#funny to think about the ripple effect it had on my life. So many important people in my life would be missing if it weren't for the ponies
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happy birthday, ponies
#my little pony#pinkie pie#hidden cane#funny to think about the ripple effect it had on my life. So many important people in my life would be missing if it weren't for the ponies#So many of my happiest moments were directly or indirectly caused by ponies#I think about all the kindness I experienced because of it. All the wonderful messages people gave me over the years.#If you've ever left a kind message in my inbox. Know that I've cherished it forever#thank you
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Weekend Top Ten #613
Top Ten Moments in Jurassic Park
So for no other reason than I want to get it done before the end of the year, this week I’m talking about Jurassic Park. This year is the thirtieth (thirtieth!) anniversary of Jurassic Park. And Jurassic Park is one of the most important films of my lifetime; so important that I genuinely think of my life before 1993, and after 1993. It really was a year.
Jurassic Park is when I fell in love with film. I was always into watching films and stuff like that, but there was something about the synthesis of so many of my interests: Steven Spielberg, the guy who’d been involved in some of my favourite films, from E.T. to Back to the Future to Roger Rabbit; dinosaurs, which were cool; science fiction in general; “grown-up” novels and fiction; blockbuster cinema; special effects; and the whole filmmaking process in general, amped up by all the “making-ofs” I consumed, and especially the fact that I devoured issue 50 of Empire magazine, with its big ol’ T-Rex on the cover. All these things came together, the hinterland between a childish enjoyment of entertaining pastimes and an adult appreciation of an artform; the moment when I dived headfirst into something, wanted to peek behind the curtain, wanted to examine the human beings who’d made all this possible. I’d had a bit of that with comics, learning the names and of writers and artists on Transformers, but now my love of cinema exploded.
It helped that Jurassic Park is an absolute blast, of course.
So as this is the film’s thirtieth year, I wanted to celebrate before the year was over. And it feels apt to go back to a very early format for these Top Tens and list not just my favourite moments, but my favourite moments as represented by a line of dialogue. This was incredibly hard, and not just because there’s no easy line to represent the bit with the kids in the kitchen. But like life, I found a way.
That’s funny coz it’s like a line in the film.
Anyway, unlock the gate, don your yellow poncho, grab a spoonful of jelly and join me as I welcome you… to Jurassic Park. Make sure you’re back here in 2027 for the sequel! More of the same but with Pete Postlethwaite this time!
“I hate being right all the time.”: surely the centrepiece of the film is the barnstorming, paradigm-shifting T-Rex attack. We can talk all we like about the slow ratcheting of tension; the rain, the goat, the goggles, the claw on the fence, “He left us, he left us”, and – of course, of course, of course, the ripples in the water. But as the beast snaps (that sound!) through the fence, and strides purposely onto the road, Ian Malcolm – famous naysayer and doom-monger – regrets so many of his life choices.
“Clever girl.”: probably the film’s most famous line? We’ve been told all along how smart the raptors are (it’s basically the first thing Alan Grant does); they open doors, they move in packs, they solve puzzles. So when they get the drop on park warden bloke Muldoon, it’s little surprise, but he still has the decency to celebrate their success.
“I think we’re back in business!”: Jurassic Park is a sci-fi adventure movie, sure, but it’s also a horror film. There are moments of sustained tension and outright terror, and then there are also jump-scares; and this is the daddy of them all. Ellie has a moment’s reprieve before a bloody big raptor head smashes through the wall behind her. Famously made Princess Diana jump in the cinema.
“Unless they figure out how to open doors…”: another of the showcase CGI scenes, the fidelity of the raptors as they stalk the children in the kitchen was something unprecedented back in ’93. It’s another masterclass from Spielberg, as we have multiple moments of ramping fear, culminating in the frantic dash into the walk-in freezer. And don’t forget, the sequence really begins with that excellent shot of the jelly on Lex’s spoon!
“I’m gonna run you over when I come back down.”: pour one out for Dennis Nedry, the big slobby oaf who’s greed got everyone eaten. Including himself! In a rather gorgeously wet scene full of mud and rain, he insults a tiny, weird dinosaur before it opens a huge, terrifying neck fan and spits big horrid gobs of phlegm at him. It’s a really creepy scene with a freaky jump-scare at the end. In the book he gets disembowelled! It’s well rad.
“Shoot her!”: the opening scene is, I think, rather undersung. It’s a combination of the misty, sweaty jungle setting, and the businesslike routine of the workers. “Loading team, step away.” It all seems mundane and peaceful until the raptor attacks and we instantly see the power of this beast, even if we don’t see the beast itself. Really spooky.
“Welcome to Jurassic Park.”: so many of these moments are terrifying, but the film also has a great sense of awe and wonder. Yes, part of that is the characters seeing dinosaurs for the first time; but it’s also the wonder of this new CG technology that is able to render the animals in such stunning fidelity, like nothing we’d ever seen before. The way the first brachiosaur is revealed, looming gracefully high up in the frame, merrily chewing on a tree, is stunning.
“You didn’t say the magic word!”: I’ve already singled out Nedry for his wet, messy demise, but he’s a great character throughout, his greedy brand of sarcasm undercutting the serious technical wizardry. Arnold trying to break into his code (whist chewing through dozens of cigarettes) culminates in the cheesy animation of Nedry wagging his finger.
“I’ve decided not to endorse your park.”: this final line is a nice zinger as we see our heroes on their way to freedom and safety, but really it represents the entire denouement of the film. Originally, Hammond was going to come in and kill the raptor with a bazooka; but once they knew they could really deliver on these CGI dinosaurs, we have a return to the film’s true hero – the T-Rex (hey, she ate a lawyer; as Weird Al said, it proves they’re really not all bad!). bursting in out of nowhere like the Close Encounters mothership (seriously, how did no one notice her?) she bites a raptor mid-leap, tosses the other one through a skeleton, and gives a big ol’ roar.
“That is one big pile of shit.”: yes, another moment of levity among all the running and screaming and being digested. They stop to find out what’s wrong with a poorly triceratops, and it results in Malcolm staring at, frankly, an enormous bit of poo. It’s funny.
Really disappointed I couldn’t find room for the dinner conversation (“Condors!”), the intro to Nedry (“Dodgson!”), Lex hacking the park (“Unix!”), or sadly anything from Mr. DNA. But what do you expect? It’s a fantastic film.
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Glam tv stand
Glam tv stand movie#
Glam tv stand driver#
Glam tv stand series#
What's it like working with Carsyn and the other kids on the show? Her sketches come to life, animated in her imagination. I write Amber as an artist, a bit of a loner, escaping through her art.
Glam tv stand series#
What did you bring to the series that isn't in the books? Even when it's painful, we can find some levity in it. Over the years, I always talked to my mom about being a storyteller, and she said, "Be mindful of the energy you're putting into the world - it has a ripple effect." I want this to be smart, touching and of course, funny. I'm just trying to put some kindness out there. Some of the stories are drawn from my childhood, like Amber volunteering at a nursing home. I went to my young self - how I felt at that time and what I worried about. Was it different writing for a protagonist who is twelve? "We decided to bring the two worlds together," explains Hunt, who spoke recently with emmy's Amy Amatangelo. Hunt was, in fact, writing a show about an eccentric aunt when she met an executive from Boat Rocker Media, which had bought the rights to Amber Brown. "I cherish being the aunt that they can come to at times and confide in. "Mom thought it would be a good connection for me because I have so many nieces and nephews," Hunt says. Based on a series of novels of the same name by the late Paula Danziger, the show follows the twelve-year-old title character (played by Carsyn Rose) as she navigates her parents' divorce and all sorts of adolescent angst with honesty and humor.Īmber Brown marks the first time Hunt has written directly for the tween audience, and she did so at the encouragement of her mother. Now Hunt is the writer, director and showrunner of Amber Brown, streaming on Apple TV+. "I've been so fortunate," says the Chicago native. She's starred in movies as varied as Jerry Maguire, The Green Mile and Cheaper by the Dozen. Hunt's prolific television work includes producing and hosting her own talk show as well as creating, writing and headlining three sitcoms - ABC's Life with Bonnie (2002–04), CBS's Bonnie (1995– 96) and CBS's The Building (1993).
Glam tv stand movie#
Sometimes they quote her iconic improvised line - "We're walking, we're walking" - from the movie Dave, in which she played a White House tour guide.
Glam tv stand driver#
Often, they mention Return to Me, the MGM film starring Minnie Driver and David Duchovny, which she directed and cowrote. “I try to invoke that same feeling of ultra-luxury into all the glam rooms I design.Bonnie Hunt enjoys hearing from people who relate to her work, be it her acting, writing or directing. It was all about drama, with fierce leading ladies oozing sex appeal,” he says. “I adore the glitz and glam of Old Hollywood. This powerful mystique resonates for Bullard as well. “The feeling I like glam rooms to evoke is a nod to the golden era of Hollywood,” Arnold adds. Connecting a glam room to the primary suite and pulling components from an adjacent bathroom, such as the honed rose onyx he used in a project, for instance, “is a great way for the space to feel refined, more feminine-while being elevated and not thematic.”īut sometimes it makes perfect sense to go big in these intimate quarters that often precede very public moments. “It is important for there to be a mix of styles, and typically that is directed by the past, while contrasting with something new and contemporary,” Arnold states. “I think introducing a comfy space to gather helps to move this particular glam room away from parody,” Farnham says. Given the decadent vibe of these spaces, designers would be wise to avoid distracting cliché and ephemeral-feeling set decorating. “It’s more common in image-conscious markets, where a lot of people might be in entertainment or related industries, or in the world of beauty,” she says.īuy now for unlimited access and all of the benefits that only members get to experience. real estate agent Daria Greenbaum reports that glam rooms are often seen in eight-figure price homes and increasingly at relatively lower price points. (For many-those YouTubers, for instance-a get-ready area is arguably an extension of the office.) L.A. Spaces like walk-in closets, offices, and bathrooms can be adapted to house glam roomettes or at least a tricked out vanity. The pandemic-born reality of residences supporting more functions than ever before means a glam room isn’t only for red carpet regulars. Farnham’s project, for instance, includes Calacatta Viola marble, velvet, bouclé, and brass fixtures juxtaposed with dark stained wood features, walnut mirrors, and a custom walnut tailor stand for a more unisex vibe. As for materials and color palettes, a glam room need not exclusively be awash in Barbiecore and other overtly feminine-coded elements (although some cheeky irony can be fun).
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YOUR NEVER TOO OLD
CHRIS EVANS X READER
Summary: celebrating chris birthday
30 days of chris @jtargaryen18
Waking up on a morning your excited for yet been dreading. It's a dread that only grows through out time . Thought your life . As you age . It was the morning Chris was dreading the day he celebrates his last year of being in his 30s . He doesnt even want to think about next year went it's his big four zero .
As Chris crawled his way out of the cold bed due to the absent warmth . He quickly rubs his eyes and stood up. As he exited his old room back at his moms (her request ) he began to make his not so quite way down the stairs .
At this point in his life , be thought hed have a a wife , kids a successful carer. He was getting closer to his all round American dream . A successful career yes he had and was very much grateful for . Child not yet but hopeful soon . As he reached the bottom of the stair he heard laughter of the two most important women in his life . He made his way to the kitchen. Were his mother welcome him in open arms
"My boys all grown up big 39 , happy birthday son " she reach for his cheeks and gave them a tap with a devilish smirk " god I feel old "
"Ma you feel old , what about me ! " Chris boston accent shinning through as always when his back home , this caused you to giggle as you stood at the stove flipping his birthday pancakes, watching the mother and son bond
"Oh your never too old !" .
Your laughter caught the attention of the birthday boy , as he marched his way towards you with a devilish smirk . You quickly resumed your persion acting as if you didnt know he was making his way over .
You felt a height weight meet your back causing you to stumble forward abit, but was intently pulled back by two big muscles arms . Met with a sloppy open mouth kiss on on your neck .
"Morning love ... you wernt in bed this morning " Chris said with his morning raspy voice, as you plated the last pancake and turned to face him , with a still face . " I was realise looking forward to my morning present " he said with a smirk and mischievous glare in his eyes as he eyed you up and down in his shirt and your shorts . Knowing full well what he ment you swatted him with a tea towel that was close by .
"Christopher Robet Evans it my be your birthday but you mother is around " you tried to say in the most serious voice you had as he gave you puppy dog eyes .
"Dont worrie dear iv heard and done alot worst "
"Ma ! " Chris replied with a face of disgust " I did not need to know that on my birthday " he muttered. You could help but giggle as you could clearly see where Chris gets his mischief form .
Your giggle cause Chris to smile towards you and tighten you in his hold " what's so funny ?"
You chose to ignore him and do a little turn to your left and pick up the plate of pancakes as stared "happppppppppppyyyyyyyyyyyy birrrrthhhhdayyyyyy to you ...happy " as you continue chris kep protecting
"No ! "
"Stop!"
"You know I dont like that song !"
It only made you continue with a smile and you walked forward causing chris to walk backwards into chair , shaking his head as he sat down. While you continued to sing to him . He pulled you into his lap once you finished.
"Thank you " he said pecking your lips
"What for the pancakes or cuz I stopped singing " you giggled
"Both "
"Oi" you were silenced with a long kiss .
"Happy birthday my love " you picked his lips one more time as you got up . But Chris caught you left hand and brought it to his lips . As he placed a kiss on were your diamond ring sat .
"It certainly is " he began as he released you and you made your way back into the kitchen. " think of it one my next birthday you'll be mrs Evan's "
"And then I can shower you with as many morning gifts as you want. " you put on a play ful smirk ,as butterflies grew in your stomach at the thought of you soon becoming mrs Evans
□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□
As the day progresses. It only got busy , as you and lisa rushed around preparing Chris's party . The both of you ended up snapping at Chris more then once as he tried to help but you and lisa order him not to move a muscle until he needed to get ready .
With the party full swing. Chris weared a simple white t shirt and blue shorts. Chris was inside the know still greeting everyone . And getting the oh so helpful reminder of his age . Chris's anxiety began to creep in as the amount of people increased and the attention it brought with it . But as soon as he glanced outside . His blue eys landed on you sitting on the grass with his nieces and nephews . It was his hourly reminder on just how lucky he was to have you . It brought a small smile to his lips .
As everyone gathered outside ,as the wind began to come in ,bring a fresh ful breeze into the oncoming summer heat . The music was blurring as chatter and laughter filled the outside. Until the music came to a stop causing a ripple effect though out the back yard , silencing everything apart form the odd whisper and last giggle . All eyes turned to the poach . As well as Chris blue eys that landed on you standing there in your summer dress. Your hair lose in wind and the curls began to fall out . A wide , sweet smile placed on your lips with eyes filled with excitement and anxiety. This was another hourly reminder for Chris on how much he loved you , everything about you , oh how he couldn't wait for this to be over so he could have you all to him self .
You cleared your voice , you were quite nervous you have never had so many eyes on you .
"Hi everyone , thank you for coming..." you began " we are all here to celebrate Chris birthday but dont worrie we ain't going to sing the song , trust me a got an ear fill this morning " that caused a small giggle form the crowd form in front of you . Your eyes caught those blue ones you loved some much as you kept eye contact with him , you saw a pink raise in his cheeks no doubt you do to now .your heart began to harmer even more .
"Chris is special to us all in his own little way . That's why your all here unless you only came for the free drinks . " another round of laughter as you kept your eye contact with Chris " but I wanted to say just how special Chris is to me .... yeah .. yeah get ready for the cheesy stuff . But I mean it when I say I love you Chris , everything about you ... how your caring sweet and how that s gonna make you the ... " you pushed as your hands became sweaty and your heart raised even more .
".... the perfect father "
Silence . Everyone just nodded in agreement as Chris grew an embarrassing smirk. You guessed there didnt quite get the message just yet.
"What I'm trying to say is Chris ..."
"In about 7 months you will become the perfect father "
Now this silence was deafening as everyone months were wide open and eyes wide . Chris was well . You never saw so many emotions crash on to some one face . He took a step forward so he was almost infrount of you .
"Y.... you..re pr...pregnant" a single tear escape his eyes as you bent down to wipe it away, placing your lips on onto his .
"Yes" was all you could answer as you began to chook up on your own word . Everyone cheered and screamed . Including your self as Chris lifted you of the ground , smashing his lips to your .
"I'm going to be a father " he looked up to you still high of the ground in his arms and your hands went around his neck .
"The best " you nodded .
"But I'm old " he almost sounded like a winning child .
"Your never to old "
#chris evans#chris evans birthday#30daysofchris2020#chris evans fanfiction#chris evans x reader#chris evans x y/n#chris evans au
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Rant incoming, wee woo wee woo
Okay so:
I highkey despise the way that mental health and mental health issues are discussed and dealt with in the DreamSMP. And maybe I'm a bit biased and shit, but I've been thinking about it a lot, and come to the conclusion that they really just, do not know how to write mentally ill characters, trauma, or people who are a bit fucked up without in some way sending an ableist or confusing message.
For example:
Tommy Constantly Flip Flops Between Having Trauma From Dream's Gaslighting And Manipulation, And Joking Around Carelessly And Being Generally Non-Effected
That's not to say that someone who is depressed or traumatized has to "act traumatized" or "be depressed" all the time. But there needs to be a certain level of... I suppose consistency when it comes to this stuff, especially when trying to tell a story that deals with mental health. When writing characters who have gone through shit, acting is your best friend, and the little things can really add to and go to elevate a person's character. Instead of having Tommy have moments (that aren't directly related to Dream, and don't necessarily get triggered by an explicit mention of Dream or his past) is important to proving to the audience that he has, in fact, gone through shit. I've seen and spoken with plenty of people who seem to think that Tommy's jovial or out of place behaviour is a Coping Mechanism. Which is totally fine to think. But let me say this:
Not once has it ever been shown, implied, or explicitly stated, that what Tommy does is a coping mechanism.
Other than in joking contexts before stream, moments of debatable canonicity, or when Tommy wants to make an off handed joke to play into his persona for Twitch/Youtube, as far as memory servers, not once has it been properly established within the narrative that what Tommy does is an intentional coping mechanism. As a result, it comes across more as an attempt by Tommy to make content for the server. When he jokes about selling Foot, or makes references to his Snapchat streaks, he's doing that to be funny, to create content, to be entertaining. Not because he put thought into his actual character to do this so that it seemed like an unhealth coping mechanism, it's to be funny. He acts just like he did in the beginning of the server, when he was in L'manburg. And the times where he does show signs of trauma or being effected by past events do exist, but let me say this:
A. Tommy has gone through a lot more than just Dream's manipulation, and despite this he only seems to be effected specifically by the stuff Dream has put him through, rather than literally anything else he has gone through, which is a lot. It paints his trauma as inconsistent, and makes it seem like he only has PTSD and Panic Attacks due to Dream, even though it would make logical sense for him to be upset, or at least effected by Wilbur, explosions, murder, fireworks, crossbows, Technoblade as a whole, Philza etc etc. But up until the Exile Arc, the biggest reference we've gotten to trauma from past events is jokes about Tubbo having PTSD and... vaguely alluded to mixed feelings about Ghostbur.
