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auxiliarydetective · 2 years

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Hogan's Heroes OC

This is a pretty long and detailed post and contains some Nazi terms some people may not want on their dash, so I'm placing a cut. Please still read it though, I put a lot of work in it. Also, please keep in mind that I, in no shape or form, support what happened in Germany during the Nazi era and keep in mind the fandom that this OC is for before you accuse me of anything.

I wanted to create an OC that filled out the only gap that could possibly still be missing in the Heroes' team and in he show. They have pretty much everything. Except for a direct tie to the Gestapo and a female lead.

Now, anyone who knows German history of the period knows that women were mainly meant to be housewives and bear as many children as possible. But I found out that there were actually women in the SS and Gestapo. In the SS, they were even actual soldiers of equal rank as their male counterparts. In the Gestapo, they were usually only secretaries.

The SS and Gestapo got me to think about Major Hochstetter who is enlisted in both and believes strongly in the Nazi ideology. Now what would convince a man like him, the most prominent Gestapo figure in the show, to allow someone else to pull some strings - and a woman of all people? Ideology. He would listen to someone who is even more of a paragon than he is, or a proxy of that person, say his secretary.

But the main idea to make an OC for Hogan's Heroes came when I read Robert Harris's V2 and I learned about the existence of the WAAF, the Women's Auxiliary Airforce - and by extension the SOE or Special Operations Executive - during WWII in Britain. That was when it all klicked. So let me introduce to you:

Zoe Allen aka Viktoria Brandt

English Name: Zoe Allen

WAAF/SOE rank: Flight Officer

German Name: Viktoria Brandt (née Braunschweig)

Gestapo/SS rank: Oberfunker (honorary)

Age: late 20s

Birthplace: England

Place of Residence: Hammelburg, Germany (Bavaria)

Gender: Female, usually presents as feminine, but can be seen as pretty masculine if she's wearing her uniform

Orientation: To the Nazis absolutely straight, but might secretly kiss a girl every now and then; pretty obviously polyamorous (which is something the Nazis actually supported back then, though for all the wrong reasons)

Social class: High; She is married to a high-ranking Gestapo/SS officer, either the rank of Hochstetter or higher. It took a lot to marry an SS officer, including training to make sure you would be a good wife

Appearance:

I wish I had the energy to actually draw her. But her appearance is part of how she got so far. She looks like a girl/woman from a Nazi school book. White with blue eyes and blonde hair. Not too tall and not too short and slightly curvy (wide hips as a symbol for childbearing), but not really chubby. She usually wears her hair in victory curls, but not as noticable ones as to not raise suspicion. She has both an SS and a WAAF uniform (again, wish I had drawn her, I really wanted to portray that dualism), the second one she keeps very well hidden, of course. She prefers not to wear her SS uniform but will if she has to remind someone that she's more than just a machine to bear children. When she's not wearing her uniform, she wears a skirt and blouse, as you would expect a secretary of the time to, with an NSDAP pin on her necktie and sometimes a red armband with the swastika on it. Basically, she's very focused on keeping up the appearance of a model citizen, party member and working woman, a proxy for her husband.

Personality:

As Viktoria Brandt, she shows a stern side, basically making her whole persona based on carrying out "her husband's will" whenever someone visits Stalag 13. If it's just the usual guards, Klink and Schultz, she tends to use subtle manipulative tactics on them. Essentially, she makes Viktoria Brandt out to be the perfect paragon, devoted and stern, yet obedient at the same time, relying strongly on her husband for validation, saying that she knows better than anyone what he would want. Whenever asked why she, someone who "so strongly supports the Nazi ideology" , doesn't have any children, she replies that she believes her purpose in serving the Führer is not to have children but to spread the ideology and act as an extension for her husband and the higher branches, reaching up to the Führer himself, almost sanctifying her role as a proxy in a way. One of her most common aguments to use for her manipulation on Klink or even Hochstetter is "Wenn das der Führer wüsste..." ("if the Führer knew...") which was a common excuse for when things went wrong in the Third Reich or for anything in general, that if the Führer knew, he would set everything straight. Viktoria, claiming to know what the Führer would want, then gets her way. In general, she puts lots and lots of effort into being seen as a paragon, kind of similar to Julia in 1984.

Like Julia, Zoe is far from being what she lets everyone see. Unlike Julia, who is described as "a rebel from the waist down", she rebels mainly with her mind. Underneath the surface of Viktoria Brandt, Zoe is very kind and sweet and a pretty calm person. She cares a lot for other people and quickly grows attached to the Heroes, being considered as almost a sister by some of them by the end. No matter what the situation is, she always tries to help and is dedicated to the end, trying to think of solutions whenever possible. She also has a playful, if not flirtatious side. For example, it's common knowledge that some of the Heroes flirt with women a lot. Zoe doesn't mind. When it happens for the first time, she doesn't even turn them down but instead claims that "she's only allowed to date German men without comitting adultery" (which is actually historically true, apparently).

Role in the story

So, finally I get to explain: Zoe was born to an English father and a German mother, making her "aric" through many generations. She grew up in England and received an extensive education where she learned to speak English, German and French fluently, as well as bits and pieces of other languages. She joined the WAAF right at the start in 1939 and at a pretty young age as well, around 21 or 22. Through hard work and dedication, she built herself a reputation as being one of the best radio operators there were. However, what got her her place in the Special Operations Executive was her appearance and German skills. She was sent to Germany as a spy under the name Viktoria Braunschweig and soon married SS officer Brandt.

Her involvement with the Heroes was actually caused by Hochstetter as he talked to his fellow officer Brandt about how suspicious Stalag 13 was. He wanted more control over what was going on there. Zoe, working as her husband's secretary, immediately reacted. She had been aware of the existence of the Heroes and feared that direct Gestapo control could inhibit them or let them be discovered. So, she suggested that she should be sent since nobody suggested a woman. That was how she ended up in Stalag 13. The underground was made aware of her new position and she was told to get rid of all her equipment as she would now be working with the Heroes and it would be safer for her not to have her own things. Establishing first contact with the Heroes was not too hard since Klink was already intimidated enough when he saw the swastika on her armband. The Heroes had been warned ahead of time that they would be getting a new contact and boy were they shocked when they found out that it was a woman and about the ties she had.

Another interesting thing to note is her relationship to her husband. She loves him and he loves her, but she claims that her insides twist every time she sees him in his uniform, even worse than seeing herself in hers. Her husband is well aware that she is English. He even met her shortly after she had crossed over and helped her adapt. It didn't take long for him to fall in love and propose to her. The whole relationship was a bit rushed. Zoe only acted at first but found herself gradually falling in love, no matter how horrible of a person he was on the outside. One the inside, he wasn't such a paragon either and completely fine with Zoe not wanting children and wanting to have more of a working life. Still, one big risk in Zoe's life and work with the heroes is that her marriage, by Nazi law, can be annulled if she doesn't have children with her husband or anyone else or at least adopts a child. Where those children for adoption come from is a horrible story by the way. It's not that Zoe doesn't want children at all that's the problem, it's that she doesn't want children for the Führer. She wants a family, not just an instrument for a horrific regime.

So that's Zoe Allen aka Viktoria Brandt! If you have questions, on her or on my research, feel free to ask!

#hogan's heroes #oc #zoe allen #oc: vicky brandt #evie's research rambles

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greenbriar-j · 3 years

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bgm worldbuilding: one sentence oc intros

Finley Schultz - His two claims to fame are his family name and his love for Emerson, two things he hasn’t unlocked the potentials of because 1) he hates his family name and his family hates him and 2) Emerson makes him so nervous he can’t even think.

Emerson Cao - Stupid altruistic workaholic who pretends not to notice she’s fallen for Finley Schultz because while she likes flirting with him, she’s a bit flighty about commitment because she knows that at the rate she’s going, she might die while he’s still in his prime, but also what if he dies first? (in a superhero world, you never know with these things)

Julian Atherton - “My way or the highway”-type of dad friend; loves baking and all things sweet but will not hesitate to leave his vigilante crew for dead if he thinks it would benefit him, which is fine because he’d only have to leave them for dead if he messed up the planning stage, which he’s too much of a genius to ever do.

Aiden Atherton - Emerson’s male best friend who Finley would love to eviscerate, Aiden can only show his affection for her through harsh words because he’d rather carry the whole world himself than let her stick a hand in to help, knowing that she she wouldn’t stop until she was carrying the whole world instead.

I will continue this when I stick more characters in, but at this point of the wip, these are the important players.

TBC with more worldbuilding shenanigans!

Taglist: @abbystardis @astrowriting @aelenko @asoftplxcetoland @chazzawrites @halleiswriting @jess—writes @maidollanganger @mouwwie @mastery-in-procrastination @nightmares-and-fireflies @semblanche @softly–sinking @themillionthdraft @theoldcity @thescatteredscribbles @unbearable-lightness-of-ink @waterfallwritings

#bgm.wip

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marvelyningreen · 3 years

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It Will End in Rain

Part 1 - Proxy

(Next)

[Summary: Maybe she really was exactly what she seemed to be - a drifter who happened by at the right time to offer help. Logan had to admit, he’d been in a similar situation not that long ago. Well, minus the ‘passing do-gooder’ thing she had going for her.

Warnings: mild language, references to injury, brief reference to torture

Notes: XCU (but no Dark Phoenix.) POV character is Logan. Romance-free; platonic interactions only. The version of the GLX/GLA mentioned is entirely non-canon. “Proxy” was an angsty as hell X-Men OC I made when I was much younger. I wanted to try writing something less... edgelord with her, without fundamentally altering the character.]

Nothing ever went according to plan. This was supposed to be more of an errand than a mission – just picking up intel and getting out of there. It was supposed to be Logan and Jubilee taking the Maximoff twins along for their first real outing, now that the boys were nearing sixteen.

What it wasn’t supposed to be was an ambush.

Not that Logan was too worried. Jubilee could handle herself in a brawl, and the boys were a hell of a tag-team already.

He should’ve worried more. By the time he saw, it was too late.

A shockwave had thrown Jubilee to the ground. Another kept her from getting back to her feet, and a hulking mutant was barreling towards her. There’s no way Logan could move fast enough to intercept him – and Tommy was busy dodging bullets at the other end of the clearing – but he’d be damned if he didn’t try.

With a snarl, he raced towards them, but what he saw next pulled him up short. Seconds before impact, Jubilee seemed to blink out of existence, and in her place stood a woman Logan had never seen before.

The hulking mutant swung his arm, backhanding the stranger with a force that sent her flying twenty feet away to crash into a pile of boulders. She slid to the ground with a pained groan. Before Logan could blink, there was Jubilee – laying where the other woman had fallen – completely unharmed.

It was hard to know which of them was more confused. But, before the hulking mutant could wind up for another swing, Jubilee raised one arm and blasted him into the next county.

Logan ran to her. “Hey, you alright?”

Jubilee glanced around as he helped her up. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just… What just happened? One second I was here, and then-”

By then, the Maximoff twins had dealt with their half of the battle and were jogging over. Billy raised a silver briefcase in one hand.

“Got it!” he called. “What’s going on?”

Logan shook his head. “I don’t know, but it seems like we got company.”

Didn’t look like the boys were any worse for the wear, thankfully. Their mom would cross the multiverse to kick Logan’s ass if anything happened to them. The safest option would be to leave now, but…

“Like, friendly company, or otherwise?” asked Tommy.

“Hard to say. She was definitely a mutant.” Logan sighed. “Suppose we should check it out. Jubilee, did you see anything when it happened?”

She nodded. “Yeah, I did. I could still see this spot, but I was a ways away, maybe on a hill?”

“Show me,” Billy said, and turned to Logan, “And you show me what she looked like.”

Logan nodded, focusing on the stranger’s appearance. He felt the familiar buzzing sensation in his skull as Billy peered at the memory.

Brows furrowed, Billy turned to look at Tommy, who closed his eyes for a moment, then nodded.

“I’m on it,” he said, and zipped away.

Logan cast his gaze warily around the clearing. He didn’t like the idea that they were being watched.

“Who do you think she is?” said Billy.

Logan shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine, kid.”

It wasn’t unheard of to run into another mutant, but it was strange that she’d interjected herself into their fight like that. Suddenly, Tommy sped back into their midst.

“I found her,” he said, hooking a thumb towards one of the surrounding hills. “I think she’s hurt. Come on!”

