#if it’s just general thoughts: I’m obsessed with them and about to do my yearly reread of my fav fic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

elvish-sky · 3 years

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Beloved: My Everything

A.N: I’m back with part 2 of Beloved!! I’ll be coming back for real tomorrow, but I was so excited that I could not wait to post this! You can probably tell I had way too much fun with this, and I really did. And I got to write Arien again! I hope you guys love it as much as I do!!

Word Count: 3,712

Summary: Erebor is preparing for the seven-year anniversary celebration of the BotFA. As the Queen, you are fully involved, but you and Thorin also have to manage the excitement of your adopted seven-year-old, Arien.

Pairings: Thorin x Reader, Bard x Thranduil, Fíli x Sigrid

Warnings: Fluff. Kissing.

Beloved Part 1 Director’s Commentary

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Beloved: My Everything

“Adad! Mama! Look!”

Arien was sprinting down the hallway towards the council room, newly lost tooth in hand as she called out for her father. Bursting through the double doors, the seven-year-old ran the length of the room before jumping into Thorin’s lap, proudly grinning to show him the new gap in her teeth.

Sitting next to your husband, you stifled a giggle as Thorin examined the tooth, looking like he was examining a precious piece of metal because of how focused he was. Meanwhile, the rest of the council was in various states of annoyance or fond disapproval of the meeting, Balin shaking his head with a smile at the picture the royal family was painting.

It was true you were an odd group. After adopting Arien on the quest for Erebor and reclaiming the mountain, your future had seemed uncertain while Thorin’s life hung in the balance. But he had recovered, and the two of you had been married in a stunning ceremony, with a toddler Arien placing the queen’s crown on your head. The dwarves had been worried at first about having a human queen and princess, but your calming effect on Thorin and Arien’s general cuteness had quickly won them over. Of course, the fact that your first council meeting ever had started with you walking in and throwing knives in rapid succession so that they speared the table between each of the council members (except Balin’s) hands may have given them a healthy fear of you as well.

Now, six years later, the kingdom was thriving. Trade with Dale was stronger than ever, and the uneasy alliance with the elves had grown into something more tolerant. In fact, Kings Thranduil and Bard would be visiting in five days for the anniversary of the Battle of the Five Armies, as it had come to be known.

The year after the battle was a hard one. Thorin and his nephews were grievously injured, and while they healed it had been up to you and Balin to run the kingdom. On the first anniversary of the Battle, the mood in Erebor was noticeably somber. Although the king and princes had healed, it didn’t seem as if the kingdom would ever fully recover. You had noticed this, and remembering that an elven envoy, with the king, was in Dale, had mustered up a feast and invited the men and elves to what would become a yearly tradition.

Now, you were in the throes of planning the event with the council.

“That tooth is lovely, darling. Now go play so that Mama and I can finish work, ok?” Thorin pressed the tooth back into Arien’s hand. “And take good care of this!”

Arien left the room with a beaming smile, waving at all of the councilors.

Days later, Arien burst into the room you shared with Thorin.

“Mama! Adad! Wake up! The elves are coming today!”

Thorin groaned. “Arien. How many times do I have to tell you that you should not be this excited about elves? You should be happier to see orcs than you should be to see elves.”

She grinned, ignoring him and throwing open the curtains, the sunlight streaming through the windows setting her dark skin aglow.

“Arien, no.” You gestured for her to close them, shielding your face from the early morning sun.

“But Mama they’re coming today! Imma see Sigrid and Bain and Tilda, and Uncle Bard and Uncle Thranduil and Leggy!” She pranced about the room, gesturing as she talked about everyone.

You smirked at Thorin, who had one arm thrown over his face, hair splayed on the pillow. His bare chest was glowing in the sunlight, but you were focused on the expression of annoyance you could barely see under his arm. Thorin was extremely disapproving of the fact that your daughter called Thranduil ‘Uncle,’ and adored Legolas so much. Personally, you thought it was great, helping to bridge the divide between the kingdoms. You also were friends with the Elven-King, him having sheltered you during the whole Arkenstone fiasco, and Legolas was one of your good friends as well.

“I suppose we should get up.” You shooed Arien out of the room, into her adjoining set in the royal wing, before turning back to your husband. You leaned down to kiss him.

“C’mon, Thorin. We really should get up.” You pressed a trail of kisses down his jaw, hoping to coax him up.

He groaned, sitting up. “Fine. I suppose I should look my best to upstage the elves.”

You sighed. “If that’s what gets you up then so be it.”

Thorin smirked at you, standing up and grabbing a leather tie from his wardrobe, and binding his hair back so that it cascaded down his back. You walked over to him, hugging him from behind.

“You know that Arien and I will always love you more than the elves, right?”

He nodded, turning to kiss you. “I love you too.”

Later that day, you strode down the hall, Dori by your side.

“We have everything set up in the hall?”

He nodded.

“All the food is ready?”

He nodded again.

“And the drinks? We have the Mirkwood wines that they shipped ahead?”

“Yes, Y/N. Everything is going to be fine, we’ve been planning for months. Now, the elves are about to arrive. You need to meet your husband and daughter at the gates.”

“Ok, then. See you later?”

“Go, Y/N!” Dori shooed you in the direction of the gates, and, laughing, you turned and walked away.

You stood at the entrance to Erebor, holding hands with a bouncing Arien, Thorin on her other side. You shared a smile with him, leaning over your daughter to kiss him quickly before turning to face the approaching elves. Thranduil dismounted from his elk, Legolas doing the same from his horse, and they walked towards you.

“Your majesties, your highness,” the Elven-King greeted you all with a nod of his head.

You and Thorin returned the greeting in kind, clasping the elves’ forearms. Arien stood there, now quivering with excitement, and when you nodded to her that it was okay to say hello she burst forward with a cry of, “Uncle Thranduil!!” throwing herself into his arms.

“Hello, little one,” Thranduil greeted her with a smile, hugging her back only slightly awkwardly.

You had to admit that your daughter had a good effect on the elf, he was much less prickly than he used to be. You fondly recalled the time when, visiting Mirkwood with Arien and Thorin, you had been unable to find your daughter for several hours. It was only upon going outside that you discovered the Princess of Erebor and the King of Mirkwood making flower-crowns together. Thorin’s jaw had dropped, while you had just smiled, watching Arien’s springy coils of hair bounce, her dark skin glowing as she ran around the elf, weaving flowers into his hair.

Now, Thranduil was lifting Arien to pet his elk, smiling as the child giggled. He set her down after a moment, looking behind you at the three new dwarves who had just appeared.

“Your highnesses.” He dipped his head again in greeting, this time to Fíli, Kíli, and Dis. They greeted him in kind before Kíli strode forward to Legolas. The elf bent his head to listen to the dwarf, before nodding and following the dwarf into the mountain, gesturing about what looked like bows and other archery-related things.

“And, that’s the last we’ll see of Legolas and Kíli until someone finds them to bring them to the party!” Thorin smiled as he spoke, and with that, the last of the remaining tension was broken. Thorin grabbed Arien’s hand, leading the delighted child back into the mountain. Thranduil offered you his arm and you gladly accepted, chatting with an old friend as the rest of the elven delegation followed you into Erebor.

“When will Bard be arriving?”

Your eyebrows rose at the informal use of the king’s name, but you answered nonetheless.

“We expect him just before dusk.”

Thranduil smiled softly at this, piquing your curiosity even more, but you let it slide and continued the conversation to other topics.

Back in your rooms, having repeated the whole greeting process with Bard, you helped your husband and daughter get ready for the party. Thorin had donned his finest Durin blue robes, the silver embroidery twining around the cuffs and the hem and highlighting the silver strands of his hair. Arien was resplendent in bright gold, her circlet glowing against her dark skin. Her new dress had blue embroidery around the hem, with reflective panels sewn in to refract golden light all over the room.

And you were radiant in a silver dress, full skirts swirling around your feet and Durin blues ribbons twined through your hair. Your crown sat on your brow lightly, you having opted for the delicate one to save yourself a headache. The three of you put together looked like the very picture of royalty, the elements of Durin blue in each outfit tying it all together as a familial piece.

Later that night, you sat at the high table, gazing around the great room. Arien had been hauled off by Bain and Tilda, and you could see the two older ones playing with her, all three looking delighted.

Sigrid and Fíli were at the center of the dance floor, her laughing at something he said as he twirled her around. You looked forward to cashing in the bet you had made with Thorin about them being a couple- you were rarely right and had lost spectacularly in the bet you had made about Kíli and Legolas (you had been so certain they were dating, but it was just their shared love of archery. And, as Thorin has pointed out, two people that obsessed with their hair would not have worked well in a relationship). Besides, your nephew looked very happy with the human girl.

Kíli and Legolas had deigned to join the party after their customary archery competition, and each was mingling with different crowds. Legolas looked to be regaling a group of humans with his exploits, while Kíli had joined his cousin, Bain, and Tilda in making mischief.

Meanwhile, Thranduil and Bard were conversing in a corner, leaned close together over their glasses of wine, which made you even more suspicious. You resolved to find out what was going on with the two of them while they were staying with you for the next several days.

Thorin tapped you on the shoulder, startling you from your observations. You looked up to see him standing next to your chair, hand outstretched.

“Shall we dance, amralîme?”

“Yes, please. Let’s show them how it’s done.”

You grabbed his hand, walking over to the dance for and twirling on. You heard clapping as the King and Queen of Erebor were spotted on the dance floor, and smiled. There were few things you loved more than dancing with your husband, and so as the band began to play you started.

The dancing was lovely, you switched partners after the first to dance with Fíli, then with a suddenly appearing Kíli, then Legolas. Thranduil swooped in to take your hand after his son, and Bard danced with you after the elf. Your night was rounded out by Bain asking for a dance, which you happily obliged (you didn’t want to be disloyal to any of the others, but aside from the elves, who were inherently graceful, Bain was the best dancer of the lot).

As you walked off the dance floor for what you hoped was the last time (your feet were starting to hurt), you noticed that the room was quickly emptying. It made sense, it was extremely late. You had left the celebration halfway through to put Arien to sleep, leaving an equally sleepy Kíli to watch over her. Sigrid had left with Bain and Tilda a little while ago, while Fíli sat on the dais with his uncle, softly speaking with him. Bard and Thranduil had disappeared at some point as well, although you could not say when, or if they had left together.

Now, you walked up the dais to grab your husband. Saying a quick farewell to Fíli, you entwined your fingers with Thorin’s, making your way out of the hall.

“I think we’ll be having another wedding soon,” your husband said.

You grinned. “I did tell you so. Now pay up.”

He dipped his head in acknowledgment. “So you did. And I can’t fulfill the bet until it snows, you know that.”

You did. You had set the conditions of the bet to be that if Thorin won, you’d have to dress like him for two weeks. You wouldn’t have minded, except for the large clunky boots he always wore. You would have looked ridiculous If you won, Thorin had to have a snowball fight with whoever the highest-ranking visiting diplomat was.

Reaching your room, you leaned against the door.

“I had a lovely night.” You leaned in to kiss your husband.

“I did too.” He kissed you back, before pushing open the door.

You gasped as you entered your room, looking through the windows. It was snowing.

“I guess you’ll have to fulfill your end of the best tonight!” You smirked. “And you know, we have two equally high-ranking people in Erebor right now!”

Thorin buried his face in his hands. “You’re telling me I have to start a snowball fight with Thranduil and Bard.”

You grinned, quickly changing into a warm tunic and boots, throwing a cloak over it all as Thorin did the same.

As you headed out the door, you heard Thorin mutter, “actually, throwing a snowball at that pompous elf might not be the worst thing after all,” under his breath, causing you to giggle.

You first went next door to Arien’s room, waking Kíli while careful not to rouse Arien. The prince was groggy at first, but brightened when you said the words “snowball fight.��

“Should we wake Arien?” Kíli was putting on his own cloak as he spoke.

You looked at Thorin, considering.

“She’ll be very upset if she finds out we played in the snow without her,” Thorin observed.

You walked over to her bed, shaking her gently awake.

“Mama? Is it morning?” Arien blinked her eyes open, groggy.

“No, my darling. It’s snowing! Adad needs to have a snowball fight, so we’re going outside!”

She sprang out of bed. “Snow! I love snow!”

You helped her put on her small tunic and pants, fastening her cloak tight before she tugged her boots on. Reaching out, she grabbed Thorin and Kíli’s hands.

“C’mon Adad, c’mon Kee! We’re gonna have a snowball fight!”

You followed them to Fíli’s door, then Dis’, both of whom were enthusiastic about the plan. You sent Fíli, Arien, and Kíli to rouse Bard’s children and Legolas, the adults making your way to Bard’s room.

Turning the corner, you, Thorin, and Dis stopped short.

Bard and Thranduil were entwined, kissing, in the middle of the hallway, Bard’s fingers running through the elf’s hair. Hearing your gasp, they broke apart, flushed. You all just stood there, dumbstruck for a moment, before you were spurred into action.

Walking forward, you slung an arm around each of their shoulders. “Yes, yes, congratulations and all that. Now, it’s snowing, so we’re going outside. But we’re all very happy for the two of you.”

Thorin and Dis nodded along with your words, and the five of you walked down the hall towards the gates to meet the rest of the royals.

At the main entrance, you walked over to the small door beside the massive gates, unlocking it and gesturing for everyone to follow you outside.

As soon as they were out in the snow, Fíli and Sigrid sprinted away from the mountain, and you could see them beginning to build a fort. Kíli grabbed Bain and Arien to assist him in building another, and Legolas and Tilda were starting to stockpile snowballs together. You could sense that this was the beginning of a snow-war.

Turning around, you saw your husband, the King Under the Mountain, climbing the outside walls of Erebor with a pile of snow cradled in his cloak. Finding a secure perch, he gathered the snow into balls and started raining them down on Thranduil, who shrieked at the cold, startling Bard who stood next to him into quickly moving away.

Thranduil, running over to his son’s stockpile of snowballs, was bombarded from all sides as he tried to steal from Legolas and Tilda. Succeeding, the elf started throwing them back at Thorin, nailing him directly in his face. Thorin dropped to the ground, Bard hitting him with another snow projectile shortly after. You laughed with Dis as you watched three of the most powerful people in Middle-Earth have a snowball fight.

Suddenly, white splattered all over Dis, who turned to see her younger son standing sheepishly behind her.

“Sorry, Amad. I was aiming for Uncle!” Kíli had his hands raised in defense.

“No, you were not! You’re an archer, Kíli, I know you hit what you aim at! And your Uncle is all the way over there!” Dis advanced on Kíli, a snowball in each hand, and her son promptly turned and ran, shrieking as she chased after him.

You were standing there, quite content to watch it all unfold as Fíli and Sigrid led an attack on Legolas and Tilda, Arien and Bain sneaking up to attack them from the rear. Your peace was disturbed, however, by something ice-cold being shoved down your back. You spun around, screaming, to see a smirking Thorin standing behind you. You tackled him into the snow, wrestling until you had him pinned beneath you. He was flushed, both from the cold and exertion, panting, and so irresistible that you leaned down to kiss him.

Thorin quickly deepened the kiss, and you responded, until a shout of, “Cool off, lovebirds!” rang out. Springing up in case someone was about to dump snow on you, you saw Tilda and Legolas dumping snow on the heads of Fíli and Sigrid, who quickly broke apart from their kiss with yells of “So cold!” and “Ouch!” Tilda, Bain, and Legolas, with Arien perched on his shoulders. stood there with large grins on their faces as you and Thorin made your way to join them.

“Where are your fathers?” you asked Legolas and Tilda.

They shrugged, and you turned to your husband.

Thorin smirked. “Shall we go find them?”

You nodded, along with Fíli, Sigrid, Legolas, Arien still on his shoulders, Bain, and Tilda, and all scooped up several snowballs each. Kíli and Dis appeared, Kíli looking suitably chastened, and each grabbed an armful of snow as well.

“What are we doing?” Kíli whispered.

“We’re gonna ambush Bard and Thranduil,” Thorin informed him, “Have you seen them?”

Dis nodded, “They’re just around the corner of the walls. But… maybe their children shouldn’t be around for this?”

Sigrid laughed. “It’s fine. They’ve been dating for months now, and neither of them is exactly subtle. Our father has made so many trips to Mirkwood recently that we got suspicious and enlisted Legolas for help.”

The elf nodded. “Tilda snuck to Mirkwood in one of the carts her father brought and told me everything. We officially found out when we walked in on them kissing in the throne room.”

Tilda rolled her eyes. “They really do need to work on stealth. But the important thing here is that they don’t know we know.”

“So wait. You’ve known for months and didn’t tell us?!” Thorin was offended.

Bain shrugged. “It wasn’t our news to tell.”

“And that’s exactly the right attitude,” you smiled at him. “Now, let us go ambush some kings!”

Sticking close to the side of the mountain, you all snuck in a line. Thorin and Legolas had climbed up to dump snow on the two kings from above, while the rest of you attacked from the ground. Before climbing, Legolas had transferred Arien to Fíli’s shoulders, where she was happily preparing ammo.

You held out a hand for everyone behind you to stop, peering around the corner at Thranduil and Bard kissing as the snow fell around them. It looked quite romantic, to be honest, but a good snowball surprise was worth disrupting the moment.

You motioned to Thorin and Legolas, perched above, to begin.

“To quote Tilda, cool off, lovebirds!”

Thorin dumped a pile of snow on their heads, and the rest of you sprung around the corner to bombard them with snowballs. They quickly retaliated, and it dissolved into chaos once again, everyone having the time of their lives.

Dis, Bain, and Tilda had taken Arien in a while ago, Dis staying with her niece, but the rest of you had enjoyed the snow for a while longer. You had all officially congratulated Bard and Thranduil on their relationship, and after the initial shock of finding out that their children had known for months, they were very pleased.

Now, you were walking back to your rooms with your husband in the early hours of the morning. You still felt the blood in your cheeks, exhilarated from the adrenaline and happiness, and Thorin was still flushed from the cold beside you. You pushed open the doors to your bedroom, Thorin shutting them behind you. You walked to your wardrobe, changing out of the soaked tunic and pants into your nightclothes, Thorin doing the same.

Once changed, you climbed into bed next to your husband, laying your head on his chest. You could hear his heart beating as his hand came up to your face, tilting up to his. Thorin slanted his lips over yours, and you responded for a sweet, long kiss, filled with love and all the emotions you could not put into words.

You decided to try anyway. “I love you so much, amralîme. You’re everything I could ever want. You and Arien.”

Thorin smiled. “I love you too, my everything.”

You heard the words rumble in his chest, and smiled softly. You had your beloved husband and daughter. Seven years later, everything was perfect.

Everything tag 💕: @entishramblings @itgetsatadhazy @boyruins @anjhope1 @wellofeternalthirst @kumqu4t @katbby16 @thewhiteladyofrohan @kirstenscaffeinateddisaster @beenovel

Thorin tag: @lathalea

Beloved pt 2 tag: @beakami

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marshmallow-phd · 3 years

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Scarlet Moon

Genre: Scarlet Heart Ryeo!AU, Time Travel!AU, Alternate History, Royalty!AU

Pairing: OC x EXO OT9

Summary: This isn’t Gwen’s time. She was from the modern era, with technology and electricity. But during a solar eclipse, she’s transported back into a previous life in a time and place she does not know. Now, as the foreign daughter of a merchant living in a prince’s household, she must tread carefully, watch her back, and guard her heart. But with the princes locked in a battle over the throne, the chances of her making it out alive might disappear.

Part: 1 I 2 I 3

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The paper sliced across the skin before any action could be taken to avoid it. A high pitched hiss followed by a short whine. The flap of skin that had been separated was being dyed red.

Gwen stuck her index finger in her mouth to sooth the stinging. It helped a little bit. Still sucking on the appendage, Gwen stumbled over to the supply closet and opened the thin metal doors with the other hand. She kept this feat up as she opened the first aid kit and pushed around the different types of bandages, trying to decide which one to use. The cut was right on the tip, right where you never want it to be. It was hard to get a band aid on that kind of cut. Eventually, she found a smaller version of a standard design and ripped the paper covering opening. She wrapped the band aid around her index finger before heading for her desk. It was back to the files that had injured her in the first place.

The pile was tall; by her standards, at least. Gwen had been dealing with it for the past hour. The dates on the files needed sorting, separating the ones could be sent to long-term storage. She almost gave out another whine, but she didn’t want the others to hear and start the relentless teasing. Her coworkers were quick and very witty.

It was a friendly floor. Everyone joked and played around without the fear of feelings being hurt. If Gwen didn’t have to do the actual work that came with the office space, she wouldn’t mind staying here forever. But dealing with these files and demanding customers and meeting quotas was not what she wanted to do for the rest of her life. Not that Gwen knew exactly what it was that she did want to do. She’d tried a lot of things over the last few years in her slow going college years. Marketing, history, education - hell, she even took several makeup courses and skincare lessons that focused on natural resources. None of it stuck, none of it held her interest, though the information could be recalled if needed.

“You alright there, Gwen?”

Drudging up from the bowels of her thoughts, Gwen looked up at Kimberly, who had stopped at her desk on the way back from the printer.

“Yeah,” Gwen nodded with a sigh. “Just… ready for the week to be over.”

“Ain’t that the consensus,” Kimberly laughed.

“How are the dogs?” Gwen was seizing the opportunity to distract herself from work. Kimberly owned two dogs with opposite personalities. One was the well-mannered older brother, the other was the skittish, hyper younger brother. She loved to talk about them and there was never a shortage of entertaining stories.

Kimberly rolled her eyes. “Kurt is back to back to demanding his breakfast at five a.m. Oh, but Kent now does this thing where he walks backwards. Whenever he starts doing that, we’ll beep at him. You know, like the garbage trucks? Then he gets all shy and hides his head.”

