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alicenttully · 9 days

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THE GREEN COUNCIL

An alternative version of the script for The Green Council

(One month after the departure of Rhaenyra’s departure from court.

From above, we see Viserys in his bed. It is a miracle that he is still here, but it is a wretched existence. There are no traces of the jovial king that we were introduced to.

We sense death.)

VISERYS

Please.

Alicent comes into view. We see the shadows under her eyes as she lifts the cup gently to Viserys’ lips. When he finishes, she puts it aside.

VISERYS

I’m sorry.

Pity and confusion war on Alicent’s face, as she ceases her stroking of Viserys’ hand.

ALICENT

For what, my king?

VISERYS

You wanted to know… if I still believe.

VISERYS

Don’t you remember?

(Viserys’ voice is desperate. Every word is a struggle.

Understanding shadows Alicent’s face, as she remembers a long-forgotten memory.)

ALICENT

It was a long time ago.

VISERYS

I know. You were a girl.

ALICENT

I wouldn’t say that husband. I was carrying our daughter, then. Helaena.

VISERYS

But-

ALICENT

Rhaenyra and Daemon returned to Dragonstone a moon ago.

VISERYS

Forgive me.

ALICENT

Shhh.

(We see that Alicent’s thoughts are not with her husband.)

(We cut to Alicent in her bedchambers later, after being awoken by Talya.)

ALICENT

Are you sure?

(She looks shocked.)

TALYA

With his own eyes, Your Grace.

ALICENT

(Alicent sniffs as she hurries out of bed.)

ALICENT

Stay here. Tell, tell no one.

Help me dress.

(The camera focuses on Talya’s face, who smirks as Alicent turns away.)

(The Hand’s apartments)

OTTO

Who knows?

(He is staring into the fireplace.)

ALICENT

Just Talya. Some of the servants.

I was with him, last night.

It’s a mercy.

(Otto locks eyes with Alicent.)

OTTO

Did he say anything?

(There is a silence. Alicent looks torn.

Then she shakes her head.)

ALICENT

Nothing of importance.

(Small Council)

TYLAND

What is it that could not have waited an hour?

Was Dorne invaded?

(He looks pleased at his own joke.)

OTTO

The King is dead.

(Otto’s voice cuts like a knife.

Tyland’s smile drops.)

OTTO

May the gods give him rest.

But now we must prepare.

GRAND MAESTER ORWYLE

Indeed. The Silent Sisters must be sent for, and if I dispatch one of my swiftest ravens now, it should reach the Princess of Dragonstone before midday-

OTTO

All needs must wait until the matter of succession is settled.

BEESBURY

The matter of succession IS settled.

(His eyes blaze.)

TYLAND

Is it?

(He smirks)

ALICENT

The Iron Throne by rights must pass to His Grace’s eldest trueborn son.

BEESBURY

Am I to understand that you are plotting to replace the King’s chosen heir with an imposter?

(He looks around in disgust)

WLDYE

His firstborn son is hardly an imposter.

ALICENT

He did not choose his daughter. He spurned his brother. He said as much to me years ago. Or does that little detail inconvienance your outrage?

TYLAND

And do we not remember the scandal when they wed? Even His Grace was most wroth with their audacity.

BEESBURY

Hundreds of lords and landed knights swore fealty to the Princess.

WLDYE

That was some twenty years ago. Many of them are now dead. Would their kin do the same now, while Viserys had three living sons?

BEESBURY

If they are honorable men! This is usurpation.

(He slams a fist on the table.)

SER CRISTON

Words have meaning, my lord. Prince Aegon cannot usurp his own birthright anymore than you or I can pluck a star out of the heavens.

(Otto speaks soothingly)

OTTO

We ARE honorable men, Lord Lyman. That is why King Aegon will give Princess Rhaenyra a path to peace, with generous terms.

TYLAND

Of course, generosity always has its limits.

BEESBURY

No. No.

GRAND MAESTER ORWYLE

Lord Lyman, please…

(Beesbury rises to stand)

BEESBURY

The King was well last night, by all accounts.

WLDYE

(scoffs)

Well.

TYLAND

Which of us are you accusing of regicide?

BEESBURY

Whenever it was one of you, or all of you, I care not.

I will have no part in your schemes.

ALICENT

You call it a scheme to defend my children? My sons challenge Rhaenyra, simply by living and breathing. Even Helaena and her little ones will never be safe.

I do not believe Rhaenyra to have the cruelty of Daemon, but I do not believe that she will temper his cruelty with mercy if it comes to it.

(Her voice is dangerous.)

BEESBURY

It would break Viserys’ heart to see you think so little of his daughter.

(He turns to leave-)

SER CRISTON

Sit down!

(There is a struggle. A crack. Blood.

Alicent gasps.)

TYLAND

Seven hells.

(GRAND MAESTER ORWYLE checks Lyman’s pulse.)

GRAND MAESTER ORWYLE

Let us have Lord Beesbury removed.

OTTO

No. The door remains shut until we finish our business.

We must determine our allies now, should Princess Rhaenyra refuse our terms.

She is currently in confinement on Dragonstone, so we have an advantage.

WYLDE

Perhaps she will die in childbirth.

ALICENT

(Alicent, still shaken from Beesbury’s death, looks appalled at such a blithe comment.)

OTTO

My lord. That is still the King’s daughter you speak of.

(Wlyde looks suitably chastened)

OTTO

Time is of the essence. Ser Criston, gather your men and assume the custody of any Blacks that remain at court. Do them no harm unless they resist. Those who swear fealty to King Aegon will live.

GRAND MAESTER ORWYLE

And those who do not?

LARYS

Are traitors and shall die a traitor’s death.

(Alicent’s apartments. Helaena is there, sewing. She smiles at her children, Princess Jaehaera and Princess Jaehaerys who play happily on the floor.

Alicent rushes in.)

ALICENT

Where is Aegon?

HELAENA

N-not here. Nor in my bed. Feel free to search beneath the blankets.

(Helaena looks annoyed.)

(Alicent sits down beside Helaena, who moves away. Alicent, used to Helaena’s sensitivities, takes no notice.)

ALICENT

Your father….

(Helaena is odd, but she is not stupid.)

HELAENA

When?

ALICENT

Not long.

HELAENA

I don’t know why I’m surprised. He was sick.

ALICENT

Oh, my dearest love.

(To Alicent’s shock, Helaena squeezes her mother’s hand, then drops it. She avoids Alicent’s eyes, and turns to look at her twins, who continue to play on obliviously.)

(Aemond walks in)

AEMOND

So. Is Aegon king, or is the cunt queen now?

OTTO

Where’s the Prince?

SER ERRYK

Forgive me, Lord Hand. I do not know.

(He looks flustered.)

OTTO

But you’re sworn to protect him.

SER ERRYK

He exploits his authority to order me away, and then he evades me, my Lord.

I believe he may have left the Keep secretly, gone into the city.

I-I think he has a mistress.

OTTO

Find him. Take only your twin and remove your white cloaks.

SER CRISTON

Prince Aegon’s not to be found within the castle walls, Your Grace.

Your father has sent Ser Erryk into the city to find him.

ALICENT

Ser Erryk is just one man. Ser Criston, you must go as well.

Everything you feel for me… as your Queen.

(They are so close, they could kiss.)

SER CRISTON

I will not fail you.

AEMOND

I’ll come with you.

ALICENT

That would not be my desire, Aemond.

If anything has befallen-

AEMOND

Cole needs me Mother.

Ser Erryk isn’t the only one familiar with Aegon’s doings.

(Aemond’s voice is almost gentle.)

AEMOND

Aegon brought me to the Street of Silk on my fourteenth-name day.

It was his duty, he said, to ensure I was as learned as he was.

SER CRISTON

I don’t follow.

AEMOND

“Time to get it wet.”

(Cole grimaces.)

SER CRISTON

Every woman is an image of the Mother, to be spoken of with reverence.

(He knocks on a door. It is opened by an attractive woman in her mid forties.)

SER CRISTON

Sometime last night, we… lost our drinking companion.

Knowing that he has been, in the past, a patron of your fine establishment, we thought to inquire here as to his whereabouts.

LYLA

Describe him.

SER CRISTON

That is a delicate matter.

You see, the man we seek is the young Prince Aegon.

I may trust, I hope, in the discretion of your trade.

LYLA

The Prince is not here.

I wish you luck, good Ser.

Perhaps when you find him, he can return here with your friend.

How you’ve grown.

(Aemond looks uncomfortable.)

OTTO

You once swore your banners to Rhaenyra.

Now pledge them to the rightful King.

LORD MERRYWEATHER

I must confer with my house on this matter.

OTTO

You’ll not leave this room without declaring your intention.

LORD MERRYWEATHER

I am no oathbreaker. I will not bend the knee.

OTTO

Anyone else?

LADY FELL

House Fell… keeps its sworn oath to the Princess.

OTTO

Very well.

(They are dragged out. The rest kneel.)

ALL

Long live the King.

SER CRISTON

Your brother could be anywhere.

AEMOND

He could be in the hands of mercenaries, on a ship to Yi Ti.

He could be dead.

SER CRISTON

Let us hope not, for your mother’s sake.

SER ARRYK

How old are they?

(He looks ill.)

SER ERRYK

About ten years, I’d think.

They have them grow their nails and file their teeth.

Makes them more formidable.

SER ARRYK

Has Prince Aegon ever visited here?

SER ERRYK

A few. He found it amusing.

SER ARRYK

Do you now see what he is?

AEMOND

Here I am, trawling the city, ever the good soldier in search of a wastrel who’s never taken half an interest in his birthright.

‘Tis I the younger brother who studies history and philosophy, it is I who trains with the sword, who rides the largest dragon in the world.

It is I who should be…

SER CRISTON

I know what it is to toil for what is freely given to others.

SER ARRYK

Aegon is unfit to rule.

SER ERRYK

You forget yourself. It is not your place to say such things.

SER ARRYK

Have you no mind of your own, brother?

(Hilly, approaches them. She is nineteen to twenty years of age.)

HILLY

I can take you to Prince Aegon… for a price.

(She smiles confidently.)

SER ERRYK

Deliver him, and we’ll consider your price.

(We are in a manse. Aegon lies asleep in bed, having just enjoyed a good fuck. His paramour, Mya, lies asleep besides him, her breasts exposed.

Ser Erryk shakes him awake and averts his eyes from Mya’s figure.)

SER ERRYK

Get up.

KNIGHT

Halt! Hold the gate!

(horse neighs)

CASSWELL

Unhand me!

LARYS

He was fleeing from the gate.

CASSWELL

Do you know who I am?

LARYS

A friend to the Princess, I’d wager.

CASSWELL

What say you?

The Lord Confessor presumes.

CASWELL

I have no love for the Princess.

LARYS

And where were you going then with such urgency?

Let the King’s Justice take him.

CASSWELL

Let go of me!

No! This is not right!

(Rhaenys’ apartments)

RHAENYS

I will do you the considerable courtesy of assuming there is a good reason for the outrage of my treatment this morning.

ALICENT

My sincerest regrets for the lack of ceremony.

RHAENYS

The King.

And you are usurping the throne.

(Rhaenys scoffs.)

ALICENT

Viserys’ firstborn son is no usurper.

ALICENT

Believe it or no, it is of no consequence.

Aegon will be king.

I came here to ask for your support.

RHAENYS

Well, I must credit you for your boldness.

ALICENT

House Velaryon has long allied itself with the Princess Rhaenyra and what has it gained you?

Your daughter dead… alone in Pentos.

Your son cuckolded.

Rhaenyra’s heirs are none of yours.

It is your husband who grasps so heedlessly for the throne.

And even he has abandoned you: gone these six long years to fight a desperate battle, returning grievously, if not mortally, wounded, leaving the Lady of Driftmark to chart her course alone.

(Rhaenys grits teeth.)

RHAENYS

The word of my house is not fickle.

(Alicent smiles sadly.)

ALICENT

No.

Princess Rhaenys, I was fond of my husband, but I will speak the truth we both know.

You were robbed at that council.

RHAENYS

I little thought to hear those words from you.

ALICENT

Viserys was the child of a second son, but you… The Iron Throne was yours by blood and by temperament.

Viserys would’ve lived his days a country lord, content to hunt and study his histories, but… here we are.

So while we may not rule, but we may guide the men who do.

Gently… away from violence and sure destruction and instead toward peace.

RHAENYS

Is it in the name of peace that you’ve imprisoned me?

And what of my dragon?

ALICENT

If we are overmatched, Rhaenyra will be tempted to strike, and war will ensue.

Without your dragon, she may be persuaded to negotiate.

RHAENYS

A true queen counts the cost to her people.

ALICENT

If it’s Driftmark you want, you shall have it for you and your granddaughters to pass on as you see fit.

RHAENYS

You are wiser than I believed you to be, Alicent Hightower.

(pause)

And yet you toil still in service to men.

Your father, your husband, your son.

You desire not to be free, but to make a window in the wall of your prison.

Have you never imagined yourself… on the Iron Throne?

(Alicent looks incredulous.

Heavy silence.

Then-)

ALICENT

I do not need to imagine myself on the Iron Throne, Princess, when I can stand beside it.

ALICENT

I’ll leave you with your thoughts. May the Crone guide you to wisdom.

OTTO

We have relied on one another these many years.

And now it is the good of the family that we both desire.

If I had known that Viserys would…

The Princess would not have lived long after Aegon was born.

OTTO

That said, I would have been too reluctant, daughter.

ALICENT

Reluctance to murder is not a weakness!

ALICENT

We will send terms. True terms, such that she may accept without shame.

My husband would have desired this mercy be shown to his daughter.

OTTO

Your husband?

Or you, his daughter’s childhood companion?

ALICENT

I have been a mother longer than I was her childhood companion.

My son will be anointed tomorrow at dawn.

The whole of King’s Landing must witness his ascent.

He will assume authority. There will be no more dithering.

My son will take the crown of his namesake, the Conqueror, and carry Blackfyre, his sword.

Let the people remember the ancient strength of House Targaryen.

OTTO

You look so much like your mother in certain lights.

ALICENT

I don’t remember the sound of her voice anymore.

LARYS

Your Grace.

(Alicent looks exhausted.)

The hour is late, Lord Larys.

LARYS

I’ve found out something that you should know.

Have you asked yourself, I wonder… how it is… that your father found Aegon first?

There is a web of spies at work in the Red Keep.

Along its threads travels news of all our doings.

Your father knows this, but has left it in place.

More than once, it has proved advantageous to those willing to… feed the weaver.

(Alicent looks perturbed by this revelation.)

ALICENT

And this weaver watches me?

LARYS

Um…

One of the little spiders is your lady-in-waiting.

ALICENT

Talya? But she-she has been faithful-

(Larys shakes his head.)

LARYS

Only to herself.

(Alicent chokes back rage.)

ALICENT

I will have her head.

