#because his right profile is better which. king. know your angles BUT if we look at the umich ear piercing photos i am 99% sure the piercing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theleemark · 3 years

Text

christmas lights.

genre: strangers to lovers; royal au; lots of fluff

word count: 4091

pairing: prince!johnny suh x princess!female reader

synopsis: an arranged marriage between you and the prince from another kingdom whose name you didn’t even know.

warnings: language (uhh i think that is it)

a/n: hello! happy holidays and merry christmas (if you celebrate it)! i hope everyone is having a good time! this fic is for my secret santa, @notnctu!! i tried to add angst but absolutely failed :( but i still hope you enjoy it! much love to you!!

thank you for hosting this amazing event, @neoculturechristmas! this was really fun :)

“Are you fucking serious?” You crossed your arms, scoffing in disbelief.

“Does it look like I’m kidding?” Mark Lee said, leaning against your doorframe. Like all princesses (aka to-be queens), you, Princess of Astoria, had a personal knight or butler who would be by your side till the very end- and that was Mark Lee. However you and Mark became super close to the point where he was your brother from another mother.

You huffed, tugging on your blouse to adjust the way it fits your body. “Did Mother tell you that I was meeting him tomorrow? As in a couple of hours from now?”

Mark glanced behind your shoulder, checking the time. “Yes, the Winter Ball is in fact in a couple of hours. And yes, you will be meeting your future husband there.”

Your lip formed a tight smile, moving aside to let Mark into your room. He gently bowed down out of habit from greeting the other royals before sitting down on your bed. Closing the door, you rushed over and flopped right beside him.

“I think it's so stupid that I’m getting married off,” You started, staring up at the smooth ceiling.

“It’s a tradition in Astoria for the Princess to be married off once she comes of age,” Mark’s gaze lingered on you for a second before he let out a sigh. “Yeah, I guess it sucks but at least I’ve heard good things about your to-be husband. Cause some of the princes from other kingdoms are so terrible to the point where I don't even know if I can be civil around them.”

“Is that so?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Yeahhhh,” he stretched his limbs out and lied down next to you. “The drama I hear from the maids is very spicy.”

You let out a soft chuckle before sitting up, turning your head to look down at Mark. “I don't even know what this guy’s name is though.”

“Johnny,” Mark’s eyelashes fluttered open and shut as a small smile lingered on his face. “Johnny Suh. Prince of Neo.”

The Winter Ball hosted by Astoria was an annual event that gathered all the surrounding kingdoms. Consisting of traditional dances, games of poker, and tons of food (including a chocolate fountain), it was normal for not only noble people to attend but also people who live in the kingdoms.

Therefore the ballroom had to be gigantic- and it was. The fairy lights sprawled across the room, dangling from the ceiling like stars. Sky blue and white, Astoria’s colors, were splattered across the walls making the room feel open and inviting. Tables covered with sweets and appetizers lined the middle of the room, creating a zig-zag pattern. In the very front of the ballroom was a stage with ruby red drapes adorned with white snowflake looking crystals shining from the light.

The microphone that was front and center of that stage was where your parents would announce the news of your wedding, and just the thought of that made your stomach churn.

“Good afternoon, Princess,” a woman with soft brown eyes and silky dark hair announced. You watched her through the mirror as she moved elegantly, hips swaying slightly. “I’ll be doing your makeup for today. Is there anything in particular that you want or I should know before starting?”

As your eyes met hers through the mirror, a smile danced upon your lips before shaking your head from side to side. “Not really. Whatever you feel suits me, do it.”

“Alright,” Her smile emulated yours as she picked up your moisturizer, pumping out a bit and dotting it across your face. “Let's get started, shall we?”

“Holy shit, you look beautiful. L-like ethereal!” Mark exclaimed, wide-eyed. His grin took up the entire bottom half of his face as he saw you do a twirl. “The outfit, the makeup, the hair, everything works and makes you look stunning.”

“Thank you, Mark,” you replied giddily, gently bowing down to greet him.

Softly, you placed your hand into his and let him escort you into the ballroom that was now packed with people from a diverse number of kingdoms. Your heart was thumping and almost burst out of your chest at the thought that you would be meeting your future husband in less than a minute. Remembering what Mark said, you tried to not make any negative or super positive assumptions about Johnny- just a neutral perspective until you got to know him.

“Calm down, ____. You’ll be fine, I promise,” Mark whispered in front of a large ballroom door. “Plus, I’m only a couple of feet away from you, shout for me if you need anything.”

Opening the doors was like entering an entirely new world. Liveliness filled the room, and the smell of food wafted through the air.

However, as people noticed your presence, the casual conversation was replaced with gaping mouths and awes- The Princess of Astoria was here.

With one last look of reassurance, Mark let go of your hand and let you walk through the crowded room. Step by step, you had heads turning as you made your way up to the stage. On your way, you made sure to give everyone soft smiles until your eyes gazed over a figure in the background. Tall, with a smirk on his face and curious eyes. Who was he?

As you got up to the stage, you stood by your parents who proudly beamed down at you.

“Greetings everyone. Welcome to the 70th annual Winter Ball of Astoria,” your father, the king, said through the microphone. “This year’s ball is endearingly special because I am proud to announce that my daughter’s marriage with the Prince of Neo, Johnny Suh.”

Applause erupted throughout the room and glasses clinked from either end. Your eyes scanned the crowd to find the mysterious man from earlier, but he seemed to have disappeared.

But then he was next to you- and wow. Although you could only see his side profile, you could tell he was ethereal. His sharp jawline angled eyebrows, and chiseled cheekbones seemed to compliment his styled black hair. The suit he was wearing was expensive- a rich black adorned with a silky satin dress shirt. The watch on his wrist seemed to shine like a diamond as he briefly adjusted it before locking eyes with you.

You forgot where you were for a second.

They say eyes are the window to one’s soul, and if that is true, Johnny Suh’s is the most beautiful. The deep brown pierced into yours, and everything faded. Your attention was on nothing but him and him only. Time warped and you didn't even notice until your mother, the queen, gently tapped your shoulder.

Breaking the strong gaze between you two, a glass of champagne was passed into your hand. You raised it in the air, mimicking your mother.

“To a successful marriage filled with respect and longevity!” Your father clinked his glass with Johnny’s father, King of Neo, before also doing the same with Johnny.

You raised your eyebrows at Johnny, urging him to put his glass up to yours as well, but he just stared at you blankly before politely greeting your mother.

Withholding a scoff, you greeted both his parents with a tight-lipped smile before taking a long sip from your glass.

Let’s just hope this all goes okay.

“Look he’s hot, but he's kind of distant. Cold almost,” you blurted to Mark as you packed your bags. As to adhere to traditions, the princess must stay with the husband-to-be a day before the wedding, which was in two days.

“I mean at least he’s hot,” Mark shrugged his shoulders only to be smacked in the face with your shirt. “But seriously, I’ve heard that he's a sweetheart.”

“Okay well, I guess not with me,” You said, slightly disappointed since you didn't even get the chance to talk to him.

Mark let out a sigh before passing you a folded bathroom robe. “I’m sure once you start talking to him he’ll show more of his true nature.”

“And if it makes you feel better, he probably thought the same way about you,” Mark suggested, chuckling as he did so. “You do have a cold aura when you aren't smiling.”

“Really?” A surprised gasp left your mouth.

“Really,” Mark confirmed, reaching over to finish zipping up your suitcase. He patted it once to ensure everything was secure before placing it upright on the ground.

“Now,” he started with a grin, “have fun with your future husband.”

You rolled your eyes at him before flicking his head. “I’ll try, Mark.”

You have never been to the Kingdom of Neo before, but you could already tell it would take some time to adjust.

Neo was known for its music and weaponry- two contradicting things but also why Astoria decided to form a treaty with Neo in the form of your marriage. Astoria did have a handful of top tier blacksmiths and weaponry makers, but nothing like Neo.

In Neo, every street has at least one weaponry shop and blacksmiths scattered across the kingdoms like stars. Each with their specialty, a diverse number of weapons comes with schools specialized for each one. Neo not only has weapons, but they damn well know how to use them.

You have only been trained with a bow and arrow and a dagger, which you always keep on you. Although you are pretty damn good with it, you know that it's nothing compared to Johnny, who grew up with training his entire life.

The engine of the car turning off halted your thoughts. In front of you was a massive stone castle with a rose garden around its perimeter. Johnny stood in between his parents at the huge front doors. He had a blank expression on his face- no excitement but disappointment either.

“Welcome, sweetheart!” His mother said, rushing up to give you a tight hug. A smile automatically took over as you squeezed her back; Her happiness was contagious.

“I hope you enjoy your stay here,” His father comes and pats your back. “The wedding plans are practically done and now we just need to finalize them before tomorrow.”

You gave him a silent nod as he ruffled your hair. Looking over at Johnny, you noticed his gaze was on you guys but his expression hasn't changed. He starts coming over when he notices you looking back at him. Your heartbeat began to quicken, and you quickly bowed down to greet him.

Likewise, he bowed down and greeted you with a small, short-lived smile. “Welcome, Princess.”

Stunned by his low pitched and raspy voice, your mouth gaped before you gathered yourself together. “T-Thank you.”

Johnny turned around quickly, and you, along with his parents, followed him into the palace.

“Johnny,” his father announced. “Why don’t you give ___ a tour?”

“Maybe they’ll get to know each other a bit as well,” his mother giggled in response, looking up her husband.

“Yes father,” Johnny replied curtly, eyes shifting to your figure in between them. With a simple nod of the head, he silently asked you to follow him.

Leaving his parents behind, you quickly-paced yourself to catch up with him, walking by him, shoulder-to-shoulder.

The first place he took you to was the main room, one filled with gold adorned couches and expensive bottles of wine lining the walls. The silence was so thick you could cut it with a knife, but that all changed when he eventually showed you his room.

“Yeah, this is my room,” he opened the door, and you were greeted with a dark blue room. Scanning the area, your eyes fell on a specific poster that seemed to stir up memories.

“You listen to Coldplay?” you asked, taking a closer look at the poster hanging above his bed.

Johnny whipped his head towards you with brightened eyes and a grin on his face. “Yeah! I love them!”

Mirroring him, a huge grin took over your face. He looked so happy talking about Coldplay, and the image of his smile was now embedded into your memory. “Do you have a favorite song by them?”

“I’d say ‘Yellow’ or even ‘The Scientist’,” he replied giddily looking down at you. “What about you?”

“Hmm,” you started, fingers grazing over the bouquet of sunflowers underneath the poster. “I’d also say ‘Yellow’, but ‘Christmas Lights’ hits different during this time of the year.”

“‘Christmas Lights’ is so good!”

“I can’t celebrate Christmas without it,” you laughed back. His deep brown eyes lightened at your response.

Although the conversation was short-lived, your eyes caught a flutter of something outside.

“Hey,” you pierced out the window. “Is it snowing outside?”

Quizzically, Johnny walked over to his window. Peering over his shoulder, you saw flurries of snow coating the grass. “Yes, Princess, it is in fact snowing.”

You frowned at the way he addressed you. “You can call me ___, you know?”

“Okay, ____,” Johnny teased, but the way your name sounded in his voice just felt right. “It is snowing- and a lot.”

“Well…,” Impulsively, you grabbed his arm and pointed outside. “You want to go out? Maybe have a snowball fight? Or not, that's okay-”

“No, no, no,” Johnny interrupted, bashfully looking at your hand before meeting your eyes. “Let’s do it.”

“Just know,” he smirked, walking over to his closet and tossing you one of his coats. “I won't be going easy on you.”

“Never expected you to,” you said, putting on his jacket which was way too big on you, but kept you comfy. You zipped it up and smiled up at him, watching his once cold demeanor melt.

Maybe Mark was right.

Johnny was a master snowball fighter, and as much as you hate to admit it, he was a tiny bit better than you. Only a tiny bit.

“Are you ready to give up?” He taunted with a gigantic snowball in his hands, ready to drop it on you. You slipped on the ground a minute ago and haven't stopped laughing, so Johnny took that as defeat.

“W-wait please,” you pleaded, still in a fit of giggles as Johnny brought the snowball closer to you. “I surrender! I surrender!”

“Too bad,” Johnny shrugged and proceeded to drop it on you.

“I’mf gomma kill you!” your words were muffled by the snow, causing Johnny to erupt with laughter. Huffing, you got on your feet and chased after him, throwing snowball after snowball.

Chasing him around the front of the castle, you finally hit him with a snowball in the back of his head.

“Ouch!” Johnny dramatically stopped and turned around. “I’m so getting you back for that.”

Not being able to stop yourself you crashed into Johnny’s chest. The snow being slippery, Johnny slid backward but managing to wrap his arms around your waist, stopping you from getting hurt. His back hit the ground with a thud, and your eyes widened.

“Johnny!” Still on his chest, you looked up at him to see if he was okay. Sitting up, your right hand automatically cupped his jaw and the other lifted his head up from the ground.

“I’m fine,” A small groan escaped his lips as he rolled over on his right side, facing your body. His face melted into your touch as his eyes fluttered open to see you. “Don't worry, cutie.”

“Uh..” Your body temperature spiked, and you didn't know whether to blame it on chilly weather or Johnny calling you ‘cutie’. “L-let's go inside.”

“It is getting dark anyway,” With your right hand gripping his, you dragged him up to his feet. Johnny dusted the snow off from his pants and also dusted some off from the top of your head. The small contact made your heart flutter, and the feeling was taking over your mind.

After eating with Johnny's family, it was time for you to get some rest before the wedding ceremony tomorrow.

The maids guided you to an extravagant bathroom for you to wash up, and right after they pointed towards Johnny's room.

“Princess, you’ll be sleeping in Johnny's room tonight,” the maid said nonchalantly.

“What?” You gasped, neck-snapping to face her. “W-we're not even married yet? Is that even okay?”

“Yeah,” she replied, handing you a nightgown for you to change into. “You two will be married in less than twenty-four hours so…”

“Goodnight, princess,” she winked at you before gently pushing you in the direction of his door. “Sleep well before your big day tomorrow.”

As the maid left, leaving you stunned, you turned the doorknob to Johnny’s bedroom. Taking a step instead, you expected an empty bedroom but instead, you were greeted with Johnny in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist.

“I’m sorry!” you squeaked, covering your eyes and slamming the door behind you. You never attempted to imagine Johnny without a shirt, but now that you’ve witnessed the sight, you can't seem to get it out of your mind. The water dripping from his hair onto his chest, the flex of his biceps, and the toned abs made you crazy. Before you knew it, a blush settled across your cheeks and the heat seemed to fog your thoughts.

“___, I’m dressed,” Johnny calling your name broke you out of your trance. “You can come back in.”

You hummed in response, cracking open the door to see him with his arms crossed.

“Also,” Johnny grabbed a pillow from the bed and placed it on the small couch beside him. “You can take the bed, and I’ll take the couch.”

“Wait,” you said, looking at the couch and then at him. “You shouldn't have to, I can take the couch-”

“It's okay,” he interrupted, raising an eyebrow at you as he sat down.

Your mouth opened to retort back, but seeing no point you smiled at him and went to go change into your nightgown. The satin nightgown slipped over your body, and you patted down any creases.

When you opened the door, leaving his bathroom, you saw Johnny cramped onto the couch. His body was shifting, turning right and left to find a comfortable position to sleep in. Guilt surged inside of you as you watched him squeeze himself into an uncomfortable position to ensure that you weren't uncomfortable.

“Johnny?” Heart swelling with love, you gently tapped on his shoulder, causing him to shudder in surprise. “Do you want to sleep beside me on the bed?”

Johnny blinked a couple of times. “Huh?”

You pointed towards his bed with your thumb. “Join me.”

“A-are you sure? Wouldn't y-you feel uncomfortable?” He sat up, looking up at you.

“No,” You shook your head, laughing at his innocent eyes. “We can put a little pillow barrier between us.”

With his eyes, Johnny silently asked if it was really okay, and you rolled your eyes at him. You grabbed his arms and dragged him to the bed before you slipped under the covers. Taking a cylinder-shaped pillow, you placed it between the two of you before smiling at him. “Goodnight, Johnny.”

Johnny looked at you with sparkling eyes. “Goodnight, ___. Sleep well, cutie.”

And with butterflies in your stomach, your eyes fluttered shut, and sleep took over.

The morning sun beamed onto your face, causing you to grumble. Your eyes peered open, and it hit you that you were not in your usual room- you were in Johnny’s room. With widened eyes, you tried to move but an arm with a strong grip on your waist kept you from doing so.

When you turned your head to the side, you were met with Johnny peacefully sleeping. His forehead rested on your shoulder, and his breathing was steady. His messy hair sprawled across the pillow, and the arm that was not tightened around you was underneath his head.

This was a sight you could get used to every morning.

Not knowing what suddenly urged you to do so, you placed a small kiss on the top of his head before trying to squeeze out his grip. You knew Johnny was strong, but you didn't expect him to be this strong. And there was no way you would be leaving the bed anytime soon.

Sighing in defeat, you laid beside him, finger twirling a strand of his hair until he finally let out a small groan.

“Morning,” you smiled, watching his face contort in tiredness.

“Morning, cutie,” he grumbled. His morning voice was even deeper and much raspier, causing your stomach to churn. “Can we just stay like this for a second?”

“Sure,” you laughed, continuing to play with his hair as he snuggled closer to you. “What happened to our pillow barrier though?”

“Don’t know and don't care,” he mumbled into your shoulder. His hot breath tickled your skin, inciting butterflies, once again.

Before you could reply, a knock on your door interrupted the moment. “Prince. Princess. Ceremony in four hours!”

“Four hours?” you say in disbelief. “Get up, Johnny. We need to get ready.”

“But ____,” he whined, pulling you closer to him.

You rolled your eyes and flicked him on the forehead. Your heart swelled at how clingy he was. “If we're late, it's your fault.”

“That's okay!” he sighed with content, eyes still closed but a smile formed on his lips. “As long as I have you, I’m good.”

You and Johnny barely made it in time to your own wedding.

Scrambling, the maids quickly got both of you ready and pushed you out the front door and into a large room where all the people from Neo and Astoria gathered. On an elevated platform, your family and Johnny’s family both awaited your arrival. Although you and Johnny entered the room from opposite sides, both of you walked up the platform and sat on the large gold-adorned chairs in the front of the room. Everyone's eyes were on you two, but you and Johnny couldn't get your eyes off each other.

“You look beautiful, Princess,” Johnny smirked, looking you up and down. “Blue has always been and will always be such an elegant color on you.”

“Thank you, my Prince,” you replied, hiding any bashful expression that may have resulted from his comment. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

His smile grew wide, causing yours to match his.

“Welcome to the marriage between ___ of Astoria and Johnny Suh of Neo,” your father announced, patting Johnny’s father on the back. “Through this marriage, both kingdoms will form a lifelong alliance, and I am pleased to say that I am very happy about this.”

“We will start by exchanging rings,” Johnny's father said. With a snap of his fingers, two rings were brought and handed to both you and Johnny.

You put your hand out, and Johnny gently took it. His fingers wrapped around the diamond ring and, carefully, he slid it onto your ring finger. Before he let go, he placed a small kiss on your hand.

With a big grin, you took his hand in yours, sliding on the ring as well.

Everyone erupted in joy. You look over to your parents, only to see Mark, who gives you a smile along with an “I told you so” look on his face. He mouthed “congratulations” and you couldn’t help but want to give him a big hug. Your mother and Johnny's mother seemed to be holding back tears while both fathers were excitedly toasting their drinks.

Happiness oozed out of every person, which in turn made you feel so happy that you felt as if your heart would burst any second.

“Snowball fight after this?” Johnny jokingly whispered amongst the beautiful chaos that filled the room.

“We just got married and you’re thinking about having a snowball fight?” you replied, teasing him a bit to see his reaction.

“Well we could do something else,” Johnny winked at you.

You scoffed at his suggestive thoughts, lighting punching his bicep. “Hold up, buddy. You don't even know my favorite color!”

“Shit, you're right,” His eyes widened in realization before he whispered back. “What’s your favorite color?”

“White, my love,” you giggled.

“My love?” He placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. “I think I can get used to you calling me that.”

“You should,” you retorted. “Also wanna listen to 'Christmas Lights’ after this?”

“Not a snowball fight, but I’ll take it,” Johnny chuckled before looking straight into your eyes. “Besides, I can’t say no to Coldplay.”

“And I definitely cannot say no to you, cutie.”

210 notes · View notes

rouiyan · 3 years

Text

𝘋𝘌𝘈𝘙𝘓𝘠 𝘋𝘌𝘗𝘈𝘙𝘛𝘌𝘋 [ 𝘭.𝘫𝘯 ]

⧏ the third volume of rouiyan’s debut series, till death do us part ⧐

synopsis: “prince jeno looks for the man in the moon, he wonders if he's looking right back at him.”

