days watching the jellyfish in the aquarium before getting an office job. Her father becomes a hikikomori (ひきこもり), spending his days in the park, feeding the crows. Feigning work in the early days of returning to the Land of the Rising Sun.

Nao’s father, Haruki as his name is revealed, decides to commit suicide by jumping in front of a train, the Chuo Rapid Express, which apparently; is one of the more popular methods of self-execution according to a self account Ruth finds whilst searching for the history and the current whereabouts of the Yasutani’s.

I had understood why Haruki Yasutani would want to commit suicide, his shame from lying to his family about finding a new job, the fact that he had fallen from such a successful position and left with nothing, the stripping of all pride and dignity spending his days feeding the crows at the nearby park, feeling sorry for his wife and daughter especially for not being able to support them. I guess you could say, he was spiraling into a deep depression.

I, unfortunately, could tie this with the current situation with my father.

I now realize why this topic has been on my mind for so long, why this situation with Nao and her father captivated my interest and cultivated my thoughts to yield this fruit of epiphany. I suppose I can conclude that I’m writing this, and have been writing about this topic for months because it’s a very real situation that I simply cannot ignore anymore. Am I venting? Yeah, I think I can say that I am.

Though I’m frustrated, I know someone who’s even more frustrated with themselves – my father.

He’s not dead, readers.

But there’s something that tugs at my heartstrings and some evil spirit that puts in unfavourable thoughts in my daily life. What if he had died?

It’s natural to see your parents or guardians suffer, to struggle through with the adulty-responsibilities we all have to one day face. Having said that, there’s nothing wrong with suffering a little bit, to have a bit of hardship in your life to harden yourself into a better person. The more experience one accumulates over their lifetime, more often than naught, they are more valued, wiser, knowledgeable and so on. I don’t doubt that at all.

I strongly believe in strength acquired by difficult situations and times. After all, I have had my fair share of disturbing moments in life, times that have disrupted my, at the time, established rhythmic pattern that made up my daily (mundane) life. It’s like an iron sword in the making. The more you forge and burn it in fire, the more strengthened it becomes, or it could take on a different shape entirely and the blacksmith may decide in last minute haste, to produce a sickle or a dagger instead. Of course I’m no ironworker or familiar with blacksmithing, but there’s my poor attempt at creating a relatable metaphor.

I can confidently say that my parents have seen their fair share of difficult times, for Heaven’s sake, they immigrated to a foreign land with no family other than themselves and me, little to no money and what connections do you think a middle aged Korean couple would have overseas in the land of the maple leaf, hockey, and apparently endless winters, the land Koreans called Kenada (캐나다) rather than the rounder sound that native English speakers called, Canada? I’ll tell you that they had no connections.

I’ve always appreciated the work my parents have put in their life here in Canada. I’ve always admired the strength they’ve showed over the past 18-19 years, or maybe it was feigned strength in hopes that their only daughter doesn’t catch on to their fears and sense the very real struggles and hardship that living as immigrants unfortunately brings to the table.

Recently, and mayhap this is just me putting up my father’s dirty laundry for all to see, but my father has been acting drastically different – even he’s saying he’s “no longer the same dad as [he] was in the past”, which of course I’ve noticed the change as the years flew by – living with the man for 18-19 years, one would hope I noticed the changes. He’s a man that would do anything for me, well not anymore I guess but back in the earlier days, I suppose.

The whole reason why we have Sien (my dog) now is because I’ve pestered him for years to get a dog, to which he promised we would when our family became homeowners – a promise that seemed farfetched now, but in 7-8 years we had become just that, homeowners. Along came the dog in another 3 years or so. Initially against the idea, he gave in just to see me happy, and perchance he noticed my own change in personality, he wanted to see me change positively, secretly praying the dog would aid in my transition back to the positive daughter I once was.

But anyway, my father explained to me the other day, in blind rage, a firm voice with an angry tone yet one can sense the slightest bit of tremble at the back of his throat, that he was changing, like an adolescent in the middle of puberty, like how my mother would one day go through menopause. This is a phenomena I’d like to dub as manopause.

Over the years, I’ve heard some pretty unsettling things fly from my father’s mouth. Like him asking me whether I’d approve of him dating other women, getting a divorce with mum, or what would happen if he had enlisted in the possible war that might occur between South and North Korea, and if he had died. He had asked me about the matter of his demise on numerous occasions, each with different executions – from his death in the war, to him killing himself, and how.

I always knew what to say to his questions; his life was his own and if he wanted to get a divorce with mum because he’s had enough, that’s good on him and he can go for it, if he wanted to date other women, sure – only except that I had to pre-approve of my potential step-mother before their relationship escalates. But when it came to his death, I never knew what to say. Or more like, I didn’t want to say the wrong thing that could possibly, even if there was a slight chance, intensify his desire to carry out the action.

Anyway, I’m pretty content with what I’ve written and though it wasn’t originally what I had intended to write about suicide and my unruly fascination with it, I feel like this took priority. If this triggered anyone, I’m sorry – but it really needed to get off my mind and keeping it private or unpublished seemed to defeat the purpose of writing it down in the first place. Maybe, this is my silent cry for help. That maybe God is reading this, and can restore peace into my father.

He had told me, again in blind fury; “At least you’re gone in Halifax. At least you have somewhere else to go here. I have no where to go. I’m stuck, stressed. But it makes me feel better knowing that you’re over there”.

In the odd chance my dad is reading this, because occasionally my mum will read my posts and share them with my father;

Sorry Dad, I love you.

#suicide #Ruth Ozeki #A Tale for the Time Being #text heavy #text post #text heavy blog #blog #blog post

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melonoverlord · 3 years

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Ask meme for Lola

Which parent do they look the most like?

She’s a healthy mix of both parents, looking just a little bit more like her dad, which she’s not sure how she feels about. She got a lot of her dad’s genes with the coloring of her mom.

Is there a name they were almost given (either by their parents or during character creation)?

She was almost given her middle name, Anna and that was actually the name that her dad thought of, but her birth mom went with Lola because she didn’t really want much to do with her dad. But she still kept Anna as a middle name to honor her dad.