Gwen couldn’t stop giggling at the thought. “Oh, the poor thing!”

“You’ll have to see it next time you come over.”

“I can’t wait.”

As Kimberly walked away, Gwen sighed. She didn’t get out too much and the humor that most of her socializing outside of work was with one of her coworkers wasn’t lost on her. Just another dart to throw at the board that was Gwen Sinclair.

It wasn’t like her life was a complete disaster. Really, it could have been worse. She could imagine a thousand different scenarios that she could be living right now that were worse off then her current situation. Truthfully, if glanced at from the outside, Gwen’s life was simply... mediocre. She was blessed with tolerable roommates, an okay job that provided a nice paycheck for a twenty-three-year-old who had yet to finish college. But… the loneliness was killing her and overall, she was craving for something more.

She was exhausted from obligation and responsibility. She wished to go back to the days where she read about adventure and intrigue and imagined some day living that out herself. After having those words in her hands, she felt empty in her reality. Somehow, each day felt even more draining.

With the end of another workday, Gwen packed up the files that still needed to be sorted, locked up her cabinets and tugged on her coat as she waved goodbye to Kimberly and the others. A few other coworkers were chatting excitedly about the solar eclipse happening in a few minutes. Gwen, however, was annoyed. Annoyed at the fact that all anyone - online or in person - could talk about was the solar eclipse, as if it was the only one that had ever been seen in this generation. When one person mentioned the eclipse, it was fine. When it was every post and every comment and every conversation, it felt a little ridiculous. Gwen couldn’t care less about the event. Getting home was her current priority. But escaping wasn’t that easy.

For the millionth time, Gwen rolled her eyes as she scrolled through the newsfeed, waiting for her car to warm up in the parking garage. The weather was cold and dreary, slowing down her progress on getting home. Puffs of steam escaped her lips in the below freezing temperature. Other employees hurried past the back of her car to get to their own tiny sanctuaries. An alert for a new email popped up at the top of the phone screen. From the quick scan of the notification, she saw that it was from her eastern history professor. He wanted to go over the latest paper from class. Oh, no. That was never a good sign.

Gwen huffed, threw her car into reverse, and pulled out of the parking space. First the papercut, now this.

Since all her classes were online, Gwen had the minor luxury to not be forced to talk to her professor face to face, which surely would have been humiliating. But it couldn’t be avoided completely. She’d email him back once she arrived home. Or maybe she’d put it off until tomorrow. Dealing with this was the last thing she wanted to do. Stress was already causing her skin to revert back to puberty, she didn’t need this as well.

Her phone rang and she struggled to answer it while carefully winding down the levels of the garage. It was Jaynie, the favorite of the roommates.

“Hey, Janie, what’s up?”

“Oh, nothing, I was just wondering if you were coming straight home today.”

Gwen smirked, knowing exactly where this was going.

Over the past several months, a bit of an obsession had developed with Korean dramas. The shows the two of them consumed were different from the same old, boring American television and there were years worth of stories to choose from. Currently, they were in the middle of another romantic comedy. While Gwen loved the storyline and was in a constant state of swoon, as soon as the credits started rolling, she was reminded how pathetically uninteresting her life was. But those sixty plus minutes of pure escapism made it all worth the crash that came afterwards.

Gwen tried to wait patiently in the line to leave the parking garage, but her frustration was getting the better of her. It was stop and go, stop and go, stop and go.

“I’m planning on it. That is, if people decide any day now to not drive idiotically.”

“Ugh, I had the same problem on my way home.”

Curious. Both of them worked in the downtown area. “How did you get home so fast?” Gwen asked.

“I got off a little early today.”

“Lucky.” Her accounting job often led to flexible hours. Gwen was jealous of that level of freedom.

The road was slick from the freezing rain. Weather like this brought out all the stupid drivers as if this wasn’t a yearly occurrence. She was careful to look both ways before exiting the garage and inching into the street. What she didn’t account for was the other emptying lot across the street. A large black SUV pulled out right at the same time, but went too fast, hitting the water that was slowly turning to ice on the asphalt.

With no time to react, the SUV slammed into the side of Gwen’s compact car. Glass from the driver’s side window shattered and sprayed her face. Her phone flew out of her hand. The crunch of metal hit her ears before she could fully process what had happened. With the force of the collision, her forehead slammed against the steering wheel before the airbag deployed. The sound of screams echoed around her, but the words were unintelligible. Slumped over in her seat, a shadow creeped over the scene. Through the slits of her barely open eyes, Gwen watched as the sun disappeared behind the moon. Then all went black.

********

The water was what brought her back. It filled her lungs and surrounded her on all sides. She flailed her limbs, desperate for traction that couldn’t be found. Her clothing weighed her down, the hems being pulled as if hands had gripped tight on them. She needed a miracle. And a miracle she got. Two hands held onto one of her wrists and pulled her to the surface.

She gasped for air as her rescuer struggled to bring her to shore. The cloth that covered her felt as if it weighed a hundred pounds, making it nearly impossible to move. Water made its way up her throat, spilling over her lips. Her lungs were finally clear. They took in as much oxygen as they were allowed, burning with each brath.

“Lady Gwen! Lady Gwen!”

A young girl blocked out the bright sun. She shook Gwen’s shoulders desperately.

Gwen’s brain processed that the girl was not speaking English, but… she could understand her. The girl’s damp, dark hair was pulled into halves on either side of her face held in place by wide red straps. She looked at Gwen with deep concern, like a lifelong friend. But Gwen was sure she had never seen this girl before in her life.

“My Lady, can you hear me?” she asked frantically.

“Who are you?” Gwen finally choked out.

That made the girl pause in her panic. “What?”

Slowly regaining her strength, Gwen pushed herself up to her knees. As her eyesight cleared, she took in her surroundings. Gone were the tall metal and glass buildings, traffic lights, and speeding cars of her modern home. Now all that surrounded her were trees and a sandy beach of a large, calm lake. In the distance, wooden houses with curved rooftops, painted in bright reds and greens dotted the horizon. The heaviness that weighed her down was a dress made of too many layers and of no western fashion that she’d ever experienced before.

Whispers bounced around the rocky shore. All the faces that were looking on with concern around were unfamiliar. Gwen grabbed the hair cascading down her back, but it was still the red she knew, darker from the dampness of being pulled out of the water but still her hair.

“Where am I?” she asked in a quiet, gasping voice.

“My Lady, don’t you remember?” The girl panicked. “You’re in Songak. Goryeo.”

“Goryeo?” Gwen screeched. All the minor details she could summon up of the country came rushing to the forefront of her mind. It was information overload and her brain couldn’t handle it. Her lungs tried desperately to keep up, breathing in as much air as they could, but her throat was closing up from the panic. The landscape blurred and she fell to the ground.

********

She was in a bed this time when she regained consciousness. The room was cold and dimly lit with soft, orange candlelight. A man, Caucasian unlike the others, sat beside the bed on a stool, worry etched into every facet of his face.

“Gwen, sweet, are you all right?”

English. He was speaking English. But that was a footnote of comfort to the bigger problem. She still didn’t know what had happened to her or how she got here or who these people were that seemed to know her. The man, who was about in his mid-forties with salt and pepper hair, smiled down at her, though his eyes were confused. “Gwen, does it hurt anywhere? Can you tell me if you hit your head?”

Gwen took a moment, to calm down and to evaluate what she was feeling physically. Her head didn’t hurt, nor did any other part of her body. Wordlessly, she shook her head. The man seemed relieved.

“Are you all right?” He asked again, a different meaning under the question this time. “Chae Ryung said you couldn’t remember her or that we were in Goryeo? Do you at least remember your papa?”

Gwen weighed the choices in her mind. There wasn’t a mirror around, but she started to wonder if she had taken the place of someone else. Someone who knew these strangers. She could say that she didn’t know any of them - the truth - but would they think her mad if she spilled too much? Perhaps she could say she remembered a few things. Like him, if he is this poor girl’s father. Why am I here? In this time?

Choosing to comprise with herself, she gave the smallest of nods. “Papa.” Sitting up, she pulled him into a hug and there was something comforting about his embrace. This body remembered him, at least.

“What happened?” she asked after she let go.

“Chae Ryung said that you’d wandered off again and she found you, you’d been the water a long time.” The man, Papa, sucked in a breath, his eyes beginning to water. His genuine concern over her wellbeing made Gwen choke up as well. “The doctor said you stopped breathing. That could explain your lost memories.”

Good. The excuse was already in her hands. That should make it easy enough to play along while being forgiven for any missteps. But they shouldn’t be in Goryeo. That didn’t make any sense, historically. If anything, they might have been in Joseon – late Joseon. Was this some sort of alternate timeline? Or maybe she hit her head really hard in the car crash and this is really all a dream from the stress of her paper and too much K-drama.

Yes. Too much K-drama.

That had to be the explanation. This was all a strange dream. Which meant, she could play along and not be afraid. She could ask questions and live out the day until she woke back up in her own time, most likely in a hospital with a bandage on her head and her mother fretting over her.

She glanced around the room, taking in the architecture that she had only ever seen in pictures. In person, it was even more stunning and intricate. This wasn’t an ordinary citizen’s home. Interesting. What else could her brain come up with? “Why are we in Goryeo?”

“Your father’s a merchant, remember?” He spoke slowly. Each word was deliberate, giving Gwen time to process. Good filler for her mind. “I made a large fortune here and planned on taking you back home, but… your mother is buried here. We couldn’t leave her behind.”

A wave of emotion hit out of nowhere. Though her mother was alive and well, it didn’t stop a tear from escaping. “Mama.”

Papa wiped it away with a coarse finger. Gwen gasped back, surprised by the realness of the touch. Her dreams were never this intricate. The blanket strone across her lap scrunched in her fingers. It was cold and soft… and very real.

She wasn't dreaming, was she?

Confused by her reaction, Papa paused for a moment before continuing his explanation. “The eighth prince is graciously letting us stay with him while we wait on the construction of our home to be complete.”

The eighth prince?

Panic grew tenfold. If this wasn’t a dream, then she was in very big trouble. If history told her one thing, it was that proximity to royalty was the most dangerous place to be. Gwen might possibly have been able to skate by if they were simply staying in some unknown village far from the capital, but they were in a prince’s home. Which meant they were in… Songak, the capital city, just like that girl – Chae Ryung – had said. Right under the King’s nose. Breathing became difficult again. Each one was shallow, barely letting in any oxygen. Gwen could feel her chest tighten and her vision blurred.

“Gwen!” Papa jumped up and tried to keep her straight to give her lungs as much room as possible. He switched to Korean as he called out over his shoulder, “Someone, get the doctor! Now!” Shuffling sounds echoed off the floor on the other side of the sliding door and then faded away.

A minute later, breathing no better, two men and a woman rushed inside along with Chae Ryung. The older man stepped in front of Papa and took his place. He pushed Gwen’s shoulders gently until she was lying down. Two cold fingers against her wrist checked her pulse. The other, much younger man stepped up to Papa.

“What happened?”

Papa frowned. “It seems she’s lost some of her memories. I was explaining why we were here when suddenly she had trouble breathing.” He stopped, struggling with his own breath. “I’m sorry we’ve become a burden to you, Your Highness.”

Gwen’s breathing was regaining strength and she was able to concentrate on the conversation. So that was the eighth prince. He was younger than she would have guessed, handsome even, if she had to focus on something other than her lack of breath.

“Do not think such a thing,” the Eighth Prince replied. “Your presence has greatly improved the household. Lady Gwen will get better with time.”

Papa bowed, obviously grateful at the response. He turned to the woman. “Lady Hae, may I enquire after your own health?”

“Today is a better day,” she smiled, though her pale, drained complexion said otherwise. “Please, don’t worry about me. Keep your thoughts for your daughter.”

The doctor released Gwen’s wrist, satisfied with the improvement of her pulse and breathing. He stood up.

“It was a mild panic attack,” the doctor said calmly to Papa. “If it happens again, she should lie down and focus on her breathing. The incident at the lake seems to have taken a toll on her body. She simply needs rest. In time, her memories and her body will recover.”

Gwen didn’t agree with that statement fully. This body might get better in time, but there was no way memories that didn’t exist would ever return. One by one, the occupants left the room until it was only Gwen and Papa remaining behind. Silence hung in the air. After a moment, Papa sat down on the stool and took Gwen’s hand.

“I was worried I had lost you,” he whispered.

Gwen’s eyes fell down to the blanket covering her legs. Things were becoming clearer to her now. This was not a dream and she was no longer Gwen Sinclair from the twenty-first century. Something must have happened. She didn’t know what exactly had occurred or what would happen now, but she was here. And little did this man – known only to her as “Papa” – know that he had indeed lost his daughter. The face may be the same, but the Gwen inside was different. She would try her best to be good to him, at least until she found a way to get back to her own family. She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

********

The next morning, the doctor, along with the Eighth Prince, came back to check on Gwen. The doctor commented that her pulse was stronger and that she seemed well on the road to full health. However, he still insisted on keeping her on bedrest.

Bored with these same walls and too curious about her temporary home, Gwen sat up. If she was going to be here for a while, she might as well get to know it. “I’m fine. Please, don’t make me stay in here all day. The sun and air is good for you, isn’t it?”

The sudden rebelliousness against the doctor’s suggestion did not seem to sit well with any of them. Gwen gave Papa a pleading look. A father couldn’t resist those eyes. He sighed, turning to the doctor. “Perhaps, a little exercise in walking around the grounds would be all right?”

The doctor looked reluctant, but he agreed. “But she shouldn’t overexert herself.”

“Chae Ryung will stay with her,” the Eighth prince ordered. “If you’ll please excuse me, I must meet with my brothers.” He bowed and left, followed by the doctor.

Having heard her name from the hallway, Chae Ryung shuffled quickly inside and over to Gwen, holding out her arms for the latter to balance on as she slid off of the bed. “Are you sure you want to go outside?”

Gwen nodded. “Yes. Perhaps seeing more of this place will help jog my memory.”

Chae Ryung tilted her head. “How can your memory jog?”

Gwen snorted, both at Chae Ryung’s confusion and at herself for the slip of the modern phrase. “Sorry, I just meant, maybe my memories will come back.”

“Oh.” The look on her face was enough to make Gwen laugh again.

Gwen scolded herself internally. She had to be more careful with her words. Every step was one on thin ice. She couldn’t change who she was, not completely, but she would have to pull back. Chae Ryung, however, felt safe, like a shelter from the rain. With her, Gwen could find answers that might be dangerous to seek elsewhere. Straightening her shoulders, Gwen smiled broadly and took her newest friend’s hand. Chase Ryung grinned brightly at her and guided her out of the room.

#exo royalty au #exo royalty!au #scarlet heart au #scarlet heart ryeo #exo time travel au #exo time travel!au #exo angst #exo series #exo x oc #exo x original character #exo ot9 #Scarlet Moon

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lilydalexf · 3 years

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Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with Michelle Kiefer

Michelle has 55 stories at Gossamer. If you haven’t read them, what are you waiting for?! She has great takes on Mulder and Scully. I’ve recced some of my favorites of her fics here before, including Christmas in California, Making Other Plans, and Six Inch Valley. Big thanks to Michelle for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

I’m not sure anyone is still reading my stories. I haven’t migrated my X-Files ones to AO3. I don’t think Gossamer provides any viewing statistics. I’d be very happy to hear that people still like my work.

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

My X-Files fandom experience was amazing. I remember that sense of excitement and immediacy. It was thrilling to write stories (and read those of other authors, of course) in an active fandom for a show that was on the air. It was truly my first experience in an online world--a parallel world to my real life existence. I learned how to keep a foot in each world. As I recall, it was very hard to keep my focus in my “meat” world, when the online one was so fast moving and thrilling. But I did get some balance in my life as time went on.

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

Message boards and mailing lists were my experience. They were primitive compared to the pretty screens now. I forged some amazing friendships, some of them with people I discovered lived relatively near me. All I wanted to do was discuss episodes and fic. The flame wars were a little intimidating, but also amusing if you didn’t get swept up.

What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

I was very passionate about the fandom--as I said, there were times when my online life seemed to overpower my real life experiences. I learned to manage that, and think I’m all the better for that. And I found some amazing friendships that are active and thriving today. I learned a lot about writing with XF fanfic. The level of quality was stunning. A decent percentage of fic were as good or better than traditional published fiction. But there were so many writers! I wanted to make an impact on the fanfiction world, but that meant taking my writing very seriously and learning to develop a story, pace that story, make it compelling and believable.

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

I had a couple of coworkers that talked about the show all the time. I was curious, so I watched an episode. I believe it was the cannibal town one. I thought David Duchovny was odd looking and wasn’t terribly impressed. But I tried another episode - Wetwired, which blew me away with the morgue scene when Mulder thinks he’s going to identify Scully’s body. Ah...I thought, now, I see what everyone is talking about! And from then I was hooked.

What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

As I watched, I wanted more. I was fairly new to the internet (frankly, the internet was new to almost everyone) I found episode reviews, and some of them were fantastic. Some mentioned fanfiction. I was unaware of such a thing, though to be honest, since childhood, I’d been spinning stories in my head about characters on TV shows. I found some fanfic. The first couple of stories were not great (at least one was horrible) but then I found some that were very good. Probably a bit soap-operaish, but still readable. And then I became voracious as I plowed through the mass of stories looking for the good stuff. And boy was there good stuff.

What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom?

I’m not estranged from it, but I don’t spend much time with it after all these years. I’ve found fanfic in some other shows that I like and only occasionally read old XF stories.

Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

I’ve not been as involved with any other fandoms, i.e. following commentary on the show. I tend to dive into TV shows well after their heyday, so I’m always late to the party. I do read fanfic from other shows, and have actually written fanfic for other shows, but I need a really good idea to write. None of the other fandoms for my other shows are as busy and active as XF, even ones currently in production. And none of them have as much fanfic and certainly not the level of brilliance that we had in XF.

Who are some of your favorite fictional characters? Why?

I tend to go for interesting partnerships, very much in the XF fashion. And a flawed hero is always a plus! The partnerships don’t necessarily have to be romantic---in fact I find I prefer those that are not. Really, Mulder and Scully were the only ones I felt deeply as a pairing, probably due to the chemistry between the actors. But the partnerships have to be well-balanced and realistic. I loved the characters on Sleepy Hollow. The two main characters were very much in the mold of Mulder/Scully.

My newest passion is British detective shows and I’ve completely fallen for the “Morse-verse” shows, Inspector Morse, Inspector Lewis and Endeavour. Less of an XF feel, but compelling characters with interesting backstories. Other favorite partnerships in the British detective genre are on Inspector Lynley and Broadchurch.

Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully?

A bit less now, though I’m still involved with a wonderful group of ladies who love the X-Files. When we get together for a yearly weekend, we binge episodes and eat impressive amounts of junk food. XF isn’t on network TV these days, but if it was, I’d probably watch it.

A couple of years ago, I listened to Kumail Nanjiani’s XF podcast on my long commute. I loved the commentary and interviews so much that I did watch some old episodes.

Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom?

I don’t read much XF fic. I’m currently reading in some other fandoms, but it’s harder to find good stories--the ones I follow aren’t very active these days and the quality just isn’t what XF was. We were so lucky. We had maybe 20 incredible top authors at any one time, then maybe another tier of 50 to 100 good to maybe great writers. And with new episodes, there was so much inspiration. We were so spoiled.

Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors?

Everything from Syntax6, MaybeAmanda, Kel. A special story for me was “Strangers and the Strange Dead” by Kipler because I remember reading that very early in the morning in my unheated basement in the winter because that was the only time I could use our single computer without others in the family complaining. I remember actually gasping at the big reveal in the story. I can even remember the story’s opening line!

What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

I was just learning how to write fiction when I was involved in XF, so I’m not sure my best work is there, though the bulk of my stories are there. I liked some of the work I did with others. I wrote Bone of Contention and Out of the Everywhere with Kel and I think that those stories got the best aspects of both of our styles. For stories I wrote myself, I think they’re not bad, but they are rather short and it’s always easier to maintain a theme and style for a short story. I liked Black Cherry Velvet. I’m writing some Inspector Lewis stories that I think are pretty good--they benefit from the years of experience that I was gaining through XF.

Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story? Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online?

Never say never, but I probably won’t write more XF. I used to burn with it, but I think that got burned out a bit. Still, I have such wonderful memories of the whole period. It might be worth looking at again.

Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work?

As I mentioned, I am currently playing in the Inspector Lewis world. It’s sad--it’s a very small and not terribly active fandom. Sad that my best work is in an inactive fandom where I’m lucky if 20 or 30 people are reading them. It doesn’t help that I don’t write the most popular pairing.

But I’m really enjoying it. I occasionally write for Man From Uncle, which really shows my age, as that was a childhood obsession.

Where do you get ideas for stories?

With XF, it was always a take on an episode--did I get a tiny idea that I wanted to develop, or was I not thrilled with the way something went on the show. Now, it’s usually a “what if” kind of thing where I get inspired by a possible event and explore how that would play out, i.e. “What if this character had a one night stand resulting in an unplanned pregnancy?” What would happen? How would he handle the consequences of this? How would it change his life?

What's the story behind your pen name?

It’s literally my own name. I SOOOO wish I’d used a pen name. But I was naive and fandom was so new to me that it never occurred to me that a pen name would be better. I always told myself that my real name sounded like something made up, like a TV newscaster name, and I hoped people assumed it was a pen name.

Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions?

My husband and my kids were the only ones who knew about it for many years. Then I went to a fandom/fic gathering for three days and had to explain to a few other family members and my work mates why I was going to Chicago on my own. It’s still mostly a need to know thing and they don’t really need to know.

