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lokis-army-77 · 3 years

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If You Please

Chapter twelve

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2588

This is technically a reader insert but without the (y/n) and all that. She also has no name mentioned so feel free to imagine as you please.

Follow the reader through the events of the Captain America movies and experience her love for Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: none

Note: Normally I am the type of person to be date accurate when writing things and if you are too, I'm sorry. I messed up on the dates, so the battle of New York happens like a month after it should. This is also a short chapter because it's a filler and I'm trying to just get to the Winter Soldier but have everything make sense.

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A few days later I had received a small archivist job in the WWII department of the Smithsonian. Thankfully the made-up resume and a few fake SHIELD recommendations came in handy. I would officially start the following week after a few background checks were cleared. In my free time until then, I unpacked all the boxes in my apartment. It started to feel more homely and warm when all of my things filled up the space. When I didn’t feel like unpacking anything, I started taking long walks to the VFW building. I hadn’t joined in on any of the meetings yet, I just stood by the doorway and watched, listening to the stories people told.

One day that week as I stood back in the hallway after the meeting had ended, a man came up to me. He was a little taller than I was and had the brightest smile I had ever seen. I had watched him in the meetings before, he was usually the one hosting them, giving advice to all who needed it.

“I’ve seen you standing out here for the past three days, why don’t you come have a seat next time? It would be more comfortable than standing out here for an hour.” He said as he leaned his back against the wall right next to me.

“I have thought about it, but I tend to get here after you have started. I don’t want to interrupt anything by just barging in.” I said over my shoulder at him.

“You won't interrupt anything, just come on in next time, we’d be happy to have a new face around,” He pushed himself off the wall and walked down the hall.

After that, I ended up joining the meetings and even spoke a few times. I learned that the man who came up to me that day was Sam Wilson, pararescue, who had served two tours in Afghanistan. From the first day he came up and talked to me to now, we quickly became friends.

The days had turned into weeks and I was finally able to live relatively by my own means. The Smithsonian was great, in the archives, no one was really around and I could spend a whole day without any interruptions, which allowed me to just concentrate on what I was doing. After closing, I normally walked to meet Sam, who was usually way too excited to see me, even though we saw each other almost every day without fail.

“You’re late today.” I jumped, startled out of my thoughts at the sound of someone talking to me. I looked up, spying Sam standing next to one of the small trees outside the VFW building.

“What do you mean late?”

“I mean you usually get here at three-thirty. It's four right now.” He said looking down at his watch.

“Oh sorry, I didn’t realize. I've just been lost in my thoughts lately.” I sighed.

“I know we’ve only been friends for what? A month? But I already know when something is bothering you, What is it?”

“Nothing really, just my brother. Since moving here he's called at least twice a week to check up but it’s been radio silence for the past two weeks, he doesn't even answer when I try calling him. I'm just a little worried that something bad is going on, considering his job.”

“Well, maybe he’s just really busy at the moment, or he's somewhere he can't call you. You know how it is being out on those military missions.”

“I know, it’s just the last time we were apart on a mission,” I trailed off and looked up at Sam, he raised his eyebrows, quietly waiting for the end of the sentence. “Someone close to us passed. It’s still fresh in my mind like it happened yesterday. I was there that day and I was too far away to even know what had happened, now my brother and I aren’t even in the same vicinity as each other, there is no telling what could happen and it makes me nervous.”

He gave me a small apologetic smile and patted my shoulder before leading me from the tree where we stood to where his car was parked. “What do you say we hang out at mine and just watch some tv? Get your mind off things? Or we can talk about it, either way, it’s better than dealing with it alone.” I nodded my head and grabbed onto the car door handle as he unlocked it.

Walking through the front door after him I took a quick look around. It was cozy, way more decorated than I thought it would be for a man in his early thirties living alone.

“Make yourself at home. Do you want anything to drink?” He asked neck-deep in the fridge.

“Okay, I’ll just have some water,” I called out as I made my way further into the living room. The couch was backed up to the wall a few feet away from the dining room table. I sat down on it and scooted as close as I could to its right arm. A few moments later Sam came over with two glasses of water and a bag of chips. He handed me my drink before crashing down into his own seat. “Thank you,” I said before taking a long sip.

He nodded as he said “No problem.” Before he got himself really comfortable he searched around for the TV remote. As he pressed the ‘on’ button the TV came to life. “What in the world is that?” He sounded concerned so I quickly looked at the screen.

“Breaking: Attack on New York City. This afternoon at 2:15 several unidentified aircraft descended onto Earth's surface. Strange beings, some are calling aliens, Accompanied these ships and are causing havoc in Manhattan. Eyewitnesses have stated that they have seen Iron Man, and what seemed to be Captain America, leading a team of three others fighting back against the invaders. The battle seems to be over but updates are still coming in, let's take a look at some footage of the downtown destruction.” My eyes went wide and my heart stopped as I listened to what the reporter was saying. I kept my eyes glued to the screen as it changed to show a destroyed street. As the camera panned around I spotted Steve fighting against two of the creatures, before the clip quickly changed to show one of the large ships crashing into the New York skyline.

“Oh God Steve, what did you get into?” I murmured to myself.

“You say that like you know him personally.”

“Uhh.” I just gave him a wide-eyed look of surprise. “I do, he’s my brother.”

“Now really isn’t the time to be joking about things,” He gave me a pointed look.

“I swear I’m not joking, he really is my brother. I can explain later, I need to try and get a hold of him.” I pulled out the small flip phone from my pocket and dialed the number for Steve's cell phone, it rang and rang but no answer. I hung up quickly and dialed the number Fury gave me at the beginning of the month. After two rings he answered.

“I assume you are looking for Captain Rogers.”

“Where is he? Is he okay?” I tried to keep the worried tone from coming through in my voice.

“He’s fine. He is in the middle of a debriefing. I’ll tell him you called.”

“Okay, thank you.” As soon as the words left my mouth he gave a quick hum and then hung up. I looked over at Sam whose eyes hadn't left me at all. “Everything is fine, he's in a debrief so that means that whatever happened in New York is definitely over.”

“That’s good to hear, hopefully, those things don’t try to come back again.” He shook like a shiver ran down his spine. “Now please explain how Captain America, a man from the 1940s, is your brother.”

“I can hear the skepticism in your voice.”

He held his hands up in defense, “Hey, I'm not the one saying I'm the sister to a 90 something-year-old man.”

“Look, it’s a long story that I would rather not get into now but the short version is that I was born in 1921, Steve is my older brother, we both ended up taking the super-soldier serum and fought against HYDRA in the second world war. We ended up crashing a plane into some Ice in the Atlantic ocean and were found and unfrozen last October.” “If you are really Captain America’s sister, then why are you never mentioned in anything?” I looked at him and shook my head.

“Well for starters it was the forties and I was a woman fighting on the front lines. Credit is never given where it is due. But there is also the fact that I was a part of the SSR, which was very secretive, after I died.” I put my fingers up in air quotes, “They should have erased most, if not all the files on me, per protocol. The only reason Steve is well known is because of his time going cross country selling war bonds.” I paused for a second before quickly adding, “I’m sure if you look hard enough, you’ll find me in the history books somewhere.”

Sam just sat there not really saying anything. This was the first time I think he had ever been quiet for more than five seconds. I let out a deep sigh and stood, grabbing my bag from the floor. “Thanks for having me over, but I think I need to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He stood and walked me to the door.

“Don’t be late. I’ll see you.” Sam waved me off and I headed down the street.

About half a year later while sorting through some archive files, I came across Peggy Carter. I felt a pang in my heart as I stared at the photo of her standing next to Howard Stark. Other than Steve and Bucky, those two were my closest friends. I fell down a rabbit hole after that, finding any information on the two that I could find. They had both helped found SHIELD in 1965, they had both gotten married and had children of their own. Peggy's children had stayed out of the public eye, but in true Stark fashion, Howard’s son evidently took over the family business and was living the high life. I pulled out a newspaper from the stack I had on the table in front of me and was shocked at what I saw. The title read ‘Howard and Maria Stark Die in Car Accident’, I knew Howard most likely wasn’t alive anymore but seeing the photographs of the wrecked car in the newspaper cast a somber mood through the room.

I laid the paper down on the table and ruffled through more of the papers before determining that we had no information on if Peggy was alive or not. That sent me into a frenzy of looking through phone books to try and find her and calling every retirement home in DC that I could. The only lead I had to go off of was a small interview from a newspaper, talking to Peggy about the seventieth anniversary of V-E Day, stated that she was living in Washington, DC.

After eight failed calls, finally, on the ninth, I had finally found a home which had a Peggy Carter as a residence in room 204. I rushed to pack up my things and left my office early. I ran down the back hallways as fast as I could without drawing too much attention. When I made it out of the building I ran full speed to the road to hail a cab.

Amazingly the traffic was almost nonexistent and I made it to the retirement home in only ten minutes. I fumbled out of the cab and I raced through the front doors of the building. I must have startled the women at the front desk because as soon as I rounded the corner to the staircase, they were yelling after me. I took the steps three at a time in my haste to get to the second floor. I stopped running when I was outside of room 204. I couldn’t see anything clearly through the frosted window so I knocked hesitantly and slowly opened the door and stepped in.

There in the middle of the room, against the wall was a single bed. A woman laid there quietly with her eyes closed. The closer I came to her the more familiar she looked. I let out a relieved gush of breath. There she was, older now, but still the Peggy I once knew. I nervously grabbed one of the chairs in the corner of the room and brought it over to her bedside so I could sit. Gently I gave her a small tap on the hand before just holding it in mine. She stirred but her eyes never opened.

All of a sudden one of the nurses from downstairs came into the room, with an angry and shocked expression.

“Ma’am, You can't be in here. If you want to see a patient, you have to sign in.” I ignored her, my eyes trained on Peggy's face. The commotion of the woman barging into the room had made her open her eyes and look around. I just watched as she scanned the room, first to the door on the left, to the wall in front of her, past me sitting on her right, then to the window behind me.” Her brows raised and she lifted her hands to her eyes to rub. The shock on her face was evident as she turned her head to stare directly at me.

“Hey Carter, long time no see huh?” I gave her the biggest smile that I could.

“Is it really you?” She reached her hand out to mine and grabbed hold.

“It is, it’s really me.”

“Ma’am, I mean it, you can't be here.” The nurse tried again, this time Peggy shot her a glare.

“Ms. I’ll have you know this is one of my best friends and she can be in here if she wants to. Now leave us alone.” The young nurse nodded her head and rushed out, even in old age she could still put on that commanding tone that struck fear in every man. She slowly turned back to me, almost like if she looked back for me, I would be gone. “How? How are you here?”

“It’s a long story Peg, are you sure you want to hear it?”

“Look where I am, I have nothing but time.” She laughed out and I let out my own small laugh as I shook my head.

In addition to what I had been doing, like hanging out with Sam, after that first visit, I made it a priority to see Peggy once or twice every two weeks, depending on how she was doing. Dementia had put a lot of stress on her, and seeing me after almost seventy-five years and looking relatively the same as I had when frozen took out a giant toll on her.

And that's how the next 10 months went until Steve eventually moved into an apartment directly under me.

Tag List: @ginger-swag-rapunzel @underc0vercryptid-reads @geek-and-proud @intothesoul @leyannrae @starkleila

#james buchanan barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x rogers!reader #winter solider x reader #marvel fic #marvel fanfiction

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gra-sonas · 4 years

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Currently airing its second season and already renewed for its third, The CW’s Roswell, New Mexico continues to push the story of alien siblings attempting to live peacefully in the town of Roswell to new places even perhaps for fans of the original Roswell. MICHAEL VLAMIS discusses working on the show, the complexities of his character, Michael Guerin, the many (MANY) other projects on his plate and more!

watchtivist: To start off, congratulations on the success of the show! How cool that you’re heading into season three now!

MICHAEL VLAMIS: It’s crazy, I remember when I got the call that I was going to be on the show in the first place. It’s the role that changed my life and it really set me up for all the other things going on in my life. I remember getting that call, crying in a public place. So jacked up! And now all of a sudden, it’s like no big deal. I watched the episode last night (episode 207) on the TV and I get reminded it’s a big deal when I talk to my parents after every episode and hear their thoughts. Just the fact that they get to see their son miles away on television once a week. I appreciate you saying that because sometimes it feels like this is something we’re doing now, but definitely taking those moments to be grateful and the fact that we have season three is amazing.

W: It’s really great, especially in this landscape where shows don’t really get to dig into things. It’s gotta be exciting!

MV: Definitely.

W: One of the questions we received from Twitter was about if this role, that of Michael Guerin, has led you to acquire any particular skill set (or sets) for it.

MV: Oh wow, that’s interesting. Season one made me pull out my guitar again. Which was actually really cool because I got like not good at guitar, but decent where I could play a few songs. In college, I borrowed someone’s guitar and later got my own and played a bunch. Then for years, I got so focused on trying to make it as an actor, writing and auditions, that I stopped playing it. The show forced me to really go out of my comfort zone and even though it was easy things like songs with four chords or strumming patterns, sometimes depending on shooting schedules and if they got switched around, I’d learn something three hours before going to set. We’d wrap super late sometimes and I’d come home and dig in with my guitar. It’s definitely helped me brush up on that. I haven’t played the guitar on season two, so I’m probably back to where I was. [Laughs]

W: With the violent circumstances making up Michael’s background, he kind of starts out with that “looking out for number one” approach to things and season two we’re seeing Michael’s growth and him realizing when it’s perfectly ok for him to let people in and reprioritize based on that. What has that been like for you in terms of tackling the role? What would you say is the next phase of the growth for him?

MV: I think number one in tackling it was that I had no idea that the character was this complex in the beginning. I knew he was hiding his sexuality and who he really is, which is an alien. I knew that something had happened to him in the foster system growing up and he didn’t have the best upbringing. As the seasons have developed, everything has made a lot of sense. I’m sure Carina (Adly MacKenzie) knew from the moment she got the opportunity to do the new Roswell , so the way that it was written in the beginning, I was never surprised where it led me. And even with not being surprised, it’s been really cool to just see what they’ve given me to jump into. It’s kind of helped me deal with some of my trauma as a kid, and my trauma is not near what Michael Guerin’s was. I definitely had my moments, just as we all do with our families. Not feeling good enough or just hiding certain things about you because you’re afraid of who you are and people wouldn’t understand you. The complexities of the character have really helped me also look into who I am. Because I need to figure out a way into every script, every scene and the character. It helps me strip things away and boil down to “Ok, who was thirteen-year-old, chubby, Michael Vlamis and now I’m this way. What was that growth like?” Figuring out my own personal growth helps me elevate that character, Michael Guerin.

With where we’re going next, I can’t say too much because he already has some changes coming towards the end of the season. It’s very interesting to see everyone’s theories online, some are correct and some are way off.

I saw in last night’s episode they finally revealed the junkyard owner, Walt, was the little boy from the flashbacks and people were speculating that really early on! That was really cool to see people getting validation in their theories because I love seeing those online. When it comes down to it, I want the dude to be happy with one of these lovers. I don’t know who that’s going to be. Everyone always asks who I’d rather be with and I can’t really even say that, even if I had one, because they’re both so different. I think Maria (Heather Hemmens) and Alex (Tyler Blackburn) are both good for Michael at different times in his life. I know Tyler is going around telling people that that’s what he wants in season three and I let him run his mouth and hope that his new love interest in the show crashes and burns. [Laughs] I would like him to be in a good relationship, a happy relationship, but at the same time, I’m so excited to do the work on the days where my mother is dying, my brother is in a coma or I’m getting my heart ripped out. I love those scenes so much, as happy as I want and think Guerin deserves to be, I love the drama on the show. So, a little bit of heartbreak won’t hurt me.

W: Right, that makes sense. The question was going to be what would you want to see for Guerin in season three and beyond but you basically answered that! You want him happy. [Laughs]

MV: I’d love to see that. I would like to further expand his journey of putting that spaceship back together. I would love to see where that goes. I don’t even know if The CW has the budget to do that and take us to outer space or something but I think that’d be so cool. To find out about that and their home planet.

W: I mean, The CW has The 100 and DC Comics shows! Space isn’t a new place for The CW.