This situation was rapidly getting out of hand. Logan didn’t have the professor’s advantage of reading strangers minds, just his gut instinct. But if this girl really was hurt… Well, he’d have a better grasp on the situation after seeing her.

Tommy led the group to the top of the hill.

“There,” he said, pointing at the ground.

There lay the woman Logan had seen before. If he had to guess, he’d put her around the same age as Jubilee. Definitely under thirty. Her long coat was weathered and threadbare in places, and so was the backpack that sat beside her.

She was slowly trying to push herself upright, grimacing in pain. She turned her head and spat blood onto the ground before looking up at them.

“Evening,” she said.

Logan tensed as she reached to rummage in her coat pocket, but all she retrieved was a flask.

“Who the hell are you?” he asked.

The stranger held up one finger, indicating he’d have to wait for an answer. Logan sighed impatiently, still eyeing her with suspicion as she took a swig.

“Name’s Skye,” she said finally. She looked them over, her gaze landing on Logan in particular. “You’re some of the X-Men, aren’t you?”

“And you just happened to be passing by when we were here,” said Logan.

“There’s a-” Here Skye broke off, hissing in pain as she struggled to her feet. Billy moved forward to help her, but she waved him away. Skye gritted her teeth and went on. “Backpacking trail. Just that way. This is a state park. I heard the noise and it looked like you guys could use a hand, so I jumped in.”

“Hmm.” Logan couldn’t deny that she had saved Jubilee from taking a nasty hit. “Well, thanks.”

“Don’t let me keep you from… well, whatever you’re doing out here,” said Skye. “I’ll get back to my- God… damn it.”

Skye reached for her backpack, and nearly doubled over in pain as she did so. The kids looked alarmed, and even Logan was starting to worry. If she was faking, she was doing a damn good job of it.

“Wait, you’re just gonna leave?” said Billy. “But you’re hurt.”

Skye straightened up, taking a few deep breaths to steady herself.

“I’m aware,” she said, “Cracked ribs. That’s about… a week and a half. Maybe I’d better find a motel instead.”

Billy looked back at Logan, evidently distressed, and he didn’t even need to ask. Sometimes having him along felt like having a teenaged Charles Xavier in the group. Logan sighed.

“What’s your read, kid?” he asked.

“I think…”

Skye winced for a moment, pressing a hand to her forehead. Having the kid poke around in your thoughts wasn’t exactly a good feeling, but at least he worked fast.

“I think she’s alright,” he finished.

“That’s good enough for me,” said Logan. “Look, Skye, why don’t you come back with us? You can get something to eat, get cleaned up… It beats hiking out of here to find a motel, right?”

“It’s the least we can do,” said Jubilee. “You can stay there while you heal up.”

There was silence for a few seconds as Skye considered this.

“Pneumonia would add another week,” she said, as though thinking aloud. “I guess… I mean, if you were kind enough to offer, it’d be rude not to take you up on it.”

Despite his initial misgivings, Logan had to give Billy’s assessment the benefit of the doubt. Skye really seemed to be exactly what she looked like – a drifter who happened to be in the right place to offer help.

He had to admit, he’d been in a similar situation not all that long ago. Well, minus the passing do-gooder thing Skye had going for her.

Skye stayed pretty quiet on the drive back to the mansion. She didn’t volunteer any information if she wasn’t asked directly, but she was polite enough, if a little curt. Then again, that might’ve had something to do with the cracked ribs.

But she didn’t get squirrelly when Tommy offered to carry her things either. Logan was pretty sure the kid rifled through the backpack at speed before he put it in the trunk, and he didn’t mention finding anything suspicious, so that was another point in Skye’s favor.

It was late when they got back to Xavier’s. Logan kept an eye on Skye as she got out of the car. She was definitely taking an interest in her surroundings. That could be chalked up to curiosity, though. Xavier’s school was getting quite a reputation. A down-on-their-luck mutant was bound to have heard stories, and probably wanted to know if they were true.

Logan was so busy keeping an eye on the newcomer that he didn’t even notice Professor Xavier until he spoke up.

“Logan?” he said. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, well, we ran into a little trouble, but we found some help,” said Logan, “And brought her back with us.”

If anybody was gonna know for sure if a stranger was on the level, it was the professor. Logan waited for any indication that there was trouble, but none came. The professor simply smiled, offering a handshake.

“Welcome,” he said. “I’m Professor Charles Xavier.”

“I… uh, Skye Schultz,” she said. “Honor to meet you, sir.”

Skye seemed nervous now, but more like shy nervous. The professor had that effect on people.

“The pleasure is all mine,” he said warmly. “I’m grateful for your help.”

“She busted a couple ribs in the process, too,” Logan added. “Part of the reason we brought her along.”

“Of course,” said the professor. “We’ll have someone show you to the infirmary and-”

“I’d rather not, if it’s all the same to you,” Skye interrupted.

Logan raised an eyebrow, surprised. Her tone was clipped and cold, a far cry from her usual low, dry monotone. Even the professor seemed taken aback, but only for a moment.

“Certainly,” he said, then looked to the Maximoff twins. “Boys, would you mind showing our guest to a room? There are a few open in the north wing; she’s welcome to take her pick. We’ll give you some time to settle in, Ms. Schultz, and then send up something to eat.”

Still looking a little agitated, Skye thanked him. Tommy shouldered her backpack once again, and he and Billy led her off.

“What do you think of her, Logan?” the professor asked at length.

Logan folded his arms. “Well, I think a liar would put a lot more effort into being friendly. Whatever she’s up to, I don’t think she’s got any ulterior motives. Why? What’s your take?”

“I think…” he said pensively, “I’d like to speak to her again, and I’d like you to come with me.”

“What, me?” Logan eyed him in confusion. “Oh, no. That’s not my wheelhouse, professor. Kurt’s the designated welcoming committee, not me.”

He laughed. “Oh, I’m aware of that, but Kurt’s still away at school. For now, I believe you’re the man for the job. I’m asking you to trust me on this, Logan.”

Logan sighed with ill grace. The professor would turn out to be right; he usually was.

“Professor, are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Jean asked, casting an uncertain glance down the hall towards Skye’s room.

“No, thank you, Jean,” said the professor. “Having three of us might be a bit overwhelming. I don’t expect there to be any trouble, but I appreciate your agreeing to keep watch.”

Jean nodded. “I’ll be right next door if you need anything. Or if she does.”

At the next door down, Logan knocked quietly. Silence. Maybe the kid had gone to sleep already. She had looked dead tired. But, no. He heard movement behind the door – a little too quietly, like she was trying not to be heard.

For a second, Logan was worried things were about to go south. Then, the door opened, and Skye peered out wordlessly.

“We brought you something to eat,” said the professor, smiling at her. “May we come in for a moment?”

“Sure,” was all she said.

Skye stepped aside, opening the door further so the professor’s wheelchair would fit through. She really had clammed up since they got here, hadn’t she? Not that she was particularly chatty out in the woods, but it was enough to be noticeable. Well, maybe her ribs were just bothering her.

Out of habit, Logan glanced around the room as he entered it. Two lamps on, but not the overhead light. Skye’s coat was neatly hung over a chair, and her backpack was on the floor beside it. She must’ve taken a shower. Her hair, still damp, was pulled into a long braid. The t-shirt and jeans she’d changed into were worn and oversized, but much cleaner than he’d expected.

Nothing that unusual, then. Logan took the tray from the professor, setting its contents down on the desk.

“Leftovers from dinner tonight,” the professor explained, motioning to the thermos. “Our cooks’ specialty: jambalaya. I hope that’s alright. And there’s a piece of rhubarb crumble for dessert, if you’d like it. Our groundskeeper is very proud of the recipe.”

Skye nodded, and thanked them, but didn’t make a move towards the food. Logan was sure she had to be hungry. Maybe she didn’t want to eat until they left, for some reason. Fair enough. Logan picked up the last item from the tray.

“And some ice for your ribs,” he said, passing the icepacks to Skye.

“Please, sit down,” said the professor, before the silence could drag on for too long. “I’m sure you must be tired, but I was hoping you won’t mind telling me a bit about yourself.”

Skye had taken a seat in the armchair and was settling the ice around her ribs as she gingerly leaned back. She frowned, confused.

“But couldn’t you just…?”

She gestured vaguely to her head, and the professor laughed.

“Oh, quite easily,” he said. “But what good would that do?”

Skye didn’t seem to know how to take that, and Logan still wasn’t sure what the professor expected from him in this whole interaction. Might as well get comfortable, though. He leaned against the wall, folding his arms.

“I don’t really know where to start,” said Skye.

“Start with your abilities, then,” the professor suggested.

“You’re some sort of teleporter, right?” said Logan.

“Sort of…” Skye’s gaze flashed to the professor again, and she frowned slightly.

Well, whatever it was, seemed like she still didn’t want to talk about it. But maybe she figured that she might as well anyway, since the professor is a mind-reader and all. She went on.

“I can create a sort of a, uh, a psychic link with somebody. It lets me see and hear everything they do. And if I’m linked to them, I can switch places with them for a short time.”

That explained how she pulled the whole ‘now you see me, now you don’t’ trick with Jubilee, but-

“Why would you wanna do something like that?” Logan pressed.

Skye shrugged, and winced. “Just like you saw. If they’re in danger, I can take the hit for them.”

The look of disbelief on his face was apparently all Skye needed as encouragement to clarify.

“I heal fast, too.”

Not that fast, clearly. Logan himself would’ve been fully recovered by now, if he’d been the one with cracked ribs. What was it Skye’d been mumbling to herself? Something about needing a week to heal? Weird that she knew the specifics.

“It’d take a rather particular set of circumstances for one to discover those sorts of abilities, I expect,” said the professor.

Skye cracked a rueful smile. Huh. Logan was pretty sure that was the first time she’d smiled all evening, actually.

“We got mugged,” she said. “I was seventeen. Me and my friend were walking back to my car after a movie, and some guy with a knife tried to mug us. My friend couldn’t get his wallet out of his pocket fast enough, and I just… It felt like I was seeing the whole thing through his eyes, and I knew he was gonna get stabbed, and then-”

She made a rotating gesture with her hands, indicating they switched places.

“Then I got stabbed instead,” she said. “It freaked the mugger out so much that he bolted. My friend, uh, he covered for me. Said the mugger’s story about us switching places was crazy.”

Now, a lot of mutants had some pretty rough experiences. Logan himself was no exception. Still, this girl was weirdly casual about getting stabbed as a teenager.

The professor nodded. “And that’s how you discovered the accelerated healing, too.”

“Right,” said Skye. “They figured it healed in about a quarter of the time it should’ve.”

Not too shabby, then. Still an eternity compared to what Logan was used to. The professor caught his eye for a second, and voiced his train of thought out loud.

“It’s healing, then, and not regeneration?” he asked.

“No, not regeneration,” said Skye, gesturing to her mouth. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have two false teeth.”

“From what?” Logan blurted out.

This kid didn’t look – or act – like a fighter, and Logan couldn’t believe she just got mugged that many times. It occurred to him a second too late that there could be a logical explanation, like an accident or something. But Skye was already answering him.

“When I was in college, I joined the GLX. I mean-” She broke off, suddenly looking uncomfortable. “I mean the GLA. Sorry, we- They still call themselves the GLX, uh, internally.”

The professor shook his head. “It’s quite alright.”

Logan sneered at the name. Over in the Midwest, a group of mutants had the balls to start calling themselves the “Great Lakes X-Men” without Xavier’s permission. When the professor asked them to change the name, they actually tried to say that they had every right to use it because something something x-gene, who knows. They folded at the first threat of a cease-and-desist, though. Ended up calling themselves the “Great Lakes Avengers” instead. Stupid name, if you asked Logan.

“Anyway,” Skye went on, “After Cairo, they decided that they should be doing more, and started actively recruiting. I wanted to help, so… I signed on.”

“What, they were just taking anybody?” Logan asked. “… I didn’t mean it like that.”

He kinda expected Skye to take offense at the comment, but she didn’t. Sure, her expression hardened a little, but she just managed to look more tired and defeated. What the hell happened to her out there?

“No, but they figured my abilities were valuable to the team,” said Skye. “With my help, they were able to take on riskier missions.”

“Riskier missions?” the professor repeated.

