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earthfire-75 · 3 years

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You Send Me Flying

Chapter Six

Author’s notes: co-written with @nature-and-music, beta’d by @lady-jane-revisited. Based on The Dirt movie, as I don’t have the book yet. Warning: language.

I offered to go without hesitation, so long as I could be as far away from Tommy as possible. As I made my way down the stairs, I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. I couldn’t shake the image of her from my dream last night, in that lingerie and how she made me hers. I tried to stifle these stupid feelings, especially the sensation of my blood rushing, and reminded myself that I would get in, get out, and go back upstairs. After knocking on the door, I heard the locks unlatching, and she opened up the door until the chain stopped her.

“Oh Mick, good morning!” she proclaimed with surprise and excitement in her voice.

The words were there, but they were trapped in my voice box. Even though I could see a little bit inside, I could see that she was wearing nothing but a towel tightly wrapped around her body. Her hair drenched and clinging to her face.

“Here, I’ll unlock the door. You can come in, just let me just get something on,” she quickly shut to unlatch the chain and then reopened it, welcoming me into her domain.

She mentioned that a fresh pot of coffee was ready and that I could help myself to the fruit bowl on the table. I gave her a quiet thank you as she headed back to her room. I caught a glimpse of her legs, still wet and so soft looking. I shook my head and distracted myself by looking over at the fabrics that were scattered about in the living room. There was an interesting mixture of her work being both organized and disorderly as I took in what I saw. I checked out the sketches on the couch and slid my fingers across the fabrics for my stage clothes; she was really talented.

She returned, “Sorry, did you need something?”

When I turned back to her, my heart rate increased. She stood there wearing an Aerosmith shirt and red dolphin shorts. Her wet hair was dripping onto her shirt, causing parts of her covered chest to become slightly transparent. She glanced down at herself, she felt self conscious as she pulled down on her shirt even though she was clothed.

She chuckled slightly in embarrassment, “Um… I haven’t done laundry in a couple days. This is all I have that’s clean right now. So what did you need?”

I stepped closer to her, she hardly moved a muscle, save for her eyes as they widened. I started deeply into her eyes and she did the same with me. I felt her hands on my waist, sliding up my torso and resting on my shoulders even as uncertainty shone in her wide eyes. My own hands wrapped around her middle, bringing her closer to my body. Our lips were just inches away from touching, all we could feel was the heat of our breaths. Our faces leaned in as we shared a soft kiss. Her arms slithered around my neck, her fingers burying themselves into my hair.

My grip around her tightened as I felt myself becoming hard, though she didn’t seem to back away. Our lips parted for a moment to allow us to take in a little bit of air, only for them to collide once more. One of my hands reached down to caress her supple thigh, my fingers centimeters away from touching her rear. I could feel her mouth opening up tentatively, silently giving me permission to lather her tongue and so I did. The vibrations of our moans rippled throughout our bodies and I grunted when her teeth bit down on my lower lip, pulling away from me as I moaned. I gave her thigh a slap and she quietly mewled, burying her face into my neck.

“Holy shit!”

We released each other and backed away as though nothing had happened. We turned to see, to our horror, Tommy standing in the open doorway completely awestruck with his jaw hanging low and his eyes wide open. He looked as if he saw the most terrifying sight in his young life. Well one thing’s for sure, his life was about to end indefinitely as I quickly ran after him back up the stairs, leaving poor Y/N/ behind. Tommy’s scream practically woke up the entire apartment complex as I chased after him. Nikki simply stood there and enjoyed watching the chase, casually following us to the shared bedroom. I was quick to grab the drummer by the wrist, but not quick enough to get the rest of him since he threw his towel in my face and swiftly locked himself in the bathroom.

“Open up this door Tommy! Open it you motherfucker!” I shouted, violently banging.

He was panic-striken, “No fucking way man! Not a chance!”

“You open this goddamn door right now!”

Vince was well awake, “What the fuck is happening right now? Mick what are you-”

I was too busy to acknowledge him, especially as he walked over.

Vince looked at me, “What is happening?”

Tommy was about to say something, but that only caused me to hit the door even harder, hoping to drown out the description of what he saw. There was no way I was going to let this come out, and from Tommy of all people! I was suddenly held back by my other bandmates. They told me to knock it and to chill out, that it was too early for this and that I’d end up waking the neighbors. As if they really cared what a bunch of denizens would say.

Tommy finally got his chance, “Mick made out with her! I saw them!”

Vince and Nikki held on tighter, refusing to let me go until I calmed down. I was like a bull ready to charge, but they refused to let me go, so I just yelled: “You fucker! I’m going to kill you!”

“Mick! Tommy! That’s enough!” We heard the familiar voice yell from the living room. “Mick stop!”

Like a trained animal, I heard her call and I stopped dead in my tracks. I could feel the strain of my muscles as a result of being held, my throat felt sore and dry, and my anger slowly started to dissipate. I felt a wave of embarrassment wash over me as I slowly turned my neck to see her. Nikki and Vince backed away from me and I heard the bathroom door open, however she hurried to move my line of sight away from Tommy, holding my face in her hands. Her expression was a blend of anger, shame, and discomfort

“Mick, calm down. It’s okay.” she pleaded, her thumbs brushing my cheeks.

I could feel a sense of stillness when she spoke to me like that. I lost control of myself and she was here to bring me back to a more stable state, “I… uh, I...”

She held onto me, “Mick, just don’t do that again. The first show is coming up and you all need to work with each other.” She released me and marched over to Tommy, pointing a finger at him, “And you, enough with your jokes!”

Tommy nodded like a frightened child, gulping down his fear, hoping that this would all end soon and he could get himself dressed. She never took her eyes off mine as she addressed Tommy and Vince to get dressed. I could hear the singer complain about not getting his shower yet, but they both went back to their rooms. Nikki stood there smirking like an idiot.

“What are you looking at, bass player?” I snapped, though not as heated as I looked over at him.

He shook his head, still with that stupid smirk plastered on his face. “Nothin’, man.” And went back into the kitchen.

She leaned in and kissed me softly when everyone had gone, pulling back before it could turn heated and took my hand in hers, leading me to the couch. I moved slower than usual and winced slightly in pain, hiding it when she looked back at me with concern. We reached the couch and she instructed me to turn around with my back facing her. I opened my mouth to argue, but she gave me the same look I usually give the guys when they annoy the hell out of me. I closed my mouth and turned around for her.

She reached under my jacket and shirt, carefully pressing her palms against my back as she began to massage the muscles. I bit my lip to keep from making any sounds, but as she worked out the tension and aches, I let out a long deep moan I hadn’t meant to. Her hands were still, holding me in place so I couldn’t turn back around to see her expression, but I could hear her lightly shaking breath.

“Mick...”It was a breathless whisper of my name from her lips.

“Ok, I love you both and I’m happy for you. But, please, no sex on my couch, man!” Nikki laughed as he barged into the moment.

She slid her hands down my back, sending shivers down my spine as she stood up, just in time for the other two to come out of their rooms.

“Alright guys, let’s go get your boots!”

@nature-and-music @lady-jane-revisited @mickmarstookmyheart @sophiazeppelinchick @macy0

#mick mars x reader #motley crue fanfiction #mick mars fanfiction #mick mars fanfic

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apatheticanvas67482 · 3 years

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Even When You Hide

Happy @starrynightdeancas celebration day to @firefly124! I got really busy over the last couple of weeks, so its not as good as I wanted it to be for you, but I hope you like it anyways. (also I had to abandon my sketches and normal art style today due to technical difficulties, so the art is a bit rubbish, sorry, if i get round to finishing the other one in my normal style when i get home to my computers, I will send it your way) BUT ANYWAYS I hope you love it (the fic not the art, hides) and I think Sophie is the dopest for putting this whole thing together.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Castiel

Tropes: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss

Based: Somewhere after 10.03, when Crowley give Cas grace and Dean is cured of Demon-ness, and 10.18, when Cas gets his grace back. I did not mention the Mark of Cain though.

Song: I See You - Missio

Word count: 2.2K

I see you when you're down And depressed, just a mess I see you when you cry When you're shy When you want to die I see you when you smile It takes a while At least you're here I see you

It had been 25 minutes since Dean had sent Cas to pick out the paint for his room. He put down all the sheets and lined the sockets and skirting boards with tape and was now sitting at the foot of the bed, tapping his foot to a silent beat.

Dean hadn’t known what to get the angel from the store so there were currently 12 pots of paint, all different colours, sitting on shelves in the garage. He chewed on the inside of his cheek absentmindedly, picturing the scrunch of Cas’ eyebrows and the tilt of Cas’ head as he scowled at the cans.

‘Dean. What does it matter if the room is winter blue or baby blue?’ Dean could almost hear him ask it - the gravel of Cas’ voice rumbled in the back of his mind. Dean shook his head, smiling, and headed to see what the hold-up was.

What he found was a mess.

“Fuck. Shit!” Pots of paint were scattered across the room. Most were broken open, stripes of paint led away from a large metal cabinet that had toppled over onto the Impala and cast the tins in all directions.

“Cas!”

Dean ran forward, holding his breath. The cabinet had smashed right through Baby’s windshield, fracture lines spanned what was left leaving chunks of glass suspended in the laminated frame. The bonnet had been completely crushed, practically folded in half, and the corners had torn into the paintwork. Dean would be seething except he couldn’t breathe. He threw his weight behind his shoulder, forcing it under the shelves and straining until black dots danced in his vision.

“Cas!” Dean collapsed, his efforts futile. “Cas! Where the hell are you?!”

And then he heard it – the quick and broken, but quiet sobs of an angel. Dean whirled around o fast his neck cracked and then he crawled, actually crawled on his hands and knees, towards the sound.

Behind the impala, Cas was perched on the balls of his feet with his trench coat pooling around him. Dean had never seen him cry before, not like this. There was a streak of paint that ran from just under his left eye to the corner of his mouth. Where his tear tracks converged with it, the drops turned blue and fell to the ground like grace. Dean watched, transfixed for a moment, before scrambling closer.

“Cas.” Dean’s voice louder than he meant it, startled Cas out of his fugue state. His hands, which had been moving, stilled instantly as he looked back at Dean with wide shiny eyes.

“I don’t want to go, Dean.” The cracks in Cas’ voice tugged at Dean’s soul. He didn’t understand.

Dean shook his head. “What?”

Cas’s eyes only grew larger as the hunter reached out, “Dean, please don’t make me go.” His arm hung in the air, terrified of doing the wrong thing. He knew Cas couldn’t fly anymore but it had never stopped feeling as though their conversations were timed, except Dean couldn’t see the numbers on the clock. He was always waiting for Cas to vanish. “I want to stay.”

Bile rose in the back of Dean’s throat and his hand dropped like dead weight between them as he realised what Cas was saying, what he was thinking. He thought back to months before. ‘You can’t stay.’ He’d said, the same bile rising in his throat as now. He looked at Cas in his human clothes, that goddamn hoodie., and watched as Cas’ heart broke. Watched as the hurt played openly on his features, defences down. And then, he’d looked away. Dean remembers looking anywhere but into his best friend’s eyes, knowing that if he did his resolve would surely crumble. Now, all he wanted was for Cas to look at him, but the angel had gone from a deer in the headlights to refusing to lift his head higher than his shoulders.

“I can fix it, I promise.” Cas’s hands started moving again. His fingers shook as he tried to slot several pieces of broken glass back together. Small cuts littered his palms, bleeding freely as Cas worked.

“Cas. Cas, why-” Dean swallowed around the lump of panic still tuck in his throat, “Why aren’t you healing? Is it the grace? Is it failing?” His hands had found there way between them again. They hovered uselessly over Cas’ own. Cas was shaking his head, but Dean wasn’t sure if it was in answer to his question.

“Cas?” Dean didn’t know what to do, until he did. Taking a shaky breath, he allowed his panic to consume him for one second more before he tabled it.

“Cas,” His voice was gentle but solid, “Cas, stop it. Please,” - Dean stilled Cas’ hands with his own. He turned them palm up and, careful not to catch any of the cuts, unfurled the angel’s trembling fingers with is thumb – “Just stop.”

Cas was still refusing to meet his eyes, but he’d stopped shaking his head. He stared down at the pieces of glass and Dean followed his gaze. He recognised them as the broken remains of a small glass statue of an angel. Sammy had presented the thing to a few years ago after he’d nabbed it from some rogue crossroad demon’s second-hand shop to bully Dean with. ‘A guardian angel to save me from your moping when Cas is away,’ Sam had said, and Dean had shoved it deep down inside Baby’s trunk. That was until they moved into the bunker and Dean had felt some strange compulsion to place the glass angel atop the recently toppled shelves. Cas had been there, tilting his head at him. ‘Present from Sam,’ He’d practically growled before running away.

“Hey,” One of Dean’s hands left Cas’ in favour of poking him gently in the cheek. Cas jerked backwards slightly, finally meeting Dean’s eyes. He was still crying but less so. Dean nodded, “I need you to listen to me. You. Are. Not. Going. Anywhere. Ever. Again.” He waved his free hand at the mess around him. “All this, none of it matters,” Dean moved his other thumb in circles, steeling himself. This moment is what all his years watching chick flicks in secrecy had been preparing him for. “You, Cas, are what matters. To me.”

Dean held his breath for one, two, three seconds. Cas hiccoughed, blinking one, two, three times as the last of his tears fell from his cheeks.

“Why aren’t you healing?” Dean whispered into the space between them, a little afraid of anything louder.

“I didn’t want to waste m…” Cas looked lost, “It.” Dean waited.

“When Metatron took my grace from me, he left me human. Except I’m not human. Jimmy though, Jimmy was human, fragile. Without my powers, I’m,” Cas struggled with his words, he looked away. “I’m a baby in a trench coat.” Fuck. “I am nothing. And I can’t go back to that. I can’t keep steeling my kin’s grace from them, reducing them as I have been reduced. I can’t.” He dropped his head to his chest once more. “But I also don’t want to die.

“Castiel.” Dean swerved back into Cas’ eyeline as he spoke, “You are not nothing,” Cas stared at him, not believing.

“You are not human. You’re not Jimmy. But you’re not your grace either.” Dean was going to make him understand how wrong he’d been sitting in Eve’s diner. “You’re not your vessel and you’re not your powers. When I look at you-” The hunter swallowed, “When I look at you, I just see… you. I see you, Cas.”

He looked down at their hands, feeling dizzy. He couldn’t believe how mushy he was being or how much he didn’t mind. He felt like Colin Firth. “As for the rest of it, we’ll figure it out. We always do. The grace situation… Well,” Dean smiled, small. “We’ll make it up as we go.” Dean lifted Cas’s hands to his lips and pressed a kiss into a single cut. After a moment, grace began to shine beneath the skin and the wounds pulled themselves closed. Beaming now, he leant back and ran his thumb over the soft new skin, turning their hands so their finger interlocked.

“Dean, I-”

“I made a mistake,” Dean interrupted, “I have made so many mistakes. But, kicking you out like has to be one of the worst. No explanation, no assistance, no nothing. It’s the wrongest I’ve ever been in my life. Gadreel gave me an ultimatum but that’s not an excuse. Doesn’t even come close to justifying what I did. I should’ve told you what was going on. Maybe if I had tried, for even a second, to communicate, we could have avoided a lot of pain. I should’ve – I should’ve done a lot. But I didn’t, and that wasn’t good enough.’

“Dean, it’s okay.”

“No, no it’s not.” Dean broke eye contact then.

“Okay, well” Cas squeezed his hands, “I forgive you then. How’s that?”

Dean huffed out half a laugh. His next words caught in throat as he looked back at Cas. He was so close to him. Dean supposed he always was. Dean’s eyes caught on Cas’ mouth where he had worried at his bottom lip. It was red and sore and wasn’t healing. Before Dean knew what he was doing, he was tipping forward, eye slipping shut. When they met in the middle, he barely felt it. He touched his lips to Cas’ like he had to his hands, his heart pounding against the inside of his ribcage. Dean didn’t realise he hadn’t been breathing until Cas’s lips moved against his own and he gasped for air. He leant against Cas’s forehead breathing far too heavily for such a chaste moment. They sat there just breathing in each other’s air for one, two, three seconds. Then Dean surged forwards, pushing of his feet so he was kneeling up over Cas. He dropped the angel’s hands in favour of holding his head in his own, pressing desperate kiss after desperate kiss to Cas’s mouth. Cas leant backwards under him as they kissed, moulding to fit the curve of his body. His dropped hands had twisted their way into Dean’s flannel, pulling him closer.

As Dean’s lungs screamed for breath, he pulled slowly away. Cas’ head dropped to rest against his sternum and Dean allowed himself to bury his face in his hair. His hands had settled at the base of Cas’ neck and began tracing nonsensical patterns into the skin there.

“C’mon,” He leant back and pulled Cas with him. Leading him by hand past the impala and a few scattered paint cans. He stopped by one - one of the only ones not broken open - and leant down to pick it up. ‘Dusty Cyan’. Perfect. He tucked it under his arm, and flashed Cas a smile.

I'm alone with you You're alone with me What a mess you've made of everything

I'm alone with you You're alone with me And I'm hoping that you will see yourself Like I see you

The next day found them huddled close together leaning over Baby as Dean taught Castiel how to hammer dents out metal without causing more damage and replace a windshield.

“D’you want to know something?” Dean cracked open his beer. Cas hummed from where he was bent over working a dent out of the open bonnet. He was wearing one of Dean’s ratty old Bon Jovi shirts, damp with sweat and motor oil and chewing on his lip distractedly – and distractingly. “Sammy got me that angel to tease me about you.”

Cas looked up then, “About me?”

“Yeah.” The hunter coughed, wondering what had possessed him to open his mouth and start yet another chick flick. Maybe he should be worried about how much of a sap he was becoming. It was Cas’ fault, obviously. “Cuz I always complain when you’re gone.”

Cas turned around and leant back on Baby, his shoulder brushed Dean’s. “You may want to begin coming up with some alternate topics of conversation.”

Dean laughed, “You think so?”

“I have been reliably informed that I’m not going anywhere.” Cas looked at him. “Ever. Again.”

Dean shoved his shoulder, smiling wide when Cas shoved back pressing him back into the Impala’s frame and leaning into his space.

“It’s why I put it up there in the first place instead of shoving in the back of some cupboard.” He poked Cas in the ribs. “Because it reminded me of you.”

“Me.” Cas echoed.

“You,” Dean smirked, “Dumbass.”

Cas growled and silenced him with a kiss for the ages. Dean let himself be taken over by the angel, surrendering the kiss to him and just basking in the feeling of Cas pressed up against him. He didn’t need some glass statue, he already had his guardian angel exactly where he wanted him, and he had proved to be far from fragile.

