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yuoic · 1 year

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dreamed of such a beautiful woman [not Kaylie Minogue or Angelina Jolie beautiful, but Drew Barrymore or Helena Bonham Carter beautiful - you know, on the uncommon/exotic end of the spectrum (my favourite kind of beautiful, that is)]

golden, short, slightly curvy hair; fairly tall; carelessly, effortlessly good-looking fashion wise.

we were back in my hometown, at the house of my great-grandparents (parents of my grandfather on my father's side). we = my family. and there was this apocalyptic sort of situation going on such that were okay and chill but preferably locked down in that house.

then i decided to take a short walk as usual and found that i walked a bit further away than intented and/or just decided to take the bus back home, but that route i took and the bus were/looked pretty IRL from here, not my hometown. Anyway, in that bus i see this woman (my age), the tall, golden haired one. i say she was careless fashion wise because she was wearing shorts - guess military green, thigh high shorts -, tactical boots, and this... coat, whith, like, a bit of sheep fur inside? and the coat i think was also green or dark? and a white, tight shirt of anything (whatever cartoon, or perhaps a brand of cereal?). I could even add she had like a hat of some sort? you get the point.

she was chanting I don't know what exactly, but it was about... resistance against capitalism or... things. and i somehow knew- perhaps she was also shouting that too -that she was part of this around 10 people commune, and at the same time part of a polyam whatever (obviously). but she was charming. and we started talking and she eventually invited me over - perhaps not to live with them but, like a tour or something.

then (since she was polyam) she started making advances and l responded bla bla bla. point is she was so kind [and i was so unbearably, mawkingly sentimental, as usual (i insist: my brain knows me only too well)] and loving i was reduced to dust on the floor. i remember that she said [jesus christ, this is so embarrassing because that's EXACTLY something i would do and say in such situation... how can people put up with me at all???] "hey, would you like to listen to this pink floyd vinyl?" (i *hate* pink floyd, and i knew it in my dream, too) and i said "as long as we listen to it together (; " [JSKDKSKKFNSNFSKNFMS 🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮 (too fucking accurate)] and this golden haired woman blushed slightly, said thank you to the lamest 'smooth' move she's probably heard in decades, and (later that day) she kind of wanted to.. um, thank me? for being 'sweet' to her? so she made this improvised- but super cute -thing, like a birthday card format but handmade, decorated with stuff, and it simply said in stylish text [*her* very particular sort of stylish: kind of fucked up letters but with evident effort into the aesthetic, pretty nicely overall] something along the lines of "how do i take care of you/what is it that you find sweet so that i know/how do you like to be treated so that i know how to take care of you". and it fucked me up so hard xdxd because im evidently unused to such things that i just froze and didn't say anything, just stood there staring at the letter/card she gave me and thinking of an answer. What a nice woman/dream.

then i dreamed of Louis Walsh xD as a judge (yes, im a huge fan of the X Factor but the bad auditions only; im obsessed with them) of some show; that he was given the choice to pick one song out of 5 to dance it himself! and he chose the gagnam style ("so that people can have a good laugh" he said, but in the most expressionless face in this world hhahahajja), then put up a clownish, glittery purple huge, puffy top hat, and started dancing. but then someone grabbed the mic (at the other end of the place), which was apparently normal, and started saying, like, sarcastic things about how the mexican movie industry keeps only an unfair amount of the money they make/made out of The Lord of The Rings movies and all the rest goes to Sony (i have no idea if Sony really has the rights xd that was just in my dream), "not even taking into account the popcorn and candy sales" those people said (they were two men) xD

then i dreamed that I was in new york (?) i was fucking around in central park, just chilling at a bench or something, and that i got a new black, very resistant backpack, as in those big backpacks that aren't backpack shaped. like this but it looked even more like just a bag. and i remember talking about it with someone (a very old acquaintance from school; i met him when I was 15), and they said "oh yea, i remember your old backpack! it was al ripped and worn-out" (?) for whatever my brain meant with that - with any of those three dreams.

#dream journal #personal #the commune i understand because i was watching a documentary where they mentioned kibbutz #and the mexican movie industry part i also understand because i was talking with a friend about a job i had as production assistant #and the new york part i get as well because the documentary mentioned some idiot living there for a while

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windywhispers · 3 years

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...sssso the last funeral parlor director was in fact Hu Tao’s grandfather, and she did become director at the age of 13...

But some other things I can note: Hu Tao’s embrace of life could have been from none other than her grandfather telling her "Live in life, die in death. Follow your heart, do what you can."

So of course, life became her passion and her passion became her Pyro Vision :)

#starts grossly crying over hu tao #also apparently the hat she wears is from her grandfather too #apparently you can meet the recently departed in wuwang hill #as its the border of life and death so you can see people before they actually leave the world for good #she stayed there for several days waiting for her grandfather but her grandfather had already gone accepting his own death #i think for that reason hu tao as well she just wants to live a life of no regrets #i was so worried that this was going to be a #'hu tao couldnt bury someone she loved dear so it haunts her and thats why she HAS to cremate/bury them'#from last post i made of hu tao #on a different note:#nnow i just hc as hu tao liking zhongli a lot because he reminds her of her granddad #she did say how she trusts zhongli a lot with funeral customs compared to others so. ya know.#for hu tao #genshin really said 'lets traumatized these little babies'#genshin impact rambles

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flamyangelwings · 2 years

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The other reunion fic I won't be writing

This time featuring Uncle Drayden as a key player

As a note, This is post post-game. Pokédex is fully completed, but Arceus could only send people back, in time, and Dialga is too weak from everything that happened. The best Arceus could to was lay breadcrumbs for other people to find.

Arceus planted ideas in peoples minds to research this or that, or record these things, so that in Ingo and Dawn's present people could find out where they were and go get them.

-Drayden has to go to Sinnoh for some conference or something

--Think an bi-annual Gym Leaders conference that happens in a different region each year.

----This was another thing Arceus planted in someone's mind

-Since it's a Gym Leaders thing, Clay is there too, and offers to give a tour, having been to Sinnoh in the past since he has family there

--Regarding The Hat, I headcanon that's it's a family tradition to make that hat for each member as a rite of adulthood, often earned in the present through completing a Pokémon Journey.

---Lian earned his when he became Kleavor's Warden

-Clay is firmly told by his cousin/aunt/whatever to bring all the other Gym Leaders to their place for dinner one day.

--It's a big house.

-Clay is giving a tour of the house when Drayden freezes

--"Clay, what's this?"

---He's pointing to a very old photo hung on the wall, among several other photos of members of the family who've had large accomplishments

----Clay's photo is there too, obviously

---"Hm? Oh. So that's my...five? greats grandfather Lian. He was a warden for the Pearl Clan which meant-"

----Drayden cuts him off

---"No. THIS." Drayden presses his finger on the glass, everyone looks closer

----Clay: "What the hell?"

----Elesa: "What the HELL?!?"

----Iris: "WHAT. THE. FUCK!?"

-----Drayden: "Iris, language. but also yes."

-----Clay walks away shouting "HEY EL! YOU STILL HAVE THOSE SCANS OF GRANDPA LIAN'S JOURNAL THE MUSEUM SENT US?"

-----"YES? WHY??"

-----"WHERE?"

-----"WHY??????"

-----"I NEED THEM!"

-----"WHY?!?!"

-----"DRAYDEN'S MISSING NEPHEW IN IN THE PHOTO OF HIM AND THE OTHER WARDENS IS WHY, WHERE'S THE JOURNAL?!?"

-----"WHO'S WHAT IS WHERE?!"

------Five minutes later Clay's teenage relative-of-some-degree walks in, says "Here you go uncle Clay!" and hands him a stack of pages "I've bookmarked the pages you want."

--------The answer to 'where's a copy of the scanned pages' was 'in her room', she likes to read it and always knew this day would come.

---------She pays attention to the Unovan news since Clay lives there and so knew that Ingo of the Battle Subway was missing, and the nephew of one of Clay's fellow Gym Leaders

----------She was actually going to point this stuff out to him herself, but she knew based on the dates when to tell him so that the timelines would match up.

-Gym Leader research time!

--First bookmark is the part where Ingo [Just noted as a strange man with no memories] is found

---Followed by every other mention of him

----'Today a small space-time rift appeared in the middle of Jubilife village while the Clans and Galaxy Team were having a meeting. A small group of people came out of it. One of them was Lady Akari's mother. Lady Akari was so happy to see her that she burst into tears and practically tackled her to the ground in an embrace. Lady Johanna came with two men, one claims to be Warden Ingo's uncle, had an old copy of the photograph we took yesterday with him. He also had a photograph book of Warden Ingo growing up along with an identical boy. I'm going to be sad to see Warden Ingo go, but I don't think he'll be staying now that he remembers that the 'smiling man in white' he told me about all those weeks ago is his twin brother.' The other man in the group must be descended from me or a relative of mine, or at least kin with one, he's wearing the family hat, and that's likely how Warden Ingo's uncle got a copy of the photograph. It's my copy. Also, apparently Lady Akari really was sent to us for a reason. She calmed the Almighty Sinnoh Palkia and Dialga in her past, our future, and was sent back through time to us to calm them again.

-----Drayden: Okay then. So how are we getting to the past, and who is this 'Akari' girl's mother?

-The Unovan Gym Leaders are asking around at the conference to see if any of the Gym Leaders from other regions have ideas.

--They went to the library and museum and have scans and printouts all the information they could find on Warden Ingo and Akari

---It takes five seconds after one of the Sinnoh Gym Leaders hears the story and see a picture of Akari to call all the others over

----As well as Cynthia who was there as a guest speaker

-I headcanon in the Pokémon world, a person's next of kin can access their PC in case of emergency.

--It's supposed to be for like 'they have an Audino and we need a healing Pokémon NOW' sort of situations

---Also, your mom would leave you potions and stuff in your box in Gold and Silver, right? So like that.

--Anyway, Dawn's mom gets Dialga and Palkia out of her box and sends herself, Drayden and Clay back to Hisui

-Literal portal in space opens in front of Galaxy Hall

--EVERYONE IS ON ALERT

--Three people walk out

---Akari, quietly: "....I....think I know her...I-MOM?!"

----Akari literally dodges Captain Cyllene's hand trying to grab her and is swept off her feet in a hug by her mom

-----Cyllene's first thought was Danger.

------Then Akari started talking and her thoughts went 'Trap. Trap. STOP YOU FOOLISH GIRL!'

---Lian is staring at Clay's hat.

----Clay is staring at Lian staring at his hat

--Drayden is...blunt.

---He just says everything, shows their proof, and then

----Kamado and Drayden are having a staring contest.

-----Drayden knows perfectly well what Kamado did when the sky went red, Captain Cyllene's journal is in a museum and details it. He also understands why and can respect protecting your own.

---Meanwhile Ingo picked up the photo album and is looking through it

----"Emmet. How...How did I forget Emmet?"

-----Drayden loses the staring contest, but only because Ingo looks at him, says "Uncle?" and then faints.

-------Once Ingo comes to in the Galaxy Hall med bay, a week later, he has all his memories back.

---------Irida is there and is completely unsurprised, if a little saddened, at his request to relieve him of his duties as Sneaslers Warden

-Everyone goes home

--With a couple extinct Pokémon eggs

--All the Gym Leaders cheer when they come back out of the portal

---ALL of them, this became A Thing, since the Unova Gym Leaders were asking all the others, so there's like, 62 Gym Leaders, several members of different Elite Fours, and a few Champions/Ex Champions present

-Emmet is waiting at the dock for everyone's return. Elesa, Drayden, and Iris all messaged him separately to tell him to be there

--He's not sure why they were all so insistent, but he's there

---Before the boat even finishes docking someone is climbing over the rail, jumping off, landing on the dock and taking off at a run.

----Emmet has a split second to think about how that must be against Safety Protocol, before he realizes...

-----That's Ingo.

------That's Ingo.

--------"IN-" Emmet is cut off as Ingo crashes into him and they both fall onto the ground

-Once the boat is properly docked the Gym Leaders get off. The twins aren't saying anything, just clinging to each other.

And then later Drayden tells Emmet the whole story at home.

#Pokemon Legends Arceus Spoilers #Legends Arceus Spoilers #pokemon ingo #pokemon emmet #submas #uncle drayden #subway masters #gym leader drayden #subway bosses #My Ideas #Pokemon Legends Arceus

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aphrodite-would-be-proud · 3 years

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🕯Anon said: hi sweetheart 🕊 can you write about armin having a quiet night with the reader? something like wearing comfy pajamas, fairy lights, cute little candles, incense, soft songs and maybe some reading? and they just cuddling? 🥺 i think about that whenever i go to sleep and do all of the above, but i'm just by myself lmao anyways, thank you so much 🌸 (btw i'm the anon who asked you about the armin x painter!reader 🥺 hello 🥺 i just love how you write can we be friends please) 🕯

Quiet night with Armin

{ Armin x Reader | tw:none | sleep help, comfort, fluff | modern }

{ "Twilight, Valley of the Genesee" 1865 by Samuel Colman 1832 - 1920 }

Shimmering golden hues weaved across pastel blue walls in the form of strings, crossing the bookshelf before making a turn at the plants corner, illuminating the room with a soft warm glow.

Your head rested against the satin pillow, just right above Armin's shoulder, close enough that you can see the rise and fall of his chest with every breath. The ends of his hair ghosting over your cheek whenever he leaned to tell a particular clever line of the book he's been reading to you.

You can't exactly remember the name of it, but you can clearly recall his excited smile this morning when showing it to you.

"It's one of my favourites" he said, "the last time i got to reread it was in high-school, has it really been that long?" And that's all you can remember from the conversation before it got sidetracked by him asking if you had lunch yet.

There's definitely something to be said about rereading a book over and over again, a sense of familiarity, an attachment to the characters, plot and world setting. It's almost magic how quickly your comfort book, show or movie can turn a horrible day into a nice one, making it the silver lining.

Looking at the way Armin would pause for a second after some lines, or chuckle at random scenes, like it's an inside joke between him and his mind, you can tell he's definitely recalling some good memories.

Just like how he's adding to his list of comfort memories by sharing this experience with you, he wants you to be a part of this silly book he once picked up as a child and continued to revisit every few years.

You glance at the remaining pages, just as he flips another one to start anew. You've already finished a third of the book, only a quarter remaining.

It's not that you're getting impatient, but it's more that the soft blanket draped over you, the warmth of Armin's body pressed next to yours and the sound of his voice, are all luring you into a hazy cloudy state where your eyelids feel too heavy and turning your head to check the clock seems too exhausting.

How long has it been? since you curled up against him right after you went to put your empty hot chocolate mugs in the sink.

You don't have the heart to tell him that your brain stopped registering the words he's saying and instead listens to the tone of his soft-spoken voice and reacts accordingly. Stealing another glance at the remaining pages, you notice a few missing, okay good, just a few more. You can hold on right?

Right?

Forcing your eyes open, you suppress a yawn threatening to rise before curling even closer to his shoulder, face against his neck, hand over his chest.

Instead of focusing on his calming heartbeat, you try to focus your attention on different things, like the smell of snowdrops flowers filling the room from the scented incense sitting on the nightstand.

Snowdrops, the milky bell-like flowers who befriended the cold harsh snow herself.

An ancient German tale that Armin told you, on one early spring morning. When the universe was just in bloom, as the earth shaped its form and the plants dressed themselves, when the god in the heavens above just created snow, she was told to go seek her colours from the flowers below.

She came with her request, but the flowers turned their heads, refusing to acknowledge her for she is the reason for the harsh weather, deeming their life spans short, overzealous and jealous, protecting their colours from the merciless lady snow.

She was left all alone, friendliness, colourless with no love or sympathy from a soul.

Except for one, came knocking on her door, head bowed down and humbly offered to share. Snowdrops were the flowers that warmed the snow's heart, and so white was the colour in which snow was known.

Snow made a vow, to always protect her one and only friend, even from her own self. Under her watchful gaze, snowdrops were gifted with warmth that let them be the first flowers to bloom when winter bid her goodbyes as spring was arriving soon.

You've never seen snowdrops the same since, their delicate and shy nature standing out between all the proud flowers, you even suggested planting some to Armin.

"...but sweetheart" you remember him saying with a frown, " snowdrops are poisonous."

…

Yeah, and so getting their scented incense was the second best option available.

You hear the sound of another page being turned, fewer left to go, just hold on a bit longer.

Wondering the room with your eyes, your gaze fell on the straw sunhat hanging from the on the back of a chair. It's Armin's favourite, he'd always wear it when the sun was particularly bright that day.

you remember him saying it was a gift from his grandpa when he was a child.

His grandpa...didn't you visit his farm a few months ago?

...yeah you did, you can recall clearly, how you were:

Squinting your eyes to avoid the bright sun, you wiped the sweat collecting on your forehead before leaning your head back against the wooden wall. The occasional passing cool breeze distracting you from the dryness in your throat, even after moving to sit in the shade your skin still felt too hot.

The grassy fields in front stretched wide before ending in white pained fences, where the crops patches for vegetables started.

The sudden gentle waves of cool air against your skin made you glance to the side, where Armin was fanning you with his hat, while holding a tray with two ice filled lemonades in his other hand.

"Are you sure you don't want to go inside?" He said, sitting next to you before handing you the cold drink, "you've already done a lot, I'll do take care of the rest."

You've been helping Armin with the farm work since sunrise, feeding the animals together and watering the crops, saying you're exhausted from the scorching hot sun was an underestimation.

And yet, somehow Armin seems unaffected. Not a sign of being bothered as he sat there next to you with his rolled up sleeves and cuffed pants, the slight flushing to his face was the only thing he got from the sun.

"Yeah, I need to lay down a bit." You remember saying, after emptying your drink in one go.

"If that's the case then-" setting the tray aside, Armin patted his lap while looking at you, "Come here."

Too tired to protest, you layed your head on his thigh, feeling your back stretching and the cool air from his fanning was already making you feel better.

"You know, there's a story my grandpa used to tell me about the sun."

An Australian folklore, about a time when the earth was merged in absolute Darkness, when even the stars refused to light up the sky.

Eternal darkness was the fate of humanity, as people were spent their lives carrying torches to light up their way.

Gnowee was an alone mother in a forsaken world, left to fend for her little son. Each day while he slept safely, she'd venture into the the fields in search for plants or seeds. Knowing very well that's it's a matter of life and death if she couldn't come back with something edible.

Each day she'd come with whatever she could find, feeding it to her son even if it meant sleeping on an empty stomach.

But with food scarce and the abyss looming at every corner, things were harder each day.

One day after rocking her child to sleep, she quietly left with her torch to dig for yams she saw on her way last time. Retracting her footsteps, it was a long journey but she knew it'd be worth it.

And so she walked and walked till she reached the place, began digging the ground but dirt and mud was all that she could find. But she couldn't just go back to her son empty handed, and so she wandered far.

She wandered so far in fact that she reached the end, not the end of her journey but the end of the earth itself.

Somehow, in someway she managed to pass from under it, her will for her son to live another day far greater that anything, and so she emerged from the other side.

The void.

Where nothingness lived.

Looking at the vast empty space, she didn't know where she was, the line between the ground and walls was so blurred that she thought she's floating.

Panic and dread filled her mind as she raised her torch higher and higher, attempting to clear a path for her to see. For she had to go back to her son, all alone sleeping by himself.

Climbing the sky was her only solution, as she wondered the world, unknowingly lighting up a path with her as she went.

"And so the Sun Goddess wonders the sky above, in search for her son." Armin told you that day, before offering you his own lemonade to drink because he was still worried about you.

...

You can't recall how that day ended, you think you might have fell asleep on his lap right after.