Logan knew that tone, and that brows-furrowed expression. Whatever Skye was implying, the professor was appalled by it.

“And this was your primary role in the team, is that right?” the professor continued.

“It’s all I’m good for,” said Skye. “If I could protect the person who was in the riskiest position, they’d have a far better chance of success.”

“They didn’t have you doing this out in the field, did they?” Logan asked. Maybe it wasn’t time for him to jump in, but he wouldn’t put it past these clowns to do something that stupid.

“No, I was back at headquarters the whole time. I stayed in the infirmary, since I’d be ending up there anyway. Some things only took days to recover from, other stuff could be a month or so.”

She was just so… detached and clinical about it. It was weird. It made Logan uncomfortable, if he was gonna be honest. He’d never really understood why people got so antsy when he’d get injured, but after listening to Skye talk? He was starting to get it.

“But you left the team eventually,” said the professor. “Tell us about that.”

Skye looked down, her jaw jutting out just a little. She was stalling. Logan glanced over at the professor, but he didn’t say anything – just sat there waiting for an answer. Whatever it was, the professor already knew it. He pretty much always did. But whatever it was, he wanted the kid to say it out loud.

When she finally answered, her voice sounded hollow. “One of ours got abducted. There was this anti-mutant group trying to pick up were Trask left off, and one day they just grabbed her from the grocery store parking lot. They-”

Skye broke off, almost like she’d flinched. She shut her eyes for a second, and swallowed hard before going on.

“They wanted information about the rest of the GLX. They, uh, they tried to make her talk. So while the others went to get her out of there, my job was… My job was to protect her.”

Logan didn’t like where this was going.

“Our leader had me link up with her. I told him everything that was happening, and told me to switch in every time they were going to… Every time they-”

Skye leaned forward, and for a second it looked like she was gonna throw up. Logan was ready to grab the trash can for her. He wasn’t so sure he wanted to hear more of this story. He glanced at the professor, who was watching Skye closely. A pained look crossed his face.

“It’s alright,” he said gently. “What happened next?”

“I tried to do it. I swear, I tried.” Skye’s voice wavered, then broke completely. “But after the third time, I couldn’t. I couldn’t make myself go back there. He kept telling me I had to, but I just…”

Skye shook her head. She shut her eyes tight, and her shoulders shook for a second while she tried to pull herself together.

Logan wasn’t what anybody would call naïve. If somebody volunteered for the X-Men, or even for some crapshoot of an outfit like the GLA, they knew that danger was a real possibility. But asking – no – ordering some untrained student to volunteer for torture? What the hell kind of leader would do that?

Logan looked at the girl in front of him and saw Rogue, and Jubilee, and Kitty, and dozens of other students he’d helped train. The thought of them going through what’d happened to Skye almost turned his stomach.

“And then?” the professor prompted gently.

Skye took a deep breath, like she was steadying herself.

“She was alright, all things considered,” she said. “They got to her in time. But the others never looked at me the same after I failed like that.”

It was all Logan could do not to jump in right then, because what the actual hell was wrong with these people?

“And after a while, I couldn’t face them either,” she went on. “I left. I didn’t know what else to do. I drove until the money ran out, and after that, I sold my car. I’ve been walking ever since.”

“I just want to make sure I understand,” the professor said slowly. “They let you disappear… because they felt that you’d failed them.”

Skye’s gaze was fixed firmly on the floor.

“I had one job,” she said. “And when it mattered most, I messed up.”

Whether they really blamed her for this or they were just letting her think that it was somehow her fault – it was awful either way. But while the professor looked stricken by the story, all it was doing was making Logan’s blood boil.

“But before that,” said the professor, “Whatever they’d asked of you, you did it.”

“Every time,” Skye said quietly.

“They used you as a goddamn human shield.” The words were out of Logan’s mouth before he could stop himself.

Forget waiting his turn, and forget dancing around the issue. The startled look on Skye’s face as she shook her head told him everything he needed to know.

“No, that’s not it at all,” she insisted. “If I have these powers, it’s my responsibility to use them to help.”

“It’s sure as hell not,” said Logan. “Not like that. Okay, so you’re willing to bleed for something. Great. Real noble of you. But it is screwed up that they took that literally.”

“No, it’s... That’s all that I’m good for.” But her voice was quieter now.

The GLA was damned lucky there was half a continent between Logan and them.

“Yeah, that’s not true,” he said. “If you’ve got a teleporter on your team, you can have them pass messages, drop off supplies, smuggle things past security – and that’s just off the top of my head. I’m sure Raven could come up with a dozen more options.”

It astounded him that the GLA could be that lazy, that cowardly. Logan kept waiting for the professor to step in and tell him he’d said enough, but he didn’t.

“Didn’t they ever train you to fight, or to defend yourself? Did they give you some sort of body armor, at least?”

Skye hesitated. “… no.”

That was the last straw. Logan snapped.

“They expected you to take bullets for them whenever they asked, and you did it. And when torture was a bridge too far – as it goddamn should be – they acted like you betrayed them somehow. Because that’s all you were good for, right? Just jumping in to help whenever they snapped their fingers. But let me ask you this: did any of them ever volunteer to switch in to help you?”

Skye was staring up at him, wide-eyed. He could tell she was trying to think of some way to respond, to deny everything he’d said. Guilt crept into Logan’s mind. Damn it, he got carried away. He didn’t mean to upset her like that.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he said gruffly.

Skye jerked her chin in something like a nod. The air in the room started to feel a little heavy. Logan was honestly surprised the professor hadn’t shut him up in the middle of all that, but it was only now that he spoke up.

“It can’t have been easy, sharing your story with us,” he said, “Much less experiencing it firsthand. I want you to know that you’re among friends here, and that you’re welcome to stay as long as you wish. Alright?”

Skye mumbled an affirmative, and the professor smiled gently at her.

“It’s getting late, and you’ve had a long day,” he said. “No, don’t get up. It’s quite alright. I’ll have someone come by in the morning to bring you breakfast. Goodnight, Ms. Schultz.”

Her responding ‘goodnight’ was barely audible.

Logan pulled the door closed quietly behind him and followed the professor down the hall in silence. It was only when he was sure they were out of earshot of Skye’s room that he spoke up.

“I was a little too blunt in there, wasn’t I?” he asked wryly.

“Perhaps.” The professor was gazing ahead thoughtfully, then he looked up at Logan and smiled. “However, I was counting on you to do just that.”

Logan’s brows furrowed. “I’m not following.”

The professor came to a stop in front of the elevator. Instead of calling for it, he turned to face Logan. Apparently it was explanation time. Logan shifted his weight and folded his arms, settling in to listen.

“I could’ve easily read her history in her mind,” said the professor. “I could’ve even recited it back to her; it would’ve made no difference. What she needed was to see her story through someone else’s eyes – through yours – in order to perceive it clearly.”

“So you knew it was gonna piss me off.”

The professor chuckled, shaking his head.

“I had a feeling,” he said, “That the GLA’s treatment of Skye would horrify you and provoke your outrage, which it did. The strength and sincerity of your reaction did more to wake her up that my speaking to her ever could have. Thank you for trusting me on this, Logan.”

“Hmm.” Logan still wasn’t sure if he’d helped at all. If anything, he was more worried about the kid than he’d been before. “Is she gonna be alright?”

“Well, what do you think?”

Logan snorted. The professor was always gonna be a teacher at heart, answering a question by throwing it back at him.

“I think it’s not the first time you took in a stray,” he said.

“Logan,” the professor scolded gently.

“I can say that because I was one of them,” Logan said, laughing. “I think… Well, if there was hope for me, I think she’ll be alright.”

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lets-steal-an-archive · 5 years

Text

SDCC 2019: SPN Roundtables

Last update: 3 August 2019, 12:13 PM EDT

n.b. I linked the YouTube channels of outlets with incomplete sets and/or video TK

Table 1: ComingSoon.net, Hypable, Alana King, Nerds and Beyond, News Channel 5, Talk Nerdy With Us, Whedonopolis

Videos:

Cody Schultz: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Misha Collins, Alexander Calvert, Andrew Dabb, Bob Singer, Eugenie Ross-Leming, Brad Buckner, Robert Berens

ComingSoon.net: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Misha Collins, Alexander Calvert, Andrew Dabb, Bob Singer, Eugenie Ross-Leming, Brad Buckner, Robert Berens

Hypable: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Misha Collins, Alexander Calvert, Andrew Dabb, Bob Singer, Eugenie Ross-Leming, Brad Buckner, Robert Berens

Whedonopolis: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Misha Collins, Alexander Calvert, Andrew Dabb, Bob Singer, Brad Buckner, Eugenie Ross-Leming, Robert Berens

Articles:

Supernatural Cast & EPs Talk Final Season at Comic-Con by ComingSoon.net [archived]

SDCC: 'Supernatural' swears that the family business will carry on forever at emotional final Comic-Con by Hypable [archived]

Table 2: Fangasm, Fangirlish, Fangirl Magazine

Videos:

Fangasm: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Misha Collins, Alexander Calvert, Andrew Dabb, Bob Singer, Brad Buckner, Eugenie Ross-Leming, Robert Berens

Fangirlish: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Misha Collins, Alexander Calvert, Andrew Dabb, Bob Singer, Brad Buckner, Eugenie Ross-Leming, Robert Berens

Table 3: MUSE TV, ShowbizJunkies, The Winchester Family Business/TVFTROU

Videos:

The Winchester Family Business/TVFTROU: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Misha Collins, Alexander Calvert, Andrew Dabb, Bob Singer, Brad Buckner, Eugenie Ross-Leming, Robert Berens

Table 4: GeekRock TV, Whedonopolis, The Winchester Family Business/TVFTROU

Videos:

Whedonopolis: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Misha Collins, Alexander Calvert, Andrew Dabb, Bob Singer, Brad Buckner, Eugenie Ross-Leming, Robert Berens

The Winchester Family Business/TVFTROU: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Misha Collins, Alexander Calvert, Andrew Dabb, Bob Singer, Brad Buckner, Eugenie Ross-Leming, Robert Berens

Table 5: Hollywood News Source, The Mary Sue, OC Register, Starry Constellation Magazine

Videos:

Hollywood News Source: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Misha Collins, Alexander Calvert, Andrew Dabb, Bob Singer, Brad Buckner, Eugenie Ross-Leming, Robert Berens

Starry Constellation Magazine: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Misha Collins, Alexander Calvert, Andrew Dabb Part I + Part II + Part III, Bob Singer, Brad Buckner, Eugenie Ross-Leming, Robert Berens

Articles:

Comic-Con 2019: How will ‘Supernatural’ end? Cast, showrunners talk about the 15th and final season by The Orange County Register [archived]

Comic-Con: Cast and Crew of Supernatural Tell Us What to Expect in the Final Season by The Mary Sue [archived]

The Cast and Writer of Supernatural Tell Us How They’re Feeling About the End by The Mary Sue [archived]

Table 6: KSiteTV, Pure Fandom, The TV Addict

Videos:

The TV Addict: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Misha Collins & Alexander Calvert, Andrew Dabb & Bob Singer, Brad Buckner & Robert Berens, Eugenie Ross-Leming

Articles:

SUPERNATURAL Comic-Con Press Room: The Cast and Producers Tease the End of the World, God’s Destructive Plan and the Series Ending by The TV Addict [archived]

Past Roundtables: SDCC 2015; SDCC 2016; SDCC 2017; SDCC 2018

#sdcc 2019 #pr is not showrunning #actor opinions #spn spoilers #j2ma #executive producer bob bobo berens #andrew dabb #bob singer #buckleming #whatever i'm done #it's been a week #and i found lots of link rot when i looked for old sdcc stuff #so i added archived article links

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wingsy-keeper-of-songs · 6 years

Note

And just when Calvin is dead, Django and Hildy come just in time before Schultz can be killed. And Django carries OC on his shoulder as they all run out of the plantation, dodging bullets

Schultz of course is still in Murder Mode, but he also knows they need to get the hell out of Dodge. And they all get the fuck out of Mississippi and ride into the sunset.

#christoph-waltz-thirst

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movieexpert1978 · 7 years

Text

Wedding Day

Day 11 Idol Challenge Christoph Waltz

anon request: Wed Me: ElisaxErnst because we could all use some happy at the moment

here’s a lovely wedding fic for everyone!! @wingsy-keeper-of-songs let me use her OC Nora again, so thank you!! Don’t steal as Nora is not my OC. This is a sequel to Manners Maketh Man, so King is in here too. Also Dusan from Downsizing makes a cameo.