MV: That’s true! So maybe right now we’re willing it into existence. We’re manifesting it.

W: Actually, bringing up spaceships. Given that we live in the craziest of times and the Pentagon officially released videos of UFOs - Has that been something you’ve talked about with any cast or crew members?

MV: I haven’t talked to any of the cast or crew members about it but I’m pretty sure we’re all feeling the same way about it, we’re all excited for any new information. I’ve been interested in aliens since I found out Tom Delonge from Blink 182 was a major conspiracy theorist and loves everything about UFOs and alien artifacts, that search for if there’s life outside of our own. I always thought that was so cool, going back to fourth grade listening to “Aliens Exist” by Blink 182. I want that to be the case, I want that to be real. I think life would be far more interesting and I’m always trying to believe in the most interesting things because it just furthers the imagination. I haven’t talked about it with them but now that you’ve mentioned it, I’ll shoot off a text.

W: The show hasn’t shied away from increasingly difficult topics like the foster system, immigration, citizen’s rights, abortion, etc. Is there an area you’re hoping the show either continues to explore or adds going forward?

MV: I would’ve answered this question so differently two years ago but now I would say something with the LGBTQ community really responding well to the show has really furthered me as a human being and opened up my mind to what people who are made to feel “outside of the norm” go through. I personally don’t think or feel that they are. I think it’s ridiculous the taboo that society has placed on sexualities over the years. The fact that we give marginalized voices a platform to come forward and see that what they’re going through, other people are going through. That it’s ok, it’s love and that’s all that really matters at the end of the day. It’s so special to me. The more that we can tackle that, it really comes down to my character and Tyler’s character having a great relationship. That might mean that Lily Cowles’ character, Isobel, is still going to Planet 7 and seeing what’s out there. I think it’s cool how we normalize that, it’s not a big deal. I live in LA right now, and people, they experiment, they’re fluid. They’re interested and the more you find out about yourself, the more you know, the more comfortable you are with yourself. I think that’s a really important topic that I want to further.

I think we’ve done a really good job with the idea of what an immigrant is and what an immigrant looks like. I think we tackled the abortion scenes, I would’ve never thought that was something on our show. It’s very hard because the writers find a way to interweave everything in. I haven’t had the time to sit back and think “what else?” because every week has been something new.

W: That’s a great answer, it’s true. The show has covered a lot of topics and it’s doing very well.

MV: The abortion episode was insane, Carina fought for those shots of Lily’s legs bloody and she didn’t want to shy away from the graphicness of the scene. And I think that was important, to be really truthful to that.

W: Incredibly. This season resurrected Rosa (Amber Midthunder) from a pod years later, which is similar in a way to Captain America or Han Solo being unfrozen. With time having gone on, she’s having to adjust and in her own way, catch up to 2020. Let’s say you were able to suggest 1-2 things that someone should undoubtedly know about in 2020, what would it be? Is it a book, movie, show, certain type of food? What’s something you’d for sure put on that “must haves/dos” list of things or experiences?

MV: Oh wow, you’re really making me think about this! I can’t help but think about it as if it was me in that scenario and I would say something that I was really fortunate enough to do ten years ago, which was scuba dive The Great Barrier Reef. I think it’s so sad that it’s deteriorating at such a rapid rate because of pollution. I’m sure some natural causes. A lot of people fighting climate change will say natural causes and I can understand and see both sides to that, but I know that we definitely contribute to that. That was one of the most spectacular things I’ve ever seen. And if someone wasn’t able to see it the way I saw it, I haven’t been down there since so I don’t actually know what it looks or feels like now. But that was one of the first moments in my life where what I was experiencing…the world felt so big. Not in a way it felt just traveling. In a way it felt magical, that something like this can just exist and has existed much longer than we’ve ever been around. I’ve had that with hiking the second largest glacier in the world. All these feelings with nature have really expanded my mind and my horizon of the potential and possibilities. Realizing we’re very small, we’re here for a short amount of time. Let’s cherish it.

Traveling to these places that have just been so affected, I think that’s very important because of what it did to my mindset.

W: I loved that answer, you made it ecofriendly and everything. That was wonderful!

MV: My sister studied environmental science at the University of Illinois, so I gotta keep her mind. But I really do believe that. Maybe that’s something I want to see in the show too! Go into some climate change. I don’t think we’ve touched that really, have we? Each side has arguments.

W: Each episode of Roswell, NM is titled after a famous ‘90s song. What’s your favorite or what would you consider the most iconic ‘90s song or band/musician?

MV: For me, it was Blink 182! In the ‘90s that was me. I’m a big Conor Oberst fan, the lead singer of Bright Eyes. The fact I’m in a scene, now multiple scenes that play that song. They did it in season one and in season two, they play “First Day of My Life,” that has been so surreal to me because music has been so important to me as a kid. I haven’t told many people this. As a kid I’d make short films with my friends, a lot of people know that, but what they don’t know is that I would rip so much music from all these platforms. As a little 11 year old kid, I’d get as much music as I could to have thousands of songs on my iTunes and iPod. Not that I was going to listen to them, but that one day when I was making my own big movies, I’d have this database of music to select from. Back then there wasn’t Spotify and it wasn’t as readily available, and also I was a kid and that was my thinking! Music has such an influence on my life, but Blink 182 specially. All that angst I was feeling at the time as a kid, it’s really in Guerin and me, even though I handle it in different ways in real life. Feeling a little different or not understood, that was that music that would give me a release without being too intense or too Screamo. If a Blink 182 song is ever in a scene that I’m in, I can die a happy man.

W: [Laughs] Amazing. Alongside acting, you’re also a talented writer, director and producer. A screenplay that you co-wrote earned a spot on the Black List which was one of the coolest things I’ve ever read. Congratulations! Are there other projects you’re currently working on or maybe topics you’re considering for future screenplays?

MV: Thank you! Yeah, definitely! The new Nicolas Cage/Tiger King series, the creator of that is actually the showrunner of a TV show my writing partner and I created as well. So, we’re all really stoked about that. Dan Lagana, showrunner of American Vandal is making such a splash with this Nicolas Cage project that it’s helping our TV show get put together too. We’ve got the Black List/Mac Miller script, we have a “Halloween comedy” feature film that’s set up at Seth MacFarlane’s company right now. Hopefully that gets made. We have an “old lady comedy” that’s being read, taking a lot of good meetings on that. We’re writing our next movie right now, we’re probably going to finish the beat sheet. We do a very detailed, intense outline of the movie, scene by scene as if we were actually writing the script. Exterior, interior, every single scene in order, everything we want out of characters in the scene, what we expect to happen, some dialogue that maybe came to mind as we’re banging out the outline. Once we get to writing, we could bang out eight pages in a day. We finish scripts very quickly, so we’re writing a “mob action comedy” right now. So yes, I became a writer out of desperation and found some success with writing. It’s been really good. As a kid making short films, it wasn’t actually in script form.

The last four years I’ve been writing a ton and now it’s starting to pop off a bit. I love it. I produce my own movies too and it looks like we’re about to lock down distribution for the first feature film I produced and starred in called Five Years Apart, it’s got a pretty cool cast in it and I’m really pumped for people to see it, we have a really cool distributor, I’m 99% sure that’ll be our distributor but I don’t want to jinx it. We’ll see if that’s going to be Hulu, Netflix, small theatrical release, I’m not sure yet. As a first time producer I’m learning all that. We’re gearing up on producing our next feature too, we were planning on filming in Wisconsin this summer but things have changed with the conditions of the world.

Acting, producing, writing, directing and releasing another merch line. I’ve been staying busy during the quarantine!

W: Seems so! I saw the line and love the pops of color!

MV: Thank you! It’s been really good, honestly the feedback, I was very surprised with how it’s done. Compared to last year and the multiple drops, this year, we’re nearing a certain point in orders and products that we’ll have to produce within three days of being out. It’s been really cool. Last year we gave 100% of profits to a charity called Random Acts started by Misha Collins of Supernatural. And this year, I unfortunately can’t do 100% again, I made the point but learned the lesson in that we had no money for this next launch. [Laughs] I had to dig into my own pockets, which was fun and it’s all good, it’s a big creative project. This year Carina created this thing called The Little Alien, a Roswell fund for the Roswell crew that’s out of work right now. She’s been raising money through t-shirts and I’m going to donate some of our proceeds to them as well. They’re the heartbeat of the show, they’re the reason we get to be there every day and things go smoothly. We’re trying to take care of them at this time.

W: Amazing, intentions matter so that’s really cool to hear. Lastly, anything you’d like to say to those reading and watching?

MV: To those reading and watching, thank you from the bottom of my heart that you’re tuning in and giving me a platform to do what I love the most. And what I set out to do felt like such a dream that from the age of 12 to 20, I wasn’t acting and making movies. Dreams are just dreams until you realize that they are very plausible, and most dreams, I think, can be achieved given the right circumstances, opportunities and work ethic. Thank you for allowing me follow my dreams and I hope that I’m able to inspire you to follow yours.

~ WatchTivist

#michael vlamis #mgv interviews #rnm spoilers #long post is long

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seyaryminamoto · 4 years

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(1/2) What if the reason Bryke left was because Netflix wanted to give Azula a redemption arc? Or maybe somebody wanted to change the first scene of the show so that Katara wasn't with Sokka when he went fishing and so Aang wasn't unfrozen until years later... *whistles innocently* And they realized this route would allow them to make a longer series, meaning more content, meaning more profit. Jokes aside, I realize both of these options are 99% not the reason Bryke left, but imagine if...

(2/2) they were? Like, how funny would that be? Well, the latter possibility would be sort of funny, while the former would be somewhat depressing actually. Anyway, I'm surprised how many people are complaining about Bryke's departure. From what I've seen, people primarily shit on them and any praise in regards to ATLA goes to other writers/artists. I already didn't have any high expectations out of the live-action version, but this latest development didn't really worsen them much.

x’D not wrong about the second option being hilarious, though I’d hope I’d have heard something about it, if just out of sheer decency by Netflix to contact the cruel mind behind not sending Sokka fishing with Katara... (?)

Anyways, Bryke’s involvement in ATLA’s writing is often up-played by casual viewers, and downplayed by hardcore fans. There’s no sure way to know how much work they did on ATLA’s writing, seeing as there’s a fair amount of reports that suggest Aaron Ehasz, imposed on Bryke by Nickelodeon, reeled the story into what it became. I’ve even seen people claiming Bryke’s original ending would have featured Aang leaving Katara and Sokka behind while flying off to find more airbenders after the show ended. Not half as feel-good an ending as the show’s, right? Then there’s also reports that male!Toph was going to be in a love triangle with Katara and Aang... adding Zuko to the mix, as he often was added by extra ATLA content, Katara was likely to have three possible love interests, if Bryke had gone forward with this? Considering how Korra outright had three different love interests in ALL the members of her gang, this doesn’t sound like that outlandish a claim, whether there’s real sources for it or not. If they were willing to do it with Korra, I’d believe they’d have done it with Katara.

Ehasz is indeed credited for female!Toph and Azula, in the art book (I think) Bryke are outright featured saying Ehasz is the main artificer behind Azula being who she was, rather than Zuko’s older brother (Bryke’s original concept for her character). With this in mind, when Ehasz comes out and claims that, in a hypothetical book 4, he would have redeemed Azula to also finish Zuko’s personal character arc, and then Bryke show up claiming there NEVER was a book 4 possibility, you get a clearer understanding of where Bryke are likely standing in regards of Azula’s redemption :’) if that’s what Netflix wanted (... though I question they’d have pitched it since the get-go), it’d be no surprise that Bryke wouldn’t hear of it.

There’s no denying Bryke had interesting ideas, and that they worked to build a pretty complex world, but we cannot know how much of that world was solely their doing, and how much of it was also created by the input of the larger team of writers involved in ATLA’s original show. LOK, on the other hand, features a clusterfuck of worldbuilding that doesn’t always make sense, including no shortage of retcons (not only of pre-existing lore, LOK even retcons itself up to three times regarding explaining why and who decided to keep Korra in a compound for most her formative years), terribly written romance (whenever it’s written), poor storytelling decisions that outright derrailed their show and even turned their protagonist into the B-plot for the bulk of the final season... and what a coincidence that this time Bryke had no one breathing down their necks telling them what to do: they had a lot more creative freedom in LOK than in ATLA. There was no Nickelodeon imposed Head Writer, and they didn’t bring Ehasz back of their own volition. Whether because Ehasz isn’t that great to work with or because Bryke simply didn’t want anyone else to poke their noses into THEIR story, Bryke didn’t want any supervision over LOK. And as many loud fans as LOK may have, LOK’s storytelling quality simply doesn’t measure up to ATLA’s, and I refuse to blame Nickelodeon for that when all evidence indicates Bryke had no idea what they wanted for Korra in the first place.

What I’m saying is... Bryke do seem to benefit from having someone else reeling in their ideas, probably providing genuine structure, making them seriously reason with WHERE they’re taking the story. This, going by ATLA’s much clearer structure, is something I’m willing to believe Ehasz offered, and something Bryke lacked, by their own volition, in LOK. It’s also something they lack in the comics, seeing as, up to date, they haven’t done anything in them that really lives up to their potential, as far as I know. “The comics don’t have any direction and aren’t advancing their world’s story” has become a far more frequent complaint with each newly announced and released comic volume, whether by supportive or antagonistic fans. Why might that be...?

It’s possible, of course, that Netflix’s team simply isn’t the kind of team Bryke can work with positively. Maybe they’re too stiff, maybe they’re not that creative, maybe they’re unable to compromise and it’s not all on Bryke?

But with the precedent Bryke has set (ATLA, with supervision, manages quality storytelling, despite its many flaws, whereas LOK, without it, is a storytelling failure), I wouldn’t be surprised that they were outright unwililng to compromise their own ideas after experiencing the full freedom of working on LOK without anyone telling them what to do, and that upon finding they wouldn’t have that same freedom this time, they quit.

Does this mean the show will automatically be better or worse? Eh... beats me, frankly. There’s no denying Bryke did endeavor to develop a large, unique world with the Avatarverse, but as much as the fandom believes otherwise, what made the Avatar world unique wasn’t merely that it wasn’t “white”. This particular qualm by the fandom feels really narrowminded to me, and I’m not saying this because I believe there should be white people in Avatar, hell no: what I do mean is that ATLA had an Asian setting, but the narrative frequently imposed western values on it. They recreated many elements of Asian cultures, but morally? ATLA couldn’t be more western. Is that a good or a bad thing? Beats me. But there’s a lot of occidental influence in ATLA’s narrative, even more of it in LOK, and that somehow doesn’t bother people nearly as much as it bothers them that the liveaction cast isn’t western in the least. Yes, it’s true, the cast shouldn’t be western: but there are many regards in which the original ATLA could pioneer a better understanding of many Asian cultures, and it doesn’t. Even something as complex as the Fire Nation’s cultural practices (no, I don’t mean the genocide and supermacy, I mean everything else) is outright blasted by the show’s western moralism from the get-go rather than seen as what a different culture values (already offered a few thoughts about this on this other ask).

Therefore, in terms of casting, which seems the main concern of the bulk of the fandom, I highly doubt Netflix will be willing to repeat the same mistake M. Night’s fiasco committed. They can’t be that stupid. They’ve done a lot of big diversity efforts in the past, whether insincere or not, in many regards, so I seriously doubt they need Bryke sitting in the casting booth repeating “NO WHITE ACTORS! NO WHITE ACTORS!” to the top of their lungs to remind Netflix's executives that this just can’t happen. Seriously, if that’s what their input for the show was supposed to be about, Netflix was better off saving up the money of hiring those two as main consultants or executives and using that coin to pay the likely lousy salaries of the non-white actors they’ll surely hire :’) I doubt, seriously, that Bryke’s problem had anything to do with white casting. If Netflix entered this deal and didn’t do their homework first, then they’re basically dooming themselves since day one and the show would suck with or without Bryke’s involvement. This is not impossible, but really stupid, and an absolutely failed business venture to jump into.