✧ prince!lee jeno x crown princess!reader ✧ royalty au

✧ genres : angst ✧ word count : 5.0k ✧ disclaimers : childhood trauma, mental/emotional parental abuse, depictions of drowning, violence in the form of attempted assassination/murder, blood, gory scenes

✧ author’s note — i had this finished and drafted on sunday. i proofread it, fucking hated it, and deleted it. here's the much better version that was finished at 3:27 a.m.

read volume two here: overcast skies and those who die.

prince jeno is seated at the head of the dining hall among an array of immediate family, distant family, advisors and any other official that is deemed trustworthy enough to attend the second prince's fifth birthday. his seat is raised so that he's able to reach the table but even then, his short stature makes it seem as if his parents and sibling are still towering over him, still. instead of smiling over the platters of food that are all catered towards his taste, he's glowering and persistent, if anything, to return the gaze of anyone but his own reflection in the porcelain plate.

he looks up, for the briefest of seconds, and his mother is relieved, also for the briefest of seconds in the belief that he was to say something of importance, perhaps a 'thank you for coming,' would be the most appropriate for his age. she's disappointed to note that jeno's eyes are held in distaste on the boy seven seats down from him, smiling and talking to himself, or rather the food he's chasing around the plate with his fork. his mother is disappointed, to say the least, that jeno cannot get past that thick little head of his and be prince-like in any way.

she wouldn't be surprised if it was in relation to the events that occurred a little over a fortnight ago.

jeno peaked his head into the throne room and, noting that it was empty, turned back to look at his friend since birth, na jaemin. "what do we do now?" jeno's shy his friend's height by a quarter of an inch, not that height matters all that much when you're only four years of age. jaemin looked into the prince's eyes, "we go in," he said with a mischievous glint.

the kids were tiptoeing, for the dramatics, there really wasn't anyone who could notice them with the rest of both their families caught up in the schematics of a new trade war. the two of them excluded for obvious reasons, their age. prince jaemin at the age of four was already used to dominating in all aspects of royalty. jeno supposed that being the sole heir of the throne had its fair share of benefits, maybe not fair, definitely unfair. the two were friends because of family ties and if not for family ties, jeno wasn't sure he'd ever like to talk to the likes of jaemin, the royalty of royalty.

jeno's nose scrunches each time some adult would comment that he was 'cute' and jaemin 'handsome.' he wonders why his status as second prince would make him look different in any way. even now, looking over at jaemin's side profile, he doesn't think of him as any more 'handsome' than 'cute.' resolutely, his eyebrows knit as the two boys round up on the two elevated thrones at the back end of the extensive room. jeno peers at jaemin behind him for affirmation to do the deed. he only nods encouragingly.

taking a deep breath, jeno takes a step upwards, two, and looks back at jaemin again. he's a step below him now. three steps later and they’re at the platform on which the two royal seats are built into. jeno pads carefully to the more elaborate of the two effigies on the left. his steps were silent on the woven rug and he's reminded of his bare feet, he'd learned a great deal long ago in his etiquette of royalty lessons how hefty of an offense bare feet on the royal rug is, much less the trouble he was to make not a minute after.

jeno checks but notes that jaemin's face was drawn in much more michievy than playfulness. he nods with the same look on his face and jeno doesn't think twice when he sits atop the throne, his father's throne. the room, from this angle, is spectacular. the vast carvings in the ceilings all seem to point to this exact spot, the way the murals trace up stories from the door and ending at the spot before him. the skylight that pours down light on this seat and this seat only. jeno wonders what it would be like to be sitting here on a daily, to have the room filled from front to back with advisors advising him and congressmen addressing to him and all his royal subjects addressing him as your majesty instead of just your highness.

the second prince is so caught up in the way the light cascades down, the way it reflects, the way it bends around the gold leaf pillars, that he doesn't notice jaemin mouthing at him, then whispering urgently to him, then screaming silently into his face. before he can even register the past seconds he's lost to the vastness of the throne room, his father, the king himself, is advancing towards him. he's advancing fast, angry, furious, at why his son would dare commit such heinous act, such disrespect towards his power.

the king's throne is not a simple chair, not in any kingdom, nor is it just a symbol of the highest achievable royal. the throne represents the generations that built the most formidable lands in all the world, the ancestry that raised the most capable of rulers, the most honest of men and women. the throne, passed down from heir to heir, is the one thing that defines the history of the kingdom, the one thing that serves as the source of vitality for the one individual with enough power to sentence death, the king. and lee jeno, second prince of the southern kingdom, was certainly not the king.

the true king now stood before his son, a yearning passion in his eyes to slit his throat right then and there. "now," the king's voice reverberates and ricochets off the walls in ways that jeno's four-year-old squeak toy of a voice could not. his tone increases in mockery as he speaks, "do you suppose i bow to you now? is that right, son?" jeno can't will himself to move his head for a nod, he simply cannot. his father's hands are behind his back, pleasant in stature, but his demeanor emanates a daunting power. when his son is silent, he reiterates, "are you my king?"

jeno can't will himself to speak, he simply cannot. the king’s hands are drawn from behind his back, they unsheath dagger from his hip. it's brought to the prince's right ear. "must i remind you," the point of the knife is pressing into the lower tip of his lobe. "a man, unfit for the title of king, but found on the king's throne, is punishable by death." jeno winces now, the only thing he can offer in response as the knife threatens to cut deeper. as his father threatens to cut deeper. "but the death is a gift, is it not?" the king talks leisurely, as if his words were not directed in threat to his son, but to a class of schoolchildren.

but the king does not take disrespect lightly, and in his eyes you will find the rich amber color of muddy hatred. a textbook definition is rehearsed, "for a man, one who has beheld the sight of this very room from that very spot, assuming the rightful place of the most relevant man, he ought to have achieved everything to think he deserves the honor. everything except death, of course." a textbook definition, yet, the king's son is quivering before him, blood running down a cheek, the side of his neck, the ruffles of his pressed white shirt. jeno cannot speak, he cannot move, he believes he's losing his sight as well, maybe even his ability to think.

his father place two hands on the armrests on either side of his throne and leans so his face is mere millimeters away from his son's. the king lowers his voice for only him to hear, "now, son, is that not what you were taught?"

he is met with silence.

"IS THAT NOT WHAT YOU WERE TAUGHT?"

the prince might as well be dead.

it is the first, but not the last, time that prince jeno is thrown into the dungeons. not to die, but to barely live on the remnants of the pig trough and horse feed. the prince sleeps most the time, on the stone cold floor, in the middle of the winter, but when he wakes, he is a fitful of coughs and vomit. and when he has enough energy to sit up and stare through the barred window, to the left of his cell, he thinks of jaemin. jaemin playing in the fields, jaemin dining in the long halls, jaemin bathing in a rosewater bath, jaemin sleeping in his four-poster canopied bed.

prince jeno is four, almost five, when he conjures his belief that friends lie, they manipulate, they will never stand up for you if it means getting into trouble as well. friends are not companions, there is no such thing as a companion. there is no one to trust. at least, that's what the bleak ceilings of his cage tell him. they whisper it into his ear, his cut ear that's now crusted with dried blood. they whisper it when he sleeps, when he wakes, when he isn't aware of who he is anymore. and they chant it, lowly, and hauntingly, when he's willing to listen. it's all he hears for the sixteen days he spends in his lone company. the sixteen days before he is snatched up by a royal guard to get cleaned and dressed for his fifth birthday celebration.

"the coal we mine. our lives on the line." the crowd chants. the crowd, the townspeople, the poor and the wealthy alike, they all chant. "the coal we mine. our lives on the line." prince jeno wants to cover his ears though he knows that's not princely of him. "the coal we mine. our lives on the line." he sees his father's arm, waving to the people, a little ways ahead on the grand horse-drawn carriage. the wood is painted a deep black, the embellishments are leafed in gold, and the upholstered seats draped in dark velvet. "the coal we mine. our lives on the line." jeno himself sits atop a black friesian horse, the mane glints in the piercing sunlight. his brother is beside him yet, as the concession draws away from the hundreds that line the streets on a dreary sunday morning and into the grounds of the palace, doyoung yanks his own friesian ahead of him.

the thundering choruses of the people wane in the departure of the royalty and the prince and his family are slowly trickling into the crowd that rests under umbrellaed lawns. they're dressed to their best, and their eyes pleasantly flick between the members of the royal family before them, in best efforts to conceal whatever judgements they have. the king dismounts first, and moves to greet his visitors, guests, from all over the region and of royal ancestry. the queen is next and doyoung and jeno himself are intended to follow suit.

but it's the moment prince jeno's eyes rake upon the boy, the retched boy whose title ranks crown prince na jaemin, that he wrenches the reigns of his horse in such an unrestrained, unbridled way that the horse rises instinctively onto its hind legs. prince jeno's fall through air is neither graceful nor a sight for sore eyes. his delicate, six-year-old spine is thrust into an arch. his neck, his upright neck, is flung into a curve. his arms, lean though feeble, can only thrash in protest and a learned helplessness ensues immediately afterwards. his small hands grasp the thin twines of nothing. his eyes, the deep brown that shines honey in the sunlight at the exact angle at which he his forced from the earth, they meet his mother's.

he had figured his death was imminent, and he had figured it'd be at the hand of his parents.

a shoulder, then an arm, the back, the legs, the heels, and finally, his head clunks onto the trodden turf. a horse crosses over his fallen body. there are people hovering about him in an instant. words that are no longer up for his comprehension are tossed his way. a hand is felt on his shoulder, the one he landed on, the one he can no longer feel. black spots begin to cloud his vision, his hold on reality is starting to become grainier as the seconds tick.

the last image he is able to put together is the face of his mother. stone cold, void of sympathy, void of warmth, void of motherly affection, but congested, not with blood, but with apathy. when he wakes, and thinks of the scene, he can only hope it was a vicarious conjurance of the bleeding gape in his skull.

when he wakes, he is three weeks ahead of when he'd fallen. the memories of this period all blur together for the jeno in adulthood, he swears he can never remember much of it. but if he did, he would recall a girl by his side, of similar age. if he did, he would recall the girl's fingers carefully renewing his soiled bandages every six hours. he'd remember the way she smiled, called his name, kept him company. he'd remember the sympathy, warmth, affection that emanated from your every word, action, mannerism. if he remembered the happenings after his fall from grace, he'd remember the one who healed him, resurrected him.

he would remember y/n, his first friend, companion, love.

the air of the sea bites with salt, and offers little refreshment during the hours of daylight. it's in the evening when the skies clear, when the stars begin to show, aligning themselves like golden eyelets on a black satin fabric. prince jeno isn't nearly as tall as the grasses that spurt from the ground, in every direction and covering every viable piece of land. the stares up at the stalks as he walks, the ends flitting with the wind, bending down to tickle his forehead and over its back, motions repeating like one of a giant mass or swaying crowd.

he doesn't dare enter the fields, the prospect of becoming lost all too prominent even before stepping in, but the prince stands right in front of the first rows of tall grass, imagining what was beyond, what he would see when they crossed. at the simple age of seven, he'd already become accustomed to letting his thoughts rampage in his mind over voicing them aloud. voicing them aloud would do him now good, perhaps it was because a child's thought were nearly never as gentlemanly as his mother hoped him to voice, as his father expected of him.

prince jeno is seized by the back of his collar with his father's iron-tight fist. he's dragged, little feet barely reaching the floor as his neck is caught up within the confines of his cotton shirt. he's coughing and having a hard time breathing when he's thrown back into the carriage with a shove and a thud for a landing. his brother sits in front of him, posture straight, the bends of his pant knees clean, and a stern look adorning his face. jeno thinks of clawing the older's face with his finger, the inside of his nails laden with dirt, just to smother his perfect side profile he adores so much. jeno can only think.

the horses are set on a run again and as the family rattles along the unused path, further up the mid-sized hill they were crossing, the view just beyond those grasses come into view. a clean-cut, seaside cottage with shutters of cream and siding of beiges. the roofing, by the looks of it, was made by a thick thatch, though the chimney that stands tall upon it is tiled in white brick. the cottage is set on the shore in such a way that the sands of the beach it opens up to ride as high as the parkway permits and the ocean itself, the glittering ocean, emits the most lovely sea breeze. it's mint green with touches of turquoise and as you draw near, the sandy grounds gradually dissolve into bottomless depths.

jeno thinks what it would feel like to be caught in a current and be swept into the middle of the glittering ocean. he wonders what it would feel like to be surrounded by nothing but the suffocating salts of the water and the beating of the sun's rays. jeno would like to know if it was better than being surrounded by his family. he hates the way his brother's face is still a pristine clean surface and the way his mother's legs are crossed pretentiously, for absolutely no one to see, and how his father can never see past his set furrowed brows.

the carriage stops before the cottage and it's enough to see it from afar but up close, the prince doubts anything could compare. it's small and quaint in the way he supposes most people's homes are and the air of the inside holds the bordered between musty and a tang of sea salt. jeno's four-year-old mind has yet to wrap its head around the concepts of familiarity and succor in tangible objects but the way that dusts settles on the kitchen counter, the edge of the bathtub, the posts of his bed frame, are oddly comforting in a way he could never describe. perhaps it's the simple fact that the dust will sit for awhile before being swept away, they get the chance to. jeno's four-year-old mind fails to notice that he finds solace in the four walls of his designated bedroom that he can see with one sight, the end of the hall visible from one end to another, the kitchen adjacent to the dining room. he fails to notice how he feels most at home in a home and not in a godforsaken palace.

midnight strikes on the unaware prince as he ventures out the back end of the cottage, towards the lining of the beach. the screened storm door is left unhinged in his wake, flapping open and shut in correspondence with each gust of nightly wind. prince jeno's bare feet leave the shallowest of rifts in the soft sands, the sand itself blowing over and evening out the rupture in mere seconds. the midsummer humidity allows the boy to don only a pair of swimming trunks as he wades in the cool water, jumping as the tides roll in and kicking up at the pebbles that dig into the soles of his feet. gingerly, he braves himself for the chill that is inevitable when he lays himself gently on his back. the little prince shivers.

jeno names the stars in his head, he draws constellations, drones on about the zodiac signs he's learned of and makes up ones of his own. he conjures images of mythical creatures in his mind as he feels the water, now lukewarm and adjusted, lap over his bare torso. prince jeno looks for the man in the moon, he wonders if he's looking right back at him.

the moon draws its waters with force when the clock strikes one. it pushes them to shore, in the direction of the cottage, in the direction of the adrift prince. the first of the waves, slosh gently into him, sending him in unison with the fluctuation. the second only hits as high as the sides of his cheekbones but the third is strong, it submerges him.

prince jeno no longer has to wonder what it would feel like to be caught in a current and be swept into the middle of the glittering ocean. like to be surrounded by nothing but the suffocating salts and the little moonlight that dwindles between the undulating water above him. it flits and when in darkness, the boy finds difficulty to decide which way is up, he's afraid he can only fall further downwards. that is the only thing he is afraid of. even when briny droplets begin to line the inner surfaces of his windpipes, even when the thrashes still, no longer supported by his weakened limbs, even when his vision spots, his eyelids shut, his ears clogged. prince jeno is afraid he can only fall further downwards.

the sun is the next thing jeno sees, quite off-putting after having been under the sheets for the previous day and a half. it seems that though he's fully awaken at this point in time, his legs are not, his arms are not, and sure enough, every other part of his body reverberates in the only way the numbness of paralysis would give. prince jeno is not paralyzed but he hasn't been washed, fed, not even a sip of water has passed his lips since he was washed ashore and collected by a royal guard.

he lays still for another minute or so, which may as well have been fifteen, forty, and hour, he isn't sure and he has no way to be sure but once he feels the slightest twitch of a toe, he's up and moving. moving to the kitchen, the source of all sounds he hears, of laughter, banter, spoons clinking in ceramic bowls. jeno's moving until he is not, but rather than the kitchen, he's in a fairly inaccessible hallway and at a foot of set of steps that spiral beneath the earth. prince jeno is seven and he is curious.

the biting brass of the stairwell against his sock-clad feet is silent but frigid to the touch, the rails, equally as brass, are ornate in detail with excess knobs and spindles for effect. it only comes in full picture when prince jeno reaches the bottom where a brass door is set, completing the sight. pupils shaking, he places a hand on the handle, then two, and pushes it open.

the dust that rests in the room is certainly not something he finds comfort in. the thickness of it becomes suffocating the more he treads within and it isn't until he reaches the back end of the room, where a little barred window is perched, does he understand the purpose of the room. there's an underlying rumor that passes within the confines of the room, by the way of an apparition, a lost soul, a deceased soul.

the prince shivers, he is standing in a cage, and he runs before it can encapsulate him once more.

panting, he is on the landing, in the obscure hallway, to the door to the right, the one straight ahead, until he's in the kitchen, voice quavering, "there is a dungeon, brother! there is a dungeon beneath us!" the kitschy tiling is starting to marble before his eyes as they brim with tears. they turn to look at the helpless boy of seven years, in pajamas, the scar on his left ankle showing, his hair upturned, eyes blown wide.

bemused, it's rather his father who turns to look at him and speaks with a voice that could only denote belittlement, "ahh, yes, the one for the unruly children."

prince doyoung laughs because he is not an unruly child. prince jeno does not laugh because although he is not an unruly child, he is also not the crown prince.

✧ PRESENT

second prince, lee jeno, draws himself straight, emerging from the black marbled carriage drawn by horses of black mane, he sets his sights on the scene that unfolds before him. the southern castle is fortified in pitch black; black footbridges, posterns, battlements, towers and pinnacles, and all that meets the eye upon first glance. in the moment, the moonlight is cascading down between passing clouds, reflecting across the rounds of the turrets like thick coils of smog. the castle itself, though, serves as a looming presence that rests above a barren forest which is then, set behind a pathed field of low blown and weeded grass. there’s a noticeable wind that courses through the hallowed glade, gurgling the water of the well he’d just passed and ruffling the dried leaves off their branches. jeno’s spirits dissipate as the stems of browned flowers uproot themselves, undulating with the chorus of the wind and wafting a fetid scent.

the prince is accompanied, on either side, by his guards dressed in black and gold accents, he himself, wearing an ensemble of white in contrast. there is no one to guide him home.

it’s awfully difficult for jeno to forget the reason he is here in the first place, as much as he'd like.

he stands there, that night, his features casting lengthened shadows on the wall behind him, basked in the flickering light of a single candle. crown prince doyoung sits across from him.

"i suppose the time has come for me to congratulate my younger brother." jeno wonders why he cannot take him with an ounce of sincerity.

"i hope that you have not called me, on such short notice, to give your feigned-hearted felicitations." jeno supposes it's because of the excessive mockery with which his brother speaks that he cannot bring himself to feel particularly fond for. the older clears his throat in an attempt to hide his incoming smile, "and why might you think my heart be feigned?"

scoffing, it's the second prince's turn to push forth mockery, "do you believe us brothers to be close? to be compassionate with each other?" his brother remains silent at that but his face is still drawn in amusement. jeno continues, "i do not believe i am in need of your congratulations on my marriage."

the smirk on his face only seems to grow, jeno could say his anger grows with it. sneering and in full anticipation of the younger's response, prince doyoung quips, "then i suppose i am to offer congratulations on the grounds that you have claimed a throne," jeno's face returns taut, "albeit not from your own will, or even your own silver blood, but congratulations on the throne, nonetheless."

it's years later and jeno can only think of grappling the stiff neck of his brother within the hold of his hands and juicing his blood in such a way that his veins run dry. jeno can only think of throwing him in the cell of their vacation villa, he can only think of slitting his ears. he can only think.

the room is gathered in silence. jeno pushes forth with his speech, "and i would like to thank the whole of this room on the basis of my livelihood, i could not have gone so far, done so much, grown to such lengths, without the support of my kingdom. now, it seems it is in my hands to recover the losses of the northern kingdom, their deceased king in reference-" he is cut off by the king.

"an unfortunate circumstance, might i add." jeno's father laughs, he laughs. his mother begins to hide a chuckle behind her hand, and the advisors and officials in the room all seem to share the same enjoyment.

his brother. his brother is laughing as well. the room is sprung in gaiety and jeno can only allow his body to run autopilot as he processes the revelations, a sick feud between kings. one that, if not for your loving presence, he would be partaking in, willingly. but instead the world has the gall to mock him, rightfully so, for years of his life have been spent with the same thoughts plaguing his mind.

"but, oh! our dear jeno, whom we'd never have thought more of, charming the wits out of a lass with golden blood!" his mother has removed her hand, no longer feeling the need of propriety, and exclaiming her heartfelt sins with pronounced fervor. by then, jeno's blood is already set to boiling, flames flickering and erupting in his irises but he has enough composure to soothe himself with thoughts of you. as it so happens, that is the extent of his composure.

"you never know, next perhaps, will be the princess herself." he gives it five seconds.

jeno launches himself at his father across the table, knife in hand, lodging the apparatus into the old man's abdomen with sleazy aim. jeno pulls his posture upright, now atop the table, gravy smothering the satin lining of his slacks. his eyes are in pursuit of his father's but the others in the room have eyes only for him. he attempts a kick to the damned git, when he's thrust back forcefully by a swarm of arms and trepidatious glowers. he responds in a fit of anger, as if his previous outburst had only served as a preamble, hand gripping the head of a bottle of wine as he crouches. with practiced stealth, he pummels the glass in such a way that sharp edges are formed and he storms again, the intent of death in his eyes.

as the swish of a tranquilizing dart slits open air, lee jeno can see his father, the crimson substance leaking inside out. he can see the spray of wine red liquor as it sails without direction. he can see the scarlet veins in his brother's eyes, the scarlet rims of his mother's. and, when his eyes fall shut and he feels his knees hit the rufescent tablecloth, all he can see is you, drenched in red.

read volume four: and when i fall.

✧ end note — not much happens in this one, admittedly, but jeno's childhood and upbringing is something i really needed to touch on and this version really fleshes it out nicely. the original one that i scrapped felt super rushed, and though i developed more into the forefront storyline, i started to hate the use of a linear plotline for this piece because the main ideas on which it was built upon sounded so feeble when put in context of only the 'present.' but enough of me rambling, i love you, good day. <3

#nct #nct fics #nct scenarios #nct jeno #nct jeno angst #jeno angst #lee jeno #jeno x reader #jeno x y/n #rouiyan fics #rouiyan writes

52 notes · View notes

lokiondisneyplus · 4 years

Link

Over five popular seasons, the story lines of “Better Call Saul” have unfolded across nail salons, fried-chicken joints and other strip-mall staples of American life.

When new episodes begin premiering next year, though, the locations that give the “Breaking Bad” spinoff its texture could be reined in or done away with altogether. The culprit? The novel coronavirus, which is limiting where the New Mexico-set AMC show can film, potentially altering both its style and substance.

“Like a lot of other people, we’re going to have to be very creative in where and how we shoot,” said Mark Johnson, the veteran producer who oversees the Vince Gilligan hit, whose writers just began collaborating on the series’s sixth season. “A lot of places just won’t let you in.”

Across the entertainment industry, casts and crew are beginning to return to work after a five-month hiatus. In states with loosened restrictions, such as Georgia and New York, production is starting to crank up under tight controls that alter how sets operate. Instead of crew members freely mingling, they’re being divided into “pods" that limit how production departments such as wardrobe or lighting can associate. Covid-19 officers monitor the health of the cast and crew to determine who is allowed on set. “Zones” dictate where those cast and crew can go.

These changes might seem technical, but they hint at the far-reaching effects the virus will have on final screen products. Interviews with 12 executives, writers, agents and producers across the Hollywood spectrum suggest a dramatically transformed world of entertainment. Until a vaccine comes along, they say, covid-19 will change what Americans watch as dramatically as it has where they work, shop and learn. Forget the new normal — movies and TV are about to encounter the new austerity.

Crowd scenes are a no-go. Real-world locations will be limited. On-screen romance will be less common, sometimes restricted to actors who have off-screen relationships. And independent films — that tantalizing side dish in the U.S. entertainment meal — could be heavily scaled back.

“A lot of people believe this is just about getting back to work,” said Mark Gill, a producer and former head of Warner Independent Pictures, the studio unit responsible for independent hits such as “Slumdog Millionaire” and “Good Night, and Good Luck.” “They don’t realize the massive cultural impact we’re about to face.”

For most of its history, Hollywood created entertainment based on a simple premise: Shuttle in large numbers of people and move them around at will. That’s certainly true of crews. But it especially applies to extras, the low-paid day laborers who pack sets and off-camera holding areas in order to create dense crowd scenes — and, in turn, lend the work real-world atmosphere.

Such scenes have of course been part of some of the most memorable moments in Hollywood history. From “Ben-Hur” to “Braveheart,” on-screen entertainment has become indelible thanks to hundreds of people you’ve never heard of packing tiny spaces, then moving as one when the cameras roll.

Yet the virus has essentially made these hires impossible. Many don’t want to risk their health for a $100 paycheck and remote shot at background glory, and producers don’t want to take on the liability even if they did. “Braveheart" used about 1,600 extras, many from the Irish Army reserves. Experts say the movie couldn’t come close to being shot today.

“Those of us in the entertainment business are not used to being told ‘no’‚” said Lucas Foster, a longtime Hollywood producer who counts the 2005 romantic-action hit “Mr. & Mrs. Smith” and last year’s Oscar-decorated blockbuster “Ford v Ferrari” among his credits. “And when it comes to things like crowds, there’s going to be a lot of no.”

Foster understands the challenges personally — he’s one of the first producers to have made a movie in the age of covid-19.

In March, the Los Angeles resident was in Australia, several weeks into preproduction on a new version of “Children of the Corn” when the pandemic began to spread. Millions of dollars had already been committed to the movie, adapted from the same Stephen King story that yielded the 1984 cult hit. So rather than shut down, he decided to proceed — cautiously. Foster created a production bubble, consulted doctors regularly, procured large amounts of tests, and engaged in elaborate workarounds in realms like crowd scenes.