What were they like as a kid (if they’re currently a child, what would they be like as a teen)?

Lola was always a very rambunctious and active child, which is where she got her love of fighting and causing a ruckus. She was very close with her birth mom, and loved hanging out with her friends, but once her dad remarried, Lola was more quiet and angry at the situation until Dominica showed that she really cared about her step-daughter.

What’s their drinking tolerance and what kind of drunk are they?

She got the perfect mix of halfling endurance, barbarian, and post-grad college kid. She can take like 4 drinks before she’s a loud party drunk who wants to fight everyone (not out of anger but the thrill of it) and dance on a table. Because caballo dorado still exists in this world and she will step on you if you’re too slow.

Where do they like to be touched?

Lola got used to a lot of touches as a kid, especially in the form of hugs and face touches from her birth mom and step-mom (she didn’t really have any touches from her dad that much). From friends, she likes hugs but absolutely hates when people pat her head because it makes her feel like she’s a child.

What’s their favorite position (top/bottom/switch/pillow princess/etc.)

When she played softball as a kid, she was shortstop so that was her favorite position (other than batter). And of course lightweight wrestling champ where her favorite position was on top of the other kid.

What are their kinks?

You know when you’re watching the dvd logo bounce and it hits the corner perfectly? Yeah, Lola lives for that shit.

How do they feel about adrenaline (roller coasters, extreme sports, etc.)?

She absolutely loves and craves adrenaline. She is trying to go on all roller coasters in Astela before she’s 30. Anyone who wants to come on this adventure is welcome to join her.

What is their fight or flight response?

If it’s a problem she can physically fight, fight all the way. If it’s an emotional problem, she would much rather escape her problems than confront it. And she has. Several times.

What’s their pain tolerance?

Lola’s been rough and tumble her whole life that she has developed a great pain tolerance. She can last in a fight for a long long time.

What character archetype are they the most like (the Innocent, the Hero, etc.)

Lola is a Ruler who really doesn’t want to be a ruler. She’s been running from every responsibility someone has handed her, but fate has a funny way of picking favorites.

What TV-Tropes trope would they be?

Lad-ette. She’s allergic to sleeves unless its in a leather jacket, she loves drinking, fighting, and being cooler than everyone. She’s the closest thing you can get to a frat boy without being either in a frat or a boy.

What John Mulaney quote/bit do they most embody?

“Well, thank ya for askin’. I used the Bittenbinder method. When I saw the perp approachin’, I chewed up a tab of Alka-Seltzer I carry with me at all times. This created a foaming-at-the-mouth appearance that made it look like I had rabies. Now I’ve thrown him off his rhythm. Then I reach into his jacket pocket where I had planted a gram of coke and I went, ‘Whoa! What the fuck is this?’ And he goes, ‘That’s not mine. I never seen that before.’ I go, ‘Boo-hoo, it’s in your jacket. You’re doing two to ten and your kids are going into Social Services.’ Now he’s cryin’! Then I grab a telephone book and I beat him on the torso with it. ‘Cause as any Chicago cop will tell ya, a phone book doesn’t leave bruises.”

With the exception of love interests and immediate family, who are they closest to?

Besides her mom, Lola has never felt as loved as she has when she’s with Kris. He was her first mentor at the Detective Agency and they love each other like siblings and she honestly would have had a breakdown if not for Kris. She is the one constant so far in this group.

What is their moral alignment? What would have to happen for it to shift?

Neutral Good. She generally has a black and white morality thinking of people are either good or bad, but she knows that there are sometimes gray areas. Like with Astrid, or the Panahis, or even her parents and she knows that absolute power corrupts absolutely, so she’s trying to hold onto her moral code even while she’s running with criminals. She could become more Chaotic Good if her new crime friends show her that just because you bad guy doesn’t make you bad guy.

Are they a morning person? What are they like before 8am?

Lola’s used to getting up early first because she grew up on a farm and then college and then working at the agency. She’s actually pretty chipper in the morning, and loves to sing to herself while doing her morning chores, and always starts off the day with a Cafecito before going to take care of the animals. She tends to have more energy at the very beginning and end of the day.

What are they like when they’re tired?

When she’s tired, she’s more spacey and will zone out a lot and have to be constantly reminded to stay on task. She usually tries to go to be when she’s tired, but if she has to stay up, she is on the strongest of coffees and has to keep her hands busy at all times or else she will start to get incredibly antsy.

What are they like in arguments?

It depends on the context of the argument. If it’s an argument for fun (like the Great Baby War of 2019), she likes playful banter, but if it’s something she feels strongly about, Lola’s very judgey so she’s up in your face and trying to go for the gut to finish you off.

What is their dominant hand?

Left

Out of 10, how happy are they? How happy do they think they are?

Lola has arguably had the more “normal” life compared to everyone else (even if Casey had arguably the best upbringing). She’s had things that she’s gone through and right now she misses her family more than anything, especially after the things she heard and saw from the fortune teller. However, becoming official friends with Astrid has helped her shoulder through it, so 7.5/10.