The fairylights on the wall reminded you of the clear stars sky you've seen while on the farm, his grandfather was a really sweet guy too.

With your mind still coulded in drowsiness, your hearing was also delayed apparently, since you just noticed the book in Armin's hold was closed with him staring at you with a smile instead.

Moving so he could set the book on the nightstand, Armin turned towards you before pulling you closer to him, making sure the covers don't slip off of you. He cupped your face, stroking your cheek with love in his eyes.

"I'm sorry baby, did I take too long?" He said, glancing at the clock behind you answered his question.

You shook your head, murmuring a slurred "it's alright."

Posture visibly relaxing, he gave your cheek a small kiss before resting too on the pillow next to you, a yawn escaping him.

With half closed eyes, you saw him cuddling close to your chest, features softening as he bid you goodnight. Your hand moved to stroke his hair just like he always liked, lacing your fingers through the soft strands you closed your eyes too.

Warmth took over you, the feeling of his soft breath near your neck, the comfortable weight of his arms around you, the slow ticking of the clock, it all rocked you to sleep as you happily gave in.

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manychocolatefactories · 3 years

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CatCF Dark Chocolate: Part 2, the tour

Willy Wonka and his factory:

For the Factory in this version, I wanted to give a feeling of the factories of the 19th century. Something between a place where a mad scientist would work and a steampunk fantasy. Willy Wonka himself is based on Jules Vernes.

Willy Wonka himself is a man with an "impressive beard", a solemn but kind air on his face, and an overall feeling of knowledge and wisdom. Wearing a thick and tight jacket, a black top hat and a dark green coat, his appearance actually gives mixed signals: his short hair is fluffy and shaggy, like a man of free spirit, of amusement and not much care, but his beard and mustache are neatly trimmed and cut, like any serious and respectable man. His hair is brown, chocolate-colored, but with touches of white and gray here and there. His eyes are kind and twinkling, but his mouth is a harsh thin line. He is the kind of man that will say the most extravagant things perfectly seriously, but treat serious and common business as a joke. Don't think however that is an extravagant or funny man. Again, he rather gives the feeling of a kind mad scientist.

As for the Factory itself, actually the locals, the people of the town over which the Factory looms, dislike it. Sure, the Factory is admired by people wordlwide - tourists come to see it, painters come to paint it, it is a landmark admired in foreign countries. But the locals do not like it at all. It is a tall, dark, cold and stern building, with no color of beauty, only locked doors, metallic fences, thick walls and high chimneys. The Factory does not employ anyone of the town, in fact no one ever saw the Factory workers arrive or leave. Wonka himself has never left his factory for decades now. Couple that with strange white silhouettes seen at the windows, and the ramblings of the local homeless man who apparently hates the Factory and keeps insulting it, and quickly a bad reputation was built for it. Adults believe Wonka is trying to hide a shameful secret, the kids tell tales of "the haunted chocolate factory"...

In fact, I wanted an air of creepiness for the Factory. I took back the original idea of Dahl that all the workers are regular humans dressed in white, and I pushed it a little further: they are basically so covered in white you can hardly see them anymore. They have white blouses and jackets, white gloves, white masks, white caps, white helmets... After each kid's demise, a mysterious poem is recitated (like in Dahl's original drafts), mysterious voices that could be eithe the worker's or something else... In fact, with each kid demise there is an element of sppokiness which may be the kid hallucinating out of fear, or not (Augustus in the river thinks something is tying to catch him or drag him down ; Wilbur and Rice in the dark hear and feel creepy things...). And Wonka himself keeps making ominous references to "selling your soul to the devil"...

But in truth the Factory isn't a death trap at all. Behind the scenes, the workers are just normal people with their own life and their usual office routines, and who happent to leave very discreetly the Factory. The Factory is also based a lot on the Menier chocolate factory, which is the "real-life" Wonka factory. I may speak more about it one day.

Anyway... now let's go on with the tour!

# The Labyrinth. Behind each entrance, before each exit of the Factory, is a labyrinth, a maze Wonka designed after the works of Penrose and Möbius. Only he and his workers know the way out of them. This is merely a security measure.

# The Edible Garden. For this garden, I wanted to insist on the idea of it being fake and artificial - Wonka didn't try to create a perfect replica of a landscape. This room doesn't even have any real sense in the Factory, it is merely a piece of art he created so that he could come in here to relax and mediate. There are no windows, all the lights come from spots on the far-away ceiling and the ground is grey stone (because Wonka is revolted at the idea of making grass out of candy, it would be too dirty). There are trees of hard caramel and mint candies, orchards where the fruits are made of gummy, lollipops shaped like flowers and numerous sculptures of sugar - none of this is to be eaten however. At the back of the garden, there is the Chocolate River. The River serves a double use: on one side, it is merely an aesthetic addition to the Edible Garden. On the other, it is a source of energy for the Factory - it used to be a water mill, and Wonka kept the ancient structures but replaced water with chocolate. As such, the production of chocolate actually helps create energy back - and the river ends with a series of different pipes, each one leading to a different room where the chocolate will be used.

This is where Augustus Pottle meets his demise. The competitive glutton tried to empty the river of its content, and fell into it. Sucked up by one of the glass pipes, he did a long travel through the tubes and pipes of the factory, which crushed and reshaped his fat into a cylindric body - before he fell into one of the boiling vats. There, the heat was enough to have all his fat melt, like in a super-intense sauna. Hopefully, he was rescued before being boiled alive - but Augustus left the factory as a mass of sagging, extra-skin, his wrinkled folds dragging on the ground, like a skeleton wearing a bride's dress made of human flesh.

# At the back of the Edible Garden, there is a long hallway that passes by a balcony. Said balcony allows one to see the "Mosaic room", a place where Wonka makes mosaics out of pralines - and since the room is really vast, he can make giant mosaics.

# The Vanilla Fudge Mountain. While it looks like a miniature mountain kept inside a giant room, this titanic hunk of vanilla fudge is actually a fragment taken out of the Honeylaya mountain range (located somewhere between the great Black Thunder chocolate mines, and the sugar marshes of the Sea of Marmelade). [References to the Himalaya, the Black Thunder coal mines, the Black Thunder chocolate bars, the Sea of Marmara and salt marshes ]. This room is basically a copy-cut of Dahl's deleted chapter of the same name, with workers breaking down the mountain, piling the fudge in wagons and then sending it to the Cutting and Pounding Room.

This is where Wilbur and Rice meet their demise. Unruly, and tired of having all their pranks and "fun" sabotaged by Wonka and Bertie Upside, they decide to ride the wagons. Of course, they are sent down the Cutting and Pounding Room - hopefully for them, Wonka has installed an intelligent wire strainer/net that can catch all impurities detected, to clean the fudge. So the kids are saved, right? Well the thing is that, while waiting on the wire strainer for someone to save them, the kids, bored and gluttonous, ended up eating all the fudge that fell down around them. They ate so much of it, that the machine ended up identifying them as "fudge" instead of "impurity" (since they were basically 80 percent fudge after their gorging Xp). So they where sent down in the Room, thrown on a conveyor belt... ready to be pound and cut into slices. The workers realized this of course and stopped the conveyor belt before the knifes - but the kids still got pounded. Wilbur, who was lying on his side when he got pounded, became tall and thin ; while Tommy, who was standing up, got pounded on the head and became small and large. In fact, when they got out of the Factory, their angry parents ended up mistaking one for another and going home with the wrong boy.

# After the Vanilla Fudge Mountain, the tour goes by another hallway, this one with numerous tall and colorful windows - stained glass made of sugar. Each window illustrates a famous chocolatier or candy-maker, but in the style of saints in churches. You have Philippe Suchard (the grandfather of Milka), Henry Isaac Rowntree (the maker of the Fruit Pastilles and Fruit Gums), the Menier family (the biggest chocolatiers of 19th century and first half of 20th century Europe, and distant relatives of Wonka) ; the Murrie family (creators of Hersheys) and the Mars famly (bheind the Mars bars, the M&Ms, the Snickers and the Milky Ways). "All families" Wonla notes with an air of sadness. Indeed, Wonka always wanted a family - or rather at this point in his life he regrets to not have a family and an heir, isolated that he is in his factory.

# Inventing Room number 3. There are numerous "Inventing Rooms" in the Factory, dedicated to developping, inventing, testing, studying products or just do crash tests. The number 3 is clustered with huge, squat and heavy dark machines, with vats, cauldrons and ovens, and all sorts of other structures dragon-like due to the steam and fire they spill out. It quite a grim and sinister place, but it is also where Wonka tests his most fantastic inventions, like the Rainbow Drops, the Luminous Lollies or the Three-Course Meal Gum.

As you guess, this is where Violet Beauregard will meet her demise. I set myself a rule to avoid all blueberry transformations when dealing with the demises of the Violets, so here I rather use the tomato soup: after chewing (not only did Violet took the gum due to her "talent" but also because she misheard Wonka and thought it was a "tasting" room), her face becomes red and chubby, her skin smooth and glossy, her cheeks puff out, her nose bulges, her forehead bloats, her throat becomes big, her lips thick and her ears thin, pointy, green. Result? Her face looks like a mass of tomatoes. Tomatoes for cheeks, a tomato for a forehead, tomatoes instead of eyelids, a tomato for a nose and two for the lips... Think of the Arcimboldo paintings, how he made faces out of flowers and vegetables. It is the same thing here. And while her parent is furious at first, they end up actually realizing it might be for the better - because now she is truly unique and attention-attracting, and that's what her parents always wanted...

# Follows a long hallway with a series of different rooms: two are taken from the original book, the Fizzy Lifting Drinks and the Squares that Look Round. One I changed slightly: the Chocolate Milk Room, where Wonka keeps special cows that have a chocolate-flavored milk.

# The Heating Room. A room taken from Dahl's deleted chapter "The Warming Candy Room".

This Heating Room looks like the negine room of a submarine or a freighter, filled with turbines, pistons, pipes, wheels and pressure gauges. This is where Wonka creates all of his heat-related products: hot ice-creams to fight chilling days, hot ice-cubes to give back warmth to a cold drink, and finally the warming candies (see the original deleted chapter). Marvin Prune, absolutely outraged by what he perceives as Wonka breaking all laws of science and physics, tries to prove that he is a quack by stuffing himself with handfuls of warming candies. Which results in him over-heating: he becomes red, sweaty, thirsty, removes all of his clothes (save for his underwears) and screams to death.

Wonka will have him put in the freezer, and also covered regularly in water, to avoid him drying up to death or combust. But even as he is leaving the factory, he is still red, sweaty, steamy and in underwears - the falling snow melting as it touches him.

# The Nut Room. Another classic piece of the original factory that I wanted to reinvent. Basically, here the kids do not visit the Nut Room proper, but the Under-Nut Room, or Sub-Nut Room. You've got the Nut Room where the white-clad workers separate good nuts from bad nuts Then the "bad" batch is then in this under-room, where trained squirrels will sniff out any potential "good nut" the workers may have missed. All the nuts are on a conveyor belt, that is getting then thrown down a chute.

Of course, Elvira Salt meets her demise here by trying to take one of the squirrels by force, resulting in a squirrel attack. However, the squirrels do not push her down the chute. Rather, she climbs on the conveyor belt to avoid them and has her fur stuck in the belt. She could have escaped if she had let go of it, but she refused to let it go, so she fell down the chute... and Wonka cannot remember if this particular chute leads to the compost vat he uses to grow his fruits, vegetales and berries - or to the furnace...

But don't worry, she actually falls down in the compost. Elvira will leave the factory extremely dirty, unbearably stinky, so much not even an entire week of baths and showers can remove it, and probably with one or two diseases, but alive.

# The Television Room. I did not had time to clearly prepare this one, but it will be where Michael (Mike) T-V meets his demise. Discovering he can go inside television, he is more happy to oblige, and is absolutely thrilled to be in his favorite shows. But as soon as he leaves the television, he realizes that he is now as small as a television character! No bigger than the screen! He will be sent back to his home, now only able to play with his toys and figurines, the only things at his doll-like size.

# The Molding Room

This room is also taken back from Dahl's original draft. Basically, it is where Wonka creates many of his chocolate sculptures - he has an entire zoo of chocolate animals, and very recently created a machine able to form men, women and children out of chocolate. And this is also where Bertie Upside will meet his demise.

You may be wondering: Bertie? What has he done wrong? He is kind, gentle, generous, perfect. He helped Charlie on numerous occasions, he stopped the mischief of the brats... Isn't he a good kid?

HE IS NOT. Grandpa Georges was right all along: if he appears better than the others, it means that he twice as worse.

Bertie Upside truly has a heart of gold. Which means a heart of cold and hard metal, not of flesh.

Bertie Upside is a psychopath, a sociopath, an evil little boy. Sure he knows how to put on a nice and gentle facade, but it is just manipulation. If he is orphaned, it is because he killed his own parents, and now that he is left alone with Charlie (Wonka being busy elsewhere), Bertie will try to kill him, just for fun, by putting him in the "Chocolate Boy" mould so that he would be smothered in a chocolate statue.

However (I have to admit this part is a bit blurry), Charlie will resist and Bertie will end up thrown inside another moulding machine... A piñata-creating machine. When Bertie will get out of the machine, he will still be a living boy... but now with a flesh as fragile as papier-mâché, and insides filled with candies. Now he is really a sweet kid inside as he is outside. And he will have to be really gentle... if he doesn't want to break.

And of course after that Charlie gets the factory, as it turns out that Wonka was looking for an heir with this tour. Happy end!

Now, as I mentionned a poem forms itself through the story, rhymes being added after each kid's demise (an idea originally taken from Dahl's first drafts of the story). It goes like this:

"Nine little children, in the garden they went,

But one fell, and then they were eight."

"Eight little children, an unruly mix,

Two rode to Chicago, and then they were six."

"Six little children went into a room as busy as a hive,

But one did not listen carefully, and then they were five."

"Five little children, less and less at every door,

One had a fever and then they were four."

"Four little children saw squirrels down the tree,

One fell down the squirrel hole, and then they were three."

"Three little children, and none are new,

One went to play and then they were two."

"Two little children, we are soon to be done,

One got his trickandtreat, and then there was one."

"One little children, everything he won,

He lived ever happily, and now we are done."

#charlie and the chocolate factory #catcf #willy wonka #wonka factory #tour #dark chocolate #demise #veruca salt #augustus gloop #violet beauregarde #mike teavee #charlie bucket #bertie upside #marvin prune #tommy troutbeck #wilbur rice

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giogio-gucci-gangstar · 4 years

Text

A Very Joestar Vacation (to Disney): Joseph’s Special Ride

so Ive been sitting on this for a while and just finished it bc this class is boring. thanks @cockneydio for motivating me to finish

but uh yeah Joseph fucking shit up at Disney based on things my 5′4″ German grandfather did when he was 64.

CW: joke about alcoholism, minor old man violence against Disney cops

“Grandpa,” Jolyne snickered, “Why are you wearing weird bracelets?” Anything could be funny to a four year old and apparently the zip tie “bracelets” hanging off Joseph’s wrists were hilarious.

It was 7 in the morning so Jotaro sniffled as he peeled his eyes open to see what fashion crime JiJi had committed today. Only to notice zip ties hanging off the old man. Jolyne was right, those were some weird bracelets. Jotaro spared a glance at his mother next to Joseph who was looking rather concerned, as if she couldn't decide whether to explain why they were there or to keep quiet.

Now this had the potential to be almost as interesting as it was annoying, Jotaro thought to himself. But not interesting enough to stay fully conscious for, so he allowed himself to drift into a light sleep.

“YOU JUMPED OVER THAT?” Jolyne’s hysterical scream pierced through any possible sleep Jotaro could've had in that moment. Yes her voice was shrill this early in the morning, but also imagining JiJI doing any sort of physical activity at this age was also terrifying. This time he made an effort to tune in to the conversation.

Joseph was giggling, “No no, I didn't literally jump the turnstile, I just tried to push my way through. And I would've gotten through if it wasn't for that meddling officer.” Joseph had stopped giggling by the end of his small speech as some rage set in. His robotic hand was whirring as it clenched and unclenched in the air.

There were so many concerning things that JiJi had just said, but the only things that could make the old man that angry were things that reminded him of Japan, or things that stood between him and alcohol. Jotaro hoped it was the latter. “Elderly Man Attempts Hate Crime At The Happiest Place On Earth” was not an article Jotaro wanted to read about his grandfather.

“That officer wasn’t meddling Papa, he was trying to help you. Please don’t give Jolyne any bad ideas.” Holly interrupted, as she was twirling Jolyne’s hair into her signature buns.

There were too many pieces floating around and it was too early in the morning for Jotaro to do mental gymnastics trying to figure out what the hell his family was talking about. So he caved.

“What happened last night?” He grunted.

Holly scowled at him and was about to open her mouth when Joseph spoke first.

“So I was at Mizner's right? The bar at that fancy hotel The Grand Floridian or something. I was listening to the jazz band play but then they kicked me out for no goddamn reason-”

“Papa it was midnight. That's when the bar closed.” Holly gently butted in.

“Well that's not the point. I grabbed my cup of scotch and tried to get back here. So I took the Monorail but that doesnt come to this hotel so I went to Epcot but that park was closed too!” The only conclusion Jotaro gathered from Joseph’s rambling story so far was that there was more alcoholism than racism.

“So i get off the monorail and theres no one around and I don't know the number for a cab service here so I crawl over the turnstyle, a great feat at my age especially considering the scotch in my hand, to try to walk to the hotel and this aggressive son of a bitch hurls himself at me -”

“I'm sorry, you what?” Jotaro could not believe what he just heard.

“I resisted arrest, big deal Jotaro, you would've done the same thing. They tried to take my scotch, a drink that I had paid for, and then tried to tell me I couldn’t walk through the park because its ‘closed’ like that makes any sense. How could it be closed if the cops were already in it?” Joseph kept on rambling nonsensically about his drunken escapades to Jolyne, who was entirely captivated by his tale, while Jotaro looked to Holly for some clarification.

“Last night at around 1:00/1:15 there was a knock on the door which I figured must be Papa. I had stayed up waiting for him to come back and was so relieved when I opened the door. But there was a police officer with him. Then I remember thinking ‘No, there were far too many cartoon patches on his sleeve to be a real cop, who had Papa offended this time?’” Jotaro stared at her expectantly waiting for her to continue.

“Well,” Holly nervously toyed with Jolyne’s hair in her fingers, “The man turned out to be a Disney security guard and he said Papa had tried to break into the park, then ran further into the park when they asked him to leave, and threw the glass of scotch at him so he had to be restrained in the car. Though luckily they were nice enough to drive him here and not do anything else...”

Holly glanced sideways at Joseph and caught him whispering something to Jolyne.

“And just remember kid, a well placed bribe will get you almost anywhere in life.”

Jotaro snorted a short laugh and pulled his hat down over his eyes, determined to get a few more minutes rest before it was time to hit the parks.

#dadtaro #oldseph #old joseph #jotaro #jotaro kujo #jolyne #jolyne kujo #jolyne cujoh #Holly joestar #Holly kujo #disney

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unfortunate-arrow · 3 years

Text

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

[This is my secret santa gift for @raymondhope-writer for the @hphmsecretsanta2020! Hope you like it and that Daniel isn’t out of character! Have a great holiday!]

“Ninguid,” Daniel Carter said, his nose still buried in the book as the portrait swung open once he had given the password.

He glanced up at the common room for a moment. It was empty, as was to be expected considering that it was the Christmas holidays. He returned his attention to his book. Unfortunately, the common room seemed to have a different idea. There must have been something in his way because the next thing Daniel knew he was sprawled on the floor.

