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lywinis · 5 years

Note

Ineffable husbands post apocalyptic gift giving

Prompt me! | Read it on AO3 – Chapter 31/31

Notes for this fill: female presenting!Crowley, and proper pronouns as such. @bearfeathers and I keep talking about how much we like it and just…gosh.

—-

Crowley studied her reflection in the mirror. She’d alwaysbeen angular, it was just her choosing to appear such—whip-thin and hungry, apredator—and now was no exception. She smoothed the lipstick onto her lips,the color a wine-dark almost purple and matte, perfect for drawing the eye asshe spoke. It plumped her lips, bringing the whole ensemble into focus. Redlips, white teeth, just a hint of sharpness, a suggestion of fangs behind the façade—

She really couldn’t help herself, Aziraphale thought,standing in the doorway. She’d always been Original Sin, but he had a feelingshe wasn’t meant to tempt him—at least at first. Now, though, looking at herseated like a boudoir painting at the vanity that had manifested itself in thecorner one day and had never quite left, he was fairly sure this was at leastpartially for him. A sleek black sheath dress hugged Crowley’s frame, the swellof her hips and breasts just a suggestion, long pale legs crossed at the ankleas she studied her makeup.

He wondered if she realized how attractive she was when shewas at rest like this, her hair falling in soft curls to the middle of herback, not yet placed where she wanted it, deep dark red like waves of burgundycrashing against the pale skin of her shoulders, exposed by the open back ofthe dress. He could follow the column of her slender throat with his eyes inthe mirror, tracing it as surely as he would like to do with his hands.

There was a tenderness in his gaze, but also a heat, and hecouldn’t explain how it hadn’t just been awoken since Armageddon had beenthwarted. Well, he could, but he was sure it would sound silly to Crowley tolearn that he’d always liked this side of her, especially that brief glimpse he’dgotten, dark and inviting, wearing the himation and peplos of Greece like it wouldmelt away at a touch. It had been a thought that had perplexed him, at the time.She was fetching, by all means, but he hadn’t been ready to accept that she wasdesirable to him because it was Crowley and not because she was in the processof temptation.

Now, he was willing to look on the time with a sort of ruefulnostalgia. He hadn’t been able to stay and thwart her; he’d been pulled away tobless another portion of the world. Now? Now, he had all the time in the worldto admire Crowley in all her iterations.

It had been almost three years since Armageddon, by hiscount, though the event itself was fading from most minds. It was good, both ofthem had agreed. The less people remembered, the farther away life was gettingfrom that iteration of it, meaning it was less likely to be recalled andactually brought to fruition.

Which reminded him of the wrapped package he held. Theweight of the parcel suddenly felt like a stone from the wall of Eden, thoughhe’d hefted that well enough—but that hadn’t been charged with such Intent. Theangel smoothed his hands down his waistcoat, clearing his throat. Her lambentyellow eyes flickered towards him, her lips quirking in the half-smile that heloved so well.

“Is that what you’re wearing?” she asked, her pinkiesmoothing away a stray swatch of her lipstick.

He glanced down at his usual clothing. “No, no. I wanted togive this to you before I freshened up. I’ll have to…spruce up a bit to looklike I’m remotely in your league, my dear.”

She gave a throaty laugh, one that sent frissons of wantdown his spine as her amusement caused his stomach to flip.

“Help us with this, then?” she asked, pointing at the wavymass of her hair. “I could use a miracle but it seems…cheap.”

“Of course,” Aziraphale said, stepping behind her as he sethis package aside, just for the moment. “How would you like it?”

“Mm,” Crowley hummed, studying herself. “Up, but messy? Likewe’re looking good, but not trying too hard.”

“I’m convinced you never have to try hard,” Aziraphale said,and plunged his hands into the waves of Crowley’s hair. Under the demon’sdirection, he soon had it looking right, with pins in plenty to keep it lookingartfully mussed. A braid circling a messy bun, topped with a gold-and-pearlconcoction of combs that gleamed in her hair like a coronet, it lifted the hairfrom her shoulders and tucked it all away, framing her face. She took over,fussing with little strands of hair at the sides, and Aziraphale let hisfingers linger on the column of her neck, feeling the heat she radiated againsthis fingers.

“What do you think?” she asked at last, seeming satisfied.

“Lovely, though you always are,” he said, watching theapples of her cheeks darken with the praise. It pleased her, no doubt, becauseshe glanced away, her lips curved just the slightest bit upward. It warmed him,his own smile indulgent and satisfied.

“Help me with my zipper?” she asked, tugging at her dress.

He leaned down, pressing his lips to the join of her neckand shoulder, his fingers finding the tiny zipper of the dress and tugging itslowly—

“Angel,” she said, her laughter throaty. “Up.”

He paused, breathing in the scent of her perfume, watchingher neck work as she swallowed. With reluctance, he changed direction with thezipper, watching her shaky exhale.

“Yes,” he said, the word a murmur against her skin. “Ofcourse, I’d forgotten.”

“Did you, now?” she asked, her golden eyes fixed on him ashe finished doing up her dress. Her pupils were dilating, and he took her hand,pressing her knuckles to his lips.

“You make me quite forget I’m a gentleman at times, darling,”he assured her, his brows lifting in the most innocent way. “You have a way ofteasing the bastard out of me.”

“Always,” she breathed, cupping his face. “But we havereservations tonight, and I know you don’t want to miss.”

“Of course.” He swallowed, leaning into the press of herpalm. “I have something for you before we go.”

“For me?” she blinked at him, a rarity, and he nodded,reaching for the wrapped package.

“I thought it fitting,” he said. “We’re nearing the properdate, after all.”

“Ah,” she said, a wrinkle appearing between her brows as shetook it from him. “I didn’t—”

“You don’t have to,” he said. “I just wanted to…mark theoccasion.”

“The last couple of years had seemed…it didn’t feel right. Itwas too soon,” Crowley said softly.

Aziraphale nodded, brushing his fingers against the nape ofher neck, feeling the sudden tension there. “We don’t have to make it aholiday, but I just…”

He lapsed into silence, his gaze far away. Crowley reachedup, her dark red nails, carefully matched to her lipstick, tracing against thehand on her shoulder.

“There should be a marker,” he said. “For when our lives weretruly allowed to begin.”

Her fingers clenched on his, and he turned his hand,squeezing back.

“Then it will be,” she said. “This year, we’ll wing it. Nextyear, we can decide to do something spectacular to mark it.”

He smiled at her in the mirror, watching her gaze linger onhis, her face settled into seriousness.

“As you wish, my dear.” He rubbed his thumb against herknuckles. “Are you going to open what I got you?”

“Yes,” she said, the fingers of her opposite hand resting onthe wrapped box. She retrieved the hand he was holding, with another fondsqueeze, and set to unwrapping the paper. The box’s lid was plain and black,but she tipped it off, setting it to the side as she inhaled deep.

The necklace and earrings were old, though not as old asthey were. Close, however. Late Hellenistic, the heavy braided gold chain wascentered by a deep red garnet cabochon the size of his thumb. The earrings boresimilar cabochons, though they were the size of his thumbnail. Clever in theirdesign, they wrapped around the ear to showcase the gems against the delicateshell of Crowley’s ear.

“They’re beautiful,” she said, her fingers reaching out andcaressing the chain. “Where did you find them?”

“There was a goldsmith I inspired in Kaimeros, in Rhodes,”Aziraphale said. “I told him of a beautiful woman I knew, with flashing whiteteeth and hair the color of the wine we drank. He made many such pieces afterour conversations, but this was the first. He gifted it to me.”

“I didn’t know you spent time in Greece then,” Crowley said.

“Very briefly,” he said. “Just long enough to learn toappreciate you in a himation. It only took a moment. Quite fetching.”

She laughed. “Come on. We’ll be late if you dawdle and I don’tthink a miracle will save our reservation this time.”

Her voice was infinitely, immeasurably fond. He had no ideahow he hadn’t seen it sooner.

“Of course,” he said. Pressing one last kiss to the nape ofher neck, he moved to see to his own attire.

——

Miraculously, they weren’t late. Aziraphale attributed it toa regal Crowley, wearing gold and garnets at her throat and ears, her arm tuckedinto the crook of his.

Then again, he might just be besotted.

He could live with it.

#Good Omens #Ineffable Husbands #Crowley #Aziraphale #lywinis writes #female presenting!Crowley #minwrites

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presentmic69 · 5 years

Text

Problem

Self Ship: MattLee Fandom: Saints Row Word Count: 2457 (Originally posted to AO3)

Matt had a problem.

He had tried to deny it. He had tried to ignore it. He had even tried redirecting it. But unfortunately, he couldn't make it go away. It was like an infection.

An infection in his heart.

He sighed and pushed the computer screen in front of him away. It was impossible to focus, impossible to throw himself into his work. Because across from his simulation workstation was the source of his whole problem. Tucked safely into her sim port, beautiful purple eyes closed and face pensive. Her pink-painted lips were pursed slightly. All too often, he found himself staring at her, found his thoughts travelling to her. Wondering what it would be like to kiss those lips. And it. was. a. problem.

Lee… was a problem. And he hated the fact that she was a problem, because she was too incredible to have anything negative attached to her. And really, the issue was more about him. He couldn't control his emotions, he was being… well, creepy, he figured. And if she ever noticed him staring, he was certain she'd start hating him forever. More so than she /probably/ did during their days in Steelport. Matt shook his head. The fact that she even kept him around after all of that- he just couldn’t understand it. Part of him didn’t want to understand. Knowing his luck, it was just another case of being kept until he outlived his usefulness, before being thrown in the trash.

He didn't think he could handle that again. Not from Lee. Not when he felt so… strongly for her. But as time passed, it became more and more of an issue: to the point that Kinzie and Asha were commenting on how distracted he was while working. Hell- he was sure that even /Johnny/ had noticed. And that was saying something. It was only a matter of time before everyone found him out, and that was a terrifying prospect. It would be the end to normalcy as he knew it.

He had to do something. But doing something took courage… social courage, which was the one he lacked the most.

He stood up from his chair and took off for the cargo bay. His private space, with his couch and respite area. It was the only place he felt secure enough to have a serious dialogue with himself. Afterall, nobody ever wanted to walk past and get roped into watching a whole season of Nyte Blade in one sitting. It was both a blessing and a curse. But even then, he couldn't stop thinking about her, picturing her beautiful face. He hated himself for it, and even more for being too much of a coward to admit his infatuation.

"Infatuation… no, that's not the right word." He sighed to himself. "Affection? Interest? L-"

No. The L-word was too serious. Their relationship had, up until this point, been entirely playful, banter based, with a side of… Well. “Messing around”. He would embarrass himself, scare her off. He needed inspiration.

