#i wrote down 13 seasons in this block of time i think? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vmpiires · 4 months

Text

𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎

„𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐘”

𝐂𝐖;; mature content. afab!reader, stoner!choso, non-curse/sorcerer AU, no uses of y/n. not proofread so i apologize in advance for any mistakes if they’re made.

𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓;; choso’s mind has been spiraling for a couple days now. the fact that you wrote your phone number down on his hand had him going. he wanted to call you. he wanted to text you. but he just couldn’t. in order to be sanitary, he’d write the number down again on a sticky note and scrubbed the ink off his skin. he didn’t have time for a lover…but he felt like making time for you.

₊❏❜ ⋮ part one ⌒

. ݁ ࣪ ، ⌗ masterlist

: ̗̀➛ art creds by;; currently unknown. dividers are not mine, if you own these, you may claim them in comments.

: ̗̀➛ WORD COUNT;; 2.33K

dark mode recommended

do not copy this plot. i’m perfectly fine with inspirations but give creds. if this plot his stolen in any way, the post will be taken down and you will be blocked.

𝐃𝐀𝐊𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 ✉️🖇️;; idk how long this story will stretch but if ya like it,, i’ll make more parts to it. not too many though. i wanna get to geto too (as promised). hope ya enjoyyyy. reblog to support meeee and if you want more :D (also lmk if you wanna be tagged for possible upcoming parts if i decide to continue)

another note: i finally made a masterlist. that shit took me 5 HOURS to make because i was fixing and adding so much stuff. i just wanted it to be pretty. ya should go look at it :P and should i make a AO3??? i see so many writers with them and i was wondering if i should do that too..

final note: guys,, remember this is my personal twist on the mid 90’s era so some things from current time will be put into the story (such as the ability to text without emailing one another or using a pager, familiar current time songs that are added into the 90’s era of this story, certain tv shows/movies that came after the 90’s)

₊❏❜ ⋮ continue to part three ⌒

“choso, we should make the house look like a haunted house!” itadori suggests. october was the season of spooks and scares (as yuji put it) and choso wasn’t into festivities that much but if he had to do it to make his little brother happy, he would do it.

the boys make their way to the nearby department store, letting yuji pick out what decorations should be put up in the house. for a little boy, choso didn’t even even pick up how significantly scary the items were because yuji wasn’t shitting himself out of fear.

“uh…yuji, i know you said you wanted the place to look like a haunted house…are you sure you won’t freak yourself out and start crying?” choso said, stifling his laughter.

“i’m not gonna cry.” yuji crossed his arms. “and i’m not scared of some dumb clowns. they’re just decorations, anyway.”

yuji was more mature than he looked…in the aspect of fear. he was a small boy but things didn’t scare him easily. you could say he’s a risk taker outside his moments of vulnerability. choso knew that he’d might jump back behind him, tightly holding the hem his tan sweater if he saw kechizu. the male finally smiles at the pink haired boy and nods.

“you’re right. they’re fake.” choso says calmly.

as they approach the checkout area, yuji sees the food area. serving simple things like pizza, hotdogs and drinks. the stuff you’d find at a concession stand of a sports game.

“can we get a pizza?” yuji asked. choso paused. he didn’t intend on spending 13 dollars on food from a department store. he had other plans anyway.

“you sure you want that? i was gonna get you a happy meal before we went home.” the male yawned, threading his fingers through his hair. the sudden mention of a happy meal excites yuji like a child on christmas morning.

“never mind, i don’t want pizza.” itadori quickly switches. choso chuckled, knowing how easy it was to get yuji to think about his choices.

“aw, cute kid,” choso heard a voice behind him. the male whipped his head around, his brown hair following along with him, only to see you standing there with a smile.

“is this your little brother?”

choso flushed a red color when he instantly remembered your face, almost making him feel bad for not calling you or texting you since you dropped off your number to him. he was feeling slightly embarrassed.

“uh..yeah, that’s—this is yuji.” he stumbles a bit, trying not to make his embarrassment known. itadori already knows the deal, so he waves at you with a big toothy grin, making you smile and wave back at him.

“um..what’re you doing here?” choso queried, trying to spark a conversation first for once. the male was obviously nervous and you could see his cheeks reddening the more he looked at you. if you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought he would explode right in front of your eyes.

“shopping, like everyone else,” you teased. “but really, i just gotta pick some stuff up for my mom and then i’ll be on my way.”

your eyes travel over to the shopping cart that yuji was clinging onto, looking at the halloweeny decorations and you smile.

“you don’t seem like the type to be into holidays really,” you start, “did your brother convince you?”

choso also looked at the shopping cart full of stuff and blushed even harder. he was already flustered enough. it couldn’t get any worse than this.

“oh—no..he didn’t,” he chuckled nervously, “i actually really like halloween. the scary shit—stuff…you know, the movies? they’re cool.”

you giggled at choso’s nervous attempts to speak to you about the festivities that he almost never participated in and the quick fix with his mistake of swearing in front of yuji like he wasn’t there.

“oh, so you like horror movies? yeah, you strike me as that kind of guy.” you said. you couldn’t help but notice his medium length hair, just like you had seen the other night when he was working, flowing in the wind that came through as the store doors slowly slid themselves open as customers exited the building.

the male wore an oversized tan sweater with a pair of joggers and some sneakers. you could tell this was a lazy outfit. something you’d call a ‘no one will see me’ outfit.

his eyes were tired and he had a stoic expression, aside from his profuse blushing that began to die down when he finally got the chance to relax, having his hands shoved down into his pant pockets. his irises were so pretty. a pretty shade of purple. you never seen anyone’s eyes look like his before.

the silence prolonged for a moment. the two of you suddenly ran out of things to say. this was perfectly fine for choso. he would’ve lost his mind if he had to keep talking. it wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy talking to you. he was just too scared.

but it wasn’t long before that silence was disturbed.

“my big brother really likes you. he thinks you’re pre—” itadori starts before choso swiftly covers his mouth with his significantly larger hand, making you giggle once more.

“i’m sorry about that…yuji just likes to say random stuff when the silence is too loud for him.” choso said trying to cover up his embarrassment.

“it’s okay,” you smiled at him. your words seemed to ease his nerves a bit but it wasn’t enough to completely calm him down. you glance down at your phone when you feel it vibrate against your thigh.

it’s your mom texting you, asking if you’re on your way back.

“oh, sh—shoot,” you say, quickly fixing your mistake before you actually said it. “i gotta go. my mom just texted.”

choso is quickly snapped out of his embarrassment trance and his head swings over to look at you, his hair following along.

“you’re going?” he asked. through his dead and serious expression, you could see a hint of sadness. a very small change in his usual expression. you nod.

“yeah. but listen, you should call me. you don’t have my number just to stare at it.” you remarked before hurrying off, waving at him as you did.

once you were out of his sight, his eyes quickly struck down to yuji. he looked like he wanted to scold the poor boy for publicly embarrassing him in front of you but he decided against it and his expression softened.

“let’s just get home…” the male sighed.

choso was happy it’s his day off. he got to stay home with his little brother to help decorate their home with terrifying decorations for halloween. choso couldn’t help but smile at yuji’s futile attempts to scare him with the masks from the store.

“come on, you aren’t even a little scared?” yuji removed the mask from his face and shook his head to fix his hair, which was flattened and sticking to his forehead.

“not even in the slightest.” choso chuckled before ruffling itadori’s hair lightly. “what about your friends? you try to scare them yet?”

“megumi is almost never impressed. he’s kinda lame….and out of the question.” yuji hummed. “but i can get nobara. she’s always screaming.”

“well, you can do that tomorrow,” choso yawned, “you gotta get ready for bed soon. you got school in the morning and i don’t want you to be tired and falling asleep in class.”

yuji frowned before he’d hug choso. it took a moment for choso to process the moment, given that he wasn’t too used to being hugged. choso finally hugged the boy back before smiling softly.

“i’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

yuji nodded and smiled back at his older brother before making his way to his room.

when yuji had finally gone to sleep, the house was quiet, leaving choso staring at the ceiling with his hair in disarray and an unlit cigarette between his lips all while he laid on the bed, doing maladaptive night dreaming.

‘workin out’ by JID played softly from the small radio that sat on the windowsill. his eyes slowly traveled over to the shoe box that stood out from all the other boxes in his closet. there was a bright yellow sticky note at the top with what seemed to have your phone number on it along with your name.

the male sat up on the bed and walked over to the box, snatching the sticky note from the box then walking over to his laptop that sat on the umber colored desk.

choso opened the laptop and navigated to the facetime app and decided to punch in your number. he could feel his stomach turning as the low adverb jingling sound repeated itself.

while he waited for you to answer, he’d take one of the rubber bands off of his wrist and tie his hair back, leaving his bangs to hang down in his face. he even took the time to fix the violet eyeshadow that he always had around his eyes, staining his fingers each time he touched around his eyelids. and finally, he’d press down on the bandage over his nose to make sure it was still sticking.

you suddenly pick up, finally answering choso’s call. your room was a bit dark like his, except you had your tv going on in the background. it was loud enough for choso to be able to hear.

unlike choso, you were sitting on your bed with your laptop. you had your hair tied up in twin messy buns with a little bit of your hair hanging down in your face. you wore a black spaghetti strap tank top, revealing the tattoo on your shoulder, and a pair of grey joggers with mismatch socks.

“i honestly did not hear this thing going off,” you giggled as you pushed the hair out of your face. you had been downstairs grabbing yourself a drink while choso was calling. “i’m sorry i didn’t answer right away, though.”

“oh..no, it’s fine. you aren’t busy are you?”

“no, not really. i was thinking about finishing this show i was watching. have you heard of american horror story?”

“yeah, i heard of it. i just never got around to watching it. i’d rather watch movies than an ongoing series.” choso explained simply before he’d light his cigarette. you nod, completely understanding his side.

“shit, well, what movies do you recommend? horror movies, since we’re in spooky season.” you flash a cheeky smile at him. choso’s heart skips a beat when you finally ask him what he’s interested in. he pauses and begins thinking, taking drags from his cigarette.

“there’s one movie, i can’t tell you all of em off the top of my head,” he begins, “watch midsommar. it’s kinda disturbing but you might like it.”

“is it gory horror or..?” you ask before taking a sip of your drink as you began to type in the movie name into the search bar in another tab, scrolling through websites to catch any good details about said movie.

“you’ll have to see for yourself,” choso places two of his digits around the cigarette, gently adjusting it between his lips before it could slip out. you realize the longer you talked to him, the more comfortable he seemed to be but you could still see that he was nervous.

“maybe we can see about it together,” you suggest to the male. “whenever you’re free, of course.” you add quickly. all of a sudden, choso is blushing just as he did at the store earlier that day. you thought it was kinda adorable how he could look so disinterested to suddenly flustered and scared so quickly.

“i—well..” choso stammered, “yeah, sure…uh, we can watch tomorrow night when i put my little brother to bed. i don’t want him interrupting anything.”

you giggled, “aw, he’s so cute, though. but i get it. little kids can get in the way of a lot of stuff.”

the two of you conversed for what felt like hours. your voice was soothing to choso. each time you began to speak, he just imagined you calling his name…just once.

your call with choso ended around three in the morning, and your cheeks were pink, smiling to yourself as you remembered the random conversations that you two had not too long ago.

you hadn’t felt like this about a guy in a long time. while men were usually throwing themselves at you, choso was clearly the odd one out. he was a bit shy but assertive and smart.

choso’s voice was deep as it came from the depths of the ocean but his words flowed smoothly like butter when he wasn’t tripping and fumbling with his words trying to hide his embarrassment.

his style, his personality, the way he looked. in your eyes he was perfect but there were a million things stopping you from telling him you loved him.

what if he has a girlfriend already? what if he isn’t ready for a relationship? what if he doesn’t want one? he probably just wants to be friends.

aside from all those thoughts clogging your brain, you were aware that you’d be moving to fast by throwing that L word around loosely when you just met him a couple days ago.

“damn it.” choso sighed to himself.

‘you’re falling for her…but you don’t have time for her. what’re you doing?’ choso was beating himself up about the whole entire situation. another cigarette is taken out of the pack and lightened as he tried to calm his anxiety and spiraling thoughts.

he was going crazy. he didn’t know what he would do. he wanted you out of his head. he was starting to feel stupid for letting you swoon him as easily as you did at the bar.

part of him wished he never met you…

but he needed more of you.

𝐄𝐍𝐃.

⋆｡࿇ ·࣭࣪̇˖ 𖦹°༅༚

159 notes · View notes

dduane · 1 year

Note

Hi! I really like Scrappy, and I heard you've worked with some TV writers for Scooby-Doo?

I'd like to ask you some questions, but before I do I wanna say some things:

In fact, I looked up the writer’s guild stats and you actually wrote some of the episodes for the original show he was on, as well as some shorts! “Neon Phantom of the Roller Disco” and “When You Wish Upon a Star Creature” are both really solid episodes and a lot of people really enjoy the Star Creature’s futuristic design! Of the shorts episodes you did I think "A Bungle in The Jungle" and "A Close Encounter of the Scooby Kind" and "Surprised Spies" the funniest. I could go on! But then I would never finish this ask ^^;

And I gotta tell you this. I may have been born decades after those episodes aired, but I’ve seen every single one-the first season, the 99 shorts, the 13 ghosts, the New Scooby Doo Mysteries, the DTV trio, all of ‘em, and I absolutely adored them, thank you so much for helping with that.

When Fred and Velma and Daphne disappeared, after 1979, did Scrappy have something to do with it? I know Duane Poole said in an interview that Scrappy was easier to focus on, and that Fred and Velma, and Daphne had a hard time competing with his energy or something, but the executives wouldn’t have thrown all their eggs into one basket with the pup after one season, would they? I have to know. Even if it turns out that’s what happened, I know that it’s not really Scrappy’s fault either way, I’m just curious.

I've heard from Mr. Poole's interview that when you were figuring out Scrappy and stuff you guys just gathered around and brainstormed with Joe Barbera. Did you or anyone else that you know of look to past ideas for inspiration?

What was the favorite episode you wrote?

I also heard from Mark Evanier’s account that Scrappy was originally feistier but some scripts were altered. How were the scripts changed before and after that alteration?

Also, in the nineties, why did Scrappy go away? I mean, I know some people didn't like him, but it was more just "he had his time" not the kinda hate you saw in the early 2000s right?

This is un-Scrappy related. Did you guys do your own blocking, did anyone at HB ever split the writing and blocking between multiple people? Just curious.

Also, I know that the original Scrappy series gets some hate, but I am not one of them and there are so many people who love the work you did and what Scrappy-Doo means to them. You guys did an awesome job with the series and there are tons of fans who still remember and cherish the work that you and the others did. Don’t let the haters get you down. Thank you SO SO SO SO MUCH!

First of all, thanks very much for your kind words! The work I did on Scooby-Doo And Scrappy Too! was my very first animation work, and besides being a shed-load of fun, I learned an incredible amount about screenwriting in general, and animation writing in particular, from Tom Swale and Duane Poole (God rest them both). They were fabulous teachers, patient and smart—a pleasure to work with, and (in between work times) extremely funny guys whose senses of humor meshed perfectly with mine.

About Fred, Velma, and Daphne disappearing post-1979: unfortunately I wouldn't be in any position to know whether Scrappy had anything to do with that. I'd very much have been the newest and most junior writer in the room (and we're talking about a time when there weren't even "rooms" as we think of them now: they hadn't been invented yet). But though their job title was "story editor", in terms of the work they were doing, Tom and Duane were what we would now think of as showrunners... and those deliberations and/or decisions wouldn't by any stretch of the imagination have included me. :)

It's interesting to hear what Duane had to say about the disappearance. But I feel pretty sure that a decision involving so many characters would not have been made solely at Tom's and Duane's level. Some kind of approval or signing-off would've had to happen at the highest executive levels at H-B... or at least that's my take on it.

