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kingofdarkness00 · 2 months

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Seven (Sort of) Sentence Sunday

Thank you for the tag, @snowviolettwhite! 💛

Here's another snippet of my PSON agere fic based on an alternate take of the aftermath of 1x11:

As consciousness gradually returned to him, Malcolm admitted a low groan. The pain was the first thing his foggy mind registered. He felt as if he'd been hit by a truck, then thrown into a rocky ditch, body aching from head-to-toe. His left side and hand were the most painful, though. It was like someone was prodding his side with a hot poker, and his hand felt like it was submerged in a bowl of needles.

His eyelids were heavy like lead, taking a great deal of effort just to open them. He grimaced when the light of the room hit his eyes, sending a brief spike of pain through the center of his skull, but he forced himself to keep them open. His vision was blurred, but he still managed to get a good enough look at his surroundings to know exactly where he was.

The hospital. One of his least favorite places to be.

To make matters worse, he was alone and had no clue how he even ended up here. He knew it had something to do with a case he'd been working on, but his memory was too spotty for him to piece anything together that made sense. And that terrified him. He's gotten concussions in the past that have left his memories of the incident in broken pieces, but never to the point of there being a total blank space in his mind's eye.

Tears threatened to fill his eyes, but he refused to give in to them. Otherwise, he knew it would inevitably cause him to go into headspace. He already felt scared and confused, and his Little-self would not make it any better.

He exhaled a shaky breath, then looked down at his hand. Thick gauze and medical bandages were wrapped around three of his fingers (thumb, index and middle), and all the way down the whole of his forearm. He slowly moved his uninjured hand over to his side, grunting softly when he made contact with the bandaged wound beneath his hospital gown. And now that he was more aware, he could also feel similar bandages wrapped around his head. The bedridden man then turned his attention to the IV in his right arm, and began searching for the little device that helped to administer the morphine. He found it lying next to his thigh, immediately picking it up and clicking it twice. The medicine quickly made its way through his bloodstream, and within seconds his pain begun to ease up.

A relieved sigh left him, body relaxing into the bed. Now that most of his pain had been eradicated for the time being, fatigue quickly descended upon him. He glanced up at the round clock on the wall opposite to him, the time reading one-fifty-three. From the looks of the lighting, it must have been in the AM. Well, it's not like he was a stranger to falling asleep past the midnight hour.

Malcolm allowed his eyes to flutter shut, sleep insistently tugging at the edges of his mind. Before he could completely doze off, however, the sound of someone opening the door had him instantly snapping back into awareness. He expected to see a nurse or maybe even a doctor, but he was pleasantly surprised to see a familiar and much more welcoming face, instead.

"Gil."

Malcolm winced at the sound of his voice, not having expected it to feel and sound so raw. That only made him wonder how long he'd been unconscious for, and just what the hell had happened to land him in the hospital to begin with.

Gil's eyes briefly widened in surprise, before a relieved expression settled over his tired features. Malcolm hadn't seen him look this haggard in years, not since Jackie's death. That knowledge didn't exactly bode well for whatever explanation he would receive once he asked.

"Oh, thank God. You're finally awake." Gil closed the door behind him, hurriedly setting the cup of coffee in his hand down on the rolling table that stood at the foot of the bed. He took a seat on the right side of the bed, taking Malcolm's hand in his own. "How are you feeling? And don't bullshit me, kid."

Malcolm cleared his throat before speaking this time. "I feel okay right now. When I woke up my hand and side really hurt, but that was nothing the morphine couldn't fix," he replied, motioning with his head to the IV bag. "How long was I out?"

"Two days." Gil exhaled a deep, heavy sigh. "You lost a lot of blood before we found you. By the time we got you to the hospital, your heart was barely beating. Fortunately enough, the blade didn't hit any of your vital organs, so all you needed were stitches. The doctor said you also sustained a major concussion from hitting the concrete when you fell unconscious, which is one of the main reasons why you didn't wake up for as long as you did. As for your hand there, he said you have something called a metacarpal fracture. They had to do surgery in order to reconstruct the bones that had been shattered, but fortunately it went well. Doc said that with time, rest, and physical therapy, it should heal up nicely."

Tagging (if you wanna): @angelique-of-the-volturi-guard, @alo-piss-trancy, @reaperlight, @scribespirare, @det395, and anyone else who wants to join!

#tag game #prodigal son #malcolm bright #gil arroyo #malcolm and gil #age regression #agere fandom #snippet #my wips

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highfunctioningflailgirl · 3 months

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Damage Control - 1x11 Scarecrow

After fleeing from the orchard, they check into a motel several miles away from town, paying for an extra room for Emily. They’re all tired, and after making sure that Emily feels safe and comfortable, Dean feels his knees wobble when he steps into the room he’s sharing with Sam. His head hurts, the bruised area around his eye is throbbing in sync with his heartbeat, and his vision is a little fuzzy. One more concussion to work through, he guesses.

“Hey, you should ice that,” Sam says on cue when Dean flops down on the first bed, not intending to get back up again. Ever.

“Thanks for the advice, mom,” he answers into the pillow.

Sam pats his leg. “Seriously. You don’t look so good. You need to take care of that eye. What happened, anyway? Did they knock you out? Did you lose consciousness?”

Dean’s too exhausted to talk. And Sam really doesn’t need to know that he took the butt end of a rifle straight to his face.

“Tripped. ‘S nothing.” Facedown, he’s barely audible.

Sam scoffs. “Yeah, right.”

Eyes closed against the pounding in his head, Dean waits for more grilling from Sam. Instead, he hears the door open and softly click shut again. Suddenly, he’s scared. Did Sam leave? Did he just fucking pick up his bag and walk out on him again?

With Emily in the car, they hadn’t been able to talk about why Sam had returned and if he was going to stay. Honestly, Dean’s afraid to ask. It near broke him when Sam left for Stanford four years ago, in the middle of a fight with Dad, never even saying goodbye to Dean. And it took all of Dean’s self-control to hold himself together when, two days ago, Sam took off to California.

Of course, he hadn’t let his feelings show. He’d wanted to punch Sam. He’d felt like crying. Neither would’ve been helpful or dignified, so he’d slapped on the patented Winchester poker face, even taunting Sam. And his little brother, clearly no longer as little or as impressionable as he used to be, had turned his back and walked away.

Dean doesn’t think he can take it a third time.