LARYS

Of course. But there are more like her. Even I do not know their number.

There is one way to destroy his advantage.

It must be taken out at the head.

When the Queen dies, the bees fly without purpose.

Begging your pardon for the turn of phrase, Your Grace.

ALICENT

I assume this task falls within your expertise.

LARYS

If you wish it, it will be done.

(Royal carriage. We hear the bell tolling, shouts of people outside.

Aegon is dressed in kingly raiment, looking severely disgruntled.)

AEGON

My father never wanted this.

He had 20 years to name me heir and he never did.

Steadfastly, he upheld Rhaenyra’s claim.

And I have no taste for duty.

ALICENT

No. You do not.

But your father was weak.

(Aegon snorts in agreement.)

ALICENT

He refused to see the truth.

ALICENT

Do not play the fool, Aegon. Rhaenyra will never sit the throne safely while you and your brothers live.

If you love them, you will take the throne.

(The camera focuses on Aegon’s face, who has tears in his eyes now. Alicent crushes her annoyance at them.)

AEGON

Do you love me?

(Alicent looks taken aback at his question. Then she smiles.)

ALICENT

I love the very bones of you, you imbecile.

OTTO

People of Kingslanding… today is the saddest of days.

Our beloved King is dead.

But it is also the most joyous of days….for he leaves a son.

COMMANDER

Guards! Out of the way!

Move!

COMMANDER

Halt!

Turn!

OTTO

It is your great good fortune and privilege to be here to witness this: a new day for our city… a new day for our realm.

A new king… to lead us.

SEPTON EUSTACE

May the Warrior give him courage.

May the Smith lend strength to his sword and shield.

May the Father defend him in his need.

May the Crone lift her shining lamp and light his way to wisdom.

SER CRISTON

The Crown of the Conqueror passed down through the generations.

(He places the crown on Aegon’s head.

Beside him, Alicent places a crown upon Helaena’s head.)

ALICENT

My queen.

SER CRISTON

Let the Seven bear witness:

Aegon Targaryen is the true heir to the Iron Throne.

PEOPLE

Aegon the king! Hail Aegon!

(Above the cheers, we hear a dragon’s roar.

It is not Sunfyre, Dreamfyre, or Vaghar.

It is Meleys.)

(We cut to Rhaenys flying away on Meleys, music swelling.)

A/N

I wanted to write a version of a script where the Greens aren't perfect heroes but they're not used as props for Rhaenyra's existence

On the other hand we have Aemond calling Rhaenyra a cunt, Otto admitting that he likely would have killed Rhaenyra if he could predict that Viserys wouldn't change the succession, Aegon still taking his brother to a brothel so he can be "learned" and finding child fighting pits amusing.

Alicent Hightower has the energy of episode 6 and episode 7. As @agentrouka-blog said once in a reply to an ask, a desire for peace coming from a place of genuine enmity is more meaningful.

Aegon II is not a rapist (so no Dyana) but he's not a stellar person either, considering that he has visited the child fighting pits a couple times.

Alicent is not S'A.

Major changes were Alicent not misinterpreting Viserys words, the Green Council where they go more in depth about the Greens motivations for taking the throne, Alicent not tolerating Rhaenys bs' speech, no Mysaria (although her presence is felt), Alicent deciding to behead Talya for her betrayal (this was a deleted scene), no Aegon chase scene. Alicent explaining to Aegon why he needs to be king

"I love the bones of you, you imbecile." Is a mixture of the show line + Olivia Cooke commentary on her character's thoughts during that scene.

No Rhaenys dragon nonsense, however it is made clear to the audience that she has escaped.

#alicent hightower #aegon ii targaryen #otto hightower #aemond targaryen #helaena targaryen #ser criston cole #house of the dragon #hotd #team green #my writing #edited #a/n

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shimmerwindow · 3 months

Text

I Never Really

Part Twelve

Word Count: 6.1k

Warnings: Cigarette use

Playlist | Masterlist

Tag list: @jazzyfigz @dont-go-home-without-me @poochiesworld @stardustcatcher @83rkblogs @jaketsguitar @dannys-dream @gretavanfan @do-it-jakey-baby @gvfpal @ignite-my-fire @gardensgatekeeper

Finals week turned out much better than you’d expected. You had sufficiently prepared yourself, and your hard work paid off in the form of A’s and low stress across the board. The minute you turned in your final test of the semester, you felt a horrid weight lift from your shoulders. This moment, right here, was what made the rest of it all worth it. You had a bounce in your step as you walked back to your dorm, for once not annoyed by the bustle of campus.

The building was as crowded as ever, with all of the students moving their things out all at once. A girl nearly ran you over with two massive suitcases as you tried to exit the elevator onto your floor. It was nice to not have such an interaction immediately set you into a mood of annoyance for the rest of the day.

You couldn’t help but smile when you finally flopped onto your bed, letting out a sigh that carried with it the finality of your stress. You knew it’d start up all over again in a few weeks, but for now, you would live in the moment. And that moment would start with a nice, long nap. The first you'd consciously allowed yourself in ages. In was dreamless, just a moment of unconscious, blissful peace.

You awoke in a daze an hour or so later, though time was not something you would stress yourself about during these weeks of rest. A text was waiting for you, with a familiar name. Sam.

hey! saw we aced that project, we totally need to celebrate :) want to come over?

The sense of jubilation over the end of the semester wiped any doubts out of your mind regarding whether or not you actually wanted to see him, or the rest of the men in that house, for that matter.

would love to!

cool, the guys are out so it'll just be me and u if that's ok

So maybe this was some kind of divine intervention to finally get the two of you alone, in a room, to talk. The words of the twins echoed in your mind once again – you needed to do this. As much as you would gladly run from him forever, you needed to talk to him. It would do you no good to cut him off with no closure.

that's chill!

He went on to tell you he’d already moved all his things out, but would swing by to get you whenever you were ready. Better to get this out of the way now. As you readied yourself for his arrival, you rehearsed a script in your head, spoke out loud the words you would want to say to him. The anxiety of it all was making your stomach churn and your palms sweat.

You headed down to the ground level, and watched his car pull around through the windows in the lobby. You could see his thumbs tapping on the steering wheel with whatever beat was coming through the radio. The two of you were quiet on the drive over, the music filling the silence. Though it was not uncomfortable, you still tapped your fingers together anxiously in the passenger seat.

The ambiance of the house felt different when you pulled up, in large part to the new set of decorations. Carefully curated by Josh, you figured. A flawless Christmas tree sat in the corner of the living room, its branches laden with a nearly obscene amount of ornaments, ribbons, and strings covered in all types of materials. Four stockings hung above the fireplace, hand-knit with the initials of the four brothers of the house.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he said, hanging his coat on the rack by the door. “You want anything? Water? Tea?…Tequila?”

You were certain nothing would sit calmly in your stomach right now. “I’m alright, thank you.” You took a seat on the couch, wrapping your arms around yourself. The cold from the darkened world outside had begun to creep in, casting a chill over the house. It was an old place, and clearly didn’t have the best insulation.

“Well, congratulations to us, huh?” He gave you a wide smile.

You shot back the best fake grin you could muster. “Thank god it's over.”

“I hear that. I need a break. You cold?” He pointed a finger at you as you curled into a ball on the couch.

“No, I’m okay–”

“Actually, it’s fuckin’ freezing in here. Any objections to a fire?”

“That sounds nice, actually.” With any luck, you’d be gone before the last of the embers burned out.

He vanished for a moment, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You rehearsed the words you planned to say for the millionth time, and sent up a silent prayer that they would come out properly.

“Cheaper than turning up the heat,” Sam said when he came back in the room. He smiled at you as he set down the carrier full of logs, fresh from the storage rack they kept under the eve of the house. “Jake gets pissed when the electrical bill gets too high.”

“Well, it’s not like you live here,” you commented.

“I do now,” he sighed. “For now, at least.” He pulled up the sleeves of his sweater and started up a fire. There was something so intimate about it, sitting in silence as you watched him work. The flames roared to life, under his skillful touch.

“So what do you feel like doing? And answer quickly, or I’ll start giving you a tour of the record shelf.” He turned back at you to smile.

The humor was lost on you, and you felt a deep guilt as the smile washed from his face and he turned away when you didn’t laugh. This was it. It was time to say those dreaded words. “Actually, I think we should…talk.” Your mouth was dry, and your heart pounded in your chest. Blood was already rushing to your cheeks.

“About what?” He turned his head back to you, still absently poking at the fire. Clueless, it seemed.

“Well, like…”

“Hey, if this is about that one day, where you passed out in–” his voice faltered, and he cleared his throat. “When you fell asleep. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you’d moved until–”

“It’s not about that.” You cut him off, not sure you could handle dwelling on that day right now. “I just wanted to know if…” you paused, thinking of how to word it correctly. You'd rehearsed this moment so many times, yet the words still stuck to your tongue like honey. “If I’m intruding on something.”

He stared at you blankly, his lips parted a bit. “What?” He laughed the word, only a small smile on his face.

Suddenly, you felt rather stupid. “I don’t know, I just saw you with that other girl–”

Everything around you screeched to a halt. You couldn’t even hear the crackling of the fire anymore. Other girl. It had come out so naturally, you hadn’t even considered the implication you were making with that single word. You suddenly realized just how many of those little implications you were making all at once. Foremost, that you and him were doing anything more than just being friends.

“Oh, her?” He stood, dusting off his hands, and sat down on the other end of the couch, his legs tucked beneath him and his fingers nervously fidgeting in his lap. “Just a friend.”

“That so?”

He couldn’t seem to meet your eyes anymore. “Yeah. Just something to pass the time, I guess.”

“Well, that's not a very respectful way to refer to a fling, Sam.”

“There I go again. Saying shit that makes me look like an asshole.”

“You seem to be pretty good at that.” It came out meaner than you’d meant, but it was cathartic nonetheless.

“Anyway. It's not that serious. You're not intruding on anything.”

It was both a wonderful and terrible feeling that washed over you in that moment. A thousand thoughts showed up at the front lines of your mind, warring against each other. So, it wasn’t serious. But serious enough that you didn’t even need to say a name for him to know what you meant. Something was telling you that you needed to get closer, now, while you had the chance. But you’d lost that right, given it up the moment you’d fallen into Jake’s arms.

“That’s good to know,” you said, quietly.

“Is that why you’ve been so distant lately?” He asked, his lips stumbling over the words like they were forced from his mouth.

You hadn’t done a very good job of hiding it, clearly. “Yeah, I guess so. And finals had been killing me. Just glad the semester is over.” The topic was starting to shift too close to home. “And you've been distant, too.”

“Well, I figured you just kind of…didn’t like me as much anymore. Not since Halloween.”

Your stomach dropped hard enough that you could feel a knot forming in your throat. He knows. It repeated in your mind like a broken record, loud and screeching. “Why would you think that?” Your voice was small and far away.

“I barely even saw you that night. You would just vanish any time I was around.” A profound sadness lingered behind his eyes. “And then you just disappeared. You didn’t even say bye before you left.”

You could almost physically feel your heart breaking inside your chest. This can't be real. All of it, all the pain you’d endured for the past months, was it really all over nothing? Had you really allowed yourself to be so easily swayed into hatred for him by something as simple as a few hookups? It didn’t feel real, nothing in the room felt tangible at this point. The heat from the fire did nothing to soothe the icy chill that crept into your veins and made you shiver.

You’d been backed into a corner, trapped into either lying, or telling a devastating truth. “Yeah, I didn’t feel great, so I went home.” The lie came out so effortlessly it made you feel sick. Even if he wouldn’t care, it would forever taint whatever you’d built with him if you were honest with him now. If it wasn't tainted already. He must be lying, you thought. There's no way he didn’t see the marks his brother had left all over you.

“You should have told me!” He gave you a tap on the arm. “I would have helped you. Or at least walked you home.”

There had been such unspoken animosity between you, that night after the party, when you’d seen him on the roof. Or, at least, that was how your mind had interpreted the interaction. You began to doubt every notion you had about him. Maybe you’d just taken it all the wrong way, maybe this had all just been a gigantic misunderstanding on your end.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, no longer able to meet his gaze.

“Oh, jeez, don’t be sorry.” Out of the corner of your eye, you watched him run his fingers through his hair. “I should have hung around you more. It’s on me.”

A part of you ached to just tell him the truth. The dejection that hung off of every word he spoke was killing you, slowly. With any luck, he would hate you, and you could go the rest of your life pretending he had never existed. But the mere thought of hurting him in such a way was so unfathomable to you, the truth may very well have not even existed to you. It would never leave your mouth, not even long after you left this cold, dreary town. A dirty little secret you would be forced to carry with you, forever.

“Oh!” He suddenly jumped, pointing a finger at you. “I almost forgot to ask! Speaking of parties, where are you gonna be for New Year’s?”

“Nowhere, really. I don’t really care about that stuff. I always just sleep through the countdown.” You sounded unbearably boring, and you knew it, but you also knew what was coming next. And you hoped to turn him off from it before he could–

“You’re coming to the party here.”

“Sam,” you smiled, shaking your head. “I–”

“Shush.” He held a finger out towards your lips. “You’re not spending New Year’s alone.”

It didn’t feel right. You came here with the intention to be having the exact opposite of this current conversation. Spend it with your waste of time, you want her more, you wanted to scream. This was not at all how you’d expected this to pan out, and it was giving you whiplash now having to change your tune.

The truth was dangerously close to your lips, stuck in your throat hard enough to make you want to gag. Instead, you choked out a “fine.”

“Bitchin'! Oh, we are gonna have iii such iii a good time!”

The knot of anxiety in your stomach started to unravel, seeing him so genuinely happy about your potential presence. You doubted yourself now, doubted your conviction to pull yourself away from this entire situation. Maybe there was a way out of it, a path you couldn't see just yet.

The night was easy, all of your original plans having been thrown out the window. By this time, you’d expected to be in bed, alone, crying yourself to sleep over a ruined friendship. The two of you caught up on your lost time, and he told you all about the strange and interesting experiences he’d had over the past several weeks. He seemed to be the kind of guy that attracted strangeness.

“It’s too quiet in here. Music?” He asked, bouncing up from the couch and making his way over to the bookshelf full of records against the wall.

“Sure.”

“How do you feel about…” his fingers danced along the frayed paper edges that jutted out from their wooden cubes. “Christmas music?” He raised an eyebrow at you, his fingers coming to a stop. “Are you a Christmas music lover or hater?”

“Uh–”

“Lover?” He cut you off with a laugh. “Perfect! I knew we were a good match.”

“Actually, I was gonna say–”

“How about this one?” He shouted above you, cutting you off once again. “What do you know about my man, uh…actually, I don’t know who this is. Hope it’s good.” He pulled a record from the shelf and set it on the small turntable that sat on what looked like an end table. “They just don't make album covers ugly like this anymore." He showed you the cover, clad in gaudy shades of red and green.