As for brainstorming with Joe Barbera: it seems to me quite likely that that was just how things happened. Hanna-Barbera at that point was a surprisingly comfortable, casual kind of place—relatively friendly to newcomers, and with a sense of under-the-surface goofiness that tended to surface without warning. The founders, in particular, had a reputation for being very hands-on and accessible. I kind of regret that those brainstorming sessions were before my time.

Re: favorite episodes: you'll have gathered that I did a fair amount of writing for Tom and Duane over the years (there's more detail on my IMDb page, which fills in some gaps but still isn't complete...), so frankly it's hard to pick a favorite. But the first one I tend to think of is my very first one, "The Hairy Scare of the Devil-Bear". ...And honestly, one of the funniest things about the scriptwriting process on these was the business of crafting outlandish titles: the goofier, the better. Tom and Duane were past masters at this... and no one will ever get me to discuss the really dirty ones that were floated during story conferences. ...Anyway, I've always been a bit of a Tuckerizer, and in that first episode—though it wasn't anywhere near as polished as later episodes would be—I had so much fun sneaking in the very first of what would become any number of friends' names. A simple pleasure, perhaps. But hey, I'm a cheap date. :)

Re: Mark Evanier's comments about earlier Scrappy scripts: Mark had been working at H-B for a good while by the time I got there, and I'd consider his opinions important. But I've got no useful data on how scripts might have been changed before I got there. Sorry I can't be of more help on this.

As to why Scrappy might have gone away in the 90s….? I don't really have any useful data on that either. By that time, I was in the early stages of being married to @petermorwood and living in Europe, and was out of the loop on things that were going on at Hanna-Barbera.

Finally, as regards blocking: when one was writing animation in the 80s, the received wisdom was that one should write almost entirely in "master shots"—so that one didn't call specific angles in the screenplay unless they were extremely important. The idea being "Don't direct in the script. Let the director have something to do." And blocking would certainly have been included in the concept of what the director was supposed to be doing. ...But at the same time, story editors would naturally have seen the storyboards that were produced in-house, and would have had input into angles and camera movement at that stage… So, in that way anyway, blocking and writing were certainly split.

Meanwhile, thanks again for the nice words about what we were doing! It was very enjoyable work, and the continuing popularity of these shows makes it more enjoyable, even now. :)

#Scrappy-Doo

89 notes · View notes

terrainofheartfelt · 2 years

Note

for your ask game:

tonight, where I'm set alight - 3, 4, 6, and 9

make me crescendo - 1, 4, 5, 9, and 11

nearer and farther than they - 2, 3, 6, and 13

thank you 💛

tonight where I'm set alight

3: What’s your favorite line of narration? I’m gonna go with this one, because articulating this idea makes me fizz like a glass of prosecco:

He melts into the touch, exhaling, wanting to make himself malleable, to be sculpted over in her image, made new by her hand. A magazine profile tried to call her his muse once, but it isn’t true. She is art and artist in and of herself. His writing—just like he is here—is in service of her, not the other way round. Hers, hers, hers.

4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue? Not sure how to answer this one like a Lady, but I have to say:

“You’re so pretty...So pretty when you’re needy.”

6: What makes this fic special or different from all your other fics? Oh, well…I guess because it was virtually written on a dare from Nads. well, maybe not a dare, but this was around the holiday season, and we were joking at the time that we should get back to the #dangetspegged agenda in the new year, and this fic just…happened. I guess it’s notable bc I wrote it on my phone while bored at my parent’s house?

9: Were there any alternate versions of this fic? Nope. I wrote it pretty much in the space of like…maybe 48 hours. My smut fics don’t really have alternate versions, my writing technique when it comes to that genre is just to fire em off and not get too into the weeds, because they’re really just one (1) scene that doesn’t require much plot, so they don’t take long to write, and if I were to think about them enough for alternate versions to exist, idk…that just sounds way less sexy.

make me crescendo

1: What inspired you to write the fic this way? Well, this was a kinktober fic, so I took two of the prompts from the list I was working from—I believe it’s still linked in the series description—and just ran with it. And well, I chose those two prompts “Wearing Their Clothes + Lingerie” because Ivy and Nads and I are all big on the Dan Humphrey in Lingerie agenda, so I knew at the onset of the month that that was something I wanted to write if I could find the right idea, and then I opened the month with another Blair/Nate/Dan fic, which got SO many demands for a sequel *cough cough* S *cough cough* that I was peer pressured into more ot3 territory, and all those elements just came together from there into this.

4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue? I really like the post coital banter at the end:

“I think we wore him out,” Blair muses quietly, stroking gently along Dan’s sleep-serene face. “We?” Nate jokes, his voice low, mouth turning up in a smirk. “Not to be a credit hog, babe, but that was all me.”

5: What part was hardest to write? I think just the…choreography? The movement of getting from one monet to the next. I do not by any means claim to be an expert in this particular…genre, but I do think of it in terms of like, blocking a scene, choreographing it, like what happens physically, what beats I want to hit, and then sort of connecting those dots. And since there are three bodies in this fic, that choreography was that much more complex.

9: Were there any alternate versions of this fic? Again, I don’t really do alternate versions for smut, they just don’t take up that kind of time or headspace.

11: What do you like best about this fic? Kind of to 5, but I love the domesticity of these three and how they love each other, and I feel like I show a good balance of how they all interact with each other, as a trio and in their respective duos and how they are all parts of a loving whole. There’s a specific kind of softness to Them that I really love. Even with all the filth.

nearer and farther than they

2: What scene did you first put down? Oh gosh, it’s been like, over a year since I posted, so my memory is fuzzy, but the first things that were so clear that I had to get them out were the chunks of dialogue over Dan and Blair’s conversations, those exchanges they had at the bar and in the car etc etc. I remember once the story took shape around those having to move some bits and pieces around, but it started with those conversations, the “why did you chose to become a conductor?” and “why were you in italy/why did you come back” those one-on-ones came to me first, and the rest sprung up around it.

3: What’s your favorite line of narration? This bit from the penultimate scene:

There’s something in the way he’s looking at her that sets her cells humming. Like that first sounding of A440, right before she takes the podium. Like the beginning of something.

6: What makes this fic special or different from all your other fics? I mean, it is my niche expertise fic! That tumblr post that’s like, when fic writers do an au about their very specific professional field, that’s this one. It’s the closest to home I’ve really gotten with fanfic, and I was honestly kind of surprised that I wrote it when I did, because I was (and am!) still mourning my past life as an opera singer, so for a lot of 2020 and 2021 I skirted away from any shop talk for fear it would hurt, but writing this fic was actually a really lovely experience, and I got to geek out and talk shop and share something I love with this facet of my life, and it felt really good!

13: What music did you listen to, if any, to get in the mood for writing this story? Or if you didn’t listen to anything, what do you think readers should listen to to accompany us while reading? OH SO MUCH! I do have links embedded in the fic for listening pleasure, but the absolute musts are the Liszt Dan plays at the concert, and the Oberthur Blair plays, the both of these are all time favorite pieces of mine. And of course, I listened to my favorite bits of the operas Blair conducts: L’enfant et il sortileges and Il segreto di Susanna (my favorites of L’enfant are the fire aria, the cat duet (i’m dead serious), and the math teacher, and my favorite in Susanna is the duet between the two leads). So that’s all the plot relevant stuff, but I also listened a lot to my assorted classical music playlists on my Spotify: Lit™ Opera Lit; Lit™ Piano Lit, and Lit™ Orchestral Lit, oh, and my Art Song Literature playlist too. Recommendations for selections from those are available upon request 💕

fic asks game!

#stars you absolute scamp for sending so many I love you for it never change <333 #asks #insistonyourcupofstars

4 notes · View notes

lovestuckyhatemarvel · 7 months

Text

Season 3 episode 2 time! Fun fact: this is getting posted so soon after episode 1 because I accidentally wrote most of this in the other post’s draft and then had to separate them when I was most of the way through episode 2. I’m on mobile so it was tedious. Did you know you can’t copy an entire post when it’s formatted like this on mobile? Because I sure as fuck didn’t know that.

1.) Billy’s in the upside down. Seriously, what are the rules about going there? I just realized I don’t understand Billy seeing a crowd of people walking toward him and then seeing himself. Like is that something that happens to literally anyone else? I don’t think it is. I know Will didn’t see anything like that. So why did Billy see that? They were both under the influence of the Mindflayer so they should get similar shit but they don’t.

2.) Mike is a terrible liar.

3.) The Duffers are two adult men who have presumably been in relationships with adult women before. So why are they so fucking bad at writing Joyce/Hopper???????

4.) I love that a novelty banana magnet is one of the things that helps Joyce have an insight moment.

5.) The guys at the paper are absolute sexist assholes but Nancy truly doesn’t understand that some people need their shithole jobs.

6.) Steve and Dustin having a dorky handshake is the cutest thing.

7.) Oh this is why I didn’t remember Dustin coming back in episode 1. I read steddie fics and so the first time Steve sees him is episode 2.

8.) “You could have all the ladies you like and more.” “More, I like more.”

9.) MAX, QUEEN OF MY HEART. FAVORITE CHILD.

10.) El and Max are adorable.

11.) Max has dumped Lucas 5 times? Lmaooooo

12.) Oh, it looks like Will might have wanted to try DMing from the notebook, maybe? It’s hard to tell since Stranger Things usually denotes the DM by the DM screen and there wasn’t one there.

13.) The subtitles of Steve listening to the recording for the first time says ‘Daisy Bell playing in the background’.

14.) I had blocked Mayor Larry Kline from my brain completely.

15.) MVP Mr. Clark being there constantly to help with science questions.

16.) Nancy really should have listened to Jonathan about that rat. They were like, 30 seconds from seeing it fucking explode. Also oh god that CGI muck is gross.

17.) the shopping montage of Max and El is the cutest. Also so is El dumping Mike. I would die for El and Max.

18.) I just realized Hopper didn’t wait to get confirmation about Enzos before deciding to go there. Also all Hopper orders in the beginning is liquor.

19.) I forgot Joyce skips out on the not date to learn about magnets with Mr. Clark.

20.) Steve figures out the music in the background of the recording in episode 2. And that means essentially the code is introduced, cracked, and is revealed to be coming from the mall in a single episode.

21.) I adored Hopper in seasons 1 and 2. Like yeah he was a cop and acab but he at least cared and was more than just some stupid jerk, but I’d forgotten that’s basically all he’s reduced to in this season. Just some asshat who doesn’t know his own feelings and is a completely different guy from how he was before.

22.) Billy kidnapped his cute coworker. Sorry to…whatever your name is. Is it Heather? I think she’s called Heather at least in the fanfiction I read but IDK if that’s canon. And also not the most important thing when she’s tied up and about to be possessed by the mindflayer. Or at least the small version of the mindflayer inside that abandoned building.

#stranger things #stranger things rewatch #s3e2 #stranger things s3e2

1 note · View note

poppywriter · 11 months

Text

❀ Pansy n°1 = F*cking writer’s block.

I really enjoy writing.

Like a lot.

I think it’s because I have a lot on my mind and I thrive to get it out of my head. Like I don’t want to lose the ideas I have so I try to write as much as I can somewhere, everywhere. I literally have a note on my phone titled ‘Story ideas’ , and up to this date (the time I’m writing this) I collected twelve ideas without counting this book, or whatever this is. I have some ideas that are way more developed than others and some that are just fun things I thought about, but I feel like I could do so much with each of them. And I want, I really want to use all those amazing ideas and make them into the novels they deserve to be, but sadly… It always ends the same.

You see, dear reader, there is some sort of pattern that seems to come back in my life as a wannabe writer. Most of the time it starts with me having a dream or a daydream about whatever came to my mind this day. Then I realize that I really like what I’m imagining, that it’s actually really interesting and maybe it could grow into something more. So I continue to think about it for days, weeks, months, sometimes years and I end up with a full on story of ten novels and even a sequel (I may exaggerate a bit, but only a bit). And here I am, attached to this universe I created, to these characters I watched growing up and all the important events of their adventures I want everyone to know about, and I’ll be heartbroken to just leave it at that. To just leave it as a simple fantasy, a dream, a figment of my subconscious. I cannot possibly let it be forgotten, because I’ll inevitably forget it if I do not act and do something to keep it somewhere, anywhere. So comes the time to write, to finally put into words this story, this scenario that was entirely made up by myself and my creative mind.

Yet, when I finally have the motivation to write something, anything, this so-called motivation never comes alone. It always comes with it. You might be confused as to who or what I’m talking about dear reader. Well, I am talking about this horrible realization that writing is difficult as f*ck.

In fact, I always end up being lost in all the details of my stories. I always end up realizing that I thought of things, but not everything, and that I have now to choose the right words, the right grammar, the right phrasing to accurately depict the world, the characters and the adventures I have created. And this dear reader is so very hard.

Then I also have to think about all that’s in between the big events of the story to tone down the dose of action in the script, to show the character development, to exploit the characters' relationships and make the readers like them as well as relate to them. At this point, writing seems like a chore, a big task that is too hard for me to actually be able to finish.

Admitting that I actually started something and didn’t give up just messily writing down notes on a random notebook, I never seem to end up writing things that I like. Writing becomes stress inducing because I constantly think about what I have to write down after this exact moment for it to make sense and how I have to make some details pop out but not too obvious for the reader to notice them but not understand their importance. All in all my thoughts, ideas and anxiety create this jumbled mess in my head and I am incapable of writing.

To this date I have three started and unfinished projects. One that I started when I was like 12 or 13 and actually finished (well at least the first book or season because it was written as a screenplay) after having started at least four or five different versions of it. But as time flew by I ended up hating what I wrote so I decided to start it all over again this time as a novel. Yet I didn’t get far because I started questioning the originality and interest of this story that was in fact kind of childish. It was very important to me because it was the first ever thing I wrote down and I loved it dearly, but I inevitably left it aside.

Then much later I started thinking of this thriller based on a nightmare I had. So with one of my sisters we wrote everything down about the plot, the characters, the universe, etc… I even started writing but I never went past the first chapter. I was just unable to. I wanted to, really, because it has a lot of potential and I wanted it done but I dreaded writing about it because I couldn’t come up with correct phrasing and ideas of filler chapters. I was also so far ahead in my mind, already thinking of what could happen in the second book of this saga. I’m always thinking too far, too fast. So I have a second draft lying around on my computer.

Finally, recently I decided that I wanted to truly finish a book, that I was going to do it, and in order to do just that I thought of a simple love story which could fit in a tiny and single book. Like that no thinking ahead and finishing with ideas for an infinite number of books. So I took notes of ideas as they came, created the characters and found their visuals, all of that in a very short amount of time and I loved doing it. I was thrilled! It felt good to be able to do things so fast and smoothly. Then I started writing, it went well, I was inspired and I liked how I wrote, but came chapter 7 and I stopped completely because I was once again starting to complicate the task at hand. I was either distracted or not inspired or just lazy. So I stopped and a third unfinished draft joined my computer.

Whenever I want I could go back to either of those drafts and continue them, because deep down I know I am capable of doing it, of writing but I can’t seem to do so. I am just stuck with overflowing ideas but the incapability of fully writing things down. It s*cks… And it makes me feel incapable.

So I just have one thing to say: f*ck writer’s block.

✿❀✿

🔺Original work, please do not steal or copy. Thanks.🔺

- notify me if there are typos ;)

1 note · View note

apieceofconsciousness · 1 year

Text

I made a stupid fucking caption about friends here that I never ended up liking because I couldn't word it properly so I wrote this

All of my memories are through photos and videos of these friends and maybe I’ll remember them fully someday. I sit on my bed eating a cheesecake and it is 1:16. I think about how I was 14. I am 17 now, i’ll be 18 in a few months. I try to imagine how my mind and thinking has changed in only half a year and it still escapes me. I’m grateful for it but i’m scared of acknowledging how different it was from my first year at high school.

i worry my brain will break doing all of this. But i take it in stride, and i’m not stupid. My brain is changing because i am growing, because of the summer, and because of me. I think differently and it’s something i grieve.

