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smokeybrandreviews · 1 year

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It’s been a while since I've done something like this but, considering this year has been gangbusters for anime, i needed to go ahead give my nod towards that ex excellence. Anime in 2022 is an embarrassment of riches and every season had at least one killer app. Obviously, there are some that mean more to me than others but, overall, these are the ten (or so) which left me wanting more. Now, before we get into the actual list, i need to recognize both BLEACH: Thousand-Year Blood War and Overlord IV. Both of these shows are continuations of long established franchises. Both of these shows are, arguably, the best of said franchises. Both of these shows are on my all-time list and o shill hard for them. Both of these shows would sit comfortably at the top of this list but i refuse to put them on here. They are absolutely serving on that top spot, don’t misunderstand, but it feels like a cheat to place something so established, something I'm on the record to shill so hard for, when here are brand new franchises getting their clout out there. BLEACH and Overlord are masterclasses in how to adapt anime and deserve to share the top spot on my list. They do. Go watch them because they are pure excellence. That aside, let’s get into my top ten of the year!

10. Skeleton Knight in Another World

This is the first Overlord clone to make this list. Obviously, it’s here because it IS an Overlord clone and i love Ainz so very, very, much. I think i made that exceptionally clear above. That said, Skeleton Knight pales in comparison to not only Overlord, but it’s derivative cousins who will make an appearance further down on this list. Disclaimers and criticism aside, i had a lot of fun with this show. The manga is much more fun, mostly because i enjoy the art, but this adaption is rather faithful, giving the anime a very familiar energy. If I'm being honest, Skeleton Knight is the weakest entry on this list and there are probably more deserving shows out there, but i just think Skeleton Knight in Another World is neat.

9. Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch from Mercury

I genuinely enjoy Gundam but i can’t say I'm a hardcore fan. I can best be described as interested but not enthusiastic. I've enjoyed certain entries more than others, Unicorn and Iron-Blooded Orphans come to mind, but, for me, it’s Gundam Wing. I have never enjoyed a Gundam narrative as much as W, until i saw Mercury. Now, when i say that out loud, i know how ridiculous that sounds. With of Mercury has very little in common with Wing yet, i adore this show. I can’t say it’s the strongest of the franchise, it definitely isn’t, but i loved my time with this world. Also, Aerial has a pretty dope design.

8. Lycoris Recoil

I’ve been a fan of the “Schoolgirl Hitgirl” sub-genre for years. My chick got me into with Gunslinger Girl way back when. Recoil wasn’t initially on radar but i picked it up midway through it’s run after dropping another show. I was happy with that decision because, holy sh*t, this show is awesome Never mind the high production values and the absolutely enchanting characters, Recoil is basically John Wick in a sailor outfit and i am here for all of that. I’m not just talking action, but the world building, too. There is just SO much content here, so many avenues to explore, and it just happens to be focus on two of the cutest protagonists this season. Come for the clandestine assassin wetwork, stay for the charming ass personal interactions between Chisato and Takina.

7. Spy x Family

I slept on the Forger family until the last two episodes and had to binge the entire series at once. I’m glad i did because this show is AMAZING! It has a throwback feel to it, kind of a Lupin III-esque vibe, but does it’s own thing with it. On paper, this narrative comes across as some of the most chaotic, out of place, shenanigans ever conceived and yet, everything works. It all fits. I adored every second of this show and feel bad i waited so long to partake, strictly because of my own stubbornness. I ate when shows are over-hyped and Spy x Family definitely was. Its absolutely deserving but people talk about this show like it’s Naruto or Demon Slayer or Attack on Titan; All of which are aggressively disappointing, Not Spy x Family. That sh*t lived up to the hype and more.

6. Uncle From Another World

This one was a real treat. It’s an absolute send-up of the Isekai genre and a complete breath of fresh air. As a kid who grew up in the Nineties, i remember fondly the old timey Console Wars. I, too, was a Sega shill so seeing Uncle have his many, many, meltdowns about the absolute sate of the company, was hilarious. I mean, the fantasy stuff was dope, too, don’t get me wrong (Sui is best girl) but the strength of this show, for me, is the out-of-place naivety of Uncle. Dude doesn’t fit in in either world and that sh*t makes for top tier comedy. It’s a little rough to watch at time, can’t even deny that, but the writing is more than strong enough to overcome those sus ass production values.

5. Chainsaw Man

Chainsaw Man at number five? Blasphemy! It’s the most expensive anime, ever! It’s based on top tier kino! Muh Makima! Listen, i enjoyed Chainsaw Man. I thought the adaption was fine. I don’t hate Mappa for their weirdly floaty, computer generated-to-rotoscoping, animation style. That’s fine. Chainsaw Man, to me, was kind of a disappointment. It’s solid as f*ck if you are kind of a casual, but for a guy like me who has consuming anime and manga for probably thirty-five years, this ain’t special. It’s odd because i thought this adaption was going to f*ck up the fandom like Onepunch Man did all those years ago, but nope. That sucks because Fujimoto’s manga is f*cking exceptional. There’s so much heart there and i think that’s what is missing from the anime and there is no Pochita to take it’s place. Power is dope, though. As long as you watch the Japanese version. Power in the dub is horrible.

4. The Eminence in Shadow

I like Overlord. I like Albedo. Shadow is basically Overlord if Ainz made all of his Floor Guardians Albedo. That’s it. That’s the show. This is the second Overlord clone to make this list, which is wild to me. I never expected that The Nazarick Chronicles would become a sub-genre of Isekai but here we are. That said, Shadow is f*cking excellent. It might be derivative of Overlord in tone and scope but it is definitely it’s own thing. The world on display here definitely gives Ainz’s New World a run for it’s money in terms of depth and i am here for all of that. Plus, the MC, Shadow, is one of the most complete, overpowered, protagonists in the genre. I love this chunibyo so much. Also, the production values. Like, holy sh*t, does this show LOOK great! That whole “I Am Atomic” scene lives rent free in my head!

3a. Call of the Night

Yo, if you’d have tole me that another adaption of Kotoyama’s work would f*ck around and make it into the top five of my year end list, I'd have called you a liar. I couldn’t stand Dagashi Kashi but i saw potential in dude’s work. When Yofukashi no Uta released, i understood the hype. I was hooked by the time chapter one closed, couldn’t wait to see the adaption whenever it released, and absolutely did not disappoint. Call of the Night is a very solid narrative, shepherded by amazing character work, bu it’s the overall style of presentation that does it for me. This thing uses color like nothing I've seen in anime for years! I am so sincere when i say that this show is an absolute feast for the eyes. Also, that soundtrack is easily the best of the season. I mean, it’s tied with Edgerunners in that regard but it’s definitely up there. f*ck it, it’s tied with Edgerunners, period. I like this show that much!

3b. Cyberpunk: Edgerunners

This one surprised me. I didn’t expect one of the most beautiful, one of the most grounded and emotionally resonate, anime of the year to come out of f*cking Trigger. I did not believe they had the maturity to write something so goddamn tragic and do the entire Cyberpunk franchise justice like Edgerunners. I thought their animation style and use of color would clash with the rather drab and neon tinted dystopia from the game. Wrong again. Edgerunners is one of the best anime I've ever seen in my entire life. It’s and incredibly and emotionally debilitating watch. I felt every emotion on the spectrum witnessing these character struggle against the overwhelming content that is Night City. Edgerunners is so f*cking food, man, and the only reason it’s not number one on this list is because is because i genuinely love the top two more. That’s it. On the merits, alone, it’s hard not to say Cyberpunk: Edgerunners isn’t the best anime of the year.

2. My Dress-Up Darling

In a year where Chainsawman, Spy x Family, and Sabikui Bisco get released, how does a slice of life, romcom, snatch up that number two spot? Because it f*cking deserved it! My Dress-Up Darling is f*cking brilliant and you’re crazy if you think any other anime stands a chance against this thing. If I'm being honest, bias aside, this one should take the top spot based strictly off the character work. The core relationship between Gojo and Marin is everything but all of the character presented are strong as f*ck. They feel real. Those interactions feel organic. Everything about My Dress-Up Darling is quality as f*ck and really tugs at the heart strings. If you’ve ever crushed on a person back in high school, this sh*t rings true. The ONLY reason this isn’t my number one is because of how much i love the Reincarnated as a Sword narrative, overall. That said, Marin Kitagawa is best girl of the season, fight me!

1. Reincarnated as a Sword

I loved this show, man. It deserves all of the shine it’s gotten to date. Admittedly, i was a fan long before the adaption was announced. I gushed about the manga months ago, you can search that up in this blog by punching in Murder Mittens, so my adoration for Fran’s misadventures was already at a fever pitch. When her show dropped and still felt faithful to the narrative on the page, i was hooked. Reincarnated as a Sword has no right to be as good as it is. The character work is strong as f*ck. The world-building is rich and very deep. The systems developed in order to explain the abilities of these fantastical characters, are detailed and make sense. Reincarnated as a Sword is a goddamn masterpiece and deserves all of the shine it’s got thus far. Read the light novel. Read the manga. Watch the anime. Buy the merch. Fran and Sensei deserves all of that.

Honorable Mentions: In the Land of Leadale, Princess Connect! Re:Dive, Sabikui Bisco, Life with an Ordinary Guy Who Reincarnated into a Total Fantasy Knockout, The Executioner and Her Way of Life, Black Summoner, Trapped in a Dating Sim: The World of Otome Games Is Tough for Mobs, I'm Quitting Heroing, Love After World Domination, Summer Time Rendering, Harem in the Labyrinth of Another World (yes, even though i dropped it, sh*t is still worth a watch. Even with all of the uncomfortable and problematic sex.), Danmachi IV, Fuuto Pi, Mob Psycho 100 III, Urusei Yatsura, Bastard!! -Heavy Metal, Dark Fantasy-

#manga

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smokeybrand · 1 year

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Stuffed

10. Skeleton Knight in Another World

9. Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch from Mercury

8. Lycoris Recoil

7. Spy x Family

6. Uncle From Another World

5. Chainsaw Man

4. The Eminence in Shadow

3a. Call of the Night

3b. Cyberpunk: Edgerunners

2. My Dress-Up Darling

1. Reincarnated as a Sword

I loved this show, man. It deserves all of the shine it��s gotten to date. Admittedly, i was a fan long before the adaption was announced. I gushed about the manga months ago, you can search that up in this blog by punching in Murder Mittens, so my adoration for Fran’s misadventures was already at a fever pitch. When her show dropped and still felt faithful to the narrative on the page, i was hooked. Reincarnated as a Sword has no right to be as good as it is. The character work is strong as f*ck. The world-building is rich and very deep. The systems developed in order to explain the abilities of these fantastical characters, are detailed and make sense. Reincarnated as a Sword is a goddamn masterpiece and deserves all of the shine it’s got thus far. Read the light novel. Read the manga. Watch the anime. Buy the merch. Fran and Sensei deserves all of that.

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iamthelostsundrop · 4 years

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A Thousand Years (Tomura Shigaraki X Reader)

A/N: Hey y’all! Wow, I didn’t expect the first story to do so well! I have another one for you. Grab your tissues because it...its kinda depressing. Hope you Ike it and that these altered song fics become more of a regular thing for me!

Warning: Mentions of attempted suicide. One mention of someone being beaten. Death. Shigaraki is also a little OOC in this but idc

Words: 2145

🧬❤️🧬❤️🧬❤️🧬❤️🧬❤️🧬❤️🧬❤️🧬❤️🧬❤️🧬❤️🧬❤️🧬❤️🧬❤️

Time never really made sense to you. Things always either changed or stayed the same. People grow and people die. But not you. You’d been around for a long time. You learned pretty quickly that you had stopped aging when your body stopped maturing and changing, around the time you were 21. You tried to be normal, act like everyone else. You finished college and got a job like everyone else whose quirks weren’t suited to hero work. You and your high school lover got married. You and him had a few children together. It was a good life. Then when you paused and looked at your husband one day, he was old. He was slowing and you were still as agile and young as you were when you were 21, despite your age being in the 60’s now. You saw the love of your life slipping away. You held his hand when he died. You held your children’s hands as they died if you could.