“Can I give my thoughts, or–”

“Only if they’re good ones!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his antics as the room was filled with the warm, crackly sound of the record playing. He picked up the fire poker, twirling it between his fingers for a second before using it to adjust a few of the logs.

“Any plans for Christmas?” He asked, as he absently poked at the fire.

“I was gonna go home, but the weather's not looking like it’ll cooperate.” A brutal winter storm was due directly over the path to your hometown, and you weren’t interested in fighting with multiple canceled or delayed flights.

“So you’re just gonna be here alone?” He dusted off his hands and he sat back down on the couch, eyes fixed on his handiwork.

“It’s alright. I didn’t go anywhere last year, either. I’ll see them when summer comes.”

You both sat in silence for a bit, lost in whatever trance the human mind entered when staring at a burning fire. You felt peace, for once, for the first time in a while. The blush finally left your cheeks, and the sweet scent of the fire clung to your body like a warm hug. There was something about this place that struck you each time you found yourself in it. Like it was somewhere familiar, down to each exposed beam in the ceiling and every scuff in the hardwood. The way the floor creaked when you walked across it, the feel of the antique door knobs in your hands, it all made you feel like you were always supposed to find yourself in a place like this.

You looked over at Sam to find he was looking at you, too. As if he’d heard your internal monologue, he gave you a smile. “Glad you’re here.”

“Better than the dorms.”

Without warning, he hoisted himself closer to you. “You look like you've lost some of that sunshine lately, miss eclipse.” His eyes scanned over your face, remarkably close, so close that if either of you leaned forward just a few inches– “What’s got you so down?”

Your voice came out as barely above a whisper. “Did you have to get so close just to tell me I look sad?”

“Just wanted a better view.” He looked you over one last time, and collapsed back onto his side of the couch. “Seriously, though. What’s wrong?”

You’re the entire problem. It’s all you, however I look right now, it’s because of you. Nothing’s wrong. I’ve just been a bit exhausted from finals, that’s all.” Jake’s words rang through your head, how he’d pointed out your bad habit of saying that’s all when something was wrong.

Thankfully, Sam didn’t seem to have his older brother's sense of clairvoyance. “Well, it’s over. For now, at least. We can relax, finally.”

Relaxing was the last thing you would be doing in the coming week leading up to this party you’d so foolishly agreed to.

Despite the plethora of unsaid words between you, talking with him felt so easy, the way you both seemed to follow the progression of conversation so naturally. When your eyes began to feel heavy, and the fire began to die, a rising sense of unease in your heart became difficult to ignore.

“Want me to take you home?” Sam’s voice startled you out of a half-sleep you’d slipped into.

That was where the unease was coming from. You didn’t want to go home. You had no desire to return to the fluorescents, the uncomfortable bed, the bittersweet loneliness of your room in an empty building.

“Not really,” you mumbled, curling yourself up sideways on the couch. You’d inched a bit closer to him, and you could feel the tips of his fingers, draped across the back of the couch, lightly brush against your shoulder. “That place sucks.”

“You can sleep here, if you want, but…” He glanced at the front door. “The guys will probably be back tonight. Maybe, I don't know.”

An implication, heavy as the snow that had begun to fall outside, settled on both of you.

“I’ll sleep on the floor in your room,” you said, only half-joking. “Probably would still be more comfortable than those dorm beds.”

“You could always just sleep in my bed.”

“With you?”

Your eyes locked, and a sensation like sticking a fork in an outlet jolted through you. You could just barely hear the suggestion of a gasp from him, though it may have been from your own lips, you couldn’t tell.

“That’s not what I meant…but…”

Just say it. Say something. You’d never wished for him to make any kind of move before now, but it was unbearable how badly you wanted him to just do something. He was only one small movement away from you. You needed him to break this tension, say he wanted to kiss you, say he hated you, say he wanted to fuck you, anything.

“I mean–”

You cut him off. “Maybe I should just go home.” Ever the self-saboteur you were.

“Maybe you should.”

The record had reached its end, an eerily still silence befalling the room.

“That means I have to drive you.” He said it like he was hoping you would say something to the contrary.

“I can just walk.”

“It's freezing. And snowing. You're not gonna walk, you didn’t even bring a coat.”

“That’s true,” you mumbled. Now what? You were astounded at your own ability to put yourself in the most awkward positions. Go home, and wallow in what could have been? Or gamble your entire friendship on this one chance? As it would turn out, you wouldn’t need to make the choice at all.

“How long are we going to do this?” He huffed.

You blinked at him, clueless. “Do what?”

“Act like this.” he motioned between the two of you.

“Sam, I don’t know what you’re getting at.”

“This…tension.” He sighed, his breath sounding shaky. “Am I crazy?”

“Tension?”

“Maybe I am just crazy. It just feels like every time I’m around you, we both get kinda weird, and it's like, there's so many things I want to say, but I don't know what they are.”

There it was again, that tone of speaking where his words tumbled over one another trying to leave his mouth as quickly as possible. You could almost physically feel your brain straining, trying to think of a way out of this. But every time, you circled back to the same point – there was no way out.

This was it. This was the peak that all your pining had been building towards. The fear of rejection was loud, but his words seemed to be saying something you'd pushed away for far too long. The thought that maybe, just maybe, he wanted you too. Though it wasn’t really a maybe, was it? The way he’d been so angry with you for thinking you’d hooked up with Jake, the darkness in his eyes when he saw the bruises on your neck, the way he’d looked at you when your head was in his lap, the little touches, the glances, the nickname, it all meant something. Something that you’d refused to even acknowledge as a possibility until this very moment.

Maybe he wanted you, too.

“Can I just–”

You moved fluidly in time with him as he leaned across the couch and caught your face in his hands. Your body worked faster than your brain, placing your fingers over his forearms. You were so close you could nearly taste him. There was nothing you could do to stop the small, surprised gasp that left your lips.

“This is it, isn't it?” He asked. “This is why you've been this way lately.”

“Sam…” the single word came out of your mouth in a pathetic, pleading tone.

“You’re…jealous, aren't you?”

It wasn't the first word you'd use to describe how you felt, but it was certainly one of them. But you didn’t want him to know that. Jealousy, in your eyes, was an ugly emotion you were ashamed of. Yearning was what you’d spent the last several months doing, not being jealous. Yet you were lying to your own face – you knew that deep down. There was no telling what you wouldn’t give to be his little waste of time.

You paused for too long, your thoughts blaring too loudly for you to speak. He spoke for you. “Look at you.” He paused, a smile slowly lighting his eyes as they darted across your face. “Can’t speak?”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“We can just cut the shit and actually talk for once, how about that?” It was a brutal thing to say, but he was right.

“I thought you didn’t like me. Not like this.” You punctuated the last word by digging your fingers into his arms a bit harder.

“Who says I do?” He couldn’t keep a straight face when he spoke.

“Let go, then. Take me home.” You shocked yourself with just how calm and collected you sounded, even as your heart felt as if it may beat out of your chest at any second.

“We’re still not talking. We just keep going around and around…” he moved your face in a small circle with his hand. “In circles. Over and over.”

“Just say whatever you’re trying to say, Sammy. Please.” You couldn’t take much more of this, your willpower starting to crack at the seams.

“I don’t think I can put it to words.” He pulled you the smallest bit closer, and you went willingly. “Can I just kiss you?” The words left him first, though they may as well have come from you as well, given the way you leaned forward.

Your lips brushed against his. His fingers tightened their grip on the sides of your face. You wrapped your arms around his waist. A series of actions that seemed to happen in stop-motion, unbearably slow but all too fast at the same time.

There had to be some catch, you figured. Something would stop this, like a poorly-written movie. Someone was bound to come crashing through the door at any moment to spoil what was happening right in front of your eyes. But nothing of the sort occurred. Instead, you shut your eyes and let him come to you. And he did so.

Your lips felt perfect in his. A kiss unlike any you’d had before, he moved flawlessly in tune with you. He didn’t rush, only gently exploring the curves of your lips with his own. When he broke away from you to take a deep, shaking breath, you had to stop yourself from chasing him back down.

It was like the entire world had stopped, even the embers in the fire hushing their crackles to give the two of you a moment of silent reflection. It began to sink in. You’d kissed him. You kissed Sam. The taste of him flowed over you in waves, a taste you would never forget until the day you died.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“For what?”

“I didn’t wait for you to answer.”

It felt ridiculous that it would even occur to him to ask in the first place. As if the two of you hadn’t been dancing around this moment for months now, as if there was anything you’d wanted more.

You finally found the strength to open your eyes. The sight of him was breathtaking, in the most literal sense. Those half-lidded eyes and the way his hair framed his face, the way you were so close you could see the lightest hint of stubble on his chin, all of it was powerfully beautiful. You were suddenly struck by the sense that you would never be able to find the words to describe this moment.

You had no control over yourself as you gripped around his waist tighter, leaning back in, capturing his lips in yours. The softest groan rose from his throat, a sound so melodic to your ears you could hear it a thousand times and never get tired of it. “Yes,” you whispered between breaths.

“What?” His reply was cut off by another kiss.

“Yes, you can kiss me. And yes, I'm so jealous.”

Every other word between you was communicated in the way he pushed against you, laying you back onto the couch. His fingers wrapped in your hair, his other hand gripping the arm of the couch so hard you could hear his fingernails scratch against the fabric. He asked you how jealous? by pulling away from you a bit. You answered you have no idea in the way you chased him and pulled him back with a hand in his hair.

He wandered across your jawline, down to your neck, where he planted a few soft kisses before gently nipping at the skin. The whine that came from you caused both of you to pause. You were back in your body, but your head was so far up in the clouds you could barely remember where you were. You’d barely registered how his thigh had come to rest between your legs, and the way you were lifting your hips to grind against him. It was embarrassing, how desperate you were for contact with him.

A shiver coursed through your body when it finally clicked it was him. None of this felt real, at all. Sam was biting at your neck, your fingers were tangled in his hair, and it was real. It felt impossible to wrap your head around it all.

“How long?” You asked, before you could stop yourself.

“Hmm?”

“How long have you wanted this?”

“Since the day we met.” He sank his teeth into you, awarding him a gentle gasp.

So many firsts were transpiring all at the same time. You were quickly becoming overwhelmed, tears of excitement and joy and emotions you couldn't place prickling at the corners of your eyes. You pushed him back from you with a gentle touch, and he went so willingly it was as if he was weightless to you.

“Fuck, do you need me to stop? I’ll stop.” He was already climbing his way off of you, his eyes fixed on the tears welling up in your eyes.

“No!” The word came out broken, a sobbing gasp, pleading and desperate. “Tears of joy, I swear.”

“Needed it that bad, huh?” An obnoxious, cocky grin graced his features. A smile you’d seen before on a certain someone else. “We could have cut to the chase a lot sooner if you’d just said something.” He combed his fingers through your hair.

“You didn’t need me.” It hurt like hell to say it out loud. “You had your little waste of time, and I…” I had your brother. “I had myself.”

“I did need you, though.”

As if by some kind of grand comedic timing, the sound of tires crunching on asphalt broke through the silence, and headlights flashed through the gaps in the blinds.

“Shit.” He scrambled his way off of you, running his fingers through his hair in an attempt to fix his disheveled appearance.

“Who’s that?” You asked, righting yourself on the couch and trying to come back down to earth.

“Don’t know. Thought they’d be at that party all night.” He ran a hand over his face, letting out an exasperated sigh. “I didn’t tell anyone you were coming over.”

“Are they gonna be mad?”

“Only if one of ‘em has a girl with them.”

Your heart rate climbed ever higher when you heard keys rattling in the lock, and the creaking of the door opening. A familiar face stared back at you through the mesh of the screen door.

“Jake!” Sam called, waving at his brother as he came in through the door.

You watched Jake’s eyes flit between you and Sam, his jaw set in a way that looked particularly pissed off.

“Hey.”

“Where’s the others?”

“In someone’s bed somewhere.”

The tension between the three of you was thick enough to cut with a knife, and the occasional pops from the dying fire felt like gunshots in your ears. You shot Sam a worried look as Jake hung his coat on the rack next to the door, but he looked unbothered.

“You didn’t say anyone was coming over tonight,” Jake said, digging in his coat pockets.

“I was just about to take her home, actually.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty tired,” you chimed in, though your voice wavered.

“Alright. Have a good night.” He made his way up the stairs, and you could feel your body relax once he was out of sight.

“Surprised he didn’t have a girl in tow,” Sam whispered to you once you both heard Jake’s bedroom door shut.

You forced out a small laugh, your head still spinning from the pace of everything that had just transpired. “Guess I’ve gotta go home, then, huh?”

He shrugged. “They wouldn’t mind if you stayed.”

Stayed, and…did what, exactly? Jake was here now. If you went up to Sam’s room, sharing a wall with Jake’s, he would know. Did it matter, though? You had the one you really wanted, now – but did you, really? You’d only kissed, after all. There had been no confession, no declaration of anything other than attraction. And you knew you did not have it in you to say it.

“I don’t want to be a bother,” you muttered. “Just take me home.”

When you finally collected yourself and stepped out into the night, the frigid air felt refreshing on your flushed skin. He held the door to his car for you, a simple gesture, but one that meant the world to you. His hands gripped the wheel tightly as you stared out the windshield, trying to think of anything to say. Some kind of comment or joke to lighten the unbearable tension in the car.

“So…” he began, clearing his throat. “I’ll be gone for a bit. Next time I’ll see you is New Year’s.”

“Right.”

“We’re still doing the same shit.” He glanced at you, a small smirk on his face. “Not talking.”

You only hummed in agreement, not trusting any of the words that were lined up behind your lips. You could only replay the way Jake’s eyes had harbored a specific type of anger you couldn’t quite put your finger on. And the way he had barely acknowledged your existence.

He pulled the car up to the entrance to the residence hall and threw it in park, slinging an arm over the back of your seat. “I hope I didn’t ruin anything. Like, our friendship.”

You shook your head. “Quite the opposite, actually.”

“Sorry we were interrupted.”

You leaned yourself a bit closer to him, your elbow resting on the center console. “It’s alright. I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah.” He caught the side of your face in his hand, his fingers trailing through your hair. “I’ll see you soon. And I’ll make up for tonight.”

He kissed you gently, just barely touching his lips to yours. It felt so sweet, and so right, to say goodbye to him this way. He leaned his forehead against yours, and you wished that this moment would never end.

You couldn't get yourself to pull away. You needed to say so many things, but the words simply would not come. It must have been written all over your face, from the way Sam smiled at you and nodded towards the door.

“Go get some sleep. We can talk about it tomorrow.”

Reluctantly, you pulled yourself away from him. “See ya.”

You couldn’t help but watch his car pull away once you were inside the building. It hurt, and you didn’t want him to leave, but you needed this night alone. It all started to wash over you, glimpses of reality hitting you like stray bullets with every step you took back to your dorm. All of that had been real.