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

I’m on AO3 as msk. And everything I wrote for XF is on Gossamer.

(Posted by Lilydale on February 2, 2021)

#new post #old school x #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #xf fanfic author interviews #michelle kiefer

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bondsmagii · 3 years

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This is definitely one of the… wilder stories here, but as always, I suppose people will believe what they will.

This will unfortunately require some backstory, but I guess you could say the long and the short of it is that I played at being God, and it. Well. Kind of sucked, actually.

So, the backstory. I’ll try to keep it brief. I grew up in a small country village about forty-five minutes away from Belfast, Ireland. There wasn’t much going on there, as you could imagine – just a standard rural Irish town, where the most exciting thing that might happen in a week was old Farmer Joe getting a new tractor or something. Anyway, I’m not sure how many of you know about Ireland’s rather troubled past, but for the most part I missed all that. I was born around the time things were finally settling down, and while my earlier memories are filled with bomb scares and low-flying helicopters and gunshots in the night, the distant sound of shouting and the acrid smell of smoke burning a little too close for comfort, by the time I hit my teenage years most of it had wrapped up. Of course, there was the occasional scare here and there, and I’m not saying my friends and I didn’t go out looking for trouble once we were old enough, but it wasn’t the same. I’m not saying that out of a sense of, I don’t know, regret or annoyance or anything. Now I’m older, I’m not so enamoured by the idea of that much violence. I’m just saying it wasn’t really a patch on the kind of violence that used to happened there – the kind of violence that fascinated my friends and I so much. It sounds bad, but really we were just kids being kids. Little boys everywhere play at war games. It just so happened that the war we were playing had happened in our own country. It’s difficult not to be obsessed, when you see the reflection of history on the faces of every generation around you. Even slightly older siblings would know all about it – it wasn’t something you asked your grandfather, distant war stories over some vague European country that you’ve only seen on a map in your Geography classroom. This was our street corners, our high streets, the road outside the house. Here the grass verge at the side of the road where the bodies were dumped; there the lay-by where over a dozen people were blown to pieces. It was awful, but we were children. We were enamoured.

Anyway. The only violence we got really involved in was the summer rioting that happened yearly, like clockwork. It sounds like a joke, but that’s how it goes. You don’t need to know the details, but suffice to say in mid-July every year, the city would light up like we were back in the 1970s. Localised, of course, and still nowhere near as drastic as it used to be, but enough to get a taste. Petrol bombs. Police lines. Armoured cars. Water cannons. Unrestrained summer fun, you could say. But that’s for a bit later.

I’m a writer. I have been since I was four years old. Generally speaking I’m a horror writer, but I’ve branched into historical fiction a fair bit over the years. Living in Ireland, growing up how I did, it was inevitable that I would develop a fascination for Irish history. I was always a very curious child, my head in books, chasing up stories that would keep me awake at night. I never knew any boundaries. I would go after answers with military precision, asking questions, going places I shouldn’t. Dangerous for anyone, of course, but in a country like mine, where crossing the road could quite literally lead to your murder? It was reckless. I was reckless. But that’s the thing about being that age. You think you’re invincible. You think you can do anything.

I was about fourteen or fifteen, at the height of this obsession. I believe I was fifteen when I wrote this particular story, but it’s difficult to say. It was part of a series, and I was going back and forth on it and other projects for many years. Here we finally get to the point of the whole story: I had developed an obsession with Irish history, as I said, and specifically the more “modern” history – from 1916 onwards, the Easter Rising, the War of Independence, all that. I was fascinated by the Irish struggle for freedom, and while age and hindsight has lessened my… enthusiasm for the violence, I do maintain a strong opinion towards the whole thing, which is not the point here so I won’t get into it. What I’m trying to say is that my stories reflected this enthusiasm, and were undoubtedly glorifying in nature, and also at that age I was more concerned with living the fantasy than doing the research, so it was all very self-indulgent. I’m sure anyone who wrote at that age knows what I mean.

My main character… well. I’m sure you know what to expect. He was—well. Me, really. In the way of all main characters at that age, and perhaps a little even as we get older, there’s a piece of us inside all our main characters. Sometimes a little piece, other times just a cooler and more badass version of yourself. Michael was that for me. I suppose that must is obvious; I wasn’t even trying to be subtle. My name is of course Miceál, which for those of you keeping track is the Irish form of Michael. I’m just grateful that I didn’t go as far as to give him my last name, too, but everything else was there. He looked like me, he held the same views and beliefs as me, he acted like me – or at least, he acted in the ways I liked to think I’d act, or how I imagined acting later that night in the shower, reliving the scenario again. He was the best kind of self-insert character, indulgent and fun and a good friend to me. I poured a lot of myself into him. I poured everything into him. He was a constant companion, something that became ever more important to me as my real life—well, went to shit. To put it mildly. I would sit in my room writing my stories, and Michael would go out there and fight the good fight, killing and bombing for good old Ireland, and then I’d shut my computer down and go to sleep feeling just a little better than otherwise.

I’m not afraid to say that I can be obsessive. I like to get into the heads of my characters; I like to know them as well as I know everything. Yes, Michael was me, but he was also a version of me who had done things I have never done. Sometimes I would try to imagine myself as him; wonder what it was like to see through his eyes. Wonder what a me who had done that would look like. Wonder what he would do in a situation. I asked myself that a few times; a lot of times. What would Michael do? I could have put that shit on a wristband. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. I’ve always been a bit of a method writer like that. It was normal, until it wasn’t.

I first saw Michael on a hot July day, in Belfast. What we call the rioting season had come around; my friends and I were there to take advantage. Just at the sidelines, mind you – nobody wants to get a face full of water cannon, even on the hottest of days. Michael was in the thick of it though. Of course he was. I’d written him to be that way.

I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. At first I thought I must be seeing things, but the more I looked the more I realised he looked exactly like me. Only he was a little taller, a little fitter, and his hair looked different. His clothing was different, too; perhaps a couple of decades out of date, but looking at him I saw his clothing didn’t remain consistent. The changes were subtle – material, tone – but I noticed. Looking back, I assume it’s because I never did give a specific date for his story to occur in. Well, wherever he was from he was there now, throwing rocks with the best of them, skipping from stone to stone and hurling them at police lines with an easy swing that could only come from years of practise. When we had all finally cleaned out the area – soldiers coming, a helicopter, the kind of trouble you don’t want to toy with – I managed to catch up with him. He was talking to my friends. They noticed we were both there, but didn’t seem to realise we were two different people. The whole time we were all talking, I couldn’t take my eyes off of Michael. I tried, because I knew how obvious I was being, but I just couldn’t. I couldn’t work him out. I couldn’t even trust that’s what I was seeing. And the whole time, Michael watched me back. I knew the look in his eyes. It was his smug little, I know something you don’t know look. Of course I knew it. I had made him like that. I had given him that look.

I didn’t see him for some time after that. Believe it or not, I put it out of my head. I mean, come on. It was probably some other guy that my friends knew. We were in Belfast enough, and Michael isn’t exactly an uncommon name. I put it out of my mind, but I was sure that sometimes, I saw him. I was sure I’d see him in Belfast, ducking down side streets or leaning in close conversation with someone I couldn’t make out. He was always watching me. Sometimes I’d feel eyes on me and know it was him, but when I looked around I wouldn’t spot him. On some occasions – and these were always the worst – I would feel his eyes behind my own. Like he was on the inside looking out, moving independently in there, a set of eyes swivelling around over my own. It happened most often when I was trying to write his story. As you can imagine, I was nervous to do so. The more I thought I saw him, the less I wanted to write, but I didn’t think that was a good idea either. I didn’t know what to do.

It was a sunny weekend just before school started back after summer that I finally resolved to do something about it. I didn’t even feel stupid as I booted up my old Windows 95 desktop and opened Word. Michael’s story was there, in 12-point font as I always wrote then, plenty of enthusiasm but a lot less technical skill. My fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment, and then I typed.

Hello?

Nothing, of course. I deleted the word, wondering what I had expected. Feeling a little stupid now, I tried to think about where to go with the story. It was difficult to write now I had some kind of real person to assign to it all – what were the ethics here? How could I—

I won’t get into that. It would be a philosophical essay all of its own. I sat for a while wondering what to write, and then it hit me that the story had changed. The words Michael had spoken, in the paragraph that I had left off – they were no longer the words I had written. I forget what the original words were now, but they were something relatively simple; some response to another character, and I remember that another name was mentioned in it – the name of Michael’s in-universe best friend, Eamon. Now that name was gone, and the rest of the text had changed, too. Now the writing read something different entirely.

I thought you wanted to know?

I lied earlier. I said that age and experience and perhaps some more emotional maturity had led me to turn away from the kind of violence that fascinated me so much then, and I have no doubt that under normal circumstances it would have done. I had somewhat of a speed run, however; I turned my back on it because

I’m getting ahead of myself.

I had often wondered what it would be like to do what Michael did, of course. To kill and risk death for a cause, to face down prison, torture, exile. I had wondered what it would be like to commit those acts; how easy or difficult it would be to pull a trigger or push a detonator. I liked to think, in my foolish, idealistic teenage mind, that if it came down to it I could. Of course, I was in the very privileged position to not have to actually answer that question.

Michael, on the other hand, knew. And Michael was, if not me, than a product of me. Could it be possible that he could show me?

I ignored the message for several days. I didn’t know what to think. Truth be told I thought I was going mad. School started again and I got so busy that I almost, almost forgot about it – and then I opened the document by mistake one day, got into reading it over, laughing at my brilliant comebacks, you know how it is. And there it was again.

I thought you wanted to know?

Yes, I remember thinking. It stunned me – I remember that. I didn’t want to mess with this kind of stuff – I’ve always been a huge believer in the paranormal, always been cautious when it comes to fucking with that kind of stuff. I believe that magic like this, it requires intent. It needs you to be sure. It knows how you feel, true in your heart. So even when I ignored it again, even when I deleted the words and re-wrote whatever the original had been, even as I didn’t reply… I knew in my heart that my question had been heard by something. I could feel Michael’s eyes on me again, though now I wondered if it was Michael’s eyes, or something else entirely. It felt like a weight. Have you ever been in an old, old place, where you can practically feel the people who lived and died there; reach out and touch them? It felt like that. Like the weight of history was pressing down on me. I didn’t fall asleep easily that night, but when I did sleep was dark and endless.

I don’t know how long I spent in that state. In reality it was only seven hours; I woke up with my alarm. In that time period, wherever I was – because I was not living – I seemed to witness a hundred different lives. Over the course of Michael’s story I had him do all kinds of things; live all kinds of situations. I deleted things, changed others, added things in. I wrote what would now be called alternate universes. In that night I experienced them all. I know how it feels now. I know how it feels to pull a trigger; to watch the spray of someone’s life splatter a wall or a windscreen or the screaming backseat passengers of a car. I know how it feels to push the button, the one that sends a charge surging down a wire or flickering out over my head in an invisible wave of death, notifying the bomb, detonating the explosives. I know how it feels to sit in a hotel bar across a border, listening to the news, sipping a drink and feeling my heart beat in my chest as I add more numbers to the tally, more blood to my hands. I know how it feels to be shot, to be beaten, to watch a friend die, to kill someone who used to be – who still is, despite everything – a friend. I know how it feels to cough blood into my hands, onto the ground; to grip a wound that won’t stop bleeding; the blinding flash of an explosive detonating too soon and how the whole world seems to roar and how there’s a difference between the thud and slap of wet mud hitting the ground and the warmer, denser rain of something that used to be human. For days, weeks, years – I walked in Michael’s shoes, I lived his life, I committed every act.

I felt his pain. His fear. This hellish world that he lived in, created to kill and die and lose and fear, over and over. To meet his God and to finally, finally ask – why?

And what could I say? Because I wanted to know?

Well. Now I do.

#creeptastic #creepypasta #my creepypasta #writing #my writing #short story #fiction #can you tell i've been listening to tma lately?#anyway VERY tempted to record this seems i'm a decent voice impressionist and i have the right accent for the statement lmao

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allthefilmsiveseenforfree · 3 years

Text

Godzilla vs. Kong

From the first rumble in the seats in the Dolby theater, I was so glad I chose to see this movie on the big screen. At times it felt like I was on one of those “4-D” roller coasters where the seats rumble and they spray water on your or pipe smells into the audience. That’s how close I was to the action! As at least a casual fan of the previous entries in the Monsterverse, I was looking forward to Godzilla vs Kong and my goodness, those medium expectations sure were met. How medium was it? Well...

I would like the science in this movie to win Best Comedy or Musical in next year’s Golden Globes. This is probably the hardest I’ve laughed in a theater in over a year (obviously there are other reasons for that, but the sentiment still stands). This movie was nonsensical, loud, shiny, dumb fun and I had a great fucking time watching it. Oh, you probably want a plot summary - I’m just gonna refer you to the title of the film. That about covers all you need to know.

Some thoughts:

“Somewhere on Skull Island” - whaaaaat is with this title card? It’s a tiny island. How many possible locations could there possibly be for a giant fuck-off ape to be taking his nap?

I know we’re not here for any semblance of plot but boy, they really sprained something trying to lift these clunky paragraphs of exposition into anything resembling what actual humans would say.

These opening credits are one of the funniest sequences I’ve seen in ages.

My main man Brian Tyree Henry! I had no idea he was in this (frankly I knew virtually nothing about this movie because what do you even need to know about a movie with the title Godzilla vs. Kong). He’s playing a completely different vibe than I’ve ever seen him play - the comedic relief and a mile-a-minute vaguely conspiracy theorist podcast host who is obsessed with Sir Zilla and the other Titans. I really enjoyed seeing this other side of him!

Absolutely terrible waste of Kyle Chandler, who was probably paid more than my yearly salary for 60 seconds of Protective and Frazzled Dad perfection.

One of the highlights of the film is the performance of young actress Kaylee Hottle as Jia. Jia is Deaf, and so is Kaylee in real life, and I’m always here for more Deaf representation onscreen! And her friendship with Kong is one of the few things in the movie that elicits any genuine emotion of any kind. When he booped her I literally said “Aw!” out loud.

The visuals of the hollow Earth are very cool and remind me of those space age desktop backgrounds that most of the guys I know who built their own PCs and spent a lot of time on Tor.com would have had.

Even the most ridiculous films like this one will sometimes include little bits of worldbuilding that are thoughtful and have fascinating implications. For example, the “Titan Shelters” in Hong Kong - who pays for those? The government? Do rich people have reinforced private Titan Shelters while poor folks have to rely on the public ones, which are likely overcrowded and possibly don’t have enough resources? (I think we all know the answer to that).

I am very much enjoying all the neon in the Hong Kong fight, and how much more visually interesting it makes two giant blobs slamming their blob bodies against each other while causing a staggering amount of property damage.

Finally a realistic “I can crack the password!” scene!

Did I Cry? Ok, a teeny tiny bit, about Kong and Jia’s friendship.

Times I laughed LOUDLY in the theater: when Mr. Zilla, who can literally shoot lightning out of his damn mouth just straight up punches Kong in the face. When Kong gets attacked by all those lizard things in the hollow Earth and just uses one motherfucker to slap another motherfucker. When they use an anti-gravity machine (whatever that actually means) as a defibrillator for an ape that is sometimes as big as a skyscraper and other times as big as a mountain.

And now a series of questions:

Why is this high school class just watching the news in the middle of the day? The G-Z has attacked cities at least 3 other times in this universe that we know of. Like, this isn’t their 9/11, this is a thing that just regularly happens.

You decided it was a good idea to transport Kong over the ocean...where Big Daddy G hangs out all the time? Like...that’s where he lives, you guys. You’re basically trying to sneak Kong over the roof of Godzilla’s house and hoping he doesn’t notice.

OH and you had a Kong-sized net and a team of Kong transport helicopters ready the WHOLE TIME? But you still chose “sneaking over Godzilla’s house” as your first plan of action????

How long can Kong hold his breath? He goes underwater for some long ass periods.

In fact, what are the details of Kong’s physiology in general? How tall is he? Because at one point in his fight with The GZA, he’s standing on the floor of the Tasman Sea, no big deal - except the Tasman Sea has a depth of roughly 18,000 feet. And Kong’s just chilling out in the water at waist level? But he’s also shorter than the skyscrapers in Hong Kong? I choose to believe he can grow and shrink at will because that makes more sense than the sloppy joe approach to his biology the screenwriters are using.

I like Millie Bobby Brown as much as the next guy, but does it bother anyone else that she always sounds congested? Is that a consequence of her doing her American accent? It’s incredibly distracting.

Oh, this entire scene is set in Antarctica but no one is wearing hats or gloves? Sure sure sure.

And no one is having any problems breathing the air in the middle of the fucking earth? No one thought to check that the atmosphere was breathable before everyone takes off their helmets? No noxious fumes to worry about in the center of a planet that produces magma and shit?

You’re taking your child to the literal center of the earth? Is this not the ONE TIME you think you might need a babysitter?

The ship that can *checks notes* withstand the forces present during an entire reversal of gravity is crushed by Kong’s fist like it’s a tube of toothpaste?

Even though the Earth is hollow, I’m assuming the distance to reach the core is still about the same, so Godzilla’s lighting can 1) act as a drill to - I cannot reiterate this strongly enough - the CENTER OF THE FUCKING EARTH and 2) Godzilla and Kong can yell at each other for 3,958 miles (give or take) and still hear each other? Do they have superhearing? Is this something we’re studying or are we content to just have them Hulk smash all of that incredibly important evolutionary biology to bits while everyone stands around?

Because this is a “vs” movie, of course there is no clear-cut “winner” at the end. Instead the two parties leave each other with a grudging respect formed, an uneasy truce in place. But I’m obsessed with the way this final scene plays out, as though Godzilla is a bitter ex walking away from Kong after their doomed relationship has run its course. The lighting, the soft music, the absolute melodrama of this giant lizard slinking slowly back into the sea. Godzilla is giving the gays everything they want in 2k21 and I am here for it. Here’s hoping the next entry in the franchise has Kong hooking up with Rodan to make G jealous and they all have a messy public fight over brunch, Real Housewives style.

If you liked this review, please consider reblogging or subscribing to my Patreon! For as low as $1, you can access bonus content and movie reviews, or even request that I review any movie of your choice.

#121in2021 #godzilla vs kong #godzilla vs kong review #millie bobby brown #brian tyree henry #kyle chandler #rebecca hall #Alexander Skarsgard #kaylee hottle #godzilla #king kong #movie reviews #film reviews

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excaliburofficial · 3 years

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Aah I really love all your HCs you did so far!! Also do you eventually have any about Jacqueline or even Harvar? Generally the entire

Aaah thank you so much!! I'm really glad people are enjoying them bc I really enjoy writing them <3 I've been way too obsessed with this series for to long w way to many thoughts and its nice to be able to share them and have people enjoy them!! :)

Idk if your ask got cut off or if I just can't read it on mobile bc this app is broken but I definitely plan on going through p much the entire cast eventually!! Am kinda wanting to go through with a rewatched/reread bc its been a bit (and by that I mean probably only a couple of months ssshh I'm invested in this series a normal amount I swear) before I do too many more so I'm getting the right vibes and all (plus I am overdue for my scheduled quarter yearly rewatch look I swear this is a normal amount for someone to rewatch a show after 11 years)

I'm esp am thinking of doing a lot for characters w less screen time so Jackie and Harvar are def on my list! Jackie will probably be first :)

#asks #anon #wrennstoptalking #wrenn's headcanons

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mint-yooxgi · 4 years

Text

Obsession - Prologue

Yandere AU - Part of the EXO Obsession Series

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Smut (In later chapters)

Pairing: EXO OT9 X Reader (with a particular focus on X-EXO)

Words: 3,002

Warnings: This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: On the sixth day of ficmas, Jackie gave to me~ So I know this technically isn’t what was originally scheduled to be posted, but life caught up with me and since I already had this finished, I figured you guys could enjoy this as the update instead! I do really hope you all like this one, as I have a lot planned for this series. Without further ado, feedback is always greatly appreciated, enjoy lovelies!

Walking into the base in the early evening, you’re greeted by a few of your coworkers. They either wave slightly or nod in your direction as you walk past, heading straight for the mission quarters near the back of the building for your next assignment.

You work for the company EXO, under the Supernatural Mutations department which is in-charge of taking care of variants found throughout the city, as well as nulling any types of threats that may occur which could harm the civilian population. This force includes humans, as well as certain supernatural beings. It’s a tough job, but someone’s got to do it.

Ever since about fifteen years ago, supernaturals have made their presences known to the human population, and after a war which lasted five years, both sides came to an agreement to live in peace and harmony, as they once were. However, there are still rogues out there whom love to cause havoc, and bring harm to the civilian population of both humans and supernaturals alike.

This is where your team comes in. Whenever there is a serious threat, your team is sent in to take care of it. Whether it be a murderous vampire, a feral werewolf, or even a rogue mutant, you’ve seen it all. However, your biggest challenge currently seems to be a witch whom is hellbent on bringing down your strike team.

She seems to hold a grudge against all ten members of your team for taking down her coven a few months back after learning of their schemes to assassinate the world council leaders at their yearly conference in Busan. Clearly, she has some unresolved issues of not being able to move on.

One thing that’s frustrating though, is that you have yet to take her down. No matter how hard you work to catch her, and end her evil plots, she always manages to escape at the last second.

One thing that you’ve always appreciated about your job is that it doesn’t discriminate. Since supernaturals are allowed to work on the team, they simply add to the prowess and skill of the whole. You’re grateful for many of your coworkers, for you don’t know where you’d be without them.