Time passed and you did your best to stay in the background. Not to make connections. Your grandchildren’s grandchildren were graduating from college and you were the same. You started to notice trends in humanity; their violence, their greed and lust for power. You wanted nothing to do with it. Soon you escalated your avoidance into moving as far away from people as you possibly could. You saw it all over the next few hundred years. Life and death, birth and burial. People stopped visiting you. You witnessed the fall of society. Once great cities crumbled and turned to dust. And yet you could not die. You’d tried. Every conceivable way to end someone’s life, you tried it. You tried to end your isolation and seemingly endless life. But your attempts were in vain. Water in your lungs dried. Wounds that should have been fatal closed up and blood replenish itself. Poison tasted sweet and went down easily but never fulfilled its goal. You refused to eat or drink but your body would never waste away. Soon you gave up all hope of ever finding everlasting peace and seeing the afterlife.

Ten thousand years. You had been alive for ten thousand years. Humanity had moved on, after nearly destroying each other with their technology. It was as if time had rewound to the dark ages, with the relics of the past scattered like ruins all over. Humans returned to living in castles with kings and queens who possessed powerful quirks ruling the others. Animals had evolved back into creatures of prey and predators. Strange creatures only seen at the dawn of time and in children’s storybooks began appearing and populating the places man did not. But they let you be. All had been silent in your forest until one warm evening.

A sudden and unexpected knock shattered your serenity. You looked up from the table, almost not believing it. Then it happened again. Three knocks followed by a quiet voice, almost like a nervous whisper.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

The legs of your chair scraped across the dirt floor and you walked over to the door, opening it a crack. There stood a tall man with hunched shoulders. His face was hidden by a hood so that all you could see the tangled mess of what appeared to either be white or very light blue hair.

“Is this the home of the witch of the woods?” his question caught you off guard. Witch? What was he talking about? You were no witch.

“I’ll ask you again. Are you the Witch who calls these woods your domain?”

“I am no witch,” You said, almost indignantly. “But yes I call this wood my home. Who are you?” Without warning the young man dropped to his knees. He lowered his hood and he looked up at you with startlingly red eyes.

“My name is Shigaraki. Tomura Shigaraki. I come here to humbly ask for shelter from you.” You let the door open fully to look at the man before you.

“I don’t understand. Why do you seek shelter from me?”

“Other men fear these woods and the wild creatures that are in it. I...” He hesitated before continuing. “I Need a place to keep out of their sight. Please M’lady.”

Time had always passed so slowly for you, but the past three weeks had been very different from what you were used to. Tomura was Quiet but extremely helpful around the house; gathering ingredients for dinner, cleaning and generally just being there. It had been so long since you had had anyone around it was almost comforting to have another person around again. One evening after he had set up a fire, you asked him to sit by you on the couch.

“Tell me the stories about me, Tomura.” you said looking at the young man curiously. It had been about five thousand years since you been around humans and you were curious what they had evolved or devolved into.

“All the stories are different. One tells of an old hag that kidnaps children. Another says you’re a catlike creature as old as the oldest trees in the forest. The most common one is that you are one of the old gods, living among us in secret until you decide to tell the other gods it is time for judgment and end humanity.” You couldn’t help but argh out loud at the last one.

“And what do you think now you have met me?”

He was silent for a few moments.

“I believe you are a very quiet, very sad, and very beautiful woman who has seen too many bad things happen and you simply got tired of seeing it. So, you moved out here to be alone with the hope that you would never have to see anyone you love get hurt again.” You were silent. He was right. Everything he had said was correct. You hadn’t noticed that he had moved closer to you.

“Do you know what my quirk is?” The air was thick around the pair of you as you looked into his eyes. “Do you know why I isolate myself?” Before you could continue your words were cut off by his lips pressing to yours. You melted into him, eyes closed and your mind lost in the moment. For the first time in your life, time stood still. A gloved hand caressed your cheek, warm and comforting. You had been with another person before but this time was unlike an other before. Your bodies felt like they were made for the other, like two pieces of a puzzle that fit together perfectly. Pure bliss.From that point on, things were better. You hadn’t felt this kind of peace since your first lifetime. You watched him do work in the woods, you watched him hunt and start the fire in the evenings. Seasons passed and it was mid winter before you asked him something that had been on your mind for some time.

“Why do you wear gloves?” He was taken aback by the abruptness of the question and how out of the blue it was.

“My power is very destructive.” Humans hadn’t use the term quirk In thousands of years. “I don’t wish to lose control or absentmindedly hurt anything or anyone.” You furrowed your brows.

“Tomura, my love, you know of my past and of my power. Why do you stay silent about yours?” You could see him tense at the subject.

“I. I don’t want to discuss it.”

“Why not?”

“(Y/N), please. Drop the subject.” He turned and looked to you, eyes pleading. He didn’t want to have you look at him like everyone else did. You nodded, going into the kitchen to finish dinner. Tomura disappeared into the woods that evening and did not return that night.

He did not return for six days. Six days you waited on the porch with bated breath, jumping at every sound and sleeping on the couch by the fire. When he did return, you threw your arms around him in tears.

“I was so worried you’d been killed.” he held you close, letting your fear and worries wash away in his comforting warmth

.“It’s time to tell you everything.” he said with a shaky whisper. He sat you down on the couch before removing one of his gloves. He picked up an apple off the table and held it between his thumb and forefinger. As he spoke, he slowly added another finger holding the apple.

“My power is dangerous. Ive told you this before. I call it the power of decay.” When he said this, his fifth finger touched the apple and it withered into dust that settled on the table in a neat pile.

“It manifested when I was about four. Other kids had exciting or helpful powers like flight or the ability to weird flames, mine turned things to dust. I was made to feel ashamed. Told that I would never do anything good in my life with a power like this. I tried to fit in, I wore the gloves because they were specially made to keep my power hidden and handled. Things were fine until I...” he hesitated and looked into your eyes. They gave him the courage to continue.

“The three days before I found your home in these woods, I lost control. A man accused me of touching his daughter and began to beat me in the square. No one would help despite my pleads of innocence and shouts for help. They watched this man beat me within an inch of my life before I grabbed his arm, without my glove. I didn’t mean to kill him I just wanted him to stop. I ran home, took a bag of provisions and went into the woods where I knew they wouldn’t follow me. I had heard the tales of you hiding in the woods and I knew one way or another you would help me.”

The silence that followed was heavy. The man you’d grown to love wouldn’t me your eyes. You took him by the hand that was gloved and gave it a squeeze.

“You have a brave soul and a heart like a lion, Tomura Shigaraki. And I love you. Nothing you can say or do will ever change that.”

And that was it. You had a love again. Someone to spend their life with. You were happy for many years. You were careful to not have children but that didn’t mean you weren’t intimate. Your favorite part of your evenings was when you were chest to chest with him, so close you couldn’t tell where one person ended and the other began. Years passed and then, like it always did, time began to show on your lover but not on you. Soon his handsome face became aged and withered, while yours stayed fresh and young. He became sick one winter and you knew your time was short. You kneeled beside him and smiled with tears in your eyes.

“Don’t be sad, my love.” he said, voice creaking like a tree about to fall. “You’ll fall in love again.” You shake your head, letting the tears spill finally.

“No, I don’t want you to leave me, Tomura.” Your hand gripped his tightly, afraid to let go. Your eyes met his and in an instant, you knew what you wanted. You knew what you needed to do. You slowly held both of his hands in front of you. Slowly but deliberately you slipped off his gloves. Seeing and understanding what you meant to do, Shigaraki tried to pull away.

“(Y/N). Love please don’t. You’ll die.” That’s when you smile.

“Then I'll be with you.” You both knew he was dying. You had lived for hundreds of thousands of years, and you couldn’t imagine a day where you didn’t have him. He stopped fighting and looked you in your (Y/E/C) eyes. As he took one of his last breaths. He held up his hand to you.

“Daring, don’t be afraid.” You whispered, “I’ll see you soon my love.” And with those last words, you laced your fingers with his and closed your eyes.

Dying didn’t hurt like you thought it would. It was peaceful. Like falling asleep. A warmth enveloped your body as you turned to dust in his hands. A bright loving light overcame your senses and blinded you, but only for a second. When you opened your eyes again, you were in a warm field of wildflowers. The sun shone above you without a cloud in the sky. A hundred yards away was a large oak territory with a swing swaying in the spring breeze. A young man with white, or was it light blue hair stood waiting. Waiting for you with a smile on his face. You were finally home.

#may be triggering #tw suicude #tw death #bnha tomura #shigaraki tomura #boku no hero academia shigaraki #mha #bmha #my hero academia #tw beating #tomura shigaraki #mystories

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theawordnotsosecret · 5 years

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7-29-2019

I went to a crisis center on the 23rd, they did nothing so I made them discharge me the afternoon of the 24th, I then attempted suicide by overdosing that night, taken to ets (7-24-19), no help, transferred elsewhere again the next day(7-25-19), then back to a hospital where I was thrown on the floor, stepped on my face, given a huge bruise where they put in an iv by grabbing it hard, I then woke up in immense pain, pants-less and handcuffed to the bed(7-26-19), then sent back to the crisis center that sent me there the following day(7-27-19). Still no help. I got out on the 27th and ended up in the hospital 7-28-2019 for things related to my overdose. 7-29-2019 I went to my therapist, my doctor, and county mental health and have an appointment tomorrow. I have no meds for my severe depression and anxiety and no support and feel help/hopeless. Idk where to turn or what to do. And my hips and back are putting me in such excruciating pain. I cant take the pain anymore. I hate my life. It sucks so much. I hate having to worry about everything, money, food, even clean clothes. I have no friends, the “friends” I thought I had in school have all left me except B, and I even feel like a burden to her. I never get invited to any get togethers. Never invited to hang out no one ever accepts my invites to come over. I hate my life and wish I had been aborted or never conceived. I feel like I wasn’t even ever wanted. I just want to not exist anymore. I don’t necessarily want to kill myself, just be at the “right place at the right time” like crossing the road when someone decides to run the red light. I wish my husband (R) cared how I feel. I do love him; I love him and my kids more than anyone in the world, but I feel like I’m not meant to be happy and I don’t deserve them. I feel like I’m pushing him away and I don’t mean to but when I try to feel better, I can’t. I wish I could put into words how I feel but its so hard. My therapist wants me to journal so I will try. I may not have a lot to say most days, but I promise I’ll try. I just wish I had support through this bullshit they call life. I left my husband because he wouldn’t get help, I had to force him to get help. I’m trying to get help myself and I feel like he doesn’t support me getting better at all and he doesn’t want to be married to me anymore. My life is such a mess I wish I had gotten the help I needed when I was younger. My stupid mother was always there whispering in doctors’ ears to affect my diagnoses. Now that I have FINALLY been diagnosed properly, I feel like I should be able to get the correct help, but I don’t feel like I’ll be getting the help I need. I have been diagnosed with Severe Depression and Anxiety. I just wish I could get the correct help and had people to ask me how I feel and talk to me about my feelings and emotions. But no one cares. No one loves me. At least its better that way, when I do finally die no one will cry. No one will miss me or wonder why I “didn’t reach out” because I am reaching out, I have been. But I’m reaching out and coming back empty handed. No one cares about me. I already feel dead inside. I don’t feel anything but pain, anxiety and depression. I don’t want to breathe, but its not a choice I have. I wish it was. I wish I could close my eyes and leave this world forever, no pain, no sadness, no anxiety. Just happiness, joy, and love. I wish my time would come sooner. This is the best I can think of to put my feelings in writing. I hope this gets my point across.

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katybeth23 · 5 years

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A/N

Part 4 ( cowboy take me away)

Dr Delon was genuinely surprised at the older mans answer.

“Wow!”

Was the young Doctors quick reply

“You look great! and seem extremely really fit and well for a man your age Jack”

he noticed Lisa was smiling broadly at his last comment.

“Well thanks Doc, I like to keep busy and there’s always work to be done on the ranch; so I don’t have much choice”

he paused then very cheekily continued;

“Oh and my beautiful young wife keeps me on my toes too !”.

Both Dr Delon and Jack laughed, whilst Lisa shook her head and went a slight shade of pink.

“So Doc?”Jack asked eagerly

“Did the tests come back as expected?”