B. He instantaneously gets over basically all of his trauma and worries in literally a day. Arguably, he does it as a whole, in a combined time of like, fifteen minutes. He goes to his old home, and after literally just standing there, he no longer feels like he's gonna have a panic attack when in this area. There is no visible mental process, there is no showing of actual character development. He doesn't even have much of a realization that what happened to him doesn't have to define him, and he can grow past that. He instead basically just... sets out that day to "Conquer his fears". Trauma is not a fear of spiders, those are not and never have been an equivalent. Treating them like they are, like it's that simple, is insensitive. You don't just go to the place you experienced trauma in and feel better in five minutes, and if you do, usually there is something else going on here. But you need to actually explain that to the audience, because we are not mind readers, and not everyone is gonna over analyze the story just to understand something that barely even matters in the long run. You also are not really able to just... get over trauma. It's not that easy, even if many wish it was. It's not like getting the flu, trauma has ripple effects and will likely linger in a persons life for the entirety of it. Not only is this so remarkably fast passed, and actually a egregious misrepresentation over how trauma is resolved and how people get over it, but it seems more like a way to allow Tommy to stop acting like he's having a panic attack every time he's here than an actual effort to have the character has a positive change.
The other instance of this, is his confrontation with Dream while sneaking out of L'manburg with Techno. He stands up to Dream (and I could go on for hours about why this whole scene is highkey kinda bullshit), backs down a bit when threatened, Technk stands up for him then alludes to betrayal, and then the scene ends and Tommy has somehow come to the conclusion that he has overcome his fear of Dream and is now his own man. Which is... bizarre to say the least. Both because, that is not a good representation of how people get over and recover from their manipulators and gaslighting, along with my previous points about the pacing and how it is never that easy, but also because it just... it kinda also had the potential to be used in a much better way. They could have gone about it any other way, having Tommy recover and grow and be reassured slowly over time, instead of, in an instant making the jump to fully recovered and totally all good. That could actually have been good to see for his character, but... no we don't get that.
C. Nobody in the actual narrative, not Technoblade, not Ph1lza, not even Tommy himself, properly describes or acknowledges that what Tommy has is actual depression, that he was suicidal, that he was gaslit, that what he went through wasn't just "Run of the mill manipulation" that it was a genuine abuse. Tommy never tells anyone what fully went down, he never actually says he's having panic attacks, and nobody bothers to ask, be concerned, or actually explain it to him (if it didn't make sense for Tommy as a character to know what he was going through). Any possible non verbal explanation for what he was doing being coping is never used, and no terminology is ever used to describe his experience other than just "Manipulation". What Tommy went through is more accurate to call Verbal, Emotional, and Mental Abuse, Gaslighting, Suicidal Tendencies and an attempt on his own Life. And they should call it that, for the sake of clarity for the audience. But instead, they keep it very vague, not actually explaining it or implying that this is a coping mechanism. And if they do, oh boy, they kinda fucked it up ngl.
Now you may wonder, why is it important to clarify? To be a bit obvious? To make it known? Well, it's important for the sake of proper representation of mental illness/mental health related topics. It's important to make it known that Tommy has trauma that won't just go away in a day, that what he's going through is hard, to properly called Dream abusive and clarify that Tommy's way of acting is him coping. Because fiction reflects reality, and in order to not risk spreading the wrong message, or doing a lackluster job, you need to be clear. It's important for the people who go through similar stuff to see, in order to feel validated and included. But most of all, it's important for the people who might not know about this specific stuff, so they can be informed and have their mind changed.
Think about it like this. Even if you, as either a Neuro-divergent person, or maybe just someone educated on mental health related topics and symptoms, can see and infer that what Tommy is doing is unhealthy, can other people? If other people who don't have much background knowledge on this stuff, can't tell, then the story has failed fundamentally to actually have a proper conversation about coping mechanisms and how unhealthy they can be. If a dedicated reader or a casual fan can't get the idea or understand that Tommy is being self destructive and is coping in an unhealthy way, have you really informed anyone of the actual problem with his behaviour or character?
This can also be an issue narratively. By having nobody acknowledge what Tommy is going through, it makes those characters seem tactless, careless, like they either have no clue or could care less about what Tommy is going through. It makes Philza's rhetoric and being kind and knowing better seem empty, because who is he to say anything about teaching people a lesson when he can't even recognize when his son is a traumatized abuse victim? It makes Tommy seem completely tone deaf to exactly how impacted he should be, and doesn't make him look good when he tries to act like he's been utterly destroyed by Dream's manipulation, when not five minutes earlier, he was joking about how many wives he has. (It also makes the guilt tripping of other characters seem especially scummy, but that's a whole other rant for another time).
So basically what I'm saying is... shits fucked I guess.
This is a mess lmao, but I'm just kinda mad. And there are probably a lot better examples of the lackluster mental health representation, and I could probably explain my point a lot better some other way, but hopefully this makes sense.
#negative#dream smp#dream smp critical#dsmp critical#criticism#critcal dsmp#damn. they kind shit at writing and roleplay can you beleive it#shits wild luv#can you believe the ableism and the bad writing of mental health issues#rp#roleplay#minecraft roleplay
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(I wrote a quick little fanfic thing - this is the un-edited draft, and it might get some changes before it gets posted anywhere else. Or maybe not, because I’m real bad about editing!
BTW, this is one of those fics where you need basically no background info, so like...check it out!)
I'm nobody important.
My name is Toni, and I live and work in Rook City. And I know immediately some of you will be asking why? I know it's not a great place to live, everybody in the country knows that, but at least it's got some apartments you can actually afford if you're living on crappy base wages. Which is what I really needed, after graduating from college with a mountain of debt and no savings.
Anyway. This story's not about my life or my problems.
It's a story about the Wraith.
The first time I saw the Wraith, I was heading home from work. I'm an assistant patent clerk at an office in the inner city - and please, no Einstein jokes. I've heard all of them, and none of them were funny the first time. Anyway, it's hard work, the hours are long, and the pay is not great. But it's better than nothing.
I was on my way to the subway station, and I guess I wasn't paying enough attention to my surroundings, because I didn't see the guy approaching me until he pulled a knife and demanded my money.
I kind of panicked. I rummaged in my handbag, and he just grabbed the whole thing away from me and dumped it out on the ground, scattering everything across the pavement - notepads, pens, my purse, some used tissues...and a pistol. Just a little revolver, nothing special, but still enough of a gun to catch his attention.
The guy reached down and picked up the gun, pointed it straight at my head. I could see him sneering out from under his hood. "What the hell is this? Huh?"
"I'm sorry, I-"
"What, you thought you'd pull a gun if anyone tried to grab your cash, huh?"
That had been the plan. "No!"
"Thought you were some sorta tough bitch?"
"No, no!"
"Bullshit. I oughtta shoot you right now. Teach you a lesson."
My eyes were stuck on the gun, staring right down the barrel, so I barely saw it when a shadow behind him suddenly shifted. But when the gun suddenly moved upwards, plucked right out of his grip...well, I could hardly have missed that.
His attacker was quick - she swept that gun up and away with one hand, and as she circled around him the other fist was already striking forward at his eyes. His hands came up, tried to block her, and that was all the opportunity she needed: another strike lashed out at his throat, stunning him before she moved in, twisted around, and sent him straight down to the pavement.
She straightened, cape billowing around her as she looked down at me. I guess I'd collapsed as soon as the gun was out of my face, so I got the full effect as this shadowy, indistinct figure leaned over me, its face dark. Tattered bandages fluttered round her edges, her eyes seemed to glow. So when her voice came it startled me. I'd expected some zombie growl or hiss. Something menacing. Instead, she was...gentle.
"Are you hurt?"
It took a second or two for me to even process her words, and by the time it sunk in, I felt like my silence was getting weird, so my answer came out in blurts. "Oh! No, I'm fine! Thanks!"
"Alright." She came closer, peered into my eyes for a second, then took hold of my arm and lifted me up to standing. "Grab your stuff, go home."
I knelt and grabbed my handbag, and started shovelling my stuff into it as the Wraith walked away. Then she turned back for a second:
"And consider getting rid of the gun. You'll get yourself hurt, carrying something like that around."
And with that, she was gone, vanished back into the darkness.
I didn't see her again for a long time. That wasn't a shock or anything - I think most people in the city never see her at all, some don't even think that she's real. They think she's a myth, like the ratmen in the sewers.
Anyway. I was heading home from work again, after another day that had started too early and ended too late, and all I wanted was to make it to the train station, catch one to my apartment, and get a little sleep before I had to head back to the office. This time I was sticking a little more closely to the well-lit streets, and I wasn't carrying a gun around - just a little can of mace. I figured the worst anyone could do to me with that was, well, mace me. It would suck, but at least I wouldn't die.
But I wasn't thinking about that. Wasn't really thinking about anything. Just trying to keep putting one foot in front of the other. So when I first heard the noise, I wasn't paying enough attention to really realise what I was hearing, and I walked a few more steps with this distant, arrhythmic thumping echoing from somewhere nearby. It was only when I heard another thump followed up with a grunt that I broke out of my reverie and recognised the sound of a fight.
I don't have a clue what I was thinking, but before I knew it I was racing towards the noise as fast as I could manage without being too loud myself. I rounded a corner, ran halfway down an alleyway, and then slowly and carefully peered around the next corner.
The alleyway was dark, lit by nothing but faint moonlight filtered through the clouds, so I couldn't see much more than shapes, but I could tell the smaller one was the Wraith just from the way she moved. She was quick and agile, her cape and her bandages trailing around her as she dodged around her enormous enemy. It lashed out at her with one massive limb, she dodged it by the width of a hair and it hit the pavement so hard that I felt it rippling through the ground, through my feet into my body and all the way up to clash my teeth together. She did something that made the monster growl, and it lunged forwards, caught her with the edge of an attack and sent her end-over-end down the alley in my direction.
It was only then I realised there were other people here in the darkness. A couple of roughly human shapes, standing very close to where I was hiding, and now raising their guns at the hero while she recovered herself. It didn't seem like she'd seen them. It didn't seem like she possibly could, not in time. She was going to die.
The Wraith was going to die, right in front of me.
I heard myself yelling, and watched my own arm swinging my handbag into the first gunman's face. It was just a handbag - and I didn't even have it that full - but I guess even that can be enough to knock a guy to the ground if he's not expecting it. He hit the ground hard, and his gun skittered away. The second man looked confused for about half a second, but he recovered fast, and I guess his eyes had adjusted to the darkness better than mine had, since that rifle of his swung quickly to face me, and for what was probably only the second time in my life, I looked my own death right in the face. I couldn't see his expression, but his body language was unruffled. He looked like he was about to swat a mosquito.
Then he staggered, put up a hand to his neck, and pulled away a dart. And then he collapsed.
I turned my head and saw the Wraith lowering her outstretched arm, just before she leaped back into the fight. Her massive opponent was as strong as ever, every attack looked like it would kill if it hit. But none of them could hit her. She danced around the thing's bulk, punching and kicking and shooting it with those sleep darts until finally, finally it slowed, then stopped, then fell into a massive heap.
The Wraith was cautious. She watched it for a second, before she stepped forward and bound the thing's arms behind its back. I saw her shoot a line up to something big and dark that hovered above the alleyway, and tie it back to her captive.
Then she turned, and her eyes locked with mine. She gave just the slightest nod. Gratitude.
The line hauled her upwards, and she was gone.
I made it to the station without any more trouble, caught my usual train and found a seat by the window, and watched the darkness underground blur past.
As the train emerged from its tunnel, and the dark, sparkling heart of the city started to fade behind me, I thought about the Wraith. I thought about that little nod she'd given me for helping her.
I'm nobody important. I've always known that, I guess. But in that second, I was part of something big, something real. And she hadn't acted as though it was a surprise - she wasn't ungrateful, but she also didn't try and tell me that I shouldn't have done it, that I shouldn't put myself in danger for her.
I wondered about that.
We think about our heroes in a certain kind of way. They're special people, powerful people, and the things they fight are powerful too. Things that ordinary, unimportant people would have no chance against. They and their enemies have these massive battles, and people like me are only there to be caught in the middle or hand out the medals at the end. But she didn't act like that. She saved my life, saw I'd seen hers, and she just looked at me like...like a fellow combatant. Like someone who could face up to the same things that she was fighting against.
So how many times had this happened before? How many times has she been in a desperate fight for her life and had some nobody like me help her out? How often has a victim given her information, or a hostage distracted their captor, or a homeless person tripped up some alien invader?
More than once, I bet.
But that means it's not like we think it is. It's not just her and her friends out there fighting for us, and everyone else is just against her or getting out of the way. We all have the power. We can all fight on their side. We can all defeat evil and make our world a better place to live.
I looked out at dark buildings that were full of people like me, and thought how wonderful it was to be me.
How wonderful that I could do all this, being nobody special.
#sentinels of the multiverse#fanfic#the Wraith#kind of wanted to write the opposite of that one Batman story
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A Lifetime of ‘I Love You’s’
Hello! I hope you enjoy this :)
Summary: You and Shawn have been best friends forever, and through the years, ‘I love you’s’ have began to mean more than either of you could explain.
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You’re eleven the first time Shawn tells you that he loves you. You’re crying, your sister had just left for University, and he didn’t know how to handle your emotions. You never cried, it was a running joke in your family that you didn’t have any emotions. You came from a family that cried when they saw a cute dog on the street, so it was a bit odd. That’s why, though, when you’re sitting in front of Shawn’s house crying, he panics, and the only thing he can say is: “I love you.” Now I guess this wasn’t the first time, because when you guys were really young and your mom would say it to you, there are videos of Shawn squeaking out the same words, all the adults laughing as he tumbled towards you on his always clumsy feet, arms stretched out wide. But, this was the first time he had said it and really meant it, face immediately flushing and hands getting clammy. His heart was beating quicker than it had been when he didn’t know how to help, and that’s saying a lot because Shawn hates feeling out of control. Whether he knew what he was doing or not, though, his comment had the desired effect. You stopped crying immediately, took a deep breath, and started laughing. Shawn’s embarrassment flamed and he immediately started backpedalling.
“You’re such a loser,” you had wailed out, “I love you”, you mocked Shawn. You followed him into the house still laughing and Shawn grabbed a pillow off the couch and swung to smack you with it.
“Will you shut up! I was trying to make you feel better and you’re being a dick.” Shawn’s eyes swept across the living room to see if anyone was around to hear him swear, and you caught a glimpse of the hurt behind them. You immediately stopped laughing, guilt entering you when with the realization that this wasn’t a joke to him, this wasn’t funny.
“Shawn,” you stepped forward, reaching out to touch his arm, and he moved away. Dejectedly, you sat down on the couch and grabbed the remote.
“Wanna watch SpongeBob?” You asked him quietly, the air feeling tense. This was the first time that either of you had really had your feelings hurt by the other, and you weren’t quite sure how to deal with it. Wordlessly, Shawn plopped himself down beside you, crossing his arms and watching the scene begin to unfold in front of him. This lasted for about ten minutes before you turned to look at him.
“You know, I love you too.” You said, a new feeling rising in your tummy. It felt weird to say it, kind of awkward, but it was true. You didn’t love Shawn like you loved your parents, or the way you loved the family dog. It felt different, but not any less.
Shawn scooted closer to you and put his arm around your shoulder, and the two of you sunk quietly into the same routine as usual, curled up together and watching TV.
The next time Shawn’s “I love you” leaves you reeling is at eighteen. He was just about to leave for tour, flying out the next morning, and he had showed up at your door having what could only be described as an extremely early midlife crisis.
His eyes were bloodshot and puffy and he was holding his journal, the one that you had teased him about when you found even though you had a very similar one under your mattress. The second you open the door he starts going on about how he doesn’t think he’s ready to leave, how it doesn’t feel right to leave now. His voice cracks and he’s crying but you know how to deal with it now, seven years has taught you a lot about emotions and your friendship with Shawn. His curls are wild and his eyes match as you pull him up to your room and sit him down on the bed. He’s still going on when you take off his shoes and his jacket, placing them near the door. The tears are still streaming when you lay back with him, stroking his hair until he eventually calms down.
“Okay,” you start once his breathing slows and he’s stopped crying, “why don’t you tell me what’s going on.” He stays quiet for a second, and you take this time to study him. He’s wearing jogging pants, the one’s you bought him from Lululemon earlier that year, and a sweatshirt. It’s early July, way too hot for this outfit, and that’s how you know that he’d been trying to comfort himself long before he showed up at your door. He always made himself comfortable and warm when he was feeling anxious, saying he wanted it to feel like a hug. Your heart hurt for your best friend and you pressed yourself closer, tightening your grip on him. He tensed at first before relaxing into your familiar embrace, and sighing.
“Do you think I’m making a mistake?” He finally asks, and the words sit idle in between us for a second. Your impulse is to gasp out a, “what! Shawn, are you crazy?” like you usually do when he asks these things, but you stop yourself before you can. This isn’t what he needs right now. This isn’t a quick reassurance for him, this is big and important and you can feel the pain rippling off of him.
You’d seen this coming, you honestly had. It was the summer before everyone went away to school and started their new, adult lives. Shawn had been in the stands when you graduated a few weeks prior, whooping and shouting and embarrassing the hell out of you in the way you knew he would. He had been, and still was, so proud of you, prouder than he could ever put into words. But you watched as he took it all in, the graduation, the end of the year parties, the social media posts from old friends about what Universities they were going to. He felt disconnected and left out. You had tried to ease his worries subtly, not wanting to confront his feelings because Shawn didn’t do well with that. It was a simple, “I can’t believe I have to go back to school in a couple months, I’d rather be touring the world with you, Rockstar” or “Did you see Jenny is going backpacking around South America in September? I think it’s cool that people are doing different things.” I wanted him to know that his life was amazing and pure and just as important as all of us graduating and moving on, because it didn’t mean we were moving on from him.
So, instead of saying what I usually would, I moved my head to kiss his forehead, and smoothed his hair back.
“Shawn Mendes, you are the most incredible person I know. You are making a difference in so many people’s lives, including mine, and especially including yours. You love what you do, and you can’t even try to deny it because you are your happiest when you’re on stage or writing or meeting fans. Your path might not be the usual, and it might look different than mine and everyone else we went to school with, but that doesn’t mean it’s a mistake.” He relaxes completely then, a choked sob coming out of his mouth as he takes in what I’m saying to him.
“I’m going to miss you so much, y/n.” He says, and it feels deeper than usual, more meaningful. It’s tinged with the promise of him coming back and the hint of what’s been crackling between the two of you for months now, and the unsettled questions of what their future looks like.
He leaves an hour or so later, having to go home and sleep for his early flight the next morning, and you walk him out to his car.
“You’re going to be great, Rockstar.” You say, and he smiles and kisses the top of your head as he hugs you. The two of you are pressed against his jeep and you stay there for a minute in the sticky air, holding on to each other.