He sits up, too quickly, in an irrational panic, head swimming, heart racing. Nausea wells up in him that he blames on the concussion. He wants to get up, wants to run after Sammy, but when he tries his legs are rubber and the room tilts, and he drops back onto the bed, hands white-knuckling the edge, breathing hard.

I’m gonna throw up.

He gags, and there’s no trash can in sight. Somehow, he gets back onto his feet, willing his legs to carry him this time. He barely makes it to the bathroom, lurching and bumping into the doorframe before he’s on his knees on the floor and retching into the toilet. Every heave makes his skull feel like exploding. It’s so bad he almost passes out.

Then, he feels a gentle hand on his back.

“Dammit, Dean…”

Sam.

Dean gags and pukes again, although there’s nothing left but bile. When he’s done, he shakily fumbles for the flush, but Sam’s faster, one hand still steadying Dean from behind. A towel appears in front of Dean’s face. He grabs it, sitting back on his haunches and burying his face in the threadbare fabric. He cannot suppress a small moan somewhere between misery and gratitude.

“You should’ve told me you have a concussion.”

“What diff-“ Dean swallows. His mouth tastes like crap. “What difference does it make?”

“I could’ve taken you to the ER to get you checked out. Still should.” Sam’s pouring water into a glass and handing it to Dean.

“Not gonna happen.” Dean takes the water and drinks, hands barely shaking. “I’ll be fine. Just need a couple hours of sleep.”

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen either,” Sam says sternly. “Concussion protocol. You know the drill.”

Dean groans. All he wants is oblivion now, and not being woken up and prodded by a mother-henning Sam every hour. This is exactly what he’d wanted to avoid. On the other hand, Dean’s so relieved that Sam is still here that he doesn’t want to complain.

“Fine,” he grumbles into the towel. “You can hover. But no hospital! Deal?”

Sam huffs behind him. “It’s your brain damage. Just don’t grand mal seizure on me, alright?”

“Won’t. Promise.” Dean’s fairly sure he’s speaking the truth.

“Alright.” Sam’s hand reappears under his arm. “Let’s get you to bed, then. You done hurling? Think you can stand?”

Dean nods - very carefully since the room’s only just stopped spinning. He shuffles his feet back under him and, with Sam’s help, goes vertical without face-planting or diving for the toilet again. Progress. As they make their way to the closest bed, Dean can’t help asking.

“Where were you?”

Sam gently lowers him onto the mattress. “Just now? Getting ice.”

“Whiskey?”

“For your face, dude.”

Indeed, when Dean’s settled, eyes once more closed against the headache and the residual nausea, something cold is softly placed on his swollen eye, and Dean recognizes the familiar feel of ice cubes wrapped in a dish towel. He winces, then segways into a moan of relief.

“Good?” A sound of hollow plastic as Sam places something beside the bed. A trash can or a tub, probably, just to be safe.

“Yeah. Thanks, man.”

He wants to ask Sammy what his plans are for tomorrow. If he’s going to stay, or if he’s going to leave. But his brain feels like jello, and he’s tired and too fucking raw for chick flick moments. He really just wants to curl up against that ice pack and sleep, his brother in the next bed over.

A blanket settles on top of him.

“Wake you in an hour.”

Yeah. They can talk tomorrow.

Read the whole series on AO3 here:

#spn #supernatural #fanfic #fan fiction #the damage control series #1x11 #scarecrow #dean winchester #sam winchester #hurt/comfort #winchester woes #hurt dean winchester #caretaker sam winchester #concussion cw #missing scene #angst

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angrycowboy · 4 years

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So my original idea was to just tackle my thoughts on RNM’s portrayal of Michael Guerin’s bisexuality, which is something I have loved a lot. But then 2x06 aired, and we got some beautiful insight into Alex Manes, and I had to shift gears a bit to include that.

Because I know tensions regarding this episode are high, consider this a warning - I am going to talk about Michael and Alex, and a bit about the airstream scene in 2x06. And I am going to discuss how it has resonated with me in a positive way. But mostly, this is about how sexuality is complicated, and how amazing it is to see depictions on television that truly make me feel seen.

One of my favorite things about Michael Guerin, and about how RNM has chosen to portray his bisexuality, is that it’s not obvious. He doesn’t feel the need to talk about it, or discuss it - and in fact, only offers it up to Isobel in 1x10 as she’s questioning her own feelings in an effort to make her feel more comfortable. Later in 1x11, he snaps at Max because well, Max has just poked and prodded at him talk (and they’re stuck in the bunker together with nothing else to do). And someone who isn’t comfortable in who they are doesn’t say things like, “It’s not that complicated.” That is something firmly in the camp of yeah, this is who I am, what of it? Because make no mistake, it is incredibly important to me to hear characters like Michael Guerin self-identify on screen as bisexual.

Part of this portrayal can of course, also be attributed to Michael’s upbringing in the foster care system, where talking about himself was never encouraged or allowed. Because I don’t think, given how it is repeatedly reinforced that Michael shunned most aspects of humanity on Earth, that he was ever ashamed of his sexuality. Though I do believe that said upbringing did affect his own feelings of self-worth, and how he saw himself in the eyes of others.

Something I’ve seen mentioned a lot are two interactions we see on screen: between Alex & Maria in 1x10, and between Maria & Liz in 1x13, and the idea that there is “outing” of Michael. And while, I do understand and respect a lot of those arguments, especially regarding their importance regarding the LGBTQ community as a whole, something I don’t see discussed are people who don’t necessarily want to have a formal coming out, or who don’t feel the need to initiate those conversations regarding their sexuality. Even though yes, both Alex and Maria do technically out Michael (though neither do it with any malicious intent), I don't believe that Michael himself would care that other people know he is bisexual (his feelings for Alex are a different story entirely). And part of that may be that he doesn't believe anyone else thinks of him that much to even discuss him due to that upbringing he had, and also because the act of coming out would involve the feeling of being under a microscope (thanks for that wording, Riley), and Michael Guerin would definitely want to avoid that.

But back to my original point - at no point during Season 1 does Michael Guerin give the impression that he is ashamed of his sexuality - the lack of bringing it up first does not read that way to me. It reads more as Michael sees it simply as part of who he is, and that’s it. He can’t change it, and he’s already different (he’s a literal alien, ffs), so why worry about it. It very much reminds me of how I have viewed my own sexuality for years - it is simply just part of who I am. I have never felt the need to sit anyone down and announce my sexuality - in fact, I came out to my mother as I was walking out the door to go on a date. She asked what his name was, and I just replied what her name was.