#imaturtlebug #Lola Rodriguez #into the shadows campaign #my characters

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ddrkirbyisq · 4 years

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Well, okay, I guess we can catch up on actual happenings too. It's hard to know what to write though, for a multitude of reasons. But I know I have had thoughts, so we'll just start with whatever I end up remembering. She is gone. The "Kagome" person, she is gone. Of course, I always knew she would be, she was destined to leave my life, as another had once before. I told her as much, too. I knew. And it seems now that that time has clearly passed. Thinking about that person's name, I'm not 100% sure how to feel. Being with this person reminded me so strongly, of the one that I've never forgotten. I guess I miss them both. But it is hard to imagine that I would ever choose to hold onto this thread tightly. For not only did I know from the beginning that things would end, but I knew also, that she was only a reminder of whom I really wanted to see. That person, whose absence seems...unfair, even. And yet it always astonishes me, how "the girl of the four winds" is still in my life, even when those two are not. And yet, even if I stop reaching backwards, I must never stop remembering. itch.io has a massive charity bundle on sale now and even if you care nothing about supporting the NAACP and community bail funds, you should still get it because the amount of value there is insane, like....insane, like, what??? I've been making my way through some of the games this weekend, since....well, playing games is apparently what I needed to do. I played through all of Fortune-499, an interesting little card-based game which I enjoyed. While I think there were aspects that felt slightly (and I mean slightly) not as "elegant" as I would have liked, that's really a minor complaint, and overall I found that it managed to simply.....stay interesting. I think it was a great mix of game mechanics and narrative and each chapter tries to throw something new at you. I feel like the pacing of the game (if that's the right term) felt really nice because of that. The aesthetic is well-done too, these little details like the transition that happens every day really help put a nice bow on the whole package. Very nice. I played through the hilarious Astrologaster as well, a narrative-based comedy choose-your-own-adventure game that involves you playing as a "doctor" who reads the stars (read: "bullshits everything") to diagnose his patients. I'd recommend really sitting down and playing through this in one sitting if you're going to, simply because I feel like it would be really awkward to come back to it after getting halfway through and having forgotten all of the context that informs your decisions through the game. I found it difficult to keep everything straight in my head towards the later part of the game, but somehow managed to squeak by with a license at the end -- huzzah! It did a really good job of giving you some interesting challenges in terms of trying to figure out what choices would lead to a "good" outcome, often having you balance honesty with people-pleasing as well as external concerns and future consequences. I tried out Interstellaria briefly, but it seems a bit more intimidating (and unfortunately not as user-friendly) than I had hoped. I'm willing to try giving it another chance (the soundtrack!), but I'm tempering my expectations for that one, as I know it's supposed to not be the most polished game in existence. In the meantime, I've finished Illusion of Gaia! Crazily, I also managed to find this really long critical analysis/writeup of Illusion of Gaia, which was certainly interesting even if not super groundbreaking. IoG (or "Illusion of Time" as it is also known) is an interesting game, as I've said before. I think it does a few things right, and some other things fairly mediocre. But as with Secret of Mana (perhaps the prime example), sometimes bundling together some mediocrity with vibrant visuals, GREAT music, and a world that "looks and feels great" is really enough to get a game through all of its flaws. I never knew this before, but it turns out that you can fight every single boss as Will (not freedan or shadow), though doing this for some of the later bosses is just plain tedious (pharaoh queen would just take forever....), and doing it for the hardest boss in the game (the vampires) is a very legitimate challenge, perhaps even harder than beating the "secret boss" Solid Arm. I'd have to say Illusion of Gaia starts to kind of fall flat near all of the final sections of the game. For most of the game, once you finish a dungeon, you simply move onto the next area, but for some reason once you get to Ankor Wat and the Mountain Temple, you have to backtrack through the whole dungeon in order to exit.....couple that with the sequence in Rivermia where you need to wait for the lily pad, plus the Pyramid which has you switching forms over and over again...not to mention waiting in like in Euro, as well as fetching the girl 3 apples.....there's suddenly a LOT of tedium that gets introduced and none of it is particularly good. At least combat is more interesting, as you know have some additional abilities to play around with (read: "mess around with and take more damage than if you had just done the simple thing"). The boss rush at the end isn't super engaging either, as all of the bosses are easier this time around (due to being Shadow), though the vampires are still challenging as ever. The final boss is more or less a pushover, so yeah. What really drags IoG down at the end, though is the slllllooooooowwwwww dialogue throughout all of the ending sequences. Thank goodness I had a fast-forward function available to me there. Anyways, this now clears me to try Terranigma again, if I so choose...I have heard good things about this game, and apparently it has a bittersweet ending of some sort, but I'll try not to get my hopes TOO high. Oh, I should also mention that I finished the entire alternate puzzle mode of Panel de Pon, yay! Also randomly started playing through Full Throttle.......but I mean, I guess this ought to not be a surprise to anybody anymore, that yet again I've taken a game from....*checks*....1995, and randomly decided to go and play through it. I've been continuing to read through Animorphs here and there (got through book 6...ok, I'm not very far yet, I admit)...also came across a random thread on twitter praising KA Applegate for being super supportive of the BLM movement, as well as...you know, writing a so-called children's book series that talks about slavery, war, xenophobia, child soldiers, morality, humanity, ... I haven't gotten to all of the more heavy stuff (that all comes later on in the war...) but we're getting there. Yeah...just thinking about it, I still recall reading book 48. It was late at night and I was using the desk lamp in my bedroom at my parents' place, listening to Sixpence None the Richer. Hearing the song "Tonight", at the ending of that book, when Rachel is supposed to figure out what to do, and she just...doesn't know. It's left unsaid what happens, and I think that's actually really good writing. Because the impact of that moment would be gone, if Rachel just decides what to do. You'd have the answer. But you don't. You don't know what happens. You don't know what Rachel should do, or should have done. Just like her. And all the while, Leigh Nash was singing, "Tonight it's time....choose a direction...if you fail...you can make a correction...." I love meowmie. Randomly watching some more of HealthyGamerGG, and such, actually feels.....great. There's this element of human contact and conversation that I think I couldn't really identify as a missing block in isolated life, and I think hearing supportive voices and seeing people help each other, even if not directed at myself, is invigorating. And I think =past= even that, I think just hearing someone break down problems and emotions in such a rational and relatable way is quite useful. I think it's like.....I don't know if this happens to other people, but when you hear or watch or even read someone's speaking or writing a lot, I think sometimes you begin to formulate an internal monologue or rationalization in their words, in their style of thinking. And I think that's actually really helpful, in a lot of different situations. Speaking of people helping each other out...last but certainly not least (the opposite, really), I've been trying to embark on this journey that several others have been. There are some things to do, many things to do, really. But for now, the first thing to do is simply....to do my homework. Abstract plans are hard to act on, but if there is anything I am good at, it is taking what seems like a giant boulder and chunking it up into bite-sized pieces such that I can make progress, and then make progress, and then make progress again. And I hope that someday, =we= will make progress....make progress....and continue to walk forward. What is overwhelming, hopeless, and impossible all at once becomes something easier to digest when it becomes a tangible thing. HealthyGamerGG talked about that too, actually, as a form of Operational Procrastination. So yes. We will try, and try, and keep trying. And we each have our own small part to play in this thing. I already know what I hope mine to be. For now, I'm just making my way there. I donno, I mean....I guess I could write these blog posts with a bit more context and explanation. But sometimes blogs are ok too, without explanation. When you don't really know exactly what I'm talking about, but you can read that there's a sentiment behind it. Does every art piece need its "point" to be explained in order to be appreciated?