Before you can even raise your hand to knock on the mission’s office door, an alarm blares to life, red lights beginning to flash all around the base.

“That’s not good,” you mutter, more to yourself than anything.

You nearly stumble back as the door in front of you gets flung open and your team begins to run out. Seeing you standing there, Jongin stops in his tracks long enough to grip your wrist and begin dragging you along with them.

“What’s going on?” You question, being pulled into the weapons room as six of them begin to gear up while the other three grab their tool kits. You begin to suit up as well, able to see the seriousness of the situation already.

“Shelly is on the move again,” Minseok informs you as he begins to lead the way to the bunker where all the vehicles are stored.

“Apparently, she just set off a large scale explosion, trapping about a hundred civilians inside a warehouse,” Sehun adds, slinging his bow onto his back as he exits the weapons room.

“She sent out an announcement minutes ago saying that she’s going to cast a spell over the city within the next ten minutes which will ‘shed light on everyone once and for all,’ so we need to hurry,” Junmyeon adjust his earpiece as you all make it to the bunker.

“Give me more details on the way,” you say, hearing the engine of the hovercraft start up as the gate lowers for you all to enter inside. “Let’s get this bitch once and for all.”

“Right,” you hear them all say as you enter the hovercraft.

On the way over to the warehouse, you discuss your plan of action with your strike team, consisting of Jongin, Jongdae, Junmyeon, Chanyeol, Baekhyun, and Sehun. Yixing, Minseok, and Kyungsoo will all remain in the hovercraft, scanning the area for potential threats, as well as making sure the civilians get out safely while no rogues escape.

Each member of your team has a certain specialty, each having a specific role to play. Yixing is the pilot, as well as the certified medic. Minseok and Kyungsoo are the tech specialists, while the rest of you are the infiltration and strike team, each with your own unique abilities.

Chanyeol is a fire sprite, meaning he has the ability to manipulate heat and flames. Jongin can teleport, and is usually very good at getting out of tricky situations unharmed. Jongdae is a thunder kitsune who can control lightning, but is also a master strategist. Sehun is an incredible marksman with a bow, while Baekhyun is a skilled swordsman who can handle any blade. Junmyeon, a vampire, is particularly skilled at hand to hand combat, while your specialty is guns. You’re also the leader of this band of misfits, of which you couldn’t ask for a better team.

You’ve taught them a lot of what they know as you were the one to train most of them when they first arrived to EXO. You’ve saved their lives countless times, and they’ve saved yours. You wouldn’t trade them for anything, and you know that they feel the same way.

“Alright, everyone, switch your earpieces to channel five,” you say, noticing how they immediately do as told. “We begin the drop down on my signal.”

Receiving nods from your team, Yixing flies in closer to the roof of the building, but not before making sure to activate the cloaking mechanism. Once you’re close enough, you lift your mask over the bottom half of your face, and nod.

The hatch opens, and you give your hand signals for the first team to drop, watching as Junmyeon, Jongin, and Baekhyun all drop down to the roof. The next team to follow is Jongdae and Chanyeol, followed shortly by you and Sehun.

Feeling your feet hit the roof, you begin to move over to your respective point of entrance with Sehun, seeing the others do the same. With a final nod from you, the seven of you enter through separate hatches on the roof, your plan being to converge in the centre, the spot in which the most power is emanating from.

Entering into the darkness of the warehouse, you’re quick to switch on the small light that’s attached to your gun. What little light from the hatch above you does nothing to make the hallway you’re in more visible.

Hearing Sehun drop down beside you, you give the all clear to start moving, hearing the others through your earpiece also beginning to make their way through the warehouse after maintaining a clear coast.

With Sehun at your side, you quickly clear the section of the warehouse you’ve assigned to yourselves, letting the others know through your communication pieces. A few minutes later reveals their sections all clear as well.

Your brow furrows slightly as you continue to make your way through the warehouse. So far, you haven’t ran into anyone, which is concerning, considering you were informed of the many hostages that have been taken. You thought you would have at least ran into someone, or at least another enemy working for Shelly.

Rounding the corner with your gun raised, you come cross the stairwell that will lead you down towards the main area where Shelly supposedly is supposedly hiding out.

With a quick nod to Sehun, you begin to descend the stairs.

Your brow furrows even further when you hear the faintest whisper of your name on the air, followed by a distinct laugh which can only belong to the witch in question. You’re getting a sneaking suspicion that this may be a trap.

“Viper, Null, have you come across any variants yet?” You hear Junmyeon’s voice through your earpiece.

“None,” you reply.

“What about you guys? Chen, Loey?” Sehun inquires as you reach the bottom of the stairs.

“Nothing yet, which is surprising,” Jongdae’s voice rings through, the others humming their agreement.

“You guys, I’m getting a bad feeling about this,” Yixing’s voice can be heard, followed by some static.

“Be careful, the radar is glitching, so I can’t get a read on the inside of the warehouse anymore,” Kyungsoo adds, and you can hear Minseok fumbling with something the background.

“Seems like most of our detection equipment is malfunctioning,” Minseok grumbles.

“What’s everyone’s position currently?” Your voice is heard as you round another corner, gun raised.

“Closing in on the meeting point,” Jongin tells you, and you hear a grunt of confirmation come from Chanyeol, signifying they’re also close.

You can faintly see streams of light beginning to come from down the hallway, and off to the right. You know the main area is just around the corner, so you switch off your flashlight, putting your hand up to halt Sehun in his tracks. Following your lead, he presses his back to the wall beside you, waiting for your signal.

“We’re ready, just give us the signal,” Jongin says lowly.

“Ready when you are, captain,” Jongdae adds, and you know that they’re all in position now, surrounding the room you’re peeking into.

You can faintly see the outline of a figure standing in the centre of the room, their back turned to you. They seem to be chanting something under their breath as a massive swirl of energy begins to grow in front of them, shifting the air in the room.

“What is that?” Baekhyun gasps.

“I don’t know, but I don’t like the feeling I’m getting from it,” Junmyeon replies, causing you to hum in agreement.

Your eyes cautiously scan the entirety of the room, not seeing anyone else in sight. You furrow your brow once more in confusion. You thought there were hostages in this situation, but it no longer seems you have to worry about any civilian casualties. Looks like it was just a plan to lure you out here to the warehouse.

“Looks like she hasn’t noticed us yet,” Sehun observes, watching how Shelly seems to be focusing all her attention on the growing mass of energy in front of her.

“Okay, Suho, Kai, Guan, approach from the centre,” you instruct. “Loey, Chen, left side. Null and I will take the right.”

Small sounds of approval are heard as you all begin to slowly approach Shelly from behind, weapons raised. As you get closer, you can hear her voice growing louder in her chanting, until she suddenly stops.

Immediately raising a hand with a closed fist, you halt all movements of your team, waiting to see what she does next. However, what you don’t expect is for her to start laughing maniacally.

“How nice of you to finally join me,” she turns to face the seven of you, and so badly do you want to wipe that grin right off of her face.

“Yeah, thanks for the invitation,” Chanyeol scoffs, flames appearing in both his hands as he holds them at his sides, squaring his shoulders as he prepares to lunge into an attack at your command.

“Well, I had to do something that would grab your attention, and not one of your measly little subordinates,” she chuckles, tossing some of her hair over her shoulder in the process.

“Just go ahead and make this easier for all of us,” Junmyeon says, locking gazes with her. “Surrender.”

“Oh, but then where’s the fun in that?” She hums, tilting her head slightly to the side in a mocking fashion.

“Saves you the humiliation of getting your ass kicked,” Sehun smirks, raising his bow more fully to take aim at her chest.

“That’s a nice thought, but I don’t think so,” she responds, eyes flicking towards where you’re standing. “I’m not the one who’s going to lose today.”

“You sound so sure of yourself,” you reply, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

“Once I finish this spell, I know I’ll have nothing to fear,” she counters, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “You’ve taken everything from me. Everything. Now, it’s time for my revenge.”

With those words, she springs into action, moving her arms in a sweeping motion and sending the seven of you flying across the room. You hit the wall with a loud smack, the others getting scattered throughout.

In an instant, Shelly is in front of you, a deadly smirk on her features. Before you can raise your gun to take aim, she’s flinging it out of your hands, pinning your arms to the wall using magic as she lifts you by your throat with her one hand.

“Soon, you’ll know what it feels like to have nothing,” she snarls, tightening her grip around your throat, making you gasp slightly for air.

“Let her go,” Jongin snarls from behind her, and you barely manage to shake your head at the six of them who now stand in a semi-circle in front of you.

“One wrong move and I’ll crush her throat,” Shelly threatens, causing the men before you to hesitate slightly.

While her focus is on them, you manage to move your arm close enough to your side and slide out your switchblade from your pants’ pocket. Your arms may be pinned to the wall beside you, but you can still slide them for side to side. Some witch she’s supposed to be, can’t even pin you properly. Well, she was never the strongest, or smartest, of her coven.

In the instant it takes for you to lock eyes with him, Jongin teleports beside Shelly, sending a quick punch to her side. This causes her hold to loosen on you just enough to free your airway properly, but serves to distract her long enough to break her magical hold on you.

Moving swiftly, you lunge at her, burying your switchblade into her chest and causing her to stumble back a bit. She holds a hand up to her wound, blood slipping through her fingertips as she attempts to stop the bleeding.

Instead of panicking, seeing as she’s been injured and is now surrounded by the seven of you, she laughs. A grin pull at her features as her eyes become crazed.

“Now you’ve done it,” she jeers, as a rumble sounds off to the side.

The giant energy sphere begins to swirl faster, catching all of your attention. It begins to flash different colours, expanding and contracting as tendrils of energy swirl and flare around it. You hear Shelly chanting one final line, and your eyes widen. You need to stop her before the spell is completed.

Lunging at her, you’re quick to put her in a headlock. Junmyeon is the first to react, racing over and ripping her heart from her chest. Her body slumps in your hold, eyes now void of life.

However, this only seems to cause the massive ball of energy to become unstable, swirling faster as it begins to shake the entire building. You can hear the worried voices of Kyungsoo, Minseok, and Yixing in your ears asking what’s going on, but you’re all too distracted to answer, concerned with how you’re going to make it out alive.

Just as you open your mouth to speak, a bright light blinds you, causing you to bring your hands up to block the flash, dropping Shelly’s body to the floor in the process. You get thrown backwards once more, eyes closed as the sphere shoots out beams of energy, tearing through the building wherever it makes contact.

You can hear the six men with you grunting, hearing as they get hit with something, getting thrown backwards just like you shortly afterwards. You worry for their safety, but you can’t do anything at the moment.

It takes about two minutes for the light to die down, and some dust to settle around you. Blinking, you manage to clear your vision enough to take in the damage around you. Luckily, it isn’t as bad as you thought it to be, sounding much worse than it is.

Looking around, you spot the six men on the ground surrounding you. They groan slightly as they stand up, a few of them rubbing their heads as they get shakily back onto their feet.

“What in the hell was that?” Baekhyun groans, blinking a few times to clear his vision.

“I have no idea, but is everyone okay?” Junmyeon asks, eyes briefly scanning everyone for injuries.

“Was I the only one who got hit with something, or did you guys feel it, too?” Jongin voices, running a hand through his already ruffled hair.

“I think we all got hit,” Sehun mutters, dusting off his jacket before picking up his fallen bow.

“Not me,” you mumble, to which they hum in acknowledgement. You take this time to look over them carefully, making sure they’re all okay. You also allow your gaze to travel over the room one last time as you say these next words, “it looks like our radios are broken. We need to get out of here and contact-“

You cut yourself off as you inhale sharply, eyes widening slightly as you take in six new, yet familiar figures now standing on a ledge in front of you, looking down at your small group.

The others, noticing your stare, furrow their brows in confusion as they turn to look at what you’re currently so fixated on. Their eyes widen, and a few gasps escape their lips as they take in themselves standing on the ledge. Only, the six new figures seem to be wearing slightly different outfits. However, they all seem to have their gazes fixated solely on you.

“Aw, leaving us so soon, sweetheart?” One of them calls out, grins tugging at all their lips as a shiver runs down your spine. “The party’s only just begun.”

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flirting-with-psychology · 3 years

Text

🌸✨WILDFLOWER-APOLLO’S 300 FOLLOWERS SPECIAL✨🌸

LETS GET PERSONAL!

1. what’s your full name?

2. when’s your birthday?

November 26

3. what does your URL mean?

I like psychology and I like thinking about crushes

4. who’s your celebrity crush? T

om Hiddleston

5. are you single or taken?

Taken

6. rant. let it all out babe.

Fuck jobs fuck capitalism

7. are you named after anyone?

My grandmother

8. do you have or want children? if so, how many?

Possibly, if so then 2

9. do you relate to any fictional characters?

Yeah, several. The ones that come to mind are Gatsby and Queen Regina

10. do you have any plants?

Yes

11. what are you currently wearing?

A jumper

12. describe your aesthetic in emojis.

I’m on my laptop lol, not gonna try to do a survey on my phone

13. do you have any bad habits?

Oh yes. Procrasting, instant gratification, being late, eating like crap, obsessing over stuff

14. what’s your sexuality?

Mostly straight

15. what’s the last song you sang?

Currently singing The Rose Song from HSMTMTS

16. what are your favorite colors?

Pink, green, blue

17. are you and introvert, ambivert, or extrovert?

Ambivert

18. describe your current mood in emojis.

Again, laptop

19. is there anyone you’d do anything for?

Probably not anything

20. what fascinates you?

Random stuff, currently chemistry, music, crafts, and space

21. favorite artists?

Taylor Swift, Olivia Rodrigo

22. what outfit makes you feel confident?

Fancy dresses

23. favorite flower?

Idk

24. favorite season?

Fall

25. favorite tv show/movie?

TV show: Friends. Movie: Back to the Future

26. what do you like in a person?

Sense of humor, easy to talk to, common interests, attractive

27. least favorite color?

Idk maybe like muddy yellow

28. first crush?

Aidan in kindergarten

29. how long do you usually sleep?

When I don’t set an alarm, till like 1pm

30. what celebrity do people say you look like?

None really. I think I look like Lea Michele but I’m probably not that pretty

31. favorite scent?

Citrus

32. do you have/want any pets? if so, how many?

I don’t have any currently, I have had 4 cats and I want to get another cat

33. what color is your hair naturally? if you could dye it any color, what would it be?

Brown, I want to try a red ombre

34. do you have a good relationship with your parents?

Pretty good

35. do you take a yearly vacation?

36. what is your biggest fear?

Spiders

37. what do you wear to bed?

PJs or a nightgown

38. best memory?

Idk

39. best feeling you’ve ever experienced?

Probably when everyone liked my video or jokes, or when a crush likes me back

40. best gift you’ve ever received?

Half of the cost of my car

41. what’s your skincare routine?

Wash it once a day, rinse face twice a day, moisturize

42. favorite book?

Harry Potter

43. favorite song?

All Too Well by Taylor Swift

44. favorite album?

It changes a lot, currently Sour by Olivia Rodrigo

45. share your playlist or a playlist you love!

Nah

46. dream destination?

I’d like to visit Ireland

47. best subject? favorite subject, least favorite?

Best was probably math, favorites were science and arts, least favorite was english

48. do you prefer baggy, loose, or tight clothes?

Semi-loose but with some form

49. punk or pastel?

Pastel

50. search your name + core on pinterest & make a moodboard!

Nah

51. if you could travel back to any time period, what would it be & why?

Medieval because i think it’s cool

52. do you have any piercings?

Just my ears

53. do you have any tattoos?

54. do you have any siblings?

55. are your parents together or divorced?

Divorced

56. do you have any stepparents or step-siblings?

57. are your parents strict?

My mom was kinda

58. do you have a set bedtime?

No lol

59. what state do you live in?

Colorado

60. what are your sun, moon, & rising signs?

Idk, I just know I’m a sagittarius

61. do you share any traits with your signs?

Idk, they’re pretty generic so that everyone feels like it describes them

62. what’s a song that gets you going?

Depends on my mood

63. sweet or sour?

Sweet

64. soft or hard tacos?

Idk, I don’t eat tacos too much

65. what color are your bedroom walls?

Pink and green

66. the color/design of your bedsheets?

Turquoise

67. favorite thing to drink out of?

A glass

68. socks or bare feet around the house?

Bare feet

69. favorite board game?

Lately Dead of Winter

70. favorite video games?

Among Us, Detroit Become Human

71. do you sleep with the fan on or off?

72. do you sing in the shower?

Yes

73. favorite song to belt at the top of your lungs when alone?

Satisfied from Hamilton

74. last thing you cried to?

Being stressed over job hunting

75. have you tried any alcoholic beverage before?

Yes

76. gum or breath mints?

Gum

77. favorite pair of shoes you own?

The pink wedges

78. how many pairs of shoes do you own?

Way too many, probably like 30 at least

79. what is the natural state of your hair?

A little wavy

80. have you had braces? if yes, how long?

Yes, for 4 years

81. makeup or natural?

Makeup

82. are you a competitive person?

I can be

83. favorite pasta dish?

Pasta with cheese

84. favorite kind of chips?

Ruffles cheddar and sour cream

85. talk about something your passionate about!

Idk if I’m passionate abot anything

86. what are some of your hobbies?

Crafts, DnD, shopping

87. do you drink coffee? if so, how do you like it?

88. favorite kind of pizza?

White pizza with pineapple

89. favorite & least favorite labels that have been put on you?

Idk what labels have been put on me

90. are you religious?

91. were you raise religious?

Not really

92. what shoe size do you wear?

7.5-8

93. heroes or villains?

Depends on the character

94. favorite vegetable?

Corn

95. least favorite vegetable?

Broccoli probably

96. favorite dessert?

Chocolate

97. do you play any sports?

98. can you swim? if so, when did you learn how to?

Yes, when I was little

99. tell a funny story!

Idk

100. what job would you be terrible at?

Doctor or politician

101. what’s your favorite compliment to give?

Compliment their clothing or accessories

102. has your opinion changed on something recently?

I’m evaluating my opinion on how cautious I need to be for covid

103. favorite physical feature about yourself?

Maybe eyes

104. what’s your favorite physical feature about someone else?

I look most at faces

105. what’s something you would rate 10/10?

Galavant

106. heels or flats?

Heels

107. what’s something you had more knowledge about?

Does this mean wish you had? If so then chemistry

108. would you want to be famous?

I’d want to maybe be known by name but not by face

109. what’s something you would get arrested for?

Pirating TV shows

110. are you a planner or spontaneous person?

A mix

111. what do you hope never changes?

Being friends with my best friends

112. what are your pronouns?

She/her

113. are you a feminist?

For the most part

114. what’s your hogwarts house?

Hufflepuff

115. myers briggs personality type?

Idk, it changes every time

116. who’s your favorite superhero?

Idk maybe Thor

117. favorite villain?

Loki

118. marvel or dc?

Marvel

119. what’s an assumption everyone makes about you that’s not 100% true?

In school people thought I was bookish and didn’t care about parties or boys or that kind of stuff, and now that I’m out of school people think I’m ditzy and probably not that smart

120. favorite bands?

Taylor Swift

121. if you could meet one celebrity, who & why?

Taylor Swift because I like her music and I think we would get along

122. have you watched porn before?

A little

123. favorite disney movie?

Hercules, Aladdin, or Tangled

124. favorite disney princess?

Rapunzel

125. favorite disney prince?

Hercules or Aladdin

126. favorite disney couple?

Rapunzel and Eugene

127. star wars or star trek?

Star Wars

128. top five movies?

Back to the Future, Confessions of a Shopaholic, Timer, The Imitation Game, Tangled

129. top five songs?

All Too Well, In a Crowd of Thousands, Traitor, Me and the Sky, Satisfied

130. top five ships?

Idk. Currently I’m enjoying Gina and EJ from HSMTMTS

131. how gay are you?

Just a little bit, I have occasional crushes on girls but I don’t think I’d want to date a girl

132. scream. just let it out.

133. do you have a best friend?

Yeah

134. call or text?

text

135. what’s a song that’s been stuck in your head recently?

A lot of Olivia Rodrigo songs

136. is there a song stuck in your head right now?

Just the songs I’m listening to

137. what song(s) will you always love?

A lot of Taylor Swift and showtunes

138. what song is your current mood?

Idk, I just feel like singing

139. recommend an artist!

The girl who plays Ashlyn from HSMTMTS

140. favorite meme song?

They’re Taking the Hobbits to Isengard

141. a song you hate that everyone loves?

I Like It by Cardi B

142. an artist you refuse to listen to?

Most rappers

143. what’s you “big gay mood” song?

Idk, I Kissed a Girl?

144. favorite lyrics?

“You call me up again just to break me like a promise / So casually cruel in the name of being honest” from All Too Well

145. what lyrics would you get tattooed on any part of your body?

I wouldn’t

146. shuffle your music & share the result!

Knowing Me, Knowing You by Abba

147. what’s your favorite love song?

In a Crowd of Thousands

148. ultimate song to clean to?

Through the Fire and the Flames by Dragonforce

149. if you could collaborate with one musician, who & why?

Taylor Swift because she gets me

150. what song makes you cry?

Soon You’ll Get Better by Taylor Swift

151. what would be your theme song?

Blank Space

152. what’s a strange phobia you have?

Spiders aren’t that strange, so fear of having accidentally shoplifted

153. did you have an emo phase?

154. did you have a greek mythology phase?

Just a little

155. roman or greek mythology?

Greek

156. who’s your godly parent & which god/goddess are you?

Idk

157. how do you handle your anger?

Yell, slam things

158. most attractive singer of the opposite gender?

Ramin Karimloo

159. most attractive singer of the same gender?

Hayden Panettiere

160. what time is it?

12:03am

161. do you have any nicknames?