The young doctor paused before he continued on; {No the results were not what he had anticipated and from what he could gauge not results his patient and her husband would be expecting either.}

“Well actually No Jack, Lisa’s results were nothing like I had anticipated”

This surprised Jack, and immediately worried him.

“But before I go on I want to assure you both that there is nothing to worry about; Lisa is going to be fine”

Now Jack was confused and from the grip his wife had on his hand, so was she.

“So”, the doctor continued

“Your MRI was clear which indicates no more internal bleeding”, his voice was calm.

“And your bloods, urine and ultrasound all show nothing which indicate and infection or ‘super bug’, as they are referred to these days”.

He paused and noticed that both Jack and Lisa had understood what he was telling them.

“So there will be no need for any IV or oral

Medication”, he briefly paused but the decided it best to continue on.

“However, we did find something in your blood and Urine tests and upon taking a closer look we were able to confirm our suspicions through your ultra sound”.

Jacks heart sank.

Dr Delon was trying to figure out if either Jack or Lisa had worked out what is was he had found, the news he was about the give them would undoubtedly come as a huge shock and would change their lives indefinitely.

“Please Doctor” Lisa’s voice was soft and gentle.

“Whatever it is that you have found, it’s okay; I can handle it; WE can handle it”

Jack could feel her trembling.

He leant over and kissed her forehead gently.

“I love you”, he whispered.

Lisa turned and gave him that look, the one she saved only for him, the one that spoke more than a thousand words and relayed exactly how much she loved him.

“Well it appears Lisa that your suspected stomach bug is infact ‘hyperemesis gravidaram’ or what’s more commonly referred to as ‘morning sickness’.

Had Jack heard correctly?

“I’m sorry Doc, but did you say morning sickness”

Jack sat in stunned silence whilst he tried to get his head around what he thought his old ears had heard.

“I did indeed” The doctors voice was so sincere and calm

Jack glanced across at Lisa, she seemed in millions miles away; yet a sudden glow illuminated from her. She was beautiful.

Jack stood from where he had been seated next to Lisa.

“I’m sorry Doc, I just need some air”

He squeezed Lisa’s shoulder gently as he hastily made his way out the door.

Dr Delon came over and sat himself next to Lisa. She hadn’t said a word and he was worried that from her sudden change in colour she may infact pass out.

She turned to face him cautiously

“Morning sickness?” She murmured

“But I’m almost 50 years old”

{and to herself ~ And I thought I was going through the change}

Then questions kept coming

“How is this even possible?”

“How far along am I?”

“What is something goes wrong” she began to sob, turning her face away from view

This was nothing like what Lisa was expecting ~ however in that very instant a warm, calm feeling that she couldn’t really describe suddenly washed over her.

“We will need to do a more thorough ultrasound Lisa, but my guess is you are approx 10-11 weeks along”.

As a Doctor Richard Delon had seen very few woman Lisa’s age conceive naturally and he wasn’t going to lie, there would be risks involved; however she had come this far ( had suffered some sort of tummy bug ) and he could see from her past medical records and physic that she was a fit, healthy, 49 year old.

As she scanned the room Lisa realised Jack wasn’t there; but she new her ‘old cowboy’ all too well. She understood how much this news would overwhelm him.

He would be outside; she thought to herself~ in the fresh air, attempting to get his head around the fact he would be a father again.

As she went to rise from her seat she spoke softly,

“I think I’ll go and find Jack”;

But as she rose, she all of a sudden felt slightly light headed and sat herself back down with a slight thud.

Richard Delon walked towards Lisa and extended his hand to her,

“Lisa, why don’t you rest for a while, I’ll go and check on Jack and book you in for your scan”.

She was greatful she had Dr Delon treating her, he seem to understand the shock both she and Jack felt, but somehow he also knew how much they loved one another and how much {without either of them saying it} this pregnancy meant to them.

Lisa closed her eyes and rested her hands across her abdomen; after all these years, after everything she and Jack had been through, here they were, at the age they were, having a baby.

The Doc found Jack sitting just outside the cafeteria in the park area; head in hands, eyes closed.

He sat down beside him and put his hand on Jacks shoulder.

“I’m sorry Doc” Jack spoke in his deep graverly voice

“Is Lisa ok? , I shouldn’t have walked out but boy did you take me by surprise”.

Of all the things that could have been ‘wrong with Lisa’ this was the absolute last that Jack had envisaged; all his past turmoils came bubbling to the surface.

“Doc, I’m almost 72 years old! I’m a great grandfather for gods sake!”

The more he thought about it the more frightened he became.

“What if something happens to me and Lisa is left with a young child on her own?”

“What if I cant be the kind of father my child deserves? The father and husband Lisa needs me to be?”

It had all of a sudden become to much for Jack Bartlett, the usually private, strong, resilient man could no longer hide his fears.

The two men sat side by side in silence before the young doctor spoke.

He had chosen his words carefully; He didn’t know Jack well at all, or Lisa for that matter, however he knew one thing for sure that they shared a special love, one that was rare, one that many never got to experience and nothing;not age, not illness not even a surprise new baby would ever change that.

“Jack I understand why your frightened I really do” .

He made eye contact with the older man before he continued.

“But the fact is you and Lisa are having a baby”

He was blunt, but his tone kind.

“And Lisa needs you now more than she ever has or will in her life”

“I’m confident Jack, from what I have seen that you will be wonderful parents”

He felt the older mans anguish, but he could see the type of man Jack was and he knew he was right.

“This baby will be very lucky to have parents like you and Lisa”.

He rested his hands on his knees as he rose from the park bench they shared.

“Oh and one last thing Jack” there was a boldness in the way he spoke

“I’d say it’s pretty obvious that your NOT too old”

He shot Jack a wink and gave him a friendly pat on the back as he headed back into the hospital.

He turned briefly to take another glance at the wise, stubborn and somewhat ‘older cowboy’ he had only just come to meet; he smiled to himself.

“Come on Jack, you and your wife have plenty to talk about and I have an ultrasound I need to organise”.

The Doc’s words had hit a cord with Jack.

{your a foolish old man Jack BARTLETT; but a god damn lucky one at that} Jack mumbled to himself as he heaved his tired old body up from the bench and headed inside to see Lisa.

Once in Dr Delons private rooms both Jack and Lisa were preparing for the Ultrasound which would help assess the babies general health and Lisa’s approximate due date.

It was so foreign to both of them given this was Lisa’s first child and Jacks first in over 40 years.

“Things are a bit different these days Doc” Jack found all the testing equipment and screens quite overwhelming, especially given his track record with attending doctors appointments; of any kind.

Lisa sat there holding Jacks hand tightly, ~she really was glowing ~ he thought to himself.

#heartland fanfiction #jisa #lisa stillman #jack bartlett #my fics #heartland

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kuriquinn · 7 years

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Prompt/Request - Gal Friday [Pt 2]

Anonymous said:

Your stories are frigging awesome. I fell in love with Gal Friday and it’s the best boss and Asst fic I have ever read in any fandom. You made Sakura so Bamf without Mary sue tendencies. I am desperately hoping for a small sneak peek into Sakura and Sauce's interactions at the office from Sauce's Point of view. It can just be a one-shot as I know you are very busy. Take your time and keep up the awesomeness Kuri.

AN: Well, I was eventually going to continue this one but I figured, why not, let’s treat it like a prompt/request :P Also, I’m posting early because I might not have time tomorrow and I don’t like to use the queue option because for some reason it mucks with my formatting...

Once again I shamelessly stole from Suits, but I just love the idea of Sakura Haruno being as chill and confident as Donna Paulsen. Inner Sakura is totally reigning in this fic…

Sasuke arrives work the next morning with a throbbing headache and a larger than usual disdain for the world.

He hates mornings on principle, but powers through them because he has to. Today he’s regretting that second tumbler of whiskey – alcohol tolerance is one of the few areas that he doesn’t shine – and wishing he could have just stayed in bed.

The surreal meeting with someone named Haruno feels like no more than a dream, and he thinks it’s entirely conceivable that he hallucinated her –

Except when he exits the elevator and heads into his office, there is a perplexingly familiar pink haired person standing by his desk.

What the…?

He strides forward, trying to disguise his confusion with a scowl.

“What are you doing here?” he demands, his head pulsing painfully with every word. He hopes to convey several other questions with that one demand - how did you get in the building without identification, who let you up, why wasn’t I informed?

“I have my ways,” she informs him, sounding maddeningly cheerful and enigmatic as she hands him a cup of coffee. “Here – black, no sugar and a dash of cinnamon and chili power.”

He blinks, so caught off balance by the segue that he automatically reaches for the cup.

“How do you know that’s how I take my coffee,” he asks, eyes flicking disdainfully down to the cup, all the while blaming sleep-deprivation and the hangover for his uncharacteristic malleability this morning.

“The same way I know you’ve decided to hire me.”

He narrows his eyes. “You know I’m going to hire you because I haven’t called security yet.”

“Oh, I knew you were hiring me the second you let me help sneak you out of that soiree early,” she retorts easily as he shifts in surprise – he doesn’t remember that – and continues smugly, “I did tell you I know people better than they know themselves.”

Sasuke considers her again for a further minute, and then relaxes. He’s not sure if it’s in resignation or acceptance. At least she’s dressed appropriately for work today, pink hair aside. And she brought him caffeine, which is a start.

“Fine,” he says, reaching for his chair. “When Hokumono gets in tell her –”

“Already done.”

He raises an eyebrow, only slightly taken aback. “You didn’t kill her, did you?”

“While that’s not outside of my power, no, I had Nanmono-san reassign her,” she informs him unconcernedly. As if there’s nothing outstanding about some strange woman walking into a major business and ordering a man three times her size to reallocate another employee.

“Where?”

“Shikamaru Nara.”

Sasuke’s mouth twitches, because he knows how much that will piss off the other man – and have the added bonus of ensuring he can’t nod off watching clouds. Hokumono Tayuya swears like a Yankī at the most random moments, and he’s pretty sure she would rather head a biker gang than be working as a corporate assistant. He vaguely recalls hearing that a powerful relation or something got her the job – which she kept due to the general uselessness of the former CEO and Sasuke’s own distaste for filling out paperwork.

It’s a change he welcomes, although he doesn’t tell this to the unbelievably cheerful woman before him. Instead he deflects, inquiring, “Other than firing my assistant, do you actually know how to complete administrative work?”

“Really, Sasuke-kun, you’re still doubting my abilities?” she teases, reaching for a tablet beside her. It’s this more than anything that stops him from reacting with knee-jerk annoyance at the casual form of address.

“Where did you get that?” he demands, staring at the company issue digital tablet that her fingers dance across.

“I know someone in IT,” she answers, and then passes him the device. He stares uncomprehendingly down at the screen and sees that – somehow – she’s managed to space out his double- and triple-booked meetings and appointments throughout the week according to maximum efficiency. The most important individuals are always scheduled in the morning, just as he likes it, and she has even accounted for his kendo schedule and a weekly luncheon at his favorite restaurant.

She looks as if she’s expecting him to compliment her or acknowledge his amazement at her skills, but he was raised in a family that didn’t waste praise on qualities a person knew were exceptional. She’ll learn that quickly if she expects to stay here.

“Hatake will never be on time for these, no matter how adequate you are at scheduling things,” he points out, gesturing to his Tuesday and Thursday appointments with his head of advertising.

“We’ll see about that,” she says, grinning wolfishly like she has taken that as a personal challenge. Sasuke thinks he doesn’t envy Kakashi having to face that particular resolve.

“Hm,” he says, because he has nothing to say to that.

“On that note, I have paperwork to file, and you have phone calls to return,” she goes on, passing him a notepad with neat writing on it.

“You answered my phone,” he deadpans.

“Well, Hokumono wasn’t going to, she was busy swearing a blue streak all the way down to the fourth floor. Also, your mother called – ”

“… you spoke to my mother?”

“ – She wanted to know if you were coming to your nephew’s birthday.”

Sasuke’s eye twitches. “What did you tell her?”

“That the Taka merger is today and you can’t miss it, but because you know the importance of family you’ll squeeze in a half hour on your way there,” she answers without missing a beat, “which will give you enough time to make a quick round of greetings and drop off a gift.”