I can see the people around me getting addicted. Trying new things and not letting go, going for more, looking at more in the future. I realize my hypocrisy, but i know i’ve developed a discipline, kind of. i just hope they’re all ok.

some people i haven’t seen in a while and i miss them and i worry they hate me because i was busy for the last month and now i’m fucking things up and overthinking daily and fuck therapy better work when it starts because therapy in my own head is brutal and confusing and complicated and tiring and i’m tired. I’m so fucking tired. I can’t hold myself up and the season is changing. I don’t know what to do. I’ll be fine in the end like i have been before but not knowing how makes everything such an ache, a burden on top of being a burden.

I was more hopeful about the future 2 months ago. and it approaches and my crystal clear plan blurs into nothing more than an afterthought and every time i’m reminded of it i panic and i panic and for fuck’s sake i wish i could ask for help better. i wish i had learned to speak up for it.

I have school in 7 hours and i am 17. the semester just changed and i am in grade 12, my life isn’t over after high school, contrary to what i believed in elementary. I wish peace for myself and i work towards peace with my mental wounds but i can’t seem to fully get there yet, sometimes i question if this good day will last forever and then i sit down, and think.

i wish i was better for my partner, she doesn’t need my overthinking with her exhilarating and fast brain, but i know that she’s locked in at this point and we’ll figure it out.

maybe someday i’ll remember the face in the mirror fully, until then i look at them as if i’m encountering an old friend and look away just the same, because i know things have changed. my face is different, i was 7 and i couldn’t look out my bathroom window, i was 13 and i could, i am 17, and my house is changed. i don’t have a bathroom window and my walls are grey. the vent is falling out of the ceiling and i’m too forgetful to just screw it back in. my curtains don’t have designs that the child me would find faces out of, and my sink is more reflective of me, and not who i wish i would become.

i am 17. and i will be 18. and then i will mourn this age like i’ve mourn the last, and hopefully i will find peace, though i’m afraid i’ve found peace in this grievance. i love life but i hate mine, and my reasons for it getting foggy every day. i must learn to forgive myself, and i hope that will come. i need to let go, and i thought that had to come from blocking some accounts on social media, but i think i’m at peace with that, as i’ve written what i hope stands as a true summary of my feelings for a long time. i love my life, but i hate myself, i love the ability to observe people and culture and places and thoughts and expressions and beauty in so many forms, but i hate myself because i can’t do math or sit still in a chair or not focus with headphones.

maybe i’m a wreck, maybe that is what the later years of growing up is. I was scared that growing up would be boring, or that it would be great and go too quick, but i didn’t know i should’ve been scared that it would’ve been painful.

i hope the peace i long for finds me, and i hope the friends i can co-exist with stay close with me. i wish i was better at expressing the love i have and i hate that the people closest to me are the hardest ones to show my gratitude to, it’s my fault for my racing mind.

I have school in 6 hours, and i remember how my schedule was so different a year ago, how i thought i ruled a different part of the city, and where i bussed everywhere. i’m happy for my partner’s car, and she knows it, just as much as she knows i miss my board. i’m alive because of her. i really would’ve done it. this winter was going to be shit. or maybe i wouldn’t have, i pull back on everything last minute.

i understand why my friends love flowers and their friends and cats and oranges and unheard of niche games and the colour green, but a green somewhere in the spectrum of olive and forest green, closer to forest, and skateboarding and live concerts and music and books and poetry and god i hate that my mind was only aware and not obsessed with these things, these building blocks of my psyche and push me through every single day, i hope to whatever god that someday i’ll be able to express myself in the way only i ever want to and that i’m financially good enough for me and my mom since she puts up with my stupid ass and that my girlfriend stays there with me the whole time and that i get my creative outlets into the world and i hope that one day i wake up satisfied with my achievements, and that i continue afterwards.

i must learn to love myself, but until then i will love my friends the way i wish i could turn it inwards, and maybe it’ll help someone, and that’ll be worth it. i feel most like myself when i’m not doing good, and that’s ok, i’ve started to feel an odd comfort in feeling like myself even if the circumstances aren’t ideal.

i am older now, wiser, i have much more wisdom to gain, and i am appreciative of the good people in my life, i believe learning this early is important and i’m proud i work on it.

i am 17, and the promise of tomorrow calls me to rest tonight.

0 notes

iusedtobeapieceofconsciousness · 1 year

Text

I made a stupid fucking caption about friends here that I never ended up liking because I couldn't word it properly so I wrote this

i wish i was better for my partner, she doesn’t need my overthinking with her exhilarating and fast brain, but i know that she’s locked in at this point and we’ll figure it out.

i am older now, wiser, i have much more wisdom to gain, and i am appreciative of the good people in my life, i believe learning this early is important and i’m proud i work on it.

i am 17, and the promise of tomorrow calls me to rest tonight.

0 notes

thelandscapingemployeetrap · 2 years

Text

Don’t Let The Seasons Control How You Feel – Evolution of Consciousness

Have you ever felt a certain way as the seasons come and change? The experience of anxiety, depression, and other emotions in line with a specific timeframe or season has already become so typical for most people. Often, it's not even wintering yet, but some are already feeling down about having to stay home for who knows how long. Yet, unconsciously, they’re bringing themselves to a dream – a place and time that doesn’t really exist.

But I refuse to be affected this way, so I’m doing the work to plan everything out and be firm and upright about my to-do lists. So join me today and learn from what I have to say about the evolution of my consciousness, in line with how I attend to all my emotions, passions, and calls during their designated times.

“Whatever you look for, you find a case to build that, and you build it around you. Your perception equals your reality.” – Keith Kalfas

Why do you have to listen to today's episode.

00:11 – “Seasons are starting to mean nothing to me anymore, where they used to mean everything….”

Years back, seasons and changing moments used to affect my life so much; however, nowadays, my inner self’s starting to cool down. So I’m not letting it dictate how I live life anymore.

01:43 – “He said, ‘What is it like where you live? What are the people like where you live?... Well, that’s probably what you’ll find here.”

Dr. Wayne Dyer once shared a story about people’s thoughts on moving to Hawaii; the tale itself symbolizes how our perception equates to our reality.

04:21 – “Time is linear, and there’s something outside of time which is this whole quantum reality….”

When you’re constantly waiting for the season, you get stuck and lost in an ethereal dream in a time and business that doesn’t even exist.

06:01 – “At the end of the day, what we’re really trying to do is just feel a certain way. And I think that ultimately feeling a deep sense of fulfillment might be totally on the other side of discomfort, of facing fears, facing self-discipline….”

As I watch movies these days, I notice that most actors can’t correctly absorb their roles, leading me to the question, ‘what are the environmental causes that are distracting us from fulfillment?’

07:55 – “I went to write a book, and I couldn’t….”

I wrote three books, but there was this time when I spent 36 hours in the office, experiencing blocks and being unable to write. It made me reflect on the things we need to block out to get ourselves to focus and implement.

11:55 – “Looking at everything holistically and from a 40,000 view, you can start to get more clarity around ‘how can I decide in advance and predetermine how I’m going to feel when these things happen?’”

Winter’s always going to come; the storm is always going to come. So get up, and decide in advance how you will behave in situations and what you will do.

13:16 – “I believe you really want to spend time with your family, but if you are having financial problems and you’re going through a hard season, it’s also going to be hard to spend time with your family.”

My wife calls me a silver fox, which is a good thing. I wouldn’t trade how I think today for how I used to consider the world.

14:57 – “The storm is always going to grow bigger and bigger sometimes; it’ll be very intense, and you’ll have to learn how to contain that.”

Here’s what I want you to do: Get out your calendar, plan your schedule, and block out your vacations. Then, listen to me as I talk about the dichotomy of flow vs. structure.

19:04 – “What’s going to get me to the next step? It’s to bet on myself, put my money where my mouth is, and get around successful people. The next level of leveling up is money gets you access.”

How do you upgrade your consciousness and unfold faster? I discovered that meditation, getting yourself around really successful people, and taking action/risks can help you do so.

Key Takeaways

“When the seasons go by and by, and you get so desensitized to it, you start to learn that if you revolve your life and emotions around the seasons, you let the seasons dictate how you’re going to feel.”

“Whatever you look for, you find a case to build that, and you build it around you. Your perception equals your reality.”

“At the end of the day, what we’re really trying to do is just feel a certain way. And I think that ultimately feeling a deep sense of fulfillment might be totally on the other side of discomfort, of facing fears, facing self-discipline….”

“If you keep running your life like it's the first time this has happened and you can't get a grip on yourself, then years are gonna go by, and you're gonna wake up at 40 and 50, and you won't have accomplished the things that you've set out that deeply are going to fulfill you that your heart's desires.”

“If your life is all pure flow, and you don't have any structure, it'll be tough to get anywhere. That’s significant. If your life is pure of a structure, and you don't have any flow, it also will be hard to scale anything.”

Connect with Keith

Facebook

Instagram

YouTube

Website

Resources/People Mentioned:

My Website: Official Site Keith Kalfas

My Podcast Page: The UNTRAPPED Podcast

Dr. Wayne Dyer: Website

The 48 Laws of Power: Book

Ken Wilber: Kosmic Consciousness

Ken Wilber: The One Two Three of God

David Deida: The Way of the Superior Man

Get a Free Trial of JOBBER Software & save 20% off your first six months. Grow Your Business With Jobber (getjobber.com)

Please leave us a well-written, positive 5-star review if you liked the show. You may click here

Check out this episode!

#Landscaping #windowcleaning

0 notes

realperson022 · 2 years

Text

It’s been a lengthy while since I last wrote something Sonadow-related, so why not share something I hope to have ready soon by next week *crossing my fingers*

Title: Pay My Rent

Rating: Teen

The sun was high, its rays bleeding across the expansive clear blue sky, and warmed everything below that crossed its path. The inhabitants of Station Square scurried across bustling intersections and neighborhood sidewalks to find protection from the blazing beatdown of the sun, sighing in relief when finding enough shade to get them from where they stood to their destination. However, some enjoyed the heat no matter how intense it was, particularly for two hedgehogs.

Far away from the noisy center of the city, the two males rested peacefully across lounge chairs, each their own, with a faded black, heavy-duty crate serving as a little make-shift table between them; not completely exposed to the sunlight, they had an old patio umbrella that had some holes here and there but good enough to still block some of the brightness. Sided with a red cooler, where cans of Chaos Cola were kept cold with ice, it was their reserved hangout place. Best of all, absolutely no one would find them all the way up here, the rooftop of an abandoned 13-story level building on the edge of Sunset City's perimeter.

Just two guys sipping on their respective canned drinks and enjoying their serene afternoon in comfortable silence.

"Hey, Shads?"

A silence that didn't last long when you had the most talkative hedgehog in the world as your partner.

"Hm," was all the Sonic got, flicking his black sunglasses up enough to gaze at the striped hedgehog that remained still, soaking in the summer heat as if it was no bother for him with his dark-furred coat. Something that the hero envied when he struggled with keeping cool on sweltering days in July, but when winter came around, it was another story. Shadow made for a great walking furnace, a fun little thing he had learned after spending his first frosty season with the broody hedgehog.

"Are you gonna be busy tomorrow evening?"

Adjusting the same-looking pair of shades behind his ears, almost blending in with his jet black quills if not for the crimson stripes, Shadow glanced over at his partner, his curious eyes meeting his favorite pair of emeralds. "Why?"

Sonic grinned, scooting up to sit upright on his lounge chair. "Don't ya remember what day it is?"

Briefly, his dark counterpart took a moment to think on it before the realization hit him, chuckling as he recalled what had happened one year ago exactly on tomorrow's date.

"How could I possibly forget the day you made a fool of yourself in front of me, hedgehog?"

"Pshh, you're the fool for falling for it at the end!"

Playfully rolling his eyes at him, the ebony hedgehog shrugged, bringing the can to his lips. "I guess your stupidity works as your charm, too. I still can't believe you went around kissing strangers for fun," he said, drinking his soda with a faint frown across his features.

Sensing that his boyfriend's - the man he began a relationship with of barely one year - train of thoughts was straying from the line of conversation, Sonic got up from his seat, placed his now empty Chaos Cola on the crate next to him, and walked over to drape himself across the older hedgehog, nuzzling the fluff of white chest fur he had come to adore so much.

"But I ended up meeting you, didn't I?"

The words mumbled into his chest fur made Shadow smile, his eyes softening at the sight before him; he accepted his partner's embrace, reaching out to pluck the sunglasses that were nestled haphazardly on his head and gently laying them down on the crate. Still nursing his drink in one hand, the striped hedgehog used the other to scratch behind one of the cutely blue ears that always stole his attention in the most unusual of times.

"You sure did."

A low rumbling purr came forth as a response to both his comment and sweet gesture, the way gorgeous gem-like eyes stared up at him like he was Sonic's everything making his heart skip. His everything, who would have thought a person like Shadow the Hedgehog could be something so precious and priceless to someone else, earning equally important things, such as their trust, kindness, and love, in return.

And it had been only a year - one year full of laughter, movie nights, and shared kisses.

"I don't know when I'll be getting off work," Shadow murmured, mesmerized by the tiniest of a blue hue that somehow stood out among all the sea of green when the sunlight hit the blue hedgehog's face at the right angle. So pretty, he thought with a breath-taking sigh.

The hero, on the other hand, had been busy admiring his boyfriend's profile to remember what they had been talking about, even when he was the one that brought up the topic of the conversation.

"What?"

"I might work until late tomorrow since today's my official last day off of the month."

At hearing the news, Sonic whined, sitting up and now straddling the black hedgehog's lap with arms crossed over his chest. He looked the part of a pouting child to the other's amusement. "C'moooon! I only had you all to myself for three days! What about our Netflix show marathon?"

With a gentle pat on one of his lean cobalt thighs, Shadow gave him an apologetic smile. "Sorry, but you know how demanding my job is."

Sonic huffed, narrowing his eyes at him. "Just that because you never tell me exactly what your work involves."

"I can't tell you because it's class--"

"Classified, yeah yeah, I know," the hero muttered, averting his gaze from Shadow's rubies. At seeing his blue ears droop, the striped hedgehog set down his drink on the floor and took a hold of his favorite speedster, sliding out from under him. Startled by the sudden movement, Sonic didn't know what was happening, easily falling away from Shadow and onto the lounge chair, his back meeting the warm seat thanks to Shadow.

"You're leavin' already?" He asked, afraid that his last remark was the reason behind it, but can you blame him? They only ever spent two weekends together as a couple every month if Shadow's work didn't call for him on Saturday night with an order of having to report to wherever he needs to the next morning. It wasn't that he didn't trust Sonic but more of the whole 'classified and never tell a soul' gist that all workers there must abide by, regardless of how powerful the person asking them was.

Luckily, he had been wrong; Shadow only switched their positions, leaning on his left arm to hover over the blue hedgehog that lay flat on the chair. A particular beam of sunlight filtered through one of the patio umbrella's holes and hit him directly on Sonic's right eye. He winced, moving his head away from the undesired spot.

"Even if I didn't go back tomorrow, you still have hero duties that need your attention," Shadow softly reasoned, cradling the side of his partner's head, a thumb pressed to a fawn cheek to caress delicately. Sonic sighed, leaning into the touch. "Right..."

He guessed he was no better off with Mobius depending on him to fight badniks or defeat the once-in-a-while egotistical god that somehow Eggman got wrapped around one of his evil fingers.

"I suppose it doesn't help that we haven't told anyone about us, huh?"

