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drsilverfish · 4 years

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Nine Minutes to Midnight

5x21 Two Minutes to Midnight

Nine episodes to beat God, and fifteen years since Kripke pitched his original On The Road fan-fiction meets folk horror.

I’ve had a lot of fun in this little corner of Tumblr SPN fandom, over the eight years I’ve been here. I arrived as a newbie in 2012, and people already here were kind to me. I’ve seen people come and go, get disillusioned with SPN and move onto new fandoms, or arrive latterly into this one, brimming with excitement.

This is a weird social media platform, and I doubt it will be around forever, as one of its joys is how singularly bad it has been at integrating advertising.

Some of my favourite things here have been;

Comments in the tags, often funny, thinky, joyful - love this element of Tumblr.

Coda fic - this short-form story-style, which leaps into the fan-fiction gaps, loud silences and lacunae of the text - what a joy.

All the different roles people take on in fandom, as labours of love - gif makers, fic and meta writers, artists, vidders, archivists, signal-boosters, enthusiastic readers and beta-readers, art-lovers, networkers, collaborators, question-askers and answerers, and participants of all kinds (introvert and extrovert).

Completely unrelated to SPN, posts which are full of puns and hilarity, from “lik the bred” to Brits vs Americans on the subject of drinking tea. I still love Tumblr’s collective sense of humour; it’s witty and charming.

The language of gifs; those delightful comtemporary hieroglyphics of emotive expression.

The diversity - English is the shared language, but gradually it’s apparent that despite US dominance of the site, there are people from all over the world here, whose native tongues range from Russian to Italian to Brazilian Portuguese.

The collective meta experience - sharing “live” textual analysis has been huge fun. Viewing a text in a hive mind this way always shows you something you’d have missed on your own. It’s like holding up a crystal to a thousand lights and watching all the different refractions happening at once.

Again, not SPN specific, but experts in various subjects, from Egyptology to Medieval History suddenly emerging from the depths to provide a passionate and erudite exposition on their topic. Often prefaced with, “My time has come...”

Fandom has a dark side. It can be a coping mechansim, for many, in a healthy or less healthy way. There are unfortunately, always the formation of various “in-groups” and “out-groups”, ship wars, harrassment (of other fans, cast and crew), entitlement, and wild unpleasantness. And, that scourge of the internet in general; performative outrage (otherwise known as the outrage economy) which turns up the dial on provocative statements and negative emotion because that acts as catnip for engagement. A lot of people act out their shadow-selves online, projecting their own internal stuff onto others, from behind the screen.

Almost no media texts get to run as long as SPN (fifteen years) but my first fandom was (and is) Doctor Who and that has been going for over 50. It has some absolutely horrendously toxic spaces and places online, and many of pure joy. My advice is - find the joy.

Stories, by inviting us into the shoes of others, teach us at their (and our) best, the invaluable gift of empathy.

Take care of yourselves. Endings are hard, no doubt.

Special shout-out to fellow LGBTQ+ fans - hold onto your hearts.

It can be complicated loving a story telling its queer (romantic/ erotic) love story implicitly (i.e. in subtext).

Don’t forget (as I always say in my tags) subtext is part of narrative - meaning, the totality of a text contains its explicit and implicit elements; its text and its subtext, just like Metatron (aka Robbie T) told us in 9x18 Metafiction.

I wasn’t in the fandom myself, here on Tumblr, but I saw some of the fall-out from BBC Sherlock S4, and it was particularly distressing to see so many young LGBTQ+ fans feeling deeply hurt and even suicidal, because they’d read all the (extensively crafted) queer subtext in that show as a promise which would, inevitably, lead to an unequivocal queer “coming out” for John and Sherlock.

Those queer fans weren’t “self-queerbaiting” - they were just reading the totality of the text. And after all, why not read the subtext that way, as a promise? Being of a generation who’d already gotten to see many explicitly out queer characters on-screen; why not dare to imagine the subtext was a slow-burn romance with an inevitable “out” climax? Especially because Mark Gatiss (one of the writers) is out and queer himself, young queer fans were even more certain that his Sherlock would be the first “out” queer Sherlock on-screen (The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes, 1970, which Gatiss is on record as being a fan of, had previously queer-coded Holmes, as indeed does Downey’s version, in Sherlock, 2009, and Sherlock 2: A Game of Shadows, 2011.)

Of course, the corporate and production politics were no doubt complex behind the scenes at the BBC, and Gatiss himself (apparently) saw things differently saying (in an interview in Oct 2010):

“No, I don’t think I’d make a kind of gay programme. It’s much more interesting when it’s not about a single issue. And equally, I find flirting with the homoeroticism in Sherlock much more interesting.” (Buzz Magazine Oct 2010: p10).

All of which, is why I’ve been adding a disclaimer to my readings of SPN’s queer subtext for a while now - namely, that reading the subtext doesn’t promise a rainbow of obviousness at the end.

As I said, take care of your hearts, lovelies.

Perhaps we shouldn’t need the narrative closet any longer.

But, we are walking between worlds, an old one and a new, both of them currently existing simultaneously, especially in a globalised world.

Queer audience fractions are, generally, more attuned to queer subtext, because it often uses codes derived from queer culture (although reading cinematic/ television subtext of all kinds is a learned skill, and no one is born with text-reading gaydar). So, whilst queer subtext may appear “loud” to some audience fractions, it remains invisible to others. That is, historically, by design, because, whilst “out” queer characters have gradually emerged on-screen since the 1950s [and the end of the Hays Code in Hollywood] queerness was, and still is (depending on where one is in the world) subject to legal penalty, state censorship or corporate production censorship.

A contemporary kind of state censorship is e.g. in China, where overt LGBTQ+ themes and characters cannot be depicted on-screen (hence, the queer subtext in The Untamed). A contemporary commodity kind of censorship might be e.g. notes from the Network, or TPTB at Marvel Studios with an eye on box-office. Queer subtext has the ability to slip past the censors, or be tolerated by them; because, now you see it/ now you don’t. A character with a straight “surface” reading and a queer subtextual one may (depending on the film/ TV product and its market etc,) be seen to pose less risk as a commercial product, whilst being able to appeal to different audience fractions simultaneously. For example, Captain Marvel (2019) and, as above, BBC Sherlock (2010-2017).

And yes, it’s complicated, because in the midst of that still extant censorship, which queer writers and other creatives on set may indeed be trying to work around by using queer subtext, we can see another world is possible. More out queer stories are being told. And, although we may love to see implicit queerness rather than no queerness at all, and indeed although implicit queerness may (arguably) have the freedom (still) to tell less boundaried or stereotyped stories than explicit queerness (with powerful effects on the audience fractions, both queer and straight, who do “see” it) we can’t deny that it does suit corporate entities, in some cases, to be able to appeal to a dual audience without the perceived “risk” of “outness”. A form of “queer-sploitation” which leads to the charge of “queer-baiting”.

The issue is, perhaps, particularly one surrounding male hero characters in Hollywood (and here in the UK) a) because “queer stories” are (still) often, not seen as likely to have universal appeal for broader audiences, whereas “straight stories” are not framed as “straight stories” but as universal ones, and b) because of the persistence of the prejudiced belief in particular that “queerness” undermines masculinity, especially “heroic” masculinity (here we have diverged markedly from the ancient Greeks). It’s somewhat different for female characters, but that’s another post. Fantasy, in the on-screen medium (if less so in fiction or comics) appears to be a more regressive genre than, say, comedy, in terms of the depiction of “out” queer central (rather than side) characters, with the exception of the Wachowskis’ Sense8 (2015-18) in which pretty much everyone is queer. I know there’s Ruby’ Rose’s Batwoman (2019- ) which I haven’t had a chance to check out yet, and we’ve got some queer Marvel (side) heroes upcoming, apparently; Valkyrie in Thor: Love and Thunder and Phastos in The Eternals - let’s see how that goes.

Moreover, queer subtext doesn’t have an exact analogy i.e. a “straight subtext” equivalent. Yes, many films and TV shows imply romantic/ sexual tension and interest between M/ F (pre)couples before it is “confirmed” they’re into each other in the text. However, because straight is the default assumption, audiences may muse and disagree about the potential for a M/ F romance at the implicit stage (as they have done in SPN fandom re Sam/ Rowena) but they don’t ask - “Does this mean they might be straight ????” It is assumed. Queerness, on the other hand, in order to be widely recognised (rather than solely by the subtext-reading audience fraction) must “come out” in some manner, explicitly, in the text (I don’t mean graphically, but “beyond reasonable doubt”). In other words, as painful as it is, we are not starting on a level playing field. It’s not fair, but it is the deal.

That doesn’t mean we can’t love contemporary queer subtextual stories, just that it’s important to acknowledge it can be painful, for some, to do so, and just as it’s important to acknowlege it’s OK to find them too painful to love, also (historical texts obviously operated under different circumstances).

Queer audiences are not homogenous. We can, and do, see things differently from one another, perhaps particularly across generations.

It is the case however, I think, that the structuring of a story by the narrative closet, as SPN has been structured by the narrative closet (up to this point, mid S15) (by which I mean its queerness is transparent to some, invisible to others, by design) cannot help but remind many queer audience members of our own struggles with the real world closet. Indeed that may make the story attractive, or unattractive, to different folk.

Incidentally, which is why I avoid it, I think the “it’s canon”/ “it’s subtext” debate is a false dichotomy and a bit confusing, as there are two, perfectly legitimate (within their own terms) definitions of “canon”. In the fandom sense, where “canon” means a romantic/ erotic pairing explicitly confirmed in the text, Destiel (meaning romantic/ erotic orientation between Dean and Cas) is not “canon” (as at 15x11). It is implied. Of course, it is explicit text that they care deeply for one another - “You’re my family. I love you, I love all of you” (12x12 Stuck in the Middle with You), “You’re my best friend” (15x09 The Trap). The exact nature of that relationship remains, however, deliberately, ambiguous.

In the literary sense, in which “canon” means “the official body of work”, SPN’s official body of work contains a metric tonne of implicit romantic/ erotic Dean/ Cas, so, it is part of the SPN “canon” in that sense - “subtextual canon” if you like. Although, of course, because implied, therefore open to interpretation.... deliberately transparent to some and invisible to others.

Despite all this complexity, and, indeed despite other elements of the SPN narrative which I have struggled with personally (the early seasons’ misogyny is off the charts sometimes, the brutally insensitive manner of Charlie’s death) I have loved this story, Supernatural, truly, madly, deeply, in large part because of its (implicit) queerness. And for may other reasons additionally, from its folkloric beginnings and dark initial cinematographic palette, to its melodrama, to its, eventual, Ourboros structure, and its Jungian alchemical journey marrying the cosmic to the earthly.

Reading the show without the queer subtext remains possible, but oh boy is that analogous to only considering the above sea-level portion of an iceberg.

I would prefer a rainbow of obviousness at The EndTM, but I don’t expect one. What I expect is continued, deliberate, ambiguity. Something I am sure we will be debating the ethics of, long after.

I could be wrong :-). But I am taking my own advice, and taking care of my heart.

For now, it’s nine minutes to midnight; let’s see how the story ends.

And afterwards, however the chips may fall, the characters will (as this most meta-narrative of seasons has been busy telling us) be set free of “Chuck’s” control. They will belong to us, in a thousand thousand fan-works, for as long as we care to keep on loving them.

#Supernatural #SPN meta #Meta #5x21 #Two Minutes to Midnight #Endings are hard #Who am I kidding #Fandom is going to go wild #Whatever happens #The great queerbaiting debate #Reading Subtext #Dean is bisexual #Destiel #Still subtext #But subtext is part of narrative

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angelofthequeers · 4 years

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Ladybug and Reine Nuit: Chapter 23

Jackady

Disclaimer: I don’t own ML.

I'm going to take a temporary break from updating until I've sorted out the chapters after this. I've largely been cutting down on unnecessary detail but now that I'm into S2, I want to take a breather and figure out the specifics of the story beyond the episodes I've got planned. Especially writing 'Hold Me', since that helped me better figure out my plotting style with full-length fics (which I'm unused to writing, considering I used to mostly write oneshots) and how to balance canon with original.

@miraculousl4dybug @trainflavor @residentteenidle tagged as requested :)

Chapter 22 | Chapter 24

“I feel you, girl,” Alya says after Marinette laments over FaceTime about being grounded. “I’m lucky I got Nora to split the babysitting with, or my parents would be so mad when I’m not where I should be.”