“I don’t have –”

“Yes, you do, you’re giving him a giant Lego set, which is fun enough for a boy Haochizuki’s age and is educational – it helps with motor skills, fosters lateral thinking and creativity.”

“Did you memorize the brochure?” he grumbles, trying get over the constant sense of being thrown off balance.

“No, I played with a lot of Lego as a kid.”

“Of course you did,” he mutters.”

“Anyhow, given the short time frame you have, you won’t be able to stay very long – and if you greet the following guests that I’ve noted at the bottom of the page there –”

“Hold on, you know who’s attending?”

“Of course, once I called your sister-in-law to make sure the gift was age appropriate –”

“How the hell did you get Izumi’s phone number?” he demands, all ability to pretend aloofness disappearing.

She smirks at him. “Ways. I have them. Now stop interrupting, you have a tight schedule this morning and don’t have time to be basking in my awesomeness.”

Sasuke’s mouth snaps shut with an audible click.

“As I was saying, if you greet all those people I listed, you can make some valuable network connections, and also limit the amount of time you actually speak to your brother to about a minute and a half. Forty-five seconds if you stop in to compliment Inuzuka-san about his dog. It’s up to you which one you’d rather stomach.”

“Do you ever breathe?” he asks dimly.

“Only when I have to,” she chirps. “I told you – I’m not like any other assistant you could have. I’m Haruno Sakura. And I’m really looking forward to working with you.”

Again, he doesn’t know what to say to that.

It bothers him that somehow this…this person manages to put him off balance to easily, to the point he actually has to interpret what she’s saying to him because it makes no sense. He wonders if this is what it’s like for Naruto when Sasuke talks to him.

So, instead of commenting, he instead says, “Whatever,” and sits down.

“I’m taking my conference calls now – don’t let anyone disturb me.”

“You got it, boss!”

She strides confidently from the room.

“And for the record, I don’t take cinnamon in my coffee,” he calls after her.

“You will when you try that,” she replies without even turning her head.

Sasuke scowls at her retreating back through the glass windows of his office and sits back in his chair, somehow already exhausted.

How can anyone be so…exuberant this early in the morning?

Considering the merits of just firing her and finding a quiet, boring secretary – someone like Hyūga Hiashi’s daughter – Sasuke takes a resentful sip of his coffee.

And then startles at the sharp kick that shoots through him as he swallows.

Because it actually tastes good. Spicy, not sweet, and it feels like someone has hooked up an IV of caffeine directly to his veins.

“I told you so,” he hears Sakura singsong and when he glances up, she is grinning at him from her place at the desk outside his office.

Sasuke scowls at her and pointedly shoves the coffee cup away, reaching for his phone to dial his first appointment of the day.

What the hell have I gotten myself into?

つづく

So, as I said, I’ll continue this one whenever the mood strikes me. It might not update as much as other stuff, but hey, when I’m inspired, you’ll get a chapter.

Reviews and concrit are appreciated!

クリ

Next Chapter

#AU #fanfiction #CEO & Assistant #SasuSaku #humor #workplace drama #snappy dialogue #bamf sakura #sasuke has the emotional range of a teaspoon #friday fic requests

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vanessa-ann-schelin--forever-16 · 7 years

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The Good Daughter

Summer of 1973. The U.S. economy was in a recession and employment opportunities at the time were bleak as I was finishing up my senior year in high school. The minimum wage was $1.60 an hour and the last job I remember working was spent digging a swimming pool, chipping away at the bedrock with a jackhammer that outweighed me on a day of triple-digit heat. Shortly thereafter I turned 18 and promptly enlisted in the US Navy. I was scheduled to report to the Naval Recruit Training Center San Diego the following February. My immediate future seemed less hopeless.

In August, the group of friends I hung out with received advance news of a series of rock concerts that were scheduled to be held at an outdoor speedway just across the border in northern Idaho. I only recognized one band - Sugarloaf of “Green-Eyed Lady” fame from a few years earlier. The promoters needed security guards and we fit the bill perfectly - unemployed, long-haired partiers. There would be no financial reimbursement for our efforts. Instead, we would receive free room, board, and a daily beer allowance. It promised to be a dream job.

The weather was perfect when we arrived on the first day of the concerts: warm and not a cloud in the sky. Marijuana, acid, and speed were freely available. I got two 6-packs of beer each afternoon and a good supply of hard alcohol was being smuggled in - somehow I managed to stay in a state of responsible bliss. We were assigned to two-man teams, twelve hours on and twelve hours off and worked all the various locations from the fenced perimeter to the concessions, on safety patrols among the crowd itself and even out front at the entrance where I soon discovered another perk of being a rock concert security guard: I could get people in for free. And by “people” I mean females. There was always a group of cute girls wanting to get into the concert. I was young, dumb, full of cum and a sucker for a friendly smile.

That’s how I met Rhona Gardner and her best friend Sue Schelin.

And immediately thereafter, 16-year-old Vanessa Ann came into my life.

The girls were Washington residents like me. Rhona and I started dating after the concerts. Sue was her best friend; her funny sidekick: always animated and with something to say about most subjects. The two were seemingly inseparable. And then there was Vanessa, Sue’s quiet younger sister. Their birthdays were less than a year apart. Sue called her sibling “the good daughter.” Vanessa went to school, stayed out of trouble and got good grades. I found she was wise beyond her years and immediately likable. She really was the good daughter: honest and smart without being a know-it-all. Vanessa made me feel as if I had known her forever and I could turn to her for expert advice on the mystery of the female species.

I can honestly say the summer of 1973 was the best summer of my life.

In contrast, the first day of the new year would turn out to be the worst.

New Years Eve weather was typical for Spokane. The temperature had dipped into the teens and there was a moderate breeze in the air. The ground had a few inches of snow and there was more in the forecast. I was celebrating the arrival of 1974 at a party with the gang. This year we were in the basement of the home of Dee Dee Disque. ZZ Top was on the record player, Tres Hombres had come out earlier that year and I can swear I remember listening to “Beer Drinkers and Hell Raisers” when Rhona, Sue, and Vanessa came down the stairway. Sue marched right up and announced they were there to kidnap me and that I had no choice but to comply. A friend named Matt decided to tag along and off we went.

It was well past midnight by the time we made it to the outskirts of downtown Spokane, crossing the city limits at Havana Street and continuing to 1907 East Pacific Avenue where Sue and Vanessa lived with their 52-year-old father, Lester.

The old house was dark and cold when we entered and it looked like the long night’s celebrations were ending for everyone. I vaguely remember getting ready to spend the night on the floor when Sue and Vanessa’s dad came home and I was introduced. It was after 2 a.m. and Lester had come home after the bars had closed. The next thing I remember, a dude nicknamed “Strawberry” arrived at the house. He must have seen the lights on and came over to invite us across the street to his place. Matt, Rhona, Sue and I left Vanessa alone in the house with her father. After all, it was way past bedtime for Vanessa, the good daughter. The last thing I remember is seeing Lester sitting in the living room smoking a cigarette as we walked out the door and into the cold wind, down the narrow walkway to the street and across to Strawberry’s place just a hundred feet or so away.

Shortly after 4 am., we’re playing cards when someone noticed the sound of big vehicle engines rumbling outside. The next thing I know I’m following two screaming girls out into the frozen night. My memories are a slow-motion blur that I will never forget. The house I had come from just two hours earlier is awash in red, flashing lights from emergency vehicles: a Spokane PD patrol car, an ambulance, and two fire trucks have come from the fire station that is only a block away. Charged hoses are stretched out across the snowy yard. There are firefighters milling about and smoke is billowing from the front door but no one seems to be in much of a hurry. Rhona and Sue are screaming and moaning and crying and trying to get the attention of the firefighters: Vanessa and her father are inside! Why isn’t anyone doing anything? Then Sue is in my face, begging me for help. “Vanessa!” she screams. The firemen aren’t responding. We need to get Vanessa and her dad out of the house! The firemen won’t allow me in the front door and so I ask Sue where Vanessa’s bedroom is. She leads me around to another side of the house. The two windows of Vanessa’s bedroom are too far off the ground for me to climb in - the 16-year-old is only feet away but it might as well be a thousand miles. I scan the ground and somehow notice a cement block that isn’t completely covered in snow. With all my might I heaved it through one of the windows and Strawberry leans down so I can get on his shoulders. Smoke pours from the broken window and I stick my head inside. I can see nothing but I feel my hand as the broken glass cuts into it. I cannot breathe so I lean back and take a huge breath. I am going to try to climb inside anyway. I stick my head back inside but I am blinded and the smoke overwhelms me. And then the firemen see what is happening and come rushing over, making us stop what we’re doing. I get down from Strawberry’s shoulders in defeat.

I don’t remember much of anything else. Matt and I left at some point and walked the eight miles back home. Our pants were frozen stiff in the sub-zero temperature by the time we arrived and the sun was up, though hidden behind thick clouds. I must have finally gone to sleep. My next memory is going to the funeral home with Rhona and Sue to see Vanessa. She lays unmoving in the casket and looks to be asleep. The fire itself never got to her. She died from smoke inhalation. I later discover she was found on the floor of her bedroom. The thought of her lying there so close but so far away is almost too much to bear. My next memory is of attending the funeral as a pallbearer. Sue insisted I meet her and Vanessa’s mother. Sue tells her that I tried to get to Vanessa and her mother thanks me. I am filled with guilt. I lived but that precious little girl died. The guilt is all-consuming. For the next 30-odd years, I try to bury it, ashamed at my failure, with hard booze and every conceivable drug you can imagine. The scar from trying to climb in through her window is a daily reminder of having let Vanessa down when she needed me most of all.

I left Spokane forever the following month for the US Navy. I returned for a brief visit in 1978. 1907 E Pacific Ave, Spokane, WA 99202 is now an empty, overgrown lot. There is nothing to show for that fateful night save for a cement walkway that leads nowhere…

As I write, it has been 43 ½ years since that horrible night. I have experienced several deaths in the years since but I have neither been to another viewing nor attended another funeral. I never will. I have struggled with what I believe to be PTSD all these years. I became an alcoholic and an IV drug user but nothing I did to myself could ever diminish the guilt I felt for having survived while Vanessa perished. I hated myself for having been unable to save her. I never talked with Rhona again, but after a lengthy search and some dumb luck, I was recently able to reconnect with Vanessa’s sister, Sue. Today I no longer smoke, drink or do drugs. I think Vanessa would approve.

#Vanessa Ann Schelin #Vanessa Schelin #June 19 1957 - January 1 1974

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theseventhhex · 7 years

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Jessica Moss Interview

Jessica Moss

Photo by Rick Clifford

Alone in her practice space equipped with the tools, methods, and experiences gleaned from years in studios, rehearsal spaces, performing and touring, Jessica commenced building her unique style and structure. The music that came was longform and narrative, conjuring images with sounds and melodies and occasional lyrics, and telling exigent stories of troubled times. Written by ear and memory and never committed to paper, Moss conceives for live performance, where she makes use of violin, a myriad of pedals, a microphone, and three amplifiers. Comprised of two side-length multi-movement compositions, ‘Pools Of Light’ is a stunning work that unfolds at a stately, inexorable pace, combining sound-art and signal-processed timbres, extended melodic and contrapuntal lines, and the periodic deployment of stark, minimalist vocals… We talk to the gifted Jessica Moss about storytelling, performing live and staring at the sky…

TSH: Does working from a place of instinct serve you well?

Jessica: Yeah, definitely. For me, the process of writing begins with a blank canvas and a lot of improvisation. I tend to rely heavily on improvisation and often have particular themes in mind, besides I always know what I want to be talking about. I go in to the studio with all my ideas, mix things up and record them. I never try to stick to any conventional framework whatsoever; it's simply a case of giving the songs and the music what I think they need, alongside a very freeform course.

TSH: You're also very fond of having a storytelling approach...

Jessica: Yeah, totally. In a way that's why I started doing solo stuff. As I was improvising and articulating several types of music, I felt like I would do a better job of saying how I was feeling by telling stories. I wanted to make music which I hadn't done before, where I was telling stories, even though it doesn't primarily have words. I was walking around with so many ideas in my head and it was so nice to just let these ideas out and leave them as open as they could be.