The smell of him hung off of your clothes, that sweet incense aroma and whatever cologne he wore. Like he was still following you, even as you collapsed into your bed, not bothering to turn any lights on. This moment was supposed to be a somber one – you'd expected the literal opposite of where you were now. He’d offered to let you sleep in his bed. There was no doubt in your mind that if you’d taken him up on that offer, the two of you would have absolutely–

You brought your hands up to slap the sides of your face, knocking that thought off its tracks. That was far too much to think about right now. All you could seem to focus on was the warmth of his body on yours, the sweet taste of his lips, the soft sounds he had made against your mouth.

So, it had been mutual all along. A part of you was almost angry at him, for keeping it from you. But you were not innocent, yourself, as you'd never made any moves either. It was still unclear if he wanted anything more from you than your body, but even that would be more than enough for you.

It felt like starlight was coursing through your veins, a bright energy racing through all your thoughts. Every color seemed more radiant, every light seemed brighter. When you couldn't get yourself to sleep, and went for a cigarette on the roof, the stars seemed to be shining extra bright. Little points of light you’d never noticed before stuck out to you, and for once, you wished Sam was there beside you to point them out. With any luck, you had just walked through the one door you'd been searching for. And there was no turning back.

#warning: christmas music #greta van fic #greta van fleet fanfiction #greta van fleet fic #gvf fanfiction #gvf fic #sam kiszka fanfiction #sam kiszka fic #sam kiszka x reader #sam kiszka x y/n #inr #i never really

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moonstruck-memories · 2 years

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Academia Aesthetics

Types of Girls

dark: black coffee and Victorian blouses. Candle lit room and messy desks, blotches of ink staining each page in every notebook. Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata playing in the background. Reading the classics and yearning for a love in a different era. Crying over The Dead Poet's Society every time you watch it, watching it over and over again anyways. Winter nights and the days ending too soon, never having enough time. Scribbled notes on scraps of paper and heated debates in the corridor at 9 pm. Missing a childhood you don’t remember well. A warm fireplace and falling asleep beside your best friend. Leaving notes in library books, waiting for a response.

grey: green tea the way your grandmother taught you to make it. The sound of rain early in the morning. Violin covers of popular songs. Historical romances and period dramas. Memorising every line from Little Women. A love/hate relationship with studying. Highlighted notes in one colour only. Thick sweaters and jeans. Converse and saddle bags. Writing in a journal and burning the pages. Heavy clouds and grey skies. The nostalgia found in a polaroid. Scribbling notes on the palm of your hand. Texting your friends goodnight too early, missing their closeness.

light: milk tea with more milk than tea. Blueberry muffins and vanilla ice cream. Taylor Swift and concerts in the shower, belting out lyrics to You Belong With Me. Cardigans and cafes in autumn, the smell of coffee and cinnamon everywhere. Reading The Iliad and Percy Jackson, just one or two chapters before class starts. Driving at sunset with friends. Beige coats and white turtlenecks. Your mother’s favourite tea set. Forgotten diaries with dried flowers spilling from the pages. Sticky notes in textbooks with more doodles than words. Forgetting the little details, remembering the big ones.

chaotic: hot chocolate and chocolate chip cookies. Lost textbooks and scattered notes. Colourful highlighters and doodles in the corners. The Neighbourhood and Nothing But Thieves constantlyon replay. Shakespeare and Oscar Wilde memes. The Catcher In The Rye and Dracula. Debating philosophy and conspiracy theories. Thick scarves and denim jackets. Quotes jotted down in your notes app. Sneaking out to see the stars at midnight and staying up till sunrise. Dancing in the rain. Swing sets and ice cream. Voicing out injustices, dreaming of making a difference one day.

theatre: forgotten cups of coffee. Printing scripts and memorising lines. Explaining common misunderstandings about Romeo and Juliet again and again. Last minute performances. Closets full of dresses and wigs. Masquerade balls and quoting actors. Sketching costumes behind your notebooks. Getting lost in daydreams and performances. Living the characters lives and relating to each and every one. Writing your own plays, performing them with friends. Greek tragedies and romcoms. Singing lyrics to your favourite musical. Re-watching it over and over again, missing that feeling of awe you've lost.

romantic: warm drinks with too much sugar and cream. Red velvet cupcakes and dark chocolate. Long flowy dresses and hoods. Playing Hozier in the middle of the night and dancing alone. Re-reading Pride and Prejudice and watching Me Before You too many times to count. Scribbling poetry in all your books. Sticking sonnets up on your walls, memorising each one. Giving your friends handwritten letters and vintage jewellery. Crying over The Song of Achilles, writing fanfiction to ease the ache. Calling your friends at 3 am to talk about the universe. Loving too easily, trusting too much. Missing a love you never had.

I know these have been done to death but I’m obsessed with these aesthetics. The vibes are just 👌🏻

#academia #dark academia #light academia #romantic academia #theatre academia #grey academia #chaotic academia #academia aesthetic #types of people #types of girls #aesthetic

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steddie-island · 4 months

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Christmas Magic

@steddiemas day 22 - Santa shenanigans | WC: 560 | Rating: G Also read on ao3

“Are the girls finally asleep?” Steve smiled up at Eddie from his spot on the couch. “Yeah.” Eddie took Steve’s book out of his hand and pushed his glasses up onto his head before lying down against his chest. “They got two stories, Harper had a glass of water, and I promised that we would wake them up if we heard reindeer on the roof.” He tucked his head against Steve’s shoulder and they wrapped around one another.

“And you made sure they were both fully asleep?” Steve asked as he carded Eddie’s hair back off of his face.

“I did.” Eddie tilted his face up to kiss his husband’s jaw. “So… are you ready?”

Steve grinned, pecked Eddie’s lips, and gently pushed at his hip. “Let’s play Santa.”

This was Eddie’s favorite part of Christmas. Of course he loved other parts– the cookie decorating, cracking out Wayne’s hot chocolate recipe when it got really cold out, the nights they spent in a pile of blankets on the floor watching Christmas movies. But playing Santa? That was where he really got to shine.

The living room was staged just perfectly. There was a tree in the corner with gifts stacked around the base of it. Next to the gifts they had a table set up with a glass of milk and a plate of cookies waiting on it. The stockings were hung up on the fireplace, and a fire had been burning low all day.

Step one was putting the fire out, and knocking some of the logs and ash loose, like someone had slipped on them while coming down the chimney. Ash was smeared on the edge of the carpet– after Steve made sure it would come out of the fabric first.

Then they grabbed Eddie’s favorite boots and the baby powder, and while one held the boots the other sprinkled the powder around the foot of it. They made a path from the fireplace to the tree, then to the table, then all the way back to the fireplace.

The paper used on the Santa gifts was completely different, and Eddie took his sweet time writing their Harper and Willow’s names and from Santa in curling script on the gift tags.

Steve drank the milk, and Eddie ate the cookies, with just a bit of each left as evidence. The pièce de résistance this year was a silver bell, left right beside the fireplace, with an untied piece of ribbon, like it had simply come loose and fallen while Santa had made his exit back up the chimney.

It was so simple, only took half an hour to set up, but Eddie could already imagine the looks on those precious faces in the morning. They would have to spend a lot more time cleaning it up, but it was more than worth it.

Steve wrapped his arms around Eddie and kissed the side of his head as they took in the scene together. “Think they’ll like it?” he murmured.

“I think they’re gonna lose it,” Eddie said. He grinned wide and caught Steve’s hand before tugging him towards the stairs. “Come on. I want my Christmas present now.”

Steve stopped to turn the lights off, leaving the living room glowing with the light coming from the Christmas tree, and he chased Eddie up the stairs to their bedroom.

#steddiemas #Festive Friday #Steddie fic #Steddie ficlet #Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson #Christmas ficlet #Steddie drabble #My writing #My fic

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kerryweaverlesbian · 7 months

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Sarah Blake/Bela Talbot. One of them's a catgirl. You're interested?? Read it!! Sarah's a really fun POV to write!

For the Suptober prompts Black Cat and Portrait. Below is the opening:

Sarah Blake looks at the paper-covered painting she'd spent the past three weeks searching for, a glass of wine half-drunk in her hand. The painting is propped against the fireplace, and it looms, as portraits tend to. B, the little black cat that had followed her home from the auction house - the same day as when she got the commission, now she comes to think of it - sits upright next to her legs on the couch, ears twitching away from her fingers whenever she tried to stroke her.

That's unusual, for this cat. Typically, she'd sprawl out over any available surface, mewl for attention until she got head scratches, and purr contentedly any time Sarah put her hands on her. Now she was stiff, tense.

The only time Sarah had seen her like that before was when she'd tried to put a collar on her¹, and she'd ended up scratched and bitten so badly she'd had to go to the ER. When she got back, B wouldn't look at her, but kept following her from room to room, hissing if Sarah turned her face to her. Sarah, feeling incredibly guilty, had apologised out loud and showed B that she put the collar in the garbage, only realising after she'd done it that of course a cat wouldn't know what any of that meant.

Strangely, though, it seemed to work. B had come back purring as soon as the lid closed over the trash. She even licked the bandage over Sarah's cuts, and pushed her head into her hand.

B's a pretty funny cat overall. She has this unimpressed stare she levels at Sarah for such uncouth behaviour as 'bouncing a toy near her' and 'putting out cat food'². She gave a token grumble whenever Sarah scooped her up like a baby, but would dig her claws in if Sarah tried to put her down again before she was ready. She hops onto the counter when Sarah brings her research home (which is more often than she probably should, but hell, what else has she got to do on a Friday night?) and stares at the papers like she's reading them. More than once, B had put her paw on just the information Sarah had been looking for just after Sarah remarked on how she needed it³.

"My good luck girl," Sarah had praised, and kissed B's furry little head. B's hackles had gone up from the smooch, but then she seemed to calm herself deliberately, and she flopped over the papers like she'd lost all her bones in a fit of lazy decadence.

In the present, Sarah swirls her wine and surveys the hidden painting.

"What do you think is wrong with it, B?"

She's supposed to burn it. That's what the note said, which she'd found in an envelope taped to the back of the Picasso she'd just purchased. The note had been written in wobbly scratches of biro, addressed directly to her. It was lucky she was adept at reading awful handwriting - in the archiving business, it's essential - because the script was only barely legible. There had been $32,000 dollars in the envelope too.

The flat out work of the last few weeks had been for the money and the chance at more, she wasn't going to deny that, but part of it was her overactive curiosity.

What's wrong with it? Ava's first thought had been haunting. She'd waved her EMF machine at it half heartedly after the delivery guy left, but the needles stayed dissatisfyingly still. She'd bought the thing on Amazon when a friend mentioned cold spots, but it turned out they'd just had a fault in their double glazing⁴. She hasn't heard from them in a while, not directly, but from her Facebook feed she knows that they haven't been murdered in their bed by a malevolent spirit so far. Which is good! Just, well, a little disappointing, is all...

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¹ The collar was baby pink, and had a little bell on the end.

² Sarah's never seen her eat it, but it always disappears by morning.

³ So, she talks to her cat, so what? Before B, she'd talk through her process with her toaster.

#sarah blake #bela talbot #sarah blake/bela talbot #s1e19 #provenance #sapphicnatural #spn wlw rarepairs #I went for sort of a romcom feel for her inner monologue #dunno if I succeded but it was fun!#suptober23 #black cat #portrait #sarahbela #cawis creates

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msweebyness · 4 months

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Class of Heroes Intro

Here's the final installment! The title sequence for Class of Heroes! As always, @imsparky2002 and @artzychic27! Enjoy!

(Instrumental of "Ever Ever After" begins to play. The camera shows a panoramic view of a gorgeous and old-fashioned palace, before zooming up to the sign in the front courtyard, which reads, "Francois Preparatory Academy" in looping golden script. The screen then shows several interior shots of the gorgeous school; the grand ballroom, the massive theater, a classroom, the main entry hall, before zooming out to a field of emerald green grass outside the school.)

(We come to a dirt clearing in the middle of a field, where a girl of Eurasian descent, donning a practical pink hanfu is practicing motions while wielding a sword with a hilt carved to resemble a dragon, an expression of determination in her blue eyes...only for them to shoot open wide as she trips over a rock, prompting an exasperated groan from the small black cat hovering nearby while a small red cricket hops over to check on the girl.)

*TITLE CARD: Marinette: Honorable warrior...and a bit of a klutz!*

(The camera zooms into something golden resting at the edge of the clearing, and we are suddenly following a long, long trail of silky blonde hair, eventually landing on a boy with sparkling green eyes, perched on a windowsill, smiling brightly as he is brushing out his fifty-foot locks. The boy begins to hum a soft melody, causing his hair to begin glowing a brilliant gold, as the small teal snake wrapped around his shoulders hisses in content.)

*TITLE CARD: Adrien: Sunshine prince with a whole lotta hair, and a special power that comes with it!*

(Adrien smells something cooking and looks in the window of what is revealed to be the cafeteria. The camera zooms into the kitchen, where a girl of creole descent with her hair tied back is mixing ingredients into a large pot of gumbo. She adds a few shots of tabasco, deeming it perfect after tasting a sip, and begins ladling it into bowls for the lunch rush.)

*TITLE CARD: Alya: Determined workaholic with a passion for good ol' southern cookin'!*

(On their way out of the kitchen and into the cafeteria, one of the cooks trips over a bump in the rug and falls over, sending the tray of gumbo bowls he was holding flying into the air. However, before they can hit the ground, the bowls and airborne gumbo are trapped midair in a glittering blue aura, floating and reassembling themselves on the tray as the cook is set back on his feet. The camera then pans over to a boy with a dark pink cap, comfy pastel clothes, a laidback smile, and a glittering wand.)

*TITLE CARD: Nino: The best bro you could ever ask for, with a magic touch!*

(Nino turns and winks at the audience, pointing his wand, and with a *poof* the scene changes to the warm and yet grand atmosphere of the school's library. The camera pans over the shelves before coming to rest by a roaring fireplace, where, in a large armchair, a girl with short blonde curls and wistful blue eyes sits with a book, reading about far-off places, daring swordfights, magic spells and a prince in disguise!)

*TITLE CARD: Rose: Fairytale-Fanatic bookworm who sees the beauty beneath the surface!*

(The camera pans over to a window with roses growing in a pot on the windowsill, before being whited out by the sun, allowing the scene to transition outside, to the school's maze-like garden. Moving into a row of tall rosebushes, we see a girl with silky black fur and large horns walking down the path, before she stops and gently takes one of the roses in her black claws, admiring its beauty.)

*TITLE CARD: Juleka: Beastly princess who proves that beauty is found within.*

(Juleka smiles softly as she hears a soft melody floating through an open window, making the camera pan to the left in order to look inside. Sitting before an ornate grand piano is a boy with his teal hair pulled back in a ponytail and a gentle smile, his fingers flying expertly across the keys, weaving a story through music as he smiles peacefully.)