“Rub it in, why don’t you,” Marinette grumbles. “Well, I should go and get some homework done while I watch Nino. Maybe that’ll put my parents in a better mood.”

“Good luck!” Alya grins. Marinette rolls her eyes and hangs up, leaving Alya to pull her legs up onto the couch so that she can sit cross-legged. On the floor, Ella and Etta are cheering as Nino makes André Bourgeois bop along to his beats, while Nora is in the kitchen making some protein shake or whatever it is she drinks.

“And now, for our next contestant, welcome Simon Grimault!” Alec Cataldi announces, ushering in a man with pale skin, dark curly hair, and a purple coat. “Mr Grimault, you are a hypnotist. You use cards to hypnotise people to get what you want from them!”

��Well, yes, I’m a hypnotist,” Simon says with a shy smile. “But, uh, I don’t use my skills to get anything.”

Alec ignores him. “So, your challenge today, Simon, is to use your talents to bring a very elusive celebrity to this very TV set!” Alec gestures to the screen behind them, which switches to show the large profile of Gabriel Agreste. “Give it up for the king of fashion, Gabriel Agreste!”

“Ouch,” Alya winces. “Of all the celebrities he could’ve gotten…”

“What is this show? I was told this was an interview,” Gabriel says shortly.

“Do your thing, Grimault!” Alec says. “Let's see if you can bring Mr. Agreste here with your hypnotic persuasion!”

Honestly, Alya’s never been all that fond of Alec Cataldi. He’s far too much of a sensationalist, actively rubbing salt into wounds to score just those few extra ratings, just like he’s doing now as Simon is escorted away after Gabriel’s withering criticism of the show. Really, is it any wonder that just a few minutes later, a man with lilac skin and absolutely garish neon purple and lime green magician clothing appears on-screen, calling himself Jackady and dragging Adrien with him?

“So, you are Gabriel Agreste’s son!” Jackady declares, shaking Adrien by the upper arm.

“Hey, let go of him!” Nino’s voice shouts. Jackady smirks.

“Loyalty to your friend! Simon says…you are a dog!” He throws a card off-screen. A few seconds later, Nino runs onstage on all fours, panting and barking as he tries to lick Adrien’s leg.

“Hey!” A boy with teal-tipped dark hair tries to grab Nino, likely to snap him out of it, but Jackady hits him with a card and the boy starts acting like a turkey. Is that…Luka?

“Shit,” Alya mutters, jumping to her feet. “Nora! I gotta, uh…go out!”

“Seriously?” Ella whines, while Etta complains that Alya’s blocking the TV. On the screen, Jackady is making some grand speech about getting his revenge on Gabriel by using the man’s son.

“Alya’s got some very important job to do for me,” Nora says, shooting Alya a significant look and pulling her out of the way of the TV so that Etta shuts up. “And she’ll be back very soon. She won’t miss our games night.”

“Simon says that you are in a deep sleep!” says Jackady. Adrien collapses into Jackady’s arms, who then controls Adrien’s bodyguard into carrying the sleeping boy, and Ella and Etta gasp. “Now I’ll get my revenge on Gabriel Agreste!”

“Of course I won’t miss games night!” Alya says. “In fact, I’ll, uh…grab another game while I’m out! With my own allowance!”

Before her sisters can raise any further protests, Alya barrels out of her apartment and ducks behind the first wall she finds.

“And I was so looking forward to a day off,” Plagg complains.

“Oh, shut your whining. Plagg, claws out!”

“Simon says to seize Gabriel Agreste!” Jackady orders a few streets away from the Agreste mansion. On a nearby rooftop, Ladybug narrows her eyes. So, the akuma’s after Gabriel? That would explain why he’s got Adrien’s bodyguard carrying a sleeping Adrien, no doubt to use as a hostage.

“You wanna try and save Adrien?” says a voice from behind Ladybug. She jumps and throws her yo-yo, but it’s batted aside by Reine Nuit. “Sorry, angel bug. Shoulda knocked first.”

“There’s too many of them,” Ladybug says, although her stomach churns when she says this. “No way can we get to Adrien. Not when he’s surrounded by all those soldiers. Then we’ll lose the element of surprise. But I don’t want to just leave him there…”

Reine Nuit frowns at her. “You really care about Adrien, huh?” the cat hero says.

“Of course!” Ladybug says. “He kinda grows on you, what with all his Ladybugreste antics. Not to mention all the people shipping us…”

“Ah. Right. Ladrien.” Reine Nuit snickers. “I’m on Team LadyNuit myself.”

“Of course you are, kitty,” Ladybug says. But her laughter rings hollow, and Reine Nuit’s smile fades.

“We’ll save him, Ladybug,” she says firmly, resting her hand on Ladybug’s shoulder. “And as shitty as his father is, Adrien would want us to protect Gabriel Agreste rather than jump into that crowd trying to save him.”

Ladybug takes a deep breath, then nods. They bound over the rooftops to the Agreste mansion, landing in the courtyard, and Ladybug reluctantly volunteers to be the one to knock on the door.

“Where are you, Mr Agreste?” she demands as soon as she shoulders the door open and she and Reine Nuit are in the lobby.

“Good evening, Ladybug.” Gabriel Agreste descends the large staircase, dressed in his usual pale pink suit jacket, grey vest, red-striped white tie, and scarlet suit pants. Ladybug’s never quite understood how this is fashionable but hey, fashion designers have always been eccentric. “And Reine Nuit. I take it you’re here because of the akuma?”

“Yes,” Ladybug says. “You need to get out of here!”

“And be dictated by a madman?” Gabriel says. “Certainly not.”

“Gabriel Agreste!” A screen descends from the ceiling to display Jackady outside the gates with his army. Next to him is Adrien’s bodyguard, who’s holding a now-awake and wide-eyed Adrien in a reverse bear hug. Ladybug’s stomach lurches at the fear in Adrien’s eyes; fear that she’s never seen from him around any akuma. “Come out and face me, Gabriel! Or your son will suffer the consequences!”

Gabriel reaches out to press a button on the screen. “No,” is all he says. There’s silence for a few moments as everyone, heroes and brainwashed soldiers and villain alike, tries to process this sharp refusal.

“Are you crazy?” Reine Nuit hisses. “He’s gonna hurt your son, and you just straight-up say no? Not even an attempt to trick him?”

“I have faith in both you and Ladybug,” Gabriel says. “I know you can save my son and set everything to rights. But I refuse to bow to the whims of a villain, especially one as hideous as him.”

Reine Nuit scowls, then takes a deep breath. “You have a lockdown system, don’t you?” she says. Gabriel nods. “You stay here. Ladybug, try and save Adrien, and I’ll try and grab his akuma. Think you can be as stealthy as a black cat?”

“Who do you think you’re talking to?” Ladybug smirks.

“Wait.” Gabriel leads them into his office and activates the emergency lockdown with his password and handprint, then slides a picture aside to reveal two remotes. He hands one to Ladybug. “Use this to open and close an exit as you need.”

“Okay,” Ladybug says. “Uh…where’s your assistant?”

“Not here. Nathalie’s not in any danger.” Gabriel looks Ladybug in the eye and says, “Do save my son, you two. He’s…all I have left.” He takes a step towards her and places a hand on her shoulder. His eyes seem to flick to her earrings, but only for the tiniest fraction of a second; it’s so brief that it could have just been a figment of her imagination.

“Of course, Mr Agreste.” She looks at Reine Nuit, then nods and sprints out, using the remote to open the front doors long enough for them to get outside and then closing the doors just as the mansion gates crash to the ground with a clang. Yelping, Ladybug grabs Reine Nuit and swings out of the courtyard and to a nearby rooftop before Jackady can notice that they’re there.

“Seize Gabriel Agreste!” he commands. “And bring me Ladybug and Reine Nuit’s Miraculouses!”

Reine Nuit’s eyes widen. “He already knows we’re here?” she says. “But how?”

“So much for the element of surprise,” Ladybug says. “Let’s take him down now before he can get to Gabriel Agreste. Lucky Charm!”

“Whoa!” Reine Nuit’s eyes glimmer when a pocket knife falls into Ladybug’s hands. “Cool! Finally, something useful for once!”

“Hmm…” Ladybug frowns down at Jackady, who pulls a card out of his purple packet and sends it flying at one of his minions. “What if the akuma’s in his packet rather than any one card?”

“Makes sense,” Reine Nuit says. “Otherwise, what’d stop him from accidentally using it? So, what’s the plan?”

As the minions finally bash down the mansion’s front doors, Ladybug slowly concocts a plan with the knife, her yo-yo, and Reine Nuit’s baton. She snatches her partner’s baton and uses her yo-yo to tie the knife to the end, creating a makeshift javelin.

“Use that to stab the card packet,” she says. “Easy plan this time!”

“Aww.” Reine Nuit takes the baton. “I thought we’d have a way cooler plan the one time you get a freaking knife. But sure.”

Ladybug holds onto Reine Nuit so that she can lower them to the ground, and then they sneak around the back of Jackady’s army. At Ladybug’s nod, Reine Nuit extends her staff to propel herself into the air, then hurls the makeshift javelin at Jackady when he turns around. He’s too late to react, and the knife slices through the packet and releases the akuma in the blink of an eye. Reine Nuit also tackles him for good measure.

“Ladybug!” Reine Nuit unties the knife and throws Ladybug’s yo-yo back. Ladybug snatches it out of the air and proceeds to capture and purify the akuma. When Reine Nuit tosses her the knife, she throws it in the air and cries, “Miraculous Ladybug!”

“Huh?” says Simon once he’s detransformed from his akumatised state. “What am I doing here?”

“Pound it!”

While Reine Nuit goes to talk to Gabriel, Ladybug approaches Adrien, who’s just been released by his puzzled bodyguard. “Are you okay?” she says. “Sorry you couldn’t get any footage of your epic capture.”

Adrien laughs, but it rings false. “Yeah. I’m fine. Thanks for saving me, Ladybug.”

Ladybug frowns at him. “What’s wrong? I would’ve thought you’d be buzzed after being that close to the action.”

Adrien doesn’t say anything. Then, at a concerned look from his bodyguard, he sighs. “Today was…different. I’ve never…well, I’ve always been the damsel in distress for you and Reine Nuit. Sure, I’ll accept that. But I’ve never been used against my father like that before. And it was just…” He runs a hand through his soft golden hair and says, “It’s different with you guys, you know? I know that you and Reine Nuit can get back up and keep fighting. You’re superheroes. And even when I was trapped with Kagami when Kung Food attacked, I wasn’t being used against you. Heck, we weren’t even the main focus. But today…”

“There was someone else at stake from you being kidnapped this time?” Ladybug says softly. Adrien nods, casting his eyes down to the ground.

“It made me realise how selfish I’ve been, running after the akumas all the time to get the best footage for the adrenaline rush,” he mumbles. “I’ve always thought it was brilliant that I could give Father more grey hairs. Teenage rebellion, you know? Coping mechanism to deal with being trapped inside and suffocating and having my life dictated. But now I realised…well, maybe my father does care more than I thought. Maybe there’s a good reason why he’s so overprotective. Especially since I didn’t even get the chance to chase after this one – he found me. But if he does care more than I thought, why did he just straight-up say no to Jackady’s demands? Why didn’t he at least look like he was trying to stall for time?”

“Reine Nuit and I were appalled at that too. But I think it was because he had faith that we’d save you.” Ladybug steps forward and takes Adrien’s hand with a small, reassuring smile. Her earrings beep, but she pays them no mind; she’s still got a few more minutes before she turns back, and Adrien needs her more right now. “Maybe there’s a grey area here. Your father is overprotective. Quite frankly, I think he’s outright controlling and neglectful, but that’s not my place to say. So, you’ve overcompensated by going too far in the other direction. Maybe you can find a balance where you can still chase the thrill and film for the Ladyblog while not putting yourself in danger.” She flicks his skull and says, “Brains over brawn, yeah? If anyone can figure out how to balance akuma chasing and self-preservation, it’s you.”

Adrien smiles back at her, this time wider and sincerer. “Thank you, Ladybug.” He throws his arms around her, holding her tightly. Ladybug laughs and hugs him back, enjoying how warm and snug she is with him holding her.

His footsteps echo in the dark room, the soundwaves reverberating off the walls, casting his presence everywhere. There’s suddenly a loud whirring sound and the massive butterfly-framed window slides open, flooding the room in soft blue light and scattering pure white butterflies everywhere.

“How did it go?” The speaker is a tall, slim woman in the centre of the room, dressed in a formal purple jumpsuit and smart silver boots, with her black hair twisted in a bun at the nape of her neck.