...And that's how he found himself watching Nyte Blade confess his emotions to Marion. Matt had watched this part too many times to count, to the point where even he had forgotten. But this time it felt… different. It was hitting home a bit more than anticipated.

"Marion, ever since I met you… my soul has been aflame with desire."

"My heart… yearns for yours." Matt spoke, along with the protagonist. "I've never felt such passion, such a connection to another. Though my body may be dead, you make me feel… alive."

"Oh, Nyte Blade…"

"Please. Call me Franklin. I want to know you. All of you. And I want you to know me."

The problem was, he couldn't even focus on Nyte Blade. His thoughts just kept wandering to her. Maybe he just needed to practice, instead. Matt leaped out of his seat and begun pacing back and forth. He almost tripped over his own feet making his first turn, looking around to make sure absolutely nobody had seen that. Of course, nobody had- who the hell would be down in the Cargo Bay when he was- okay, maybe he was insulting himself a little there. Matt shook his head and knelt next to the couch, reaching into the box of miscellaneous Nyte Blade memorabilia and pulled out a figurine of the Bloody Cannoness. He felt like this was sure to be the stupidest thing he’d ever done, but if he wanted to channel his inner Nyte Blade, who best to practice on than the Cannoness herself!

"Hey, do you… come here often?"

The figurine of the Bloody Cannoness he was pretending was Lee did not answer.

"You know, I think someone's liable to call the coppers on you, because looking so beautiful must be ill- no, she's already committed too many crimes for that."

He started again. Maybe pickup lines were a bad idea. Yes- absolutely. There was no way a cheesy pickup line was going to work on Lee. She’d probably heard them all a thousand times over- and probably shot everyone who even dared. Matt wasn’t sure what fate was worse- rejection, or a bullet in his brain. The bullet surely wouldn’t hurt as much, he thought to himself.

"Listen, I just wanted to say… you are beautiful, and I was thinking… maybe we could…"

Do what, exactly? Get dinner at the local space restaurant? God, this was stupid. And the Bloody Cannoness was nothing like Lee, anyway. He just needed to hype himself up. He quickly tossed the figure aside and onto the couch. Matt glanced down to make sure that said spontaneous act hadn’t broken the figurine- luckily for him it hadn’t. He picked it back up and slipped it back into the box, sliding it back under the couch. Better to be safe than sorry. Matt drew in a couple of deep breaths and closed his eyes for a few moments. NOW, he was able to hype himself up.

"Come on, you're R4GN0R0K! A cyber god, with the world, no, the universe, all at your fingertips! You can tell one woman how you feel about her, even if that woman is… you know, the most beautiful woman to ever exist, way out of your league, badass, could kill you easily…"

No! Positive thoughts. Positive thoughts, Matt. He slumped back down onto the couch, holding his head in his hands. This was a whole lot harder than he ever imagined it would be. He took another deep breath and looked up.

"I can do this. R4GN0R0K. Cyber god. I… can do this!"

He could do this. He could do this. He could do this.

He was doing it.

He jumped up off the couch and headed up to the common room where he could hear the squad's voices. Lee was at the pool table, laughing at something Johnny was doing, and he paused in the doorway, admiring the way she looked for just a moment. Spiky, colourful hair a perfect mess, a rare spark of joy in her expression. She made the ugly grey jumpsuit they all wore look like it could be on a runway model.

She looked around, saw him, and offered a smile that filled him with an emotion that made his chest feel like it would burst. Panicking a little bit at the overwhelming emotion, he rushed forward, grabbed ahold of her arm gently, and tugged her away. She seemed surprised by the sudden contact, but followed him out of the room. They stopped in the storage room, surrounded by cans of nutrient supplement.

"Matt? What's wrong?" She asked. "Emotional breakdown over Nyte Blade Season 3 Finale again, or-"

"I… I need to tell you something." He said, confidence quickly wilting as he stared her in the face. She was out of his league, and he was about to be rejected, he just knew it-

Lee had never seen Matt sound and look so panicked before. Not when she could have killed him all those years ago. Not when he found out the world had been destroyed. Not even when Zinyak had messed with him mentally with his use of the simulations. Something was up here- and she knew it. Concern coloured her expression. Even she was unable to hide it. And she was a GOD of hiding emotions away from the people closest to her.

"What's- What’s wrong?"

This was it. The end. He turned bright red.

"Lee, I… I'minlovewithyou."

Oh god. He said the L-word.

"W-What?"

She blinked at him, dumbfounded. She had heard clearly what he said- but couldn’t quite believe it. Why would /he/ of all people be saying that- be feeling that. Matt had standards, somehow. And she met none of them. Somehow.

"I'm… in love with you. I know you and I just have this banter relationship, and I know you're too good for me, and you deserve so much better than me, but I just had to say something b-because… e-ever since I met you, my soul-"

Time was slowing down for Matt and he hated it. He just had to get a few more words out- he could do it-

"Has been aflame with desire." Lee deadpanned, turning pink with what was clearly rage. "Did you just confess your love to me using a Nyte Blade quote?"

Fuck. "...I'm sorry, I panicked, and-"

"I love you too, dumbass." She said quickly, the three words that he had only ever fantasized about hearing her say. The fifth word was, however, incredibly incorrect. At least Matt thought so. Even though he absolutely was being a dumbass in the moment.

"Oh." Well, that was unexpected. "Really?"

"I was kind of under the impression you would never like me, but… yes."

"Wow." Matt was dumbfounded.

They stood there in silence for a moment. There was so much for both parties to take in. On Matt’s side- he was on cloud nine. Part of him wanted to run and scream, telling everyone all about it at the top of his lungs. But the other part was frozen still, in shock, unable to comprehend what had just happened. And Lee? She was even more in shock. Despite portraying herself as the rock-hard leader of the Saints, she was so much more complex than that deep down. And barely anyone knew it. The combination of trauma, mental illness, self-hatred and God knows what else had always led her to believe that even the likes of Matt Miller wouldn’t want anything more to do with her than a casual shag every now and then. Hell- he was the only person she had ever gotten /that/ close to. Although that was not something she was about to admit. Not just yet.

"So, what now, casanova?" Lee asked, breaking the silence.

"I… have no idea. I never actually accounted for this when I was rehearsing."

"You rehearsed this?!" She giggled. "And /that/ was the result?"

"Well, I didn't say I rehearsed it well."

Lee couldn’t help but smile. God he was adorable. Was he always this cute- or had he just somehow made himself even cuter with his shenanigans? She crossed her arms, leaning back against one of the supply closets. This whole situation sure was something to her. Matt was the first person she had ever been with; and Matt was the first person she had ever loved.

“You- did a better job than I would have.” “What do you mean-“ “I could have said something five years ago-“

Lee sighed, realizing she was just about to reveal quite a few things about herself with no warning.

“-but I didn’t. I was too scared to. But you? You bloody did it.” “You mean to say you-“ “Five years. Pathetic, I know.”

And now they were back to silence. Matt was in more shock than before. Five years ago, he was terrorizing the Boss of the Saints with whatever antics were required by the Syndicate. And /THAT/ was the point in time that Lee had fallen in love with him? That she had fallen in love at /ALL/? Matt couldn’t quite believe it. For a moment he thought that he was being pranked. But knew deep down that Lee would never be that cruel to him. This was all real. This was happening. Lee closed her eyes and smiled to herself. It was one of the most genuine smiles that had ever come out of her. And Matt couldn’t help but notice. Once again, he found himself looking at her lips. How perfect they looked when she was smiling. And knowing that he was the source of said smiles? Priceless.

He was cut off pondering by her turning and kissing him. He squeaked like a teen girl in a cheesy romance movie, astonished, and then kissed back, burying his hands in her soft hair and feeling the butterflies in his stomach explode into his throat. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him in closer against her body. She found herself being pinned up again the cabinets as they kissed ever so passionately. It was like electricity was surging through their bodies. Matt was almost certain he was about to explode, but at the same time, he felt like he would phase into nothingness and fall right through her embrace. The floor spun.

Lee pulled away first. His lipstick was smeared against hers, producing purple streaks. He wondered if the same marks were on him. He decided he wouldn't mind that. Matt caught himself gazing at her- She looked like she had stars in her eyes.

"I love you." They chorused, relishing the words spoken breathless and wide-eyed. Matt giggled; Lee giggled. They kissed again, and again and again. Brief, sweet contact that was quickly becoming addictive. It was like they were teenagers again, living out what could have been had things been different.

"Yo, Boss!" A distant voice came from down the hall. "You gonna come finish getting your ass kicked, or are you a coward and terrible at pool?"

"Oh, fuck off will you, just give me a second!"

Lee rolled her eyes. Matt grinned at her. "We, uh, might want to fix up our lipstick."

"I dunno. I think I like the look." She shrugged, swiping a thumb across his bottom lip where a smear had formed. She leant in and placed her lips to his once more. This kiss felt- different to Matt. It was so much softer than any kiss they had shared before. They both closed their eyes as Lee ran her thumb along his cheek. When Lee eventually pulled back and opened her eyes, she smiled and took Matt by the hand.

"Let's make a statement."

#aj.txt #my writing #self ship #self shipping #self insert #saints row #mattlee

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rueitae · 6 years

Text

The Secrets of Beasts

Completely unplanned and the fastest 2000 words I’ve ever written. Much fluff and sap inspired by some talk on the Pidgance Positivity Server about show epilogues/time skips/general Paladin futures. And also this post.

Plance as usual, set at an undetermined amount of time post series.

The team is investigating a mysterious nebula, but the Green Lion is obstinate about Pidge joining them.