*TITLE CARD: Luka: Mellow maestro who plays mesmerizing melodies for all the land!*

(The camera suddenly pans up into the sky, where a horse with orange-brown fur and golden wings is swooping through the clouds. The camera follows him as he swoops downward towards the main entrance of the school, where a very muscular boy with a goofy, but cute smile is carrying a stack of large crates up the front steps. He sets them down, giving a wave to the grateful teachers as he bounds down the steps.)

*TITLE CARD: Kim: Loveable Himbo with the heart of a true hero!*

(Kim smiles with a dreamy look on his face as he hears a familiar and gorgeous singing voice approaching. The camera pans upward to see a girl with adorable freckles and wavy red hair walking towards and descending the steps, twirling with a bright smile as watches the people around her with bright and curious eyes.)

*TITLE CARD: Ondine: Mermaid princess who's happy to be part of this world!*

(Suddenly, Ondine's foot catches on a step and she begins to fall, bracing for impact with the ground. Thankfully, Kim is there just in the nick of time, catching her in his arms. With a loving smile, the two give each other a soft kiss before Kim is splashed with water from a nearby fountain, and we turn to see a girl with the scales of a tropical fish and sharp teeth smiling mischievously.)

*TITLE CARD: Missy: One feisty fish but a friend to the end!*

(Suddenly, a colorful carpet whizzes across the screen in midair, the camera hurrying to follow it. Once we catch up, we see a girl with messy pink hair and patched-up clothing smirking as she looks over the contents of the wallet she snatched off of one of those jackass royals. Turning to the screen, she gives a two-finger salute.)

*TITLE CARD: Alix: Former street rat with sticky fingers and attitude to spare!*

(Alix is then grabbed by the back of her collar by a blue hand, jerking her with a yelp and pulling Carpet to a stop. The camera does a spinning pan to reveal a boy with cerulean skin and an abundance of gold jewelry looking at Alix with an unamused expression. He holds out a hand, and Alix reluctantly forks over the wallet, which he returns to its owner with a snap of his fingers.)

*TITLE CARD: Ismael: All-powerful genie getting a taste of life as a free man!

(Alix and Ismael look up as a microdrone flies across the sky, carrying some documents with what looks like mechanical plans. The small robot flies in through the window of a small mechanical workshop, where a bespectacled boy dressed in baggy and comfy clothes works at a cluttered desk, turning to look at a large, marshmallow-like blue robot before turning and examining the plans.)

*TITLE CARD: Max: Robotics genius with a mind that just won't quit!*

(The scene suddenly cuts to an archery target in a field outside the school, which is pierced dead in the center of the bullseye. The camera pans to the side, showing the same thing happening to several other targets. The camera then pans back to show a girl with short black hair and a practical junihito aims another arrow straight toward the screen, her expression fierce and focused.)

*TITLE CARD: Kagami: Cold and quiet princess with a fiery heart and deadly aim!

(We hear a soft, almost angelic voice singing peacefully from somewhere offscreen, and the camera gently drifts into the nearby forest, coming to rest in a flowery clearing. Surrounded by a ring of light that almost resembles a halo, we see a girl with soft blonde curls and tender amber eyes, singing beautifully to a dove perched on her finger, as a bevy of other woodland creatures are at her side, listening with rapture.)

*TITLE CARD: Mylene: The fairest in all the land, of both heart and face.*

(Mylene smiles in a loving way, looking up at the school's belltower as she hears the grand chimes of noon sounding out. The camera zooms up to the tower, swooping in through the window, and weaving through the bells from above before resting on a tall, muscular boy with a hunched back and a slightly sunken eye, who smiles as he ceases pulling on the thick ropes, listening to the bells chime as three small gargoyles swoop around the rafters.)

*TITLE CARD: Ivan: A big guy with some atypical features but the gentlest heart.*

(The camera pans deeper into the forest, the trees growing thicker, covering the area in shade, soft grasses and dark flowers, where another song, the wistful melody of 'Once Upon a Dream', is being sung by a boy with brilliant red hair, who is drawing in a sketchbook as he spins contentedly through the woods. Suddenly, he lets out a loud yawn...and collapses on the soft grass, snoring peacefully.)

*TITLE CARD: Nathaniel: Creative prince who has a bit of a narcolepsy problem...*

(The camera pans over to where some frost has begun to spread through the grass. We follow the trail to a small pond, which has been frozen over by a thick layer of ice, on top of which skates a raven-haired prince clad in shimmering blue, his green eyes twinkling as he sends wafts of snowflakes from his fingertips into the air, forming different shapes and patterns.)

*TITLE CARD: Marc: Sweet but nervous royal with the chilly power of frost!*

(The camera flashes back to the school, skimming along the ornate floor of the grand ballroom, coming to rest on the motions of a broom, sweeping dust into a pan. The shot then pans up to reveal a girl with shining blonde hair dressed in simple work-clothes. She hums 'Sing, Sweet Nightingale' to herself as she continues to sweep, smiling at a mouse that darts up onto her shoulder.)

*TITLE CARD: Zoe: Former housemaid and world's most patient stepsister!*

(The camera pans upward to a nearby banister, where a girl with tailored blonde curls and a froufy yellow dress watches Zoe cleaning with a pensive expression, while also examining her nails to make sure each one is perfect. She then turns with a huff to leave, casting a remorseful glance at her half-sister before she goes.)

*TITLE CARD: Chloe: Former bully who's slowly learning the value of goodness.*

(The shot switches to the school's lavish dance studio, where a girl with neat ginger hair and skin carved from pine wood is performing an intricate tap dance routine. After executing a few flawless turns and kicks, she takes an ending pose, to the applause of her peers. She notices a scratch in her arm, takes out a block and begins to sand it out.)

*TITLE CARD: Sabrina: Wooden girl who won't be anybody's puppet anymore!

(The shot changes over to the school's elaborate display of trophies and student art...which have been knocked asunder by a group of rambunctious students. Suddenly, the fretting teachers watch as a blue aura surrounds all the paraphernalia, levitating them back into pristine order. The shot rotates to show a blonde girl with glittering wings, clad all in blue as she wields a star-tipped wand and gives a stern look to the sheepish students.)

*TITLE CARD: Aurore: Motherly fairy who maintains order as best she can!*

(With a clean swoop, the shot changes to the in-school TV studio, where a girl with dark hair, and the ears, tail and eyes of a lion, nervously flicking through the script of the report she's about to give. Hearing the call of "Rolling!", she looks up at the camera, putting on their best smile.)

*TITLE CARD: Mireille: Future Lion Queen who's ready to stop running away from her past.

(From somewhere up above, we hear the sound of jingling bells, and the camera pans up to see a small fairy with a short pixie cut, clad all in green whizzing down the hall with some miscellaneous supplies in a bag at her side, dodging past the heads of other people, no doubt focused on her newest project.)

*TITLE CARD: Lacey: Spunky fairy with a talent for tinkering and ingenuity.*

(The scene cuts to a field outside the school, where some snooty princes are engaging in a game of croquet. Suddenly, all of their mallets are swiped from their hands. While they’re looking around in confusion, one prince is tripped and falls head-over-ass from his own mallet. The audience hears mischievous laughter from someone, and the camera pans over to a boy with bright red locks, clad all in green, grinning broadly as he flies away.)

*TITLE CARD: Simon: Neverland jokester learning the value of growing up.*

(The shot transitions to a road outside the school, which is blocked by trees from a recent storm. An extremely tall student with wild curls and colorful overalls steps up, easily demolishing the trees with their massive fists and clearing the way for cars and carriages to pass through without trouble.)

*TITLE CARD: Denise: "Bad Guy" with a huge heart coded to be good!*

(The shot changes to a wide view of the entrance to the school’s gorgeous gardens, where more and more flowers seem to be growing by the second! The camera then pans over to a girl of Indian descent, dressed in beautiful, colorful floral prints, who is growing rows and rows of roses and carnivorous sundew, humming lightly to herself as the different colored pollens stain her clothes.)

*TITLE CARD: Reshma: Family golden child with serious flower power ready to express her true self!*

(The shot then changes to the main gates of the school, where a crowd of people has assembled around a teen with curly hair, dressed in 90’s inspired pop garb. They give everyone a smile as they pose for picture after picture and sign numerous autographs.)

*TITLE CARD: Cosette: Beloved popstar with a voice to make a siren blush!*

(The scene then transitions to the school’s grand amphitheater, where a show of epic proportions is being put on, complete with music, lights and a full chorus. In the center of all the grandeur is a student clad in gold jewelry and stylish Inca robes, belting each note perfectly and loud enough for everyone to hear.)

*TITLE CARD: Jean: Bigshot emperor with theatrical flair who's learning to watch out for the little guys!*

(With a dazzling smile, Jean produces a blue desert flower in his hand and tosses it to someone in the crowd. It lands in the hands of a prince clad in shimmering teal whose eyes twinkle behind his glasses. He gives the emperor a soft smile as he pets the tiger reclining at his side.)

*TITLE CARD: Austin T: Spirited prince who's not a prize for anyone to win!*

(The scene then transitions to a dark hallway, shadows creeping around every corner. Suddenly, the audience hears an eerie giggle sounding from somewhere in the darkness. With a deathly shriek, a girl who appears to be a skeleton, dressed in a trimmed and macabre black suit with a lacy gothic parasol appears, causing the camera to seem to jump. The girl giggles, her unearthly violet eyes twinkling.)

*TITLE CARD: Eri: The Pumpkin Queen of Halloween, always ready for a good scare!

(The camera then drops to the floor, showing a detached blue hand carrying a handful of flowers as it scuttles along the floor. It then jumps up to reattach itself to a patched-together boy with shaggy black hair, fiddling with a vial of something called ‘Fog Juice’.)

*TITLE CARD: Anthony: Ragdoll with a snarky streak and Eri's voice of reason.*

(Anthony smiles as he hears a lovely voice humming a soft tune, and turns to see a prince of Hispanic descent walking towards him, gently stroking a small rabbit in his arms on the head. The young royal blushes as the ragdoll hands him the flowers he had collected, squeaking in happy surprise.)

*TITLE CARD: Jesse: Gentle and musical prince with a secret love for the spooky!*

(The camera zips out of the dark hall, stopping at a doorway when a cheerful bark is heard from inside the school’s graphic arts studio. A well-put-together girl with the ears and tail of a cocker spaniel trots out, watching her latest project on her tablet, making tweaks as needed, her tail wagging in seemingly constant joy.)

*TITLE CARD: Ayesha: Perky puppy who loves making peppy cartoons!*

(Ayesha’s ears perk up as a girl with neatly arranged dark curls and thick glasses hustles by, carrying several scrolls and maps while reviewing an ancient text in a book, weaving effortlessly through oncoming students as she takes notes on her cell phone.)

*TITLE CARD: Dot: Quirky but organized librarian with a fascination for the undiscovered.*

(As Dot passes, the shot focuses in on a student in a dark purple chiton dotted with punk-rock accessories, watching the passing students with a somewhat bored and detached expression as they spin a small white flower between their fingers.)

*TITLE CARD: Roxie: Snarky rebel against society with some heavy debts to pay.*

(The shot then transitions back to the woods outside the school, where a student with perky glasses and blue-black hair pulled into a neat bun sketches a detailed diorama of a young mother squirrel in its habitat, adjusting their yellow dress as they make sure each detail is immaculate.)

*TITLE CARD: Petra: Gifted sketch artist with a passion for the natural world.*

(The camera zooms up to a window of the school, revealing what seems to be the chemistry lab…for only mere seconds before the room is engulfed in an unusual pink smoke. When it clears, a student covered in pink powder, clad in a white labcoat and platform sneakers grins madly at the success of their latest experiment.)

*TITLE CARD: Anais: Eccentrically brilliant chemist who'd love to be a superhero!*

(Just outside the chemistry lab, a girl with wild red curls and a stylish leather jacket appears to be fiddling with the hi-tech wheels on her skates, trying to adjust them to lower resistance and amplify her speed. With a smile at her seeming success, she takes off down the hall in a blur.)

*TITLE CARD: Aggie: Skating speed demon with a brainy edge and 'tude to spare!*

(In the school’s main office, a girl with well-groomed white fur and the ears and tail of a mouse adjusts her fluffy purple cap as she arranges a stack of documents for a missing child case in perfect order, ready to be sent to the RAS.)

*TITLE CARD: Candace: Passionate social work intern with natural leadership skills!*

(The scene then transitions to the school’s basketball court, where a tall boy of Korean descent with short, spiky hair of a bright red hue is dancing to ‘Nobody Like U’ through his headphones as he scores three-point shots effortlessly in succession of each other.)

*TITLE CARD: Soo-Yeon: Pop Band Fanboy who's a beast on the basketball court!*

(The camera then exits the gym and zips through the hall, until entering the door of the school’s shop classroom, where there’s been an accident with some of the equipment. A tall girl clad with a pink cap and clad in white overalls whips out a golden hammer, tapping it against the broken machines and repairing them instantly.)

*TITLE CARD: Margo: Fix-proficient video game hero who wants everybody to be happy!*

(Outside the shop classroom, a girl of Asian descent wearing a flat hat and a strip of fabric over the lower half of her face watches the passing students with keen eyes, never seeming to rest or change expressions for a moment.)

*TITLE CARD: Staci: Warrior and friend of the dragons, not the best with trust.*

(The shot changes to an overhead view of a police-academy modeled obstacle course, overseen by a surly instructor. With a high trill of the whistle, a girl with short auburn hair and the ears and tail of a rabbit, begins the course, blazing through it in record time as the other students watch in awe.)

*TITLE CARD: Parker: Aspiring cop-to-be and the most determined person you'll ever meet!*

(The camera then once again zooms back to the woods, climbing up a tall oak tree and stopping on a particular branch. On that branch perches a muscular boy with the features of a fox, shooting arrows at falling leaves with a relaxed smile.)

*TITLE CARD: Brecken: Big-hearted jock who gives back to the community in his own way!*

(Brecken turns with a smile as someone lands delicately on the branch next to him. A girl with immaculate brown curls, a stylish blue coat and a delicate red parasol dusts herself off as she hums a merry tune to herself, having just completed another babysitting job. She did so adore children!)

*TITLE CARD: Evie: Devoted and near-perfect caretaker of the young with a passion for parasols and song!*

(Down below, beside the entry road, a wheelchair-bound student with wire black curls and a variety of mechanical parts films the procession of carriages for a class assignment, an easy and spacey smile on their face as she cheerfully greets everyone who passes by.)

*TITLE CARD: Mona: Friendly half-car who's always smiling, even when they're confused as heck!*

(The scene then transitions to the school’s kitchen, where a girl clad in wizarding robes is simultaneously leading the dishes to the sink with magic and solving complex math equations on a blackboard, murmuring quiet little utterances to herself as she works.)