He stood up, brushing the legs of his robes instinctively. He bent down and picked up his book, setting it on a nearby table. He turned around and focused on the object he had tripped over. It was a pair of beaten up red converse sneakers. Daniel frowned.

“Oh, jeez, I’m sorry.” The voice had a thick accent that Daniel couldn’t quite place and belonged to a rather familiar looking boy. Daniel was pretty sure that he had seen the boy on the quidditch team and around Hogwarts, but couldn’t remember his name.

“Oh, it’s fine,” Daniel said.

“No, really. My brother’s right. Although, don’t tell him that. But, I need to be more careful. I wasn’t aware of anyone else who chose to stay for the holidays,” the boy said, awkwardly scratching the back of his head.

“Oh, really, it’s fine, mate.” He paused for a moment, watching the boy. “By any chance, are you on the quidditch team?”

“What? Oh, yeah. A chaser,” the boy answered.

“I thought that’s where I recognized you from.”

“Well, I’m Ryan. Ryan O’Donnell. The Gryffindor O’Donnell, as half the school calls me.”

The Gryffindor O’Donnell? Daniel frowned slightly at that. Why does that sound so familiar?

“I’m a quadruplet. That’s why. My brother, Conor’s in Ravenclaw, my sister, Cara’s in Slytherin and my other sister, Sara is in Hufflepuff,” Ryan said, shrugging as he bent down to pick up the sneakers.

Daniel’s eyes went wide. Oops, I must have said that out loud. But quadruplets? Holy hell! “I’m Daniel Carter, by the way. So, uh, why are you spending the Christmas holidays at Hogwarts?” He hoped it sounded casual enough.

Ryan’s cheeks flared red, and Daniel winced inwardly. He hadn’t meant to make the other boy uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Daniel said.

“Oh, it’s no problem. Our family’s not spending Christmas at home, so the four of us decided to stay here,” Ryan answered, but it didn’t sound like he was telling the truth. At least, it didn’t to Daniel.

“My mother went to visit family in the United States.”

“Ah. We’ve been in Donegal since forever. Apparently, a however-many-great grandfather was the only survivor of the An Gorta Mór in our family.”

Daniel frowned. “An Gor… whatever?”

“The Great Hunger or the great famine. The 1840s potato blight in which millions of Irish either starved or emigrated.”

“Oh. I know what the famine was. I just didn’t know it was called that.”

“That’s the Irish name for it.”

“You know Irish?”

“Yeah. All four of us are fluent in Irish Gaelic. The damn Brits can try and stamp it out but we’ll rise up!” Ryan shook his fist and Daniel blinked. “Sorry. Us Irish don’t have a great relationship with the English.”

The two boys fell into a lapse of silence and Daniel took the moment to study the other boy. The boy was a few inches shorter than Daniel and had messy dark brown hair. Ryan looked fidgety as he was swinging one of the sneakers around. He wore a black bomber jacket and a pair of jeans.

“Anyways, since no one else is here, want to sit with me and my siblings at dinner?” Ryan asked, offering Daniel a smile.

“Sure. There’s four of you, what’s that like? You know being a quadruplet?” Daniel replied.

“What’s it like not being a quadruplet?”

“Touché.”

~~~~

Daniel tucked his hands into pockets of his pants as he made his way to the Great Hall. There were only about twenty students that had decided to stay behind for the Christmas holidays, so the professors had pushed the tables together to create one big table. There were also no longer the house restrictions. Although, those restrictions had never really stopped people from sitting with friends from other houses. Of course, Gryffindors were rarely found sitting at the Slytherin table and vice versa. Any other combination was bound to happen, but Slytherins and Gryffindors rarely fraternized in the Great Hall, especially not during dinner.

Daniel found Ryan easily. His fellow Gryffindor was sitting at a corner of the table, talking animatedly to a red haired girl and two other dark haired students. The boy had lighter hair than the other girl and both wore glasses.

“Oh, hey, Daniel! Over here!” Ryan called loudly and Daniel got the distinct impression that the Irish boy was rarely quiet.

“Guys, this is Daniel Carter. He’s in Gryffindor with me. Daniel, these are my siblings,” Ryan announced to the other three.

“Hi, I’m Cara,” the red haired girl said, smiling. She stuck her hand out to him.

“Hi. You’re in Slytherin, right?” Daniel asked.

“Yep. Slytherin. I’m not a jerk like half of us are, though.” She smirked, slightly at him.

Daniel laughed awkwardly.

“I’m Sara,” the dark haired girl said. She wore a sweater that was too big for her and Daniel was fairly certain that the sweater didn’t belong to either Ryan or his other two siblings.

“Hey. You’re in Hufflepuff?”

“Yeah. It’s nice to meet you, Daniel.”

“C-C-C… shit. Conor. I’m C-Conor,” the lighter haired boy said, his cheeks reddening. He looked somewhat familiar, like Daniel had seen him around in more than just the hall.

“Hi. Ravenclaw, right?”

Conor nodded. Daniel was fairly certain that he’d rumors about Conor O’Donnell. He had to be the student that was known as “that dumbass Ravenclaw who can’t even speak properly.” Of course, there’s no way in hell that Daniel was going to ask him that. He wasn’t going to bring up the stutter. Who’s to judge someone on something so uncontrollable?

He watched the siblings start talking and could barely follow the conversation. One big issue was how thick their accents were. It had been fairly easy to follow just Ryan in their previous conversation, but with all four of them it felt almost impossible to follow with the accents.

“That dragon is pretty cool,” Cara said.

“Thank you. It’s from my mum’s side of the family,” Daniel said.

“This ring was our mother’s. Our father bought it for her,” Sara said, holding her right hand out.

The ring was silver and had a braided band with a pair of hands holding a heart. The point of the heart was pointing towards her.

“What is it?” he asked.

“It’s a claddagh ring. They’re originally from Galway,” Sara explained.

“And when the heart’s point is pointed towards its wearer, that means they’re dating someone,” Cara said with a smirk across her face.

“Oh, shut up.”

The sisters grinned at one another. Daniel’s heart ached for a moment at the sight. He missed when he and Jacob had had moments like that. Jacob may have been a hell-raiser and they might have never been all that close, but Daniel still loved his older brother.

“Hey, Conor, are you taking Arithmancy?” Daniel asked suddenly, after pausing a moment or two to watch the other O’Donnell boy.

Conor nodded.

“I thought you looked somewhat familiar,” Daniel said.

“Ah,” Conor muttered.

~~~~

Dinner came and went. It was loud and cheery. The professors pulled a lot of antics, which was not something Daniel had expected. Then again, this was the first Christmas that Daniel had spent at Hogwarts with so few students. It had been enjoyable and the O’Donnell siblings were quite interesting, but he still enjoyed spending some time alone.

The halls of Hogwarts were decorated cheerily. There were little twinkling lights around all of the windows and twinkled against the snow. Snow swirled around the windows as a blizzard raged outside. The halls were slightly drafty, but the bite of the cold was perfect to Daniel. It made him slightly cold to temper the warmth of a full stomach and an enjoyable time.

“Daniel!” a familiar voice called, and as he turned around, a smile spread across his face.

“Penny, hi,” he said, his stomach flipping.

Penny’s blonde hair was not in her usual braids, and it was down. She wore a dark green sweater with bright red stripes that had a badger wearing a Santa hat in the center. Daniel couldn’t stop the smile as it spread even wider across his face.

“Did I see you eating with the O’Donnell quadruplets?” Penny asked.

“Yeah. I met Ryan O’Donnell earlier today after I tripped over his sneakers,” Daniel admitted.

“Ah. They’re good guys. Sara’s prefect for our year and she’s dating Barnaby Lee. They’ve been together since November, but rumor has it they started dating after OWLs last year. Conor’s fodder for a lot of gossip. He’s quiet and mysterious, which makes half the girls want to date him. I suppose he’s handsome in a way as well. His stutter also makes him a subject for a lot of nasty gossip as well.”

“Penny…”

“I’m rambling again, aren’t I?”

Daniel laughed and grinned. “A little.”

“Happy Christmas. I wanted to give you this.”

Penny pressed an incredibly elegantly wrapped gift into his hands. He swallowed.

“Penny. You didn’t have to get me anything,” he said, his voice soft.

“Daniel, I wanted to. I wanted to get a gift for someone who’s incredibly important to me,” Penny answered.

“Thank you. I… I don’t have anything for you.”

“That’s okay.” She paused, catching the look on his face. “Daniel, I don’t care. If you really want to get me something, I won’t care if it’s late.”

“Jeez, Penny. I’ll get you something later. I promise.”

“Okay. Just open it please!”

“Okay.”

Daniel grinned and gently opened the ornately wrapped gift. It was an old Defense Against the Dark Arts book, one that he had never seen before. His eyes went wide and he gently ran a finger down the spine and traced the ornately designed cover. He swallowed again and brought his eyes to Penny’s, blue meeting blue.

“Do you like it?” Penny asked, shyly. It was a look Daniel rarely saw on her.

Daniel opened his mouth and shut it again. He thought for a moment.

“Wow. I love it, Penny,” he said.

“Really?”

“Penny, this is amazing. Where’d you find it?”

“I found it at a shop in Hogsmeade. The one for used books.”

“Oh! I haven’t been in that shop too much. But seriously, Penny, I really like it.”

“You’re welcome. I’m really glad that you like it. I know that you’re working so hard to learn new skills and stuff, so I thought of you when I found the book.”

“What were you doing in the used book store, though?”

“Oh, I was looking for something for Beatrice. I thought that maybe she’d like a nice book or something. I just really didn’t know what to get her. I stumbled across it and thought of you.”

“Well, thank you again. I really appreciate it.”

Penny grinned widely at him and took one of his hands in her own. He swallowed and tucked the book under his arm in order to wipe his sweaty hand on his pants. They walked quietly through the halls of Hogwarts, towards the Hufflepuff common room. Daniel smiled. This was amazing. Penny’s hand felt right in his.

He glanced at her through his peripheral vision and his smile widened. She was beautiful and kind and grounding. He felt normal around her. He wasn’t the kid with the missing brother and the dead father. He wasn’t Carter or any other nickname he had been given. He was just Daniel, a sixteen-year-old boy, with a girl that he really liked and that was the most important thing about everything he felt around her. He felt normal, like he was more than just a name and a figure.

“Thank you for walking me back, Daniel. Happy Christmas,” Penny said, standing on her tip-toes and pressed her lips carefully to his cheek.

“Happy Christmas, Penny,” he whispered, his free hand coming to rest against the spot where her lips had touched as he watched her walk to the barrels that marked the Hufflepuff common room. He smiled to himself and turned away once Penny had entered the Hufflepuff common room.

Later that night, Daniel carefully laid the book onto his nightstand and smiled to himself as he climbed into bed. He drifted off to sleep with his mind swirling around thoughts of what to get Penny for a belated Christmas.

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #hphmsecretsanta2020 #daniel carter #ryan o'donnell #cara o'donnell #sara o'donnell #conor o'donnell #penny haywood #mc x penny haywood #daniel x penny #my writing #sorry if there are any mistakes #combined meeting other mcs (my o'donnell quads) with a canon character (penny)#hppe you like it!!!!#merry christmas #happy holidays #the title is from the carol 'have yourself a merry little christmas'#and i couldn't think of a better one

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pls-let-me-out · 3 years

Text

Invisible String

21st of December

“Do you not like my friends?”

Will almost jumped out of his skin. Niccolò was standing just a couple of feet from him, with his hands in his pockets, and a scowl on his face. He was wearing Will’s–it was actually Niccolò’s, but Will had always worn it–scarf, and a black beanie.

Will’s lips tightened. What could he say? He did like them. They were fun to be around, and had a great sense of humor. Plus, seeing them tease Niccolò was entertaining.

“It’s not that,” Will settled for. “It’s–I don’t know.”

“You do know,” Niccolò said. “Just–nothing. We should go. Seen anything you like?”

Will shook his head. They were looking for a Christmas tree, apparently they would be shooting a little video for a Royal Family thing. When Niccolò was explaining it, Will was too busy being scared to death to listen thoroughly.

“Wait!” Will called, when Niccolò was already at the end of that tree aisles. Niccolò looked back at him with a frown, which had Will’s fingertips tickle with the need to smooth it out. “Can we get hot chocolate before we head out?”

Niccolò rolled his eyes. He didn’t say no.

“What do you mean presents?” Niccolò asked, his face turning into an even more prominent scowl. “We don’t need to get each other gifts.”

“I’m not spending money for this dumbass,” Will said, taking the cup from Niccolò’s hands to take a sip. He was immediately kicked in the shin by Niccolò, but the biggest punishment was the taste of that thing inside. “Is this death? Am I tasting death?”

“It’s coffee, you genius,” Niccolò said, taking the mug back. “Sorry I’m an adult and don’t put milk in it.”

Will just grimaced. “I see why you’re so bitter. You’re poisoning yourself.”

Niccolò opened his mouth, but Piper interrupted them before he could talk, hitting the wooden table. She sighed, exasperation clear on her face. As clear as the fact that the gifts exchanging wasn’t her and Annabeth’s idea, probably Persephone’s. Maybe even Hazel’s.

“What Annabeth and I are trying to say, is that it’s only normal you two exchange gifts. You will spend Christmas together, won’t you?”

Will turned to Niccolò. “My time and company are going to be your present.”

“Hope you kept the receipt.”

Annabeth rubbed her temples. “Guys.”

“Honestly, if you want us to have gifts so much, you should just buy them for us,” Niccolò said, looking smug in his chair. “Then we’ll give them to each other. We’d be even more surprised!”

Will sighed. “Don’t be rude, you ass. I honestly haven’t even changed my money to euros.” He grimaced. “I guess I’ve been kind of leeching off of you.”

Niccolò shrugged. “It’s my fault you’re here in the first place.”

Annabeth clasped her hands together. “Then what’s better than using the Royal Family’s money to buy each other gifts?”

“Not buying each other gifts,” Niccolò said.

“Donating the money to charity.”

Niccolò nodded, very vaguely waving his hand toward Will. “Yeah, that, too.”

“I honestly don’t even know what I could buy you,” Will said, putting his elbow on the table and his chin on his fist. “What could you possibly want? You’re already rich.”

“I’d like McDonald’s. I haven’t had it in so long.”

“We can arrange that.”

“I’m not sure there are any McDonald’s around.”

Will grimaced. “Isn’t this city a nightmare?”

“I’m not even replying to that,” Annabeth said. “C’mon guys. You’ll have to put something on social network sooner or later, it could be the two of you opening gifts. People want to see you.”

“People can see me on Google Image,” Niccolò replied. “Seriously. It’s none of their business what we’re doing.”

“You are a public figure, Nico.”

“Also,” Piper continued. “As you know there’s always been speculation about your sexuality. People are wondering whether you and this soulmate of yours will be lovers or platonic.”

“And I’m sure they’d love it,” Niccolò said.

Will couldn’t help a grimace. Up until a few decades back, courtship between two soulmates of the same sex wasn’t accepted. Will hadn’t even thought it would be an option for them. Niccolò was a prince, didn’t he need to have heirs or something?

Fuck. It only made things more complicated. Will knew himself, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop wondering, if there was even a sliver of hope for the two of them. He buried that hope thinking about his parents.

“I’m sure they’d love to see me with a boy, wouldn’t they.”

Will’s eyes snapped back up at Niccolò, and it hit him like a bucket of cold water. He had forgotten how cold the other’s face could turn. How his voice could become blank. How distant he became.

“They’d love to see me bonding with a man, wouldn’t they?” Niccolò asked, as if he the words were clawing out of his throat.

I’m bisexual! Will wanted to scream. I’m bisexual so stop saying shit like that, like it’s disgusting. He wanted to say it, instead he just pushed the chair back, and stood. What was he expecting from someone who had lived his whole life in a palace? It was only a given that Niccolò would be homophobic. In times like this, Will’s life reminded him of a staged joke.

“It’s just gifts,” he said. His voice was steadier than he thought it would be. “Let’s just take a scarf each and be done with it.”

“It would be different. You’d be soulmates,” he heard Piper say, but he was already leaving the room. He could feel eyes boring holes in his back.

Before letting them use the sleigh, Piper took at least a hundred photo. Most of them had either Nico or Will with an indignant expression on their face, as the other talked passionately. Ten minutes later, and Nico couldn’t remember what they had been bickering about.

He was half hunched over his sleigh, the cold wind in his face, on the path ahead he could see both Will and the instructor. He could see them, when his eyes weren’t forced closed by the pain in his knee.

“This is the best thing I’ve ever done,” Will said later, when they were sitting on the panoramic spot, feet dangling over the edge. A smile was spitting his face open, darkness had already began falling. He was dressed in a bright orange suit, so that the instructor wouldn’t lose him on the track. Nico had little to laugh about, since he himself was in green. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

Nico managed a grimace. The huskies were panting, just a few meters away. The instructor had disappeared back into the hotel, soon Will and Nico would have to get going.

“Kayla would have loved this,” Will said, his voice softer.

Nico knew those eyes. They were the same he had in every photo with Bianca and Hazel, that love struck gaze brothers wore only when they were talking of a sister. So Nico asked about it, heart hammering in his chest. “Your sister?”

Will nodded. He never talked about his family, or at least not with Nico. He should have been a fool not to notice the strange atmosphere and gazes exchanged between Will and Piper. A part of him wondered if Will was falling for Piper. He wouldn’t be the first to do so.

“Yeah, the oldest. Kayla Knowles.” He shrugged, and took a deep breath. “Don’t you think it’s crazy, how we’ve lived alone for days, yet not talked about anything of our lives? Do we–do we actually know each other?”

Nico tightened his lips. It was not the time to talk about the mess they’d made, pain shot through his knee. “I don’t think we do.”

Will nodded. “Yeah. I thought so.”

For a moment, less than a second, Nico wished Will had fought him. He put his hands under his thighs, to avoid doing stupid things, like poking the mole under Will’s left eye, and bicker like only they did.

“This is the part where you start telling me things about yourself,” Will said. He put his chin on his bent knee, giving Nico a sidelong glance.

“Oh. Uh. Elysium. That’s my kingdom’s name. Ancient Greeks believed it was part of the Underworld, for a time. Black flowers grew on the shorelines, and it was so hard to reach them. Too many storms. I thought it was Elysium too, when I was little.”

“Isn’t your father also called Hades?”

Nico grinned. “Grandfather thought he was so funny, when he chose his sons’ names.” He cleared his throat, embarrassment darkening his cheeks even more when silence stretched. “Isn’t it your turn now?”

Nico thought Will mock him, at least a little. ‘Maybe I should tell you the story behind Texas’. Will didn’t, as if he understood how personal Elysium was to Nico, what a great thing it was to admit that, for a time, he’d been foolish enough to want the throne.

Will took a deep breath, his knuckles turned white where he was holding the railing. “I have eight siblings. Lee, Michael, Austin, Kayla, Jerry, Gracie, Yan and Victoria. Lee and Michael were older than me. Now I’m the oldest.” He sniffled, bringing his gloved hand to his nose. “When they–we didn’t live together. We saw each other during holidays, birthdays sometimes. The first year after Michael and Lee died, I didn’t know how to be the oldest. It’s different, you know? I always had them, and they were before me. If the youngers needed something, something clever, they went to them. I couldn’t bring myself to see the others, after the two of them died. I didn’t–I didn’t have anyone to go to.”

The breath was knocked out of Nico’s lungs.

Will chuckled. “I guess I overshared a bit. Sorry.”

“You didn’t,” Nico blurted, so fast Will whipped his head around. He cleared his throat, spoke with far more calm. “You didn’t overshare.”

“You sound pretty put out.”