Ernst Blofeld is not my character.King Schultz is not my character. Dusan is not my character.

Elisa never dreamed in her life that this day would come.

She was getting married.

She took a deep breath to steady herself as she looked at her reflection. It was a simple white dress that bared her shoulders, but she felt like a bride. Her hair was down and looking lovely with all her brown curls before she put the small veil on. She even put a little makeup on. She looked down and stared at her bare hand. Ernst had her ring and wedding band while she had his to exchange during their vows. It was a small ceremony at their house in mountains in Austria. She never wanted a big venue and to go all out. To her spending the day at home with Ernst and a few friends was enough. She had to smile to herself as she heard King bickering with someone out in the living room. They would say the ceremony in the backyard, as with a little help, it had been turned in a lovely garden.

“Now I’m only going to say this once.” King said to Ernst, who did his best not to swallow nervously.

“King, calm down. It’s their wedding day.” Nora insisted.

“I know, but I just want to give Ernst some advice.” King said calmly. Nora groaned as she headed off to check on Elisa. “I’ve got my shotgun now.” King stated. Ernst waited silently for him to continue because he knew better. “So, you better treat her right or else…I’m going to use it and I make sure to clean it every day. Are we clear?”

“Yes sir.” Ernst answered quickly. They shook hands and parted with Ernst going outside.

“Hey there he is!” Dusan said happily coming over and giving him a hug.

“Hello Dusan.” Ernst grumbled. He met the man over a year ago, when he and Elisa took a temporary split. He made friends with Elisa first and he learned to tolerate Dusan somewhat. He wasn’t hurting Elisa so that was good. She even asked if he could be invited and after some thinking Ernst relented and said yes. Ernst would never admit it out-loud, but he found the man funny at times.

Nora knocked on the door bringing Elisa back to reality.

“Oh come in.” She called out.

“Awwww, you look beautiful.” Nora gasped coming up to her. She gave Elisa a gentle hug and looked her over. “Oh honey…” She smiled.

“Hey, maybe you’ll be next.” Elisa suggested making Nora chuckle.

“We’ll see. Do you need any help with anything?”

“Just my nerves. My heart is pounding.” She sighed taking a deep breath.

“It’s ok, you’re doing just fine. You and Ernst worked through that rough patch last and now here you are. It’s amazing isn’t?” Nora asked excitedly.

“Yeah it is.” Elisa nodded.

“Ok, I’ll leave you be. King might be bugging you soon, I’ll try and hold him off for you.” She winked before she left. Elisa sighed again as she slumped into her chair. She closed her eyes to clear her head as she thought back to when Ernst purposed to her. They were back in Rome on assignment, which she finished quickly. She was looking at the view of the city from their balcony when Ernst came to her.

“You know I used to look out here and think about how beautiful it is. Now I see you and can’t stop thinking about how beautiful you are.” He said looking at her. She blushed and bashfully turned away. He leaned in and kissed her neck. “I have something for you.” He said making her turn back to him. She looked to see Ernst pull out a little black box…and went down on one knee.

“What are you doing?” She asked nervously. He opened the box and tears came to her eyes as she saw a beautiful ring with a blue diamond.

“Elisa…will you marry me?”

“Yes! Yes Ernst! Yes!” She smiled excitedly. They hugged and kissed tightly, not wanting the moment to end. When they finally parted to breathe he put the ring on her finger and she never felt so excited to wear a piece of jewelry like this.

She opened her eyes and came back to reality. She got up, did a once over glance of herself again before she slowly opened the door and started walking downstairs. Nobody saw her yet as the small group of guests and Ernst were outside waiting patiently. She made it halfway when she heard some more footsteps and she looked to see King staring at her in awe. When she got off the stairs they stared at each other.

“Hi.” She whispered.

“Hello darling.” King whispered as he came up to her. She nearly started crying when she saw King’s eyes were getting teary and he pulled her into a hug. “You look so beautiful.” He sighed trying to regain his composure.

“You look very handsome too King.” She laughed.

“I’m so proud of you.” He said squeezing her hand.

“Thanks King.” She managed to get out. He pulled her into another hug and kissed the top of her head.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

King glanced towards the outside again and held out his arm.

“Shall we?”

She took his arm and he squeezed her hand again as he felt her shaking. She thought everyone could hear her heartbeat as King walked her down the Aisle. Nora smiled at her and Dusan gave her a thumbs up making her giggle quietly. She saw a few of her trusted partners that she met over the years on different assignments and they all gave her warm smiles and encouraging winks. They stopped and she realized she was right in front of Ernst who was just staring at her like King had. King kissed her hand and gave her a comforting nod before he gave her hand to Ernst.

“Take care of her.” He whispered before he sat down next to Nora. She patted his thigh as he quickly tried to hide his tears.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the union of two people…” The Priest started. Elisa could barely hear him as she focused more on Ernst as they held hands. He went first to say his vows.

“Elisa…the first time I saw your blue eyes I knew that I never wanted to stop seeing them ever.” He started with a deep breath. You make me so happy and I want nothing more in this world than to return the favor. I promise to cherish you as long as I live. To have and to hold, through sickness and in health. I love you Elisa…so, so much.”

There was a silent moment as he put the ring on her finger.

The Priest turned to her to speak and she did so after a moment or two.

“Ernst…it took a long time for me to realize that you were sincere and that you loved me. You kept going after me when I thought no one else would…until finally I realized that I didn’t want anyone else but you. I could listen to your lovely accent all day long. I love every day that I wake up with you at my side. So I promise to cherish and love you for as long as I live. To have and to hold, through sickness and in health. I love you so much too Ernst.”

Nora handed her the ring and Elisa put the gold band without an octopus on his finger.

“Do you Ernst Blofeld take this woman, Elisa Prime, to be your wife?”

“I do.”

“And do you Elisa Prime take this man Ernst Blofeld, to be your husband?”

“I do.”

“Then by the power vested in me I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

The small crowd cheered when they did so and when they parted they were both crying. They all went back inside and made a toast to the couple with champagne.

“You look so beautiful.” Ernst whispered into her ear as everyone started chatting.

“Thank you, and you look so handsome.” She smiled at his tuxedo.

“Hey Elisa!” Dusan called out happily. He cleaned up nicely and was wearing a plain grey suit, with no chain around his neck this time, as he came up and gave her a big hug and shook Ernst’s hand. “Congratulations you two.” He smiled happily.

“Hey E!” Someone called out. She looked to see her most frequent agent partner, Derrick coming over. “You look amazing. Congratulations.” He said hugging her.

“Thank you Derrick.” She smiled happily.

“Boss…she’s a keeper.” He said to Ernst shaking his hand. He only nodded before they were left alone again for a brief moment. They gave each other a quick kiss before they got a plate of catered food. They did have a small cake that would come out later. Elisa didn’t have a bouquet, but she took a flower from one of the decorative vases and handed it to Nora.

“What’s this?” She said confused.

“I don’t have a bouquet so I improvised.” Elisa winked. The two women laughed and hugged as some music came on and everyone started eagerly dancing for a bit.

“They make such a lovely couple.” Nora said as she and King danced.

“Yes, they are very happy.” King rasped quietly. Nora saw he was starting to cry again. “Sorry.” He blushed.

“It’s ok. I know she means a lot to you…and she does to me too. I’m so thankful you two welcomed me so openly.” Nora blushed.

“Of course. Elisa said as long as she treats you nice she’s alright with me.” He chuckled.

“She gave me her bouquet.” Nora said waving the flower in the air.

“Oh my.” He blushed as he looked at her. Nora laughed and gave him a small kiss as they resumed dancing. As the night went on the other guests slowly parted. King and Nora left last of course and gave their blessings again before they left. When the door was closed Ernst promptly lifted Elisa up into his arms and twirled her around making her laugh.

“You’re making me dizzy.” She laughed. He happily carried her up the stairs and across the threshold into their bedroom. He sat her down gently on the bed before he grabbed something. “What’s that?” She asked as he gave her another little black box.

“It’s my gift to you.” He answered.

“Ernst! But I…”

“It’s ok. It was a last minute decision.” He said. She opened it and blinked in surprise to see that it was his gold spectre ring.

“I don’t understand?”

“It’s yours. Do whatever you want with it, melt it down, throw it out, whatever.” He explained. “This ring is far more important now.” He said showing his wedding band proudly. “I may be the head of Spectre, but I’m your husband first…and I’m more proud of that title than any other achievement.” He said sincerely. She smiled and looked up at him with tears in her eyes.

“I love you Ernst.” She whispered as she stood up and they kissed. She knew what she was going to do with it. She was going to put it on a chain around her neck.

It was going to remind her that he chose her over Spectre.

#christoph waltz #spectre #ernst stavro blofeld #king schultz #oc #wedding #fanfiction #request #love

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nextstepelectric · 4 years

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find electrician near me Amherstburg Ontario

Contents

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silverthenerd · 6 years

Photo

One of my favourite goils!! More info about her below.

Name: Jenny Schultz Age: 15 Gender: Female Orientation: Homoromantic asexual Monster: Shapeshifter (however she doesn't know this yet) Grade: Freshman Eye color: Ice blue Hair: Medium length black hair Personality: Jenny is extremely restless and can get aggressive easily. She can rarely ever sit still in class and she makes noises because she's impatient (mostly it's hitting her bat against the leg of her table). She doesn't have the best attention span and gets distracted easily, which results in her often interrupting herself and then forgetting what she was saying, because she gets distracted by movements or noises around her. Because of her aggressive behaviour and her bad reputation, the other students normally stay away from her and she spends a lot of time alone. Her dad is said to be a psychopath, so people generally judge her as being mentally unstable because of her bad parent, but that is not the case for Jenny. Even though she acts like she doesn't like anyone, she truly just wants to fit in, but finds it difficult to do so because of her ADHD and aggressive behaviour. She always carries her bat (which was given to her by Gabriel) with her, and she's often seen with her mask as well. She always tries to hide her right arm. Fears: Being an outcast, fire. Powers: Can change into any kind of shape/object/person she wants. Family: Gabriel Schultz (adoptive father), biological parents unknown Best friends: Debbie (Freaky5432's OC) Roomie: Debbie Love interest: None Backstory: Jenny was born in the human world and was born a human. She was with her biological parents for around a month, until she was taken away from her parents by a man named Gabriel Schultz, and was kidnapped to the monster world through a portal. Like all humans going through a portal to the monster world, Jenny was changed into a monster, however it didn't change her appearance, so she never knew she was actually a shapeshifter instead of a human. Jenny was raised by Gabriel since then, however he wasn't really that great of a father. He's not very good with emotions and feelins, and therefore he's very often cold, so Jenny often has to keep her feeling bottled in, which she can't do for too long, and so she vents through violence or aggression. Gabriel even ecourages her wild behaviour, which is of course a very bad influence on Jenny. When she was a young child, the other kids were mocking her and teasing her for not looking like them, and she ended up being a bully victim, just because she looked like a human. The other kids wanted to test her and see if she was actually some kind of monster. Being the sick little shits they were, one of them held Jenny's arm over a fire while the others held her back. Unfortunately the fire didn't make Jenny react with any powers, and she ended up with a burn scar covering her whole right arm. The event caused Jenny to grow even more isolated from other people, and she was always wary and suspicious of the people around her. She was always "that weird kid". Gabriel has always told Jenny that he is her biological father, but she's never believed that (for obvious reasons - first of all Gabriel is a corpse (and no he's not literally a corpse, a corpse is a monster species in this story)). She always knew she was different and that she was a human, and she's always hated herself for that. When she first came to the school and met her roomie, her and Debbie hated each other. Jenny was aggressive towards Debbie, and Debbie wanted to show Jenny who was boss, which didn't end in a good relationship between the two. However through time Debbie came to understand Jenny better and that all she really wants is to be a part of the crowd. They ended up being like sisters to each other. In her sophomore year Jenny discovers what she really is. In a temper tantrum, her emotions end up taking over, which causes her arm to shapeshift into a black clawed deformed hand. Jenny of course freaks out and Debbie calls one of the teachers, who tells Jenny what's happening and what she is. Of course Jenny is scared and confused, and she now has to deal with the new changes and try to figure out how to handle it. Before this event Jenny was also diagnosed with ADHD, which certainly did not help Jenny with her self esteem. Not only does she has to deal with suddenly being a monster and her world turning upside down, but she also has to deal with her mental illness.