I see you in the dark At the dawn of something new I see you

#dean winchester #castiel #destiel #hurt/comfort #cas is hurting #dean is there #i hope this wasn't too angsty and had enough comfort in there for you #fanfic #kat scribbles #literally in this case #userstarry #writing challenge #mentions of death #feelings of worthlessness #baby is also there haha #fuck #not literally in this case #first kiss #starrynightdeancas gift exchange

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sergeant-donny-donowitz · 4 years

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The First Basterd: DonnyxFem!Reader

requested by @marlenemarauders

A/N *Reader is Polish & Jewish, but you don't have to be either to read it :D

@owba-chan @war-obsessed @inglourious-imagines @tammykelly @struggling-bee @frozenhuntress67 @kwyloz @sodapop182 @marlenemarauders @what-the--curtains @taikawho @spookybearlandtaco Let me know if you wanna be added to the IB or OUATIH taglists! :) _________________________________________ ***November, 1943***

You huffed as you walked through the dense forest. A puff of cool air forming a cloud before your lips as you marched through the winter. Your sniper was slung over your shoulders. You gave the bright grey sky a rare glance with a sigh, before returning to the constant scan of forest floor. You were once a lone sniper, far from home. You had been, since 1939. Lone sniper or not, you quickly learned that in order to survive in war, you had to make a few allies. By late 1942, you had more than a few. Things would change then, though you hadn't anticipated that just yet. By late 1942, you had made a name for yourself. Now, none of your enemies quite knew your name. All they could call you was the Basterd. A composite sketch of you from descriptions from nazis who'd barely survived your gaze was sent halfway around Europe and back. By late 1942, every nazi west of the Vistula River knew your face, and knew you as the Basterd. By 1943, they'd learn you were only the first basterd.

Back in November of 1942, just before the basterds left England to jump over France, they were informed at the last minute that a special agent working undercover in France would be guiding them when they landed. They were expecting an older, more experienced, serious, mysterious agent. Probably a British spy, or a rogue Soviet. The kind of thing they saw in old movies. They got you, instead. And they loved you... Maybe a little too much, you'd say. It had been a year since then, and you loved them all to pieces, honestly. But, you were a little more than a little annoyed by now. Each and every basterd loved you in his own way...and consequently, became overprotective. Every time you had to risk showing your face to nazis, Aldo hung around dangerously closely, which only made it all riskier. Smitty tried to convince you to only use your sniper, and never even get close enough to have your face seen at all. Omar called him all sorts of names over that, but then acted even more ridiculously by making a Robin-esque kind of mask for you. Hirschberg ceaselessly and shamelessly flirted with you, and stole your kills, insisting you shouldn't waste your time. Wicki was a little more...mature about it. He was still overprotective, but quiet about it. None was more head over heels than Donny. You liked to hang around with him a little more because he made you feel less like a liability, and more like a basterd. Still, it took every ounce of patience and strength to not remind them every waking moment of your life that you were once the Basterd. Until today. Donny took a bullet for you. Well...it was meant for you, but it was a whole meter away from you. The bullet grazed Donny's shoulder, but it could have been so much worse. When the scalping and interrogating was over, you were fuming as you paced back and forth, gathering all the supplies you needed to take care of Donny. "The basterds need you, Y/n. I need you." He knew exactly what you were thinking, and it scared him. What scared you more was that this was not the first time one of the basterds had done something stupid like that. And, you weren't so sure it would be the last. You were tired of it, and you were tired of thinking that if some day, something happened to them, it would be because of you. "Not now, Donny." You shook your head, and clenched your jaw, knowing that if you didn't, you would raise your voice and all hell. "What?" "Not like this," You were exasperated, shaking your head, "Not now. Not in the middle of a fucking war." You were livid. You and Donny had joked about it before. As time went on, you had to actually talk about it. It kept you both up till two am. It got you both through gunfire, through rain, through sleepless nights. But you'd both come to the same conclusion. This was war. This was no place for love. "Fuck a duck," Donny reached for your hand, but you pulled away as he called out, "I couldn't fucking let them hurt you! Y-" "I was a whole meter away from the bullet! I am not a child in need of protecting." You did your best at cleaning the wound, focusing directly on the blood. If you looked at him, at that smirk you knew he had, you would probably punch him. "When you Americans were still arguing about joining the war, I was already out here, alone, with a stolen gun, running out of bullets, far from home, and far from any allies. I've seen it all, done it all. I've survived." You muttered, "I don't know what more you expect from me." You finally looked at him, with a reproachful glance that stung him, "I don't know why you expect so little when I'm one of you!" He stammered for a moment, not able to find any justification for it. "It's not that we expect little from you, it's just that....we....I mean..." Donny wasn't the kind of person that stuttered, stammered, and stalled. Whatever he had to say to you, he was having a hard time putting into words, and you were not happy about it. You gave up, uncrossed your arms with an exasperated sigh, and turned away. "For fuck's sake." "It's just that..." You stormed out of the tent to grab some more bandages, and he followed you. "What? That I'm a girl? I should be sitting behind a typewriter on a fucking base? I should just stick to being a nurse? Let me re-fucking-mind you that I was not trained to be a nurse, I learned all of this out here on my own, years before you even fucking enlisted." All the basterds were sitting around, and could hear it all too clearly. It didn't matter to you, and it didn't embarrass you as much as it would have any other day. They could hear anyway, and...you wanted them to hear. You wanted all of them to quit it. Omar munched on a sandwich and remarked with a shrug, "...She has a point," not yet realizing how serious you were. "Omar!" Smitty put up his hands in exasperation, shaking his head. Aldo muttered, as he opened his tin of snuff, "Just keep your fucken mouth shut."

"Unbelievable. After a whole fucking year..." you muttered, rifling through the supplies for at least one clean, spare bandage. Wicki turned to the others, whispering "So she's mad-mad..." "What else is new?" Hirschberg chuckled, and all the basterds glared at him, not wanting to collectively face your vengeance. Because, as much as they acted like big bad basterds around you and the rest of the world, they were just a tiny bit scared of you. And rightfully so. You shook your head, "I have a higher body count than all of you combined." That alone would have struck fear in anyone's heart. You finally wrapped a bandage around Donny's wound tightly. "Ow! Fuck, Y/n!" "When will you stop acting like I need saving?!" You put your hands at your hips, finally looking at them all, effectively terrifying them. The only thing more terrifying at the moment would be to lose you. "I'm sick and tired of this ridiculous shit. If this is as far as we can get without one of you biting a fucking bullet 'for me', then maybe I should quit." You were dead serious.

You turned your back on them, walking east, which terrified them even more, as they all jumped to their feet, and rushed toward you. "Where are you going?" Wicki asked, completely concerned. Honestly, that was his thing. Being a bit older than all the basterds, he was usually genuinely concerned for all of you. But...mostly you. "You were all ordered to be on this team. I chose it. Now I'm choosing to go to Frankfurt. If you want to come, be my guest. But don't ever do anything stupid, like that again" You gestured to Donny, and he only grinned, wanting desparately to believe that you were bluffing. But, even he knew better than that. "What the hell's in Frankfurt?" Aldo asked, packing up his few belongings, quickly followed by the others. You turned back to look at them, beginning to grin a little. "You ever hear of a man by the name of Hugo Stiglitz?" There was a resounding no. You sighed, "If you want to know, then walk and talk," you shrugged, slinging your sniper over your shoulder, as you walked east. The basterds trotted by, as you revealed a particularly interesting anecdote. _____________ It was 1939. Sirens had been blaring so long and so often, when they stopped, everything sounded as if you were underwater. There was nothing and no one left in Krakow that you could recognize. There were nazis in the streets. There was glass on the ground. People were missing. You had only one chance to escape. It was on the shore of the Vistula river, under the cover of the dark night sky, and the shroud of a thundering storm that you took that chance. You killed a nazi. You took his sniper, and you took off, hoping to make it to Denmark, which was still free at the time. Then, you were sure you'd find a way to help. You'd been running for days on end. When you finally had a moment to breathe, you were in a land you did not know. You didn't even know what day it was. It had felt as though years had gone by. But when you looked around in the dimly lit streets of a strange and small town, your hands shook, your heart stopped, and you watched as your world collapsed. You were in the middle of Germany, nowhere near Denmark. You were only beginning to panic... You had nowhere to go. You had no way to hide a sniper. You felt a thousand eyes falling on you accusingly. You had just caught the eye of a man in a gestapo uniform. He walked over to you, and people turned away. He had been alerted about a "suspicious figure." When he spotted you, he walked down the street, not raising any alarms or orders. He walked by you, ushering you to a side street, then to a quiet, isolated alley. He saw how terrified you were, and quickly began explaining he knew a place where you could hide. You looked at him, with wide eyes, and hardly breathing. You saw blood on his knife. (And years later, you'd learn he'd just killed one of his officers, minutes before finding you.) He smiled kindly, thinking for a moment, finding the string of Polish words he'd learned not too long ago. "Nazywam się Hugo Stiglitz." 'My name is Hugo Stiglitz.' You didn't know if you could trust him, but when you saw his eyes, you knew you had no choice. When you realized he was putting himself on the line for you, you spoke to him in whatever German you could piece together, "Ich kann von hier aus gehen. Ich kann es schaffen. Geh, bevor du erwischt wirst." You looked so frightened, he could hardly believe what you'd just said, "I can go from here. I can make it. Go, before you get caught."

Hugo simply shook his head, with an assuring smile. "Frag mich nicht Dinge, die ich nicht tun kann." "Don't ask me things I cannot do."

Hugo hid you in the home of a friend, and then another, and another. There was a chain of them. Some of them were hiding neighboring families, some were hiding childhood friends. Some were hiding complete strangers, like you. Hugo visited you every day, wherever you were hidden. He couldn't help you get to Denmark, but, France was an option. He warned you that part of, if not all of France would probably be invaded in a matter of time, and urged you to find a way out. Anywhere. As far as you could. You promised him you'd stay safe, and stay in France, but...he wouldn't find out, would he? He sighed as he escorted you himself to France, knowing you'd be safe there. But, something told him you wouldn't do as he'd advised you to do. No, you had that restless fire in your eyes that belonged to the rebels and the righteous. He smiled, knowing wherever you went after that moment was out of his hands. But fighters like you were never out of his mind. Only months later, he saw the sketch of your face, and he sighed. He wasn't surprised, but he wished you the best. _____________ Four years later, you studied the bloodied papers and 'wanted' picture in your hands. It was a warrant for Hugo's arrest. He was on the run, believed to be somewhere in France. He was to be brought in alive. You only hoped he hadn't been found yet. But if he had, you were going to do something about it. It was only fair, you smirked. Donny found your smirk incredibly cute, though he was undoubtedly a little jealous seeing you get so worked up about some guy. Some guy that wasn't him. He went along with it, trying to stay out of your way. He'd annoyed you before, but this time you were not budging. Every one of the basterds followed you without question. You broke them in and out of a high security prison all the way in Frankfurt. Aldo had his usual spiel ready, of course, being a slave to appearances and all. Now, he had you to thank for this new recruit. Hugo nodded briefly at Aldo. But, a faint flicker of his old smile graced that grim cell when he realized just who had led the basterds to him. When Hugo was free from his cell, you hugged him. He couldn't remember the last time someone had hugged him. Donny wasn't too thrilled, but you'd both laugh about it some years later in a diner, back in Boston, far from the war and all the ruins it left. It'd be a long time till then. And you were still upset at the boys. If leading them directly into Germany, and in and out of a high security prison, without loosing a single basterd wasn't impressive enough, you didn't know what was. Needless to say, it only took a few hours to find out. You walked at the end of the group, in case any nazis were still on your trail. You were, after all the best marskman they had. Hugo was just ahead of you, but barely. He was tired, more tense then when you had last seen him, which seemed utterly impossible. You spoke in broken German. Wicki was way ahead, he wouldn't hear. "Du bist verletzt." "You're hurt." When Donny heard your voice, he slowed down a little. You smirked, already knowing that basterd was jealous as hell. Still, he muttered something to himself about not knowing anything other than English, and some Italian. Hugo nodded, simply, acknowledging that though you'd known him briefly, you were the only living person who knew him at all. He said one simple word in your language, "Tak." 'Yes.' knowing there was no use in denying it. "If someone comes up behind us, leave me behind." You smiled and shook your head, "Don't ask me things I cannot do." He sighed, remembering that, but still shook his head, "You made it this far without me, why-" "Without you? That's a laugh." It was then that you noticed Hirschberg making a mistake you had made back in 1941. "HIRSCHBERG GET AWAY FROM THERE!" He was on thin ice. Literal, thin ice. Listening to the roaring bellow of the frozen lake. "HIRSCHBERG!" He was listening to everything but you. "GEROLD." He turned to you with wide eyes, knowing to be fucking terrfiied if you ever called him by his first name. "FOR FUCK'S SAKE, GET OUT OF THERE!" Just as he started to get up, the ice beneath his feet began to crack. Donny, through the throbbing, searing pain in his arm, instinctively flung forward, running, and reaching for Hirschberg. "DONNY DON'T!" He slipped away from your grasp, dropping his bat on the ground as he lunged to save his brother in arms. The ice, already fragile and shattered, could offer Donny less time than it had Hirschberg. Now both of them were flailing in the freezing water, in shock from the slicing and searing cold. "NOBODY FUCKING MOVE." You warned, thinking quickly, knowing all of the basterds were liable to follow without thinking. "BUT-" You turned to Smitty. You'd apologize later, but...there was no time to be sorry now. "SHUT IT." "Y/N." "SHUT IT." You turned to Hirschberg and Donny, calling out, "RELAX. FLOAT HORIZONTALLY, BELLY DOWN! BELLY DOWN, HIRSCHBERG!" Though you were shouting, your words seemed soft, and cut through the panic and adrenaline. They slowed down, and did as you told them to do, as you picked up Donny's bat, tying your jacket onto it, praying the knot would hold. You wandered to the edge of the frozen lake, holding on to the sleeve, and sliding the bat out to the boys, "GRAB ON." Donny made Hirschberg go first. "D-donny, I-I c-can't. I-" His teeth were chattering, as he shook his head, along with everything else. Donny stammered, "Th-that's a f-fucken o-order. Go." Your eyes widened, as you felt the ice beneath you pop. "Y/n, no-" Aldo stepped forward now, but you pushed him away. "It won't hold both of us." You looked back, as Hirschberg shakily grabbed on to the end of the bat. "Stay down, I'll pull you back here!" You slowly and steadily pulled Hirschberg. You would've loved to do it quickly, to save Donny. But, that would only make the ice even more unstable. You couldn't bring yourself to look at Donny yet. You could hear him stammering and chattering, trying to encourage Hirschberg through, with some colorful language here and there to keep himself awake. After what felt like an eternity, you finally looked at Donny. His face was blue, his nose was bright red. "DONNY COME ON!" He wrapped his stiff, blue fingers around his bat, as you pulled him over the edge, and close to the shore. The basterds gave up their coats and sweaters for them, and you looked around. You knew this part of the forest. No one would come near it. Not in this winter. Aldo knew that look in your eye. You'd been a basterd longer than they had. You knew what you were doing, and where you were going. He understood that look meant you were safe. He nodded, agreeing silently with you. "This here's a p'rty good place to stop, boys." Far from the eyes of murderers, hidden from gunfire and planes, you built a fire, and found a place to set up camp. When the sun set, only Donny remained by the fire. Hirschberg, and the rest of the basterds had gone to sleep. Even Hugo with fresh wounds, fears, and insomnia, was able to slip into a dream or two. "Hirschberg's doing ok. " You sat by Donny, smiling softly as you handed him some makeshift soup that Smitty was made. (There was a 50% chance it was edible, and 50% chance the OSS could use it as a torture device. But that's a story for another day.) "Y/n..." The way he looked at you was different. In fact, it was almost the way the rest of the basterds looked at you for the past few hours. There was a form of awe...An unspoken shield of respect. The only difference in the way Donny looked at you, was that there was a shade of love entwined there. "See, and I didn't have to get shot to save you," you chuckled, playfully leaning your head on his shoulder. He slowly lifted his arm, resting his hand on your head. "Where would I be without you..." He was serious, and spoke softly, which was not something you could say happened often. "Probably with a gangrenous arm," you shrugged, and he smiled a little. You looked into his eyes for a moment, and he looked into yours, and he kissed you. "What took you?" He raised his eyebrow, almost offended, as he raised his voice a little, "What took me?! What took you?!" You both laughed about it, your head resting once again on his shoulders, and his head resting over yours as you watched the dancing stars and the rising trees, as snow began to fall softly. There was a long road ahead to occupied France. And longer still was the road to the end of the war. But, in that moment, that was ok. You'd make it out together. All of you. Once, you'd taken pride in being the one and only basterd. You'd been proud of being the only one who's face could bring the enemy to their knees, and make them beg for mercy. But things changed in 1942. It took some getting used to, but you knew all along it was the only way for any of you to make it out. Together. You were reminded of that when you saw Hugo's face on that warrant. But here, in Donny's arms, it was clearer now more than ever. The only way out of the war, was just like that.

#Inglourious Basterds #Donny Donowitz #donny donowitz imagine #donny donowitz x reader #aldo raine #aldo the apache #the bear jew #Omar Ulmer #Smitty #gerold hirschberg #Hirschberg #Wilhelm Wicki #hugo stiglitz #inglourious basterds imagine

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imaginejamesandsirius · 3 years

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Titanic au? I need angst

((A/N: Warning for suicidal ideation in the beginning (in keeping with the movie), and some referenced period-typical homophobia. Also I’ve never seen the movie before so this is based on the synopsis I read and some gifsets. Therefore, scenes are almost certainly out of order. It’s a sort of open ending, so you can imagine it ends like the movie or they both make it out))

Over the course of his admittedly short life, Sirius had come to the conclusion that he was always going to be miserable. His parents didn't like him very much, but that was just the beginning of his issues. Granted, all the other issues stemmed from that, he was sure.

Like this. He was getting on a bloody boat and he hated boats. He didn't even know how to swim-- and sure, no one was going to be getting into this water because it was freezing, but that was beside the point. Or how about the part where he was being forced on this trip to go and meet his fiancé? A fiancé that he'd never met and had zero interest in. Sirius was of the mind that they should've been introduced, at the very least, before getting engaged, but his parents hadn't agreed.

He was on a boat that he didn't want to be on, on his way to an engagement he didn't want to be a part of, and part of a life that he didn't want to live.

They boarded the ship. Time passed. They were having a grand old party. Sirius was standing on the deck in a suit because he was supposed to have attended the party like a good son, but instead of attending, he was looking out on treacherous water. Without really meaning to, he went to the back of the ship and gripped the railing, leaning forward like he was going to pitch over the railing and into the ocean.

If he climbed on the outside of the railing, it would be so easy for him to lose his grip and fall. He'd be lost in the waves and terrified as his will to live suddenly flared, but he didn't know how to swim so it would be a short fight. No one could prove that he'd done it on purpose. He could just... stop existing, here, on this expensive boat where first class tickets had been a small fortune and third class tickets still cost a hefty sum. He'd be able to leave, and no one would be able to stop him. It wasn't like back home, where there would be an investigation and he'd get a big funeral; his body would be as fake in death as he'd been in life. He wouldn't have to marry some random woman that he cared nothing about, and that seemed preferable to him right now.

"Nice view," a deep voice commented.

Sirius jumped in surprise and turned to see who'd snuck up on him. He noticed right away that the man must be on here third class, and he hated himself for it being the first thing he saw.

But it was so obvious.