#Blogger

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kitsunegamer · 5 years

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Chapter 2: Enter the Fortress

When we finally reach Ferron's gates, the sight is even more impressive than from afar. The Fortress overshadows us as we pass through, mingling between dwarves and Shirok as they come and go. The courtyard is a bustle of commerce; forges burn as blacksmiths ply their trade, miners disappear down elevators into Nova's depths, and warriors walk about with weapons as bright and pristine as the ice city we've just left. The heat from all these people, as well as the fires roaring in the forges, acts to warm the air around us and brings the temperature up closer to cold instead of frigid.

Ahead of us, Gruss dismounts and hands his goat's reigns off to another dwarf. He gestures impatiently for us to follow suit, as if we should have dismounted as soon as he had. More dwarves appear from somewhere unseen to take charge of our horses.

“I have been told to take you to our leader,” Gruss informs us. His voice is almost gravelly enough to use as a rock tumbler.

“Ah, is that like your king?”

Gruss snorts disdainfully. Darwin can't seem to say anything right to this dwarf, despite his repeated attempts to be friendly. “More of a queen, lad. You're obviously uninformed.”

“Obviously,” Darwin agrees good-naturedly.

“I'll forgive your ignorance as you've never traveled here before. If you dally, though, I'll leave you to freeze.” This last comment is directed at the group in general and not just Darwin, confirming my suspicions from earlier. Gruss turns to head through the open doors of the Fortress. “Come along now.”

Once inside, the dwarf leads us to a stairwell before pausing and turning back to us. “The General is up this way at the top of the citadel. Hope you don't mind climbing.” It doesn't sound as if he holds that opinion very strongly – if at all.

“Not at all,” Darwin puts in. I don't think they're talking about the same types of climbing, but keep that to myself. Better to save all my breath for climbing the stairs. As we begin up the first set, I begin unbuttoning my cloak and removing my other outerwear. It's almost warm enough here inside the castle to pass for the tropics, if much less humid, and I'm only going to get warmer with the physical exertion. It doesn't appear anyone else is too warm, still under the effects of the potion from earlier.

At the top of the first staircase is a landing leading off into a hall. This isn't the path for us though. Gruss goes around the corner from where we stand, all of us dutifully following behind, to reveal the next set of stairs continuing upwards. We go up this set and then up another. Up and up and up we go. Another landing. Another set of stairs. After the first few flights, I notice a couple elevators on one of the landings. Once I know they're there, I see them on every landing. Why in Guardian's name, after all the trouble we've gone through to bring them supplies, is this dwarf making us walk all the way up when there are elevators? I bet he's getting some sort of perverse satisfaction from this, but again I keep my mouth shut. Who knows what other sadistic activities he has in store for us if anyone makes mention of it.

It takes nearly twenty minutes before we finally reach the top floor. There's no hall coming off this final landing, only a door on which Gruss knocks before opening. He gestures us past him into the room. “The General awaits you.” As if that's not ominous. Thanks a lot, Gruss.

We move past the dwarf, Aster taking the lead and stepping through the shimmering curtain covering the open doorway. When I step through this portal, I enter a sizable set of chambers with a large iron table situated to one side. A lithe elven woman bends over the table, pouring over maps, though I can't tell what kind from this distance. Her long golden hair flows over a thin, elegant shoulder covered in dark, mithril battle armor. The rest of her body is similarly protected, everything except her head - she's left off the helmet so as not to obstruct her vision.

Aster lets out a low appreciative whistle as he moves forward to try and get a look at one of the maps. Probably to get closer to the attractive woman in front of us as well, if I'm being honest. This must be the General; Gruss said we were expected and knocked before allowing us entry in order to announce our presence.

The woman in question turns her head and raises a brow at Aster's whistle. With her face turned towards us, I can see she has a pair of spectacles perched on her nose. “See something you like?” There's a hint of acidic hardness to her voice. Aster, of course, plays dumb and ignores the undertones in her question.

“There are a lot of things I like in this room,” he comments blithely.

The General refuses to play Aster's game, however, and immediately switches tack. “I assume you are one of the adventurers sent with our supplies?”

“Uh, yeah, I am actually.” The summoner seems a bit thrown off by the General's abrupt question. “My name is Aster,” he adds without her having to ask. Since we were expected, I assume she brought up the subject of the supplies to throw Aster off by the about-face in conversation – she already knows that's why we're here.

“Mmm, I'm sure you live up to that name.” I snicker internally. She must not have appreciated Aster's flirting since she's so blatantly implying she thinks he's an ass. And so early in the conversation too. She turns away from Aster and her eyes come to rest on Bearington's hulking form. “And may I ask who you are?” Her tone is much friendlier than when she addressed Aster.

“They call me Bearington,” he replies succinctly.

“A,” she pauses, trying to find something appropriate and inoffensive.

“Bear,” Bearington puts in for her. He's used to people's immediate confusion when they first meet him. To her credit, she recovers quickly. She's a fast thinker – there's clearly a reason why she's risen to her position here. She clears her throat softly. “I was going to say that it's an apt name.” She gives a little smile.

The rogue only shrugs. “Maybe a little bit. It's fairly fitting.”

Pleasantries exchanged on this front, she turns to face me and a look of surprise, quickly smoothed away, crosses her face. “Another kitsune. How unexpected.” My ears perk up at this comment.

“Another?” I ask eagerly. This could have something to do with that rumor I heard in Fellinor, and possibly with K'yume!

“Yes, a kitsune named K'yume passed through here a few weeks ago.” She pauses now at the look that must cover my face, though I can't say for sure what emotion she sees there. My heart trip-hammers against my ribs in excitement and eagerness and also a measure of relief. Finally! Definite word of my sister at long last! “Do you know her?” the General asks tentatively.