*TITLE CARD: Eloise: Brilliant mathematician with the additional talent of ancient sorcery!*

(The scene then changes to the school’s cafeteria, where Alya has just brought a bowl of her gumbo to a blonde boy clad all in pink, stopping a moment with a fond smile to listen to him chattering excitedly about some new happening at the school.)

*TITLE CARD: Austin A: Spoiled southern beau with a sweeter side once you get to know him!*

(Just outside the school, a hapless chicken nearly walks right into an open manhole cover, only for the water from a nearby fountain to scoop it up, and deposit it into the waiting arms of a boy with dark red hair and tattooed arms, who gives its head a fond pat.)

*TITLE CARD: Austin Q: Cranky Chief's son who shares a special connection with the water!*

(The camera follows a boy in spiffy dress clothes with his hair pulled back in dreads as he talks rapidly on the phone about an upcoming superhero publicity event he has planned, wanting everything to go smoothly.)

*TITLE CARD: Austin B: Hero enthusiast who wants to shed some light on super prejudice!*

(The scene changes to that of the school's state-of-the-art training facility, where a young man with shaggy blonde hair and dark-hued battle armor is battling a magical simulation with his sword. He is swiftly victorious, sheathing the blade...only to notice something glowing in his pocket. He takes out a small, smooth blue gemstone, staring at it with an unreadable expression.)

*TITLE CARD: Felix: Raised to be a lawman, destined to fall between right and wrong.*

(The scene changes to the school's lush courtyard, zooming up to stone pavilion, where a skeletal girl clad in gaudy orange plays a soulful love song for an adoring crowd, only for her expression to darken as she hears two students murmuring about how they had heard this song before...and not from her.)

*TITLE CARD: Lila: Performer with a closet full of dark skeletons to hide!*

(In the grand entry hall stand two women, one with shimmering fairy wings and another in distinguished wizard robes. Caline Bustier and Olga Mendeliev, the teachers of the famed 'Hero Classes'. The two magical teachers turn to face the entrance of the school as the grand, gold-plated oaken doors fly open, allowing the students to walk in as sunlight dances on the gleaming tiles. Directed by their educators, the students gather together under a massive stained-glass window, smiling at the camera for the final group shot.)

(With a grin and a flick of Nino's wand, the title appears on the screen in looping, grand cursive with a poof blue pixie dust: "Class of Heroes". A rainbow of fairy dust rains down, sending us to black screen.)

And that concludes this little miniseries! I hope you enjoyed, and lave your thoughts in the comments and reblogs!

#miraculous ladybug #class of heroes #ml au #disney au #mlb ocs #title sequence #intro

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variousqueerthings · 7 months

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we were watching girl in the fireplace yesterday, and it's just very very interesting to analyse its intentions, versus what I always got out of it, versus the uncomfortable underlying "moffatness" which is still acceptable in this one, because of the way it's filtered through directing and showrunning and acting and choices that moffat-seasons wouldn't have accepted in favour of the sort of lascivious leeriness he apparently contractually needs to have in his show

thinking about for example when she kisses the doctor and he then realises who she is and has kind of a delighted reaction to it, that seems more like it's just a hilarious thing to have happened (not in a bad way, just very funny), because she's clearly one of his favourite historical people, and how that works because she's giving a relatively understated performance (not sultry-talking) and he's just sort of bemused by the whole situation throughout as it all ties into the mystery of the week

she's fallen "in love" with him she thinks, but moreso she sees him as a literal angel/higher being that's entered into her world and she has a sort of awe of him (and wishes to travel the stars), and he's getting to hang with someone he admires (and crucially the script never ever calls her a bad girl, gags at later moffat).

I think a romance seems so incongruent with what's happening in the episode itself, but especially as it relates to the rest of the season, which is 1. the doctor knows in his hearts that rose will eventually go or die, and it's highly likely that he'll want her to go before the latter happens, and both renette and sarah-jane are examples of this in action (renette reading his mind and correctly identifying that he is simply very lonely, and has been since childhood + the doctor standing alone after having read her goodbye letter + the fact that these episodes happen right after each other) and 2. both girl in the fireplace and later impossible planet briefly make it seem like the doctor will be stuck in a certain time and have to assimilate into it (also see a vague connection to human nature here, where he's literally human for a hot second -- but also the companions going + being hurt by him is a dtennant ongoing plotline until the end) and while in both cases it's only given a scene, it's clearly just... not right. the doctor keeps on traveling, that's what the doctor does, and others "take the slow path," as renette says

all of this hurts, not because it's romantic, but because of the narrative of immortality. it's just much more tragic in its actual form than what was apparently intended (and isn't what I ever saw)

but also like... yeah ok, they cast dtennant, contractually obligated to have him be smooched x amount of times per season I guess, alongside the fainting and the crying, it's fine. it's not romantic though

(funny that all three times he's been kissed so far - jackie, cassandra, renette - he has not known it was going to happen, for someone who's meant to be the flirtatious "sexier" doctor he sure just... isn't -- I believe there's no more kissing this season, but I'm hazy on s3, we shall see....)

#im rewatching doctor who #dw #doctor who #i soooooo narrowly avoided going on a moffat rant on this post #but i think once i get to his run i will simply have to #i'll tag that anti moffat in case it's not wanted #but gosh you can Really see the first pieces of his female character writing and 'sexy doctor' writing in this episode #on its own it wouldnt be so noticeable but in comparison to literally his first episode as showrunner #and then only more as it goes on #fuck im ranting in the tags stop

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t00turnttrauma · 2 years

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strong- jtk

this one has been in my back pocket for a little bit and I love it.

warnings: none

Jake set his suitcase down. Smelling the sweet scent of pastries in the oven. His stomach grumbled, shot from the dozens of fast food meals and slightly questionable restaurants. The first thing he wanted when he came home from a long time away was a home cooked meal. He called out for his lovely lady, excited to see a familiar face, the one he missed every night.

“Jake!” She smiled, coming down the stairs, a laundry basket settled on her hip. Her eyes were wide, unwashed hair slicked into a ponytail and still in pajamas despite it being two in the afternoon. “When did you fly in?”

“This morning,” he smiled, gingerly taking the basket from her hands and setting it on the ground. “We went to the studio to drop off the gear. They wanted lunch but I wanted to come and see you.” His hands pulled her into his chest. Jake loved catching his wife off guard. He knew how much she liked to be there for him, picking him up from the airport and making him home cooked meals every night. He likes to be the one to surprise her. Everything is always done for him in his professional life, so he likes to flip the script.

“Don’t be mad,” she said, subtly denying one of his more desperate kisses.

“Why?” He asked. Usually it was because she traded the furniture, but nothing could prepare him.

“Angel, the social worker, called and she had a family. Seven kids.”

“Seven?!” Jake let out a little laugh. “That’s a lot.”

“Really? That’s amazing bec-“

“How many did you bring home?”

She hesitated for a moment. “Seven.”

Jake felt the ground move beneath his feet. In the two weeks he’d been gone, he’d become responsible for 7 children. He put on a smile, suddenly hearing the sound of pattering feet upstairs and the trampoline in the backyard springing. Jake dragged his belongings to the laundry room just off the kitchen, tossing everything into the washer. Despite most of it being clean, he couldn’t stand the stiff scent his suitcase gave his clothes. The house went quiet for a moment before light giggles wafted from the living room.

Y/N introduced Jake before calling out each of their names in birth order. They each have a wave or some kind of acknowledgment. The youngest, Victoria was cradled in her arms, her thumb in her mouth.

The oldest of the bunch, Noah, looked completely uninterested. He looked like it was just another day. They sat on the couch together, their faces stony. The two boys looked sad, watching the younger three shuffle their toys on the coffee table. The girl on the couch looked at the details of the home, her eyes trailing around the intricate molding around the fireplace. Jake felt his heart skip a beat, wondering what these kids have been through. Noah, Anthony, Susan, Cody, Sebastian, James, and Victoria were obviously shaken up. The kids looked like they wanted to make the most of it, the older bunch looked annoyed, just waiting to be kicked to the curb.

After the mini-meeting, they all dispersed. Susan grabbed Victoria, muttering something about a nap. Noah and Anthony stood together for a second, whispering to one another.

“Do you guys want anything for dinner?” Jake asked, glancing at the pantry. “I can make some-“

The second oldest of the bunch, Anthony, shook his head. “The kids are kind of picky.”

Y/N nodded, walking past with groceries that had yet to be put away. “They’ve been cooking on their own the whole time.”

Jake sat back, sitting in the dining room. He watched their hands work diligently to make dinner. He noticed the little things. He watched as Noah surveyed the pantry, Anthony looking at the multiple devices that he’d never seen before. Noah grabbed the bread from the shelf, opening the fridge for the slices of cheese. Not only was he shocked to see something not in individual plastic sleeves, but also a brand he couldn’t pronounce.

“This is the expensive cheese,” Noah whispered to Anthony, showing him the bag of name brand cheese. “Do you think it melts?”

Anthony shrugged. “I hope. I’m afraid that Sebastian and James are going to get too attached.”

Jake nervously chimed in. “That cheese is amazing on a baked potato.” He pointed to the raw potatoes in the rack. “You all are welcome to use whatever you want.”

Noah shook his head. “Bread and cheese is a luxury where we come from. We’ll be okay.”

The new foster father blinked. “Go on, go sit. I’ll make you guys something amazing.” He stood up and opened the freezer. “Any allergies?”

Anthony nodded. “Mushrooms. All of us.”

Noah looked on edge, approaching Jake with a stern look and his shoulders sharp. “Listen, man, we can’t. We’re just here for a few days and-“

“Then indulge.” Jake set the frozen meats on the counter. “Listen, I’m not going to pretend to know what you kids have gone through. Y/N and I are willing to help you and give you a nurturing place. Not just the basic needs.” He backed off, noticing the way the two boys looked at one another. “I’m going to leave these thawing and we’ll have them for lunch tomorrow. After that, no more parenting for you two.”

Anthony smiled. “You’ve never done this before have you?”

Jake shook his head. “This is my first punishment to you two- as a foster father. Still a little shaky.”

Noah reluctantly agreed, seeing just how much Anthony relaxed. “C’mon Tony. Vicky is going to start chewing the furniture.”

Jake complied with his promise the next morning. Hauling himself out of bed before dawn, he made his way to the kitchen. He grabbed everything he would need. He began with making the cinnamon rolls from scratch. He was never a fan of buying pre-made dough but now he was cursing himself. His shoulders burned from rolling out the dough. He sprinkled cinnamon and sugar onto the flattened dough and rolled it together. After tossing it into the oven, he started with pancakes. Then continued with the scrambled eggs and slices of bacon.

Victoria waddled into the room, her hand held by Sebastian. Even at seven years old, Sebastian was already in tune with how he was raised. He eyed the plates of food. Kitchen Kiszka hadn’t officially opened, but he instructed them to sit. With a rag tossed over his shoulder, Jake served the two of them their plates, sliding them across the table.

“Sebastian, can you go wake everyone up?”

He nodded, taking a pancake and folding it. He disappeared down the hall, reappearing a few minutes later with Noah and Susan. Their stomachs grumbled, never having seen so much food at once. The siblings served themselves, eating quietly. Jake watched proudly, his mind at ease knowing that even if they were to go home today, their bellies would be full. James and Sebastian attempted to run off but Noah stopped them.

“Clear your plates,” he said firmly.

Anthony nodded in agreement. The two boys sat back down, finishing the last few bites of food before bringing their plates to the sink. James almost made it, but dropped his plate instead. He held the empty plate with one hand, licking syrup from the other. His fork slid off. While trying to catch it, the plate slipped from his hand. The porcelain shattered in contact with the floor, sending shards flying.

“I’m sorry!” He cried, tears beginning to roll down his face. “I-I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to! It was an accident. Please don’t hit me.”

Jake could feel his heart stop as his pleads sunk in. He barely had a chance to react. “Hey,” he said softly. “It’s all good, buddy. I know you didn’t mean to.”

James’ shoulders shook as he held back tears. “I’ll clean it.”

The guitarist shook his head. “Go on and play. Don’t worry about it.”

Heavy silence settled over the meal. The sounds of silverware clinking and the rustling of the broom cut through the air. Jake cleaned the rest of the broken plate, finished just in time to do the rest of the dishes. All day, he listened to the seven Strongs running around. He always thought he’d miss the days of silence, when he and Y/N could sit and relax together. He thought there would be times that he wouldn’t be able to stand the sound of voices and giggles, begging for just a moment of peace. Instead, he couldn’t imagine going back to a quiet, childless life. His chest swelled when they giggled, laughter floating through the air.

“What are you thinking?” Y/N asked, spotting Jake in his usual perch on the chair in the corner of the living room. He’d usually read his books there, play his guitar lazily, but now he sat in contemplation.

“Just about the kids.”

“‘The kids’,” she chuckled, sitting on his lap. “We have kids.”

He snaked his arms around her waist, settling his cheek on her shoulder. “We have seven, Y/N. Are we going to do this forever?”

Before she could respond, a shriek cut through the air. Both of them sprung into action, running up the stairs and to the bedroom where they’d last seen the kids. Instead of one of the horrifying images that ran through their mind, they saw Noah with Victoria by the ankles. She shrieked with laughter as Noah shook her. Her arms hung limp as she begged him to do it again. He squatted, her fingertips grazing the carpet and her head thumping against the mattress. Y/N and Jake smiled at the innocence of the kids, laughing and throwing things at one another in play fighting.

As dinner rolled around, Jake checked the steaks. Standing at the bottom of the stairs, he shouted. “Everyone, outside! Let’s go!” Footsteps thundered down the hall, looks of wonder and confusion. “We are having dinner outside tonight, under the stars.”

Firing up the grill, Jake let the steaks cook. Y/N and Susan worked on the side dishes, coming in and out. Noah pushed Victoria around in a stroller, keeping her occupied with toys to push off the hunger she’d been fighting. The nine of them sat together, making small talk. Everything felt natural until after. Everything had been cleaned up and Jake was covering the grill when Noah came up.

“We-we can pay you back for the steaks.”

Jake shook his head. “Never.”

“I swear, just give me a few-“

“No. It’s common courtesy.”

Jake avoided Noah after that, knowing just how adamant he could be. They could go back and forth, Noah refusing to be a charity case and Jake refusing to make them do anything. Anthony and Noah had been through this enough. There has been plenty of foster parents that want to parade them around. First there were the Conrady's. The couple liked to have them sit on the couch. They were talked about, rather than to. The children would sit there, telling their aristocrat friends what it was like to grow up in the slums they did. They could not fathom how someone could go to bed hungry, do their own laundry, or reset their own broken fingers. The crew expected the same from the annual Kiszka Barbecue. Instead, they clambered out of the rental van and up the sidewalk to the large home.