But there seems to exist this idea within the LGBTQ community that every person needs to have a “coming out.” That we need to be completely in control of who knows, and how they find out, and when they find out, which is not something I agree with completely. Now, also know that I understand the importance of this idea to many, because of rampant homophobic attitudes that remain present within our society. But I see very few people discussing and supporting those of us who would rather not have to announce it in some grand way - because is this not also allowing someone to control their narrative? It has definitely made me wonder how different my own acceptance of my sexuality could have been had I believed that it wasn’t a requirement for me to come out to the people in my life (an idea which sends my anxiety into a tailspin, tbh).

Again, this is just my perspective regarding the overall portrayal of Michael’s bisexuality. It is not meant to act as a correct version, just sharing why I have particularly enjoyed what RNM has done.

But it was not Michael Guerin that made me want to write fanfic, and it was not Michael Guerin that truly made me love this show - it was in fact, Alex Manes. It was Alex Manes, who is confrontational, who is analytical, who needs facts first and who lives so much within his own head, that truly drew me into this show. Alex Manes who very clearly has struggled not with the fact that he is gay, but with that outward expression of his sexuality. In canon, this is very much due to the trauma of his childhood, to growing up in an abusive household that rejected everything about who he was as a person, and tried to force him into a box that was very much not who he is. And while I did not have that kind of upbringing, the idea of believing you won’t be accepted even among the people who should love you unconditionally is a universal feeling within the LGBTQ community.

Alex’s talk with Maria in the truck is perhaps some of the most relatable queer representation I’ve ever seen. Because it dives into the different types of love and attraction and how not every touch between two people needs to be sexual in nature. And it lays out very plainly how important it is to have trust between people. But it’s also about recognizing what you do want, and accepting that for yourself. And that conversation is so important toward understanding what happens later on in the Airstream.

Because Alex, due to his upbringing, doesn’t believe that he is worthy of being loved in that way. When Maria comforts Michael over the realization that he could have lost both of them, Alex says he should go, not because he doesn’t want to be there. He says it because he feels like he shouldn’t be allowed to be there, to want to be there. Alex feels like an intrusion, even though he’s gone through the same horrifying ordeal and he’s with two people he loves and feels safe around. Maria recognizes that immediately, and moves back to Alex in order to give him the safety he needs as well. Maria is acting in regards to both of the boys love languages - Alex needs that physical touch of reassurance (kissing him), Michael needs to hear it verbally (”it’s okay”). And furthermore, they all need each other in that moment (”I just want us all safe”).

But it is specifically Alex’s speech in the truck earlier, about touch and self-acceptance that has me sobbing every time I watch it. Because even though I got my first crush on a girl as a teenager, it wasn’t until years later that I actually allowed myself to act on that. It was only years later that I learned just how different my attraction toward men and women really was, that I enjoyed different things for different reasons from the different sexes and that was okay. So that speech has just really resonated with me as a bisexual woman who struggled for years with acceptance of her sexuality, of being able to act on it, and it makes me incredibly happy to see a television show (A CW SHOW ABOUT COWBOY ALIENS OK) conquering these things in such a relatable way.

All of this ended up making me go back to something Chasing wrote last year about Michael’s bisexuality, and the portrayal we’re seeing, and something she said in her meta: “No one is harder on queer representation and queer media than queer people - and I get it. We’ve had so much bad representation and we’re sick of it and that’s understandable. But it’s turned into this thing where every slice of representation has to be Perfect or it’s Garbage, and it’s leading creators to not want to try because they’re so harshly run off every time they do. And when they don’t try, they don’t learn, and when they don’t learn, they don’t do better.” So maybe the rep isn’t perfect, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a valiant effort being made to reach out to an underrepresented community. And for me personally, the depiction doesn’t have to be perfect, because people aren’t perfect, and sexuality isn’t one size fits all. What may make one person feel seen and understood, another may not see themselves represented at all - but that’s okay. Because with more representation in media, comes different tellings and stories, and comes different ways people can relate because the queer community is not a monolith. We all look at things through different lenses and experiences, but it becomes hurtful when those who don’t see themselves represented in a specific piece of media start telling those who do that they are wrong. And I wish more people would take that into consideration during discussions and criticisms.

Finally, I want to end with this gif, because woo boy. This face and that look. I know that look. I have made that look. This look is so goddamn recognizable and familiar. Because there’s also something about knowing you’re watching an actor who has probably also gone through a lot of these same feelings the character is expressing, that it just comes through in their performance and makes it all the more relatable and real (and especially how even the script itself makes it obvious it was written by people in the queer community).

#roswell new mexico #roswell nm meta #rnm 2x06 airstream scene #michael guerin #alex manes #not really malexa #but a little malexa #notso writes meta #also some of my own personal thoughts #does any of this makes sense #i have no idea but i needed to finally get it all out #i love alex manes and michael guerin a lot ok

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salmonthestoryteller · 5 years

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Friendships - Roswell New Mexico

I've been meaning to write this for awhile. Friendships are an important part of the Roswell universe, regardless of the version. I will admit that, in some ways, RNM disappointed me on the friendship front in Season One. Partly because everyone was kept so separated during the season. 1x11 has the biggest gathering of characters in one place. But, in the Crashdown group gathering we're still missing Kyle, Cam, and Alex - despite them being in on the alien secret. (We're missing Maria too - but she's not in on aliens.). And while a lot of characters gather again at the UFO Emporium Gala, there is still only a few scenes with more than two characters interacting directly. The lack of group dynamics during the season, and that in the finale they still weren’t brought together but separated once again, is a disappointment of mine that I hope we get to finally see change in s2.

I feel the lack of large group dynamics was in part because most of the friendships we are given in RNM start out fractured rather than the type of Ride or Die friendships the other two Roswell versions have. In both Roswell High and OG Roswell, we start with both the Pod Squad and Human Squad as groups of three who would pretty much do anything for each other. However, while RNM sets it up that these characters were like that ten years ago, we are introduced to them with these friendships mostly broken.