“My sister,” I manage to gasp out. It feels hard to breathe, my emotions choking me. I force myself to take a deep breath and slowly release it. So many fears held down for so long under the iron band of my will, forcefully ignored and unacknowledged, eliminated in a mere moment. Between one breath and the next, a weight, carried so long I couldn’t feel it, has been lifted. K'yume was here! And only a few weeks ago! “Do you know where she went?” I ask breathlessly.

“She was headed further north into the blistering tundra where the monsters of ice and snow reign. She seemed to have particular interest in the blizzard, which made me consider that it might be unnatural. Since I know kitsune are generally very in tune with nature and its energies, it occurred to me that her keen interest in the weather might be due to a reason that was,” she pauses, again searching for an appropriate word, “abnormal.”

“That seems very reasonable,” I hurry to put in. “I appreciate you telling me all of this, it's good to have word of her. I've actually been searching for her since she fell out of contact with our family some time ago. I am known as Kiyo,” I add belatedly, since, you know, we seem to be doing the introduction thing.

But, K'yume! You're alive! The wash of relief still has me reeling with emotions. Worry begins to creep into the mix as well now. She's journeying into the wilds where anything can happen. I know you can handle yourself, K’yume, and I trust you. I just can't stop myself from worrying about the dangers you're facing. It sounds like you headed out there on your own, with no one to watch your back. Please be safe. How could I stand losing you after coming so close to finding you at last? Distracted and overwhelmed by all of this, I only dimly hear Darwin introduce himself.

“I am Darwin Belmont of the Fellinor Skyguard and apprentice to Sid.”

I pull myself mentally back to the present conversation as the General replies. “You're far from home for a Vanaran. You must have had the aid of an elemental charm or I'm sure I'd be greeting you shivering and half dead.”

Darwin laughs. “You'd be greeting me as one of your ice sculptures, yes,” he jokes. The General's musical laughter joins Darwin's, filling the room.

“Still, it is good to have you here. It has been a long time since I've entertained such a tropical guest. Now,” she turns at last to Erwin. “Of course you need no introduction, Erwin.” She inclines her head towards the rest of our group to include us in the conversation. “We've met before though it was under quite different circumstances,” she explains. “We were on opposing sides of two very different battles.”

Erwin rubs a brow. “Must you make mention of that every time we meet?”

The General laughs lightly once more. “Well, if a good story is a good story,” she shrugs and trails off, leaving the rest unsaid. She seems to have an unexpectedly light-hearted side to her personality. That’s another sign of a good leader, though. It helps to put people at ease quickly. That's what Oba-san Chiyoko would say. Well, everyone but Erwin seems at ease, anyway. Her relationship with the General probably goes much deeper than appearances since it seems they are previously well-acquainted. Beneath Erwin's stoic and slightly exasperated countenance, I think I detect an affection between the two women.

Erwin pulls out Sid's Bag of Holding, handing it off unceremoniously while still shaking her head at the General's insistence of bringing up their past. “If you'll excuse me, I must go make a report to the Church outpost so they can let those in Fellinor know we've made it safely.” She sketches a respectful bow before disappearing back through the shimmering curtain covering the doorway. She doesn't ask for an escort or guide to help her find her way.

With the Bermesian's departure, silence settles over the rest of us and begins growing more awkward the longer it stretches on. We've done the introductions, though I notice now that the General hasn't introduced herself yet. It would be rude to point that out, though. Erwin has delivered the supplies, so what comes next? Will she summarily dismiss us? What can there be for us to discuss further?

Of course Aster ends up being the first to break the silence, moving even closer to the table of maps. “What were you looking for earlier when we came in? This is quite a collection of topographical maps.”

“I was trying to find anything that could possibly hint at the cause of the storm. Caves, unnatural structures, long-dead ancient civilizations that might have been overlooked and possibly disturbed in the recent past.”

“Sounds like you're grasping at straws. Were there any incidents here in Ferron itself that might have contributed? Maybe something that seemed a bit weird at the time, but you haven't considered yet as a potential catalyst for the storm?” Aster's brow furrows as he begins glancing over the maps in more detail. He's so abrupt about it, but so typically male. He sees a problem and he immediately tries to solve or figure it out, never considering whether it's diplomatic to do so or whether it will be seen as an imposition. Luckily, the General doesn't seem offended.

“The only thing that comes to mind is a rumor about a wailing on the wind, shortly before these storms began. One of my lieutenants claims to have heard it and described the sound as being like a lover who suffered a great loss.” She stops speaking, considering something for a moment before continuing. “Now that I'm thinking about it, perhaps that wailing could be connected with the unshatterable vein of ice the miners recently discovered.” She glances up, smiles at the confusion on our faces, and then continues. “I know it seems odd that one of the resources we mine is ice, but the ice in the depths here is quite magical.” Ah, that would make more sense then. If it were regular ice, there'd be no need to mine it; it already covers the landscape abundantly on the surface. “Using certain secret techniques, we are able to affix this special ice to armor or weapons to give them the attribute of the element.”

“An immunity to cold?” Darwin asks, just for confirmation.

“For the armor we bond it to, yes. For weapons, it gives them a chilling bite.” I suppose this explains why the warriors in the courtyard had weapons which glittered in the sunlight as they did. The weapons must have been treated with this magical ice. I wonder if we'll be here long enough that it might be possible to get at least one of my own weapons treated with this substance.

“That's fascinating.” Darwin looks and sounds intrigued. Maybe he's thinking about looking into the cold-immunity armor? His fur is so thin, no one would blame him for considering it. Once his potion finally wears off, he'll find out exactly how cold it is here. I bet he'll be even more interested in the armor when that happens.

The General continues her explanation, not pausing much at Darwin's fascination with the magical ice. “This particular block of ice doesn't act like the ice we normally mine, magical or not. No matter what we've tried doing, we cannot seem to affect it in any way.

Aster thinks about this for a minute before he speaks. “You're saying it coincided with this other event, the wailing wind, but you didn't connect the two incidents before?”