Star

162. what’s a song that always makes you happy whenever you hear it?

In a Crowd of Thousands

163. which swear word do you use the most!

Fuck

164. five ways to win your heart?

Sense of humor, sing duets, do creative stuff, tease me, pay attention to me

165. five pet peeves?

Mouth sounds, people who think strong female characters can’t have love interests, people giving me unsolicited advice, people wearing their mask under their nose, ghosting

166. do you have trust issues?

Maybe

167. what do you pray about?

I don’t

168. most traumatic experience?

Probably braces

169. what is your dream job?

Idk

170. if you were to be in a musical, which musical, character, & other cast members would you have?

I would love to play Angelica in Hamilton

171. who would play you in a movie about your life?

Lea Michele

172. what’s your favorite thing about your significant other?

Sense of humor

173. favorite fictional character?

Kelsier from Mistborn

174. post a picture of yourself!

Nah

175. what’s your favorite pet name?

I don’t really like generic pet names that much

176. what makes you feel like a horrible person?

Not caring enough about people

177. when did you realize your sexuality?

It was always kind of assumed, but started thinking I might be a little bi a couple years ago

178. when was your first kiss?

When I was 18

179. expose your parents. that’s right. expose them. they deserve it.

My mom is overly cautious and doesn’t know how to pick her battles, my dad is a bit annoying

180. a phrase that breaks your heart?

Depends on the context

181. when did you come out?

I didn’t

182. how did you come out?

I didn’t

183. who knows you’re out?

I’m straight

184. what’s your lucky number?

Idk

185. how tall are you?

5′6″

186. favorite word?

finnicky

187. are you right handed or left handed?

Right handed

188. do you have an accent?

American

189. first word that comes to mind when you hear ‘heart’?

Beat

190. what’s something you’re proud of?

I made a funny meme in the work group chat the other day

191. do you like where you live?

I like the area, but I don’t like living at my dad’s house

192. when you’re older, do you want to move to a different place?

Yeah

193. do you play any instruments?

Clarinet

194. how long is your hair?

To my boobs

195. what’s the meaning of your name?

Star

196. give an unpopular opinion & let your followers attack you or be salty.

People shouldn’t be cancelled for one shitty opinion, and consuming their work doesn’t mean you support all their beliefs or even like them as a person

197. do you support the lgbtq+ community?

Yes

198. who were you supporting for the 2020 election?

Biden

199. opinion on abortion?

Pro-choice

200. opinion on the death penalty?

Against it

201. opinion on reverse racism?

It’s not the same

202. post your screen time for this week.

Like all damn week lol

203. have you ever talked to a celebrity?

Yes, I met Channing Tatum and got a picture with him

204. what was your first concert?

Demi Lovato

205. how long do you keep your bra on?

All day

206. what’s your bra size?

36D last time I got one

207. give a tour of your room (video).

nah

208. how many photos are in your camera roll?

2990

209. what is the most recent movie/show you downloaded on disney+?

Phil of the Future

210. do you like documentaries?

Occasionally if it’s an interesting subject, but it’s not my favorite genre

211. what’s your favorite musical?

Wicked

212. who’s your favorite non-broadway actor/ actress?

Benjamin Bonenfant

213. who’s your favorite broadway actor/actress?

Ramin Karimloo

214. what’s the song you’re currently listening to?

A Dancer’s Heart

215. drop your most recent picture!

Nah

216. do you have a record player?

217. how many records do you have?

None

218. show your records!

None to show

219. do you plan on going to college? if so, where?

I went to my state school

220. talk about someone without telling who.

They used to wear light up sneakers

221. talk about something you hate.

I hate tomatoes and everything made out of them

222. have you been to therapy?

Yes

223. what color are your eyes?

Brown

224. what color are your parents’ eyes?

Hazel for my mom, Hazel-green for my dad

225. what color are you significant other’s eyes?

Hazel

226. how old were you when you had your first kiss?

227. do you have a favorite parent?

No, they are good in different ways

228. are your grandparents still alive?

Just my maternal grandma

229. drop 10 songs & let your followers tell you if you have taste or not.

That’s too much work

230. how many followers do you have on twitter & instagram?

Like 3 probably lol

231. are you the eldest, middle, or youngest sibling?

Only child

232. do you have a specific daytime routine?

Work

233. how often do you go to the doctor’s?

When I need to

234. have you had any surgeries?

Yes, for my canine and wisdom teeth, and to get part of my thyroid removed

235. do you wear glasses?

Yes

236. do you prefer unsweetened iced tea or sweetened iced tea?

Sweetened

237. do you have a “type”?

Yes lol. I like a lot of types but my “type” that I fall for a lot is light skin, dark hair, blue eyes, "golden boy”/big personality

238. what’s your significant other’s astrology sign?

I think Sagittarius

239. drop 5 blogs you love.

Idk

240. do you think you’re like any celebrity (personality wise)?

Maybe Taylor Swift in some ways

241. are you a “popular kid”?

242. what are your school’s colors?

Black and gold

243. what’s your school’s mascot?

Buffalo

244. how many irl friends do you have?

Idk

245. who was your least favorite teacher?

My camera workshop instructor

246. favorite teacher?

My 7th grade math teacher, my freshman year words and music professor, and my junior year film professor

247. drop a picture of your closet.

Nah

248. how many awards do you have?

Idk, a handful

249. what’s one award you’re proud of?

The dean’s list

250. do you take naps?

I try not to

251. what’s something people always ask you when you first meet?

What’s your name?

252. favorite fast food restaurant?

McDonalds or Wendy’s

253. favorite place to dine in?

Rueben’s

254. mexican or chinese food?

Mexican

255. chinese or japanese food?

Chinese

256. mexican or japanese food?

Mexican

257. olive garden’s breadsticks or texas roadhouse’s yeast rolls?

Breadsticks

258. garlic bread or breadsticks?

Garlic bread

259. plain garlic bread or cheesy garlic bread?

Depends on my mood

260. chicken or steak?

Chicken

261. favorite meal?

Pasta

262. drop a recipe!

I don’t really cook

263. how do you like your steak cooked?

I don’t

264. what would your last meal be?

Pasta

265. are you allergic to anything?

Beeswax I think

266. cats or dogs?

Cats but I like both

267. favorite genre of music?

Showtunes

268. favorite fan fic trope?

Fake dating probably or needing each other for survival

269. favorite tv show genre?

Sci-fi or sitcom

270. what’s your favorite cover/cover a band or artist has or should do?

Disturbed cover of The Sound of Silence

271. how often do you write songs?

I haven’t since I was a kid

272. how many finished songs do you have?

Idk like 5

273. do you write your songs in your notes or in a journal?

I just came up with them

274. how long have you been writing?

I don’t really write

275. how long have you had your account?

Since like 2013 or 14

276. what was your first URL?

shineslikestars17

277. if you could change your name, what would it be?

Star

278. what would you like to name your children?

Shane or Eric for a boy, Phoenix for a girl

279. what are your parents’ & sibling’s names?

I don’t have siblings, I don’t feel like sharing my parents names

280. are your parents democratic or republican?

Democrativ

281. do you have more in common with your mom or dad?

Both in different ways

282. are you & your siblings close?

I don’t have any

283. how close are you and your siblings in age?

I don’t have any

284. are any of your siblings married?

I dont have any

285. do you have any nieces or nephews?

286. do your parents have any siblings?

My mom has a sister and my dad has a brother

287. do you have any cousins?

Yes

288. do you look more like your mom or dad?

Both

289. how old were you when you started your period?

13 I think

290. have you lost your virginity?

Yes

291. who took your concert virginity?

My what?

292. who took your musical virginity?

My what?

293. scream again. everyone needs to.

294. do you have any collections?

Kinda, lately I’ve been collecting dice

295. what’s on your nightstand?

Water, lotion, advil, phones, chapstick, purell

296. how do you usually style your hair?

Down or ponytail

297. do you play games on your phone?

Sometimes

298. are you hydrated?

Yes

299. have you breathed enough today?

I assume so since I am still conscious

300. are you thankful for anything?

I know I have a lot of privilege

#survey #long post

4 notes · View notes

surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

Text

Survey #349

“we’ll meet again, when both our cars collide”

When was the last time you had a PopTart? It's been many, many months. Do you like hot chocolate? Well duh. Who made you laugh the hardest today? I haven't really laughed today. Who was the last person to promise you something, and what was it? Hmph. Would you ever jump into a fire to save your bestfriend? I know I would. Do you have a callus from writing too much? No, I only have calluses on my feet from when I used to walk for hours on end. They just never permanently went away, even with grooming. Who is someone you’ve made a bad first impression on? I dread to guess what the girl Jason dated after me was told about me. I shouldn't care at all, but I do. I have every reason to accurately be defined as "the crazy ex," and I fucking hate it. Who is your best guy friend? Girt, a friend from high school. Do you read cereal boxes while you’re eating? I did as a kid, but now I don't. I just kinda stand and eat. What’s the last thing you accidentally (or purposely) burnt? I kinda burnt the roof of my mouth on pizza the other night. Do you know anyone with a lip piercing? Me, haha. I know others, too. What did the last tattoo you saw, look like? I don't remember. Have you ever given birth? NO FUCKING THANK YOU. Do you enjoy making out? I mean if I'm in the mood to and I love you, yeah. Why exactly do you take surveys? "I genuinely like doing them and they’re great for venting and sorting out thoughts and whatnot. I can just ramble and get things off my chest." <<<< This right here covers it. As well, it's just a boredom killer. And I happen to be bored very, very often. Rockband or Gutair Hero? Both are great, why choose just one? What are you listening to right now? Halocene's cover of "Helena" by My Chemical Romance. It's beautiful. What kind of energy drinks do you drink, if any? None, because I just can't do energy drinks. They taste like pure poison to me. Have you ever been swimming in a river? No. Swimming in a river sounds pretty dangerous... Does your alarm clock wake you with music, or with an annoying buzz sound? Music. When you broke stuff in the house as a child, did you blame it on siblings? I'm hoping you don't mean breaking deliberately, 'cuz I wasn't that kind of kid. But anyway, I don't believe I did. Did you make it all the way through the Oregon Trail game? Yes. I was obSESSED with those games as a kid. Lions and tigers and bears, oh my! Which one are you more scared of? Tigers, probably. They're so stealthy and, while I may be entirely wrong, seem like the top candidate of the three to attack a human, be it for food or defense. And have you SEEN the muscles on a tiger? Christ. Describe the best use that you’ve found for duct tape: Uh, taping things lmao. Do you wrap gifts or use gift bags? I use gift bags, because I can't wrap for shit. What fast food place do you avoid at all costs? Arby's is really gross to me. Are you afraid of deep sea creatures? Just giant squid... *shudders* Have you ever agreed to purchase something on Ebay and got scammed somehow? No. I did, however, purchase something on deviantART and never got the product. It was going to be a present for Jason. In dA's defense though, I've bought like... two or three other things from there, and there were zero issues. It's really about the people you trust. If you get a call that says “Unknown”, do you answer it? Nnnnope. Do you have any bobble head figures? No. Have your parents ever left you somewhere without realizing it? I don't think so. Have you ever been in a tanning bed? No. Did your last kiss mean anything to you? Well yeah, I wouldn't have kissed her otherwise. Would you say that you have a nice smile? No; I've been self-conscious of it since I was a kid, mostly because one of my eyes looks more squinty than the other, but they both are to me. I've always said I look high when I smile lmao. Is there an ex you want to make up with? My mind immediately screams "Jason," but I know that's a horrendous idea. Our last talk ended peacefully and even with care and good wishes, and I need my fucking impenetrable head to accept that's where it needs to end. He does NOT need to re-enter my life. It would be so bad for me. Do you remember how you felt on 9/11? I have no memory of it, if I'm being honest. What outfit makes you feel the most attractive? None. Other than yourself, who knows you the best? Really? Whoever reads these lmao. What’s one complaint that you have about school? Common Core and how every student's school experience was not tailored towards their unique goals. Like they try to cram a shitload of identical and usually useless information into a kid's brain to make them a jack of all trades, you could say, but not enough information they need to properly pursue their career future. It causes such an unnecessary amount of frustration and stress. I have many, many complaints about the education system, but this one tops the list. What do you do while you’re on campus but not in class? Back in college, I would just do stuff on my laptop. Do you know anyone who has Autism/Asperger’s syndrome? Yes. Are you open to a same-sex relationship and why or why not? Well, considering I'm bisexual... Do you remember life without the internet? No. Have you ever found yourself to be ugly? I've gone my entire life thinking I'm ugly, if I'm being real. What is your state’s minimum wage? $7.25 a fucking hour. :'''''') Is there something you want to say to someone but can’t/won’t? There's a few people. What is your first memory of being in a hospital? Considering my mom worked at the local hospital when I was a kid, I remember being there quite, quite young, playing with my older sister in Mom's and her coworkers' room. I think Nicole was too young to really "play." Do you have any relatives with red hair? No. What is something good that has happened to you in the past week? I got my first Covid vaccine. My arm hurts like a motherfucker now, but to protect my mom, it's worth it. Please get vaccinated. How much was the rent/mortgage at the cheapest place you’ve ever lived? That's never been my business. Have you ever been to a gay pride parade? No, but I would go to a local one if I could actually walk five feet without being in serious pain and sweating like a pig. Do you still keep in touch with your very first best friend? We're friends on Facebook, but that's it. What was the topic of the last conversation you had with your dad? I can't remember, but it was recent, because we all met at Ashley's house for Nicole's birthday celebration. How often did you visit your grandparents when you were growing up? Pretty much never, given they all lived no less than like, 10 hours (via car) from where we lived. My immediate family are the only people in NC. When two family members are fighting, what do you usually do? Stay out of it, but admittedly try to listen just to know what's going on. Do you like the smell of men’s cologne? Yeah. What’s your all time FAVORITE freezer food? Do you eat that a lot? I survive off of microwaveable freezer food, so this is very hard... uhhhhh... perhaps this Banquet bowl meal that's mac 'n cheese with spicy chicken. It's absolutely delicious, like you'd never guess that sucker was just popped in the microwave. I'd say I eat it a moderate amount; it's a reliable option if Mom's not cooking and I'm really hungry, because it's super filling. Do you like documentaries? Have you ever watched one and find it boring? I enjoy them, particularly when they're about animals. Were you ever a fan of macaroni & cheese? Do you like Kraft dinner? Ha, speak of mac 'n cheese. I love it, and Kraft makes it fine. Do you burn incense? Not as much as I used to. I love the smell and just general vibe, though. What would you consider an unacceptable first date? Going to a bar or something. Have you ever been so sick you had to be taken to the hospital? In the head, anyway. Is there anything currently bothering you? Multiple things. Would you say that you’ve got something ‘special’ about you? No. Do you like things vampire-related? I don't really have an opinion on vampire stuff. Are you the kind of person who does not like talking about their past? I don't care. Have you ever been to a casino? No. What’s the last thing you wore a costume for besides Halloween related events? Back when I still took dance classes and we had the yearly recital. What does your father do for a living? He's a mailman. What’s the last app you downloaded on your phone? Haha, I re-downloaded this ollllldddd game I had before, Nyan Cat: Lost in Space (or something like that?) for my niece to play. She's hooked on it now. Are you in any discomfort right now? Yeah; as I mentioned, my arm really hurts. What do you know the most about? Of all things I know, almost certainly meerkats. Are you seeing anyone? No. Have you ever hooked back up with an ex, just for sex? Was it a mistake or no? No. Have you ever gotten in trouble for using a phone in class? No, because I didn't use my phone in class. Have you seen all the Shrek movies? No, which is a fucking crime. I need to see the last one. Have you ever finished a whole video game? Plenty plenty plenty. Do you know anyone with a pet snake? Yeah, myself included. If you had to live in an extreme environment — think Sahara, Antarctica, under the sea, on the Moon— where would you want to live? Why? Probably Antarctica. I'm sure it would be unpleasant, being that cold, but I feel there's more you can do about being cold than being in the scalding heat of, say, the Sahara. Living on the moon or in the deep ocean sounds super sucky. How was your day overall? It's been okay. Not as bored as usual, at least. How many people of the opposite sex do you fully trust? Like... zero. I want to say my dad, and I almost do, just... nightmares make that very, very difficult. Plus his past. What does your mom call you? Normally just "Britt." Write a sentence in another language: Oh god, my German is so rusty... uhhhh... Hallo, ich heiße Brittany, und ich bin 25 Jahre alt und wohne in North Carolina. I think I got the grammar right? Have you ever sent an X-Rated picture to someone? No. Even if I was comfortable with my body, I would be way too paranoid to at any point have a naked picture on my phone, even if I deleted it. Like, hello blackmail, but also, nothing you delete is ever really gone permanently. What big city do you live near? Raleigh is like an hour away. Do you like breaded chicken sandwiches? omg YES Is there a Sonic in your area? Yes, it's my favorite fast food joint. You have GOT to try the pretzel twists with cheese dip. Have you ever gone to a thrift store? Yeah, I love 'em. Do you think Johnny Depp is attractive? I do. Are you happy with the state you live in? No, not at all. I hate this place. Bunch of homophobic, racist rednecks. How many times have you seen the opposite sex naked? It's not like I counted every time I saw my ex naked over three and half years lmao. How many times have you seen the same sex naked? A few times. When days go by, do you cross them off on the calendar? I don't use a calendar. Are you currently counting down to something? If so, what? MY TATTOO APPOINTMENT!!!!! :''') I know I can't stop talking about it, but ugh I'm so excited. May 19th, c'mon already. Do you pay rent to your parents? No. Do you dye eggs for Easter? I used to as a kid. Not so much anymore. Are you in debt right now? For what? Oh god, I don't want to think of this. Would you ever work night crew? I really, really wouldn't want to. Humans are diurnal for a reason. Being awake in constant darkness would depress the fuck outta me, and it'd feel so lonely, with everyone I know asleep. Who was the last person that lied to you, or that you can recall lying to you? What did they lie about? How did you find out they were lying? I don't remember. Has anyone ever called you ugly, straight up, before? How did you react to this? No, not to my face. Who is the most stubborn person you know {excluding yourself}? MY MOTHER.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''helena'' by my chemical romance

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coffeefairy · 4 years

Note

For the writing ask: #9, #18, and... #50, please? :)

9. What are your favourite fanfics?

If I wrote a list of all the ones I love, it’d be endless so I am going to shamelessly interpret this as “what are your favourite of your own fanfics”. Still difficult but a shorter list! Friend in Need will always have a special place in my heart because it was written for a small ship and the readers were incredibly supportive of my efforts - and it was my first ever attempt at smut so the support was sorely needed!

I am most proud of Dancing in the Dark because it is the longest fic I have ever written, and it’s lead me to learn a lot about my writing and reap lessons I’ve gotten from other stories.

A Second Beginning (Drinny), Legends of Fall (Sheith) and Good Boy (Sheith), I believe show off my writing to its best advantage (in different ways) which make them favourites of mine.

18. What is your favourite writing prompt? I haven’t written too much for prompts because I haven’t really had many! I really like “trope lists” and “trope bingo” and inserting whatever ship I am most obsessed with at the time for prompts. I’m not an original trail blazer, I like a “they were rooooommates” AU, or exclaimed, “there was only one bed!”. When it comes to just prompting me to write in general, comments usually spur me the most. When I see someone likes what I’ve written and is waiting for the continuation, I have to admit it motivates me (even though I know I should write just for me >D). Lastly, I believe you prompt me to write a lot because we know each other’s universes and can just spout an idea and get more ideas ;D 50. Could we get a teaser from an upcoming chapter?

Oh, I wonder what I should choose - you’ve read all of the WIPs I have! How about a teaser for something only you have seen? A segment from Last First Kiss, the Red Cricket companion piece to Dancing in the Dark. If you haven’t read DitD, that means 80s high school AU, the Red Cricket way :D This is the first meeting of the two, in September 1988: As usual, Mr Douglas’ droning voice made Ruby space out in seconds and she was contemplating whether she could afford the new Pat Benatar cassette she wanted this week or if she’d have to wait until after the weekend. Weekends meant better tips. A quiet knock on the door interrupted the drone. Ruby intently hoped the headmaster wasn’t coming by for his yearly “let’s have a great year” speeches. That would make them late for the second period. The door opened and a boy stepped in. Ruby perked up in her seat. She didn’t recognise him and that had to mean New Kid.New Kid was, importantly, cute. He was tall, with sandy hair pulling to auburn, bright blue eyes and round glasses. Dressed in worn jeans, a t-shirt and a plaid shirt over it, Ruby thought he had excellent potential. The hair needed a trim and the glasses could be replaced with contacts but other than that he was Majorly Cute. “Is this Seniors’ Home Room?” “It is. You must be Archibald Hopper.” “Archie.” “Well, then Archie, why don’t you introduce yourself to the class?” Pity curled in Ruby’s stomach. She didn’t envy anyone having to stand up in front of a new class and introduce themselves. The New Kid hitched his backpack higher and stepped into the room. A vague flush had risen in his cheeks. “Ah...I’m...I’m Archie. I-I-I’m…” At the stutter, Regina Mills, the cheerleader sitting in front of her, snickered. Ruby kicked her chair and got a haughty glance in return. “I just moved here from Spokane.” As nothing else seemed to be forthcoming, Mr Douglas cut the exercise in humiliation short. “Thank you, Mr Hopper. Why don’t you have a seat behind Miss Lucas?” Archie looked out over the class and Ruby straightened in her seat, smiling as she patted the desk behind her. Starting for the space, Sidney Glass tripped him just as he passed. He caught his balance and stood up, ears turning a deep shade of red. “Cut it out, Glass,” Ruby hissed and the large footballer shrugged like he hadn’t done anything. Behind her, Archie Hopper sat down. “Miss Lucas, why don’t you show Mr Hopper around today.” “Yes, Mr Douglas,” Ruby replied and smiled to herself. She’d get first scoop on the New Kid. When the class ended, she waved off her friends with a “see you later” and waited for Archie Hopper to collect his things. He hitched the backpack on again and looked up, seeming surprised to see her still standing there. “Oh.” “I’m showing you around, remember?” “Yes, I…” He fiddled with the strap to the bag. “The last three schools I started at, no one really took that seriously.” She frowned. The last three schools? And who wouldn’t be interested in a new kid to the school? They hadn’t had anyone new since fourth grade so this was going to be Big News. “I take my school commitments super seriously.” She flashed a smile and tilted her head. “When I want to. Come on, I’ll show you to second and then we’ll have a break so I can show you the whole kingdom.” She lead the boy out into the corridor. “I’m Ruby, by the way.” “Archie.” “I heard. Archie Hopper. From Spokane?” “Well, not originally but we moved from there to here.” He was looking around like the school was interesting or something. “Then where were you born?” “New York.” Ruby stopped in her tracks, eyes wide. “New York City?” “Yeah.” “Get out.” He blinked in surprise. “That is so cool!” “I...I don’t really remember much about it.” “Still, that’s amazing. Where else have you lived?” The boy hitched his backpack higher again. “Ah...Seattle, Albuquerque, Detroit. Some others.” Everything in Ruby was dying to know what all those big cities were like. But she reined some of the enthusiasm in. She didn’t want to seem too small town. “Wow. So why did your family move to Storybrooke of all places?” In Ruby’s opinion, changing New York or Seattle for Storybrooke was about as dumb as trading in Calvin Klein jeans for Walmart’s.