“I was just thinking about what I wanted people to tell me, after I lost Bianca.” He tasted bitterness on his tongue, so heavy it laced through his words. “I can’t remember.”

“I don’t want you to tell me anything.”

“Yeah. Neither did I.”

Will put his head on Nico’s shoulder. His hat was cold, a bit wet with snow, his breath warm, even through all the layers. Nico leaned against him.

The others were waiting for them inside the hotel. Piper and Leo had managed to convince Jason to stay one more night, to sleep in an igloo room together. Nico had half a mind they would try seducing him. Percy and Annabeth would go to Paris, Annabeth wanted to see Notre Dame. She had never seen it in person. Nico recommended her to see the Dome of Sacré Coeur Basilica first.

“You were talking about Paris?” Will asked, sliding down next to Nico with a cup of hot chocolate in his hands.

Nico ignored that it’d been a gift from the instructor. Only for Will. With Nico standing right next to them. It seemed impossible for Will to go anywhere without having someone fall for him. It had to be the curls. Or the freckles. Maybe the eyes, always so bright and beautiful.

Nico shook his head, to get himself out of the trance.

“-there a couple of times, with my family,” Will admitted, nodding his head. He took the cup to his mouth, and grimaced at the first sip.

“Did the Hot Instructor poison you?” Nico asked. He knew it wasn’t possible, but at least then they’d have a good reason to send him to jail. Or at least never seen him again. He wasn’t so petty after all.

Will huffed. “It’s too hot.” A glint lit his eyes, as he looked at Nico through a thick layer of eyelashes. “Just like the instructor.”

Nico scoffed, crossing his arms. “Yeah, if you’re into bulky men that spend their days riding towards the sunset with huskies.”

Percy snorted. “Who isn’t into that?”

Nico bit his cheek. Annabeth caught his eyes, cocking an eyebrow. Nico sunk lower into his chair, tightening his grasp on the cup holder. Nico didn’t need to look at Will to recognize the mirth in his eyes.

“Anyway,” Leo said. “Before omo celoso here interrupted us, we were listening to a story.”

“You should really stop treating people’s lives like they exist for your entertainment,” Jason told him. Piper giggled, and Leo sent him a wink. Jason’s whole face turned as red as a tomato. Nico imprinted the memory into his head, just in case he ever needed to have something to tease Jason about.

“I was telling them about the time I went to Paris,” Will said. He grimaced. “We were on the Eiffel Tower when my Father’s girlfriend discovered he was cheating on her.”

“With whom?” Leo asked, eagerly leaning on the table.

Will and Piper both burst out laughing. “Well,” Will said, clicking his tongue. “I was eleven at the time. My parents, uh, they divorced when I was eight.”

“Just a quick note,” Piper said. “His oldest half-brother is two years younger than him.”

“Thanks,” Will said. He fixed his eyes on Nico, before dropping to the table. “Very helpful. Uh. So, we were on the Eiffel Tower, and my father’s girlfriend sees him passing the waitress his number. She goes absolutely mad, and she was right, really. My father’s a really lewd man. So she gets his phone, calls a cab for herself and orders a flight back to California. She finds the messages he had exchanged with his lovers.”

“God, that’s so disgusting,” Annabeth said.

“That’s not the worst he’s done,” Piper replied.

“Wait, how do you even know?” Percy asked her.

Piper sent Will a panicked glance, and he cleared his throat. “We were neighbors. Kind of.”

“Oh my God, isn’t that so cute?” Jason exclaimed, his eyes on Nico. As if he knew Nico was storing teasing material. As if this was his revenge. They knew each other well enough for it to be possible. “You two would have met through Piper!”

“So no one’s going to talk about the fact that we discovered it now?” Percy asked. He was ignored.

“I can’t believe we’ve been robbed of the chance of introducing them to each other!” Leo wailed loudly, gathering the attention of the other costumers. “We’d’ve held it over Nico’s head for the rest of our lives.”

“Holding something over my head?” Nico scoffed. “With your height?”

Leo hit him in the shins from under the table, making him hiss. He sent the hit right back, but hit the table.

“Jealousy’s taking your aim away, hombre,” Leo commented.

He was lucky Will’s attention was on Annabeth, or Nico would have used him to replace the table leg.

“I’m absolutely not jealous,” Nico hissed, trying to hit Leo again. He hit the table instead, a jolt of pain shot through his leg.

“You know, just because you’re prince doesn’t mean you can destroy the furniture,” Will chirped with a sickeningly sweet smile, using napkins to rub the spilled chocolate. “By the way, you now owe me a free chocolate.”

“You lost two sips at most.” Nico took a long sip of his coffee, the bitterness heaving on his words, not only his tongue. “If you want another, go back to flirting with the instructor.”

Will leaned closer, batting his eyelashes with a coy smile. “Maybe I’d rather flirt with you for another.”

Nico shoved him by the shoulder, a grin stretching on his lips. “Fuck off.”

They both laughed.

Will fell on the sofa next to Niccolò with a loud sigh. Before turning the TV on, he complained about his tiredness, his old age, the weather.. Niccolò didn’t say a single word, but his eyes were

“The house is silent again,” he said.

“Yeah.” Niccolò cleared his throat, looking away. He crossed his legs, looking like he didn’t know how to act now that they were alone. They would be for a few more days, so he’d better get used back to it. It was unnerving Will.

“I’d gotten used to having them around. Have you always been so close to your cousins?”

Niccolò grunted. “I wouldn’t say we’re close, even now.”

“You look like it.”

“Maybe we are.” He stayed silent long enough for Will to think he wouldn’t add anything. “With–with Jason. It’s more complicated with Percy. I’ve seen him much more than Jason, and we–I had–” He cleared his throat, but his hands were shaking, and Will wanted to wrap his own fingers around Niccolò’s. He knew the other wouldn’t like it, though. “He was already around when Bianca died. So. I took him out on him.” He passed a hand through his hair. It wasn’t very long, less than an inch, what with being cut short in the military.

“He looks at you like you are his little brother, though.”

“I hated it back then.” He nodded toward the television, before Will could do as much as thinking about asking more. “So, why are you on YouTube again?”

“I just realized I never got around to watching your eleven awkward moments.”

Niccolò groaned.

Niccolò was around fifteen years old. He held a scepter, or what looked like it. People all around were looking at him, cameras going off. He kept looking around, never keeping his eyes on something a second too long. Then, he mouthed at the King, and his words had been written as subtitles:

What was I supposed to do now?

The MC smiled at Niccolò. Niccolò nodded and smiled. Hazel talked, the MC responded. Niccolò looked at the crowd. Cheers and screams grew louder. Some people shouted his name. Others that they wanted to marry him. Niccolò grimaced.

Prince Niccolò: Great King of Shut the Hell Up

Niccolò got out of the car, walking toward the entrance of the hotel without paying much attention to the people screaming his name. That is, until someone shouted “Prince Neeks!”

It was a reporter. And Niccolò, disdain clear on his face, closed the button of his jacket. His lips were tilted downwards, his chin and nose all scrunched up.

“It’s Niccolò.”

Will was doubled over in laughter, half down the couch. Niccolò sat still, only a slight twitch on his mouth, not quite a smile. Not quite a frown either.

“So, how does it feel like to be the Prince?”

“Well. I’ve always been a prince, so. It feels like every other day feels.”

The reporter laughed. “Can’t say I know what that is.”

Niccolò nodded. The reporter nodded. They nodded at each other.

“God, this is such a torture.”

“You really do make everything awkward. I wish I’d filmed our first few hours together.”

Niccolò groaned from behind his hands.

“I would be a billionaire by now.”

“Nico say hi!” Came Piper’s voice from behind the camera. She was filming an Instagram story.

Nico looked up. He was sitting in front of a piano, a grimace on his face as soon as he took in the scene. He didn’t move.

Eventually, he waved. He sent a panicked glance to something behind Piper’s phone.

“Say hi!” Piper insisted.

“Hello.”

“Hi.”

“But I did!”

“You should’ve said hi.”

He hesitated. Sighed. Waved again. “Hi.”

“You have a beautiful soul,” a girl told Niccolò, holding her phone in his face.

His gaze was focused on something out of the frame, a grimace on his face. “Yours, too.”

The girl’s phone fell, her gasp alerting Niccolò that something was happening in front of him. From the ground, the camera still recorded.

“Sorry. You were saying about your sauce?”

Niccolò fell asleep a little after their third video. It wasn’t even half past ten, but he snored lightly. Will lowered the TV volume, put the red blanket with reindeers on him, and leaned back into the couch.

Niccolò was beautiful. He was beautiful under the sun, when the snow glowed all around them. He was beautiful in the morning, when he always stopped mid-stairs to rub his eyes. He was beautiful as Will watched him, with the blue light of the TV, the golden one of the fireplace, shining on the little pout he always wore as he slept.

The knot enveloping Will’s stomach tightened. He took the remote again, and searched for another video. He was met with his parents’ faces in the home. They were young back then. He clicked before he even realized it.

“Before Apollo’s new auto-biographic film comes out next March, we decided to take a walk down memory-line, with the evergreen love between Apollo and Naomi. Both young when they met, they had just become part of the music world. Their first single together sold millions of copies, enough to–”

So enthralled on the old family photos, Will didn’t realize Niccolò had awoken, and his hand had sneaked around Will’s wrist.

“So you are a fan?”

Will looked away from the TV. It was so strange, hearing the woman talk (gossip) about his family, and having Niccolò in the same room. Guilt fell heavy on his chest, constricting his lungs.

I’m their son.

“I–” His breath broke.

They are my parents.

“They –”

They are the reason I can’t look at you and think we could ever work, even if we fell in love and were crazy for each other.

“A fan, yeah.”

Niccolò smiled, stretching his arms. When he stretched his legs, he grimaced. “Yeah, I thought so. You looked pretty taken with Apollo the other day.”

Will nodded. “Yeah.”

“He has a sister, you know?” He yawned, his mouth opened so much his jaw could have dislocated.

Will nodded again. He knew. He had only met her on two occasions, his brothers’ funerals. If his siblings’ funerals were the only times they would ever meet, Will hoped to never see her again.

“I don’t like her,” Niccolò mumbled. His eyes drifted closed, and a second later he was snoring again.

Less than a minute, and his cheek was on Will’s shoulder. Dark hair brushed again his nose, and he took a long breath. Pomegranate. Niccolò tasted of them.

Will turned off the TV, and closed his eyes. He wasn’t tired, but he matched Niccolò’s breath. He slept.

Spotted!

Prince Nico of Elysium and his soulmate have been spotted being cozy in Livigno. Although their stay in the Italian city was made public days ago, clear photos of them hadn’t been released yet (go to gallery). The Prince’s sexuality has been subject of speculation for many years, with Cupid’s–stage name of famous pap–confirmation that he is, indeed, homosexual. However, it isn’t known whether the Prince’s soulmate might be homosexual as well.

The Royal Family hasn’t released any statement regarding the nature of their relationship, although close sources state have stated, that ‘The Prince is quite taken with a close friend of his,’ but the name hasn’t been revealed. Who between Nameless Soulmate and Nameless Friend will win the Prince’s heart?

Stay tuned to discover!

Latest updates:

Naomi to be featured in Apollo: between glory and reality

Is Tristan McLean’s daughter Piper’s new suspected sweetheart an ex Hollywood kid?

Apollo: between glory and reality, ten reasons to watch it

#solangelo #riordanuniverse #nico di angelo #percy jackon and the olympians #will solace #percy jackson #rick riordan #riordanverse #rickriordan #apollo

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poorboypictures · 3 years

Text

Major America: Ch. 1

Jordon Wilkinson was seven years old when he first learned of Captain America; he and his siblings were told by their grandfather of the time he fought beside Captain America and Bucky in World War II. All were enthralled, but none more than Jordon himself. Jordon began reading all he could about the Captain’s escapades before and during the war, learning his origin, his identity, and his disappearance; taking the hero to heart, Jordon stood up for those who couldn’t stand for themselves throughout his life, even joining the military after the Twin Towers fell, serving seven years before a hip injury took him out of action permanently. In 2012, Captain America resurfaced and Jordon was thrilled to have him as a moral standard in the country again, only to notice a change in the hero over the years.

***

2021, nine years after Captain America was freed from the ice; Major Jordon Wilkinson sits in a security office picking at his spaghetti and meatball lunch, staring intently in thought. Wally Gertz, his partner, is fidgeting with a Rubik’s Cube keychain with his feet up.

“Something wrong?” Wally asks.

Jordon blinks a few times and looks over at Wally. “Hmm?”

“Lunch ended ten minutes ago and usually you finish in five minutes just to keep watch on the feed.”

“No, I just have a lot on my mind.” Jordon takes a bite of his lunch as Wally puts away the cube.

“We’ve been working the same shift together for three years, Jordon; I would think I can read you well enough.”

Jordon sighs and pushes his lunch away before leaning back in his chair.

“You know the phrase ‘never meet your heroes’?”

Wally takes his feet off of the desk and leans forward. “You met him? You met Captain America?” He asks, eyes wide.

Jordon slowly nods. “The saying is true. At least, it wouldn’t have been if I met him when he came out of the ice. He’s changed and I think society was what did it; a man out of time, trying to keep up with the seventy years he missed, and I believe it corrupted him.”

“Sounds plausible; society is a bit of a mess these days.” He straightens his hat. “It’s a shame someone can’t just grab the shield and say ‘I’m the Captain now’.”

Jordon stops completely, an idea forming.

***

Later that day; Jordon is in his apartment on his computer, looking for a shield.

“The shield is the easy part.” He says to himself. “It’s the costume that will be hard to get; how am I going to get an extra thousand dollars for an accurate costume?”

He pauses as something dawns on him.

“Hang on…”

He gets up, grabs his phone, and calls someone as he sits back down at the computer.

“Hello?” Georgie Berke answers the phone.

“Georgie, it’s me, Jordon.”

“Hey, Jordy! How are you doing? How was your nephew’s birthday?”

“Loud, and disruptive, but I love him, so I didn’t leave. So, hey, I have a question.”

“Shoot.”

“How does one get an accurate costume?”

“Jordy.” She says teasingly. “Are you getting into cosplay?”

“Georgie, I’m 43 years old, I don’t do cosplay.”

“I’m 37, Jordy, what’s your point?”

“My point is-.” He says with a tad of frustration. “I want an accurate costume and I would like to know how to get one for a good price.”

“Weeelll… if you had an extra small fortune to spend on one you could do that.”

“Nope.” Jordon shakes his head. “I have bills to pay.”

“Then you could make a costume with your own twist, I’ve seen plenty of cosplayers use this method to save a buck without having to get a cheaply made costume.”

“That sounds doable. Thanks.”

“May I ask what exactly this is for?”

“… No. Bye.”

He hangs up, opens a new tab, and begins searching for his costume-with-a-twist.

***

One week later; Jordon is in his apartment listening to a police scanner app on his phone as he peals masking tape off of the recently painted heater shield; just as Jordon finishes taking the tape off, dispatch warns of an attempted robbery at a nearby bank.

“That’s a mile from here…” Jordon says to himself as he looks at his partly assembled costume on the couch; he looks at the shield and back to the couch, wondering whether he should go without a complete costume.

Jordon sighs and quickly puts the costume on, wearing the shield on his back like a backpack; he jumps down the fire escape and onto a red 2013 Harley-Davidson Breakout, tearing out of the alley way and down the street.

Literally a minute later, Jordon pulls into the alley next to the bank and walks into the rear entrance to hear two men trying to break into the safety deposit boxes; he sneaks up behind them, pulls out his gun, pistol-whips one crook, knocking him out, and knocks out the other with his shield, only for the resounding “clang!” to catch the attention of the crook standing guard at the other side of the room.

The crook shouts at Jordon. “HEY!”

Before Jordon can turn around and shield himself, the gunman shoots him in the thigh and side; Jordon holds in a scream of pain as the gunman empties his magazine into the shield; as the gunman tries to quickly reload, Jordon sprints forward at full speed and punches the man out cold only to find himself in front of the remaining three robbers ready to fire on him.

“Oh, crap…”

Jordon ducks behind the shield as the three men fire at him, emptying their magazines; they stop to taunt him as they reload.

“You supposed to be Captain America or something, man?” One asks.

“He’s got a round shield, you imbecile!” Another taunts.

Jordon takes a deep breath, blocking out the pain from being shot, and pulls out his gun.

“Come on, just like in the military.” He whispers to himself

He stands up and hits the first two gunmen in the shoulder without effort, but he and the third gunman fire at the same time; Jordon hits the gunman in the shoulder same as before, and the gunman hits Jordon in the bicep. The gunman goes down and Jordon holsters his gun, his breathing shaky; he looks around at the employees and citizens getting up from the floor.

“Is everyone okay?” He asks, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

A man in a suit nods. “Yes, we’re fine, but you need a doctor.”

“I’ve suffered worse, trust me.” Jordon says as he turns to go back the way he came in.

“Wait!” A woman calls. “What do we call you?”

Jordon stops and looks back. “I’m… Major America.”

He heads to the back of the bank to leave.

***

Soon, in Georgie’s apartment, Georgie is watching the news as she sips from a cup of tea; the news anchor is reporting on the bank robbery when the footage of the fight is played on screen. Georgia spews her tea out, coughing.

“JORDY!?”

***

In Jordon’s apartment, Jordon is sitting at his dining table stitching up the wound on his side when his front door bursts open, causing Jordon to jump as Georgie bolts in.

“Why didn’t you tell me!?”

Jordon grabs some gauze and puts pressure on his wound that has begun bleeding again.

“I really need to lock my door more often.” Jordon says, wincing. “Can you pass me that whiskey?”

He points to the bottle on the kitchen counter and Georgie hands it to him, watching as he takes a swig.

“Why are you drinking while stitching yourself up?” Georgie asks. “How do you even know how to stitch a wound?”

Jordon continues stitching.

“Back in Iraq our field medic got hit by a frag grenade along with a couple others; the anesthetic was apparently hit and drained out so we raided the basement of a bombed bar and the medic taught me how to stitch a wound because I had the steadiest hands.” He takes another swig of whiskey. “Sometimes the old ways are the best.”

He finishes stitching the wound and places some gauze over it.

“Can you hold that while I wrap the wound?”

“Fine.” Georgie huffs as she holds the gauze in place. “Just tell me what you were thinking when you decided to do this?”

“What are you? My mother?” Jordon quips as he finishes wrapping his wound. “I’m a grown man who can make his own decisions.”

“Not when they get you nearly killed!”

Jordon stands up and puts his shirt back on.

“I fought for seven years in a country that hated my guts, I can stand to fight a few more in another country that hates my guts. Doesn’t matter what you say, Georgie, I won’t stop what I’ve started.”

Georgie sighs and crosses her arms in a huff.

“No, you’re right; you’re an adult.”

She notices his bloodied costume and picks up the sweater.

“Also, what kind of costume is this? A baby could do better!”

“The gloves and jacket hadn’t arrived yet, they’ll be here in a couple of days.”

Georgie looks at him, cocking an eyebrow.

“Are you… Are you cropping a jacket?”

“… Noooo…” Jordon answers reluctantly.

“What color is the jacket?”

“Blue…”

“The only way you’re going to get the look you want is by cropping the jacket.”

“Fine! Yes, I’m going to crop the jacket!” Jordon winces and holds his side after the defeated outburst bothers his wound. “Okay, back to small talk.” He says, pained.

Georgie picks up Jordon’s helmet and mask and gives it a once over.

“Where did you get this?” She asks.

“The helmet was my grandfathers; quick coat of paint and it was perfect.” He takes a swig of whiskey once again. “The mask I found at an antique shop; the tag said it was an aviator’s mask used in the war, but I’ve never seen one like this before.”