In the end, I don’t know what that liveaction will shape up into. I don’t exactly care much either, which is why I didn’t really debate this subject before answering this ask... I’m pretty detached from canon these days, as things stand. I can’t even bring myself up to reading the plot of the Kyoshi novels, no matter if people keep telling me they’re ~actually good!~, let alone will I want to rewatch ATLA in liveaction when I’ve become increasingly infuriated by liveaction remakes with each new one Disney releases :’) from the moment it was announced, I knew this remake wouldn’t be for me. It’s not likely they’ll do anything with it that I’ll really want to see, or that they’ll change things in a way that resolves my frequent complaints about the show’s storytelling mishaps. Therefore, I’d always meant to leave it be and let everyone else enjoy it...

... And Bryke’s absence from the project doesn’t really change my mind on that front. At this point, crediting them for the entire success of ATLA is incredibly naïve, especially seeing how none of their later projects have even come close to ATLA’s level of storytelling quality. Likewise, it’d be naïve to assume Netflix is guaranteed to do better without Bryke’s “meddling”. If anything, without Bryke’s likely persistence that the show be kept close to its roots, Netflix is bound to fall into its frequent, known tendencies of pandering to certain crowds at the cost of quality storytelling because Hollywood overused and bad tropes are where success is at! They’ll likely flatten characters, turn them into edgy, non-humorous versions of themselves, not unlike in M. Night’s film, and then everyone will hate the show anyways for offering such dull and simplistic characterization compared to the original :’)

In short... there’s no winning scenario. There really isn’t. I assumed there wouldn’t be one anyhow, from the get-go, at least for myself? But now that Bryke are out, the fandom is divided in about four factions:

The ones who will watch and support the liveaction no matter what.

The ones who think it will suck balls because Bryke aren’t in it.

The ones who think it will be an improvement because Bryke aren’t in it.

The ones who won’t watch it no matter what.

Me... I’ve been in camp #4 from the start. Bryke being part of this project didn’t reassure me, neither does their absence... and I’m still as convinced this show won’t be my thing today as I was when it was first announced. So... *shrug* we live and let die. I mean, first of all we have to wait and see if the show’s production will even survive the pandemic first, so we can worry about how bad or good it will be if Bryke’s departure + COVID-19 didn’t destroy it altogether already :’D

#anon #no offense to anyone who genuinely looked forward to this show #if you all wanted to enjoy it well #maybe you still will?#even bryke acknowledge that :'D #but I wasn't going to no matter what so #*shrug*

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calenheniel · 4 years

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Queen of the Ashes, a frozen fanfic | Part II

Frozen | Alternate Universe | Hans x Elsa | Romance, Drama | T+

They met as children, each with a secret. Plagued by tragedy, their paths meet again many years later, and their secrets are unraveled.

Part I | Updates: #QueenoftheAshesFrozen

Author’s Note: So grateful for the overwhelming response to Part I, published during Helsa Week 2020! In this chapter, I try to do justice to what Disney glossed over in the original film with a snappy montage: Elsa’s childhood, adolescence, and burgeoning adulthood in the face of trauma and isolation. As a result, I imagine that a slightly different young woman emerged from these circumstances than the one portrayed onscreen. Hope you enjoy.

»»————-　❈　————-««

II.

Years passed before the girl thought seriously again about the story of the boy who could make fire.

In the weeks and months following the prince’s departure, certain things about him lingered on in her memory – his unpredictable temperament, his ever-present frown, and his oddly warm, gloved hands – but most of all, his strange story continued to puzzle her young mind.

She and her sister pantomimed it again and again during their playtimes, pretending that the young prince was still in the room, reciting the tale aloud to them. She had told her sister the ending he had related to her before setting sail, and though she still found it suspect, it made for easier and more pleasant theater than the original one.

Inevitably, his absence could not be ignored, and they spoke of him less and less. They moved on to new games and new stories that could be acted out using the older sister’s talents, which had only grown stronger and more impressive with time. Their favorite remained building snowmen together, and they learned to keep a hidden stockpile in their rooms of carrots, coals, and twigs with which they could decorate her creations.

It was during one such occasion, two years after the boy’s visit, that their regular routine went awry.

In the midst of creating one snow peak after the other for her younger sister to jump onto, the older girl slipped, accidentally striking her sibling in the head with her magic. In the panic that ensued, the girls were brought by their parents to a mountain forest filled with strange and frightening stone trolls, who warned that the older girl’s magic would only become more powerful as she aged… and more uncontrollable, as well.

The trolls used their own magic to remove the girl’s powers from her sister’s memories, though they did not alter them otherwise. Afraid of her own strength and what other horrors it might inflict, she could not stop them from casting their spell, nor her parents from making a solemn vow to keep her locked away thereafter in the castle.

Upon their return, the staff were reduced by half and the gates locked as they sought to keep her safe—and to keep others safe from her. Where once she was only asked to keep her magic secret from those outside of family, she was now asked to keep it a secret even from her younger sister. Though the burden was great, the original incident had left her sister with a streak of white hair: a permanent reminder to the older girl of what her magic had done. As a result, she could hardly bring herself to look at her sister, much less speak to her or share her deepest secrets, without feeling shame.

Conceal it, don’t feel it, don’t let it show, her father would repeat to her in her darkest moments, taking her hands in his. Eventually she began to whisper it to herself without his encouragement, integrating the mantra into her evening prayers.

The sisters’ separation devastated their once close bond, with the older girl locking herself in her room for hours at a time and only leaving if absolutely necessary. She took all of her lessons, and even many of her meals, alone; during spells in which she refused to leave, her parents even brought her stacks of books to read to keep her occupied in her isolation. When she could no longer stand to be by herself, they would come to her room and read to her, though she tried to keep some distance from them.

Her younger sister protested these special allowances at first, and continued to knock on the older girl’s door every night with confidence that she would have to answer and come out to play again at some point. After a year or more of these thwarted attempts, however, she finally gave up trying to see her sister outside of certain prescribed events. She played alone in their favorite haunts of the castle – the library, the garden, the gallery – and took to speaking to the portrait of Joan of Arc for hours on end.

The older girl watched her sister with sometimes unbearable grief, tempted more than once to just open the door and resume playtime as usual. However, the memory of the younger girl laying on the floor of the gallery unconscious, her hair newly painted white, quickly quashed these temptations.

Only once in the year that followed did her desire to be reunited with her sister create cause for concern.

It was a beautiful summer day of blue skies and lush greens, and the girl looked longingly out her bedroom window at the bustling town outside the castle walls. Just inside of them, she watched as her mother and younger sister smelled and pruned roses in the garden, their smiles wide and full of warmth.

The girl’s hands tightened, and without realizing it, ice spread out from them, freezing the windowsill. She gasped and backed away, then began to cry, calling out for her father. When he arrived and saw what she had done, he sighed, holding her in his arms.

It’s all right, Elsa, he said, and stroked her hair. I’ll take care of you.

She continued to sob into his shirt until she fell asleep against him. When she awoke, she found herself on her bed, and her father stoking a fire in the hearth of her room. She rubbed her eyes groggily, and then made her way towards him, confused.

Was I asleep for a long time? she asked, squinting at the window. The ice on the sill was gone. Is it nighttime already?

Yes, my dear, her father replied, and wiped any remaining traces of tears from her face, resting the poker back against the hearth. And that’s all right. You needed sleep. He knelt down to her level, and from his jacket pocket retrieved a folded handkerchief. But I have a special gift for you.

He unfolded the cloth to reveal a pair of leather gloves. The gloves will help, he told her, slipping them, one after the other, onto each of her small hands. See? You’re good.

The girl stared at her covered hands, and something in her memories stirred, as if waking from a deep sleep.

So his parents told him couldn’t use his powers anymore…

Conceal it, her father began, waiting for her to say the next part.

She complied. Don’t feel it.

He smiled, and they finished together. Don’t let it show.

…and they made him special gloves that wouldn’t let his fire hurt anyone ever again.

The girl’s hands were colder than ever inside of the gloves, and she shuddered.

»» —— ««

She wore her gloves dutifully every day after that, and even slept in them at night.

When she was due for her first bath after they were given to her, she screamed and cried when her mother tried to coax her into taking them off, and then froze the bath water when they were finally removed. She believed they had some special powers that could contain her magic like the ones in the boy’s story, and so her mother relented, instructing the servants to allow the girl to wear the gloves, even while bathing.

It was a month before she tired of wearing them, hating the way the leather shrunk when wet. She paced nervously the whole night with them off, afraid that some great calamity would befall her and her family. But when the evening passed and daylight arrived to her room, illuminating its familiar, unfrozen features, she was pacified, and took to only wearing the gloves during the daytime. Newly confident, she became a little more sociable with her family, accepting their invitations to family dinners and even taking a lesson with her sister on occasion.

Sometimes, though, when she looked at the gloves at night, she remembered the next lines of the boy’s story – the boy’s fire burned through the gloves, and he was so upset from being lonely and scared all the time that his fire spread and burnt down everything else – and the memory made her shiver so much that she would clutch them to her chest, hoping that her gloves were different from his.

On one evening shortly after her twelfth birthday, she was following her usual bedtime routine – reading, reciting some poems out loud to her fireplace, and writing stories until she fell asleep at her desk – when she was startled by the sound of the wind outside whipping against her window. It was so loud, in fact, that she imagined it was crying out to her, begging her to be let in. The shrieks and howls became a mournful song, and she walked towards the window as if in a trance, turning the locks up as she imagined nature’s will commanding her to do so.

As soon as the window was unlocked, the wind blew it open so forcefully that the girl was thrown back onto the ground. She cried out in pain and winced against the gale, picking herself up with effort. She pushed hard against the window until it shut back onto its frame, and finally locked it again.

She panted as she closed her eyes and pressed her back to it, sliding down to the floor below in a heap. As she did, she noticed that the carpet beneath her was cold—as cold as if it had been frozen solid. She patted it with her hands in a fright, and then opened her eyes, staring at the wall opposite with paled features.

A trail of ice led from her seat below the window to that wall, covering it almost entirely in strange fractal patterns. She nearly slipped as she ran to it, placing her hands against them.

… and he was so upset from being lonely and scared all the time that his fire spread and burnt down everything else.

The girl gasped at the sight of her still-gloved hands on the wall, and she shut her eyes tightly, banging her fists against it until she screamed.

Her cries summoned her parents to her room, and she turned to them when they entered, clutching her hands to her chest. I’m scared, she said, sniffling. Moonlight bathed her figure, casting a long shadow on the frozen wall behind her. It’s getting stronger.

Her father’s gaze was tender, but pained. Getting upset only makes it worse, he reminded her, moving to hug her.

No, she snapped, backing away from him. Don’t touch me. I don’t want to hurt you.

He stepped back and exchanged a mournful look with the girl’s mother. His head fell to his chest. I understand, Elsa. But… he paused, taking a moment to kneel down to her level. Please don’t push us away. We just want to keep you safe.

The girl’s lip trembled at her father’s words, tears pricking at her eyes, but she blinked them back. She bowed her head to her parents, saying nothing, and did not move again until her parents agreed to leave.

Once they were gone, she went to the fireplace, intending to imitate her father by stoking the flames—but the fire had long since been extinguished, the remnants of the wind’s chill hanging in the air.

»» —— ««

Many years passed in this fashion, one after the other, until the girl forgot what life was like outside of the castle walls, or even outside the walls of her own bedroom.

Although she knew the gloves could not contain her magic, she continued to wear them. The original ending of the story of the boy who could make fire haunted her, and she feared what might happen if she discarded the gloves for good. At times, she could even will herself into believing that they had special powers again, and for a while this belief was enough to keep her magic at bay, and pacify her thoughts.

Nevertheless, she remained adamant in her refusal of her parents’ embraces, as well as the touch of anyone else. She insisted on building her own fires in her bedroom, and on bathing and clothing herself, limiting contact with the servants as much as possible. Her previous willingness to take the occasional meal or lesson with her sister likewise died away, and she returned to her practice of self-isolation, making exceptions only for her parents’ visits.

On one such visit during an early afternoon of her eighteenth year, sunlight streamed into the room from the window as they entered. She curtsied, her lips pursing with concern as she lifted her gaze to meet theirs.

Do you have to go? she asked. Her gloved hands knit together in front of her.

Her father sighed. You’ll be fine, Elsa, he said, and put on a half-smile to reassure her. We’ll only be gone for two weeks. And you can write to us while we’re away. He glanced at the ink stains on her white gloves for emphasis, and she looked down, blushing. We’ll look forward to reading your letters.

Yes, her mother echoed. You must write to us, every day.

The girl – now a young woman – bowed her head, and smiled in spite of her trepidation. I will, she promised.

Her mother smiled, and then glanced at her father’s pocket watch. Oh, dear—we really must be going, she murmured, touching his shoulder.

I’ll be with you in a moment, my love, he replied, and she nodded as she left the room, blowing a small kiss to her daughter before she left. The young woman curtsied again in response.

Her father waited until the door had shut, and then turned to her with a more serious look. Don’t be afraid, Elsa, he said. We are counting on you to be strong while we’re away—for yourself, and for Anna.

The mention of her sister made the young woman redden, and she looked down, her voice shaking as she spoke. It’s hard, Papa, she whispered, but I’ll try.

He smiled sadly at her, and began the refrain. Remember, dearest—conceal.

Her nose and forehead wrinkled, and she swallowed a grimace. Don’t feel, she continued.

Don’t let it show, they said together.

And with that, he pressed a kiss to his fingers, and then to the air, sending it to her; the young woman plastered on a smile, catching the kiss in her hand and bowing to her father as he left the room.

She sat by her window for the rest of the afternoon, watching anxiously as her parents embraced her sister on the path to the gates, and then with even greater unease as they were escorted through the gates by the guards, walked to the docks, and boarded the ship with their luggage.

They waved to her sister from afar, and then at her window, as the gangplank was drawn back onboard, the ship ready to set sail. She imagined herself bounding up to them as she had to the young prince when he left for his homeland, grabbing them and holding them tightly to her, refusing to let them leave.

She knew, though, that that could never come to pass—not with the way her hands balled up into fists until she could feel the snowflakes falling onto her nose before she saw them flurrying around the room. There was hate and resentment in her eyes as she regarded those hands, and she curled herself into a ball, burying her face in her knees, not wanting to watch their ship pass out of sight into distant waters.

He escaped, and went north, and became a King of another land. He never hurt anyone ever again.

She shook her head in her lap at the memory, and the snow fell faster around her.

»» —— ««

It was through that same window that the young woman stood in solemn silence and watched the funeral procession for her parents a few months later, their ship – and lives – lost at sea during a storm.

Her younger sister had pleaded with her to come to the funeral and to say something to publicly honor the memory of their mother and father. She had refused, telling her you wouldn’t understand, and staying in her room even as the younger woman trudged back down the hallway, stifling audible sobs.

She imagined that her sister had stood closest to the gravestones in the castle cemetery in her black mourning dress, a veil cast over her face, surrounded by their servants dressed in a similar way. The latter had probably been crying into their handkerchiefs as the priest had given last rites above the graves, gray skies casting a pall over the mourners. She supposed that as soon as the priest’s speech had ended, rain had started to fall on the crowd, who all at once would have opened their black parasols and moved back towards the castle in a slow river of darkness.

She knew the ceremony was finally over when her sister returned to her door, knocking lightly.

Elsa? Please, I know you’re in there, she said quietly. People are asking where you’ve been, and… Her voice cracked as she continued: They say have courage, and I’m trying to, I’m right out here for you, so let me—

Sniffles interrupted her speech, and her older sister could tell that she was struggling to get out each word.

We only have each other, she said at length, and a sob escaped her throat. Just you and me. What are we gonna do?

The older sister listened with a grieved, pallid expression as the younger cried, unable to do so herself. Eventually, she heard her slide down the door, and then the soft thump of a head against its surface. On the other side of it, she knelt down until she was also sitting, her knees clasped to her chest, and exhaled.

Conceal. Don’t feel. Don’t let it show, she whispered to herself over and over again until her throat was too dry to go on.

Around her, the room was encased in ice, with snowflakes suspended in mid-air.

»» —— ««

The death of her parents threw the young woman’s routine into chaos, upsetting the life she had come to know and grudgingly accept over ten long, arduous years.