Not at the party, for one. No suit, for another. His clothes weren't cheap, but they certainly weren't expensive. Economical. Sirius had never owned an economical piece of clothing in his entire life; his parents wouldn't have allowed it.

"Though something tells me that it's not what you were enjoying."

Befuddled, Sirius glanced out at the ocean. "It looks like shite."

The man snorted, then started laughing. "Fair enough. I figured it was a better opening than asking if you were planning to jump, though."

"I wasn't going to jump," Sirius denied automatically.

"Sure you weren't. That's why you chose this part of the ship to stand at, where no one would catch you."

"You caught me,” Sirius couldn’t help but point out. It wasn’t a course of conversation he wanted to follow though, so he said, “Anything else to say now that you've ruined my time alone?"

The man looked at him for a long moment. "Just in case you had been thinking of jumping, I want to tell you that you shouldn't."

"What?"

"If I wake up one day and find out that you've jumped, I'm gonna jump to."

"Are you stupid?" Sirius asked, the words slipping out of his mouth before he could filter them.

"Generally, yes. But people who are suicidal aren't willing to kill other people too, that I've seen. So if you had been thinking about it, I want you to know that it wouldn't be just you that died."

Sirius stared at, dumbfounded. That was... "I wasn't going to jump," he muttered, pushing past him and heading back inside. Joining the party wasn't on the top of the list for things he wanted to do, but it was better than this.

"My name's James," the man called after him, before he got very far.

Sirius paused and turned to look at him.

"This is the part where you tell me your name."

Sirius started walking again. He wasn't going to see this bloke-- James, apparently-- again. Third class was in a completely different section of the ship from first class; he wouldn't have to see him for the rest of the trip.

"What do you do for a living?" Sirius asked.

"I'm an artist," James said, not bothering to ask about the suddenness of the question. It's not like Sirius had built up to it, after all. He had a habit of blurting out whatever he was thinking, no matter how rude it might be-- his parents hated it.

"Like oil paintings?"

James laughed. "That would make me far richer than I am. No, sketches mostly. Watercolours sometimes, but never on a ship," he said with a smirk. "And only a few, at that."

"If that's what you do, how did you afford a ticket?"

"Lottery," James admitted, with no shame. He was so comfortable with himself.

Sirius wondered what it would feel like to be that way. "What do you draw?"

"People. Flowers." James's smile went soft as he looked at Sirius. "Anything I find beautiful," he said, voice low so that no one would overhear.

Sirius's face flamed. No man had ever complimented him before, and he'd certainly never had the courage to do it to them.

"Not clothes though," he added casually, but he still kept his voice quiet. "Never did get the hang of those."

"I'd imagine that makes quite the portfolio," Sirius managed to reply. He cleared his throat. "Did you bring any with you?"

"I did, though I'm not sure how comfortable you would be with some of them."

"Would you describe them as racy?"

"I wouldn't. Some might, by simple virtue of me being a man."

"Despite what you might think of me, I don't think anything you've drawn would scare me away."

"I think a great many things about you, but it's been too short a time to know which ones are accurate."

"Pretty big gamble telling me what you draw, then." Sirius had never told anybody what he liked, after all. Though sometimes, he wondered what it would be like to find someone else like him. What they'd talk about. If they'd kiss, of if they’d just be friends who shared an interest.

"It wasn't a gamble at all," James said.

"You say that rather confidently. Everything's a gamble."

"When you have nothing to lose, I would argue it makes nothing a gamble. Like when I found you on the railing? You remember that?"

"When you said you'd jump if I did?"

James nodded. "It wasn't a gamble. I knew you wouldn't jump."

"Did you?"

"Yes."

Sirius hadn't known that for sure. James's confidence boosted his own, though. Maybe it truly hadn't been a gamble.

James was... alive. It felt stupid to think-- because of course he was alive, they all were, it's the only reason they'd been able to meet-- but he lived and he was happy about it. He took joy in living, and Sirius wasn't used to that. He said so, and James gave him a strange look. "Like... ever? You've never been happy to just exist?"

"I don't know."

"You've at least been happy before, right?"

Of course he had. He just couldn't think of an example.

"When was the last time you enjoyed yourself?" James asked, since it didn't look like any answer was forthcoming for his other question.

"I guess... when Regulus was around."

"Who's Regulus?"

"My brother. He got sick when I was- oh, maybe fourteen? Fifteen? Went in hospital and never came back out. My parents always liked him better," Sirius added without really meaning to. Then his mouth twisted. "I know. Poor little rich boy with his rich boy problems. Other people have it worse."

"I wasn't going to say that. Although it is true that somebody will always have it worse than you. You could be in the middle of getting tortured, and there would still probably be someone who had it worse than you. But that's not the point," James said, shaking himself.

"What's the point?"

"That being rich doesn't make you exempt from having problems. You lost your brother, and it sounds like your parents hate you. All being rich means is that you're not worried about having a place to live or something to eat on top of that. I have that problem sometimes, but you know, I don't even think of it as my big problem. You want to hear my big problem?" James asked with a grin, nudging him.

Sirius chuckled. He never knew how serious James was when he said things like that, but even if it was just a joke, it made him feel better. That was more than anyone else had done for him in a long time. "Sure. What's your big, bad problem?"

"Sometimes, I draw with the wrong pencil."

Sirius stared at him for a moment, but James kept his face straight. Sirius started laughing. "Really? How do you have a wrong pencil? Aren't they all for drawing?"

"Yeah, but there are different types. Some have hard graphite, some have soft."

"And what does that mean for your poor drawings?"

"Well, if I use the wrong pencil, sometimes it'll smear everywhere. Or it can make the subject appear much harsher than they are."

"Truly tragic."

"Isn't it?" James agreed mildly.

"You want to know my big rich people problem?"

"It's not going to be like losing your brother is it?"

"No, this one is definitely ridiculous."

James grinned. "Alright, tell me."

"There's a horribly expensive necklace that I'm supposed to give my fiance when I meet her."

"How horribly expensive?"

"I feel like it's more than the boat cost to make," Sirius said flatly. It might be an exaggeration, but it didn't feel like much of one.

"Sodding hell. That's..."

"Right?"

James nodded numbly.

"What's with all the automobiles?" James asked, looking out at the rows of them.

Sirius snorted, assuming it was a joke. Then he noticed that James looked confused. "Oh, er- they belong to the passengers. That one's ours," he said, pointing at one with gleaming black paint. "Pretty much everyone in first class is bringing their automobile with them." He knew, because it had been part of the ever-so-titillating conversation they'd had at lunch one day. "Some are just here for the ride so they can be sold once we reach land again. I think the crew might be transporting a few for the government."

"Rich people really are living in a different world than me," James said with a chuckle. He grabbed Sirius's hand and they headed down the stairs. As always, James's touch made his heart race. "If you could go anywhere right now, where would you go?"

"My room, since anywhere else would have a high likelihood of housing my parents," Sirius snorted. His parents only went to his room when they were specifically trying to find him.

"No," James said, rolling his eyes. "I meant like, anywhere out in the world."

"We're surrounded by water," he reminded him.

"You're no fun at all. Use your imagination," James said. He let go of Sirius's hand and sat in one of the automobiles at the edge that didn't have doors. He mimed putting a cigar in his mouth and puffed. "Where to, sir?" he asked in a gruff voice meant to imitate a cabbie’s accent.

Sirius laughed and sat in the backseat. He hummed, thinking it over. Imagination... all he'd ever imagined was getting away; he'd never thought about where he would get away to. He leaned forward so his arms were resting on the back bench of the front seats. "To the sky," he said, thinking about the dozens of hours he'd spent looking at clouds and dreaming that he was flying among them, because anything had been better than walking on the dirt.

James glanced at him, grinning. "What's the point when you already have a star?" he asked, dropping the accent.

"Because we'd be there together," Sirius said under his breath.

They were close enough that James heard him. His smile widened tellingly, but he didn't say anything about it.

Sirius's parents were busy and would be for several hours, so Sirius didn't think twice about inviting James to his room so he could finally look at his pictures. Maybe it was silly, but Sirius had spent a lot of time thinking about those drawings and what they would look like. It was pretty much as described: pretty people and pretty things.

The people in his drawings were nude, but it was hardly pornographic. About half of them didn't have a full view of their- ahem, special place because of the way they were posed. Women... and men. There were quite a few of nature and buildings as well, but Sirius couldn't take his eyes off the portraits.

"Who are all of these people?"

"Some were models. Others were just people I met at parties and the like."

"You met people at parties and they volunteered to pose for you?" Sirius asked doubtfully.

"Well," James smirked, "they were French. Very different, that."

"I see," Sirius agreed, also smirking. He flipped through a few more. Was it his imagination, or could he see the love these had been done with? He'd never been a great admirer of art. He'd never understood it; it had never spoken to him. It had all seemed lifeless, but anything James did couldn't be confused as such. A person with that much love and light could never make art that didn't reflect it. Even the buildings he drew were love letters to architecture. "Would you ever draw me?" he asked.

"I don't think it would be the sort of portrait you're wanting."

"What makes you say that?"

"As you can see, and if you recall, I told you that I only do nudes."

"I know."

James looked over at him, hands frozen in place where he'd poised one drawing up to show Sirius.

Sirius met his gaze evenly, even as his cheeks pinked.

James's throat worked. It seemed like he was speechless, and Sirius didn't quite know what to make of that.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," he mumbled after several seconds of silence.

"I didn't say that," James said immediately. "But I don't want you to do something you'd be uncomfortable with."

"Do I look uncomfortable?"

"You might once you're naked." He paused. "Have you ever been naked around someone before?"

"Does the doctor count?"

James raised his eyebrows. "Not even for sex?"

"Saying yes now would be lying on two fronts," Sirius said. To help distract himself from the deepening blush across his cheeks, he reached into his pocket. "This is that necklace I told you about."

James reached out and stabilized the jewel in the center. "It's beautiful."

"I was thinking... maybe I wear this. If you draw me. It'd be nice to think about it as something other than a symbol of the decay of my personal life."

James's eyes flitted away from the necklace and back up to Sirius. "You're serious about this."

He nodded.

"Alright," James said.

"Try not to use the wrong pencil on me. I want to look as pretty as all your French blokes."

"You'd look prettier than them no matter what I did," James said softly. "I'll lock the door, and you can... get comfortable."

"There's a party tonight in third class," James said. "You should come with me."

A party in third class. Sirius didn't even know what that would like, but refusing would make him more like the person his parents wanted him to be and less like he wanted to be. But, "I don't know why you'd want me to come with you." It's not like they'd be able to dance together, and that was the point of a party, wasn't it?

"You invited me for that stuffy dinner in first class. We might as well see how the other half lives, while we're at it."

"You're part of that half," Sirius pointed out. "You already know how they live."

"Then maybe it's something I think you should see. I think you'll have fun there; it's nothing like the dinner in first class was, or how you've described the parties you've been to."

Sirius worried at his lip for a moment. Then, "What should I wear?"

"Dress down a bit. More like me," James said. He got to his feet, putting a hand on Sirius's knee and squeezing as he did. The touch was mostly hidden by him moving, and it was fleeting; it still made Sirius's blood run hot. That was silly, wasn't it? James had seen him naked-- had drawn him naked-- and a touch on the knee was getting his blood pumping? They'd held hands; they'd talked as though they had a future together. Comparatively, a touch on he knee was nothing.

But it wasn’t nothing, and Sirius couldn’t even try to pretend otherwise.

And now they had a date to go to a party together. He didn't even have to worry about impressing him; all James had wanted was for Sirius to be himself. He still worried a bit for how it would go.

He didn't quite know how it had happened. They'd been laughing, and then Sirius had pulled him out of the main room, still laughing. He was pretty sure that he'd meant to ask if that’s what all parties were like for him, but then they'd been sharing the same breath, and there wasn't a damn thing that could've gotten Sirius to step away.

"We should go somewhere we won't get caught," Sirius managed to say when he got enough space from James's mouth-- not an easy feat.

"Your room?"

Sirius grimaced. "My parents have a key." He wasn't sure he had a key, but they definitely did. "They like to make sure I'm not getting up to trouble. Yours?"

"Third class," James reminded him. "It's not just my room; there's loads of other people there."

"Bugger. Wait, I've got it. C'mon," Sirius said, and started pulling him in the right direction. He was sure that it was obvious what they'd been doing, but most of the people in third class were still at the party, no other passenger would be down in this area, and there was nothing here that the crew would need.

"Where are we going?"

Sirius grinned. "The sky."

He loved the way that James's eyes lit with realisation without him having to say another word. James cared as much about him as he did about James, right? This was proof. It wasn't idle flirtation and animal attraction; it was something more than that.

They hurried down to where all the automobiles were, and not a one of them was locked because they were on the water. Sirius picked one that wasn't near the edge, and they tumbled into the backseat.

"I love you," James whispered against his neck, his hands on Sirius's back under his shirt and hot as a brand. Sirius was his, now. "I love you," he said again, when Sirius got a hand around his prick. His tone was worshipful and awed, like he couldn't believe the universe had let them find each other at the exact right moment.

Sirius could hardly believe it either, and he wasn't about to turn it away. "I love you too."

"Sirius, where are you going?" Orion screamed. He latched a hand around his son's upper arm to try and stop him from getting any further away from the lifeboat.

"I'm not leaving him!"

"He's going to die here!" They were yelling because they were angry, but the sound of everyone else panicking and the water and the boats was enough to make them have to speak louder anyways. "If you go after him, you'll die too. Even if you make it out of here alive, you'd be executed wherever you lived!"

"I'd rather die with him than live another second with you!" Sirius screamed, wrenching his arm out of his father's grip and running towards the lower decks where he knew James was. He didn't know how he was going to get him out of the handcuffs or where they'd try to go after he was free, but he couldn't just leave him there.

If you jump, I jump. James had said that it wasn't gamble back then, but this time it was. Sirius still believed it, though. He wasn't leaving this boat without James, and if that meant not leaving it at all, then he'd be okay with that.

#prongsfoot #marauders #james potter #sirius black #fanfic #filled #fusion #getting together #siriuslystarbucks #Anonymous

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harcourtholmesii · 3 years

Text

A Strange Meeting

Fandoms: Dead by Daylight

Pairings: None

Warnings: - Reference to Violence - Referenced Gore - Referenced Death and Torture - Implied, Stated and Referenced Prejudice - Pretty Poorly Written

Words: 2019

I wrote this sometime ago, but I felt like posting some of my older works to Tumblr to get them out there. In this one, to clarify, I have this little headcanon that the Entity would want to get the most it can from its survivors and killers before tossing them into the void. So, the Entity forces some killers to be survivors and some survivors to be killers, so it might leech as much emotion, hope and fear out of them all.

Enjoy!

She had found a quiet place. It was hidden deep into the woods, far from the campfire’s warm glow, and out of sight of those judging looks. She could hear, carried along by the chilling wind, the faint cries of Dwight and Kate’s hollers as they searched for where she had hidden herself away. With her back pressed firmly to the chipping bark of the ulmus- elm behind her, she brought her knees up to her chin, muting her sobs. The cold wind swept through her, and beneath her long sleeves she could feel her hairs rising in horripilation.

Goose-bumps. It was what everyone else called it. But why not use the scientific term? She didn’t understand. According to David, and everyone else probably, there was a lot she didn’t understand. Her father called it a ‘brilliant mind’, an ‘inquisitive mind’, but her mother referred to it in much the same way as everyone else. ‘Special’. ‘Unique’. ‘Unusual’.

When the world around them began to collapse, everyone else ran to the door. When she was alone in the collapse, she just had to collect that one insect. Where one should run for a teammate, she had to collect the sap and take notes. She couldn’t help herself. That was what she knew; botany and entomology were her video games and childhood toys. She didn’t understand these trials. Never had she wished to be swept into a life or death game, and whilst other survivors lived for the chase, she despised having to run around. Her legs ached so much at the end of a trial, she would rarely wait to reach the campfire before collapsing to her knees. Even when those black, arachnid-like appendages tore her away from the safety of the fire, she could rarely find the strength to continue these trials any longer.

Claudette’s head snapped up, hearing heavy footsteps approaching. It sounded much like David or Bill’s heavy boots; the last people she wanted to talk to. As she brought a hand up to the tree behind her, gaining some purchase on it so she might stand quickly and run, she was interrupted by the face of a man she had not met out in these woods. She had never run into another lost soul on her own before. She had always been by Dwight or the others, but now, she was caught out and unsure how to react.

He was enormous. Like an ursus arctos horribilis- Like a grizzly bear in size, he was packed with muscle with wide grey eyes. He turned a dark gaze down to onto her; those grey eyes filled with mild curiosity. They carried a familiar weight to them, like the gazes she had seen many times when their group met survivors who had been there just as long as themselves (or perhaps longer). They were weary, exhausted and yet they looked at her with aroused suspicion. She noted the faintest dark stains on his clothes; there was blood, yes, like there always was, but a black powder mixed with mud and dirt caked the white of his collared shirt. He wore dark overalls with one strap snapped on the right side and, much like everyone else, his clothes were in such a disarray. How could a man like this be one of them? It was much like when she met David; just how could a man of his size, strength and temperament be a survivor?

A crunch of leaves and twigs alerted her, Claudette’s eyes travelling up to the man’s face as he ducked down beneath a branch and with his back pressed to the tree, slid down to sit on her left side. He dropped heavily into the mix of dirt and roots, but kept quiet. She didn’t like this. She wanted to speak up and tell him to go away. This was her spot. But, instead all she felt was the urge to stand and return to the campfire.

“Please stay.” Claudette hadn’t realised she had already started making a move to stand. His voice shocked her. It was a growl. Not like a threatening growl, but his voice was deep and broken that when his plica vocalis- vocal cords produced his words, it reminded her much like the deep bellows of a bear. She swallowed around a lump in her throat, feeling how her body tightened in fear. Her joints were strained, prepared for her to jump up and run like her body had never done so before. Even when she was in a trial, she had never felt so terrified. Nervously, she let herself slump back into her place at the base of the elm’s trunk. She was shaking.

“W-Who…” She swallowed again, trying to gain the nerve to speak. “Who are you?”

He turned his head to look at her; a slow, bored motion, with his grey eyes meeting hers. Even like this, he was still at least a foot taller. He was just… so… big…

“Someone like you.”

“H-How do you kno-?”

“I guessed.” He interrupted her, turning his head away, his right hand brushing lightly at the dirt between them. She bit her lip to keep herself from yelling at him at how he was getting her jean pants dirty. What did it matter? They were dirtied from mud, blood and torn to shreds at the calf and knees. He glanced back up at her, one large finger beginning to scratch a pattern into the dirt. “Lost.”

“W-What?”

“You seem lost.” His eyes turned back to the dirt, glowering at a mistake he brushed away with his knuckles. His attention returned to dividing his gaze between her face and his picture.

“W-Well, I’m not. I know where I can go and-”

“It is not what I meant.” He said, stopping his digits from digging into the dirt. He turned his body, angling it towards her, a foot between them. He was uncomfortably close for her liking, but he didn’t push further. “Your mind seems elsewhere.”