TSH: Has it been particularly rewarding to have your music connect with individuals?

Jessica: Yeah, and there is nothing that I find more beautiful than when individuals relate to my music. It's an honour. To share a space with somebody is very flattering; I mean that's how I imagine it when I form the music, and especially when I'm playing live. I feel like we're all in this together, so we can all find enough in common to experience a connection.

TSH: Do you feel the vocal minimalism on this record allows for more space and reflection?

Jessica: Absolutely. Also, I don't trust that I have more words to say than anyone else does, ha! I mean some people are brilliant lyricists and that's a whole other thing. If you're able to put it into poetry that's fine, but my way of doing that is musically, it's not with words. Once in a while I'll string together some phrases or words will jump out at me and I'll incorporate them, but I mostly feel like I don't have to use words to get the message across, as I feel like I have something very particular that I'm saying with my playing.

TSH: Throughout 'Entire Populations (Pt II)' the vocals are much like a harrowing mantra. Talk us through your intentions as this piece was coming together...

Jessica: The whole process for that song was so natural. I have a ridiculous set up of pedals and they sort of inspired me constantly with regards to what to say. With this piece I knew what I wanted to say - those two words were important to me. I sort of had this idea of building the words and having them almost angrily yelling at each other. It all came about through experimentation, like you said; the vocals are very much like a mantra. Also, I like how it ends as a choir, which was on purpose because I really wanted the song to include an energy that was mournful - like a lamenting choir.

TSH: Side A concludes with the 'Entire Populations (Pt IV)'. Was it intentional to have this last part drift off and be more tranquil?

Jessica: Well, it's funny, because I often don't write in order. I just work on certain arrangements that seem to evoke certain feelings. I put them together and they become what they are. With this part I thought I was actually finished with 'Entire Populations' and then all of a sudden when I was in the studio I started to play this piece that was so beautiful. It actually felt like there was no way I was capable of forming this part - it felt almost too pretty and too much, I thought there was no way I could use it. I walked around for the next few days and could not stop thinking about it. Every time I was playing through the 'Entire Populations' I felt like I had to include it. This piece was like a lullaby in a way. I felt like I was holding it in my arms at the end and rocking it to sleep.

TSH: What prompted the record to be split into two sides?

Jessica: Actually breaking down the music into two sides was not an idea that was mine. The label suggested that it may be better in this current musical world to not have the album as long pieces and break them down. I actually have to agree that it worked well, since it allows for more lasting moments, as opposed to 'you must sit and listen to this all the way through'.

TSH: What's it been like to tour this release so far?

Jessica: I am honestly having the best time playing live with this material. I have so much gratitude for being able to be on stage. The shows have been on the small side, but I love the fact that this means that I have a bond and connection with everybody. Also, with an intimate setting, I think people personally respond to the fact that musically I'm up there, you know? I don't come with anything to assist me in anyway, I just do it all in front of you and sometimes I can fuck up, ha! At times a certain loop will get away from me, so it's very much like humans watching a human doing a very human thing! I feel my live style is a less conceived of performance and more of a giving it everything I have type of approach.

TSH: In the wake of this release, what’s pleased you most about your progression?

Jessica: Well, I really didn't know how this whole project would work. I said to myself that it doesn't make a lot of sense to be doing what I'm doing. However, I thought I'd give this project one big push and see what would happen - I didn't put too much pressure on myself. The fact that it seems to work, I cannot tell you how lucky I feel and how good it feels. I've only ever played in bands and the nice thing to be able to work by myself is that I can be so focused about things I care about. I feel like I'm meticulous with every single little note, ha! You know, I don't want to take any moment for granted, I spent a lot of time crafting this record to make it how it is and I'm proud that my instincts seem to have served me well.

TSH: Do you still often lose yourself via looking at the sky?

Jessica: I really do that a lot, ha. Sometimes it doesn't even have to be the sky, I just think it's so valuable to be able to relax yourself and look outside by looking inside, if that makes sense, ha! But, yeah, I probably look like a space cadet sometimes.

TSH: What's downtime like for you?

Jessica: Well, I have a son and every single day with him is like watching a new person growing all the time. It's fascinating to see a human develop constantly. Oh, and it can take a lot out of you! It's all very rewarding though.

TSH: As you look ahead with your musical endeavours, what's motivating you most?

Jessica: Well, I have another record in my head already. I mean 'Pools of Light' has been done for quite some time. You know how it works: you finish something, you sit on it and it's a very long time before anyone gets to listen to it. So in the meantime, I've been building new ideas and formulating new compositions. Also, one of the best parts of my life right now is meeting like-minded musicians. Being inspired via sharing ideas with other musicians is so beneficial. I'm super-excited to pick the brains of others and to collaborate. I maybe want to add some new elements to my music, maybe take some elements away, but overall, I'm excited for the future.

Jessica Moss - “Glaciers II”

Pools of Light

#Interview #Jessica Moss

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onlylovekpop · 7 years

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I’m Back!

Hello, everyone. Sorry I’ve been MIA for a little while. The past few weeks have been a little hectic for me. I’m closing drabble requests now and have received lots of good ideas. Thank you to all of those who submitted! Also, two of the requests have turned into oneshots (this is a rare thing, but sometimes I get carried away and it happens lol.) The oneshots will be a pirate!au with some smut for Jimin and a dance camp smut with Yugyeom. I’m also finishing up my first Jungkook smut oneshot that I started working on ages ago and involves Netflix and chill. Hehe. Hope you’re all doing well and please look forward to the upcoming drabbles and oneshots! :)

(replies below the cut beware im drinking vodka while i answer to make my responses more interesting hehe (actually im getting as drunk as i can to deal with my vengeful uterus which is very unhappy i have not conceived any spawn this month and is giving me cramps from hell) you may notice my spelling grammar and punctuation get worse as you read please dont hold it against me)

anonymous asked: Hi Leigh we haven't heard of you since you mentioned having knee surgery the next day and I had this really bad feeling I hope you are ok? For some reason I am genuinely concerned and I don't know why so I hope everything went well??

Yes, all is well! I healed in pretty good time and am already out and about again. It’s a surgery I’ve had before so I knew what to expect and nothing out of the ordinary happened. Thank you for checking on me. Sorry if I made you worry :)

omg-mystarx-neoctech asked: Hell YES JOOHEON.

I SAY THIS ON A DAILY BASIS!

anonymous asked: Can I just say I fucking love the layout and look of your blog. Also I just read one of your smuts and holy shit im deceased.

Thank you! I’ve been revamping some of the pages but I only have a few of them done, so a few things may be blank at the moment. I changed it so fics are listed by member instead of type I hope that’s better but if anyone has opinions on the layout please let me know :)

anonymous asked: OKAY BUT THAT JOOHEON SMUT WAS FUCKING DELICIOUSLY SINFUL. I'M HAVING HEART PROBLEMS.

Jooheon himself is deliciously sinful tbh. I have heart palpitations every time I see a pic of him wearing tight pants. Or just pants in general. i aint never seen such pretty thighs before

neon-flamingos asked: I read Rhythm and omg i criedddddd it was so good i just can imagine Jooheon saying all those dirty thingssss my vayjayjay cries

look i recently saw that vid of him speaking english and his accent is so good which means i can totally hear him in my head saying all them naughty english things this is not good what have i done my lady parts also cry HELP

anonymous asked: Everyone is talking about the Jooheon smut and I'm here still crying because of how hard Chained up hit me

oh god that was not my best work but im glad you enjoyed it the thing never got edited i hope its not a hot mess haha sorry markiepooh but it still got the job done i think hehehe

anonymous asked: A part of me regrets reading Underworld AF....but it was such a good read too... that last chapter HURT but it was a good hurt

oh no dont regret reading it! that makes me sad! its a long ass fic i dont want you to get to the end of it and think holy shit i wasted so much time reading that horror flick i tried to bring it full circle in the end im glad you thought it was a good read i panicked for a second haha

honeyheonie asked: HOLY FUCK!!!! I have sinned. 'Rythm' was 👌👌👌👌👌

me too darling ;) thank ya

anonymous asked: Do you have a quote or prompt list we could use? :)

i do not. i leave it up to you guys that way you have lots to choose from

topaz-and-turquoise asked: For some reason, I only just got to binge-read the last 3 chapters of Underworld. Leigh. LEIGH. YOU ARE THE QUEEN OF BTS-GOT7 CROSSOVERS. YOU ARE THE QUEEN OF CROSSOVERS. THE QUEEN OF ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE AU'S. OF ALL AU'S. YOU ARE THE BEST AT WRITING TENSION AND HEART-WRENCHING SCENES AND THE COMPLEXITY OF PEOPLE AND JUST HOLY FRICK YOU'RE AMAZING. THANK YOU FOR THIS. I KNOW YOU ALREADY KNOW BUT THIS IS MY FAVOURITE KPOP FANFIC OF ALL TIME. I'M SAD IT'S OVER BUT I'M SO SATISFIED. YOU ARE THE BEST.

she calls ME QUEEN! thank you thank you I SQUEAL A LOT AT THIS im actually sad its over too. but im content with it. I HOPE IT IS FOREVER YOUR FAVE you stuck with me through the whole thing thank you i love you

statetheobvious04 asked: I've long been a follower for your underworld series and Jesus christ it's one of the best series of read ever. The storyline was so gripping and full of love and loss that by the time I finished the last chapter my chest was heavy and I nearly cried. Idk how you did it but I feel like I've personally lived through minas insane and perilous journey and felt every single emotion as if it were my own. It's een a while since I've read the earlier chapters but I feel like if I do il start 1/2 2/2 sobbing. You are such an amazing and talented writer that this story deserves to be developed into a book or movie but eve then those may not do it justice. But honestly, thank you so much for sharing and writing. And I’m so happy mina finally got the life she deserves and that everyone else managed to find peace in Iceland 💜💜💜💜

THIS MAKES ME HAPPPY YOU DONT UNDERSTAND HOW CAN I DESCRIBE MY JOY AT THIS MESSAGE you make me cry thank you for loving mina and thank you for supporting the story and thank you for telling me how it felt to read it i love you <3

anonymous asked: hi leigh! I have a question. I hope it doesn't come across the wrong way, I'm just curious! May I ask why you're not taking exo requests?

you’re good honey :) honestly im just not in an exo mood at the moment. i still write for them i still even have a baekhyun oneshot in my drafts idk im just not feeling like writing for them for drabbles at the moment if that makes sense

anonymous asked: Do you still open the drabble request?

they are closed now.

anonymous asked: I'm a Yoongi at heart but your story Underworld made my heart 'boom boom'. Seriously this is the best mafia /zombie apocalypse AU I have ever read and I read a lot of fan fiction. Keep up the good work. PS: Some drabbles based on Underworld wouldn't hurt. PSS: If you don't understand the heart boom boom reference , go see the latest Buzzfeed interview of BTS.

i can’t help but only hear got7′s boom boom boom though haha im down for underworld drabbles i think i mentioned before that any gang!au drabbles i do will be in the underworld universe before the zombie outbreak so far i only have the one for bambam i would link it but im too tipsy for something that level right now sorry :D

anonymous asked: I fucking love your angst writings, they get me emotional aha

thank you i love angst i like toying with emotions ehehe

anonymous asked: Underworld is amazing!!! One of the best stories I've read, even though it has me crying from Paris all the way to the end.😭😭😭😭 You done good. 😁

we dont talk about paris haha jk that one hurt too much thank you darling that its one of the best you’ve read means the world to me :)

anonymous asked: How can you write like thattttt!!!! I adore you. I'll always be your follower 💖

AND IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOUUUUUUUUUUUUU and i’ll always be here! i promise <3

anonymous asked: Who is that in your header gif?

It’s Suga :)

thewriterpixie asked: *squeals* I just finished reading the Suga father/daughter date drabble! It made my day!

Thank you! I love that one so much :)

anonymous asked: Okay I was reading Wake Up and Play with Me and for some reason it reminded me of their song Paradise?¿¿ Now whenever I hear it I'm gonna associate it with this smut xD

Ooh i like the sound of that! i really love Paradise but I think Sign is my favorite on the album but how do you get your question marks upside down i thought the room was spinning for a second i kid you not lol

anonymous asked: Your Jooheon smut got me looking at Jooheony at a different way now 😏 thank you for writing such a quality one shot! You're one of the best of the best!