Shadow's heart ached at watching his usually happy and upbeat hedgehog become low-spirited, the light in his dazzling emerald dwindling with every passing second that they talked about how their secret relationship was nothing easy to live with like they had thought it would be. But with both of them wanting to see if their journey together after that odd night at the nightclub, where they first kissed, to the surprising race they pulled off, the very moment that convinced the Hero of Mobius to chase after what used to be a stranger to him, the hedgehogs had decided to live this intimate part of their life in privacy for as long as they could.

"I don't know...that would mean I have to share you."

The sound of the speedster's giggle that followed after his playful nudge against his muzzle, skimming his lips over a soft cheek, lightened up the mood.

"How did it go...sharing is caring, Shads," Sonic teased, wrapping his arms around his attentive boyfriend.

Pressing a kiss to the corner of peach lips, the crimson-striped hedgehog snorted, leaning away to fix the hero with a mischievous smirk.

"Well, you should know by now that I don't give a fuck about others, especially when all I need is you."

Familiar with the hedgehog's blunt and rude attitude when it came to people in general for some reason, the hero simply didn't find it worth arguing about it, steadily learning what his boyfriend meant on his own terms upon several occasions nowadays, but better yet, Sonic found it attractive. The effortless and confident way in which Shadow spoke, sounding so sure about every word, made him dizzy with happiness as if he was walking on air. Good thing he wasn't standing because the hero would be positively certain that his knees would have given out from under him - Shadow did always have a way of sending a wave of unanticipated shakiness to his feet.

A sensation that took him back to their first kiss under neon lights and an indefinite future in front of them.

"...thanks for being my special someone, Shadow."

The words came as a whisper, a holy secret that no one needed to hear but them because for now, in their small bubble that consisted of lounge chairs, an aging crate, and a shabby patio umbrella, they were the only ones existing. Cherishing the few hours they had left together, Shadow spent them memorizing the pleasant beat of Sonic's heart, both his arms secured around a blue waist and harmonized his own heartbeat to the hero's, pretending that they danced to the cadenced music only they could recognize.

#sonadow #wip #my writing #I feel awful for not writing my favorite gay hedgehogs in the last months :(#they deserve better <3

77 notes · View notes

familyagrestefanblog · 3 years

Text

Analysis of the Family Agreste Portrait

Quarantine strikes again and since the Agreste family portrait has fascinated me for a loooong while now I decided to put my thoughts into words and write another essay x3

The amount of informations we get out if it is amazing and its not only highlighting the absolute TRAGEDY it is that this family is about to face such a horrible fall out, it also hints at the former family dynamic before everything went to hell.

So make yourself comfortable and get something to drink, because we will be here for a while.

Here we go: My analysis of this beauty of a fictional portrait

Let's start with the most obvious one: Hawkmoth.

Its commen knowledge by now that the background makes it seem like Hawkmoth is standing behind the Agreste family like a bad omen waiting for fate to take its course and cause their doom. The portrait is brilliantly designed so the illusion is created that Gabriels body (here in a blue suit closer to Hawkmoths normals dark purple one) overlaps with Hawkmoths and a darker line is connecting the two faces as well, which rest on the same height right beside each other. The very same line grows bigger as it goes further behind Emilie - coloring her entire background - showing us that EMILIE is all Gabriel sees when he becomes Hawkmoth. But notice that Adrien on the other hand can hardly be concidered part of Gabriels “sight” at all.

Its forshadowing 101 and damn beautiful if I may say so. But this isnt what I want to focus on in this post.

I want to elaborate on two other key factors that tell us about the former dynamic of the Agrestes instead and what they tell us about the present and future.

The heart:

This is hitting me on another level because look at the heart these three form with Adrien right in the middle! He was so LOVED. This family may have never been anywhere close to ideal but still, there was LOVE and now he's gonna loose it all.

Adrien already lost his mother which led to his father getting even more distant and cold and now his father is becoming increasingly more abusive as he falls deeper and deeper into villainy. Gabriel was never a good father, the show has already made this clear with episodes like "the bubbler", “the collector” or "Gigantitan" for example but gosh there was hope for their little family! The end scene in "Jackady" portrayed it perfectly and I wrote a whole other post just covering the sigificants of Adriens and Gabriels hug in that episode. Check it out here if you want, it goes hand in hand with this one.

Miraculous is all about love and the completely different ways it can affect us, our behavior and actions. Because love isnt just wonderful, pure and empowering, it also can be twisted, destructive and cause the darkst nightmares. And with this family the writers know how to portray the complex love in an abusive houshold thats destined to go up in flames and they also know how to hint at their troubled past with the family portrait.

But this heart visual tells us even more in connection with the positions of their hands. And with these two key factors, lets start with Gabriel:

His hands convey it so strongly. He loves/d Emilie and Adrien so much and no doubt this love for them was certainly the reason why he started his quest as Hawkmoth. But he is now losing himself more and more in the pleasure of his villainy to the point where he forgets why he's doing it in the first place and becomes a complete monster (of a father). But this turn and spiraling into villainy didn't came out of nowhere - this root already had to be in him to grow like that. And this is also something the portrait indeed hints at as well.

Because Gabriel is the only one of the three who:

1. We see so completely open and without hesitation reach out and hold BOTH his family members.

2. Is visually “cut off” from them as well.

But this doesn't mean he was excluded and the only one who truly cared and loved, it just shows that things were more... complicated...as usual.

This is best explained with Adriens hand placements:

One hand is holding his mothers but the other one is visibly not reaching out for his father. But as we all know, that's not because Adrien doesn't love him. In season 1-3 it is made more than clear that Adrien does not hate his father - he loves him alot and tries to be there for him and be patient because he knows that the loss of his mother brought his father terribly down.

Sure, Adrien gets frustrated and angry with him, literally how could he not?? But Adrien tries his best to reach out to Gabriel so they can bond and come out of this tragedy stronger.

But this loving willingness to forgive his father for the chance of growing a father-son bond with him doesn't change the fact that these two didn't had a bond prior to this. And let's be honest here, does anybody actually think this distance between them was caused by Adrien? I don't think so.

So notice how Adriens hand - not reaching out for his fathers - is the only one in the portrait NOT inside or forming the heart.

When the connection of the hands between the family members symbolise their connection to another, then Adrien keeping the hand for his father away from the display of love is VERY telling. It tells us very directly what this distance did to Adriens side of the relationship. Despite Gabriels hand being right there, Adrien does not meet the gesture. And I cannot believe that he did it out of resentment, nothing in the show indicated such strong negative emotions from past Adrien.

It's much more likely that Adrien not reaching for his fathers hand is meant to show us that Adrien felt that he either CAN'T return the gesture because he fears that it'll end in an unpleasant reaction from Gabriel - that it isn't Adriens "place" to reach out to his busy and distant father like that, like it's demanding something - or Adrien simply didn't took Gabriel laying his hand on his shoulder, in the context of posing for a portrait, as a gesture of love and affection.

The way I interpret the portrait is that prior to Emilies dissappearence Adrien did not exactly try to reach out to his father the same way he did from s1-s3, which, I mean, of course wasn't the case. Not only is it NOT the 13 years olds (or younger) job to form an emotional connection to their absent parent - when that’s the PARENTS job - it also wouldn't be necessarily "needed" for Adrien to do so.

Because Emilie at this point was still in the picture so and she was the complete opposite. She was a (or maybe the ONLY) safe, reliable and loving constant of parental attention, affection and care in his life and because of these two HARSH contrasts Adrien learned from very early on to focus mostly completely on her in that regard while kinda blocking his father out.

That most likely wasn't even an active choice whatsoever - Gabriel proofed to be an unreliable resource so Adrien learned to subconciously treat him that way out of self protection. That doesn't mean he had any kind of dislike or malice against his father it just means that he wasn't able or allowed to connect with Gabriel the way he needed. Several episodes show that Gabriel deadass only parented like 15 minutes tops in his life with one of the worst offenders kinda being “Gigantitan” ngl.

So yeah, when I see that the portrait wants to tell me that prior to Emilies loss, Adrien - a 12-13 year old at most - is THIS used to rely solely on the strong bond he has with his mother and not even really reaching out for his fathers love, then I can't help but interpret it in the way that... Well... Gabriel was so distant and emotionally unreliable to Adrien for all his life, that Gabriel simply... wasn't needed by his son. Not at that point of time at least.

And while this may seem weird, because obviously Adrien only now starts to stop craving for his fathers affection and approval (which is btw a horrible, HORRIBLE thing and not something good. A half orphan losing the last remaining hope he had left of having the chance to finally get to form a bond with the only other parent he has left, just to be crushed by disappointment and abandonment all over again until he let's go, is REALLY NOT as much of a good thing people will make it out to be. This is... plain awful) it's actually quite logical.

Adriens hand outside the heart doesn't mean that his father meant nothing to him and therefore refuses to meet and accept his affection (that's literally the complete opposite of what the show shows us), it means that Adriens and Gabriels father-son relationship suffers from a fatal emotional disconnection caused by miscommunication/ a lack of communication.

And this was caused by Gabriel. How? Let me elaborate on that by going a bit far afield (cuz lbh we all have time for this. I’m writing this in quarantine and youre reading this is quarantine, so lets gooooooooooooo).

In "The bubbler" Adrien says that his father "always forgot his birthday", but I cannot agree with this in true honesty. Gabriel is controlling his sons entire life, calls him "the epitome of perfection" and temporarily truly gave up being Hawkmoth for him, he definitely never forgot Adriens birthday.

"The bubbler" even SHOWS us that Adriens perspective of the situation is actually not the truth:

This is Adriens first birthday after Emilies dissappearence and it's incredibly telling how Gabriel handles the planning.

What this entire little sequence tells me is that Gabriel is completely and UTTERLY used to NOT be the one to take care of anything related to Adriens birthday. So Emilie was always the one who did it but somehow - now without her - Gabriel apparently still hasn't even considered changing anything about that nasty non-involvement and just expected Natalie to pick everything up where Emilie left it.

Because let's be real here, knowing Natalie she would NOT have forgotten to get a present if Gabriel truly had told her to. Natalie is never presented to do mistakes like that but Gabriel on the other hand IS definitely presented to us claiming things about himself as ultimate, blameless and true when they simply do not reflect reality. A great example: Gorizilla

You didn’t even speared a minutes of your time for Adrien and he DID try to! Asshat… It's a problem guys. The lack of self awareness Gabriel displays in moments like this is legitimately concerning when you think about how deeply this man is falling right now.

But back to the topic:

Because even if Gabriel didn't even consider doing anything himself for Adriens birthday - not even taking the time to SEE his son (who just recently lost his mother, come on Gabe, really?) - one thing one cannot hold against him: he sure as hell remembered Adriens birthday like any decent parent would and it wasnt portrayed as a this-year-for-the-first-time thing.

And yet Adriens statement still makes complete sense. Because a big, BIG problem with Gabriel is just how much he takes things for granted. He EXPECTS things to be universally known and to never be doubted, just because that's how HE sees them. I will write 10 essays if it's needed to make people understand that Gabriel DOES truly love Adrien, it's just that Gabriel HIMSELF is such a rotten, twisted and toxic person that he cannot see how much his (oppressing) behavior and the way he (doesn't) express his love hurts Adrien and that HE is the one at fault. (for more, once again, read this)

Gabriel LOVES Adrien but he takes the love he feels as such a matter-of-fact that he just completely... forgets to show it.

And when we take Adriens words and look at the Family portrait it unfortunately seems that...

…. Gabriel ALWAYS forgot to show it.

Adriens hand - that should at least be reaching out to his father - is outside of the heart in accepting certainty. Because that's what Gabriels non-presence was for Adrien while growing up: an unreliable and unreachable certainty he had to accept early on as safer to not try to emotionally depend on too much or else he will get hurt.

So yeah, Adrien is the one in the portrait who is very openly not reaching out but only because Gabriel never gave him the needed affection and stability to be able to create that bond.

But let me correct what I said a little earlier: Adrien ALWAYS needed his father. Every kid, especially one in a bad situation like Adrien, does need their parents/friends etc as support system to become independent and confident in a healthy way. And if they don’t have that they WILL crave and look for it!

What Adrien has been doing up to now IS normal for a teenager - humans NEED affection, belonging and safety. What ISNT/SHOULDN’T be normal is Adriens disconnection towards his father in the portrait and just how much Gabriel fails to take care and BE THERE for his son in BOTH TIMES!

Collector:

Bother Christmas:

One thing I like about the show is that it portrays their young main cast with one very important truth: The psyche of a child/teenager of their age will react and adapt so it SURVIVES, even if it results in unfortunate consequences in other relationships and places. Thats the psyches main concern and it'll try to cope with the limited experience and development it has in whatever way necessary to get itself to the next day. A coping mechanism is not there to make you a better person, it ensures your SURVIVAL, everything else is a secondary concern.

So seeing pre-show Adrien not react to Gabriels touch and even feel completely unloved and disconnected from him is no surprise to me. Kids are incredibly observant. They may lack the needed experience and knowledge to truly understand that they deserve better and to stand up for themselves but they are masters in picking up red flags in people and can put this danger into perspective while comparing the different danger levels of their options of people and places to adjust their behavior.

Feast:

Stormy Weather 2:

So the broken connection between father and son we see in the portrait (that Gabriel doesn't even notice but Adrien fully internalized) isn’t there because Adrien “didnt needed” or wanted his father, its because Adrien NEEDED Gabriel so much in his isolated upbringing but Gabriel didn’t LET him need him - so Adrien had to adjust to that accordingly. Big, huge, ENORMOUS difference.

Honestly the most miraculous thing about Miraculous is that Adrien was able to bring up the strength to stay positive and friendly and to forgive Gabriel in hope for a better future. That boys situation is 7 kinds of depressing and traumatizing...

It's just flabbergasting to me how well this portrait shows how basically non-existent their relationship was at that point. And it's horrible to know that this estranged and unformed bond is all Adrien had left after Emilie dissappeared, just alot worse because after Emilie incident Adrien states that his father changed alot for the worse as well.

So to think that all Adrien had left wasn't even this former basically non-existent relationship with his aloof father - who would only barely show his true affection for his son because he's either not around enough to do so or he thinks it "unnecessary to proof his affection" for/to Adrien because he already thinks it so obvious and undoubtable.

Well he thought wrong. And GOSH, it breaks my heart!

So now comparing the "Gabriel" hand from Adrien with the one representing his connections with his mother conveys a pretty harsh contrast.

Because last but not least, let's take a look at Emilies hand placements:

But here is now an interesting difference to Adrien. Whereas we openly see that Adriens side of the Adrien-Gabriel relationship is completely disconnected from the heart/love - showcasing just how badly Adrien has always been neglected by his father - we don't see Emilies hand in her Emilie-Gabriel relationship AT ALL.

Once again just like with Adrien, this doesn't mean she didn't love her husband and that Gabriel was used and fooled by the woman he so utterly adored. It just means that from Emilies point of view things were a bit more complicated. What exactly this is, the portrait is keeping secret from us. We have no way of knowing if and how Emilie is returning her husbands gesture. All we can say is that if she does she is definitely not doing it in such an open and unconflicted way as she does with Adrien.

But since when has anything with this family been this easy?

One thing the portrait makes very clear, Adrien and Emilie had a strong and good bond. Definitely the healthiest because the Adrien-Emilie connection is the only one depicted without any kind of disruption from both sides. Both mother and son are reaching out for the other ones hand creating a whole half of the heart, showcasing their affection for another openly and without any of the implied doubts the other connections display. And honestly? Comparing all the hand placements, the one connecting Adrien and Emilie just comes across as strikingly pure and true (which makes it even worse that it was HER Adrien lost…)

As I said it's a HARSH contrast to the one Adrien shears with Gabriel. This contrast is highlighted even further by the way these three face on another.