#artwork #sursum deorsum #digital art #oc #original character #shapeshifter #shapeshifter oc #reference sheet #ref #ref sheet #reference

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gerardwashburn-blog · 6 years

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Saving Cash On House Things.

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starspangledbanner27 · 5 years

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OC Drabble

This is a drabble I wrote for FlashFictionFriday. You might say it’s a crossover of sorts, in which two of my OCs, Carrie Schultz and Anna Doyle, interact. Enjoy, and thanks very much to @cawolters for the prompt!

Prompt: “Peachy Kisses”

Don’s brown eyes glow warmly in the candlelight as he leans across the table and takes Carrie’s hand, stroking it gently with his thumb. “Tell me more about you,” he says, gazing at her as though he could listen to her forever and not get tired of it.

She laughs airily, her eyes sparkling. “You always say that.”

“Because there’s always more to tell,” he replies with a grin. “And I wanna hear all of it.”

Carrie sighs thoughtfully. He’s sweet for asking, but sometimes she wishes he’d be a little more specific. “Tell me about you”—where can she even begin?

“Well . . . what do you want to know?” she asks, as she always ends up doing.

“Hmm . . .” Now it’s his turn to stare into space, thinking. Then, after a few moments, he meets her gaze again with twinkling eyes.

“Tell me a memory from when you were little.”

Her eyes grow distant as she ponders; and then at last she squeezes his hand, a slow smile spreading across her face.

~~~~~

I remember when Samantha and I were young, we used to go visit our Uncle David and Aunt Sophie for one weekend a month so our parents could have “special Mommy and Daddy time.” Those visits were always fun, but we liked them best in the summer . . . because that was when peaches were in season, and Aunt Sophie always had a bowl of them out on the table for us to eat.

The summer when I was nine, Aunt Sophie’s father died; and shortly after, her mother came to stay for a while at Aunt Sophie and Uncle David’s place. Her name was Anna, and when Sam and I first met her, we were a little scared of her. Somehow we got the impression that she didn’t much like children . . . though in retrospect I doubt that was true, because she’d raised three of her own—and she must have been good with them, because Aunt Sophie clearly loved her. But she kept to herself a lot, and the few times Sam and I saw her around the house, she didn’t seem very pleasant. She wasn’t unkind exactly, but she was rather quiet and moody, and her manner did come off a little cold at times. Of course, she had just lost her husband, but Sam and I were still too young to understand how that can affect a person.

One day, when Uncle David was at work, Aunt Sophie had to run to the store, and she asked Sam and me if we wanted to go along. Sam said yes, but I decided to stay behind—it was a beautiful day, and I wanted to sit outside and write. Aunt Sophie said that was fine, as long as I behaved myself and didn’t disturb Anna. So, after waving goodbye to Aunt Sophie and Sam, I went outside with my notebook and found a nice little spot by the bushes where I could write.

Unfortunately, as I was sitting there in the grass, I happened to get stung by a bee on my forearm. I don’t remember exactly how it happened, but I remember how much it hurt. But the pain wasn’t the worst part—what really set me off was seeing the stinger stuck in my skin. Oh, how I panicked. I screamed at the top of my lungs—and of course, it was Anna who came running.

At first, I thought she’d be angry . . . but when she knelt down beside me, her eyes were soft. She asked me what was wrong, and I held out my arm. I must have been too worked up to speak, because I don’t remember saying anything. But I remember what she said: “Oh, you poor dear.” I remember being surprised at how gentle her voice was, and her touch. When she removed the stinger, it didn’t even hurt . . . and then she kissed the spot where the stinger had been, and her kiss was almost as soft as my own mother’s.

After that, she took me inside and asked if I wanted a peach. I’m not sure what made her think to offer that—maybe because they were the most readily available, or maybe she’d been paying more attention to Sam and me than we thought. But at any rate, I said yes.

She sliced one and brought it to me in a bowl, and sat down beside me while I ate it. I had my notebook on the table, near me, and she saw it and asked me, “Is that yours?” I said yes, and then she asked, “What do you have in there, if you don’t mind my asking?”

At that point, I hadn’t read my stories to anyone other than my parents and Sam. They were the products of my wild imagination, and I was rather shy about them. But all of a sudden, I had the strangest urge to show them to Anna . . . so I did.

I remember how interested she looked as she read them, and after she put the notebook down, she looked me in the eye and asked me if I’d ever thought about publishing my work someday. I said no, I hadn’t, and I still remember what she said next—her exact words: “Well, you ought to. It’s very good.”

I never feared her again after that.

~~~~~

Don grins, wide and warm. “So that’s how you became a writer?”

Carrie smiles back. “Well, that’s what got me started thinking about it.”

“Hmm.” He strokes her hand again, slowly and thoughtfully. “I guess I owe Anna a thank-you, then. If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t have met you.”

“Indeed.” She gazes tenderly into his eyes, and he lets himself be lost in it for several moments before clearing his throat and picking up his menu again.

“Well . . . how about dessert?”

She smiles. “Dessert sounds wonderful.” Her eyes scan the menu for a few seconds before landing on one item that causes them to sparkle with delight. “You know, after all that, I could really go for a slice of peach pie.”

He nods. “Sounds good to me.”

Later, when he kisses her goodnight, she tastes like peaches . . . and he remembers it forever.

~~~~~

For more of Carrie, Don, and Samantha, check out my Saving Mr. Banks fanfic, City of Angels, on Fanfiction.net, AO3, Wattpad, or Quotev.

For more of Anna, see the teaser post for my Music Man fanfic, Right Here in River City (coming soon!).

Tag list… let me know if you want to be added or removed!

@iwillalwaysreturm | @writings-of-a-narwhal | @24hourshipping

#ocappreciation #ocapp #flash fic friday #my fanfics #oc: carrie schultz #oc: anna doyle #fanfiction

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starspangledbanner27 · 5 years

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**CHAPTER UPDATE - Chapter 2 posted**

Fandom: Saving Mr. Banks (AU)

Description: AU take on the movie, exploring what might have happened if the author of the Mary Poppins books had been someone very different from P. L. Travers. For Carrie Schultz, the chance to collaborate with Walt Disney Studios to bring Mary Poppins from the page to the screen is a dream come true. However, matters grow complicated when animated penguins prove to be a point of contention, a friendly working relationship turns into more than she bargained for, and Carrie struggles to prevent Walt’s team from discovering her own hidden afflictions.

Characters: Carolina “Carrie” Schultz (OC), Don DaGradi, Walt Disney, Richard M. Sherman, Robert B. Sherman, Ralph

Rating: T

Genre: Drama/Romance

Language: English

Read on Fanfiction.net, AO3, Wattpad, or below.

Many thanks to my friends who read Chapter 1 and messaged me to comment on it, and a special thank-you to LexLemon on AO3 for leaving kudos! I’m so glad you guys are enjoying the story so far. Can’t wait to hear your thoughts on Chapter 2! :)

Also, I am planning to post my other Saving Mr. Banks fanfic sometime this week, so keep an eye out for that if you’re interested.

Chapter 2

We arrived at the airport in plenty of time—with no car trouble, despite Sam’s worrying. “Well, it never hurts to double-check!” she retorted when I teased her about it.

During the weeks I’d been waiting for this, the time had seemed to crawl; now, everything was happening all at once. We checked my luggage; we reached the gate; and finally, the only thing left was to say our goodbyes.

James was first, simply because he was easier. “Good luck, Carrie,” he said, giving me a brief hug.

“Thanks,” I replied. “Take good care of Sam for me.”

He nodded. “You bet.” And with that, he strolled over to look at a newspaper stand so my sister and I could talk.

Sam took my hands in hers and held my gaze for several moments. “Well,” she said at last, “you ready for this?”

I drew a deep breath. “About as ready as I can be.”

She pressed her lips together and nodded. “Okay.”

I could tell she was fighting back tears, so I reached out and laid my hand on her shoulder. “I’m going to be fine, Sam. You know that, right?” She opened her mouth to answer, then closed it again and shook her head as the flood spilled over. “Oh, Samantha,” I murmured as I wrapped my arms around her.

“I’m sorry, Carrie,” she sobbed, holding me tightly. “I wanted to be strong for you, but I’m just so scared!”

“Of what, Sam?”

“Well, it's just . . . what if—oh, I don’t even want to say it! What if . . . what if something happens while you’re out there? What if you never . . .” she trailed off, sobbing uncontrollably.

I bit my lower lip to hold back my own tears as I rubbed her back gently. “That’s not going to happen,” I declared, as much for my own sake as for hers. I would not let her know the truth—that the fears she had just voiced were the very same ones that had been whirling through my head ever since the plans for this trip had been finalized.

At last, having regained her composure, she pulled away and held me at arm’s length. “If anything does happen, you let me know, and I’ll come right away. You won’t be alone. And I’ll call and check on you every day, just like I promised, remember?”

I nodded. “Mm-hmm.”

Her eyes probed mine. “You know, Carrie, if you don't feel up to this, there's still time to change your mind. We can go back home and call your agent—tell her to let Disney know it's not going to work.”

“No,” I said firmly. “No, I want to do this. I know I’ll regret it if I don’t.”

“All right then,” she said. “I’ll be thinking of you. I know you’ll have a great time.”

I smiled. “You’ll call me?”

“Every night. Just remember to give us a call when you get to your hotel and let me know you arrived.”

“I will, for sure.”

Just then, the P.A. system crackled, and a man’s voice spoke through it. “Attention, passengers. We are now boarding Flight 327A to Los Angeles. Please proceed to the gate and have your boarding pass ready. Thank you.”

I turned back to Sam. “Well, I guess it’s time to go.”

She squeezed my hands tightly. “Have a good trip, Carrie. I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.” I hugged her one last time. “Thank you for everything.”

“I’m so proud of you, little sis,” she whispered in my ear. Then she pulled away once more. “Now, go get ’em!”

Too emotional to speak, I simply nodded, smiling, and squeezed her hands one last time before hurrying off to get in line. In no time at all, I had reached the counter, my pass was checked, and I was just about to board the plane when I heard Sam call my name.

“Carrie!”

I turned around to see her standing with James. “I love you!” she said.

A lump formed in my throat, and I gulped it down with difficulty before replying. “Love you too!”

“We’ll be waving as you take off!” she called. I nodded, and then quickly turned away and boarded the plane before she could glimpse the tears in my eyes.

Once inside, I somehow managed to jam my carry-on bag into the overhead compartment before flopping down with a sigh into my assigned seat, allowing my eyes to drift shut as I waited for all the hustle and bustle to cease. Finally, after what seemed like hours but was really only several minutes, the aisles cleared, the other passengers settled into their seats, and the stewardess announced that we would be taking off soon. A moment later, I felt the plane start to move; and I sat up a little straighter in my seat, gazing out the window as we taxied away from the gate.

When we reached the runway, there was a long, pregnant pause as we waited for our turn to depart. Then, at last, I heard the pilot’s voice through the loudspeaker:“Ladies and gentlemen, we are cleared for takeoff”—and with that, the plane began rolling forward again. My heart pounded as I watched the ground rush past beneath us, faster and faster by the second—until, with a mighty roar of the engines, we lifted off, leaving ground and gravity behind altogether.

“Well, this is it,” I murmured to myself. “No turning back now.”

~~~~~~

Sunday, April 2nd, 1961

Dear Sam,

In the time-honored tradition of air travelers everywhere who suffer from lack of amusement, I am taking this opportunity to describe for you the details of my flight.

We’ve had a smooth ride so far. I spent the first few minutes after takeoff gazing around the interior of the plane. Blue carpet in the aisle, blue plush seats, smiling stewardess in a blue starched skirt and jacket—that’s about all there is to notice in here. But the view from the window . . . oh, Sam, it’s positively magical! You know how people talk of the horizon—where the land meets the sky—and of what lies beyond it. But do you know that the sky has a horizon of its own? I am looking at it right now—a subtle yet captivating line off in the distance, where the sky above meets the sky below. What lies beyond this horizon must surely be a land too glorious for mere mortals to inhabit. I call it sky; but in truth, it is no sky, not really. Rather, it is a sea—a sea of cool, clear blue and soft, misty white, all bathed in the golden glow of the sun. Do you think Heaven is like this? I imagine it must be.