“And how do you know that?” She pulled her lips tight into a frown. She didn’t appreciate how he was analysing her. It was like how her mother tried to send her to a therapist, except instead of a sense of duty to her mother, she was kept there by her fear rooting her feet to the ground.

“I know.” He hummed, returning to a relaxed position around the tree. “No one runs from the fire except for a few reasons. Since you are not screaming…” He trailed off, letting Claudette fill in the rest.

“I… I just can’t deal with this any longer.” Well, he was certainly doing better than her therapist and actually getting her to spill something personal. Whether out of fear or not, it didn’t really matter. “I’m constantly afraid. I can’t keep up with this. I just… I just want to go home.” The world around her grew blurry, her eyes beginning to sting as tears welled up and then rolled tracks down her hot cheeks.

He didn’t speak. He had stopped drawing in the dirt, and kept his eyes trained on her and how she rose her hands up in fists to wipe away the tears. “I just want to go home to my parents. To my microscope and studies. I want to go back to college. If anything, people whispering behind my back is nothing compared to a hook going through it.” She bawled, bringing her body into a curled position.

“What is a m-micro-… ma-icro-scopp?” Her wide eyes turned to look up at him, surprised to find him tilting his head like a giant dog. He was curious, and the thought that this man didn’t know what a microscope was… It was a welcome distraction.

“A-…” She wiped the tears from her eyes, trying to gather herself. “A microscope i-is a tool used to analyse samples. Like being able to see… Um…” She reached down to the grass and dirt, pulling up into view a single leaf, crumpled, but otherwise intact. “Inside a plant there are cells. By having a sample like this leaf under a microscope, you can see them.”

“How?” His growl of a voice caused her body to shudder. Despite her discomfort, his being there as a stranger just listening to what she had to say reminded her of how someone would message the forums asking a simple question she could answer. At least over the internet and in the college chatrooms, people appreciated her knowledge.

She expanded on how it all worked, and felt herself go on and ramble. What could have been answered in fifty words had ended up becoming an entire thesis. Then came the questions about how she got into college studying science as a woman and what the internet was. Like Ashley and Laurie, it seemed he had been ripped out of a time long before her own. How long had he been here? Still, who knows how much time passed, but through it all, whilst he sketched into the forest floor, she answered all of his inquiries and explained how it all worked. She appreciated how he didn’t seem to have any prejudices despite his time, and when bringing up the topic, he simply shrugged his shoulders.

“It never mattered to my father. It doesn’t matter to me.”

When Claudette felt her rump and tailbone beginning to ache, she stood slowly, feeling a little better to talk to someone other than her teammates. As she stood, so did he; carefully sidestepping around his sketch until he faced her. She felt a little trapped just due to his sheer size and might, but when she moved, he did not reach out or follow behind. Instead, he took a step back in the opposite direction.

“Come with me.” She said, feeling a flush enter her cheeks. It was a little embarrassing saying that so quickly, but after their hours (she had to presume) of talking, she didn’t want to return to the group without him. Who knows? A man of his size might be able to help them in the trials.

“No.”

“W-Why not?” She felt a little astounded. Why wouldn’t he want to come? “I-It is okay. No one is going to run you off. I just needed time to myself. You should come with me. I’m sure the others will be happy to meet you.”

“No. I have my own to return to.”

“There are other campfires?” He looked over his shoulder, back through the thick woods from whence he came.

“Hundreds.”

“W-What?”

“Hundreds, scattered all about. We can’t go very far, but you are not the first person I have met out here.” He stepped away from her, the shadows over his form hiding his face from sight. The moonlight streaked that streaked through the woods refused to move and just grant her one last look at him. “I have to return to my own. In time, may we meet like this again.”

“Wait!” But already, he had vanished back into the dark. How a man like that could move so quickly and quietly, she had no clue. But apart from his patch of dirt, there was no sign he had even been there. In the dirt, what she saw drawn there was a truly nice sketch, if a little primitive due to the lack of tools. It was her face. Her face was in the dirt, with a small smile on her face. She bit back a huff of laughter- not out of actual amusement, but out of sheer irony that he would predict the outcome of their conversation.

She turned on her heel and went back the way she came, noting the carvings of Mashtyx in the bark of the trees, reminding her of her path. Now, as she returned to the safety of Kate’s lullaby and the warm glow of the campfire, she came to realise what was stained on his clothes. What gave him such an earthy smell. It was coal dust, much like what she smelt in the coal mines of the Macmillan estate.

#DBD #Dead by Daylight #The Trapper #Claudette Morel #DBD Fanfiction #DBD Fanfic #HarcourtHolmesII

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solesurvivorpaigeargot · 3 years

Note

I absolutely LOVE Sketchy Saturdays and I always look forward to them!! As for my question(s)? What made you decide to start doing it(I'm glad you do but I was just curious!)?

Hoooo boi the Sketchy Saturday Origin Story: I suppose there's two versions.

The short version reads " Moving stress, deployment depression, and isolation VS. my utter determination to DO SOMETHING whilst trapped in my home " -- Sketchy Saturday was the result of that title fight, so I guess the fandom won in the end? XD

The long version, however... Well, buckle up, cause this is gonna be a ride.

It may surprise y'all to know that two years I was eyeballs-deep in the South Park fandom. The blog still exists; my mainblog, JustCallMeButtlord, built to interact with the audience of my fanfictions-- the New Kid Stories, called NKS for short [gonna be porting those to Ao3 soon, just gotta figure out what robo-reader I'm gonna use to make a quick n dirty podfic out of the series as well as help me hunt down typos my eyes galze over]. The first 'season' of stories had ended, 8 completed fics, and I was puttering about with a bonus holiday story that was several months out of season. Not that I CARED because I was on GUAM where seasons don't exist and my time blindness gets even worse becasue without seasons changing it feels like time never progrsses even after being on the island for three cocksucking years.

I don't hate Guam, I am just not built for constant heat. I am a snow creature; I like below-freezing temperatures so I can layer up in fuzzy, fluffy things and drink hot drinks and cuddle loved ones and/or furry animals. It's a lovely island, I adored my first week there... I just wasn't made to live there.

HIlariously, NKS started out of the stress of moving to Guam. Two years and 8 fics later, the place we were renting was no longer within our price range and my hubby and I were forced to move onto base. Under the leader whom I refuse to name, military pay was given a precentage raise... but it was ripped out of bonuses and OCONUS pay. OCONUS is what a military member is paid when they're stationed Outisde the CONtinental United States. This usually means overseas bases like Japan, but it also means Hawaii, aaaaaand... GUAM. So that percentage pay increase for the military at large meant belt-tightening for every service member abroad, and we were forced to move onto base.

In case y'all haven't noticed by now, I'm a raging socialist with some issued with authority. I DO NOT LIKE EXISTING ON BASE. I do not like existing in a place where the national anthem plays twice a day, every day, at 6 AM and then again whenever the hell sundown is that day. And there's an unspoken rule no one tells you that when it plays you're supposed to stop what you're doing, face the nearest set of speakers playing the song, and stare in that direction with your hand over your heart until its over. That, if you're driving, you have to put on your emergency flashers and pull over. No one tells you this. NO ONE TELLS YOU THIS.

And then, before we had secured a place on base but we had set a move out date for the rental house, the Pandemic happened. While we were between homes. The base is talking full lockdown, Guam authorities want to shut down the island but businesses are terrified of not getting the tourist season business, we don't even know if we'll be allowed to move on to base.

Surprise, I stopped writing for a while... but I picked Fallout 4 back up again. I had been forced into the series years earlier by a toxic relationship, but the game itself hadn't been bad-- just the way I'd been forced to play it by someone who was firmly not in my life anymore. When confronted with character creation, I wasn't sure whom I wanted to make... but decided to go back to an old character. A VERY old character, whom I hadn't thought of since I'd finished ME3 at least 4 years prior, and a character I first conceived of when I was 14-ish... which is now about 15 years ago.

Paige.

I've talked before about how well Paige's story maps onto Fo4, but this was before I knew that. I knew the opening, her losing her kid, and that fit with her-- but something clicked while I was playing and the part of my brain that likes to create started wandering off. Soon enough I've got a couple chapters of a ficlet that I'm TOTALLY just writing as a personal one-shot to de-stress, no way I'm publishing this, I don't wanna get distracted from NKS, I got a whole 'nother season to write! Who cares if no one is reading it anymore because South Park Fandom doesn't like continuous plots.... right?

I was burnt out as hell, the move was looming, the Pandemic was getting worse and everything was getting scarier.

Then the news came through that hubby would be deploying again.

He wasn't supposed to, but the Navy decided the safest place for their sailors was the middle of the ocean, so if you WERENT in quarantine you were going on the boat and you were living there. Didn't matter if your spouse would be alone, unpacking a whole home by themselves.

I had a friend on base. We hung out. I met with my DND group on weekends; we all lived on base now, so we could meet up in like five minutes... and then restrictions tightened. You could be fined up to 5 grand for gathering in groups greater than 5, even outdoors, and detained if suspected of going to a home that wasn't yours. I still met 2 of my friends once a week for walks; get outside, be active, talk to other humans, but besides that? I was locked up alone in a new house in a place that I did NOT like existing in.... with a fresh new hyperfixation developing.

I think it was about a week into the new house that I made the new blog. At first I tried to run it side by side with the South Park stuff, but it wasn't long before all my attention was here... aaaand it also wasn't long before I was confronted with a lot of my own despair; of lockdown, of isolation, of watching a broken system crumble and not being able to DO anything about it, and I started to kinda lose my shit. I fuss-- I can't leave things alone, and I couldn't leave this feeling alone; of being fully and entirely helpless and hopeless.

And then I sketched a thing for a friend, and it made them happy. They were having a rough time, too, and I put something together because I couldn't think of anything else. And it helped. It lifted them up, and it lifted me up, too. Someone else had recently reblogged one of those pallet challenges that floats around Tumblr, and I decided FUCK IT LET'S DO THIS THING AND CALL IT SKETCHY SATURDAY!

Little secret, the very first Sketchy Saturday request? Was me. I was so scared no one would noticed the event, I sent myself the very first request, back when the event still took anons. Soon as that first picture was up:

BANG, suddenly four more; some people off anon. I met people that day, talked to them after the very first Sketchy weekend was over, chatted about the games and characters and art and writing and just... felt human for the first time in a really long while.

I figured I'd hold on to Sketchy Saturday until the deployment was over-- once hubby was back, I'd decide whether I was keeping it or not... but he came back, and I was still super into it, and he was supportive, sooooo I kept going! And then we did Sketchy Secret Santa, and people loved it, and my volunteers are excited about being Sketchy Elves and Secret Helpers and just OH MY GOD I DID A THING GUYS. I DID A THING-- that was just me all December and January long lmafo.

AND JANUARY! Because AH HECK, WE MOVING AGAIN! Because hubby finally got orders, and OH MY GOD we're going back to WA... but it's still a move half-way around the globe, and I was SURE I'd have to shut down the event for a month while we got our shit in order and NOPE, because here come the volunteers from Sketchy Secret Santa, and they wanna fill in all month long! Like... I didn't even ask for that shit, guys. They offered it so the event wouldn't have to take a gap.

Jesus I'm getting teary just remembering it.

So yeah. Sketchy Saturday is here because I got really lonely and stressed out while Fallout 4 provided me with some... catharsis for my situation, and then a pandemic happened.

And then y'all happened, and I'm still here. :D

#Sketchy Saturday #feels

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giant-sketches · 4 years

Text

A Little Anxious

A BIG thank you to @crystalk17 for the wonderful prompt that inspired this short side. I really liked their idea and while I changed a few thing, the overall concept remains the same.

In this story the Light Sides are giant-sized and the Dark Sides are tiny-sized. Anxiety is paranoid that if he doesn’t act soon he will vanish from the mindscape and seeks out Thomas to beg for his very existence.

This story includes 3 sketches and 1 super surprise I hope you all enjoy!

Word Count: 2372

Disclaimer: crying, almost being stepped on, panic, self-hate

For a long time now Anxiety had been observing the movements of the giant Light Sides as they interacted with Thomas. It always looked like a lot of fun to talk about their day smiling and laughing. He wanted to do that too, but he wasn’t like them. He was one of the tiny Dark Sides Thomas didn’t express often. Sometimes Thomas would go a long time without feeling anxious and Anxiety was beginning to feel like his presence wasn’t needed in the mindscape.

What would happen to him if he was forced to vanish completely? Would he be instantly forgotten like he never existed in the first place? Those thoughts haunted him each day as his paranoia grew into full blown panic. He had to take action! One night Anxiety formed a plan to confront the creator of the sides, Thomas, personally. Cautiously, he placed his ear to his bedroom door and listened intently. He had to make sure the coast was clear before sneaking out. Usually the sides were summoned by Thomas himself, but at times you could force a summoning by diving into his dreams.

The dream pool was located closest to Logan’s room at the end of the hallway. After confirming the hallway was void of giants, Virgil gingerly opened the door and stepped out. Before moving he looked both left and right down the hall to double check his surroundings. Then he bolted down the corridor as fast as his legs could take him. He flew right past Patton’s door and was about to pass Roman’s when two voices caused him to stop.

“I don’t see why we can’t come to a sort of compromise on this!”

“There’s nothing to compromise on is my whole point.”

It was Logic and Creativity bickering per usual. They were like cats and dogs sometimes when it came to what they thought was best for Thomas. Usually, Anxiety found their quarreling amusing, but when he was about to be stomped on not so much. The giant sides hadn’t taken notice of Anxiety standing in the hallway as Creativity started walking backwards to keep arguing with Logic, who had stopped at his door. Anxiety ducked in fear and braised himself! Shockingly as Creativity's boot reached the floor it landed beside Anxiety, barely missing him.

“We’ll continue this discussion in the morning.”

“Fine, but just know I could go on all night if need be!”

Anxiety continued to lay on the floor shaking. He was too scared to listen any further to the giant's ramblings and only stayed put until both had returned to their rooms for the night. That had been way too close. Anxiety was starting to lose his nerve about this plan of his. He was starting to regret passing up the idea of just possessing one of the giant sides like Deceit and Remus do and going to talk to Thomas in disguise. Sure he’d never done it before, but they made it look pretty easy. No, no he couldn’t do something so dubious, not when he was trying to win Thomas over. He had to be himself for this to work.

“I have to keep going...even if I’m scared, I’m more afraid of disappearing.”

Anxiety struggled to his feet, but managed to keep walking meekly towards the dream pool. Once there he jumped in without hesitation. There was no going back now. Gradually, he spread his energy outward into the surrounding environment to instigate Thomas’s lingering anxieties and cause him to wake up. Jolted awake from the sudden surge, Thomas flung himself upwards in a cold sweat.

“What was that?” he huffed.

“Sorry...that was me.”

Anxiety had succeeded in his plan and was now standing on top of Thomas’s nightstand. Thomas was stunned to see the tiny person and rubbed his eyes in disbelief.

“Am I still dreaming?”

“No, I woke you up. I’m one of your sides, Anxiety to be exact.”

Anxiety forced a smile in order to show he was friendly, but on the inside he was terrified.

“You’re my Anxiety? Why are you so small though?”

Before he could answer Thomas reached out his hands to lift Anxiety closer to his face for a better look. Anxiety flinched at the sudden movement, but he didn’t sense any hostility from Thomas and remained calm. Was this going to work? What if Thomas hated him and wouldn't listen to his plight? Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. He was beginning to fall apart as all his uncertainties about his existence surfaced. Was being so close to Thomas causing him to feel vulnerable? Tears quickly flooded his face in response to these new emotions.

“Wah! What’s wrong Anxiety? There’s no need to start crying, I’m not going to hurt you or anything. You’re safe here!”

Safe? Was he really safe? He didn’t even know what that felt like. Anxiety had gone his whole life believing he was unwanted and despised. Was Thomas now telling him that wasn’t true?

“Yo-you won’t make me vanish?”

“Vanish! Of course not, you’re a part of me just like all the other sides.”

“But I thought as a Dark Side I was just a hindrance to you. After all I’m this size because you don’t express me that much.”

“Is that why? Sure it’s not very fun when those guys show up uninvited, but you’re all needed. I need to learn those hard lessons in order to be a better person. You help me do that Anxiety.”

“I-I help you?”

“Yeah, in fact you may be able to help me with something right now!”

“Really? I will if I can.”

Anxiety was happy at the mere mention of him being helpful to Thomas. He listened intently with twinkling eyes.

“Okay, so I want to help with a local production of Red Riding Hood at the park downtown, but I’m not sure what I should volunteer for. I have a background in stage management, but I also like the idea of helping make the set pieces. Logan says I should go with stage management since I have prior experience, but Roman wants me to have fun with my more creative side and help with the set. Patton says either is good, but that doesn’t really help me decide. What do you think I should do?”

That was a lot of information to take in all at once. Were those the names of the other sides? Based on their answers Anxiety could infer that Logan was most likely Logic and this Roman person was definitely Creativity. Patton must be Morality by default then. Was this what Logic and Creativity were arguing about in the hallway? He’d never heard their names before so it was a little confusing, but he thought to himself on what would be the best option.

“Are you playing a part in this production?”

While Anxiety didn’t know a whole lot about Thomas, he did know he was an aspiring actor.

“I am, I’ll be playing the part of the wolf that eats the grandmother and tricks Red Riding Hood.”

Thomas was going to play the villain, that was unexpected. Anxiety always thought of him as a hero type that saw the world in black and white. Maybe there were more grey areas then he first thought in Thomas’s mind.

“Then I think you should help out with stage management, since you might hurt yourself working with power tools or moving larger set pieces around.”

“Hmm, that’s a good point. I think I’ll do that then, thanks for your input.”

“What really? You’re actually going to go with my pick?”

“Why not, you made a clear case and stated your concerns for my safety. I appreciate that a lot.”

A strange realization swept over Anxiety’s mind. What if this whole time it was actually Anxiety keeping Thomas safe and not the other way around? An immense feeling of relief caused him to laugh out loud at his own stupidity. There had never once been anything to fear, it was all in his head.

“I’m such an idiot! This whole time I’ve been so afraid you hated me and was going to get rid of me. I was trying so hard to not cause you any problems that it slowly drove me crazy.”

“Anxiety, I had no idea you were so stressed out over this. No matter what you have a place here. You keep me safe from danger, help me proceed cautiously in risky situations, and make it so I can deal with new forms of stress. I’m sorry I’ve been holding you back, but I think more than ever I need you.”

“To be needed is all I’ve ever wanted!” he mumbled through his tears.

Gently Thomas lifted Anxiety to his face and had him hug his nose. All those feelings of love, appreciation, and kindness washed over him as he giggled nervously. Anxiety had no idea how to deal with such an overwhelming flood of tender emotions, but he definitely enjoyed the sensation.

“Welcome to the family Anxiety! How about I summon the others and you say hello to all of them?”

Anxiety shivered slightly at the notion of being surrounded by giants, but he trusted Thomas. He also knew he’d have to introduce himself at some point if he was going to be sticking around.

“O-okay…”

Instantly, the other sides appeared in the room. Anxiety found it funny seeing them all in their pajamas and chuckled a bit. The sound quickly caught the attention of Morality who was completely amazed at the sight of the tiny side.