Although I’m almost 100% sure someone has done something very similar, here’s my humble take.

~~~~~

Pidge yawned, cupping a hand over her mouth, exhausted from near constant research. She should call it a night, it was near two in the morning. Anything for a mission, she supposed.

She had the sleeves of her Coalition uniform rolled up to her elbows and shirt unbuttoned, exposing the black flight suit. A bright green stain on it nearly matched her uniform, but it was only the remains of hastily cleaned up food goo, spilled earlier while her mind had been focused on the mission.

“Where did the time go,” she wondered, rubbing her eyes. At least she was finished with her studies to the point of personal satisfaction. Looking at the data any further wouldn’t be productive. Hunk would double check things for her anyway.

The Green Lion rumbled, expressing a concern for her Paladin.

Pidge grinned, feeling less tired with her closest companion in her mind. “I know I have to take care of myself, Girl. I’ll go to bed as soon as I report what I have to the team.”

It took only a few steps to walk over to her communications station, one that she had retrofitted to her specifications. Her father’s design for the Atlas left little to be desired, but the comfort of having a workstation in the Green Lion’s hanger reminded her of their time on the Castle, and it meant a lot to her.

She called up the Black Lion and Keith answered immediately. He smiled warmly and Kosmo joined him, nearly pushing Keith over to sniff the screen.

“Hey Pidge, any good news?” he asked while pushing the cosmic wolf gently to the side.

“Somewhat,” Pidge responded. “The nebula seems to be harmless at least, and there’s no evidence of the Rift Creatures that I can tell. You guys should be good to proceed.”

A second screen popped on to her monitor and Allura joined the conversation from the Blue Lion. “I have not sensed the Creatures either. Although, I would feel much better if we had the means to form Voltron.”

“I second that,” Hunk chimed in, creating a third screen on Pidge’s monitor. “I do not like poking at a complete unknown, even with all of us. It just seems like a bad idea.”

Pidge offered a condoling smile and a shrug. “Sorry I couldn’t be there. Green was pretty adamant about staying on the Atlas while Dad and Shiro run the system reboot.”

Pidge couldn’t help a grin as Lance finally rounded out the team on her monitor. His face read of angst and displeasure.

“You know listening to the Lions is for the best Lance, they know what they’re doing,” she told him. “Blue took us to the Castle remember? Stop pouting.”

“I’m not pouting,” he protested. His frown deepened. He was definitely pouting. Pidge found it adorable and endearing. “I’m a little annoyed that I haven’t seen my wife in a week and when I do, she calls Keith before me! Don’t I get any kind of marriage privileges?” he finished dramatically.

“Oh my gosh,” Hunk said. He tried to groan and feign equal annoyance, but the delight on his face told a different story. “Can you two not have a couples spat on the Voltron mind link?”

“Do not answer that question, Pidge,” Allura said firmly. “Lance has been a Goybeenian Monkling all movement because of your absence. He deserves it.”

“I am not!” Lance defended. Although wearing his helmet, Pidge could easily imagine his hairs standing on end.

“I think Green would have said something if the sample I have was truly dangerous. If Allura isn’t sensing anything, Keith isn’t sensing anything, and I haven’t found anything scientifically dangerous, then you’re good to proceed.” She yawned, unable to help it after her long winded answer. “Although if you wouldn’t mind waiting another six varga I'd like to be awake to watch.”

“Yes, I think that is a fantastic idea,” Lance agreed firmly, huffing and crossing his arms.

“Sounds good, Pidge. We’ll see you in six varga,” Keith confirmed. Kosmo hogged the right side of the screen, and despite Keith’s soothing pets, continued to whine and whimper.

“Everything alright with Kosmo? He usually isn’t this vocal.” Pidge worried.

Keith frowned, and didn’t answer right away. “He just misses you,” he finally said with a genuine smile. “Congratulations, by the way.”

“What are we congratulating?” Allura asked, confusion written on her face, and everyone else’s save Keith.

“Uh, Pidge is having a baby,” Keith said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

The video link went dead silent, but the chatter in their minds ran a mile a minute.

“I’m sorry, I’m what?” Pidge exclaimed.

Keith blinked. “You didn’t know? Kosmo says he’s been smelling it on you the week before we left.”

The unmistakable sound of Green standing on all fours took Pidge’s attention away from her team momentarily. The Lion’s eyes lit up bright yellow and unleashed a proud roar.

Allura gasped in delight. “This is wonderful news. And it now makes sense why the Green Lion refuses to leave the Atlas. She wanted Pidge to find out first.”

“Oh man, this is amazing!” Hunk said. “We are totally throwing a party. Lance, dude, buddy, you’re gonna be a dad!”

Lance’s screen wobbled slightly, a sign Hunk had steered the Yellow Lion to give the Red Lion a congratulatory bump. The Red Paladin himself hadn’t yet spoken, his jaw hanging open slightly.

Pidge sympathized, she wasn’t sure what to say either. She cleared her throat. “Well… I guess I can’t argue with a cosmic wolf and a ten thousand year old sentient mechanical lion that lives in my head.” Her heart swelled and she couldn’t help but smile. “So, hey Lance, I’m pregnant.” The words sounded so foreign, but none had ever felt better to say.

That finally broke Lance’s silence. Tears welled up in his eyes behind his helmet. “I’m gonna be a dad,” he said. “I’m gonna be a dad!” he said once more, animated and bouncing up from his chair.

“Okay, let’s let Pidge rest,” Keith said, still smiling. “We’ve got a mission to complete later. We should all do the same.”

Green lowered herself and opened the ramp through the mouth, beckoning Pidge to climb in and pilot.

Pidge couldn’t stop smiling. “Looks like I’ll be joining you guys after I get some sleep.”

“Sounds good, ‘night Pidge.” Keith ended the communication.

“Congratulations, Pidge, Lance. We look forward to seeing you soon,” Allura said before also dismissing herself.

“Okay I just need to know, what kind of cake are we talking?” Hunk asked. “Regular Earth flavors or are we thinking something a little more exotic?”

“We’ll talk about that later, Hunk,” Lance said, tinged with a bit of annoyance. “Can I just talk to Pidge for a second? Alone?”

Hunk slumped. “Yeah okay. Just consider Hovian chocolate. In the back of your minds.”

Pidge crossed her arms and smirked. “You and Matt are going to be co-godfathers. Go prepare yourself for that.”

“Pidge that’s not fair!” Hunk protested, tears streaming down his face. “You can’t pull something that important on me when I can’t hug you!”

“And now you know how I feel,” Lance pointed out dryly.

“Okay, okay I get it. I’m off!” He paused. “I love you guys.”

“Love you too, bud,” Lance said affectionately, sniffling to dry up his tears.

Hunk removed himself from the group conversation.

“He’s right you know,” Lance started. “I want to be with you right now, holding you and our kid.”

“I know,” Pidge agreed. “I’m still trying to wrap this around my head. It doesn’t feel real.”

“You’re the smartest person I know,” Lance said warmly. “It’ll come to you before me.”

Pidge fiddled her thumbs, bringing her abdomen in her field of vision. She brought her hand to rest where she knew months from now the pregnancy would be obvious. “It’ll be a new challenge,” she said. “But less stressful than saving the universe I think.”

Lance laughed. “Ask Lisa or my mom and they’ll probably tell us otherwise.” His smile changed to one radiating confidence and compassion. “We’re gonna do it as a team though, just like we do with Voltron. And it’s going to be great.”

His eyes were filled with nothing but love. It made her feel comfortable and warm.

“I know. I love you, Lance. I’ll see you in person soon. After I sleep I need to get the sample loaded. We can tell our families the good news when we get back - together.”

“Sounds like a plan. I love you too, Pidge. Send my kisses to our peanut.” With exaggeration, he blew a kiss and placed it on his monitor.

Pidge humored him and caught it dramatically, placing it on her belly. “You’re going to need a better nickname for the kid,” she chided. “You know I hate peanuts.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “I’ll have one by the time you and Green get here. Get some sleep, Pidge.”

“Night, Lance,” she responded.

He ended the group chat and Pidge stood for a solid minute just staring at the blank screens, mouth curved into a frown and missing him already.

She turned to Green with a wry grin. “You’re pretty good at keeping secrets, Girl. Anything else you got for me?”

A low, playful rumble was the only answer she received.

“Fine then. I guess millennia old beings can have their secrets,” she teased. Pidge walked up to Green, who closed her mouth to allow Pidge to pet her snout.

She received a purr in response.

Pidge wrapped her arms around Green’s nose as much as she physically could, smiling the whole time. She figured maybe it was the pregnancy, but all of a sudden Pidge was in a very affectionate mood. “I love you, Girl. You’re the best Lion, don’t let the others tell you any different.”

The Green Lion sent a wave of images through her mind; her bed, pillow, pajamas.

“Okay, okay, I get it. I’m exhausted,” Pidge said, pulling away. “I’ll see you later.”

As Pidge exited the hanger, Green sat up in its default mode, effortlessly looking proud and dignified.

Pidge made it as far as her pajamas and getting under the covers, but sleep eluded her. The excitement of discovery and a new personal mission kept her mind buzzing.

Eventually, she focused on the wall of photographs she and Lance used in decoration for their room. Many of them were of the whole Voltron team, a good number of them on some of their more memorable dates, but the one her eyes wandered to was their wedding photo.

Pidge could still feel the comfort of her dress, and how happy the white chiffon and green sash had made her, given to her as a gift from some of Matt’s close Coalition friends. She’d been expecting to wear her uniform, as Lance did, since wedding dresses hadn’t been on the forefront of minds while rebuilding Earth’s infrastructure and economy.

She’d missed having a good reason to wear a dress. The thoughtfulness still made her tear up to this day.

Now she’d have more reason. Even her baggiest clothes wouldn’t fit her eventually.

The thought made her curl up and close her eyes with a smile. The coming months would have their downsides, but all she cared about right now was how good and warm she felt. Lance beside her was the only thing that would have possibly made her happier.

It would only get better when she woke and joined her Voltron family.

Pidge decided the first thing she would do though, is EVA over to the Red Lion and hold her husband for all he was worth.

It would be a very long hug.

#plance #pidgance #flirtyrobot #vld fanfic #voltron legendary defender #team voltron #i'm so proud of this you guys its really cute #inspiration has never hit so fast i didn't know what to do at first #please let me know if you like it #rueitae #also keith is vindicated here #pregnancy reaction fic #all on the fluff and fluff

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madokasoratsugu · 6 years

Text

to good fortune and luck

[rod/lucette; post-canon (good end)]

summary: five blessings Lucette receives from the people dearest to her.(and the one blessing she'll never beg for.)

a/n: i really like them /chinhands/. i also really like lucette metaphorically giving the middle finger. as usual pls read on ao3 bc tumblr probs didnt catch all my italics and stuff lmao

read on ao3

“Lucette, you’re with Rod, are you not?”

Lucette’s hand comes to a perfect standstill. Gently setting the teacup back down on its saucer, she forces herself to meet Ophelia’s eyes.

There is no judgement in her patient gaze, but no doubt either.

Lucette doesn’t allow herself a second breath, a second thought of denial to run through her mind.

“Yes.”

The spring breeze flips pages of a book Emelaigne left open on the picnic blanket. The owner is nowhere to be seen, having dragged her brother off to procure more baked goods.

“I see.”

Ophelia quietly smiles. It’s tinged with pain, and the expression cuts deeper into Lucette than she likes.

“Then I suppose i’ll have to dig out my wedding veil. It’ll need some work, but I hope you won’t mind. It’s always been a tradition in my family to pass down the veil as an heirloom.”

Lucette blinks. Her hand is shaking too badly to lift her teacup to her dry mouth.