YAS come to the jooheon side we have thick thighs and adorable dimples you will not regret this ;)

taecmekai asked: hope you are ok and recovering well from your knee surgery :)

i’m okay! gained a few pounds from being stuck on the couch for a few days but idgaf hehe ;) i’ll get back to yoga when i feel like it

coppertopging asked: I just finished Underworld. holy crap the emotional coaster you took me on! I read the last 7 chaps today & i couldn't stop crying. I didn't when Jae died, but his 'funeral' got me with the reactions from everyone. & then Hobi?! That was the most painful. I had to stop & pull myself together. Yoongi made me laugh a little with his delivery. My favorite part of the ending was the Jk/Yugy part. The only thing I felt was missing was more detail into Namjoon & Jin. But this story was amazing!!!

yeah hoseok was the hardest for me too. i wanted to keep anything namjin related kinda vague and open to the reader’s interpretation that’s why there wasn’t much material there but im very glad you enjoyed the story thank you :)

anonymous asked: holy fucking shit. it's 4am and i just finished reading Underworld and i'm crying so hard there's so many emotions i'm feeling. thank you so much for that masterpiece. it's the first work of yours i've read and omfg you're talented as fuck. i'm actually a bit speechless still tbh it's only fully processing to me ...hobi... he's not even my bias but i'm crying so hard i need help wow SO MUCH LOVE FOR U AND UR WRITING THO

omg i cant believe you stayed up that late to read it i wish i could do that but in my old age i dont bounce back that well anymore (i just turned 27 and am very upset about it) anyway THANK YOU this makes me very happy

danphilandstuff asked: OH MY FUCKING GOD RHYTHM WAS SO FUCKING GOOD THANK YOU SO MUCH ITS ACTUALLY HOW I IMAGINED HIM TO BE IT FELT SO REAL IT WAS ACTUALLY THE BEST FANFIC IVE EVER READ IM CURRENTLY READING YOUR MASTER LIST. you're actually such an amazing writer thank you so much (Could I request more Jooheon fics? ((If you want and have time)) )

i will never stop writing jooheon fics. you have nothing to worry about there haha. WHAT DO YOU MEAN ITS THE BEST FANFIC YOUVE READ IT WAS SUCH A RAUNCHY SEX FEST I SHOULD BE ASHAMED lol just kidding no but in all seriousness THANK YOU I LOVE YOU IM GLAD YOU LOVED IT I HOPE YOU KEEP COMING BACK FOR MORE MUHAHA

anonymous asked: (1/3) Hey lovely! I came across your blog today after reading your monsta x all in one shot and i just wanted to say thank you for writing something so incredible! it had me gripped from start to finish and it was honestly one of the most (2/3) well-written pieces ive ever read, I would love to be able to write at your standard one day. I cant express how grateful i am, it put me through so many emotions and i actually had tears in my eyes at one point! So yeah, apologies for this (3/3) being so long but i just wanted to express my gratitude and say that you are an amazing writer :) x

oh my goodness this was ridiculously lovely. i am very proud of All In and how it turned out. i hope to finish the sequel soon. i keep getting writers block on it and i dont know why but anyway. thank you for sending me this and im thrilled that i could write something you enjoy very much. you are too kind thank you <3

#replies

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arcanakrp-blog · 7 years

Photo

LEE YURA – THE MAGICIAN. AGENT 01.

[ FILE TYPE: CLASSIFIED ]

//: LOADING PROFILE: LEE YURA ...

international age: 22 birthplace: ansan, south korea arcana: the magician team number: two

//: LOADING MUTATION: CHAOS MAGIC ...

application one: magical energy manipulation — Above her other facets of power, this the subset that is most largely without definition - albeit all of Yura’s power defies convention explanation - as the manifestation of energy manipulation is so wide and varied, it has no convenient terminology. Through concentrated mental efforts, Yura is able to harness the undectable but ever-present magical energy that exists without detection by the average human, and apply it in ways that are directly correlated to what can be called chaos - making her a black cat, a bad omen, an overturned shaker of salt when her powers are called upon. It has been described by Yura as having a spiritual aspect, often leaving her feeling as though she is sapping from an esoteric power in order to utilize it to her own needs. Manifestations of this are things like doors lucking suddenly, walls deconstructing and toppling, even bones breaking; duly, raw energy can be utilized in offensive, impactful blasts. More recently, Yura has been working on “infecting” the preexisting magical energy surrounding any individual or being with her will, lending to what could be called a layman’s “curse” or “hex” - essentially, casting bad luck on a person, or driving their actions by way of directing the energy flowing through them.

application two: magical energy constructs — A more obvious expression of her magic, given that constructs created from this application are generally physically present and obvious to the naked eye. Yura often forges weapons or objects pertaining to the situation at hand, whose underlying magical property can be a large asset: hammers, arrows, anything physical, is often forged impossibly strong - yet both the tensile strength of the object and tangibility can regress and entirely fade as she runs out of mental and physical steam. Due to a whimsical, creative mind, Yura applies constructs in nontraditional manners on the days her control is secure enough to do so: a net of steel falling from the sky, an anvil tied to a mans ankle, etc. Somewhere between her “manipulation” and “construction” of chaos magic she is able to produce forcefield-like shields, though they are extremely weak to repeated attack.

application three: symbol/rune guided magic — The aspect Yura is most fascinated by, though perhaps the least applicable as an offensive move due to the preparation aspect of this subdivision, and the weakest in actual battle. Requiring study, trial, and error (most usually the latter), Yura is able to summon more concentrated, but specific aspects of magic via written symbols or runes. These designs can be implemented on anything, so long as the image does not fade entirely – paper, walls, ceilings, her own flesh. Any one specific rune can only manifest one power, and it is rare that Yura can anticipate which will be the most helpful in any given mission. The actual symbols tied to different effects are forged by Yura’s own construction, or taken from existing languages.

overall strengths and weaknesses:

— Like a dark rose twining itself around Yura’s lungs, magic and Yura are forced to cohabitate as one entity. Even when not in battle or training, she feels it inside her with every breath she takes. Unlike many of the other Arcana’s powers, this is one that is not exclusively her own, and as such is not as reliable or easily controlled by the user. Her destructive power is nigh unmatchable amongst the other agents, but with that superlative comes the weariness of her inability to make distinctions of good and bad guy in these scenarios – she can overturn a car, but not entirely ensure the kidnapped persons within it remain safe while the criminals perish. Use is more soul-draining than anything else in terms of what magic actually does to Yura, but as it is through her unmitigated emotions that it can most effectively manifest, her mental capacity is usually the first to overload. Contrary to assumption, it is largely easier for Yura to affect things on a larger scale than control details - that is to say, she would potentially have an easier time forcing all the locks of every door in a building to simultaneously fall off than to manifest a perfect key to pick one. This is due to the coexistence and only partial-ownership she has over magic, which is rarely pliable and never consolatory. She has taken to always carrying charcoal and a small notebook with her to best practice her runes, and prepare for incoming “visions” that may bring with them new symbols.

//: LOADING HISTORY ..

PRE-MUTATION

i. you are born

everything is red. the walls, the low-hanging canvas sky, the place she is leaving. lee yura carved her mother’s womb into a bloody and torn place, and it is here that she first learned bitterness. she is born unlucky. the fourth day of the fourth month, and she is marked. this is how it was always meant to be. her mother doesn’t care about it, but her father does. her father doesn’t care about her, but her mother does. she is their circus rite, a performance ritual: conceived as if by magic, the result of a one-night-only two-for-one ticket to a beautiful dance. she has her mother’s name because her father will not give her his, but what a greedy, greedy thing she is even now – and she steals his eyes and the slant of his jaw anyway.

she does not even ask permission. she just takes.

ii. you are three weeks old

they will tell her that she was a noisy child, always wailing, greedy and loud, a pale bundle of noise and need. be not ashamed of this, child. it is your right to demand the world upright.

iii. you are stretching into the shape of your father’s shadow

she is his child and they all know it, and she knows it, but the bastard of a star is worse still than the bastard of no one: a stain on his honour, night sky across his shine. he walks by her with nothing in his eyes and nothing on his face and she feels everything. and the rest of them are silent.

the rest of them are not so cruel when there is no audience: they pet her hair and palm over honey cakes, watching how she climbs the silks like she was born in their chrysalis, then telling her where to better place your feet so as to climb farther. she holds their words like precious stones, placing the collection in a satchel and tying it around her neck. there are other children, but she is the most of them. she is the circus’s magic as well as its dregs; the shine of spotlight and the bloody knuckles. watching from in the rafters, somewhere between angel and rat, sleeping under the theatre seats because mother cannot afford a babysitter. this tent, these people, they raise her. she twirls plates on sticks when she is bored and stretches with the acrobats. this is the first kind of love she learns how to accumulate, handing out the correct slices of herself to each of them, becoming a daughter twelve times over. she is the daughter of this madness, and oh it becomes her.

but he still does not look at her. he is her father, but she is not his.

iv. you are eight, and it is time

but she is his, and to see her is to know it. precocious and stubborn and demanding, taking his silhouette now, ignoring the warnings and chastising to climb defiantly higher and move quicker. she learns his tricks, studying with the many aunts and uncles that have adopted her – still slower than him yet, but she is young, and even the elders stop to watch when you start moving.

when she climbs on his stage, it is with feet placed apart and elbows out. she is taking up space. ready to be held, ready to be hit.

he does hit her, later. but it is in the privacy of his own room, and she has won.

she is going to be a great, too.

v. you are nine, and it is not love

it will never be love, but he watches her now. younger than her are performers made here, and this art is as much hereditary as it is practice. his talent and ferocity is in her. they play noughts and crosses at night, and he does not let her win. three strikes, you’re out. he gives no second chances, no turned blind eye for age or temperance. she wins, she loses, but most often it is a loss. she will think this is because he wants to remind her that he will always win, but she’s wrong. he is teaching how to bruise and stand.

vi. you are ten, and the curtain drops

the world gets smaller as she cross it on the magic carpet of that towering red tent. she sees it all. weaned on the wonders of her own traditions, they are no longer special. then, somewhere along a cold coast with too much fog, you see a man make things out of thin air, and you know what real magic is.

vii. you are thirteen, and you do what they ask of you

and they ask everything. she becomes the embellishments, the minor roles, the gaps and the sick spaces. and in the dark, she makes her own courses and studies.

viii. you are sixteen, and with your body you do wonders but with your mind you work miracles.

she is a star now, full and bright and brimming with magick. she takes the shapes no one else can, willing her body into art. no longer the filler, she is the marbled meat.

before the shows, after the shows, it does not matter: she lives on stages across the world in her mind’s eye, craving new angles and newer ideas. she wants the world in a way that is not quite hungry but all the way starving; desperate, longing, hoping. she thinks there is something waiting for her just beyond the horizon, hidden under the tongue of the sky like a melting candy.

but every time, the answer is no. you belong here.

viiii. you are seventeen, and you petition for your right to glory

i will be the first, she says, and that should appeal to him – the first of anything is always something. she knows she is good enough; better than that, even. she has the world’s best secrets inside you, collected over the years from every place imaginable, and they are wriggling like bees at the ends of her fingers.

silence, he tells her. ‘daughter’ leaves his teeth for the first time, so in shock she tries to be one. duty. honour. respect.

she swallows the blood from biting her tongue and waits.

x. you are eighteen.

it doesn’t last long.

father hits her and calls her daughter. disobedient daughter.

you swallow your blood again and wait.

wait.

the audience is hushed.

xi. you are eighteen, and leave in fire

the real kind. no more goddamn poetry. mother catches her playing with matchsticks and weep tears that turn to gasoline on the floor. she smokes out their tents and leaves.

riotous applause.

xii. you are nineteen, and you do what you are made for

she works in the spaces too delicate for anyone else, making new names and taking new stories with each passing month. becoming their wives (lives) for a day, dream for a weekend, a month. they love her, and she loves them.

no one with correct knowledge would dare call it thievery. it’s not even a lie. it’s something far more grand. the only criminality about this is the way she pockets their watches when they aren’t looking, but that’s only for the thrill, not the shine. the warmth she bestows, the joy - it’s sleight of hand, grand plans and escapades. it’s making use of the only truth she’s ever known: gilt lies. magic.

she is no longer a girl, and you never took the shape of a woman. she is something else, and she is beautiful.

xiii. you are nineteen, and you meet a man who knows how to cheat death.

maybe that is an exaggeration, but he cheated her, so maybe not. he is tall and handsome and has fast hands and a slow smile. when you try to take his wallet, he catches your hand. fox-girl, he calls her. and then she’s kissed.

xiv. you are in love. fuck.

he says he’s good with cards, but that’s not all of it. what he means is: he’s good with his fingers, his instincts, and his lies, but he’s even better with everyone else’s – including hers. two ends of the same snake, they chase one another in circles, waiting to make the other lose while forgetting what winning feels like.

so she sleeps in his bed a little and wear his gifts and tries to make him lose, but mostly they just kiss. and it’s not so bad. you are a beautiful team. a two-person empire.

he gives her a ring and says she’s the most beautiful stranger he’s ever met.

xv. you are twenty, and you love him. you do. but.

but there is a wedding in two months, and the games are slowing down because he wants to take care of her, and her fingers ache from lack of use, and she are not made for this. she is too young; has no desire for a throne, she wants to melt it down and barter with its bars. so when the dream calls, with a message she doesn’t remember and a proposition she could refuse, she doesn’t. like all circus girls, she takes it as a sign.

and she waits.