“The two events happened about a day or two's time apart. It wasn't as coincidental as a tool striking the block of ice and the wailing shriek beginning. I had each occurrence investigated, but I had not previously considered the possibility of the two events being connected.”

The furrowed lines between Aster's brows haven't disappeared, though he's turned away from the maps to pay attention to the elven woman's words. I listen closely as well, glad to hear her defense of her actions. I would have had to revise my initial impression of her competence if she hadn't at least had these occurrences investigated.

“Did you move the block of ice from its original location?” Aster asks. A good question; if it was moved, the moving of it could have somehow contributed to the storm’s origin.

“We cannot move it. Beyond the one panel of the block which we were able to uncover, we can't even peel away the earth from around it in order to ascertain its true size.”

“Well, we don't mean to overstep our bounds – I know we were only here to deliver supplies – but um,” the summoner pauses, looking for a way to phrase his thoughts. “Would it be okay with you if we actually check this thing out? Just looked at it?” Aster hurries on with his request at the General's stoic face. “Maybe we could provide some new information or insight. If we, you know, were able to take a look.” He's almost stumbling over his words. What a time for him to misplace all that natural charisma of his. As unlikely as it is for her to agree, though, it’s still possible. It’s surprising this “General” has already told us as much about their troubles and efforts to combat the storm as she has, she might surprise us again by agreeing. It's not usually a good idea to be sharing that kind of information with strangers, but she has. Did Erwin send word ahead about our other reasons for coming north? Or is it an example of Sid over-exaggerating our adventuring prowess when he sent word we were bringing the supplies? Either way, she seems willing to trust us to a certain degree.

Whatever the reason for the General's frank openness with us, I can never repay her for the news of K’yume, even if we're able to help by conducting some kind of investigation. This is the first solid evidence of K’yume’s whereabouts I've had since landing on this continent. At least now I know the right direction to head in.

The General takes some time to consider Aster's proposition. Her lips thin into a line as she weighs her options. “Normally, I would be wary of permitting something such as this. We are a specialized and reclusive people. We have a very important job here, collecting resources that cannot be found anywhere in Vinevul. Also, while we are currently on friendly terms with Valanguard, the city-state across the tundra, it has not always been so and will not be so forever. There are still those who do not look kindly upon our tentative alliance and trade agreements and would use any opportunity to destroy them. I would never do anything I believed could jeopardize such peace as we have currently achieved. For these reasons, beyond the fact that you are strangers, I would normally be much more cautious with giving such permissions. However, because you've come on behalf of Sid as well as the Church, at great personal risk, and because I know Erwin well from our past encounters, I will allow this request. Much as I am loathe to admit it, we need help and you appear to be the most trustworthy, and indeed only, candidates.”

“We'll certainly do whatever we can,” I assure her.

Bearington clears his throat briefly before joining the conversation. “Excuse me, but I have a question for you. How would you prefer us to address you while we're here? Should we just call you General?”

She looks startled and then actually blushes slightly before quickly regaining her composure. “Apologies. I'm so used to people automatically knowing me. We're a tight-knit group here with few visitors; the few we do get are usually repeat guests. I am Lauriel.” The name sounds familiar. Could she be the famous tactician of the same name? It's possible, even probable, considering the position she holds and her mention of previously facing Erwin in battle. “While here, you may refer to me in whatever way you are most comfortable with. Lauriel or General are both acceptable; I take no issue with any kind of familiarity except perhaps the physical kind.”

I smirk as she sends a significant look in Aster's direction. For his part, Aster can't currently see either her look or my smile. He can’t even make a comprehensible reply to the verbal barb as Arvid has just climbed out of Aster’s jacket and wrapped himself around the summoner's face like a furry scarf. Aster says something, but it only comes out as indistinct mumbling.

“Well, I've kept you long enough. I know you've had a rough journey and would probably like some food. You should be able to get an early dinner in the dining hall. If you'd like to take my personal lift down, there's hot soup, fresh meat, and warm bread you can partake of.”

We agree that a hot meal would be most welcome, so Lauriel leads us out to her personal elevator. Unlike the ones I saw on the way up, this one is clearly operated by magic and not pulleys. As we pile into the lift, Lauriel gives us some parting instructions. “After you've eaten, warmed up, and your minds have thawed, I bid you to meet me in the Garnet Hall where we can discuss further about how we're going to proceed from this point.”

Aster struggles with Arvid, pulling and shoving the esper's pliant but secure body until he partially frees his mouth enough to speak. “How do we find the Garnet Hall?”

“You'll find different gemstones or minerals on the elevator’s panel representing each of the halls. Right now, you'll be headed to the Iron Hall, which is our cafeteria.”

“So iron is for the Iron Hall which has food. Afterwards we meet you in the Garnet Hall. Which is the?” Darwin raises an eyebrow in question.

“The garnet,” Lauriel supplies helpfully.

“Which one's the garnet?” Darwin glances over at the panel of gemstones in confusion.

I point out the correct gem and say, “Garnet is a red stone, similar to, but slightly darker than, a ruby.”

“Sorry, guys. I didn't go to gem school.”

Lauriel bids us farewell and we press the button made of iron. It's lucky this elevator is a decent size or we'd be really cramped, if we'd even have all fit in the first place.

“Well, I feel like a fool! Who else know their gems?” Aster and I both raise our hands and Bearington just shrugs. The trip down takes only a minute versus our twenty-minute trek up the staircases, and the doors slide open smoothly as we come to a stop. We step out into the Iron Hall and the smell of food envelops us in its savory warmth. Erwin beckons us over to a table where she sits waiting.

The food tastes as good as it smells and we all indulge ourselves with as much as we can stomach. Along with our food, we're provided tankards of “good dwarven ale”. The woman who pours them extolls the quality mightily as she passes them over. When we finish our meal, we make our way back to the elevator. Darwin triumphantly presses the garnet button, proud of his new knowledge of gemstones. Aster and I have spent part of the meal making sure Bearington and Darwin can identify all of the buttons on the elevator’s panel.