The Pod Squad - This is the story we get the most of through season one. The breaks in the trio’s friendship spawn from a few points (Their separation when they were seven, and the Drifter when they were fourteen), but the main one that really broke them was the murders ten years ago. When it comes to who's going to bury a body with you type of friendship, The Pod Squad quite literally does this twice so there’s the answer. However, the murders also destroy the relationship the trio once had. As we learn as the season progresses there’s other reasons, because on top of mysterious murders the trio compound two sets of lies. Michael and Max hide from Isobel that she blacked out and murdered the three girls (to their knowledge at the time), followed by Isobel and Michael using Isobel’s powers to send Liz away from Max when he seems likely to tell her the truth and hiding that from him.

When everything is over all their relationships suffer. Max and Michael’s suffer the most - with the close friendship we witness in the flashbacks completely destroyed. Max and Michael are not even really talking to each other at the start of the season and their interactions are mainly antagonistic. While we see that slowly change as the story progresses, culmination in their talk in 01x11 - their friendship is still not completely healed by the end of s1.

While Isobel and Max are still close, several comments between them hint that their relationship has suffered as well. Max’s “Will you stay out of my life for once?” to Isobel is one. Obviously Isobel has ended up mother henning Max after what happened, and it has not always been welcome. I also feel several comments he makes about her marriage and Noah (before the reveal) hint at a jealousy or bitterness over the fact that hiding the truth from her has led to her being able to get married and settle down while he was left alone. (But maybe that’s just my interpretation.) After the full truth is known, their relationship is badly damaged. However, once Isobel places herself under watch, and especially after her nearly dying, they come back together - in many ways better than before. I feel they are more open with each other in the end of the series. More willing to honestly support, rely on, and protect each other rather than the sort of bitter or overwhelming version of these things we are first shown.

Isobel and Michael’s relationship seems to have actually suffered the least. Perhaps because they both felt they were protecting one another. (Isobel thinks Michael killed the girls on accident, Michael thinks something went crazy with Isobel’s powers and she murdered the three girls when not herself.) Isobel has no problem running to Michael when Max shuts her out about Liz, Noah mentions Michael’s names among the reason Isobel disappears on him which shows that Michael does rely on her as well; Isobel is the one to first verbally protest when Michael suggests turning himself into Liz; when Max shuts them both out after finding out the truth Isobel holes up in Michael’s trailer; etc. The end of the series is full of more of this relationship, with Michael being the first person Isobel goes to when she thinks the flashbacks are telling her she was in love with Rosa, and Isobel being the first person Michael speaks openly about his relationship with Alex to. (He speaks about Alex to Max, but both times reluctantly and after being prodded, multiple times in the case of 01x11. With Isobel, Michael brings it up of his own free will.)

To be honest, I think Isobel and Michael are the best friendship we are given in RNM, and I adore them. However, I hope that after Max’s resurrection we will get to see more of the three always being there for each other - and not just Michael and Isobel.

The Human Squad - I’m going to start with Liz, Maria, and Alex. I do have a very different opinion on their relationship than most people. Because while I feel that, much like the Pod Squad, we are given this friendship that ten years ago was this deep, known each other all our lives, I will dump my boyfriend on prom night if he is a jerk to you, type of friendship, I also feel - like the Pod Squad - we are presented with a completely broken version of that in present time.

I see a lot of people referencing this notion about how they grew up together and how much that means, but… that isn’t my experience in the world. Especially among those who left small towns behind. Their best friend is the person they met in college. Or the person they met once they entered their chosen field. Many of them never even speak to their childhood friends again, or have a very distant relationship with them. (I feel like I am ruining someone’s childhood right now saying this.) It’s a different story if you don’t leave where you grew up, especially in small towns, and people who still live in the same place; work in the same place - those childhood friendships can mature with them and stay strong friendships. But, honestly, for the most part, the people I have met over the years who left their towns behind end up leaving childhood friendships behind as well.

I think that is very much the take we are given in RNM. We know Liz basically cuts all contact with Maria. They say so in their first interaction. And while it is not said distinctly, Alex and Liz’s first interaction hints at the same. Alex and Maria are more complicated, given that Alex does know what is happening with Mimi. Maria also comments that the Wild Pony is not Alex’s usual place to hang out in their early interactions. Clearly there’s been some contact. However, I don’t feel it was a lot. Even Alex’s comment to Mimi of “I’ve come out to you, like seven times” really still isn’t a lot. Given that one would have been the actual first time he told her when they were teens, that’s referencing six interactions. In ten years. Mimi calls Liz “Rosa” multiple times in a single day’s interactions. There’s also the fact that given Alex’s life there was no way for him to be spending a lot of time with Maria and Mimi. He went to training, he’s been on three tours, and after he lost his leg he probably spent months elsewhere with recovery and rehab before returning to Roswell. It just isn’t believable for him to have actually been in Roswell for any length. Whatever future Maria was planning she gave up for her mother. So, just like they haven’t been in Roswell while she deals with her mother's illness and giving up her future, she was completely incapable of being the type of friend who would hop a bus or plane and go to them if they needed her. Their lives pulled them apart, and along the way that friendship would have suffered by default. And it did.

The thing with these three is that we see no hint anybody ever filled that void in their lives that was left by that friendship. They never trusted another person to that length again. Not romantically, not friendship wise. Nobody. So when circumstances bring them together again - they sort of regroup and automatically begin to act like friends again. However, if you really think about it - it’s a very superficial healing. On a deeper level, the three do not reconnect.

This is obvious because of the secrets kept between them. In both previous versions of RNM, Maria is the first person Liz goes to with Max being an alien. Admittedly, both times Maria is there for the shooting, but it’s more than that. Liz goes to Maria because she trusts her deeply. In OG Roswell there’s a period of time before Alex is brought in, but in RH Maria runs to Alex with the secret almost immediately after Liz tells her. Once again, the trust level is there. The trust isn’t there with the Human Squad in RNM.

Liz never tells Maria about Max. Alex, even after Mimi discusses things with him that are a reference to Project Shepherd and the Alien Spaceship, doesn’t go to Maria. Nor does he go to Liz, despite discovering tech that looks partially organic and she is - oh, yah - a biochemical engineer. Maria doesn’t tell Liz what is happening with her mother until Alex forces her hand. None of that speaks of deep trust.

While what’s happening with Mimi brings them closer, it still doesn’t heal them. Maria still ends up crying alone over it at the end of the day - Liz fails to return and she doesn’t even ask Alex to stay with her. (She ends up crying on Michael but that was chance and not choice.) Maria and Liz grow closer, and she does ask her to go to the faith healer with her. But Maria is drugged and controlled by Noah, and Liz sees the flower in her necklace, the one that was used by Noah, and she still doesn’t even contemplate for one second telling Maria the truth. By the end of the season, Liz and Maria have grown the closest of the three, and I love their interactions. But this is not a fully repaired friendship, or one where the three trust and rely on each other. Definitely nothing like their past incarnations in RH and the OG series.