Emilie and Adrien are positioned facing another and so are Emilie and Gabriel. Telling us that Emilie was "face-to-face" aka involved with both her husband and son. It is Adrien and Gabriel were this looks wildly different. These two have no way of seeing each other in the eyes the way they stand now/then, further displaying their deeply rooted disconnection. It's portrays perfectly how important Emilie was in this family dynamic, because even though Adrien and Gabriel bearly had a connection at all they at least had Emilie as a link between them, keeping the family together. But then they lost her and where this left both father and son off we know oh too well...

So to collect all the informations we get out if this portrait:

-Adriens and Emilies relationship was the strongest and purest. Both of their hands connect and reach out for another in the heart, showcasing that they had a loving and positive bond.

-Adriens and Gabriels relationship is heavily scarred by a deeply rooted disconnection leaving Adrien feeling unloved and unwanted by his father to the point where Adriens side of their dynamic is outside the heart altogether. Gabriel may love and adore his son just like he loves his wife and never thought he displayed his love for him in a lacking way, but fact is: this love never reached Adrien the way it should have and Adrien is the one in their dynamic who got severely hurt and damaged by it.

-Gabriel was the only one completely unconflicted and happily at peace with the former Family situation. He's reaching out to both his family members with open love and affection in blissful oblivion that neither his wife nor son could return them the same way (to different degrees for different reasons). Gabriel was the ONLY ONE in the Agreste family who didn't saw problems in their lives and thought them all happy, hence why he's so obsessed with changing the past and bringing THIS state of their family back. He was happy and he had everything he needed and loved right with him, of course he wants THIS back. He's not aware that Emilie and ESPECIALLY Adrien did not feel the same about their former situation and that bringing all of them back to this is not the perfect happy ending for their entire family as he thinks.

-Emilie may not have been as unconflicted with Gabriel as he was with her but she is NOT feeling the same disconnection her son feels and isn't depicted with negative feelings towards Gabriel. Her side in the Emilie-Gabriel relationship is neither shown outright positive as with her son or outright bad as Adrien with Gabriel. Her side of their bond is depicted through her unseen hand placement in the unknown area in between.

-Despite their not so unconflicted feelings towards Gabriel - and Gabriel himself being aloof - neither Emilie nor Adrien are actively trying to cut Gabriel out. They aren't flinching away from his touch or exclude him from the heart whatsoever. He's happily included, obviously feeling loved. They may not be 100% happy and Gabriel doesn't notice it, but they aren't denying him his happiness and make him unhappy. Again, he's the only one truly happy here. Something neither Emilie nor Adrien tried to take away from him.

-Emilie and Adrien are facing each other as do Emilie and Gabriel, implying the presence of communication and a bond. Adrien and Gabriel do not face each other, showing their disconnected bond. If they could see each others face Adrien would have been able to see that Gabriels hand is a gesture of genuine affection and Gabriel could see that Adriens expression does not exactly display pure happiness the way he thinks. This also goes for Emilie. Emilie just like her husband is placed BEHIND her son, so even if she is facing him she would not be able to really see just how much Adrien is not satisfied and truly happy with his life at that point (meaning how unhappy being looked up, friendless and at distance with his father actually makes him).

- This fascinating family makes me sad and I like it lol

734 notes · View notes

earlgreytea68 · 3 years

Text

Tagged by @setting-in-a-honeymoon!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

An even 200!

2. What’s your total AO3 wordcount?

Um. 3,328,002

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Six:

Inception in the lead with 67 fics

Sherlock with 56

Fall Out Boy with 36

Doctor Who with 14 (this number is incorrect, I have written waaaaay more than that, they just live on LJ and DW)

and then one each for Sports Night and The Office (UK)

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Nature and Nurture

Saving Sherlock Holmes

Working on the Edges

The Radovljica Apicultural Museum

John Watson’s Twelve Days of Christmas

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to! Sometimes I get busy or depressed or sick, etc., and I fall behind, but I try to respond, for a number of reasons - they give me so much joy that I want to acknowledge that they have brought my joy; it is so wonderful to see what people to respond to and love and laugh at and cry over, it definitely makes me a better writer, and so I want to acknowledge that, too; and comments when I’m in the middle of posting a fic are especially helpful to me because they often result in me tweaking what’s coming next in response to questions I see people have that indicate I’m not being clear enough, or maybe I’m not hitting the tone I want, etc. And so I like to respond to be like, “Thank you! You have no idea how important and wonderful this is to me!”

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Oh, wow. While I actually think I can write good angst, when I do it I try to have it in the middle of the fic, so that it gets properly resolved to give you a nice, happy ending. I’m sure someone’s going to be like, YOU ARE FORGETTING THIS HEART-WRENCHING THING YOU WROTE, but all I’m coming up with right now is that, in my long Doctor Who ‘verse I wrote, I did a fic in which their family dog died. That was pretty angsty. (omg I just scrolled down to see how I ended this story and OH MY GOD ahahah I forgot that I wrote this after I’d broken up with the Tenth Doctor and so it ends with Brem being like, “Plus, my father is useless so I have to hold the entire family together all the time” hahahaha what an extra-angsty ending, Brem, my love lol)

7. Do you write crossovers? If so what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I do sometimes! I feel like most of my crossovers make some amount of sense. Like, okay, maybe you wouldn’t think to cross Inception with Fall Out Boy (this was a special request) but I think the premise of the fic makes total sense. And I once crossed Oliver with Brem, but those were my first two beloved precocious fic songs, so that made some sense, too. And I still think Inception and Sherlock crossed together made SO much more sense than actual seasons of Sherlock lol. So I guess if I had to choose the craziest I would go with the Doctor Who/Gossip Girl crossover I wrote lol. But wait, that one actually also made sense as I wrote it, I think, so I’ll go with the Sherlock/Fall Out Boy crossover because that was just bonkers.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yes. I wrote a fic that was really horrible to Mary in “Sherlock.” I hate Mary. I feel like I can say that now. I haaaaaated Mary. But in those days “Sherlock” was an incredibly tense fandom to be part of and if you didn’t say that you loved Mary all the time forever and always then people were like !7@((!*(@(!& at you. I have a million massive warnings in all caps all over the fic, like, DON’T READ THIS IF YOU LIKE MARY, and people still would leave rude comments on it lololol. And then we wonder why I left that fandom lol. (I mean, many people in the fandom were wonderful, and I don’t always have REASONS why I leave fandoms, it’s not like anything is that logical or rational. But it wasn’t a very fun time to be in Sherlock fandom. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I do. My smut almost always has to be advancing some kind of emotional beat in the characters’ relationship. I’m never super-explicit because usually the whole point of the scene to me is what the characters are thinking and feeling, not really what they’re *doing.*

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Sometimes my fics show up somewhere without my knowledge. People are really good about letting me know when that happens.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yup!

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes!

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

This is like asking who my all-time favorite child is.

14. What’s a wip that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I have this high school Peterick AU that I started at the beginning of the pandemic. For some reason, when schools shut down, all I could think about was all these bands that wouldn’t get formed because the kids couldn’t go to each other’s houses, like Pete Wentz couldn’t just show up at Patrick Stump’s to hear him play. So I started this story where Pete and Patrick meet right before the pandemic hits, and then everything locks down and they’re stuck Facetiming each other and coming to the realization that their soulmate is on the other side of the screen.

Anyway, I actually think this fic is super-hot?? And I never think I write hot things, but it’s got a hot phone sex scene and I’m really happy with it and I would love to finish the story...except that the pandemic turned out to be...this. And in my head, Idk, I thought there’d be this triumphant moment where everyone would be like, “Yay! We can see each other now!” and Pete and Patrick would reunite, and instead everything petered out into, “Can we see each other now........????? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ “ and I didn’t know what to do with that in my fic, it made it not as neat as I was wanting it to be.

But I hate to lose that hot phone sex scene hahaha. And also after the hot phone sex scene Patrick adds “Hotline Bling” to his and Pete’s shared Spotify playlist they’ve been working on and I’M SORRY, I FOUND THAT SO CHARMING, PATRICK STOLE MY HEART WITH THAT MOVE, anyway, as you can see, I love so much about the fic and I really want to find a way to make it work and maybe someday I will the end.

15. What are your writing strengths?

My dialogue.

Also I think I write the same story over and over (person realizes that they’re deserving of being loved for exactly who they are), but I think I’m REALLY GOOD at that one story lol

Also I like to think that I write family relationship stuff fairly well, like, Idk, I love doing that stuff, whether found family or biological.

Oh, and I think I usually get the ratio of angst::happy ending pretty good (in my view for my personal preference lol).

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

I don’t think I’m especially good at smut. I’m terrible at paying attention to things like setting, what the characters are wearing, what the characters even look like, etc. As mentioned above, I tell the same story over and over and over, and I’m okay with that, but yeah, I’d be bad at telling a story where people aren’t, like, nice people who you’re rooting for.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I think I couldn’t do it, because I don’t speak any other language, but I’m always happy when people translate my fics!

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Doctor Who. Although maybe, like, New Kids on the Block self-insert stuff counts from junior high??? But Doctor Who was first published.

19. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Please see above re: favorite child lol

I tag every writer who wants to do this and I hope every writer does this because I always think these are fascinating!!

31 notes · View notes

sassycassie-s-writing · 3 years

Text

Movie Night, Pillow Fight [Version 2]

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): DC/BatFam - Jason Todd/Red Hood

Rating: PG-13/T (maybe pushing M? but there’s still nothing super explicit. this is just a lot dirtier than I usually write holy cannoli. Heavy kissing, a little bit of suggestive dialogue and narration, minor swearing?)

Original Idea: This (V1 follows this idea a lot more than this one, which I spun off of about halfway through and did my own thing)

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) I didn’t think this would be as long as Version 1. I was wrong. This one is ~200 words longer, at 3,491. Version 1 here. They start the exact same but change about halfway through. I wrote both of these two over the course of 1 day by the way, and refuse to pick a favorite. @welovegroot @jason-redhood @jason-todd-squad

^^^^^

“No, Bruce,” Jason said sharply into his phone as he grabbed his motorcycle helmet. “I’ve already told you a hundred times: Tuesdays are my day off. Unless it’s a Court-of-Owls-attacking-All-Hands-On-Deck emergency, I’m not going on patrol. I’m allowed one night off per week. And I have plans. It’s weekly movie night with a friend of mine. We’ve been doing movie night since college and I refuse to disappoint her. You know why I chose Tuesdays? Because Gotham’s crime rate is lowest. You’ll be fine without me.” He hung up before Bruce could reply.

—

I opened the door. “You’re late,” I said.

“Yeah. I had to go to two different stores to find your popcorn because they were out at the first one,” Jason replied, letting himself in and dropping his motorcycle helmet on my couch. “Let me go change into my sweats.” He pulled his grey sweatpants out of his backpack, two microwave popcorn bags falling out.

I grabbed them. “Thanks Jay,” I said playfully.

He gave me a brief hug before stepping past me to my bathroom. “The things I do for you,” he teased with a sigh.

“Get out of those jeans. You know they aren’t allowed,” I retorted before going over to the microwave. My bathroom door shut loudly. I boosted myself onto the counter and watched the popcorn spin in the microwave.

By the time Jason emerged from the bathroom, only one bag was done. He leaned against the counter next to me, arms folded, and joined my staring.

“So what movie did you bring?” I asked. “You said in your text it was one of your favorites.”

He beamed at me. “Well, my friend, we are watching the very first ever made Frankenstein. From nineteen-thirty-one.” He fixed me with a stare as my shoulders slouched. “Don’t you start moaning in complaint. You put me through watching that awful musical last week—”

“Excuse you, Phantom of the Opera is also a classic.”

“It’s basic.”

“You’re basic.”

“Maybe so, but after going through that ordeal, you promised we could watch one of my favorites. I managed not to fall asleep last week, so it’s my turn.” He stuck his tongue out at me, then shook his head. “I really need to refine your taste in theatre. Remind me to convince Bruce to give me his season tickets to the real opera. He never uses them anyway. Doesn’t know what he’s missing out on.”

Given Bruce’s parents were shot after leaving the opera, I imagined there was some childhood trauma there. I didn’t bring it up with Jason. We didn’t talk about family besides passing comments on movie nights.

When the second bag of popcorn was finished popping and put in its own large bowl—I had quite the collection of popcorn bowls, usually given to me—we went to my room.

Ever since we’d graduated college—two years ago—we’d had movie night in my bed, rather than on the couch, like we’d done in my dorm. The bed was comfier and gave us more room to spread out. I can’t even remember who suggested it, but it was probably me one week when I was sick or something and we’d just stayed that way ever since.

I’d always hosted too. In college it was because my roommate was never there, and now Jason just liked the escape from his family. They didn’t know where I lived, so the one time he hosted and they interrupted by coming over, he and I agreed we’d just have it at my place. I liked his brothers and sister well enough, but they’d ruined that movie night. I doubted Wayne Manor movie nights ever involved any movies no one had seen before—because everyone talked and yelled at each other too much to actually pay attention to the movie.

Jason put the DVD in the player in my room. “Prepare to be wowed,” he said.

“I’m prepared, trust me,” I replied flatly.

—

“Heeey,” Jason’s voice said softly. “Wake up, doofus.”

I blinked my eyes open blearily. “Wha…?”

He started chuckling. “You fell asleep about halfway through.”

“Duh. It was boring. What did you expect for a casual movie fan from this century watching something from nineteen-thirty-one?”

“Well, all that means is that we get to rewatch it—from the beginning—next week!” Jason declared. I frowned. “Don’t you pout at me. Those have been the official movie night rules since our freshman year of college.”

“That’s not true,” I said, pulling out my phone. I dug deep into the Google Docs on my phone for Movie Night Rules from our freshman year of college. Six years was a long way to scroll through, but eventually I found it. I opened the doc and scanned the rules. “Oh, buzz off,” I muttered, poking Jason in the side.

“No poking!” He lurched away. Jason was selectively ticklish. Sometimes I would poke him in the side and he’d jump, other times he wouldn’t even notice I touched him. And he swapped between the two randomly.

“Why didn’t you wake me up like two minutes after I fell asleep?”

Jason pursed his lips, trying not to smile. “I thought about it. But you looked so cute—” He pinched my cheek and I was reminded of the fact that he had the personality traits of an eighty-year-old grandmother. “—with your hair all messy and your cheeks all squished that I just couldn’t.” He laughed as I batted his hand away from my face. I poked him again. “No poking!”

“Then don’t tease.”

“I have a right to tease you. Look at my shirt! You drooled all over it.”

I grabbed the hem of it and pulled it up. “Let me throw it in the wash, then.”

I expected him to smack my hand away and shove the shirt back down over his torso, but to my surprise, he helped me take it off. I’d seen him shirtless too many times to bother staring at his remarkably muscular torso. I just climbed out of my bed and went to the small closet out in the hall that held my tiny washer and dryer. I threw his shirt in the washer, dumped a bit of detergent in, and got it started before going back to my room.

“Take that off! You’ll stretch it out!” I snapped.

Jason struggled to get one of my—much smaller—T-shirts from college off. I scoffed and helped him yank it over his head before throwing one my pajama shirts at him. I wore my dad’s old T-shirts to sleep in, so it was even big on Jason. “You could have just asked for a replacement and I’d have handed you this.”

“That’s not as fun as surprising you,” he joked.

I rolled my eyes and perched back on the bed. “Fine. Next week, we rewatch Frankenstein. I won’t fall asleep. But you’re bringing snacks again.”

“Of course.”

“And don’t forget the popcorn.”

“Doofus, if I forgot the popcorn, you wouldn’t let me through the door.”

I snickered. “True enough.”

Jason leaned over to set his popcorn bowl on the bedside table closest to him. “Maybe next week we should try this on the couch. I always feel bad about getting popcorn on your sheets—and then you won’t be so comfortable that you fall asleep.”