He said it worked, but with major accommodations.

“I had to figure out how to do a crowd with no more than a few people at the same time. And with very specific camera angles. And by taking actors who would normally be close together and making them not close together,” Foster said. “In the end, I’d get the scene I needed but it looked different than it would have before the pandemic.” (Computer-generated crowds, he and other producers say, only work for more distant shots; anything requiring close-ups needs the real thing.)

It helped, he noted, that many of his actors were children, who are believed less susceptible to the effects of the virus, and that much of the movie was shot in cornfields and other vast outdoor spaces, a luxury not all films have.

Producers say the added cost required to implement all the safeguards could also result in a lower-end finished product. Films and TV shows achieve their level of shine through an endless period of refinement, with actors and directors often attempt 10 or more takes of a scene. With everything now going longer — and thus costing more — they may not have the luxury.

One producer of multiple studio hits said he expects the number of takes to drop significantly as the virus balloons budgets. He also expected a diminution in night scenes, which tend to be more involved and expensive than day scenes. He said some productions will be able to make the switch, but not all will be as lucky.

Also unlucky, say Hollywood veterans: movies where characters seek to get lucky. Many insiders say romantic scenes will be a major challenge in movies. Two agents separately reported they had high-profile clients who told them they wouldn’t shoot love scenes during the pandemic.

“I think every agency right now is looking down their client list to see which actors have spouses who are also actors, because then we could try to get them cast, too,” said one of the agents, who spoke on the condition of anonymity because they were not authorized by their company to speak to the news media. “I’m joking. Sort of.”

The added wrinkle is even if the actors trust each other in real life, many of their characters would still have to take precautions on screen.

“How do you send two characters on a first dinner date when people aren’t really going on first dinner dates?” said a creator of romantic comedies who asked not to be identified because they did not want to be seen as criticizing colleagues who are attempting new projects. “You can send them on a socially distant walk, I guess.”

Writers say that leads to a broader dilemma: how much to incorporate the pandemic into their stories. On one hand, they say they don’t want to pretend the virus doesn’t exist. But acknowledging it poses its own challenges.

“Do you really want your stars wearing masks because that’s what characters would do? Do you want to have people engaging with each other in groups no larger than six? Do you want to write stories where everyone is at a safe distance?” said Mark Heyman, the co-writer of “Black Swan” and “The Skeleton Twins” and creator of the CBS All-Access historical drama “Strange Angel.” “Because a lot of those things won’t be very much fun to watch.”

Yet if creators aren’t willing to do that, he said, it could lead to those shows or movies getting shelved out of a fear that audiences will judge them inauthentic.

Heyman was working on a series set in a high school for Netflix when the lockdowns began. That project has now been put on pause. “It’s not easy to make a show about high school,” he said, “when there is no high school.”

To avoid reminding viewers of the pandemic, creators may take an approach that will lead to an unusual trend.

“I think over the next few years you’re going to see a lot more movies set in the past,” Foster said. “Even movies written for the present will be changed. They’ll make it the ’90s because then you don’t have to deal with these questions. And then you can just put in some cool ’90s music, so everybody wins.”

A few creators have gone the other way, leaning in to the pandemic.

Writers on Apple TV Plus’s “The Morning Show,” set at a news program, have torn up existing scripts to make the pandemic a part of the story line, according to a person familiar with the show who was not authorized to speak about it publicly. But with a lag time of months between shooting and airing, experts say that creators also risk looking out of date by the time episodes release to the public.

Sensing an opportunity, horror filmmakers have also tried to embrace current events.

“The horror genre is very suited to the pandemic and lockdowns — we’re always trying to create a feeling of being trapped anyway,” said the horror filmmaker Nathan Crooker.

When quarantines hit this spring, Crooker gathered nine noted horror filmmakers and had them shoot an anthology film — short fictional movies connected by the larger virus theme — and titled it “Isolation.” He required filmmakers to use only the materials and people they were in lockdown with, even prohibiting Zoom and other technologies.

“I think we’re going to get a very cool effect that mirrors what people are going through,” Crooker said of his work. “But I don’t know that every movie that gets made would want to look like that.”

One consequence of the virus could turn out to be the movies that don’t get made at all.

Some of the most beloved films of the past two decades, from “My Big Fat Greek Wedding” to “Whiplash,” “Little Miss Sunshine” to “Fruitvale Station,” were independently financed. But before rolling cameras, independent productions require insurance policies to protect them from workplace lawsuits, along with completion bonds, in which a guarantor assures they will step in with funds to finish the movie if production is halted.

Experts say no company will cover covid-19 with either policy, effectively preventing production.

“Covid is an absolute disaster for the independent-film industry,” said Sky Moore, a partner in the corporate entertainment department of the Los Angeles law firm Greenberg Glusker who has spent several decades putting together film financing deals. “The lifeblood of independent-film financing is loans, and loans need insurance. Now you have this massive hole in the middle of all of it.”

Moore believes the toll will be vast.

“I think 50 percent of the independent industry goes away,” he said.

(Movies financed by large studios do not buy these policies; Netflix or Disney would just absorb a shutdown or lawsuit as the cost of doing business.)

Even if they can work around the insurance issues, many independent films won’t get made because they simply won’t have the money. “It’s already hard to get funding for a lot of these movies,” said Shaun MacGillivray, a producer who makes large-scale independent documentaries. “And now you’re telling investors the budget is going to be 30 percent higher?”

The independent-film world is trying to push ahead, slowly. The Sundance Film Festival, the epicenter of the indie-film business, where companies like Hulu and Netflix sometimes pay more than $10 million for an independently financed movie, will hold a partially physical, partially virtual edition in January, albeit at just about half the length.

“We are reminded daily of the power of what is made newly visible to us, the importance of what we look at,” Tabitha Jackson, the director of the festival, said in a letter to staff this summer explaining why the festival needed to go on. “My hope for this edition of the Sundance Film Festival is that through a multiplicity of perspectives held by artists and audiences in their various communities we will also come to feel the power of where we look from.” Left unspoken: What happens in 2022, when the well runs dry because new movies can’t be insured and produced?

Whatever entertainment can get made, experts say, will have a more hermetic look. Even television shows, once shot heavily on sets, now often rely on the authenticity of locations; a police procedural feels like it does because detectives are popping into pizza places and apartment buildings.

“We don’t want everything to be a chamber piece,” said Johnson, the “Better Call Saul” executive producer. “But if many shows look different, I think that’s okay, because the world looks different.”

Then, considering the challenge further, he added, “And if that doesn’t work, then at least our show has a lot of deserts and open roads.”

39 notes · View notes

twiststreet · 3 years

Note

Question part! What do you think of Urasawa? I love his works because he constructs an entire world and has fully flesged out characters who drive the action through personal motivations. He can make some missteps story wise, but his stories feel like worlds you can fully live in. Just curious what your take on him is....

I wrote a whole career survey of Naoki Urasawa back in 2004-- nothing that’d age well or was worth reading, but that was before he was licensed in the US so I was just reading scanlations off of IRC (this was just at the cusp of Bittorrent if I remember right-- like, Youtube was a year old? My failure to buy Bitcoin cheap was years ahead of me...). He’d just started Pluto I think, and 20th Century Boys was at, I think, 15-17 volumes in. I remember what I wrote being kinda lousy but if I ever collect a best of, and tune it up and put together some kinda director’s cut, I guess I’d include that in there (it’d take a lot of tuning up!)... I was always proud of being ahead of the curve on the guy, though, and he’s one of my guys, because I like his work but also just for having had that experience.

I think people in the US have a very distorted picture of Urasawa though-- partly, at his design!-- because they haven’t brought over all his work, so things like Happy or Yawara, his comedic work, hasn’t been seen. I think that’s at his request...? (I hadn’t seen Master Keaton in 2004 or that Pineapple Army one, but I don’t really rank Master Keaton high anyways-- that’s not my book for him). (The bigger problem being where the hell is Billy Bat? I didn’t scanlate that out of respect, and because back when it started, I wanted to have a shared experience of it when it came out in the US with other US fans that I didn’t get to have with his other work. But maybe I’ll cut out that respect shit later this year because boy do I ever not want to share experiences with US fans anymore-- jesus). Anyways, not that I’m saying that Happy or Yawara changes the picture considerably but that... Urasawa to me’s a mass audience entertainer, he’s like a Stephen King type guy, or a Spielberg or something, more than some artiste, and I think only seeing him in thriller-mode in the U.S. just doesn’t present the full picture of the guy, his bedrock desire to just entertain a reader in any/every way possible to him.

That and I think how Urasawa was received was badly distorted by his breakthrough in the US work being Pluto. Because it was the closest to an Ultimate-style superhero comic. And it’s a nice book, but I wish it had been 20th Century Boys instead. So many people seem to believe there’s this value in “reinventing” or “Rebooting” or whatever, I saw Pluto cited in some discussions of books that were just rebooting stupid trash, that they miss that there’s a difference: Urasawa did a reboot when he was at the peak of his career from his own work, paying homage to Tezuka, who was a peak creator-- it’s two top creators having a conversation with each other. It wasn’t just that he was in an industry that was like “well, we need ___ number of Astro Boy SKU’s” and was incapable of creating a Monster, a 20th Century Boys, a Yawara, etc., or a career that varied or full or prolific. Boring Reboot XYZ is usually missing that conversation quality...

But overall, you know: I think Monster’s a mess but an enjoyable one; I liked Happy more than other people though it’s, you know, not essential comics; I like Pluto but I don’t like it as much as other critics because I get my back up about how they rep the “wrong” Urasawa pick; I had a nice time with Sneeze (and that comic about the little girl he just did-- that one I read the first volume of on scanlations actually come to think of it), though it’s all minor, minor key stuff; and for me, I think his essential work is 20th Century Boys. The problem with 20th Century Boys, maybe the same problem to Monster (though I think Monster is easily the less interesting of the two) is it just goes on so long that its strengths get lost in the pornography of its plot, all those apocalypses, all that rushing around into and out of virtual reality flashbacks, he gets undercut by how prolific he is (which is a weird thing to say when you’re 600 chapters into One Piece but), but...

At its core, 20th Century Boys is a kind of story that I get very excited about which is the guy who has succeeded as an entertainer kind of turning back and going “I don’t know if I feel good about all the time I spent consuming this entertainment even though I love it.” I always see a continuity to the stuff I like, like Kojima or Kill Bill (I’ve been thinking a lot about Kill Bill lately on my commute), so maybe it’s all in my head. But... 20th Century Boys, as the title suggests, is very much Urasawa going “being a kid and having this pop culture, we ended up pretty screwed up, huh?” There’s even that wonderful scene where the bad guy builds his own Gundam or whatever it is, and it’s all paper mache and run down and kinda sad.

And you know, I think the story is really about, if you don’t let that stuff go, it’s going to be the end of the world... It’s not subtle! It’s very much a “maybe this shit isn’t healthy to keep in your head too long” work (and I imagine that stuff lands harder in Japan with the stuff they’ve had to work through-- they’re ahead of the curve than we are with people just checking out and going to live in fictional spaces)(we’re not headed the right way, though, and god only knows what that looks like post-COVID... no guesses there... I miss the world but when it comes back, how long before the “don’t take just sitting in a bar for granted” wears off? This was the third act of Judd Apatow’s Funny People, the massively un-entertaining portion when Sandler gets better, the part where the girl I was with just kept saying “I don’t like this” out loud over and over in a crowded theater, to I’m sure the delight of many people around us, who shared her sentiments).

But until it winds its way to finding a reconciliation, and saying, “you know, it meant something to hear that rock music in that moment, and that feeling was what mattered” at the end. (I’m talking off my ass here, I don’t really remember it 1000% clearly, that’s just how i remember that end, how it ends... I remember not LOVING the end at the time I read it, but that was one that kind of worked better as I (a) forgot it and (b) sat with it...) (That hasn’t happened with Monster though... I still don’t really love the end of Monster...).

I don’t know-- I’ve lost track of what I’m saying. Anyways: I like Urasawa. I like when he just draws talking head stuff-- seeing him do that was a *BIG DEAL* for me in 2004. That was something that’s still a big deal for me. I don’t think I knew you could do that, really, you could just make a comic of two guys talking and talking and talking, and have it be riveting, as much as when I watched him do that back then. (He moves his “camera” in such careful ways, and he’s never just doing lazy ass wide screen or repeating panels like that Mark Bagley Venom thing that went around-- it’s always a varied layout but he’ll vary the angle from 3/4ths to profiles to head on shots, and change the panel shapes to themselves reflect the emotions of what’s being said and so on and so on and so on). (He talks in his master class about making sure the gutters horizontally are smaller than the ones vertically, so the reader instinctually knows to read a row before skipping to the next row...?). I read like all of Monster while I was super-sick with a head cold and could barely move, and it was one of the best “comic experiences” of my life so (which puts it above stubbing my toe and below a sandwich I ate once from Subway)... So yeah, I feel strongly about the guy. I just think of him biographically at this point. Good? Bad? Finding out about Urasawa was part of my life.

#Worst Hobby or Worstest Hobby?

6 notes · View notes

courage-a-word-of-justice · 4 years

Text

HGPC 17 - 21 | Koi to Producer 2 - 6 | Appare 5 - 8 | Fugou Keiji 4 - 6

...only just realised I was missing some tags. They should be there now or soon.

HGPC 17

Why do I get the feeling the Sawaizumi family will be held hostage one day…? (Maybe I’m just being negative?)

The episode title mentions Chiyu by name, so I wonder why the translation didn’t…

Customer service! You can’t get away from it, even in COVID times…! (Impressive!)

Hmm…you can actually read part of the booking for the Smiths in the book if you know the kanji.

I thought the Smiths would speak in English, but they actually speak in fluent Japanese if the word “susume” was any indication.

Ah, Sukoyaka sweet buns! (from the other episode about the festival)

HGPC 18

Don’t burn down your house with scented candles, kids!

Also remember to use your knees when lifting heavy boxes! (<- says a charity store volunteer, who does this stuff on the regular)

These days the mascots usually have a human form. I wonder if this is implying that particular direction…? (I woke up today and was craving a certain oneshot I’d read during my scanlation days…if it is, it would fill that niche nicely.)

I wonder if the kids will recognise this Ashita no Joe parody…?

HGPC 19

“…since you were young?”

Oh! Element of Wind again!

Koi to Producer 2

This almost feels like Victor is assigning a school project to Protag-chan…it’s a bit sad, really.

It’s nice they let Protag-chan have a personality.

It’s fine if you can’t read the katakana, but Gavin’s name is Haku in Japanese, so it throws out the immersion somewhat…also, I know I shouldn’t be complaining – I’m the target audience here – but do these guys look kinda similar or what…? (partially kidding)

High school sweethearts, huh? “Childhood friends” is my favourite angle of a romantic relationship, but it gets so overused by harems it comes around to being boring…!

I-Is this Stand My Heroes…?! (LOL…?)

Can we not with 1st person cam…?

As cute and dorky as this stuff gets…how does Gavin never get found?! Does nobody ever look up in this city?!? (I thought Evolvers were meant to be a secret…?)

GPS tracker? That’s no better than large corporations using your location data…Isn’t that creepy…?

Hold on, when did she get his phone number? You would assume it was before this entire chase after the boy happened, but still…?

LOL, the English on the board.

This anime is gonna cause me some frustration, but it gives the good stuff in roughly equal measure. It seems to omit the fact you interact via phone with your bois for intimacy (in the game).

Koi to Producer 3

LOL, that’s so clearly Gavin…

By googling, you find out Uptown and Queens are in New York.

Ohmygosh! Did the creators know I love the trope where only people with superpowers can move in certain circumstances?!

Uh…his name is Kira in Japanese? Did someone read the katakana wrong?

Pictured: Depressed bishonen eating bad pudding. (…That joke sounds better in my head. I forgot what meme I was meant to be parodying there, but I had a meme in mind.)

Lemme guess…this man (I dunno if it’s one of the previous bishies with an identical face or a new one) is looking for MC-chan. *sigh* Update: Yep, just Victor again. To be honest, I don’t like anyone who calls harsh words “their sign of love” – love should be honest and upfront. That’s how it becomes heartmelting.

Koi to Producer 4

Okay, in order, it seems to be hexadecimals, Javascript (you can tell from the “const”), some kind of profiles which are apparently for human lab rats (which seem to have some kind of nonsense filler text), a DNA model and DNA bases (ACGT).

The text on the screen says something along the lines of this being an official broadcast of this man’s arrest and this man was a genetic researcher. Obviously, if I wanted to put more attention into what it meant, I would, but I won’t sweat the details this time (because it doesn’t seem to impact the plot).

The guy’s name is Minor because minor key (geddit?)…that’s my guess.

I started playing the game due to this anime, if you didn’t know, and I unlocked an expert in ch. 2. I thought he was Minor, but turns out his name is Spine (an older man).

The diary, true to form, contains details about either one case or several cases, two involving children. The bottom of the 1st page says “if it’s fake, I’ll laugh”.

Hey, I once told Crunchyroll I wanted an anime about hacking (so is this a dream come true? I reveal all in the next sentence!). Hackers don’t congregate like this…they’d be too conspicuous, even with the secret hideout!

The code in the top left appears to be…C? I think? (Note they declare “unsigned int”.)

Kiro sometimes reminds me of Masayoshi (SamFlam)…it puts a derpy smile on my face.

*blah blah blah I’m Key* - Wuh…? F*** you, Kiro!!! (There is such a thing as piling too much cool stuff on to a character, y’know – I’m guilty of it in my own writing.)

3684 isn’t a very safe password (says someone who once aspired to be in cybersecurity).

What bugs me is that Simon is a perfectly fine name…it’s just a bit boring. Kiro/Kira I get (a bit), but Lucien/Simon…? *shrugs*

Ohh! Based MAPPA! Thank you for making this adaption look great!

Koi to Producer 5

Oh, I got an SR in the game recently and it has a line like, “Only a fool stays up all night to do others’ work. Victor talks like that a lot…

The sign so obviously says “Renka”, meaning “love flower”. “Loveland” really is a step down from that…

Where’s Gavin’s guest badge…?

“Happiness Noodle Store”…?

“…the end of our first year…”

If this weren’t a Chinese work by origin (or Japanese work by translation), I’m sure Protag-chan would have gone after Gavin, despite being told the contrary.

Kanya = Minor. I’ll take a note of that.

One of the books behind Minor says “Gale Start”…hmm…

That GPS tracker is still unintentionally creepy, IMHO.

Koi to Producer 6

…oh. (dejected) Probably a beach episode or something.

What the actual heck was going on with Lucien…? It’s like he was having a tiny stroke there…

Lucien’s power is listed as “???” in the game. I thought he was an aura-reader when he said “show me your colour”, but that shield thing he did means he might just have various psychic powers…? *shrugs* We’ll find out eventually.

Running in heels is hard…

LOL, that’s so clearly recreating a CG from one of the cards.

This is the 2nd time this has gone pseudo-isekai. As much as I like to joke about it…I fully expect someone to be sent to another world at this point.

I couldn’t possibly see Victor on any kind of game show, come to think of it.

Appare 5

This guy’s middle name is “Rich”! That’s silly!

A boombox from the 19th century…makes sense, somehow.

I only just (?) realised Al has a tiny tie on his usual outfit.

Back to the beginning already…just start!

Appare 6

…I just realised Appare mouths “I got it!” in the OP.

Al Lion (sic…?)

Isn’t Sofia in that train…? Update: She might have been, she might not. Hard to tell when they don’t confirm.

This series seriously could’ve done with a dub…Even with weird hokey Hetalia accents, it would be good stuff.

These bunches of people at designated points…reminds me of the book I was reading while in Japan. The Long Walk by Stephen King (part of a compilation). It still gives me shivers down my spine when I remember it.

This “leave in the middle of the night” thing reminds me of the Amazing Race.

“Valley of Despair” is made-up, but Death Valley exists. It’s one of the hottest places on earth, hence the name.

LOL, Kosame scores himself one (1) prarie dog and two (2) Hototos.

I thought Appare was being inconsiderate at first…but he’s being considerate, in his own way.

Oh! I didn’t realise, but Saito Soma is Al.

Appare 7

“It’s not one plus one, but one times one!” – LOL.

Hybrid engine? In the 1900s? Hmm…

LOL, I think Al just did a hadouken.

This stuff’s like an animated Galaxy Brain meme! It’s amazing!

I managed to successfully predict – without watching ahead – Appare would catch himself with his traps.

Kosame with his hair down…is rare. Not exactly attractive because we have to care about the racers rather than lust after them (and the artstyle actually prevents me from doing so, because it’s deliberately quite cartoony), but it’s rare.

Appare is surprisingly childish…that’s what makes him more than a Sheldon Cooper, I think.

The spelling of the place is actually “Ely”, if Google-sensei is any indication. C’mon, subbers! You’re American (most likely)! Can’t you put in the legwork (or the Google-fu) to discover what place in Nevada this is?!

Subbers make characters say “shit” a lot in this show, hmm? (contemplative)

Now this evil guy here *points to screen*…that’s hair I like.

Appare 8

I just love this OP…don’t you?

I like how the steam/gas boat/car has Chinese numerals on its dial.

Kosame means “small rain”, so “heavy rain” is obviously to contrast that.

The Hototo joke never gets old.

I thought I just saw someone leave the saloon…

Nice hair + terrible face = bad equation.

I can almost imagine the wee-oo-wee-oo-ooooooo…wah-wah-wahhh…(You know the one sound snippet, right? The one theme from The Good, the Bad and the Ugly - or whatever movie it is – that maybe involves a tumbleweed rolling across the screen, and then a huge shootout? If you don’t know it, play a sample on this Wikipedia page!) playing in the background.

It’s convenient the prarie dog didn’t appear when Hototo (old) had his revenge spree.

I noticed there’s a bit of a mark under Kosame’s left eye…it suggests that he’s been crying (or maybe it shows tiredness from the race…?), but it’s not that noticeable.

So that’s the real Gil…and tose were his henchmen that threatened to hang everyone bar Kosame. Got it.

(notes to self) So, for charting a course with Appare Ranman!, it’s Los Angeles -> Death Valley -> Ely -> Denver -> ??? -> New York. Got it.

Fugou Keiji 4

“Daisuke-sama” isn’t “Lord Daisuke”, it would be “Sir Daisuke”, I think…but “lord” has a proper translation in Japanese.

The truck has a Shinagawa licence plate. Anime really does like Shinagawa, huh? (Based on ID: INVADED and this.)

I think it’ll be interesting to see Kambe handle this without HEUSC.

The board for Sanchome (which is equivalent to a suburb…or a county, I guess?) has posters saying stuff like “take your dog poop home” and “let’s protect the environment!” (technically, it says “let’s protect the region/area!”, but that doesn’t translate right. There’s even a flea market. Still, those posters don’t have any big hints…not that I know of so far.

I kind of forgot that dude was the gardener for Kambe’s house…er, mansion.

I noticed a poster in the kouban says haru (spring) on it. That’s probably the same one that Haru’s name is signified by, assuming that’s not in combo with another character or few.

Oh great…the sister is an overbearing one.

Ahh…he doesn’t like natto. So that’s the problem. Daisuke is childish (like Appare)…Note I don’t like natto either, but I wouldn’t run away from home (or similar) because I was fed natto.