“I love you.” He says into your hair, and like his comment earlier, it’s tinged with so much more. In the confines of your fear and the unknown, though, you pull away and smile at him, all but shoving him into his car.
“I love you too, I’ll see you in a month.” That’s a lie, you’re actually going to see him in a week in California when you join him on tour for a month, but he doesn’t know that yet, and even at his lowest, you wouldn’t ruin that surprise for him.
He pulls out of the driveway and everything suddenly seems confusing and overwhelming and important. You can’t make sense of it, and you’re not entirely sure if it’s good or bad, but you’re here and the line you didn’t know existed has been crossed, and there’s no going back now.
At twenty, you meet Shawn in Portland during tour. You were halfway through your degree and Shawn had begged you to the ends of the earth to come on tour with him this summer. You couldn’t, of course, because you needed to work to pay your tuition, but then one day you woke up to a screenshot of your tuition balance being in the negatives and you called Shawn demanding an answer. You screamed and screamed and didn’t talk to him for days when he told you he paid your tuition (you really shouldn’t use the same password for everything) and now you could come visit him, but eventually gave in after he convinced your parents that spending your summer travelling with your best friend would be beneficial to your self-growth and discovery, or some bullshit like that. But because they love and trust Shawn, they were all for it, and that’s how you find yourself in the Portland airport, two days after Shawn had landed and started rehearsals.
Getting from the airport to the hotel had been a whirlwind of security and fans and pictures and somehow you were now standing under the showerhead in the fancy bathroom of a fancy hotel suite you were sharing with Shawn. The shower smelt like him and you were hit suddenly with how much you missed him and how comforting being here, surrounded by his scent and his things and him was. Your feelings for Shawn had sprouted and grown and bloomed since that day two years ago, but nothing had been said between the two of you. It was as if his time on tour in 2017 had quieted whatever was silently said between the two of you, and you can’t help but think back on that and wonder what could have been if he would have stayed.
It’s later that night when you’re both in bed watching Grey’s Anatomy that he asks you what happened with that boy you went on a date with a few weeks ago. The question comes out of the blue and you momentarily blank thinking about a date you’ve been on, but quickly shake it off and tell him that it wasn’t great after the first date so you politely told the guy thanks, but no thanks. Shawn knew this and knew you would have told him if anything else had happened with this guy from your Criminology elective.
“So, you’re interested in that then? Dating, I mean.” The question is awkward, he knows it and so do I, and he’s playing with the hem of his old and worn in t-shirt, ignoring all eye-contact with me. I wasn’t sure really how to answer that because on one hand I was only interested in dating one person, him, and on the other hand, I couldn’t wait around hopelessly in love with him forever.
“I mean, I’m not really one to go out on random dates, I’m not really into doing things without feelings.” It’s the truth, really, because I’m way too shy and introverted to make small talk and get to know someone without really knowing them already.
“So, is there someone you have feelings for?” I laugh slightly, only because of the irony of the question, and puff out a breath. Once again, these are all things I’d tell Shawn. Every time I’ve liked someone at every point in our lives, I’ve told Shawn. I think back to Thomas in grade ten, how Shawn had to tell me to shut up because I was talking about him too much.
“I would tell you if there was.” I said, but even to me my answer seemed like a lie, and I had never been good at lying, especially to Shawn. He looked at me then, eyes cutting right through me. I never felt self-conscious in front of him, not even when I’m changing, but right now I feel the most uneasy I’ve ever felt under his gaze. I know he knows, in that moment there’s no way he doesn’t, he can see right through me. But instead of saying anything, he turns back to the show that’s playing on his laptop, presses play, and leaves me to think about what the hell just happened.
I’m in the crowd the next night in Portland. I told Shawn I wanted to be barricade at b-stage (“B-Stage is always the best part of the set list and you can’t argue me on that”) the first time I see him perform this tour, and there I am surrounded by people whose energy I’m picking up on and matching. I recognize some of them from the accounts I stalk on Twitter when I really miss Shawn, and I feel comfortable and at ease and happy here.
The show is fantastic as I knew it would be, and I’m crying and screaming right alongside everyone else. He slows it down slightly when he gets to B-Stage, and I’m grinning up at him a couple songs later when he clears his throat and waits for the screams to die down.
“This next one means a lot to me, especially tonight. If you know the words, please sing along with me.” The opening strums of ‘When You’re Ready’ start and my heart begins to pound. When I first heard this song, way before the album release, I was sitting in the back of Shawn’s car while it was pouring rain. He was watching me intently and I felt like I couldn’t breathe because there was so much in this song that we needed to say to each other. It felt like that now, too, as he stared at me while the lyrics rang out around me. I’m surrounded by them, then, and I feel it all around me suddenly. I’m in love with Shawn, and it isn’t going anywhere. But in that moment, I know he feels the same way.
The concert ends with an energy I’ve never seen before, and I try so hard to stay in the moment. Confetti is everywhere and I’m basically choking on it, and if I couldn’t breathe before I definitely can’t now. I don’t know what to do with myself so I stand there, waiting, until security finally grabs me and escorts be backstage. The arena feels huge suddenly, though I could’ve walked from my spot in the crowd to backstage in just a few minutes, and I want to beg security to hurry up. I’m tempted to run away, bolt towards where I know Shawn is behind the dark curtains and stage, but I force myself to just take a deep breath and walk.
Backstage is a chaotic mess. There are so many people and I’m pushing passed them all franticly trying desperately to find Shawn. Usually this would be so thrilling to me, I’d bask in the post-show excitement and energy, but right now I’m only focused on Shawn. After what feels like hours I see him and he sees me and time slows down and speeds up all at once while we push towards each other. Andrew stops mid-sentence and the security guard backs away from me and they’re all there but all gone when Shawn finally reaches me and says, “I’m in love with you.”
And this, this one’s the best.
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november 20
back to the start by @fuzzballsheltiepants [requested by @nikothespoonklepto]
see which other fics i’m reviewing this month! / my review request post!
containing an injured!andrew who loses all of his recent memories, this fic is has heartbreak and healing. this fic has great pacing and flow, you don’t even notice that you’ve read 30k words until you’re done.
this is an absolutely amazing fic. you did such a great job writing the characters in a way that was in depth and stays really true to them. it was funny, serious, angsty, and fluffy in a way that tied everything together and made it really easy to read. i loved having the opportunity to see andrew fall in love with neil again and see neil really fight to protect andrew.
parts that i especially liked:
”andrew and neil had watched kevin’s interview the night before on exy night in america from andrew’s apartment. neil had spent the ten minutes grinning at kevin’s well-practiced persona while andrew drily commented what they both knew kevin was really thinking” this is so cute! there’s really nothing that brings people together more than making fun of kevin
EXCUSE ME HOW DARE YOU INJURE ANDREW IN THAT WAY
andrew waking up so disoriented and confused and afraid is so heartbreaking. to be brought back to that terrible night, surrounded by strangers, in so much pain. i really cannot handle it, he’s already suffered so much in his life ;-;
ohmygoodness andrew sort of recognizing kevin? is this based on andrew having seen kevin before the club incident or because he’s actually recognizing kevin?
”’did they kill him?’ he asked dully.” ahhh i can feel andrew closing himself off, resigning himself for bad news
”he didn’t know why he was talking, he was revealing too much, he needed to stop but not as much as he needed to know” i hate seeing andrew so distressed, to the point where he can’t contain himself
”he almost laughed, it was such a ridiculous idea that andrew’s perfect memory could be compromised, but dr. kupra’s face was serious.” oh no, what a terrible and ironic injury, for andrew to lose the memories that he likely actually wanted to keep
what in the world kevin, why would you not call nicky to get him to talk to andrew??
”that voice… it tickled something in his chest” AHH even without his memories, something within andrew recognizes neil, so soft
”and you need to understand that you can’t just start touching him when he’s asleep” it’s so comforting to know that neil is around to protect andrew while he is extremely vulnerable.
it’s really not surprising that andrew has a panic attack, to learn that you’ve lost seven years of your life? i can’t even imagine how upsetting and scary it would be
ah yes, of course neil forgets to charge his phone
”like i’m worth something, like i matter” oh no i totally forgot that since andrew is back to his 17 year old self it means his mental health is probably a lot worse. oh my goodness 17 is so young!
”it’s amazing how many words they can say to avoid telling you they don’t know” oh my goodness neil
ANDREW REMEMBERS SOME THINGS, I HAVE HOPE. and it seems like now neil does too!
to hear that they’ve had conversations with andrew that he can’t remember, that they’ve explained the situation to him multiple times already, it sounds hard for anyone, but andrew who is used to his eidetic memory? oof
”this felt more like he had read it in a book, like if he turned the page he would already know what was on the next one, but he couldn’t manage to turn the page. and the next page was important, of that he was sure” wow this description is so so good.
OH NO ANDREW THINKING NEIL AND KEVIN ARE TOGETHER and then “it didn’t seem such an unreasonable question to andrew… the alternative didn’t make sense. the alternative was impossible” ahhh this is so painful, at least neil is not around to hear this.
”that didn’t really surprise neil; he had suspected that andrew had been interested in kevin at some point” ooo i like this
neil talking to andrew’s coach oh my goodness he really can’t help himself. but also it’s his way of caring too, protecting andrew from everyone
ahh i love andrew falling for neil again. “aggression of an eight-pound terrier” THIS IS SO TRUE. picking fights, but too small to actually fight them
”neil was reading on his phone and andrew watched him through his lashes until he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore” this is so so sweet, i love being able to see things from andrew’s perspective, he hides so much from the outside that i am always interested in what he’s thinking
”he wouldn’t be the first who thought andrew could be ‘healed,’ whatever that meant.” the thing i like about their relationship is that i think that neil doesn’t think andrew ‘could be healed’. i think neil thinks that andrew doesn’t need healing. that bad things happened to andrew and yes, these things changed him, they shaped him to be the person he is now, but they don’t mean he is broken. uhh i don’t know how to say the words i am thinking. BASICALLY, NEIL DOESN’T THINK ANDREW NEEDS TO CHANGE. HE LIKES (LOVES) HIM AS HE IS
”... but he could still taste his old grief and guilt and fury” ANDREW FEELING GUILT SO MUCH GROWTH
”nicky had been there; he could call nicky, and find out what - who - had broken neil so badly” ahhhhhh i love this!!!
ohmygoodness, all the things that neil is remembering. i love it so much
ugh i want neil to go off on all the people trying to pin down andrew, but at the same time, i guess they had a somewhat reasonable reason for doing what did. BUT STILL THEY SHOULD HAVE KNOWN BETTER. andrew has been through so much!!!!
i love these moments of andrew finding out what happened to neil. we get to see his genuine reactions, even what he’s feeling, not just what he’s emoting (which i’m sure is not much). it’s a little different, because although he still feels this emotional connection to neil, he doesn’t understand why, but his reactions are so pure and unfiltered. i love it
”it’s who i am, it’s not something i can forget” I LOVE THIS LINE and i love love love nicky’s reaction.
ugh, neil fighting to protect andrew is just *clenches fist* so good
okay i love neil, but woah. when he thinks of how lucky he is to have andrew and the first thing that comes up is andREW BREAKING RIKO’S ARM. LOL what a legend
ohmygoodness i forgot that neil is still in school. i really cannot believe that he is able to balance everything, like it’s just so wild to me.
i’m so glad that neil has matt. he has andrew yes, but matt is just a good friend, something that neil has never really had. someone that is openly affectionate and talkative enough to balance neil’s anti-social personality. someone he can go through during these tough times when andrew is not around
NEIL JOSTEN CERTIFIED HOTTIE HAHAH
oh, hearing andrew’s perspective of millport is so good, so interesting
ANDREW ASKING WHICH SCARS ARE FROM HIM ACTUALLY BREAKS MY HEART. nonononono
NEIL ROASTING THE REPORTER IS WHAT I LIVE FOR. but also i’m pretty mad that this guy was able to get into the hospital and approach neil like this. people are so rude and have no sense of privacy somethings UGH
”neil was a trouble magnet. andrew didn’t remember too many specifics, but he knew it with a bone deep certainty” hah
oh, the way that you wrote andrew regaining his memories about riko and drake and maybe easthaven. it’s so impactful seeing it from neil’s perspective. “he watched as that bomb hit, the slow motion ripple effect it had as memories resurface and deductions were made.” your descriptions are so good
the contrast between the texts from the foxes and neil trying to deal with andrew remembering is amazing
it’s so interesting to me the way that the sense of distance between neil and andrew are for different reasons. neil is being so careful not to cross andrew’s boundaries because he doesn’t know what andrew’s okay with, etc. and andrew is still learning about the relationship that he previously shared with neil and doesn’t know where they were at with that, doesn’t know what past him did
oo i love twinyard moments, the bonding. “i didn’t forget you” AHHH i like that they’re so civil now, aaron is probably less stressed (now that he’s not trying to balance school, exy, and the MAFIA) and has matured, he doesn’t repress as much of his emotions maybe. he cares about andrew and both lets himself care about him and allows himself to show it, even if it’s in small ways
so much growth/development to see that neil turns to betsy and actually calls her!! she knows so much about their history, i’d be interested in what kind of relationship neil had with her after their first year
”didn’t know how to tell him that he remembered other things - remembered bits and pieces of meals and drives and games and shared cigarettes on the roof, the weight of neil’s mouth on his own and the feel of his skin, the sound of his hitches of breath. because none of that felt real” THIS IS SO GOOD BUT ALSO HURTS. NEIL IS A PIPE DREAM BUT ANDREW DOESN’T KNOW THAT HE’S ALSO A REALITY TOO
”then neil came out of the bathroom and andrew decided maybe he didn’t hate the girlfriend after all. not if she’d picked out those clothes.” ohmygoodness andrew
”four years. four years since andrew had been nearly torn apart by terror. four years since he had felt that anguished need that seemed so fresh in his memory. and yet neil was still here” THIS IS SO GOOD AHHH
EXCUSE ME HOW DARE YOU BREAK MY HEART LIKE THAT BY SAYING NEIL CAN’T HELP DECIDE WHAT HAPPENS TO NEIL ALSO “everyone but andrew, whose glam intensified” WHAT DOES THIS MEAN AND THEN NEIL SAYING “do you think if andrew cared he wouldn’t let them kick me out in the first place?” AHHHH
oh okay you have redeemed yourself by having aaron and andrew BOTH agree with neil. “look, i might have head trauma but i’m not an idiot” LOL
”andrew wasn’t sure why his stomach clenched, why his fingers dug into the blanket” HHHH HURTS
AARON YELLING WRONG MINYARD YES
oh! so cute to have bonding between andrew, neil, katelyn, and aaron!!
oHH no i forgot that people might hold andrew’s sexuality against him and that makes me so mad
”aaron said mildly ‘out of all the men in this world, why did you have to end up with one who’s too stupid to feed himself?’” LOL
”it would only be a week tomorrow, but it felt like he had always been here, that the rest of his life had been something he’d seen in a movie or read in a book. like this was the only part that was real” oh oh oh. this is so sad, but also it makes so much sense. “it was always like that, though” OH. this, and the rest of the paragraph is so interesting. i love the way that you explain it. and the end of this chapter is so good. it really sets us up for the last chapter and leaves me aching for resolution. for andrew to realise he can and does have this. that it’s real and won’t be taken away from him
i’m a little bit confused about the whole discussion about sexuality and mental illness. why did katelyn misunderstand and what was she thinking? i think i’m just missing something here LOL
”the way andrew hesitated before he nodded meant no, but neil wasn’t going to push him” ugh it’s so good to know that neil can read andrew so well, can tell what he’s not saying, but knows when to push and when to back off.
NO SELF-CONSCIOUS NEIL IS SO SAD
”aaron refusing to sign anything, turning it all over to andrew and neil” aaron is such a complicated character, we don’t get to see him fully explored in the books and i love the way that you used this fic as an opportunity to do so. he cares, but in his own way. even though they have disagreements, at the end of the day, he wants what is best for andrew and i really liked how you portrayed him and throughout this fic.
WHY IS ANDREW SINGING WITHOUT KNOWING
ANDREW KISSING NEIL AND THEN GIVING THE PAPARAZZI THE MIDDLE FINGER IS THE BEST THING
i love that you have parts of this fic from andrew’s perspective. it’s so so interesting to see his honest reactions to memories and people and to experience his introspection. and it’s not super obvious, but i love that with perspective shifts, we also see your writing style adjust to reflect that. you handled this whole fic so well, there was a great balance between humour, softness, and angst that made me really enjoy reading this.
you did such a good job with the characterization, it was so wonderful seeing andrew rebuild his relationships and fall for neil again, the interactions between everyone (including your OCs). i appreciate that, although andrew and neil have kind of re-established their relationship (they both know that they like each other and are comfortable with each other), there’s still some sort of distance. things are still a little bit off and they still have work to do to continue to learn each other. it keeps things realistic and, for some reason, brings me closure. this is such a significant event for both of them and things are different because of that and i’m glad you didn’t ignore that aspect of it. this was just such a wonderful fic, thank you so much for writing it!!
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The Back to the Future Trilogy
Back to the Future Trilogy posters. ←
The Back to the Future trilogy is a great trilogy, like Lord of the Rings, but like any trilogy, it has its flaws and its good points. I am here to give my opinion on the good and bad on Back to the Future Part I, II, and III.
Doc Brown and Marty McFly in amazement after seeing the time traveling DeLorean. ←
Part I
Enter a room with tons of clocks and machines. A bowl with dog food with the name “Einstein”. A boy comes in. He connects his guitar to a huge speaker. The moment the sound begins, he is blown back into a bookcase. This whole scene is how the movie begins.
Back to the Future is about Marty McFly (Michael J. Fox) who travels back in time by mistake when his scientist friend Doc Brown (Christopher Lloyd) is killed by terrorists because Doc stole plutonium from them. Marty and Doc were working on a time travel machine and Marty ends up in 1955. His mom ends up falling in love with him, which if he does not reverse will cause him, his brother and sister to never be born. He also has to find a way to travel back home to 1985. This recurring them of Doc and Marty having to go through time to fix something they botched repeats throughout the series.
George McFly, Lorraine Baines and Marty McFly (aka Calvin Klein) at The Enchantment Under the Sea dance. ←
The movie is great, but in both Part I and Part II, there isn't much respect for the women in the movie. I hate Biff (Thomas F. Wilson). He is a Class A, complete, and absolute jerkface. He’s the kind of person you’d want to avoid in middle and high school.
George McFly (Crispin Glover) is a coward throughout most of the movie, but when he gets the courage to punch Biff, it’s a great moment for his character.
One of the main things I find funny during the movie is when Marty plays his guitar in 1955 and no one, and I mean NO ONE knows what he’s playing. All of their faces are like “What?!” Doc is hilarious throughout the movie. He’s the kind of guy who’s very smart, but still comedic.