I grabbed a pillow and whacked him in the chest. His expression turned affronted.

“Did you just initiate a pillow fight?” he demanded.

“No,” I retorted. “I got payback for you insulting me.” I whacked him again. “That was me initiating a pillow fight.” I started flinging the pillow at him again and again.

“Hey! Not fair!” Jason protested. “I’m unarmed!”

I ignored him and kept up my pillow smacking.

He laughed. “Well, if you’re going to play dirty, I will too.” He reached out as my pillow hit him again and he wrangled it from me. “A-ha! Look at that! Got your ammo. How does it feel, to be attacked by your own pillow?”

Jason started smacking me with it. I squealed and blocked him as best I could with my arms. We were both laughing as I tried to reach around him to the pillow he’d been using to brace his back against my headboard. He grabbed my wrist with one hand and hit me with the pillow using the other. “I don’t think so,” he said. “I’m not going easy on you just because you’re adorable.”

I laughed as he nearly hit me hard enough to knock me off the bed.

So, I switched tactics.

Getting inside his much longer reach was the hard part. Once I managed to duck around his arms and wrench my wrist free, I started tickling him. Tonight was a ticklish night. He squirmed away from me.

Jason yowled—and I hoped my neighbors weren’t home—in laughter. “Stop it—stop tickling!”

I didn’t. I ran my wiggling fingers up his sides and across his neck. He tried to catch my hands, but I was quick enough to evade him.

For a few moments anyway.

“No. No!” His protests didn’t work on me. “Oh you’re as bad as my brothers. Stop it—stop it.” His voice went firm, all traces of laughter gone. With one quick movement, the pillow we’d attacked each other with was discarded on the floor. He grabbed my ankles and pulled me so I was lying flat in the center of the bed.

Jason straddled my waist, trapping my lower legs with his ankles and pinning both my hands above my head on the mattress. He was breathing hard. We both were.

He smiled. “There. Not so feisty now, are you? Hands pinned above your head, lying beneath me all… helpless.” He chuckled and licked his lower lip, his smile turning both playful and wicked. “I could have… any kind of revenge I want.” He bent his elbows, lowering himself over me. My breathing grew shorter and blood roared in my ears. “I can have any…” He paused, eyes flicking from mine to where my necklace charm had fallen down one side and landed on the mattress. His eyes widened, as if he seemed to just barely realize how close we were. “This is…” His elbows straightened, pushing him higher above me. “I’m… sorry.” He started to gently pick his way off of me. “I’m gonna let you go now.”

He released his grip on my wrists. I rolled them and flexed my hands to get some feeling back into them.

He swung his leg to get off me and used it to step off the bed. “I should go,” he said breathlessly. “I’m so sorry. I’ll grab my T-shirt next week.” He strode to the door of my bedroom while I sat on the bed, dumbfounded, jaw hanging open.

As he opened the door, I bounded off the bed.

I caught him before he could reach for his stuff on my couch, grabbing his wrist. “What was that about?” I demanded. He refused to turn and look at me.

“Just… let it go,” he said, shaking his head. He tried to pull his wrist out of my hand, but I grabbed it with my other one to hold him in both.

“No! What the hell is going on with you?”

“Leave it alone,” he growled out.

“I can’t! What happened in there that made you shut down? What did I do wrong?”

He whirled. “It’s nothing to do with you. It’s me!”

“Then tell me what it is!” I shouted.

Jason grabbed me by the shoulders, wrenching out of my grip so hard my fingers ached. He spun me around and pinned me by the shoulders against my front door. A muscle worked in his jaw as he clenched it before fixing me with a crystal blue stare. “It’s just… seeing you beneath me—all flushed pink and panting, your eyes hooded and staring up at me… seeing you like that… I just felt myself fall in love with you!”

If he hadn’t pinned me against the door I probably would have fallen over from shock. My mouth definitely fell open. “Jay… I…” I breathed.

Still holding my shoulders, he spun me around so I was away from the front door and moved to shove his jeans into his backpack.

Before he could, I threw reservation to the wind.

I grabbed his shoulders, forced him to turn and face me, moved my hands to the back of his head, and pulled him down to kiss me.

Our mouths crashed together hard enough to make my front teeth ache, but I didn’t care. My heart leapt into my throat and I almost melted as his arms circled my waist, pulling me closer, so our torsos were pressed against each other. My eyelids closed as I sighed. We were both breathing hard, air from our noses warm against each other’s skin. Holding my waist in both arms, he turned and pinned my back against the door again.

“Oh, God…” Jason breathed against my lips. He kissed me again and I moaned. He reached one hand up and tangled it in my hair. He could palm the back of my skull as though it were a basketball. His fingers were warm against my scalp.

When he pulled his lips away from me, I groaned quietly in complaint.

“We—we should not be doing this,” he whispered, shaking his head. The white streak at the front of his hairline flopped back and forth with the movement. I wanted to reach my fingers up and twist that streak between them. But I didn’t.

“Why not?” I replied, just as breathless.

“We’re friends. This isn’t us.”

“You just said that you just barely fell in love with me.”

“I did. But I’m not willing to ruin the good thing we’ve had going on here for six years.” He panted, shoulders heaving up and down, as he reached up and took my hands away from his face, gently dragging them by the wrists. “You’ve been the best friend I’ve been able to keep longer than a year or two. I can’t… I can’t just… this isn’t about what I want.”

“I’m the one who kissed you,” I pointed out. “What does that say about what I want?”

“It’s not just about wants,” he said. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Us being together is dangerous? To whom?”

“To you.”

“Why would it be dangerous for me?” I pushed.

He let me go and spun away from me. He looked like he wanted to shout and rage—maybe throw something—but he just clenched his fists and panted.

When he finally turned back to face me, he’d calmed down a little. “It’s dangerous… because… I… oh, Bruce is gonna kill me…” he whispered, shaking his head again. “Because I… am… the Red Hood.”

Two big confessions in one night. I felt a little dizzy and remembered to breathe.

“Red Hood. As in… the vigilante. And… the crime boss.”

“Vigilante, yes. Crime boss days are behind me. I was newly-back-from-the-dead and not in a stable mindset when I became a crime boss.” I decided not to ask about that. He huffed and sat on my coffee table, instead of the sofa, rubbing his temples. “And I wasn’t going to tell you about it, by the way. You’re the only normal friend I have right now. But it’s too dangerous for us to be together. If any of the rogues in this city knew I had someone I cared about as much as I care about—as much as I love you… you would not survive to the end of the year.”

I crossed from the front door to the sofa and sat on the sofa cushion closest to him, setting my hand on his knee. “Jay, I… I’m willing to risk it. To be with you. We just need to be careful—”

“I’m not willing to lose you. I would have been terrified before tonight if someone worse than me caught you. Knew you were just a friend. Now, though? Now, I don’t know what I’d do if you were captured, and that scares me even more. I saw you under me in that bedroom and I saw a future that was good—for the first time in the nine years since I was resurrected—but I can’t let that be my future. For your sake.”

I bit down on my tongue to keep from shouting. But I did tighten my grip on his knee hard and snap, “Get over yourself, Todd. You’re not the only one who gets to make this decision.”

“No, but apparently I’m the only one who can see things objectively enough to make the wise decision.”

It was my turn to want to throw something. “Jason. Peter. Todd. I don’t care about the danger. And I know you do. But do you know what it’d do to me, knowing that you love me and I feel the same, but you won’t let me be yours? Do you know what it would do to you? I know what it would do to me. It would eat me up inside day in and day out. I would sit here dying for you, waiting for you to come to your senses and carry me back into that bedroom to stay in there all night. But you never would. And I would just wait. I’d never date anyone else. If I tried, all I’d be doing was wishing they were you.

“You and I are cut from the same cloth. Some people are just born to sacrifice. To give up what they want—what they need—for the sake of other people. It’s the only choice we’re ever given, so it’s the choice we make over and over and over again. Sometimes people will split others into Givers and Takers. Those of us born to sacrifice are a step beyond even Givers. We’re the ones who give up everything for others. I’ve done it with my family my entire life. Everyone else always wanted so strongly that my only option was to give up my own. You’re the same, I see it every time I see you with your brothers.

“Jason, it’s time for us to Take. It’s time to let life give us something. This is the moment to be selfish. To put aside Batman and his zealous crusade for one damn moment and let yourself be happy.” I dug my fingernails into his knee through his sweats. “Be selfish for once, Jason.”

He finally looked up at me, eyes meeting mine. “I can’t,” he said.

I clamped my mouth shut and sighed loudly through them. “Yes, you can. If you’re waiting for my consent, you’ve more than got it. I’m telling you now to give yourself consent to want. To take. Get over this hold out that a double life has on you and—mmph!”

He cut me off by slamming his lips against mine, surging off the coffee table and straddling me on the sofa. I moaned and wrapped my arms around his neck. He pulled me to one side, sitting on the sofa and guiding me to straddle himself. His hands were splayed over my shoulder blades. I twisted his white streak through my fingers. Our breath shuddered in and out of our lungs. I parted my lips slightly and ran the tip of my tongue over the seam of his lips.

They opened immediately and let me in. I sighed out my nose. “Please ruin our friendship,” I breathed into his lips. “This is so much better.”

He snickered out his nose, smiling. “Does your consent to let me want you include me carrying you back into that bedroom and neither of us leaving until dawn?” He nodded toward my room.

My body shivered. Not from cold. Excitement. Electricity.

“Definitely,” I said breathlessly.

His hands slid from my shoulder blades and down to my legs. He held them and stood up. I hooked my ankles around his back, locking my arms’ grip around his neck.

He carried me to my room, kicked the door shut, and laid me gently on the messed-up bedsheets and disarrayed pillows. On all fours above me, my legs around his waist, he kissed me. Gently, at first, but he quickly grew hungry. His hands worked their way under my shirt, callused palms scraping slightly against my skin.

“Still okay with this?” His voice was barely more than a hoarse whisper.

“Oh yeah,” I breathed, unable to even speak loud enough to be heard from inches away.

He smiled. Wicked delight flickering on his face. “Well, get ready for me to call you mine. Because I am all yours.”

I smiled. “I’m yours, Jason.”

#Movie Night Pillow Fight #Version 2 #Movie Night Pillow Fight Version 2 #Jason Todd #Jason Todd imagine #jason todd fanfiction #Red Hood #red hood imagine #red hood fanfiction #DC #dc imagine #dc fanfiction #BatFam #batfam imagine #batfam fanfiction

31 notes · View notes

starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

Text

World Revelations

@etherealsxnder

Warnings; spoilers for season 13, mentions of death, angst, lack of hope, some Alex Calvert x reader, and tiny bit of jack x reader, swearing, brief illusions to sex, angry brothers, mentions of a sex scene, insecurities, online hate, protective winchester brothers, apocalypse world, major character death, lucifer

(Y/A/N) – Your Acting Name.

A/N; it’s a little bit different from the request, so sorry about that, but I hope that any one that reads this enjoys. Also sorry about the wait, I had bad writers block, but when I started writing this it sorta figured itself out and I may have got carried away. Feel free to tell me what you think ☺️

“Look, I am not going to some other world to help stop Michael. But I can help you in another way, one where none of us get harmed.” Gabriel shrugged, reducing Sam’s expression to confusion. The archangel had felt like their last hope at retrieving their mother, into delving into the apocalypse world, and here he was, turning him down.

He had tried his very best to make the celestial being better, and here he was, talking again, able to use his grace rather than have it removed and syringed into a demon’s veins. However, he still refused, and the hunter had no other plan in forcing Gabriel into helping. This was the last shot, and it had been blown.

But however could he still help? This was the primary problem that had to be solved, there was no other route they could take to bring their family back together. And that was all that mattered in this life, saving people, remaining together.

“What are you talking ab-“ Before Sam could complete his question, Gabriel set him with a poised glare, and snapped his magical fingers, a spark of electric blue grace sparking from the action. That was all Sam saw before he felt himself transported, and once he opened his eyes, he remained in the bunker, however there were cameras around him, and an entire filming crew.

Gabriel had sent him to the other life, another world in which he presumed that he was called Jared. “What the hell Sammy?” Dean barked from beside him, twisting and turning his sights around, upon realising that although this looked like their home, it was an alternate version of it. A set, made of fake walls and truthless literature that was not at all necessary in this peaceful, monster-less realm. “Son of a bitch!”

“Cut!” One of the cameramen called out, shaking his head exasperatedly at the line said wrong. Jensen had been doing so well, and Jensen seemed to have slipped far too into character, to the point where he had forgotten his lines. “Do you need to see the script again, or would you rather take a short break?”

“I’ll go for the break.” Dean confirmed, grabbing Sam’s forearm and hastily dragging him from the onlookers, and towards which he assumed was his, well, Jensen’s trailer. It looked pretty much the same as last time. “Gabriel?” He asked, rightly assuming that the blame of this mishap ordeal was down to the glowing figure.

“He refused to help us open a rift.” Sam licked his lips, his eyes jutting around the luxurious space. “And then he snapped his fingers, and we were here.” Here, another earth. However this was not their home, it was a disfigured writing of it, if anything, it was worse than the books Chuck wrote. There were more fans, and more complications that came along with being here in place of the actors.

“We don’t have time for his tricks.” Sighed Dean, raking his hair with his rough hand. “Parading around as a painted whore is not on my agenda, all I care about is getting mum back, we have to get home quick.”

“Dean, I don’t think that this is a trick…” Sam spoke to his elder brother, in thought of Gabriel’s words. “He said he could help us in another way. I don’t think he meant taking us away from the problem, there must be something else.” No matter how much he rolled the idea around his head, he could come to no conclusion.

“What?” There was already plenty on the man’s mind, he didn’t need another incident coming their way. Dean was to begin speaking again, until a knock rapped against the door to his double’s trailer, intruding his mindset. Him and Sam shared a glance and frown until Dean called whomever was on the other side in, and to their dismay, he looked exactly like Castiel.

Misha Collins. Last time they had visited this place, he had died, but the return of the real selves must have somewhat fixed the timeline, he looked well, even if he still was dressed as their angelic friend. “Hey, I was seeing if you are ready for the scene tomorrow.”

“Scene? Which scene?” ‘Jared’ asked the colleague of his false identity, unaware of the context in which Misha spoke in. Dean only huffed and rolled his eyes, until Misha spoke, and he froze, both the brothers understanding Gabriel’s meaning for sending them to this world.

“(Y/N)’s death scene. Apparently it’s gonna be quite emotional, and it’ll be strange after, not having the kid on set anymore.” It was a revelation, a nightmare that foreshadowed the truth in their own dimension.

“Thanks uh- Misha.” ‘Jensen’ rubbed his hand over his face, shocked by the oncoming doom. They had already lost far too many members in their makeshift hunter family, but this was different. This was their sister, whom they had protected and vouched to continue doing since the day she was born. And now the universe had this grand plan of cutting her young life short, and sending her to either heaven or hell, where so many people they loved already were.

“Do you know where um, (Y/A/N) is right now?” Sam asked, desperate to somehow convince her to remain on the show. It was the only way in which he could save his younger sibling, and he would, by the gods, do anything that he possibly could. Him and Dean had already had meetings with death himself, he couldn’t allow the new version to come and take you.

Billy would not compromise, she was intent on having a Winchester under her cloak, forever taken from life, never to return to the living. And they couldn’t take a chance, any chance on not getting (Y/N) back, she was a legacy as were they, but she was supposed to live on for longer. Their names would otherwise be nothing more than memories in the world of hunters, until they faded into distant and dead members of the community.

“In her trailer, I think. She’s rehearsing with Alexander I think.” The name that he mentioned was unfamiliar to the unfitting pair, but they spared no thought to it. Instead they sent him a quick smile before leaving the confines that they felt trapped in, and began their search for the actress of their sister.