I noticed Kambe uses shinseki (which doesn’t refer to close family). “Relative” is a correct translation of that word, I just wanted to check that word was the right one for the context.

There’s a green tea bottle by the sink…I don’t think I’d mistake that shade of green for anything else.

LOL, I didn’t think we’d actually get to see Kambe with his hair “down”, so to speak. It’s…an interesting look, for sure.

Oh my gosh! It cost him (Haru) $15!!! (LOL, cheapskate…says the cheapskate…*suddenly droops and stops laughing*) Update: Sorry about the sudden downer there. I was having what the kids these days call a “woke moment”…at least, I think that’s how they use that term.

…I’d watch that crime drama. It’s funny.

Just realised Kato has an older model of phone than Kambe does.

This episode was kinda like a Tokyo Sonata kind of thing, huh? The sensational in the middle of the not-so-sensational…”sensational” for this show, anyway.

Those kids look like the ones from Erased.

*lightbulb goes off in brain* What if the dog went to Kambe’s…?

Can Suzue actually hear HEUSC while Kambe is using it…? $2.46 though…that is cheap, in comparison to the ham.

This was the cheapest episode so far (about $550)…probably because it was an insight into Kato’s life, more than Kambe’s.

Fugou Keiji 5

The flag seems to be based on Cameroon’s (which is in Africa, not America) and the “Arita Kinen” seems to refer to Arima Kinen, meaning this episode is set around Christmas-ish. Credit goes to Kambe Zaibatsu on this show.

I-It’s a Humvee!

Polyadoll (sic)…?

The Poliador guy speaks perfect Japanese…(?)

The star! It’s a key thingy!

I thought Kamei was the 1st Division dude with the reddish hair. Turns out it was the blonde…? Update: Redhead is Hoshino.

Ummmmmm…he was reading porn…? Uhhhhhhhhhhhhh…okayyyyyyyyyyyyy…

…oh, the costs for Kambe’s tuxedo are on there. So’s the cost for repairing the bike Suzue rode.

Fugou Keiji 6

I never knew there were so many money proverbs to be used as episode titles…

What is Kambe doing with his hands…? He’s not even using the computer.

Imura seems to use a Windows 10 with Cortana on the taskbar.

HGPC 20

What’s with all the Naruto running this episode…?

HGPC 21

(no notes, sorry!)

#simulcast commentary #healin' good precure #fugou keiji: balance unlimited #millionaire detective #Koi to Producer: EVOL x LOVE #mr love queen's choice #Appare Ranman!#Chesarka watches AR #Chesarka watches HGPC #Chesarka watches Koi to Producer #Chesarka watches Fugou Keiji

3 notes · View notes

hystericalrogertaylor · 5 years

Text

A Royal Mess

Pairing: Prince!Ben Hardy X Princess!Reader

Word Count: 2519

Prompt: “I can’t walk away from something that wasn’t supposed to end!”

Warnings: Angst? That should be it

A/N: Heyyyy! This is for @bensroger ’s writing challenge! And we’re going to pretend it’s completely historically accurate! I tried to make the location of reader’s kingdom as obscure as possible so anyone can read it. Enjoy!

My master list is in my profile description!