They just didn’t get his guitar playing lol. ←
Near the end of the movie, I am shown a student trying to force Lorraine Baines (Lea Thompson) to dance with him, but with his “newfound courage”, George takes her back, which got on my nerves, because they were objectifying her. Up until Part III, women were not treated kindly.
The end of the movie has Doc say “Roads? Where we’re going, we don’t need roads.” I think that the movie itself is good, but it does have some flaws.
Marty and the Time Machine in 2015 from Back to the Future 2.←
Part II
According to Robert Zemeckis and Bob Gale, they got 2015 about 50% right. Not hoverboards, of course. Anyways, Part II started where Part I ended, with Doc’s famous quote, “Roads? Where we’re going, we don’t need roads.” The movie is in three timelines. 2015, Post Apocalyptic 1985*, and 1955.
When Jennifer is asking too many questions about her and Marty's future, Doc uses a device to make her unconscious, being a scene where women are mistreated. I think she was curious about what the future was like, and even if it would bend time and reality, that didn’t give Doc the right to make her pass out.
*It’s not like that literally, it just feels like it.
Hoverboard! ←
In 2015, we had iPhones and Wii U’s, not hoverboards and food dispensers. BTTF2 might have gotten 50% of 2015 right, but half isn’t that close. In 1985, when they return, Marty’s family isn’t home, Biff is rich and runs the town, he married Lorraine somehow, Doc was declared crazy, and Marty’s dad is dead. This goes to show that (unless time travel isn’t invented) one little thing can have a huge effect. After realizing that 2015 Biff stole an almanac from 2015 with all sports events from 1950 to 2000, and gave it to 1955 Biff, then Doc and Marty have to go back time.
Griff Tannen with his gang. ←
Unfortunately, going to 2015 would make the events of 1985 ripple into 2015, meaning they need to go to 1955. The dynamic duo of Doc and Marty retrieve the Almanac and destroy it, but the DeLorean is struck by lightning, somehow sending Doc to 1885. Marty goes to 1955 Doc, and after Marty says ‘I’m back FROM the future”, 1955 Doc passes out, ending the second part of the trilogy.
Time Machine in 1885, from Back to the Future 3. ←
Part III
The third and final part of the BTTF trilogy is my favorite part of the series. I didn’t know much about Western movies, and had only seen a glimpse of a western during an episode of Ultimate Spider-Man (Great show, by the way!). The movie is great. It really was a non-stop thrill ride. I think that of all of the Tannens shown throughout the trilogy, Buford ”Mad Dog” Tannen is the worst. He is a very cruel person, and had Marty not made the decision to go back to 1885 to save 1985 Doc’s life, he would feel guilty about it for the rest of his (fictional) life.
Marty faces off with Buford. ←
One of my favorite parts involves the fight between Buford and Marty. Marty knows Buford is obviously going to shoot him, so he put on a metal plate and then punched Buford hard a few times. Then Buford fell into manure, a.k.a., POOP! Honestly, that’s one of (in my opinion) the funniest scenes, although it happened to 1955 Biff and his cronies in 1955.
One of the main characters, Clara, isn’t used as a plot device, and isn’t just there to be there. She has an impact on the events, and has feelings. Although she doesn't believe Doc when he says he’s from the future and he has to go, she has the right to be angry, although she came back for him when she found out how sad he was. I like that they made Clara an important person in Part III. It shows that they understood that women shouldn’t be used as plot devices.
Doc and Clara’s Time Train in 1985. ←
When Marty goes back to 1985 with the DeLorean, it is destroyed shortly after. Doc spends an unknown amount of time in 1885, and returns in the “Time Train”, which ends the movie similar to Part I, ending the trilogy.
Back to the Future: Tales from the Time Train, Issues 1-3. ←
What’s Next For Back To The Future?
Although there probably isn’t going to be a Back To The Future IV/4, the closest thing we have is the IDW Comics series, Back to the Future: Tales from the Time Train which shows what happens to Doc and his family after Part III, which, although I haven’t read it, I bet will be good.
Time Machine Time Circuits. ←
Was it good?
I think that the women in Part I and II could have bigger roles, but I like that in Part III they gave Clara a bigger role in the story. I also like the idea of different timelines with different versions of people. Overall I think trilogy is pretty good.
Fin.
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Can i request any member of your choice being paranoid of their SO cheating on them. Whether the SO is actually cheating or not depends on you
Never Let Me Go
Admin: kimseokmomjins
Word count: 2k
Warnings: sexual dysphoria, cheating, lots of angst
“You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how.”― Margaret Mitchell, Gone with the Wind
•·················•·················•
Monday was your favorite day of the week.
While most of society often looked forward to Fridays, you looked forward to Monday mornings: when Hoseok’s duties as rapper J-Hope mandated that he show up at BigHit promptly at 6am. Mondays meant you could finally breathe. Mondays meant that you wouldn’t see Hoseok until late Friday evening, or possibly even Saturday morning, granting you enough time to be yourself— to be your own person. Free from the burden of a relationship, free from overbearing tendencies that drove you insane, free from the lingering touches that made your skin crawl.
It wasn’t always like this, your relationship with Hoseok. You’d begun dating during your final year of high school, when his career as an idol had just begun to kick off. Soon, Bangtan Sonyeondan had become a household name, and the subsequent fame and fortune meant Hoseok was quickly able to pay off all his debts and then some. The two of you had been a couple for a little over two years at that point, and it was then that Hoseok offered to support you financially, stating that any fan could find out where you worked and harass you. His worries were valid, as his parents home was constantly swarmed with teenage fans, so you graciously accepted Hoseok’s kind offer.
But the underneath the generosity and kind-heartedness that initially appealed to you, a toxic possessiveness soon began to rear its ugly head. Not long after moving into the joint condo in the heart of Seoul, Hoseok began to dictate who you could and couldn’t interact with. Each time that you proposed hanging out with someone, Hoseok was quick to plant seeds of distrust within yourself. He argued that any new friends you made only wanted to use you for fame and fortune, or that a crazy sasaeng could try to kidnap you for ransom. Hoseok’s excuses, while initially sensible, soon became more outrageous.
Pretty soon, Hoseok wouldn’t even “allow” you to interact with any members of Bangtan, alleging that the younger members often made sexual remarks about you and that he’d worry that your loyalty would stray. At first, it upset you that Hoseok even considered that fact that you would cheat on him, but soon you found yourself loving him less and less. He was no longer your hope, your sunshine, your fun-loving Hobi. He was domineering and overbearing, both financially and emotionally.
While each passing day seemed banaler than the last, to you, Mondays were the brightest days of the week. Mondays meant that you could see her.
Much like her brother, she was an icon to many. She had the same hardworking tendencies, having created a successful clothing line from a young age. The charisma she possessed was similar as well, but unlike her brother, she was not the sun— she was the moon. Gentle and tender, like the sweet scent of camellias. She was patient, understanding, and sincerely cared for you as a Friend. A Friend, with a capital F, because that’s all she would ever see you as. You were her younger brother’s girlfriend of course. There were lines that could never be crossed.
And yet, here you found yourself: your lips slanted against Dawon’s as she cradled your cheeks as if she held the world in the palm of her hands. While Hoseok’s lips were soft and tasted like his cherry lip tint, Dawon’s were slightly chapped. But they felt— tasted— so real, so natural and gritty. Like she was the oasis that sated your unquenchable thirst. That touchable boundary existed no longer; the taboo had been committed, and yet it felt so right.
After her braces accidentally nicked your lower lip, the two of you parted, although neither of you moved to disentangle yourselves from your embrace. The two of you giggled, not out of nervousness, but sheer giddiness. Never before had something wrong felt so damn right.
“I love you,” she murmured, and it was like the world had been tipped off its axis, like color had been returned to your monochromatic life. “You know I love you, Y/N. Please run away with me.” It wasn’t a question, nor a confession— it was a promise.
You brought your cheek to Dawon’s, pulling her closer to your heart. Could she feel how fast yours was beating?
“I’m scared.”
“I know,” she replied, her fingers lacing with yours. “I am too. But I’ll make you happy. We can be ourselves, free from judgment.” Dawon’s thumb rubbed soothing circles across yours, the intimacy comforting you instantly. You exhaled, “Ya-Yeah, let’s do it.”
Dawon grinned, her eyes cresting into two half-moons. “Meet me Sunday at 11pm outside of Seoul Station. Don’t worry about Hoseok, my brother should have afterparty interviews and a group Vlive, so you’ll be able to sneak away, okay?” You nodded before bringing your lips to hers once again, relishing in the tingling of each kiss.
You wished this moment— this regular, ordinary Monday— would never end.
•·················•·················•
It was Sunday evening. But this Sunday was unlike any other: it was the final day of the MAMAs, and Hoseok was emceeing. You reminded yourself that could do this— if you could last through the rest of the evening then you could finally be yourself with the person you loved. As for right now, all you needed to do was smile and look pretty.
You watched Hoseok’s muscles ripple as he put on his dress shirt, the crisp, white linen in stark contrast with his olive skin. The starched collar reminded you of a time when you couldn’t keep your hands off of Hoseok, and his shirt collars were constantly stained with lipstick. But now, they remained spotless.
“You know it’s funny,” Hoseok said, chuckling mirthlessly, eyes locked on his reflection in the vanity mirror. “It’s absolutely hilarious how you think I don’t notice.” You pulled your focus away from your hands and met his gaze through the mirror, feigning innocence, “What’s funny?”
“You think that I don’t know you’re cheating on me.”
It wasn’t an accusation, but a declaration. Jung Hoseok was no fool, he could tell just by the lackluster way you’d responded to his text messages, avoiding eye-contact, and your general skittish demeanor that you were harboring a secret. The final nail in the coffin was the packed duffle bag he found stashed under the bed. He had to give you props— you were gutsy to defy the man who had given you everything you could ever want or need.
Your breath hitched, “H-Hobi, why would you…” The sentence couldn’t even be finished, because you had no excuse, no defense. He had caught you red-handed.
Hoseok studied your conflicted state, his smugness mocking you in the form of a smirk. “Got anything to say for yourself, Y/N?” You dropped your eyes in shame, words seemingly escaping you. Hoseok straightened his back as he fastened his bowtie, examining himself with an intensity that had you nearly cowering in fear. “Well?” He turned towards you, and the coolness his demeanor radiated caused you to flinch. “I’m- I’m sorry, Hoseok.” He made a noise halfway between a scoff and a laugh, “I’m sure you are.”
“I mean it,” you continued, hot, fat tears streaming down your face, ruining your makeup. “I couldn’t stop it.” Hoseok cooed at your distraught appearance, swiping his knuckles across your cheekbones, effectively catching your mascara-stained tears in the process. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. I know you didn’t mean to.” Once your cries had subsided into faint hiccups, he pulled away, straightening the lapels of his suit jacket before smiling his brilliant toothy smile— the same smile that you loved so much on Dawon.
“Well, how about we put this all behind us, okay babe? Let’s not let this sour such an important evening.” The subtle implication of his words completely evaded you, assuming he was taking his debut as an emcee. Hoseok simply offered you his arm, which you accepted reluctantly, unaware of the velveteen box stashed inside his pants pocket. The shackle that would keep you bound to him as a prisoner.
•·················•·················•
A sea of bright lights surrounded the stage as all the participating idols gathered together for the closing ceremony of the awards show. Hoseok and his co-host stood before the crowd, wishing the audience a happy New Year.
“Ah, there’s one more announcement I’d like to make,” Hoseok said, bowing politely at a nearby camera. The lights on the stage dimmed, with only a sole spotlight illuminating Hoseok. He scanned the audience, focusing his attention in your general direction, as your private table was far from the stage. Hoseok cleared his throat, “Y/N, the beautiful, sweet, love of my life.” His words triggered a cacophony of ‘aww’ from the audience, with a few idols on stage playfully clutching their hearts in mock pain.
“I’m so happy to have found such a wonderful woman to stand by my side for the last five years. You’ve been nothing but supportive and loyal through it all.” Despite Hoseok’s words sounding romantic superficially, to you, they carried a heavy insinuation. “I couldn’t think of a better woman to spend the rest of my life with,” he continued as he crouched down on one knee. “I want everyone to know how much you mean to me, so will you do me the honor of being my wife?”
Suddenly, a blinding light burned your retinas as countless sets of eyes stared at you expectantly. Dozens of cameras from different television companies and streaming services focused on you, televising Hoseok’s proposal to nearly all of Korea. Millions were watching in rapt attention as they awaited your decision— a decision that had already been decided for you the moment Hoseok got down on one knee. There was no chance of you rejecting such a public proposal, not after he had poured his heart and soul into such a passionate display of affection. No, Hoseok knew you wouldn’t dare reject a proposal from Korea’s Sunshine J-Hope. Not only would fans be furious at you, but BTS’s reputation would suffer as well. You both knew the only proper response was a yes.
You should be happy: you were experiencing what any ARMY could ever hope and dream of. But instead of happiness, you only felt dread weighing in your gut like lead. You didn’t want a life with Hoseok, not anymore. You wanted lazy Sundays in bed with Dawon, you wanted to run your fingers through her hair as you wove it into plaits. You wanted normalcy, you wanted love.
But you were a coward; so you tearfully accepted Hoseok’s proposal as you silently bid goodbye to love you so desperately craved. As you walked down the aisle towards the stage, you fruitlessly tried to quell the thunderous beating of your heart. All you could think about was Dawon and how you had promised to meet her. Where was she? Was she at home, packing her stuff? Or was she already at the station waiting for you to arrive? Maybe she was eating ramen at her favorite late-night restaurant, and maybe— just maybe— she picked up a to-go container of your favorite as well.
Either way, you knew Dawon would be incredibly hurt. And it was all your fault.
You reached the stage, Hoseok pulling you into a tight embrace before twirling you around wildly. His group mates tearfully watched on as he slid the engagement ring onto your finger, proud that their brother had matured enough to ask for your hand. Hoseok leaned in, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “I hope those are tears of happiness babe,” he whispered before planting a kiss on the apple of your cheek. You looked down at your ringed hand in embarrassment— or maybe it was self-loathing— and gazed at the spaces in between your fingers.
You wished you had never let her go.
•·················•·················•
And somewhere in Seoul, sat Jung Dawon, alone in a train station. Her tears dotted the phone screen, the live stream confirming the MAMA attendees were celebrating your engagement with pomp and circumstance. Dawon looked at the spaces between her fingers, remembering the ghost of your hand as it rested in hers. She waved the memory away as she tucked her head in her hands and cried. She cried for herself, she cried for you, but most importantly, she cried because she wished she had never let you go.
((A/N: Happy pride month everyone! I know this may not have been exactly what was requested, but I wanted to take some artistic liberties and represent bisexual/queer women in fanfiction, because I feel like they’re often misrepresented. Have a lovely June, everyone!))
#yandere fanfic#yandere imagines#bts yandere fanfiction#bts yandere#yandere hoseok#yandere jhope#bts x reader#hoseok x reader#hoseok fanfiction#bts x queer reader#bts x bisexual reader#hoseok x bisexual reader#jhope x bisexual reader
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Ohkay. 2, 4, 5, 9, 11 for Can Your Friends do This?
2: What scene did you first put down?
Death and Hari sitting in the cell in Ch. 1 and Them offering to kill everyone who ever opposed her.
4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue?
This Sasunaru moment from Ch. 11.
"You're an idiot."
"Sasuke!" Ino hissed, glaring at him for probably the first time in her life.
The Uchiha ignored her and instead, looked Naruto dead in the eye. "You feel guilt over ridding the world of those pieces of trash? They were trying to kill us. For a grudge they held against a man long dead. You used a power you mostly have never used before, in order to save our lives, and are beating yourself up over not having enough control necessary to stop a creature that can't even be killed. As if a little Genin such as yourself has power over the most powerful Biju in existence."
Naruto and Ino were both gaping and though Kakashi would never admit it to anyone, he was as well.
"If you weren't strong enough to control it this time, get stronger so you can control it next time. Your father entrusted you with this burden for a reason. Remember, that everything you learn as a ninja, is just like a double edged sword. It can be used to do harm and can be used to stop harm. How you use it defines who you really are. It is not what you are that matters, Naruto, it is who you are."
This training from Kakashi from Ch. 16.
Naruto wanted no time in scaling the wall and entering through the bathroom window. The memories of his one Bunshin let him know where to go. He crawled along the wall instead of using the stairs. He didn't know what sort of condition they were in and didn't want to deal with the possible creaking.
The lounge was decorated nicely in shades of blue and brown. So even though the outside was a mess, the inside was decent enough. Naruto recognized the civilian immediately when he glanced around the corner. She was an avid, anti-demon supporter. In other words, she really hated Naruto and made her dislike of him very well known over the years. A few stones may have thrown a few times as well.
He was overcome with the urge to do some damage to her property. To pay her back for being such a horrible person over the years. However, there was just a small voice inside that was telling him it was wrong. He was there for a mission. He was supposed to be training, and his emotions should not be interfering on said training mission.
But even more important than that, were the words of his nee-chan. Hari insisted that a prank was never meant to hurt anyone. Pranks were supposed to be funny and done in good humor(unless they were revenge pranks like he did to an old Academy sensei). She had told him stories of her twin friends who played pranks but didn't do so with the intent to hurt people, unlike her father and his friends who became bullies in school because their pranks went far enough to hurt others or worse.
Naruto didn't want to be a bully. And he didn't want to be a bad person. Just because the civilian was horrible to him, didn't mean he should lower himself to her level. If she was too stupid to see him for who he truly was, that wasn't his fault. She'd simply learn her lesson when he finally became the Hokage. One day she would see.
Until then, it was not Naruto's job to play judge or jury. Being mature sucked.
Huffing to himself, Naruto slipped through the room, sneaking up behind her chair and taking the remote off the table beside where she sat. She never even noticed either. He stuck his tongue out for good measure, and then fled because his time was almost up.
"Here you go, sensei!" he said when he returned to his team, well within the time limit, offering the remote to the man.
Kakashi hummed and accepted the offered item. "Well done. You showed some admirable self-control as well, Naruto. I'm proud of you."
He flushed. Apparently his sensei had known the type of person that had lived in the house. It wasn't necessarily a mission for him to prank, but for Kakashi to see his temperament. He wanted to know if Naruto could put the objective of the mission before his own wants and desires. He wanted to know if Naruto was capable of understanding when revenge was necessary and when it wasn't.
And he probably just passed a very important test in the man's eyes, which made him beam with pride. And to think, if he hadn't had Hari-nee-chan in his life, he probably wouldn't have made the decision to be the better person in the first place.
Sometimes, Kakashi could be pretty cool.
"Naruto, wait ten minutes and then go put the remote back exactly where you found it. It'll be enough time for her to notice and get agitated. Your time limit is thirty seconds this time. If you get caught, not only do you fail and end up with horizontal training all day, but you will have to dig yourself out of the hole you fell in."
He sighed. Kakashi was still evil though.
This Hari/Kakashi scene also from Ch. 16.
The silver-haired man hummed. "Since you're training is finished for the day, would you care to help with my training?"