“Excellent. There wasn’t any need for my capture.”

“Well, better to be safe than sorry.” The figure turns around, revealing a streak of bright purple in her hair, a purple cane in her hands, and a silvery, butterfly-shaped mask across her face. At her throat, on top of her high jumpsuit collar, rests a four-pronged brooch. “Leaving an akuma alone while detransformed and unable to control it was too great a risk.”

“Indeed. Thank you, Nathalie.”

“Of course, sir. Dark wings fall.” Her suit melts away in purple light, revealing Nathalie Sancoeur with the Butterfly Miraculous pinned to her red turtleneck collar. She detaches it and hands it back to Gabriel Agreste. Nooroo, meanwhile, hovers nearby, wringing his tiny hands.

“Master –”

“Quiet, Nooroo.” Gabriel reattaches the brooch underneath his tie. “Thank you for affirming my trust in you, Nathalie.”

Nathalie smiles and bows her head. “I told you. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to help you achieve your goal. Even if that means posing as Hawkmoth to help you allay suspicion.” Her brow furrows. “But sir, I think that with the Peacock –”

“No,” Gabriel snaps. “You know the Peacock is damaged. I won’t risk your health.” He sighs as his shoulders slump. “I already lost Emilie to it. I can’t lose you too.”

“I understand, sir.” Nathalie approaches him and, after a moment of hesitation, takes his hands. “I just wish I could do more to help.”

“You help me plenty. I wouldn’t function without you keeping Adrien’s life on track.” Gabriel sighs. “I need to bring Emilie back for Adrien. I can’t be the father he needs. I can’t be the father he deserves. Every time I look at him, I see…her. It hurts to look at my own son. I hate to look at my own son.” Even if that means Adrien being in danger from akumas. But with Ladybug’s cure, she’ll just fix everything to rights again, including Adrien. And when he finally gets the earrings? He can reverse any damage done to Adrien himself.

He must succeed. Failure is not an option. And with every akuma he creates, every akuma that Ladybug and Reine Nuit purify, he’s one step closer to a final, all-consuming attack. Sure, it would be nice if an akuma would succeed, but he doesn’t expect them to. At least, not yet. Those foolish heroes just don’t realise that in their rush to be paragons of virtue and morality.

He must succeed. He will succeed.

“Max!” Adrien slips into Kim’s seat with a bright smile. Max, who’s tinkering with some small robotic thing, jumps and would have dropped his tiny tool if not for Adrien’s hand shooting out to grab it. “Sorry! Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You sound abnormally excited to see me, considering that I’m just a fellow classmate,” Max says, narrowing his eyes. “What do you want?”

“Okay, first off, I actually am happy to see you,” Adrien says. “I’m always happy to see every classmate because I’m a sheltered, socially awkward kid, as my friends keep saying.”

“Even Chloé?”

“…Let’s not go there. Second, can I ask a favour? You don’t have to do it, and I’m happy to pay you if you do –”

“How about you tell me what it is first?” Max says.

“Oh. Right. You saw the whole Jackady thing on TV, right? How he grabbed me to get to my father?”

“Of course,” Max says. “Do you need me to recommend you a therapist? There’s a sixty-seven-point four percent chance that you were traumatised from that ordeal, not counting every other time you’ve been captured by –”

“What? No!” Adrien says. “I don’t need – look, it just made me realise some things. How I probably shouldn’t be running at the akumas to get footage.”

“That’s blindingly obvious to anyone with more than one brain cell,” Max mutters. Adrien resists the urge to snort, because who knew his nerdy classmate could be so snarky?

“I was wondering if you could come up with a way for me to hack the security cameras around Paris,” Adrien says. “That way, I can still get my footage, but I don’t have to go near the akumas. Ladybug won’t have to focus so much on saving me, and my father won’t die of a heart attack any time soon.”

“Hacking security cameras? Child’s play. But that wouldn’t exactly work if the akuma isn’t around the security cameras,” Max says, chewing his bottom lip. “However, I could certainly build you a little filming drone to send into danger instead of yourself.”

“You’d do that?” Adrien moves to throw his arms around Max but stops himself in the nick of time, just as Max starts to flinch away. “Sorry. How much are you asking for it?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of asking for payment,” Max says. “Consider it a gift from a classmate. Plus, it’ll stop the rest of us from panicking whenever we see you running into danger.”

“Wait, you guys really worry that much when I’m filming?” Adrien says. Something fluttery erupts in his gut when Max smiles and nods.

“Of course,” Max says. “You’re our classmate and our friend. Also, we’re terrified of Marinette’s temper, because she doesn’t truly get angry very often. You getting hurt would probably count as a circumstance that would trigger her rage.”

“Marinette cares that much about me?” Adrien’s eyes unfocus and a goofy grin slides across his face.

“And this will be my answer whenever people ask why I prefer robots to humans,” Max sighs.

#miraculous ladybug #aotq fic #aotq: reine nuit au #chat!alya #marinette dupain-cheng #alya cesaire #adrien agreste #nora cesaire #ella cesaire #etta cesaire #max kante #gabriel agreste #nathalie sancoeur #jackady #simon says #oops adrien #starting to realise a few things?#why ladybug are those feelings you have #ladrien

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moveslikebuckywrites · 4 years

Link

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Good Omens (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens) Characters: Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale (Good Omens), Ellen Degeneres Additional Tags: Crack, Memes, I have no excuses, shenanigans with the "fuck shit up jacket", because of course it is, never thought I'd tag Ellen in a fic Summary:

What happens when a demon decides to use old memes from 2010 and his "fuck shit up jacket" to cause a ruckus in Soho?

This, apparently.

~~~

I have no excuses this is a crackfic that came about from a conversation in the Ineffable Outliers Discord with myself, @apple-duty, and @cassandrasummer xD

~~~

An undetermined Friday, post Armageddon. Mayfair, London

Anyone walking down the street in Mayfair that night would hear shouting. Or at least they would, but the walls of the flat knew better than to let any sound out without permission. If one were to look through the window, one would see an iPhone slam against a concrete wall1.

Crowley had been trying to get a hold of Aziraphale for well past two days, with no answer. He’d driven by the shop, but the angel had been out both times. He, of course, did not want to appear like he cared so scoping out the shop more than necessary was completely out of the question2.

He sat in his ostentatious throne seething; how dare Aziraphale avoid him like this. Two could play it this game, and he could play very demonically if he wanted to.

Crowley stood and went to the closet in his bedroom and pulled out two very specific items. A black jacket with reflective orange tape and a large, oddly shaped black case.

Yes, two could play at this game. And if the angel wanted to ignore him, he’d make that task impossible.

---

6:00 AM Saturday morning; the sidewalk outside of A.Z. Fell and Co. Soho, London

“C’mon, Linda, just pop on back to mine for a bit, yer mum ain’t gonna know!”

“Danny ya absolute toss, I’ll do no such thing!”

The young couple swayed through the near empty streets of Soho, drunk on wine and each other’s company.

“But Linda-“

“Don’t ‘But Linda’ me Danny Williams,” Linda says, pointing a shaky finger in his face with no real bite behind her words, “We ain’t been dating but a fortnight and you ain’t gettin’ me in the bed that easily!”

“But Linda, when I’m with you I can…I can…” Danny grasped for something, anything to say, “I can hear music!”

“Cheek!” she said but looped her arm back in his anyway and leaned against him as they started back down the street.

“Really can, ya know?” Danny said with more than a little bounce in his step, “Really snazzy saxophone music!”

“Danny,” Linda pointed towards a tall ginger man in a utilities uniform, “I think it’s that man in front of old Mr. Fell’s.”

Sure enough, as they got closer, the man was playing on a saxophone. At six am outside of a bookshop. This would seem to have no discernable reason, but the great thing about the human brain in the way She made it is that when there is no reason, that’s reason enough.

“Well I dunno why he’s doing it, but for a telephone worker he sure is great at those few bars of whatever that is.”

“Sounds familiar though, don’t it?” Linda said quizzically, “Wonder where I’ve heard it before?”

“Either way, it’s Soho on a weekend, he’s probably just a sloshed as we are.”

“Probably so, now walk me home you old buffoon.”

Danny and Linda strolled off arm in arm and the obvious utility worker kept playing on.

---

8:00 AM Saturday morning; the sidewalk outside of A.Z. Fell and Co. Soho, London

Bill Waters was a patient man. An upstanding member of the community. A lawyer. He dressed in smart suits and was never seen without his pork pie hat. He had an image.

They had scoffed when he’d opened his practice in Soho. They’d laughed. But now? Oh, now, he was one of the most respected litigators in London.

He prided himself on his work ethic, his attention to detail, and his meticulous methods. He prided himself on his patience with his clients, with his family, and with anyone who he met. The community loved him, his neighbors loved him, his family adored him.

Which is why several people milling around the early morning streets were shocked to see him jumping up and down and yelling at a street performer.

“Sir, I demand in the name of common decency that you stop this at once!” Bill shouted, face turning a rather embarrassing shade one could liken to a tomato plant, “It’s been two bloody hours!3”

If the man from the utilities paid any mind to him, he didn’t let it show. Just kept playing the same four bars over and over again.

“I will call your superiors! What are you even supposed to be doing?!”

The man just continued with his smooth beats and rhythmic dancing. Was it dancing? Could barely call it that in the first place. Like something out of a bad 1970’s instructional video.

Bill continued to yell; the man continued to ignore it.

This just wouldn’t do, Bill resolved to phone the utilities company at once. He threw his hat down in frustration and stormed back across the street to his offices.

---

10:00 AM Saturday morning; the sidewalk outside of A.Z. Fell and Co. Soho, London

“D’you think he lost some kind of bet?”

“Dunno…sounds familiar though, doesn’t it?”

“Ain’t this that shit from Eurovision like ten years ago? The saxophone guy?”

Nathan, Alice, and Jude were gathered around the strange man with the saxophone. They’d already tossed some money in his hat and were waiting for him to get around to taking requests. They were also by far not the only ones in the crowd.

“It is!” Alice said pulling up YouTube on her phone, “It’s the Epic Sax Guy music!”

“Christ that meme is older than dirt,” Jude said grimacing, “Why you reckon he’s doing this?”

“Maybe Mr. Fell pissed him off,” Nathan said, laughing, “He’s pissed off enough people around here with those weird hours.”

“Dad said he’s been at it since six this morning,” Alice (last name of Waters) said, “That’s four hours ago! That’s insane!”

“We oughta put it up somewhere, do a live stream or something. See how long he goes!”

“You know, Nathan, maybe we should,” Jude said, pulling out his cell phone, “Hell, I don’t have anywhere to be.”

The saxophone man played on.

---

11:00 AM Saturday morning; the news offices of the BBC

“Christ, William, it must be a slow day if this is what you’re giving me.” Margaret, producer for the BBC Weekend News said angrily into the phone receiver, “You really expect me to send reporters out to video a street performer in Soho? As if they aren’t a dime a dozen?”

She listened to the murmuring on the other end of the line, “Five hours? The whole time? And he’s dressed like what? A utilities worker? What do you mean Twitter?”

Margaret pulled out her phone and opened the app, clicking through to the trending page. Sure enough, there at number one: #UtilitySaxMan.

“Well, it is a slow day. Fine, send someone, just try to find me something real to put on the air by tonight, yes? I can’t just be putting Twitter fluff on the air!”

Margret slammed the phone back on the receiver and shook her head. What was the news world coming to these days? She blamed the millennials.

---

11:30 AM London time (3:30 AM California time). The Montecito home of Ellen DeGeneres

“I’m just saying we need this guy on the show. You know how much the audience loves an internet celebrity. Yes, that’s why I called you, because you’re in London.”

To the dismay of her wife who just wanted to sleep, Ellen was on the phone at 3:30 in the morning with one of the show’s associates in England. Once she got the idea to have someone on her show, there really wasn’t much anyone could do to stop her.

“So, no one knows who this guy is? He just showed up with a saxophone and started playing? Well that won’t stop us. Just go down there and talk to him when he stops playing. I just need him on my show, he’s trending like crazy, the memes are ridiculous!”

“I should probably go, but don’t let me down! This guy is insane, he should be a star!”

She hung up as Portia throws a pillow at her.

---

1:00 PM Saturday morning; the sidewalk outside of A.Z. Fell and Co. Soho, London

“Play Single Ladies!” A voice from the gathered crowd shouted.

“Shut up, he’s not taking requests!” Jude shouted back at them.