Up here above the clouds, where the sun is bright and the air is clear, my imagination runs free, and nothing seems quite impossible. I confess that as I look out my window, I half expect to see Mary Poppins herself perched regally on a cloud puff with her talking umbrella and bottomless carpetbag beside her. Do you suppose that if she saw me, she would condescend to wave hello, or would she be too busy admiring herself in her hand-mirror?

I'm running out of room now; but before I finish, I want to say once more that I love you, dear sister, and I miss you already. By the time this letter reaches you, I will probably have been in Los Angeles for a few days, and will be missing you even more. I know you’ll be thinking of me; but I hope you will not waste any time worrying about me. Instead, enjoy your time alone with James, and take this opportunity to care for yourself and look after your own needs for a change. I know I'll be having fun in L.A., and you should be having fun, too—because nothing can keep the Schultz sisters down.

Well, that’s all for now! I’ll see you again very soon. Till then, I am

Your little sis forever,

Carrie

P.S. I hope you made it back from the airport without any car trouble.

Sunday, April 2nd, 1961

Dear James,

I hope that by the time this reaches you, things are going well back home. I’ve already written a letter to Sam, but I also wanted to write one specifically to you, because, as Sam’s sister, there is something I must speak to you about.

When I left this morning, you promised me that you would take good care of Sam; and I know you would have even if I hadn’t told you to. But there is another, more specific, thing that I wish to ask of you, which is this: don’t let her worry too much about me while I’m gone. If she does worry, then listen to her and comfort her as you always do; but make sure she enjoys herself as well.

The two of you now have the house all to yourselves for a while, so take this time to romance her and make her feel special. I can’t help noticing that over the past year, Sam has too often allowed her own needs to go unmet in favor of mine. I know she would never admit it, but she has been much more exhausted lately than I’ve ever seen her before; yet she will not let herself rest from taking care of me. Now that I’m gone, though, she needs someone to look after her for a change—to attend to her needs, listen to her concerns, and lavish her with the attention she so deserves. You already do all those things, but I ask that you use these three weeks to give her an extra dose of love. And, that being said, I know you need no further encouragement; so I guess all that's left now is to say thank you. I know my sister is safe in your hands, and that knowledge is a more precious gift than you can imagine. Thank you so much.

Your sister-in-law,

Carrie

Too tired to write any more, I tucked the letters into my purse, then glanced around the plane at the other passengers. Some, like I had been a minute ago, were writing letters to family and friends, or notes on the postcards the stewardess had handed out earlier. Others were chatting with their seatmates; and a few, as evidenced by the raucous laughter from towards the back, were apparently taking full advantage of the free beverage services available during the flight.

My own seatmate, a middle-aged, pot-bellied man, had fallen asleep about ten minutes after we left the ground; and the only sound I'd heard from him before that had been a curt grunt of acknowledgement as he sat down next to me. Could be worse, I mused. At least he’s not smoking. Neither was anyone else, for that matter—an uncommon circumstance for which I was grateful. In a condition like mine, I hated to think what even one whiff of secondhand smoke might do.

At last, after I had people-watched for several minutes, my exhaustion overcame me. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, listening to the friendly conversations taking place all around and the quiet hum of the airplane, sounding like a summer breeze.

~~~~~

I am sitting on a bench in the garden—a pencil in my hand, my notebook on my lap, my eyes closed, and my face turned upward, smiling slightly as a breeze plays through my hair—when suddenly two hands grab my shoulders, and a voice comes from right behind my ear. “Boo!”

“EEK!” I jump out of my chair and whirl around in one swift motion, dropping my notebook and pencil in the grass. “Sam! You scared me half to death!” She stands there grinning, unfazed. I place my hands on my hips. “Don't look so satisfied with yourself, Samantha.” She wriggles her eyebrows. I raise my index finger and advance threateningly towards her. “I'm warning you!”

“Oh, really?” She waits with a mischievous smirk as I approach; then, when I’m just a few steps away, she shoots her hands out and tickles me in the ribs, rendering me helpless with laughter.

“Sam—haha—Sam—stop!” I gasp between giggles. She pulls away and takes off running across the yard. Laughing, I chase after her. “All right, now you’re in for it!”

“Gotta catch me first!” she teases, glancing back over her shoulder.

“Oh, you better believe I will!”

She rounds the corner of the house with me in hot pursuit. My legs and arms are pumping wildly and my breathing has quickened to compensate, when suddenly a sharp pain springs forth in my lungs, and I am seized by a paroxysm of coughing unlike any I’ve ever experienced before. My legs go weak, and I collapse in a heap on the grass, chest convulsing out of control.

“Carrie!” In an instant, Sam is kneeling on the ground beside me. “Carrie, are you okay?”

“Can’t—stop—coughing,” I choke out.

“Okay. Okay. Just take deep breaths for me. Try to relax. You’re all right.” She rubs my back gently.

I strain against the coughs, trying with all my might to repress them. Every breath I draw feels like a knife being thrust through my ribs; but if I stop breathing, then my body screams for oxygen. All the while, I hear Sam’s voice beside me—“It’s okay, Carrie; I'm here. Deep breaths.” But the coughing will not stop. There is no way to end it, no way out, no escape. I writhe helplessly in the grass, begging God to make it stop . . . and then, all of a sudden, I look up to find everything changed—I am alone in a large, dark room, and my sister has vanished. In a panic, I attempt to cry out for her, but my voice will not come; meanwhile, I notice for the first time that the floor has detached from the wall and is rocking back and forth, back and forth. The entire room seems to spin—or maybe it’s just my own head—and a strange whooshing sound fills my ears. Still coughing, I struggle to maintain my grip as the floor tilts precariously beneath me. The walls by now have dissolved into amorphous blotches of dull color that swim and blend and fade in turn. I cough and cough . . . the blotches dilate and contract . . . the floor’s tilt grows steeper and steeper . . . until at last I can hold on no longer, and I roll off the edge into nothingness—falling . . . falling . . .

DING! I was jolted awake by a loud chime, soon followed by the captain’s voice over the intercom:“Ladies and gentlemen, we are beginning our descent into Los Angeles.” I blinkedgroggily as his words registered in my slumber-fogged brain. Had I really just slept through most of the flight? Sure enough, I looked over to see the stewardess making her way down the aisle, checking to see that all passengers had fastened their seat belts for landing.

I yawned and stretched slightly before glancing out the window just in time to glimpse the city of Los Angeles, and the Pacific Ocean beside it, spread out beneath us as our plane banked to the left. Something about the tilt of the plane tugged at the edge of my mind, and then I remembered—the dream. The coughing, the floor rocking beneath me. I shook my head with a sigh of frustration, but I could not shake the memories that insisted on resurfacing . . . so I resigned myself to staring blankly out the window as my mind replayed everything that had occurred that day in the garden.

Laughing, I chase Sam across the yard. “All right, now you're in for it!”

“Gotta catch me first!”

“Oh, you better believe I will!”

But just as I round the corner of the house, a sharp chest pain and a wild fit of coughing bring me to the ground in a heap. Sam rushes to my side. “Carrie, are you okay?”

“Can't—stop—coughing!”

“Okay. Okay. Just take deep breaths for me. Try to relax. You're all right.”

At last, after several minutes, the coughs subside, leaving me drained of energy. “What happened, Carrie?” Sam asks with concern.

I shake my head. “I don't know. I just started coughing all of a sudden, and then it wouldn't stop.”

“Maybe you inhaled a speck of pollen or something. Are you all right now?”

“I think so; I just feel a little weak.”

“Want to go inside and rest?”

“No, I’ll be fine. I want to stay out here and keep working.”

“Okay. Here, let me help you up.” She extends her hand, and I take it, letting her pull me to my feet.

I cast a mischievous glance at her. “You know, if it weren't for that coughing fit, I definitely would have caught you.”

She smirks. “Wanna bet?”

“Well, next time for sure.” I wink.

She laughs. “We'll see about that. I'm going to head back inside.”

She walks away, and I return to my seat on the bench, retrieving my notebook and pencil from the grass. What I haven’t admitted to Sam is that the pain is still there—lodged in my chest, now more like a rock than a knife, but still unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. I draw a slow, shaky breath. “Just a speck of pollen, Carrie,” I tell myself. “Nothing to worry about.”

My mind landed back in the present just as our plane came to land on the concrete. I blinked and shook my head again. Forget all that, Carrie, I told myself. You have three weeks here. Enjoy it while it lasts.

And so, for the moment, I closed the window on the past and instead began to contemplate what the coming days would hold. Heart swelling with anticipation, I took a deep breath and slowly let it out. This was real. This was happening. Please, dear God, let it go well.

Tag list… let me know if you want to be added or removed!

@iwillalwaysreturm | @writings-of-a-narwhal | @24hourshipping

#ocappreciation #ocapp #allaboutocs #my fanfics #oc: carrie schultz #fic: city of angels #saving mr banks #disney #fanfiction

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starspangledbanner27 · 5 years

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**CHAPTER UPDATE - Chapter 1 posted**

Fandom: Saving Mr. Banks (AU)

Characters: Carolina “Carrie” Schultz (OC), Don DaGradi, Walt Disney, Richard M. Sherman, Robert B. Sherman, Ralph

Rating: T

Genre: Drama/Romance

Language: English

Read on Fanfiction.net, AO3, Wattpad, or below.

To Laura, Amber, Brittany, and Dr. Riley: Thank you so much for beta-reading my work and providing constructive feedback. This story would not be what it is without your advice and encouragement.

To my mom: Thank you for always being there for me. Posting my work was a big step, and I am immensely grateful for your loving support.

A/N: Readers, please note that as this story is an AU, the first two chapters will focus entirely on OCs. That being said, if you as a reader are like me and prefer to jump straight to the parts involving canon characters, I will direct you to the middle of Chapter 3 (coming soon), in which my main OC meets Ralph at the airport. Either way, I hope you enjoy the story and, of course, leave reviews! :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Saving Mr. Banks, Mary Poppins, or any of the characters from those two movies.

Chapter 1

I am seated on a bench in the garden with a pencil held idle in my hand and my notebook lying on my lap, my eyes closed and my face turned upward to the summer sky. A smile curves my lips as a soft breeze comes up out of the west to dance through my hair. Somehow this all seems strangely familiar, yet I can't put my finger on why.

The breeze flutters around for half a minute, tickling my ear and stroking my hair, before leaving a parting kiss on my cheek and flying off toward the east. But no, wait—its farewell was only a playful trick; it has now doubled back around to greet me once more . . . only this time, instead of caressing me gently, it bites my nose and pinches my ears, twirling my hair into a tangle as it careens westward. And then, almost as soon as it returns, it is gone.

Strange, I muse. How odd for a steady west wind to suddenly stop like that and return from the east. Wind's in the east . . . I can't help smiling to myself as I gaze up at the clouds, half expecting a certain British nanny to come floating down out of them carrying a carpet-bag and a parasol. But my thoughts are interrupted by a sharp rapping noise.

Knock-knock-knock!

I glance around, perplexed as to the source of the sound until at last I glimpse a woodpecker hammering away at a nearby tree. I watch him with an inexplicable feeling that he doesn't belong here—that I have been here in this exact moment before, and he hasn't.

Knock-knock-knock!

His persistent tapping disturbs me. I wish he would stop.

Knock-knock-knock!

“Shoo!” I cry; but he carries on with his task, unperturbed and undistracted.

Knock-knock-knock!

I shout at him and wave my arms wildly, but he ignores me.

Knock-knock-knock!

The noise is exasperating. I press my hands over my ears, but it remains as loud and clear as ever. Why will he not cease?! Why can I still hear it?! Why is there no escape?!

Knock-knock-knock!

Knock-knock-knock . . .

Knock-knock-knock!

I ascended out of dreamland long enough to wonder who was at the door, then promptly decided I was too tired to care. Just as I was drifting back to sleep, my sister burst into my bedroom. “Rise and shine, Carrie!”

“Mmph . . . what's going on?” I mumbled.

She threw the curtains open before coming over to kneel beside my bed. “Today's the day, sis. If you don't get up, you'll miss your plane.”

“What plane?”

“You’re going to Los Angeles, remember?”

At that moment it all came back to me—my book, Mary Poppins, Disney—and I sat up frantically, throwing the covers off. “Oh my gosh, I forgot! What time is it?!” I pressed my hand to my forehead, partly in panic and partly because the too-swift motion had given me a throbbing headache.

“Shh . . . relax, Carrie. It's only eight o'clock; you have plenty of time. But you need to get up and get ready now.”

I nodded. “Okay.” I slid forward to the edge of the bed and waited, gathering my strength. My sister watched for several minutes; and finally, when I made no move to stand up, she laid her hand on my back.

“Carrie . . . do you need help?”

“Maybe just a little,” I said without meeting her eyes. I hated asking for help to complete such a simple task; yet at that moment I just didn't have the strength in me. Fortunately, she understood; and without another word, she wrapped her arm around my waist and supported me as I dragged myself to my feet. “Thank you,” I whispered.

“What are sisters for?” she replied with a grin that somewhat alleviated my embarrassment.

She stayed there holding me up long enough to let me find my balance. At last I managed to take a few shaky steps over to my dresser and lean against it as I pulled open the door to my closet. She stood there watching me for several moments, and finally she spoke again.

“Are you okay now if I leave the room so you can get changed?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“All right. I'll be out here if you need anything.” Just as she was opening the door to go out, she paused and turned back to me. “Carrie . . . are you sure you still want to do this? Because you know in Los Angeles I won't be there to help you out of bed.”

Part of me resented her for saying that. I'm not an invalid yet! I wanted to scream. But deep down, I knew she was right. I sighed deeply. “I'll make it somehow. I have to do this, Sam. Otherwise I'll never get the chance. Anyway, it's just the first few minutes of the day that are always the hardest; once I get going, it's not so bad.”

She nodded. “Yeah, okay. I'm going to head downstairs and make breakfast.” But once again she paused and looked at me with soulful eyes. “I love you, sis.”

“Love you too,” I replied, trying and failing to muster a carefree smile. I turned away lest she see the tears in my eyes; and behind me I heard the door close as she exited, leaving me alone. Drawing a shaky breath, I chose a dress from the closet and changed out of my nightgown, noticing with dismay that my body was going through the motions a little more slowly than yesterday or the day before.

As I slipped my dress on over my head, I could hear the clanking of pots and pans down in the kitchen as Sam cooked. The noise made something tickle at the edge of my mind—clanking . . . banging . . . knocking. The woodpecker. The dream.

That dream—it haunted me at least three times a week. I couldn’t escape. The sequence was always the same . . . except this time it had been interrupted by that blasted bird, which I now realized had sprung up as a dream-world manifestation of an actual sound—my sister's knocking on my door to wake me up. I paused for a moment, considering that I ought to be thankful, for I knew what would have happened in the dream if I hadn't woken up. Always the same, exactly as it had been on that first day . . .

No—I would not think about it, not on a day like this. Today, of all days, I should be happy. I am going to Los Angeles . . . the very thought sent a surge of energy through me, and I scurried off to the bathroom to finish getting ready.