Instead of being asked who they were with, they were welcomed into the home by Jake's mother. "There's drinks in the kitchen. Food is out back and there's all kinds of stuff around to get into," Mrs. Kiszka said excitedly. "Now, go on. Make yourselves at home."

The seven Strong children walked through the home, dispersing as they became comfortable. Victoria and James were passed around the adults, entertained by them. Noah, Anthony, and Susan set up camp in the backyard on their own, waiting for the right moment to serve themselves. Susan grabbed her plate, serving whatever she found to look delicious. Her mouth watered as she looked at her plate. Instead, Jake's hand grabbed hers. In an instant, Noah was hovering over Suzy, rounding on Jake.

"What the hell?" He snapped, not afraid of causing a scene. Heads turned their way. If this were a movie, there would be a record scratch and a switch in camera work.

Jake shook his head, feeling the eyes on him. "Mushrooms."

Susan and Noah looked at the food, spotting the sliced mushrooms. Noah backed off, apologizing with his eyes. Jake was shaken from the situation. He wasn't afraid of Noah, but the fragile trust he had was on the brink of breaking in an instant. Jake consulted website after website and parenting books. He finally came to a conclusion that made sense to him. Noah knew better than to get attached, keeping his head and heart separate. It broke his heart more to see his siblings getting close.

It’d been a year since the seven Strong children moved into the Kiszka household. Things were completely different. Everyday was a fun one, filled with the shenanigans of children running around. Jake had taken his role as a father and mentor very seriously.

He’d taught the older three how to drive, buying a car for Noah and Anthony to share and a Vespa for Susan. The younger crew acclimated to their elementary school well. They had perfect attendance records and had completely done away with their disciplinary infractions. Victoria was set to go to the nearby preschool, no longer shying away from strangers but rather a chatterbox in stores.

Jake and Y/N had finally been propositioned by the state to officially and legally become the Strong’s sole guardians. For three nights, they tucked in the kids. One year is completely different from the rest of their lives. Having children is a lifelong commitment. There was no dropping them when they turned eighteen. It would change their lives completely. Jake and Y/N talked it over, thinking about how the world would change. In the end, it was a mostly easy decision, both of them agreeing.

On the fourth day, they pulled the seven children into the den. Jake wanted to make a big speech, telling them how much he loves them and how he is willing to change everything for them. Instead, his mouth blurted the news.

“We want to adopt you.”

Noah stood up quickly, stepping over Sebastian and Victoria. Jake called out for him, but he only walked faster. He tried to catch up but instead Noah started running. Knowing how long this game of cat and mouse could go on.

Y/N stood on the porch. “Is he okay?”

Jake shrugged. “He’ll come back.” Even he didn’t believe his own words.

He waited and waited for Noah to return. Jake moved from the window to the couch and then to the porch. Despite his brain begging him to go to sleep, he couldn’t. The part of his brain that kept him awake was telling him to go looking for him. He knew nothing about Noah’s private life. He’d be blinder than a bat looking for him. So instead, he sat on the porch, racking his brain for places Noah mentioned before. He decided to give him a little bit of time, fiddling with the keys in his hand. After another hour, Jake spotted a figure walking his way. Occasional puffs of smoke billowed from his mouth, his face lit by the cigarette when he inhaled. Jake never thought he would be so excited to see someone’s face that wasn’t his wife’s.

Noah stopped, looking like he wanted to turn around and run again. Jake would still be here waiting for him. He trekked across the lawn, carefully stepping around the flowers they’d planted a few weeks prior. Noah looked at them for a moment, a thick sniff slicing through the air. Jake felt his heart break as Noah finally reached the glow of the porch light. His eyes were red and puffy from hours of crying.

“A nightlight. Cody sleeps with one and he hates talking about it. Just turn it on and walk out. And Victoria. She likes to wander in the store so keep her in your vision always.”

Jake stopped his teary rant. “Where is this coming from?”

“You only want the little ones,” he sniffed. He waited for this day to happen. Noah was counting down the days until he and his siblings would be separated. Usually, Angel had been able to keep them together and in the system. They were able to return home together. He wished he had some more time, until he aged out of the system and could support his siblings himself. He knew his time was up. Blinking back the disappointed tears, he looked Jake in the eyes. “Promise you’ll take good care of them?”

Jake squeezed his shoulder gently, leading him through the house. their feet thumped on the hardwood in the otherwise silent home. All of the lights were off and the hum of James’ humidifier and Susan’s fan were the only noises. Noah looked weary of following Jake into the backyard but he had to hear Jake promise to take care of his kids. The two of them sat at the metal dining table on the patio. Jake had been meaning to take it to Josh, a new larger table to fit all nine family members was in the garage and waiting to be assembled.

Jake took a deep breath, confirming Noah’s future. “We want all of you. All seven.”

“What?”

“We were planning on building you three a little house back here. Maybe use it as a guest house when you’re gone." He looked at the empty space, already imagining a small home. "I assume you want to go to college if you have the chance."

"I can't leave. James and Vic-"

"Then don't leave. There's a lovely college a few blocks over. You can drive to classes everyday and be home in your own bed every night."

"Really?" Noah sniffed, no longer caring that he was crying. "You would do that? For a kid like me?"

Jake nodded. "Yes." He pulled him into a tight hug. "You're my son. I would do anything for my kids."

167 notes · View notes

sourcreammachine · 5 months

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Doctor Who episodes ranked let’s go

(o’th’ revived era. and eight’s movie because i’ve seen it)

and two-parters are counted as one, but i get to define what a ‘two-parter’ is. this is because i’m in charge not you

9.11 Heaven Sent aka the stars align and somehow Moffat manages to pull an incredible script out of his arse after being stuck up there for so long aka Capaldi is the new Atlas from carrying his entire era aka now you understand why i’m splitting up some two-parters and not others aka ahaha 9.11 lol

3.8/9 Human Nature / The Family of Blood

1.9/10 The Empty Child / The Doctor Dances

3.10 Blink

2.4 The Girl in the Fireplace

4.12/13 The Stolen Earth / Journey’s End

1.6 Dalek

6.i A Christmas Carol

3.11 Utopia

4.8/9 Silence in the Library / Forest of the Dead

7.v The Time of the Doctor okay hear me out first thing is i’m an absolute sucker second thing is why couldn’t season 7 have actually seeded any of this with actual thought and subtly rather than mystery-box hackery it literally makes me think of how much better his era could’ve been if Moffat wasn’t so up his own arse

2.8/9 The Impossible Planet / The Satan Pit

7.iv The Day of the Doctor

4.11 Turn Left

3.4 Girldick

1.12/13 Bad Wolf / The Parting of the Ways

7.iii The Night of The Doctor aka my boi Eight finally gets done justice

4.10 Midnight

4.6 The Doctor’s Daughter

3.2 The Shakespeare Code

3.i The Runaway Bride

2.12/13 Army of Ghosts / Doomsday

2.3 School Reunion

6.11 The God Complex

4.1 Partners in Crime

10.11/12 World Enough, and Time / The Doctor Falls (look, i’m a sucker i know, and i couldn’t give a shit about Gomez and Simm, but fuck you Moffat actually figured out how to write human emotions. Talalay’s finest hour. Lucas’ finest hour. Moffat did not deserve a swan song but he got himself one somehow)

5.2 The Beast Below

8.8 Mummy on the Orient Express (despite the awful, horrible ending, see below (very far below))

4.7 The Unicorn and the Wasp

4.2 The Fires of Pompeii

7.12 Neil Gaiman’s Good Episode

1.1 Rose

5.1 The Eleventh Hour

2.7 The Idiot’s Lantern

10.1 The Pilot

5.10 Vincent and the Doctor

4.i Voyage of the Damned

6.4 The Neil Gaiman Fanfic Hour

3.1 Smith and Jones

4.4 The Sontaran Stratagem / The Poison Sky

6.10 The Girl Who Waited

1.2 The End of The World

5.12/13 The Pandorica Opens / The Big Bang

2.i The Christmas Invasion

6.7 A Good Man Jumps The Shark

5.6 The Vampires of Venice

4.3 Planet of the Ood

7.ii The Snowmen

1.11 Boom Town

3.12 The Sound of Drums / Last of the Time Lords

1.7 The Long Game

7.7 The Rings of Akhaten

8.6 The Caretaker

5.7 Amy’s Choice

9.7/8 Zygons. you can basically hear Capaldi’s back cracking from him carrying it

4.v/vi The End of Time, Parts 1 & 2

10.6 Extremis, the most underrated episode fuck you

4.ii The Next Doctor

8.5 Time Heist

6.1/2 The Impossible Astronaut / Day of the Moon

2.1 New Earth

10.3 Twelve Decks a Racist

9.ii The Husbands of River Song (yeah i’m a sucker, the ending gets me)

6.3 Curse of the Black Pearl spot, fuck

11.1 The Woman Who Fell To Earth (based on how it made me feel in 2018, looking back yeah the warning signs were all there)

5.4/5 The Time of Angels / Flesh and Stone

5.11 The Lodger

1.3 The Unquiet Dead

7.4 The Power of Three aka Chris Chibnall Shits Himself on Live Television

2.5/6 Rise of the Cybermen / The Age of Steel

7.9 Hide

10.5 Oxygen aka La Problema Es Capitalismo

8.1 Deep Breath

2.2 Tooth and Nail claw, fuck

1.8 Father’s Day

11.3 Rosa (bring back Blackman as an episode writer, she wrote Noughts & Crosses, she can do it)

7.11 The Crimson ‘Orror

6.8 Let’s Kill Hitler

6.5/6 The Rebel Flesh / The Almost People

4.iv The Waters of Mars

7.6 oh no it’s clara

9.10 yaay clara’s dead

5.8/9 The Hungry Earth / Cold Blood

12.5 Fugitive of the Judoon (again, based on how i felt watching it for the first time. it was a good episode and an interesting mystery box, just one filled with shit)

1.4/5 Aliens of London / World War Three

7.5 The Angels Take amy lol

2.11 Fear Her

8.4 Listen, aka the first episode that Capaldi carries, despite Moffat being himself again

10.ii Twice Upon a Time (ugh we could’ve had a brilliant trilogy to see out Capaldi, but instead we get Moffat masturbating on live television for an hour. look, The Doctor could have had an actual character arc - they feel like they’re on borrowed time after their resurrection on Trenzalore, after the events on Gallifrey they feel like any sort of feelings of ‘duty’ as last of the time lords (as errant and fleeting as such feelings might’ve been) are resolved, and after failing their BIG MASSIVE SEASON 10 ARC with Missy and getting stabbed in the back, and BILL [redacted for spoilers], they’re happy to accept their death - and that’s where the season ends. yuletide 2017 could’ve ended this arc, they’re taught the love of the universe again, they see the goodness they bring to all life - Clara, i am a good man. and when they sit down to die, those words ‘maybe just one more go’ could’ve had the weight of the universe behind them, it could’ve been the greatest who line ever written, had that line actually had weight on its shoulders. Moffat is a hack. mystery-boxing is hacking, end of story. Capaldi, the finest actor ever in the role, was done dirty by scripts with no weight and planning. Grand Moff lives up his own arse - that power gives him the ability to write incredible episodes such as Heaven Sent and everything he ever touched under Davies - but it makes all series, arcs and continuity fall apart into a pile of shit. this episode is the finest example - a universe of potential, reduced to one hour of self-congratulatory masturbation)

6.9 Night Terrors

11.9 It Takes You Away (the one with the frog god)

7.10 Journey to the Centre of the TARDIS

9.12 Heaven Sent Part II: Whoops

8.9 Flatline

7.3 A Town Called Widowmaker

4.iii Planet of the Dead

9.1/2 The Magician’s Apprentice / The Witch’s Familiar

6.12 Closing Time

3.7 42

13.i Eve of the Daleks (the aisling bea one)

8.3 Robot of Sherwood

9.5/6 Maisie Williams

6.13 The Wedding of River Song

5.3 Victory of the Daleks

8.11/12 Dark Water / Death in Heaven aka i’m sorry Gomez but not even you can carry this

3.6 The Lazarus Experiment

11.i Resolution (…of the Daleks)

10.2 Emoji Robots

8.2 Into the Dalek

10.5 Knock Knock. Who’s There? Yer mum

7.13 The Name of the Doctor aka the Biggest Waste of Richard E. Grant until Rise of Skywalker

7.2 Dinosaurs on a Plane

10.8/9 The Pyramid at the End of the World / The Lie of the Land

Doctor Who: The Movie!

11.6 Demons of the Punjab

7.1 Asylum of the Daleks

7.8 Cold War aka i’m starting to think Mark Gatiss might be a bad writer actually

3.4/5 Daleks in Manhattan / Evolution of the Daleks

11.5 P’ting

9.3/4 Under the Lake / Before the Flood aka the Biggest Waste of Peter Serafinowicz since the Clone Wars didn’t bring him back. also a deaf person falling in love with their interpreter is the most toxic thing ever. and it’s 90 more minutes of season 9 tedium ugh

2.10 Love and Monsters. yeah this high up

8.7 The anti-abortion episode. and it’s not just for that fact alone nonono, The Doctor is such an unbelievable unforgivable cunt this time. at least Clara calls them out in that brilliant final-ish scene BUT they’re still unforgivable AND they get forgiven anyway next week?? literally they take the way Clara’s character arc was going and throw it all in the bin

8.10 In The Forest of the Shite

11.7 Kerblam!

10.9 Empress of Mars aka i’m starting to think Mark Gatiss might be a bad writer actually

9.i Last Christmas aka remember how they reset Clara’s character arc after Mummy for literally no reason???? THEY FUCKING DID IT AGAIN!! she’s literally put in limbo for an ENTIRE SEASON, after they gave her TWO good offramps and apparently chickened the fuck out from using them?? and expected me to care when she (spoiler)? also the episode’s like really boring. bonus points for the absolutely perfect casting of Nick Frost tho, very nominative determinism

10.i is my hatred of Doctor Mysterio unwarranted? probably. but i still hate it

12.8 The Haunting of Villa Diodati, the most overrated episode fuck you. no it is not ‘the only good episode of season 12’ - it’s just as bad as the rest. The Doctor is unnecessarily unlikeable. the villain boy is nonsense, uninteresting and unlikeable. and worst of all - i don’t want to have violent sex with any of the people in this villa

12.4 Nikola Tesla’s Tower of Terror

11.8 The Witchfinders

9.9 Sleep No More aka i’m starting to think Mark Gatiss might be a bad writer actually

13.2 Flux Part 2: War of the Sontarans (oh yeah like they don’t do war normally, that’s like saying the fucking ,, toasting of the toaster or something)

7.i The Doctor, the Widow, and the Wardrobe (it’s only Chibnall from here on out let’s goo)

12.1/2 Spyfall. literally how the FUCK do you waste both Stephen Fry AND Lenny fucking Henry how the fuck. also The Doctor basically committed a nazism right

12.3 Orphan 55, the second most underrated episode - a lot of people say it’s Chibnall’s worst but i think there’s worse

12.i Revolution of the Daleks (the priti patel one)

11.2 The Ghost Monument

13.4 Flux Part 4: Village of the Angels

11.10 The Battle of Rashhcjxjshog s Kjalapados

12.7 Can You Hear Me? (that was the one with the finger guy. no i don’t mean jonathan banks)

11.4 Spiders in Sheffield

12.6 Praxeus

12.9/10 how did they let chibnall get away with it. isn’t there supposed to be oversight. aren’t there supposed to be safeguards. how did they let him get away with it

13.1 Flux Part 1: The Halloween Apocalypse

13.ii Legend of the Sea Devils

13.3 Flux Part 3: Once, Upon Time

13.iii The Power of the Doctor aka thank fuck, it’s finally over

10.5 Flux Part 5: Survivors of the Flux

10.6 Flux Part 6: Fuck You Chibnall

#196 #doctor who

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tvmigraine · 8 months

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FORGOTTEN LIVES: Robert Holmes

Before we begin! Remember to get a copy of the Forgotten Lives Omnibus at this link! The 31st is the LAST opportunity to preorder the new book before you lose your chance! We're going to aim for another double-post today, so that you have enough time to pick up the book!