“And the shield?”

“Got that online, bought three and tested two of them on my uncles range to see what guns they could handle; surprisingly a lot. I’m going to have to buy more after a while though, I’ll need to make a budget for that.”

“You really are serious about this, aren’t you?” Georgie asks, pulling a chair up next to Jordon.

“I am.”

“Why, though? What on God’s green Earth would get you to do this?” She asks, genuinely concerned.

“America needs a hero who will truly fight for them, a hero who understands what it means to be the little guy, America needs an underdog; do you think Ironman understands what it’s like to live paycheck-to-paycheck, or if Thor understands what it’s like to get mugged and you can’t pay your rent by the end of the week?”

“Probably not…” Georgie says.

“We rely too much on them; yeah, they’ve saved the world, but we don’t need Black Widow to find a stolen car. I’m going to try to be like that spider guy in Manhattan; he sticks to one area and does it well.”

Georgie stands up and stretches.

“If you’re going to do something stupid, I may as well help: if you find any information you can’t track just call me and I’ll see if I can find anything for you; I’m pretty good with computers, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ll see you Monday.”

Georgie smiles and leaves the apartment.

***

A couple days later; a young man is being mugged by two men in an alley way, getting beaten; someone clears their throat and the muggers stop and turn to look down the alley to see Major America wearing a complete costume.

“Alright, boys, we can do this the easy way or the hard way.” He says.

The muggers look at each other and pull their knives.

“Hard way it is.”

He raises his shield and jumps into the fray.

End.

The Incomplete costume.

The Complete Costume.

Don't judge the art too harshly, I know what I have to work on I don't need people pointing it out.

Also, I suck at writing origins, I'm better at writing stories where the reader is assumed to know exactly who the characters are.

#captain america #america #major america #star spangled man #patriotism #patriot #original character #oc art #oc artwork #oc insert #fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfics #fanfic writing #oc insert au #au #alternate universe #art #artwork

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starchild--27 · 3 years

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Winter.

EXO - magical!AU (incl .EXO OT12 members)

S - part 1 / S - part 2 / F - part 3 / W - part 4

word count: ~ 3450 words

special mention: @kafkascupcake Feli~ it’s your birthday today!!! This is my little present for you - the final part of my magical EXO au and I hope you like it. But I hope even more that the next year will be gentle on you, that you’ll have a lot less stress, a lot less worries and a lot more reasons to smile and be happy. I wish you health and love and strength and that there will be time for you to take care of yourself when you need it. Happy Birthday! I’m so happy I met you on here! ❤ *big exo ot12 sized hug*

further tag: @katjanara 🥰

Winter, as every year, was all about Christmas. Everybody promising no to buy each other gifts only to break the promise in the end. Everybody getting lost in finding at least a little something for everybody despite the yearly resolution not to rush through December like that.

The streets you strolled leisurely were packed with people carrying bags and boxes or wearing worried faces, distressed by the nearing holiday. You on the other hand couldn’t be bothered. For the first time in what felt like ages you actually enjoyed the festive atmosphere, watching decorated streets, shops and windows, some Christmas carol always playing from somewhere.

Maybe you’ve been possessed by a Christmas spirit this year, maybe you just had a lot less stress with finding presents that never felt more perfect. With a little smile on your lips you walked past a sign with a bright yellow arrow on it, pointing just towards the place you were heading to, before you carefully made your way down the stairs to enter your trusted record store.

Comfortable warmth brushed against your face as you entered. The wintery temperatures outside definitely had affected the state of your fingers, which you quickly rubbed together, a motion in hope to make the numbness go away quicker. You kept your coat on this time as the coat stand was holding enough wet jackets already. After Chanyeol had given in with a displeased grunt, he and Sehun designed the outdoor sign with the arrow. It was at least a little hint towards the shop and apparently it was noticed by enough people to fill up the coat stand with jackets, scarfs and hats.

“Hey, (y/n)!” an excited Chanyeol greeted you, while Sehun gave you a quick wave from the back of the shop, currently helping some customers with a record player.

“Good to see you here again! Christmas shopping this time?”

You nodded in agreement and checked the mental list of presents.

“I'll head to the soundtrack section first” you informed the shopkeeper.

“Great! I'll bring you some cookies. Kyungsoo tried tons of new recipes this year and we somehow have to get rid of them.”

Then the two of you went your separate ways. Chanyeol to one of the rooms in the back of the shop, you towards the area where walls plastered with movie posters greeted you.

You knew your grandparents would be happy about reminiscing one of the first dates they had together by listening to the soundtrack of the movie they went to when going to the cinema was still something special. And by the broad variety and amount of records Sehun and Chanyeol offered, you had not a single doubt you would find that one specific album you were looking for.

Only a couple of minutes later you held it in your hands, smiling fondly at the memory of your grandmother telling you the story how your grandfather wasn't excited at all to watch the movie and only accompanied her because it made him happy to see her happy. She always said that he would never admit it, but that she just knows that he ended up liking the movie just as much as she did.

A swift movement pulled you back from your memories. It was Sehun who held out a paper bag for you to put your discovery in. You shook your head at yourself as you took the bag from him with a smile and a polite “thank you”. How had you been so lost in your thoughts that you didn't hear him approaching?

“What's the next record you are looking for? Maybe I can help you with finding some of your presents for a quick moment. Right now, nobody else here needs my assistance so I can lend you a hand” he offered.

“If it's no bother, then yes, please. I need something from the classical section now. My parents love Chopin, so maybe we can find a special something there?”

“Believe me or not – I already know one record you will absolutely want to get them!” another voice mixed into your conversation. Chanyeol was back, handing you a bowl with cookies.

“And I think I know exactly which one Chanyeol means. Follow us!” Sehun agreed while sending a knowing smirk towards his colleague, who led the way to the section.

You had to smile, too, at the smoothness the two of them worked together. They knew each other and their shop in a way you only had ever encountered in Flowery Friends and the café before.

After a few seconds of Chanyeol quickly skipping through the records, he finally pulled one out with a triumphant “hah!” from his mouth.

“That's the one! A selection of pieces by Chopin, recorded in a park right next to a little lake. Some park in Warsaw if I remember correctly. Not an old recording, but something with a nice atmosphere. Something special. Put this on, close your eyes and you'll feel just like you're sitting in that park, listening to the soft piano and the sounds of nature.”

“You just quoted your own post-it in that last sentence, right?” Sehun said with an amused tone. Apparently, he found the passionate behaviour of his friend just as endearing as you did.

“Yes. What about it?” Chanyeol replied proudly before turning his attention to you again. “So… what do you think?”

“I think it sounds just like something my parents would love!” you answered honestly.

With a satisfied “Perfect” Chanyeol slid the record into your paper bag. “What's next?”

You bought a total of six records, one for yourself included. While Sehun was off to help other customers again, Chanyeol pulled the price tags off the thin plastic stretching over the cover of the record, keeping it safe from damage, and did the math, not without giving you a little discount because you were a regular and a friend. By now you had understood that protesting against these little acts of generosity was just as pointless as talking to a wall. Slowly you learned to accept them without feeling weird about it.

“So... that should be it” Chanyeol smiled as he handed you your bag. Just when you were about to grab it, he seemed to remember something though.

“No. Wait another second!”

He opened one drawer on his side of the register table and let another six CDs join the records you had just bought.

“My own music” he grinned even wider, which hadn't thought would be possible. “I just finished my first own little album recently. Maybe you're interested. I did everything myself – composing, writing the lyrics, production, mastering... Anyway, the CDs just arrived a few days ago and now I hand it out to people for free as a little audio sample, you know? Please, tell me how you liked it, once you listened to it, will you?”

It warmed your heart to see Chanyeol so excited about his own music and it was kind of contagious as well. You couldn't wait to give his work a listen.

“Sure thing! Thank you” you replied with all the enthusiasm you felt. “Not only for the CDs but also for your help. Please tell Sehun too. I need to go now, prepare some more things. But I wish you guys Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! See you soon!”

“Same for you, (y/n)! Bye!”

With a last little wave, you left the shop through the yellow door and passed two boys with curious looks on their faces on the steep stairs. Surely, that was the sense of adventure Sehun and Chanyeol had strived for when they first opened the shop. You were insanely happy that this seemed to work out for them.

Back on the busy streets you checked your mental list again. A visit to your favourite café was the next thing to do. What could make a present better than some sweet little pastries and different kinds of cookies?

Thanks to a shortcut Jongin and Minseok had shown you a couple weeks ago, you didn’t fell too cold when you arrived there. You already saw Jongdae and Jongin busily carrying plates and cups between the counter and tables through the wide windows. Still they called a cheery “Merry Christmas, (y/n)!” at you when you entered the café before they hurried back to their work. You were greeted with Kyungsoo’s smile as you approached the counter.

“(Y/n)! What can we do for you?”

“I need five small packages of your cookie mix and a hot chocolate to go, please!”

“Okay, it will take a few minutes. Just wait over here” Kyungsoo said with that shimmer in his eyes that indicated he already knew exactly what he would prepare for you. Then he disappeared in the kitchen rooms of the café.

“Your hot chocolate…” you suddenly heard Minseok’s voice as he put the paper cup down in front of you, a delicious smell finding its way to your nose.

You hummed contently.

“Thank you” you added but Minseok didn’t seem to hear that, distracted by the little bell at the entrance door chiming. A gasp left his mouth.

“Jongdae! Jongin! Look who’s here!”

Not only the two waiters turned their head towards the door, you did as well, curious what made Minseok react so excitedly.

Even before you could ask what was going on, Minseok had left his place by the coffee machine, walking towards the three men that had just entered the café to give each of them a tight hug. Jongdae and Jongin did the same.

“Luhan! Tao!” After quickly putting the little packages of cookies down in front of you, Kyungsoo, who had just come back from the kitchen, left the counter as well to hug the three.

With the happiest smiles the group walked up towards the counter.

“(Y/n), get to know Luhan and Tao, old friends of ours. Lu, Tao, this is (Y/n), she’s Baek-“

“-also a friend of ours” Kyungsoo interrupted Jongdae and threw him a dark glance before he could finish what he wanted to say.

You, on the other hand, were quite interested what Jongdae would have slipped if Kyungsoo wouldn’t have been faster than his friend’s mouth. Every time you met someone new of their group of friends, a weird feeling overcame you. As if they would know more about you than you did yourself. After countless times you went to their shops, a couple of meetings at random places and two birthday parties, you could finally agree that you became a friend of the group, but the question of why you rose every now and then again. You hadn’t been brave enough to ask them yet.

But, once again, before you could find out more, you were distracted by Kyungsoo, while Minseok and Jongdae brought Luhan and Tao to a free table and Jongin began to work again.

“Sorry for the interruption. We haven’t seen them in ages! Anyway… here’s your cookies and the bill. I bet you still have some more things to take care off before Christmas, we didn’t want to make you wait longer than necessary.”

“Oh, don’t be sorry. My schedule is pretty loose today. It’s ok” you assured while pulling out your wallet and paying.

Then Kyungsoo handed you another bag for your little presents, gave you a warm smile and moved on to the next customer. Quickly but with care you put all the packages into the bag, noticing that you got six instead of the requested five. Of course. A free one for you. A smile spread over your face again.

You grabbed your cooled down hot chocolate, told Minseok “Merry Christmas” and waved the others goodbye before you left the café again, thinking about how your special new friends were the actual proof that genuinely friendly people still existed.

Your last stop for the day would be Flowery Friends and you slowly made your way to the flower shop, that had started it all. The smell of Kyungsoo’s cookies mixed deliciously with the one from the drink in your hand. You couldn’t resist it, so you stopped in your track, managed to open on of the packages and took a bite from, without a doubt, the best vanilla biscuit you’ve ever tasted.

How did Kyungsoo always manage to find just the right amount of sweetness? It was a miracle to you, a very tasty one. So, you tried one from every kind you could find in the mix on your way to the flower shop.

Sweetness still coating your lips, you pulled at the green wooden door that opened so much easier now after Chanyeol had fixed the old hinges, as Junmyeon had told you. The faint sound of Christmas carols, that got louder once the door had swung open, was already giving the festive mood of the three florists away.

As expected, the shop was a lot emptier than the café or the record store. Not many people got the idea to buy flowers in winter. But you knew that your best friend loved flowers just as much as you did, and you wanted to visit the shop one last time before the new year anyway.

“Merry Christmas, (y/n)!” Yixing welcomed you, calling for Baekhyun and Junmyeon to come greeting you as well. It took them only a few seconds to join you and Yixing, giving comfortable hugs and bright smiles.

“Merry Christmas!” Junmyeon beamed at you, while Baekhyun took the empty cup from your hands and replaced it with another bowl of Kyungsoo’s Christmas pastries. Of course, you grabbed on immediately and started munching. One could really get addicted to Kyungsoo’s food.

The Christmas mood of three was obviously displayed in their shop. They had decorated plants with glitter and Christmas lights, the seasonal special offer was ornaments for Christmas trees and all three were wearing Santa hats, going along just great with the red, white and golden decoration.

“How can we help?” he asked, while taking a cookie from the bowl in your hands.

“I thought about winter jasmine” you answered and saw Yixing nodding in approval.

“I’ll go get it. Just stay here and enjoy the cookies. I will be quick” he said and disappeared between plants and winter blooming flowers.

“It’s Yixing’s favourite flower” Junmyeon told you and took a cookie from you as well. “Especially because they bloom in winter.”

“My friend loves them as well. Yellow is her favourite colour” you shared while munching on another vanilla biscuit you found among the ones Baekhyun had handed you.

Then Yixing appeared again, in his hand a pot with the most yellow winter jasmine you ever saw. The few blossoms shone so bright that you couldn’t help but stare for a few seconds before a simple “wow” left your mouth.

“These are… possibly the most yellow blossoms I’ve ever seen. Wow. Thank you, how-“

“Lots of love and careful treatment!” Yixing smiled, clearly satisfied with having stunned you so much with the flower he picked. You heard Junmyeon and Baekhyun chuckling in the background.

“You should add a little green to that too, I think” Baekhyun thought out loud.

“I’ll get some little succulents. Your friend will love them!” Junmyeon agreed and became the next one to disappear in the shop.

“So, as far as I can see you’ve met all the other’s today too?” Baekhyun pointed out, looking down at the bags in your hand.

“Of course, I’ve never had better presents for my family and friends than this year. Thanks to you guys. Oh, and I’ve also met Luhan, Kris and Tao today. They came to the café when I was there getting Kyungsoo’s cookie mix.”

“Kris, Lu and Tao?” Yixing’s eyes widened in happiness. “I didn’t know they would visit. Did you?” The last question was for Baekhyun who had his typical cheeky grin on his face.

“Well, most of us did. Actually, all of us except for you, Minseok and Jongdae. It’s our Christmas surprise for you” Baekhyun admitted happily.

“That’s… that’s the best surprise ever, thank you!” Yixing almost squealed and seemingly couldn’t stop smiling.

“Our pleasure”

No, you thought silently, it is my pleasure to watch you guys being all happy about your friends visiting.

“Did I hear Lu and Tao’s names?” Ah, Junmyeon was back. And obviously just as excited as the others to hear that their friends came to visit them.

“Indeed. They arrived today” Baekhyun confirmed. “And I suggest we all should meet them at the café like… right now. I’ll go call Chanyeol and Sehun. They need to know too.”

While Baekhyun laughed obnoxiously loud at the telephone, Junmyeon did the finances with you, handed you a third bag in which he had put tons of chocolate for you as well.

“Do you want to join us when we are meeting up with the others? The twelves of us can be a bit much, but I’m sure it will be fun” Yixing asked sweetly but sadly you had to deny.

You still had to arrange the presents and if everything went as planned you would be leaving town this evening to drive to your family for the last few days before Christmas.

One last time you hugged Junmyeon, Yixing and Baekhyun, wished them Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year and left with the promise to visit soon in the new year. You knew you would.

On your way home you could still taste vanilla in your mouth.

EPILOGUE

Every present was wrapped, every wish was written out on cards, everything was safely placed in a big bag resting on the backseat of your car. One last time, you checked that you didn’t forget anything important before you started the engine and drove along the empty streets of the quiet town, your favourite song the only sound that softly hit your ear.

It was always a peculiar feeling driving to your parent’s house for Christmas where everyone would come together. You had moved out for your job some years a ago and while you felt very much at home at your own little apartment, coming back to the place where such a big part of your life had happened, felt truly like coming home.

As you waited for a streetlight to turn green, snowflakes lightly covered the windshield of your car. Could there be anything more peaceful? you thought to yourself as you set the car in motion again, along the familiar streets you had been wandering today on the sidewalk.

Your thoughts drifted to Baekhyun, Yixing and Junmyeon. To Kyungsoo, Minseok, Jongdae and Jongin. To Sehun and Chanyeol. They are probably having a wonderful time with Luhan and Tao right now. You were sure, you will hear many stories about them in the future as well. What an extraordinary group of people you have met this year, befriended even. It felt a bit unreal, looking back at it now. As if it was meant to happen like that. As if something magical was involved.

One day, you told yourself, one day I will know.

You passed the café on your way, slowing down your speed a bit to maybe get a glimpse of what was happening in there. Some tugging in your chest made you stop the car completely, as your vision went blurry for a millisecond before you lifted your gaze again to… see right through the walls of the café.

The eleven friends were in on of the cosy rooms above the café, which was probably where a few of the men lived. But… there was something totally unnormal about them. A glow that sent shivers down your spine. You couldn’t move your eyes away from it until Baekhyun turned around and seemed to look directly at you. With a content smile he did a waving gesture with his hand. And then it was over.

You blinked a few times, your head still spinning a bit. You remembered the one time something similar had happened to you, the first time you had stumbled into their flower shop. It was like someone had allowed you to take a glance at something hidden, something secret. Just like right now, you had witnessed something secret.

By now the dizzy feeling had left your head for good. You heard the laughter from the café clearly again as it mixed with the music coming from the car’s speakers.

You started your car again, driving away with a laugh ringing in your ear and a familiar voice saying:

You are asking yourself why, am I right? Because your first laugh is the reason I am here.

And then, you understood.

(If you don’t click here.)

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etraytin · 4 years

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Quarantine, Day 89

June 8

Another Monday, the start of another business week, and a very busy day! Today was full of many adventures, such as achieving a new high score in Gardenscapes, being yelled at by an elderly person, and not going to Lowes. Quite the whirlwind! The kiddo has not quite gone to sleep yet, but I have bought time out of his room by telling him I was going to make some tea (which is technically also true). I am hoping that by the time I check on him in ten minutes, he will have fallen asleep cause he was pretty tired.

First thing this morning was the meeting with the attorney. It was a Zoom visit, and my goodness, aren't we all getting good at using Zoom now? It's practically old hat. We had a list of questions and were able to get some useful answers, as well as start to make a plan going forward with handling the estate. Apparently the office now does drive thru will signing and notarization, which is very funny to me but makes sense since you need two witnesses in person for a will signing and I don't think anyone has tested whether videoconferencing is in person enough. (I think it's gonna happen soon though, and I think the answer will be yes.) After the meeting, I spent much of the rest of the morning making a list of what entities will need a copy of the death certificate when it arrives and where that certificate will need to be sent. I am hoping we can stay long enough that the certificates come in the mail, but they are apparently kind of backed up right now.