“They wanted a change of pace,” Archie said quickly. “What do your parents do?” “They’re dead. Since I was a baby. I live with my grandmother.” And despite having said it hundreds of times before, it still hurt a little. “Oh. I’m really sorry.” She had heard the tired platitude so often, but somehow from him, it sounded genuine. Shrugging to shake the softening from her stance, she tossed her hair. “Thanks. So this is where we have Maths. I recommend sitting in the back, Ms Gray likes to call on people in the front.” Archie Hopper nodded, his face serious as if she were imparting the secrets of the universe to him. Walking in she steered past her friends with a wink and pointed to a chair next to her for Archie Hopper. He sat, looking around nervously. She’d never started a new school but he seemed even more nervous than it would normally make you. Ms Gray walked in and Ruby prepared to indulge in daydreaming for fifty minutes.

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wulfrann · 4 years

Text

Frost Bite (Andreil Jack Frost AU, part 2)

All for the Game

Rating: Teen and Up

Story Warnings: Swearing

Relationship: Andrew Minyard/Neil Josten, Andrew Minyard & Renee Walker, Andrew Minyard & Nicky Hemmick

Additional Tags: Neil is Jack Frost AU, writer!Andrew, winter spirit!Neil, Pining, Therapy with Betsy, Friendship, Andrew tries to cope with Neil being gone, German Folklore, Andrew Minyard POV

[Part 2 of the When the frost is in bloom series - 8200 words - Published 2019-11-28]

Summary:

A few months after Neil leaves for the second time, Andrew decides to break his first writing rule and starts working on a sequel to Der ausweichende Winter.

He made sure to give the story a definite, well-rounded ending, but for some reason the characters just won’t leave him alone.

Read on AO3

A few months after Neil leaves for the second time, Andrew decides to break his first writing rule and starts working on a sequel to Der ausweichende Winter.

He made sure to give the story a definite, well-rounded ending, but for some reason the characters just won’t leave him alone.

And if he catches himself replacing Isa Holle’s name with Neil’s more often than he cares to admit, well. No one has to know.

Wymack does a poor job of hiding his surprise. Still, given the book’s success, he can only encourage it. It appears Fuchsbau Verlag has been receiving a steady influx of kids’ letters asking for more of Isa Holle’s adventures ever since the book came out. Most of them are for Andrew, but a respectable number are addressed to the characters themselves.

It takes Andrew by surprise.

He’s received letters before - but never that many, and never have his readers (no matter how young and impressionable) written directly to his characters.

It’s flattering.

Wymack promises to have Renee deliver the letters the next time she’s in town - which, according to hers and Andrew’s latest call, should only take a few days. He knows Wymack will probably send Renee with instructions to figure out Andrew’s plans for the book as well, but he doesn’t object.

Let her try - he’ll reveal as much as he wants to, and nothing more.

Keeping Neil out of his mind is difficult. Andrew is reminded of him every time King saunters into the room and nuzzles against his ankles. Whenever he thinks about his book. While he writes. Every fucking evening as he steps outside to smoke.

Every time Andrew looks out the window, he can’t help but picture Neil opening the balcony door to drag snowflakes and white breaths inside with him.

It’s a nuisance.

It chips away at his concentration until he’s glancing at the cigarette pack lying next to his keys more often than he’s finishing a damn sentence.

By the point Renee finally comes back to Stuttgart, he’s about ready to throw his computer out the fucking window.

Needless to say it’s a welcome distraction.

Renee notices, of course, because she knows him better than anyone. But since she’s a good person, she has the decency to wait until after their sparring session to mention it - once Andrew’s sore and centered and lying on the ground, feeling more himself than he has since Spring took over.

Neil throws him off-kilter. Pulls him out of axis and into his own orbit with an ease that’s less of a surprise than it has any right being.

It’s dangerous. And it’s gotten worse.

The first time Neil left, Andrew had been fine. He’d thrown himself into his work with little more obsession than he always did, had drunk more coffee than he probably ought to, but he’d been fine. Spring and Summer and Fall hadn’t all sounded the same.

He wasn’t counting, wasn’t waiting - would not set himself up for disappointment.

But he had grown used to Neil the second time around.

He had let him worm his way into his life - slowly but surely, the shape of Neil huddled on the couch reading with King in his lap had become part of his routine.

There were other things too. Because of course there were.

There were quiet conversations in the night that smelled like smoke; there was a mug that was only ever filled with warm water; there was frost blooming on the window every morning -

There were mingled breaths clinging to bitten lips and a different kind of warmth curling all around them, slow and careful and heady, and yes’s that left him dizzy and hands that stopped at his command.

There was someone to make him coffee while he was working and hot cocoa when he was not.

Andrew had known it was dangerous, but he’d let it happen all the same. And he hates Neil for it. Hates himself most of all, for letting it get this far, for being unable to squash the weak and fragile hope that Winter cradles now in its arms - a snow-white, fleeting flake, as delicate as it is razor-sharp.

When Andrew’s breathing has finally settled, Renee holds out a hand for him to take. She pulls him to his feet, grasp slippery with sweat but steady all the same, then spins around and settles herself on the bench, uncapping her water bottle with a small tilt of her head. If he didn’t know better, Andrew would think it was choreographed - not a single movement out of place, not a breath lost or step unsure. In fighting as in life, Renee moves like a dancer.

A lethal one.

Andrew joins her on the bench and picks his own water bottle up.

“Wymack told me that you’re writing a sequel,” she says. Andrew shrugs and takes a generous swallow. The water feels good running down his throat. His body is wild, abuzz with endorphins - he envies Neil’s flying abilities for a split second. The fantasy is short-lived however, and he quickly brings the bottle back up to his lips. Still, thoughts of the void cause his stomach to squirm, so he taps the ground with the tip of his foot to make sure that it’s still holding steady, and briefly relishes in its safety. “I thought sequels were the mark of the Unimaginative?” Renee goes on, then gets up.

“Imagination isn’t lucrative,” Andrew deadpans. "Maybe capitalism finally got to me.”

Renee taps her chin with one finger and a smile. “That’d be unfortunate. But I don’t believe you.”

“Sounds like a you problem,” Andrew says, then follows her up so they can start to stretch. Renee takes the hint. They bend and twist their muscles so and so in silence, and in the wishful hopes that they won’t feel sore come morning - or not so much that they won’t be able to walk, at least, in Andrew’s case.

(Sure, he stays in shape. He has a yearly membership at the gym and makes good use of it. But that level of exercise is as good as a stroll in the park compared to a sparring session with a pro MMA fighter.

Which Renee still is, official retirement be damned.)

“I’m tired of surviving, Andrew,” she’d said. “There are better fights than those we lead for our own sake. Fights that give, instead of fights that take. And I’m finally ready to give back.”

Andrew had taken a drag of his cigarette, aiming for nonchalant. He’s not sure it’d worked. “I thought that’s what praying was for.”

She’d smiled, because she always did.

“Faith without following through is like a cup without water. Useless, unless you plan to hit someone with it.”

“You sound like a fortune cookie,” he’d said, because he’d been buzzed and his best friend (not that he’d admit it) was leaving - and because Andrew liked a good metaphor, too, and that just hadn’t been one.

She’d left the next day with the Peace Corps. One week later, Andrew had received a package: a glass jar, filled to the brim with hollow, ravioli-shaped biscuits as tasteless as the ‘wisdom’ within it.

He’d thrown out the cookies because they were awful. He’d kept the jar because it was practical. (In the bottom left cupboard, beneath the sink. He’s been using it to store Sir’s dry food ever since she’s learned to torn open the sturdy plastic bag it comes in.)

He’s never told her, about the jar - the cookies he’d taken a picture of after he’d thrown them in the trash, and had sent it with the caption: ‘It was an insult’.

(‘You shouldn’t waste food, Andrew.’)

(‘This isn’t food. At best it’s cardboard.’)

Nowadays however, Renee has been leaving less and less. She’s always divided her time between volunteering and earning actual money - whether it was from beating up an infinite amount of people in a ring or doing whatever it is Fuchsbau Verlag pays her to do hadn’t changed that - but the proportions seem to have been reversed as of late, if only slightly so. She doesn’t leave for a full year anymore, and when she does spend most of one away, she never fully breaks contact.

Andrew tells her that, in his own words, on the way back to his place. Renee hums. Andrew knows not to take that for an answer, so they walk in silence until Renee’s done turning her thoughts into words. (And this is another reason why Renee’s his best friend, Andrew thinks. She knows the weight of words. The importance of choice.)

It takes a few minutes, but her voice is clear and steady when she speaks. “When I left for the first time, I thought I was finally ready to be good - truly good. I wanted to find redemption, and I thought that was the way to go about it: throw myself out there fresh out of the ring, and let helping be my healing.”

She pauses. Looks at her hands, loosely curled into fists in front of her. The index finger on her right hand is crooked, bent to the left from a vicious fracture. Her eyes linger on it.

“And it worked, at first, or at least I thought it did. The ring didn’t call to me anymore, not in the way it used to. I didn’t need my fists to stay sane. But I still needed to fight.”

She looks up, and finds something in the clouds, and blinks.

“I told you that fighting for others was better than fighting for myself, and it was - but better isn’t good.” She shakes her head. “I told myself I was helping, but really it was just another ring. I wasn’t giving back - I wasn’t even healing. I was just trying to forget.”

She smiles, then, because of course she does. “Retiring helped, but not as much as I’d hoped it would. It just wasn’t right. I asked Wymack for a job and he gave it to me. And it did help.” Her eyes find his, gentle, open, sincere. “The thing with stories is... they can reach even the most hidden scars in ourselves and pick at it. And I hadn’t healed right, so I needed to bleed again.”

There’s another pause. Andrew surveys the clouds for chances of rain and decides that it’s not for today.

“If I can heal through stories, then I want to try and help others do the same.” She says it like an evidence. A relief. Andrew knows the kind.

He feels it too, sometimes. This sense of direction. This meaning. This there’s a purpose for me here. He’s not sure he has the right.

They reach a street corner that marks the limit of what Andrew has come to think of as his part of town. His neighborhood, as much as the word doesn’t suit him. (There is always an itch where home is. Nowhere can wholly be truly safe, or so Andrew has come to learn. But it’s not as bad as it used to be.)

“How are King and Sir?” Renee asks him with a voice that hints at something else, disturbing Andrew’s thoughts.

Stuttgart’s early spring sky is white today, like a thin sheet of ice. Andrew shoves his hands into his coat pockets. “Irritating.”

Renee hums, playing with the hint of a smirk on the edge of her lips. She doesn’t ask why he keeps them around, then, because she knows. Instead she moves on, as Andrew knew she would. “How’s Mia?”

Andrew throws one of his deadpan looks that’s really a glare her way, just to make a point. He knows Renee’s immune to them by now, but it’s the principle. He has to at least pretend to be difficult.

He lights up a cigarette because he wants to annoy her.

“She’s having nightmares.”

The smoke curls up, volatile and barely there, almost tangible for a second before it’s gone. Vanishing into thin air. Like you. Andrew makes a fist of his free hand. “It’s always the same nightmare,” he pushes on. “Always the same boy, asking for help. But it’s becoming clearer. And the boy is starting to explain.”

“Can I ask who he is, or is that classified?”

She’s teasing. Andrew taps the ash off his cigarette and takes another drag, because that kind of information shouldn’t be easy to ask for. Stories take time. Fortunately for her, Andrew never seems to be able to reach the bottom of Renee’s patience, and she just waits for him to speak.

“Alberich, Prince of Nightmares,” he exhales with the smoke. (And how fitting is it, for this fleeting little prince. Curling away in the breeze.) “It’s in the first chapter.”

Renee smiles, a knowing curve to it. “Where did you take him from?”

“Das Nibelungenlied and some old Dutch poem, Karel ende Elegast. Mostly,” Andrew answers, punctuating it with a vague gesture of his cigarette-holding hand and a scowl. “For now. I need more material.”

Renee nods. She’s still smiling. “Will Isa be back?”

Andrew takes a deep cancer-filled breath, making a point not to look at the wreaths of smoke. His gaze ends up drifting upwards anyway.

He hums a yes.

Renee hums back, pleased and appreciative. Andrew is honest enough to admit that her approval feels nice. “I liked him - and so did your readers, judging by the letters they sent. I brought them with me, as you asked.”

Andrew nods. They’ve reached his block; he can see his door, his windows. The balcony.

“He’s a good character,” Renee goes on while Andrew opens the door. “He and Mia make quite the pair.” Andrew closes the door behind them. “Their relationship is an interesting one.” They climb up the three sets of stairs. “I don’t think you’ve ever written a character quite like Isa, to be honest. It almost feels like he’s actually real.”

Andrew puts the key in and turns, opening the door to his apartment. A soft thump, and Sir’s meow greets them both at the door. His tail is a question mark, a welcome home, where have you been? that Andrew answers by letting her smell the outdoors upon him. She saunters over to Renee then, curious and friendly, the known scent rising up from the shallow depths of her feline memory.

King, on the other hand, goes straight for the shoes. It gets a surprised laugh out of Renee.

“You never did tell me how you got that one.”

Andrew shrugs, shucks his coat off and goes about making tea. He doesn’t have to ask - the only reason he even has any in his flat is because of Renee, though he’s not about to admit it.

“Found him on the balcony freezing his fur off.”

“And you kept him.”

Technically it’s a statement, so Andrew chooses to ignore the implicit question there.

Renee doesn’t pry. She gets her tea and makes a neat pile of the letters Andrew and his characters have received on the coffee table, next to the yet-unopened book on German mythology Andrew’s been meaning to get into. He’s already gone through the other books he has on the subject, has combed every entry on the seasons, on winter - everything white-hair, ice-eyes, cold-hands.

(Where should I take you? Where do you fit?)

The myths are old and paper-worn. Any kind of new ink wears out under their weight, their dust and their mazes. They are enigmas kept alive from mouth to mouth, hungry voices to hungry ears. Humans and their stories. Andrew spins old texts through the spindle of himself and weaves a role for those threads of him that he cards out.

(It’s not you, it’s me. All I ever write is me. Take this image of you, shred it with your too-cold fingers, let me twine your story within mine.

Would you mind if you knew?

I made yourself a piece of me.)

Most of the letters are about what he expected. Kids who identify with the characters, kids who wonder whether Isa Holle is real (Have you met him? Does he really make snow fall? Did he teach you to talk to the wind like he does? and the answers on the tip of his tongue sing yes yes and no), kids who share their own stories with him, memories about winter, about snow, how they’ve learned to appreciate the cold weather more. There are a few from parents, too, who read the book with their children and found themselves enjoying it, and even one from a grandmother.

And then there are the letters that were written to Mia, or to Isa, and all of those kids believe in his story, and there’s even a few of them who say they’ve seen him.

It’s a lot.

Andrew leaves the letters on his coffee table and gets out. He’s not sure he could stomach smoking on the balcony right now.

Here’s the thing: Andrew knows he’s never written anything better than this damn book. He knows. He poured his damn soul into the thing. And he hates that he did.

The story is simple: a lonely girl makes a friend, and together they save the day.

Except it’s a little more complicated than that. Mia, a teenage girl, starts looking for Winter, because it’s the one season she loves and it’s late. So she falls into a well that leads her above the clouds, where she meets Oma Holle - Bringer of Cold, Destroyer of Pillows, Retiree Extraordinaire, and grandmother to the current Winter: Isa Holle, white-haired runaway on a vacation across worlds. Of course, once Mia finds him, she quickly realises that he is not, in fact, on a vacation, but is being chased by a pack of Sunlit Wolves. Shenanigans ensue, and she’s somehow roped into helping him trap them somewhere, and in the middle of adversity a beautiful friendship is born.

Except that it’s not just that, is it? Because Isa’s mother never wanted him and left, and his father is the one trying to get him killed. Because Mia is adopted, and the disconnection she feels towards her loving family is what ultimately drives her to Isa. Because their friendship is founded in part in a strong, mutual understanding of what it feels to be alone.

Bee, of course, is thrilled. She loved the first book, and cannot wait to see how Andrew will continue the story. It would have been a shame to drop such well-rounded characters, after all, although she understands why Andrew is - partially - reluctant.

“Exposing ourselves is hard, and it’s something we both know you struggle with. I’m proud of you for being so vulnerable with your readers in this book, Andrew, even if it was unintentional,” she tells him from over the steaming edge of her cocoa cup. Her smile is as warm as her drink. “The fact that you are now able to lower your guard as you did, though it can be frightening at times, is ultimately a good thing. It shows real progress.”

“I’m not sure I can do it again.”

“And that’s okay. But you won’t know unless you try.”

Andrew has a feeling she already knows something else is keeping him from writing, except that something is gone and never was here in the first place, so he leaves it at that.

Except that he was here, wasn't he? He was there on the balcony and on his couch, at his table. Andrew can’t write it off this time, not now, not ever because this time they touched, because Neil had become more real than a dream and Andrew had made him that way, had brought him that much more into his world by just writing about him. And even though he didn’t want to believe that he did, because they’d tested it, and a whole plane of Andrew’s life doesn’t make sense anymore.

Writing is a mess. The fleeting line between fiction and reality, stupidity and sensibility, magic and logic - he can’t tell where it’s gone. He doesn’t know what he believes in anymore. Stories are supposed to be safe. They’re supposed to bring you somewhere else for a while, somewhere where you can learn and play and hope all in the safety of your own mind. You aren’t supposed to bring anything back. You cannot bring anything back, and definitely not someone, definitely not him, of all things. The savior of trapped strays, riding the wind and clearing up a path for all lost kids. Those kinds of things don’t exist.

(In his weaker moments, Andrew often wonders why he couldn’t have been one of those kids. Where had his escape route been when all he’d had were bruises to cover and fairy tales to cling to?)

Andrew never should have been allowed to write about kids. It would have only been fair. He’d never been allowed to be one, after all.

So why does he keep doing it?

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never save me.

But they had.

Hadn’t they?

Andrew writes.

Not as fast as he’d like to, not as right. But he writes anyway. He pushes through the quiet whirlwind freezing his inspiration over. It’s a slow process, and thankless besides; Andrew has to fight the urge to delete and rewrite every sentence he produces, which is already trying on its own, and whatever he does manage not to frustratingly erase just leaves his lower eyelids twitching in distaste.

He hasn’t felt this solidly blocked in a long time. Usually this is cause for pride - or at the very least, satisfaction - but right now it just means that he isn’t equipped to deal with his own mess, which aggravates him in just that special kind of way.

It just figures that his ever-so annoying cousin would choose precisely this Thursday to hold one of his Mandatory Family Dinners.

Andrew would skip, but then Nicky would never forgive him, and he can’t have that.

(This isn’t true. Nicky would forgive him in a heartbeat. But there would be a look in his eyes, an old carefulness in the way he would move when Andrew’d be around, and that particular mess would take months to undo.)

Nicky’s flat is in Stuttgart West, a little ways off from the center where Andrew lives, on the third floor of one of those older, modernised buildings tourists take pictures of. It takes about one second and a half after Andrew's ringed the bell for Nicky to open the door with a smile bigger than his own face. “Andrew! You made it. Can I hug you?”

“No.”

Nicky shrugs and moves aside to let Andrew step in, megawatt smile absolutely unmoved. “I hope you like carrot salad because Katelyn brought, like, ten kilos worth of it.”

Andrew makes a face. Nicky snorts at it.

“Don’t worry, you’ll have your Schwarzwälder. Erik spent the whole evening on it.”

“Good.”

Nicky rolls his eyes. They join the others in the living room, where Aaron is busy telling Erik everything about his latest hospital story. He’s interrupted once Erik notices Andrew and immediately rises from the couch to greet him.

“You’re just in time for dinner, Andrew! I hope you didn’t have too much trouble parking.”

“You’re late,” Aaron supplies.

Andrew lets go of Erik’s businessman grip and nods at Katelyn, who nods in return and smiles, deliberately saving Aaron for last. “I had trouble parking.”

“You could have taken the tram.”