She sent him a bland look. "I am not sparring with you any time soon. While the last time was humorous enough as it is, I don't feel like getting wet at present. It's a bother."
"How sad!" Kakashi sighed dramatically. "Koneko-chan doesn't like it when I get her wet and bothered."
The woman flushed at the suggestive words, but did not answer his taunting. She would not let him see the results of his words. She was better than that.
"No you aren't," said Death. "You give into his teasing all the time. You like it."
Shut up!
Anyway, back onto the subject at hand. "What kind of training and what's in it for me if I do help you, Koinu-kun?"she asked in a sickly sweet tone, batting her lashes repeatedly in hopes of annoying him or at the very least creeping him out a bit. Because that wasn't her normal attitude and obviously it would be weird, right?
It didn't work. He merely seemed amused. Perhaps all the other odd Jonin he knew raised his tolerance for wonky shite. "Mah, I figure that if you could help me with this, then we can both read this lovely book I own, that you have yet to get a copy of." He held up said book. The one from the time in the kitchen. When she had him set the table while she messed around with the book and Jiraiya gaped like a fish as they argued over his porn.
"And how would we both read it if we're working?" inquired the woman doubtfully.
"Simple. I place it on the ground, and as I do my push ups, you sit on my back and read over my shoulder. You can then use your Kekkei Genkai to turn the pages. Both of us will be getting something out of it then."
She had sat on Anko's back a few times when the woman trained, but never anyone else. And this was Kakashi of all people. He wanted her to sit on him and read erotica with him, while he exercised. He she had been anyone else, she might have thought he was trying to be a pervert, but she knew better.
While it could have suggestive themes, it was a practical request and both would indeed benefit from it. He for exercise and she for new reading material. And he didn't ask her to read it aloud, which kind of negated any assumptions of him doing this out of a desire for sexual anything.
"Okay," she found herself agreeing, wanting to read the damn book. "How many push ups will you be doing?"
"One thousand."
Merlin.
"Speed run, or taking your time?"
"Taking my time."
He was suddenly even more impressive. And Hari was going to be sitting on his back for the next however long, reading erotica. She ignored the small tingle in her belly, and shrugged. Not sexual despite the content that would be involved.
"Let's do this."
Kakashi got into position and Hari gazed at his arse only for a few seconds. It wasn't wet this time so the fabric didn't cling as much, but it was still a nice view. Probably a result of the hard training he put himself through for years. Pert and firm. Nice.
"Go ahead," he urged her, and Hari was careful, throwing a leg over him and ending up straddling him. She shifted a few times, before shrugging and laying down instead. Sitting would be uncomfortable since he was ripped and she was pretty thin herself. So her butt would end up hurting. But laying on him was far more easy, and brought her face closer to the book. And if her head rested beside his own, neither acknowledged it.
And yes, she realised that this was not the position he'd spoken of, but it was just better for both of them. Besides, he was longer and wider than she was in frame, so she was easily able to lay on his back and not cause him any discomfort. Her hands couldn't even touched the ground from how her arms dangled over his sides. So it just made sense. Also, her weight was more evenly spread out this way.
"Chapter one," she announced unnecessarily, flicking a hand and watching as the page turned. "Just tell me when you're ready for a page flip."
And so went the next hour of Hari trying to divide her attention away from the rippling muscles of Kakashi's back, to the book that the both of them had managed to get twelve chapters into. It was difficult, and she only slightly regretted the position, especially when she was left feeling warm and fuzzy in the lower portion of the body.
How dare he be attractive and strong. And shame on her body for being so damn weak in finding obvious displays of strength, sexy!
5: What part was hardest to write?
All the battles during the Rebellion Arc.
9: Were there any alternate versions of this fic?
I briefly considered pairing Naruto and Gaara but my sasunarusasu heart said nope!
11: What do you like best about this fic?
Changing things little by little and yet those small changes making BIG changes later on thanks to the butterfly effect.
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Rainbow Lights| Mermaid au | Nct | Jeno
Masterlist
Mermaid!AU
Length: 3.2k
Note: its done and theres not a whole ton of plot development but its squishy
Warnings: mention of sacrifice
Pairing: Jeno x Reader
Genre: Fluff
Summary: You never thought mermaids were real until one saved you in your most desperate moments.
You sighed in defeat as the waves lapping against the shore drew closer and closer while the ropes binding your wrists was rubbing them raw. The cool dawn light gave your surroundings an almost artificial glow as you were paraded down to the docks by the village elder, you knew this was coming for a while now but it still seemed like a dream. Your body hit the bottom of the small boat with a thud, you groaned in pain as your bound arms and legs prevented you from catching yourself as the two elders climbed into the boat behind you. The chatter of the villagers lining the docks flitted past your ears as you peeked over the edge of the boat to see the fog bank slowly rising before your gaze drifted back to the crowds. The cold gaze of your parents gave you know reassurance and instead only aided the growing feeling of emptiness that had rooted itself in the pit of your stomach as the boat floated away from the dock and the rhythmic splashing of oars against the water drowned out any other thoughts. It was tradition, you reminded yourself as the fog slowly enveloped the small boat.
Since before you could remember you were told legends of the sea gods, they were the ones who made sure there was fish to catch and your entire village wasn’t wiped away by tsunamis or storms. To ensure nothing bad happened every twenty-five years a villager was selected by the council to be a sacrifice for the gods so people could keep on living. The death of one in return for many more to continue living seemed to be a valid excuse and you just had the pleasure of being the one to die. The boat drifted to a stop and you knew what was coming next as the boat rocked when the weight was shifted from the two elders getting to their feet, the only thing visible was the solid gray of the fog around you as one grabbed your ankles and one grabbed your shoulder. Your mind emptied as you hit the freezing water with a crash, your eyes stung as the salt from the ocean water crept into the and you began to thrash around, desperate to free yourself from your bindings. The freezing water covered your like a second skin as you felt your lungs begin to ache as you continued sinking into the dark water below and suddenly you felt arms wrap around you before everything went black.
----
Your eyes adjusted to the soft orange light that slowly crept into your vision as your vision cleared. It felt like your eyelids were sandpaper as you blinked a few times before taking in your surroundings, the walls had a crystalline effect as the light reflected of of the smooth sides and the rough cut edges, almost like some sort of cave. You rolled onto your side to find a surprisingly soft bedding underneath you, it was almost like a cloud and the orange lamps hanging from the ceiling made it look almost like a sunset. You were about to push yourself off the bed which seemed to be carved out of the same material as the walls were made out of to explore when a shout took you by surprise and caused you to fall. You squeezed your eyes shut and tensed up, expecting a jarring thud as you slammed into the ground but you were only met with a slight bump as you landed on the hard marble floors.
“Are you okay?” the same voice that caused you to fall called out but it seemed closer this time. Your eyes shot open to reveal a boy who was about your age hovering over top of you with obvious concern. You stared back up at hi with a blank expression while the confusion of your entire situation was starting to take root in your mind.
“I mean of course you’re alright, what was I thinking,” he mumbled to himself as he pushed off of you and gave you space to sit up, you gratefully took his outstretched hand as he eased you into a sitting position. You opened your mouth to thank him but the words caught in your throat when you looked at his entire body.
“You’re a mermaid?!” you blurted out when your eyes caught on his shimmering scales.
“Merman,” he corrected you, “I’m a man, so not a mermaid.”
You just stared back at him in shock. His tail was one of the most beautiful things you had ever seen, his scales were a gorgeous mixture of aqua and almost a brick colour which made it very similar to a sunset over the ocean. It was almost shark-like but elegant enough to make him seem not dangerous or scary when his scales shimmed as his tail rippled around you both.
“Am I dead?” you asked him with wide eyes.
He tilted his head and looked back at you, “No, you’re in atlantis.”
“I’m where?”
“Atlantis.”
“What’s Atlantis?” you asked him, frustrated by his dull answers and so much more confused than anything.
“It’s where the merpeople live,” he explained before lines of colours burst into the space around you and forming pictures, “It’s like a sanctuary for all creatures under the sea and some from above, every ten years your village sacrifices someone and we save them which is how you ended up here.”
As he spoke you stared in wonder as the colours in the air illustrated scenes of where you imagined you were, they danced around like small sea creatures or formed into grand structures with details that were beyond your imagination.
“What are these,” you breathed out as a ribbon of coloured light danced around your outstretched hand.
“The royal merpeople can bend light,” he said before more ribbons surrounded your body, “the glow stones that light this place, like the lamps, they have almost magical powers. The royals can bend their light and they’re also the reason why you can breath right now.”
“You mean we’re underwater right now?” You asked him in confusion, it made sense why when you fell it didn’t hurt as much but how were you breathing?
“Yes, the glow stones make it so the water is compatible with both human and mercreature lungs so we can both survive together.” He explained once more before the lights slowly disappeared and you were back sitting in front of him.
“I can’t go back to my village can I?” you asked him and he solemnly shook his head.
“They’ll kill you, thinking you're some sort of sea demon.”
You both sat there for a few more moments, he was awkwardly avoiding your eyes and instead scanning the room from top to bottom while you tried to take in the whole situation.
“You never told me your name,” You exclaimed once your realized you had gone over the most important details.
“It’s Jeno,”
“Hi, Jeno. My name is Y/n.”
----
At some point you he had finally showed you out of the room with a promise of taking you on a tour of the city. Atlantis was like a city of dreams, it was like you had stepped right out of reality when the myriad of colours dancing through the water caught your eyes. The buildings were like something out of a fairytale, towering marble structures reaching so high you can barely see the top glowing from the magic stones which are the key to this place’s existence. The plant life itself was a different experience all on its one with flowering buds of every colour and stalks in every different shape you could imagine dancing back and forth in the currents created by swishing tails. Other mermaids and merman waved at you while they swam past and gave you large inviting smiles which you could only reply with wide eyed confusion which apparently was funny to Jeno. He explained more about the history of Atlantis as you two floated through the old city, it was filled with the ancient buildings from when Atlantis was first created and he told you about the merpeople’s culture. You were nearing the edge of the old city when Jeno suddenly blurted out, “Do you want to get a tail?”
“What?”You asked him in disbelief, “How am I supposed to get a tail?”
“They sell them,” He answered seeming not at all bothered by the insane idea.
“They do what?!” You shrieked, “How?!”
He just stared back at you with an unreadable expression.
“Isn’t that like cannibalism or something?” You exclaimed waving your arms through the water like a madwoman.
Suddenly his concrete expression cracked and he burst out laughing, “It’s not like we cut off people’s tails,” Jeno laughed, “It’s like how humans wear socks but we have them for tails.”
“You didn’t have to tease me like that,” You whined before punching his surprisingly solid arm half heartedly which only made him chuckle a bit more. You clasped your hands in front of you and bent your head a little as you felt your cheeks warm at the proximity of the beautiful merman with an angel’s smile beside you.
“So, uh,” you cleared your throat, “Where do we get the tails?”
“The fish market,” he explained as you turned left towards one of the brightly lit tunnels that acted as a transportation system in the city.
You shot him a look and he quickly realized what it sounded like to a human.
“It’s just what we call the shopping district,” he explained, “Merpeople are actually vegetarians.”
“Well, good to know,” you sighed as you neared the crowd of people going to and from the mouth of the tunnel.
“Shall we?” Jeno asked in a mock serious voice before you both jumped in and let the current grab onto you.
----
“I’m never going to get used to that,” You hissed out while holding back another gag, the swirly currents really did nothing but torture your stomach.
“It get easier when you have a tail,” Jeno stated before grabbing your hand without giving you a moment to recover and dragging you after him. The fish market was completely different from the old city, the architecture was still the same but everything had been modernized with glowing signs signalling where shops were and different music drifting through every window. Friends were chatting while carting around outrageous amounts of shopping bags, weaving in and out of different shops which had you memorized and you didn’t even realize it when the mermaid by your side pulled you into a different shop which was quieter than the street outside but the bright music blasting from the speakers would make you think otherwise.
“Welcome to the rainbow emporium where we have tails in every colour of the rainbow!” A smaller merman with bright green hair exclaimed as he came flying out from behind a rack full of sparkles, “Are you here to buy a tail?”
“Calm down Chenle,” Jeno cut in before pushing the exited merman back from where he was only inches from your face, “yes, we’re here to buy a tail.”
“So the rumours were true,” he squealed as sparks a light shout out from him, “You found the new human, and she’s cute!”
“Knock it off, your scaring her,” Jeno hissed as he pulled him back again, “are the other here?”
Chenle’s face scrunched in confusion for a minute as if he was trying to remember before he burst out into a huge smile, “I’ll go get them!” He exclaimed with another burst of the little lights before swimming away back behind the rows of glitter that he previously emerged from.
“I’m sorry about Chenle,” Jeno sighed, training his eyes on the ground and casually rubbing the back of his neck. You could tell he was nervous and found it adorable as he scrunched and scrunched his eyebrows, “he can be a bit…… overbearing sometimes but I promise he’ll calm down eventually.”
“It’s okay,” you assured him, “I thought it was actually quite cute!” you confessed with a giggle and Jeno’s face contorted into a frown. You opened your mouth to say something again but you were cut off by the telltale swish of the racks and pack of voices rounding the corner. You turned around to see Chenle parading back towards you followed by a pack of five other boys with brightly coloured hair, some with lights dancing around them while chatting animatedly and some just floating through.
“I swear broccoli head, if you dragged us out here to look at another bubble I’m going to steal all your glitter!” The one with blond hair who was right behind Chenle hissed.
“I swear it’s good this time Renjun!” He exclaimed before pushing aside the rack to reveal you and Jeno side by side.
“Oh, it’s just another girl,” Another one sighed, “Can we go back now-”
“But she has legs!”
“WHAT?!” They all seemed to exclaim at once before crowding around and elbowing each other to get a better look.
“So the rumors were true!” the pink haired boy exclaimed, “Jeno did find the human, and its a girl!”
“Why does everyone like to talk so much about me,” Jeno groaned but he was completely ignored as the boys continued to crowd around you, muttering about how cool it was that u were human and you had real legs. You were starting to panic as they pushed closer and closer, murmuring between themselves and causing you to feel their tails brushing against your legs. You were about to freak out when you were pulled out of the group and landed against a solid chest behind you.
“She’s been here for only a few day and you guys are freaking her out,” Jeno scolded, “You should know better.” He huffed and all the boys bashfully peered down at the smooth ground.
“At least tell me your names first,” You cut in, the guilt from seeing them upset was getting to you for reasons you didn't quite understand. At the sound of your words all their faces seemed to light up and they went around introducing themselves one at a time with many interruptions by the one you knew was Donghyuck or hyuck for short.
“Now that we’re done with introductions can we find Y/n a tail?” Jeno huffed grumpily. His sudden mood change baffled you but the other boys seemed to pay it no mind before they led you into the many racks of glittering scales. Tails were thrown at you left and right but none of them really seemed to fit your style. Hyuck suggested a bright green tail that matched the colour of seaweed which you obviously declined as nicely as you could since he seemed very excited, Jaemin made you try on a pastel pink tail that was the colour of his hair and sure it looked nice but you didn’t exactly like it. You must’ve tried on a tail in every colour of the rainbow suggested by each one of the boys except Jisung who left a while ago in pursuit of food with Mark’s wallet but still hadn’t returned for some reason. You were so tired of trying on different design that you were about to give up until you picked the last one on the rack and squeezed yourself into it, to say it was perfect would be an understatement. It was the colour of red wine which seemed to compliment your skin tone perfectly and the way it fit was like a dream, not to mention the shape which had a degree of elegance but wasn’t snobby. A cheer went up as you pulled back the curtain with a huge smile.
“It’s perfect!” Chenle squealed as he rushed over to you, “Is this the one you want?”
You nodded mutely, still too excited and unable to talk from how much you loves the tail.
“I do have to tell you something though,” He warned, “If you don't take the tail off when you sleep eventually because of the magic it’s made with you won’t have legs anymore and that will turn into your tail”
Much to his surprise you just nodded and wiggled forward until you got the hang of swimming and floated over to where Jeno was walking in with Jisung in tow. His face was a range of emotions as he spotted you coming over to him but they all quickly changed into concern as you both realized that you may know how to swim but you didn’t exactly know how to stop. He pushed the younger boy out of the way before you slammed into his chest and you both tumbled through the water in a ball flailing of limbs. Once you had stopped moving your head was tucked directly under Jeno’s chin with his arms wrapped protectively around, there were a few hoots and hollers from the boys in the room before you both burst away from each other blushing furiously. You quickly thanked Chenle and the other boys before following Jeno who was already halfway down the avenue fumbling around with your subpar swimming skills, he moved at a fast pace staying completely silent until you both reached his house which you had been staying at before. It seemed much larger now that you were swimming into it instead of out, it was easily the size of a palace with its winding corridors and extravagant decorations, it made you wonder how you didn’t even realize it until know. You continued right out of the other side of the house and into the back gardens which you had been taken on a tour of before but were still just as beautiful.
“I'm sorry about my friends, they can be a little bt much,” he apologized as you steadied yourself on the stone bench beside him, “But now I promise to answer any questions you have about Atlantis or mermaids in general.”
“I can ask anything?”
“Anything, and I will answer it as best I can.”
“Well,” you started, “Are you a prince because this house looks like a palace and you said only merpeople with royal blood can bend lights, so?”
“No, I’m not a prince,” he answered you with a small smile, “Renjun is actually the official prince and the rest of us just have some sort of distant tie to the royal bloodline but nothing immediate for at least the last 100 years or so,” he explained in a calm tone. Now that you really thought about it Renjun really did seem like a prince, the air of perfection and the attitude he sometimes had that seemed to be the product of never having been told no but past that he was very kind.
“Do you have anything else to ask?” Jeno inquired with a tilt of his eyebrow.
“There is one more question,” you told him trying to hide your smile, “when are you going to tell me that you like me?”
His jaw fell open, “How did you find out?” he sputtered, trying to scramble to regain his composure.
You giggled at his shocked expression, who knew utter betrayal could be so cute? “Chenle told me when you went to go find Jisung.”
“That little rat!” he exclaimed, “He must be the one spreading rumours about me, I’d better go over there and-”
“I like you too.” Your confession caught him off guard and completely froze his red hot rage.
“You what?”
“I like you too.”
#nct#nct dream#nct fanfiction#nct fanfic#nct fanfic au#nct fanfiction au#nct dream fanfic#nct dream fanfiction#nct dream fanfic au#nct dream jeno#jeo#lee jeno#nct dream mermaid au
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SPN 14x13, Lebanon (Yes, That One) -- Thoughts (Spoilers)
It's finally here, guys. The big 300. I've now seen 300 episodes of Supernatural. Phew...what a crazy ride its been. But let's dive into this, shall we.
I'm going to be a little different with this one. This is going to follow a little more of a recap structure. It's the big 300, so of course I had to change it up a little. As I recap this episode, I'll be inserting thoughts I have here and there. I will be recapping from memory so things might get a little out of order. It should go without saying but there will be spoilers. And keep in mind, this is just how I feel and how I interpret things. You may have a completely different interpretation and that's perfectly valid. These are just MY thoughts.