“What are you, his agent?”

“I might be after this is over, you don’t know that!” Jude hissed from behind his phone, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep this up.

The livestream was an immediate hit. He’s been inundated with new followers and reaction memes4. Even the BBC was here, along with several people in strange getups. He’d gotten three direct tweets from Ellen DeGeneres already, though he couldn’t answer. Not while the livestream was going.

This dude was insane. He never stopped; he was like a damn machine. Just kept playing and dancing (badly) and playing. He ignored everyone around him, ignored that his hat was now full past capacity of spare change and 1£ notes.

It was like he was on a mission, though what that mission could be was anyone’s guess.

“Young man, have you any idea who this fellow is?” one of the men, this one wearing a monocle, asked him.

“Nah, can’t say that I do,” said Jude, “I mean, he hangs out at Mr. Fell’s shop a lot, seems to know him. Dunno why he’s doing this though.”

“Did you hear that?” the man in the suit said to another, this one with a two-tone wig, “He knows the bookshop owner! That’s our in!”

---

3:00 PM Saturday morning; the sidewalk outside of A.Z. Fell and Co. Soho, London

“It is clearly a performance showing the prevalence of man over the subjugation of the corporate world! He celebrates his union job by playing this jubilant music!” said the man in the two-tone wig.

“I beg to differ; it is quite certainly a cry at the unjust conditions faced by workers!” said the man with a monocle.

These two had exactly three things in common: They were art critics, they were insufferable, and they had been arguing about this for the better part of two hours.

“How can you be so daft? The rawness and realness and power of this performance can only be described as euphoric!”

“Ah but you fail to take into account the monotony and the repetitive action! This man is in a prison of his own creation! A brilliant metaphor for the world under capitalism!”

The two men continued arguing and were approached by a man in a tan coat that was about one hundred and fifty years out of date.

“Pardon me, gentlemen,” the man said, “But could you possibly tell me what all of the commotion is outside of my bookshop?”

“Oh, my goodness, you must be Mr. Fell! And you haven’t heard?!” shouted the first critic, acting as though he might faint, “The art world is completely a buzz!”

“It would seem, my friend, that the next great performance artist of our times has taken up residence outside your bookshop! Please, please introduce us to him!”

Mr. Fell looked confused as he tore away from the art critics and through the crowd. Past the young man with the camera, past the BBC News van, and past some Americans speaking very loudly into their cell phones.

“Crowley, what on Earth are you doing?”

The saxophone music stops abruptly. All eyes turn and focus on Mr. Fell.

“Oh, hello Angel…” the saxophone man stammers, “Just..uh…”

Before anyone can say anything, Mr. Fell storms forward and grabs the saxophone man by the arm, ushering him into the bookshop, behind a sign that clearly says “CLOSED”.

The crowd disperses, first the news van, then the passerby, then the art critics and the Americans. Jude stands there for a moment wondering what just happened.

He soon forgets why he was there in the first place, and if Twitter held any clues for him, they’re long gone now. Later, he'd look in his book-bag and find it full of loose change and 1£ notes.

Just an ordinary Saturday in Soho.

---

3:15 PM Saturday afternoon; inside A.Z. Fell and Co. Soho, London

“Would you care to explain, dear,” Aziraphale says as he unpacks his leather satchel, “just why you’re playing saxophone on my front stoop? And the news vans? And the art critics. You know how much I hate art critics!”

“You wouldn’t answer your phone,” Crowley says sulking on his favorite couch, “Got mad.”

“And did you conveniently forget dinner last week when I told you I’d be in Munich for a book auction for a few days?” Aziraphale shoots him a pointed look, “or were you just not listening in the first place?”

“Ngk.”

“I see,” the angel says, turning back to his books in a huff, “and how long were you out there?”

Crowley mumbled.

"Didn't quite catch that."

"I said ten hours," Crowley snapped, "Doing very demonic things, ruining everyone's weekend. Can take the demon out of hell but not hell out of the demon and all that." He crossed his arms over his chest and sulked lower into the couch than should be possible.

Aziraphale smiled to himself as he put away his new books, “Yes of course, my dear. Is that why you brought out the 'mess stuff up' jacket?Brightening everyone’s day with a bit of music, giving the BBC something to talk about? Such a demonic level of happiness out in the street today.”

“I-well-well,you-I-“ Crowley stammered, jumping up to stalk behind the angel to prove his point, “I made an old bloke with a pork pie hat have a fit, right in the middle of the street!”

Aziraphale sighed, Crowley was never quite as smooth as he pretended to be, and the angel saw right through him.

“My dear you are quite ridiculous, next time just come with me then you won’t feel the need for this nonsense.”

Crowley shoved his hands back in his pockets, trying to look aloof and failing, “I mean…I guess. Could use a vacation. Plenty of demonic wiles to get up to outside the country. Gotta keep you out of trouble...of course.”

Aziraphale smiled at him, clasping his hands together, “There we go then, problem solved!”

If the angel knew it was an excuse on the demon’s part to spend more time with him, he didn’t say. Nor did he mind in the slightest.

-----

1 – The iPhone, of course, knew better than to break. Just who’s apartment do you think we’re dealing with here, hmm?

2 – Least of all because he was scared of a certain angel picking up on a certain demon’s propensity to be what the kids referred to as a stage five clinger.

3 – In Bill Waters’ defense, he’d been late at the office the previous night working on a particularly challenging case. He’d been so exhausted, when the saxophone started up at around 6 am he’d thought himself hallucinating.

4 – Some choice memes that were shared on twitter:

#link #good omens #my fic #aziraphale #crowley #epic sax guy #special guest appearance of the 'fuck shit up jacket'#this is ridiculous y'all can blame the discord xD #sorry not sorry #I made memes for this #I went on meme generators and made MEMES for this

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mistymark · 5 years

Text

the one with all the spoilers.

part of the 50 things you said project // mark lee x reader // 4.2k words // university!au // strangers to lovers!au // masterlist // send in requests here

summary; things you said when we were the only ones left

warnings; drunk donghyuck, jeno and jaemin

request; this is for the 50 things you said works. I would like 31 with Mark, but could it be at the same roof party of that Renjun fic? I just thought it would be suuuuuper cute if oc was invited to Haechan's party and instead hanging out with Mark the entire night. Thank you!! 😘 (you can read the first fic here)

notes; I know it has been a loooonnnggg time since ive posted but ive been really trying to make this specific story as good as possible,,,, so I hope y’all like it. (sporadically edited)

You were late. You were so very late, and the bumper-to-bumper traffic was not helping. “Are we far away?” you asked the taxi driver, leaning forward in your seat only to see red brake lights and a long line of stopped vehicles in front of you.

“It might be faster to get out and walk, miss,” the driver informs you, leaning out his window to see what has caused such a delay on the normally-flowing road.

You thank the taxi driver and hand over the amount of money due, with a tip for his troubles, and run down the street, passing all the stopped cars in a blur. Without looking at what has caused the build up of traffic, you look down at your phone, hastily trying to figure out what street Donghyuck lives on now. You had previously been neighbours, for almost two years, but he had left a few months ago, opting to move in with one of his friends in a nicer apartment a few blocks down from you.

He’d sent you detailed instructions on how to get there from your workplace, knowing you’d get lost, but you were still unable to interpret his badly drawn Snapchat diagrams.

You eventually found the bakery he was referring to in his map, and turned left, walking towards some large apartment buildings. You figured you were in the right place and walked in, making your way up to his floor. When you arrived at the apartment, 6G, you couldnt hear any noise apart from the soft murmuring of two people talking and you hoped you weren’t too late and everyone had already gone home. You’d told Donghyuck you had work that day, and said you’ll be a bit late, but thirty minutes after your guaranteed time of arrival; you still hadn’t shown.

You knocked on the door. The murmurs stopped and you heard the door being unlocked, before being opened. Your eyes widened in shock at the boy before you, and you instantly looked down at your phone, suddenly unsure if you’d come to the right place as you took in the (rather attractive) boy’s appearance. He was dressed in flannel pyjama pants and a plain black tee, round glasses perched on his nose and a bowl of popcorn in his hand. He appeared to be the only one in the apartment. “Um, is this building 127 on 92nd?”

He smiled, “Yeah. Are you here for Hyuck’s birthday?” He turned around slightly, placing the bowl on a nearby table as you nodded shyly before opening the door wider to let you in. He made a gesture to his clothes, “Sorry, I thought everyone had already arrived.”

“Oh! Er, no problem,” you tried to smile back and hide the shame you were feeling, before asking where you should put your present.

He gestured to the dining table, where various presents had been stacked haphazardly on top of each other. When he caught a glimpse of the tag on your gift, his eyes widened in realisation, “You’re y/n! Hyuck said you were going to be late. I completely forgot.”

You laughed with him, stealing a glance at the TV behind him, which happened to be playing your favourite TV show. No wonder you thought you’d heard voices when you first arrived.

He gestured to the window beside you, ‘giving you directions’ to get to the roof where the rest of the party was being held.

“You’re not coming?” You asked, surprised.

He leant against the couch and patted the back fondly, “Nope, I’m staying here. Holding down the fort.”

“Just like Hyuck not to invite his own roommate to his party,” you grinned mischievously, not giving him the chance to dispute as you disappeared up the fire escape.

When you climbed over the edge and onto the roof, you sought out Donghyuck, as he was pretty much the only person you would know at this party. You’d met a few of his friends before while you were neighbours - Jeno, Jaemin and Renjun, specifically - but there were at least thirty people up here who you’d never even seen before.

You found Hyuck talking to two boys by the entryway, the latter both holding fireworks and with disappointed looks on their faces. He looked up as you approached, “Look who finally decided to show up!” Donghyuck patted the taller boy’s shoulder as he left and walked over to you, arms out for a hug.

You hugged him, laughing, “Don’t say it like you weren’t three hours late to my birthday.” He squeezed you in response.

“Have you seen Renjun, Jeno and Jaemin, yet? They’ll take care of you if you need it. I know you haven't met a lot of these people yet,” he smiled at you happily, his childish grin showing. He was evidently so happy and you couldnt help but smile back.

“I haven’t actually. I just arrived,” you said, glancing around. You saw Jeno and Jaemin playing drinking games in the dark with a few other people, and Renjun sitting down by the drinks table, alone.

You bid Hyuck goodbye as you walked towards Renjun, greeting him with a one-armed hug and grabbing a drink, before sitting down beside him on the stretched out lawn chair.

“It’s been ages since I last saw you,” he said, clinking his bottle against yours in a toast. “Have you been here the entire night?”

You sighed, “No, I just arrived twenty minutes ago. I had work and then traffic was bad and - it was a whole mess. I’m glad I came, though. I havent seen you and your dumb friends in ages.”

He laughed with you, recalling all the outrageous pranks and activities the 00 line had attempted whilst Hyuck lived next door to you. “I bet you don’t miss us,” he looked away, watching Jeno cheer for someone taking a shot and smiling.

“Believe it or not but you guys were better than the young married couple I live next to now,” you wrinkled your nose. “Let’s just say I try to take night shifts as often as possible.”

He cringed at your words and laughed, before looking up as Donghyuck approached, rather frantic, “Hey, y/n, could you duck downstairs and grab the case of beer in my bedroom? Mark will show you where it is.”

You stood up immediately, “Of course.” You turned to leave before turning back, “Um, quick question: who is Mark?”

Donghyuck had already rushed off, eyeing a stumbling partygoer by the drinks table worriedly. Renjun stayed sitting on the chair, lifting his beer up to his lips, “Mark’s Donghyuck’s roommate. The guy probably opened the door for you.”

You feel your eyebrows raise in realisation, and you’re suddenly embarrassed that you hadn't previously asked him his name, especially since you thought he was rather cute. “Oh,” you turn to leave. “Tell Hyuck I’ll be back in a second.”

You entered the apartment through the window, climbing in and attempting to not kick the flowerpot off the shelf beside it as you did. You landed nimbly on your feet and clapped your hands together, causing Mark to jump in his seat on the couch and turn around to you, “Oh God! You scared me.” You walked in the direction of the bedrooms, briefly checking which part of the show he was watching and he called out after you, “Hey! Bathroom is here!”

You stopped in the corridor, the doors to the two bedrooms on either side of you. You pointed to each one in turn, “I’m looking for Hyuck’s room. Which one?”

He didn’t bother turning around, his eyes glued to the screen, as he yelled, “Left!”