“Oh my gosh who is that?!”

Unfortunately, the sudden shouting frightened Anxiety and made him scurry towards the back of Thomas’s hands. He knew the giant side didn’t mean him any harm, but that was way too loud!

“Hang on Patton, you’re scaring him. You need to calm down and speak softly.”

“Oh I’m sorry kiddo, I didn’t mean too. I’m friendly, see?”

Patton displayed a soft smile of reassurance and Anxiety sheepishly uncurled himself and walked closer to the edge of Thomas’s hand.

“I’m Anxiety. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Anxiety? Isn’t he one of those Dark Sides. What is he doing here?”

“Well you see he was worried I might make him vanish so he came to talk to me about it.”

“Vanish him?! Anxiety, there’s no way Thomas would ever do something like that.”

“Indeed, Thomas understands that all sides, big and small are necessary for him to have a healthy mindset.”

“Yeah kiddo, you’re safe here.”

“I-I know that now.”

“That’s a relief to hear.”

“Yep, he even helped me decide on what to volunteer for, for the show.”

“Interesting, what did you decide on then Thomas?”

“Yes, yes tell us!”

“I’m going to be helping with stage management after all.”

“What!? B-but wouldn’t making props be more fun then stuffy management?”

“Now Roman, Thomas has made up his mind and we need to respect that.”

“Ugh, I know Patton, but that means Logan wins.”

“Roman, Anxiety was the one who helped me choose, not just Logan. Also this isn’t a competition.”

“Ack! Oh, you’re right. I apologize. May I at least know what Anxiety said to make you go with that choice?”

“I first asked if he was also going to act in the play and he said yes. Then I thought about how it would be bad if he got hurt while moving props around or building them since power tools can be dangerous if you don’t know how to handle them properly. Thus, I believed stage management was the better option to keep him in the best possible shape for his performance.”

Silence filled the room as the giant sides had gone quiet. Anxiety could feel the tension rising and grew worried that he may have stepped over the line somehow. Suddenly, multiple cheers were directed towards him,

“Tha-that’s genius!”

“Wha-”

“A similar, but different perspective then my own. I’m impressed.”

“Huh?”

“Anxiety, I’ve missed judged you! At first I thought you were like that robot over there, but you really do care about Thomas’s well-being the same as I.”

Anxiety had no idea how to respond to this amount of praise. All he did was speak his opinion.

“I hope now you see how needed you truly are here Anxiety.”

Anxiety blushed.

“Yeah, it’s a lot to handle though.”

“You’ll get used to it. Anyway, I want you all to introduce yourselves to our new family member here. Would you be okay with each of them holding you for their introductions?”

“I don’t mind. As long as none of them drop me.”

“It’ll be just fine. Here you go Patton, you first.”

Slowly Patton cupped his hands together and placed them in front of Thomas’s in order for Anxiety to walk across.

“Hey there kiddo, my name's Patton and I’m Thomas’s Morality. I look forward to working with you!”

Patton was so warm, he wasn’t anything like his counterpart Deceit.

“Now Roman.”

Roman mimicked Patton’s movements from before.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Anxiety. My name is Prince Roman, but for friends Roman is just fine. I make up Thomas’s Creativity.”

This one was Remus’s brother, but comparatively he was a lot nicer and cleaner.

“Last we have Logan.”

Following suit yet again Anxiety felt the most nervous about this one. His eyes were cold and his demeanor was rigid.

“Hello Anxiety, it’s nice to finally meet you. My name is Logan and I’m Thomas’s Logic. I want you to know I look forward to your company.”

A small smile crept on Logan’s face as he handed Anxiety back over to Thomas’s hands.

“From now on you’re one of us Anxiety.”

Leaning down Thomas placed a kiss on Anxeity’s head. He giggled with embarrassment. Not in his wildest dreams did he think he’d ever find his place in Thomas’s mind, but now he was also a part of his heart too. Overtime Anxiety enjoyed hanging with his new family and grew into his role.

“Hey Virgil, hurry it up. Thomas needs to see us right away!”

“Coming.” he said as he grabbed onto Roman’s hand.

The End

@thought-u-said-dragon-queen

The tag list is just starting for my short sides, so if you’d like to be added just send an ask or comment on this post. Thank you again for reading!

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hazel-writes · 3 years

Text

Summary: You arrive on the Finalizer and are faced with a not-so-warm welcome.

Notes: Hey y’all! This fic was originally posted on AO3, so the pre-chapter notes here on Tumblr will be a bit different. Just a heads up, I am still in the process of re-working the first half of this fic so that it is up to par with the second half. The chapters get progressively longer and better as you go on, so hang in there!

Word Count: 1,700

Warnings: none :)

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Say, it's only a paper moon

Sailing over a cardboard sea

But it wouldn't be make-believe

If you believed in me

• It’s Only a Paper Moon ~ Ella Fitzgerald •

This couldn’t be the same sky I’ve looked up at all these years.

But you knew it was… and that terrified you.

Your footsteps were silent as you hesitantly made your way down the metal ramp of the small, gray shuttle that led the glistening black floors of one of the most feared ships in the galaxy: The Finalizer.

Massive windows revealed an endless expanse of space before you, and you couldn't help but stare in awe. It was strange seeing the sky like this — no sun or clouds present — all of the stars unobscured in an abyss of utter blackness. They always seemed two dimensional back on Lothal, thin as the parchment you used to sketch them on. The stars, planets, moons — they only existed on paper.

Until Now.

Here they were, spread across your vision, permeating your senses from all sides. You looked around to see if anyone else was having a similar reaction to the speckled darkness that surrounded you.

Nope, guess it’s just me then.

You shifted your focus down to your feet: your shoes, which were a natural earthy brown, stood out against the inky floor. The artificial lighting strained your eyes and you found yourself missing the natural sunlight that warmed your body back home. Here everything felt constricted, claustrophobic. And what bothered you the most was that everyone else seemed complacent, comfortable even, in the sterile box that was the Finalizer.

You finally forced yourself to focus back on the moment at hand. A uniformed woman approached you. She had a long, sculpted face with black hair pulled into a tight bun at the base of her neck.

“Welcome to the Finalizer,” she stated, with no inflection at all. “I will be showing you to your accommodation, where you will be further briefed on the terms and conditions of your stay here with the First Order.”

The way she said ‘terms and conditions’ made it seem like you were signing away something worth a whole lot more than just a temporary internship.

The woman, who you secretly nicknamed Ms. Stoney in reference to her cold, hard stare, led you down a series of hallways, each one identical in nature. You found yourself lost after the first few turns and made a mental note to pay more attention to the directions the woman was giving you.

Eventually, you found yourself in a hallway with six identical doors. Ms. Stoney pointed to the one on the right side at the very end of the hall.

“That is yours,” she solemnly directed. “You will find further instruction posted to the inside of your door. Until you are given orders to do so, don't travel about the ship, contact anyone outside of the ship, or speak to others without direct permission.”

Just then, a stromtrooper turned the corner to walk down the hallway you and Ms. Stoney were standing in. As he walked by, he nodded in acknowledgement.

"Hey!" you said, responding to the polite gesture eagerly; you were desperate for some normal human interaction.

Ms. Stoney whipped her head towards you in a piercing glare.

“Oh, sorry… I forgot.” You smiled sheepishly at her, bringing your shoulders up towards your ears. Back on Lothal, your father would always tell you how important first impressions were. You could almost hear him sigh from all the way across the galaxy.

The woman rolled her eyes with a huff. “Do you have any immediate questions?”

Finally, you thought. Your brain had been buzzing with questions ever since you arrived. Where would you be working? Who would you be working with? Why was it so kriffing cold on this ship? From the looks of it, the Order wasn't short on credits or resources, so you'd think they would be able to acquire a heating unit or two, right?

“Yes, actuall-” you started, eager to acquire some answers, but not before being interrupted again.

“Great, you can ask General Hux them when you meet him later this afternoon. I’m sure he will be happy to help." In the meantime, stay in your room. Your luggage will be brought in shortly.”

And with that, she spun on her heel, briskly walking away from you like a protocol droid, minus the good manners.

You stood there in silence and sighed. You were used to dealing with unfriendly people back home. Oftentimes your dad would have to accommodate for the occasional unfriendly customer at the shop where he sold his paintings and you would carefully watch how he handled each situation. He never raised his voice and always made sure to return a scowl with a smile. Not expecting such a response, the customer’s reaction was always the same: a flustered scoff and a frustrated beeline towards the nearest door. You adopted this method of effectively handling difficult people in your own life, this moment with Ms. Stoney included.

Who knew that a basic gesture of human kindness — one as simple as a smile — could have such a large impact?

Apparently not even you.

—————————————

You inhaled a deep breath and opened the door to your new room. It was small and cold. You didn’t mind the size; you were used to that back home. You did, however, mind the temperature, which made you to shiver and pull your sleeves over your hands. The black, windowless walls of the room made you feel even more claustrophobic than you were in the hangar. There were only a few items of furniture in the room: a surprisingly large bed, a sleek black desk, and an armchair that looked like the cause of some major future back pain.

You spotted two doors, one that led to a small refresher, and the other to a closet. Upon further inspection of the closet, you found it filled with pristine black and grey attire. A twinge of homesickness pierced your heart as you thought back to the light, comfortably rugged clothes you had grown accustomed to on Lothal.

Maybe this was a mistake…

You looked back at the entrance to your room before remembering what Ms. Stoney had told you: You will find further instruction posted to the inside of your door.

As you moved closer, you found two sheets of paper taped to the door. On one was a map of the Finalizer, and on the other was a list of the week’s “activities”. You looked closely at the rest of the schedule for the day and found three things written:

6:00 - Dinner is served in the cafeteria

7:30 - Collect ID from Block D Reception

8:30 - Meet with General Hux to receive further instruction regarding your internship

Items one and two on the list could be accomplished easily enough… But number three?

That made you nervous.

————————————

The hours passed too quickly and you found yourself staring, eyes full of dread, at a clock reading 8:15.

What was this meeting with General Hux about, anyways? I wasn’t prepared for this… not on my first day at least.

You thought back to when Ms. Stoney told you how happy General Hux would be to answer all your questions. There was something in her tone of voice that made it seem like he would be the exact opposite.

Oh well. You took a deep breath. I’ll do my best, try to act professional, and, if all else fails, simply try to smile in the face of terror.

You changed into a black turtleneck and gray trousers, tied your hair into a bun not nearly as tight as Ms. Stoney’s, and readjusted the braided bracelet on your wrist — a gift from your best friend, Cheyenne, who was back on Lothal.

With a deep sigh, shoulder roll, and a quick tip of your head, you walked out of your room and into the adjacent hallway. Studying the map that was provided to you, you began your trek to the General’s office.

As you navigated the seemingly endless hallways of the Finalizer, you passed a menagerie of stormtroopers, officers, and droids. The atmosphere was rigid and brisk — everyone seemed to have an urgent purpose, an important life-or-death matter to attend to.

It was a stark contrast to the slow, free-flowing lifestyle of Lothal; most people there recognized that with each new day came new challenges, making life unpredictable. But instead of responding to this uncertainty by attempting to control the uncontrollable, Lothalians tended to adapt, mold themselves to accommodate any given situation. They were humble this way.

And here, where change was seen as something that challenged the draconian stability of the First Order, you came to learn that the malleable lifestyle you grew so accustomed to on Lothal was considered the equivalent of a death sentence here on the Finalizer.

You re-emerged from your thoughts and found yourself nearing your destination. You rounded a corner, checking over the map you were provided with a furrowed brow.

As you attempted to concentrate on the various lines and names written on the small piece of paper, a strange feeling washed over you. It started as a small shiver, before turning into a slight prickle at the back of your neck. You swatted your hand behind you, thinking a small bug landed on you, only to remember that you were on a spaceship far above any planet where bugs would be located. You shook your head, trying to concentrate harder on deciphering the map, only to have the prickling become more intense, almost invasive.

Kriff, am I going insane?

The not-so-friendly tingle intensified enough that you decided to turn and face the invisible menace that seemed to creep its way up your spine. You moved so abruptly that a few passing stormtroopers tilted their heads towards you in curiosity.

Embarrassed at your moment of irritation and confusion, you averted your eyes and started to turn your head back in the other direction — but before you could, something caught your attention.

Or rather, someone.

——————————

Masterlist || Next

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villainwaifu · 4 years

Note

Jason finds his s/os sketchbook FULL of drawings of him. Some before they met and some after they met.

Hello, hello! Thank you for being my very first fic ask, horrorstreet! I hope you like this! ^^ It, ah...gets a little NSFW at the bottom. ><

It is also gender neutral, and...I apologize if a couple of the paragraphs are a light gray? Couldn't figure out what I did or how to fix it...

2,242 words (This is a small drabble for me…>>;; )

Jason x Reader

Happy Accidents

Jason knew he shouldn't...but...it was just lying there. Open. Tempting him. Maybe just a peek...you were out getting some more pencils and things from town…you'd never know. He reached out...but just before his fingers could skim across the textured page, he hesitated. Your disappointed face came to mind...and so did his mother's. She would never condone going through someone else's belongings without their permission. Or, at least, someone he actually cared about. The horny campers he killed didn't count- that was foraging.

With a heavy sigh from behind his hockey mask, Jason's hand dropped down to the bed. But...when it did...he caught the edge of that pesky drawing journal of yours, sending it to the floor with a clatter and a rustle of paper. Oh no… Oh no, oh no, oh no! All the loose pages dispersed all across the cabin floor! Curse his big, clumsy hands! At the very least, though...he was glad it happened here. This was the first cabin they had started to remodel...the roof was fixed, and so were the floors. They weren't splintered or rotten from mold and mildew, so there was nothing to ruin those precious drawings of yours… Now if only he could avoid stepping on them with his damp shoes to pick them up…

Jason bent and grabbed the drawing nearest to his shoes...and he nearly dropped it again. Was that...him? ...Yeah...there was no mistaking it. It was him...as a child. Smiling and splashing in the water on the bank of the lake. How did you know what he looked like as a kid? And when did you draw this? When he was out foraging? You'd asked if you could draw him before...but you always showed him your beautiful sketch when you were finished... He'd never seen this before, though...

Curious, he picked up the next nearest sheet to find a picture of him as a kid with his mother. A really pretty one done up like a fancy painting. How you could make him look...less like a monster and more human was beyond him… Jason gingerly ran his thick finger over his mother's face in the picture, eyes softening. You really did a good job on the details...she looked just like he remembered her to. A melancholic smile pulled at his lips as he gently set it aside after a moment and plucked another off the floor, finding a more recent picture he actually knew about. It was a side-facing picture of him at the edge of the lake with his mask on and bloody machete in hand. He carefully lifted another up, finding a more modern picture of him asleep at the base of his favorite tree...but, again, he'd had no idea you'd drawn this. How many more of those did you have..?

Twenty-seven. That was the total number of sheets scattered across the floor...and, of those, he'd only known about eight. Eight. The rest…were different renditions of him as a child, a teenager, and as he was now. Even more puzzling than your different drawings of him...were the dates he'd found scrawled on the backs of them. Most were drawn after you'd become his prisoner...then his friend...and lover. But some…were dated way back before they'd met. How long did you know about him before you became his? Was this something you had planned? Uncertainty and wariness gnawed at him as he stared at the paper-filled book in his hands. Surely...you weren't using him. Were you..? His chest hurt just thinking about it…

"Jason," you called, a big smile on your face as you slipped in the cracked door with a few bags in hand. That smile and excitement died down after you spotted him on the bed, shoulders hunched in and head bowed. He barely lifted his head your way in acknowledgement. "Hey...what's wrong..?" You dropped off the bags at the end of the bed and immediately went to his side, plopping down so close to him on the bed that your legs touched. There was a time he would have flinched away from you...but that time was long passed. He was cradling something sapphire blue in his large hands. "Oh...my drawing book?" The loose pages weren't stacked in as neatly as they were before, some sticking out at odd angles. "Did it fall?" He nodded once. Silly man. Getting all out of sorts over a little accident… "Thank you for picking it up for me." You gave him a bright smile, trying to cheer him up a bit...but his spirits didn't seem to lift. He was still hunched into himself. "Jason...what's wrong? You know you can talk to me about anything…" Okay, maybe not talking, exactly...their conversations mostly consisted of him pointing and grunting, while you played charades trying to figure out what he was trying to say. But you knew him now...and you knew him well. So...it couldn't be too hard to figure out…

"Nnnhh," Jason grunted, opening the drawing book and pointing to one that was dated months before they had met. Then at another a year before that. What does this mean? He cocked his head at you with a frustrated sigh.

"Oh...the dates...you saw that…," you visibly hesitated. How to explain it without sounding...crazy. And to do it relatively quickly. He was already shifting with impatience… "I...I'm afraid you won't believe me even if I explained it…"

"Hrrr," he growled. Even if you explained it? So you had no intentions of explaining yourself to him. What this meant. For the first time in years, Jason felt sick. He shoved the book into your hands and stood with another rumbling growl. He'd decide what to do about you later...right now...right now he needed to go kill something.

"Wait!" You caught his hand as he started to stalk off, your heart beating wildly in your chest. Jason stopped...but you could feel the tension stiffening his hand and wrist. Why did it feel like everything was crashing down around you..? Like this was it if he walked through that door? Panic made the words come tumbling from your lips. "The first time I drew you I was five years old." You felt your cheeks heating as his head tilted slightly to the side. Slowly, achingly so, he turned back to you. And you could just barely see his furrowed brow as he looked down at you, clearly confused and wanting answers. You let out a breath, anxiety building up in your chest as your fingers curled around Jason's much larger hand. There was no more hiding it now…

"I...I had dreams when I was little," you started, then paused. "Well, actually, I've had them most of my life. That's just when they started...and I didn't know until I was older that they were about you." You felt like you were rambling, cheeks burning hotter as you released his hand, glad he wasn't making a beeline for the door now. "I, uh...I started drawing you when I had the dreams...some were pleasant...and others...nightmarish." You shook your head, trying to shake off old feelings and fears. "But I was never afraid of you." You looked back up at him, locking eyes with his to try and show him you were being honest. "I saw all of the cruelty...I watched you drown...and I watched the lake bring you back." Heat started to build in the back of your eyes and the bridge of your nose. No! You were not going to cry right now!

Sniffling and looking down at your lap, where your fingers tightened around the drawing book, you continued. It was too much to think of all he'd been through… "I watched it all over and over in dreams over the years...and even the after times, when people disturbed you. It always made me angry. Why couldn't they just leave you alone..?" You gave a heavy sigh, wiping at the traitorous wet edges of your eyes. "For a long time, I thought you weren't real. Just someone I'd made up… I've probably drawn you hundreds...maybe even thousands of times. Most of them are in storage boxes in a unit that's most likely been sold by now." Your lips curved downwards. Some of your best works were in those boxes...but it's been months since you paid on the storage unit. It was inevitable. You chose this life after a couple of months of being his captive, leaving everything else behind. Living with the real Jason was so much better than anything you could ever draw...and you could always make more drawings...