While I was working, the kiddo seized control of our little iPad (we have many iPads in the house right now, there is the big iPad, which was Papa's, the medium iPad, which is Nana's, and the little iPad, which we got when Papa got the big iPad because he couldn't read the little iPad) and used it to spend all my Gardenscapes stars. I like the match-three game that is Gardenscapes and pretty much ignore the metagame of furnishing the garden except when I need to get extra lives. The kiddo doesn't like the actual game very much but gets a real kick out of furnishing the garden, so he spent all 1400 of my accumulated stars, finished four or five areas, and bumped my coin total to an all-time high of 105,000. I am like unto a god among gardeners, fear my pecuniary might! Upon finishing spending my stars, he gave me back the iPad and insisted I needed to earn him more stars, so that's what I did during podcast time tonight.

For lunch my husband made mozzarella stick grilled cheese, where he made grilled cheese sandwiches, then rolled them in breading, then pan-fried them crispy golden brown and served them with marinara sauce. They were very, very good and I should probably not eat them more than once a year if I value my coronary artery health. After lunch MIL and I went to the drive-thru at the drugstore for her medicine, and then I tried to go to Lowes for a new outdoor garbage can and garden hose. I figured midafternoon on a Monday shouldn't be too busy, but the place was packed! What the hell is everybody doing at Lowes, anyway? I decided to come back later after noting the number of people not even wearing masks.

The afternoon was pretty sedate, husband and kiddo took the other guitar, this one a regular size wooden acoustic that FIL made from a kit back in his early retirement days. FIL was a hell of a woodworker at one time, he also built a grandfather clock from a kit that still stands in the living room and keeps good time. MIL wasn't sure that the homemade guitar could be tuned, but the guy at the shop said that while it wouldn't be quite perfect, he could get it sounding good. The kiddo is very enamored with the guitar and spent his creative arts half hour today just playing with it and making fairly musical noises with it. I can already understand why the guitar is a better instrument to have your kid learning than any of the brasses or woodwinds. This bears thinking about.

The meal train from MIL's church started today. People will be bringing us dinner every other night for the next two weeks, which is very nice of them and gives us dinner and MIL the feeling that people at her church have not forgotten her. FIL had an extremely hard time getting around this past year or two and was often hard to rouse and dress in the mornings, so they weren't getting to church nearly as much even before the virus. I can tell she is happy to know that people still know her and want to help her in a time of need. I suspect, I hope anyway, that within the next year or so she is one of the people signing up to help others, as well as joining committees and groups again. She thrives on being involved in things, and she hasn't been able to do it in a long time.

Anyway, two people brought stuff over today, one of them a backstop when she saw that the person who signed up was bringing imitation crab salad and sweet potato pecan salad as the main dishes. The second person very tactfully contacted us directly and offered to bring us a pork tenderloin, which we gladly accepted. The pork tenderloin lady arrived at 5:30 and dropped off the food with a little doorway conversation and condolences, very nice. Half an hour later, I was playing Gardenscapes in our room (the kiddo is a harsh taskmaster) when MIL shoved the landline phone into my hands and said "here, you're good at giving directions, the meal train lady is lost."

Before I could protest that I don't even go here, the rather elderly lady on the other end of the phone was telling me about how she'd gone from X road to Y road and ended up back on X road and had no idea where she was and was driving around randomly. By a small miracle, I was able to figure out where she actually was and try to explain to her what she needed to do, only for her to interrupt me four or five times to tell me I wasn't making any sense, and also accused me of not answering the phone the first time she'd called. At long last I managed to get her to a landmark that put her back on the correct road and gave her the rest of the turns, then sent the guys out to the end of the driveway to flag her down. When she arrived, I tried to apologize for the confusion and explained that our GPS was also confused for a long time by the fairly rural route, she told me I ought to remember that not everybody has a GPS! It was like getting Tumblr-privilege-checked IRL by an old woman and was rather offputting. But hey, at least it was me and not MIL. Who the hell scolds the bereaved family they are bringing food to because they themselves had shitty directions? I don't even know.

Anyway, the pork tenderloin was very good, the crab salad was a small container of crab salad, and the sweet potato salad was incredibly weird. it was like a vinegar based potato salad except instead of tiny chunks of white potato it was quartered sweet potatoes and also red peppers with pecans dumped on top. There were also brownies that we could not peg the flavor on but were something in the blonde peanut butter-chocolate chip-possibly dates or raisins category. And man, I know it's extremely gauche to bag on food people bring you out of the kindness of their hearts, but come on, don't both yell at me and bring me weird potato salad, that's not very nice.

The kiddo has indeed gone to sleep in the time I've taken to steep my tea and write this, so that is excellent. Tomorrow I need to look into the financial advisor stuff some more and hopefully actually arrive at Lowes long enough to buy my items. For now, though, I have some stars to go earn.

#quarantine #gardenscapes #weird potato salad

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gaamagirl565 · 4 years

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Matters of the heart ep 12

Matters of the heart Episode 12 A day to remember {OPENING CREDITS} {We open to old Corona orchard and people are setting up the orchard for the wedding} Isaiah: Okay good…. lanterns check…. wedding arch check... father being nervous and being teased by the king and mr. Lance…. double check…. {Draki slithers on his shoulder} Isaiah: Oh! Hi Draki! Check it out! {he holds up a clipboard} Isaiah: Grandpa gave me the job of going around and checking off things that are supposed to be on the list... Yep I'm quite the big shot around here… Akina: LOOK OUT! {Akina runs into him and knocks him over} Isaiah: owwwww... Akina: S-Sorry Isaiah! Isaiah: Akina? ...why are you...wearing heels? Akina:....I wanna look pretty...don’t tell mama… {Lily enters frame in a lovely green dress} Isaiah: Lily!...I...uhh...you...Your looking….uh...green!... Lily: what? Isaiah:....one moment… {Isaiah goes behind a tree and screams before coming back out} Isaiah: I’m good… Lily: ummm...okay...I came to get you to tell you apparently there's something going down. Zapada’s freaking out. Isaiah: is she okay? Lily: donno… Isaiah: well then this looks like a job for the master of wedding planning! {he holds up clipboard heroically} Lily: I hope you realize your grandfather gave you that job just so you would get out of the way… Isaiah: …. why you gotta do that to me? {Cut to Isaiah’s house and Rapunzel is doing Zapada’s hair} Rapunzel: Calm down Zapada...it’s going to be alright… Zapada: How can I calm it? The wedding is today! And the cake has not arrived, the flowers have not yet been acquired, and Varian knows nothing of it....but I had mothers necklace cleaned and it is not yet ready! Adira: This is why earrings and I never got married… Zapada: But... you have child? Adira: and? {silence} Zapada: never mind… {Isaiah, akina, and lily walk in} Isaiah: what’s going on? Rapunzel: It's alright kids just a bit of pre-wedding jitters... Adira:....Small one are you wearing heels? Akina: eep! Zapada: Wait! My wedding does not start until sundown... Isaiah... could you find it possible to head to town and acquire a few items? Isaiah: I don't see why I can't! Zapada: Ah! Blessed boy! Mulțumesc! {she hands him a list} Zapada: Take the wagon and horse! Go! Isaiah: You can count on the master of wedding planning! Akina: mama? May I go? Adira:...I suppose...But stay out of trouble, small one! Lily: I’ll go too! Keep these two out of trouble! Rapunzel: Alright you all can go but back here before sundown! Isaiah: Yes, Your majesty! Lily: Yes mom! Rapunzel: go! Go! Quickly! {They all run out; Cut to the main road and the wagon zips past the camera with Isaiah at the drivers seat and Lily and Akina in the back hanging on for dear life} Lily: Isaiah! Have you ever driven before!? Isaiah: Nope! Dad never lets me drive! Woo-hoo! Akina: I can see why! {They go over a bump and gallop through the main gate to the town; People dodge out of the way} Lily: Isaiah! Slow down! We want to get there but we want to get there alive and without homicide charges! Isaiah: ugh...okay, alright relax you kill joys...we’re here anyway… {He slows the horse to a stop} Isaiah: Well that was fun! {He looks in the back to see Akina holding onto Lily with messy hair and Lly glaring at him; cut to the three standing in town; Isaiah tears the list into 3 pieces} Isaiah: we’ll get done faster if we each have our own individual jobs...Akina you go get the cake... Lily...heh... you go get the flowers… Lily: Very funny… Isaiah: I'll get the necklace from the Jewelers.. once we're finished let's meet back here. Ready? Break! {They all run in different directions; cut to Atilla’s bakery}

Atilla: one cupcake! Two cupcakes! Three cup- {The door jingles and Atilla looks but no one is there; he goes back to baking} Atilla: four cupcakes! Akina: Ahem! Excuse me! Atilla: huh? {he walks over to the counter and looks down and sees Akina} Atilla: ….awwww! Hi there! Want a cupcake? Akina: um...actually… Atilla: I just made a fresh batch of croissants! with chocolate frosting in the middle! Akina:...sir.. Atilla: or perhaps you're more of a fruit person! I made some apple fritters! Akina: actually I'm here for a wedding cake that was supposed to be delivered today! Atilla: oh...sorry! you seem a little young to be getting married... or maybe you're just one of those really short people I'm sorry! Akina: N-NO! Not me!!! For miss Zapada! Atilla: OHHH! right! I have it all baked but I still have to decorate it... I suddenly got a huge order of cupcakes for a child's birthday party. Akina:... you still need to decorate it?.... maybe I can help... I used to help Papa with all the baking when I was little... maybe I can help you? Atilla:.. depends... can you hold icing in your hand and not eat it… akina: I can try… Atilla: You're hired! {he puts a chef hat on her and she giggles; Cut to the jewelers Isaiah walks in and the jeweler turns around ready to help} Jeweler: AH!...it’s you!... Isaiah: hello to you too? Jeweler: You...You blew up the marketplace! I lost a month's worth of revenue from that! Isaiah: oh for God’s sa-that was months ago! Jeweler: yes...but...still...what can I help you with? Isaiah: I’m here to pick up a Necklace? Was brought here by Zapada? Jeweler: oh...that one...ugh...yes I have it...but it’ll be ten gold pieces.. Isaiah: *Chokes* TEN GOLD PIECES!? The sign says cleaning is 5! Jeweler: Call it payment for all the suffering you've caused me after that horrible incident… Isaiah: So you're racking up the price for an event that happened months ago which you surely gained the money back for!? let's not forget I also suffered! do you not see my face!? Jeweler: I could always rack it up to 15… Isaiah: why you stingy little…. {He throws ten gold pieces on the counter} Isaiah: well?...take it or leave it! {The jeweler takes the money and hands over the polished necklace} Jeweler: pleasure doing business with you... Isaiah: Yeah Whatever… {He goes to walk out} Jeweler: Traitor’s son… {Isaiah flinches but walks out with his head high; cut to the flower shop and Lily is looking at the various flowers as the old florist makes the wedding bouquet} Old florist: Something wrong my princess? Lily: just... I keep wondering if... I don't know... if I'm pretty enough to be considered a princess. Old florist: it's a boy isn't it? Lily: huh!? Old florist: I've lived a long time dearie…. I know that look in your eyes as well as I know the flowers in this shop. you're looking for someone to notice you. Lily: well... there is one boy... I chose the prettiest dress I could for this wedding hoping maybe... just maybe... he would see me as more than just a princess…. Old florist: I see... and what happened? Lily: he said I looked green…. {The old lady chuckles} Old florist: men can be a funny thing. sometimes when they see something so lovely they become tongue-tied and don't know what to say. another time they don't notice at all. let me tell you something my princess. if there's one thing I've learned from all these years on this Earth it's that people don't pay attention to what you look like. if you truly want a person to respect you for who you are rather than what you are show them through action not appearances. Lily: how do I do that? Old florist: just be yourself...Be Lily... don't be princess Lily… {The old florist walks over and fixes her hair with flowers in it} Lily:. i...I look lovely… {The old florist hands her the bouquet} Old florist: Remember you may be lovely on the outside but what really matters is what's on the inside. without beauty within we are nothing. Now go shine yourself bright. {Lily hugs her} Lily: Thank you! {She runs out of the store; Isaiah runs up to the wagon} Isaiah: Where is everyone-WHOA! {Akina is behind him covered in frosting with Atilla next to her holding a beautiful white cake decorated with flowers and pink sugar crystals to look like quartz} Isaiah: holy mackerel… Atilla: she did a good job right? Isaiah: Akina YOU did that!? Akina: y-yes? Isaiah: It’s amazing!! Akina: Really! I did my best! R-really I did! Lily: What’s going on? Isaiah: Aki-wow …. Lily: Isaiah? Akina: Lily you look soooo pretty! Isaiah: yeah...beautiful…… {Lily smiles and blushes} Isaiah: Bwag! Uhh! We need to get back! Got everything!? Akina: right-o captain! {Isaiah goes to hop in the drivers seat but Lily is already there} Isaiah: huh!? Lily: oh no you don’t! I’m driving now! Isaiah: mmmnnn fine!!! Lily: alright everyone in? Then off we go! Hyah! {She tells the horse to canter; they pass by a shop} Isaiah: Wait! {Lily stops the horse; Isaiah takes out a small round object and tosses it into the store; a boom is heard followed by a girlish scream} Jeweler: MY GEMS!!! {Lily glares at him} Isaiah: what?...Oh relax it was one of my dads Bath bombs! Keep going! {she canters the horse; cut to the orchard and Varian getting ready to stand by the arch} Quirin: how do you feel? Varian: nervous...but excited… Quirin: just like I was...you’ve done everything for your family and now it’s getting bigger...I proud of you son. Varian: Thanks dad… {Cut to Zapada outside the orchard} Zapada: where are they!? Rapunzel: Zapada: they’ll be here soon! But the wedding is starting very soon! Zapada: mmnn...alright….lets how you say...do this… {Lily has the horse at a gallop} Isaiah: and MY driving was bad? Lily: oh hush up! We’re going to be late! Akina: Lily We’re almost there slow down! We’re gonna-! {The wagon breaks a wheel on a rock sending everything in the back including Akina flying} Isaiah: NOO! Lily: ...my bad. Zapada: here we go..sigh...hmm? {Suddenly she catches the bouquet and her necklace} Zapada: Oh!? {The cake lands upright on a table} Varian: ummmm Quirin:...did I just see what I think I saw or am I finally losing it with age? {Distant screaming slowly becomes louder} Lance: MY GIRL! {He catches Akina} Akina: Papa! Lance: why are you covered in frosting? {Isaiah runs up by his dad and Lily runs to her chair} Rapunzel: Well..everything seems to be...in order now...you ready? Zapada:...Da...yes..I am… {The wedding march starts and Zapada walks down the aisle in a white off the shoulder dress with long sleeves, a braid and a flower crown; Varians eyes widen upon seeing her and he feels tears well up} Eugene: he cried pay up… Lance: d’ohhh… {He hands him a few coins and Zapada gets to the arch; Varian kisses her} Isaiah: Dad!...PSST!...Dad! Not yet! Varian: oops!..hehe sorry.. Preacher: Ladies and gentlemen we gather here under the sight of God to join in union this man and this woman in holy matrimony. {As he speaks the camera pans to different people in the crowd looking happy, loving on their significant other, or smiling} Preacher: Varian do you promise to love and cherish this woman, honor her, and be there for her in sickness and in health till death do you part? Varian:...I do… Preacher: Zapada do you promise to love and cherish this man, honor him, and be there for him in sickness and in health till death do you part? Zapada: I do… Peacher: may we have the rings… {Eugene gives the rings} Preacher: repeat after me. With this ring I thee wed… Varian: Zapada... With this ring I thee wed. Zapada: Varian... With this ring I thee wed… Preacher: With the power vested in me...I now declare you Husband and wife...you may k-!? {Zapada jumps and kisses Varian; the crowd cheers and Isaiah smiles Isaiah runs up and hugs them; begin montage of the celebration} {flash one} Zapada: *puts cake on Varians nose* Varian: *laughs* {flash two} Zapada: *throws bouquet* Adira: *accidentally catches it* Lance: *high fives Eugene* {flash three} {everyone is slow dancing} Lily: so uh...Isaiah...you wanna...dance? Isaiah:...o-okay… {Isaiah leads her out to the dance floor and they dance awkwardly at first but ease into it} Isaiah: so umm..you really do look nice tonight lily...and uh..you look...um.. You got flowers...and...ummm {Lily rolls her eyes and gives him a peck on the lips} Lily: hehe shut up… Isaiah:....okay… {pan to Varian and Zapada} Varian: Everything you ever dreamed? Zapada: even more… {They kiss} {END CREDITS}

#tangled #tts #rta #tangled the series #rapunzel’s tangled adventure #MotH #Isaiah #Varian #Zapada #Lily #Akina #tangled next gen

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eryiss · 4 years

Text

Chapter Two - Fighting

Summary: Laxus Dreyar, prince of Fiore, has been trapped in the town of Magnolia for months by order of his grandfather. After a failed attempt at leaving ends up with the prince injured, his grandfather punishes him by adding a new guard to his retainer team. An arrogant, up-tight, overly confident, handsome bastard named Freed Justine. [Fraxus | Fantasy AU]

Here’s part two. I hope you all enjoy it. Just to let you know, it has a fist fight and some canon typical violence. Blood is mentioned but it’s not graphic at all. Also, I forgot to mention, this should be updated every Sunday and Wednesday throughout december.

You can read this on FanFiction, Archive of our Own, or under the cut. You can find the chapter list here. Hope you enjoy it ^.^

Chapter Two: Fighting

Laxus sat unmoving atop a small wooden bench, his face down and gaze held directly on the cobbled pathway below him. He was sitting in the castle's courtyard, on a bench usually used for stable hands when they were taking their breaks, with Evergreen standing in front of him, pacing from side to side. She had been ranting at him for around five minutes now.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. She had been ranting for about a week.

It had begun when, after his first encounter with his new retainer – Freed, Laxus later found his name was – he had returned to his chambers and to Bickslow and Evergreen. He had tried to keep what had happened to himself but, after enough prodding from his friends, he had confessed to exactly what transpired between him and his grandfather, and then him and his new retainer. When he mentioned the fight that was going to occur with Freed, that was when Bickslow did an overdramatic groan and Evergreen begun her rantings about how stupid he was being.

Most of it had turned to a blur, as it was relentless over the week. Laxus did remember some parts, including Evergreen chastising him for being 'that sensitive he needs to punch someone to prove his ego' and calling him 'a total idiot' who should 'call this off immediately.'

Honestly, Laxus didn't care what she thought about it. Maybe she was right, but it wasn't going to change his opinion that this needed to happen.

Because, despite what apparently everyone seemed to have forgotten, Laxus Dreyar was a prince. He was first in line to the throne. He knew that he was never going to live a normal life, and that he didn't have the freedom to do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. That was why he had tolerated Makarov's Magnolia bound rules for as long as he had, because he knew that his status meant responsibility. But there was absolutely nothing in any charter nor rulebook that said he had to sit by and let some cocky fucking knight – a supposedly reformed criminal no less – treat him like shit for his own entertainment.

So yes, maybe Laxus did insist on this fight because he wanted to stroke his own ego and get a little power back on his side. Maybe it was a way to get a small amount of revenge because the man had pissed him off. But he was a fucking prince! He was allowed that if nothing else.

That was how he got to the courtyard, a week having passed, and his injuries healed.

"Do you know what will happen if your grandfather finds out about this?" Evergreen continued, and Laxus made a noise in reply. "Any chance of you leaving this castle for the next year will go; that's the same for me and Bicks too. If you can't leave, we can't leave. We were getting bored of it too; we don't need it anymore. And I'm not being kept here because you can't resist a dick measuring contest."

"You know you could be saying this to your friend," Laxus nearly spat out the word. "He can call it off too."

"We've been trying, but he's just as much a pig-headed moron as you!" Evergreen exclaimed. "And what d'you think Bicks is doing right now?"