By comparison, Kyle sort of slides in and takes over where the friendship between the three fails - at least where Liz and Alex are concerned. Kyle and Alex’s friendship fractured in high school, while Liz and Kyle are exes who hook up when she returns to town. And, yes, you could say that Kyle was already involved with everything alien already so that set them both up to rely on him - but you can also question: why did they? Alex, as he tells Kyle, is well past worrying about Kyle’s “locker room taunts”, but that doesn’t mean he should place anymore faith in him - knowledge about aliens or not - then he does Liz and Maria. He purposefully does not look into his suspicions of the cabin wall until after Kyle leaves, yet when Cam approaches him he calls Kyle rather than Liz to find out about Dr Holden - even though she works at the same hospital.

Liz is kind of the same. Yes, she’s always had more faith in Kyle than anyone else did in the past, and he’s the one who saw the handprint and is a doctor. But he’s been out of her life just as long as Maria and Alex. Yet when she is questioning Rosa’s death, she doesn’t go to Maria - who was definitely a good friend of her sister’s and would want to help her discover the truth if she was murdered - or Alex, who’s in the damn military and a hacker - she goes back to Kyle.

I love Kyle, but he pretty much takes Maria’s place. By the end of season one, the human friendships are centered more around Kyle than the original trio. And, frankly, while I love the result, it's because of plot. He takes over as the most trusted person for both Liz and Alex because the writers wanted to tell the story of what happened to Jim Valenti. However, as a result, when you actually focus on character interaction and not plot - it lends itself to the telling that Liz, Maria, and Alex are no longer that close or trust in one another.

Kyle and Alex’s friendship, I’d say is probably the second best of the series next to isobel and Michael’s. They overcome their past - they’re there for each other as secrets about their families, and especially their fathers, come to light. They rely on one another, and each take turns talking the other down when they begin to question if their father’s were right. That is a friendship built on trust.

Kyle and Liz have a deep relationship by the end of the season. They rely on each other as well, and they care deeply for each other. Whether this is leading them towards just a friendship, or - with Max’s absence - a relationship we’ll have to see in s2.

Human-Alien Interactions - While we are given lots of positive interactions that could lead to friendships - Kyle and Isobel when she's sick, Max and Maria in Texas and again at her bar, Liz supporting Isobel when the truth about Noah comes out - the only friendship that actually forms in season one between the aliens and humans is Liz and Michael.

Liz and Michael's friendship isn't limited to just 01x09, either. While we see them working together, her making him dance with her, and her reluctantly admitting she likes him to Max in 01x09, it's 01x10 that Michael - equally reluctant - admits to Isobel he does like Liz (which is one of the only humans we ever hear him say that about), and their interactions in 01x11 continue the trend. Liz teases him about how he spends his time, Michael flat out tells her he and Max aren't doing well when she saves them, he teases them about Max about her flirting, and the look they exchange when he promises to protect Maria is gold. These are two people, both who have trust issues, who are building a friendship and putting their faith in one another.

Personally, I think Liz and Michael are the third best friendship RNM gives us - even above Liz and Maria due to the secrets Liz keeps from her. It's definitely among the top friendships of s1.

Hopefully with s2, we'll get a chance for these friendships to grow and this group to finally begin trusting one another, especially in regards to alien-human interactions pls, and more group scenes. Where are my group scenes?

#roswell new mexico #meta #friendships #character thoughts #character interactions #pod squad #human squad #writing this made me realize we desperately need more human-alien interaction

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islndgurl777 · 5 years

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kyle and alex weren’t even in 1x11 and here i am, writing this whole big scene with kyle being a concerned friend and prodding alex about michael for chapter 11 of bowl of stars... idk i just needed some kylex i guess...

this chapter is going to be a long one, y’all. rosa is going to lose her mind about noah’s machinations to keep max and michael from the gala, and for drugging maria and using her to steal the serum from liz... !!!!

#crystal tries to write

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ravenwritesstuff · 7 years

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Repetition (2/?)

Fandom: Timeless - Set during episodes 1x11-1x12 Pairing: Lyatt (Lucy x Wyatt) Rating: Very M (SoooOoooOOooo not for kids. Go away, children.) Warnings: M (just see the warning on the first part. It is basically the same) A/N: I am absolute TRASH for this couple. I will probably write one or two more parts for this. Maybe. I don’t know. I just - whatever.

[ first part ]

He offers to drive her back to her car, but she calls a cab instead so he offers to make her a cup of coffee while she waits. She is already jittery as hell but she accepts because she needs something to do with her hands besides remember how his skin felt beneath her fingertips. She hovers in the doorway of his small kitchen as he scoops the grounds and measures water. Her eyes go to the little red light above the carafe and she just stares because she cannot look at him.

She cannot speak to him.

She can hardly breathe.

A clock ticks on the wall above his table for two (even though there is only one chair) and she tries to sync her racing heart to its steady rhythm - to the rhythm of time - and a hysterical chuckle chokes in her throat. A dark part of her heart wants to take down that clock and smash it to bits. It reminds her too much of David Rittenhouse, his son, a gun pointed at Wyatt’s head - and she has made a mistake.

She has made an awful mistake.

He pours the black, steaming liquid into two mismatched, military-sloganed mugs.

“Cream or sugar?” He asks, and the sound of his voice startles her.

“What?” She looks at him and feels her face heat. He side eyes the mugs on the counter. “Oh. Yes. Cream please.”

He goes to the fridge and pulls out a carton of milk. She tracks him as he doctors her drink.

“More?” He holds the plastic handle of the jug and looks at her with eyes sharp enough to cut diamonds, soft enough to fall into - wait. He had asked a question.

“That’s perfect, thanks.” It doesn’t really matter. She doesn’t plan on drinking it - they both just really need a way to fill the time.

Time.

The damn reason she is here in this kitchen where the fluorescent lights aren’t doing anyone any favors. Her mind races.

Time.

History.

Rittenhouse.

Rottenhouse.

Flynn.

Flynn and her journal.

Amy.

The name alone is a stab to the gut.

Had she really does this for her? Would it make a difference? Would anything ever make a difference? It seems like everything they try to do to fix the situation only makes new, worse, more complicated problems.