“He’s here,” Katelyn chimes in with a pointed look towards Aaron. “That’s all that matters.”

She still has her American accent, but even Andrew has to admit that it's barely noticeable anymore. She'd barely known any German when she'd arrived in Berlin years ago on that cultural exchange program, a weakness Andrew had taken advantage of immediately. The fact that he can’t anymore is irritating, but impressive.

Nicky emerges from the kitchen then, steaming dish in hand, cutting both Andrew's thoughts and Aaron's retort short. “Meal’s ready and I’m starving, so you all children will have to bicker later!”

Aaron huffs, but gets up to sit at the dining table with Katelyn in tow and a big salad bowl. Andrew is distracted by a movement in the corner of his eye, and watches Erik take a detour on his way to the kitchen to plant a kiss on Nicky’s cheek. “I’ll get the wine.”

Andrew looks away to sit as Nicky lets out an aggravated sigh. “Yes please.”

Erik snorts and they part ways, Nicky’s smile back in place as he puts the dish down in the middle of the table.

“Tada! Braised chicken with asparagus and baby potatoes, a la Nicky Hemmick-Klose. You’re welcome.”

“It looks delicious Nicky,” Katelyn beams.

“Wait til you taste it!” Nicky grins, sitting down.

Erik soon reappears with a bottle of white that he pours into everyone’s glass before taking his seat, right between Andrew and Nicky, and the chicken starts making its way around the table for everyone to grab a serving. Katelyn’s carrot salad goes around, too, but Andrew passes it along fast enough that he almost knocks Erik’s glass down. Small talk creeps its way across the table as everyone starts to dig in, so Andrew falls silent.

Watching Aaron interact with Katelyn, watching Nicky interact with Erik, listening to them all talk about coworkers and house chores or whether they want kids, Andrew is content to retreat to the sidelines.

When Aaron first had told him about Katelyn over Skype (and hadn't that taken his brother a long time to do), Andrew had felt like destroying the world. They'd been damn lucky Bee had talked him out of using all of his money on a plane ticket across the country. (“He's allowed to make his own decisions, Andrew . You don't have to protect him the way you did before.”) When Aaron had finally brought her back over with him for Christmas, Andrew had had enough time to mull it over that he'd only wanted to choke the life out of Katelyn.

Erik… Erik was different. Erik had saved Nicky's life and thus, the twins'. He'd gone out of his way to make sure the three of them could come back and settle in Stuttgart. He'd given them space. Andrew had hated him for stealing his cousin away from him when Nicky had graduated from college, but he'd only had to glance at Nicky’s smile upon hearing the news to let it slide.

(The fact that Erik could bake had helped his case. Sweetened the deal, Nicky would say.)

At the end of the day, Erik and Katelyn are - distantly - family. But allowing them in has disturbed Andrew's balance, and he still isn't sure if he'll ever gain it back.

Andrew knows, of course, he knows, from countless sessions with Bee, that there are many ways to make a good life. To find balance. And Andrew does like his life, for the most part.

Still, there’s a voice he can’t quite shut up in his head, that likes to sing whenever they’re all gathered like this.

(They don’t need you, and you know that, the voice whispers. They’re all safe now. They’ve even found their happiness. So why haven’t you?)

Andrew opens the kitchen window and lights a cigarette. The smoke fills his shell with a strange kind of heat, one will-o’-the-wisp flickering in the wind.

Eventually Nicky joins him. The night is vast outside, dark and thick and starless, wool-clouds heavy like blankets high above. They watch the city in silence: lonely passing cars and straying pedestrians in the dark, orange electric lights, whispering trees, nocturnal birds. Andrew surveys it all and then Nicky, one shoulder pressed against the wall, his chest leaning in slightly and his neck arched, eyes wandering out the window. They’re crowding the space, the both of them. This rectangular kitchen with its square window and barely room enough there for two.

Still, they’re not touching. Nicky made sure of it.

(They’d had a conversation here, when Nicky and Erik had just moved in. They’d been standing just like this. Andrew had rapped a knuckle on the window sill and Nicky’s gaze had drifted back inside.

“Are you happy?” he’d asked.

Nicky’s eyes had widened for less than a second, then his expression had settled and he’d smiled, quietly. “Yes. I’m happy.”

Andrew had nodded. Nicky had looked at him with that face he still makes when he wants to pry but isn't sure he can. Andrew had taken a drag out of his cigarette and blown the smoke outside, eyes trailing after it.

“Aaron is too,” Nicky had finally ventured.

Andrew had let a few seconds of silence pass before he’d said, “Good.”

“Are you?” Nicky’d asked then. He’d still been looking at him, on his face a smaller, more careful kind of smile. Caring. Andrew had been tempted to leave.

In the end he’d opted for honesty and said, “I don’t know.”

Nicky had opened his mouth, then closed it when Andrew’d glared at him. Then he’d sighed and said “Okay.”

Andrew had finished his cigarette in silence after that, and they’d gone back to the living room and kicked Erik’s ass at Mario Kart. It had been, all in all, a not-so-terrible evening.)

Nicky is the first to break the silence this time. It’s about the book, of course.

“A little birdie told me you’re writing a sequel,” he says. He’s grinning, and looks way too pleased about it. Andrew throws him a glare.

“Who told you?”

“No one!” Nicky says, holding both hands up in defense. “I’ve just got amazing detective skills.”

“Renee told you.”

Nicky’s grin becomes brighter in the face of Andrew’s statement and he shrugs, looking entirely too unapologetic. “Okay, she did. We had coffee together a few days ago and she knew that you’d never tell me yourself.” Andrew frowns. Nicky dismisses it with an eyeroll and a huff. “I’m not going to tell everyone, Andrew. I can keep it secret if you want me to. Give me at least a little credit.”

Andrew raises his eyebrows. Nicky mock-glares at him.

“I raised you,” he says accusingly, pointing at Andrew with narrowed eyes. It quickly morphs into a pout, however, as he goes on. “Shouldn’t that make me one of the first people you tell big news like this?”

“You’ll be the first to know when I run for Chancellor.”

Nicky snorts, but he doesn’t rise to the bait. “Don’t try and pass this off as if it’s nothing, Andrew. You never write sequels.”

“I just did,” Andrew says, and blows smoke out the window.

Nicky rolls his eyes at him again. “Alright, be difficult. One day you’re gonna get out of your teenage rebellion phase.” Andrew looks at him with a blank face. Nicy sighs, mockingly aggravated. The effect is utterly lost when it all melts into a smile. “I’m glad you are, though, Andrew. Writing a sequel.”

“Thanks,” Andrew says ironically.

Nicky huffs. “Seriously,” he says, and holds Andrew’s eyes with a sincerity that makes him want to look away. He doesn’t, though, because Nicky deserves better. Because he does, too. “I’m proud of you, Andrew. You know that, right?”

Andrew breathes smoke in then out, and in again. “I know,” he says, the words spilling out with the fumes.

“And I’m glad you found characters worth sticking around for,” Nicky adds.

Andrew frowns, but doesn’t respond. He finishes his cigarette in silence while Nicky waits, gazing out the window with a smile.

Erik still sucks at Mario Kart. Katelyn has upped her game, though, and Andrew only takes first place by a hair’s breadth. It’s not the worse evening he could’ve had.

Eventually Spring goes by. Andrew spends most of the Summer holed up in his flat, either writing or researching obsessively.

Renee comes around a few times but she’s busy with her brand new girlfriend, a friend of Nicky’s from oversea with blond hair and a wallet that’s probably the size of the whole country. She looks happy, though, so Andrew’s mostly okay with it. He’s tempted to make sure Allison Reynolds (‘Allie’) isn’t a threat, but Renee’s more than capable of defending her own heart and he’s neck-deep into Der Albtraumprinz anyway.

There are a few check-ins with Wymack, obviously. A few texts from Aaron. Monthly sessions with Bee. Nicky blowing up his phone with pictures of his wedding anniversary trip. Kevin even manages to drag him to a museum once while he’s in town.

Before he knows it the first leaves are already starting to fall.

It’s right in the middle of October when Andrew decides to tell Bee.

He doesn’t tell her everything, obviously. Only the realistic parts.

That there’s… someone. That they met two winters ago. That he left, and then came back, and left again. And yes, Neil came back, once, but what’s to say that he’ll find his way here again?

“Why wouldn’t he?” asks Bee. Andrew has about a thousand answers to offer, but he knows those aren’t the ones she wants him to find. So he searches, beneath the layers over layers of deflection and defense. It takes a few minutes. But here it is.

“There’s nothing worth coming back for.”

Andrew speaks the words matter-of-factly, like it’s nothing. Bee takes it in stride.

“Is that what you believe, or what you think?”

“Both.”

Bee nods, understanding as ever. “Very well. What makes someone worth coming back for, then?”

Andrew is tempted to cut the session short. He’s done it before, and he knows Bee won’t hold him back. But in the end he stays, and forces himself to think about it. He picks the question up and turns it around, examining the responses it creates in his mind. There’s a common factor there, so that’s what he focuses on.

“Protection. Safety.”

Bee hums. “Is that why he came back the first time?”

Andrew shrugs.

“Alright. Let’s try to look at this differently then. Why do you want him to come back?”

Andrew frowns. Bee is smiling over the rim of her cup, a small, patient smile she always has when she’s waiting.

Andrew opens his mouth. “He’s... interesting.” Bee raises his eyebrows at him, encouraging him to expand. Andrew’s fingers itch for a cigarette. “Every time I think I’ve got him figured out, he does or say something surprising and I have to reset my expectations. It’s irritating.” Andrew huffs. It only makes Bee’s smile warmer. “He respects my boundaries,” Andrew adds, because that had surprised him perhaps more than anything else, and because Bee will know. “Doesn’t question them, doesn’t push.”

“Does that make you feel safe?” Bee asks.

“No.”

“Why?”

“He’s a liability.”

“Because you’re not sure he’s coming back,” Bee says. It’s not a question. Andrew nods, even though it’s more complicated than that. But Bee knows this too, and he’s too on edge to explain. “Does he make you feel safer than Roland?”

Andrew frowns. He was not expecting that name to come up. “He’s nothing like Roland.”

Bee hums. “How so?”

Roland wasn’t a dead winter spirit with flying powers, Andrew doesn’t say. He leans back instead, crossing his arms. “Roland was a means to an end. I couldn’t have cared less about him.”

There. He says it with defiance, daring Bee to remark on it. Andrew’s fingers are digging into his arms.

And it’s true. Roland had been an opportunity, useful while it’d lasted.

Neil, on the other hand, is a risk.

This isn’t what he said. Not really. But it is what Bee will understand anyway.

She lets a few seconds pass, waiting to see if Andrew has anything to add. When it’s clear he doesn’t, she leans slightly forward with her elbows braced on her knees. “There’s nothing that you can do that will make Neil come back. That is entirely up to him. What you can do, however, is focus on the fact that you want him to and why, and what it means.”

That’s exactly what I don’t want to think about, Andrew almost says. But he knows that’s exactly the point.

It’s the middle of October, and outside the leaves make a carpet of red and brown. The whole world will be white in two months.

Andrew finishes Der Albtraumprinz’s definitive draft at about the same time that the last dried leaf reaches the ground. As he’s walking to Fuchsbau Verlag with the whole thing printed out, Andrew notices a new sharpness to the cold air blowing South. It bites into his cheeks and the tip of his nose, turning his breaths into small, white-as-the-sky-above-him clouds.

A gust of wind howls into his ears, blowing past his coat to stick something between his ribs. Andrew grits his teeth and pushes on.

It’s the 14th of December and Stuttgart’s Weihnachtsmarkt is in full swing when Andrew finally caves. Nicky has been to harassing him into going with him to the Christmas Market for days, but the promise of Renee’s presence is the only reason why Andrew ends up agreeing to the “evening of Christmas magic and late night shopping” Nicky’s planned.

As Andrew suspected, it ends up involving a lot more gawking at Christmas carols and wandering around than any actual Christmas errands. Nicky always buys all his gifts in November anyway, so does Renee, and Andrew tends to order it all online. So really, there’s no practical reason why they’re here, other than Nicky’s love for the festivities and Erik’s cross-ocean business trip.

So they wander. Nicky bribes Andrew with his weight in sweets, Renee adds a few handmade trinkets to her collection, as well a some decorations for the Fuchsbau Verlag office, and Andrew ends up purchasing a tiny felt donkey he’ll add to Bee’s present.

(It’s a bee-themed teapot. Bee broke hers months ago and has been using a plastic kettle since. The lid has antennas and the whole thing is probably one of the kitchiest objects Andrew has ever seen, so he knows Bee’s going to love it.)

They’re busy buying Würstchen at a snack booth for dinner when Nicky gasps, then starts jumping up and down and pointing at the sky. Andrew follows his gaze absentmindedly, expecting some kind of light display, and feels his whole body become rigid all at once.

It’s not a light display. It’s not even fireworks.

“It’s snowing,” Nicky gushes next to him. “We’re at the Christmas market and it’s snowing!”

And he’s right. There’s no mistaking the fine powder fluttering down into the light from the starless sky above, powdering the pavement like icing sugar. Andrew watches as the first snowflakes touch the ground and instantly disappear, physically unable to tear his gaze away.

It’s like looking into the void. Like vertigo. A part of Andrew desperately wants to look away, but the rest of him is determined to stare, unblinking, as the fear takes over in his guts.

Renee’s voice breaks Andrew out of his spell, making him flinch. “I guess Winter’s early this year.”

The cliff’s edge is gone. Renee stands close to Andrew, smiling softly with sparkling lights eyes and rosy cheeks. A snowflake has caught on her scarf and refuses to melt.

There’s something caught between Andrew’s ribs and it hurts.

Snow doesn’t make a sound as it falls.

They’d had melted snow several times since the end of November. Heavy drops of liquid ice that would beat the world into pulp and then vanish, as quickly as they’d arrived. Andrew would listen to them pound against the window with a warm cup of coffee or cocoa cradled in his hands and relish being inside, where it was dry and warm and comfortable.

Where the rain is a hit, however, the snow is a caress. It blankets the world in silence, covering everything with soft whiteness. It crunches harmlessly as you step on it.

But snow doesn’t come alone; ice and frost are never far behind, and those will cut and crush what the snow has mollified. And the wind will yowl, and the cold will burn, and children will laugh as they play in it all.

Andrew is shaking by the time he makes it back to his flat. He’s taken his gloves off to smoke and the tips of his fingers are frozen red, brighter than the flame he had to cup in his hand to light his cigarette. Brighter than the Christmas lights dangling in the air, too.

He doesn’t take his coat off once he makes it inside. Doesn’t even bother with his shoes, and won’t that seem stupid when he’ll have to clean up. He can hear Sir meow at him from the living room, but not the pat-pat-pat of her paws on the floor. There is no sign of King. The space between his ribs grows bigger.

Andrew makes himself walk into the living room.

His two cats are waiting for him there. They meow at him from his desk, walking to the edge but not crossing the distance, attention focused on something else entirely. It’s only after Andrew has made it close enough to pet each of their heads that he forces himself to look up.

Light spills from the streetlights into the room, casting strange shadows on the floor. Upon the window that lets the light in, something glitters.

As soon as Andrew has set his eyes on it the tiny snowflake blooms, tracing the outlines of flowers and stars, and strange geometrical shapes he doesn’t recognise. It’s beautiful. It covers the glass in a layer that’s thin enough that a feeble light can filter through, but it’s not nearly enough to keep Andrew from bumping into a chair on his way to the door.

As he opens the door, his ribcage starts to ache.

There, standing on the railing with his hair flying around his head like a wild crown made of snow, is Neil. His eyes flicker from the window to where Andrew stands and he smiles. It feels like falling.

Andrew focuses on the feeling of cold steel against his skin and clutches the handle tighter in his hand.

Neil says: “Hi,” and floats down onto the balcony. His smile widens again.

Andrew lets go of the handle and unclenches his teeth, willing the pain between his ribs to fuck off.

“You’re early.”

The smile on Neil’s face wilts a little. He shrugs, looking away, and there’s a lie there. “Climate’s changing. Everyone knows that.”

Andrew tilts his head. “Is that so.”

“Yes,” Neil says, and meets his gaze. Andrew almost swallows his own tongue. “But I also didn’t want to wait.”

Andrew takes a step closer, almost entering into Neil’s space. He watches as Neil takes in a sharp breath, eyes flickering down almost too quickly for Andrew to notice. But then Neil looks down again and this time he lingers, dragging his eyes up slowly enough that it’s obvious what he’s asking. Still, he speaks.

“Yes or no?”

Andrew’s answer is a final step forward and a hand to Neil’s neck, bringing him down.

Kissing Neil is like trying to lick lightning. The inside of his mouth is a storm and Andrew can feel every cell of his body rattling with electricity, buzzing with it from his lips down into his chest where it pools, melting the ice between his ribs like dew in the summer. Andrew chases it, this electricity, brings it from Neil’s mouth to his, holds it in the space between his palet and his tongue where it’s warm. He doesn’t care about the cold or the wind anymore - all he’s interested in, all he cares for is right here. Andrew wants to devour him.

Which is why he stops.

A deep breath through his nose and he exhales, lips still brushing against Neil’s. His hands are framing his face, holding him there, and he can feel his warmth seeping into Neil’s skin.

Neil’s eyes are closed. His lashes are white as snow and flutter open slowly, taking flight. A dazed smile grows upon his face as his eyes meet Andrew’s and hold them.

Andrew swallows. “Staring.”

Neil’s smile brightens. He looks breathless and flushed, and way, way too alive for someone who should have died five years ago.

“I wasn’t sure you’d wait.”

“This is my flat.”

Neil rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean,” Neil says, and holds a hand up slowly to his face, letting it hover near one of Andrew’s own, still holding Neil’s cheek. Andrew flicks his gaze back to Neil’s face without moving his hand, so Neil covers it with his. “This. I didn’t know if I could expect this, or even hope. I didn’t know if I was allowed to.”

There is… something in Neil’s eyes that unsettles him, as he says it. A vulnerability he had never noticed before. Andrew steps away from Neil like he’s been burned and shoves his hands into his pockets.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” Neil asks, frowning now.

“I’m not your answer,” Andrew says, biting the words out.

“No. But you’re the one thing I’ve been looking forward to for nine months. So what does that make you?”

Neil’s fist is balled at his side, his right hand clinging tightly to his staff. They stay like this, glaring at each other, until Sir scratches at the balcony door to be let out and Andrew breaks it off.

Neil doesn’t follow inside after him, so Andrew turns around and arches an eyebrow at him until finally he steps inside, shutting the cold air out. King immediately starts rubbing against Neil’s legs, meowing at him to be picked up. Neil crouches down and gathers the ball of fur in his arms, softly smiling down in disbelief as King immediately starts to purr. Then Neil looks up and catches Andrew staring, so he makes his way to the kitchen.

He gets two small pots, fills one with milk and the other with water, and turns the stove on. As the pots heat, he goes to fetch two mugs, and drops three spoons of cocoa powder in his. Neil watches it all from where he’s standing in the middle of the living room, on smile on his as soon as he notices Andrew looking back. Only then, as if he’d been waiting for Andrew’s attention, does he start looking around. Neil takes it all in frantically, avidly, jumping from the carpet to the couch to the coffee table, but lingering upon the desk and the bookcases.

“Those are new,” he says, gesturing at one of the many plants Renee peppered around the apartment in honor of Andrew’s birthday. It’s a maidenhair fern, spilling over a bookshelf from its pot.

“Your sense of observation is noted,” Andrew deadpans.

Neil huffs, smiling still. Andrew distantly wonders what it would take to break it and looks away, letting Neil wander around without his supervision. The water is close to boiling anyway, so he pours it into Neil’s mug, doing the same with his when the milk follows suit. Then he walks up to Neil, who looks away from the bookshelf he was scanning to take the mug and thank him, wrapping both hands around the warmth with a sigh.

“I missed this,” he says, eyes trailing after King as he saunters off, then back up to Andrew’s. “I missed you.”

“It’s just water.” Neil snorts. Andrew takes a sip of his cocoa, mulling the words over in his mouth, and says: “I wrote another book.”

Neil blinks. “What?”

“I wrote a sequel to Der ausweichende Winter.”

Neil blinks again and then grins, a flutter of color brushing his cheeks. “Can I read it?”

Andrew sips at his cocoa again and then turns, walking to his desk where a small package sits, already opened. He takes the book, a test-copy, out, and holds it out for Neil to take. On the cover stands Isa, facing away from the reader, Mia right by his side with a sword in her hands. Isa has his staff, and on his left stands a figure cast in shadows. They’re holding hands.

Neil looks at the cover then at Andrew, then back at the cover when Andrew just stares at him.

“Der Albtraumprinz,” Neil reads out loud. “Mysterious. Is that supposed to be you?”

“I’m not a teenager,” Andrew says, throwing a blank stare at him.

“Neither am I.”

“Good to know.”

Neil huffs, rolling his eyes, but refrains from further comment. He turns the book over, reading the synopsis in silence, then flips it back and opens it. The first few pages he barely even glances at, skimming over the By the same author at Fuchsbau quickly - and then he stops.

Andrew doesn’t need to look over his shoulder to know why. His books rarely have a dedication page, but when they do it’s always on the seventh, right before the actual story starts.

“To the wind that blows the Winter to and fro,” Neil starts reading. “You better come back soon.”