You searched Donghyuck’s room for the case of beer, before standing up with your hands on your hips, “Hey, Mark? Where’s the beer?”

“Closet!” His voice was muffled by a handful of food.

“It’s not here!” You shouted back, before mumbling under your breath, “Unless I’m blind.”

He leant back on the couch to better see where you were and his mouth fell open when he realised you were in the wrong room, his room. “Oh, um, y/n?”

“Yeah?” You poked your head around the door and leant against the wall, your cheek squishing against the doorframe. Mark’s lips quirked up a fraction at your pout.

“That’s... that’s my room. Hyuck’s is the other one.”

You immediately jumped back from the door, trying not to make eye contact as you shut the door and went into the bedroom opposite, “Oh, sorry. I thought you said left.” You attempted to hide your blush that was rising up your neck due to your embarrassment, wondering how how you could have been so stupid as to start going through a stranger’s bedroom.

“Right, yeah, sorry. My bad. Are you taking it up to the roof?” You heard him call from the couch, and you pulled your phone out to check the time.

You placed it on the bed and eyed the case again, “Yeah.”

You could hear him let out a laugh, “Good luck with that.”

Stumbling out of Hyuck’s bedroom, the case in hand, you glared at him, “Gee, thanks for your help.”

Mark smirked, “You’re welcome.” Smartass, you thought.

You made your way to the door, before turning around, quickly shouting before it closed behind you, “By the way, she dies in the next episode! He ends up marrying her best friend!”

As the door slams shut, from you pulling it with your foot, you hear him groan and shout behind you. Smirking to yourself, you make your way up the stairs.

Hyuck thanks you for bringing all the beer up and you smile, insisting it was no problem. You crack a cold one with the boys one open and look around the crowd, Donghyuck departing once again to talk to his guests.

You spot Jeno under one of the food tables, rummaging through boxes of supplies as Jaemin stands behind him, his posture slack and foot tapping against the ground in an attempt to appear casual. Jeno whoops in success and jumps up, a roll of duct tape in hand. You grin at them, knowing they’re up to no good but not wanting to spoil their fun.

You don't see Renjun anywhere, so you reach for your phone to check your messages, only to find the pocket you normally keep it in is empty. You pat yourself down, searching all your pockets for your phone, before realising you probably left it in Donghyuck’s room when you went to fetch more beer.

Climbing down the fire escape again, you enter Donghyuck’s apartment and make your way to his room, not bothering to greet Mark this time. He does a double take as he sees you walking, staring after you and hurriedly looking away as soon as you walk out of the bedroom, your hand sliding your phone into your pocket.

When you make your way back to the window, he refuses to take his eyes off the screen, “Hey, does she really die next episode?”

You turn around and watch the screen momentarily, making sure you got the right episode and weren't getting mixed up. When you don’t respond, Mark turns his head back a little. He watches you silently.

Your eyes snap down to his and you watch his eyebrows raise every so slightly, “Yeah, I’m sure. She goes to the wedding planner after they get engaged and-”

“They get engaged?!”

“Oh, yeah. It’s real cute. He’s all like ‘You’re so gorgeous will you do me a gosh darn favour and be my gosh darn wife’ and then she says ‘Oh YES I love you so passionately, my love is like a thousand burning stars!” He laughs as you lower and raise your voice to imitate the actors.

You quirk an eyebrow at him before turning around to leave, but he spins around in his seat, his arms coming to rest on top of the couch, “And then what happens?”

He’s staring at you so cutely, you can’t help but blush a little bit, “I - er... well, she says yes, obviously and then- OH WAIT NO THIS IS THE GOOD PART SHH!” You quickly run forward and snatch the remote from the arm of the couch, turning up the volume and staring at the TV with wide eyes.

You’re standing behind the couch now, subconsciously clutching the remote close to your chest as you watch the plot unravel on the screen, unaware of the fact that Mark is watching you.

When five minutes go by, and the credits are rolling, you start walking backwards towards the fire escape, your eyes on Mark, “I told you the engagement was lame. Next episode is the engagement party, I think, so enjoy that.”

“You don’t want to keep watching?” He asks, standing up with the empty chip bowl in his hand. “Hyuck won’t mind.”

You hesitate. You’d been here for less than an hour, and only spoken to Donghyuck briefly because he was so busy. And if you were being completely honest, you had jumped at the chance to help with the beer just because you didn’t have anything else to do. While you’d been chatting to Renjun, other people had come up and introduced themselves, but you either couldn’t remember their name or weren’t interested in talking to them again after your meagre conversation.

You bite the corner of your lip in thought, before nodding slowly, watching as he empties another packet of chips into the large bowl. “Sure. And I promise, no more spoilers.”

He grinned at your answer and then pouted mockingly before walking back over to the couch. It was only now that you realised how ill-fitting Donghyuck’s furniture was. When he had moved in with Mark, they had obviously kept whatever furniture they previously owned and put it in the new apartment, despite the fact that Mark’s modern, stark white dining table and chairs contrasted to Donghyuck’s old brown leather sofa and wooden table.

The three-seater couch sat opposite the TV, and you happily plopped yourself down on one side, Mark placing the bowl of chips between you two in offering. He pressed play on the remote.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but it was getting late, and you were at least another five episodes into the show. Mark had assured you Donghyuck told his drunken guests to leave via the stairwell rather than the fire escape (to prevent any injuries) so you were left virtually undisturbed. Two people (one who Mark addressed as Johnny) climbed in through the window and left, and you assumed the tall boy was taking the other home.

Renjun poked his head in the front door as he left to bid you a quick farewell and a ‘let’s catch up soon’, one arm around the much larger bodies of drunk Jaemin and Jeno. The party was still going on. When you slid your phone off the table, you noticed it was past midnight, and you were growing tired. You leant your head back and, when you looked over at Mark, your eyes slowly shutting, you realised he was already passed out on the couch.

It was sometime after three when Donghyuck stumbled into the apartment, carrying a box of decorations and trays. He had kicked the door open, dismissing the loud slam it made as it swung into the wall, and placed the box at the entrance of the apartment, before promptly disappearing into his room and face planting onto his bed.

The loud bang had disturbed your peaceful slumber, and your eyes began fluttering open, your mind screaming at you to go back to sleep. You could’ve gone back to sleep right there and then, bringing the pillow closer to your face but it was at that moment that you realised this was not a pillow, but was actually the soft black material of Mark’s shirt. Apparently, while you were sleeping, you had leant towards him slightly, your body weight causing you to lean diagonally towards Mark, who had shifted so that he was now with sleeping with one arm on the arm rest and one around you, sitting up slightly due to his previous sitting position.

His arm was wrapped around your shoulders, holding you to his stomach as you used him as a pillow, his legs outstretched and off the side of the couch. You attempted to move out of his hold, but he groaned, his other arm reaching down to hold you in place, “No. Stay.”

Suddenly, there was another loud bang as Donghyuck threw his bedroom door open in search of water and began making his way to the kitchen. The sudden noise made you jump in your half-asleep state, and you felt Mark stir as he blinked his eyes open, looking down at you in shock.

You were sure your face mirrored his, the surprise evident on your face.

You pushed yourself up and began gathering your things. It was at this point Donghyuck noticed you, “Oh, y/n! What a surprise! I’m so glad you came tonight, I had a wonderful time.” His eyes flickered to the couch as Mark sat up drearily, “Hey Ma- oh. My mistake. Forgive me. Have a good night.”

Donghyuck disappeared back into his bedroom, the door slamming shut behind him and you sighed, “I’d better get going.”

“What? You’re exhausted and it’s 3:30am. As if I’m going to let you drive home at this hour,” Mark said, standing up and fixing up the cushions on the couch. His eyes were half closed as he brought the dirty bowl to the kitchen.

“I was going to walk, or Uber,” you said.

“That’s dumb; you could literally be murdered. And that’s impractical - what Ubers would be out at this hour?”

“Well, how do you suggest I get home then?” Maybe it was the tiredness, but his snarky smartass attitude was getting on your nerves again. He was acting the same way he had been when you’d come to collect the beer case.

“I’m saying you should stay here,” Mark’s voice changed, becoming softer, quieter.

“I shouldn’t-,” you immediately attempted to dismiss his kindness, but he argued back.

“It’s fine, you can sleep in my bed,” he watched your eyes widen and hid a smile as he glanced down at the floor. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Right, of course,” you said, eventually relenting and then helping him grab the last of the snacks from the couch.

He gestured towards his room, “Well, you know which one is mine. I have an early class tomorrow so I might not see you, but Donghyuck will be here so...” Mark set a pillow down, smirking at you, as he settled in on the couch, disappearing from view from where you stood behind it, “Sleep well.”

When you walked backed into Mark’s room, you couldnt help but notice how obviously Mark it was. When you were in it the first time, you hadn’t really been paying attention to it, focussing on finding the beer Hyuck had stashed. Now, you could fully appreciate the colours, the decorations, the organisation, everything that was completely Mark.

You noticed a spare blanket and pillow on his bed, and immediately pulled them into the living room, dropping them on Mark’s stomach before making your way back to his bedroom. You didn’t let yourself watch for his reaction.

The next morning, you woke up to Donghyuck lying across his couch, his hand clutching his head as he groaned in pain. He had shrieked when he first saw you walking out of Mark’s bedroom, thinking he was the only one home, and then almost cried because his own shout was so loud. You began to make him breakfast, but he insisted he couldn't eat and would wait until Mark came home from class, so you made yourself pancakes.

“Hey, can I get Mark’s number?” you asked casually, biting a piece of pancake.

Immediately, the younger boy sat bolt upright from the couch, his eyes wide in shock, “What?”

“Err... your roommate. Can I have his number?” You continued eating your breakfast, watching him closely.

“What do you want his number for?” Hyuck questioned, his elbow coming to rest on the back of the couch as he pressed his palm to his forehead.

“I wanted to thank him,” you said, straightening your back subconsciously at the subtle accusation in Donhyuck’s question. “I had a good time last night.”

“Ughhhh, y/n! I don’t want to hear that!”

“What? Oh, God, no. Donghyuck, no! Gross,” you turned back to face your plate, avoiding the boy’s gaze.

He sighed, dropping dramatically back onto the couch, “Fine, whatever. Grab me my phone, then. It’s on the bench over there, I think.”

“Uhh, what happened to it?” The phone screen was smashed beyond repair, and the phone was bent slightly in half. The forward-facing camera was dislodged, and the buttons were stiff, as if, when pressed, nothing would happen. When you pointed this fact out to Donghyuck, he groaned and threw it at the wall, ignoring the shattering sound of the glass screen as he flopped backwards onto the couch.

“Mark will know,” he mumbled into a pillow.

“Well, thanks for letting me stay last night. I’ll see you soon, okay?” You began to put on your coat as you searched for your handbag in the messy apartment.

The door swung open and Mark walked in, and you had to remind yourself to keep breathing. He was dressed casually in blue jeans and a plain white tee, with a dark bomber jacket to compliment the outfit. He wasn’t wearing glasses today, and you were unsure whether he looked better or worse without them.

He hung up his jacket on the rack, briefly glancing at both you and Hyuck as he did, “Oh! Y/n! I didn’t think you’d be here when I got back.” He shot you a grin, but you missed it as you finally grabbed your bag and slung it over you shoulder.

“Yeah, sorry, I’m heading off now. Thanks for letting me stay the night,” you walked past him to the door, sending him a small smile before yelling at Haechan just to frustrate him in his hungover state.

You left, and walked down the stairs of the building, berating yourself for not asking Mark for his number. The guy was easily the most attractive person you’d ever seen, and you liked the same TV shows. What you were thinking was: you’re basically soulmates.

With newfound determination, you spun on your heel and marched back to the apartment door, convincing yourself you were confident enough to get the boy’s number. You breathed deeply, before raising your hand to knock.

Before your hand could make contact with the wood, the door swung open, and suddenly a body slammed rather strongly into you. You didn’t need to look up to know it was Mark, you recognised his scent, and his voice when he began apologising.

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry!” His hands gripped your waist as he simultaneously tried to hold you up and push you out of his way gently.

“No, no, it’s-”

Finally, his brain seemed to have caught up to the situation. “Hey,” he breathed.

“Hi,” you smiled up at him. One arm was still wrapped securely around your waist, holding you flush against his body.

His eyes awkwardly flittered elsewhere, focussing on anything and everything as long as it wasn’t your face, “I, uh, was trying to catch you.”

You looked at your hand that was placed on his chest, “Well, here I am.” There was a lengthy pause. “What’s up?”