In the Chibnall era of the show, we were introduced to the idea of Division - we've yet to see it fully in expanded media, but it seems a lot like the Celestial Intervention Agency, pulling strings in the background to make things work in favour of the Time Lords. The Fugitive Doctor is working (reluctantly?) for Division, but we have yet to see the Doctor's relationship with these shady organisations in the show. With the Camfield Doctor, we saw how they bend the rules and act outside the Time Lords' interests. But what does it mean when the Doctor loses their freedom?

Robert Holmes (1926-1986) may be most well known for the invention of the Sontarans, however has written many important episodes for the show including Brain of Morbius alongside Terrance Dicks under the name "Robin Bland". Along with having written the debut episodes of the Third Doctor, The Master, Jo Grant and Sarah Jane Smith, he's also written the episodes Spearhead from Space, The Deadly Assassin, The Talons of Weng-Chiang, The Caves of Androzani, The Two Doctors and many more from the 2nd Doctor era all the way to the 6th. He would've written The Ultimate Foe to complete the "Trial of a Time Lord" storyline, but passed away before he could finish a script.

Here we see a lonely Doctor working trapped beneath the heel of the Time Lords. Where he would have a companion, he instead has a small device that keeps him under constant surveillance. He's stuck doing missions that makes him do terrible things, waiting for that day where he can turn the tide and wipe the red from his ledger.

Portions of his era make him standout, as he does things I never expected to see from either book. In the first book, when written solely under Jay Eales, we see a similar set up to Dennison's "Gauntlet of Absolution" handled in a much different way. The Doctor, much like his current situation, is supervised by the alien race over the course of weeks as the Doctor tries his best to find the best outcome. An unexpected appearance at the end happily caught me off guard, something I hope to see in future releases.

When introducing other writers to this Doctor, Ian McIntre penned another multi-part story that took us between the Hinchcliffe and Holmes incarnations. We see this Doctor reunite with a friend made many faces ago, acting similarly to stories like "The Girl in the Fireplace" and it's relationship to "Deep Breath", not being a direct continuation as much as it's building on the pre-established lore around a strong concept. There's a moment that shows the Holmes Doctor almost reminisce on better times, when he had more freedom than this face may have ever known.

They're possibly the Doctor go through the most physical anguish out of the other incarnations. Eales writes a fantastic opening scene in "Borrowed Time" that details the scars and injuries that this Doctor has sustained, some to a point that should lead to regeneration but instead he is forced to continue. The Doctor that we see at the start of these stories is nothing like the broken and defeated Doctor we find in his send-off.

And as much as I shouldn't pick favourites, I have to give incredible amounts of respect for this TARDIS interior. Referred to as the Rococo TARDIS, it is a gorgeous steampunk design that feels like this Doctor letting out the personality he wishes he could properly show without regular interference.

I have little else to comment on - unlike the Harper or the Camfield Doctors, Holmes' background is easy to understand and stories are simply good. That being said, I couldn't help but consider the specific pairing up of Series 6B Troughton, Jo Martin and Holmes' Doctor. Three incarnations that would not know each other dealing with some alien planet while navigating the bureaucracy of multiple different Time Lord branches could make for either a fantastic political drama or a very funny political comedy.

For more insight into the creative process of every author that worked on Forgotten Lives, you can go to @forgottenlivesobverse and find interviews from everyone involved across the books. If you're looking for insight on how the outfits were designed, you can go to Paul Hanley's Patreon and find what went into designing each Doctor.

Here's the stories you can look forward to as this Doctor does his best to balance his ledger and make amends, pushed to his very limits.

THE OTHER SIDE by Jay Eales

THE HIVE MINDERS (Part Two) by Ian McIntire

RETROGENESIS (Part Seven) by Philip Purser-Hallard

BORROWED TIME by Jay Eales

Our final post will be the George Gallaccio Doctor, the final Doctor before we would begin the Hartnell era. You've got very little time to get the book, so don't miss out!

#forgotten lives obverse #forgotten lives #obverse books #doctor who #the brain of morbius #robert holmes

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chaos-has-theories · 6 months

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Heaptober Day 16: Mistaken Identity

Look, I guess I... write now? Don't even ask, all of this setup was definitely necessary. Jup.

Not beta read, barely proofread, we die like Alther Mella.

Alda Fry had always dreamed about visiting the Castle. Magyk! Adventure! Houses in all colors!

By the time she was fourteen years old she had decided that she would have to become a wizard. And if there's one thing you should know about Alda Fry, it was this: once she decided on something, she did it, no matter what.

It was late in the year 12024 that Alda stepped off the merchant's ship she'd paid for transport, and set her path towards the Wizard Tower.

It was only just starting to get dark, and not cold at all. Even so, there was barely anyone on the street, and those who were hurried past her, wrapped in coats and scarves all the way to the tips of their noses.

Odd, Alda thought, and continued on her way.

It took shockingly long for someone to open the door of the Wizard Tower for her.

When they finally did, it was a ridiculously lanky girl with short dark hair sticking up in every direction. The girl had green eyes and green clothes, and was staring at her rather rudely.

Behind her, there seemed to be some kind of argument going on; or maybe seven of them.

Alda cleared her throat pointedly.

Finally, the girl spoke. "You realize there's a password, right?"

Alda sniffed. "Well, I wouldn't know the password. I've only just got here."

The girl snorted. "You sure did, didn't ya. Come on, just tell me what you want, we can't get anything done in here with you banging away at the door."

Alda rather thought that the cacophanous arguments might be more to blame, but very well. She pulled her shoulders back and squared her jaw.

"I would like to become a wizard," she informed the other girl. "Please."

This time, the green-eyed beanstalk actually left her mouth open to stare at her.

Then she shuddered visibly, cursed under her breath, and stepped back.

"Alright, fine. Come in here, I'm about to freeze my toes off."

Well.

That had been easier than expected.

The girl frogmarched Alda across a shimmering, sandlike floor, and pushed her into a chair at the fireplace.

"Right," she said. "Really, I should be sticking you in the Stranger Chamber, but I'm afraid it's occupied. Nissa Bott, by the way. Who in the entire depth of the Abyss are you?"

"Alda Fry, at your service," Alda said daintily. She suspected that Miss Bott had just sworn rather colorfully at her, but she elected to ignore that.

"And you want to become a wizard."

"Indeed."

"How exactly did you..."

She was cut off by the arguments above them swelling, some clattering, and then a young in equally green robes - with some purple ribbons on the sleeve - dashing past them, only to skid to a halt when he saw them.

"Nissa, you maggot," he complained. "Get back up there and help us clean up this mess."

"So sorry, Newt," Miss Bott said innocently. "I have to interview this Hopeful."

"This what?"

'Newt' seemed, if possible, even more taken aback by this notion than his colleague had. Really, Alda was growing rather tired of this.

So was Newt, apparently, who pulled Nissa up by her collar and dragged her into one corner of her room, where they proceeded to have a - rather more quiet - argument.

Alda took the opportunity to look around a bit. It really was an impressive building. Most impressive of all, the floor seemed to know her name.

Good Evening, Alda Fry, it spelled in an elaborate script, swirling in prismatic colors around her feet. And a wonderful Longest Night to you.

Huh, Alda thought. Nights were apparently rather short around here.

Either the arguments upstairs had eased up a bit, or Alda had simply gotten used to them. Either way, the one beside her suddenly rose in volume. "Then get her to do it," the older boy hissed, gesturing rather unsubtly towards Alda.

Alda decided she was done with this. "Get me to do what?"

As if synchronized, the two turned towards her, looking her up and down with a... somewhat worrying glint to their eyes.

"Well," Nissa began, only to be interrupted by Newt.

"Fetch the ExtraOrdinary. You can consider it your entrance interview, yeah?"

Alda froze, eyes going wide. "As in, the ExtraOrdinary Wizard?"

The boy scoffed. "No, the ExtraOrdinary Message Rat."

Nissa shoved Newt away, sighing deeply. "Look, everything's a bit topsy-turvy today, yeah? EOW's off for some party and took Tod along, and the deputy, and Dandra. And obviously the other Heaps are there too, and we've got the whole StrangerChamber thing to take care of, and Marley dropped some elixir on the floor and we're still trying to figure out what it even was, and Norman and Eliza are arguing about their bunks again, and Master Limm and Madam North still can't agree whether magyk is inherent or extrinsic, and..."

She took a deep breath. Alda was sure her eyes must have glazed over at least halfway through that speech.

Lissa grinned, sharp as glass and just as brittle. "So long story short, we could really need the EOW right about now, but if me or Newt go, Marley might manage to blow up the whole tower. Got it?"

"Not really," Alda admitted.

"Great!"

Just as she'd been led inside, she was marched outside again, and unceremoniously deposited on the stone steps.

"Just down that road, largest building at the end, they should be in the dining room," Newt told her in the tones of someone brushing dust off their hands.

He tried to close the door on her, and in a moment of true desperation, Alda stuck her foot in.

"I don't even know what the ExtraOrdinary Wizard looks like," she protested.

Newt squinted at her as if that was the stupidest question he'd ever heard. "Looks like a Heap," he said, begrudgingly adding, "youngest of the bunch. Good luck!"

And with that, the huge double doors swung shut behind her.

So the thing was, alright?

The thing was, Jenna and Septimus liked to argue. It had started as "an exercise", according to Jenna: to teach Sep that even if he was loud and opinionated and maybe even a little bit mean, nobody was going to be angry at him. At least, not for longer than a day.

(If pressed, Jenna might admit that she also enjoyed having a sparring partner who didn't win automatically just by dint of being Older. But Septimus didn't need to know that.)

Four years later, seven years later, fourteen years later, they just happened to be... the only people who could really argue with each other. Being family was one thing, and six older brothers would always manage to be annoying, but Jenna was the Queen. Septimus was the ExtraOrdinary Wizard. People did not simply argue with the Heads of State.

So the Heads of Statue argued with each other. Mostly just where noone could hear them: their rooms, their letters, among family and friends.

They would argue about who had the more difficult job ("I have to run the entire castle, Sep, all you have to do is one measly tower" "Have you heard the arguments Thaddeus Limm and Margie North get into?") whose outfit was better ("You looked better in green" "Jen, you mix red and purple") or whose turn it was to check in with the Tribe of Three and the dragonets. ("You're Spit Fyre's Navigator, Jen, you're essentially their grandma" "Absolutely not. No. You can be their grandma, I'm the weird uncle at best.")

In short, they argued about anything and everything, as long as it wasn't actually important.

Which meant, of course, that to the mixed amusement and annoyance of their party guests, Jenna and Septimus spent most of their twenty-fourth birthday on their favorite subject:

Who of them had been born first.

"Of course it was me," Jenna said, affronted. "My mother had time to get ready for the Welcome Ceremony, and then Marcia had time to even come up with hiding me in the Forest for Dad to find me."

"Come off it, Jen. The Messenger ran to get Alther right when you were born, and that was noon. I was born in the morning, just ask Mum."

"I could be three days older than you, and you wouldn't even know."

"Forget it." Septimus grinned. "You are and always will be the youngest Heap."

It was just then that the doors to the dining room swung open, violently enough that one of them smacked Edd lightly on the nose.

Standing there was a girl with pale hair, pale skin, and pale grey robes, unusually flimsy for this time of year. She was breathing heavily, and looking around with a suspicious squint.

Even so, she didn't seem to notice that half the people in the room had reached for their protective charms, keeping them just out of sight.

The girl's gaze snagged on Snorri, passed right over Marcia and Milo, and finally settled on Oskar, looking a bit dubious.

"I'm looking for a... Heap," she announced. Her accent was the lilting tones of a Northener, tasting the word "Heap" as if she wasn't entirely sure that it was a name.

Twelve straw-blonde heads and two darker ones heads swiveled towards her. The atmosphere in the room could be described as 'incredulous'.

Marcia caught herself first. "How did you get in here? Where are the guards?"

The girl just frowned at her. Behind her, Hildegarde ran up, out of breath and clearly embarrassed.

"Terribly sorry. She just seemed to know exactly where she was going, I thought..."

"I am looking for a Heap," the girl repeated patiently. "I am sent by one Newt and one Maggot. There has been a spillage."

Septimus groaned, his hair falling over his eyes as he flopped forwards. "Of course. Nissa and Newt. I should have known."

"So. Which one of you is Heap?"

Twelve pairs of blonde eyebrows lifted. So did a great many other pairs.

Milo was the first to take pity on the girl. "Which one do you need?"

The girl frowned, mouthing the question back to herself. Then, sounding uncertain for the first time, she said, "...the youngest one?"

All the way at the Head of the table, Jenna met Sep's eyes. Purple to green, green to purple: Jenna began to grin.

Sep sighed. "So much for birthday dinner, I guess."

He moved to stand, but Jenna was quicker. "Here I am," she said brightly. "The youngest Heap, always and forever. Isn't that right, Sep?"

Septimus glared at her. Jenna grinned even wider.

"Yes," Septimus said, through his teeth. "You'd better go and stop Thaddeus and Margie from strangling each other! I'll just stay here, enjoying the party."

"Oh, please do," Jenna said sweetly. "And don't forget your meetings tomorrow morning. Or the Open Audience in the afternoon. All those reports won't read themselves!"

Green to purple, purple to green.

A second passed.

"Deal," Septimus said.

"Deal."

#chaos writes #septimus heap #heaptober 2023 #heaptober #???#once more. I might put this up on ao3 once I've looked at with an editor's eyes #(or if someone asks me to)#lots of setup for that joke! Idk I just want Sep and Jen to be mistaken for each other they're TWINS ok

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