With her regular lessons ended, she was expected to take over the duties of her deceased father—but only in part, as she could not be coronated until coming of age. These duties consisted mainly of signing stacks and stacks of regulations and reviews and pardons and sentences, with new papers seeming to appear out of thin air just when she had finished a load of others.

She recognized that the work adhered to her parents’ wishes of keeping her confined, and limiting her contact with those who were not aware of her magic. At the same time, she came to realize that these duties also kept her from attending meetings of her father’s council, where the decisions which were written on the papers she was asked to sign were made.

It seemed a shame, she thought, not to read what she was signing; and so, over time, she began to send more and more papers back to the council with written remarks and suggestions for revisions, or dismissing other requests outright as wasteful or poorly thought out. The work kept her mind and hands busy, and she thought little of the painful things that had so often preoccupied her in the past.

Her primary contact with the council was through a trusted servant cum adviser: an older man, Kai, whom she had known since she was a child. Since he had known her for so many years, she relied on him to work as a mediator and mentor to her, confiding in him to an exceptional degree on official matters. In addition to delivering new papers to her room to sign, he was responsible for relaying to her the council’s pleasure – as well as displeasure – with her actions, and was tactful in delivering good and bad news alike.

During one of his regular morning deliveries, he paused after setting the newest stack of papers down, standing before her desk with a look of concern. Your Highness, he said, drawing the young woman’s attention away from the table.

Seeing his expression, she placed her pen down, her brow furrowing. Yes, Kai? Is something wrong?

He nodded. Do you remember a Prince Hans of the Southern Isles?

A lump formed in her throat, and she swallowed it down with some effort.

Yes, she replied, her palms growing colder. He visited here with his family when he was a boy.

Just the same, the servant confirmed. I’m afraid we’ve received some bad news. There was a fire in the palace several nights ago, while some members of the royal family were still asleep inside.

She shot up from her chair. Was he—

No, the servant interrupted. Thankfully, it appears that the prince wasn’t there at the time, and was unharmed.

She exhaled as if for the first time that day, gripping the edge of her desk for support as she sat down. After taking a moment to recover, she turned back to him, her lips set in a grim line.

But some members of his family were, she remarked, and the servant nodded.

His father, King Oskar, and three of his brothers, he said, sighing. It is truly an awful thing, Your Highness, especially since it’s hardly been a year since our own King and Queen…

He did not need to go further for the young woman to know where his sentence ended, and she looked wearily down at her hands, and then at the papers.

I know, Kai, she said.

… and his fire spread and burnt down everything else.

The memory jolted her upright, and she turned back to her papers, her face red. I should be getting on with my work, she explained, gripping the pen. And I don’t want to keep you from yours.

Of course, Your Highness, the servant said, bowing, though he studied her pinked cheeks for a moment longer than usual. But do call for me if you need me. I’ll be close by.

The young woman glanced up at him to give a small and final parting nod, and then breathed once she was alone again, leaning back in the chair. She stared up at the painted ceiling of her bedroom as a light dusting of snow fell around her, unable to tear her eyes away from it.

The final words from the strange boy’s story lingered on in the silence.

»» —— ««

In the months and years after the first fire, others followed, claiming more and more of the Southern Isles’ royal family along with them.

She was informed of each by the servant, and with each new report, his tone became less somber and more suspicious. She could hardly blame him, as she found the reports just as suspect, though she still urged the council to send supplies and goods to their woe-befallen neighbors in the south. She also sent letters of solidarity and condolences to the family which were, at first, dutifully received and acknowledged, and later went unanswered.

A part of her wished that she would have received anything from the boy, now a young man; but all the letters appeared to have been written by palace scribes, and signed by a member of the king’s council, rather than anyone from the royal family.

Her councilmembers’ concerns grew with each successive report, as well: where once they had written off the fires as resulting from poor infrastructure or other factors of insufficient leadership, they increasingly began to wonder aloud as to whether or not the tragedies were caused by accident… or by purposeful, malignant design.

None of the reports, however, indicated that the fires had resulted from foul play: in each instance, evidence had turned up which refuted the possibility of arson by domestic or foreign enemies. From torches tipping over into hay bales in the royal stable, to servants slipping in a dining hall with a candelabra, there appeared to be an explanation for everything that was just credible enough to end official inquiries.

Eventually, the only survivors left were the young prince she remembered, and less than a handful of his brothers, all of whom were either hermits, invalids, or otherwise unfit to lead. In a state of disarray, the Royal Council of the Southern Isles had recruited the elder brother of the dead king, who was himself close to death – and perhaps senile – to take over the duties of the monarch. Even in dire straits, it seemed, they would not trust the kingdom to the youngest prince, and they offered no public clarification for their decision.

The young woman puzzled for hours over each piece of news in her room, doing her own reading and research, and wondering at the peculiar series of events. The total silence from the boy – no, young man, she would remind herself – that she had once known worried her, and his childhood story continued to play on her mind.

The details of it, however – details that she used to have memorized so well that she could recite every line of it by heart – were fuzzier to her in young adulthood. All that she could remember was the ending: both the original, morbid one, as well as the one the boy had told her before he departed, which was considerably more agreeable.

Sometimes, she swore she could recall that the boy in the story had many brothers, and that he was mistreated in some way by them—but then she questioned if that was the tale, or if that was the reports from the Isles, their details mixing together in her mind.

#helsa #frozen #frozen fanfiction #iceburns #QueenoftheAshesFrozen

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the--highlanders · 4 years

Text

24. Magic

on ao3.

“Ah – Jamie, would you mind coming here for a moment?”

Startled, Jamie drew to a halt and glanced around the corridor. There were half a dozen doors around him, and sounds echoed so strangely in the TARDIS that he could not exactly pinpoint where the Doctor’s voice had come from. Glancing around himself, he caught sight of a door left ever so slightly ajar, letting warm light spill out through the crack and into the cold whiteness of the corridor. The Doctor had always claimed that the TARDIS hated doors being left open when nobody was inside. He certainly spouted a lot of nonsense, and Jamie was not entirely sure that he believed everything he said about his ship, but he could not deny that doors did have a habit of closing themselves, even – perhaps especially – when one was carrying something heavy between rooms.

Sure enough, he stepped closer to see the Doctor inside, settled on a sofa with his legs tucked underneath him. It looked to be one of the ship’s many – entertainment rooms, the Doctor called them, as if any of them looked the slightest bit similar. The walls of this one were lined with shelves, bowed under the weight of books and boxes of all shapes and sizes and colours. Jamie stepped inside tentatively, searching every surface for one of those screens that had a habit of blaring to life when he least expected it. But there was no television, just a hissing old radio squeaking out half-coherent tunes.

The Doctor did not look up as he pushed the door open to pad inside, instead frowning down at the pack of cards in his hand. He shuffled a few, titled his head from side to side, and drew a card from the back, shaking his head.

“Tellin’ fortunes?” Jamie asked, settling himself down on the sofa opposite the Doctor’s.

“Nothing so mystical.” The Doctor looked up at him with pursed lips, but quickly broke into a smile. “No, I’m – well, never mind. I wanted to talk to you.”

Whatever it was, he sounded so serious about it. Jamie hurriedly swallowed down the lump that had risen in his throat, flexing his hands to stop himself from clenching them. “Is everythin’ alright?” The Doctor had certainly been acting awfully strange around him lately, vanishing in the middle of conversations and forgetting what he had wanted to say and generally seeming – well, awkward was the only way to put it, Jamie supposed. Perhaps he had been fretting over needing to say something terrible. Maybe he’s tired of me, he thought. He’s going to tell me that he wants to drop me off at the next place we land, and I’ll never see any of them again. The thought was so miserable that it almost did not bear dwelling on, but once it had taken form, he found he could not shake it off.

“Jamie?” The Doctor was watching him expectantly, eyebrows raised and lips slightly parted. “Are you quite alright?”

“Aye, aye, I’m fine.” Bear it with dignity, he told himself. “What did ye want tae tell me”

The Doctor was still looking at him funny, like he was trying to puzzle him out. “I just wanted to ask if you’re happy with us.”

The question should have set him at ease, but it only made Jamie’s heart pound faster. He’s just working up to it. He’s toying with me. Should he say no? Would it make it easier for the Doctor to say what he so obviously wanted to? For all his anxiety, he did not have it in him to lie. “Very happy.”

“I, ah, I know it must have been an odd few weeks,” the Doctor was carrying on, still shuffling his cards. “And I know it must have been quite a shock for you, at first. But I just wanted to – well, to see how you were doing.”

“Oh.” Jamie opened his mouth and closed it again, but no sound came out. “I’m doin’ fine,” he said at last, rather more hoarsely than he would have liked. “Ben an’ Polly have been -” He shrugged, wondering how to put into words Polly’s kindness in settling him into the TARDIS, or how Ben had half-flung himself down a cliff to help him after they had only known each other for a few hours. “Nice.” It hardly did justice to how much he liked them – or how much he liked the Doctor, for that matter – but it would have to do.

“Well, I’m very glad to hear it.” The Doctor held out a few cards towards him, fanned out between his fingers. “Pick a card, hm?”

Jamie took a red one, the one with the largest picture, though not without a little trepidation. Perhaps it was some sort of future-telling thing after all. Or some sort of test. Or a game of chance to help the Doctor make up his mind about whether or not to kick him out. “I got -”

“No, no, don’t tell me which one you picked.” Shoving the cards back into the rest of the stack, the Doctor reached into his sleeve. He rifled around up there for a moment, eyes going almost comically wide when he failed to find anything. “Mm. No, that’s not right. Here, give the card back.” Jamie’s nervousness was quickly growing into bafflement. He handed the card over slowly, wondering quite what the Doctor was getting at. “Thank you. Now...” Once again, the Doctor held out a second fan of cards. “Pick another.”

“Doctor...” Shrugging to himself, Jamie picked out a black card this time. “What’s all this about?”

“Oh, I was just checking in.”

“Oh.” Jamie stared down at the pair of little arrows on his card. “Ye didnae… want tae talk about anythin’ else?”

“Is there anything else?” The Doctor looked up from his cards, eyes narrowed in concern. “If there’s something you want to talk about -”

“No, no.” He was certainly acting even more oddly than usual, Jamie thought. Something particularly strange was going on. The Doctor had gone back to searching for something, this time down the sides of the sofa. “I just – I wondered if ye were goin’ tae tell me ye didnae want me around anymore.”

That made the Doctor drop his cards entirely. “Why on Earth would I want to tell you that?”

“Och, I don’t know. I just wondered, that’s all.”

“Jamie...” Shifting himself forwards to kneel on the floor, the Doctor reached across the table between them to press his hands over Jamie’s cheeks. The strangeness of it forced a short chuckle out of Jamie, but the Doctor’s face was so serious that it quietened him. His fingers were cold against Jamie’s skin, and he cradled him like he was something precious, and the feeling settled itself into Jamie’s bones and into the back of his throat. He wanted to press his hands over the Doctor’s, to hold him there and never have him let go, but he found himself frozen in place with terror at the thought of doing any such thing. “Jamie, I have very much enjoyed your company these past few weeks,” the Doctor was saying. At any other time, hearing those words would have made Jamie’s heart leap, but now he was almost too distracted to hear them. “And I would never ask you to leave unless you wanted to.” He tucked his upper lip inwards, chewing on the back of it. “That is – unless – you were saying that you wanted to leave.”

“No!” Jamie exclaimed. The Doctor jerked back with the shock of it, and he found himself unfrozen, hands shooting up to hold onto the Doctor’s as he had imagined. “No, I don’t want to – I’m happy, here. With you.”

“Well.” Their eyes locked for just a moment too long, and the feeling that had come over Jamie was no longer settled but burning under his skin. “Well, then. I’m very glad about that.”

“Aye. Me too.”

Slowly, the Doctor drew his hand out from beneath Jamie’s, reaching behind his ear. His fingers brushed against his hair, and if Jamie had not felt like he was burning before, he was entirely ablaze now, cheeks red and mind emptied out and filled with static - “Your card, I believe.”

Blinking, he saw that the Doctor was holding out a card in front of him, and he reached up instinctively towards the back of his head, as if he could pull one out from there himself. “Ye were practicin’ magic tricks?”

“Well -” The Doctor ducked away from him, smiling coyly. “Perhaps I was.”

“Ye were just usin’ me tae practice.”

“Not entirely,” the Doctor protested. “I really did want to talk to you. But is it the card you took from me?”

Grinning, Jamie held up the card he had picked earlier. The two cards swayed side by side as his hand bumped against the Doctor’s, arrows against hearts, red against black. “No.”

#second doctor #two/jamie #fanfic archive #my writing #sketchtober 2020

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g0msatang · 5 years

Text

Soulmate!Bang Chan

A/n: Plot idea by my bestest little sister @honeeeeeeey-skz ♡

Also, happy birthday to our genius leader Bang Christopher Chan! Thank you for existing. ♡

Word counts: 2240 words

Warning: none

On one of someone's birthday after 18, time will freeze everyone except them and their soulmate for an hour. Your crush's birthday is coming, and you secretly hope that time won't freeze you. But, are you even invited?

"Are you sure?" A girl's voice stop my step right before the club's room doorframe. I could see her raising an eyebrow to someone next to her, "You must be actually like her, huh?"

"No, I don't like her." That boy declared. Christopher, I could recognise his voice right away. "I just being polite, you know? We know each other."

"But I don't like her. She is so boring."

Who are they talking about? Can I come in?

I was ready to step in when I heard another boy's voice, "Who are you to judge Y/N? You ain't funnier than her."

Woojin? Are they, talking about me?

"What?! How could you - " That girl stood up right away at Woojin's words, and now I could recognise who she is. Chris's girlfriend, isn't it? "Chris, I'm telling you now. I hate her, and I don't wanna see her in your party." She stated and dashed right away to the door.

To me, of course.

"Oh. Hi." I just being polite, you know?

But she just shoots me a glare before continues her step away. She's an honest person, I guess?

"Oh. Hi, Y/N." The boyfriend was standing next to the sofa, his eyes widened at my presence. "Sorry, she didn't mean to say that."

I chuckled at his words, she didn't mean it, he said? I don't know who is the dumb one here, or maybe I just hallucinating when I think she looks like ready to kill me anytime I talk to Chris again.

"I hope you will come to my party, yeah?" he approached me, a little smile appears on his handsome face. And between all of this bad thought in my head, I still could see the reason why do I fell so hard for him. "It will be on next Thursday. Don't mind her, you just need to come and have fun."

"Don't mind me, Chris. I hate myself more." I push the corner of my lips up to put a little smile. Tilting my head, I throw a bigger smile to Woojin in the back. "Let's grab some food, shall we?"

"Sure." With that one word, Woojin stood from his chair and walk to me.

Letting his big hand engulfed mine, he led my step out of the club's room. I take a step closer to him, hiding behind his shoulder, hoping that no one will found my teary eyes.

"Do you wanna go home instead?"

I can say nothing but just give Woojin a quick nod while tightening my grip on his hand. I maybe hate myself more than she did, but can I love Chris more than she did?

Time flies by, it's already Thursday, and here we are, in front of the party place before I know.

"You sure?" Woojin asked from behind his steering wheel. His head tilted to the side, one of his eyebrow lifted. But, how should I answer him? I'm not even sure with myself.

"You know, we could turn over and have fun in another place."

Now I know how should I answer this one, "No. I want to meet him, Woojin."

He gave me a little nod and smile before said, "Okay then. Let's just have fun here, shall we?"

And that was my cue to gave him back the nod and smile before processed to going out of the car.

I, have to be sure to myself. Chris might not like me, but I definitely will having fun at his party. Isn't that the purpose of attending a party?

The blaring music is fulfilling the air as soon as I step into the room. Most of the people are dancing on the floor, while some of them just chilling on the side, chatting and laughing with a drink in their hand. But where is the host?

"There he is," Woojin shouted as his finger point out to the stage in front of us. Chris is there, DJ-ing his own party. "As expected from him."

Yeah, Woojin is right. Even though we actually could expect anything from Chris and he will almost certainly do it well anyway.

Christopher, in my eyes, he is the definition of the word 'perfect'. Handsome face, good academic record, make really great music, draw well, athletics, have a good manner, mind other people a lot. I don't know, in this state, I'm not even sure was he a real human? Not some character that comes out of the romance comic book?