He cocked his head to the side, before pulling you up and slightly stepping back, clearing his throat, “Wait. What are you doing here? Did you forget something?”

You glanced at your feet, suddenly insecure that he had just let you go whilst you were here trying to confess your feelings. “I... No. I actually came back to ask you for your number.”

His face lit up at your words, a large, happy smile stretching across his face as he suddenly reached into his pocket, producing a small square of paper, “I was going to catch you and give you this.”

You raised an eyebrow at it before plucking it from his fingers and opening the note. The words ‘call me’ were printed above his phone number, and below, a message:

spoiler alert! we go on a date :)

You laughed at his reference to the night before, during which you had spoiled many episode endings.

“Well? Is that a yes? I can’t tell,” he asked, stepping forward a little.

“Definitely,” you smiled, reaching your arms up to wrap around his neck as your faces drew closer, and closer, and closer, and-

“MARK, CAN YOU PLEASE MAKE ME A QUESADILLA?” Donghyuck’s voice interrupted what was almost a kiss, and Mark giggled, resting his forehead against yours.

“We’ll continue this later.” Then he stepped back, gave your hand a squeeze and shut the door of his apartment.

there u have it kiddos!!! my first post in like two months lol (sorry, love u)

#nct #nct 127 #nct 2018 #nct dream #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct writing #nct fanfic #nct texts #nct 127 imagines #nct dream imagines #mark lee #nct mark #lee mark #mark x reader #mark lee x reader #mark fluff #nct mark fluff #nct fluff

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rose-gold-romantic · 5 years

Text

Whatever It Takes: Chapter Eight

A Loki x Reader based in the Tesseract fic universe! Avengers: Infinity War follow-up fic. Next in the Tesseract fic series. Links to Tesseract, Lokasenna, What Heroes Do, and Fidelity. Also to my AU Feel You.

I WOULD LOVE FEEDBACK! Want to be tagged in updates? Let me know!

@malignentmac @fandomsfanman @i-am-supermerwholoked221b @markusstrayya @sincereleygmg @pandaqua @person-born-winchester

Just a forewarning, this one has a major POV shift from the past entries, since Reader was Dusted at the end of Fidelity! Keeping with my recent trend in fic titles, it’s named after a track on the official soundtrack. I also constantly watch this Video, and recommend it to hype you up!

“If you guys wanted to grab lunch, Bruce and Scott were making tacos in the kitchen.” Natasha said, when we met her inside. “I just put out the call to everyone to come in. Okoye has to stay in Wakanda to keep things running, and I don’t know if Danvers is going to even get our message, but everyone else is on their way right now.”

“Do we have any other way of getting Danvers here faster?” Tony asked.

“We don’t know specifically where she is, so no.” Natasha sighed.

The ground rumbled, and a glance out the panel windows confirmed that Rocket and Nebula had arrived. The Benatar landed next to the building, Scott sitting on a bench and staring in awe at the spaceship.

Rocket and Scott shared a brief exchange, and Rocket came inside to find Bruce and myself. As we exited to get into the Benatar, Rhodes arrived, startling Scott into dropping his taco all over the sidewalk.

“What’s up, regular-sized man?” Rhodey joked, turning to walk into the building.

Bruce passed Scott a few tacos from his own lunch as we boarded the ship, leaving Scott looking both puzzled and thankful.

“Where are we headed?” Bruce asked.

“We’re going to get Thor.” Rocket answered. “I called Val to tell him to come, but she was saying it’s going to be more difficult than that. That’s why you two are coming with.”

This news unsettled me. I had instructed both Thor and Val to contact me if anything went awry, and I had heard nothing from either of them. I had presumed that Thor would leap at the chance to undo what had been done, especially considering what had happened in Wakanda. Had I been wrong about his willingness? Or was something else wrong?

Thoughts continued to spin in my head as we travelled to New Asgard. The Benatar landed outside its outskirts, and we rode in the back of a truck into the city limits.

As we all exited the vehicle, Rocket looked around.

“Kind of a step down from a golden palace and whatnot.” Rocket mumbled.

“Have a little compassion, pal.” Bruce interjected before I could respond. “First, they’ve lost Asgard, then half their people. They’re probably just happy to have a home to live in.”

“You shouldn’t have come!” Val called out to us, looking directly at me.

“Aahhh Valkyrie!” Bruce answered, smiling. “Great to see you, Angry Girl!”

Val raised an eyebrow, looking Bruce up and down. “I think I liked you better either of the other ways.”

“This is Rocket.” Bruce said, trying to shift the subject.

“You you doin’?” Rocket nodded.

“He won’t see you.” Val continued. “I told you that.”

“What happened?” I asked, “Why won’t he see us?”

“He’s holed up in his place, never comes out.” She answered. “Nothing threatening was happening, and I know you had important stuff to do. I was managing on my own alright, didn’t want to needlessly bother you.”

“That bad, huh?” Bruce asked.

“We only see him once a month, when he comes for…” She glanced over to a large pile of beer kegs on the side of the pier, “...supplies.”

“It’s that bad.” Rocket sighed.

“Yea.” Rocket agreed.

“Let’s get my brother out of here.” I said, “We have people to save.”

We walked over to my brother’s home, Rocket pushing open the front door. We all grimaced at the smell that wafted from the house’s interior.

“What the…” Bruce said, confused.

“Whoo!” Rocket said, waving his hand in front of his face. “Something died in here. Hello?”

“Thor?” I called out, my concern rising.

“Are you here about the cable?” Thor called out from a separate room.

Thor slowly walked into view, and my worst hopes for him fell through the floorboards as I saw him. He was walking around shirtless, and had gained an incredible amount of weight since I had been in last. He had obviously leaned heavily into drinking to cope, and the scent of alcohol clung to him.

“The cinemax ran out two weeks ago, and the sports were all kind of fuzzy.” Thor mumbled, turning to face us, finally noticing who we were. “Boys, brother! Oh my God! How have you been?” Thor leaned to try to hug Rocket, “Come here you little rascal!”

“No, I’m good. I’m good.” Rocket said, pushing away. “That’s not necessary.”

“Hulk, you know my friends, Miek, Korg, right?” Thor gestured to the duo sitting on the sofa, playing video games whilst they ate chips.

“Hey, long time no see!” Bruce waved to them.

“Hey guys.” Korg waved back. “Beer’s on the bucket. Feel free to log onto the Wi-Fi. No password, obviously.” After a pause, he looked to Thor. “Thor, he’s back, the kid on the TV. He called me a dickhead again.”

“Noobmaster?” Thor slurred.

“Yea, Noobmaster69.” Korg confirmed, handing Thor the headphones.

As Thor went off on the other player, I sighed. While Thor had always been a happy drunk, I knew that this was nothing more than him trying to escape from everything that had happened. Not that I had been much different. I chose to stay busy to distract myself, and he had chosen to drown his sorrows with drink. I wished that I had realized sooner, perhaps I could have prevented his decline. I had initially left because he had said that he didn’t want to talk, he didn’t want to even interact with me much. Perhaps more insistence from me would have helped him through it...

Thor handed the headphones back to Korg before turning back to us. “So, do you guys want a drink? What are you drinking? We have beer, tequila, all sorts of things.”

Thor picked up a beer, removing the cap with Stormbreaker’s edge. I came up to him, placing my hands on his shoulders firmly.

“Buddy, you alright?” Bruce asked, placing his hand on Thor’s shoulder.

“I’m fine!” Thor insisted between gulps, “Why, don’t I look alright?”

“You look like melted ice cream.” Rocket said, rolling his eyes.

Thor laughed, taking another drink. “So, what’s up?”

“We need your help.” Bruce said, trying to calmly get through my brother’s drunken stupor. “There might be a chance that we could fix everything.”

“What, like the cable?” Thor asked with a belch. “Cause that’s been driving me bananas for weeks.”

“Like Thanos.” Bruce said softly.

Thor’s face darkened instantly, the smile gone from his face. Thor placed a shaky hand on Bruce’s shoulder and pointed at him, beer bottle still in his hand.

“Don’t you say that name.” Thor slurred.

Korg stood, removing his headphones. “Um, yea. We don’t actually say that name in here.”

“Please, take your hand off me.” Bruce said, removing Thor’s hand gently. “Now, I know that… guy… might scare you.”

“Why would I be? Why would, why would I be scared of that guy? I'm the one who killed that guy, remember? Anyone else here killed that guy?” Thor said, his emotions fighting to be acknowledged. “Nope. Didn't think so. Korg, why don't you, tell everybody who chopped Thanos' big head off.”

“Umm, Stormbreaker?” Korg answered, unsure.

“Now, who was swinging Stormbreaker?” Thor continued.

“I get it. You're in a rough spot, okay? I've been there myself.” Bruce said, gently trying to break through the wall Thor had built up. “You wanna know who helped me out of it?”

“I don't know.” Thor mused, smiling. “Is it… Natasha?”

“It was you.” Bruce answered. “You helped me”

Thor walked over to a window, pointing out through the dirty glass. “Why don't you ask the, Asgardians down there, how much my help was worth.” He sighed, sitting onto a chair. “The ones that are left, anyway.”

“I think we can bring them back.” Bruce said.

“Stop. Just, stop…” Thor said, reaching for a snack. “I know you think I’m down here wallowing in my own self-pity, waiting to be rescued and saved. But I’m fine okay? We’re fine, aren’t we?”

“All good here, mate!” Korg replied, waving.

“So, whatever it is that you’re offering, we’re not into it, don’t care couldn’t care less.” Thor said, finishing off his bottle. “Goodbye.”

Unable to bear it any longer, I broke my silence.

“But you’re not fine! Look at yourself, brother.” I said, my voice raised. “I know as well as anyone what it’s like to lose everyone, to feel like you’ve failed everyone you’ve ever cared about.” I bit my tongue, lowering my voice as my own emotions began to influence my words.

“To know that you’ve failed them, that you’re the reason they’re gone.” I almost whispered, my throat tight.

“There is nothing I would want more than to be able to run away from my duties. I tried to. To run away from the fact that nearly my entire family was stolen from me, and that I’m the one to blame for all of it!” I shouted, hot tears streaming down my face as Thor continued to look down at the ground and his empty hands. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t there. I’m sorry that I couldn’t fix everything, no matter how hard I may have tried. I’m sorry that I was too wrapped up in my own selfish interests to help you when you needed it most. But I’m trying to fix that now, and I need you to let me! I can’t lose the only family I have left! I can’t lose you the way that I lost mother, the way that I lost (Y/N). The guilt of their deaths eats away at me every single day, and while I have no one to blame but myself for that, I refuse to let you throw yourself away like this. I need you, Thor, and I know that you need me too.”

I stepped back, trying to compose myself. “I want to be better, I want to do what’s right. All I’m asking is that you come along with me. I need you.”

“We all need you, pal.” Bruce added softly.

Thor sighed heavily, grabbing a few beers and standing up.

“What’s our plan?”

#loki #loki x reader #endgame #fanfiction #marvel #tesseract #rose gold romantic #whatever it takes

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thesundaymorningpost · 7 years

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The Sunday Morning Post

September 3, 2017 10th Edition

Current News:

Yuri on Ice: ShitBang

On August 31st, if you love Yuri on Ice, your feed may have blown up with stories and artwork created as a means for writers and artists to come together and work on a project together.

What is the Shit Bang you ask? It is an amazing event for writers and artists to come together and write and draw about the amazing anime we all love: Yuri!!! On Ice! But a little more than that this is a direct - non-hateful - response to THAT blog. You know the one I’m talking about. Yup. THAT one. - @yoi-shit-bang

The amount of stories and artwork has been astounding. From one-shots, to multi-chapters, all written by amazing authors. Then there is all the amazing artwork that has come with it, by some amazing and very talented artists.

Please keep in mind that many subjects may trigger, please read all tags before reading a story.

Story Recommendation: we have loved the stars too fondly by @thehandsingsweapon

“We live in a blue planet that circles around a ball of fire next to a moon that moves the sea, and you don’t believe in miracles?”

After an academic career at MIT and Oxford, Yuuri Katsuki eschews job offers at places like NASA and CERN to go work at the Very Large Array in what Phichit Chulanont lovingly calls The Actual Middle of Nowhere, New Mexico, monitoring radio frequencies from light-years away. He's loved the stars for as long as he can remember, and the universe feels so big sometimes that Yuuri is sure it would be a cruel mistake for humans to be all alone.