"But I found out you were real when I was fifteen," you continued. "And I looked up everything that was left of newspapers and police reports...so much of it was vague. And there were hardly any pictures besides bodies being carried off and before pictures. They never put your picture in the papers…and that made me mad. You were the one who was victimized, you were the one who suffered...but it was always the instigators who got their faces plastered all over the papers." Your hands were gripping your book so tight your knuckles were white, fingers hurting a bit from straining them against the book. "I watched the news for this area for years while I learned how to hike and forage...and finished school. I'd worked and saved back some money, so I was able to get into an apartment after I got kicked out of the orphanage at eighteen." Nobody wanted a kid drawing and obsessing over a big bloody man...

"I worked...but I prepared to come here. This was my goal...to come here and meet you. The man I've dreamed about all of my life. The man I've drawn since I knew how to draw. The man I've fallen in love with over and over again in my dreams and in reality." Your cheeks were red hot by the end, your gaze a tad shy as you peered up at Jason. Sure, you'd confessed your love before...but never quite like this. With everything bare and raw, laid out before him. He knew everything now...and it was terrifying…

For a long moment, Jason just stared down at you. That wasn't the answer he'd expected. Far from it. And it was a lot to process all at once… You had dreamed of him..? Since you were little? It was strange...but no stranger than a lake reviving a drowned boy. Hm... If he learned anything over the years, it was that water holds and carries memories…it remembered when he couldn't anymore. And it brought back memories of his mother's face to soothe him and keep him going… Did it carry those memories to you? Did it bring you here because of his loneliness? Because it knew you would be good for him..?

He really didn't have much time to think on it. You looked so fraile and terrified...like you would crumble if he so much as touched you. And you...you said you loved him. You fell in love with him in your dreams...and reality. His heart felt warm as it jumped in his chest. He still didn't understand how someone as beautiful as you could love something like him...but...he loved you, too. So much it hurt. Jason knelt down in front of you, cupping your face in his large hands. A smile found its way onto his covered face as you closed your eyes with that little sigh of yours, leaning into his touch. He pressed his forehead to yours with a gentle hum, smile widening as your eyes fluttered open and you pressed your forehead back against his, rubbing your nose against the mask. Eskimo kiss. Jason chuckled. Your way of kissing him with his mask on was still amusing...and endearing.

"I love you so much my heart hurts," you whispered, feeling his hands slide down to your waist. He picked you up with ease and laid you back on the bed, crawling up over you. You raised your arm up, intending to push your drawing book up on the side table. Jason grabbed the book, helping you push it securely onto the table, his fingers dragging down the length of your uncovered arm after. You gasped, goosebumps erupting all down your arm. His hand kept on down until it was at your chest, groping and pinching at your nipple. Your back arched as you unclasped his mask and set it aside, his lips on yours just as soon as he was free. Hands gripping, pulling, grasping, pinching, his hard length grinding against your core. He didn't wait very much longer before sheathing himself deep inside of you. Your foreheads were pressed together, eyes locked as you shared the intimacy of that moment, that very first thrust in and pause, breaths intermingled, while your body stretched to accommodate his girth. You marvelled at how this all came of one tiny little accident as he pulled out and thrusted back in, taking his time and making love to you. One happy little accident that brought a hidden topic to light and brought you two so much closer...

- End -

#ask #jason x reader #fic #fanfic #artist #sweet #angsty #love

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sirsapling · 4 years

Text

MORE TAGGED POSTS

I got tagged in a bunch more things I didn't respond to fast enough, so UNDER THE CUT THEY GO.

I have too many things to respond to, so I won't be tagging, but consider yourself tagged if you want to do any.

IT’S THE LITTLE THINGS

Tagged by the wonderful @bardingbeedle

Pass the happy!🌻🌿 When you receive this, list 5 things that make you happy and send this to 10 of the last people in your notifications!

Lying in warm blankets in an cold room. Bonus points for snow outside.

A fresh Buzz cut

Talking to @bardingbeedle

Having long, passionate rambles about the Marvel Ultimates

Hashbrowns, bacon, maple syrup, maybe a pancake, and a sausage too.

Tagged by the chaotic @s-hylor

top 3 cities you want to visit: Toronto, again. Colorado (I know its a state not a city I just want to visit ashes AND GET SNOW). And I would like to go back to Italy again. (I also want to visit, just, all of my fandom friends but I don't want to drop all their locations lol)

favorite marvel character: Ults!Steve Rogers and then Ults!Tony Stark. Not counting stony, Anthony the brain tumor, and not counting clones, Gregory Stark.

white chocolate - yay or nay?: Love it, love it, love it.

favourite board game: God Save The Queens- A board game about Bees I invented with 3 other people at University last year for a project.

how many countries have you been to: 10, I have been very luckily graced with the ability to travel to Europe with school a lot.

(Wales, France, Belgium, Germany, Switzerland, America [Florida, Boston, New York], Spain, Portugal, Italy, and finally Canada.)

favorite thing to do on a rainy day: Anything indoors I might usually feel guilty about doing when its sunny. Tv or games particularly

favorite holiday: Christmas. I am a Christmas slut, call me festive sapling I LOVE Christmas.

pen or pencil: Pen. I once bought 7 in lisbon at the same time bc they were perfect and I didn't want to run out.

favourite kind of soup: Cupasoup Chicken noodle, I don't really like soups tbh, I like broths, and gravy type things I make too much of and eat like a soup (like golden Currys or korma sauces)

your typical order at a cafe or coffee shop: Caramel Frappucino or an iced Mocha. If I'm gonna pay a fuck tonne for coffee I'm gonna get a drinkable dessert.

favorite ride at an amusement park: Any slow rides that show you shit, like spaceship earth at EPCOT. I’m not really a speed dude.

the color of your sneakers: RED, red shoes are the shit folks, a good pair of red converse goes with everything.

favorite pbs show (or little kids show if you didn’t have pbs): Uh I used to watch pokemon then winnie the pooh every single night. But little little kids show I used to watch a show called 64 zoo lane with my grandma so I have fond memories

Rules: name your favorite female characters from 10 different fandoms, then tag 10 people.

Tagged by the wonderful @ashes0909

Natasha Romanov - Marvel Cinematic Universe

Carol Danvers - Marvel 616

Janet Van Dyne - Marvel Ultimates

Izumi Curtis - Full Metal Alchemist

Martha Jones - Doctor Who

Garnet - Steven Universe (if she doesn't count bc, space rock, Connie)

Rosa Diaz - Brooklyn 99

Ann Perkins - Parks and Rec

Princess Caroline - Bojack Horseman

Pam Poovey - Archer

LOOK I know there was a lot of cheating here, but I don't have non marvel fandoms really, and I have a hard time remembering a lot of the TV I enjoyed.

Rules: Share your top 10 AO3 additional tags. Tagged by the mysterious @nigmuff

look I don't know if I have enough tags to make this a justified representation, but the ones shown are v much on brand.

Fanfic trope meme

I was tagged by the delightful @capnstars and @crownofstardustandbone

slowburn or love at first sight // fake dating or !!!secret dating!!! // enemies to lovers or best friends to lovers // oh no there’s only one bed or long-distance correspondence // hurt/comfort or amnesia // fantasy au or modern au // mutual pining or domestic bliss // smut AND fluff // canon-compliant or fix-it // reincarnation or character death // one-shot or multi-chapter // kid fic or road trip fic // arranged marriage or accidental marriage // high school romance or !!!!middle-aged romance!!! // time travel or isolated together // neighbours or roommates // sci-fi or magic au // body swap or genderbend // angst or crack // apocalyptic or mundane

Look guys, I’m boring. I like domestic 30-40 year olds in secret relationships. We knew this.

And now buckle the fuck down folks because I'm about to answer 50 questions about me no one is gonna stick around and read.

tagged by @bardingbeedle the only person who would put up with reading this much about me.

What is the colour of your hairbrush?

I have a buzz cut, I don't have a hair brush anymore.

Are you typically too warm or too cold?

Too warm. I have been warmer than most people my whole life, and I often need to sleep with a fan on.

What were you doing 45 minutes ago?

Working on a sketch for an MTH fill (update from the end of this: I have spent an hour doing this fuckin thing)

What is your favourite candy bar?

Bounty. My favourite candy is Reese’s Pieces but I like a bounty. Or like, and chocolate without fruit in it tbh.

Have you ever been to a professional sports event?

Yes, one of my parents referees Championship Football here in the UK. I have been to a few of his games. I also went to the London 2012 Paralympic closing ceremony, if that counts.

What is the last thing you said out loud?

‘Oh, this will last me a few days’ I was talking to my mother about 1/2 a can of pringles, I was lying.

What is your favourite ice cream?

Vanilla. I am boring. But the best ice cream i’ve had was a cream/milk flavoured gelato in Florence, that shit slapped. I also like cheap strawberry ice cream when no one is trying to put strawberry bits in it.

What was the last thing you had to drink?

Dinner. A spinach, banana, summer fruits and coconut yoghurt smoothie (with extra raspberries). Its my nightly dinner to cheat more veg into my body.

Do you like your wallet?

Very much. It’s about 7-8 years old, it is faded to hell but it has spiderman and a pony ride stony pin

What was the last thing you ate?

See above smoothie comment, but if that doesn't count, a sugar free mint polo.

Did you buy any new clothes last weekend?

Nope. I don't buy as many clothes as I want to, bc mens clothes in larger sizes are hard to find or expensive here.

The last sporting event you watched?

F1, I don't keep up but I watch a little with my dad every now and then.

What is your favourite flavour of popcorn?

BUTTER. They don't really have it here, and I don't go to movies much when in the states. But @festiveferret introduced me to it when we saw Ant-man and the Wasp, and much like poutine and Tim Hortons, I still crave it.

Who is the last person you sent a text message to?

My dad.

Ever go camping?

Yes, I was a Scout. I have done enough camping to not want to do more, it was fun when I wasn't organising it.

Do you take vitamins?

Yes, but not as often as I should, and as much as my mother bothers me too.

Do you go to church every Sunday?

Nope, not even when I considered myself christian. I go only go to church for other peoples events, and I’m an agnostic now.

Do you have a tan?

I cannot tan. I just can't, I burn lobster red in 5 minutes outside without literal sun cream for BABIES

Do you prefer Chinese food or pizza?

Chinese food, It was easily what taught me to like more foods also, I don't eat tomato so I can't have most pizza. I love a good garlic base/bechamel, but you can't really get that here easily (yes yes I could make my own but that ruins half the point of pizza)

Do you drink your soda with a straw?

I don't drink carbonated drinks, because its like drinking pain. The fuck is wrong with all of you.

What colour socks do you usually wear?

Various colours, but I consider red on the left, blue on the right, my lucky socks. No I don't know why, but I take all exams and interviews wearing them. It’s just a thing.

Do you ever drive above the speed limit?

I don't drive, but if I did, No. Theres a lot of questionable laws out there but Traffic laws aren't one of them.

What terrifies you?

Pfft, most things from spiders to rollercoasters. But more seriously, Being shouted at. Shout at me and I start hyperventilating, its a thing. Also not knowing if someone is mad at me. I’m not good at reading people,

Look to your left, what do you see?

The wallet shown earlier, and the sugar free polos mentioned after that.

What chore do you hate?

Vacuuming. It makes everything in my body hurt. I would rather clean toilets.

What do you think of when you hear an Australian accent?

@s-hylor

What’s your favourite soda?

See above. I do not like your pain liquid. Apple juice for life.

Do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive-thrus?

Either delivery or kiosk, I don't like talking to people where possible, I often need tweaks I don't want to have to remember to repeat.

Who’s the last person you talked to?

@downeyhills

Favourite cut of beef?

I don't generally eat beef, lamb, or most red meats. I love crispy chilly beef, but as anyone can point out its bc your generally don't feel the texture of the beef.

Last song you listened to?

Everybody Wants to Rule the World | Tears for Fears | Pomplamoose

I’m on a Pomplamoose kick, and I also just love this song anyway.

Last book you read?

Understanding Comics (The invisible Art) - Scott McCloud

Favourite day of the week?

Friday nights. The weekend is ahead and @loraneldin and I take to wrangling our beloved usual suspects through another week of Ults Book Club.

Can you say the alphabet backwards?

I can barely say it forwards.

How do you like your coffee?

With milk and sugar, or ultimately, in a Caramel Frappuccino bc I'm a bitch like that.

Favourite pair of shoes?

I have walking boots that don't make my flat ass feet feel like they’re dying. OR my black and green crocs (Fight me, they’re useful).

The time you normally go to sleep?

9-10 is what I'm working on, but I fluctuate depending on if I'm working on something or not.

The time you normally get up?

5-6 If I have a choice in the matter, but often 7-8 if I didn't get to bed at the right time. I’m more about getting the right hours in for my diet than time specifically.

What do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets?

Sunset is the prettiest, but I like to be awake to see the sun rise.

How many blankets on your bed?

One big thick comforter, because that's the uk standard, and I get too hot otherwise.

Describe your kitchen plates

Two types, big wide white ones with a navy blue rim. They are so large I never use them, and little Navy saucer plates I use a lot.

Do you have a favourite alcoholic beverage?

I don't drink, so no. I drink apple juice or Shirley temples when I'm in pubs/bars

Do you play cards?

Sometimes, I like to teach people to play Old Maid. It’s the monopoly of card games.

What colour is your car?

Again, I do not drive.

Can you change a tire?

I am aware I just said I don't have a car, but I do know how to change a tire. Everyone should go learn its pretty simple.

Favourite job you’ve ever had?

I have only had one job really and two job experience jobs. I did experience in a school library for a week and that was v fun and chill. I did all the jobs they had prepared for me in 2 days so I alphabetically reorganised their fiction section for the rest of the week. I LIKE ORDERING.

How did you get your biggest scar?

I no longer have a gallbladder, so I have 3 scars across my torso from that, the biggest right in the middle of my ribs. Non surgical wise I have matching scars on my knees from ripping holes in them when tripping. I have weak ankles and also I got both of those at different times.

What did you do today that made someone else happy?

I gave my spare animal crossing Iguanodon skull to a wicked artist I follow on twitter so he could complete his dino park.

#text post #tagged in #wow long post #wow x2 #tag memes

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andrea-lyn · 5 years

Note

For Malex, an au where they go on road trips to save aliens... whether or not they figured their shit out between them before or during is up to you

(like I mentioned, I went stray here, so they are saving aliens! through the rigorous process of record collection)

Colorado

Near Colorado Springs, they break into a facility near the Air Force base and discover what looks like an escape pod. It has some of the familiar components that Alex recognizes from Michael’s sketches and drawings. It’s a ship of its own and it clicks for him probably a few seconds after it does for Michael.

“Is this what you’ve been trying to rebuild?” Alex wonders out loud.

Numbly, Michael nods, like he can’t believe that he has a schematic to mimic. Alex doesn’t want to think about Michael leaving the planet, but faced with an actual escape pod, it’s hard not to. They take the escape pod out of the facility and load it up into their truck without any more conversation about what they’re going to do with it when they get back.

It’s their third stop on a grand tour of suspected sites they’re checking out. By all rights, these are abandoned sites now that Jesse’s support of Project Shepherd has dried up, but after Caulfield, they both know it’s better safe than sorry to make that assumption.

It’s why Alex has a gun and they have a rule.

If something looks like it’s a bad idea, then they both need to get the hell out of there before they end up blowing yet another building sky-high because they were impetuous and short-sighted and emotional. It’s bad enough they did that to their relationship the first time around. So far, they’ve stuck to that rule and it’s been serving them well. It’s also allowed them to survive the road trip, so far.

This trip is meant to serve a few purposes, namely three that Alex can specifically name. The first is checking to see that all the sites are closed down. The second is to see if anyone is still out there furthering Jesse’s cause.

The last and most terrifying point of this trip?

“Nothing like some good old-fashioned therapy,” Michael calls it, sitting in the truck after they load up the escape pod. “You and me stuck in a truck for hours on end is bound to fix at least one or two things.”

“There’s always the tape deck,” Alex says, reaching for the glove compartment where Michael used to keep his tapes, only to find that the ribbon of every single one of them has been yanked out – on purpose. He gives Michael a glare, because he has a sneaking suspicion how that happened. “…Guerin.”

“I got tired of listening to Garth Brooks, so sue me,” Michael replies, whistling innocently as he keeps his eyes forward. The escape pod is in the bed of the truck next to the other artifacts they’ve picked up (nothing as sensational as the escape pod, but the box of files from Santa Fe and the schematics for a new facility from Pueblo are still better in their hands than in someone else’s).

They’re onto their next stop when suddenly Michael pulls off the highway in a frantic rush.

“What the fuck?” Alex snaps. “Guerin! Is someone trailing us? Did I miss someone?”

Michael says nothing, he just puts his foot down on the gas and keeps driving. Alex’s paranoia begins to increase and he wonders if he’d missed someone when they’d left the Colorado Springs facility until Michael parks in a mostly empty lot and Alex sees what the fuss is about.

Alex stares through the windshield, leaning all the way forward so he can see it all.

“Guerin,” Alex says flatly. “Did you just risk our lives merging through five lanes of traffic so you could see a bug?”

Michael’s out of the car in a flash, smirking at Alex as he heads for the placard in front of the gigantic looming thing. Sighing, Alex abandons the ruined tapes and decides that whatever weird obsession this is, he might as well entertain it. Heading out of the truck, he’s careful on his prosthetic as he follows Michael and comes to a stop near a sign that deems the bug ‘Herkimer’.

“It’s a bug.”

“Nah,” Michael says, “it’s not just a bug, it’s the world’s largest beetle. Have some respect, Alex.”

He shakes his head, not sure why he should be respecting anything. They have to keep driving North so they can hit Wyoming, but the moment he tries to open his mouth and say so, he stops when he sees the look of longing on Michael’s face as he stares at a bug.

He seriously can’t have that many complex emotions about the thing, can he?

“Max and Isobel, they always took road trips when they were kids. Max used to bring back postcards from all the roadside stops. I asked my foster father at the time if we could take a road trip that summer from Roswell up to Colorado. It wasn’t much, I figured. I even offered to pay for the gas. The drunk asshole actually promised it to me, too.”

Alex has a bad feeling he knows how this story ends, because Michael never came to school boasting about what he’d seen on his summer vacation.

“What happened?”

“Oh, you know,” Michael says dismissively, turning away from the beetle. “He wrecked his truck and told me it just wasn’t going to work out, because I was asking too much. I learned to stop doing that pretty quickly.” He’s already on his way back to the truck before Alex can react, not fond of the emotional whiplash, but also knowing that Michael’s done it on purpose to protect himself from appearing vulnerable.

Alex gives the beetle one last look, and he digs out his phone to take a selfie with it, figuring that maybe later, he can send it to Michael. It’s not like they’re going to have show and tell when they get back to Roswell, but at the same time, what’s the harm in a few road trip souvenirs that they can both share in?

Wyoming

In Wyoming, they raid a small office building in the early hours of the morning and find employment records dating back to the second world war. There are more names here than Alex feels comfortable with, but he takes pictures of every page as backup before he slides them back into their folders. That box of files earns a home beside the escape pod and nestled with the schematics, as chilling as anything else they’ve found.