(I’d add a “read more” line, but I’m publishing this on my phone. Sorry! Also, I apologize if the spacing looks a little funny.)

~~~

You met Ben at the 1889 World’s Fair in Paris, France. Many monarchs had come from all over the world, and you, the princess and heir to the throne in your country, were chosen to represent your small nation. Your father had decided it wasn’t his cup of tea since the event in New York wasn’t as exciting as he would have liked, but he wanted someone there to represent him. And that was you, his only child.

Ben was there because his parents, the king and queen of a different small nation, had dragged him along. He found these things unspeakably boring; he enjoyed bossing people around and hanging out with his rich friends, who were the children of his father’s friends. These fairly fancy events were not his scene.

You met when he, quite literally, ran into you. He was clowning around with another prince who was forced to come, throwing a ball back and forth in a desperate attempt to relieve boredom. The other prince, his name was Rami, accidentally threw the ball over Ben’s head. Ben turned around to run after it, not noticing you standing a few feet behind him. He slammed into you, and the ball went bouncing down the aisle, never to be seen again.

“Sorry!” Ben almost had to shout over the volume in the room. “Sorry, I didn’t mean--” He stopped mid-sentence, finally able to look his victim in the face. She was gorgeous. For the first time in his life, Prince Benjamin had no idea what to say.

You brushed off your dress, smoothing out the wrinkles. It was a floor-length, draped dress made of soft, baby blue fabric. You were royalty, but you didn’t want to attract attention. “It’s quite all right,” you said. “No harm done.”

Ben was blushing, he was so embarrassed. He knew he should’ve been watching where he was going, but instead he had to smash right into the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

You blinked. “Are you all right? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

Ben shook his head violently. “Yes! I-I’m great! Just, uh, enjoying my time in Germany!”

Rami appeared over his shoulder. “We’re not in Germany,” he whispered.

“France!” Ben corrected himself loudly. “France. We’re not in Germany, I knew that.”

You giggled. “And where might you be from?”

Ben stuttered again, trying to form coherent words. “Um, j-just a little nation, you’ve probably never heard of it. A-And you?”

“Similar circumstances.” You turned to the machine next to you, gazing at it. “Isn’t it fascinating?”

Ben nodded. “Yeah, it looks really...neat.” He shifted uncomfortably. “That’s why I’m here, to look at interesting machines.”

“You told me--” Ben slapped a hand over Rami’s mouth, shooting a death glare his way. Rami backed up, disappearing behind some large machine.

Ben gave you a cheesy smile, recovering a little bit of his confidence. “So, how about we find something to eat? Just the two of us?”

You returned his smile. “I’d love that.”

---

The two of you were able to find a cute little cafe away from the exhibits of the World’s Fair. You were able to sit outside, eating little sandwiches and chatting. You were an expert in body language, and from watching Ben, you were able to tell he fancied you. What you were unintentionally neglecting was you own body, showing the same signs he was. You found Ben quite attractive, but your logical side was trying to ignore those feelings. Your emotional side really, really wanted to kiss him.

“I’m heir to the throne, but I don’t think I’m mature enough for the crown,” Ben admitted. “I’ve been trained all my life for the day I’ll finally be king, but it seems like a dream, not something I’ll actually have to deal with someday.”

“I as well.” You took a sip of the tea you had. “Queen is a hefty title, and I’m not sure I can live up to all my father’s done.”

“I’m sure you’ll be a wonderful ruler.” Ben smiled at you, his eyes showing a kindness you’d never known from anyone else.

You smiled down at your plate of half-eaten sandwiches. “I’m sure you’ll be an even more magnificent king.”

“Thank you.” Ben took a sip of his tea, a large smile plastered across his face. You were easier to talk to than any of the people back in his kingdom.

You set down your teacup, standing up and smoothing out your dress again. “Well, it’s getting dark. We could either go look at more exhibits, which I could tell you hated, or we could go look at the Eiffel Tower at night. Up close.”

Ben gulped. “Yeah, that sounds great.” He didn’t want to let on how much he hated that damn eye sore. His opinions ran along with those of the native French, while yours seemed to align with those of most of the other visitors.

You stood up, beckoning him in the direction of the tower. “Let’s go then, before it gets crowded.”

He rose from his chair, pushed it in, and followed you. He could see said tower in the distance, and it was only half lit. He felt bad for the poor saps who had to light each of the gas lamps.

It took the two of you long enough to walk to the Eiffel Tower that all the lamps were lit once you reached it. The tower glowed, almost sparkling in the dark of the evening. Ben was actually awe-struck; he couldn’t think anything could be done to the wrought-iron structure to make it actually viewable. Several other attendees of the World’s Fair were milling around, looking up at the tower, some even kissing. Ben thought it strange that some people would be willing to kiss in public like that. Oh well, he thought. This is a different country, after all.

You slowly meandered until you stood directly under the tower. You both craned your necks to look upward. It was a different kind of stunning from this angle.

“An architectural wonder,” you whispered, completely in awe. Ben looked over at you, impressed by the superior intellect you’d shown throughout the day. He could safely say that he’d never met someone like you, and it was amazing.

You looked at him, stepping closer. “What are you thinking about?” you asked quietly.

Ben hesitated. “I don’t know, I would just really like to kiss you.”

You cocked your head. “And what’s stopping you?”

“We’re in public…” Ben said slowly. “It would be awkward.”

You pressed your body against his, grabbing the collar of his crisp dress shirt. “Well, I think I’d rather like to kiss you, Benjamin.” You ran a finger lightly across his jaw. You lowered your voice even more. “And I don’t give two damns who’s watching.”

Ben’s hands grabbed at your waist, pulling you closer as he slammed his lips into yours. You angled your head, kissing him passionately. Neither of you had ever kissed someone before, and doing so in public, without any promise of courtship or marriage, was extremely scandalous. You could hear the gasps of a few people walking by, watching two members of different royal families locking lips under the Eiffel Tower. It was a sight to behold, but you two only cared about each other.

You both pulled apart what felt like hours later. Ben’s lips were swollen, and you could feel that yours were too as you smirked in satisfaction. Ben, frankly, looked shocked. He’d just kissed a girl? In public? On the day he’d met her?

“Why did we do that?” he asked.

You shrugged. “On ne vit qu’une fois.”

Ben’s fingers lightly touched your face. “Can we do that again?” he whispered.

“I don’t see why not.” You tilted your head back up into his.

---

You and Ben spent as much time together as you could. You tried not to kiss again, but it was difficult when there was blatant physical chemistry. You loved Ben’s cocky yet kind attitude, and he loved how confident you were in your own skin. And, somewhere along the line, you had both attached onto false hope that maybe this could all work out. Two heirs to two separate thrones could court and marry each other. The only two who didn’t see the logic were you and Ben.

On the final day of the World’s Fair, you parted ways. Ben kissed the back of your hand, and you boarded your respective ships. You stood on the deck of the ship, head in your hands, watching Ben’s ship disappear until you could see it no longer.

As soon as you arrived back in your country, you sat down in your chamber and wrote Ben a letter. Despite being many miles apart, you were still interested in keeping in touch with him. Once you’d stuffed the finished letter in an envelope and sealed it, you handed it to your maid, who knew what to do with it. You lay down in your bed with a book, trying to ignore your loneliness.

Ben had done the same thing. He’d written you a quick, sweet letter, and had sent it on its way. He sat out in the palace garden, tapping his foot and staring at some flowers that reminded him of you. Your time together had been short, but he was enamored by you. He was determined to meet you again and see what grew from the little soil that was there.

---

“You what?” you exclaimed, staring at your father, the king, in disbelief.

“Darling, he’s perfect for you. You can rule as queen, he’ll be your prince consort, and it will bring the two kingdoms together for better trade and economics.” He had just told you about a prince from a different kingdom who you were to be married to. You had met him when you were a child, and you two had completely despised each other.

“No!” you shouted. “I won’t do it!”

You father rose from the chair he was in. He stood at least a foot and a half over you, which he’d never used to intimidate you until now. “Young lady, this is not a matter you have a say in. You couldn’t possibly know all of what is necessary to rule a country. No one marries for love, they marry for bloodlines and money.”

You sputtered; everything you thought you’d known about your parents crumbled in that very moment. “But...you love my mother, don’t you?”

“Only because I’ve been forced to spend every day of the past twenty five years with her.” He sighed as he noticed some tears fall down your face. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry. But this is what’s going to be best for the country that you’ll eventually have to rule.”

“You’re mad.” You slowly backed up towards the door. “This whole system is mad.”

“Your emotions will get in the way of you being a good queen!” your father exclaimed. “You cannot rule with your heart!”

You slammed the door, dashing down the hall to God knows where.

---

You wrote a letter to Ben, explaining the situation. Through these letters, over the course of several months, you and Ben had fallen in love, though you were unable to communicate in person. You knew you’d have to try to forget about him, but you didn’t want to desert him without any explanation.

Ben read your most recent letter, a smile plastered across his face. Your writings were one of the very few things he looked forward to. However, the smile quickly fell when he realized what you were talking about. An arranged marriage. To someone that wasn’t him.

He knew he didn’t want to lose you, not in this way. He immediately hopped on a ship, despite his parents’ attempts to stop him, and sailed to your nation. His ship got into one of your harbors, and there was visible confusion; no one was expecting him. He ran down the ramp, heading straight for the castle. He was as tired as he’d ever been, due to the lack of sleep on the ship, but he tried to ignore it. He needed to talk to you.

He reached the gates, grabbing onto the bars and searching the courtyard. The only people milling around there were gardeners. “Hello!” he shouted. “I need to speak to Princess (Y/n)!”

One older gardener looked up, cocking an eyebrow. “Young man,” he began, “you can’t just run up here and expect for us to let you in so you can speak to our heir. Go home.”

“I’m Prince Benjamin!” Ben exclaimed. “She knows me! You can ask her!”

A different gardener eyed him suspiciously before heading into the castle. He returned a few minutes later, sending a thumbs up to Ben. The prince sighed, letting one of his hands fall from the bars of the gate.

A while later, he saw you sprinting towards him from the castle. Your dress dragged in the grass, no doubt leaving stains. But you couldn’t care less. Ben was here, and you couldn’t have been more happy and sad at the same time.

You flung open the gate, falling directly into his arms. Both of you were sweaty, neither of you looked very royal, but both of you only wanted to pay attention to the person in front of you.

“Why are you here?” you mumbled into his chest.

“I read your letter.” He held you tighter. “I didn’t want to believe it was true. I hoped I could come here and stop it.”

You suddenly remembered your resolve. You pushed him away, wiping a tear away. “Ben, we can’t. There’s no way to stop it. We can’t--”

“I can talk to your father!” Ben seemed very passionate about keeping you, and it was breaking your heart. “I can convince him that we’d be better together!”

“Ben, no.”

“Why not?” He was almost shouting in desperation. “Please! Just let me try!”

You sniffled. “Ben, you have to leave me.”

“I can’t walk away from something that wasn’t supposed to end!” He fell down to his knees, clasping his hands in a begging fashion. “It can work, just please let me talk to your father.”

You shook your head. “I can’t. As much as I’d love to marry you, we can’t. It’s not realistic.”

“Nothing about us is realistic.” He stood back up, holding your hands in his. “We met in Paris, kissed after just meeting, and were then violently pulled apart. We can survive.”

You wrenched away from him, turning your back. You went back through the gate, closing it on him. “Goodbye, Benjamin.” You turned, ignoring his voice as you went back to your castle to continue planning for you wedding.

Ben stumbled back to his ship, completely in a trance. The only woman who he’d ever loved was being ripped away from him, forever this time. He boarded his ship, it left the harbor, and it never went back to Ben’s home kingdom. Nul ne sait ce qui lui est arrivé.

226 notes · View notes

roonil-wazlib-at-221b · 5 years

Text

Four Years: Part 1

Looking

Pairing: Sam Winchester x reader

Dean jumps when Ash drops a thick folder on the counter next to him.

His hand knocks over the room-temperature beer bottle he’d been nursing from last night and it spills in his lap. The liquid, and smash of the bottle on the ground, make him open his eyes with shock. The light hurts his eyes and starts a throbbing headache that feels like his brain is just a bit too large for his skull. Dean throws up a hand to his face to shield his eyes but, having forgotten he was sitting on a stool when he passed out, tilts back just a bit too far.

“Whoa!”

He hits the ground and has to gasp for a second to get air into his empty lungs.

All this happens in a span of five seconds and Dean’s hungover brain makes that whirring noise old laptops make when they’re turning on before he can fully process that, yes, he is on the ground, his shoulder and tailbone ache now, and his headache was only worsened by his head hitting the hard floor.

A loud burst of laughter makes Dean groan.

Sam bends over at the waist, shoulders shuddering as he laughs.

“Shut up,” Dean grumbles. “Bitch.”

Sam hiccups, unable to wipe the shit-eating grin off his face. “You’re not very alert for a hunter, you jerk.”

“I’m allowed to celebrate saving a kid’s life,” Dean mumbles back, cracking open an eye with caution.

The smile slides right off Sam’s face at the reminder of the case they’d just finished. A lone werewolf had been hiding in the woods near a town and kidnapped a bunch of kids in order to turn them and create a new pack. They’d all been turned except one.

It makes Sam a little sick to think about walking into the bloodbath—one of the turned kids had gotten loose and killed the others.

“I guess,” the younger Winchester mutters.

“Why’d you wake me up?”

Jo nudges his form with the toe of her boot. “We’ve got a roadhouse to run. Plus, we have a case for you. And it was really funny.”

That piques Dean’s curiosity. “What is it? Vamps? Wendigo? Werewolf?”

“We’re not sure,” Ash answers, handing the folder to Sam to rifle through. “Hunters have been dropping off the grid. A lot.”

“We’ve got people that’ve been finding abandoned cars and phones, too,” Jo adds. “Then the missing hunters show up—sometimes—and they set up a normal life. These are people that have shown no inclination to leave before, mind you.”

“So hunters are leaving the life?” Dean asks, sitting up to frown at Jo. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Uh, the disappearance?” Jo snaps. “The abandoned cars and phones? They don’t go back for their shit, Dean. It’s just there, and police have been finding the arsenals in the trunk. There are more cops breathing down people’s necks at all times. Hunters leaving the life? Some of them, sure, but people like Bruce Chappell and Y/N Y/L/N—they like the life. Y/N said to me a bunch of times how much she’d hated school.”

“Hold on, did you say Y/N Y/L/N?” Dean interrupts. He and Sam share a worried look. Now there’s no way they won’t take the case.

“Yeah.” Jo bites her lip, eyes scanning over Dean’s face. “Why, you know her?”

Sam and Dean nod in unison.

“Her dad and our dad were friends—sort of. I mean, her dad used to drop her off with us whenever they went hunting together. She was a year younger than me and a terrible influence,” Sam reminisces. “Our dad always got so mad whenever they’d get back because she’d always get us in trouble but he couldn’t stay mad at her for long. She was really good at pretending to be innocent and sweet.”

“Yeah,” Dean grumbles, glaring at Sam as he hoists himself up into a chair, “and I almost always got in trouble, because Sammy always backed Y/N up. She’s like a fucking spider and Sam got caught up in her web, but goddamnit…” he sighs and leans across the table for the case folder Ash had compiled. “I got stuck in her web too. She was a little heathen.”

Jo blinks at them. “That’s… I’ve never heard you speak better about someone.”

“Well, she’s basically my little sister… in law.” Dean grunts when Sam kicks him under the table. “Hey! Sorry, ex -sister-in-law.”

Jo laughs, confused but knowing that what she’s watching is funny.

“Sammy here had a crush ,” Dean sings. Sam kicks him again. “Ow! You’re a menace, Sammy.”

“Y/N never mentioned you two,” Jo says, frowning. You’d only ever talked about hunting and made empty, half-drunk, and not-remembered promises to take Jo hunting after she finished high school. Then, about four years ago, you’d stopped dropping by so frequently and never brought up hunting together again.

“See,” Dean points at her, “that’s why I say ‘ex’. Sam left to go to college and Y/N didn’t like that. She hasn't contacted us since. Hell hath no fury, right?”

“It’s not like that,” Sam mutters, embarrassed and red. “She’s my annoying little sister and she felt like I was abandoning her. Dean’s always been annoying about his fantasy about me liking Y/N. He wants her to be really in the family. But anyway.” He grabs the case file out of Dean’s hands. “She’s missing?”

Jo nods. “I tried calling her a week ago and she hasn’t picked up since. I don’t know how long exactly she’s been missing, but Rufus and Bobby found her car and brought it back to Bobby’s.”

Sam swallows and Dean’s face goes somber.

“We should head over there, then,” Dean declares. “Maybe there’s a clue in her car about what happened to her.”

Sam nods but keeps his eyes glued to the picture Ash had used for your profile in the file. You’re older than he’d ever seen you in life. His chest aches when he thinks about how much of pure you he’s missed out on for years. It’s crazy to how he saw you constantly as a kid and he doesn’t even know what you look like now.

And it was all for nothing. He’s hunting again, but without you in the backseat. And you’re missing.

“Yeah, let’s go,” Sam says suddenly, his eyes watering because of all the dust in the roadhouse, and nobody mentions his choked voice.

“Little sister my ass,” is all Jo mutters as her eyes follow the boys out.

Sandwiched between two boys both six inches taller than you, fifteen-year-old you leans back on the couch and pouts as both fathers lecture the three of you.

“Dean, you’re twenty years old,” John scolds. “You should know better than to help Y/N and Sam sneak into an amusement park!”

“We just wanted to see if we could,” Sam protests. Your dad crosses his arms.

“Yeah, and if you all got caught? You would all get arrested.”

“We had a fake story all planned out!” you pipe up indignantly. “Dean had a fake I.D. and everything! Besides, we just would’ve broken out.”

“Put a finger to your lips, Y/N!” your father barks. “You are in deep, deep trouble.”

“Nothing even happened!” you snap back, clenching your jaw and narrowing your eyes slightly.

“John and I came home and we didn’t know where you were! There was no way for us to find you!”

“You never tell me where you’re hunting!”

“What if there had been a monster at Kings Dominion?” Your dad’s face is starting to turn red, as is yours.

“Y/N,” Sam mutters at your side and you very deliberately plant your hands on the couch and lift your butt so you move away from him. Sam falls silent as if struck dumb.

You like to run the show whenever you’re with the Winchester boys and do not like it when they back someone else over you. It may be a little childish and petty, but you’ll be petty when you can. Almost every other aspect of your life requires you to be generous and self-sacrificing.

“We had our weapons,” you reply to your dad, ignoring Sam. Your voice is suddenly cool and aloof. It’s your way to assert dominance—acting like you’re above everyone and you couldn’t care less about them. “We’re allowed to have fun sometimes.”

“Not dangerous fun,” your dad mutters, beginning to cool down as you freeze. He can’t stay mad at you for long. None of them can.

“All fun is dangerous,” Dean butts in but raises his hands in surrender when your dad glares at him. “Never mind.”

“Coward,” you mumble under your breath and Dean jabs you in the side with his ebow. You squeal and fall into Sam’s lap. Your dads roll their eyes and the past is behind you all, even though everyone knows you’ll come up with another crazy idea the boys will follow you into executing soon.

Sam sticks a finger into your side and you twist away from him, too, pink from laughter or embarrassment or something else you’ve decided to ignore so it’ll go away staining your cheeks and making your ears hot.

Your elbow hits Sam in the gut and he groans. Dean laughs and then grunts when Sam hits him lightly on the shoulder.

“Oh, it is on,” Dean growls and lunges at his younger brother. You scoot away from the fight you’d started and laugh as the brothers tussle.

Even while fighting, Sam’s ears recognize your laugh and he blushes at the thought of you watching him play fight with Dean.

“Hey, Sammy,” Dean whispers while Sam has him pinned, “your pathetic puppy-love crush is super obvious.”

“Hello?” Dean waves his hand in front of Sam’s nose. His little brother is staring out the window with no expression on his face and vacant eyes. “Earth to Sammy?” He snaps again and Sam blinks, disoriented, before shoving Dean’s hand away from his face. “Where’d you go?” Dean inquires, switching his gaze back to the flat expanse of pavement Baby’s cruising along.

Sam clears his throat and replies, “Just... lost in thought,” deliberately avoiding the question.

Dean can tell that immediately, obviously, but he doesn’t question his brother. “Okay.”

The silence between them lasts only ten seconds before Sam angles his body in Dean’s direction and says, “Dean?”

“Yeah?”

Sam furrows his eyebrows. “Why’d Y/N never contact you? Me, I get… sort of. But you’d think she’d still want to keep in touch with you.”

“It’s like I always said, Sammy,” Dean grins, “Y/N was only using me to get to you.” He chuckles.

Sam rolls his eyes. The idea of him having a crush on Y/N is laughable, but not even a love potion could get you to like him in any way other than as a brother. Which doesn’t make Sam’s stomach churn. It was the roadhouse food, for sure—Jo and Ellen are great, but the food they serve is just as good as any other roadhouse’s food—which is to say, terrible.

“Nah, I’m joking. We all know I was her favorite, at least until she started blushing at the mere mention of you.”

Sam shakes his head.

Dean shrugs. “Fine, believe what you want to believe, it’s your loss. We both know Y/N would never make the first move if she actually liked a guy. If you don’t accept your feelings she’s gonna move on eventually. If she hasn’t alrea—”

“Look, you’re not my relationship counselor or whatever,” Sam interrupts. “Please stop with all that crap.”

The elder brother sighs. “You know full well Y/N’s spotty with her comms. I guess she was so mad at you she got mad at me because we’re brothers or some weird excuse—so thanks for being such a humongous dick my baby sister hated me, by the way—and I didn’t call her and she didn’t call me. At first she was probably just mad but then she probably got anxious and then I got a new number because my phone got smashed, so I wouldn’t be able to answer any of her calls if she did call me and then she would probably think that I hated her for disconnecting my number so…” Dean heaves a sigh and shrugs again. “You left me with a heaping pile of shit, man. And you broke her heart. I don’t care if you think Y/N loved you romantically or platonically, she felt abandoned by you.”

Sam stares at his lap. “I know Y/N can hold grudges, but still. That’s pretty extreme.”

“You give her too much credit, man,” Dean replies. “Y/N isn’t good with emotions that aren’t anger or happiness, so she just changes all the other ones to those two. You know her mom was shit, plus she’s a hunter… I’m not surprised she reacted like that. Hell, we’re better adjusted than her and you know what Dad was like.”

Sam shifts in his seat. “She’s pretty good, Dean.”

“Yeah, she is.” Dean looks at his brother out of the corner of his eye. “We helped. You, especially, what with your desire to turn our life into a chick flick.”

Sam laughs, not because it was especially funny, but to break the tension, and after a pause Dean gives a chuckle too. “Nothing could turn our life into a chick flick.”

“Maybe an action-slash-romance after you save her,” Dean muses.

Sam shoves him.

Sam goes to search your car while Dean passes out in one of Bobby’s spare rooms. He’d wanted to come along too, but a full night of driving had him struggling to keep his eyes open.

“Her keys were in the ignition,” Bobby says while unlocking the car with said keys. “Rufus and I cleared out the trash in the back and washed the laundry, which I put into the trunk. I doubt you’ll be able to find anything we didn’t. I know all Y/N’s tricks. Good luck, though, boy.” He pats Sam on the shoulder and leaves him with your small Prius. Dean had always hated it because of its boringness, and you’d always responded by predicting his unusual car be the thing that helps cops track him down, if cops were ever on his ass.

“My car is normal and small,” you’d always said. “Nobody will ever notice it, and I don’t have a Bigfoot brother to lug around.”

“And you’re too small to see the road when you’re driving bigger cars,” Sam always teased, grinning, and you’d always gone a bit red and aimed a kick at his shin.

Sam has to crouch to start feeling around in your car, but one accidental brush against a hot seatbelt buckle makes him hiss and flinch away.

When Dean comes out, all four of the doors of your car are opened and Sam’s ass is sticking in the air as he feels around the car in the driver’s area. There’s got to be a hidden compartment somewhere, if Sam knows— knew you.

Maybe you changed.

Dean’s voice shakes that thought from Sam’s mind as he says, “Wow, this really brings back memories, doesn’t it?”

“Not really,” Sam’s about to say, because you’d only had the car for two months before he left for Stanford and whenever the three of you hunted together you always traveled in the Impala, but Dean continues to talk.

“Remember when I got stabbed by a vamp and had to lie in the backseat but there wasn’t enough room?”

“I do not remember that,” Sam replies. He can’t even imagine the three of you in that car together. He and Dean are just too big.

The humor slides right off Dean’s face. “Oh, yeah,” he says flatly and turns around.

“What’s the sudden attitude about?” Sam asks.

“You didn’t go with us on that hunt because you were too busy watching the mail and, more importantly, making sure Dad wouldn’t find your Stanford letter. Remember?” Dean leans against the car’s opposite side. “We got patched up, came through the door, Y/N said something about all hunting together, and you just blurted out, ‘I’m leaving you guys’.”

Sam sighs and gives up on the search momentarily, standing up to glare at his brother. “Dude, you gotta stop guilt-tripping me about leaving for college. I get that you were hurt by my decision, but it’s just that—my decision.”

“I’m not getting into this argument with you,” Dean mutters and crouches down to search through the car as well.

Sam rolls his eyes. “Dean—”

“Aha!” Dean holds up a box that he’d pulled from somewhere, but Sam had checked that side twice and found nothing. Where could you have hid a box about half the length of a pillow where Sam, Bobby, and Rufus wouldn’t have found it?

“Where’d you—”

“Me and Y/N hollowed out the passenger seat a bit and stuck this box inside for her to hide stuff. It’s where she keeps her journal, mostly, so maybe that’ll help us figure out when and where she went missing. We invited you to help, but you needed to study.”

“Dude.” Sam stands up and slams the driver’s door shut. “Stop, okay? I get it. I left. I’m back now, aren’t I?”

“Just wait until we find Y/N,” Dean says. “If you think I’m being bad or annoying about how you abandoned us and, if it was up to you, Yellow-Eyes would be running rampant and killing people’s moms.”

“I’m sure I’ll get it bad from Y/N!” Sam replies. “But you can’t hold that against me for the rest of my life, okay?”

“You’re right,” Dean concedes. Sam’s mouth barely has enough time to quirk up before he adds, “I’m sure you’ll do something else I can get pissed at you for doing sometime in the future.”

Sam rolls his eyes and turns back to the house.

“Well, you are my younger brother!” Dean yells at his retreating back. “I’m always gonna be on your case about something !”

“Idjits,” Bobby mutters and Dean takes the box from Sam, which is much lighter than it looks (and should be, Dean’s brain says, but you might have gotten a new, smaller journal after filling up your first one, and used the burner phone without getting a new one, and put the photo album somewhere else in the car) and sets it on the table.

He pats his pockets up and down until the zip-up one on his left leg yields results. A relatively new-looking silver key glints in the light as he puts it in the lock and turns.

There’s nothing in the box.

“Did you find anything apart from the trash, clothes, and weapons?” Dean asks.

Bobby shakes his head.

The boys scour your car for three straight hours but come up with nada again. Sam hit every square inch of the car’s interior to knock loose any secret compartments. Dean cuts open every seat for more hidden boxes, reminding himself to just buy you a better car. His little sister won’t be driving around in a Prius.

Bobby even looks at the interior and exterior of the car with a blacklight on the off chance you’d left a message in invisible ink.

There’s absolutely nothing.

“I wanna key this car so bad,” Dean finally grumbles when they all give up.

“Y/N’s already gonna be pissed about her seats,” Sam points out. He wouldn’t stop Dean if he did, though. He’s just as frustrated as his brother, and also exhausted. He has to run a hand through his hair to get it away from his forehead to cool down a bit. “Hey, Dean?”

“Hmm?”

“How come you had a key to Y/N’s box?”

“We got them driving home on the night you left,” Dean starts.

“Shit, did you and Y/N decide to do everything in the few days before I left? God damn it.” Sam has to stare up at the sky and count to three before gritting out, “Sorry. I’m just annoyed by your constant guilt trips and anxious about Y/N. By all means, continue and make me feel even worse, please.”

Dean leans against the car and closes his eyes. “You know perfectly well Y/N was always doing fifty million things at once. It was just convenient, what with how we had recently made the box but Y/N wanted a lock on it, and we saw a place for that at the Walmart we stopped at for snacks. She got three.”

Sam exhales sharply and closes his eyes as well. Both brothers lean against the car with no clues, the sun just starting to set. Without opening his eyes, “Sam asks, sounding like someone is twisting his arm, “Is it too forward of me to assume the third key was to be mine?”

“Nah, it was,” Dean replies. His eyes burn.

“Great,” is all Sam mutters. Dean hears him walk away but can’t bear to watch him do it. He doesn’t know where one of his siblings is, and the one that’s walking away from him now is the one that always walks away. The one that never walks away walked away from him too.

After a while Dean remembers to put the empty box back in your car. It seems like too much hassle to put it back inside the seat correctly, so Dean opens up the trunk to set it inside. The trunk doesn’t close fully when he tries to, even when dean slams it, so he shoves some knives away from the space he wants it to go in. One knife slips under the carpet bottom of the trunk, even though there shouldn’t be a slit in the fabric there. You’d probably torn it while tossing weapons in after a hunt.