“Of course not.” Lucette manages. She blinks harder, and tries to suck in a discrete breath. “Your lacework has always been lovely.”

Ophelia’s smile grows. It’s still dampened at the edges, but in Ophelia’s sudden embrace, it’s clear as day to Lucette that the grief isn’t directed at her.

Rather, it exists for her.

Not for the first time, Lucette mumbles thanks to her mother, who loved Lucette so deeply she suffered tenfold at the thought of Lucette ever, ever being hurt.

Who would support her, even if the world wouldn’t.

“When you get married to Rod - .” Emelaigne stops to sigh dreamily, and Lucette secretly loves it; the way Emelaigne uses her words, the way she says ‘when’ and not ‘if’, ‘married’ and not anything less.

“When the both of you get married, I want to arrange your bouquet.” Emelaigne flops backwards onto her bed, spreading her arms out above her.

A wide grin stretches on her face. “It’s the only thing i’m better than you at, so you can’t say no!”

Lucette laughs, pressing her hands into her lap. “Why would I?”

Emelaigne pulls herself up as abruptly as she laid down. “Maybe because you already have someone else you want to do it, or someone more qualified, or - .”

“Em.”

Emelaigne pouts. “Okay, okay. That means no one, right? Then i’ve called dibs!”

She pauses, eyes dipping to one side that hints at something else.

“There’s more, isn’t there?” Lucette asks gently, prodding Emelaigne’s side.

“Well….” Emelaigne flushes.

She reaches to her nightstand, opening the drawer to reveal a matte silver box.

Handing it to Lucette, she motions for the auburn to open it.

White stargazer lilies bloom outwards, surrounded by artistic sprigs of lily-of-the-valley and baby’s breath.

Lucette slowly lifts the beautifully decorated golden barrette, wide eyed.

“I know I’m jumping the gun here, but.” Emelaigne clasps her hands before her middle, smiling hopefully. “It’s an engagement gift. I noticed your old one was fraying at it’s petals.”

“It’s lovely, Em.” Lucette breathes.

Every petal was angled with dedication, faux beads of water giving life to the mini bouquet.

“It’d look nicer if Rod would just propose already, so you could wear it.”

Lucette bursts into giggles, red faced.

She’s welling with embarrassment and childish glee unbefitting a princess, but with Emelaigne laughing by her side, Lucette cannot imagine herself as anything else.

“Take this.”

Fritz shoves a practice sword against Rod’s chest. He stands towering before Lucette’s door, shielding Rod from any passerby’s sight.

“Go back using the South staircase behind the kitchen. There shouldn’t be anyone using it at this time, but if there is, tell them you were having a private training session with me. If they try badgering you for any more information, just mention the name Varg.”

Rod nods once, before walking briskly away, immaculately dressed like Lucette is not.

She shuffles backwards in her nightgown, uncertain. It wouldn’t do to have her knight see her like this.

It wouldn’t do to have her knight see her secret lover sneaking out of her room either, but there’s that.

Still, all Fritz does is send her a reassuring smile. “We still have half an hour, princess. Plenty of time to get ready for breakfast.”

When Lucette next exits her room, everything is encased in silk, pressed out of sight with powder.

It takes everything in her to look at Fritz directly.

“With five minutes to spare. Let’s hurry, though.”

At the sight of Fritz’s warm grin, the coldness in her middle melts. Yet a chunk of ice remains as she stands before the dining hall doors.

A sick feeling grows in her. She doubts it’s the overpowering scent of syrup, this time.

Still, the sticky feeling of the silenced topic that hangs in the air tastes just like it, if only not as sweet.

“Princess, want to know a magic trick?”

Bewildered, Lucette turns to see Fritz drawing two strokes diagonally away from each other on his palm three times before he mimes eating it.

“I heard its a spell for confidence.”

The half-witch feels her face twitch with a smile.

“I can tell you that is not true.”

“But I can tell you that the fact that i’ll support you no matter what is.” Fritz says, knowing, understanding. “I hope at least that inspires confidence.”

Lucette stares at Fritz, at the streak of black that curls around one side of his face, the bright curve of his lips and remembers the way her silver knight had tamed his wolf just to serve by her side.

“It does.”

And Lucette pushes the doors open herself.

“Are you adjusting well to the Tenebrarum?” Waltz asks, grinning wildly.

“As well as you are to your role as magical advisor to the kingdom.” Lucette immediately replies, cracking a smile at their silly inside joke.

Waltz chuckles, patting the space beside him on the wide fountain rim.

“You look tired, little star.”

“Secrets are hard things to keep.” Lucette says, shaking her head as she sits.

“You’re doing quite well, for one of this magnitude.” Waltz says, stroking her hair, and Lucette allows herself to indulge in his pampering.

“Although I do have something that might help.”

Waltz pulls out a tiny drawstring bag, and tips out from it a pair of earrings.

Attached to delicate white gold clasps, the clear blue crystals capture shooting stars within streaks of white.

Lucette cannot hold back her startled gasp.

“They’re blue kyanite. It helps with balance, communication, and fresh beginnings.” Waltz explains. “Perfect for you and Rod.”

Putting them on, Lucette delights in the way they gently reflect the starry expanse above. “Thank you.”

Still, the thought of what Waltz’s encouragement entails makes her happiness falter.

“I just wish - .” Lucette says, words trailing off, full of unfinished thoughts and endless desires.

“So do I.” Waltz hums. “We all do.”

Lucette laughs at the philosophy, and Waltz doesn’t hold back his smile.

“But you’ll do more than that, won’t you little star?”

Lucette yelps as he picks her up, spinning her around once before settling her on his arm.

“You’ll grant your wishes, because that’s what stars do, with a little help. You’ll be happy, and you’ll shine like all stars deserve to.”

Waltz looks at her with such pride and fondness that Lucette laughs aloud again, a little breathless, a little choked.

Within the arms of her closest friend who never stopped believing in her, Lucette thinks that it’s time she repaid that with some belief in herself, too.

“You let your hair down.” Rod murmurs, twirling a loose lock with his forefinger.

“I am supposed to be in bed right now.” Lucette says, glancing at the high moon.

Rod smiles ruefully, in a way that implies she stay, in a manner that asks to be kissed.

So Lucette does, carefully, gently, and relishes in his returning tilt of his head.

Moving apart, Rod hesitates. His fixed stare on Lucette inspires a slight smile, a rising blush.

At that tender expression, he turns to take a plain box behind him on the window seat, resting it on his lap.

“I couldn’t get a ring.” Rod starts slowly, with eyes averted. “Not as myself. And I didn’t want anyone else to do it for me. So I….”

He opens the shoebox, and Lucette claps her hands over her mouth.

Intricate silver filigree vines twine up the heels and partway down the side of her glass slippers, with miniature stargazer lily blossoms by the counter, supported by well placed leaves.

“A silver sixpence in her shoe, right?” Rod says softly, smiling.

Trapped between a sob and a laugh, all Lucette can do is watch as Rod gets down on one knee before her, as his bandaged fingers cradle the glass heels, her hand.

The grip of their interlaced fingers hurt.

“Lucette Riella Britton, will you marry me?”

“I will.”

The words tumble out easier than she thought it would have.

Salty tears roll down her face, and she finds Rod tastes the same when he leans forward to seal the promise.

“I will.” Lucette breathes, again, pressed against the glass window as pleasantly cold as the heels on her feet.

“I took some liberties with the rhyme.” Rod confesses, running a hand through her long hair. “But I still wish I could have given you more.”

“This is plenty.” Lucette says, tilting her head up to look in Rod’s eyes. “This is more than I dreamed of. You’re more than I dreamed of.”

Rod kisses her on the jaw, just below her ear, and Lucette sighs helplessly.

“Don’t go back tonight.” Rod says aloud, this time.

Lucette thinks there isn’t any need to tell her that, not when her solace is already embracing her tight.

“I never intended to.”

And when Rod laughs, brilliant and jubilant and filled with infinite hope, Lucette feels on the verge of tears, on the verge of everything all at once.

But with his every kiss, every touch, Lucette finds herself coming back down, coming back to her tingling senses, coming back home to Rod.

Some secrets are worth keeping.

But in his embrace, Lucette thinks this is not a secret she wants to keep.

Not anymore.

The throne room falls eerily silent.

Genaro stares at Lucette and Rod, and their connected hands.

Lucette’s announcement has swallowed the atmosphere whole, echoing in the whispers of the maids, in the minds of all occupants present.

“An engagement.” Genaro finally speaks, laboured and confused. “With Rod?”

Lucette doesn’t answer the rhetorical question.

“Why?”

“Why not?” Lucette says, less of a challenge and more of a statement.

In the conflict of denying his blood daughter the only thing she’s ever asked of him, Genaro turns helplessly to Ophelia standing beside.

“Listen to them.” Ophelia encourages, and Genaro’s eyes grow wide at the realisation of being the only one left in the dark.

Genaro turns towards the pair again, expression somber.

“Lucette.” He tries again, brows furrowing.

Genaro sinks deeper into his throne, pinches the bridge of his nose. “I apologise. This is all...quite a lot to take in.”

Lucette does not tell him to take his time.

At the side of the room, Emelaigne shifts from one foot to another anxiously, while Fritz keeps a steady hand on his sword’s hilt. Waltz doesn’t tell him to let up, not when the sparks of a protective barrier dance upon the fingertips of his hand behind his back.

Genaro sucks in a breath.

“I cannot approve of this union.” He says heavily. “Not for the sake of Angielle.”

“You abandoned me for it, too.”

Genaro’s eyes fly open, taken aback by Lucette’s words.

“You misunderstand me, father. I have never asked you for anything. I would not start now.”

Weathered lacework chuffs at her wrists as she raises a hand to press against her chest, hair pinned back with nearly-alive sprigs of lilies and baby’s breath fastened by gold.

Her palm burns with borrowed courage carved with nails; white stars caught in blue crystals glinting as she holds her head high.

Glass and silver making a clean, crisp sound as she takes a single step forward.

Blessings don’t just belong in magic folktales, in old wives' tales; they come in words and gifts, and love.

“This isn’t me seeking your acceptance, father.”

Rod’s grip anchors her, reminds her who it is she goes home to, who it is that taught her what it meant to be loved.

Who it was that held her during her darkest hours, who became the light of her future.

“This is a declaration.”

#cinderella phenomenon #lucette riella britton #rod benedikt widdensov #waltz cresswell #fritzgerald aiden leverton #emelaigne widdonsov #ophelia widdonsov #cinderella phenomenon spoilers #melon writes

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pumpkins-s · 6 years

Text

Stormbreaker / Coffinmaker

Read On AO3 Here

When Pidge is offered the spot as communications officer for the Kerberos Mission, to accompany her father, and her friend and former classmate Shiro, she’s expecting eight months of quiet, beautiful cosmos, ice samples, and—if she’s lucky—some broadcast signals to support her alien life theories.

She is not expecting to end up the prisoner of a fascistic race of alien cat-lizards hellbent on apparently reenacting the ugliest parts of the Roman empire, down to the massive enslavement and expansion effort and the gladiators as entertainment shtick.

But, if she’s going down, she figures she might as well go down swinging.

(Or, in which Pidge is the third Kerberos member, is decidedly not a damsel in distress who needs protection—thank you very much Shiro—is very much done with this crap, and fully intends to make it home to her little brother, no matter what it takes.)

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Relationships: platonic Pidge & Shiro, Pidge & Matt, Pidge & Sam Holt

Characters: Pidge, Shiro, Sam Holt, Matt Holt, Thace, Ulaz

Rating + Warnings: Rated Teen; trigger warnings include graphic violence, blood, combat, murder, and systematic transphobia on the part of the Galra. I recommend checking AO3, or in my author’s notes under the cut, for a more extensive list.

Stormbreaker was written for the @pidgebigbang, and is accompanied by art from @anime7otaku7artist7.

Chapter 1: Willow

((Author’s Note:

Hello, hello! Welcome to Stormbreaker / Coffinmaker, my fic for the Pidge Big Bang. Developing the concept and storyline for this fic was the work of months (even if I wrote 90% of it in the last two weeks before it was due shhhh), and I'm so pleased to finally be able to share it. I love Pidge and the friendship she holds with Shiro, and I really wanted a chance to explore that in a setting where they were closer to being peers, as well as what her relationship to Matt would be like if she were the older sibling, and hence that (+ my desire to just see Pidge kicking ass as a gladiator) is how Stormbreaker was born.

As always, music played a big part in my writing, and I'd like to take a moment to credit that: I wrote and outlined this fic largely to the work of Barns Courtney and Florence + The Machine, particularly his The Attractions of Youth album and her How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful album, respectively, and the influence of both is definitely there in how the story turned out. The title of this fic was chosen as a nod to two songs that pushed the concept and development of Stormbreaker by leaps and bounds. Of Monster And Men's Winter Sound, and Florence + The Machine's My Boy Builds Coffins. And of course, I can't not mention the song that played the original inspiration for this fic: No Doubt's Just A Girl.

For your listening enjoyment while you read, there's also an actual playlist for this fic (with more than just those previously mentioned couple of artists in it, promise). You can find the tumblr post for it here, with art by the wonderful corpus--corvus, or jump straight to the Spotify or Youtube link.

Before you read, a final warning for the content -- this is a gladiator fic, boys & girls & nonbinary pals. That means violence, blood, injury (Shiro's probably an obvious indication but people do lose limbs), fight to the death scenarios, and murder. People die in this story, and not all of them necessarily deserve it, though rest assured Pidge and Shiro themselves stay (relatively) intact. There's also the presence of underage drinking in a flashback scene, some mentions of the sexual abuse and forced prostitution of slaves within the Empire, and swearing. So much fucking swearing. Additionally, while all relationships are written to be strictly platonic, Shiro and Pidge's longer friendship and view of each other as closer to peers does mean their friendship has an emotional intimacy that wouldn't necessarily be seen in their canon counterparts. They lean on each other for support, quite literally, so if any of that would be a personal squick to you for whatever reason, please look away now.

That's about it! Enormous thanks to the Pidge Big Bang mods for putting this all together, and to my artist, anime7otaku7artist7, for their phenomenal work. Their art is embedded in the story, and you can also find a link to it here.

Stormbreaker is split into eight sections, with the entirety already written out pre posting. Chapters range from about 4-10 thousand words, with the first one being the shortest. It will update every day until its completion (so long as everything with editing and posting goes smoothly on my end, at least. Here's hoping). Enjoy!))

(( Author’s Note [Cont.]:

Willow: Forsaken

The gorgeous title art opening this chapter, while not provided by my official artist for the Pidge Big Bang, is provided by the wonderful corpus--corvus, who put up with months of my ranting about Stormbreaker!Pidge, and generously provided me with both this title art, and coverart for this fic's playlist. Thank you Logan you're a peach.))

Oh I'm just a girl, living in captivity

Your rule of thumb

Make me worry some

Oh I'm just a girl, what's my destiny?

- "Just a Girl", No Doubt

“Careful,” is the first thing Pidge’s father says to her, and she sighs, blowing errant bangs out of her eyes—she knew she should have pinned them back when they were suiting up—as she steadies her arms and inches the ice sample out of the extraction drill.

“Yeah, Pidge, careful,” Shiro says with a grin she can only classify as shit-eating, leaning over the back of the drill with his forearms resting on top.

“I am careful,” she snaps, fully removing the sample and hefting it between her arms. The weight is less than that of Earthen ice of the same mass—which is expected, given the gravity on Kerberos is much lesser than that on Earth. It’s a lucky thing their suits are specially designed and weighted to model Earth’s gravity on their interior, Pidge wouldn’t want to be hopping and stumbling around like the astronauts of her grandparents’ generation.

She hands the sample over to her father carefully, his eyes bright as he studies it. “Extraordinary.”

Pidge glances over at Shiro, who is doing his best to look anything more than politely interested, and smirks. “What? Not impressed?”

Shiro looks down at her, and shrugs ungainly against the bulk of his suit. “You guys get…a little more excited about ice samples than I do. I understand their value, but it’s not exactly my area.”

“Yeah, yeah, motorboy.” Pidge rolls her eyes. “I get it, you’re only interested in things with an engine and that go really fast.”

“That’s—“ Shiro makes a face. “Ok, that’s only partially true. I also like…uh…” He trails off, brows furrowed, and Pidge grins. “…What do I like?” he finally asks, looking to Pidge in askance.

“Uh. Reading? Fixing Keith’s bike?” Pidge counts off on her fingers, squinting down at them. “That’s…you’re really bad at having non-work-related hobbies, dude.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Oh! Me!” Pidge holds up a third finger triumphantly. “You like me!”

Shiro groans. “You’re my best friend, that’s a given—“

“You know what I like?” Pidge says, and then continues on before Shiro has the chance to respond. “I’ll tell you what I like. Motherfucking aliens, that’s what I like, Shiro.”

“And here we go again—“

“And that—“ Pidge points at the ice sample, “could be the key to finally proving their existence, right Dad?”

“Well,” her father says, looking quietly amused as he shifts the sample in his hands. “We certainly can’t rule anything out, all the way out here. And I’d hardly complain if one of these ice samples wanted to come along and solve my life’s—“ There’s a rumble all around them, rock vibrating slightly beneath their feet, and he pauses. “…What was that?”

“Earthquake?” Pidge asks as another rumble starts up, stronger than the last.

“Kerberos-quake?” Shiro mutters behind her, and she turns to tell him just how terrible that was, before the strongest shake yet occurs, throwing her off balance, and she yelps, falling forward.

“Pidge!” She catches herself on Shiro’s outstretched arm. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” She shakes her head, trying to dispel the hair blocking her vision and the vague sense of dizziness she feels. “We should get back to the—“ She stops, caught up in the feeling of something suddenly here, large and looming and right behind her, and slowly turns around as a ship comes into view.

For once, all her knowledge—all her calculations, her observations, her vast vocabulary, abandon her, and she is left with one thought, and one thought only.

That isn’t one of their ships.

“It can’t be…” She hears her father say, but it’s distant, muffled, as if he was underwater, and then all she can focus on is Shiro grabbing desperately at her arm, yanking her along.

“Run. Run!”

She runs.

It’s a rush of sudden sound, sudden movement that seems at odds with the serene stillness expected of space. All she can hear is the roaring noise of whatever is behind them, Shiro’s shouts, her own heavy breathing as she stumbles along in her suit, the previously steadying weight suddenly cumbersome.

There’s a sudden pull behind them, around them, everything lit up purple, and Pidge screams as her feet suddenly leave the ground, flying up into the void of black above them. She hears both of the others yell her name, and she reaches out blindly for something, anything—her father’s blurry form, the outstretched hand she knows is Shiro’s, only to find nothing.

Tractor beam, a detached, scientific part of her mind supplies for her. I’m the smallest, so it’s natural I’d be the first picked up.

Sure enough, one of them—she thinks her father—flies up a moment after, Shiro caught up off the ground last.

They’re both shouting in panic, and Pidge thinks she should be screaming, too. Might already be screaming, or perhaps she’s forgotten to altogether, it’s impossible to tell, right now. She is not in control of the motion of her own body, of her senses.

Debris off the ground, caught up in the beam with them, catches on the side of Shiro’s helmet, scraping along, and she can only pray it hasn’t knocked it loose, hasn’t stolen his oxygen, before another rock slams into her own head.

The last thing she hears as it all goes black is the sound of her own voice tapering off, dying in her throat like a person hanged, condemned and left to die.

…Oh, so she had been screaming.

The night Shiro gets offered the position of pilot for the Kerberos mission, Pidge drags him out drinking.

“Shots!” she announces loudly, placing them down on the bar, and Shiro winces. He’s the one person she knows who gets a headache just from being in a bar. Normally, Pidge would have sympathy, as prone to migraines brought on from stress and lack of sleep as she is, but over time she’s come to accept this is an inevitability of taking Shiro out anywhere fun that isn’t space or flight themed. Luckily, the more alcohol Shiro gets in him, the more he seems to forget about his headache, or his apathy towards bars in general—enough to be willing to repeat the same cycle of misery, ecstasy, and then mild hangovers, occasionally, every few weeks, at least.

“What are those?” He picks one up cautiously, sniffing at it. “Whiskey?”

“Mhmm,” Pidge hums happily, sliding into the stool next to his. “Good brand, too.”

“I think I’ll just order one of those fruity cocktails,” Shiro says with an air of quiet distaste, sliding the shot glass back across to Pidge.

“Weak.” She downs them both, hers first and then Shiro’s, slamming the second empty glass down to the background of his horrified face.

“I don’t know how you do that,” he says, and she sticks her tongue out at him.

Drinking is just one of the many things they do together, but in very different ways. Shiro—perhaps still trying to live down the keg-stand days of his barely-twenties that Pidge remembers sneaking into at seventeen or so all too fondly—doesn’t like anything strong, anything that leaves too much of a burn behind. He finds his preferences in what is sweet, where the alcohol is masked by some more agreeable mix-in.

Pidge, meanwhile, relishes the burn. Chases the chemistry reacting in her own body, the poison her brain somehow just barely sustains, with fascination. Drinking is stupid, objectively. So naturally that only leads to the urge to categorize it, sample every flavor until she understands every urge and every predilection.

She watches Shiro order his cocktail in amusement, and waves her hand when the bartender looks to her. They both know how to take care of themselves—and each other, if they find it necessary. Shiro will sip his fruity drinks, and Pidge will knock back a couple shots before giving it a break and then nursing a beer or some watered down vodka-and-schnapps concoction for the rest of the night.

She’s an experimenter, not an idiot. If she takes it too far, makes herself too sick or poisons herself too permanently, she won’t be able to carry out the next test. She’s the extent of her own sample size, which means she has to make herself last.

“Remember when we were young,” she says languidly, swinging around on her stool and leaning on the bar, head tilting up to watch the ceiling, then Shiro. “And we’d party like the sun wouldn’t come up?”

“I remember going through a bottle of Advil every two months, yeah,” Shiro says dryly. “Besides you’re—I love the way you say that, when we were young. You’re not even legal to drink yet.”

“Shhh.” Pidge waves a hand. “Keep your voice down or you’ll get us kicked out. I worked hard on that I.D., Matt helped me pick the picture.”

“And what a great picture it is,” Shiro offers sarcastically, and Pidge levels a threatening eye at his drink. He pointedly moves it out of her reach, and after a moment, continues. “I still don’t get why you like bars so much. You’re you—I can barely get you out of your room to go to the dining hall.”

“Are you kidding me?” She waves a hand. “Bars are the one place where I can get social stimulus without having to actually talk to or acknowledge anyone beyond the wonderful person providing my drink. It’s an observational heaven. At the Garrison I actually have to make conversation.” She shudders, and Shiro snorts.

“…It still feels weird being out here, with your parents knowing where we go.”