Enter the latest scientist to join the staff of the VLA, enigmatic Russian genius Victor Nikiforov, around whom Yuuri’s entire universe seems to bend to make room, and the strange, recurring dreams Yuuri keeps having, where something like love carries him across the stars.

Does love travel faster than light? Do souls?

“The cosmos is within us. We are made of star-stuff. We are a way for the universe to know itself.”

"Yuri, on Stars!! This lovely short story will resonate with anyone that lives the heavens. Dreamscapes thought to be a figment of Yuuri's imagination turn out to be a more real than tangible science, and Viktor is patient with all his insecurities. With just the right amount of angst to give it depth, this vignette will take you into the endless cosmos!" - @darkrivertempest

Artist Spotlight:

we have loved the stars too fondly by @shadhahvar

Comic:

Good boy by @floccinaucinihilipilificationa (Click title to reblog)

Support:

This week’s Ko-Fi shout-out goes to Discoursemoth | @lowercasewrites (Click to buy coffee)

im sei! im a non-passing trans boy with unsupportive parents, and im using this account primarily to pay for things that could help me pass better, such as a packer and binder. you obviously dont have to donate but i would really appreciate it!

Patreon: YukiPri | @yukipri (Click name to become a patreon)

Hey there!! Thanks so much for visiting my Patreon. I'm Kazu, also YukiPri on Tumblr. I'm currently a freelance translator and illustrator who is HOPING to support myself primarily through art. My passion is telling my own unique stories through visual media, and I love world-building, costume design, and overall extensively over-thinking all of my stories. This patreon is a step towards hopefully better sustaining myself off of art so I can continue to grow as a professional artist and produce content that you can enjoy! I am unbelievably grateful to every patron who helps me continue to do what I love doing. My wish is for the majority of my work to remain public, but I also desperately need to support myself, and also have a variety of content that I'm not comfortable posting publicly for various reasons. As thanks for your support, my patrons will get access to exclusive content, including WIPs/sketches, previews, art progress/tutorials, higher resolution art, early access, and nsfw content!

Fun and Games:

10 Questions Every Fic Writer Secretly Wants to be Asked by @wyseink (Click Title to reblog)

There are a lot of fic questions that float around online, but rarely do they ever ask specific questions about the fics themselves. Ask any writer one or more of these ten questions to learn more about the fic and show support.

1. Of the fics you’ve written, which is your favorite and why?

2. Which scene was your favorite to write in [title of fic]?

3. Which part of [title] was hardest to write?

4. If you could change anything in [title], what would it be?

5. Did you make an outline for [title]? Did you stick to it?

6. Which scenes did you cut, and which were added in [title]?

7. Who was your favorite character to write in [title]?

8. Which came first, the title or the fic?

9. Which idea came to you first in [title]?

10. What are some facts readers may not know about [title]?

Story Prompt:

Monochrome by @diamondwinters An AU where people who are sad, down, depressed cannot hide it. Whenever you get sad, you start to loose your color. Your skin turns pale, your eyes loose their color, and turn gray or white, and your hair turns gray. Like an old black and white tv show, you loose all your color when you’re very sad. A little bit of sadness might dim your natural colors, but you wouldn’t loose them. It’s during a time when you feel heart broken, or very depressed that you go Monochrome. Such as a big break up, a death of a loved one, deep depression, etc. Monochrome is the medical term used by the doctors in this AU to describe turning gray in a world of color.

Some people who are unable to get happy, may use make-up, contacts, and hair color to hide the fact that they’re depressed, but eventually even those things will loose their color and will need to be replaced.

The best thing to do is to find your happiness. Be with friends, and family who can help you bring your color back. The brighter you are, the more vivid your colors are, the happier you are.

Art Prompt:

Imagine your OTP by @bumble-beany

Person A: Are you awake?

Person B: I am now

Person A: I was just wondering...

Person A: What do you think it'd be like to be a pregnant male seahorse?

Person B: Really?! You woke me up for that?

W.I.P. Motivation:

Liquor Stash by @severeminx

I want him.

When the full realization hit him, Yuri felt as though he couldn’t breathe. Detached and fleeting thoughts that had passed through his mind finally took shape in these three words at that exact moment. The I being himself, Yuri Plisetsky, age 17, a Russian figure skater with a list of impressive accomplishments to his name that seemed pretty pointless right now given the context. The want being desire, the need to bury himself, the thought to consume, but never actually act out except behind locked doors in empty beds or shower stalls. The him being the person standing across from Yuri sipping coffee from a take-away cup with creased brows, the low sunlight hitting his face just so to light up his otherwise dark eyes. Someone he considered to be his best friend, who came all the way from Almaty just to spend a week with him and who was blissfully unaware of the fucking turmoil Yuri was feeling in the pit of his stomach. Or at least, Yuri hoped he was unaware.

In which Yuri Plisetsky invites Otabek Altin over to stay with him in Saint Petersburg, freaks out over his feelings and delves into Lilia's liquor stash.

Please go read and support this artist. They are looking for kudos and comments to get them back into finishing this fantastic story!

Fandom Week: (Click each line to go to blog)

Zarkon Week! September 3rd - 9th.

Yuri on Ice Music Week! September 4th - 11th

NSFW Yuri Plisetsky Week! September 11th - 17th.

Guang-Hong Week! Voting will be Sept 15th - 21st

SeungChuchu Week! October 16th - 23rd.

Help Wanted:

Needed: Tumblr theme editor. Please contact Diamond Winters for details.

Story recommendations!! If you find a story that you absolutely love, and you want to see it get some recognition, please submit a link to it with a 2-3 sentence review of the story. This way it could get in the spotlight in a future edition of the SMP. Requirements are that it’s completed, or a one-shot.

Artist Spotlight!! If you find a piece of artwork that needs more love, please submit a link to it so it may be considered for future spotlights in the future.

WIP Motivation: Please send your support to these writers or artist to encourage them to continue their story or artwork. No good story or piece of art should be left unfinished. - If you know of a good story that hasn’t been updated in a while, and would like to offer encouragement to the author, please let me know, so that I can link to their story here.

If there is ever any section of the Sunday Morning Post that you feel you can contribute too, please send an Ask or Submit to either the SMP, or @d2diamond so that it has a chance at making in a future post. Thank you!

#The Sunday Morning Post #Writing #Artist #Fanfiction #Original Stories #Yuri on Ice #Shit-posting

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ishxallxgood · 7 years

Text

11 Questions (more like 33)

rules:

post the rules

answer the questions given to you by the tagger

write 11 questions of your own

and tag 11 people

Tagged by @mygeekcorner

What’s your plan for the zombie apocalypse? - To join the zombies

What languages do you know, and what languages would you like to know? - English and some Chinese, enough to order food and get around. I would like to know Japanese

Besides necessary things like rent and food, what do you spend most money on? - Yuri on Ice trash, but really food. I go all out on food

What’s your Hogwarts House? - Ravenclaw

Favourite bad pick-up line? Or, if you prefer, worst pick-up line anyone has ever used on you? - I don’t have one, put probably something punny

Fav tumblr meme? - this one

Are you a heavy sleeper? - depends

How do you get your caffeine? - through an IV (but coffee or sugar-free redbull

Do you use tags on tumblr? Do you shout in those tags? - Sometimes (to both)

Best attraction in amusement parks? - roller coasters, unless it’s Disney, then it’s meeting Stitch

How is your life different now from 2 years ago? - my minions are more or less self sufficient. I have two more internet friends I would die for.

Tagged by @d2diamond

If you could live anywhere, where would that place be? - San Diego, CA, specifically La Jolla

Who is someone that inspired you as a child? - Jesus

Do you have any piercings? It not, would you like to? - ears and belly button

If you could star in a movie, what genera would it be, and who would be your co-star? it would be animated, and Darren Criss

What do you think is your best talent? - writing fanfic? Crocheting amigurimu?

Have you ever broken a bone, and how? - no

If you had to choose between working at a flower shop, tattoo parlor, or cafe, with your crush as your customer, which would you choose? - cafe. ALL THE COFFEEEEEEEE

Which song can make you cry almost every time? - Coldplay - True Love but mainly because every time I hear it I can’t help but think about this wonderfully angsty fic by phisen. Read it while listening to True Love and come cry with me.

Would you prefer dance club with friends, or Netflix and Chill alone? - can I be with my friends not at a dance club? Like at a trivia bar, or festival or something that’s not a dance club? xD

What is your biggest pet peeve? - People not signaling

If you could design a dating video game, what would it be about? - Yuri on Ice

Tagged by @kibamakara

What’s your favorite color? - Orange, Red, and Green

Who is your OTP? OT3? - Shikamaru and Temari <3

Favorite alcoholic beverage? If you don’t drink, favorite beverage in general? - Mio sparkling Sake

Favorite amusement park? - Disneyland/World

Do you have any pets? If so, what are they? What are their names? - No pets

Favorite TV show/shows? - Buffy the Vampire slayer, Angel, Criminal Minds, NCIS, Sherlock, Black Mirror, Avatar: The Last Airbender, Codname Kids Next Door, My Little Pony

What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done? - I’ve done lots of crazy things, but probably joining the United States Marine Corps

Best memory from your childhood? - cutting school to sneak out to Manhattan to stalk the Backstreet Boys

What are your plans for the future? - raise children who will use their powers for good and be productive members of society

1What kind of music do you like? - I like all music. Anything that sparks the muse

Is there anything you regret doing? - Not studying abroad in college

My questions:

If you could morph into one animal (just one) at any given time, whenever you want, however often you wanted, what would it be?

Fanfictions... are you in it for the fluff, smut, or angst?

Do you understand why the Yuri on Ice fandom (especially fic writers it would seem) seem to be fixated on Hot Chocolate? Am I missing something? Is it code for something else?

How many tabs do you have opened?

How many of those tabs are fanfictions?

What’s your favorite fanfiction of all time?

What brought you over to this corner of Tumblr?

Do you like making new friends on Tumblr?

What are your thoughts on Sharks? Best marine animal or BEST marine animal?

Have you ever seen the Last Unicorn? (If you have come fangirl with me because it’s my favorite animated movie of all time)

Are you a man, or are you a muppet?

I tag... @piyo-13 @vivalawiva @majestically-fangirling @thehobbem @phoenixwaller @kyoki-tana @ineffectualdemon

#tag me on all the things #i hate making up my own questions #someone please answer number three #it's driving me mad

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raeofalbion · 7 years

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Bajillion Questions Meme

I see you, @littleblue-eyedbird trying to find out all my secrets and critical hit points. I’m literally the most boring person in the world and it’s so sweet of you to keep tagging me, omg.

Rules: Answer all questions, add one question of your own and tag as many people as there are questions! 1. Coke or Pepsi: Both? Both. 2. Disney or DreamWorks: My friends...it embarrasses me to admit this, but I haven’t seen an animated movie that wasn’t anime in years. I just don’t even know. 3. Coffee or Tea: BOTH! Mainly tea, though. 4. Books or Movies: Books! 5. Windows or Mac: Windows. 6. DC or Marvel: DC. I never really had a chance to get into Marvel. 7. Xbox or Playstation: OKAY. So, here’s the thing...I hate both Sony and Microsoft. But I actually like both of those consoles? I tend to favor Xbox, though, cuz it has 99% of my favorite games on it. 8. Dragon Age or Mass Effect: Dragon Age 9. Night Owl or Early Rise: Night owl. Please don’t attempt to wake me, apparently I argue with people in my sleep. 10. Cards or Chess: Both? Maybe more cards than chess. 11. Chocolate or Vanilla: Chocolate 12. Vans or Converse: I wear combat boots everywhere...but both are nice. I think I have a couple pairs of Batman-themed Converse that I’m saving for an appropriate occasion. 13. Lavellan, Trevelyan, Cadash or Adaar: Lavellan 14. Fluff or Angst: BOTH AT THE SAME TIME Why can’t I write fluff??? -sobs- 16. Dogs or Cats: Better question is why choose? Why not cuddle both and sneeze from twice as many allergies? 17. Clear Skies or Rain: Rain. Thunderstorms scared me for years, but they’re pretty common here (if we get a storm, that is) so now I’m just like “yes, good, more rain please”. 18.Cooking or Eating Out: Depends on how lazy/inspired I am. Also how broke I am. 19. Spicy Food or Mild Food: SPICY 20. Halloween/Samhain or Solstice/Yule/Chirstmas: Halloween/Samhain all year round! 21. Would you rather forever be a little too cold or a little too hot: I get sick from everything heat really easily, so I’d honestly rather be too cold. Can always put on another sweater. 22. If you could have a superpower, what would it be: Something that would let me borrow other people’s powers, even if they were dormant, just so I could try them all. 23. Animation or Live Action: Depends on the show/movie. Both have their perks. 24. Paragon or Renegade: I’ve never played Mass Effect. =( But, judging by how I play through other games, Paragon 25. Baths or Showers: Baths. If I never had to get out, I’d be perfectly fine with that as long as the water stayed warm. 26. Team Cap or Team Iron Man: Neither? Guy who plays Stark is pretty hot, though. 27. Fantasy or Sci-fi: Both? 28. Do you have three or four favorite quotes? If so, what are they?