~~~~~~

Thirty minutes later, I descended the stairs, the smell of breakfast greeting me as I entered the main part of the house. I stepped into the kitchen just as my sister, who was facing the sink, called out loudly, “Carrie! Are you almost ready?!”

“Hey, Sam,” I replied, amused. She whirled around in surprise.

“Carrie! I thought you were still upstairs! Oh, gosh, I must have blown your ears out.”

“Well, at least they're still attached,” I bantered, but for once she didn't laugh. Instead, she came over and wrapped her arms around me.

“I'm sorry,” she said quietly, her voice betraying that she was close to tears. I pulled away, unable to bear it.

“Sam, since when are you so concerned about my eardrums?” I teased.

“I'm sorry, it's just . . . I don't want to cause you any more pain than you're already . . .”

“It’s okay, sis, nothing to worry about.”

“But—”

“Sam, please. You promised you wouldn’t do this, remember? I told you, I’m fine.”

She nodded, turning back to the counter to wipe her eyes. “Well, anyway, breakfast's up.”

“Ooh, yum!” I exclaimed, eager to change the subject. “What's on the menu this morning?”

“Bacon and pancakes,” she replied. Her voice was still quiet and sad, but I could tell she was trying to conceal it for my sake. “Have a seat at the table, and I'll bring it in.”

“Well, let me help.”

“It's okay, I've got this. You go sit down.”

“Sam . . .”

“You need to focus on getting ready, Carrie,” she said firmly, looking me in the eye, and I knew better than to argue. With a sigh of resignation, I headed into the dining room.

The first thing I noticed as I sat down was that Sam's husband, who always joined us for breakfast, was missing. “Sam,” I called, “where's James?”

“Oh, I sent him outside to check on the car,” she explained, bustling into the room with a plate of steaming pancakes and bacon.

“What's wrong with the car?” I asked as she set the plate down in front of me.

“Nothing, as far as I know,” she replied, “but we can't have you being late to the airport because of car trouble.”

I stared at her. “It's a twenty-minute drive to the airport, and your car is in perfect condition. What's there to worry about?”

“I'm not taking any chances, Carrie. This is your special day, and I won't let anything ruin it.” With that, she marched off to the kitchen, chin held high. Once she left the room, I chuckled to myself and said a quick blessing before beginning to eat.

Just then, I heard the front door open. “Hey, honey, I'm all done!” James called as he shut the door behind him. From where I sat looking through the doorway, I could see him enter the kitchen and lean against the wall, inhaling deeply. “Mmm, what's for breakfast?”

“Pancakes and bacon,” she replied. “How's the car looking?”

“Clean and healthy as always, just like I told you it would be,” he reassured her.

“The tank is full?”

“Yep.”

“You changed the oil?”

“Already did that yesterday.”

“And you checked everything else?”

“Yes, yes, and yes.” He moved to stand behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders. “Sweet Samantha, haven't you learned by now to trust your husband?”

She turned to face him. “A better question is, haven't you learned by now to humor your wife?”

He laughed. “Touché.” They stood there grinning at each other for several moments before he leaned in to kiss her, at which point I decided to remind them of my presence.

“A-he-hem!” I peered through the doorway at them. “Guys, I hate to interrupt, but we do have to be at the airport in an hour.”

They pulled apart and looked over at me sheepishly. “Sorry, sis,” Sam giggled.

I sighed and shook my head in mock exasperation; but truly, I was happy for them. They had something special, something I had always dreamt of . . . and something fate had chosen to deny me. I felt a little twinge of bitterness at the last thought, but I quickly suppressed it. It’s not their fault, I reminded myself. It’s not anyone’s fault.

Before I could dwell any longer on this train of thought, James entered the dining room with a full plate for himself and one for Sam. “So, Carrie, are you excited to spend three weeks in Los Angeles?” he asked as he set them on the table.

“Excited? Yes . . .”

Detecting my slight hesitation, James caught my eye and smiled understandingly. “Nervous?”

“A little,” I admitted.

Sam walked through the doorway just in time to catch the end of our conversation. “What are you nervous about, Carrie?” she asked, laying her hand on my shoulder.

I took a moment to swallow my bite of bacon before answering. “Well, meeting Walt Disney, for one thing. That man’s a walking legend, and I’m just . . . me.” A thirty-year-old author from Cedar Rapids, Iowa, flying halfway across the country to act as consultant for a movie adaptation of my book.

“So?” James asked through a mouthful of pancake.

Sam shot him one of her “you men can be so insensitive” looks before turning back to me. “Oh, Carrie, I'm sure you have nothing to worry about as far as that goes. Remember, underneath all that fame, he's just another human. Don't let yourself be intimidated.”

I gave a half-smile, and she patted my back encouragingly before sitting down to eat. Easier said than done, I thought in regard to her advice. I only prayed everything would go smoothly; for if it didn’t, I doubted I’d have what it took to face down the Mickey Mouse mogul himself.

The three of us finished breakfast with time to spare; and while Sam cleared the table, James headed upstairs and brought down my suitcase and carry-on bag to load in the car. I offered to help with the dishes, but Sam wouldn't hear of it; so instead I went up to fetch my purse and make one last trip to the bathroom.

After washing my hands, I leaned against the sink for a few minutes, staring into the mirror. There I was, about to spend three weeks in Los Angeles helping make my book into a movie, something many authors only dream of; and at that moment, the only thought in my head was—am I up to this? The Carrie in the mirror stared back at me, her eyes full of doubts and questions; but before I could give either of us a definitive answer, I heard Sam call from the bottom of the stairs. “Carrie! You ready to go?!”

Taking a deep breath, I stood up straight and squared my shoulders. “Coming!” I replied; and without further hesitation, I grabbed my purse and headed downstairs.

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starspangledbanner27 · 5 years

Photo

**CHAPTER UPDATE – Chapter 6 posted**

Fandom: Saving Mr. Banks (AU)

Characters: Carolina “Carrie” Schultz (OC), Don DaGradi, Walt Disney, Richard M. Sherman, Robert B. Sherman, Ralph

Rating: T

Genre: Drama/Romance

Language: English

Read on Fanfiction.net, AO3, Wattpad, Quotev, or below.

From the beginning on Fanfiction.net, AO3, Wattpad, or Quotev.