We open up with Sam and Dean in the midst of a hunt. A hunter friend of theirs died and Sam and Dean are trying to recover what was stolen from their friend as well as avenge him. They corner the murderer and in a really cringey fight scene, the murderer meets his maker. Typically, SPN fight scenes are, while not fantastically well put together, but at least put our heroes in a competent light. Honestly, I don't think I've seen such stilted choreography since season 13 in the vamp cave. But anyway, the murderer uses dragon's breath (which is essentially a flamethrower) to escape from Brothers Winchester and it sends them flying in different directions but apparently dragon's breath isn't that hot. Just a small little thing, but if you're standing that close to the fire, you should've had some burn marks, I'm just saying, at the very least, soot on your face. But whatever. Dean gets thrown across the room, Sam ends up on the floor with our villain monologuing to him and I'm uncomfortable with just how incompetent Sam appeared to be in this scene. The villain is monologuing and Sam is just sitting there and doing nothing. What happened to Sam's gun? Why didn't Sam sweep the leg or go for a gut punch? So many things he could've done to get the upper hand in the situation especially since the villain only had a sword. While swords can be very deadly, they're also easier to dodge as opposed to bullets or throwing daggers. But Sam just sits there in fear for a good 5 seconds (and 5 seconds is an eternity both on screen and in a fight) and Dean then shoots the guy and talks about the villain monologuing problem. I'm not mad that Dean got the kill or anything. I don't believe in "staning" culture but if you could at least have made Sam appear competent, that would be nice.
But with the murderer dead, Sam and Dean find out he has a lot of magical junk so they decide to take it back to the bunker. In the files, they find a magical pearl which apparently will grant your greatest desire. Obviously, the boys think, "this is great. Our greatest desire is to evict the douche currently residing in our nagen." But before this greatest wish can be made, we have to make a little side trip because one of the teenagers in Lebanon (the town where the bunker exists) stole the impala. Sam's all, "that kid is in danger, we gotta find her, there's dangerous shit in that car" -- and much to my annoyance, Dean is all, "how dare she take Baby, she better not hurt Baby". *Takes a deep breath* This is an aspect of Dean's character I find super irritating. This weird romance he has with the damn car. How he places the car above things that, realistically, are a little more important. Maybe he should be less concerned about Max scratching the car and more concerned about the fact you have a teenage girl you don't know (or barely know at the very most) in a car with deadly objects and deadly weapons. I get it, this is supposed to be a funny quirk of his and at one point it was but now it's been so overdone that it's more irritating than it is endearing. I really hope the show goes into Dean's character development, and approaches the car as a mirror of how Dean feels about his father and his childhood and as he grows to accept his father more, he'll eventually realize that just like he doesn't need his father, he doesn't need the impala. I'm sure I said something absolutely sacrilegious in the fandom but I'm not going to apologize for it. This whole obsession with the impala is immature and creepy and it makes me worry for Dean's mental health.
So they find the girl but not before the girl's actions releases a serial killer clown ghost (because in an episode dealing with past fears and insecurities, of course it's a clown). They kill the ghost but three of the teenagers see and therefore they get the "talk." And these three also appear to be seen as mirrors for Sam, Dean, and Cas. They weren't very subtle about it, let me tell you.
So after leaving the kids to process the information that the sounds you hear in your closet may actually not be in your head, Brothers Winchester arrive back at the bunker and try out this magical pearl. But behold! It would seem evicting au!Michael is not Dean's greatest desire because Father Winchester is yanked from the past (sometime before the pilot) and dropped into their time. And, I'm not going to say this a lot about this episode, but I like the cinematography used here. It was an excellent usage of the color red symbolizing Brothers Winchester's own repression and isolation they experienced from their father as well as John's revenge focused aggression, blindly lashing out at anything that moves even if it's his own children. And the scene was also shot in a very choppy way meant to be seen as a little confusing...also symbolizing the thoughts of confusion the boys harbor towards their father and much like the confusion John no doubt feels with the turn his life has taken.
Everyone eventually realizes what's up and they fill John in on what's been happening for the past 14 years. And it's a very nice, very touching reunion and then Momma Winchester shows up. John and Mary have a wonderful reunion kiss, its so beautiful. I completely understand how Dean got swept into the moment here. Witnessing something he probably only barely remembers from his childhood, thinking he'll never see it again, and there it is. And just like that it takes him back to a time when life was seemingly perfect. When he had hope, when he had dreams. His parents were alive, they loved each other, they loved him, he had an adorable baby brother. It gave him something he never thought he'd have again. And just the kiss in general, you know. Just so reminiscent of past lovers who never thought they would see each other again suddenly seeing each other and everything they used to feel all coming up at once. It was wonderful. Think Celine Dion, Its All Coming Back to Me Now and I think you'll have the tone of this moment nailed down.
But Sam and Dean leave these two to have their moment and Sam tells Dean there's going to be repercussions for this. Time travel is a funky thing. But they decide to have one family dinner and think about the consequences after that. Dean asks Mary for the ingredients to make her Winchester Surprise and John and Sam have a really touching moment. John feels the need to apologize to Sam about everything that happened between them. And Sam tells him it doesn't matter. Their fight happened a long time ago, he's put it in the past and moved on. Sam also tells his father that the biggest regret he has is never having the chance to say good-bye. Their last conversation being an argument and then Sam finding John dead on the hospital floor. This scene got me so choked up like you don't even know. I've been through this. Lost someone while we were on shaky terms, I never got the chance to say good-bye, so many things were left unsaid and I would kill for an opportunity Sam has here where I can finally tell that person it's okay and rectify the bad blood that occurred between us. And Sam acknowledges it as well. This opportunity he has right here and now is all he's ever wanted.
Sam and Dean go off to buy these ingredients but this is when they start noticing the time travel problems. The future is starting to change, but it's more of a ripple effect right now. They haven't changed yet, but time around them has and eventually the ripple is going to smother out and their new future will take hold. Sam calls it a time paradox. And because of the paradox, we're treated to season 4 Zachariah and Castiel. But in regards to Castiel here, it's important to note that he's more pre-season 4. He hasn't delved into hell yet to get Dean out so he doesn't really have any of those rebellious feelings yet. And no, I'm not going to quote THE Destiel line. In all honesty, I've come to hate the line. It's been over-used so much that it's basically lost all meaning to me. Fandom and canon just keep on poking at it, now it's just something I roll my eyes at whenever I hear it. I am sad that we got season 4 Zachariah. When they were saying we were going to get a different Zachariah, I was so hoping for a role reversal kind of situation but apparently the "different Zachariah" is meant to be interpreted as "different from season 13 au!Zachariah" who actually isn't all that different. PR is not show running, people. Take a grain of salt with everything they say. But the Wing Team is on a quest to find out who meddled with time. Even going so far as to threaten to murder a diner full of people. Thankfully, Sam and Dean stop that from commencing but are in a real shock that with this time paradox, it now means Cas is no longer the Cas they all know and love. That if John stays here, they're going to lose their best friend (in Sam's case) and potential lover (in Dean's case). But the scene plays out how you would expect it to. Zach is his usual douchey self and is giving Sam cancer just like he used to (good times, let me tell ya) but Sam remembers he has an angel blade on him and kills Zach. Nowhere near as badass as it was in season 5, but still cathartic. And next we get to see a re-creation of the tomb scene from season 8 with Dean and Cas in a match of fisticuffs. But this Cas has never met Dean so Dean really has no chance of reaching Cas. But Sam in some quick thinking rembers the sigil that will cast angels out and uses it. The boys make a break for the bunker and everyone gets filled in.
Sam and Dean realize that in order for everything to go back they way it was, they have to smash the pearl. Everything will be forgotten but everything will also revert back to the way it once was. Sam wishes there was a way John could remember everything but Dean tells him he prefers that John doesn't. John going back with knowledge of the future could change who they are and Dean doesn't want that change. He wants to be exactly who he is right here and right now which is just so much progress. John tells them to do it because if the timeline changes, Mary's resurrection could never have happened and she'll eventually disappear. Even though he's going back to a time where he will die, trading himself for Mary is more than worth it. He'd rather have Mary exist in the world and himself die as opposed to living the rest of his days without her. And maybe it's because I have so much Kingsom Hearts nonsense floating through my brain, even if he doesn't remember, this will have left a mark on his heart. It'll leave him feeling something even if he doesn't understand why he feels that way. Everyone has the family dinner they always wanted, John also apologizes to Dean for everything, he tells both of his sons just how proud he is of them, he and Mary have another moment and the pearl is broken. Father Winchester disappears and everyone is crying. Our most beloved Cas returns and remarks on why everyone is acting so weird and Dean tells him they have a story to tell him. I kind of wish we got to see them tell Cas but I understand why we don't. Story-Telling 101. Don't repeat information the audience already knows, instead, insinuate the character is being filled in off-screen. John wakes up in his time in the impala and remarks on the good dream he had and drives off to his dark future. And the episode ends.
So what did I think of this episode? Honestly, I'm of two minds on it. Narratively and character-wise, this was a really good episode. But structurally and production-wise, not so much.
It had a really good narrative, the acting was fantastic, but on a cinematic level, My Chuck, was this episode dull to look at. The directing was just extremely stilted, apart from John's entrance, I don't think there was a single scene I thought was visually appealing. The musical score was very bland. It makes me really sad that there was so much hype for this episode but so little effort put into the production of it. Of the milestone episodes, 200 is probably my favorite.
I also say this episode kind of faltered on a structural basis, as well. While I appreciate the use of the Lebanon characters, I feel like they were largely unnecessary for the actual plot. And when they were first pitching this episode to us last year, I was imagining the Lebanon townsfolk being more of a primary aspect of the episode. While I enjoyed the themes and the mirrors with the Lebanon element, I feel like this would've been a better structured episode without them and given the episode more time with the family reunion and the Wing Team.
But I do love the narrative themes in this episode. Choosing between your past family and your future family. Putting your past behind you and acknowledging yourself as an individual. I've seen a few posts lamenting about how they dislike that Dean didn't yell at John or anything along those lines and honestly, I feel like that's the point. Dean has grown past that. He's acknowledged that as part of his past and has moved on from it. We all have trauma we associate with our parents. And while yelling at our parents might make us feel better, will it really heal us? Will it give us what we really need? And that's the whole thing with Dean, isn't it? Want vs Need. Dean's greatest desire was never to face John again and tell him how much he hates him -- no, Dean's greatest desire was to face his father again and not see himself in his father. To realize he's become his own person that isn't his father and that he likes that person and he doesn't want that to change. That's what Dean wanted. That was the self-acceptance Dean needed and I'm really excited to see where this all heads for Dean as a character. Now that he's accepted himself, is he going to allow himself to be happy now?
Essentially, this episode was a beautiful episode about family, about the progression of family, about finding acceptance and forgiveness and being able to put it behind you and look towards the future and I thought that was extremely beautiful and well done. I'd give this episode a B+. Sadly, I do knock it down because of the production value.
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To Change A Sombre Morrow (chapter eleven)
Read it on AO3
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII
Characters: Zack, Angeal, Lazard, Hojo, Cloud, Tifa... Genesis.
Chapter summary: Promises, promises... some are more clear than others. So, too, is the effect we have on other people.
...
Ripples form on the water's surface...
...
"So... is he always like this?"
Zack's head tilted at an angle as he thought his question over after saying it aloud, and Angeal tried to hold back the mixture of exasperation and fondness that caused.
"I'm guessing you don't mean either the tactician, or the enemy commander."
"Uh, no- oh."
The eyes blinked, and Zack slouched in his seat. And even then, there was the steady staccato of a heavy combat boot rapidly thudding against the floor of Angeal's office. He really had got that sidetracked again, huh. And they wonder why I call him a puppy.
"Thankfully, a lack of focus in lessons like these won't cost you your life the way it would during a real mission in the field. Well, go on. You might as well get it out."
He knew by now that when Zack lost focus most of the time it was because he couldn't keep his mind - or his body - trained on one thing. But when his student's thoughts caught on something, they tended not to unstick until whatever it was had been sorted out.
Zack was a little like Genesis, in that respect, Angeal realised now. Perhaps in the past it might have been funny to think of it like that; now, with everything that'd been going on, he couldn't help feeling concerned.
"It's just - you've known him for a long time, right?" Ah. Zack was thinking about Genesis, too. "But I've been here a few years now, and you've been working with me for a while, but I hardly even knew you were that close before he started butting in on my materia training." The rush of words slowed to a halt as Zack stared briefly into space. "You know... he kinda reminds me of someone I knew, a while back."
"Oh?"
"It was back when I was a Third, before we even met properly," Zack said, staring off into space as he recalled. "There was this guy, a Second I knew. He was cool, but kind of a show-off. Kept saying he'd do something amazing and get in the news one of these days."
Angeal snorted, smiling slightly at old memories. Zack didn't know how close to the mark he was, given how much Genesis had been like that when they'd been younger.
"I'm guessing that's not all."
Zack shook his head.
"Nuh-uh. One day, he just up and vanished. Took me asking a few of his friends to find out he'd been drafted into Wutai." Zack's expression grew serious, and Angeal sighed. "He came back, and we all thought he was fine. He looked fine, and acted like it, but... sometimes he'd space out. And he'd pick more fights than before, too."
That... sounds an awful lot like what Genesis has been going through. Apart from the fact that he's been in the frontlines of Wutai as many times as I have, and he's never reacted like that to this degree before. Or to Sephiroth.
But we're his friends, surely we'd have noticed if something else had happened? Wouldn't he tell us?
"But... he disappeared again a few months later. And that time, he... he never came back. I wasn't even that close, so I didn't really know until a while after the emails went out."
An image of Genesis giving a half-hearted wave without even turning back to face him as he left for his own mission came abruptly to mind, and he tried to tell himself that the sudden anxiety it caused was unfounded, because Zack was talking about a Second who'd probably had no prior field experience, and this was Genesis.
"Up until recently, I just figured he'd died a hero, you know? Protecting people. Saving someone. But I asked someone, because I needed to know, and they said he'd frozen up in a fight."
"I'm sure we don't need to worry about Genesis though, Zack. Although I'm sure he'd be touched by the concern."
Or irritated at the thought that he needed it, Angeal thought wryly.
Zack looked back at him again, leaning forward, and Angeal was reminded yet again of some small dog. So innocent of the way the world worked, so eager to please. To make people happy.
"I want to believe that. Really, I do. But..." He shook his head, bangs flapping in front of his eyes not doing anything to stop that resemblance to a puppy. The thudding that was restarting from under the desk made Angeal think of a tail hitting something repeatedly. "Something feels wrong."
"All right, how about this. When Genesis gets back, I'll talk to him again. But until then, you still have to focus on the things you're supposed to be doing in the here and now."
Zack grinned, eyes lighting up in a way that had nothing to do with mako.
"Thanks, Angeal!"
Angeal shook his head and tried not to worry too much over how if Zack was so certain someone needed to talk to Genesis, that something was wrong, then... he could only hope that they really were all just making a fuss over nothing. If not - Genesis, no matter what happened, was still his friend, and he'd have to do something, even if Zack hadn't asked it of him.
...
The wandering soul knows no rest...
...
Lazard sighed heavily not for the first or last time, and pressed the fingers of the hand not holding his most recent reports against his temples, to stave off a headache.
He had been counting on Hollander being able to secure Genesis' cooperation in their plans - plans that had revolved primarily around the use of the Copy technology that would have granted them an army with which to destabilise Shinra. Right up until several weeks ago, things seemed to have been progressing well enough, with Genesis' own personal... issues... being ideal grounds to work with in terms of getting him to agree; if he knew what Shinra had done to him, then he would certainly wish to turn on the company just as the others in the small conspiracy had grown to.
The changes in the SOLDIER's demeanour, and especially in such a short period of time, had been unexpected. Not to mention concerning. Not simply for the sake of their plans, but also with regards to purely personal reasons.
When Hollander had suspected degradation based on changes in behaviour - and his suspicions had seemed well founded when Genesis had showed signs of physical change as well - the doctor had insisted that he would be able to use that as leverage of a sort, given how he had such an extensive understanding of the project that had created both Genesis and Angeal.
He had also said that in theory he should have been able to find some sort of cure for the genetic instability in due time, the thought in mind that they would be able to extend the lives of both the SOLDIER and their army, and yet...
Genesis had refused.
Point blank, in fact. Not agreeing to so much as talk to Hollander. Giving neither of them any opportunity with which to explain the situation to him, nor to encourage him in any sort of direction.
That had not been all - his general attitude had become markedly different, alternately either interacting more with others, or withdrawing entirely. Taking missions that were altogether far simpler than a First of his calibre should be expected to lower himself to and quite unlike his prior attitude which had him constantly striving to push himself to greater heights or - in one such case at least - leaving without due warning and without backup on a mission which even most Firsts would have been required to bring at least a Second or experienced Third along with them.
So, overall, their guarantee had turned into something unreliable. A loose cannon.
He had given the Genesis one last offer, a last chance after all of the times he had refused to talk with Hollander, or be treated. It hadn't been openly worded as such, but Genesis was an intelligent man, and Lazard had known that he would be able to interpret his meaning easily enough.
Genesis had read his meaning quite clearly, of course. And had also summarily enough dismissed it all.
Yet, he had to admit, in such an... interesting way.
There was a fire there in his eyes that Lazard couldn't say had been there before. An anger that was stronger than before. It wasn't merely the same ambition that drove Hollander, which he had seen echoes of in the young SOLDIER before. In fact, that need to improve and be better than even Sephiroth seemed to have taken a backseat to something that he clearly saw as more important.
"There's definitely something up with him - I don't know how, but I think someone's been slipping him information without anyone knowing," he remembered Hollander saying recently. Though neither of them had been able to make any headway on figuring out who that could be. "Says he got better, but if I'm right about what was going on, he can't have been able to on his own. Whatever they've told him, I think he's figured out that being part of Project G means he's capable of some sort of mutation - I haven't been able to get a decent blood sample to figure out what caused it, but there was a tear in his coat and a hasty patch job he sure looked like he didn't want to bring attention to."
Lazard sighed, and gave up on filing mission reports for the time being. There was no way to change what had already happened, after all, and the only way forward was to work with what they had, rather than what they only wished they had. So instead, he picked up one of the files on the prospective cadets that he'd been having the Firsts take a look at, one that he had put to one side even after he had given his decision.
Just a glance at the first page showed that it had been signed off by Genesis himself.
Notes were written in the margins as well as the sections where they were supposed to be, jotted down in what was usually a neat cursive and turned pointedly less so the more irritated with the work and the prospective cadets he became to the point of near illegibility.
Idealistic, one note that his eyes lighted on as particularly interesting read, but far too naive. Liable to become non-dependable as he learns harsh truths. SOLDIER isn't the place for people to join up if they want to change the status quo.
He closed the file, wondering what any of the others on the board of directors would think if they saw that one of their prize SOLDIERs, Shinra's most valuable and effective weaponry - whether Scarlet it or not, and no matter Heidegger's grumblings - harboured such feelings for the company he served.