Dean lifts up the flap to retrieve the knife and his mouth drops open.

“But if she didn’t want anyone to find them, Y/N would’ve put them in the hidden box that only she and you can open!” Sam argues.

“Maybe someone else knew about the box or had the key? There’s not a lot of other possible scenarios, Sam. A monster would’ve just dumped the whole book instead. Why take the trouble of taking every picture out of its page and putting them in the trunk of her car? Y/N obviously wanted to keep them safe.”

Bobby ignores the bickering brothers and sorts through each of the pictures separately. They’re the Polaroids that print immediately. Your dad gotten you one of those cameras because they were easier to use than trying to go through the whole printing process at, like, a Costco or whatever.

One picture is of Bobby cleaning out one of his guns, another a sopping-wet Sam next to a grinning Dean. There’s one of the dog you and Sam had had for a week when you’d run away as kids.

A few feature a man who looks almost sickly-thin next to a smiling version of you Bobby hardly recognizes: you, a full adult now, without Sam or Dean by your side to make you look small, new slashes on your body from hunting.

Bobby’s seen you maybe twice in the last four years. He’ll be sure to rip you a new one when the boys come home for being so immature about your feelings being hurt.

Bobby was your second father, just like hwas to Sam and Dean, but maybe, because of how little you saw your dad, Bobby was more your primary father.

And you called, sure, sometimes, but you could never be bothered to show up and visit for fear of Dean being there.

“How did I raise such a dumbass?” Bobby asks himself, his beard twitching as he smiles. If you’re dead, he’s going to kill you.

The Winchester brothers look away from each other angrily, unable to keep the conversation from going in circles. Dean storms off to get a beer and Sam sits down next to Bobby.

“There’s a lot of her and that one guy,” he notices, pointing to the pile Bobby had made.

“Yeah, she and Garth were hunting together before they both dropped off the comms,” Bobby answers his unasked question. “He’s a good guy. I don’t think he’s her type, though.”

Sam wants to ask Bobby what he thinks your type is, but he bites his tongue. He doesn’t get to be interested after leaving, and anyway, he’s not even interested. You’re his little sister.

“How about this,” Bobby says loudly so Dean, who’s sulking in the other room, hears him too, “we all go to bed. Tomorrow, we clear out Y/N’s trunk to see if there are any other pictures or clues hidden in it, all right?”

“Whatever,” Dean grumbles from the kitchen, not even bothering to pretend he wasn’t he listening. Sam hears him open and close the fridge, probably to put back his beer, and then the heavy sound of Dean stomping to the bedroom he always sleeps in.

Bobby stands up as well. “Sam? You coming?”

“In a sec,” Sam replies distractedly. They both know it’s a lie.

“Make sure you sleep soon,” is all Bobby says before he, too, turns away.

Then it’s just Sam and the pictures. Pictures of his maybe-dead little sister hanging out with people he doesn’t know.

The don’t capture you, at least not exactly. The photographer was too far away or the camera’s too shitty, but your eyes look like only one color instead of the thousand flecks Sam knows better than anyone else’s eyes. Your skin looks paler than he remembers and the wrinkles on your forehead aren’t captured either.

Or maybe Sam doesn’t recognize you because it’s been four years. Maybe the creases on your forehead have smoothed without Sam and Dean at your side. Maybe you’ve spent less time outdoors. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Sam rubs his hand together. If Stanford taught him anything, it taught him to never act solely on your emotions. Be analytical. Investigate every path you can find.

Well, Sam’s going to investigate this path. He doubts he’ll be able to find anything, looking through these pictures, other than an immense feeling of loneliness, but you’re gone. Sam’s going to find you.

He’s already wasted four years pretending you’re still around.

(Maybe he doesn’t recognize you because you’re not with him and Dean. Maybe he’s never met a Y/N that hasn’t been a Winchester.)

Bobby’s surprised when Sam’s not still up in the morning. Obviously it had taken him more than ‘a sec’ in getting to bed, though, because all of the small photographs have been lined up in a small block of orderly rows. Three empty beer bottles stand on top of three, completely covering them.

Bobby frowns and crouches down to move the bottles. The pictures Sam had deliberately covered up are a bit wrinkly from the bottle’s condensation soaking into them but they’re not ruined. Bobby can clearly see the subjects of the photos, and they’re all the same: you and a boy with tousled dark brown hair. In the first, the boy is kissing your cheek as he hugs you. In the second, you and the boy are sleeping in the same bed, lax bodies curved towards each other though you sleep on the far sides of the bed. The third picture is blurry. The boy’s form is easy to make out, only his arm blurry, and you’re a blur as you spin around. You’re dancing with him.

Bobby remembers, once, Sa had twirled you around and round in this room. You’d giggled and moved on to Dean, but Bobby had watched Sam’s face.

His emotions were written on it clear as day.

“Whoa,” Dean says as he enters the room, the beer from last night already in his hand. “Sam went OCD, huh?”

“They look to be in chronological order.” Bobby takes the beer from Dean, silencing his protests with a stern look, and stows it back in the fridge. “I’ve got eggs, bacon, and waffles. That sound good to you, boy?”

“Sounds great!” Dean smiles at Bobby. “I mean, you just put my regular breakfast in the fridge, so. That sounds awesome.”

Bobby frowns while pulling the frozen waffles out of his freezer. “Shouldn’t Sam be taking better care of you?”

“What, are you kidding?” Dean snorts. “Kid can barely handle himself. Half the time he would forget Y/N wasn’t in the backseat.”

“Huh.”

The two men share a look but decided against any further commentary. Sam might be awake and listening. Plus, breakfast needs to get eaten quickly so the case can resume. Dean doesn’t think he’d be able to forgive himself if they find you and all the other hunters, only you’re freshly dead, and him eating waffles for breakfast—having any breakfast at all, really—was what slowed him down just enough he couldn’t save you.

Dean leaves Bobby to his cooking and goes back to the living room. Considering how hectic and disorganized the rest of the room is, the pictures on the ground almost blend in.

Dean flips over a picture of you and a dog. The date it was taken is scrawled on the back, and your familiar handwriting knocks the air out of Dean’s lungs. He hasn’t had anything of yours for the last four years, save five pictures on his phone he knows by heart. If he had known how soon you were going to leave after they were taken, Dean would have taken a lot more.

Handwriting Dean both barely and clearly remembers is scrawled on the backs of most of the pictures.

“So Sammy hadn’t been doing it all on guesswork,” Dean muses. “Huh.”

Your alien face scares Dean. It’s one he used to know well, one he thought he would know forever. It’s in almost all of the pictures, whether you be hugging a dog, leaning against a car with a scared-looking little girl clutching at your leg, or the only person swimming in a dark lake.

“We’ll let Sam sleep,” Bobby says from the doorway. “Losing two people you love so quickly can be rough. Come and eat.”

“Y/N’s done well with herself,” Dean remarks with a mouth full of scrambled egg. “She’s got two hunting partners, one of which is her boyfriend. I guess she’s even got a dog.” Never mind that Dean had always thought your two partners would be him and Sam, and your boyfriend would be Sam instead of a shaggy stranger.

“Weird choice of pet for a hunter.”

“Weird for a hunter to have a pet at all,” Dean counters and frowns. “Bobby…” He sets down his fork and locks eyes with him. “What you said, about Sam losing two people he loves… you don’t think Y/N is dead, do you?”

Bobby shakes his head. “Y/N’s a fighter, and in her prime. I’m sure she’s fine. What I was talking about was losing Y/N to that boy she’s with now.”

Dean scowls. “Hey, Sam was the one that left us. He couldn’t seriously think we’d wait our whole lives for him, especially after he said he wasn’t coming back.”

“I’m not blaming anyone,” Bobby interrupts, glaring at Dean. “Personally, I think you all were in the wrong.”

The face Dean makes tells it all.

“Sam, for leaving the way he did,” Bobby explains. “Y/N, for leaving, too, and ignoring us for four years. And you, for not trying to broker peace between your brother and father. Sam goes to college and the rest of the family breaks up too, is that it? You’re going to lose people in this line of work and you can’t break up every time that happens, because shit like this will happen.”

Dean drops his fork and stands up. “I’m going to search Y/N’s trunk.

“Dean,” Bobby calls, exasperated, after his retreating back. “Boy!”

He doesn’t turn around.

Dean sweeps the mess of weapons out of your trunk carelessly, hardly registering the clatter as they hit the ground, and yanks the carpet out. Two little pictures come with it and drift to the ground while three polaroids wedged partly behind the far right corner stay. You’d obviously hidden them on purpose, maybe from whoever took you.

It’s hard to get them out without ripping them completely, and one of the corners of the first picture tears off, but Dean can be patient sometimes.

The top picture is one Dean remembers taking. It features you and Sam sleeping on a couch together, his arm thrown over your waist casually and your feet tangled together. You’d written the date on the back like the other pictures.

The second one doesn’t have a date, and it’s blurry. It looks to be a lit up sign of a store or something, which is useless.

The third picture you’d hidden is just as useless. It’s a picture of a hotel door labeled 20.

The two pictures that had fallen to the ground fit more in the theme of your other pictures: one of that dog, a German shepherd, with snow on his nose, and another of you with someone you’d saved: a little boy with rope burns on his wrists with a name dean assumes is his on the back.

“All right, so there’s nothing in the pictures,” Dean mutters aloud. He still pockets the three hidden pictures, though. “Let’s try the weapons.”

The only thing Dean discovers is that you like to label your knives by writing what they are on a piece of tape and sticking the tape on the weapon’s handle. You’ve got knives dipped in virgin’s blood (Dean makes a mental note to tease you by asking if it’s your blood), brass, silver, and bronze knives, and one labeled ‘Demon’ that looks to be made out of bone. Dean’s not sure what that’s supposed to mean because you can’t kill demons with knives; you can’t kill demons at all—maybe it’s one that exorcises it immediately?

He just keeps getting more impressed by your arsenal. You have darts filled with Dead Man’s Blood, bullets made out of every metal, and even bullets with Devil’s traps carved onto them.

With all these weapons at your disposal, how could you have been taken? What if they’re walking into something they’re not prepared for?

Sam wakes up at one in the afternoon.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Bobby says when he sees him conscious, albeit bleary-eyed and with hair that looks like he just walked through a tornado because of all his tossing and turning during the night.

Sam huffs out a half-laugh and rolls his eyes.

“Dean’s looking through Y/N’s trunk,” Bobby adds. “But if you’re hungry, there’s food.”

Sam shakes his head and hurries out to the car, mentally berating himself for sleeping in so long. You need help, damnit.

“What did you find?”

Dean spins around. Sam doesn’t miss the hand that automatically flies to his right jacket pocket. “Just three—two! Two pictures I’m pretty sure Y/N intentionally hid because of where they were in the trunk, and a Girl Scout-level of weapons.” When Sam doesn’t get it, Dean elaborates, “She’s prepared for everything. Some of these things I don’t even know what she could use them for.”

“Huh.” Sam kneels and picks up the knife you’d labeled ‘Demon’. “I don’t think Y/N’ll be too happy about the mess you made of her car.”

“She’s getting a new one anyway.” Dean hands Sam the pictures of the neon sign and hotel door labeled 20.

“Maybe they’re clues?” Sam suggests. “She doesn’t usually take pictures of stuff like this.”

Dean shrugs. “It’s either that or she took them on accident but then she would’ve just thrown them away, so I’m betting that’s what it is.”

“All right.” Sam shoves them into his pocket.

“Oh! I almost forgot.” Dean grins sheepishly at his younger brother, just now remembering the photos of the dog and you and the boy. The picture he’d wanted to hide from Sam—the one of you and him—comes out as well, and Dean tries to act nonchalant about putting it back in his pocket. “But these look normal.”

Sam flips over the one of you and the boy. “Dennis Walker, July 2006. And nothing on the picture of the dog, as usual. I wonder why she hasn’t said anything about the dog or…” he trails off, a shadow falling over his features, and Dean doesn’t know how to feel about the pain on his baby brother’s face. Maybe he deserves to be in pain for how he’d treated you, treated them all, but Dean also doesn’t want Sam to be in pain.

“Her partners?” Dean suggests as a less painful alternative to ‘boyfriend’. “I don’t know. It’s Y/N, man. You can’t understand her.”

“I used to,” Sam mutters. Dean pretends not to hear. It’s his fault.

“I’ll see if these mean anything,” Sam says, half-turning around before jerking to a stop. “What’s the third picture you don’t want to show me?”

“Huh?” Dean laughs nervously. “It’s really nothing. Just another picture of that dog—”

“Then show it to me.” Sam tilts his head and shifts his feet. “What, it’s not a picture of her having sex with that new boy, is it?” He means it as a joke but realizes as the words leave his mouth that he really wants to know the answer to that question.

“It’s nothing, Sammy.”

“Then why did Y/N hide it and why are you hiding it? If we’re going to—”

Dean starts to walk inside and Sam splutters, “Dean! I need all the information—”

Without turning around, Dean says, “ Drop it, Sammy.”

Sam grabs his shoulder and whirls him around. “Dammit, Dean, just show me it!”

“It’s not important!”

“If you and Y/N both felt the need to hide it, then—”

“Fine!” Dean fishes the pictures out of his pocket and rifles through them. He shoves it at Sam, who almost tears it with his mixed annoyance and curiosity when he grabs it.

Dean almost blinks and misses the grief Sam works too hard to mask at the reminder of how things used to be, of better times.

“She hid it?”

“Yeah.”

“She didn’t chuck it, though.”

“Sammy—”

Sam angrily drags his sleeve over his eyes. “Let’s just find her, Dean.”

“Hey, you wanted to see it.”

“Shut up. Is Bobby read to drive?”

“Yeah. We were waiting on you. The town she disappeared in is only five hours away, so get ready. I’ll pack our stuff.”

“I’ll get Y/N’s stuff.”

Dean pretends to look through his pockets until his brother’s gone inside, and then he hurries back to your car. He has a weird feeling about your odd knife.

After a moment of hesitation, he pockets it. As a hunter, you should always trust your gut, and his gut is telling him the knife fits into all of this… somehow.

“Could you stop with the pictures?” Dean finally snaps when Sam starts to rifle through the large stack for the third time. “None of them are going to change anytime soon.”

“A lot are missing,” Sam replies, frowning. “There’s at most six in here of us, but I specifically remember Y/N taking so many more of us.”

“They were probably in the photo album,” Dean suggests. “The one she either tossed or lost.”

“Just like her notebook,” Sam murmurs. “Doesn’t this feel weird to you, Dean?”

“Well, yeah, but what do you think is weird, Mr. College?”

Sam shoots his brother a side-eyed glare but decides not to rise to the bait. “Hunters dropping off the grid all over the place—like, maybe all in one town, sure, but Rufus’s been finding trucks all over. And there’s no sign of a struggle in here but Y/N’s gone and so are all her pictures of us, yet whoever took her didn’t take her weapons.” Sam sighs. “It’s just weird .”

“Sammy, we hunt monsters. There’s no such as weird for us.”

“This is,” Sam insists. “This feels big.”

“Sure.” Dean glances at his brother and sighs exaggeratedly. “Fine, Sam, if you think this is so ‘big’, what do you propose we do about it? What does your prophecy change, exactly? Let’s go with the facts instead of what this feels like.” He knows he’s being a total hypocrite, considering he stole one of your knives because he felt that it was important, but Sam’s emotions are more messed up because of this case than Dean’s.

“Don’t be such a jerk.”

“Then stop being a bitch,” Dean retorts, a small smile on his face, and he grins wider when he turns up his music and Sam rolls his eyes. There’s still too many things left unsaid between them that’ll probably never get said, but they’ll get through this like how they get through everything.

They’ll have you back soon, too, and then things will get even more back to normal.

Or maybe it won’t.

The grin slides off Dean’s face. Maybe you still won’t want anything to do with them. Maybe you’ll say that you’ve moved on. Maybe you won’t want to leave your new partners.

Dean’s cell phone rings and he answers it immediately, mindful of the way Sam’s eyelashes are fluttering and the hands he’s using to prop his chin up as he looks out the window.

“Yeah?”

Bobby’s voice growls, “Drive faster, ya idjit!” before he promptly hangs up.

Dean chuckles and presses harder on the gas pedal.

Dean and Bobby check in with each other just before entering the small town you’d disappeared in. Sam had fallen asleep minutes after Bobby had told him to hurry up and started snoring soon after. If Dean was more of a jackass he would’ve cranked his music up or woken him, but even though they’ve been fighting lately, he still cares about his little brother. Even if his brother is, has been, and always will be an idiot.

Bobby peers into the Impala to check on Sam before walking around to where Dean’s standing, one hand over the mysterious knife you’d labeled ‘Demon’ in his jacket pocket. Bobby eyes the odd placement of Dean’s hand but decides against commentary. He trusts Dean, except for when he’s being an idjit.

“He’s really taking this hard.”

Dean shoves his hands into his pockets and hunches his shoulders. “You weren’t there the night he left, Bobby. They both said some really nasty things, and now Y/N’s missing. Plus, he loves her. Loved her. You can’t really tell with Sam.”

“Yeah, you can, but enough sappy talk.” Bobby holds out a hand and Dean places the two mystery pictures of yours. “I’ll find the motel that labels their rooms like that and then figure out what place Y/N was trying to take a picture of. You and Sam—”

“We’re gonna ask around, see if anyone’s seen anything strange.” Dean nods and takes a step back to the Impala. “You call when you’ve located the room. Sam and I will check it out so you don’t have to.”

“Why, you think I’m too old for some recon?” Bobby growls.

“I wanna get both of these places identified, that’s all,” Dean almost yelps. “Thanks, Bobby!” He practically throws himself into his car and slams the door so hard behind him that Sam wakes up with a jump, looking around wildly before he gains his bearings.

“Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty,” Dean teases, which is probably a joke he and Bobby use too much. “We’re here. Pretty much. We’ve got, like, thirty seconds more to drive.”

Sam rubs the sleep out of his eyes and sits up straight. “Why’d we stop?”

“Bobby had to go over our game plan and we didn’t want to interrupt your beauty sleep.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “So what’s the plan, then?”

“You and I,” Dean starts, tossing Sam a FBI badge so he knows the name on it, “are going to ask around for our friend. We’re from the FBI but here because we’re personally looking for Y/N, not officially.”

The Impala rolls past the town’s ‘Welcome’ sign. Underneath the ‘welcome’ is one of those corny phrases you hear in commercials: ‘Where your kids come home’. Sam huffs at that, wondering just how many kids hate their circumstances just like he’d hated growing up in a car and hunting the nightmares people hope are fake.

“Okay, hottest girl we see, let’s see who can get her number,” Dean challenges, his head on a swivel as he looks for anyone that looks suspicious.

Sam follows his lead. Everybody looks pretty normal and like they’re not paying attention to the hunters. By chance, his eyes meet someone’s in the passenger mirror, but they slide away before Sam fully realizes what had happened. He’s almost positive he just saw your boyfriend in the mirror, but when he turns around, there’s no one resembling him.

“What’s up?” Dean asks, also looking back like he’ll see something off.

“Nothing, I just—my eyes playing tricks on me, I guess,” Sam replies, settling back into his seat and slapping his brother’s shoulder. “Eyes on the road, Dean. I just think I’m still tired.”

“That, little brother, is why we don’t drink to forget the ones that get away,” Dean says wisely. “We always remember.”

“Shut up,” Sam replies, and pushes him. “I don’t know how many times I have to say this: I think of Y/N as a little sister. Nothing more.”

“Yeah, and I went to Stanford,” Dean says in such a serious voice that Sam stares at him. “I thought we were describing each other!”

“You’re a real jerk, you know that?”

“You’re just a bitch.”

“Hey, did you tell Bobby to go to the first motel in the phone book first?” Sam checks, only just having remembered the system you had used when you hunted with them.

“Yep, and if the labeling mathes we’re gonna ask the desk about Harriet Mills, presumably in room 20.” Dean gives a half-laugh as Bobby pulls into the parking lot of a motel in front of them. “Dude, I’m not the rusty one.”

Sam purses his lips and begins to drum his fingers on his seat. “So are you taking us to a grocery store or bar?”

“As much as I’d love to grab a beer right now,” Dean sighs, “Y/N was more likely to have visited a drugstore for Ibuprofen and chips than a bar for alcohol.”

“You always were disappointed she’d practically sworn off alcohol,” Sam says softly, smiling wistfully. “You always teased her about it, and she’d always tease you about the latest crazy stunt you’d pulled while drunk. You remember when you peed in a motel’s closet and made a bed out of your dirty laundry?” Sam chuckles. “Classic.”

“Look, all I’m saying is that she’s a little too uptight, you know? Nothing wrong with getting drunk every so often.”

“Except the utter humiliation and shame I’d make you feel,” Sam says.

“Sammy, you’re so considerate,” Dean says sarcastically while pulling into the parking lot of the first grocery store he sees. “And totally not part of the reason why Y/N doesn’t drink. All right, you ready to rock n’ roll?”

“Which picture are we using again?”

Dean holds out a picture of you smiling and leaning against your car with that dog next to you. “This one is good, right?”

Sam shrugs. “Yeah, that’s fine.” He doesn’t move when Dean opens his door.

“Huh. Well, I’m glad it pleases you, Mr. Stanford,” Dean snarks. “Now are we going or sulking in the car all day?”

“Jerk,” Sam says, opening up his door with more aggression than necessary.

“Bitch.”

They stride inside the girl behind the register obviously looks Dean up and down and he flashes a cocky grin at her. Sam rolls his eyes but trails after his brother.

“Hey,” Dean says, leaning against the counter.

“Hi,” she responds. “How can I help you?”

“Yes, um, Shelly?” Dean says, reading her nametag. “I was just wondering if you had seen this girl anywhere?” He hands her the small picture. “That’s our little sister. She was on a road trip and last we heard from her she was in this town.”

“Oh, no,” Shelly gasps. “That’s awful.”

Sam shrugs but no one notices him. As usual, he’s pushed into the limelight. One good thing about you was that you never really favored one brother over the other. Too bad you’re missing. Sam would love to be able to exchange looks with you behind Dean’s back.

“That’s so sweet that you drove all the way out here to find your sister,” Shelly gushes. Dean shrugs and smiles.

“So, um, have you seen her?” Sam butts in. Shelly and Dean both shoot him matching glares but he can’t be bothered to care. Dean’s apparently forgotten that you’re missing and could even be dead. Sam hasn’t.

“Um, yeah, maybe,” the cashier snaps. “I think I saw her at the Silver Diner with two other men. I thought it was weird because one of them was pretty old and the other was, like, way out of her league.”

Sam snorts and turns away. If Shelly had seen you with your boyfriend and other hunting partner, then she was dead wrong: you are so out of your boyfriend’s league it’s crazy. And even if it hadn’t been them, you still would have been out of anyone’s league. You’re, like, perfect.

Dean thanks the cashier, his voice significantly cooler.

“Come on, Sam,” he mutters and tugs him by the sleeve out the door. “There’s only trash in there anyways.”

“So, a Silver Diner with two other men,” Sam says, deciding not to say anything about the cashier’s comment because it’ll make him even angrier. “I bet it’s that Garth dude and that boy.”

Apparently too angry about the cashier too, Dean doesn’t even make a biting comment about how he’s actually boy friend and instead just grunts in what Sam takes to be agreement.”

Before they can get into the Impala, Dean’s phone rings. He flips it open. “Bobby? Yeah. Okay, we’re on our way.” He ends the call. “So the first motel was a hit. ‘Harriet Mills’ had actually checked in to room 32, so I’m assuming something else happened in room 20.”

“Or maybe she was in a hurry and just needed to leave any clue so she took a picture of the numbering,” Sam points out. “It led us to the motel either way.”

“Well, I suppose we’ll figure it out, then,” Dean says, and off they speed in the Impala.

“Here they are,” Bobby says when they walk through the door. “My associates,” he adds. The brothers take the hint and immediately reach for an FBI badge. They don’t even have them out before the receptionist starts to yell.

“I don’t care if you’re FBI or what! You’re going to pay for your damages or… or I’m calling the cops!”

They all would be amused by that ineffectual threat except for the fact that this receptionist that they’ve never seen in their lives apparently knows them and has a bone to pick with them.

“Calm down, buddy,” Dean says, stowing his badge. “Why don’t you tell us what you’re talking about, all right?”

“Don’t pretend like you don’t remember!” the weaselly little man yells, pointing a finger at him like he’s lecturing him. “You two scumbags come in here just a few weeks ago and check out room 20!”

Sam and Dean look at each other, but the receptionist isn’t done.

“All I know is that you two go out for dinner and come back with a girl, and the next morning the room is trashed and all three of you have vanished!”

All three hunters are stumped. As Dean hands the receptionist a credit card to settle the cost of the repairs, Sam looks at the picture he has of you. Going on a crazy hunch, he asks, interrupting the conversation between his brother and the therapist, “Is this the girl we had with us?”

The receptionist looks at him like he’s crazy. “Shouldn’t you know?”

“Just answer the question,” Sam replies.

The man glances at the photo and nods. “Yep, that’s her. Harriet Mills. She came in with her brothers a week before you two. She must’ve been the first visitor we’ve had in a year. What, did she lead you scumbags here or somethin’? Were you two following her? Did you kidnap her?” The excited receptionist hops up and down. “I should call the police on you!”

“Again, sir, we’re with the FBI,” Dean says, exchanging a dumbfounded look with Sam. The man visibly deflates. “We’re going to need to see room 20, as well as anything we might have left behind that you cleaned up.”

The receptionist glares sullenly at the three hunters, but, recognizing that he’s outnumbered in every way, hands over a key to the room.

“Do you have any security tapes of that night?” Bobby asks.

The man shakes his head. “They got wiped. I’m guessing,” he glares at Sam and Dean, “by you.”

Dean taps Sam’s shoulder. “That’s all you, bro. Bobby and I’re gonna go check out the room, ‘kay?”

It’s not terribly hard to retrieve the tapes. Somebody had deleted them and locked down a program that would allow them to be retrieved. It’s almost too easy to hack, and Sam keeps glancing over his shoulder like it’s a trap. It certainly feels like one.

Sam clicks on the tape for rooms 20 to 30 on the day he and Dean had apparently checked in at the motel. A few minutes after check-in time, he and Dean appear on the screen.

Sam’s heart starts to pound. Their eyes flash.

“Shifters,” he says out loud. “Why would shifters—”

“What did you say?” the receptionist asks eagerly.

Sam lifts his eyes from the computer’s screen. “Nothing.”

“What’s a shifter?” the receptionist presses.

“It’s code,” Sam says shortly. “And you don’t have enough clearance to know what it’s code for.” Maybe he’s still tired, or maybe he’s just worried about you, but this guy is really rubbing him the wrong way.

He speeds up the tape until he and Dean appear on the screen again. There’s someone with them, a girl with Y/H/H hair and Y/S/C skin. She turns around, probably to see if anyone’s watching, and reaches into the inside of her jacket. She doesn’t get the chance to take whatever it is out, because the shifter that looks like Dean sneaks up behind her and wraps his arms around her torso. The shifter that looks like Sam quickly ties her hands together.

The girl spits something at the fake Sam, who punches her in the face.

Sam stomach flips when the girl leans her head back and he can finally confirm that it’s you. You do know that that wasn’t Sam, right? Sam would never do that to you. Never.

He can only watch as his body reaches into the jacket pocket you’d been reaching for and pulls out a familiar notebook. It’s your hunting journal.

Sam rewinds the video, a faint hope making him blind to the situation. Maybe your eyes will shine on the recording too and Sam will stop feeling so queasy. He’d rather die than watch you get hurt by himself.

But he hadn’t died the last time you’d been hurt by him, had he? And that had actually been Sam, too. He’d savored every cutting word that came out of his mouth. He’d been so angry he’d relished the look on your face as he’d spit at you.

You’re making the same face in the tape as you had when Sam had left for Stanford.

So there’s not much difference, is there?

The fake Sam says one more thing to you. You spit in his face and he hits you so hard you’re knocked unconscious.

Sam can only watch as the shifters drag you away. Only minutes after you disappear, a man runs up to door 20 and takes a picture of it. Sam’s stomach drops. That’s… your boyfriend, isn’t it?

He’s barely left before the fake Sam and Dean come back. They both both look directly into the camera before going back into room 20.

Having seen all he needed to see, Sam deletes the video for real. When he stands up, the receptionist looks up quickly. “Did you find anything?”

“Uh, no,” Sam lies. “It was deleted completely.”

“Then why’d you say something about shifters?”

“They left their signature in the codings,” Sam quickly invents. “We’ve been tailing them for months.”

“What?”

“The people that trashed our mouth,” Sam explains, hoping his explanation is confusing the receptionist just enough that he won’t ask more questions. “They wiped the tape.”

The receptionist nods, looking a bit bewildered, and watches Sam as he leaves to go to his brother and Bobby.

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes

#sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fanfic #reader x sam winchester #supernatural #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fic #spn fic #spn fanfic #spn #reader insert

15 notes · View notes

noradarhkpalmer · 5 years

Text

draw me like one of your french girls, miss darhk

Title: draw me like one of your french girls, miss darhk

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Nora Darhk/Ray Palmer aka Darhkatom

Warnings: Darhkatom gets a little suggestive

Summary/Notes: Ray finds out Nora can draw and then finds out she used to love to draw, so what does Ray do? What he does best of course. A big romantic gesture to fit the occasion.

I’m so sorry I fell behind on these! I had some personal health problems come up but I am going to try and catch up! This one is extra long! Enjoy!

Day twelve of 25 days of Darhkatom! Feel free to click the through the tag to see the others! Basically, I will be posted all loosely related (unless stated otherwise) fics for 25 days straight!