My motivation to update finally returned from a three-week hiatus. To those of you who’ve been awaiting this next chapter, thank you for your patience. I hope you enjoy it. :)

~~~~~

Chapter 6

“Well, everybody . . .” Don adjusted himself in his seat, “this is it—the last scene. What do you say we finish this up and then take a break?”

Dick threw his hands up and stretched over the back of his chair. “I say hallelujah!”

“I concur with Dick,” I replied. After almost two solid hours of going through the script—reading, revising, and even returning to earlier scenes to make changes—the four of us were eager for a respite.

“All right, then.” Don glanced at me over the top of his glasses. “Carrie, why don’t you read for Mary Poppins; Bob, you read for Michael; and I’ll read for Jane. Dick, you can start us off with the scene heading.”

“You got it.” Dick looked down at his copy of the script. “‘Scene 12—Nursery and Living Room. In the living room, a worried Mrs. Banks, Ellen, and Cook are talking amongst themselves while the Constable talks on the phone. In the nursery, Michael and Jane are watching Mary Poppins pack her carpetbag.’”

“‘She doesn’t care what will happen to us!’” Bob read Michael’s line.

Don cleared his throat, raised his eyebrows, and adopted a girlish falsetto. “‘She only said she would stay until the wind changed. Isn’t that right, Mary Poppins?’” Unlike Dick and Bob, who used their normal voices regardless of whose lines they were reading, Don fully assumed the persona of every character he read for; and I couldn’t help chuckling to myself at his impersonation of Jane. However, I managed to suppress my amusement long enough to read Mary Poppins’s part.

“‘Will you bring me my hat, Jane?’”

“‘Mary Poppins, don’t you love us?’” Don pulled his face into such an exaggeratedly pathetic pout that I burst out laughing.

“‘And what would happen to me, may I ask, if I loved all the children I said goodbye to?’” I gasped amidst a fit of giggles.

“There, Don—look what you did.” Bob gestured to me and shook his head with mock exasperation. “You broke her.”

By that time, I had almost succeeded in bringing my laughter under control, but Bob’s dry remark set it off all over again. Then, suddenly, that all-too-familiar tightness took hold in my lungs; and I crumpled forward, pressing one hand to my mouth and the other to my chest as a series of coughs racked my body. Don and Bob ceased their banter and looked at me with concern. “You all right, Carrie?” Don asked.

I nodded. Liar, taunted a voice in the back of my head, but I ignored it. Then, mustering all my strength, I drew a long, deep breath and held it, straining against the urge to cough again. After five seconds, I blew it out slowly, then reached for my glass of water and took a drink. When I finished, I looked up to see the three men staring at me.

“Sorry,” I sighed. “I guess I haven’t laughed that hard in a while.”

“Are you okay now?” Don asked.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” I assured him.

Dick pointed to the script. “Should I read the next part, then?”

I nodded. “Go ahead.”

“All right, where were we?” He scanned over the page. “Oh, here we are. ‘Mary Poppins continues to silently pack her bag.’”

Don took the next part. “The Constable, talking on the phone, says, ‘Yes sir . . . George W. Banks. 17 Cherry Tree Lane. About six foot one. Yes, we rang the bank. No sign of him!’”

I read Ellen’s line. “‘Wouldn’t hurt to let them drag the river!’”

“‘Really, Ellen!’” Bob read for Mrs. Banks.

“‘He seemed to be such a fine, stable gentleman, sir!’” Don read for the Constable again. “He’s still speaking into the phone at that point,” he clarified.

“That’s the last line on the page,” I observed. “But that’s not the end, is it?”

“No, it’s not,” Don confirmed. “The ending is a . . . work in progress.”

“Do you have a concept in mind?”

He sighed. “Not exactly. We’ve been tossing ideas around for over a week now, but we haven’t come up with anything satisfactory.”

I nodded thoughtfully. “I see. Well, maybe I can help.”

“That’s what we were hoping,” he confessed with a grin. Then, taking a deep breath, he flipped his copy of the script shut and folded his arms on the table. “All right; now that we’ve made it through that, let’s take a break and meet back here in ten minutes.”

“Finally,” Dick sighed with relief as the four of us rose from our chairs.

Bob grabbed his cane and headed for the door. “I’m gonna go ask Dolly to bring in some sandwiches and fruit.”

“Good idea,” Don agreed.

After Bob left the room, I meandered over to one of the pinup boards and scanned my eyes across the various sketches that were tacked to it. “What are all these drawings for?” I inquired at last.

“That’s some of the concept art for the movie,” Don explained, coming to stand beside me. “We find it’s helpful to have a visual—plus, it’s fun. This one here is Michael in his chalk world outfit.” He pointed to the one I was looking at, which depicted a young boy clad in white shorts, a blue-and-white pinstriped jacket, and a yellow straw hat with a blue ribbon.

I smiled. “They’re charming. Who draws them?”

“Most of them are drawn by our concept artists—people from the animation department,” he replied.

“Don’s too modest,” Dick interjected from across the room. “At least half the drawings in here are his work.”

I turned to Don. “Is that true?”

A self-conscious smile tugged at his mouth. “Well, since he mentions it, yes, I did draw some of them.” Returning his gaze to the board, he reached out and straightened a few of the sketches that were hanging crookedly. “I started out here at Disney Studios working in animation, and most of us animators tend to think in terms of storyboards. So when I’m working on a screenplay like this one, I’ll often make sketches to help us visualize the story.”

“He can make entire scenes come to life on paper,” Dick affirmed.

“That’s quite impressive,” I remarked.

“Well, Dick is rather liberal in his praise, but thank you,” Don replied with a smile. “I was originally thinking we’d go over the concept art with you tomorrow,” he continued, “but since it’s only 3:30, we might be able to do it before you leave today.”

I nodded eagerly. “Yes, that’d be good.”

Just then the door opened, and Bob entered the room with Dolly close behind, pushing a cart with a plate of sandwiches and a fruit tray. “Here you go, gentlemen,” she announced. “Oh, and Carrie, your ride’s waiting outside.”

“What?” I asked, bewildered. “I thought he wasn’t supposed to pick me up till five.”

“Well, Walt figured you might be a little tired after your first day here, so he had me call your driver and ask him to come early,” she explained.

“Oh, he did, did he?” I muttered. Aloud I replied, “Thank you, Dolly, for letting me know. I’ll be right down.” Dolly nodded, smiling, and began laying out the food.

With a small sigh of annoyance, I returned to the table to collect my jacket and purse. “Well,” I said to the three men, “it appears I have to go now. Thank you for a wonderful first day; I really enjoyed it.”

“Good, we’re glad to hear that,” Bob replied. Dick, who had just taken a large bite of sandwich, expressed his agreement with a thumbs-up.

I nodded. “Well, then, I’ll see you all tomorrow. Have a good evening.”

“You too!” chorused Bob, Dick, and Dolly.

“I’ll walk you out,” Don said, opening the door for me.

As we strode through the hallway, I heaved another sigh. “I’m sorry we couldn’t go over the concept art.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” Don reassured me. “We’ll just do it tomorrow.”

“But we had enough time; we could have done it today.” I shook my head in frustration. “Walt didn’t even ask whether I wanted to leave early. If he had, I would have said no.”

He shrugged. “Well, that’s Walt for you. I’m sure he didn’t mean any harm by it.”

I pursed my lips. “Hmm.”

After several moments of silence, Don changed the subject. “I noticed you spoke up a lot more during the second half of the reading.”

“Just following some good advice,” I replied with a smile, glancing up at him as I did so.

He caught my eye and grinned. “I’m glad you did.”

We made it to the front door; and as we emerged from the air-conditioned building into the sun-baked heat of the afternoon, Don asked, “Well . . . anything else before you leave? Any other comments?”

I opened my mouth to say no, but then I remembered something that had been tugging at the back of my mind for most of the afternoon. “Actually, yes, there is,” I confessed. “Mr. Banks—his character in the script seems so . . .” I trailed off, unsure of what exactly I was trying to convey.

“What?” Don prompted.

“I don’t know, just . . . something about him . . .” After another few seconds, I shook my head. “Never mind. I’m not quite sure what it is.”

“Well, let us know if you figure it out,” he said. By that time, we had arrived at the spot along the sidewalk where Ralph had parked the car and was standing patiently beside it with his hands clasped.

“Ready to go, Miss Schultz?” he asked.

“Well, Mr. Disney seems to think I am,” I replied wryly. Ralph’s face registered confusion, but he smiled anyway. Meanwhile, I turned once more to the man still standing beside me. “Thank you for everything, Don. I have to admit, I was a little nervous at first; but you and the Shermans made me feel comfortable here. I really appreciate that.”

A warm grin spread across his face. “The pleasure is all ours, Carrie. It’s wonderful to have you here.”

I flushed with delight. “Well . . . I guess I’d better go now.”

He nodded. “See you tomorrow.”

“Looking forward to it.” With a final parting smile, I climbed into the car.

Ralph shut the door behind me, then hurried around the other side and climbed into the driver’s seat. As the car pulled away from the sidewalk, I looked out the window to see Don waving goodbye. I lifted my hand and waved back.

“Nice guy,” Ralph remarked after I turned around.

“Yes, he is,” I murmured, smiling to myself.

~~~~~

Back in my hotel room, I set my purse on the nightstand, kicked off my pumps, and collapsed onto the bed with a sigh. After staring at the ceiling for several seconds, I turned my head to look at Mickey Mouse where he sat on the floor by the dresser. “Well, we made it through the first day,” I remarked to him. “And it wasn’t so bad after all.”

He smiled as if he’d known all along.

With a soft chuckle, I let my eyelids fall shut. Just a quick rest . . .

~~~~~

When I opened my eyes, the room was dark. Disoriented, I sat up and looked at the clock on the nightstand. 7:36. I covered my face with my hands and groaned. How had I let myself fall asleep—for three and a half hours, no less? At last, with a sigh of resignation, I stood up, stretched, and staggered over to the closet to find a more comfortable dress.

Once I had changed, I sat down on the bed again and ordered up a belated dinner tray. Then I propped the pillows against the headboard, retrieved the contract and a pencil from my purse, and settled down to comb through the pages of legalese.

When at last I reached the dotted line, I gave a nod of satisfaction. The terms of the contract were exactly as my agent had described, including the two most important stipulations—live-action, script approval—all right there in black and white. Just as I was searching through my purse for a pen with which to sign, the phone rang. I glanced at the clock—8:30. Forgetting the contract, I set my purse aside and leaned over to pick up the phone. “Hello?”

“Hey, Carrie, it’s Sam.”

“I figured as much,” I replied with a smile. “But I didn’t expect you to call this late! It’s, what, 10:30 your time?”

“Oh, yeah.” She giggled sheepishly. “James took me out to dinner tonight. We got to talking and lost track of the time.”

“So I take it you enjoyed yourselves?”

“We did.” She gave a sigh of delight. “But enough about me. How was your first day at the studio?”

“It was great,” I affirmed. “Everyone was very nice, especially the three men I’m working with. We spent most of our time today going over the script.”

“And you like it so far?”

“I think so. There are a few things I might like to change, but I think they’ve got a good start.”

“Good.” She paused, then spoke again. “So . . . three men, huh? Are they cute?”

“They're married!” I exclaimed indignantly. “Well, two of them are.”

“And the third one?”

“Don’t even go there, Sam. I can’t be thinking about stuff like that; I need to focus on making this movie. Not to mention there’s this thing called professional conduct.”

“Aw, too bad,” she lamented. I rolled my eyes. “Well, tell me more about these men,” she prompted. “What exactly do they do?”

“Well, Dick and Bob Sherman are the songwriters,” I explained. “They showed me some of what they’ve come up with so far—and, Sam, it’s amazing! I can't wait to hear the rest. And then there’s Don DaGradi, the scriptwriter—he’s pretty much the one in charge of this whole project. I think you’d like him. He was very welcoming, and he seems open to my suggestions, which is a pleasant surprise.”

“Ah,” she said knowingly. “I’ll bet he’s the one who’s still single, isn’t he?”

“Sam, for heaven’s sake—”

“I knew it!” she exclaimed. “So, is he attractive?”

I shook my head. “You are incorrigible, Samantha.”

I could practically hear her triumphant grin. “And proud of it!”

“Anyway,” I pointedly changed the subject, “things went very well today. I think this whole thing is going to work out even better than I expected.”

“Well, I’m glad you had a good time,” she said. Then, after a pause, “So, did you get to meet . . . him?”

“Walt, you mean?”

“Yeah.”

“Yes, I did.”

“What’s he like?” she asked.

I furrowed my brow thoughtfully. “You know, I’m not quite sure. I mean, when I first met him, he came across a lot like he does on television—all warm and fatherly, like the sort of guy everyone would want as a friend. But now . . . I don’t know, I’m starting to get the sense that there’s another side to him.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s just . . . never mind. It’s too complicated to explain. Whatever it is, I doubt it’ll cause any problems. Oh, and speaking of which, I just finished looking over the contract. Everything seems to check out, so I’m going to sign it and hand it in tomorrow.”

There was a moment’s pause before she replied. “You sure you want to do that now?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” I asked, surprised.

“I don’t know . . . maybe no reason,” she answered hesitantly. “It’s just that I know how much Mary Poppins means to you, and I’d hate to have you run into any unpleasant surprises. And maybe you won’t; maybe it’ll all go smoothly, like you said . . . but if I were you, I’d hold off on signing the contract a little while longer, just in case you need that extra leverage.”

“I see your point,” I conceded, “but I honestly don’t think it’s necessary. The terms I specified are right there, and legally, that’s all that matters.”

“I know,” she said. “But please, will you at least hold onto it for one more day? And then if you still feel fine about it, I won’t try to talk you out of signing.”

Though I didn’t understand why she was so concerned about it, I also didn’t see any point in causing her needless anxiety. “All right,” I agreed. “If it means that much to you, I guess there can’t be any harm in waiting.”

“Good.” She sounded relieved. “I know you think I’m silly for worrying about these things. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Thanks, Sam. I really do appreciate it.” I drew a deep breath. “You know, I wish you were here right now. It feels strange being out here all alone.”

“But you’re not alone, Carrie, not really,” she assured me. “I’m right here, whenever you need me.”

I smiled. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.” After a few moments, she spoke again. “So, you’re still doing okay, right? You sound really tired.”

“Sam . . .”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I just . . . I had to ask.”

“I’m fine,” I assured her. “Really. It’s been a long day, that’s all.”

“Okay.” She heaved a sigh. “Well, in that case, you should get some sleep."

“You're right,” I agreed. “I love you, Sam.”

“Love you, too, sis. Talk to you tomorrow!” With that, the line clicked shut; and I hung up the phone, put the unsigned contract back in my purse, and got up to prepare for bed.

~~~~~

Half an hour later, I climbed into bed, turned off the lamp, and lay there staring at the wall as my mind replayed the most significant parts of the day—including what my sister had asked me about Don. “So, is he attractive?” Earlier, I had managed to dodge the question; but lying in the still darkness, alone with my thoughts, I had to admit that indeed he was.

But so what? I asked myself. Heaven knows, I have much more important things to worry about. Sam had only been teasing, after all; there was no reason to take any of it seriously. And the strange little flutter I felt every time Don smiled at me? That was nothing, absolutely nothing. Thus reassured, I turned over and closed my eyes . . . but the last image that hovered in my mind before being overtaken by sleep was that wide, playful grin with the twinkling brown eyes and the deep dimples in the cheeks.

~~~~~

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