At the mention of both Bickslow, Laxus looked across the courtyard to where he and Freed were standing. Freed was wearing the same uniform that he had worn in Makarov's office, though the armour plating his vulnerable body parts as well as his red cloak had been removed; Laxus assumed it was to make their fight fair. That was fine with Laxus; as Freed had said, when neither had an excuse to fall back on it would make victory feel even better. And Laxus would be victorious.

Freed was leaning against a wall, while Bickslow animatedly spoke to him. When Laxus focused on the two, he could hear a small snippet of their conversation. Bickslow was trying to remind Freed that Laxus is a prince and that you don't punch princes in the face. Freed replied calmly that, if Laxus had never been punched before, then it would be fun to see his reaction as to what it felt like.

He was wearing this fucking smirk too. It made Laxus bubble in anger.

"I mean for god's sake Laxus, why do you-"

"Why didn't you say that you and Bickslow were part of the rehabilitation program?" Laxus cut Evergreen off, looking up at her with a small glare. Evergreen wore an expression of shock; Laxus had managed to keep this information to himself up until now. But he was angry, and this needed to be said.

"How do you know about that?" Ever asked after taking a moment to think.

"The bastard told me. To fuck with my head," Laxus shot a glare to Freed for a second. "Why didn't you say, Evergreen?"

"We didn't think it was important," Ever said, voice a little defensive. "Do you think it's important?"

"The fact that my two guards have been lying to me for years? Yeah, I think that's kind of fucking important."

"Oh yeah, remember all those times we just mentioned how we were never criminals. I don't think a day went by when we didn't mention it," Evergreen spat. "You wanna know why we didn't tell you? It's because we saw how you treated everyone else on the program and couldn't be bothered to deal with you doing that with us," Ever looked across the courtyard again. "And when this fight is done and you've got all this ego crap out of your system, you can apologise to us."

Laxus paused for a moment. "Whatever. Tell him I'm ready whenever he is."

Without a reply, Evergreen walked from beside the stable and towards the wall that Freed was leaning against. Laxus watched as she approached, the three of them conversed – Laxus couldn't help but be reminded that they were somehow friends without him even knowing of Freed's existence – and then Freed pushed himself off from the wall and towards the clearing where their fight would take place. Laxus stood up as well, walking to meet Freed in the middle.

It was just the two of them in the centre of the courtyard now, with Ever and Bickslow on the bench Laxus had just left. The two men looked at each other, not exactly staring each other down but neither showing any amount of fear or respect to the other.

"We start on the count of three?" Freed offered in suggestion, voice calm. Annoyingly so.

"Sure," Laxus shrugged, face still a glare. "Three. Two. One."

It might have been a somewhat cheap tactic to start the countdown without warning, but Laxus didn't care. The moment he finished, his fist shot forward, aiming for Freed's jaw. Freed, obviously having quick reflexes, shunted himself to the side to avoid it.

That was fine, Laxus expected his first his to miss, and quickly followed it with a punch delivered directly to the other man's stomach. Freed hunched over slightly but didn't lose his fighting stance.

Adrenaline rushing through him, Laxus tried to land a flurry of attacks. If he could wear the man down while the fight had just begun then even when he started to tire out, assuming the fight lasted that long, he would still have something of an advantage.

Freed was forced to be defensive now, ducking back and dodging hits whenever they flew his way. Laxus say how quickly the man's eyes moved and how he was calculating exactly where he was backing into, and it was obvious that he wasn't going to allow himself to be backed into a corner. That was fine, nowhere in Laxus' plan had he intended to get him against a wall; though he wouldn't lie, it would have been pretty satisfying if that did happen.

However, Freed wasn't as defensive as Laxus expected. After a slight stumble from a further punch that was dodged, Laxus found Freed's foot slam into his shin with vicious strength, and Laxus' balance was worsened because of it.

Just as Laxus tried to regain his footing, a fist came from the side and cracked against his nose.

Laxus had been punched before – most recently as part of the failed kidnapping against him – but this was probably the worst he had experienced. Punching was never part of his swordsman training, and only occurred when he was attacked. If someone resulted in punching him while attacking, something had gone wrong for them and they were clearly unprepared. But Freed, evidentially, knew how to properly throw a punch. Because it fucking hurt.

Staggering back slightly, Laxus allowed himself a moment to be dazed. He knew this was a mistake when Freed stepped forward again and slammed the same fist into Laxus' stomach.

Rather than a continuation of an attack, which he expected, Laxus felt nothing. He looked up to see Freed panting slightly, and Laxus guessed that maybe his original punch had affected the retainer more than he first thought. Even though he, too, would have wanted to take a few seconds to recover, Laxus shot forward and barged his shoulder into Freed's chest.

Winded, Freed wasn't able to dodge the attack and took it face on. He let out a grunt of pain that was music to Laxus' ears.

The satisfaction was short-lived, however, as when pushing Freed forward he had pinned him against a nearby oak tree. Freed used this to his advantage, grabbing Laxus' hair and slamming his head into the edge of a knothole that jutted out to the side of him. Freed then pushed Laxus off of him.

Laxus brought a hand to where his head hat hit the tree, thankfully there was no blood. He went to turn around to confront Freed again, but a sharp pain ran down his leg. Freed had kicked him again, apparently on a pressure point.

He couldn't fight it, so Laxus let himself crumple slightly at the attack. He then felt himself being pushed against the tree, a hand on the back of his head forcing him into the bark while another grabbed his arm and restrained it behind him. He was almost certain Freed was pushing his face against the rough tree trunk out so harshly of pettiness.

With nothing else to do, Laxus started to ram his left elbow against Freed as best he could. He hit time after time, though didn't know where on the other man's body he was making contact with. The sixth almost helpless elbow must have had some force behind it, as Freed let out an almost guttural groan, released Laxus from the hold and staggered back a few paced. Laxus silently grinned, hoping maybe he'd hit the bastard's balls; it would be no more than he deserved.

When he turned around, the first thing he did was deliver a sharp shove against Freed's chest to get some distance between them both. He noticed Freed was breathing heavily again, and the blonde's grin got wider.

"Tired?" He taunted. "If you are, might as well leave now. Keeping up with me just walking is more exhausting that this?"

"Perhaps," Freed nodded, voice as haggard as Laxus expected his own to be. "I expect you'll have a lot of experience moving fast. Lots of running away I imagine."

With gritted teeth and a refreshed sense of anger, Laxus sprung forward. He grabbed the collar of Freed's uniform and dragged him forward, slamming his fist into the man's jaw and delighting in the painful sensation that ran from his fist and up his arms. If he felt that sting, he could only imagine what Freed was feeling.

After taking a second to recover, the retainer attempted to land another punch on Laxus' face. The blonde blocked this by raising an arm, forcing Freed's arm back. This allowed the man to slam his knee into Laxus' stomach again, which was starting to churn after the roughness it had endured.

More attempts at punching one another occurred, some successful while others not. Freed also attempted what could be described as more complex moves, such as kicking and aiming for pressure points on the blonde rather than punching as hard as he could, which was Laxus' main tactic. In fairness to himself, even with a less than stellar plan in mind Laxus had fucked Freed's face up pretty bad. The bleeding nose was amazing to see on his smug fucking features.

It seemed to take an age before the relentlessness of the fight wore off, and both men took a moment to catch their breath; though neither let their stance loosen or become any less defensive. As they stood, Laxus caught sight of a young boy who worked for the castle – Romeo – running towards Bickslow and whisper something in his hear.

Freed sprung towards Laxus before he could wonder what had been said.

As they began to fight again, they were sloppier than before, both in their reflexes and in the viciousness of their attacks. Their moves were slower and less aggressive, and Laxus felt his endorphins pushing him less and less. He couldn't focus on this, however, as a fist was flying towards his jaw.

Neither man had any idea how long the fight had been going on for – Laxus had felt time both dragging and rushing forward simultaneously – and they both felt as though they were in something of a bubble. This was broken when, after listening to whatever Romeo had to say to him, Bickslow ran up towards them both, with Evergreen quickly following behind him. The two fighting men only paid attention to their friends when Bickslow pushed his way in between them both and shoved them apart.

"You need to stop, like, right now. His highness just left the office and is looking for you," He said quickly to Laxus. "This fight isn't going anywhere other than both of you ending up in Porlyusica's office in a fuck ton of trouble. So it'll be a hell of a lot easier if you both give in and go back to your chambers. I can make up some bullshit about you being sick to Makarov and wanting to be left alone, and he won't need to know."

Laxus, still in the mood for a fight, thought for a moment, then turned to Freed and sneered. "Just one more punch."

"That all you've got left, your highness?" Freed spat his title like a slut, and Laxus tried to take a step towards him before being firmly pushed back by Bickslow.

"You need to stop," Evergreen said with authority. Laxus was shocked to see that she was using that tone on Freed, rather than him. "Seriously, you need to stop this now."

This, apparently, struck some sort of a chord with Freed, and he seemed to lower his aggressive stance somewhat. He turned on his heel – in a way similar to how he had when leaving Laxus in the corridor – and started to walk away. Laxus frowned at this, wondering what had gone over his head in Evergreen's statement, because there was definitely something. Some kind of weight was held in those words that he couldn't understand.

Before Freed left the courtyard completely, he spoke again. It was in a loud voice so obviously meant to be heard, but he didn't look back. "You're a better fighter than I expected. I'm impressed."

Despite himself, Laxus smirked at the compliment.

"And you," Evergreen turned to Laxus after a moment. "If you think your grandfather will let this go, you're wrong. The reason you're being punished is because he thinks you're a brat who takes risks. Right now, he is right. So go back to your chambers, get Bickslow to heal you up as much as he can, and take a few days to recover or all four of us are going to be stuck here for months. And I really cannot deal with that, so go."

Evergreen's words left no room for argument, and Laxus nodded slightly. He didn't exactly want to spend any more time in the castle than needed either.

As he nodded, he felt the adrenaline roll out of him, and came to the conclusion that Ever had been right about his reason for wanting to fight as well. It had just been a matter of ego and now – after getting some pretty satisfying punches on the man – he felt himself calming. He still didn't like Freed, but perhaps he could coexist with him. He would be a necessary evil, if nothing else.

After taking a few moments to fully catch his breath and realising that he was covered in sweat and his hair was sticking to his head, he looked towards Evergreen again. His expression lacked the ego that he had shown when looking at Freed.

"Thanks," He said softly. "And I'm sorry."

"I know you are," Evergreen nodded.

"No, seriously. Both of you," He looked to Bickslow. "It's shitty that you felt like you had to hide something from me, and I shouldn't have pushed you into feeling like that. Whatever happened, it ain't all that there is to you but, I'm glad I know now. Even if I only know because some asshole told me so he could fuck with my head."

"Don't sweat it, Blondie," Bickslow grinned. "So, you open minded enough to try and be friends with Freedy?"

Laxus laughed at that. "Don't think I'm gonna get past tolerating the bastard. But that's all I need to do, tolerate the fucker."

"Suppose so," Bickslow laughed, and Evergreen shot them a glare.

"You two really need to go," She insisted with a hiss. "Now."

Bickslow chuckled and wrapped an arm around Laxus' shoulders, sending a small amount of his healing magic into Laxus' body, though not as much as he would if they were maintaining eye contact. Laxus smiled a little as the warming magic flowed through him and started to knit some of his lesser wounds together.

"You ain't gonna heal him, right?" Laxus asked, slightly joking.

"Afraid I have to. He's part of the team and that means I gotta look after him," Bickslow cackled. "Nice day for me, really. Intimate eye contact with two handsome men all roughed up. It's basically Christmas," Laxus chuckled, and nearly pushed Bickslow off him for his stupid joke. "Good looks aren't the only things you've got in common; you know."

"Yeah? What else?"

"Wow, not denying you that either of you look good huh?" Bickslow grinned. "And what you've got in common is that you're both massive assholes who need to calm the fuck down and stop being so dramatic about pointless shit," Bickslow smirked at Laxus' glare. "Seriously, I bet you'd get along if you stopped this whole alpha dog bullcrap. You might even become friends with him like you did with me and Ever."

"Sure we might," Laxus laughed sarcastically. "He's a smug motherfucker who's disrespectful and treats royalty like shit. Definitely going to become friends with him."

Bickslow didn't say anything, just smiled as he walked the prince back to his chambers.

#fraxus #freed Justine #Laxus Dreyar #fraxus day #freed x laxus #fanfic #fairy tail #writing

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kvetchlandia · 5 years

Photo

Delmore Schwartz, New York City Uncredited and Undated Photograph

(for doctordee)

I think it is the year 1909. I feel as if I were in a motion picture theatre, the long arm of light crossing the darkness and spinning, my eyes fixed on the screen. This is a silent picture as if an old Biograph one, in which the actors are dressed in ridiculously old-fashioned clothes, and one flash succeeds another with sudden jumps. The actors too seem to jump about and walk too fast. The shots themselves are full of dots and rays, as if it were raining when the picture was photographed. The light is bad. It is Sunday afternoon, June 12th, 1909, and my father is walking down the quiet streets of Brooklyn on his way to visit my mother. His clothes are newly pressed and his tie is too tight in his high collar. He jingles the coins in his pockets, thinking of the witty things he will say. I feel as if I had by now relaxed entirely in the soft darkness of the theatre; the organist peals out the obvious and approximate emotions on which the audience rocks unknowingly. I am anonymous, and I have forgotten myself. It is always so when one goes to the movies, it is, as they say, a drug. My father walks from street to street of trees, lawns and houses, once in a while coming to an avenue on which a street-car skates and gnaws, slowly progressing. The conductor, who has a handle-bar mustache helps a young lady wearing a hat like a bowl with feathers on to the car. She lifts her long skirts slightly as she mounts the steps. He leisurely makes change and rings his bell. It is obviously Sunday, for everyone is wearing Sunday clothes, and the street-car’s noises emphasize the quiet of the holiday. Is not Brooklyn the City of Churches? The shops are closed and their shades drawn, but for an occasional stationery store or drug-store with great green balls in the window. My father has chosen to take this long walk because he likes to walk and think. He thinks about himself in the future and so arrives at the place he is to visit in a state of mild exaltation. He pays no attention to the houses he is passing, in which the Sunday dinner is being eaten, nor to the many trees which patrol each street, now coming to their full leafage and the time when they will room the whole street in cool shadow. An occasional carriage passes, the horse’s hooves falling like stones in the quiet afternoon, and once in a while an automobile, looking like an enormous upholstered sofa, puffs and passes. My father thinks of my mother, of how nice it will be to introduce her to his family. But he is not yet sure that he wants to marry her, and once in a while he becomes panicky about the bond already established. He reassures himself by thinking of the big men he admires who are married: William Randolph Hearst, and William Howard Taft, who has just become President of the United States. My father arrives at my mother’s house. He has come too early and so is suddenly embarrassed. My aunt, my mother’s sister, answers the loud bell with her napkin in her hand, for the family is still at dinner. As my father enters, my grandfather rises from the table and shakes hands with him. My mother has run upstairs to tidy herself. My grandmother asks my father if he has had dinner, and tells him that Rose will be downstairs soon. My grandfather opens the conversation by remarking on the mild June weather. My father sits uncomfortably near the table, holding his hat in his hand. My grandmother tells my aunt to take my father’s hat. My uncle, twelve years old, runs into the house, his hair tousled. He shouts a greeting to my father, who has often given him a nickel, and then runs upstairs. It is evident that the respect in which my father is held in this household is tempered by a good deal of mirth. He is impressive, yet he is very awkward. II Finally my mother comes downstairs, all dressed up, and my father being engaged in conversation with my grandfather becomes uneasy, not knowing whether to greet my mother or continue the conversation. He get[s] up from the chair clumsily and says “hello” gruffly. My grandfather watches, examining their congruence, such as it is, with a critical eye, and meanwhile rubbing his bearded cheek roughly, as he always does when he reflects. He is worried; he is afraid that my father will not make a good husband for his oldest daughter. At this point something happens to the film, just as my father is saying something funny to my mother; I am awakened to myself and my unhappiness just as my interest was rising. The audience begins to clap impatiently. Then the trouble is cared for but the film has been returned to a portion just shown, and once more I see my grandfather rubbing his bearded cheek and pondering my father’s character. It is difficult to get back into the picture oncemore and forget myself, but as my mother giggles at my father’s words, the darkness drowns me. My father and mother depart from the house, my father shaking hands with my mother once more, out of some unknown uneasiness. I stir uneasily also, slouched in the hard chair of the theatre. Where is the older uncle, my mother’s older brother? He is studying in his bedroom upstairs, studying for his final examination at the College of the City of New York, having been dead of rapid pneumonia for the last twentyone years. My mother and father walk down the same quiet streets once more. My mother is holding my father’s arm and telling him of the novel which she has been reading; and my father utters judgments of the characters as the plot is made clear to him. This is a habit which he very much enjoys, for he feels the utmost superiority and confidence when he approves and condemns the behavior of other people. At times he feels moved to utter a brief “Ugh”—whenever the story becomes what he would call sugary. This tribute is paid to his manliness. My mother feels satisfied by the interest which she has awakened; she is showing my father how intelligent she is, and how interesting. They reach the avenue, and the street-car leisurely arrives. They are going to Coney Island this afternoon, although my mother considers that such pleasures are inferior. She has made up her mind to indulge only in a walk on the boardwalk and a pleasant dinner, avoiding the riotous amusements as being beneath the dignity of so dignified a couple. My father tells my mother how much money he has made in the past week, exaggerating an amount which need not have been exaggerated. But my father has always felt that actualities somehow fall short. Suddenly I begin to weep. The determined old lady who sits next to me in the theatre is annoyed and looks at me with an angry face, and being intimidated, I stop. I drag out my handkerchief and dry my face, licking the drop which has fallen near my lips. Meanwhile I have missed something, for here are my mother and father alighting at the last stop, Coney Island. III They walk toward the boardwalk, and my father commands my mother to inhale the pungent air from the sea. They both breathe in deeply, both of them laughing as they do so. They have in common a great interest in health, although my father is strong and husky, my mother frail. Their minds are full of theories of what is good to eat and not good to eat, and sometimes they engage in heated discussions of the subject, the whole matter ending in my father’s announcement, made with a scornful bluster, that you have to die sooner or later anyway. On the boardwalk’s flagpole, the American flag is pulsing in an intermittent wind from the sea. My father and mother go to the rail of the boardwalk and look down on the beach where a good many bathers are casually walking about. A few are in the surf. A peanut whistle pierces the air with its pleasant and active whine, and my father goes to buy peanuts. My mother remains at the rail and stares at the ocean. The ocean seems merry to her; it pointedly sparkles and again and again the pony waves are released. She notices the children digging in the wet sand, and the bathing costumes of the girls who are her own age. My father returns with the peanuts. Overhead the sun’s lightning strikes and strikes, but neither of them are at all aware of it. The boardwalk is full of people dressed in their Sunday clothes and idly strolling. The tide does not reach as far as the boardwalk, and the strollers would feel no danger if it did. My mother and father lean on the rail of the boardwalk and absently stare at the ocean. The ocean is becoming rough; the waves come in slowly, tugging strength from far back. The moment before they somersault, the moment when they arch their backs so beautifully, showing green and white veins amid the black, that moment is intolerable. They finally crack, dashing fiercely upon the sand, actually driving, full force downward, against the sand, bouncing upward and forward, and at last petering out into a small stream which races up the beach and then is recalled. My parents gaze absentmindedly at the ocean, scarcely interested in its harshness. The sun overhead does not disturb them. But I stare at the terrible sun which breaks up sight, and the fatal, merciless, passionate ocean, I forget my parents. I stare fascinated and finally, shocked by the indifference of my father and mother, I burst out weeping once more. The old lady next to me pats me on the shoulder and says, “There, there, all of this is only a movie, young man, only a movie,” but I look up once more at the terrifying sun and the terrifying ocean, and being unable to control my tears, I get up and go to the men’s room, stumbling over the feet of the other people seated in my row. IV When I return, feeling as if I had awakened in the morning sick for lack of sleep, several hours have apparently passed and my parents are riding on the merry-go-round. My father is on a black horse, my mother on a white one, and they seem to be making an eternal circuit for the single purpose of snatching the nickel rings which are attached to the arm of one of the posts. A hand-organ is playing; it is one with the ceaseless circling of the merry-go-round. For a moment it seems that they will never get off the merry-go-round because it will never stop. I feel like one who looks down on the avenue from the 50th story of a building. But at length they do get off; even the music of the hand-organ has ceased for a moment. My father has acquired ten rings, my mother only two, although it was my mother who really wanted them. They walk on along the boardwalk as the afternoon descends by imperceptible degrees into the incredible violet of dusk. Everything fades into a relaxed glow, even the ceaseless murmuring from the beach, and the revolutions of the merry-go-round. They look for a place to have dinner. My father suggests the best one on the boardwalk and my mother demurs, in accordance with her principles. However they do go to the best place, asking for a table near the window, so that they can look out on the boardwalk and the mobile ocean. My father feels omnipotent as he places a quarter in the waiter’s hand as he asks for a table. The place is crowded and here too there is music, this time from a kind of string trio. My father orders dinner with a fine confidence. As the dinner is eaten, my father tells of his plans for the future, and my mother shows with expressive face how interested she is, and how impressed. My father becomes exultant. He is lifted up by the waltz that is being played, and his own future begins to intoxicate him. My father tells my mother that he is going to expand his business, for there is a great deal of money to be made. He wants to settle down. After all, he is twenty-nine, he has lived by himself since he was thirteen, he is making more and more money, and he is envious of his married friends when he visits them in the cozy security of their homes, surrounded, it seems, by the calm domestic pleasures, and by delightful children, and then, as the waltz reaches the moment when all the dancers swing madly, then, then with awful daring, then he asks my mother to marry him, although awkwardly enough and puzzled, even in his excitement, at how he had arrived at the proposal, and she, to make the whole business worse, begins to cry, and my father looks nervously about, not knowing at all what to do now, and my mother says: “It’s all I’ve wanted from the moment I saw you,” sobbing, and he finds all of this very difficult, scarcely to his taste, scarcely as he had thought it would be, on his long walks over Brooklyn Bridge in the revery of a fine cigar, and it was then that I stood up in the theatre and shouted: “Don’t do it. It’s not too late to change your minds, both of you. Nothing good will come of it, only remorse, hatred, scandal, and two children whose characters are monstrous.” The whole audience turned to look at me, annoyed, the usher came hurrying down the aisle flashing his searchlight, and the old lady next to me tugged me down into my seat, saying: “Be quiet. You’ll be put out, and you paid thirty-five cents to come in.” And so I shut my eyes because I could not bear to see what was happening. I sat there quietly. V But after awhile I begin to take brief glimpses, and at length I watch again with thirsty interest, like a child who wants to maintain his sulk although offered the bribe of candy. My parents are now having their picture taken in a photographer’s booth along the boardwalk. The place is shadowed in the mauve light which is apparently necessary. The camera is set to the side on its tripod and looks like a Martian man. The photographer is instructing my parents in how to pose. My father has his arm over my mother’s shoulder, and both of them smile emphatically. The photographer brings my mother a bouquet of flowers to hold in her hand but she holds it at the wrong angle. Then the photographer covers himself with the black cloth which drapes the camera and all that one sees of him is one protruding arm and his hand which clutches the rubber ball which he will squeeze when the picture is finally taken. But he is not satisfied with their appearance. He feels with certainty that somehow there is something wrong in their pose. Again and again he issues from his hidden place with new directions. Each suggestion merely makes matters worse. My father is becoming impatient. They try a seated pose. The photographer explains that he has pride, he is not interested in all of this for the money, he wants to make beautiful pictures. My father says: “Hurry up, will you? We haven’t got all night.” But the photographer only scurries about apologetically, and issues new directions. The photographer charms me. I approve of him with all my heart, for I know just how he feels, and as he criticizes each revised pose according to some unknown idea of rightness, I become quite hopeful. But then my father says angrily: “Come on, you’ve had enough time, we’re not going to wait any longer.” And the photographer, sighing unhappily, goes back under his black covering, holds out his hand, says: “One, two, three, Now!”, and the picture is taken, with my father’s smile turned into a grimace and my mother’s bright and false. It takes a few minutes for the picture to be developed and as my parents sit in the curious light they become quite depressed. VI They have passed a fortune-teller’s booth, and my mother wishes to go in, but my father does not. They begin to argue about it. My mother becomes stubborn, my father once more impatient, and then they begin to quarrel, and what my father would like to do is walk off and leave my mother there, but he knows that that would never do. My mother refuses to budge. She is near to tears, but she feels an uncontrollable desire to hear what the palm-reader will say. My father consents angrily, and they both go into a booth which is in a way like the photographer’s, since it is draped in black cloth and its light is shadowed. The place is too warm, and my father keeps saying this is all nonsense, pointing to the crystal ball on the table. The fortune-teller, a fat, short woman, garbed in what is supposed to be Oriental robes, comes into the room from the back and greets them, speaking with an accent. But suddenly my father feels that the whole thing is intolerable; he tugs at my mother’s arm, but my mother refuses to budge. And then, in terrible anger, my father lets go of my mother’s arm and strides out, leaving my mother stunned. She moves to go after my father, but the fortune-teller holds her arm tightly and begs her not to do so, and I in my seat am shocked more than can ever be said, for I feel as if I were walking a tight-rope a hundred feet over a circus-audience and suddenly the rope is showing signs of breaking, and I get up from my seat and begin to shout once more the first words I can think of to communicate my terrible fear and once more the usher comes hurrying down the aisle flashing his search-light, and the old lady pleads with me, and the shocked audience has turned to stare at me, and I keep shouting: “What are they doing? Don’t they know what they are doing? Why doesn’t my mother go after my father? If she does not do that, what will she do? Doesn’t my father know what he is doing?”—But the usher has seized my arm and is dragging me away, and as he does so, he says: “What are you doing? Don’t you know that you can’t do whatever you want to do? Why should a young man like you, with your whole life before you, get hysterical like this? Why don’t you think of what you’re doing? You can’t act like this even if other people aren’t around! You will be sorry if you do not do what you should do, you can’t carry on like this, it is not right, you will find that out soon enough, everything you do matters too much,” and he said that dragging me through the lobby of the theatre into the cold light, and I woke up into the bleak winter morning of my 21st birthday, the windowsill shining with its lip of snow, and the morning already begun.