“I need a drink,” Alex insists, even though he knows for a fact that Michael is trying his hardest to avoid alcohol and acetone. He feels guilty as soon as he’s said it, thinking that he can wait until he’s back in Roswell to go over the records with a glass of neat whiskey. He doesn’t need to shove that in Michael’s face.

Michael doesn’t seem too angry with Alex’s slip. “I think I’ve got something better.”

That’s how they wind up in Jackson in another beat-down parking lot without a soul in it, except for them. This time, Alex finds himself staring up at a very confusing World’s Largest, and he digs out his phone to look something up. “You know the internet says that there’s a bigger one in Texas,” Alex says, glancing up at the roadside attraction.

Who the hell would want to build the World’s Largest Ball of Barbed Wire?

“I guess everything’s gotta be bigger in Texas, even their torture devices.” It’s a bad joke, but Michael doesn’t look happy to crack it, scowling up at it even though he’s the one who decided they should come here.

Alex wonders if Michael is thinking about the torture devices that the Manes and Valenti dynasties used on his family, and if he’s not yet, he’s sure it’s only a matter of time. Action is required. He digs out his phone and gestures for Michael. “Come here,” he says.

Michael gives Alex and his phone a wary look, but ambles closer to him, leaning back against the small fence that stands between them and the barbed wire. “Don’t tell me Isobel got you into Instagram,” he pleads.

“Who says I’m not already huge there?” Alex deadpans, even though he knows better than to put that much information in a public domain and absolutely wouldn’t even think about putting the details of his and Michael’s journey anywhere online. His location has been off since Roswell and while it’s not a burner phone, he does intend to destroy the sim card when this is all said and done. “Come here,” he says again, and gestures for Michael get close to him.

Michael drifts in close enough that Alex can smell the faint hint of his bodywash. For one brief moment, he closes his eyes and inhales, lets that smell of safety, security, and home wash over him. Then, he opens his eyes and gets the front-facing camera ready, pressed shoulder to shoulder with the barbed wire sticking out in the background. Michael’s smiling, even if he looks like he doesn’t believe that they’re doing this, and Alex looks smugly proud.

It’s a great picture.

“Come on, I think I saw a diner back a few exits,” Michael says, his gaze lingering over Alex before he finally steps away. “You can get a beer, I’ll get a milkshake.”

“Is it Wyoming’s biggest?”

Michael licks his lips, and he climbs on the truck’s step, leaning over it as he looks at Alex. “Doubt it, but I bet you that if you’re there with me, it’ll definitely be Wyoming’s best.”

He ducks into the truck, which is good because it means he misses the flush Alex gets in his cheeks. Staring down at the picture in front of the barbed wire, Alex sees the way Michael’s turned his head a little for the photo and how he’s staring reverently at Alex, a half-lidded look in his eye, like he’s suddenly remembered Alex is there, like he thinks he might want to kiss him.

Alex remembers all those looks enough to feel like the expert when it comes to Michael Guerin when he wants to kiss him. Maybe at the end of all this, when they’ve worked through the question of whether they can even do this together, he’ll get that back.

For now, he’ll stick with giant barbed wire and milkshakes.

New Mexico

They loop back around and take the long way home, finally hitting Alamogordo in the early hours of the morning. Alex had fallen asleep to the sound of Michael humming, not the greatest substitute for the broken tapes, but really not so bad.

(If he stops lying, he’d admit that it’s the best sound in the world)

“Hey,” Alex says, after checking his phone to make sure that he’s got the information right. The search had been a bust. Whatever had once been in the jail is long gone, which is both good news and bad – it means that no one’s committing any heinous crimes, but their information is out of date, so who knows what else might be wrong.

They’ve just finished dinner and they’re in the middle of the drive back. Alex had woken up from his nap to see a roadside sign passing and it had been almost perfect timing.

“Take the next exit,” he insists.

Michael gives Alex a wary look, but the amount of unspoken trust he has in Alex is clear when he takes the exit without a single other question about why he’s doing it. Alex smiles proudly when Michael doesn’t ask for directions, clearly understanding what they’ve turned off to see.

He parks them as close as they can get to what a sign proclaims the World’s Largest Pistachio and the grin on Michael’s face is worth everything in the world. He’s out of the car and he’s the one who calls Alex over so they can take a picture.

This time, Alex makes sure that when he clicks the button, he’s the one staring at Michael like he’s the incredible roadside attraction instead of the weird pistachio behind them. It’s such a stupid thing, and it means nothing, and at the same time, being here to look at this tourist trap means everything to him because of how isolated and abandoned it is.

It’s like it’s a monument built for them alone and they’d better appreciate it, because no one else will.

“Thanks, Alex,” Michael says. “I’m nuts about it.”

He’s smirking and clearly proud of his stupid pun. The shame of it is that so’s Alex, because he’s grinning at him and thinking that maybe this trip is something they both needed. They’ve been sharing motel rooms, but sleeping in separate beds. They sit on the same side of the booth at diners and pick off one another’s plates, but they haven’t kissed or touched or fucked.

Yet, this trip has felt like one of the most intimate things he’s ever done.

The rest of the drive home is filled with light conversation as they swap stories about the days in Roswell before Michael turned up. Alex tells him stories about Max and Isobel in elementary school, like how Isobel had managed to make herself a little cult that had to wear glitter on Thursdays or how Max had constantly submitted awful romantic poems to the literary digest (and since no one else did, they were all his).

Michael tells Alex about high school and the things Alex hadn’t noticed, like how he’d used his powers to fuck with Kyle – including the time Kyle had tripped on the bleachers and wound up with a melon-sized bruise on his ass for a week. He’s laughing so hard that his stomach hurts and though Kyle’s his friend now, he’s so grateful to find out that there’d been some vindication back then, even if they’d all had to treat them as accidents.

They reach Roswell in the early evening.

Michael drives Alex to his cabin so they can drop off all the rescued pieces in the basement where they’ll be protected by Alex’s new state-of-the-art security system. Once they’ve unloaded everything, Alex feels himself searching desperately for any excuse for Michael not to leave. “You know,” he says. “I bet you Roswell’s got something.”

Michael glances up from where he’s been hanging around by the door, checking on the escape pod for the tenth time (which is why Alex feels pretty confident that he doesn’t want to go either).

All that time together and it’s shown them that they don’t actually want to be apart. The pieces want to be together. It just turns out that maybe they’re a pair of stubborn asshole pieces who can’t admit to it, not until they go on a three-week road trip around the Southwest to look for alien artifacts and proof that Project Shepherd is dust.

“Roswell’s got plenty of shit. You might have to get more specific than that,” Michael replies, not following.

“I mean, of the biggest,” Alex says, seeing as Michael had started that pattern. “Or are you telling me that you can die happy now that you’ve seen the world’s biggest beetle,” he deadpans.

Michael considers that for a moment, prying his cowboy hat off his head as he moseys Alex’s way, slow and steady, an amused smirk on his lips. It’s the smile of a man who has something clever he wants to say, but he’s the only one thinking it’s any kind of clever at all.

“Well,” he begins, considerately, “there is always the city’s biggest dick that you could take a look at,” he drawls, with an inclination of his gaze down towards his belt buckle.

Two can play that game.

“Oh?” Alex replies easily. “Is Kyle back in town?”

He’s lucky that Michael laughs instead of the scowl he’d half been expecting, but what Alex hadn’t anticipated is the way that Michael slides his fingers around Alex’s neck for a kiss that he’s been waiting for since they first set out on the road trip. He’s so proud of them for being mature and talking, making things work while acknowledging that they don’t have to get physical, but god, has Alex missed being kissed by Michael.

He tangles his fingers in Michael’s curls, grabs hold and squeezes the soft curls in his hands as he kisses Michael back, fully aware that he’s being shut up for making bad jokes, but definitely not mad with this punishment. Maybe they can’t compete for some of the world’s biggest anythings that they’ve seen, but Alex is counting the world’s longest kiss one of these days, and if he can’t manage that, then maybe he’ll go for the world record when it comes to kissing the man you love.

Not that he wants anyone stopping to take pictures of that, so maybe that’s one of those feats that’s best kept to themselves.

#malex #michael/alex #road trip #fic prompts #tumblr fills #the great 800 follower celebration #roswell new mexico #christchex

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pipesflowforeverandever · 4 years

Note

If you can do a quick summary of your hymms of struggle au please? I can't read very well and is really long.

No worries!!! I try to tell people that it’s fine if they don’t read it, since it’s so long. Before I get started here, I do want to let you and some other people that might benefit from it that there’s extensions you can get for Google Chrome that’ll read highlighted text to you! As of late I’ve been using that a lot to read fanfics, since I love listening but I need constant visual engagement (video games, videos, etc). I use “Read Aloud: A Text to Speech Voice Reader” and it does a pretty good job!

I’m also starting a podfic of Hymns which you can find here. There’s only one chapter read so far, but I have friends that are recording future chapters and I’ll be working on recording too, now that my illness woes seem mostly cleared up and I can spend my weekends having fun. I got a brand new mic and I’m excited to use it!

Listening to that much in itself is still- y know- a lot, so don’t worry if none of this appeals to you.

So with that all said and done, here’s the summary you wanted. Kind of obviously, spoilers for basically everything about the story.

(This summary did not turn out quick at all so skip to the bold headers if its too much.)

Hymns of Struggle is an AU I started before chapter 4 with it being based only on the canon of chapters 1-3 of the game. It’s about a college-aged woman who falls into the depths of the studio and comes across the circumstances and characters that Henry did before her. But unlike Henry, she becomes convinced that she’s not going to leave anytime soon. So instead of using her willpower to escape- as Henry did- she uses it to survive the experience, especially in an emotional sense. She meets the monsters of the studio and discovers their humanity, and as she holds out hope for them, their bitter perspectives start to turn, and they began to see hope in her in turn.

Sammy is the first to meet her and treats her not unlike Henry; she is prepared as a sacrifice. However, as the ink demon not only ignores this request but heals her injuries (not really but she’s not dying anymore), Sammy comes to terms with this by begrudgingly taking her as his ward, as the ink demon for whatever reason wants her alive. The woman, of course, sticks with him at first only out of fear and morbid curiosity, but eventually they become friends that have genuine cares for each other. A big plot point is Sammy presenting the ink demon as a god before the woman gets any other impression, and so she’s inclined to view him similarly. The other characters- mainly Alice and the projectionist- have a similar arc with her of reluctance before they view her as empathetically as she views them.

The woman is only named in the fic once Sammy asks, which isn’t for a good 20 chapters or so.

Gingie (within the fic simply called the usual Joey Drew) is the main antagonist of the story. About half way through it’s revealed that he is still alive, and not physically changed like the rest, and that the others don’t know about it. Francine has to decide whether or not it is good for the studio to keep it this way, although Joey makes his misgivings very clear. The fic from the second half on shifts to this walking on eggshells of what it means to care about others- if it ignores other kinds of morality like lying and condescending, or if you have to be able to brave for the worst even if you could have prevented it by said lying and condescension.

This is played out in the fact that the ink demon towards the very end is revealed to be an extension of Joey’s deepest desires. Joey can’t control him- in fact often does the exact opposite of what he wants- but the demon plays entirely off of what Joey really wants. The demon makes sure Alice stays where she should. The demon made Sammy blind without his mask of faith (literally and figuratively). The demon fights the projectionist if he decides to leave his maze and find Francine when she goes missing. Joey doesn’t want anyone to be hurt. He’s afraid of what he’s made- the studio being a curse born out of a desire to see his son Henry again, that ended up swallowing everyone inside the building and trapping them for 80 some years. They’re inside his world, and he knows it’s terrifying. He stays by himself, trying to keep himself calm, to prevent something like with Henry happening again to the others and now Francine, who still has her own body, blood, and soul to keep from joining the disfiguring ink.

With Francine there, Joey’s tension builds. He’s both hopeful, as he watches her befriend the others, and he is very, very afraid. It’s not true, but Joey believes Henry is dead from that visit 30 years after he left. He’s so forlorn he can’t bring himself to find his soul in the ink. As Francine finally finds him- the demon bringing her to Joey against the studio itself (another, slightly more controlled extension of Joey’s emotion)- Joey has to decide on the spot to make up a lie that the studio stole his freedom as it stole Sammy’s memory, Alice’s identity, and Norman’s voice. But of course, he wants to know her too. Francine found lovely things in everyone, helped them remember who they were before the ink…who like Joey wouldn’t long for the same?

But as that becomes more and more true with each of her visits, her curiosity about things that don’t make sense become dangerous in his eyes. After Francine pieces together that something must have happened to Henry and Boris (who has never appeared to her), the ink demon abruptly rips her out of Sammy’s arms and at Joey’s feet, where the old man decides that in order to keep what remains of his family- to keep the studio from imploding on itself- she has to stay with him.

With her upset at this, he breaks down and the walls around his chamber fall apart and the others finally see him for the first time. Alice screams at him as he tries to call her his angel, and Sammy breaks down at proof that his god is not at all who he seemed. With everyone all at once screaming at him, Joey uses the curse to push everyone away from him. The remainder of the story is Francine and her friends Sammy and Alice defeating the ink demon, finding out the truth about Henry, and convincing Joey that he can set everyone free after all. In the resolution, everyone becomes human again, Alice/Susie and Francine have their first kiss, and they find Joey curled up and crying in his childhood home, having to come to terms with the fact that he is still alive even after all he had done.

Joey discovers Henry’s daughter, Linda, is still alive and he visits her in a nursing home. Sammy assures Francine that the eyesight he lost in taking his human form again won’t stop him from making her keep the promise she made of showing him every song he’s never listened to.

The series that takes place after is heavily focused on the studio’s survivors recovering from trauma, forgiving, and learning to enjoy themselves. Francine finds herself the caretaker of a real life Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends, the young matriarch of people waiting for their surviving families to be found and reunited with them.

LONG STORY SHORT:

Sammy makes friends with a young woman he tried to sacrifice. His memories are forcefully blocked and she helps him find them again.

Alice and the young woman gradually fall in love.

Joey is the secret villain who caused the studio to be cursed and transform people into ink. He loves the studio deeply but assumes a parental role that is toxic- and is the reason Henry left long ago.

Francine gets Joey to realize what he’s doing and he sets everyone free into the modern world, where they have to learn how to live again.

OTHER DETAILS:

How the curse happened was that Joey found a spell that would- in his view- reconnect him and Henry forever. The ritual required Henry’s consent and thus failed; it needed a part of him (like hair or blood) and Joey used the first sketch of Bendy instead. This, combined with his mother’s ashes and his own blood, flooded the studio with ink, created the ink demon, and transformed both the building and the people inside it in a symbolic world of Joey’s unstable, tortured emotions.

Joey/Gingie before the studio’s downfall was very jovial and saw the *most* in everyone. He made people want to make him proud, and Joey believed of himself thanks to his mother that he was obligated to only be the best for the world and his loved ones. This results in a mentality that only perfection and ultimate happiness was good enough, which leads him to success and the beloved role of father/grandfather until Henry saw cracks in the man he laid his foundation/life upon and turned tail as soon as it felt unstable for the first time.

The ink demon is in the role of a god. The story is heavily based on Christian/abrahamic views of religion. Joey is the father, the ink demon is the son, the studio is the holy spirit. All the same, yet all different.

The themes are: the importance of names, being empathetic vs being selfishly loving, religion vs faith, and family. Francine is the color pink, Henry is the color blue, Joey/magic is yellow/gold, green represents the world outside and freedom, and black is the ink demon and the curse.

#long post #ask box #hymns of struggle #hymns summary #tak talks #come on down to recording town #batim au #batim #im doing my best to be done bc i can add more but for a summary i shouldnt afdsdsfsfd #im more than willing to answer questions and expand on stuff if you ever want btw #and if you ever want to read just a little but not a lot? any of the drabbles are fine #theyre all about joey and henry being family before shit gets messy #anonymous #Anonymous #writing musings #summary

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lazuliblade · 5 years

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“Figure Skating Fan” Magazine 2018-2019「羽から生まれる」Translation

This is the interview with costume designer Satomi Ito on the construction of Yuzuru Hanyu’s Origin (and a little on Otoñal) costume featured on pages 42-43 of the February issue of フィギュアスケートファン (Figure Skating Fan) magazine released Dec. 22, 2018.

I’m formatting this to resemble the original formatting in the magazine.

Words after a long dash ------ are the interviewer talking/asking questions.

Words in「Japanese quotation marks」are Satomi’s responses.

Where text color changes for emphasis, I’ve used bold italics.

The interviewer tends to put technical terms, concepts, and key words in “quotations”. Which means:

When they bring up titles of literature, program names, and quoted phrases, those are in 『blocky quotes』instead.

Anything within (parenthesis) was originally in parenthesis within the article.

[words between brackets are my translator’s notes]

Following English conventions, I’m writing her name as Satomi Ito. For reference in Japanese: 伊藤聡美いとうさとみ Itou Satomi The interviewer/writer is いとうやまね (Itouyamane) - a writer unit composed of Itou Miho and Yamane Seiji.

I’ve left the honorifics. They refer to Yuzuru as “Hanyu-senshu” (athlete Hanyu) throughout the entire article. -senshu is the respectful term for athletes. -san is the general honorific (Mr./Ms./Mrs.).

---------------------------------------- I agonized over capturing the ways they said certain phrases, but even so, I’m just an amateur translator, which means there are some turns of phrase I probably could have translated better. I originally wrote this all by hand, so there’s no Japanese transcription typed up, but if you’d like a specific section to see what exactly they said, send me an ask or a message and I’ll be happy to type that up. For more learning, sewing/fabric/technical terms will have a glossary at the bottom, along with various notes.

INTERVIEW[<---the original text is actually in English, but misspelled as INTERVEW]

Costume Designer・Satomi Ito

「羽から生まれる」Born from feathers

Here is Origin’s “temporary-stitched”[baste-stitched] costume. Black lace on a flesh-toned base, and velour pants. In costume designer Satomi Ito-san’s atelier, she let’s us see the “idea’s prototype.” Interview/text: Itou Yamane

100 feathers

-----Black and white feathers are being attached to the lace on the upper body, aren’t they! Although it’s surprising that the feathers are all handmade.

「I made all of them here. First, I cut leaf shapes with a rotary cutter, then I cut into the sides with scissors. The black is [made of] PowerNet, the white is a 2-way with a bit of thickness. Both are fabrics with elasticity. One by one, I would sew this by hand.」

-----It must be a large number of feathers isn’t it?

「I wasn’t counting, but it’s probably around 100. I don’t know the exact number of feathers that I’ve cut each and every time. I’ll feel like “it’s not quite enough, huh” so they increase. The entire weight is light, though.」

-----When I first saw what Hanyu-senshu was to wear, a structure, or should I call it a construction?, I thought “it’s like an architectural structure.” By way of intricate three dimensionality, there’s a sense of great depth.

「I’m doing that quite consciously. If you just simply put the feathers down it won’t feel very 3D, so I kind of group creases to make it feel like the feathers float. When it’s just right, I pin it.」

-----As for the white feathers, there’s also a gradation on the front side, huh.