He hands her a mug. It says ARMY on the side in bold black letters. His hands don’t shake. Hers do. She wonders if he has done this before - if that is why he is so calm - if she is just another girl in the long line of hookups he has used to replace Jessica. She probably is and that is the most humiliating part. He probably will forget about this and she never will and -

“We don’t have to talk about it.” He folds himself against the counter a safe distance away but she knows there is really not such thing as a safe distance when it comes to Wyatt Logan.

“O-Okay.” She bobs her head and looks at her coffee. It is just how she likes it, but the idea of drinking it makes her nauseous.

“...Unless you want to?”

He’s putting out feelers, aiming for tact instead of his usual take-no-prisoners approach and she supposes she should be grateful, but it uneases her. Somehow it would be easier if he was brusque. It would be easier to throw up her walls and deflect, but now he is looking at her with blue eyes wide and cautious like he cares and that is not fair. It is not fair at all because she does not want to talk about it. She has no idea how to talk about it - especially if he is going to pretend like it matters.

What if it does matter?

She cannot.

“You said it was for - history. And after we - after you said that now we have to wait.” He presses into her silence, prompting, and crosses his arms over his broad (t-shirt covered - thank goodness) chest. She’s tasted that chest and suddenly she needs to drink her coffee because she realizes he is still stuck to the back of her tongue. “What did you mean by that?”

She gulps two deep swallows from her mug and doesn’t taste it. All she can taste is him. She wonders how long that will last.

She’d spend longer lamenting that truth, but there is a question to answer and to be honest she has no idea even where to begin.

“I don’t know I just -” She looks down at her shoes. “I had a theory.”

“What theory?” He prods, but it is not demanding. Something curious scratches behind his words and she wonders just what kind of answer he is expecting from her.

Her eyes come back up to him, and she wants to tell him that it doesn’t matter - that this had all been some sort of fluke brought on by stress and insomnia and - you know - her life as she knew it being altered beyond seeming repair, but she knows that is not the truth. She doesn’t do anything, say anything, without knowing the reason and the cause behind it. She knows just why she suggested this but that does not mean she is ready to admit it.

“It’s just -” Her cell rings and she jumps like a gunshot (except at this point a gunshot may be less startling than her phone ringing) and she drops the mug. It falls and shatters, the rest of her coffee splatters all over the bottom of her jeans and the linoleum floor. “Shit!”

She flutters between answering the phone and picking up broken pieces.

“Answer it.” Wyatt tells her, always so cool under pressure, as he reaches for a roll of paper towels.

She obeys. The conversation lasts all of two seconds.

“My cab is here.” She says and hesitates as he kneels and begins mopping up her spill. “I have to go. I could - I’m so sorry about the mug.”

He does not look up from his work. “It was free.”

“I should stay. I’ll get another cab. I should stay and help clean up this mess.” She thinks to move, doesn’t.

He rocks back on his heels and sighs. “What’s done is done. It’s fine.”

She still doesn’t move.

“Lucy.” He says her name and that gets her attention. She did not expect that. Her eyes flash to his. “It’s okay, you know. All of it. We’re good.”

Her throat works, but she can neither swallow nor speak. She just stares.

He gestures with his head towards the entryway with his head. “Your cab is waiting.”

It is all the dismissal she needs but she still hesitates. His head falls and they both look at the ceramic pieces scattered across the floor. The juxtaposition of both Wyatt on his knees and the shattered ceramics at her feet is enough to make her heart leap to her throat and she does not want to dissect the reason why.

She all but runs out of his door and counts it a victory that she does not cry until she makes it to the cab.

What in the hell had she just done?

….

Amy isn’t at the house.

She doesn’t know why she thought she would be.

All she did was make a shitty decision and sleep with someone inappropriate in the current timeline. That wouldn’t bring her sister back. That wouldn’t change the fact that somewhere, out there, Garcia Flynn is already planning another way to make her life impossible while she is (apparently) trying to beat him to it.

She drops her purse on the kitchen stool and heads to the freezer. With any luck, her mom will have left some of the Ben & Jerry’s she bought on the last trip to the market. She needs it. Either that or a shot of whiskey, but she is making enough poor decisions without being inebriated so she’ll stick with icecream for now.

No sooner had she found the Phish Food and turned to find a spoon then she sees him. She jumps, but manages to keep a hold of the ice cream carton which makes her one for two tonight.

“Noah.” He is in the breakfast nook, but it isn’t breakfast time. Actually she has no idea what time it is, what day it is, what year it is. “What are you doing here?”

He frowns. “You haven’t returned any of my calls. Your mom says you disappear at all hours for work and don’t come back for days. I’m worried about you, Lucy.”

He comes from where he had been sitting, hands in his pocket, and she acknowledges that he is handsome. He is kind. He is thoughtful and if they were as in love and engaged as those scrapbooks would have her believe then he is probably in quite a bit of pain as well. Guilt rises up to choke her but she screams against it. His pain is not hers. He is not hers. No matter what this timeline would have her believe, but she proceeds with caution.

“I know. I know.” She sets the ice cream on the counter and braces herself. How do you explain the inexplicable? “I’m so sorry. I wish I could explain - I do.”

He stands on the other side of the island looking like he is going insane. “Then do it. Lucy - dammit. I love you and you’re acting like I’m a total stranger.”

But you are. She thinks, barely able to stop herself from saying it, and she looks at her hands gripping the edge of the counter top to keep herself from running out of the room.

“There is a lot going on right now that I can’t explain to you - or to anyone. I wish I could, maybe someday, but now…” Her head spins. This is the last thing she needs right now.

“When are you coming home?” He asks and she immediately flashes to images of Wyatt’s condo, nothing on the walls - only the most basic creature comforts, and how that had felt more like a home than all the time she spent with her fiance in their ‘home’.

She thinks of this place with Amy in it.

She thinks of everywhere except the place to which he refers.

She shakes her head. “I don’t know.”

Noah shows himself out.

….

She goes for a run. It is raining, but she doesn’t care. She just needs to feel something that isn’t the pulsing need she has to go back to Wyatt’s place and clear the air or jump back in his bed or something. It really didn’t matter to her exactly what they did so long as they did it together because she is slowly realizing: she has no one else.

Not now.

Not after what they did.

She has single handedly managed to both create and destroy the only relationship she has in the world in one fell swoop.