Perhaps, then, it was fortuitous that - cooperation or no - he had no plans of letting that happen, and he was fully capable of going over the First's head. He still had his own plans even if Hollander's fell through, and Shinra was going to need a little more, ah, idealistic, if it was ever going to have any hope of change.
...
("So, Genesis, is it?"
"You're the new Director, aren't you? Lazard."
"I am. I was thinking it would be good to get to know some of you a little better - after all, we'll be working together from here on in."
"If you wish to ask something, you merely have to ask. You'll find I'm not nearly so infinite in mystery as some would assume."
"Ah, so... LOVELESS, is it?"
"Of course. My dream is to become a hero worthy of the great play itself. And in order to do that, I first need to become on a level with- no, better than Sephiroth himself."
"I see..."
"...you think I'm not serious?"
"Hm? No, no. I suppose... the unattainable dreams are probably the best, I would say.")
...
Colm sat nervously in the back of the Shinra issue van, bracing himself against the bumps and jolts of the uneven road.
He wasn't the only one, though the others were far less tightly wound up. Or maybe they were just better at pretending they weren't - they'd long since taken their helmets off, and Denson was talking about his girlfriend who apparently knew some famous actress while Mack made rude jokes that had Colm blushing and Denson alternatively laughing and hitting the other Second hard enough he'd be breaking bones if they weren't all enhanced. Someone else whose name he'd forgotten was complaining yet again about how SOLDIERs were expected to use swords - he preferred daggers and speed over brute force and ignorance, always had.
Colm's eyes were drawn to the fourth and last person in the back of the van that was taking them further toward Wutai and war, red twitching.
Red coat, red hair, red sword... even the book that looked like its page hadn't been turned for nearly an hour was sort of a pinkish-red. Or a reddish-pink.
Commander Rhapsodos was like that, though. Even though he probably stood out on the battlefield like he had a target painted on his back. If Colm knew one thing about what he'd do with the honour of being chosen for First - if he ever did, he thought they were still figuring out if they'd made the right choice in making him a Second - he knew that he wouldn't alter his uniform so he'd end up dying quicker.
Maybe the Firsts only get away with it because they're just that good.
Someone leaned over to take a look out the window and made an offhand comment about the weather. Something about the chance of rain. Their commander twitched again, and for a single moment Colm could see the man's eyes from behind that old book of his - it was more the Shinra Library's, but by this point everyone agreed that it was basically property of Genesis - and there was something... wrong about them.
Colm would have preferred not to have seen anything, or at least be able to pretend as such, but those eyes, mako blue like the rest of them, caught and held his uncomfortably for a moment, and when the First looked away he was left feeling as though something had happened, but he wasn't sure what. Or even why.
The others carried on like nothing had happened. He didn't think they'd even noticed. The commander's hand went up to his shoulder, as though there was an old wound there, but came away to brush the hair out of his eyes.
"There is no hate," he read out, "only joy. For you are beloved by the Goddess."
He shivered slightly, and rubbed at his arms. Some breeze had come through the window, and Denson started shouting for the other Firsts in the front to close it, the others backing him up.
Later, when they were stopped for the evening and making camp since they were far enough away from any settlement that they couldn't just stay in town, someone clapped their hand on his shoulder, the unexpected nature of it sending him stumbling more than the strength of the other SOLDIER.
"First time off to war for you, is it? Don't worry, you're going to be fine."
As he tries to settle down in his tent, snoring coming from all around him, he puts his finger on why the lines spoken aloud in the van had felt so off.
He wasn't sure what was going on, but he'd always had a way with knowing when people were lying just to make you feel better. The SOLDIER earlier, he could understand.
Commander Rhapsodos, on the other hand, he was less sure of, and what worried him about that was that if this was the man leading them, and he was trying to convince himself things were better than they were, then what hope did the rest of them have?
...
(" We aren't going to Wutai. Are we, sir?"
"No, SOLDIER, we are not. Do you trust me?"
"Of course, sir! We all do. But with all due respect, unless it's confidential..."
"You'll learn soon enough. Along with the others. Until then, all you need to do is follow me."
"Is this something to do with what you were talking about before?"
"It has everything to do with that - and more. So, tell me - would you prefer to continue with someone more likely to tell you the truth... or slink back to Shinra and carry on being a mere attack dog ready to be commanded by them?"
"..."
"I somehow thought not. Well? Carry on.")
...
Hojo scowled at the computer he was working on, and his notes on paper next to it. Simple mathematics, science that did not - could not - lie, and could not feel emotion, and yet it felt as though the results were laughing in his face.
He knew perfectly well that the incident at the Nibelheim reactor hadn't been the work of monsters, or a minor meltdown - reactors never had minor meltdowns, and whoever believed that they did was clearly an idiot of the highest degree - but the purposeful, wanton destruction of his own life's work.
The fire might have seemed to have been out of control, but that was only to the untrained eye. If you knew what to look for, it was blatantly obvious that someone had done this. The epicentre of the so-called blast had originated in Jenova's room, which could only have happened if someone had been able to break in through the door, or get past the secure locking mechanisms that had been put in place from the construction of the very reactor itself.
Much as he hated to admit it, however, the vandalism that had occurred was of a second priority compared to one thing.
With Jenova as good as gone given that the few samples that his team had been able to recover had been contaminated and unfit for further use, it meant that the science department was going to be working with dwindling supplies in the months and years to come.
All of his plans - not to mention his position and status - would be in ruins just as surely as Jenova herself if he failed to find some solution, because if the science department could no longer deliver, then the President would sooner or later turn to... other means.
Machines would never be able to do what Hojo's SOLDIER program had been capable of. They had been able to send Sephiroth against the entire Wutai army and he had come back the victor with barely a mark on him, and saying that he did the job of of even one hundred men was an understatement.
For now, he would encourage the line of thought that with the end of the war, they would need fewer SOLDIERs, allowing him to better utilise the remaining J-cells. Both on economising use, and... if possible... finding some way of further refining the process.
But later - oh, and later would come - well, he was sure that he would be able to mix work with the pleasure of seeing whoever had done this suffer for the inconveniences they had caused him.
...
My friend, do you fly away now?
...
Cloud's feet banged against the wood of the water tower he was sat on, hands on his knees and trying not to think of how cold it was, or what he'd feel like come morning if she didn't turn up. She'd been there when the SOLDIER had been leaving, when the others had laughed at him for saying that he wanted to be SOLDIER, too.
She hadn't laughed, though. She'd watched him, and his face had burned when he'd realised, but she hadn't laughed.
So he'd built up his courage and asked her to meet with him here - in the middle of town, in the middle of the night, when the stars were all out. Because it was pretty, and she liked pretty things, and saying something under the stars made it seem more... serious, somehow.
He sighed, head hanging slightly as he started to wonder how much longer he'd be waiting, and if he should just give up after all. He was just Cloud, after all. She'd never thought he was that much important to her before, so why meet up with him like he'd asked?
Which was, of course, when he heard footsteps on the tower, loud against the quiet of the night - or, as quiet as it could get with the wolves and dragons in the mountains, and the couple in the house a few away from his own home who were arguing over something.
"Sorry I'm late," Tifa said. Cloud found himself grinning stupidly. She'd come. "You said you wanted to talk to me about something?"
That brought him back down to earth, and reminded him of why they were there in the first place.
"Yeah," he said, swallowing down his nerves. He'd practiced this enough times. He could do it. "I'm... going to leave town. Soon, I think. I'm going to go to Midgar."
He felt sure - in fact, he'd never felt more sure of anything else before.
Tifa, however, sighed and looked down and away.
"...All the boys are leaving town," she said, almost quiet enough for him to wonder if she'd just been thinking aloud and he hadn't been meant to hear.
He shook his head all the same.
"But I'm different from all of them! I'm not just going to find a job. I want to join SOLDIER. I'm going to be the best there is, just like Sephiroth!"
Tifa crossed her arms on her knees, and looked out - maybe at the stars, maybe at the mountains, maybe at the village he'd be leaving behind soon.
"Sephiroth, huh..." Cloud nodded. "And it's got nothing to do with that SOLDIER guy who came up here to deal with the dragons a few weeks ago?"
He shrugged, and ducked his head.
"He said he knew Sephiroth," he mumbled to the ground several feet away. What were the chances - who knew, if he got there, maybe he'd be able to find the man again, somehow. And he'd been First Class too, making Cloud wonder if all of the Firsts knew each other. "And he's... strong, too. He'd have to be, to take on one of our dragons on his own."
"Right..." Tifa said, still sounding like her thoughts were only half there. "Isn't it hard, to join SOLDIER?"
Shinra didn't tell outsiders much about how to get in, but everyone knew how hard it could be. Cloud kicked a foot against the edge of the water tower, once.
"...I probably won't be able to come back home for a while," he admitted.
He stood abruptly, scowling out at the stars.
"If you think you can survive the monsters, be my guest."
He'd be lying if he he said the First who'd come - Genesis, his name was Genesis - hadn't had any impact on him. Sometimes he wondered if the man had been trying to warn him away - but then the other boys would tell him that there was no way he'd make it, and his mother would fuss over him, and he'd remember why he was doing this.
He'd show them all, that he could do it, that he could become SOLDIER, that he was more than whatever they thought he was. That he could be more than just the scrawny blond kid.
Besides. There were times when he remembered the look they'd shared, the glowing blue of the SOLDIER's eyes looking right at him, and feel that it can't have just been a warning.
It was an invitation. A challenge.
He had to believe that. He had to. If he did, then he could really believe that he could actually get in.
A noise made him look back at Tifa, wondering if she'd said something.
"Huh?"
She didn't so much as glance up at him, instead looking straight ahead.
"Will you be in the papers, if you do well?" she asked, whimsically enough that Cloud wondered if she was being serious.
He nodded anyway.
"I'll try."
Her feet kicked, lightly thumping the wooden slats of the water tower, and she hummed.
"Hey, why don't we make a promise?" She nodded to herself in a way Cloud had seen her do with all of her friends before, like she'd convinced herself of something on the spot, but she still wasn't sure of it. "Um... if you get really famous and I'm ever in a bind... you'll come save me, right?"
The last of it was rushed, and it took Cloud's brain a few seconds to catch up with what his ears had just heard.
"What?"
"Whenever I'm in trouble, my hero will come rescue me," Tifa explained - if that was an explanation. "I'd like to at least experience that once."
He still didn't understand.
"What?"
He shuffled a little further around the water tower's edge before sliding back down and holding onto his knees. Why me, he couldn't help but think. He wanted to be that, for her to see him that way, but still he couldn't help wondering why- why him.
He could just about make out that Tifa had craned her head over to look at him better.
"Come on, promise me!"
But sometimes you couldn't ask why you had to just take what was given and go with it, so he nodded.
"All right... I promise."
It wasn't as though she was asking him to do anything he wouldn't have done anyway, after all. Putting it in a promise just made it... different.
...
To a world that abhors you and I?
...
He awoke to darkness and the dewy smell of morning tent and the sound of his own laboured breathing as he tried to get himself back under control with his hands going to his chest and coming away dry and free of blood and slowly realising that the reason his clothes were sticking to him was because of sweat and he'd been sweating because of a nightmare not a fight-
The tent's flap was pushed open while his eyes were still adjusting to the lack of light and his mind was reminding him that the caves had been lit by Lifestream and crystals and water and there was none of that here, and the pallet he was lying on wasn't the best thing he'd ever slept on - his rooms both at Shinra and in Seventh Heaven and his own apartment had been better - but it wasn't the hard, cold stone of the ground in the underground, either.
"Uh- sir...?"
"What?" The man - or was it boy? There were enough people sent to war who weren't even old enough to drink that it was more likely than not - tensed, but didn't back away. Brave, then. Or foolish. "It had better be good, if you're waking me up at..." He reached out beside him. His handset lit up the darkness, the lock screen showing the Shinra company's logo in black and red - and the time. "Gone half two in the gods-forsaken morning."
They were being ambushed, perhaps. And yet, if they were, then he would have heard screaming. Or shouts. Or someone would have already attempted to take him out, and there would be at least one dead body in his tent rather than a terrified Third. Who had probably drawn the short straw to wake up the Commander for something inane.
"Ah- actually... we, we thought we'd heard noises from. From your tent, sir."
Sounds. From his tent. When he was fairly sure that if someone had tried to attack him, it shouldn't be him people should be worried over.
He blinked to get rid of the way that his mind had overlaid the Third's face - somewhat pointy, with dark hair and big ears - with his own. A layover from his dreams. The Third didn't say anything, or even move, while Genesis came to his long overdue understanding of what had happened.
"Out." He said the word flatly, but the temperature dropped all the same. "Now."
The Third scrabbled away like he couldn't move fast enough, leaving him alone with his memories once again.
After a few breaths, and the realisation that no one else was coming, that nothing else was going to happen, he let his head fall into his hands.
Eventually, his heart rate and breathing evened out, and his eyes, adjusted to the dark, fell on the book that he had fallen asleep reading. Hardly a first edition, but still leather-bound and expensive; it had been difficult even getting his hands on a copy this decent in the future he still remembered.
He dusted off the covers, smoothed down the pages, and placed it, this time more carefully, beside him.
Act three. Even changed and altered as it had been by the sensationalist broadway performances in Midgar that had focused on the romance rather than the true mysteries of the gift of the Goddess, it was an aspect that he had connected with far more on a personal level since understanding where his life had gone wrong than he ever had before.
I never promised them anything, he thought to himself, lying on his back and staring at the roof of the tent, hearing snoring from some short distance away. Neither now, nor then. Perhaps that made it easier. After all, you can't break that which was never made to begin with.
Tifa would say that you cannot simply change the past by wasting your time wondering over what could have been, but that doesn't account for when you truly are stuck in the past... unlike all of the idle thinking and what ifs in the world, I can actually change things.
No, he thinks, turning over onto one side and drawing the light blanket back over his body, his hand pausing at his chest... at his shoulder, still sensitive even though it was mostly healed, by now. I have to have changed at least something already. Otherwise... what is the point of it all?
#ff7#final fantasy vii#ffvii#ff7 stuff#Leona fic#to change a sombre morrow verse#I can't believe it's taken this long to finish the chapter#wow
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His agency was done for. Done. Just completely and utterly over. Marl Tethgers looked over the ridge down into the valley and thought if he didn’t have something more important to do right now he’d have an “accident” perfectly right here. It was only a short rocky trip down the edge before he’d be bludgeoned by the beach below and then everything would be over. All problems would be solved.
But he couldn’t. He had shit to do.
Now how in the fuck would he negotiate this?
His walkway was narrowing quite a bit and the zig-zagging of how the path was cut into the slope was tripping his vertigo hard. A few times he’d stop and rest holding himself against the slope to his left that he’d just climb down.
Just a few more feet and he’d be at the river’s edge.
Tarnished reputations. Men trying to satisfy their fragile egos. Bosses. He hated bosses. Especially right now. Bosses got to gamble away everything and left you there at the bottom rung—yeah you—having to figure out the mess. That’s what this was. Sending him on a goddamned fact finding mission to look at a fucking spaceship of all things.
Allegedly.
He could still be forking through all of this terrain for absolutely nothing too. He was over it. He hated being there.
He figured once he got down to the river he’d take a big break. He owed that to himself. He could eat the hamburger he’d been saving all morning—an act he felt proud of. Maybe smoke a little. Then before long be back on his merry way. As far as these missions went this one wasn’t all that bad even though he wanted to be home.
He finally hit the water. Ahh. Felt good.
Took a nice big deep swell of the fresh air. Ah so clean.
Arched his neck down at the water.
His reflection undulated and rippled the edges of his outline which made him look incredibly frightening. Man even like an alien. All wobbly and distorted and black and gray and with glowing eyes… Hold on—glowing eyes.
As Marl considered the question he raised his head and felt a leathery gray hand with fingers long like tentacles curl over his right shoulder. It was almost like a horror movie scene but before he could look back and say something stupid his body checked out hard and he fell forward face first into the beach.
It was later and the sun shone in his eyes. His face was flecked in sand particles and leaves. He tried to move but couldn’t. He looked to see his hands tied to a tree. He struggled but couldn’t and instead for some reason he tried to call out for help.
No you idiot. It might make them come back.
I know. I’m just panicking.
In front of him was a ship. It was about 20 feet long and seemed made out of metal. It was triangular in shape. And was docked to the ground as opposed to hovering which he found rather odd but then again his real extent of UFOs was pretty much YouTube videos and TV shows. He’d never actually read a book on the subject. He tried to once when he first started out with the society. On the ninth page he was done. Couldn’t get into it—which would’ve said something to most people. But Marl here wasn’t most people.
Now he was tied to a tree in the middle of the woods seemingly being abducted by an alien life-force.
He was every way scared and every single horrible thought he could think of hit him all at once. He tried to block them out—the probing, the being dissected, being cooked, human zoos. He was losing his shit. Literally. Nothing like being tied to tree after messing your pants. It didn’t feel good and he felt very pathetic in that moment. One of the things you would keep out of the story when you made it back—if you made it back. He was getting ahead of himself. He needed to find a way to get out of his bonds and make a break for it. They didn’t feel like any crazy alien-tech-type shit. They almost felt rubbery like a band of some kind. Like an exercise band. The ones people use to stretch with. Look it up.
Hot damn! If that was all it was then he could make the slip easily and hopefully before predator came back and turned him into a human trophy.
He strategized the best way free himself was a good old wiggle—and he started to, twisting and turning the night away as best he could. It became intense. A full on gyration at one point. He wiggled his little heart out until he couldn’t anymore. He took a few deep breaths.
Thought he’d give it another try. If the last wiggle episode lasted not that long his second attempt lasted a third of that time. He was tired and out of shape and needed a cola.
His eyes danced around like slot machines. He scanned over everywhere. Nothing. No one. He was screwed. Effectively.
But he needed to get his ass in gear here. Time to figure a way and make a break now.
Marl had 15 different options working against him in varying ways of expediency and/or lack of. He was tied to this damn tree and unless he had a way of moving it he was going to have to look for a way of getting loose of this exercise band.
Think Marl think. C’mon old man you can do it.
Jezus Christ yea right bro. You couldn’t get yourself out of a paper sack with a hole in it. You think you can thwart the design of an intergalactic intelligence now. Tall order bro.
I got to do something.
Marl-
The fuck. Was. That?
Marl we’d like you to follow us.
I would if I could but I’m stuck—
Stuck. No you’re pig-tied to a tree getting sap all of over you.
Would you shut up. Did you hear that voice?
Yeah. Who the fuck was that?
I don’t know.
While Marl’s thoughts were swirling he again began the forbidden dance of gyration/wiggling on the tree. This time he was going to do it though the back chaffing he was starting to feel was not helping him at all.
Valentines Day is coming up.
Ok can we just work together please.
Marl lumbered and he sweated and he wiggled. Boy surely he did.