“We have to change her mind Sammy. If she stays on the show, then our (Y/N) lives. It is the simplest solution.” Dean spoke as they walked through the lines of trailers, unable to find the name that they were searching for on any door. “Where the hell is her damn trailer?”

Sam squinted, until a name he had heard was seen on one of the doors. Alexander, whoever that was. Before he could even put any thought into his actions, he subconsciously knocked on the door, waiting a moment for an answer. And when the door opened, they were met with who looked like Jack, his hair a mess, and his shirt hanging over his shoulder, clearly put on in panic.

“What’s up guys, need something?” He scratched the back of his neck, impatient with the situation, considering the one that he had been interrupted from. A part of him feared that this was one of Jared’s infamous pranks, he had mostly been on the end of shifted lines, but worse could have been heading his way for all he knew.

Dean frowned at the sight of young man, it hardly felt right seeing the innocent boy that they knew with sex hair and slight bruises upon his neck. He cleared his throat, keeping up his expression, as he spoke to the boy. He had softened up to Jack, he was their kid in some ways, but this was no Nephilim, if anything it was worse, it was a man who impersonated they kid.

“Heard that uh, (Y/A/N) was running lines with you. Y’know where she is?” Alex’s eyes shifted slightly inside of his personal space, before everything was given away by a familiar giggle. It sounded the exact same as the one that often left (Y/N)’s mouth. Dean knew it, he would never be capable of mistaking it.

The noise had renegaded in his ears since she had been born, in the impala as John drove, through the halls of the bunker as her and Sam made jokes about his cholesterol. At the worst of times, before he knew that they existed, he liked to think that it was the voice of angel, she always guided him on the right path, and if she were to disappear from his life, he would sorely lose the track that he was hellbent on walking down.

And he could see her face now, as she tugged the sheet over her body. A frown sculpted her expression, as she looked exasperatedly between Alex whom had tried to lure the tall pair from the confines of his trailer, and the intruders who had barged carelessly in. It wouldn’t have mattered so much if her and Alexander had actually been running lines, however the situation explained more than enough of the fact that they indeed were not.

“Jared, Jensen, can you like, I don’t know, not cockblock me, for once in your elderly lives?” It felt peculiar, for both Sam and Dean. They knew that this was not their sister, but her calling them by other names was so foreign. Their skins crawled at the labelling, and it only reminded them farther of their cause, the reason that they were sent by an angelic being to be here in this very moment.

“I am also getting bored of it.” Alexander tilted his head, in agreement with (Y/A/N), who only grinned at his compliance to suit her opinions, and Dean could only roll his eyes, just like he did with Jack the majority of the time. “But it’s cool, but can we hurry this along, I mean not to be rude, but aren’t you guys supposed to be filming a scene in like five minutes?”

Sam cleared his throat, admittedly he did like Jack. The kid was sweet, however this was not him, it rather was a man who pretended to be a Nephilim for payment, and was bedding the doppelganger of his sister. If he were to see his sister and the devil’s child in such a compromising predicament, most people would assume he’d be the calm sibling, but they’d be wrong. He would go mad, and think of a way to keep the pair separate.

But luckily for them, there had never been such adult situations insinuated between their dear (Y/N) and Jack, or at least not that they were aware of. This riled Dean, and so he couldn’t help but feel like exploding. It angered him that any man had laid their bare and lustrous hands upon his youngest sibling. No one was to have that pleasure, she was supposed to remain innocent, even if she were legal.

“Seriously?! Jack of all people?!” He bellowed at (Y/A/N), shaking his head at their obvious exchange. If (Y/A/N) had any clothes on underneath the white sheet that hugged her body as she lay on the sofa, her instincts would have driven her over to Jensen and her palm would have met the side of his stubbly face.

“First of all, you need to start remembering Alex’s name, and that goes for Jared too. You can’t just keep calling him Jack, even after I’m done here and move onto my next project.” Her words, although not having the intent to, had the effect of triggering Sam’s goal, in-deliberately reminding him of their foremost goal. It was not to get angry at the characters that played them and their loved ones, it was to save someone that was incredibly important to their world.

“And second,” the woman in covering continued, “this isn’t exactly going to get me to stay on the goddamn show, if you barge in here, interrupting our privacy. If you don’t like what me and Alex are doing off screen, you sure aren’t going to like what is gonna go down between (Y/N) and Jack. Sometimes I do swear that you’re just like Sam and Dean.”

The jab she made at them struck nerves, but they knew that this was not the real her. It may have looked like (Y/N), but this was only a woman who played the part of her. “We’ve been trying to make you stay on the show?” Sam asked, his voice soft. He didn’t want to be harsh, she was already uncomfortable enough.

It was her unknowing that they were actually Sam and Dean that could be an element that they could use, a tool of convincing. “Yes, for weeks now.” (Y/A/N) sighed, pinching the point that was between her eyebrows. “And I’m getting tired of it, and overall, this character. I’ve played her for years on end, I think that her story should have a finishing point, a finale. I’m ready for bigger and brighter things, something that is not pretending to be a strong woman on set, and as soon as I walk away from the cameras, I go back to being weak.”

“I think you’re going to have to explain a little more if I’m going to get any of that.” Dean prompted, both him and Sam had turned away, giving the actress in the sheets the privacy to change. The shuffling of fabrics could be heard, they had been in worse situations with their sister, small motel rooms, of which they could usually only afford one in the past, helped nobody. And none of them received the personal space that should have been an outright human right.

“Of course neither of you understand.” Alex sighed, “she wants a smaller workspace, one where there aren’t so many eyes on her. The whole ordeal got out of hand, and now there are people online saying terrible things about her and I. Neither of you have made such a mistake, or had something so sacred and personal leaked on the internet. The things people say really digs in deep, she at least wants a break, can’t you understand that?”

“Wait, what got leaked?” Sam’s curiosity often informed him of things that he did not wish to be aware of, and this was one of their instances. Alex huffed and rolled his eyes, walking over to where (Y/A/N) was now fully clothed, and took a seat on the sofa beside her, their eyes meeting and mirroring smiles shining at one another.

The sight admittedly made Sam smile, but it made Dean feel internally sick. The sight of what looked like their sister and Jack fuelled a fire inside of him, he wanted his eyes to burn and the memory to be forever removed from his sights.

“Look, you play a pretty badass character, although I’d say Dean has a bit more kick to him.” The man himself chuckled, but no one joined in, so he continued through a forced smile, coming to sit down next to Alex, his ignorance to what happened there merely minutes ago encouraging his brother to cringe.

“But that’s not my only point, you’re here, whilst those sad souls that sit behind their computers all day waste their time typing crap. The life you have, the family that you have here, is worth more than the opinions of a few, invisible idiots, who are only jealous of everything that you have earned for yourself. Don’t breathe their toxicity win, because if you do, the bad guys win, and then you will only fade out of the spotlight and they’ll forget all about you, and all of the things they ever posted about you.”

Alex had been understanding through all of (Y/N)’s decision to leave the cast, although to begin with he had tried to convince her to stay. And it seemed out of all of them, it was Jensen that made her reconsider her options, he could see it behind her eyes, the unravelling of interest, the flickering of hope.

The only thing that the younger actor could not tell were that these were not Jensen’s words, they fell from the lips of Dean Winchester himself. A character that he knew of, and was an important symbol on the show that he was cast on. But it did not matter if he was not aware of that snippet, because it changed nothing, other than possibly (Y/A/N)’s mindful decision.

“You know what, you’re right Ackles. It’s not often that I say that, but the thought of leaving everyone here, settling for something that I have no connection to or history with, it is undermining. And I’m going to talk to Kripke, he’ll be over the moon with the consideration, however if he chooses that (Y/N) is to die as was planned due to my indecisiveness, then that shall be the battle that I am to bargain with.” They had won (Y/A/N) over, it was victory.

It was also the closest that they could do by themselves to save (Y/N). If this didn’t work, they would be nothing more than John’s broken tools, defined by all those that they were always mourning. And it would only make their sister another name on that sour list, even if her death would pain them substantially more than others.

“I guess we’ll go then.” Sam awkwardly spoke, encouraging Dean to stand from the christened furniture and join him in leaving the sexually active couple alone. He sent the woman a nod, and Alex a raised eyebrow. He would have Jack’s head if he ever thought he had the guts or wings to be so intimate with their sister, he’d make him feel something, and it would be painful. Torturous even.

They shut the door behind them as they departed from the actors, a smirk on Dean’s face. He felt victorious, he was the same hero that would read (Y/N) stories when it was dark and a storm was thundering outside, as she hid under the duvet of some dingy motel bed, a torch protecting her from the enveloping bleakness, but also her brothers. “I’d call this a win.”

“They said about a video…” Sam had Jared’s phone in his hand, he scrolled through the feed with a wrinkled nose and scorned eyes. After he received an answer to what it was concluding, he put the device away, he could never look at Jack and (Y/N) around each other the same again. It was burdened by the facts of this world, contradicting the innocence that both the kids in their world showed. “It was a leaked sex scene of the show, Dean.”

“Heck no!” Growled the elder brother, shaking his head. The instant images that flashed through his mind of the Nephilim atop of his little sister made his teeth grit in anger, and a pit of queasiness fold in the cave of his stomach. He already wasn’t too sure on Lucifer’s spawn, this only enhanced that formed opinion, and he wished to shoot the child more than ever in this instant, even if the real him was not around.

“They’re not actually the people we know Dean.” Sam comforted him, easing his anger, but only slightly. “Nothing like that has happened between them, he is in another world, whilst (Y/N) is in the bunker, reading lore and trying to find a way to bring mum and Jack back to us.”

“Yet Sammy, nothing has happened yet.” He allowed himself to shut his eyes for a second, and the next thing that he knew, he was returned home. His speech must have worked on the employee of the show Supernatural, otherwise, Gabriel surely would not have returned them to their home world.

“He’s gone, for chuck sake. How are we supposed to bring Jack and Mary back if we don’t have archangel grace?!” The stressed voice of their younger sibling often triggered a debate from the brothers, but seeing and hearing her, it was a miracle. They couldn’t waste time and argue, instead Sam lurched forward, grabbing the girl and bringing her into the embrace of his giant like arms.

“We’ll figure it out (Y/N/N), we always do.” He spoke softly, earning a confused yet pleased smile. The hug had come out of nowhere, but it calmed her nerves, the rushing of the blood that hurtled around the veins of her body slowed, and it gave her a moment of peace, a blank mind before she began researching again.

“I have a question.” Dean stated with his gruff tone, squinting at his female sibling. He suppressed a smile, she was oblivious to the blockade that had rested above her head like a raincloud, but he knew that she was here for good. And that she was not leaving to any sort of afterlife any time soon. “Do you have the hots for Jack?”

(Y/N)’s eyes went wide, however she forced a scoff to hide the shock and cover up anything that her brothers could pick up on. She released herself from Sam’s hold, taking a couple of simple steps backwards, so that she could have a clear view of the expressions that both of them wore. “Are you seriously asking me that at a time like this?” Her sentence was finished with a sigh and a roll of her eyes.

But her brothers knew their sister well enough, and that she indeed did not want to admit something to them. (Y/N) was much easier to read than (Y/A/N) was, they had known this growing woman since the day that she was born, the same day in which John rescued the shrieking baby from a mother that was fed and eaten by wolves. She would have been next, however the hunter saved her, as was in his job description, but he couldn’t bare to let her stream through the system.

He felt an attachment to her, and looking at her was practically the same as the notion of peering at one of his boys. She was to be a Winchester, he hadn’t decided it, but God himself did. The universe worked in mysterious ways, it was as though it was all written out for the family, but this instant, none of them minded. It gave the boys another reason to fight, another person to love, and eventually another family member to lose.

But it had been evaded this time, Gabriel had although not helped them with reaching their mother and the son of Kelly Kline, however, he had somewhat saved (Y/N) himself. Without his trickster interference, they’d have never known of her doomed fate, or have been able to fix it.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Dean was smug with being right, as he always was. Overall though, he was more pleased to know that they had stopped the crumbling of the bottom of the family tree, they had protected their sister, literally to the ends of the world.

“Pick up a damn book and help me, I’m not doing all of this research by myself.” Another sign that he was indeed correct, changing the subject, how original. But neither of the brothers, more so Dean than Sam, even wanted to try and switch the mindset that (Y/N) had about the boy. They were allowed to have feelings, romantic and so on, and their sister appeared happy with the tether that was from her heart to Jack’s.

The vampires were almost mutated. This apocalypse world had really taken a toll on all life. Michael of this plain had destroyed everything that was known to be true, even living itself. The habitat of these morsal creatures was dark, and disgusting. Humans had already tried to pass through the deadly lair to reach the other side, to get to the rebellion camp, however, no one had survived to the opposite end of things.

(Y/N) felt hopeless, even as she walked through the home of the starving monsters. She had never been a fan of vampires, no hunter was, but this was cruel to every extent. They didn’t even appear as human anymore, their fates had been cursed by this ruined land. Without the world that was in her own, they would be worse off, everything in this dimension was.

Everyone of their company was on edge, Dean ensured that he kept a sturdy eye forward, looking for any light. He knew (Y/N) would have to be okay, it was paved for her to be so in the other universe, she’d be fine. Of course, he still worried, that was what he did in retrospect, all day, every day, he worried that it was to be someone’s last.

And he was right, as the monsters crept from the dark, tasting the scent of rushing blood in the air. They had lured them from their slumber, and they began to attack, dragging one of the travellers towards their death, where they would be fed on until he was completely drained. (Y/N) swung her machete, beheading one of the animals without a second glance, but perhaps she should have spared another look on the side, as she was a target.

She was the prey to what she was raised to hunt, it wrapped its clawed hand around her leg like a coil, dragging her to the ground, and feasting its teeth into her supple flesh. This was it, there was no route away from her fate, and her body was already weak from blood loss, and so she gave up, and refused to fight. Her body was dragged into the abyss of the nest, and its members followed after her.

Sam noticed their apparent glee, they had yet again prized food from them. He looked around to see whom it may be, and he was aghast with the sight. (Y/N) had her eyes shut as her limp form was being taken by vampires, and he froze, traumatised by the sight. And his surprised and hurt stature gave another of the beasts the perfect opportunity to rip into the rubber of his neck, and relish in the unstoppable river of blood that poured out from the fatal wound.

“No!” Dean cried out, noticing that his sister too had disappeared. Before he could follow after the menaces and get vengeance, and possibly save his family from being the meal of savages, Castiel grasped his arm, pain rendering in the blueness of his vessel’s eyes.

“They’re gone Dean.” His words rang through the hunter’s head. This was his worst nightmare. Gabriel’s warning had not helped at all, because (Y/N) was dead, and so was Sam. He forced himself to trudge on, pained like no other time before. Sam had died before, but he had always found a way to retrieve him back into life, and even through his tragic absence, he always had (Y/N). Now, the only other Winchester was his mother, who also needed to be saved from this damned world.

“Think about it Sammy, Jack is going to be so pleased to see you alive, but your little sis, well, I’m sure that is going to be one hell of a reunion between them.” Lucifer smirked, he was in Nick’s body again, using it as a vessel. “And he’ll think of me as a saviour, a knight that saved his princess from a terrible fate.”

The fallen archangel always had ulterior motives, and Sam realised that he had no choice in whether he’d rather remain dead, or be used as a bargaining chip by the devil himself. His interest in Jack was not exactly pure, it was clear to the man that he sought the backup, the power of his biological son. His intent was to creep into the boy’s mind, and decipher for the kid the difference between wrong and right.

“That’s what you want, to lie to him about who you are?” He couldn’t exactly say he was surprised, even more so that the audience of vampires were seething to break free from Lucifer’s force. He wasn’t even supposed to be here, he should have been in the bunker, his grace feeding away at Rowena’s spell, and keeping the gate open for their return.