She slows to a walk about two blocks from her house and lets the rain wash her tears.

….

She doesn’t even jump when her phone rings this time. She has set a special ringer for blocked numbers (the only blocked calls she ever gets is from Mason Industries) so she always knows when she needs to start preparing for corsets and polyester. This time, however, she just stares as the phone rings to voicemail. She’s playing Rummikub with her mother and she is letting her mom win and somehow that seems like way more fun than going back in time and seeing him right now.

Her phone rings again, another blocked number, and she knows she should answer it but she stays still.

“Lucy. Your phone is ringing.” Her mother gives her that I raised you better than this look.

“It’s work.” She replies and her mother’s face hardens at the corners of her mouth, her eyes.

And as badly as Lucy wants to keep ignoring it - she knows that she cannot. Mason Industries will send a car of scary men to make sure she does as they say and she is not about to try to explain that to her mother.

She answers on the last ring and hangs up on a sigh.

“They need me at the office.”

“Of course they do.” Her mother starts cleaning up the game without even asking. “Should I keep dinner warm for you?”

Lucy smiles. She wishes….

“Leave me a plate in the fridge.” She stands and kisses her mom on the top of her head and breathes in deeply, not taking any of this time for granted. “I love you, mom.”

….

She knew this moment would be awkward but she hadn’t known just how awkward. Wyatt is there, his slouchy energy magnified by a restless quality previously unseen. She doesn’t want to credit their encounter to his updated body language in her proximity but she is not naive enough to write it off. Still - there is something else there too. Something a bit too raw to just be about their lapse in judgement.

She glances at him when he isn’t looking her way and looks away the second he catches her. His eyes hold questions she is not brave enough to answer, not yet.

Agent Christopher talks to her. Somehow Lucy manages to access the fact storage part of her brain long enough to regurgitate enough useful facts about the time period and completes her report without stuttering because she is fucking capable, okay? That, however, does not stop her from dreading every step she takes towards The Lifeboat after wardrobe.

Wyatt comes up alongside her and she refuses to admit how good he looks in his period duds. It is thoughts like that that got her into this mess in the first place. Instead she becomes preoccupied with the maneuvering of her skirts, balancing her hat.

“You okay?” His voice is low and just for her and she is transported back to his bed.

Tell me what you like. He had said and she knows the answer. She likes him, hell, probably loves him, but is nowhere close to being ready to deal with the implications of that.

“Yeah. You?” She asks, but it is time to climb in.

He goes in first like he always does so he can offer a hand, help her up, and she never knew that taking someone’s hand could be such sweet torture. He pulls her up and they are a breath away. He is scruffy as usual and she remembers just how that stubble felt rubbing across her throat, her breasts, and lower.

“Better now.” He says, holding her three beats longer than necessary, and she has no idea what to make of that.

Before she even has a chance to consider it, Rufus clears his throat.

“Don’t know about you all, but I’m pretty ready to get going because the sooner we leave the sooner we get back and that sounds pretty damn fine to me.”

They break away and go to their seats, her legs trembling from proximity. Her eyes find his as they buckle and don’t leave until they touch down in 1882.

….

Better now? Better now, how?

Better because he was on a mission?

Better because being on a mission meant being closer to her?

Better because now he had added reasons to be a reckless hothead just to piss her off?

She can think of a lot of things that this situation is, but none of them have the word ‘better’ attached to them.

It is April 2nd.

She’d heard it in the briefing. She’d seen it on the calendar on the wall of her mother’s kitchen, and yet it hadn’t registered to her for even one instant that she had missed her sister’s birthday.

Amy was born on April 1st a hundred years from where she currently is, except that she wasn’t. Amy was never was born. Not anymore, and Lucy does not know how that makes anything better.

He doesn’t make her better.

In fact, he only makes it worse because if she hadn’t been so damn sidetracked by What She Did With Wyatt (The Thing She Did In Attempts To Bring Back Said Forgotten Sister) - she may have remembered Amy in the first place.

Mason says that time is linear, but she is ready to write a thesis statement that is just one big, horrible loop.

She walks by a mirror in the saloon they are in searching for leads and looks at herself. It is warped, imperfect, as was common for the time but she cannot find anything she knows to be true about herself in that reflection. She blames the mirror, but she knows it is more than that.

….

She wants out.

This isn’t fun anymore, not that it was ever fun but there have been certain perks (meeting Abraham Lincoln and George Washington - are you serious?!) but none of that matters any more. She can see the strain it is taking on Rufus, on herself, and on Wyatt.

She thought that maybe she was the only one coming unhinged, but it is clear her entire team is slowly coming apart at the seams. And Flynn Garcia is not helping the issue. In fact he is actively doing the opposite. He is pressing down on them and as much as Lucy hates to admit it - they are cracking.

She’s always been aware of Wyatt’s skill set, apprehensive of it at times, but she’s never been afraid of it. Never until now, sitting at a campfire, listening to him weave a case for something that could only be described as a God Complex and realizing that she has done the same thing. She, the protector of history, is fully and completely willing to do anything to change it. She knows better than to assume that changing one life doesn’t make that much of a difference.

Changing one life changes the world.

So when Wyatt looks at her and asks her for back up, she thinks she is going to be sick. She is no sounding board, no paragon of time virtue. She doesn’t deserve to be trusted with this much responsibility, this much power.

No human does.

….

How far would you go to preserve time?

She used to ask herself this question even before taking this job, even more so now that she has, but never did she think that she would give the answer of murder.

She did not want to kill him.

She never wanted to kill anyone.

She did not sign on for this. Any of this. She knows she’s maintained the continuity of history by eliminating Jesse James in the proper time-frame, but she’s never killed a man before. She never wants to again, hero or villain. She never even wants to be put in the position where she has to choose.

She just wants to go home, but she doesn’t know where that is anymore.

Amy is gone. She isn’t ever going to get her back. She isn’t ever going to get any of it back.

She cannot stop shaking. Tears burn the backs of her eyes. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. None of it was supposed to be like this. She wants to go back to her old job with its normal hours with its safe predictability and normal boundaries. She wants history to go back to the past, untouched - untouchable, because she cannot take it another second.

She’s in the woods behind the cabin, trying to pull it together, when he finds her. She must look a fright because he eyes her warily at best.

“You did the right thing.” He doesn’t ask if she is okay, knows that she isn’t, and choked laugh breaks from her throat.