POST-MUTATION

xvi. you are twenty, and they come for you.

it doesn’t take much to die in this town, especially not in her and her lover’s court. yura and yeo take the wrong game, put their hand in the wrong pot, and suddenly it’s all plata o plomo without the choice. because it can only be lead, will only ever be lead. and she may want to leave him, but she still loves him. so as he leaps cover her body from bullets, she brings the house down around them. they’ll say it’s a miracle you both survived. but maybe it’s something else entirely. like a dark cloud, like rain water, like a promise, they come. marya morevna’s ravens falling outside the window, and one day she opens the door looking for a familiar face and finding someone else entirely. they talk, she opens the door wider. when she invites them in for tea they stutter in surprise but come anyway. (your kindness in the face of danger is surprising, girl).

she does not take much convincing, but that’s because a girl that knows herself as intimately as she knows herself does not look to others for validation. they are only telling her what’s she’s long been expecting - been hoping for.

this is a reckoning.

a coming home.

xvii. you leave

with a note, but no explanation. she loves him, but that is not enough.

xviii. you arrive

among the first in these hallowed halls, she decides to bleed colour, sing warmth into the white spaces: mark everything with her fingerprints, give it humanity. it’s not what they expect, this angular approach to acceptance, to bringing other people in, but it works. the more people that arrive the stronger she grows, fed by genuine emotion and the relationships meant to build.

she’s never been happier. this is not the circus, not the city, not the man. this is adventures waiting to happen and something unexpected at every corner.

xxix. you live

welcome to the story of the girl who lived.

this is going to be her greatest act yet.

#arc.app #arc.magician #fc.bae suji #( arcana switch )

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ecotone99 · 4 years

Text

[SP] A.I. Miss You (Part One)

The twisted tragedy of one family’s use of technology to restore more than photos lost in a fire.

*****

i Public statement by Nathan da Costa, October 26, 2076:

The first time my sister died was in a fire with her family. I suppose it's only fitting it happened that way the second time around too.

ii It's a little known fact that Watson's Dispensary in Santa Carla, California was once known as Watson's Brothel and Opium Emporium. Marginally more relevant to the plot is the fact that Watson's also holds the record for "World's Largest Selection of Greeting Cards." Whether one wishes to offer gram-gram a half-assed birthday wish or whole-hearted support for another's full (or partial) conversion from innie to outie, Watson's is more than capable of selling you a piece of folded paper containing wholly unoriginal, utterly manufactured words that substitute genuine effort and emotion with convenience for only a modest fee. In fact, Nathan da Costa was so impressed by the sheer breadth and depth of modern greeting card technology that he hardly noticed the robot standing immediately to his right.

"What's the occasion?" the robot asked.

"My wife and I are on our way to visit my sister over in Hilldale," he said, glancing over to the robot. It was a petite thing, the robot. This lovely smile matched with an equally adorable bob cut and a drab, soul-sucking blue smock with a name tag that read: MARIA. "You're a Type-II."

"Correct," it chirped.

Nathan returned to the greeting cards, but continued talking anyway. "My sister had a Type-II. Total sweetheart."

"What was her name?"

"Rosie," he smiled.

"Where is Rosie now?"

Nathan considered this for a moment. "Not sure. Her fuel cell ruptured a few years back. Burned down half the house with the family still in it. So, probably the dump? Do they recycle--" He stopped himself, looked at Maria, and remembered what he was talking at. "I'm oversharing, aren't I?"

Maria processed this, determined it was most efficient to simply smile and nod, and did so.

"Yeah," Nathan said in that tone one tends to get when dismissed politely by a computer. "I guess they don't really make greeting cards for that sort of thing, do they?"

Maria searched and processed the results. "No."

"Yeah. Probably a bit too specific."

"Ready?" a voice asked.

Nathan turned to his left and found an equally petite woman waiting with a small brown bag in one hand, a cheap bouquet of daisies in the other, and, coincidentally, a similar bob and smock. But while she didn't have a name tag to remind him of her name, he was more or less sure that this woman was also his wife. "What's in the bag?"

"Flower for us, flowers for your sister," she said, looking past Nathan to Maria. "Cute dress."

"Thank you," Maria replied, smiling in that way only a Type-II can.

"So, you ready?"

Nathan sighed, then settled on a card that read: SORRY FOR YOUR LOSS. "Yeah. Let's go."

iii From A.I. Miss You: A Brother’s Final Words, by Nathan da Costa (Self-Published: 2078), pg. 37:

Darla and I were never close. I didn't even know she was married until Rosie called to tell me Darla and her wife were expecting their first child. And it wasn't that we didn't get along, or there was some bad blood between us--don't get me wrong. We were just always different souls, I guess. Darla was the quiet one, always reading, always focused on her schoolwork. But, me? Our mom was fond of telling people that I was "preoccupied being someone else's problem." And okay, fair enough. I don't think I've ever been shy about my predisposition to openly communicate my feelings at even the worst possible times. And it only got worse after Dad died, because of course it did. But thinking back on it now, I think Mom found my shoplifting and fights at school a Hell of a lot easier to deal with than her having to explain to a teacher why her ten-year old daughter was convinced she could take a hamster apart and put it back together.

iv For the sake of skipping past all the boring bits about a long, winding drive through the sort of gorgeous stretch of lush Californian California that would bring Steinbeck to frothy bliss (if he weren't inconsiderately stone-cold dead, of course) and lukewarm introspective spousal melodrama, we will. Those who might care about such careless dismissal of assingly trivial things like atmosphere and character development can rest assured that it wouldn't have been any good even if we had bothered with such things. And for those who might not give a shit either way, please know that you were, in fact, missing out on quite a lovely bit of writing. But we're beyond such things now, aren't we? No sense crying about it. Besides, we're doing it for you, you know. We wanted to do it, really. But we thought it best for all of us if we simply got to the damn point before we're all dead like Nathan's sister's family after that awful fire we casually expositioned about sometime back. You're welcome.

Anyway. Let's just say we've arrived at that point where Nathan and his wife stood waiting at the front door of Darla's eyesore of a luxury three-and-a-half story cottage nestled there at the ass-end of a dreamy, tree-laden hillside road. All by its lonesome, without a neighbor within screaming distance. Its not entirely not-ominous charcoal-black wood exterior contrasting with the absolutely batshit amount of scientific doodads, thingamabobs, and watchakerjiggers strung, jutting, bubbling, blinking, crawling, and threaded all about the place. And yet, beautifully complimented the way the setting sun set the silent, birdless sky ablaze so that it looked, more or less, exactly the way a house fire might burn. The fire, Nathan thought to himself as he stood there like some kind of jackass. Ah, yes - the fire. Very hot, fire. Burns things. Burning, hot fire.

Anyway. As we said, no time to waste. Nathan and Vulvian, front door, waiting.

(Also, that's his wife's name - Vulvian. We thought you might like to know that. You're welcome.)

"Jesus," Vulvian blasphemed. "I'm surprised this place didn't burn down sooner."

"It did," Nathan corrected.

"Oh, that's right."

"I'm more surprised she had them build it back the exact same way as before - even all the cables are in the same--"

You know what? Rosie just opens the door. Right now. Okay? I'm in a mood now. This is how it goes. Rosie's opened the door now. Rosie, alive and well. Well, not well. Or alive. She's a robot, of course. It might not even be Rosie, just a similar high-tech gyndroid that just almost reaches the other end of the seemingly inescapable uncanny valley, and picked up for a steal from the local discount store. Hm? Ever think of that? Of course not. That's stupid. Don't be stupid. That's a stupid, stupid idea. Ever come across a little phrase that sounds, reads, and smells precisely like, "A hat on a hat," maybe? It's just Rosie. Re-existing, somehow. Just go with it, okay? It can't possibly be for much longer. Otherwise, why all this nonsensical drivel? Hm? For fun? Well, I'll have you know, I'm not having any. Not one teensy-weensy bit.

So, again. Rosie, one side of the front door - the inside part, that is. And Nathan and his poorly named wife, the other, outside part of the same front door.

"Rosie?" Nathan asked like some understandably confused, shocked, and horrified person who has just seen a... well, not ghost - but some robot-equivalent of a ghost, I suppose.

"Mr. Nathan?" Rosie asked in the same faux, vaguely Latin-ish accent Nathan remembered having to talk to Darla about on more than one occasion.

"Rosie?" he asked again for no good reason, really.

Vulvian, meanwhile, pushed her way beyond this ill-conceived scene, and Nathan eventually followed.

Somewhere beyond the refabricated foyer, through the duplicated den and to the right of the replicated washroom, they eventually found Darla dining with her deceased - yet, also somehow not - family.

(See? Wasn't it worth skipping ahead?)

"What the shit is this?" Nathan asked, staring at his not-quite dead, not remotely close to alive niece and nephew on either side of his very much alive, clearly not well sister. His sister-in-law, Jennda, looked mostly the same, all things considered. And somehow this only made Nathan more uncomfortable. Imagine that.

"Dinner," Vulvian replied.

"Dinner," Darla chewed in agreement. Her family, meanwhile, only poorly pantomimed eating. Not that they seemed to notice or care, what with the way they blindly stabbed themselves about the face and mouth with their forks, splattering cheap Chinese takeout everywhere without a second thought.

"Dinner?" Nathan repeated, only in the sense that it was a question.

"Dinner," everyone replied.

"You all realize how creepy that sounded just now, right?"

"Would you like some dinner?" Rosie asked, startling the weak, little man.

"Oh, thank god!" Nathan creamed. "We've been driving for hours! So much driving and talking and developing, but not at all enough eating."

"Nathan," Vulvian growled, unnecessarily and unconvincingly through what she thought was a smile.

"Fine," he pouted. "Darla, we need to talk."

"Can't it wait?"

Nathan considered this, then looked to Vulvian. Vulvian shook her head, No. Nathan sighed, "No, I guess it can't."

Darla ate for several more moments, then agreed. "Alright."

"Really?"

"Yeah, of course." Then, turning to a small box on the wall, "Pause program."

A cute little chirping sound later, everything went still - the candles, the lights, Rosie, Darla’s wife whose name I’ve already forgotten, the children with such silly names even I can’t be assed to remember. All of it. And at some point, Vulvian was almost certain that even the air had gone still.

"That was easy," Nathan said to Vulvian.

"How so?"

"Well, I just figured--"

"What? That there'd be some drawn out bickering before I inevitably concede to speak with you about me inviting you to my rebuilt house to see my rebuilt family?"

"Well, if you're going to take all the fun out of it..."

"I am."

"Well, wherever you're going, can I join?" Vulvian asked. "Your frozen animatronic family is creeping me out."

(Casio and RCA! That’s their names - the creepy robot kids. Even when they weren’t unalive monstrosities of yet-to-be-explained origins. I knew I had that scribbled down somewhere.)