“We're all gonna die. The only question is when. This is as good a place as any to take your first steps to heaven. The only question is how you check out. Do you want it on your feet, or on your fucking knees... begging?! I ain't much for begging! Nobody ever gave me nothing! So I say fuck that thing! Let's fight it!” - Dillon, Alien 3

“Some grief is too great, even Death may keep it’s distance.“ - Theresa, Fable II

“The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents. We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far. The sciences, each straining in its own direction, have hitherto harmed us little; but some day the piecing together of dissociated knowledge will open up such terrifying vistas of reality, and of our frightful position therein, that we shall either go mad from the revelation or flee from the light into the peace and safety of a new dark age.” - H.P. Lovecraft

Not a quote, but I want to quote a specific bit from Dorian Gray and it’s too long. OTL (Maybe if someone actually wants to read it, I’ll post it?) Also wanna quote Edgar Allan Poe and Charles Baudelaire, but there’s too many options, so just know my fourth quote would have been something from those.

29. YouTube or Netflix: Both are nice, though YouTube is somewhat less so. 30. Harry Potter or Percy Jackson: Harry Potter 31. When Do You Feel Accomplished: When I actually get something finished. The other day I completed my third long fic and am still having happy “I did something” feels. Also when I get reviews. 32. Star Wars or Star Trek: BOTH 33. Paperback Books or Hardback Books: Hmm...I like hardback books, but paperbacks are nice, too 34. Handwriting or Typing: Depends on what I’m writing, tbh. 35. Velvet or Satin: ...what is the fabric for, because that’s really gonna change my answer here. 36. Video Games or Movies: Video games. 37. Would you rather be the dragon or own the dragon: Why can’t I be a dragon that owns a dragon? 38. Sunrise or Sunset: Both <3 39. What’s your favorite song: Why are you tormenting me like this? Why make me choose? (I have been pretty obsessed with Prismo’s Neverland lately, though. Also Vancouver Sleep Clinic’s Stakes.) 40. Horror Movies, yes or no: I wanna say yes, but I also want to sleep when I can. 41. Long or Short Hair: Long 42. Opera or Theatre: Theatre 43. Assuming the multiverse theory is true and that every story ever told has really happened somewhere, which one of the movie/book/tv show/game/etc worlds would you pick to travel to first: -throws self into Fable, burrows into the soil, and never leaves- 44. If you had to eat only one thing for the rest of your life what would it be: I’m tempted to say pizza, but definitely soup! I can eat soup nonstop. Alternately, eel sushi...which is my absolute favorite food. You now know my ultimate weakness. 45. Older guys or young guys: I see your question and I’m gonna raise you with sass master partners. 46. If you could erase any show from TV history, what would it be: I...don’t...know...? I don’t really watch tv? 47. Singing or Dancing: Singing. Loudly. When no one’s watching me. I used to sing in talent shows? And it was terrifying. Now I just kinda sing nonstop when no one’s around. 48. Instagram or Twitter: Twitter, though I’m not around much anymore. 49. Lord of the Rings or The Hobbit: I only ever really got into the Hobbit book? But I liked all the movies for both. They were fun. 50. If you could create either a sequel or bring back any tv show/movie, what would you choose: A sequel for the original Teen Titans cartoons, alternately...another Riddick movie or a sequel to Labyrith...though that might feel weird with Mr. Bowie not...well.... 51. Who is your movie/tv show character that you are looking up to and why? I’m kinda struggling with this one. I relate to more game characters, tbh? But if I had to pick...probably Ellen Ripley. I first saw the Alien movies when I was very, very smol, but Ripley made a huge impact on me? She showed that you can be strong and vulnerable and survive everything that comes your way as long as you’re determined enough and it was really a lesson I needed at the time and still need on occasion. 52. If you were ever convicted of a crime, what would it be? -innocently pushes legal record out of view- Either protesting or getting into a fight because someone was in trouble and I wanted to help them. Also wandering into a place I’m not supposed to be in because I was reading and not paying attention because that’s basically what happened. 53. Anime- subbed or dubbed? Depends on the cast. 54. City or countryside? Both have their perks??? 55. What book have you read over and over? Harry Potter. I read them so many times I just can’t anymore. Which is a shame because I miss them. Also, the Forbidden Game series by LJ Smith...which sounds like a cheap smutty romance, but it’s actually about a shadow demon abducting a group of teenagers into another realm and tormenting them with their worst nightmares until dawn. There’s also a bit of romance. But, yeah, my beloveds I read too much and can no longer read, though I wish I could. Also, shout out to Tom Becker’s Darkside series which I’m on my...4th read through? Discounting all the times I read the first two books? And I’m trying desperately not to burn myself out on. 56. What is your personality type? INTP

My question: 57: What’s your go to comfort item?

There is just about one less question than I currently have followers, so anyone who wants to do this? Y’all can do it. ^^

#that last question was tough #I ran through about a dozen different questions OTL #but it was fun!#thanks for tagging <3 #Rae gets tagged

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platonic-plots · 7 years

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I’m Sorry.

Request/Summary: Katniss started taking care of you when she was just 11 and you were 5 as you had nobody else left. When her name is pulled in the reaping, you know you can’t let her go.

Pairings: katniss x reader, gale x reader (all platonic)

Words: 1370

Warnings: I don’t think there are any? Correct me if you find something :)

Specific time/Important info: set during the first book/film, Katniss is an only child and the reader is 12 but gale and Katniss are both 18

It had been 7 years, to the day, since Katniss and Gale had started taking care of you. You met them in the bustling crowds surrounding the children waiting to be reaped. As soon as they saw you without a parent, they knew you were too young to be there alone, so they followed you back ‘home’ after the ceremony, to make sure you were okay. When they saw you return to a makeshift tent, they instantly felt bad for you. Living in the Seam was bad enough for anyone, but a 5-year-old with no family and a dirty sheet as shelter? They talked to you and Katniss offered to let you live in her home with her and her mother. Being five and parent-less, you hadn’t grasped the whole ‘stranger danger’ concept so you agreed, and it was the best thing you could’ve done. Every day since, both Katniss and Gale had treated you like you were family: they took you with them when they went beyond the broken fence, they taught you how to hunt with a bow and arrow and - to your disagreement - added their name to the reaping bowl countless times so they could afford to feed you, as well as themselves. By far, it wasn’t the best life one could lead, but you were just glad you weren’t alone. The three of you were inseparable.

“Now, the time has come for us to select one courageous young man and woman for the honour of representing District Twelve in the 74th annual Hunger Games.” You scoffed to yourself. There was no honour in being forced to kill or be killed on national tv for the amusement of others. You’d turned twelve two months previously and this was your first reaping. Your hands shook, beads of sweat threatened to fall from your forehead, your heart threatened to burst through your chest. But you weren’t worried for yourself. Since you were old enough to understand what The Hunger Games actually entailed, you had felt this way during every reaping. Katniss and Gale had stopped you entering your name any extra times, so your name was only in there once. Neither of their names had ever been called, although you couldn’t stop thinking that a couple of words from Effie’s lips could destroy your world and give life to your nightmares.

“As usual, ladies first.” The words attacked your worst thoughts, forcing you to suddenly realize just how real this was. ‘It’s okay. Somebody else will be picked. We’ll be fine. Nothing will change. It’s okay.’ The sound of Effie’s shoes colliding with the dismal stage rang through your ears. Apart from the occasional clink of her expensive heels, it was deafeningly silent. She reached the bowl and her hand dug through it like she was searching for gold. Her eccentrically decorated hands gripped a name from the bottom of the bowl and she elegantly pulled it out and began to unfold it. Nobody around you dared to breathe; she had just decided the deathly fate of an innocent child. You winced as the sound of the microphone invaded your ears.

“Katniss Everdeen.”

Your heart dropped. No. No, no, no. She can’t go. You knew that out of all the girls in 12, she was the most capable, but put her up against somebody from 1? Like everyone there, she wouldn’t have a chance. So many things flooded your brain; Katniss had Gale, her mother, a home, someone to provide for - she couldn’t leave. You knew that if you were sent to the games, the effect would be so much smaller. Katniss would be able to grow older with Gale, have kids, maybe even leave District Twelve. The second you heard her take a step towards the stage, you cried out.

“I volunteer as tribute.”

Everyone’s eyes turned to you. Since the games began, nobody from 12 had ever volunteered. Nobody was stupid enough to risk their life for an event they had no chance of winning. Until today.

“No! No, y/n! You- you can’t do this, you have to stay.” Looking at you with nothing but fear, she held both of your arms. Your eyes began to slightly water as you pulled away from her and walked towards Effie. “I’m sorry, Katniss.” “Y/n! Stop! Y/n!” Katniss shouted at the top of her lungs, however it didn’t take long for the peacekeepers to restrain her. With each step you took, you felt more people staring at you with respect, pity, worry.

“I-I believe we have a volunteer!” You continued to walk forward, eyes trained ahead, even as you heard Katniss’ sobs behind you. “A dramatic turn of events, here in District Twelve.” Your footsteps echoed into everybody’s interested ears and you felt the arms of several peacekeepers pushing you forward, scared you’d try to run. “Yes, well, District Twelve’s very first volunteer.” Grimacing at her tone, you wondered how anyone could talk about something so deadly in such a positive manner. “Bring her up, come on dear.” She waved at you like you were a toddler.

Despite being surrounded by so many onlookers, the second you stood on stage, you had never felt lonelier. Effie grasped your shoulders to try and lead you to the centre, however, you shook her dainty hands away in a single, tiny act of defiance.

“What’s your name?”

“Y-y/n Everdeen.” Although you and Katniss knew you weren’t related by blood, the only other people who did were her mother and Gale. Everybody else assumed you had always been sisters, and that’s the way you kept it.

“Well, I bet my hat that was your sister, wasn’t it?”

You paused before answering, “Yes.” The sudden realization of what you’d done washed over you like a polluted river. You were going to die. You’d saved Katniss, but in turn you had promised yourself an early death.

The cheeriness of Effie’s voice sickened you: “Let’s have a big hand for our very first volunteer, Y/n Everdeen.” Everybody seemed to be frozen and the only clapping came from the hands of the woman beside you. That itself gave you the faintest feeling of warmth. Their silence showed a unity of an entire district against the Capitol. It felt like this sign of united disagreement would last forever until you noticed a girl in the front row kiss three of the fingers on her left hand and raise them above her head. Within mere seconds, the entire audience had mimicked her actions. Your breath hitched in your throat. The strong meaning of this small gesture meant that it was barely ever used, you’d only ever seen it at the funerals of the most respected district members. But today, they did it for you. They admired you. They respected you. They were saying goodbye to you.

“And now, for the boys.”

Quick to ease the tension fired against the Capitol, Effie took no time in reaching into the bowl and grasping the boy’s name. Pulling it out, she unfolded it as she raised it to her face.

“Gale Hawthorne.”

Katniss, who was in her mother’s arms, let out a shriek. The two people she loved most, ripped away from her life, forced to kill each other. You could see Gale stop himself from facing her as he paced towards the stage. Your heart felt like it had been crushed - within minutes, your life had been ruined. The look on his face was almost indescribable: furious, scared, combative.

“Here we are, our tributes from District Twelve. Well, go on, you two. Shake hands.”

You looked at Gale’s eyes and saw the ghost of a tear that was unlikely to fall. Your own eyes watered over, although you refused to let yourself cry. Neither of you tried to shake hands, instead you stepped forward before your lip threatened to tremble. As he saw you come closer, he knelt down, engulfing you into his embrace while you hugged back even tighter, not wanting to ever let go. You two are pieces of the same family, and now you were expected to kill one another as a form of entertainment.

“Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favour.”

This isn’t the best but I quite like it :) I never see any imagines or fics like this so I don’t think it’ll get many notes but I wanted to write something a bit different lol, feel free to send an ask or message to request an imagine/ask to be tagged/ask anything really :)

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