He had found the doodle when he was cleaning up dinner. They had had a quiet dinner in the galley while waiting for the rest of the team to get back from a mission. They sat there and talked, ready to get up and quarterback but also trying to enjoy a rare moment where they were the only two people on the ship. When Ray cleared the plates he noticed Nora had doodled on a napkin she hadn’t used. It was a profile of him, incredibly realistic, and Ray had tucked it into his pocket, reminding himself to ask her about it later.

Ray entered their room that evening once the team returned. It was now officially their room. It made him giddy every time he thought about it. Not only was that the only room Nora had ever stayed in on the Waverider but things were now sprinkled about the room that just made it theirs, rather than his and she just also happened to sleep there. Things like her houseshoes on her side of the bed, and Ray thought the fact that she wore them was absolutely adorable, she said it was because her feet were always cold but Ray didn’t care. He just thought it was one of the cutest things about her. Her books, the ones she brought with her and the ones she’d fabricated since were beginning to stack high in two stacks on Ray’s desk, which they now also shared. And of course her clothes were also in his closet, their closet.

He changed for bed and grabbed the doodle from his jean pocket before tossing the clothes in the hamper. Ray climbed into the bed next to Nora who was reading and humming quietly to herself. She looked up at him and smiled when he got in the bed.

“So ugh… I found something of yours after dinner tonight.” Ray handed her the folded up napkin and Nora took it with great confusion.

She opened it and her eyes went wide. “Oh I thought I had thrown that away with the rest of the food bits on my plate.”

“This is really good, Nora, and I’m not just biased because it’s a profile of me. You’re really good, have you ever drawn anything else or is this just some talent that is somehow magically wonderful the first time off?”

Nora smiled in embarrassment. “No… I used to doodle a lot as a kid, I was always drawing something, I much preferred it to playing with dolls or even reading, or playing with other kids. I stopped because I had a job to do but even when I got bounced around asylums and mental hospitals if I was able to have stuff to draw with I would, it usually wasn’t anything in particular but tonight you had moved your head to a certain angle and I don’t know, you maybe also had a look on your face and I just wanted to capture it and so I drew it.”

Ray placed a hand on her shoulder. “You’re really good, I think you should do this more often. We can fabricate any art supplies your heart desires.”

“So I can what, draw you like one of my French girls, Ray?” She rolled her eyes. “Thanks, but no thanks. I feel like I barely have time to read or spend time with you between missions. I don’t want to clog up all my free time by drawing stuff that doesn’t even matter…” She tried to put the napkin off to the side but Ray caught her wrist.

“Hey, your art matters. I have no idea what all you’re going to create or have created but it matters. If it’s important to you or ever was, it definitely matters. You’re allowed an outlet, if Zari can have her video games that probably will actually melt everyone’s brains one day, you can draw or paint or sketch or whatever you want.”

Nora looked away. “I’m sorry, Ray, but I just don’t have the heart for it anymore. This was a fluke. Just me trying to pass the time while you were nerding out about some science thing.”

Ray knew he wasn’t going to get anywhere trying to push her more tonight so he nodded sadly and let her toss the napkin in the trash bin. “Okay. I understand.”

xxxx

Apparently, Ray “understanding” meant he wouldn’t press the issue anymore that night. The next day, however, Ray spent probably too long fabricating sketch books of different sizes, fancy pencils, fancy colored pencils, erasers, and even some kits of charcoals and paints and pens. Ray knew he was probably going overboard but that was Ray Palmer’s MO, show love in absolute excess.

Ray neatly organized all of the art supplies while Nora was in the shower that morning and left it on her side of the bed and then disappeared to the lab to do work, slightly afraid of Nora’s quite possible negative reaction to the gesture.

Nora came back to her’s and Ray’s room now ready for the day when she saw what she hoped was not a giant pile of arts supplies on their bed.

She got closer and realized that it was.

Dammit Ray.

Nora picked up one of the sketchbooks and ran her fingers over it, remembering how most of the time in the asylums and hospitals she maybe had loose leaf paper and a dull pencil but she’d draw everything she wanted her life to be instead of a scared, demon possessed teenager. She drew herself as a princess locked in a tower, being saved by a valiant knight, that one had been recurring after getting her hands on an anthology of King Arthur tales, she also drew herself in a world where her parents were still alive, doing normal parent stuff like picking her up for school or decorating the Christmas tree. She drew the fantastical and normal, because back then, even the normal was pure fantasy to Nora.

Nora threw the sketchbook down and sighed. Ray’s heart was in the right place but hers just wasn’t… but she would try, for him.

xxxx

Nora figured she would find him in his lab, she had a small sketchbook tucked under her arm with a set of brand new and sharpened art pencils. She also had erasers and a small set of micron ink pens. She might not even do anything with the supplies but she would try, for Ray.

She saw him tinkering somewhere deep inside the chest plate of the ATOM suit and knocked on the open lab door.

Ray looked up at saw her there and then his eyes fell to the art supplies tucked under her arm and broke out into a full grin.

“I saw you got my present.”

Nora walked up to him and grabbed his chin gently to look him straight in the eyes. “I did, and you are so often what I don’t deserve, and I thank you for it.” She pulled him in for a soft kiss and patted his chest. “Carry on, I just wanted to watch you work.”

“And maybe doodle me, while you work?”

“Maybe.” She smiled and hopped up onto his workspace table and put the supplies in her lap. She sat there, just enjoying watching him work as she often came down to the lab to observe but then she got an idea and pulled a pencil out of the box, discreetly so he wouldn’t get the satisfaction of seeing her actually trying, and opened to the first page in her sketchbook. She moved her pencil down the page, trying to get the perspective of him working on his suit correct. When she was satisfied she moved onto finer details, trying to capture the look of absolute concentration and amazement at his own invention on his face.

After a while the tinkering stopped but Nora kept tracing back over the same line, lost in the image of Ray on her paper and she felt someone touch her arm and she jumped. She looked up to see Ray standing next to her, trying to get a look at what she’d been drawing for the last hour.

Nora instinctively held the sketchbook to her chest so Ray wouldn’t see. “Can I help you, Dr. Palmer?”

“Just wanted to see what you were drawing.” He grinned.

“Well it’s not done yet so you can’t see it.” She gently pushed him out of her personal bubble and gestured for him to get back to work.

“Ah you want me back in the same spot so you can make sure you’re drawing me proportionally.” He started walking back to his suit and picked up a small wrench.

Nora smirked. “No, I know exactly how… well proportioned you are, Ray Palmer.”

“I am well aware that you do, Miss Darhk.” Ray abandoned his suit once more and went over to Nora, stepping between her legs and leaning down to kiss her gently.

Nora let the sketchbook drop and she wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him further.

They jumped apart at the sound of a cough and saw Zari standing near them, now holding the sketchbook.

Zari narrowed her eyes at them before speaking, “I better not flip through this and find naked drawings of Ray.”

Nora, now annoyed that her moment with Ray was interrupted used her magic to bring the book back over to her. “There aren’t any but the ones I have planned are all tasteful, and are for no one’s eyes but mine and Ray’s. Did you need something, Miss Tomaz?”

Zari, now slightly disgusted, shook her head and held up her hands. “Nope, getting the image out of my head of you guys recreating the scene from Titanic has taken top priority. I’m gonna go now.”

Nora laughed as Zari made her exit and tugged on the collar of Ray’s shirt.

“You… you have plans to draw me naked?” Ray asked, completely flustered.

Nora shook her head, “no that was just to get Zari to leave us alone, however, the more I’m thinking about it, the more I am liking the idea. Just not here,” she said and pulled him in for a deep kiss, the sketchbook forgotten again… but not for long.

#darhkatom #ray palmer #nora darhk #25 days of darhkatom #legends of tomorrow

14 notes · View notes

trinuviel · 6 years

Text

Winterfell’s Daughter. On Sansa Stark (part 7)

I’ve previously written a series of metas on Sansa Stark’s narrative arc during season 1 of Game of Thrones (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6). In this post I’m taking a look at her story in season 2. Sansa Stark is one of my favorite characters and in this respect season 2 is hard to watch because so much mental, physical and sexual abuse is heaped upon the poor girl. Yet despite her hardships, Sansa also shows that she’s both courageous, compassionate and kind. She shows us that she is strong - a strength that is mental rather than physical since she is not trained to fight like her sister. Sansa’s resilience lies in the strength of character.

Sansa refuses to be broken by the malice of the Lannisters. She fights back in her own way. Her resistance is a passive one but that doesn’t mean that it isn’t a form of resistance. She doesn’t physically or verbally attack her captors. Instead she deploys her courtesy as an armour and she also employs a subtle and snarky wit as well as a strategic form of flattery to manipulate Joffrey. Those who are clever can see through her ploys yet cannot really reproach her since her statements seem flattering on the surface. She shows the audience that she is more clever than people initially assume.

COURAGEOUS AND KIND

Season 2 of Game of Thrones opens with a tourney in King’s Landing in honour of King Joffrey’s nameday. However, this tourney is a far cry from the chivalric pageantry that characterized the Hand’s Tourney in the previous season. In fact, Joffrey’s nameday tourney looks more like gladitorial combat, an exhibition of lethal bloodsport for the king’s amusement. Joffrey revels in the fact that people are killed for his personal entertainment - people getting injured and killed is amusing to him. Indeed, any kind of abuse is amusing to him but he particularly enjoys causing Sansa pain, whether it is physical or emotional pain.

youtube

After a particularly lethal fight where a man dies, Joffrey goads Sansa for a response to the violence. Here we see Sansa tonelessly “parroting” Joffrey’s words back at him – a subtle form of passive resistance. She outwardly complies but refuses to express any kind of emotion. From Joffrey’s face it is clear that he finds Sansa’s icy politesse frustrating. He wants to revel in her fear but she doesn’t allows herself to show any feelings and neither does she talk back at him, which would give him an opportunity to have her punished.

However, things come to a head when on of the contestants, Ser Dontos, arrives late and drunk. Joffrey pounces on the opportunity to have another person abused for his personal entertainment by having his Kingsguard force wine down Donto’s throat. Sansa’s reaction is immediate and purely instinctive as she blurts out “You can’t!”.

This kind of instinctual outburst is dangerous for her. The last time she impulsively contradicted Joffrey, she earned herself a beating. Joffrey reacts angrily to her outburst – as he doesn’t like to be told no.

Joffrey: What did you say? Did you say I can’t?

She quickly realizes her danger and tries to salvage the situation.

Sansa: I only meant it would be bad luck to kill a man on your nameday.

Joffrey: What kind of stupid peasant’s superstition…

Sandor Clegane: The girl is right. What a man sows on his nameday, he reaps all year.

Sansa’s attempt to appease Joffrey may not be particularly inventive and you could argue that it is only the Hound’s intervention that saves her from a beating. However, she does manage to stop the abuse of Dontos.

Joffrey: Take him away. I’ll have him killed tomorrow, the fool.

Sansa: He is a fool! You’re so clever to see it. He’ll make a much better fool than a knight. He doesn’t deserve the mercy of a quick death.

This is the most important part of this entire scene. At this point, Sansa has managed to save her own skin (with some help from the Hound). Most people would have kept silent (as does the rest of the courtiers). Yet Sansa does not avert her eyes or keep silent. Indeed, keeping silent would probably have been the less risky option for her at this point.

Instead, Sansa decides to try saving the life of Ser Dontos. She notices Joffrey calling Dontos a fool and she then proceeds to plant the notion in Joffrey’s head that making a knight a fool is a much more humiliating punishment than death. This is an impressive piece of quick thinking and subtle manipulation. Sansa strokes Joffrey’s ego and gets her way. She saves a life – and she does so at a certain risk to her own person because she could easily earned herself a beating if Joffrey had reacted aversely to her suggestion. Sansa is actually very brave here. Many people confuse bravery with fearlessness but that is not the case! You can only be truly brave when you’re doing something despite your fear! Sansa is sticking her neck out for a stranger, knowing full well that her intervention may backfire, which could end up with her getting hurt once again. Yet she still intervenes on behalf of Dontos.

Sansa is brave here and she is compassionate, which is a testament to her fundamentally kind nature – even in adversity.

Tyrion arrives. He extends his condolences to Sansa on the death of her father. We get a profile shot of Joffrey and Sansa; she opens her mouth in order to answer Tyrion. However, before Sansa gets to speak, Joffrey reacts badly once again and throws a strop.

Joffrey: Her loss? Her father was a confessed traitor.

Tyrion: But still her father. Surely, having so recently lost your own beloved father, you can sympathize.

Joffrey turns to Sansa to gauge her reaction to Tyrion’s words. She sits with her shoulders slightly hunched, which indicates her fear. Her response will most definitely influence her treatment by Joffrey so she calibrates her answer carefully.

Sansa: My father was a traitor. My mother and brother are traitors, too. I am loyal to my beloved Joffrey.

This particular line becomes a sort of litany for her during her time in King’s Landing, always delivered in a toneless voice. Anyone with half a brain can see that she is being disingenuous but Joffrey is both stupid and vicious. I would argue that this kind of performance constitutes a form of passive resistance on Sansa’s part. She knows she cannot speak her mind openly. It will only earn her a beating. However, whilst she is outwardly complying, her wooden “performance” makes it clear that she isn’t honest. She is speaking under duress and anyone with a modicum of intelligence can see that. She makes a performance out of the duress she’s under and this is part of how she authors her resistance with the very means that she has at her disposal.

SCAPEGOAT

Sadly, Sansa is not always able to save herself from physical abuse. However, that doesn’t mean that she’s weak or stupid. Sometimes she is just helpless in a certain situation, like when Joffrey decides to use her as a scapegoat for Robb Stark’s military victories.

The crossbow scene in ep04 is just such a situation. Sansa’s brother Robb has won yet another victory over the Lannisters and Joffrey decides to vent his anger on his helpless hostage. Once again, Joffrey’s sadistic nature is on full display, only this time it is not disguised by a socially acceptable scenario such as the nameday tourney in ep01.

The scenes begins with low-angle close-up of Joffrey aiming the crossbow directly at the camera. In cinema and television, the camera acts as the eye of the audience so in this shot we, the audience, are directly confronted with Joffrey’s threat of violence. We are, so to speak, on the receiving end of Joffrey’s malice here.

However, this shot is followed by a point-of-view shot from Joffrey’s position, showing the audience what he’s looking at: a blurry outline that quickly is resolved into the figure of a kneeling Sansa Stark. These two shots sets the stage for the following confrontation.

These kind of shots create a POV structure where the audience is invited to inhabit both positions. It is a bit unnerving in this particular instance since we are not only invited to step into Sansa’s shoes with the first, establishing shot but also into Joffrey’s shoes with the second POV shot. However, the first shot establishes the primary POV: that of Sansa Stark - under the threat of lethal violence and it most certainly her POV that we are expected to empathize with (especially since Joffrey is such a sadistic piece of shit).

Enraged by the Lannister losses on the battlefield, Joffrey has created a mockery of a “trial”, complete with Lancel Lannister spouting an absurd accusation of sorcery and cannibalism on the part of the Northern army. All of this is accompanied by the horrified gasps of the surrounding courtiers.

Joffrey: You are here to answer for your brother’s lastest treasons.

[...]

Joffrey: Ser Lancel, tell her of this outrage.

Lancel Lannister: Using some vile sorcery, your brother fell on Stafford Lannister with an army of wolves. Thousands of good men were butchered. After the slaughter, the Northmen feasted on the flesh of the slain.

Then Joffrey quite literally threatens to kill Sansa as a “message” to Robb Stark. Fortunately, Cersei still has some influence over him so instead he decides to “punish” Sansa by having his Kingsguard beat her up.

Joffrey: Killing you would send your brother a message. But my mother insists on keeping you alive. Stand. So we’ll have to send your brother a message some other way.

Joffrey: Meryn. Leave her face. I like her pretty.

This is where things get really nasty. Sansa is literally being beaten up by a grown man wearing armour. She is punched in the stomach by a man wearing steel gauntlets and then beaten with the flat of a sword! Even that is not enough since Joffrey orders her stripped in public.

Joffrey: If you want Robb Stark to hear us, we’re going to have to speak louder.

This scene makes me recall a conversation between Eddard Stark and Jaime Lannister in season 1 where Jaime tells Ned that 500 hundred people stood silently by and watched Rickard and Brandon Stark die on the orders of King Aerys II. The present situation is not nearly as dire but the circumstances are rather similar: an audience stands silently by whilst a king has one of his knights abuse a teenage girl. Lancel Lannister can’t even bring himself to face the abuse that he himself has played a part in, as you can see in the picture below.

I’m also reminded of another scene from season 1 where Sansa raises the subject of the deaths of her grandfather and uncle to Septa Mordane, who doesn’t want to discuss such “unpleasant” subjects with her young charge.

Septa M: They were killed on the orders of King Aerys, commonly known as the Mad King.

Now another innocent Stark is tortured on the orders of a mad king in the very place where her close relatives were killed on the orders of a mad king. The spectre of Mad King Aerys is indeed invoked in this scene when Tyrion remonstrates with Joffrey.

Joffrey: You can’t talk to me like that. The king can do as he likes!

Tyrion: The Mad King did as he liked. Has your Uncle Jaime ever told you what happened to him?

Sansa is very fortunate that Tyrion intervened when he did because Ser Meryn Trant was about to use his sword on her again and it looks as though he was about to do her serious harm.

Many people often fail to realize exactly how dangerous Sansa’s situation really is in King’s Landing. Joffrey is both vicious and stupid. He detests Sansa and he is dangerously unpredictable. He could very easily have her killed in a fit of rage before anyone would be able to intervene. At present, he still listens to his mother on this particular subject but he might not continue to do so because he has such a volatile temper. Furthermore, a situation like this could very quickly spiral completely out of hand and Sansa might get seriously hurt or even killed.

Neither should we minimize the severity if the physical abuse that Sansa suffers here. A grown man is beating up a teenage girl and he’s not pulling his punches. The book makes this abundantly clear:

Boros slammed a fist into Sansa's belly, driving the air out of her. When she doubled over, the knight grabbed her hair and drew his sword, and for one hideous instant she was certain he meant to open her throat. As he laid the flat of the blade across her thighs, she thought her legs might break from the force of the blow. Sansa screamed. Tears welled in her eyes. It will be over soon. She soon lost count of the blows. (ACoK, Sansa III)

When Tyrion escorts Sansa out of the throne room, she is both terrified and very likely in a lot of pain. Yet she schools her countenance so that she reveals neither pain nor fear. It might not be much but it IS a small act of passive resistance. They might abuse her body but she won’t let them kill her soul.

She uses her ladylike manners as her armour. Standing tall, she squares her shoulders and lifts her chin and leaves the place of her abuse and humiliation with all the grace and dignity of a queen. She cannot stop her abusers but neither can they deprive her of her dignity.

Joffrey absolutely hates that about her - he enjoys her pain and he wants to revel in her fear. Tyrion, on the other hand, seems rather impressed with her.

To be continued...

(GIFs not mine)

#game of thrones #sansa stark #character analysis #winterfell's daughter

213 notes · View notes

soukitas · 6 years

Photo

Fangless Chapter one: One lost stray dog.

Pairing: Shinsengumi x Reader (developing story) Genre: Drama. (developing story) Chapters: 1/? Word count: 1, 870 Summary: You are a simple country girl, with some skills for the sword, that moved to the capital of a samurai country, you meet a very nice police officer named Yamazaki Sagaru that somehow talks you into trying to get into the Shinsengumi, Hijikata and Okita are the ones to take your interview, but you can’t seem to calm your nerves before it even starts. You are not aware of it yet, but the small risk you took will cause your life to spin around one hundred eighty degrees, adventures are just starting.

A/N: This is the prologue of my new shinsengumi series called “Fangless”, this special story will be a little complex, since it will have two story directions, the Hijikata route and the Sougo route, I have little planning on this so I’m just going with the flow. Please enjoy it!

— You will do fine.

Yamazaki’s voice was somewhat soothing, although if you were honest to yourself the mere idea of standing before the three heads of the Shinsengumi was absolutely terrifying; the heat of your nervousness could be felt at your palms, sticky from the sweat that relentlessly creeped at the tip of your fingers.

You didn’t quite fit in the average city woman cliché, your father, a brave samurai that had fought alongside the four heavenly kings during the Joui War, didn’t raise you to be so. From a young age, living outside the main city and practically in hiding, you had been trained to defend yourself and those whom you loved, day by day you would pick your father’s sword and swing it at a very worn out tree trunk outside your home, you could even still hear his yelling at night “Leave no openings!” “Swing higher!” and his personal favorite: “THE SWORDS ARE NOT MADE TO CUT BREAD!”. You learned, and you learned well. The days of your youth were filled with stories from your mother, on how your outstanding father was fighting those who tried to take what was ours, you always longed for his return, everyday staring at that one single path, the one you were not allowed to walk, for the day you could see him in the horizon with that bright smile of his. It would be natural to say he didn’t come back, to remark how he bravely took a hit to defend the captain of his unit, keeping him alive and allowing the rest of his comrades to escape, that would later become your motive to seek revenge towards those that didn’t have mercy on your beloved father, yes, that would be natural, but you’re not the main character of some corny Shonen Jump manga, you’re a simple country girl. He returned home, not completely unwounded but well enough to continue raising you as the loving father he was. You grew and became wiser, you had been a model daughter and dedicated student, that’s why your dad did not hesitate to let you go when you told him your mind was made up: You wanted to go to the city, learn the sword formally, possibly at an elite academy that could take you to the next level. He understood right away, his wisdom had always gotten through you, and those famous words were always in the back of your mind no matter what you did, or where you were, “You have to find your samurai way.” He would always say. Yes, your father watched Naruto a lot, but that sentence just made good sense, or so he made you believe.

Your first week in the big city was anything buy easy, your landlord had promised a two-bedroom apartment but forgot to mention the second room was a motel room, and on top of that he had “accidentally” lost the ticket for your first deposit, so you would have to make it again. You were quickly running short of resources, the money you had brought along turned out to be insufficient, you underestimated how expensive living on your own could be, and getting a job was long shot since you had no real work experience. If the whole situation wasn’t shitty enough, there was no way you could’ve expected what happened next, no one informed you about the sword ban, and when a couple of “amanto” confronted you about it you just stopped on your tracks, however, someone in heavens was really on your side, for the police officer that was in charge of your arrest was no other than Yamazaki Sagaru. A kind man, didn’t seem much older than you, later you would find out it was just his ridiculously toned skin that gave you that idea, but he stood up for you, even when the rude-ass creatures kept calling him a good-for-nothing human, it made your blood burn to the point you could actually feel it’s steam coming out of your ears, but you knew better than to simply react to shallow words. Later that day, even when he took you handcuffed to the headquarters, he would just let you go with a warning, you didn’t seem like a city-girl anyway, he told you to be careful with your sword in public, it was against the law and not of the liking of those humanoids, so if you wanted to avoid trouble you would have to keep it at home. The mere thought lit within you a fire, how could you keep such an important part of you back home like it was just another ornament at the motel? No. You couldn’t. You spoke up against it. Yamazaki was taken aback, very much, but oddly he welcomed your little speech about not giving up a piece of your soul for the contentment of space-trash with a smile. After a little bit of chit-chat, somehow he talked you into taking the upcoming recruiting exam, the physical tests were just two days later, you did excellent and the examiner gave you a pass for the in-person interviews, now this was the tricky part, you already had the underhand for being a woman, let alone the fact that you weren’t really used to being with other people, specially face to face. In short, that’s how you had ended up in this situation, waiting for the commander, vice commander, and the captain of the first unit to arrive for your meeting.

— I’m not even sure of what to say, Yamazaki-san. — you muttered, as if there was anyone else in the room.

— They will just ask you a few questions, be candid, just tell them what you said the other day, you want to protect this country and your loved ones without leaving behind your sword. You are not much different than the rest of us.

The door slid open before you could say anything else and the air seemed to tense up altogether with your body. The first man entered the room, he was tall, dark-haired but you wouldn’t quite describe it as black since it had a glimpse of a greenish tone when the light hit in a right angle, he stood straight at all moments and with a steel-like sort of look in his face, the smoke smell coming from his lit up nicotine stick made your head throb as it entered your nostrils, but since that was the man deciding whether or not you had a job you preferred to keep your thoughts to yourself. Right behind him a second man appeared, he had more the appearance of a kid, at least on his face, ashy brown hair long enough to meet the beginning of his eyebrows that seemed to match pretty well with his red-shining eyes.

— Let’s begin with the interview.

The tallest sat down right before you, legs tucked formally under him, the younger mimicked his actions, both of them seemed expressionless, the captain even seemed bored with the whole situation, you could even make out from his flickering eyelashes that he was probably asleep before he was dragged into this.

— My name is-

— No need. — The vice commander interrupted again. — I don’t think we’re getting anywhere with you, I don’t think you would fit any position.

— Is that so? — you asked back — because I’m a woman?

— Judging a character by their gender is a naive move, you received very good recommendations from the examiner, but your profile is another matter. You just arrived to the capital, you have cero experience in the actual field, and your first meeting with the police was for being arrested.

— That’s actually my fault, Vice commander. — Yamazaki barged in. — You see, she didn’t know about the sword ban and-

— Yamazaki, it’s a crime against our rule code to interrupt your superior, please commit seppuku immediately.

Your new friend sat back down, he seemed terrified but not surprised of his superior’s approach.

— I cannot allow such a cadet to join the academy, there’s so much more you still need to learn which we will not be able to teach you.

You were furious, you knew he made sense, but it still pissed you off the way he talked with such superiority, he hadn’t even taken a look to what you could do with that sword, you knew his decision was final, but something within you didn’t accept it. It was not your plan to join the police, it was nothing near your dream either, but those few minutes Yamazaki had talked so fondly of his labor and how it affected normal people for the better had gotten through you, and passion started pouring from your heart the minute you had stepped into the compound. You didn’t like the sensation of being cornered, so you finally spoke back up.

— I’m sorry, but I was told the commander would be here.

— Kondou-san was unable to attend.

— As far was I was informed, Kondou-san is the one to make the final decision whether candidates are capable enough to be part of the force, if he is unavailable, I’ll be happy to reschedule this interview.

Without further word you stood up and left the room, leaving those who would have been your bosses behind. There were some shocked looks, specially the one on Yamazaki’s face, but overall the room was silent, with the three men equally speechless.

— A woman who talks back, huh? — the brown-haired guy finally contributed to the conversation.

— Like we didn’t know enough of those already.

The vice commander lit up another cigarette after setting down the burnt out one on the ashtray by his feet. He inhaled the nicotine, feeling its intoxicating effect take over his body before letting it out in what seemed a tired sigh. None of the men’s eyes had left the same spot, the door you had just left through, almost waiting for you to come back and apologize at any instant. You didn’t.

— You know, Hijikata-san, she got the best reviews out of all the applicants. Plus, I like the idea of having someone that can put you in your place around.

— She didn’t put me in my place, Sougo. — The final ashes fell off the second cigarette, making Hijikata do a small clicking of his tongue when it landed on his black uniform. — Yamazaki give the tape of the skills exam to Kondou, and also the tape of this interview. I hate to admit it, but after all he is indeed the one to make the final call on this.

Hijikata stood back up with Sougo following after him.

— Yes, vice commander. — Yamazaki responded respectfully before inquiring again. — So, what do you think?