--Delmore Schwartz, “In Dreams Begin Responsibilities” 1937

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wheremytwinwatches · 4 years

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[Where My Twin Watches]: Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood Episode 34

Last time: Detective Kimblee got curbstomped, nobody wears hats in freezing weather, and the contents of The Mighty Armstrong’s letter shall forever remain a mystery. Onwards!

Inside Fort Briggs, Ed is shocked to learn that having a metal limb attached to your flesh in subzero weather can be hazardous to your health, he’s being treated for exposure. A spiky-haired blonde doctor’s talking about how the cold freezes flesh and unoiled automail will stiffen.

So do all automail Briggs soldiers carry around oil cans, then? Like Buccaneer, who just came into the med room complaining about Al’s head being stuck in his chainsaw-arm. Apparently northern automail- Hold up, is it just me or does this new guy in a labcoat who’s working on Buccy’s arm look like Havoc? Eh, maybe it’s just the cigarette. -northern automail is flexible, lightweight, and resistant to the cold, so they worked out an alloy. And here Ed was just trying to transmute iron, makes sense a blend of metals he’s not consciously trying to manipulate would resist him. Aw, Buccy has an actual automail arm while his chainsaw is getting worked on. I was hoping for shoe-tying shenanigans. After the obligatory “wait this kid’s equivalent to an officer?” moment the Doc recommends he call for Winry to make a cold-weather arm. If he wants to live, that is. Also, that’ll be a hundred cens for the coffee thank you. Hmmm, maybe Ed should do some research on the place he’s going next time? I get that he’s used to Central military life, but the North seems to run on different rules. Still doesn’t keep him from being irritated. [Major-General Armstrong]: “Hello, little red runt.” Major-General Armstrong; so intimidating that when she nicknames our height-sensitive protagonist after a fairy tale he’s too frozen with fear to respond. And then the mechanic returns Al’s head with his “hair” left a scraggly stump? This day is not going the Elric Brothers’ way. Episode 34 - “Ice Queen” ...as much as I like Major-General Armstrong so far and you lot seem to worship her, I have a lot of favorite characters who have taken the title “Ice Queen”. Let’s see how she stacks up against them. Taking a seat at a small desk (I thought it was hers to show off an austere lifestyle or whatever until that picture of North Doc’s family, guess she commandeered the office for a bit), Major-General Armstrong asks how her brother Alex is doing. Aw, she cares! Except for snarling after the brothers say the big strong guy they know and love is doing great? (Please tell me she has a height complex with her little brother, please tell me she has a height complex with her little brother…) Anyways, time to explain why they came north. They can’t say much though, while they want to eventually deal with Uncle if they talk about the Goths it could reach the Fuhrer, and then Winry (and Riza) are in trouble. The brothers decide to just talk about the quest to recover their bodies, tracking down May to the north. Major-General Armstrong… calls them Trouble Magnets and tells them to GTFO of her fort. Except that’s what she’d “like” to say but her interest in Alkahestry trumps her irritation with the protagonists. Knowledge is power, and knowing a skill that’s little understood in her home country could be useful in defending its borders. Another weapon for the arsenal… Hoo boy. Al protests that Alkahestry is specialized for medical healing, Major-General Armstrong snaps that- [Major-General Armstrong]: “My job is far more perilous than yours. I will make use of any knowledge that I can get my hands on.” Ok then. I’m getting that people like her attitude and all… but I’m kinda concerned about that line. If her immediate reaction to Alkahestry is “how can I weaponize this”, I’m worried what Major-General Armstrong’s opinion on Philosophers Stones would be. Major-General Armstrong declares that she’ll track down May while the Brothers stay inside the fort, telling Major Miles (is that Sideburns-Guy who’s been by her side all this time?) to put them to work. No work, no food, capiche? Then down the corridor she goes with Buccy, talking about how they’re still “soft and weak”, and that they haven’t told her everything. Major Miles/Sideburns is leading the Brothers somewhere, Ed tries to engage him in conversation but he stays silent. Ed gripes that they keep getting asked questions but don’t get any answers, when Sideburns stops and- Ishvalan! Sideburns is Ishvalan! Ok then! While it’s common knowledge that Ishvalans were purged (yeesh) from the army before the War of Extermination, Sideburns is half-Ishvalan so apparently got to stay in the military as Ed’s country destroyed that of his grandfather. Ed lets out a shaky breath and says Sideburns’ people destroyed the countryside, and one of them murdered his friend’s parents. The two stare eachother down… until Sideburns chuckles? A test? Ed didn’t give him the response he’s used to (shame and pity), but it’s understandable given his complicated relationship with Scar. Wait, attempted kidnapping? When did Scar try to kidnap you, as far as I can remember all your interactions were either trying to kill each other or you using him as Goth Bait. Sideburns seems pleased with Ed’s views, ushers him on while explaining that yes he was active duty during the War, being outside the military purge requirements he stayed while his relatives died in the East. He understandably resented the military’s actions, and was confused as to why Major-General Armstrong would keep him around as a ranking officer given the racial tensions. Eventually he asked her. [Major-General Armstrong]: “This is Briggs. No matter what happens, this territory must not fall. Every soldier here must be both strong and flexible. You must move as one cohesive unit, following me your leader in all things and at all times. In short, we do not have the luxury of discrimination here. The blood of several races flows within you, and with that comes varying strengths and values. You can see this country in a way that others cannot. I was born and raised in Amestris; in order to lead I need someone with your eyes. Now shut up and follow me, Miles! Understood?!” Damn! Sorry, had to include that entire quote. Still worried about the desire to weaponize Alkahestry (and possibly Philosopher’s Stones), but I’ve gotta respect that speech. Pfft! And in addition to that awesome quote, when Sideburns asked if he can’t get over his resentment about the Extermination? [Major-General Armstrong]: *sword drawn* “Fine then, bring it! On behalf of the military I will accept your challenge any time!” Badass in Command for sure. And when Ed speculates that she said that because she had all those troops at her back Sideburns is quick to nope that idea right out. Scary lady is scary. They’re outside now, Sideburns expounding on the Survival of the Fittest culture of Briggs. You don’t have power? Dead. You have it? You might survive. Private or general, all are equal to that rule. And apparently they respect various forms of power, Sideburns notes Ed’s high luck when he trips and dodges a falling icicle. Ok, have to admit my first thought was Sideburns would say “we leave these icicles up because if you get killed from falling ice you’ve got no business at Briggs” to expand on the Survival of the Fittest, but they’ve got more common sense than that. The Brothers are assigned to scrape off the falling threats, after that they’ll get a room. Aw, poor vertically-challenged Ed can’t reach the ice while his little brother knocks them down with ease, when someone who recognizes them walks up. Oh hey, Falman! That’s right, you did get reassigned to the north. Or actually, wasn’t it the Northern Command Center? Apparently he was for a bit, but then promotion and shuffling over to Briggs. Unfortunately despite the shoulder bling the Brothers pick up that doing grunt work like this means he’s off the career track? Come on kiddos, show some tact when noting the middle-aged guy is off the advancement list! I’d run away crying too! After Falman gets it out of his system, he takes Ed and Al to the Research and Development Center, where there are a bunch of guys working on tanks. Seems Major-General Armstrong’s interest in keeping a weapon advantage extends to taking the latest Amestrian technologies and turning them into weapons. So it does extend beyond Alkahestry, then. Hmmm. Now they’re being shown a massive mechanical room, giant red pipes and fans everywhere. Falman says this is the lowest level of Fort Briggs, since Ed comments that it’s warm I’m assuming this is the engineering room that keeps all the toilets in the fort from freezing, as well as several less-important functions. [Falman]: “Even if the fort’s attacked, this area will remain safe.” ...now why did you have to say that, Falman? You know the Irony Gods can’t resist a line like that. Looking around, Ed’s pushed aside by a mechanic who’s inspecting a pipe for an odd noise, then puts his head to the ground when the Ominous Piano starts up. Digging? Spies from Drachma? Uh, the screens starting to shake and the sound is getting louder, if these are spies they are the least subtle spies I have ever seen/heard. Wait. Not Drachma! NOT DRACHMA! WE HAVE GOTH SIGN! Way, way back in the show we saw the Goth Sloth digging somewhere. I guess we know where that is now! But why? Sloth seems to have a deep voice, saying that it’s annoying to do all this digging, but it’d be a pain to die so whatever. Huh, so this Goth’s being interpreted as apathetic? Guess we’ll find out now, there goes the floor! Mid-ep pictures of Major Miles and yup, that’s Sloth. Major-General Armstrong’s getting a report on Kimblee, seems he’s been checked into a hospital after the train battle. She’s upset to hear that he’s free, especially by the Fuhrer’s orders, but that’ll have to wait because alarm! Intruder in the base!

Sloth sloooowly crawls out of the ground, a big hulking brute facing down the engineers and Elric Brothers. Sloth stares… Ed stares… Sloth stares… Ed stares… Sloth falls asleep wait what? Ooookay then. After the Brothers’s outburst Sloth wakes up and they claim they’re just there to research a way to recover their bodies. But Sloth doesn’t care? Doesn’t know them? What, did Sloth just get told to dig a tunnel to Briggs way back when and hasn’t been updated since? Why? Oh for- Buccy! They aren’t Drachman spies! Yes it looks suspicious that they were talking with the Goth, but that’s because they can’t engage it directly! So now that Sloth has finished his tunnel he seems at a loss for what to do, just stumbles forward and tosses aside a pipe segment (that nearly crushes Ed) because it was in his way. So what I’m getting is that Sloth is even more the dumb muscle of the group than Gluttony was. And durable too, the other Goths had to heal from bullet wounds but they’re just bouncing off him. Sloth shambles onto an elevator and bumps into the lever to rise, seems he’s heading to Development. Ooh, do we get to see the tanks in action? Everyone runs upstairs where troops are running around with rifles, and some hapless mechanics are stacking boxes and arming themselves with pipes. Yeah, don’t bother guys. Sloth arrives and they get ready to- [Major-General Armstrong]: “Don’t move!” *Rocket Launcher* Damn! Someone find me a good picture of her pose after that shot. Unfortunately it’s about as effective as the small rounds were, she tosses the useless rocket launcher to a hapless trooper and orders the alarm turned off. Don’t want the Drachmans to catch wind of an opportunity. Drachma this, Drachma that… part of me is imagining that this is a one-sided rivalry. [Imaginary!Drachman #1]: “Hey, do you hear that? Sounds like an alarm going off at the Amestrian fort.” [I!D #2]: “Wait, they’re still staffing that place? We decommissioned our own fort years ago, ever since we found the Light of Leto. I hope they’re ok.” [I!D #1]: “Perhaps we should send someone over to check on them. Ooh, and deliver some pamphlets!” yessss. We’ve got working tanks! Major-General Armstrong orders the fuses removed from the shells, and reassumes the title of Tank Lady as she boards the vehicle, swings her sword, and gives the command. Fire! Headshot, byotch! Sadly, these are Goths we’re talking about, who all raise a massive middle finger at any non-Alchemy means of attack. A shot from a tank shell just scraped Sloth’s cheek away, and it regrew in a matter of seconds. Sloth just gripes that pain is a pain, and stomps forward. Another shot lodges in his gut but is tossed aside and healed even faster, and further shots just bounce off. Damn, he has Adaptive Ability? Sloth’s “back to work” smashing stuff now, sends some boxes and lockers flying which Ed stops with a Transmuted stone hand. Major-General Armstrong notes his protecting her minions, and then Ed runs up to say stop wasting ammo. She demands answers, but Ed can’t answer without explaining about the Goths and violating the Fuhrer’s deal. In the end it boils down to one question: “Are you on our side or are you in league with that thing?” Ed just doesn’t want to see anyone get hurt, so the Major-General sets that aside and orders Buccy to get some tank fuel. I suppose burning did work on Lust, but that was Alchemy. Hmmm, Major-General Armstrong says they can’t stop it, just delay. And they need something stronger than fire? What are you planning? [Major-General Armstrong, smirking]: “Now you get to see the Briggs way, kid.” Oh my Leto don’t you dare aaaaargh. End of episode. Stop cutting me off, damn it! Alright! We’ve gotten some more info on Major-General Armstrong, who I’m still reserving a nickname for until I’ve got some more info on her character. I am really, really liking a lot of what I’ve seen so far, but after her immediate jump on weaponizing Alkahestry and the drive to research and develop new weapons I worry about her response to Philosopher Stones. Hopefully my fears will be unfounded and she can earn a nickname, it’s a real pain to type out Major-General Armstrong all the time. Sloth! Interesting that they went with the apathy aspect of his Sin, seems to be a guy that prefers to follow orders because thinking for himself takes more effort. Definitely got a chuckle when he up and fell asleep facing the Elrics, good humor potential there. And impressively strong, too! Should be a good battle next episode. With him I believe we’ve only got one Goth left unseen, Pride, who’s hanging out in Central with the other Goths and Uncle.

#wmtw #where my twin watches #full metal alchemist #full metal alchemist brotherhood #fmab #fmab 34

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