I know, nobody is perfect. I fully know that nobody is flawless. But if it's come to Chris, even his annoying girlfriend looks nice to me. Because it's his choice. He needs something to make him looks more human. Oh. Look, I'm not saying that his girlfriend is his flaw, it's just -

It's just my jealousy, because I, the muddy potato from the backyard, will never be his girlfriend.

"Hei." Woojin's nudge on my shoulder wakes me up from the daydream. "He's coming."

I lift my head up, lowering my eyebrow to him. Mouthing a, "Who?"

Woojin said nothing but tilting his head to the side, motioning my head to turn around. To meet Chris, walking towards us with a big smile on his face.

"Hi, Y/N!" he exclaimed, was his eyes sparked for real or was it just my eyes? "Thank you for coming!"

"Uh, yeah, thanks for having me." I nod a little at his words before he started to talk to Woojin. Well, I don't know what are they talking about, and standing here while looking at Chris will look so awkward, no?

Let me just grab something, "Where are you going?" Chris's voice stop my step right away. Turning around, his head is tilted with a frown on his forehead.

"I'll grab some drink. Do you want too?"

"Ah, I thought you'll go somewhere." his smile is back again, and the frown is on my forehead now. Why should I go anywhere? "I'm fine,"

"Okay, what about you, Woojin?"

"Just got me the same one with you, please."

"Okay." I nod a little and ready to continue my step before stopped by Chris's voice again.

"Don't go too far from the stage, okay? The main event will be in," he looks at his watch for a second before returning his gaze to me. "Ten minutes," His eyes got wide the seconds after. "Oh my God! It's happening in ten minutes! I have to go. Talk to you again later!"

I could only laugh at him being frantically run to the stage. Sometimes Chris acts like a child, it's hard to believe that he will soon turn to 23.

“Let's go for the drink first, Y/N.” Woojin's voice turns my head to him. I gave him a slight nod, before following his step towards the bar.

“Woojin, what is the main event? That won't be only something like blowing candle or cutting cake, right?” I chuckled once again, imagining Chris wearing a birthday hat and make a wish before blowing his candle off. He would be so cute!

Woojin don't answer me right away, he just ordered two drink for us before taking a seat and pulled another chair out for me. But, “It will be hard to see the stage from this seat, Woojin.”

“I know,”

That two words from him make me tilted my head right away just to look at him with a frown on my forehead. Another frown also appears on his head as he chewed his bottom lip like he's ready to swallow anything that will leave his lips.

“I honestly don't want you to see the main event.”

“Why —”

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU~! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU~!”

Everyone is singing along to that song. Right there, on the stage, Chris is smiling so widely as a girl bring a cake to the stage, and giving him a big hug after. That girl, of course.

And I could only bitterly smile.

Woojin is right, I better not see the main event.

The drink tastes even more bitter, but I enjoyed it more than have to smile for them.

“Chris said he will confessing to her on the main event,” Woojin said, gathering another confused look from me.

“Confessing? I thought they're already — ”

Woojin shakes his head right before I could finish my sentences, and I just nod along instead. The only thing I could do is leaning my head on Woojin's shoulder, facing back the main stage.

I still could hear the blaring birthday music and the shouting noises, of course. But the confession is not happening yet? Or did I just blocked it away from my hearing? I don't know.

“Do you really like him?” I could feel Woojin's eyes on the top of my head just before I close my eyes.

Like him?

“I'm not sure if someone like me deserve to like someone like him.” I bitterly chuckled.

The music has changed to something softer, people stop cheering and shouting. Chris is about to confess his feelings to her. Meanwhile, I'm here, in the corner of the bar, hopelessly looking at the ceiling.

“You know, Woojin. It's been some years after my 18th birthday, but my time never stop even once since then. If you ask me do I wish Chris to be the one who remains unfrozen with me when everyone is frozen, I do hope for that. But, who am I to hope that, right? That kind of thing is too good to be true.” I chuckled once again, letting out a sigh before taking a sip on the bitter drink.

“He might be the centre of my universe, but she is his world. As long as Chris is happy with anyone he loved, it's enough for me. I will be waiting for my soulmate to come.”

“Y/N?” a voice turn me around simultaneously, and I felt my eyes almost come out of their socket when I found Chris standing only some steps apart from us. How much he heard? Why is he here? What about the main stage — wait, what?

“What happen?”

“Why are you keep moving?”

Both pair of our eyes widened out on the realization. Everyone except us in this room is frozen!

What happen? What should I do? Why do I have to be the one who remains unfrozen with him? What should I do right now? Should I just seat back? Yeah yeah, it must be late. I'll be frozen in a minute.

“Y/N? What are you doing?”

“I'm sorry, Chris. I must be too carried away with my thought that I don't notice it's time to freeze.” He's now standing in front of me, his eyes full of concern. “Don't worry, okay? I will be frozen in a minute.”

“Why?” his voice low, almost whispering.

No, don't show that disappointed face. Don't you know how disappointed I am to myself, Chris? “I'm sorry, Chris. I'm sorry. Sorry for not being freeze.”

“What are you sorry for, Y/N? Because you are my soulmate?”

Suddenly our shoes looks so interesting. I keep looking at them as I slowly closed my eyes. Time, why don't you froze me yet?

“Stop it already!” I felt my body being pulled in before a certain warmth wrapped around me. His strong arms are squeezing me tight. “Don't freeze, so I have the reason to tell you how I feel.”

Huh?

“Chris?”

He pulled out just enough to look at me in the eyes. His lips curled up to a soft smile as he runs his thumb over my cheek. “I almost confess my feeling to the wrong person. But thanks God the time froze them.”

His smile is still there, and the confusion is still in my head.

“Don't you ever notice how uneasy I become every time you with Woojin?”

I shook my head slowly, he chuckled. “But you and her —”

“She is the one who keep attached to me. And I thought I could forget you by liking her.”

“But why?”

“Because I thought you like Woojin. And I don't think I'm good enough for you.”

Is he being real right now? “I should be the one who said that. I'm not good enough for you.”

He laughed, this time also shaking his head. “Look, we both feel worthless and tried to keep away from each other when in fact, both of us, want to be together. What a mess.”

Well, he is right, though. Now I can't help but laugh with him. What a mess couple we are.

“So Y/N,” his eyes look right into mine as he thug some of my hair behind my ears. “Do you still feel sorry to be my soulmate?”

“To be honest, I still feel that I'm not —”

He cuts my sentence right away with his lips on mine. Just some little pecks but its enough to keep me quiet. “Let me show you how worthy you are, yeah?”

I don't think I need to do anything to answer that but to kiss him back.

I might be worthless when I'm alone, but aren't soulmate exists to make us be a better person together?

#stray kids soft hours #stray kids imagines #stray kids woojin #stray kids bang chan #stray kids scenarios #stray kids soulmate au #Happy Bang Chan Day #Stray Kids #STAY

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monsters-demons-and-ai-oh-my · 5 years

Text

What We Lost and What We Have

I decided to also post the fic on Tumblr since I’m desperate for feedback, and I’m really excited for this AU and I want to know if other people are too... because I really want to know if there’s an audience for it... (also on AO3)

-+-+-+-+-+-+-

May 18, 2000, the night Sam learned 3 things.

John had cheated on Mary. Kelly Kline was dead. And his younger half brother Jack was born…

Nearly 17 years later their family never really recovered. But after a panicked phone call from Jack’s uncle Castiel, their family will never be the same.

“It’s Jack, there’s something wrong with Jack…”

-+-+-+-+-+-

Next Chapter

Complete Tumblr Chapter Archive

-+-+-+-+-+-

Chapter 1: Exes, siblings, and drunken mistakes

May 18, 2000

Sam had just turned 16 two weeks earlier.

Up until that point, the worst thing that had happened to him was being dumped at his sophomore winter formal and having his CD player stolen out of his locker by Bela, the opportunistic klepto of a foreign exchange student from Pre-Cal the same night.

They were celebrating Dean moving into his first solo apartment the night they got the call.

Sam had gone upstairs to get a head start on his summer reading list but he could hear the rest of his family laughing and talking over the game through his cracked bedroom door.

He'd barely even heard the phone ring and his mother getting up to answer it, only taking note after he heard the volume on the television being lowered dramatically.

"What'd you say Mary?" his dad asked, the smile still in his voice.

"I said, do you know a Castiel?" Mary repeated.

"Castiel? I don't think so, maybe someone from the shop, Dean?"

Dean must have shaken his head because he never heard a response.

"Well whoever he is he sounds really upset," Mary sounded concerned.

He couldn't make out what his mother asked the man on the phone but then…

"Castiel Kline?"

There was a deathly silence, curiosity got the better of Sam, he closed his book and went down the stairs. John had gone white as a sheet.

"He says you knew his sister…" Mary turned to look at John, eyebrows raised, "and he really needs to speak to you."

John had nearly snatched the phone from Mary in his haste apologizing profusely.

Sam had stayed hidden by the stairs his entire family looking on as John walked quickly to the kitchen.

Dean looked confused, Mary looked shell shocked. Neither moved.

But Sam did he tiptoed quietly to the kitchen door staying just outside it eavesdropping on one side of John's phone conversation."

"What do you mean she…? Calm down, I can't understand what you’re saying, slow down. What happened?"

John was pacing the room, running a hand through his hair panic in his tone and posture bent like everything teetered on the voice on the other end of the line.

"How can you be sure it's… he's… Kid, I didn't even know she was... I met her once... she never told me!"

Sam heard footsteps and jumped, his mom had finally unfrozen and moved towards the kitchen. She was shaking slightly, her mouth set tightly, eyes watering, he stepped guiltily out of her way.

"John… what's going on?"

The screaming started less than a minute later. Dean eventually pulling him away back toward the living room.

And that night Sam had learned 3 things.

John had cheated on Mary.

Kelly Kline was dead.

And his younger half brother had been born…

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April 21, 2007

Another night he'd never forget.

Dean had said John had gotten in a car accident when he called him at Stanford, a stupid little fender bender.

The other driver had come around to John’s driver side window pissed off ready to give John a piece of his mind only to find him slumped over, pronounced dead by paramedics on the scene five minutes later, an apparent heart attack behind the wheel.

"I know you don't give a shit about him anymore, but at least come to his fucking funeral."

The years had not been kind to the brother's relationship, but even Sam thought that was uncalled for. He wasn't going to leave Dean alone to deal with the aftermath.

He'd been in the middle of preparing for finals but he’d still come.

Dean hadn’t been big on lawyers ever since the bozo divorce lawyer who’d drawn up John and Mary’s papers had cheated them out of 6k.

He'd missed John’s service but not the burial. Listening to some preacher go on about what a great guy his dad was would only have brought up inappropriate angry thoughts. He knew Dean would be angry he didn’t show up, he would have been angrier if he’d laughed.

So he'd sat in his car until everyone started to leave. One or two great aunts and uncles he’d never met, guys who worked at the auto shop, sundry friends and neighbors. Mary had spotted him and came over knocking softly on the window and giving her son a silent hug before leaving.

When he finally got out there were only three people left.

Jack was six-years-old and tow-head then, - like he’d seen Dean in pictures at that age - hiding on the far side of Castiel, watching them nervously as he was led away from the graveside hand in hand with his uncle.

It had been a weekday so the boy had thankfully been with Castiel at the time of John's death.

His brother was standing at the graveside when Sam approached him, hands stuffed in his pockets swaying side to side. Like he was getting ready to fill in the hole himself if the gravediggers didn’t get there soon. Because it was something he could do with his hands and emotions, taking out his grief on the dirt.

It made Sam a little wary to approach him but he barely looked up and over when Sam came up beside him.

“Hey.”

They’d stood there in silence Sam mentally stumbling over a thousand things to say in his head.

"Well, dad’s... dead.”

He imagined Dean was probably silently seething.

“Maybe I should have asked dad to die at a better time so it fit into your busy schedule.”

Emotions neither one was ready to confront kept them from moving.

“Same time next year?”

Dean had said it sarcastically, and looking back Sam wished they’d had a better story but that was how their little tradition began.

Outside of major holidays or birthdays, it was one of the few times they made an active effort to see each other. Sometimes catching up, other times just visiting the site. Rain or shine, just the two of them.

Until today.

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April 21st, 2017

“It’s almost fucking summer,” Dean muttered, his breath puffing in the early evening air. He rubbed his hands together before handing Sam an even colder beer. Sam huffed and took it, and making no comment about how that would do next to nothing to help, or about how it was a trashy brand he hadn’t seen since pre-law.

“If it makes you feel better the weather channel says it’s the coldest spring in over a decade..” Sam sipped his beer and grimaced, it reminded him why he’d never been much of party-er in college.

But as Dean once put it “our family were salt of the earth people,” and he wore that fact like an aesthetic badge, like hipsters and the wannabe actors in Cali. Sam grinned a little at the thought.

Dean poured out 79 cents worth of beer for John before cracking open another bottle to drink himself.

“Happy ten years dad,” Dean smiled humorlessly. “Still managed not to burn your shop to the ground…”

He’d been waiting when Sam got there standing and looking down in the exact same way he did ten years previously. Rocking back and forth, processing, contemplating. Sam searched Dean’s back for something to say. A navy canvas covered back.

“You got a new jacket…”

“Huh?” Dean sipped his beer like he hadn’t heard him.

“I’ve always seen you wear Dad’s old leather one,” Sam insisted.

It took a ridiculously long time for him to respond, like Dean had settled on an unspoken rule that he had to wait until Sam's breath completely dissipated into the cool morning air before he could reply.

“Yeah well, maybe it’s too cold today, like you said ‘coldest spring of the decade,’ ever think of that Sammy?”

“It’s just a cool front, it’ll be in the seventies by tomorrow Dean,” Sam said flatly.

Dean fell silent again for a long moment.

“It’s been ten years… it got old, I got a new one, do you need me to psychoanalyze your henley now?”

Sam rolled his eyes in defeat letting the subject drop with another swing of dishwater beer.

If Sam remembered one thing about growing up with his brother it was that Dean was a creature of habit. Dean had never been big on school but he’d insisted on using the same backpack all throughout middle and high school, and one look at the parking lot told Sam he still drove dad’s old Impala, he’d repaired both items multiple times. Dean didn’t get rid of things because “it got old.”

“ It’s been ten years… ”

Maybe it was time for a change.

Sam swallowed in the charged silence, “ change... ” he’d been putting off talking to Dean about that.

He’d done something on impulse. He’d been roped into going out for drinks with his fellow junior partners in his firm after winning a case. Sorting out some accounting error that got at least three people fired. He hated those cases, making sure that companies weren’t liable for random bullshit that meant nothing in the long run. They’d had three like that in the same month. So... after a few drinks… he’d gotten sentimental, started thinking about his life choices, thinking about all the things he hadn’t done yet, the things he regretted.

Sam really should have asked Brady to stash his phone before they got to the bar.

But the secret he’d been keeping reared it’s deceivingly unassuming head before he had a chance to open his mouth..

The silence was broken by a distant but harsh sounding cough.

Dean glanced over his shoulder posture immediately stiffening, eyebrows raising, “What the hell…”

Sam at least had the good grace to look guilty.

Castiel looked about the same as Sam remembered him save for a few lines on his face. The same constant vaguely worried look was made more prominent by whatever he was talking to Jack about.

Jack, on the other hand, had changed a lot. He’d maybe been eleven the last time Sam had seen him. Since then his hair had considerably darkened with age from blond to sandy brown and he’d shot up half a foot. There wasn’t much of John visible in Jack’s face and if his resemblance to his uncle was anything to go by the Kline genetics were strong in him.

He looked a little washed out, blowing his nose in a tissue as they approached, a small bouquet of yellow flowers in his free hand, looking up from his conversation with his uncle to give Sam a cautious smile. Sam looked quickly away.

“I was uh… meaning to talk to you about... this…” Sam looked sheepish.

“Oh you were going to talk to me,” Dean scoffed, “Sam what are Jack and and and… saint Castiel doing here!?”

“I invited them?” Sam scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

Dean looked lost for words mouthing silently for a moment, "Okay Sam so explain this to me."