「The appearance would be too jarring if white abruptly appears on the black fabric, so I put in a bit of airbrushing. Filling just the center part with black. Furthermore, there’s factoring in the sketch too. Whatever pattern there is. I’d try and put it on the [mannequin] torso and it’s like let’s place this feather on this area.」

-----You do the airbrushing on the styrene boards by the wall, right?

「I’ll fasten with pins. Lining up a large quantity.」

-----On these boards, numerous......starting from Hanyu-senshu, [Shoma] Uno-senshu, [Marin] Honda-senshu, [Wakaba] Higuchi-senshu, [Mai] Mihara-senshu, and others. Thinking about the airbrushing for the various costumes, I’m deeply moved. I thought “is this fine art”?

「It’s not. (laughs)」

-----The inlet-like form of the chest is wonderful isn’t it. I was impacted by the inlet being composed of black feathers.

「To start, I cut the lace on the chest area roughly, then apply the feathers there. In the middle of that process, I also cut hole shapes here and there in the lace. It’s a sense of torn holes.」

-----Also on the lace itself there’s an intricate pattern of light-and-dark, furthermore, you make light skin-tone portions. This is the secret of “depth” isn’t it.

「And I put feathers on top of that. I’m pretty interested in this technique. Of all the costumes I’ve made for Hanyu-senshu so far, this one is my favorite.」

-----The curves on the back are also technical. The detailed flow of gold is beautiful. It’s a little terrifying.

「I kind of thought it’d be nice if it looks a bit bone-y. I could do lines which run along the shoulder blades. Then in addition the crawling-like gold stones and bugle beads, and putting in purple rhinestones too.」

-----At the sketch stage, did you have an image for the white feathers? 「At first I was thinking of just black feathers. But because that didn’t really stand out, I kind of thought maybe adding in white feathers would better bring out the “sense of feathers being attached.” I’m glad I did put them in.」

-----It’s effective. The amount and arrangement are also nice.

「As for the design image, the [costume’s] flow changed a little. The result: I was correct that the feeling of ascending/rising would come out more than before. Entering production, I mostly don’t look at the design image. I won’t know the full picture not putting it on the [mannequin] torso and making it. Although because there is the initial image, there are times where I do more-or-less stick to it. That’s why the completed piece isn’t faithful to the sketch.」

The concept is from the “surname”

-----As for these costumes, for stuff like attaching feathers, or setting rhinestones, to give some examples, was there an assistant?

「For 『Origin』, the craftsmanship is brutal, so I did it all myself. For the Short [Program] 『Otoñal』 I received help.」

-----This is about the part most essential to a designer. Can we say that the design’s concept comes from Hanyu-senshu’s “surname”?

「『The nonhuman born of feathers』. All along I’ve thought I want to make a costume with that theme. This time it came true.」

-----Hanyu-senshu feels superhuman doesn’t he. He’s not an ordinary human. Shae-Lynn Bourne also said as much.

「The Hanyu name, isn’t that by itself cool? The song’s starting pose too, it has the air of spreading one’s wings. Although I knew absolutely nothing of the choreography, so having the image link pretty well was surprising.」

-----I thought you must have heard the concept for the choreography beforehand. It seems Shae-Lynn conceived it from the 『Kojiki』. Without establishing some [sort of] story and image with the choreography, the world won’t unfold, I heard.

「Design is like that too, isn’t it. With nothing, you can’t create. That is the same. Hanyu-senshu is Hanyu-senshu, so he likely has yet other different ideas.」

Each Individual 『Origin』

-----From this one piece various worlds unfold, it’s wonderful isn’t it. I as well, from the concept 『born from feathers』and the 『Kojiki』information, researched various things on birds coming from Japan’s creation myths. I also more-or-less tried reading the English version『KOJIKI』. Because I was interested in how it’s conveyed to foreigners.

「Was there something?」

-----Quite a lot of birds appear. Within those, the black Yatagarasu and the golden kite, after that I came across the egret that Yamato Takeru, on the cusp of death, metamorphosed into and flew away. I thought “this is nice,” and I wrote it in the [article] column.

「There’s a story nature to it, right? Exactly. Although, I didn’t consider it to that extent when I designed [it] (laughs).」

-----Hanyu-senshu himself likely wasn’t thinking of the『Kojiki』either. I think it’s good that the performer, creator, narrator, and fans each have their own 『Origin』. As for the design check-in, did you send the image to the person himself [Yuzuru]?

「This time, because I was able to take the time to meet personally with Hanyu-senshu, the design image and fabric were shown at the place to him himself. As for baste-stitching, it’s done when he’s in Japan at ice shows and such.」

-----What about the final fitting?

「That’s also just before he flies to the actual competition. The product delivery itself is passed on through the manager.」

-----About how long did it take to design and construct the costumes this time around?

「The ornamentation alone takes 1-2 weeks. From design to product delivery it takes about 2 months. For 『Origin』 the image solidified relatively quickly, but the Short kinda ended up taking a lot more time.」

-----The blue of the Short is pretty too, isn’t it. Rather than fall, [it’s] winter-like. The crackling line of rhinestones is characteristic.

「It’s the image of ice crystallization. And you can also see it as the tracings left by blades on the rink. He’s the champion of the ice, so I thought it would be nice if [the costume] could have that symbolization. Because he’s the young noble of the ice.」

-----We can say the fundamental [costume]order was the blue and black-gold of the tributes’ original designs from Johnny Weir-san and Plushenko-san, but could you also be making alternate versions?

「The Short and Free each have two [costumes]. The B version too is a similar feel.」

-----I’m looking forward to the day we can see those too. First off, wishing for Hanyu-senshu’s return from his injury.

(Itou Satomi) Costume designer. [After high school] enrolled in the Esmod Japon school of fashion and design. The ‘08 Kobe Fashion Contest special choice award winner, studied abroad at England’s Nottingham Trent University School of Art & Design. After her return, [while] at Chacott she came to be engaged in figure skating costumes; [has been] independent for 15 years. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Glossary/Notes:

Baste-stitching - a temporary loose stitching to hold the pieces of fabric together while the initial form and alterations are being made.

PowerNet fabric/PowerNet mesh fabric - a type of high compression 4-way stretch fabric

2-way fabric - fabric that stretches in 2 directions, meaning it has some elasticity (4-way fabric stretches in all four directions)

bugle beads - the thin tube-like beads often associated with embroidery

the title of the article 羽から生まれる“Born from feathers” or “Born of feathers” is a pun on Yuzuru’s last name: 羽生

In a previous interview, Satomi talked to Itou Yamane about her past work focusing on fashion as architectural structures, and deciding which kind of architectural design to use as a motif. Which is why the interviewer brings up “structure, or should I say construction?, architectural structure”

I translated this 王者 as “champion,” because it’s slightly different from the court title “king”王様. Satomi is giving reasoning behind her expression of ice crystallization - saying that he’s a champion (“ouja”) of the ice, then adding further: “because he’s the young noble of the ice”- which would sound a bit odd and redundant if she had just called him a “king.”

Yamato Takeru and the egret - "isn’t it a swan?” The Japanese text is 白鳥 which normally would mean “swan”(hakuchou), but in parenthesis the interviewer clarifies the reading as “しらとり” (shiratori). It seems the white bird that’s referred to as 白鳥 in the Kojiki and Nihonshoki is considered to be referring to the bird 白鷺 (shirasagi) in modern Japanese. Here’s a site (JP only) about the myth, with pics of the shrine.

the interviewer tweeted pics too

The column that the interviewer mentions, I think they’re talking about how they wrote down the birds to mention in this interview column itself. They’ve written various pieces before for magazines and online articles, and they published a book last year called 氷上秘話―フィギュアスケート　楽曲・プログラムの知られざる世界 (secrets on the ice - knowing the world behind figure skating songs and programs). They dig up information on the music, art, design, history, and legends (basically, an entire meta book on theories and relevant links), and shed light on the actual choreography and program’s concept. So it’s possible they could be writing something else too.

I want to include photos of the full two pages, but I feel that’s probably something I shouldn’t do... so I’ll wait a while longer and then edit this post.

#satomi ito #interview #figure skating #yuzuru hanyu #origin #otonal #my translation #translation #フィギュアスケートファン #figure skating fan magazine #itouyamane #itou yamane #magazines

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malisonquill · 5 years

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Rebuild: Behind The Scenes

I thought just for some fun, I might post the plan I made for writing Rebuild. It has some silly alternate titles, some doodles I sketched out, and I thought some people might like to see how much the end product was different from the plan.

I do also have a section of the plan just for ideas, but I haven’t included it here because it contains spoilers for the sequel(s).

Hope you enjoy my ramblings below! (Obviously it contains major spoilers for all of Rebuild, so make sure you’re read all that before reading this!)

Rex Brickowski AU Outline

C1: Rexile (AKA Anikin Voice: "I hate Sand". AKA What to do when you're suddenly not dead)

Rex ends up back in his own original timeline in the outskirts of Syspocalypstar. He’s alone, no Rexcelsior, no velociraptors. That makes him sad.

He looks to the city and thinks about everything.

Cat lady comes, he gets bricks and builds and awesome bike and drives to the city.

C2: Shattered (AKA Rex really likes bikes for some reason and also fucks shit up)

There, Lucy and the others are chillin in a park while Rex tears through the city exploring, turning heads.

He goes up a ramp that sends him up over a building above the park. Whilst in the air he grabs his bike and does a flip. The others watch him. He lands on the road next to the park and spots Lucy, his eyes go wide. He does a skidding turn to pull up beside them.

They say how awesome that was. They don’t recognise him and he plays along with that. He needs to get used to them and himself before he drops a bombshell on them.

They show him around the city. He gets a black coffee from the shop. Freezes when he sees a laundromat (PTSD), he hallucinates the deafening roar of the Dryar of Undar until Unikitty distracts him and pulls him away and they continue the tour.

At one point Everything is awesome plays, he acts aloof but taps his foot quietly and lucy notices.

Eventually they get to the town square. There is a statue of Emmet. Rex is immediately taken aback and asks what it is (to gauge his friends reactions and also because he's genuinely surprised to see he's been acknowledged).

Lucy says it honours the special, Emmet. That he was there friend. That they looked for him for a while, but eventually had to admit that he was gone, so they stopped looking.

BIG ANGST TIME.

Rex snaps. He’s still bitter. He starts off vauge like “You gave up? Would he have given up on you?” but gets increasingly louder and madder. Revealing that he was trapped in Undar, how he feels abandoned and slowly revealing to the others that he’s Emmet. Lucy is like “Emmet…?” And he’s like “Emmet is gone! He’s dead!”

He breaks the statue in one punch in anger. His friends are horrified. He looks between them and the statue, shocked and saddened by himself. “What have done?” (Internally). He drives off, leaving the others sad and confused.

C3: Traces Of You (AKA Talking to your ex who you feel betrayed you, even though she thought you were dead… that's rough buddy)

Alternate titles, How can you stand there, a whisper from me? Gone But Not Forgotten

After a short while, giving everyone some time to breathe/ think, Lucy finds Rex in the outskirts. They talk. He explains how he toughened up, how he did some terrible things, how he wants to be better but doesn’t know how. How he’s ruined any chance he had with his friends because of the statue incident. Tears form in his eyes. Lucy goes to comfort him with a hand on his shoulder and says “Emmet...” Queue the “I’m not Emmet anymore and I dont know how to be” line.

Lucy convinces him to not be just one, be a combination. That his friends can help him through this and him to be happier again. He says he’s still can’t fully/ needs time to trust them again, but he’s willing to try. Oh and to call him Rex, cause he wants to be different from movie Emmet.

C4: Building Blocks (AKA DON'T TOUCH ME WHEN I'M WRITING ABOUT SPACESHIPING!!!!)

Lucy and the others ask Rex to build something with them. He decides on a spaceship, they let him lead. Friend interactions.

C5: Time Heals All Wounds (AKA So it turns out you based your entire new personality on your friends and also you finally acknowledge your PTSD)

Over a longer time period (make this clear), montage of helping with each individual. Them understanding Rex and who he is more, maybe after he tries to act exactly like Emmet would but it’s unnatural for him? Finding out about raptor training. Helping him cope with his PTSD (Dryar, paralyzation, loneliness) and abandonment issues.

(after writing half the chapter, i realised) His hand injury and recovery mirror emotional healing! )

https://askmarietheapprentice.tumblr.com/post/183050688583/meta-monday-rex-dangervest-based-his-persona-on

Order:

Fist, alone with Benny, flying spaceship they all built. (Who Rex developed his spaceship love from.) Emotional thing dealt with: ?

Unikitty. He learnt to harness/ weaponize rage from. Unikitty encouraging him to release some anger and destroy some rubble. Helps him get his anger feels out.

Metalbeard. About being a captain of pirates/ raptors. Talk about how he misses them.

Batman. Learnt how to be tough fighter and suppress deep emotional issues. See below for events. Then they talk about talking through things with others, stuff B learnt in Lego batman movie.

Maybe he’s left alone for ten mins whilst a friend goes to grab a brick or something and is terrified they wont come back. He’s relieved but visibly shaken when they do return.

Maybe a change over between friends. One has to go and leaves Rex to meet the batman outside of a shop. As he waits his mind wanders thinking Batman has forgotten about him, doesn't want to meet with him, or even like him etc. As this happens he hallucinates hearing the dryer roar. He stands frozen in place, covering his ears as his vision gets darker. Maybe this causes him to glitch to the real world and back every few seconds. The roar gets louder and louder and louder. Batman comes, sees Rex, is concerned and tries to get his attention by touching his shoulder. Rex freaks out, snapping out of his hallucination shouting/ screaming and madly thrashing punches. He smashes a bin or lamppost or car to pieces before Batman can calm him and he realises he's fine. Rex apologies.

Lucy. Made a super cool alias like Wyldstyle, and hides his insecurities under confident exterior like her. Maybe they talk on their way to her surprise. She asks why he changed his name and himself? He explains his thoughts on Undar, how at the time he thought his friends were right and so he toughened up. Made a cool name like she did. He realises a lot of his Rex traits are semi based on his friends. Maybe talk about how it's good to be confident but also not bad to be vulnerable/ talk about problems with others. He realises he's already been doing this with others? Or just have mostly fun not angst for them here!? Meh, idk yet.

Ends with Lucy giving him that cute little house he made for her, that he’d almost forgotten about. Says it’s just a basis and he can change it if he wants. Talk. Suggests they could be platonic (for now) roommates. She leaves him for the night, he’s now ok (ish) with being left alone.

C6: True Colours (AKA Title made it sound like Rex would turn out evil but surprise! He actually just wanted to look pretty. AKA Rex stares in a mirror for an awkwardly long time)

When Lucy returns, Rex looks different. He briefly went to the Man Upstairs realm and used markers etc, to change his appearance. He wanted some brighter colours to look happier, and more like a combo of Emmet and Rex. He explains this, and decides he wants to be called Rex Brickowski to symbolise this combo of all his aspects.

Basically this first bit is the man I used to be from count of Monte cristo musical.

(Rex and Lucy designs and also size comparison.)

Maybe some Rex and friends hanging out, it’s better than before. Group karaoke? Tries to warm up to Sweet Mayhem?

C7: Epilogue (AKA The end happens. Everything is awesome is still a bop)

Rex and CO are hopeful for the future. Rex knows who he is now and thinks he can be happy again and trust his friends. He’s a mix of mature and innocent/ sweet. He can now enjoy ‘childish’ things and tough things. He’s happy and thinks everything might be ok now.

Maybe he goes to the coffee shop, orders Lucy something and a black coffee with 25 sugars for himself and returns home, listening to rock music on his headphones.

(End on poignant thing.)

Side Notes/ Reminders For Myself

“According to a draft from the first film's script, Emmet is 22 years of age in that film, thus making him 27 in the sequel if accepted.” My AU Rex spent 2 years on Undar, plus 5 getting tough before the movie happens. Making him 34 at the start of the AU.

Rex was in his past changing things. But when Emmet was saved, it was no longer his past/ his timeline. So he faded and was sent back to his original timeline. All the stuff he did in the movie timeline still happened, we see three raptors are still there with Ms Scratchen-Post at the end. So the raptors stay where they are in the movie timeline, because they aren’t like Rex who is being written out of the movie timeline’s future. Which is why Rex is alone at the start of this AU.

Very important! Rex's trust of his friends. My take: friends are the most important thing to Emmet. With friends, he was happy even during the apocalypse. Without them, he becomes jaded, tough. Lucy is who he was closest to/ loved. None of his friends, but especially her not coming for him and moving on hurt him the most. As Rex, he was most mad at her (see him scowling at her during the movie). But then they all try to come back for movie Emmet. Lucy makes it through and saves him. She saved him. This changes post back to the futuring Rex's view. The fact the movie Lucy saved him plus the fact he loved her and cared for her the most before, means AU Rex is inclined to trust her most.

Titles for 3 stories: Rebuild. Rekindle. Re-----. (I'm an idiot for planning 3 of these!!!!!)

Rebuild: Rex's relationships and himself up again.

Rekindle: his and Lucy's love for each other.

Re-----: ((REDACTED BECAUSE IT’S A SPOILER! You’re gonna have to wait to find out what it is!))

INFO

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aw-r_G7rfnU - Chris Pratt Singing

Dino facts:

https://www.psd1.org/cms/lib/WA01001055/Centricity/Domain/36/SS_How_Fast_Did_Trex_Grow.pdf

http://cycles.westinmathies.com/Info_Pages.asp?ptype=Velociraptor_Cycl

SPELLING = Armamageddon (according to the subs)

-----------------

And that’s it! This is the rambling mess that brought you Rebuild. Hope it was interesting to see.

As another note of my writing process, I did a lot of jumping around. If I had an idea for some lines of dialogue pop into my head, I wrote it down before I forgot and then slightly altered it and filled in the gaps later. In fact that whole bit between Lucy and Rex in chapter 3 was almost all dialogue (with a few notes like “He turned. She smiles” Etc in between) and then later after writing some of chapter 4, I went back and filled in all the gaps.

I would really recommend writing down whatever pops into your head like this if you want to write things. You might think “Oh, i’ll remember to put this in when I get to writing here!”, that is a lie. You won’t. Or it’ll be different to that brilliant thing you came up with whilst day dreaming out a window. It’s definitely better to jot it down and have it, then decide to edit it later if you don’t like it, than lose it entirely. Just make sure when reading over your chapter/ story that everything flows together nicely. :)

This method also meant I wrote chapters 5, 6 and 7 simultaneously. I had about half of chapter 6 and 7 done whilst I was still making my way through 5. (Probably because 5 was so big!) But then when I was done with 5, I finished off 6, then 7. It also really helped when I came up with the idea to put the first line of the story as the last line too. It gave me a direction to go in for the last chapter (after Rex get’s back from the coffee shop) and also was a nice way to end it off.

Anyway! Hopefully I see you all again for Rekindle! Which by the way, if there is anything involving the characters from this story that you might want to see, please let me know! I might just fit it in somewhere! :D

#lego movie #tlm2 #fanfic #rex dangervest #rex brickowski au #My writing #tlm2 au #mali speaks

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