Darla laughed. "Oh, my god. They're totally creepy, right?"

To be continued...

*****

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daniel882646-blog · 5 years

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whimsically-ominously-auspice · 5 years

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Matt, although semi-retarded, is not inbred.

His parents met at Yale.

His mom was raped by his grandpa and so Matt's dad, he didn't put up with that...

And its a really sad story.

So they went running around the country like hippies. And they changed their names because they could always feel Matt's grandpa at their heels.

But then... That old trailer park in Alabama... And Raul. They loved him, he was the neighborhood everything.

And Jesse did hobo on trains but Raul got him a trailer and a job as a maintenance man.

We owned our trailer but they had trailers to rent that the park owned. And they were all in those, or rent to own. Some were furnished.

So they were loving the park and Raul and the retired chief of police's daughter was living there and he sold hemp as oppose to Marijuana. They didn't feel they could find a better place to call home.

And they had me, my dad was often on the ship or away and i lived with them most of the,time otherwise my mother would abuse me in some fashion.

And then Rauls wife would,cheat and on and on

So eventually, Matt, his parents, Raul and his daughter and then my dad lived in a tiny trailer.

But we were happy.

The adults all loved to cook and they picked their own seasonings to use. So we would ne playing at the park and come home and tell who was cooking by the taste or smell even,if we saw no one in,the kitchen.

Bitches, i can cook. I can tell you what's in a recipie by smelling it. It helps to see it... But yeah. I'm gonna say Matt knows good cooking but can't cook cause he ain't allowed to cook for no one. So there. He's horrible at it. And he is always drinking shakes cause no one can cook good and hes always lying that people can cook good when he eats because he's polite but a chronic liar. Beat me, you can't. Haha. I won't believe the lies he tells you. You can but you're dumb.

Anyways. So they knew the grandpa was catching up... They called home every so often and the area code would show and he would hire private detectives. They found out there was a bunch of people living in the trailer so he was all "just come home and ill give you money"

So the adults that mattered agreed to move to Mobile.

His mom didn't make it as I remember. I remember her being there. Because she was dead. But she didn't seem,dead because she really was just like she was alive but she didnt cook. Although sometimes I would put her special seasoning in soup, by climbing on the counter and hovering over the stove.

I got caught once and just got a big ole hug.

It was really the best family,

And his dad died in Mobile.

Both were murdered and we were all there when one of the detectives were killed. It was his grandpa's friend. We were camping.

I'll say I did it. And i don't care. He should not been there. And he shouldn't leave his gun on the seat of his car when children were around and he was sleeping. Especially when we were hiding.

And so thats why I tell people that I will kill them. Because i probably will and there really isn't anything i can do about that. All they have to do is leave me alone and everything is fine.

I don't really feel bad about who i am or the fact that sometimes you have to fight to the death.

But yeah, Matt isn't inbred. I know that. His parents met at Yale. She was going to be a lawyer and he was going to be a doctor.

So that's why I'm moving far away and not telling my mom where. History repeats itself a lot. But not if you won't put up with it.

I killed the PI. I can put up with that. I will invite my father to visit. But not her. And that's different than Matt's parents. They didn't invite the gramma.

You know we left that guy in his brown car to bloat and stink. He was nasty and he exploded. We waited until my dad came to Mobile from work and Jesse told him so my dad reported the body and said we smelled him from our campsite.

We were local heroes. My dad didn't admit to knowing. Raul said if my dad didnt guess or blame an adult then we would just be all we smelled him. But I had the gun, still so my dad was all "put it back!!" I was like "sure dad" but Raul told me to give it to the cops and say i took it out after (which i did) that way we could say it was suicide without the gun being in the correct place. But he was all strictly don't tell them anything about touching it before. So i was all cute "i touched it after, can i go play now?"

I had shot that car up like crazy, i was so little! So it was said it was suicide made to look like murder.

It was pretty clever. And honestly, it wasn't even me. It was Matt's mom. Like when she told me to put in the spices, she told me when and where to sneak away to, to find him asleep in his small old truck.

He was going to kill us. She knew. He fell asleep waiting for us to fall asleep.

Matt's grandpa says he was a hired gun, he would never use his best friend. But his friend disappeared a long time ago. And won't ever admit it because if he does, hes got 4 dead bodies and i have one. Even if someone else killed Raul & his kid cause it was paranoid crazy. Or was it just a jealous sicko?

Anyways.

Matt is a lot like his dad...

But I'm more like my dad and his mom. Some would say I'm like my mom but I'm not. I,don't beat up babies cause they're smaller than me. I beat up people that are bigger than me.

One,time, Dejoria, she became,smaller than me.

Leah is often smaller than me but she did something to me,personally in person that I will never forgive. So did Gary, Megan, & Lauren.

So they can go suck an exhaust pipe because I don't care how small they get. Ill find them and crush them. See JP Dejoria. Ive never helped him.

So while i have limitations, I'm not limited.

Because I actually have structure.

How many people can say they saved their family from death more than once? ---besides refraining from killing them?

I can say I've done both.

I know being inbred isn't a person's fault. Plenty of Royalty across the seas are inbred to keep the crown in the family, so its not necessarily bad.

But when someone is a product of incest rape and they are no different than the rapist that conceived them, its a one word explanation of their behavior.

They're not just inbred, they're a mirror image of what created them. So its a reminder, "I know who your father is"

And let him feel whatever he wants.

Its not nice. But its fair.

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apsbicepstraining · 7 years

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Wladimir Klitschko:’ This may sound pretentiou, but I am like Mount Everest’

The 41 -year-olds training camp in the Alps looks like the train for a repugnance movie and he tells Sachin Nakrani he is in the mood to give Anthony Joshua a scare when they meet on 29 April at Wembley

Stanglwirt is a sprawling bio-hotel located in the Austrian Alps and which at first glance consider this to be the lay for a slow-burning, creepy-crawly horror movie. With its rocky background and somewhat kitsch interior heavy wood panelling, stripy sofas it brought by rememberings of the Overlook Hotel from Stephen Kings The Shining. Walk through the lobby, past all staff members garmented in lederhosen, and it feels like simply topics of day until a clock goes off, a bozo springs out and a person falls down the stairs.

But on this spring visit there is no horror to be had. Instead, amid the restaurants sector and prohibits, the spas, saunas and swimming bath, resides a narration of redemption. Or, as Wladimir Klitschko places it, fulfilling an obsession.

The heavyweight is here to prepare for his bout with Anthony Joshua at Wembley Stadium on 29 April. Stanglwirt has been his pre-fight base since 2003 and a residence he describes as a residence away from home. It is easy to see the appeal for all its Heres Johnny! calibers, the complex , now more than 250 years old, is a beautiful situate to invest some time. Pristine, picturesque, heated, friendly and with batch to do and ingest. For Klitschko it is somewhere to get his thought and mas right, which now more than ever is important for a boxing enormous who, as he acknowledges, is about to take on a career-defining challenge.

Klitschko has not fought since his shock defeat to Tyson Fury in Dsseldorf 17 few months ago. It was an outcome that is not simply deprived the Ukrainian of his WBA, IBF and WBO entitles but too of his mantle of near-invincibility. Dr Steelhammer, a fighter who had locked 53 of his 64 wins across a 27 -year career by knockout, was outgunned by a man who dressed as Batman for one of their pre-fight news conference. Fury was a pun, yet after a unanimous points decision on 28 November 2015 he was the one laughing.

Much happens to Fury since that night and one of the consequences has been Klitschko missing out on a rematch that would have rendered him with a chance to prove he is no busted flush after a fourth defeat since growing professional in 1996. Unfinished business, as he employs it. Now, ultimately, arrives the chance for him to go again against a British fighter.

Wladimir Klitschko and his physio Aldo Vetere at the Stanglwirt hotel. Photograph: Johann Groder/ AFP/ Getty Images

Joshua, the IBF champion, poses a different threat to Fury a year younger at 27, stronger and more deadly. Then there is the arrange: a stadium Klitschko has never fought at, in front of a 90,000 sellout gang. He goes there on the back of his longest period of immobility since first lacing up a duo of gauntlets, and having precisely switched 41. Little wonder this most assured of men is full of questions, full of mistrusts, as he spoke at Stanglwirt.

This fight is 50 -5 0, Klitschko suggested. Can the younger guy make it? Has the older person still got it? Interrogate markings are making this event really interesting. Ive never had a pause for a year and a half. Is it bad? Is it good? Will I have rust? I crave the answers myself.

One thing I believe is I dont experience my age. Its not empty words. I am get in best available influence of my life, physically and mentally. I dont look Im remain and not improving, even in a athletic Ive been involved with for so long. Thats what interests and agitates me.

Klitschko certainly looked well as he communicated, flanked by his administrator, Bernd Bnte, and his manager, Johnathon Banks.

The body abides enforcing and defined, his face chiselled and those handwritings continue to look like weapons of mass destruction. Requested to predict how the fight with Joshua will go, Klitschko developed his fists and nodded towards them in turn. Funeral or infirmary? Hospital or funeral? I dont need numerous punches to knock person or persons out.

That was a rare moment of trash-talking bravado from the veteran( alongside the moment he claimed Joshua goes confidence from his muscles and is better suited to bodybuilding ).

Generally Klitschko was respectful of his rival, bear partly out of the fact Joshua goes into their fight on the back of a perfect professional preserve 18 wins from 18 battles, all reached via knockout and partly because of the respect Klitschko developed for the man from Watford, having invited him to be a sparring partner in November 2014, before taking on the Bulgarian Kubrat Pulev.

He impressed me with his attitude, Klitschko announces. He was in the background and reading. Sometimes you need to be quiet and are watching, and he was discovering everything. He could also box, so I yielded him ascribe and I was there in the arena when he prevailed gold[ at London 2012 ]~ ATAGEND. Every medallist in the super-heavyweight discord at the Olympics has to be considered successful. He has a lot of potential and so far has done good.

Unlike Fury, Joshua is likely to engage with Klitschko from the first bell, looking to flora his feet and unload bombards as frequently as possible. On one hand that provides the challenger with a standing target not to mention a presumably susceptible chin but on the other it makes he will have to engage himself, something Klitschko did merely in the 12 th round of the Fury fight when his uncharacteristic indecision against a moving target “ve been given” him no choice but to go for broke. Ultimately it was too little, too late.

Klitschko holds he has learned from his mistakes and will be fully prepared for the challenge by the time he arrives in London on 26 April. Until then it is a matter of working hard and biding focused, something that was there to see at Stanglwirt.

The scene was a converted tennis tribunal in the bowels of the hotel. In the middle stood a reverberate while at one back were three punchbags hung in ascending ordering and at another a basketball net where, at around 8am, Banks hit hoops with another member of backroom squad as Klitschko went through a series of stretching exercises. Two television screens had been lay out presenting Joshuas previous combats, everything taking place to the voice of Motown classics. It was a tighten start.

Banks and Klitschko eventually underwent some pad work inside the ring. It was, in keeping with the mood of the morning, a relatively soothing period but the racket of thudding fists carried enough of an echo to remind onlookers of the dominance meeting Joshuas way later this month. The 27 -year-old is the favourite with most bookmakers but complacency would be absurd against a soul who has been there, said and done, and is entering the ring not because he necessitates the money but because he is determined to remind “the worlds” he remains one of “the worlds largest” sturdy heavyweights and, yet again, has what it takes to be a champion.

Wladimir Klitschko was uncharacteristically indecisive against Tyson Fury in 2015. Photograph: Kai Pfaffenbach/ Reuters

Failure is an experience and Im coming after a demolish[ against Fury] with a quite different posture, Klitschko says. I learned more about myself, about boxing, through that defeat. Unfortunately I cannot change it, or have a second hit like in golf theres no mulligan for me. But Im not a destroyed man.

This may sound arrogant but I am like Mount Everest. You can clamber it during a certain period of time during two weeks in April I conceive and pronounce: I overcame Everest. Then youve got to run down because its going to take you down if you miss the time.

Some make it back but a lot of beings succumb, so is Mount Everest defeated? No, its still there and its going to take another life this April.

Sky Sports Box Office will show Joshua v Klitschko exclusively live on 29 April. To notebook going to see www.skysports.com/ joshua

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