#aftg #andreil #all for the game #andrew minyard #neil josten #nicky hemmick #renee walker #jack frost au #tfc #the foxhole court #aaron minyard #betsy dobson #katelyn #erik klose #nerik #frost bite #when the frost is in bloom part 2 #wulfrann writes #fanfiction

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joecial-distancing · 4 years

Text

2019 in review in review:

A few years ago I started tracking yearly goals, books read, movies watched etc in a year, along with overview blurbs, in private posts. End of 2019/beginning of 2020 I was really frazzled/burned out about a lot of stuff and just never finished up making the thing. 8 months later, got the urge to read back what I’d got done, then figured I’d maybe go ahead and see about finishing.

Media tracking below the break. thoughts/blurbs written in 2020 italicized, 2019 not.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_____________________________~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Didn’t do so hot on explicit personal goals, but had a lot of stuff go ok around them this year.

School’s been fine/better than fine.

Job’s probably the biggest failing. Still with same job, haven’t made the firm moves to jump off, dragging my feet too much on exploring stuff w/ Columbia/NASA GISS.

Did not get better with covid, lol

Dating life still non-existent, but I’ve registered on apps, gotten more comfortable with selfies, improved general social life dramatically, been flirted with, updated my wardrobe, and generally started to get comfortable accepting that I’m a hot person.

Somehow got extremely better during covid.

Books

Grant (finished)

We stan a taurus legend

Guy was good at exactly one job, and was fortunate enough to have been in the right place/right time to get to do it.

Mort (discworld)

Definitely best discworld I’ve gotten to so far.

Don Quixote p. II

Really entertaining in a way that part 1 wasn’t; I was shocked how much the meta element landed for me.

Consider the Lobster (DFW collection)

had zero context on who DFW is/was when I read, and still don’t exactly tbh. Wanted to wait for a pause in The Discourse before diving into more of him, but dunno if I’m ever going to get that.

Crime and Punishment (revisited)

Weirdly didn’t get much more out of this than I did the first time I’d read it

Better Than Sex (HST Gonzo papers)

Xerox/widespread fax accessibility opening citizen access to mass media in a manner really reminiscent of what social media would go on to do at a much larger scale. Has a much more deliberate narrative arc than the other gonzo papers collections, also has that excellent HST richard nixon eulogy

The Brothers Karamazov

SPQR

Slouching Towards Bethlehem (Didion collection)

Pet Sematary

Not my favorite King, but not bad

Sourcery (discworld)

still funny/charming, but Mort really made clear/reminded me how much the hapless sadsack Rincewind mold of protagonist wears on me after a while.

The Devil's Teeth

My Year of Rest and Relaxation

Liked it a lot more once I realized it was doing a Fear and Loathing thing.

Homage to Catalonia

This should be the Orwell that gets taught in schools. Make it a followup to All Quiet on the Western Front or something, jeez.

Lyndon Johnson I

Having now finished all of them, this one’s probably the least-interesting but sets up a bunch of important context that the others still then feel the need to retread.

The Razor's Edge

Recommended to me as a “white guy discovers eastern mysticism” book, but also is more interesting in its treatment of that than I’d expected (helps it was written in the 40s).

Cat's Cradle

There’s a part in this where Vonnegut’s making fun of people who try to bond with strangers over being Hoosiers, and my dumbass immediate thought was “ooh, Vonnegut’s a hoosier? Me too!”

Lyndon Johnson II

Robert Caro felt compelled to apologize for spending so much words lionizing Coke Stevens, segregationist opponent to Johnson’s senate run. His goal was pretty clearly to show lbj’s lack of campaign charisma by contrast, definitely definitely overcommitted in his own narrativising.

Libra

I want to go back to this after reading some more De Lillo.

Gravity's Rainbow

This book absolutely kicked my ass

Overstuffed and referential in a specific way that really keeps me hooked in instead of put off. When I learn about some piece of cultural context that I retroactively recognize as being referenced in this, I want to go back and reread the entire thing.

From Caligari to Hitler

Kind of fails both as film criticism and cultural analysis, but absolutely made me want to run for the hills when considering current relationship between mainstream movies and demands of pop culture.

I took a class on Weimar cinema in undergrad that I now realize was probably biting pretty heavily from this and never once referenced it.

Movies

Venom

Movie itself is not as fun as the Tom Hardy hype coverage. PG13 was the absolute worst space to aim for, PG- or R- versions of this could have been a blast.

Harryhauser Argonauts

Was tripping when I put this on, and it was all kinds of fun.

2001: a Space Oddyssey

First time seeing this, all-time classic for a reason!

A Good American (the NSA doc)

Dr. Strangelove

Mel Brooks History of the World p. I

Not my favorite Brooks, best joke was at the beginning.

In Bruges

Had been a while since I saw a proper dark comedy.

Spiderverse

Fukkin awesome!

Visually great, and extremely better than usual superhero stuff for being aimed at PG instead of PG-13.

You Only Live Twice

Highlander (Revisited)

I watched The Old Guard on netflix recently and it mostly just made me wish I was watching Highlander instead, because at least Highlander knows exactly how goofy it is

Moonraker

The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

Much like The Shining, I though this would have been 100% spoiled for me by cultural osmosis, but turns out it wasn’t, and even the scenes I had seen *totally landed* in-context still.

Kung Fu Hustle

Ichi the Killer

Really gross, really fun

Matrix Reloaded (watched thru highway scene) (Revisited)

The highway scene was not nearly as cool as I remembered it being.

John Wick 3*

Probably dumbest plot of all of them, best choreography. I like how every single fight had its own distinct flavor. “Knife museum fight” “horse fight” “halle berry dogs fight”

Akira

A classic

Pet Sematary * (ugh, bad)

Why can’t john lithgow be in good movies anymore

The Revenant

MCU Spiderman

Fuck this was awful.

MCU Spiderman 2*

Really weird, complete Rorschach Test of a movie: it’d be totally valid to read into this that global warming is Fake News, for instance.

Lmao this was completely awful

Rites

Dredd (non-stallone)

oh hey Lena Headey’s in this

For All Mankind!

Watched in honor of moon landing anniversary

Lion King *

Watched it way too stoned, was like dark side of the moon + wizard of oz except instead it’s a lion king script reading + nature footage edited for lip syncing.

Once Upon a Time in Hollywood *

Many scenes of very long setups for really stupid shaggy dog jokes, which sometimes worked and sometimes didn’t. I do kinda want to rewatch now knowing more about manson, which I knew pretty much nothing about beforehand

Blowout

A good john lithgow movie

also I think I like travolta in things.

Lord of War

A Good cage movie

I like when Eamon Walker shows up in stuff.

Taxi Driver

A classic

Snowpiercer

Watched in a bar with only one speaker working, which is the correct way to watch. Weirder and funnier than I thought it was going to be, which still doesn’t make it good, but,

dbz big green dub

Exorcist III

Brad Dourif just tearing it apart

Deep Red (argento)

Suspiria (1977)

Watched the remake in 2020, which was ok, but nothing tops the Goblin score.

Elf Bowling

Thanks, Gnome

Parasite *

Interesting to me that this one seems poised to hang around people’s good esteem for a while

FMA: B

Rick & Morty

Saw some episodes, generally pretty funny, some misanthropy that’s probably appealing to a certain type of teen al a something like House, but ultimately I don’t totally Get the intensity of discourse about it.

Leterkenny

Mob Psycho 100

One Punch Man

Deadwood

Watchmen

Only watched like half of it. Was playing around with a lot of hefty imagery/thematics, but didn’t really seem ready to rise above playing (tho also I feel like it’s weird on some level to *expect* them to rise above that in the first place)

Music

New Avantasia

HEALTH/ show

lol remember concerts

King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard/ show

Just learned about King Gizz in 2019 and got completely obsessed with them. I don’t tend to expand my music selection very readily, and a lot of what I currently *do* know is old/inactive stuff, so it was/is incredibly exciting to have an active group with good momentum just immediately win me over like that.

Mistimed the edibles and ended up with a really good finale and a really long subway ride home.

New Yeasayer

Sad they split up

Steve Wilson Tull remixes

Aqualung’s a good album and the sound mixing’s kinda bad, so I liked this project.

Stonefield

Opened for Gizzard. Really good as studying music

Video Games

Civ VI: Gathering Storm

Hades

Turns out Supergiant’s design proclivities all work *extremely well* on a roguelike

Baba is You

Untitled Goose Game

Cute, if maybe a bit overhyped

finally fucking finished Pillars of Eternity

Had fun with it, but too long, and really dour for how long it is.

Pillars II

Kinda drifted off it eventually, but I do genuinely like that the flavor of the fantasy is colonial era rather than medieval.

There’s a Balancing Bastard Factions element where it’s like the writers are just being smartasses after a while. Having to go extremely out of their way to make siding with colonizers seem like a competitive option.

Pokemon shield

Cuphead

pisses me off, which was a nice outlet when I was stranded by flight cancellations during thanksgiving

Celeste

Also very difficult, but really easy to stay patient with, which is nice.

Disco Elysium

None of the discourse made me want to play this, but people talking about the mechanical stuff it did got me extremely interested. Mostly Delivered IMO.

Breath of the Wild

You can approach the nodes of the main quest in the order you choose, and the second one I chose made ninjas start fucking spawning everywhere when I’m just trying to explore, and there’s no way to make it stop. May go back to it one day.

Podcasts

Relentless Picnic Patreon feed

The treats really helped me start distinguishing individual personalities, compared to the regular eps.

Picnic Discord!

FatT Counterweight

Fun, but also I think Mechs are not my shit.

FatT Spring in Hieron/ end of that particular world

8 months since I’ve last tuned into FatT. ah well.

Law School

He’s in everythiiiing!

You Must Remember This: Manson family

*There’s* the context

Misc.

Kindle train guy

Times Square sleeping guy + kids taking selfies w/ him

toddler singing along after Psycho killer (a, ya, ya ya, ya)

drunk and dragged to a drag show

Central park football family

Soft Steel Drum Subway Busker

Weird old lady going to grand central for oysters

2018 in review (cards):

MySelf (CC)

Self: Tower

Blocked: 10 Cups

Ethereal/subconscious: 8 Swords

Material: 3 Swords

Past: Justice

Future: Page Wands

Attitude: Sun

External: King Swords

Hopes/Fears: 5 Coins

Trajectory: High Priestess

Also Self:

Hierophant

7 Cups

7 Coins

Blind Spot:

(self & others): 5 cups || (others not self): High Priestess

(self not others): Moon || (nobody): 3 Cups

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fuwafuwamedb · 4 years

Text

The Mummy (Mummy AU) (Hakuno, Enkidu, Shinji)

Glimmering golds, stones upon stones, gems that gleamed from glass cases and were lit up with the carefully screwed in bulbs from various small lights; the room held an eerie suspense. The walls themselves had been carefully painted above the waist high trim, adorned in the loving works of the ancient peoples that had once stood upon these lands.

Each step deeper and deeper into the room brought one further and further away from the large flickering lights that hung outside the room. It brought one deeper between the dark shelves filled to the edges with texts and maps. Various parchments showed wear and tear. Some were stained with the blood of those whom had delved deep into this world of obsession and glory.

Her fingers ran over the pages in loving respect. Her feet carried her further and further into the distance, away from the lights and towards the precious crates of the next room.

The light overhead here would only work during the most inopportune of times. No matter how many times the light was switched or the wires were redone, this room just here would never be lit. It eluded the light of man just as it eluded the light of the sun and the gods.

The light flickered back and forth.

Over and over, it showed the jars, standing in a row. It showed the blackened tar, sealing them shut. She had seen so many like them. So very many jars just like them, but they had always been of ivories and precious clays. Never had she seen such jars look like this.

Why were they sealed in this manner?

Her hands reached forth, reaching for the opportunity to hold them and investigate them. She wanted to know what secrets lay within. She wanted to be able to resolve the mysteries they contained.

Yet, it felt like they were still so far.

Countless writings and artifacts stood between her and them.

Stepping into this room…

No, standing amongst these precious pieces of another life…

It is my duty to learn the truth.

She had to learn the truth.

Just a bit further.

Just a bit more…

“…Hakuno.”

With reading the jars, she would be able to know the person whom they contained the essence of. She would be able to go forth and find the sarcophagus and reveal them to their people. They would be reborn, alive through the hearts and minds of thousands of visitors to museums and-

“HAKUNO!”

Hakuno jumped in the air, feeling someone jab her side. Her shriek was met with the groan of the man nearby, his arms crossing.

“Falling asleep in the library! And you call yourself a librarian!”

“Shinji,” Hakuno rubbed at her side, wincing at the pain. “I thought you were off on an expedition.”

“I will be soon enough!” The man smirked, holding up his official documents. “I’ve gotten Leo and Twice to agree to fund the trip.”

Her eyes read over the contract, widening as she read along the page.

Half payments up front, all costs paid by Leo and Twice. What’s more, the two were going to see that the artifacts were-

She froze.

The funders will decide the resting place of all artifacts found. Based upon the value of these artifacts, a generous donation will be given to Shinji Matou in accordance. So long as Mr. Matou does not attempt to seek further funding for these items, the museum will also be given a .5% fraction of his donation on a yearly basis.

.5%?!

“SHINJI!”

“Ah, don’t bother me!” The man shoved her back, banging her against the desk lightly. “You’re nothing more than the secretary for this place anyway. Shouldn’t you be daydreaming or something? Don’t you have books to rearrange or documents to translate for the real field workers?”

Real expedition historians and librarians needed to be translating their own works!

Hakuno could feel her fists curl at the thought of this idiot going out there into the field with those long time scholars. How many bridges would he burn out there? How much of a fool would he make them all out to look like.

“Shinji, about my application,” she followed. She had to follow after him. She needed- no she simply required this chance. No one else was given the opportunity. She’d seen Rin and Rani transfer to cleaning artifacts in other museums. Hell, Rin had gone all the way to the frigid top of the world to the lands west of England to avoid this stress.

But she couldn’t abandon what was her chance to get closer to her blood’s origin. She simply had to dig through the soils of Egypt and what had once been Sumer eventually.

“Shinji!”

“I’m not going to ask,” the man practically sang. “What use is there in a woman joining the crew? Don’t you know that the scholars find it to be bad luck?”

Bad-

Oh that loathsome toad!

“ARE YOU TELLING THEM THOSE SUPERSTITIONS AGAIN?”

Oh but she was going to kill him.

She’d use one of the wands in the room and stick it up his nose, swirling it around and trying to find whatever brain matter was remaining in that useless head of his!

She would! This time, she knew for certain that he was conspiring with the scholars and the funding groups! He was making it so she was trapped in these rooms forever! Unable to even publish a bloody article!

Her hands were just about on him when the door opened.

“Kishinami!”

SHIT.

Hakuno paused, glancing over to the man entering the room. Shinji ducked behind him, shaking his head.

“The woman’s gone entirely hormonal. What does one expect-“

“Leave us.”

Twice’s command was instant, earning a nod before Shinji was gone.

Taking one look around, the man sighed.

In her great efforts to slaughter Shinji, she’d forgotten why she had been assigned to this room. The toppled bookshelves from her earlier attempts at organizing were still lying in a mess. She still had no idea how to fix them either, since they weren’t exactly the lightest shelves.

Damn you, Shinji.

It was his fault. It was always his fault.

“I want this room spotless before you leave,” Twice informed her. “And, should I see you bother a newfound scholar again-“

“Scholar?!”

“Matou has shown a great proclivity for reading the Egyptian,” Twice informed her. “His talents for that were only exceeded by his reading of Sumerian. The articles he had on the pharaoh, Ozymandias were both enlightening and in great depth about his affection for his first wife, Nefertari.”

His…

He stole my papers.

Her blood was freezing in place. Her mind revolving around the revelation.

Not only was he getting the field work offer, not only was he getting the overarching goal that she’d been seeking by doing that field work; Shinji had gotten into her bedchambers in her own home and had stolen her articles that she’d been writing for her resubmission to become a scholar. All of the efforts she’d agonized and starved over, all the nights of persuading her precious adopted sibling into helping her hide and write her articles…

Twice left.

He simply closed the door on her pains and her distraught nature and left her to mourn all that hard effort.

“Women are so insane,” Shinji was saying outside the door. “My companions from another trip have found some artifacts. We believe we can find the pathway to Hamunaptra.”

“The city of the dead?”

��That’s the one!” Shinji was laughing. “Come have a drink with me. My companions should be finishing their drinks about now.”

You bastard.

That absolute bastard.

What was she going to do now? She could transfer, but…

Something shifted from one of the smaller sarcophagi nearby.

She must have imagined it. Why would she hear something from them?

Her attention turned to the documents nearby, beginning to at least pile them up nicely. It would take a while, but she could perhaps persuade once of the gentlemen who would wander back later tonight to straighten the bookshelves back up.

Or perhaps her brother…

More scratches.

Hakuno glanced back at the ancient artifact, her eyes drifting over the lid.

Perhaps a bug or-

The lid shifted.

I need one of the scholars…

No. That would only humiliate her more. Better to die at the hands of a mummy than have to face more humiliation. She could-

The lid slid down further. She could see bandages, old and tattered, attached to darkened fingers. They were so tightly wrapped.

“GAH!”

She shrieked, a split second sound that was followed by throwing her hands filled with paperwork at the idiot.

“ENKIDU!”

Her brother laughed, climbing out of the artifact and looking around.

“You idiot! You scared the hell out of me!”

“Well, at least you’re left with the good bits,” Enkidu yawned. “I was waiting to hear noises, but I guess I fell asleep in there. The company’s a real bag of bones.”

That wasn’t funny.

Why do I find them funny?

“Hmm?” Enkidu leaned forward, their green hair cascading over their shoulder. “Is something wrong? Don’t tell me the scholars turned you down again.”

“Worse.”

She didn’t want to explain. She couldn’t. Her poor pride, what little she’d acquired over so long a period of time, was in shambles.

“Are they mad about you not having field experience still?”

“It’s more than that,” Hakuno sighed. “Help me with the shelves, will you? I knocked them down earlier and the curator is still mad at me.”

“Ah, Twice is twice the fool if he doesn’t realize your potential.” Enkidu moved over to the shelving, beginning to slowly right them one by one. Their movements were so lively, so chipper compared to her mood. If only she could get away with getting up to as much trouble as her sibling and somehow managing to be able to hold her head as high and her dignity in place.

I have no dignity, they would tell her.

She rather doubted that.

“I would need something truly revolutionary in order to become a scholar now,” Hakuno told them, picking up papers in mass from the floor and stacking them. Tomorrow she could see about organizing them. It was her day off, sure, but she could spare the time.

“Oh yeah?”

She nodded.

Only a find of enormous value would get her in good with those old fools.

To do that though, she’d need funding. Trips didn’t fund themselves. Either that, or she’d need someone she could trust to travel with her and her brother, if they could persuade the being to leave this watering hole of a city. It would take far more than some ancient writing to get Enkidu out of Cairo.

“Hakuno.”

Her sibling leaned over her, smiling proudly.

“Tell me you love me.”

She closed her eyes, smiling despite it all.

“I love you so much,” she told them. “I love you more than the pharaohs of this land loved their children and their people. You’re my precious being and there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you… and you know that very well, don’t you?”

Her lips pressed against their cheek.

“So who was it that you pissed off this time?”

There was only one reason that the being would be enacting their love demands like this and that was: they’d done something that needed the other’s assistance.

“Who says I did anything?” Enkidu shrugged, backing a couple paces away. “Old dusty butt and I were just mingling for a while since you were catching a nap at the desk and then before that I had a drink-“

“Enkidu,” Hakuno drawled.

“I did gamble a bit,” they confessed. “But if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have gotten you such a beautiful, lovely gift!”

“A gift?”

The being pulled the object from their pocket, holding it up for her.

The strange octagon shape was-

“This is a keystone!”

Hakuno beamed at the sight, pulling it from the being’s grasp and looking over the fine edges.

“A keystone?” Enkidu moved forward. “What are you unlocking with that? Jewels? Gold? Rich tablets we could sell and live on an island somewhere?”

“Better.”

She set the thing down on the table, motioning for Enkidu to lend a little more of a hand by picking up more of the papers. They were so fast at working. It really kind of made a mockery of her attempts to clean up her mess.

Tonight, she’d make dinner and draw them a bath as thanks.

For now though, she had her gift to investigate.

The keystone was engraved with warnings not to use it. Standard issue, she thought to herself. They were so fickle about leaving their mummies in tombs, but that would not help immortalize them. It wouldn’t let the people have the chance to admire them.

No, these things were made because they’d known they would be ignored.

“AH HA!”

The keystone clicked, showing a bit of papyrus rolled up inside.

Her hands pulled the paper out, feeling Enkidu wrapping their arms around her and leaning over her shoulder. She could see the directions about using the stone. The details about…

“This talks about Hamunaptra!”

“Oh yeah?”

“Enkidu!” Hakuno beamed at them. “This would resolve everything!”

Gods, but she could kiss her sibling for this! She peppered their cheeks endlessly as they laughed and shook their head.

“Alright alright! Where do we go? I can get us a boat and some horses-“

“We need to find the person who found this. I want to know where they got it.”

Enkidu tensed.

“Once we know where they had been, we can go forth and find either more artifacts leading to Hamunaptra or we can find the city itself! It won’t take long. I can take my vacation days and we can do this right!”

Field experience!

Artifacts!

Being a scholar and being able to show people the great histories of the world!

Sumer!

“Ah… Hakuno.”

“Hmm?” Right. First, they needed to talk to the fellow that Enkidu had gambled with. It wouldn’t take long, maybe five minutes? Ten?

“The ah… The authorities may have been carting the man I got this from out of the bar last night.”

“That’s alright.”

It wouldn’t be difficult to speak to someone behind bars. She could even put some money forth for their bail if she really like he was helping them.

“Tell me you love me?”

“Enkidu…”

What on earth was wrong with them?

How badly had this fool gotten into trouble?

#drabble #drabbles

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