“Joys of being second-gen American,” Pidge says proudly. “Just enough Italian left over where a twenty-one plus drinking age seems like the dumbest thing in the world.”

“I guess.” Shiro wrinkles his nose. “Still just feels weird when my commanding officer knows I go out drinking with his daughter.”

“Shiro, you practically live in our house. You’re in Matt’s elementary school graduation picture, for crying out loud. Bit late for worrying about that sort of thing.” Shiro winces, and Pidge laughs, patting him on the shoulder. “Man. Kerberos. I can’t believe you’ll be locked up with only my dad and some poor communications officer for eight months.” She pauses, and at Shiro’s faintly proud, but still somber look, she grins. “Maybe I should suggest to Dad he bring his zero-gravity specialized Scrabble board along.”

“Oh god,” Shiro groans, dropping his face into his elbow against the bar. “Please, don’t.”

“Doing it,” Pidge says happily. After a long moment, she looks over to Shiro, curling her arms into a pillow on the bar for her to drop her head onto, sighing. “…It’ll be weird, without you here. It was going to be strange enough not having Dad around that long, but at least I’m used to him disappearing off for missions.” Shiro grunts morosely, and she hums. “Always got Matt, I suppose. And Mom. I’ll just spend more time around the house or something. Lucky we live so close.”

Shiro says nothing, stealing the discarded beer bottle of some other long-departed patron, and peeling habitually at the label in one of his little-seen nervous gestures. “It will be weird.” There’s silence again, and Pidge is just starting to wonder if she’s expected to say something, before he continues, quiet and unsure. “You know they haven’t decided on a communications officer yet. You could always…throw your hat in the ring. They’re already worried about team compatibility—with a mission this long, and this important—and everyone knows we work well together.”

“Me?” Pidge snorts. “Please. Even if I wanted to—and I’m not saying I do—they’d never take me. I’m still a cadet.”

“Only while you finish up the last of your engineering credits.” Shiro points out sullenly, still not meeting her eyes. “You’ve been an officially marked communications officer for the better part of a year at this point. And there’s no one better at the job.”

Pidge blinks, surprised at the blunt honesty in his tone. “…You…really want me to apply, don’t you?”

Shiro shrugs, glaring down at the decimated bottle label. “It’d just be—it’d feel weird without you, alright? Like something was missing.”

Almost unconsciously, Pidge reaches across, snatching up the balled-up wrapper, freeing it from Shiro’s wrath and contemplating it, as if it might suddenly give her an answer to this new puzzle.

Of course, looking for solutions in beer bottle wrappers is neither scientific nor logical, so Pidge isn’t very surprised when it offers her none.

“…I guess we do do most everything together, don’t we?” she offers softly. Shiro just shrugs again, avoiding both the answer and her eyes as he sits up and sips awkwardly at his drink. He doesn’t want to pressure her, to suggest her into something she doesn’t want to do. He also doesn’t want to go without her.

He’s always been stupidly good at expressly not talking about his worries, especially when he thinks he’s burdening someone else with them. Luckily for him, while Pidge is no feelings expert, she is a Shiro expert at this point, and very good at determining the logical end point to a problem.

“Yeah, okay,” she says unthinkingly. “Why not?” Shiro turns to look at her, still all kinds of conflicted mixed in with his hope, and she steals his drink easily, downing back the last of it, and when she slams it onto the bar next to the empty shot glasses, it sounds like a promise.

Kerberos. What could go wrong?

It’ll give her an amusing story to tell Matt when she gets rejected, at least.

…We come from a peaceful planet…

Pidge comes to with a quiet gasp and a rush of aching pain along her left temple. She startles just ever so slightly—everything blurry and her suit feeling far, far too heavy for either Kerberos or the conditions of their ship—before the weight of strong hands holding her arms behind her back, and Shiro’s muffled voice pleading somewhere off to her left, come to her attention, and she tenses, stills.

It doesn’t all come back so much in a rush as in a trickle of images, feeding into her brain like a lagging video on a bad connection as her quick, panicked breaths fog up the inside of her visor. The ship, the tractor beam, being dragged up and up and away from Shiro and her father, the sudden crunch of the rock against her skull, all sliding through her mind and clicking into place.

For the first time in a long, long time, Pidge feels true panic grip her, staring down into the abyss of the unknown. She’d come close, in their attempt to flee the inevitable on Kerberos, but had been too caught up in the immediacy of the situation. That was instinctive panic, raw and something close to animal.

This is a panic of exercised consideration. Of weighing up her circumstances and what little information she has available to her and ultimately coming up short—short of a plan, short of an idea, short of even a clue. She has no idea where she is—beyond somewhere she never was supposed to be—who has her, or what is going to happen.

Based on her position and her mode of capture, Pidge can only assume herself and the others are being held captives by a hostile extraterrestrial power. Which is not, she thinks a little hysterically, even remotely fucking close to something the Garrison had prepared them for.

For Pidge, sorting all this out amongst the overwhelmed screeching in her head and the dull throb of pain above her eyes that signals either an impending migraine or a concussion feels like the work of hours. But it must only be moments, because one second Shiro is talking, stammering out a few desperate phrases on their behalf, before there’s a shuffle of movement, and Shiro’s cut-off yelp of pain as something strikes him.

At that she does stir, almost involuntarily jerking against the hold on her to turn and observe, check on Shiro’s condition—he was speaking, which means at least he hadn’t sustained any major head injuries, surely. In response there’s a tightening of the grip on her arms, an increase on the weight pressing down on her back, a boot maybe, and she buckles instinctively, head bowing to the ground and her whole body going taut but unmoving.

Eventually, after some further exchanges of words she can’t muddle out in the confused space of her brain beyond the disbelieving fact that it’s definitely English, the grip holding Pidge shifts, moving as something like handcuffs with a rigid bar between them is shackled onto her wrists. Something takes hold of the bar, and begins to drag her backwards, assumedly out of the room. Rough sliding noises on her left and right are the only indication she has that the same is being done to her father and Shiro, she doesn’t dare look to confirm.

It’s not until they’re moving along some hallway, and the other dragging noises move past and ahead of her, that Pidge dares to tilt her head just slightly up, trying to catch sight of something beyond her own feet scraping along a metal floor.

She can only get glimpses, between long stretches of endless chrome and the shine of purple lighting coming from some undeterminable source. Flashes in windows of huge containment systems, layers upon layers of prisoners crammed into cages and moved about as if building blocks directed by a child. She sees whispers of floors upon floors of moving figures, all discernable only in the same shades of grey and purple, with splashes of red, outsizing any operation she’s ever seen at the Garrison.

She sees torture. She sees order. She sees cruelty. She sees control.

There’s the bark of voices above her head, and she yelps as she is dragged around a corner roughly, the quick turn putting a strain on her arms. But she doesn’t dare fight back, not at the risk of suffering the same fate as Shiro.

Observation is her greatest—her only strength, right now. She must do what she does best, as she does at officer meetings, in Garrison dining halls and classrooms, even in shitty, dim-lit desert town bars.

Pidge watches. She grasps at every piece of data, commits to memory every variable she can spot, and above it all she is left with only one question, buzzing in the back of her dizzied, overwhelmed mind.

Where the hell are we?

#pidge big bang #Stormbreaker / Coffinmaker (Voltron)#my writing #Voltron #vld fanfic

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dipulb3 · 3 years

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Got a money question? There's a TikTok for that

New Post has been published on https://appradab.com/got-a-money-question-theres-a-tiktok-for-that/

Got a money question? There's a TikTok for that

Now she has over 800,000 followers.

Dunlap, who notes on her website that she is not a licensed financial adviser, says her parents taught her a lot about money growing up, but she quickly realized that wasn’t the case for everyone, especially for women.

“Having a financial education as women or any marginalized group is our best form of protest and is our best way of gaining agency in a world that is increasingly inequitable,” Dunlap said.

And TikTok, she said, is leading the way in enabling a younger, more diverse group of people to both provide and gain access to this education.

Finance has long been seen as a white, male-dominated industry. A 2019 survey by the Certified Financial Planner Board of Standards found that 77% of all financial planners are male, while 72% are over the age of 40.

But many personal finance TikTok creators are bringing diversity and relatability to conversations about money for young people.

When it comes to the apps’ thriving personal finance community, most of the faces dolling out financial advice are new — and many of them are women and people of color.

“Women, people of color and young investors are traditionally underserved segments of the investing public, so it’s natural for them to turn to non-traditional sources of financial advice,” said Lisa Kramer, professor of finance at the University of Toronto. “If a TikTok video encourages someone to start planning and investing for the future, that’s a win.”

A new generation seeking personal finance advice

Personal finance TikTok has become a wildly popular destination for Gen Z’ers and Millennials looking for money advice.

The hashtag #personalfinance alone has a total of 4 billion video views, with #finance trailing behind with 2 billion. Other finance-related hashtags, like #financialiteracy, #financetiktok, #finances and #finance101, have a total of roughly 427 million video views combined.

So whether you’re curious about how to crush credit card debt, getting started investing or stashing away cash for an emergency savings fund — sure enough, with a simple search, there’s a TikTok for that.

So what’s with the sudden fixation with personal finance?

The pandemic may have something to do with it.

“It has made people acutely aware of the risk of unforeseen disasters,” said Matt Kasman, assistant research director at the Brookings Institution, a left-leaning think-tank. “It’s increased motivation from all people who lived through it, but certainly younger people to become motivated to save a nest egg or reserves of cash.”

Taking the taboo out of money talk

Talking about money with other people has long been considered taboo. But on TikTok, those taboos don’t seem to exist.

In a number of videos on the app, some of which have gone viral, TikTokers are talking about their salaries, how much they pay for things and how much debt they owe — all down to the cents.

One popular personal finance TikTok involves an attorney breaking down how much of her $180,000 salary she actually took home while living in New York. In the video, she provides a real-life snapshot factoring in actual amounts for taxes, rent, bills, health insurance and 401(k) contributions.

“Finance is often a fraught topic space. For one thing, it’s traditionally been seen as taboo. It’s also anxiety-producing for a number of other reasons, it’s high stakes and can be seen as complicated,” said Kasman. “Anything that makes it accessible, fun, and takes away from some of the anxiety and some of the taboos is a good thing and should be a goal in any setting or format that seeks to do effective financial education. It’s one that I think these new platforms excel at.”

Delyanne Barros, 38, known as @delyannethemoneycoach on TikTok, started posting videos in February 2020 on topics that include early retirement, financial independence and paying off debt.

“When I started understanding that you could become financially independent really early in life and you can totally change the way your life is going to unfold, it completely changed my mindset,” she said.