Sam huffed now he distinctly didn't want to answer him, "Dean could you just…"

"No no no please tell me," Dean seemed to puff up with indignation and betrayal, "what exactly possessed you to think that was in any possible way a good idea? because it's beyond me!"

“Six beers that did not taste like piss ,” he didn’t say.

"Is there a problem here?" Castiel and Jack had finally reached the grave. He kept himself a little in front of the teenager, protective. It was painfully familiar, even the look of nervous confusion on Jack's face.

"No, not all," Dean snorted, "I just thought… some things were sacred."

"He's dad's kid too, he has as much right to be here as we do!" Sam raised his voice done with his brother's verbal assault.

Said kid just coughed awkwardly.

Dean didn't even glance his way, "yeah sure, any other day he can have a goddamn picnic here if he wants, but not today… he's never come to-day…"

"I’m right here you know," Jack piped up annoyed.

"Dean, you're acting like a child," Sam was beginning to get pissed off. Dean was embarrassing him in front of people with one of his stupid hissy fits.

"Yeah well, maybe I am," Dean reached down to pick up what was left of the six pack, the remaining bottles rattling ominously.

"You see I thought… I thought maybe this meant something to you, that I still somehow knew you," Dean shrugged, "but you're right Sam, we're not kids anymore…"

And with that Dean left, returning the wary look he got from Castiel with a sarcastic smile.

Sam just sighed not following, instead turning his attention to Castiel and Jack.

Any of the anxious hope Jack’s face had held when they first walked up had gone, replaced with an unreadable expression.

Castiel looked shaken.

"I'm really sorry about him, he's just…" Sam trailed off he didn't have an honest excuse.

"No it's fine," Castiel sighed looking harassed, feathers ruffled so to speak by Dean's tirade.

"Maybe we shouldn't have come," he gave Jack a significant look that rubbed Sam the wrong way. He felt like he had to defend his brother.

"He's not usually like that it's just…" Sam trailed off feeling lost. He didn't even know why he was doing this, he'd invited them on a stupid drunken whim, and he barely spoke to Dean anymore. He was basically defending two strangers from one another. He didn’t feel like explaining his brother’s temper tantrum. He should have stayed in California at least there the people made sense.

“I’m sorry you drove all this way from…” Sam pulled up a blank.

“Indiana, Midway, Indiana,” Cas huffed, crossing his arms and looking colder than it was possible to actually be wearing at least three layers.

“Right,” Sam awkwardly swung his arms at his side, examining the freshly pruned grass for weeds.

He had cases he needed to get back to, they were barely two month’s out from a major merger and the firm had yet to finish writing out the paperwork. He spared a glance toward Jack.

Jack seemed to shrink into himself still half hidden behind his uncle’s coat, coughing quietly into his sleeve.

“You okay?” Sam tried.

“Hotel AC…” the kid muttered not looking him in the eye. “We um… we got in late last night, been hanging around there all day.” His free hand was tucked into his patterned jacket pocket, the one with the flowers tensed into a shaking fist, crinkling the plastic, biting his lip, like he was trying not to cry.

Sam felt bad for him, wanted to say something reassuring, but he knew if he looked over an inch he’d see Castiel, glaring at him like he’d just stabbed the kid.

“I um… I’m supposed to meet Mary at six…” Sam said lamely.

He heard no objections, "good to see you again," he sighed before walking away.

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

Dean stared down into his glass, swirling the amber middle shelf spirit; he’d tossed the cheap beer in the fridge before going out in search of something stronger.

He didn’t want to be alone and sober in that house… not tonight.

He took a long swallow from the glass then knocked it back against the bar counter, “fuck you Sam.”

“You got a ride home tonight Dean-o?” a familiar voice prodded sounding amused.

“You offering Gabe,” Dean gave the bar owner a thin smile.

Gabe chuckled topping off his glass, “just asking, I’d hate to have to sick the big guy on you for your keys…”

Dean glanced over his shoulder spotting the glum musclebound bartender. He was scrubbing at a table in harsh rapid spirals, treating sticky beer and peanut bits with all the intensity of someone cleaning up blood from a murder they committed.

“Where’d you find that anyway,” Dean snorted taking another mouthful of whiskey, “haven’t seen him around before.”

“Gadreel is just one of my many, many, siblings,” Gabe leaning back against the bar and shrugging, looking pleased with himself - though that was likely just his resting face -.

Dean squinted, besides brown hair, he didn’t see the resemblance.

“Gadreel?” Dean huffed into his glass, “ I get Gabriel, there’s tons of Gabriel’s, but where do you get a name like Gadreel?”

Gabe pretended to busy himself scrubbing out a lowball glass surreptitiously, “Our Dad was a religious nut, and his name started with G so he decided all his kids should have G names too. Actually, now that I think about it…” he paused to examine his reflection in the glass, “he may have just been an overall nutbag”

Dean opened his mouth to say something snide, then remembering he was named after his grandmother he decided to mind his own damn business and went back to his drink.

“Mom would have killed me if I didn’t get little bro the job,” Gabe paused eyeing Dean like he wanted him to ask why.

Dean let him hang for a long minute draining the rest of his glass and wiping his mouth before asking.

“Yeah, why?”

“Gadreel used to be a security guard for some big designer store downtown,” Gabe poured a drink for himself in the glass he’d just cleaned coming around the counter with the bottle to join Dean, - the bar was emptying out for the evening - .

“He let the wrong person in, the store got robbed, and he copped accessory charges for shit he didn’t do, ended up doing a stint in prison for it, it’s hard to get a job after that.”

Dean snorted, that sounded about right. The world was like that. You thought you knew how things worked one minute and then one friendly gesture later it spit in your face.

And Dean was beginning to think Sam was one of the most worldly people he knew.

“So how's that going for you, working with your brother,” Dean snorted at the concept, imagining Sam working at the shop was like imagining hiring a dog as a bailiff for one of Sam’s courtrooms, a terrible yappy one with a penchant for biting you in the ass.

“It’s fine, he’s a little stiff, ee-mmedially kills the mood if anyone tries to ya’know actually talk to him, but one look from him is all it takes to keep a hot-headed drunk in line so,” Gabe shrugged, “all things considered it’s a good trade-off.”

“Hmm…” Dean gave an unconvinced huff of a laugh.

“You ever work with family Deano?”

You could never completely tell with Gabriel, whether the man was actually trying to be a friend or just trying to get his patrons to buy more drinks. Dean hadn’t been in the mood to talk when he’d arrived but after four whiskeys the sun was burning low on his inhibitions.

“My dad…” Dean threw Gabe a bone tapping his glass in his general direction, “we uh… we worked together at his auto shop from when I was sixteen until a few years ago.”

Gabe poured him another glass, “Last call… I knew you worked at an auto shop, didn’t know it was your dad’s…”

“Yeah… he left it to me when he passed, it’s not like Sam would even know what to do with it even if he actually wanted it.”

The bar owner had the good graces not to comment on his dad’s death.

“Sibling problems Dean?” but apparently not the good sense not to ask about his brother.

“My brother’s a lawyer out in California, kid works in some big corporate firm and yet can’t breathe without letting me know how much more righteous he is, how that works I’ll never fucking know.”

Gabe snorted, “I got an older brother like that, Michael, real piece of work.”

Dean’s eyebrows rose.

“He goes by his middle name, first name is actually Gary,” Gabe quickly explained.

Very biblical name Gary...

“Yeah, well one idiot brother is enough for me,” Dean muttered darkly.

Today had been about six steps to far, Sam had never been as close as Dean was with their dad even before the divorce and after… he barely spoke to John from the time he moved out of the house until John’s eventual death.

Still Dean thought that even if John meant nothing to the man anymore that maybe this… thing they did... that it was their thing, meeting and going to pay respects at John’s grave. That they could just go there and deal with whatever shit they had about what had happened and just not be alone.

But inviting a kid, THAT kid… clearly what Dean thought and what Sam thought was very different.

He had no idea what their yearly meeting meant to Sam, if anything, and that terrified him.

Dean sat not saying another word clutching his glass so hard he was afraid it would shatter. Gabe seemed to lose interest after a while getting up and moving away to chastise his own brother.

“Hey, man go easy on the tables you’re gonna wear thru the varnish…”

Dean quietly got up, peeling a wad of cash out of his billfold and laying it on the counter, he was done talking for tonight. He headed out of the bar weaving slightly to call a cab.

The house was just as dead quiet as when he left it, he flicked on the lights, it didn’t really help anything, just threw the closed doors of his parents and Sam’s empty rooms into sharp contrast as he stumbled up to bed.

It was two in the morning when his cell rang a few hours later, bringing his throbbing head back into the land of the living, he saw Sam’s name and shut it off annoyed going straight back to sleep.

Only minutes later, the landline rang.

Dean kicked off the covers swearing under his breath before stomping downstairs to snatch up the old yellowed relic, ready to unleash a tirade at Sam.

“Do you having any fucking clue what time it is!?”

“Dean?”

It wasn’t Sam but the voice was vaguely familiar, “who’s this?”

“It’s… Cas… Castiel…” the man sounded shaken, “Samuel gave me your number.”

Dean’s still half drunk brain was at a loss, there were strange unidentifiable sounds in the background. He stayed silent in bewilderment.

“I um… I’m at the hospital... It’s Jack,” his voice cracked.

“There’s something wrong with Jack…”

#Supernatural #SPN #fanfiction #Sam Winchester #Dean Winchester #Jack Kline #Castiel #family drama #father death #car accident mention #heart attack #sickfic #kinda #whump #emotional whump #Gabriel #Gadreel

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watchingninjago-archive · 5 years

Text

Season 1, Episode 2: Home

I’m updating my format. As I’m watching on Netflix, we’re doing a minute-till-end system, so the number will go lower as I progress through the episode. Also, I’ll prewrite the reaction on Docs then copypaste it to here to make it more coherent.

[22:10] With that said, let’s do this!

[21:10ish] Skipped the recap (don’t need that in my life!) and we open with Wu… doing some housekeeping? I’ll say doing some moving of crap around as we hear the Boys in the background doing some training or something.

[21:04] Whhhy are you so shocked, Wu? You think that they wouldn’t want to train if it meant being the Green Ninja?

[20:25] So our Boys (exlc. Zane) are discussing Zane being Too OP For The Training Area Location. And like… they’re calling him like, weird and stuff? And my self-projecting ass is like… please stop he just wants to train oh my god,

[Around the 20:00 mark] And now we’re going through a montage of Zane being weird and such, and like…. what do I say here? Because he’s honestly my favourite at this point, and that’s in part because I kind of relate to him.

[19:35 to 19:33] “... He’s really smart, it’s just, uh, he’s a little off sometimes.” Oh, jesus christ, did you hear that bang back there? Must’ve been me relating to this guy going up by… who knows what. I was always the “smart kid that just needed to get better with making friends/being social” in primary school, and when I managed to become an AP student in highschool, always being in a class with everyone just as smart as me, the issues with being social caught up to me. And I’ll stop here because I don’t want to be stuck at one spot for too long or drop the Jaime persona, but like… I guess I realised who I’ll be relating to for the rest of the bloody show.

[Didn’t catch when, the whole “Getting mail” bit] OH OW… OW… Poor Zane. I guess the others are just at the monastery for training, but I don’t know if Zane has… anyone outside of here. At least at this point.

[Continuing from above] And… well, if he does, he doesn’t know, does he?

[18:15-18:10ish] God… ouch. Ouch. Zane just walking off like that… :( He definitely knows that he just… doesn’t fit in with the others, doesn’t he?

[18:05] We cut to Cole and his dragon, Rocky, interacting. It’s really neat about how clearly he cares for his dragon! I really like dragons, and it’s like… hell to the yeah, good bonds are had!

[17:57] SHIT FORGOT COLE IS STILL PARTIALLY CONTROLLED BY THOSE SNAKE DUDES

[17:20] Scales is probably the most enjoyable villain because he’s the only one who has done SHIT in the two episodes we’ve seen. Lloyd’s very much a stereotypical asshole child who managed to get control of the General dude, so Scales’ the only one who has vaguely tolerable actions.

[17:11?] “Snakes don’t belong in trees.” Really?

[16:55] Lloyd, I’ll give the benefit of the doubt that you’ll become better, but as of right now I have the legal right to strangle you.

[16:30ish] Zane being a good cook is neat! Also, “I didn’t hear anybody complaining about my duck chowder last night.” “That’s because it glued our mouths shut.”

[NOT GETTING THE TIMESTAMP I’VE GOT TO BURN OFF THE SECOND HAND EMBARRASSMENT FIRST] READ THE TIMESTAMP FELLAS

[16:12, probably] Embarrassment-as-comedy is one of the tropes I really despise. I’m over empathetic, and in this case it’s with as previously stated my (so far) favourite character. It makes me want to stop watching, to be honest, but I know this is just some kids cartoon targeted to 8 year old boys and I really shouldn’t get so worked up about it. I’m the periphery here.

God, it’s hard to continue when the joke’s not even over.

[16:03] I’m forcing myself through it. Anyhow, I just… uhh… words not working. Words are not functional, how do I words, the bloody secondhand embarrassment broke my phrasing, shit,

[15:55] “I guess we don’t share the same sense of humour.” Do I go “mood” or do I go on another ramble?

[15:49] Aw Fuck I’m Geniunely Invested Aw Fuck Aw Jesus-

[15:45] “How could you not find that funn-” (Wu drups one of the dishes on Cole’s head.) I didn’t find the prawn thing funny, but that? I didn’t expect that. It wasn’t what I thought would happen. I didn’t expect Wu to snap like that. That got a chuckle out of me.

[15:40] “Now you are brothers.” Allriiight, FOOD FIGHT FOOD FIGHT FOOD FIGHT FOOD FI

[15:26] Zane… how are you not squicked out by all the food on you. Get it off. Food on you is gross.

[15:15] He’s looking at the stars, he’s looking at the bird, hi bird!

[15:09] And now the bird is copying him and he’s interacting with the bird right back. Birds are good. Birds are lovely. Thank you, writers, for giving me this scene.

[14:54] ah shit… ah fuck… i got invested in Zane… this isn’t what i thought would happen…

[14:46] wait don’t chase after the bird! that’s a really bad idea

[14:37] oh god I swear to god if Lloyd dares opens his mouth as we’re at the treehouse i’ll lose my fucking mind

[14:28] Oh, honestly, don’t play it as if this treehouse is all that sinister!

[14:27] I’m losing my fucking mind. I don’t care for this whiny child! I’ve seen it before and I’ll see it again. I get that he’s like, a kid, but it doesn’t mean I can’t get annoyed by all this.

Also, fucking testosterone club in there, Lloyd, huh.

[14:17] Oh! That bird let him know where Lloyd’s based. Good bird. It’ll get an apple slice or something. Maybe a small mouse.

[14:00] “Why did you follow a bird?” Oh god not this awkwardness again

[13:51] But like, seriously, it’s nice to impart the lesson on the target audience that humanity isn’t a hivemind that’ll always Get what you do or say or find funny. People aren’t like that! There’s no such thing as a Normal person. Acting so is a really stupid idea.

[13:45] “Everyone knows cuckoo birds aren’t indigenous to this forest.” Like, that sounds like something I would say. Like it’s been read out of a book and then vaguely quoted afterwards.

[12:50ish] “Travel in the shadows, boys.” In those outfits? Yeah, good luck.

[11:12] Goddammit, the second I forgot the hypnosis thing it comes back to bite the characters, huh?

[10:50] You’re not all that genre-savvy, huh? It’s not going to just… snap, and then Cole’s alright.

[10:23] “Friends don’t hit friends.” (He promptly gets hit in the face.) “Alright, I’m gonna- I’m gonna ignore that.”

[Over a bit] Guys stop discussing YOU’RE GETTING YOUR ASSES KICKED

[Over another bit] Welp! The lightning bolt didn’t do shit.

[9:30] “That is a serious safety hazard!” You MADE that safety hazard. You didn’t earn that quip.

[9:10] Nothin’ like a little old music to snap Cole out of his trance.

[8:46] Oh, would you look at that! It’s conveniently a Serpentine cancelling flute thingy!

[8:31] OH GOD EVERYTHING IS ON FIRE

[7:55ish] Priorities…?

[7:35] Alright, alright, you two, don’t gang up on Zane. He’s not the one who did this.