The doors open once more, onto the Garnet Hall this time. It's on the ground floor. It also appears to be – is it possible? If my eyes don't deceive me, we're now standing at the entrance to a group of hot spring pools. The last time I enjoyed a proper hot spring had to be before I left Esuí to look for K'yume. Lauriel joins us after we’ve been standing there only a moment and guides us inside. Once everyone has changed and sunk comfortably into the steamy water of a large pool, our talk turns to information about Ferron and the discovery of the indestructible ice.

“These hot springs are possible because of thermal vents whose power we've harnessed,” Lauriel explains to us when asked about the spring's source.

“Thermal vents?” Aster asks eagerly. There's that scholar side of him again. Lauriel can see it as well, and graciously offers to show us the vents on our way down into the mines. Aster enthusiastically accepts. After this, we direct our attention to our main concern, the indestructible ice discovered just before the beginning of the storm.

“In fact, it is not just a section of ice,” Lauriel informs us. “A large marble object is lodged within the vein of ice. Of course, we can't tell its size or shape because, like the ice itself, we were only able to uncover one face of the object. You will be able to make your own judgment about it when I take you down into the mines tomorrow morning.” We get the details of our trip to the mines figured out before our talk devolves into more general topics.

Aster gets out after only an hour and tells us he's going to find the library and do some reading before retiring for the evening. Lauriel motions a nearby attendant forward and instructs him to show Aster to our rooms in the Emerald Hall and then direct him to the library. The two men walk off and Lauriel returns to her talk with Erwin about the current events in Fellinor. When I get out to go change and retire to our rooms sometime later, Erwin is recounting the recent Itek attack on the city. Again Lauriel pauses long enough to order someone to escort me to the guest rooms.

I'm worn out from the day, but once I get to my room I feel restlessness creep over me. The lethargy brought on by a soak in the hot springs after our long difficult journey to get here seems to have evaporated. The complete silence of the guest rooms begins grating on my nerves. It's been hours since we've come out of the deafening storm, but I can't shake the feeling of unease that creeps over me. Aster might have made the smart move in deciding to visit the library before settling in. I can't take any more of the silence and solitude, so I guess I’ll follow his example. I head through the giant common room and knock on the summoner's door. There's no answer. He's probably still in the library. So much for asking for directions though. A practice in exploration, I suppose. Lauriel mentioned the library was also on this floor, so at least I know that much.

Wandering the halls seems to help settle my mood, providing an outlet for some of my restlessness. I eventually find the doors leading into the library after about half an hour. The room is absolutely massive, but small groups of overstuffed chairs scattered around keep it from being intimidating. Lamps light the entire room despite the late hour; their glow adding to the homey aesthetic. Aster’s probably here somewhere, he wouldn’t have anywhere else to go besides back to the guest rooms. Perhaps we'll run into one another while I'm looking around.

I walk through the towering aisles of bookshelves, looking at the section placards secured to the shelves as well as the books. Eventually, I find a couple volumes that catch my interest and look like they’d do well as some light reading before bed. As I turn the corner of my current aisle, heading for the doors, I spot Aster.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” I ask when he looks up.

“Uh, yes. I did.” He holds up the book in his hands for me to see. Looks like something on the environs up here in the frozen North. Not bad information to know, all considering. “How about you?” he gestures to the two books I hold under my arm.

In response, I hold up my two volumes for him to see. “Just some reading before bed. Nothing technical. These'll do the job fine. I'm actually heading back to the rooms now, would you care to join me?”

“Nah. You go on without me. I'm going to see if I can find any other books that might be helpful before I head back.”

“Don't stay out too late, then. It's been a long day already and we have a full day lined up for tomorrow.” With this admonishment, I turn and continue heading for the doors. I turn back just before I pass the next corner – Aster is once more completely absorbed by the volume he holds. I smile and continue on my way.

It's not hard to get back to the guest quarters after the amount of wandering I've already done. Once I'm comfortably ensconced in my bed, I begin reading one of the books I absconded with. By the time I've finished the first slim volume, I begin hearing the others come in to retire for the night. My feeling of restlessness has mostly settled now and halfway through the second book I begin dozing off. Jerking awake, I close the book and blow out the lantern before curling onto my side and relaxing into proper sleep. I may only need two hours of rest, but I think I'll want at least six hours after the day I’ve had. I'm glad it's over and we made it without incident, though. Tomorrow might be a different story. We'll try and shed some light on this mystery of unbreakable ice we've been presented with. Hopefully no one gets hurt in the process.

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the-cryptographer · 6 years

Text

re: voltron s5-8

- Ah, yeah, there were a lot of plot holes and unbelievably convenient coincidences going on to keep the story rolling. But I’m not going to be talking about that just because there are so many and it’s the type of thing you must handwave to enjoy the show and I’m okay with that.

- Lotor family drama was pretty great. I’m glad we got the great, horrible filicide/patricide battle. Like, damn, it was great. And Lotor lighting the pyre at the Kral Zera was also very hype. Still not as great as him terribly rejecting Haggar/Honerva. I’m not sure all of these threads were seen to the best conclusion given how hype they all were individually, but I’m in general pretty glad with the way Lotor’s villainy happens and gets revealed to the crew. The honest feelings and affection for Allura getting flipped into ‘if you won’t go along with what I say, I’ll kill you’ was pretty frighteningly believable to me.

- Axca’s endless roulette of deciding who she’s going to align herself with today was also pretty great. I like that moment when her, Ezor, and Zethrid all are like ‘okay no’ to Lotor’s mad rambling and try to bail. Quality.

- Haggar/Honerva might be my favourite character in this canon though (competing with Lance and Coran) I like how competent she is, and how much we see of her personally struggling with the changes in her psyche after being affected by the quintessence. The choice to change her back was really excellent, and I love what it brought out in her, and I hope we get to see a lot of her in the final season.

- Monsters & Mana episode was really amazing. I’m sad it wasn’t the real Shiro playing - but it was still so IC and so fuckin hilarious that he kept on playing Paladin. Best episode.

- Gameshow episode was also good - Pidge’s run of the minigolf course in particular. But it can’t really compete with Monsters & Mana. A low point of it for me was Keith choosing Lance simply because he didn’t want to get stuck with Lance for eternity. Cold bro.