“The right thing? Right by whom?” She presses the heels of her hands against her eyes. “I feel like I don’t know which way is up - or if there even is an up”

“He needed to die. He was supposed to die.” Wyatt comes close and grabs her arms. His touch sends electricity through her and she pulls her hand from her eyes. “You did the right thing.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“The guy was a maniac. He’d go on and kill more people than he already had. Sometime in order to prevent a greater evil you have to get your own hands dirty.”

And suddenly she knows they aren’t talking about Jesse James anymore. She looks at him. He is so close, still holding her arms, the dim light from the cabin illuminating the edges of his face in the cold night. Despite it being spring, the night air is still cold enough that she can see heavy puffs of air coming from his lips.

Lips she has kissed.

Lips she wants to, against all sound judgement, kiss again.

“You said you had a theory.” His hands tighten. “What was it?”

“It was nothing.” She shakes her head, eyes not leaving his face. “It doesn’t matter. It was stupid.”

“Tell me.” He says and she knows he is not asking. There is something too raw, too desperate in his voice, and she can feel him losing grip the same as she.

She supposes after all they have been through - after all the lies and confusion - she owes him this truth. No matter how ridiculous.

“I thought that - uh - I thought that maybe if I did something that I would never do then maybe, somehow, it would change - something. Like Amy.” She cannot make out his expression in the shadows but can feel embarrassment heat her body. “See? I told you. Stupid.”

He is quiet for a few deafening heartbeats. Then:

“You tried to take your life into your own hands. You tried to get back someone you love.” His voice holds gravel, but not cruelty. “I can’t fault you for that.”

It’s easier to talk about this in the dark, easier when she cannot make out his every expression. When she knows he cannot see the hope shine in her eyes.

“Are you going to do it? Are you going to try to save Jessica?” She asks, lips tremblings and not just from the cold.

“I don’t have a choice.”

“Wyatt…” She wants to tell him he has a choice. She wants to tell him that they all have choices. They don’t have to just take orders anymore - they can make their own. Set their own path like Emma had. Run away and be lost in time, in space, and forget that any of this ever happened, but she cannot.

Because he kisses her.

She melts into him without a struggle. For the first time in days it feel like she is standing on solid ground because he is holding her. There is no time for gentleness. They fight tongue and teeth against a world that is all too unfair. A world that is just as eager to put them together as it is to tear them apart.

He groans against her mouth and she hushes him. Rufus is close. Bass is close. They are tending to James and Grant’s bodies, are digging through the piles of modern paraphernalia abounding in the bullet-riddled cabin. This is complicated enough with just the two of them. She doesn’t want an audience.

He steps and pushes her back against the nearest tree. This is a different side of Wyatt than she had seen the first time. There is something dark, something final, about the way he holds her, kisses her but she is not giving up without a fight. She claws into his shoulders, his back, and holds him that much tighter. He answers by grabbing one of her thighs and hiking it up so her foot hooks around his knee.

And this is war.

But she doesn’t know who is fighting.

She is so tired of fighting.

Her hands go to his neck and pull him closer, her body arching up against his. That familiar ache mounts deep inside of her, begging for release. The corset and heavy trappings of clothes feel too small, her skin too exquisitely sensitive with him so near. She wants to feel him. Her fingers go to the buttons on his coat, his vest.

“Lucy.” He whispers against her lips when small hands slip under his shirt to touch warm skin and the sound of it sends a new shock of pleasure through her system.

She is doing this. He knows that it is she. He does not pull away. So no matter how fucked up this situation may be - she will hold onto that till her dying day.

They don’t have long.

He hikes her skirt up around her waist as she works loose the buttons on his fly. She can feel his hardness even before it springs up between them. He presses up against her center, thrusting a few nowhere strokes, hitting the oversensitive peak at the top of her sex, before he lines up and drives home.

She thought she would be used to this. She thought that maybe, after the first time, he wouldn’t feel so big. But he does. Oh - gods - he does, and she sees stars.

She didn’t think, ever in her life, she would be turned on by something like this. But then again until recently the idea of having primal, urgent, absolutely necessary sex up against the trunk of a tree in 1882 Missouri had never really been an option so she is willing to make an exception because - holy shit - she is not going to fight this.

His breath comes in harsh pants against her cheek. She grips his shoulders, tries to pull her leg up over his hips to draw him in closer. Despite the cold she can feel sweat break out down her spine, along her hairline. Maybe it is the adrenaline from almost dying, from killing a man, but it only takes a few moments before she is clenching hot and rippling around him. She cannot make out his expression but she can tell from the change in his breathing that he is just as surprised as she is when she clamps around him and everything goes white.

When she comes back to earth his hips stutter against hers in hard, short thrusts until he collapses against her. His mouth moves against her neck, but it is not a kiss. He is saying something, but she cannot make it out above her hammering heart. She doesn’t know if she wants to because if she does, she may have to acknowledge what just happened.

They stay there frozen, unwilling to face the fallout, until:

“Lucy?” It’s Rufus calling into the night. “Wyatt?”

They jump apart. Her skirt tumbles back into place as he does his best to fasten his pants, his vest. The proof of their encounter runs down the insides of her trembling legs and she guesses that unprotected sex is something she else does now on top of murder.

“I’m clean. I’m on the pill.” She says at the same time as she cringes that that is the first thing she thinks to say in this moment.

“Me too.” His voice has that husky quality she remembers from the first time. She squeezes her legs together. “The clean part.”

“O - Okay.” She cannot move away from the tree. Her legs shake too badly.

“Wyatt!” It is Rufus again. “Lucy!”

He probably thinks they’ve been kidnapped or killed or -

“We’re over here!” Wyatt calls back.

He turns to her and she can see the faintest glint of his eyes in the moonlight. “You head back first. I’ll follow in a bit. It’ll be less suspicious that way.”

She’s not sure how it will be less suspicious, but she is in no place to argue - to think. So she locks her knees and moves. She finds Rufus backlit from the cabin where Bass is still sorting through things he will never understand.

“Hey.” Rufus greets her. “Where’s Wyatt? Is he okay? Are you okay?”

She gives him a half smile and hopes to whatever powers existed that she does not reek of sex as much as she thinks she does.

“I don’t think any of us are okay.”

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#raven loves timeless #timeless nbc #lyatt #wyatt logan #lucy preston #timeless #fanfiction #whoops i wrote more of this #fuuuuck me #i swear i am going to update frozen stuff soon

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