[7:34] Okay, but seriously. Priorities, dude.

[7:15ish] Alright, gang, what did we learn! We learnt not to blame people for something they literally didn’t do! Zane’s bloody gone to who-knows-where because of you ganging up on him.

[6:30ish] If you ask your disobeying army on why they dare disobey you, they’re just gonna disobey harder, dude.

[6:22] I’m sorry? The Slytherpit?

[5:35] Okaaay, Lloyd… Lloyd’s spotted a scroll conveniently unfrozen and it looks like he’s making a move for it.

[4:51] SCALES JUST KICKED THE GENERAL IN THE FACE WHY AM I INVESTED IN THIS

[4:30ish] What the hell is Fang kwon do?

[4:20] Well, Scales’ won. This can only go so well (possibly sarcasm in that statement I’m not sure yet).

[4:03] Wait, so you’re telling me the chief snake is the only one allowed to have a tail? Hookay, whatever you say, Ninjago writers.

[3:35] Back to our protaginists (excl. Zane and including Wu and Nya) who appear to be camping out at another mountain for now.

[3:24] Oi! Don’t freak out about the food, you’ve got any other options?

[3:20] Yikes, I’d make a third priorities joke but just… yikes.

[3:05] Well, moral of the story boys, no such thing as a Normal Person. What you think is a Normal Person is something that you’ve constructed in your mind that you don’t usually adhere to yourself, and yet act annoyed when someone’s not fitting majorly to that construct. Just because you don’t understand why a person did a thing doesn’t mean they’re some foreign entity to you. And don’t blame the person who didn’t do it. That’s victim blaming, and it’s bad.

[2:53] And on that note, Zane’s back! Hell yeah!

[2:35] Oh, the falcon’s back? What’d it show him?

[2:30] Awww, group hug!

[2:15] Well, don’t hold us in suspense.

[2:00ish] Nice to see that the falcon’s good and all but I swear there is something up with that bird.

[1:53] DRAGON BOAT, DRAGON BOAT HELL YEAH

[1:20ish] “I feel there is more to you than meets the eye.” Having been spoiled on the whole “Zane’s a robot” thing, I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop. And since I don’t want to spoil myself further, I imagine I’m going to be waiting a bloody long while until I know when that will happen. At least for now, it’s good to know Zane feels as though the people around him as his family. It’s nice.

[0:55ish] FOOD FIGHT! Round 2, baby!

[0:41] Goddammit, Lloyd.

[0:39ish] You’re kind of a brat, dude. Though… man, he doesn’t really have a family, does he? That’s gotta suck hard.

#ninjajo #jaime watches ninjago season 1 #ninjago season 1 #home

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montpahrnah · 5 years

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any ship, just some good friends to lovers

the only trope that matters… for ages i’ve wanted to write something post-apocalyptic so this was an excuse to do that, and also to insert some scenes i’ve had in mind for a long time–thanks anon:

character a and character b are mostly acquaintances; they run on the fringes of each other’s circles but don’t hang out or anything. character a comes from a relatively wealthy family and is sort of adrift but very much in love with the setting–let’s put them someplace on the canadian prairies, or you can just imagine them wherever you like best–even if they don’t exactly understand their place in it or where they want to go. character b works odd jobs and no one seems to know exactly where they came from, but rumours abound that they killed someone or they’re running away from someone, though the backstory varies depending on who’s telling it. they don’t exactly have a crush on each other but there’s a weird fascination between them like a little jolt of static electricity

something happens which catalyzes the apocalypse. climate change, contested and/or illegitimate election followed by a coup(s) and wars, pandemic, combination of everything–whatever. characters a and b run into each other during some kind of mass panic while they’re both trying to get back home to their friends, but pretty quickly they realize that’s not an option now. they grab what they’ve got and make it to character b’s car with just enough gas to get to an old decrepit cabin in the woods; character a gets sick within twenty-four hours, possibly just something worsened with grief and fear, or possibly the world-ending pandemic. they urge character b to leave them but character b tells them to shut up and takes care of them. backstory obviously follows. the first thing character a sees when they wake up is character b leaning against the foot of the bed, asleep, and character a has a Feeling

long section here where they put their apocalypse skills into practice and forage for food/try to make contact with other survivors in the nearby town but they find it mostly abandoned. because winter is fast approaching they have to throw themselves into preparing and in the process become closer and closer: they open up to each other in ways they haven’t/couldn’t really with other people, and anyway it’s the end of the world, so they might as well let some of the horrible monstrous secrets out or whatever. they realize they connect on a level they never thought they could and start to really get each other, eventually pick up similar habits: character a starts making chamomile before bed because they realize b likes it, b teaches a how to play and maybe cheat at cards, they read books they’ve scavenged to each other in bed, etc etc. btw they’ve been sharing a bed this whole time because obviously there’s only one

people start to trickle back into towns and cities the next spring, but with them come newly formed gangs preying on the vulnerable and/or fearful. meanwhile characters a and b have both come to understand separately that they’re in love, which is terrifying. also the best and most impossible thing that’s ever happened to both of them. tons of tension and yearning etc; things are mildly awkward at times and they’d argue a bit but it’s never serious. one spring evening when the lake’s unfrozen and they can see some green on the trees they go fishing, and after a charged conversation their eyes meet for a minute as they’re trying to laugh it off… a kisses b very softly/cautiously, then they’re all over each other… i’d say there’d be some nervous but deeply tender sex but i think they’d move pretty glacially, so maybe not for a while

they find out that some of character a’s friends and family have survived and they’ve moved into a settlement about half a day’s walk to the south, but they’re in some trouble because so also have some of character b’s enemies. they have to hash out a plan of attack aided by some of a’s friends but a doesn’t know whether b has survived or not until it’s all over…

#also sorry for taking forever to get to this one

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gaiyofanfiction · 6 years

Text

Lost in the Dream: The Sorcerer

Shownu - Wonho - Minhyuk - Kihyun - Hyungwon - Jooheon - IM

Minhyuk x Reader

Drama/Slight Horror

Lost in the Dream Mini Series

A/N: I’m so glad everyone has been liking my Lost in the Dream series! Sorry it took so long to post the next part. I was so excited about it in the beginning and thought it was going to be one of my best, but I feel like I really fucked up the ending... Oh well...Here’s Minhyuk’s! ~Yosei

Disclaimer: This story is pure fiction. Any portrayal of the Members of Monsta X to be anything but amazing and kind is fiction and only used for this story.

“Y/N...”

You turn your head to the side, reacting to the voice speaking your name. But no matter which direction you turn, there’s nothing but blackness all around you.

“Y/N...”

There it is again, the sweet sounding voice of a man calling out your name. Just then, you see a figure in the distance. His white hair and porcelain skin contrasts the surrounding darkness. His gorgeous eyes meet yours.

“Come to me, Y/N. It’s time...”

He reaches out his hand, waiting for you to take it into yours. Like your hand has a mind of it’s own, you reluctantly reach for the boy’s hand, entranced by his commanding presence. Like in slow motion, your hand is just barely touching his...

BRIIIING BRIIIING BRIIIING!

Immediately, you jolt awake and slam your hand down on your alarm. Your entire body was drenched in sweat and your breathing erratic.

‘That nightmare. Was that-?’

You shake your head, clearing your thoughts. ‘No, it couldn’t be.’

You casually glance over at the clock and squeal, scrambling out of bed. It already read 7:00am and school started in an hour. You take the quickest show of your life and throw on a pair of skinny jeans and a t-shirt. You throw your hair in two pig tails and grab your backpack, heading out the door.

You make it to the school building with 10 minutes to spare. You sigh with relief and head to your first class. Walking in, you see your two friends, Sana and Youngjae sitt in the back corner. They notice you and wave you over, smiling. You forced a small smile on your face, but your mind can’t stop wondering about that dream you had.

“Hey, Y/N. What’s up?,” Youngjae smiles sweetly at you.

Sana tilts her head in concern at your grunt of a response. “Hey, Y/N. Is everything alright?”

You swallow the lump in your throat and shake your head. Leaning closer to the two, your next sentence comes out in a whisper. “I-I think I got... The Call.”

Sana gasps lightly, a hand to her mouth. “No! Are you serious? You have to tell someone! The teacher or the police or someone!”

Youngjae rolls his eyes. “There’s no such thing as The Call, you two. I don’t know why all you girls are so obsessed with this myth.”

Sana shoots him a glare, “it’s not just a myth! There have been girls that have gone missing before and it was proven to be by ‘Them’! And now, it’s this regions turn!”

The ‘Them’ Sana mentioned; Sorcerers. For years, there’s a legend to your country. Your country is divided up into 7 different regions. There’s rumoured to be one powerful Sorcerer that lives in each region. When each Sorcerer turns 25, they come to an individual in a dream, usually female. In each dream, the person is offered their hand. If said person touches the hand of the Sorcerer, you will forever belong to them, bound in not only wedlock, but bound in a very powerful magic. They call this dream, ‘The Call’. If you get The Call, the Sorcerer will not stop until you become theirs. But the catch; They can only summon you from a dream.

There are 7 Sorcerers, one for each region. Hyunwoo, Hoseok, Minhyuk, Kihyun, Hyungwon, Jooheon and Changkyun. So far, two girls from different regions have gone missing. Those regions are rumored to belong to Hyunwoo and Hoseok. Now, it seems like Minhyuk, your region’s Sorcerer, is on the look out.

And he’s chosen you.

Your anxiety rises imagining yourself being taken by this mysterious and possibly dangerous man. “W-What do I do? I don’t want to be taken away!” You hiss, voice laced with fear.

Sana grabs your hand and squeezes it tight. “Don’t worry, Y/N. You still have a chance. All you have to do is ignore his advancements in the dreams and you’ll be fine! He can’t take you in real life unless you touch him in the dream!”

“It’s not as easy as you might think,” You mumble as you hear the door to the classroom open. The three of you turn your attention to the front.

Your literature teacher begins to talk about the book that was assigned to your class to read, Animal Farm by George Orwell. As much as you tried to pay attention, the only think you had on your mind was Minhyuk.

“Y/N,” Your head snaps up when Mr. Park called your attention. “What are the principal recurring elements in Mr. Orwell’s work?”

You clear your throat, trying to come up with an answer. Thankfully, you actually read the book and are able to come up with something quick.

“W-well, there are several themes in Animal Farm. Some of those include; Leadership and corruption, control of naïve working class, lies and deception, and dreams and hopes.” You glance up to the teacher to make sure you were on the right track. He nods and motions for you to elaborate. “The main themes in Animal Farm leadership and corruption. Animal Farm portrays the history of the Russian Revolution by retelling the development of communism.”

You wait for the teacher to take the lead and continue on with a different person but that never came. You look up at the teacher and notice he’s...completely frozen?! You look around the room and notice every single one of your classmates was frozen in time.

You stand up slowly and cautiously walk up to Mr. Park and wave a hand in front of his face. Nothing. Then, you take to poking his arm and immediately pull your hand back. It was nothing but ice cold.

“What the fu-”

“Y/N.”

You freeze at the mention of your name. You recognize that voice and it sent shivers up your spine. Slowly, you turn your head towards the voice and come face to face with the last person you ever wanted to see.

The Sorcerer, Minhyuk.

You immediately stumble back, away from the man who haunted your dreams. He was adorned with a pitch black, low cut V-neck shirt. His gorgeous face painted with what looks like to be some kind of face paint. “W-What are you d-doing here?! W-What do you want?! What did you do to them?!”

He slowly takes one step forward, sending you to take three steps back. He chuckles and glances you up and down, a small smirk gracing his features.

“Why, I came for you, my Little Dove.”

You shake your head wildly, “n-no, you can’t take me. This isn’t a dream state! You have no power over me right now!”

Minhyuk suddenly appears right in front of you, making you stumble back into the windows on the classroom. He leans forward so his lips are grazing your ear, hands deep into his pockets.

“And what makes you think I can’t just take you with me right here, right now? I real life?”

You swallow the lump in your throat, your body trembling from the proximity of your two bodies to each other.

“B-Because that’s what t-the myth says. Y-You only can take someone in a dream state and they have to physically touch you.”

Minhyuk chuckles and retreats back to his original place. You quietly sigh with relief from his moving away. He runs a pale hand through his white locks.

“Well, you are correct, my Little Dove. No, I can’t take you right here and now. But I will come to you again, next time in your dream.”

You look down for a split second at your shaking hands, “but why me?” When you look back up, the man standing in front of you is gone.

“Um, Y/N? Why are you standing? Are you alright?” Your teacher, suddenly unfrozen, stares at you in question. You look around the room to see all of the students, also unfrozen, are following suit.

All of this hit you at once. Your anxiety starts to flare up and you need to get out of there. Now.

You grab your backpack and books from your desk, “I-I’m sorry, I have to go.” And without a glance back, you race out the classroom door.

You run as fast as you can out the door of that school. Nothing, not even a car almost killing you, can stop you from getting home. As soon as you make it to your apartment, you slam and lock the door behind you. You collapse to the ground, breathing heavy and trying to pass your anxiety attack.

For the next several hours, you do everything in your power to stay awake. Drink coffee, play video games, run on your treadmill, anything.

‘Don’t fall asleep, Y/N. Don’t fall asleep.’

Try as you might, there’s no stopping the power of anxiety and exhaustion. The next thing you know, you drift off into a dream state.

Suddenly, you’re back in that dark room. But there’s something different about this room. This time, you didn’t land here alone.

You see the white haired Sorcerer standing across from you, wearing the same set of clothes he did in the classroom. He once again reaches out his hand towards you.

“Y/N, come to me.”

You shake your head and take a step back into the darkness. Minhyuk takes a step forward, looking directly into your eyes.

“My Little Dove, you belong with me. You always have.”

You stare into his enchanting eyes. Something about his gaze pulls you in. Instead of taking a step back like you wanted, your feet pull you forward. Right to him.

“But you don’t even know me.”

The gorgeous boy raises a brow, “you’re name is Y/N L/N, born September 3rd 1993, you’re 25 year’s old and born in the hometown of (City). You moved here when you were just a baby. You have two best friends, Sana and Youngjae. Need I go on?”

You shake your head, in awe at all the information that he possibly couldn’t have known. The enchantment from his stare is growing stronger, your body beginning to feel weak.

“B-but, why me?”

Minhyuk chuckles and tilts his head. “Well, my dear, a long time ago, before you were born, your parents were having some trouble conceiving children. One night, they venture out into the woods, hearing of this medicine man that supposedly can help with these kinds of things. Turns out, that man was my father.” Minhyuk pauses to gauge your reaction but you’re too far gone into his gaze to react outwardly. He continues. “He told them that he would happily give them a child to bare, but in exchange, if that child were a female, they would have to give her to one of his sons when it was time. It just so happened that you were born on the same day, of the same year, at the same time as I was. So, out of my 6 brothers, I was destined to be the one to have you. We each have to take a bride once we turn 25. However, your and my arraignment is slightly different. You were always destined to be mine.”

You would be in a complete state of shock if you weren’t so mesmerized by this man right in front of you. You wanted to scream and cry, to say it was not true. But you couldn't move. Something was pulling you toward him, something was saying this was right.

He holds out his hand one last time, a smirk gracing his lips. “Come to me, Y/N. I know we belong together, I know you feel it to. Take my hand, Y/N.”

The last of your self control leave your body as you gently place your hand into his. Almost like an immediate reaction, you feel yourself change. You look down to see you are now adorned with a black almost wedding type dress. You look back up into the face of the man that now has you and you see a genuine smile.

“You now belong to me, Y/N. We are forever bound together in this dream and in the realms of reality. When you wake up, you will know where to find me and you will immediately come to me. Do not tell anyone where you will be going,” he kisses your forehead and releases your hand. “I will see you very soon, my Little Dove.”

“It’s been over a year since Ms. Y/N L/N has gone missing. If you have any information on the whereabouts of Ms. L/N, please call your local police department.”