It would’ve been quite the sight to see and he would’ve welcomed the chance to frighten hikers if they were to pass this way, is how desperate he was at this point flailing and struggling like a mackerel caught on a fisherman’s line.
TAPTAPATAPATAPATATAPATTAPTAPATP!
What was that?! he both looked and said at the same time.
Up the tree no higher than the first meaty looking branch was the tiniest woodpecker he’d ever seen in his entire life. It tapped again and again and he felt the pinging in his head. Wishing that thing would shut up and fly away the perfect idea—one that would totally work and be his ticket out of here—struck him instead. And then a big ass acorn did.
He felt woozy and his head fell forward as he clinged to consciousness wondering about the size of that acorn. More importantly he was wondering about the brilliant idea he just had—would it work? And what the hell was it again?
Shit. He lost it. All thanks to that goddamned acorn. He looked at it gaining his bearings again.
Something strange about this acorn he thought.
It was darker first off. It was far more egg-shaped than your typical acorn. He wasn’t quite sure if acorns could grow to be about the size of a bowling ball like this one. It seemed to be made of leathery material and scaly which again he was no expert but surely couldn’t be right. No if he were to make an educated guess he would’ve said this was actually some type of egg. Maybe though. I mean what type of animal could lay an egg like that—
And then it hatched.
His look of "oh shit!" was one of the more expressive and depressing in the history of people giving oh shit looks. It wasn’t like my god he proposed; more like a shit I cut too much off.
He had more than enough reason to be. Things had definitely taken a turn.
The leathery egg shell split in random shapes and as they fell away from the structure they broke free from they tethered back to it in goo that looked like maple syrup with cat hair in it.
Echoing the fears of many in similar situations Marl’s first thought was panic that this thing was a velociraptor.
He’d been deftly afraid of dinosaurs from a young age. He thought it was because he almost choked on a brontosaurus toy when he was younger but his mother of course objected to that because it was actually a toy car.
Either way this could go multiple ways of bad if what was hatching from this egg was anything other than a sweet magical unicorn—all though their horns are sharp.
Hey it’s almost Valentines Day
Would your shut up about that? Why would I care whether or not it’s Valentine’s Day? I got bigger problems. Understand?
I’m trying to help you.
With what? Valentine’s Day. How?
His last Valentine’s Day was spent wondering the deep bowers of the local supermarket for chocolates. He was there with his lady of course so it would be an even more expedient gift exchange. Surfin Safari played over the PA in a rare muzak version. It still had that flat feeling to it. Like looking at the 4th version of a picture of the galaxy out of a toner-challenged photocopier.
He was there for what seemed like eons. They’d run into the mayor of Cordelia the small town he lived in which was not far from where he was tied to that tree.
He remembered how funny it was when the mayor paid for their drink and didn’t leave a donation when asked as he ran his card. Shouldn’t politicians be aware of how that could look? Doesn’t that kind’ve hint at privilege? Maybe in his mind he was insecure about his role in society and felt it wouldn’t be seen as being authentic. More than likely he didn’t care. Why was that sticking with him now?
What is so important about him? Where was this train of thought heading if not off a cliff into looney land?
The dude wore a ball cap. Nothing odd about that. Had a trout sewn onto the front. He did look like a fisherman in how he stood. Kind’ve hunched but still and straight enough. Like it was easy for him to stand like that for long periods of time. Oh yea he was carrying a book. What was the name of it again? They were talking about it. It was what’s her name’s favorite story.
The pea-sized gears in Marl’s head started churning very slowly.
They looked like he did when getting out of the bed every morning. Groaning, pained and holding their lower back while letting out huge exasperated breaths. Sometimes tripping over themselves and hitting the ground causing a compound fracture in his right forearm.
The name of the book? It was geriatric. Old novel. Written by that one guy—the great American author named after a town in England.
He began blurting out the names of English towns. Or towns he thought were in England including New England.
He then devolved into characteristics from movies set in England like the fact that it always seemed foggy over there. He thought of Piccadilly Circus. But no the guy’s name was not Piccadilly anything. Fog made him think of something which brought him back to the ever-hatching egg in front of him. What if this thing was a werewolf?
` Did werewolves have baby werewolves via egg, he wondered. Was that even a thing or was he mistaken (not shocking). They were people first so it must be passed through the bloodline and it’s like a human born with a trait. Oh like in Teen Wolf. Or An American Werewolf in—LONDON!! Hot damn—JACK LONDON!! That was the name of the author. The book was Call of the Wild. Of course.
He was elated and felt himself lifted by a heavenly cloud and bathed in beautiful celestial light. Tears fell down his cheeks and he let out one of the top 5 best smiles of satisfaction known to Man. He looked radiant and felt even so.
Call of the Wild. Ah satisfying… Now what the fuck does that mean?
Panic dropped on him like a cord-cut elevator. He had no idea why that was supposed to be helpful to him. The vibrant color washed away from him. The radiant light he bathed in shut off with a wheeze and a cough. He was no longer floating. In fact with his luck you could say he was actually now sinking. And sure enough that’s what was slowly going on.
Quicksand wasn’t something a 40 year old male rarely prepares himself for. Even one with such an exotic title of Lead President of UFO sightings. His title was admittedly not really thought out. He put the “Lead” in the title. For a human who’s intelligence was made up of pop culture facts and history and a passion for bringing pogs back to prominence along with the sophisticated palette that could tell you when the whopper was seasoned proportionately with the dressing boy he’d sure been asleep on this one. How the hell did one get one out of quicksand? After of course becoming untied from a tree? If of course the werewolf velociraptor egg hatching in front of him could somehow be avoided?
Marl realized in that moment he did not know much. He did know one thing: he needed a cola. Badly.
So when last we left Marl he was in quite the prick-tickler: tangoing with death in varying ways with two left feet and the mental capacity of a battery.
Marl had felt challenged at times in his life sure just like everyone did. But this was about five townships beyond his wheelhouse and he was starting to feel as though he was licked good for sure here. Old Marl was getting uncomfortably close to having a powwow with his maker unless he could somehow shake anything from that ever-barren fruit tree of a brain trust he’d relied on over the course of his almost four decades on this planet.
Something about that book. Call of the Wild. And how would he break free of the exercise band or whatever it was. Calling on his keen strategy he deduced that getting himself untied was the first order of business. The quicksand would work itself out later. The creature birthing in front of him he’d table for the moment but respond to in due time.
Call of the Wild.
How could that help? He needed peace and quiet. He needed to meditate on that. He closed his eyes and took a couple of deep breaths. He felt himself pulling back from his own body like light fading into darkness. He felt his mind stabilizing. The chattering was identifiable and distinct and punctuated by growing patches of silence. He was getting there slowly but surely. He was being escalated in spirit up a large mountain capped in snow but it wasn’t cold it was soft and furry and felt like gold if gold felt like warm butter which is what it feels like. It wasn’t oily. It was only magnificent. This was it. He was here. The top zone. Nirvana. Enlightenment. Here it came. He felt like he was light.
Holy fucking shit, he sang.
He thought he saw cotton candy clouds part. As they did an angel—the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen—looked down upon him and reached towards him with the ethereal hands of a goddess. They glowed and somehow still looked like they were back lit. The lighting was something out of a hallmark movie. And there it went—he touched her hand and his skin sizzled with glee and he felt himself embraced in a cloudy snuggle which felt like he was being hugged by 20 puppies all at once. The angel lady in all her beauty lowered her head to his and puckered her lips. Here he was—he wasn’t just achieving enlightenment he was going to straight up French kiss it. He readied and she came closer and he smiled and—
TATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATATAATATTAATATATATATATATATATATATTATATATATAT!!!!
Nirvana folded up and left faster than a sketchy-looking travelling circus and Marl’s eyes shot open as he felt himself instantly transported back to where he was. He had problems he could see that were not held up on him zoning back to make out with angel babe. That baby was a-comin’.
His rapid response was to kick the egg away which could’ve helped if his legs weren’t now submerged in quicksand. Back to the drawing board. Untie himself.
How would he do that—tatatatatatatatatatat! That damn bird. Ttatatatatatatatatatat! Could he shut the fuck up so Marl could think? Tatatatatatatataatatatatatatatatat!
Hot damn! Marl had himself an idea. Like a light bulb in his head. Or a sparkler. What about getting that damn woodpecker to cut off the band around his hands? Shit it would be perfect.
For some reason he thought of The Eurhythmics hit ‘Walking on Broken Glass’ in that moment. Crap what he would do for some broken glass right now?
Anyway that woodpecker would be perfect if he could peck the wood perfectly where he was tied. He wouldn’t even be able to repeat that back to himself but he still had an innate sense of the idea. Now how does one call a woodpecker exactly?
Too complicated for the brain trust who was almost flummoxed by tinker toys growing up.
How about whistling? There you go.
He started to whistle at the bird. The bird didn’t care and after a while started jackhammering the wood. After a moment further Marl’s whistling and the pecker’s wood hammering were combining into a very catchy beat. Exasperated Marl gave up. He was done for. Poor old Marl.
In a lot of ways Marl should not have been in this predicament or in this place for that matter. The only reason a Lead President would get sent on a field assignment in the UFO hunting trade would be lack of funds and they were bleeding out like a stuffed pig. Marl had to do a lot of the work himself in order for publication to happen which wasn’t a guarantee. The magazine they would publish with all of their findings had seen its circulation dwindle from daily to monthly and finally choked its way down to quarterly.
They had a website now defunct after the web tech bolted. The company was really just him and three other people—one his co-captain who was the reason for the magazine losing business (he became too political as they put it) and two younger guys who really had no idea what they were supposed to do and mainly did shopping and food runs or procured office supplies when needed. They proofread each issue before it was published too. That would only take a couple of slow hours.
Their intrepid UFO hunter was not Marl. That belonged to Sky Johnson. Sky Johnson had been following UFOs for years since he was a kid and he and his dad Buck saw one. They listened to radio signals from the sky. Tracked down leads. For the years Sky was associated with them the magazine was hot shit.
Then Sky disappeared.
After that the stories stopped and so did the interest. Sky was never found and his stuff became that of urban legend. The magazine was accused of pulling it as a stunt. An investigation ensued.
By the end of the whole ordeal the magazine was DOA. This was Marl’s last big chance to see the last 15 years of his life not wasted and going down the drain. Unfortunately he had failed. And he had failed big time.
Sky would’ve known how to get out of this. Sky would’ve never gotten into it in the first place. The egg cracked loud and it sent Marl back to his present reality. It vibrated and another piece cracked wide open. Marl watched in horror. A winding leg shot out from the egg and touched the ground. To Marl the leg looked like a black tent pole and collapsed like one as it crooked and set its foot (?) onto the dirt.
Marl now horrified started fighting again hoping to get out of his restraints. Now more tent pole legs were emerging from the egg all originating from a point within the egg where the body would be located. Then that emerged.
Marl sat for a solid minute looking at the thing trying to figure out how to even believe this was real.
Thing. That’s sure as hell what it was. A spidery-looking thing that was black as pitch with hard leathery shells on its back. It had a face and it had fangs above teeth and he thought about how not nice it would be looking out from the back side of those teeth after becoming a meal. Oh it was extremely aggressive. It roared terrifyingly loud and small sounding like a small dog when it tries to growl. It’s hi-pitch hi-toned. Marl was getting deeper in the shit.
He was tied to a tree sinking in quicksand with a crazed alien spider baby eyeballing him for lunch. He needed something right now. Nothing short of an act of god was going to help him. Good ol deux ex machina would hit the spot.
The spider baby recoiled getting ready to pounce at Marl’s neck. It readied, steadied and shot—
It was in Marl’s mind that he saw the image of this wildlife magazine photo he’d seen once of this innocent mother deer surrounded by a pack of hyenas looking at its children who its sacrificing itself for who’ve just escaped. She looked in the moment when the photo was snapped with a hyena inches away from biting her neck so graceful and at peace with what was to come. Marl thought of himself now in that regard and tried to mimic it as best he could. He was that poor deer he told himself. Here it came.
But it didn’t. The was a blast. Marl didn’t want to open his eyes and see it. Metal became unsheathed somewhere and clanged hard against something. The tree shivered then the exercise band fell free along with Marl’s hands and he sunk into the quicksand instantly like flushed shit.
Globs and globs of sand got into his face and eyes. He bobbed around becoming submerged and feeling himself floating down. He felt something grab his outstretched arm and tug it. He felt himself being pulled and the quicksand became like water and sand being dumped on your head. He didn’t worry—whatever was grabbing him felt smooth. Actually it felt human to be honest. He managed a smile—then his hand slipped and he felt lost again. The slush started moving differently running up and not down. He was sinking.
Enough with this he thought. I’m just going. He stopped fighting and let himself sink like a stone.
But it wasn’t going to let him go and like most things tend to do this wasn’t going the way Marl thought it was going to. He felt himself being pulled again. This time even harder and faster. It was like the quicksand was draining away from him now.
Before long he could feel himself back in the light breathing clean air, completely saturated in quicksand and mud. Hands and arms dragged him and settled him onto the solid ground where he was lying out feeling the sun. He had been saved. Saved by who though?
Thought I was goner said Marl.
Thought you were too.
Marl’s eyes opened in disbelief. He looked up at the form standing over him.
Sky?
Like angel babe but in real life Sky seemed to emerge from the rays of the sun crouching down in front of Marl. He looked angelic. His eyes were beaming.
I’m back old friend.
Wha-what happened to you?
At that moment Sky told him they’d have to wait until later. In the meantime Sky would get Marl out of here. There would be many many people who would want to know what Sky knew. Good and bad people. He and Marl would have their work cut out for them scout’s honor Sky had said.
For more info about what Sky said see it in our next issue of Sightlines, the leading publication about UFOs and other strange sightings!!
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Dust Dramaturgy: Milly Thomas @ Edfringe 2017
Dust
Underbelly Cowgate (Big Belly), 66 Cowgate, Edinburgh, EH1 1JX Thursday 3rd – Sunday 27th August 2017 (not 15th), 16:40
A woman. A suicide. A choice. A fly on the wall. A funeral. A Bakewell tart. A life. A lie. A truth. An ending. Of sorts.
Dust by Milly Thomas (Clique, BBC3; Clickbait and A First World Problem, Theatre503) is a refreshing, caustic and comedic treatment of one woman’s depression, suicide and everything that happens afterwards.
Alice thinks that life isn’t worth living. So she kills herself. Sort of. She is stuck, a fly on the wall. Forced to watch the aftermath of her suicide and its ripple effect on her family and friends, Alice quickly learns that death changes people. And that death is not the change she hoped for.
What was the inspiration for this performance?
It’s an idea I’d been sitting on for a while. It originally began life as a Channel 4 pilot that I wrote on the 4screenwriting course. The idea wouldn’t let me go – rather than redraft, I thought I’d try it as a monologue and it started falling into place. It gives a unique perspective on the story and has allowed us to go deeper and given us
room for far more honesty.
Is performance still a good space for the public discussion of ideas?
Absolutely. Theatre may not have the same reach as television, and there are still issues about accessibility. It’s our collective responsibility to keep the pressure on theatre’s class problem.
But nonetheless I do believe theatre has the potential to affect those it reaches. There is much to be gained from sharing those experiences in a space with a live audience. You can’t switch it off! The problem is getting people through the doors.
How did you become interested in making performance?
I’d always wanted to be an actor since I was annoyingly small. It hadn’t even occurred to me that there were other jobs in the profession when I was little. I’d worked as a stage technician very briefly on my year abroad in Berlin and had been opened up to just how many people it took to get a production off the ground. (BTW be nice to your stage managers everyone, without them you’re just an idiot in the dark.)
Then as I went through drama school I started to get frustrated with the lack of roles for women and wanted to create stories I hadn’t seen. There is a certain acceptance of subservience that gets handed down to you when you’re training to be an actor. It never sat comfortably with me.
Creating was another way of playing. I never questioned if I was any good at it or not – all I knew was I loved the job, but wouldn’t be comfortable waiting for my face to be the right fit for someone.
Is there any particular approach to the making of the show?
I’ve been working it with our director Sara Joyce at scratch nights from very early on in the process. As it’s a solo hour, audience feedback has been crucial for us.
I’ve also been working with the astonishingly brilliant dramaturg Jules Haworth who’s got such a unique eye. It’s also been strange but useful to have grown the idea from a television script. Even though there’s huge differences it’s been brilliant to have that bank of knowledge when writing. I know Alice and her family as well as my own.
Similarly it certainly isn’t the same, so remembering what’s changed or what works took a while but nothing that a block of post-its can’t fix.
Does the show fit with your usual productions?
This will be the first time I’ve done a solo hour. I’ve played with monologues and direct address before in previous productions but this is a sustained hour with multiple characters and narratives.
I’ve been excited to push the boundaries of a traditional monologue in R&D. It’s been important to keep challenging myself. It’s so much easier to take risks on the page when you know you’re not performing. It’s a constant balancing act between being truthful to yourself and not allowing yourself to get cosy. Getting cosy is death!
What do you hope that the audience will experience?
I hope we’re going to have a laugh. Alice’s situation is kind of extraordinary and a pretty shit one at that. There’s a lot of fun to be had in amongst the pain.
That said this is a dark show and that’s very much where my sense of humour lies. And none of it should be comfortable. I don’t believe difficult subject matters should be trivialised to an easy watch. We’re not all going to hold hands, but we are going to have fun and hopefully get something deeper and more personal. And maybe call your family post show.
What strategies did you consider towards shaping this audience experience?
It’s been constant batting to and fro between me and our director Sara Joyce. It’s beyond important for me to have her voice there. One person’s comedy gold is certainly not another’s and it’s important to tread carefully with the subject matter. My own experience of depression and suicide ideation make it easy for me to be glib, but I certainly cannot not speak for everyone.
Together Sara and I are taking baby steps towards making something we hope is a laugh out loud punch to the gut.
In an unflinching examination of a suicide, this stripped-back monologue for one woman explodes the myth that death is a quiet affair, as it inspects the unavoidable practicalities, alongside the heart-wrenching decisions and pain - and the laughter.
Milly Thomas comments, I’m fascinated by the way we eulogise people once they’ve died. The way we rewrite whole lives to suit our own narratives and the use of euphemism as a masking tool of the dead never ceases to amaze me. I’m also keen to explore the way we’re looking at mental health now. It strikes me that we’re encouraged to disclose our mental health issues provided they’re past tense or we’re ‘high functioning’ as though we have to ensure that our illness conforms to social standards.
While Dust is fiction, it’s a deeply personal story.
Dust is very much about life, about those who remain behind and how squeamish we are around death. How do you quantify a life? What if you lived as an arsehole but suddenly, in death, you’re a saint? And, if push came to shove, would your mother get your funeral right?
Deborah Frances-White of The Guilty Feminist says, Milly Thomas is an extraordinary performer, a fearless writer and one of the most relevant, vibrant, funny and insightful millennial voices working in British Theatre today. Often controversial, always daring, never disappointing-like the love child of Charlie Brooker and Diablo Cody.
from the vileblog http://ift.tt/2rc0NDd
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