Barros didn’t grow up receiving much financial advice from her parents except for two things: to get an education and have good credit.

As a former attorney turned full-time entrepreneur, Barros’ quest for financial independence began with a desire to pay off debt as quickly as possible — $150,000 worth of student loans to be exact. And there was a lot of trial and error along the way.

“It’s a subject that we do not talk about, even with family, even with friends,” said Barros. “We’re noticing the advice that our parents and our grandparents gave us no longer applies.”

Barros, who is not a licensed financial adviser, now boasts nearly 183,000 followers on TikTok and attributes much of her success to her vulnerability around her finances on the video-sharing app.

“Here was this person on the Internet laying out all of her business and people were really attracted to it,” she said, referring to her videos. “I started seeing there’s a need here for people to learn about this stuff, there are gaps to be filled, so I took it upon myself to learn everything I could about the subject.”

Bridging the gap of financial literacy

Errol Coleman, 22, is one of many creators teaching newly-minted day traders about the stock market.

With nearly 263,000 followers, more than 7,500 YouTube subscribers and 20,000 members on Discord, Coleman shares TikTok videos spanning underrated and free stock market resources and other concepts like how to find your own stocks and understanding stock resistance and risk.

Coleman, who is not a licensed financial adviser, was first introduced to the basics of the stock market as a senior in high school.

“When I first got into the market, I thought it was such a good opportunity. I couldn’t believe that more people weren’t talking about it,” he said.

He’s since made it his mission to learn as much as he can about trading and investing in order to inspire and educate other young people.

And the response has been positive, especially from other TikTokers of color. Coleman recalls a comment he received from another Black male on one of his videos: ‘You don’t know what it means that someone that looks like me is doing this.’

“It just made me realize that not many people grew up with just knowing about opportunity,” Coleman said. “I want to put this type of opportunity in front of people and show them the basics and that it’s actually not that complicated.”

But it’s not all good financial advice

While TikTok is filled with financial advice and content, not all of it is beneficial and accurate.

“There are drawbacks to these new formats. The con is the quality or accuracy, might vary,” Kasman said. “Since they’re short format and often engaged in a la carte they also might not be really good at scaffolding, which is kind of building up the foundational skills before putting one foot in front of the other.”

It’s also the reason why creators like Barros, Dunlap and Coleman caution their followers to do their own research and learn more about the concepts they share in videos.

Personal finance is personal and it isn’t one-size fits all.

That’s why Kasman stresses the importance of ensuring you have the foundational skills and core financial concepts, such as tracking expenses and budgeting, mastered.

“This can help people adjudicate between good information and bad information, what’s applicable to their circumstances and what’s not, with what they encounter on new platforms,” he said.

Additional reporting by Sofia Barrett

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lisakellner · 4 years

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Sarah Schneiderman

Interviews with Artists

Sarah’s website

What kind of work do you make and why?

I transform everyday trash and found objects into finely crafted and realistic imagery. The world is overflowing with trash. By 2050, it is expected that, pound for pound, there will be more garbage in the ocean than fish.

How have the events of 2020 affected your life and art practice?

I never thought I'd be a snowbird but my spouse has circulation issues so we bought a small apartment on Bonaire, Dutch Caribbean a few years ago. Although I don't have my full studio, I make art down here. Some stay here, some comes home with me. I started my winter stay by making political portraits for a show scheduled for Ives Gallery at New Haven Free Public Library. The show "You're Fired! I Quit!" was slated to open July 29 and run through early October. Then everything got shut down Mid-March. The last plane back to the US 21 or 22. I wasn't on that plane. The effects of the coronavirus were sudden and hard-hitting. So many people were in emotional pain due to the uncertainty and the stress of being in lockdown. I had a commitment to make three 12 X 12-inch pieces for AIDS CT for their annual art grab. I couldn't make political portraits anymore. My focus switched to imagery that would show love and calmness: A heart for essential workers, the surface of the ocean, and a yellow rose. This started me working on a botanical series. Fortunately, my practice is to transform everyday trash into stunningly beautiful realistic depictions of the subject matter. I had plenty of materials to work with because we all generate trash. The show at Ives Gallery was canceled. The other local Connecticut shows I hoped to be were canceled. I had artwork all over the East Coast in lockdown because no one could retrieve it to send it back to me. Rather than apply to local, in-person shows, I'm applying to online shows. I was able to attend a virtual residency out of Spain and made a new friend in New Jersey as a result. The other residency I expected to attend this year - the artist residency at Camp Stomping Ground - was canceled due to the virus.

What type of pivot, adaptations or actions have occurred in your art practice that could be helpful to other artists due to these events?

I changed subject matter so as to bring both myself and others some joy and peace during this tumultuous time.

I started applying to online shows since in person shows are not available.

Because I go away each winter, I already have friends in Connecticut who have access to my house to pick up or deliver art now that in-person shows are occurring again.

I've taken advantage of some of the myriad resources that have popped up online:

Virtual Residencies

Virtual critiques

Online workshops

Online studio tours

Online Demonstrations

Online artists' cocktail hour

Rather than ship via FedEx or DHL because it's too expensive, I'm using the local post office and praying the packages get to their destinations. So far, so good.

I'm using a consolidation service in Miami to get supplies (both personal and some art supplies such as matte gel medium and PVA glue.) It's expensive but it's worth it.

Now, I'm shifting my subject matter to locally present animals and botanicals thinking that I'll leave this artwork here and find some outlet for it here rather than bringing everything back to the US. Because I've been here more than twice as long as I originally intended, I have a decent body of work accumulated.

Where do you see yourself and your work a year from now?

While I'd like to be in Connecticut pursuing solo shows and making art about my heroes rather than on Bonaire and making more portraits of "The Best People" working for Donald Trump, I suspect I'll still be on Bonaire. If so, my work will be continue to be about the planet's degradation while the imagery will be of local flora and fauna.

What has been the one “saving grace” that has helped you through this difficult time?

That I have a home on Bonaire and have been able to stay here. Technology, such as FaceTime, Google Meet, and Zoom have helped me stay connected to the world beyond this small rock.

What advice would you give other artists?

If you can continue to make art, do so. If you can't, let that be. Also, many arts organizations are creative in offering studio tours, webinars, workshops, artists talk, and music online. Hook into that. It can be very inspirational.

What would you like people to experience when they see your work?

Physical: My art serves no direct physical function. Instead, it provides a sensory experience for the viewer. I want the viewer to see the work as beautiful, even stunning, especially when the materials are taken into consideration -- that this work was made from trash.

Social: My art has a social function. Whether the subject matter is fish, botanicals, or portraits, the main message is about trash and its impact on the planet. Additionally, some of these are portraits of people who are trashing the United States, Republican values, and the environment. Others are of people who were discarded by the president, whether they were fired or chose to resign.

Personal: I create art for two reasons: 1. I have something to say. 2. I want to add beauty to the world. The fish and botanical pieces are not just pretty pictures. Photographs can bring beauty to light. My desire is for the viewer to see beyond the subject matter. I want them to question their relationship to the environment and to society at large.

Did you enjoy reading this?

Interested in guest posting? Contact me here.

Personal Artist Services:

Join the Artist Essentials and get a free mini-lesson:

Promoting Artists:

#artist career advice #art career success #artist #art career planning #studio practice #strategies in the studio #how to be a successful artist #art writing #promote your art #selling your art

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websofintrigue-blog · 7 years

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MCU HAWKEYE MOVIE PITCH

Fair warning. This post is probably going to turn into a gigantic wall of text and a lot of fan-wanking, so for those of you who haven't read Matt Fraction's phenomenal run on Hawkeye, you're free to turn away. I have been mulling over this idea for like, ever. Now, I think I have most of it figured out, and I was so excited that I just needed to get it out there.

Alright. Here is my pitch for an MCU Solo Hawkeye movie. Obviously, it's going to be based primarily on Fraction's run.

First of all, casting. Kate Bishop needs to be in this film, and she has to be independent, headstrong, but also sassy, stubborn and a bit of a smart-ass. My top choices to play Katie would either be Anna Kendrick or Mary Elizabeth Winstead. I think they have the look and the chops to pull off Katie's street smarts and overall sassiness.

On the creative side, I think I'd like to get Edgar Wright to write and direct the movie. I know he left Ant Man due to creative differences, but if Marvel can somehow convince Wright to get back on board and give him more creative freedom, I think it would really help and add a lot to the movie with Wright's distinct style.

I would love a movie like this to be released maybe before or after Infinity War. Just as a fun little diversion/palette cleanser that doesn't really tie much into anything apart from world building. Kinda like how Ant Man was. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------- KEY BULLET POINTS!

--The movie is set after the events of Civil War. At this point in time, we can assume the Sokovia Accords are still in effect, so after Cap busts out his team, they're advised to lay low and keep a low profile. They go their separate ways to avoid being seen together and drawing attention but still keeping communication with one another. Clint's family is put under protection, and Cap (possibly with a little help from Nick Fury) is able to pull enough funds to get Clint an apartment in Brooklyn. This will be the main setting of the film.

-- First introduction to Kate Bishop. Flashback to the Chitauri invasion. We see a somewhat younger Kate Bishop riding in a limo with her father. We establish that Kate is becoming more and more distant from her dad, as her father is telling her about the family business but Kate isn't really listening. When the invasion broke out, their limo gets stuck under piles of rubble and debris. At this point, I would retcon that Hawkeye and Black Widow are the only available Avengers who can respond to the situation. They get Kate and her father out, and young Kate Bishop is impressed by these normal people out in the field risking their lives for others, particularly with Hawkeye. This moment is what inspires Kate to want to become a superhero.

-- Back in Brooklyn, Hawkeye notices that the tenants of the apartment he lives in are constantly being harassed for rent money by the Russian tracksuit mafia. Clint tries to convince himself not to get involved, but can't stand the sight of innocent people being threatened, as if fueled by some, impulsive desire to do good. Clint fights them off, and it's here we establish the Tracksuit Bros as the primary antagonists of the movie, along with their hired assassin, The Clown. They will return at several points in the movie to try to get back at Clint for sticking his nose where it doesn't belong.