[Masterlist]

#Monsta X #Monsta X reactions #Monsta x Fanfiction #Monsta x scenarios #Lee minhyuk #minhyuk x reader #minhyuk angst #kpop reactions #kpop angst #kpop fanfiction #kpop scenarios #lost in the dream #gaiyo fanfiction

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anotherimaginescollection · 7 years

Photo

‘I seriously don’t get it,’ you said, dropping onto Fox’s bed as the others settled around you. It was late, the latest JD shift had finally passed you and you were all well aware that in about ten minutes you’d have to go back to your own rooms so as not to get caught.

‘Because they enjoy keeping us in the dark,’ said Lion darkly, his dislike for The Centre only appeared to have mounted over the course of your first full day there.

‘Maybe it’s better not knowing what’s out there,’ suggested Badger.

Collie raised a sceptical eyebrow at him. He merely offered her a shrug in reply.

‘If it’s that dangerous out there,’ reasoned Fox, ‘then surely we need to know about it. Know how to deal with it if it came in.’

‘I think this place is pretty well protected,’ said Collie fairly. ‘We’ve all seen the locks for the doors.’

You all nodded your agreement.

‘But even they don’t make sense,’ you said in a small voice. ‘This place just doesn’t make sense.’

‘Too true,’ agreed Lion.

‘But questioning it’s going to get us nowhere,’ reasoned Fox with a sigh.

A/N: Gif credit goes to the respective owners; I just found them on Google (added the links in the captions).

#Book One: Unfrozen #Book One: Unfrozen Imagines #Book One: Unfrozen Imagine #Character: Fox #Character: Fox Imagines #Character: Fox Imagine #Character: Lion #Chracter: Lion Imagines #Character: Lion Imagine #Character: Badger #Character: Badger Imagines #Character: Badger Imagine #Character: Collie #Character: Collie Imagines #Character: Collie Imagine #OC #OC Imagines #OC Imagine

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frommainetospain2020 · 3 years

Text

Leaving Spain (A post about 3 months late)

So, I left Spain at the end of June, but I just never had the real ambition to write this post about the experience of doing so. So, just about 3 months later, here I am. So let’s reminisce about the adventure that was returning back to the USA from Europe for the second time.

I had started to pack my things a few days before departure, as one would. I packed the numerous books and movies I had purchased in Spanish into a large suitcase that I had purchased from Amazon. The unfortunate thing for me, was that I had a sneaking suspicion that the suitcase was over the bag weight limit for my flight. I fully prepared to need to pay an overweight bag fee, but I didn’t have my scale, so I didn’t know for sure.

The day of departure came. I did my last minute packing up, so that I could fit the past 9 1/2 months of my life into two suitcases and a backpack, which I did successfully, I might add. As I was leaving, I encountered my roommate, who I had quite a rocky acquaintanceship with. She wished me safe travels, and I was off.

Spain marked the first times I had ever gotten an Uber. I got one to go to and from my first TIE appointment, one to go to my second TIE appointment (I maneuvered the train back from that appointment), and finally this last Uber to get to the airport. After maneuvering public transport with 2 suitcases and a backpack when leaving Italy, I knew that I didn’t want to have to do that coming to the airport this time, and I certainly did not.

My driver was a guy named Francisco. The ride itself took about 20 minutes give or take, and it went fairly smoothly. He took a wrong turn shortly after the start of the trip, which he quickly remedied. My main observation was that, since I am an anxious driver, I was thankful that I hadn’t driven in Spain. That highway was intense.

Once we got to the airport, he helped me get my bags out, and I tipped him and gave him 5 stars on the Uber app, and went to start the airport procedure. Walking into Barajas airport, I saw a lot of people standing in line. I had the initial reaction that I had to stand in this long line in order to get where I needed to go. After a minute, I realized that each line was for specific airlines, and this line was not for my flight. I looked at the lines and eventually found the one for my flight. This was a very long line as well, but it didn’t take as long as I had anticipated.

In this line, there were two girls ahead of me that were from Indiana. They were doing a short study abroad, which I later found out was from the same company as my year abroad, but a different program. I learned that they themselves were Spanish majors and came for the cultural immersion. There was a girl a few people ahead of them whose suitcase was REALLY over the weight limit and she had to pull to the side and legitimately throw possessions away in order to not be over the overweight limit. This made me nervous because my bag looked to be of similar size to her, so I hoped that wasn’t the case.

When I got to the front, I put the heavy suitcase on the scale, and it weighed 30 kg, which was thankfully within the overweight bag limit. I did have to pay the overweight fee, but I had anticipated that. Once my bags were checked, I had to find airport security and begin step two.

There was a large statue of a giraffe that I seemed to be following. I saw them bring it in the door of the airport, and I saw them bring it through airport security. I’m not sure the story with that, but it definitely happened. I took a photo to document.

But anyway, the security checkpoint was easy enough. Put your belongings on the belt and loose items into the containers to be x-rayed. Since I wasn’t carrying anything sketchy, I got through easily.

Then I waited for boarding. I saw the girls from Indiana again at the gate, and one of them was in the seat right behind me. The line to board was long, but I’m not sure what exactly the reason for the line was. It was split into two lines for some reason, and people had carry ons checked. But anyway...

They boarded based on where on the plane you were, and I was accidentally reading the wrong part of my ticket, so I could board when I didn’t think I could. On the flight, I was seated next to a guy from the Dominican Republic. (I think... That could be wrong, it’s been a while) We didn’t talk much, aside from me translating one of the meals for him into Spanish, and trying to help him get his tv screen unfrozen.

Aside from being long, the flight was fairly uneventful. I watched Ratatouille in Spanish, as I had watched it in Italian on the flight back from Italy. I watched a few other things, but I don’t really remember those. I do know that I watched Back to the Future on my phone.

The in-flight meal was a Thai Chicken Curry with Kaffir Lime Sauce and Jasmine Rice. I took note to remember that because it was really good. It wasn’t spicy and hit the spot. I also had caramel ice cream, which was super good. This was really the only meal that I ate, since I was full. The other meal had been a choice of either barbecue chicken pizza or goat cheese pizza. This was the meal choice I translated for my seatmate. (Pizza de pollo barbacoa o de queso de cabra).

This flight landed in New York JFK airport. When it landed, we walked a long corridor to get to the border checkpoint. They asked me where I was coming from, what I had in my luggage and things like that. Once I got through there, I had to get my bags, and move them to a different carousel. I struggled to retrieve the heavy bag because the carousel kept going and it almost took me with it. I managed it though, and took them to the other carousel.

Then I maneuvered to the passport/security check. I thought I got in the wrong line at first, but later found out it was the right line. I went through and got through again pretty easily. After this, it was my new task to reach my gate. I gotta tell you, airports are massive. I swear I saw about 5 Dunkin Donuts and about 6 different convenience stores of the same franchise on my walk to my terminal. I let a very tall man pass me, since he appeared to be a pilot and was walking like a man on a mission.

I finally got to the terminal for my flight to the Bangor airport. While there, there was a man who spoke Spanish who was boarding a different flight that they struggled to communicate with. Obviously my skills were not up to par to do this. An airport employee was able to communicate and get him where he needed to go.

There was also a woman, her child, and her father waiting for the same flight as me. She was communicating both in Spanish and English. She was talking about a snack to her daughter in Spanish but then said “blueberries” in English. I told her I think it’s “arandanos”, at least in Spain. I told her about my time in Spain and she said that her family is from South America.

When we boarded the plane, the only real thing of note was the guy sitting across the aisle from me. This dude was incredibly entitled. To get a visual, I want you to imagine all 4 of the Try Guys combined into a single person. First he asked if he could move forward to one of the open seats in front of him. Well.... those seats were roomier and required an upgrade, so when told no, he kind of sulked. Then he made an issue about the attendant forgetting his pretzels. I wanted to smack him, but obviously I didn’t.

Then we got to Bangor, and it was raining. My mom was in the airport waiting for me, and we picked up my baggage and waited for my dad to pull up with the car and then they brought me home.

Thus completes my adventures in Spain.

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rewatching-supernatural · 3 years

Text

s08e16

woke up just in time to see himself kill someone

"oh God" yeah, indeed

*****

wow that's a beautiful bird

*****

oh wow, guy unfrozen, came back to life, and escaped in the woods

that's totally normal, right?

*****

The bunker

*****

Sam keeps spitting out blood

that is weird

*****

Cas still isn't answering, Kevin's still working

Sam's acting weird

*****

zombies mhm

*****

this cop is chill tho like

I know what I saw, that shit was a zombie, take care of yourself, aim for the head

*****

Guy's awake again, guys

*****

this poor guy keeps dying over and over again

*****

alright mysterious woman all in leather

why

*****

weird woman knows him

*****

Dean 😂

"I don't know. You?"

*****

this is getting weirder and weirder

*****

A titan, uh

Prometheus

*****

so they're fighting Artemis and Zeus' curse

that's normal

smh

*****

okay here's one thing that doesn't fucking make sense in every fucking movie/tv show about researching

they go up to the shelf, grab a book and open it at random

if you're looking for something in a book, you open it up to the beginning to see if there's a Table of Content, and if not, to the end for a glossary or smt similar

you don't just randomly open a book about 1/3 in to find info

that's not how this works

🤦🏼‍♀️

*****

wow so fulgurite is just available

out there

*****

Zeus!

what a dick

*****

I mean, I understand Hayley's a mom and she wanted to do what she could for her kid

but WHY. DO. CIVILIANS. ALWAYS. TRY. TO. GET. MURDERED???

*****

that is not at all what I imagine Artemis to look like

*****

Sammy trash talking a God is amazing seriously

and then manipulating her

*****

Artemis just killed Zeus and Prometheus

her running scene is so bad and awkward

*****

Artemis is the Goddest of hunters and she's wearing high heels???? what the fuck

*****

a hunter funeral for Prometheus

he deserved it

*****

Only Sam and Dean could argue because Dean wants Sam to die of a heart attack

*****

Dean calling out to Cas again ❤️

bitch never answers, but Dean still does, hoping Cas will hear

asking him to look out for Sam

*****

#s08e16 #spn s08e16 #supernatural #supernatural rewatch #spn rewatch #spn #spn season 8 #season 8 #march 4 #remember the titans #car accident #the bunker #undead #titan #keeps dying #prometheus #zeus #artemis

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dirigibleplumbing · 4 years

Text

Dear Yuletide Author Letter 2020

Dear Yuletide Author,

Season’s greetings and happy Yuletide! The rest of this is under a cut because "long-winded” would be a polite understatement for describing this post. I hope it isn’t overwhelming! You aren’t obligated to take any of this into account, and I’ll be thrilled with any story in the universes I requested with the characters I requested. All this is here if you’re interested in getting a better idea of what kinds of thing I like or have thought about, but they aren’t, like, the only things I’d enjoy, and they are by no means requirements. (This isn’t just me saying so, these are also the Yuletide rules.)

These are also here in case you are really stuck on coming up with an idea for the fandom you were matched with me for. If you want to try writing for a previously unfamiliar fandom instead, some of these might be manageable for you to read or watch in time to write a story.

Marvel’s Avengers

If you’re not familiar with this game but like Marvel stuff, you can check it out via some youtube videos of important cut-scenes and gameplay.

If you have spent even a couple minutes on my AO3 account or tumblr you know that I ship Steve/Tony. I would love to see some Steve/Tony here, but I also seriously love their friendship. They have a fun dynamic in this game regardless of shipping and I’ll be thrilled with anything that explores that!

I like post-canon or canon-divergent stories a lot. Here are some other thoughts if you’re looking for more direction. Some are shippy, some can go either way.

Undercover mission hijinks

Steve tries to move back into his old room, but it turns out it isn’t just his jacket Tony took...

When they think they’re going to die after escaping the AIM satellite and Tony asks Steve if he has any last confessions, Steve decides to tell Tony how he feels about him

Steve deals with having missed out -- again -- on years of events while the people in his life mourned and continued living without him (an earlier version of this letter was missing the “again.” I meant being presumed dead after A-day, not just being unfrozen)

Steve thinks back over all the jokes Tony’s told that he didn’t get and realizes that Tony’s been flirting with him

Tony decides that since he has a second chance with Steve, he’s going to tell Steve how he feels about him

I always love scifi tropes such as: time travel; multiverse stuff; truth serum; bodyswapping; temporary amnesia (and lots more, name a scifi trope, I probably love it)

Society of Gentlemen

Okay if you haven’t read this series, and you like m/m romance and kink, please go out and read A Seditious Affair! If you like identity porn and identity reveals, uh, definitely read it. It’s technically the 2nd book, but there are some things in the 1st book that kinda spoil it, and Seditious Affair will make total sense as a stand-alone. It’s set in Regency England.

I pretty much just want Silas and Dom to hang out somewhere that looks and feels a lot like canon! Some thoughts if you’re looking for more direction:

Dom helps Silas look for a new location for his bookshop

Dom’s new job at the tax office causes problems for one of Silas’ radical friends

Alternatively, Dom needs Silas’ less savory knowledge or radical contacts in order to get evidence on a lord who’s been evading their taxes

Silas starts writing pamphlets again. He hasn’t started publishing them yet, but he hasn’t talked to Dom about it, either. Maybe Dom (or perhaps Cyprian or Richard) finds the drafts. (I’m imagining this taking place after A Gentleman’s Position, but it doesn’t have to.)

One (or more) of the Ricardians are in trouble, and Cyprian’s plan involves Silas and Dom. Maybe they have to go undercover to one extent or another?

GLOW

I saved this for last because it got... just... so long. I’m sorry! If the length is scary you can just skip reading it! Just write about GLOW and Ruth and Debbie and I’ll love it.

I adore this show. If you haven’t seen it, it’s just 3 season and is available on Netflix. It’s an ensemble show with mostly women characters and it deals with themes of friendship, found family, sexual identity, being a woman in Hollywood, and lots more. I’m gonna be honest, I was skeptical about the wrestling aspect, but I ended up loving it. The wrestling parts are full of impressive stunts and physical comedy. That said, if you don’t want to watch characters dealing with period-typical homophobia and racism -- or you just can’t deal with a 1980′s aesthetic -- you’ll want to pass on this one.

When it comes down to it, I really just want more of this show! I will be happy with just about anything that feels like a continuation of canon. I picked just Debbie and Ruth as characters but I love all the characters, add as many as you want! I ship Debbie/Ruth, though I think they have a ways to go to get there. Pre-slash is good too.

Some ideas if you’re looking for direction:

The immediate aftermath of the airport scene

Bash, in typical himbo Bash fashion, engages in Bash-typical hinjinks, inadvertently leading Ruth and Debbie to reunite

Okay so the last episode was Christmas, right, so how about a dramatic New Years’ Eve reunion?

Debbie learns about a role in movie being made by a big-name director that Ruth would be perfect for. Debbie has an in with the casting director, too. She really thinks Ruth has a shot. But Ruth and Debbie haven’t spoken since they parted ways at the airport. Debbie doesn’t know if Ruth wants to hear from her, and what if Ruth still doesn’t get the part? She’d be even more devastated, and blame Debbie this time. What happens when they talk about it? Does Ruth come out to audition?

The top choices to play the teacher in Justine’s movie are suddenly unavailable, and Ruth has a second shot at the role. Debbie doesn’t think she should take it. Or, maybe Ruth doesn’t want to take it because of Sam, and Debbie convinces her to take the part anyway.

Ruth and Debbie haven’t spoken for a while, but one of them is in trouble and the other, inevitably, comes to help them. I’m kinda picturing a rom-com sort of setup, like:

Ruth’s offered a role in a movie but only if Debbie takes one too

Debbie gets in a huge public fight with Mark or Tex (or whoever) and needs Ruth’s help recovering from the resulting PR disaster

Ruth needs support and to look cool at a school reunion

Do not wants:

Pregnancy. No pregnancy of any kind, please.

I don’t care for kid fic either. I particularly don’t like reading about infants. (For GLOW, I’m not asking you write Randy out or anything, I just don’t want a story that revolves around him.)

animal harm

Things I always like:

happy endings

plot

more plot than porn

playing with format, such as: epistolary stories; stories in the format of podcasts, reality shows, TV interviews, etc.; stories told through academic articles, magazine articles, letters to the editor, journal entries, blog entries, etc.

I can’t wait to see what you come up with!

♥, Naomi | dirigibleplumbing

#yuletide #yuletide 2020 #about me #dirigibleplumbing #dear yuletide author

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