“I’ll just bend the truth to fit the story, and I care about my son. As you care about your dear sister, and it would be a shame if she were not to wake, and then the news will have to be delivered to my boy, and I’m sure that would just break his half and half heart.” The celestial being, the epidemy of evil tutted at the thought, only to send Sam a mischievous smirk afterwards. “You don’t want him to be like me, but without her, he’ll be in so much pain that he won’t think about his actions. If he has (Y/N/N), then that choice will be entirely up to him, and what he believes in, yada yada yada.”

The sight of his sister covered in her own blood, motionless on the ground, bite marks on her shoulders and elsewhere drew out a desperation in Sam. He couldn’t not allow the villain to bring her back to life, and it seemed that no matter what he disputed, that Lucifer would do it anyway, to get himself in Jack’s good books. And so he hung his head low, awaiting the personal enemy of his to resurrect the most important woman in his life.

On first instinct, (Y/N) gasped in air. There was a lack of it rolling around the vitals of her lungs, but her breath was taken away once more, when she saw the looming of a horrifying figure, a first son of god. He was supposed to be, even if forced to do so by the traditions of magic, be at the bunker, revelling them with a way back. Rowena had been left there also, to keep the spell brewing, and a fearful eye on the hellish shadow.

Assumingly, he had escaped his sentence, and for some reason, brought her to life. It was no mistake as to what the vampires had done to her, she could smell the spilling of her own blood over her thrifted and worn clothes, and it was gruesome. Although it was not the hunter’s first time in being a sponge to her injuries, but nevertheless, she fought to stand beside Sam, who steadied her shaken feet, and balanced out the rest of her body by looping his supportive arm around her waist.

“Come on.” Lucifer rolled the human eyes that he wore like spectacles into the lives of the Winchesters, unimpressed by the slowness of the world’s large cockroaches. ��We have places to be and sons to meet.” At his verbalised of clarity for his ungodly presence, (Y/N)’s body became rigid. His intent was to get to Jack, she couldn’t allow him to provoke a fire inside the boy.

He was sweet and innocent, even harmless, despite the accident that had happened when he accompanied her and her brothers on a hunt. If Lucifer reached him, he would only try and navigate the darkness inside of him to be what it was, rather than try and make him change it into something brighter, something that was good, like Kelly would have wanted.

“No.” (Y/N) refused, earning a frown from Sam and a elongated groan from Lucifer. She had died, it didn’t matter if she were to return to that fate, not if she stood by what she truly believed in. Nothing much would change, other than the vampires getting another meal from the same body, Dean already thought that she was extinguished from life, and the news would be passed on before any of them were to reach him.

“Oh, for crying out loud!” The devil shook his wolfish head, Winchesters were always so stubborn. “I’d allow it if Sam were to stand against the gift of life, I’ve seen what is inside of his head after all, but you! You’re the priority here, you are Jack’s weakness.” This gesture of good faith seemed to be more than it was worth, but if she didn’t comply willingly, then he would force her to follow him along, and live.

“Where’d you hear that from? He doesn’t have a weakness, he just has a good heart. I’m just another person that he lives with, a soldier that is going to fight anyone that dares to try and hurt him. And I won’t mind if I have to give my life to try and kill you.” She spat at the disgrace of heaven, hardly moved by his goal. As a Winchester, the stubbornness ran through her veins, even if the bloodline itself did not.

“I hear things, and I did in that bunker. Like how Dean was speaking about you and Jackie boy, and how it all made sense. The shared looks, the flushed faces, all that gross stuff. He didn’t seem too happy with the circumstances, but he was content with the fact that you were alive, like you are again, because of me.”

Lucifer was the last person that (Y/N) would thank for her existence, but she realised that there was no way out of his trap, she was the bait for Jack, that would reel the boy into the wings of his dreaded father.

He could sometimes be so naive, that she feared that Jack would fall for the extension of kindness, one that hardly suited Lucifer. But that was up to him, and in this apocalyptic version of her world, anything could happen.

“She’s dead.” Dean’s voice was gravelly, it had been dragged through hope, and now the realisation that his baby brother and sister were lost to life. The eyes belonging to Jack widened, and tears began to form.

He could quite comprehend how he felt. There was a tearing in his chest, he felt as though he was being split apart, his breathing rapidly increased, and his eyes flared like the bursts of the sun.

Until whispers hit his ears, and he looked up, only to see the girl alive and well. He was not the only one relieved in the circumstances, Dean and Mary were too, but they feared the fact that Lucifer had joined them, and was being trailed by the bloodied siblings; the ones that he had saved for his selfish purposes.

155 notes · View notes

allsassnoclass · 2 years

Note

hey hey hey hello!!!! i just finished teen wolf season 1 and ooohohooooohohohohho boy !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! anyway that's not even why i'm here. QUESTIONS: 12, 13, 22, 49, 50. love you xoxo bella

@clumsyclifford hi bella!!! i'm glad you're enjoying teen wolf so enthusiastically!!!!

12. How do you deal with self-doubts? I get upset and frustrated and then grit my teeth and push through. I don't really get writing self-doubts unless it's about my writing speed. like i have a very healthy self-esteem when it comes to my writing and any doubts that i do have instead make me mad and I keep working out of spite

13. How do you deal with writers block? historically? not well lol. i'm kind of in a writer's block era right now (kind of not. it's super weird. i don't know what the issue is and i'm really upset about it) but if a specific fic is giving me issues I switch projects (i have so many). if it's more general and the writer's block has been going on for a few days, I sit down and try to write 100 words of anything, then keep repeating that as many days as I need to.

22. How many drafts do you need until you’re satisfied and a project is ultimately done for you? it depends! I don't make separate drafts for things, I just edit the same document. for askbox prompts I give it one quick reread then post. for ao3 fics i'll edit anywhere between one or four times, usually. I don't have the patience to do more and I'm not willing to make huge plot changes most of the time so it's just little sentence structure and writing style things usually.

49. What do you find the hardest to write in a story, the beginning, the middle or the end? i would say middle is typically easiest! the ending sentence is a source of grief for me a lot and if I don't know how to start the story i simply don't start it until I know. if pressed I would say ending is probably hardest

50. Weirdest story idea you’ve ever had. oh lol let me check my doc. i feel like my weirdest story idea is probably not one that i wrote down and therefore have forgotten, but let's see. i feel like my ideas aren't that weird so much as the pairing it's for is weird? like. i have a soulmate au for roylum that takes place on the bali trip, and i'm sure there are people who think roylum in general is weird. i have a lazy morning fic for a really random ot3 that no one else is writing. it's not like i'm out here making them bees (said very affectionately) i just don't have that kind of creativity. all of my ideas that are written on the doc aren't very weird

#ask #bella #i feel like i need weirder fic ideas now lol #but! on the other hand! i probably wouldn't have the passion to actually write/finish them #bella the speed with which you move through tv shows worries me #you're definitely going to finish teen wolf before me i haven't watched since the nightmare internship and the freaky episode #anyway thank you for stopping by <3 love you

2 notes · View notes

brandywine-tomatoes · 3 years

Text

Dreadful Black

The Bad Batch angst

Prompt from the Discord! (@icedcoffee101, @twitchstoleyourbagel, @dragon-pups, @in-the-crosshairs, @angstkings)

Masterlist

TW: being shot, blood, falling, breaking of bones (I swear it's not as bad as it sounds)

Word count: 1,565

Prompt/Inspo: Challenge is you have 30 minutes to kill one batcher [it took me hours to outline it and actually wrote it the next day, sorry y'all ): ]

“You said the engines would hold until we got there!” Hunter yelled from his seat behind Echo. The ship lurched side to side, barely keeping it together. If the ship broke up in hyperspace... they didn’t want to think about it.

“I didn’t calculate one of them blowing up!” Tech yelled back, scrambling over the controls.

“One of them always blows up!”

“Would you like to try getting us to a safe planet while coming out of hyperspace?”

“Just get us out of here, Tech!” Echo shouted over the bickering. He had his own jobs of trying to keep the wings stabilized while keeping the ship balanced. All in all, not easy to do on your own.

Tech pushed up the hyperspace lever and the ship lurched forward, almost throwing everyone out of their seats. The tunnel disappeared and they were plunging to an orange and grey planet surface.

“We’re going too fast, Tech!” Echo shouted over the breaking ship.

“Then slow us down, Echo!”

“Then help me!”

Tech’s hands immediately flew to the yoke and gently pulled it back in time with Echo as they flew through the atmosphere, a trail of black smoke in the ship's wake.

“A fucking ocean! We’re gonna land in a fucking ocean!” Echo panicked.

“Calm down, there’s land over there!” Tech pointed left towards the land in the corner of Echo’s eyesight.

“I knew that!”

They swerved violently towards the orange land. It went on for miles, nothing but a rocky orange landscape. No vegetation, no life they could see. They narrowly crashed into the cliff where the land met the black ocean, but thankfully Tech pulled down the wings and lifted the ship just enough to get them over the side of the cliff.

The crew fell forward in their seats on impact, the ship dragged across the sand, every large rock making even more of a hack job of the hull. Hunter covered his ears at the sound of sand against metal and the rest braced themselves.

Everything went quiet. The ship was on solid ground, and they were surprisingly alive.

Tech took out his datapad. “Ephilia 78. Uninhabited. The troposphere is atrocious and there’s about 8 times more carbon dioxide than Kamino,” he looked up to everyone. “I’m surprised we haven’t died already. We need respirators.”

Hunter grabbed the respirators from storage and handed them out. Omega’s face was almost consumed by hers, making Echo have to stifle a laugh.

“Apparently there’s a pretty vicious rainy season-”

“Not like we haven’t dealt with a bit of rain,” Wrecker smiled.

“The ocean out there literally moves from basin to basin; this isn’t Kamino.”

Wrecker stayed silent, a look of concern on his face.

“Don’t worry, we’re 17-24 rotations away from it starting, we’ll be relatively safe.”

“Is it imperial occupied?” Hunter cut in.

“I don’t think the Empire even knows it exists, the information I found is written in Huttese.”

“Great, we’ll lay low here for a few rotations and get back to Pantora,” Hunter instructed, everyone nodding in agreement.

“Why is it so cold here? Aren’t deserts supposed to be hot?” Omega piped up, pulling the parka closer.

“The ocean lowers the temperature about 13 degrees,” Tech answered, his head and shoulders completely immersed in the engine. “The carbon traps what little heat there is. We’re lucky we didn’t crash someplace worse.”

“Oh, so the ocean is as cold as Kamino?” She pressed on.

“Somewhat. Though since the orbit of this planet isn’t similar...”

Tech and Omega went on and on about the conditions of the planet for some time, almost boring Echo to death.

Thankfully, Tech and Hunter delegated jobs after Tech assessed the engine. Hunter, Wrecker, and Omega went on a perimeter check and Echo was sent to do an internal diagnostic to see what was damaged in their recon mission for Rex.

He couldn’t help but think he’d been to Ephilia 78, the black waves of the vast ocean and the orange sandstone cliffs a stark contrast gave him major déjà vu. He searched his blurry memories of before Skako as he gathered an internal diagnostic from the Havoc.

He didn’t think he was stationed on any planets this far out from the core worlds. Maybe his brothers showed him photos? Maybe a General sent a holo from the planet? Maybe he really was stationed on the planet, but then again, the information about it was in Huttese. The Republic wouldn’t want to risk a terf quarrel in the middle of a galactic war. Maybe... oh. He’d seen the planet before. He’d fed the Separatists information on it for possible base locations. His shoulders sagged and the concentrated face was replaced with a grim look. His spirits dampened significantly.

He looked through the hyperdrive systems. They wouldn’t need urgent attention. The life support systems. They’d need those professionally fixed, but Tech could patch it up enough to get to Pantora. The cloaking device-

The cloaking device. It was fried, shot to hell. Their ship was completely exposed for tracking. Shit.

He ran to the doorway and slide down the ramp.

“Tech, we have a prob-”

A bright red bolt came from above, hitting the respirator at the perfect angle to knock it off his face. Only one person could make that shot.

“Echo, what-” Tech froze at the sight of an Imperial dropship landing close to them, the cargo doors open and a familiar sniper stepped out.

Echo gasped for breath, his throat freezing and cracking like an ice burg from the toxins he was desperately trying to inhale in exchange for oxygen. He clawed at his throat like ripping it out would solve the problem, black slithered through veins in his face, the whites of his eyes swimming with blood.

Crosshair advanced faster and Echo stumbled to the side, trying to stay standing while heaving in gulps of carbon and whatever lethal toxins were waiting for victims to breathe in.

“You know,” Cross’s cold and raspy voice was much closer. “There’s just enough oxygen in the air to keep you alive for 5 minutes, but the trick is not poisoning yourself while trying to breathe.”

Echo kept backing away, tripping over every pebble he could when he felt the first of a thick liquid hitting his cheeks. His shaking hands whipped it away to see pure obsidian sap smeared on the back of them.

“The maitotoxin is quite graceful. Your blood thickens and discolours, releasing from the tear ducks in the first 2 minutes. Your organs start failing in the next 7,” Crosshair shouldered his rifle as he spoke.

Echo tried whipping away the blood more rapidly as it flowed like sap from a tree. It was as if the fates wanted to watch him dance in his own blood bath.

As Cross neared closer and closer, Echo glimpsed the sea and the dangerous cliff edge he was backing into in the menacing green visor. He started hacking the obsidian sap up from his lungs, the blood blocking his airway made him panic even more.

He felt, for a few seconds, a free fall. His foot backed off the edge, the rocks under his boots fell to the black waves. Cross caught his arm before he fell to Echo’s surprise, but Cross’s grip on his forearm was his only salvation.

“Do you remember?” Cross asked coldly, any semblance of a person gone.

“What- what?” Echo painfully asked.

“When you were on Skako Minor.” Cross’s grip on Echo’s armour loosened.

Echo didn’t have any kind of leverage on the ground, he had to be pulled back by some ounce of Cross’s mercy.

“Some-” he tasted the blood running from his eyes into the corners of his mouth, frightening him and almost plummeting into the black, quite literally. He could feel the cold seeping in from the light spray of the ocean on his back. He’d known the cold like it was an old friend, and he would know it even more closely.

“Some of it.”

The green visor tilted to the hand holding Echo’s life.

“You’re a liability to the empire,” he smoothly said, like he spoke those words too many times, like he was programmed to. Like Echo was programmed to give up the Republic.

After a second of hesitation, CT-9904 released Echo’s arm.

His face was a light blue from lack of oxygen, his cheeks were smeared with pure obsidian blood, creating a mess of black tear tracks.

He fell, he dropped, he didn’t make a sound. He was unconscious before he hit the water, a peaceful death if you will. It shattered his spine and limbs immediately, the frigid water swirling over him, sucking Echo to the depths of the sea to be eaten by small fishes and a rather large squid-like fish.

The others had found a hiding spot behind an orange sandstone ridge and watched as the life was sucked out of Echo, then let go by their brother. Omega’s head was pushed below the ridge so she couldn’t watch, the others so desperately tried to hold back sobs, trying to keep quiet.

Cross searched the Batch’s ship quickly and speedily left back on the one he came in. Only when the Imperial shadow of a dropship darted through the thick, grey clouds did the Batch let their sobs go for Echo.

A/N: OMFG, that took forever!!! My outline for this is 613 words, I knew exactly how I wanted this to turn out, and I very much like it! I think Imperial Darkness will always be my favourite, or the one I'm writing with Ahsoka, Rex, and Maul, but this one turned out pretty cool!

ANYWAYS, I hope y'all liked it! I hated the process, but I love the final product! Go drink some water right now and go get a snack, you deserve it so much bestie 💓💓

15 notes · View notes