-- YES, LUCKY THE PIZZA DOG IS IN THIS MOVIE. When Clint first moves in, he saves Lucky from the Tracksuit bros, attends to his medical needs, adopts him and offers him pizza while recovering.

--As a running gag, at some points in the movie, a few tenants will say they 'recognize' Clint and ask if he's with the Avengers and if he's Ant Man. Also, everyone else calls him HawkGuy for some reason. Clint fires back with "Why does everyone keep saying that?!"

--Our second introduction to Kate Bishop and eventually meeting Clint. I've been thinking of how to pull this off. Maybe we could have Kate living in the same apartment building, or maybe she lives around the area. The reason given is, she doesn't always want to be dependent on her daddy's money, and she insists on getting out there into the real world and making it on her own. In any case, there will be an important cameo. Kate has a roommate. And that roommate is America Chavez, played by Naya Rivera.

--The way Clint and Kate meet. Clint catches the Tracksuit Bros causing trouble in the streets. Clint grabs his gear, gets prepared to fire an arrow, all of a sudden *whoosh* another arrow flies past him. Clint turns around and we see Kate Bishop with her own gear. The two team up and fend off the Bros. Afterwards, Clint grows to admire Katy's moxie and eagerness and offers to train her. Clint goes "You're good, kid. But your aim is still a little off. If your heart's really into it and you really want this, how about I train you? Train you to be a better Hawkeye than I ever was". Kate is on board.

-- When Kate meets up with Clint, she'll comment about how Clint looks 'ancient' now and how he seemed more larger than life when he saved her during the Chitauri invasion. Kate will also comment about Clint's relationship with Black Widow, which causes him to become flustered. Honestly, you can derive a lot of the movie's humor just from Clint and Kate's back and forth banter and playing off of each other.

-- I imagine the 'Black Widow' conversation to go something like this:

Kate: So, uh...you and that Black Widow chick. What's up with that?

Clint: What about? We're just friends. Colleagues. Strictly professional

Kate: That's not what it looks like to me

Clint: OKAY! It was a mutual thing! We tried hooking up once, we agreed it wouldn't work out and we moved on with our lives. There. Happy?!

Kate: (Smug look on her face) .....I knew it.

-- Finally, the climax will involve Clint, Kate, Lucky the pizza dog and the residents of the apartment defending their building against the full force of the Tracksuit mafia and The Clown. Through a strong familial type bond, and the power of friendship, they manage to outwit and defeat the Tracksuit Bros, forcing them to back off.

So, that was my pitch. It was a long one. I had fun. Hoped you had fun reading through if you actually managed to get through the whole damn thing. x)

#MCU #Marvel #Cinematic Universe #Hawkeye #Clint Barton #Kate Bishop #Movie #Comics #Matt Fraction

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airoasis · 6 years

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What We're Using as Inspiration Might Be Keeping United States from Loving Life, Ourselves, & Our Household Well

"I kept tipping over I kept looking backward I went broke thinking That the basic must be hard.All we are , we are All we are, we are And every day is a start of something beautiful." -- Matt Nathanson,

I do not keep in mind dates, years, or numbers, however I remember feelings, images, and moments.This took place

to me the other night as I laid next to my eleven-year-old child at bedtime.

"How old will I be on my birthday next week?" I asked her in all seriousness. For the life of me, I couldn't remember.Avery giggled.

" Oh, Mommy," she said with love. "You're going to be forty-six."

I do not remember ages, however I keep in mind faces, images, feelings, and songs.This most likely describes why I've always utilized images to inspire myself to end up being an"improved"version of myself.The "inspirational"photo I kept inside my kitchen area cabinet when my girls were little and I 'd deemed myself too huge was from a trip to Seattle.I don't keep in mind dates , however I can tell you I 'd taken a ferryboat

to Bainbridge Island that day with my mother and sis; I 'd twisted my hair back with butterfly clips; the 4 Non-Blondes played in my sister's car; and I couldn't shake a constant sensation of emptiness. When my mommy revealed concern about me throughout that journey, I got protective and pushed her-- and the discomfort-- away.How tragic that this specific photo and all the chaos behind that best smile was my objective image as I raised my daughters.I remember seeing that photo one New Year's Eve when I opened the cabinet to retrieve a snack for my daughter before we went to a celebration.

I keep in mind the off-the-shoulder black dress I begrudgingly picked and my unloving response to my other half stating I looked gorgeous. I keep in mind making my family take a zillion photos before we left the home, and if you looked carefully, you could see tears on my child's cheek. I put them there.At the party, people raved about how beautiful I looked; I might only consider how I was falling short of the girl inside the cabinet.I do not remember dates, but I can inform you the pajamas I was using and the room I was standing in when my husband attempted to speak to me about how I was living my life.

" We have a major issue,"he said, indicating me-- I had a severe issue, and he was deeply worried.He kept in mind how I was handling a lot of balls in the air ... how I was extending myself to the point of fatigue ... how I gave so much of myself that I had nothing delegated give individuals that really mattered. I remember locking the door, pushing him-- and the pain-- away.I don't remember dates, but I remember posting love notes from my kids inside my cabinets and my closets.The cabinet where I kept my cookbooks in the cooking area ended up being so filled with love notes that I had to conceal the girl-- the lady who looked so strong on the outside but was falling apart on the inside.I don't remember dates, but I remember how it felt to open the cabinet and see my family's statements of love regardless of the period of unhappiness, desolation, and disconnection I remained in. The feeling was clearly different than the method I felt when I saw the picture of the woman who ran the extra mile, however was lost inside.I felt a glimmer of hope each time I opened my bathroom cabinet and was welcomed by backwards letters, an army of hearts, and faithful devotion, in spite of how badly I seemed like I was failing.I would then turn to my children, and I might see them plainly: All set and awaiting me to love them. Ready and waiting to love me back.Those love notes inspired me in ways I could not discuss. Those loves notes filled me with peace I forgot existed.When my kids would wrap their arms around me, I 'd hear a divine whisper:" Do not get ahead

of yourself-- remain ideal here.Don' t get lost in the past-- remain right here. Love in the moment. This is where life is. "I don't remember dates, but I think I'll remember this one.

It was the day after Christmas 2017. An impromptu dance celebration began in our trip condo with my 77-year-old mama and my 2 daughters.I got

up, their line of happiness adapting to include me, and I danced.My sibling took a picture.When I saw it, unanticipatedtears pertained to my eyes.I didn't think I 'd ever seen myself look so beautiful.With tears nowfalling freely, I believed: This is my preferred photo of me. At last, it was not about the size

of my pants, getting a flattering angle, having actually freshly cleaned hair or good lighting. At last, it was not since I 'd simply accomplished an objective, mastered a difficult job, or had a fool-proof plan in the making.At last, I wasn't taken in by the past or the future.

It was simply love in the minute, and I was totally alive.You can see it in my face,

and it looks like joy.I haven't used pleasure much in my adult life.I have actually chosen

I desire to use more this year-- this 46th year of my life.As I see my children maturing, As

I see my moms and dads growing older, As I see my partner growing to depend upon me, As I see the world growing cooler and more divisive, I want to wear happiness. I want to be joy. I want to spread joy.I know I could take this beautiful first month of the year, my

birthday month, and quickly sabotage it.I could stress myself into a craze . I might work myself to death.

I might goal-set myself to pity. I might people-please

myself to exhaustion. I could deny myself to vacuum. I am great at those things.I keep in mind doing them, year after year.But that was before-- prior to I saw the method delight searches my face.I desire to wear happiness today.I do not keep in mind dates, however I remember colors, sights, and experiences.When I was a junior in college, playing in a strenuous tennis match versus DePauw University, a butterfly crossed my court.It was my turn to serve, but I stopped and saw the blue butterfly flitter across my court, like a magnificent whisper from God

. "Do not get ahead of yourself-- remain best here.Don' t get lost in the past-- remain right here.Love in the moment.This is where life is. " Whether that tennis match led to a win or a loss, I don't remember. But identifying a butterfly became my objective for the rest of the season and the final season

of my college career.I hope I see a butterfly throughout my match

today, I 'd say to myself as

took the court.I saw more butterflies throughout that duration of my life than I had in my whole presence. The factor can be merely discussed: I opted to see it.Twenty-year-old Rachel understood something thirty-year-old Rachel forgot: Joy is right here, crossing the really course on which we stroll every day, however we should opt to see it and enjoy it when we do. The minute I concealed that photo of my smallest self with my family's biggest words of love was when my goal in life began toshift-- and in addition to it, my heart and my soul.I have actually decided it is time totake this favorable shift to a brand-newlevel.I'm taking hints from the woman in

the dancing picture, the one who's wearing joy because she didn't overthink it: She just got up and took part life that was going on right in front of her.That is how I will approach every day I'm blessed to be alive in

my forty-sixth year of life.Because when you look at each dayas a chance to like and be loved, Instead of an unreachable expectation or a stressful difficulty, All of a sudden you can breathe.It inspires you get up and dance With your ball cap on unwashed hair

With your 2 left feet With your

luggage, your scars, your silly hopes, and your huge dreams.It looks like pleasure on your face. It seems like oxygen to your soul. And it produces minutes that change you in methods "inspirational" objectives never ever could.Maybe it's time for you

, dear ones. Possibly it's time to break out of the cocoon of self-induced pressure so you can end up being the most lovely, lively, and alive variation of you.Perhaps it is not only my birthday but likewise yours.Let's wear joy today.It's the perfect method to end And begin.Something tells me we'll remember this one forever.On Monday, January 22, the 8-week SOUL SHIFT journey towards existence, purpose, and happiness starts. As I put my heart into producing the course material over the past a number of months, I was transformed yet once again.

I am certain that is what brought me to the stunning joy-wearing moment in our vacation condo a few weeks ago. I recently decided that I will do every lesson and every workout with you. I'm so fired up about making extra life-altering discoveries and favorable shifts together with you. Registration for SOUL SHIFT closes tomorrow (1/17 )at midnight, so if you feel any inkling at all to join me, I motivate you to sign up. Even if you only total one week of the course, there will be growth and discovery. Plus, you'll have life time access to the course content and can go back anytime to continue. Lessons will enter your inbox and be finished in your own time, at your own pace. There is no right or wrong way to do the SOUL SHIFT journey-- you just require a prepared heart.A huge thank you to all who have registered over the past week. Your incredible response has brought me to tears lot of times. Thank

you for taking my hand and strolling next to me. Best birthday present ever! Click here to find out more and register prior to registration closes tomorrow.

If you believe somebody else might benefit from exactly what I have written today, I 'd be grateful if you share.I love you all.

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