- The timey wimey stuff wasn’t too bad, but it was one of the contributors to what I felt was pretty uneven pacing. I kind of feel like we should have seen some of the stuff with Romelle and the stuff with Keith and his mom and the space wolf first hand, instead of rushing through a lot of it and then presenting the rest of it in flashbacks.

- Not so much the moment everyone was talking about, but The Black Paladins was really emotional in the end. idk like, as frustrating as it is seeing Keith be terribly reckless and consistently willing to sacrifice himself to save Shiro and everyone else, I do feel like it had payoff in the final scene of the episode. hit me hard for those times my teachers/coaches stood up for me. Yeah, Keith- if only you’d stop giving up on yourself.

- Uh, bruh, Earth isn’t in the centre of the Milky Way Galaxy. It’s all the way over to the side on the edge of the spiral. You guys seem to be headed in the wrong direction.

- This show really be overestimating how much I care about the extended Holt family. I think it got off on the wrong foot with the kind of overemotional bait & switch regarding Matt. But there’s also the issue of Pidge getting really reckless and inconsiderate whenever they’re threatened and putting them above everyone else which is... very real and understandable. But at the same time it’s kind of frustrating to watch, especially when the first thing I know about them is they make Pidge act this way before I’m given any reason to know or care about them.

- And I know it’s really just a coincidence, but how Admiral Sanda was handled really rubbed me the wrong way, especially how the other woman she’s (unintentionally?) juxtaposed against is Coleen Holt. Like, first you have this dutiful mother and wife who waited on Earth for 3+ years for her husband to return and she doesn’t stray at all and welcomes him back and supports him in every way he needs. And then Admiral Sanda is this woman who’s actually has rank and power and she’s constantly being vilified and told she’s unfit for her position by all the men working around her. And these are the heros and villains in Sam Holt’s story. When I think about it, there might not be a single woman on this show who’s actually at the top rung of the leadership hierarchy who’s not misaimed or evil. And, yeah, that kind of bothers me a bit. I mean, obviously on an in-universe level, Sanda is a pill. But on a meta level- You get to her death scene. And that she’s, like, the only person who the show actually lets die on screen in the fight to save Earth, as part of some death equals redemption arc... Like, it’s unrealistic and idealistic how many people didn’t die on this show - and that’s fine bc idealistic kids’ show - but Sanda is an acceptable target. If only she had listened to the men who were her intellectual superiors, boo hoo. It felt really obnoxious to me all around.

- Allurance lost some points with me. I still ship it, which is more than I can say for about 90% of the other relationships for this canon/fandom, but I’m decidedly more meh about it now. I know Lance is just a teenager and all, and it’s not out of character or something I couldn’t see happening, but the narrative going along with stuff about how ‘none of the other girls are like her, she’s just so speshul’ is the kind of thing that irritates me. As for Allura responding to Lance’s feelings - it was believable to me given a lot of the pieces that were put in place - but I think more time should have been devoted to following Allura’s feelings and thoughts through the whole of season 7, both in regards to this ship and otherwise. I see why other people say it felt rushed.

- And Axca/Keith is a cute battle couple, you guys are just bitter.

- Buuut, I totally think ppl have reason to be bitter. I don’t know exactly who all was responsible. And I know the creators apologised, and I don’t think they should have had to, necessarily. But, at the very least, some of the marketing decisions here were queerbaiting. The show has gone out of its way to market itself to its lgbt+ audience and fans and has created a lot of hype around Shiro and the show being gay aaaand, we got some subtext, a dead ex-boyfriend, some evil lesbians, and two strongly hinted het ships with the show’s major cast. Yeah. Even though I like those het ships, I get the bitterness.

- And... I think there’s a marked difference between the way the narrative treats Adam and the way it’s treated the other Paladin’s loved ones over the course of the show. Like, god, we’ve gotten so much of Pidge’s family drama. We got a whole episode of Pidge crying over Matt being dead when he wasn’t even dead. We got a lot of Hunk trying to come to terms with not being able to see his family at the Garrison this season. We got quite a bit of Veronica this season, and have touched on Lance missing his family since season one. Keith got several episodes about his mother and the lead up to and effects of his father dying. Coleen Holt waits for Sam Holt to return from space. But with Shiro we get this breakup and then Adam dies and it’s brushed over in a couple of minutes? Like, I’m not saying Adam shouldn’t have died necessarily, or that Shiro’s relationship with Adam shouldn’t have been on the rocks. I’m just saying it’s hard to really divorce this from the fact that the relationships straight ppl have are societally valued so much higher than the relationships lgbt+ ppl have, and this show isn’t really disagreeing with that in terms of what it continues to show us. And, like, I’m not angry and don’t really care all that much, like- I stopped looking for mass media to validate me in this way a long time ago. And I prefer to see myself represented in media through angst as opposed to nice, happy relationships anyhow. But, like, I’m tired of hearing that people /shouldn’t/ feel upset or betrayed by this, lmao. Like, yeah, there are totally valid reasons for people to feel that way. And it’s not like feelings even need to be validated to be there and deserve respected anyhow, smh.

- But, yeah, I’m serious. I’m over the moon about Ezor/Zethrid and I love them so much more than I could have possibly loved any heroic gays. I hope we get a lot of them being their wonderful selves and living to tell the tale next season :’)

- Hunk/Shay is also still good and quality.

- Also, this isn’t really a failing of Season 7, so much as just my preference but- I kind of wish the show hadn’t moved back to Earth. Because one of the major draws the show has for me is the weird alien culture exploration aspect of it. Without that it’s just kind of one string of ‘intricate plans to overthrow Galra -> intricate plans fail and the enemy seizes the upper hand -> heroes come through with a way to take back the upper hand -> enemies come up with a way to seize the upper hand back’ and so on and so forth in a ridiculous escalation of who can turn into the biggest dumbest giant robot and save the day from arbitrary time limit the fastest. And, like, I realise a lot of fans are here for the giant mech battles but I am so not. So I hope we get away from the ultra militant save earth stuff soon and get back to weird worldbuilding shenanigans soon <.<;;

#discourse under the cut #meta lite #voltron

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