— Knowing Kondou-san, I think we are about to get ourselves a little stray dog here. You have to be ready, Sougo.

The young man didn’t seem to look back at his superior, his stare was still nailed to the closed door, but if he had paid attention he would have been able to notice that there was a small smirk on his face that came out along with a small exhale.

— Don’t worry, Hijikata-san, it will be my pleasure to turn her into a wolf.

#hijikata toushirou #gintama #gintama fic #gintama fan fic #sougo okita #okita sougo #kondou #kondo isao #yamazaki #yamazaki sagaru #mine #fan #gintama fan fiction #i hope this is enough????

28 notes · View notes

thesoftkitty42 · 6 years

Text

I’m posting original content???

Hey there friends. So, I never actually post anything on my blog, but I wrote this for my Creative Writing class and I thought that people might like it, so I’m gonna share it with y’alls. Basically we had to write a How-To article, so I wrote one about How to be Emo. It’s really long and really stupid but it’s still kind of entertaining. Here it is lol

How to Become a MySpace Ready Emo God/Goddess Overnight in 5 Easy Steps: Welcoming yourself to the Black Parade

By Grace Burns Feb. 7, 2018

You know that feeling when you log on to the oh-so-popular website, MySpace.com and you see a super cool, badass, edgy emo queen on your feed, and then you look at your sad, boring, “normal” profile and it just looks lame in comparison? And then you start to think of how cool you would look if you attempted to take sick pictures at that same awesome angle, but when you try you just look like dumbass? Well, I’m here to teach you exactly what steps you can take to become the saddest, baddest, raddest emo of your nightmares.

1 Wardrobe is Everything

Alright, first things first. You can’t have that MySpace fame unless you look the part. You need to start off this journey with a trip to every emo’s favorite place on Earth (other than Warped Tour) Hot Topic. Hot Topic is a safe haven for our kind, housing all the band merch and aesthetically pleasing accessories that you could only dream up in your head. As you walk into the shop, notice the music they’re blasting through the speakers? If you recognize the song, dance along to the music in the store. This is an easy way to make a friend if you both happen to be rocking out to the same artist. Your first stop should be the jeans section. They’re all black skinny jeans, so you better get used to having all your leg fat squeezed into your body. But, you do have the option of whether or not you want jeans with or without rips in them. This will all depend on the aesthetic you are trying to achieve. For someone who is just transitioning to the emo lifestyle, I would suggest starting slow and steady and picking out some plain black skinny jeans without any rips in them. After you grab your bottoms, it’s time to consider the tops. Hot Topic has a cornucopia of band shirts at their disposal, so you have a lot to choose from. Again, I’d suggest starting off easy by picking a shirt from a more popular emo band, preferably something from the holy emo trinity, My Chemical Romance, Fall Out Boy, and Panic! At the Disco, and then as you continue your transition you can start branching off into other bands. The last essential part of your wardrobe is the accessories. Chokers, studded belts, and lots of piercings are all good choices. And you can always get fake piercings to try things out before you commit to piercing lots of holes in your body. The last part of your clothing look is shoes. There are a few different options here. You could go with Vans or Converse, but many debate over which shoe encompasses the emo look more effectively, so to be safe I would go with a classic pair of combat boots. You can never go wrong with combat boots.

2 Hair and Makeup

The next step in becoming the emo nightmare you’ve been dreaming up is the hair and makeup. This goes hand in hand with your clothing and helps complete the whole look. The first thing to change is your hair. If you have soft, wavy, shiny hair, that is the first to go. Your hair needs to look like it’s been beat to shit, much like you have been beaten by your emotions over the years. Do you have bangs? No? Get bangs, they help block out the haters. Is your hair black? If not, you should probably dye it. And of course you need to buy a hair straightener so you can destroy your hair even further. If you aren’t experiencing long-term hair damage, you aren’t doing it right. Now, onto the makeup. Firstly, foundation. You need to make your skin look as dead inside as you feel. Buy a foundation a shade or so lighter than you normally would, and apply to the face and set with a powder. While your pale complexion is essential, your most important tool is and always will be your eyeliner. Eyeliner is what blinds you from the world’s sorrows. It is what gets you into character. Eyeliner is the single most important part of your emo look. Here’s how to apply it:

Grab a pencil or gel eyeliner from your local makeup store (you could even grab eyeliner from Hot Topic)

Apply along upper and lower lash line, making the lines fairly thick.

Smudge eyeliner to perfection

If you need extra tips or inspiration, look at pictures of pre-hiatus Pete Wentz, as he is the unofficial king of emo.

You could just leave your eye makeup as is, or you could take it one step further by adding eyeshadow. You could go for a dark black that matches your soul, or you could do a classic emo eyeshadow color, red. Emo God Frank Iero was famous for his red eyeshadow during My Chem’s “Revenge Era”. This era should be the inspiration for a great deal of your aesthetic. To apply the eyeshadow, all you need to do is take a fluffy eye brush, dip it in the shadow, and sweep/swirl the makeup all over your lid, almost touching the brow bone, and don’t forget to put some of the eyeshadow along your lower lash line as well. After your eye makeup is complete, add mascara to the lashes to finish it off. Lastly is deciding if you want to wear lipstick or not. Many emos choose not to wear lipstick and tend to leave the lips plain, but times are changing, and of you feel like adorning a color on your lips would complete your look, go for it! A big part of the emo mentality is expressing yourself and being who you are free of judgement. You could easily sport a sexy red or black lipstick, or if you dye your hair a fun teal color, you could pick up a matching lipstick from your local Hot Topic.

3 Music

The single most important part of becoming an emo is listening to the right music. The bands that you choose to listen to will be like a safety net. They will comfort you in times of need. The most important bands to listen to are, of course, the three bands that make up the holy emo trinity of music. Chances are you have probably heard the chart topping music created by My Chemical Romance, Fall Out Boy, and Panic! At the Disco on the radio over the years. Fans of these bands, myself included, have claimed that these artists have saved their lives with their music and their words. You must listen to all of their music like it is your religion, and slowly it will become your religion. You must obsess over these bands and their members. Gerard Way is your inspiration and reason that you are not afraid to keep on living, Patrick Stump is the small adorable man with the kindest words that make you feel better on a bad day, Brendon Urie is a talented man with lots of advice on how to deal with your problems. But, the most important thing to remember as you slowly slip into the bandom culture is that every band member is just as important as the others. Fall Out Boy is much more than Pete and Patrick, Joe Trohman and Andy Hurley are just as amazing as their fellow members. The same goes for My Chem, while Gerard and Frank are fantastic people, don’t discredit the utter beauty of Mikey and Ray because they are just as worthy of your praise. When it comes to Panic! At the Disco, even though Brendon rapidly lost all of his members and can’t seem to make anyone stay in the band anymore, don’t forget about those who have fallen from Panic!. Ryan Ross is still an inspiration, and without him we would never have gotten the sheer beauty that is Pretty. Odd. which is debatably the best album Panic! has ever produced. You will listen to this music to the point that you know every last lyric, guitar riff, and drum beat. You will constantly thank God for Esteban and reference every single song on a daily basis. The majority of the things you say are emo references that no one else understands. You will be sad when you stumble upon a phenomenal emo meme on the internet and have no one to share it with. But that’s okay, because you can always cheer yourself up by watching old band interviews and by re-watching the same music videos that you’ve seen countless times before. You will count down the release of new albums, and you will cry when bands decide to call it quits. It will be a rollercoaster of emotions that will slowly consume your life.

4 Attitude

Your attitude is important. If you’re going to try and live that emo lifestyle you crave, you need to have the right attitude. Long gone are your days of cheerful comments and a sunny-disposition. The way you present yourself is a major part of living that dark, gloomy emo life. If you go about talking about pop music, or things that the general public find enjoyable, you will never be able to pull off being emo. You need to walk about as if you are dying inside, and present yourself as a self deprecating, pessimistic, depressing person that brings the mood down in social situations. If you are the token emo in your friend group, you have to try and convert your friends into the lifestyle. Start by getting them into newer Panic! At the Disco and Fall Out Boy songs which are more pop punk than they are traditional emo, especially compared with their earlier works. Once you butter them up with the more modern and radio playable songs, slowly start introducing them to older songs and see if they like it. If they do, you’ve got em. It’s only a short time before they too are emo with you. Along with converting your friends, you just need to talk about emo things nonstop to the point where your friends either need to convert, or they are constantly annoyed by your antics. If you go a whole day without mentioning the new Fall Out Boy album, are you really a fan? If you don’t own merch from every era of My Chemical Romance, can you even call yourself emo? You need to make sure that you have the right mentality, or you will never be able to be a true emo. Another important thing is making sure you have the right tools to protect yourself from harm. Haters are everywhere, and you can fend them off by just blowing them off, or you could spit a bunch of facts about why the emo culture is very important to you and many others.

5 Actually Becoming Emo

Last but not least, an essential step is actually becoming emo. While you might start off doing this ironically, or just to try something new, you will become trapped in the culture. By researching the bands and listening them to fit in, you will actually begin to become obsessed with them and you will really believe that they are the most wonderful people that God has ever created. The emos will trap you, there is no escaping once you start. Eventually you might buy some clothes will color in them, or some jeans that are a little baggier, and you might lighten up on the eyeliner, but anytime you hear that ear-piercing g note that opens up the song Welcome to the Black Parade, you won’t be able to control yourself and you will probably start getting emotional remembering the good old days. You might open up your closet and see that Hot Topic sweater with the safety pins in the sleeves hidden away behind your favorite top, and all you’ll be able to do is laugh at your old style, but you’ll still secretly love it. And years down the road you’ll drop your kids off at school and turn on the classic rock station. You recognize the song that’s playing, but you can’t quite place what it is, and then you hear the lyrics “Am I more than you bargained for yet?” and you will be taken back to your emo days and you’ll drive home and pull out you old albums and put them on, remembering how this music and lifestyle made you feel. You will always be just a little emo on the inside.

#emo #fall out boy #my chemical romance #panic! at the disco #pete wentz #patrick stump #andy hurley #joe trohman #gerard way #frank iero #mikey way #ray toro #brendon urie #ryan ross

5 notes · View notes

frustratedcastingdirector · 6 years

Photo

Mark Ruffalo Steps Behind the Camera

By Jenelle Riley (Backstage Magazine)| Posted April 20, 2011, 6:25 p.m.

Mark Ruffalo and Christopher Thornton met 20 years ago when both were students at the Stella Adler Academy in Los Angeles. "Mark was the hot young actor at the school," Thornton recalls. "All I can remember is, every girl I had a crush on he'd either already dated or was presently dating. So it was a little competitive in the beginning, but we became fast friends. And you knew immediately he was a fantastic, very instinctive actor." The pair would see each other through many hard times, from financial struggles to career frustrations. But perhaps nothing was more devastating than a 1992 fall while rock climbing that left Thornton paralyzed from the waist down. Ruffalo and two friends—Tim McNeil and Milton Justice—helped convince Thornton that this didn't mean the end of his acting career. Six months after the accident, the trio informed him that they were going to mount a production of "Waiting for Godot" in which Thornton would play Estragon. "I told them they were out of their minds, but they wouldn't take no for an answer," Thornton says. "It turned out to be the best therapy I could have ever done. Suddenly, I'm not focused on my injury for the first time in six months. And the play opens and it's a big hit, and we won awards and sold out and extended the show." Another pivotal artistic moment was born five years later. While having their annual lunch on the anniversary of Thornton's fall, Ruffalo attempted to offer encouraging words to his friend. "I told him that I knew him before and after his accident, and the man he was now was so much more than the man he was before," Ruffalo recalls. "And I said, 'Maybe there is a gift in this. Maybe this has made you a stronger, better person in some ways.' " Thornton's response? "You be the saint in the wheelchair; I'll be the shallow asshole walking around." Ruffalo laughs when he recounts this story—which Thornton verifies—and adds that from this starting point, the seeds were planted for what would become Thornton's script for "Sympathy for Delicious." The film tells the story of Dean O'Dwyer, aka "Delicious D," a paralyzed and homeless DJ who discovers he has the ability to heal others—but not himself. Ruffalo stars as a dedicated priest who tries to help O'Dwyer, but the actor also makes his film directing debut, while Thornton portrays O'Dwyer in a magnetic, unsentimental performance. After a 10-year development period, a dramatic premiere at the Sundance Film Festival that saw the movie go from reviled to revered, and a lengthy battle to find distribution, "Sympathy for Delicious" finally makes its way into theaters this week. It is, in Ruffalo's words, "the greatest roller-coaster ride I've ever been on in my life." A Winning Season It's two weeks before "Sympathy for Delicious" opens and Ruffalo is trying to relax. He has been doing publicity nonstop for his passion project and, despite the exhaustion, claims to be enjoying himself. Being a recognizable actor with a recent Oscar nomination—for playing the sperm-donor dad in "The Kids Are All Right"—has its perks. He breaks into a wide smile when he reveals that earlier that morning, he got to work with a very special co-star: Elmo, from "Sesame Street." Ruffalo has been a journeyman actor for most of his life. He quit the business three or four times before his friend Kenneth Lonergan cast him in his 2000 indie film "You Can Count On Me" as the goodhearted but unreliable brother of Laura Linney's character. Hollywood quickly caught on to Ruffalo's raw talent and leading-man looks, and for the next 10 years the actor constantly seemed on the verge of major stardom. He was cast in several projects that looked prestigious on the page ("In the Cut," "All the King's Men," "Reservation Road"), yet none connected with critics or audiences. Then there were the big-budget rom-coms opposite major female stars ("Rumor Has It," "Just Like Heaven," "View From the Top"), in which he was underutilized. Instead, he tended to shine more in small indies or ensemble pieces, like "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" and "The Brothers Bloom." While he was doing stellar work in little-seen films like "XX/XY" and "The Last Castle," it's the 2004 comedy "13 Going on 30," he says, that he is most often recognized for in public—all of which is fine by Ruffalo, who has always preferred to disappear into his characters. "I still have people say to me, 'Who are you? I'm sorry, am I supposed to know who you are?' " he says with a laugh. "So they'll ask my name and what I've been in, then go, 'Oh, yeah, yeah, you're that guy.' And I like that." Even after he landed his Academy Award nomination for "Kids," a small film he worked on for only six days, his career didn't change much. He admits he's glad the days and nights spent campaigning during Oscar season are over and he can get back to work. "Honestly, the whole awards thing was so abstract to me," he says. "It's so different from what we actually do. And aside from a few people, I don't think anyone places too much importance on it. I think your work speaks for itself more than titles or awards." One advantage of his raised profile, however, is Ruffalo's ability to get certain projects off the ground. More than 10 years ago, Thornton brought him a 198-page script for "Sympathy for Delicious," and Ruffalo says he "instantly knew" he had to direct it. Though he had helmed his share of stage productions, he was unproven as a film director and knew it would be an uphill battle. Then there was the added difficultly of casting an unknown actor in the lead role. Thornton reveals, "There were several times over the last 10 years where people said to Mark, 'Stick Colin Farrell in a wheelchair and we'll give you $7 million right now, because we really like the script.' One time, late in the process, I said, 'The hell with it; just do it. I'll take the writing credit; I just want to go home.' But Mark was insistent. He wouldn't make the film without me in the role." As Ruffalo puts it, "It didn't interest me without Chris in the part." Thornton and Ruffalo worked on approximately 40 versions of the script, and over the years the project changed for them in personal and professional terms. Ruffalo admits that the story took on an even deeper meaning for him when he was diagnosed with a brain tumor in 2002. Though he's resistant to talk about that experience, he says it informed the story in a new way: "When I had my brain tumor, I tried everything. Because who doesn't want a fix? And my face was partially paralyzed. I was still working on this script and thinking about the questions the film raises. After that, I looked at this from a whole new angle." The pair's salvation eventually arrived in the form of Joanne Jacobson, a friend from their theater days, who signed on in 2008 to executive-produce the movie. It was shot on a micro-budget in 23 days in Los Angeles, with Ruffalo working behind and in front of the camera. "For me, acting is a very secret and insular process," he says. "Directing is very different—it's far more inclusive. I had to be in touch with everyone from production heads to extras. It was a challenge, to say the least. But I'd waited 10 years for this and wasn't going to let anything stop me." To round out his cast, Ruffalo called upon various actors he'd met over the years, such as Linney, his "Windtalkers" co-star Noah Emmerich, and fellow "Zodiac" player John Carroll Lynch. "I've sort of been collecting people as I go along," he admits. "It might come from my theater background, where I'm building a repertory company. I would work with these people and start looking for places where I could use them." Though he had never worked with either of them, Orlando Bloom and Juliette Lewis signed on to play members of the rock band O'Dwyer performs with. Ruffalo's wife had suggested Lewis, who initially hesitated at taking on the role. "She told us, 'I've sort of played this; I'm in a rock band in real life. I just don't know,' " Ruffalo recalls. "But after coming in and talking to me and Chris and hearing the story, she said, 'Well, you guys, I have to do it now. I'm being guided to do this movie.' " By contrast, Bloom wasn't someone Ruffalo thought of as the arrogant lead singer of the band. "I had another actor in mind, but he had some schedule changes and I lost him," the director says. "Orlando expressed a real passion for it, and anyone who puts themselves out there like that, I have to meet. And the first thing he said to me was, 'You know, Mark, I really need an experience like this. This part scares me, but I'd like to try. I'll do anything you want me to do, but I need a healing myself.' " Bloom so transformed his appearance for the role, many viewers don't recognize him at all in the film. "He was a revelation," Ruffalo says. "He was there, totally egoless, no attitude, and he worked his ass off. And I love when people come up to me and say, 'I thought Orlando Bloom was in this movie. Where is he?' " Critical 'Sympathy' "Sympathy for Delicious" made its debut at the 2010 Sundance Film Festival, and the immediate critical response was not kind. "Some of those first reviews were harsh and mean, and particularly mean to some of my cast members," Ruffalo says. "And I really took umbrage with it." IFC.com called it "a gangly mess of a movie." "It looked like it was going to be a disaster," he says. But then things began to change. "A rebuttal review came out in USA Today that essentially said, 'I don't understand these mean reviews; they totally seemed to miss the movie.' And then Manohla Dargis of The New York Times came out with a rave review." By the close of the festival, the film had walked away with the Special Jury Prize. "It was harrowing, it was heartbreaking, it was exhilarating, and in the end, totally exalting." As for the harsher critics, Ruffalo says the ones that really got to him were those that criticized Thornton's performance. "Let me put it this way: I'm in the movie, working opposite Chris. And Chris steals every scene I'm in," Ruffalo says with a laugh. "Damn him!" Still, the film didn't instantly land a distributor out of Sundance. Though they had a few offers, Ruffalo and Thornton wanted to hold out for a theatrical release. "Thank God the producers said, 'This movie is too special, and we believe in it, and something good is going to come,' " Ruffalo says, adding that he then wasted months on "a real crackpot" trying to solidify a deal. Eventually, Maya Entertainment came along with plans to distribute the film in theaters. "I've been collaborating with them every step of the way, on marketing, cutting a trailer, designing the poster, everything," he says. "It's been a great experience working with them, but it's been a long haul." As for how audiences will embrace a film about a disillusioned faith healer that dares to ask questions about people's belief systems, Ruffalo believes there's something in the movie for everyone. After screenings, he would find himself approached by Christians who thanked him for not mocking their beliefs, and by atheists who congratulated him for exposing faith healing as a sham. "But ultimately it's not a religious movie; it's a movie that has religious people in it," Ruffalo says. "What it's really about is how you sometimes don't get what you want in life, but you get what you need. And sometimes you're handed a bag of shit in life, but out of that, something can grow. Something good and beautiful.

#mark ruffalo #christopherthornton #sympathyfordelicious #marvel #thehulk #the avengers

4 notes · View notes

finn-nelson-for-the-win · 7 years

Text

Before the World Stops Turning: Pt.3

Hello again! I’ve spent the last week doing A LOT of writing because for whatever reason my Uni classes haven’t been as time consuming, so I decided to make the most of my lack of social life and just write the next 5 or so chapters of this fic so they’ll be ready to edit and post even once I begin to get busy again…Anyways, this chapter is a little boring, but it explains a couple things and acts as a short transition chapter to get to some more fun stuff in the next chapters.

If you’d like to be added/removed from my tags list, don’t hesitate to let me know!

Everything I’ve written can be found right here!

I hope you enjoy this chapter! (As always, additional notes and random commentary I have will be at the end beneath the tags)

Rae and Izzie had spent a few hours at the café the previous night eating, recapping the highlights of the concert, and posting some of the better pictures that had been taken using both of their phones to Izzie’s social media accounts.

By the time Rae made it back to her apartment in the taxi that Izzie and her had split, it was already in the early hours of the morning and Rae’s exhaustion had caught up to her so much so that she fell asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow when she got in bed.

It could not have been more than a few hours later when Rae was awoken by the bright morning sun streaming in through her partially open curtains and the sound of her phone buzzing violently on her bedside table.

Who the fuck would be trying to video call me right now?!?

“Uh, yes, hello?” Rae replied when she answered the video call without checking to see who it was that was calling her at such an early time.

“Rae-Rae! I’m so glad you’re awake! I didn’t wake you, did I?” Izzie replied with a cheerful smile.

“Uh, ‘course not, Izz…” Rae replied, her voice still thick with sleep, as she rubbed her eyes slightly to finish waking up.

“Wonderful! So you’ll never guess how many social media notifications I woke up to when I checked my phone a little while before I called you…”

“Oh really? I bet your friends that bailed on going to the concert with you are ruing the day, huh?” Rae replied as she sat up in her bed with a pillow propped up behind her back to get into a more comfortable position.

“Probably, yeah, but even better than that…So you know how I posted all the concert photos online last night, yeah? And you know how I tagged the bands and band members that were in the pictures? Well…” Izzie smirked and paused for dramatic effect, causing Rae to chuckle.

“C’mon Izz! You can’t keep me in suspense like this…you simply must tell me everything,” Rae replied with a teasing edge to her voice.

“Hey now! The sass is unnecessary, but I’m a good friend, so I will tell you the rest of the story…so this morning I woke up to see notifications on my phone saying that a couple members of Kings and Queens liked and shared the group photo I posted of all of us!”

“Oh, that’s wonderful, Izzie! I’m so happy for you!” Rae replied in complete sincerity because she could tell how excited her mate truly was

“Oh that’s not all…I also saw that I was followed by the Kings and Queens Band account as well as one of the band members! Isn’t that so exciting, Rae? I simply had to call you and I felt this warranted a video call instead of a boring old phone call…I also had a question to ask you…”

“Yeah, that’s so great, Izz! They were all really nice guys, so it’s no surprise that they like to interact with fans like this…What did you want to ask me?”

“Do you remember how many band members were in Kings and Queens, Rae?”

“Uhm, maybe five? Lead singer, drummer, bassist, and two guitar players I think…so yeah, five! Why do you ask?”

“Huh, that’s what I thought…it’s not a big deal, but I was looking at the group photo that we took that I posted online and only see four band members and I wasn’t sure who could be missing. I’m pretty sure everyone was there when we posed for the picture…” Izzie replied, her eyebrows knitting together slightly in confusion.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure everyone made it in…wait a second! Maybe not…There was one guy that was busy and rushed in at the last second, but I’m not sure if he made it into the picture.”

Rae powered up her laptop and brought up Izzie’s account where that picture—along with about a dozen others—was posted and zoomed into the photo to get a closer look.

Izzie sat waiting patiently for Rae to speak after taking another look at the photo, but she was soon caught off-guard when Rae laughed aloud suddenly.

“Holy shit, Izz! Take a look at this! You’re right—well sort of…the photo we took has all band members, but it technically only has three fingers from the fifth band member on the far side of the frame.”

Rae turned the camera of her phone to show the group photo that she been looking at on her laptop and began to show Izzie what she meant.

“As you can see, there’s the two of us and Chop next to me…there’s two guys back behind the three of us…and on Chop’s other side is one of the other band members, but if you look very closely at this fourth guy’s shoulder, you can see three fingers and someone’s hand resting on his shoulder!”

“Okay, I think I see that…but are you sure it’s not someone else’s hand though?”

“That’s what I thought at first too, but the angle that the hand is resting on his shoulder makes it seem like there had to be another person standing just outside the frame of the photo!”

“That’s so funny, Rae! I wonder which of them got left out…”

“Huh, yeah…do you remember who was who? Or what was the name of the band member that followed you after you posted the pictures online, Izz? Maybe we can figure it out like that.”

“Uh, okay…well I know that the one with the glasses next to Chop is named Archie. I’ve been following him on social media since I first found out about the band a while back. I think the taller guy in the back is named Alex…and I’m pretty sure the guy with the drumsticks next to Alex is the drummer, Danny…I don’t remember who else could have been left out…”

“Okay, well that’s four of five band members. Did any of them follow you on social media?” Rae asked as she tried to recall the names of the different band members that Chop had told them when he introduced her and Izzie to everyone in the band mere hours ago.

“Uh, no, actually! The guy who followed me is someone called ‘Finn Nelson’…huh, I guess that settles it! Finn is our three-fingered mystery boy!”

“Mystery solved! I knew we’d be able to figure this out!” Rae called triumphantly before shifting her attention to her mat that seemed to be engrossed in whatever she was currently doing on her phone.

“Dear lord, Rae…I’m looking through our mystery boy’s profile and he’s great…there’s a lot of cool sunset and photography-type posts, but the few selfies and band promos where you can see him…wow,” Izzie replied looking away from her phone only for a brief moment to make sure that Rae was still paying attention before continuing, “it’s a shame all you can see of him in our group photo are his fingers because he is proper fit!”

“Oh is he, now? I thought you had a thing for a certain lead singer of Kings and Queens, Izz…”

“I do still like Chop…he’s quirky…but this lad? Holy shit, Rae, he’s perfect for you!” Izzie replied giving Rae a suggestive smirk and eyebrow raise.

“Uh huh…well, I guess I’m just going to have to take your word for it, Izzie!”

***

It had been nearly a month since Rae had first agreed to accompany Izzie to a concert in the city in which four bands she had never heard of were performing at a local bar, but in that time, Rae’s interest in the bands that they had seen had only continued to grow.

Upon Izzie’s insistence, Rae had even borrowed the Kings and Queens CD Izzie had purchased after the show and Rae spent a week listening to the album end-to-end. By the time she returned the CD to her mate, she had familiarized herself with most of the songs and had chosen her favorites.

“So Izzie, how have you been as of late? I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever!” Rae playfully whined during one of her weekly Thursday lunch dates with Izzie when they both happened to have a break in their schedules to hang out for a few hours.

“It’s only been about a week and a half since I last saw you, Rae! Remember when we had the movie night at your apartment and you returned my Kings and Queens CD to me that you had borrowed?” Izzie replied as she lifted the sandwich she had ordered from her plate and took a large bite.

“Has it really been that long?” Rae replied with a chuckle as she used her fork to stab a cherry tomato from her salad and brought it to her mouth.

“Oh, that reminds me! Did you see that Kings and Queens announced that they’re playing a show at the same bar we saw them last time in a couple weeks?”

“No, I didn’t see that! Where did you find that out? I’m pretty sure I’d remember if they had posted something on the band page…”

“Do you not follow all the individual band members as well as the main band account?”

“No, I just follow the band’s page, I think…”

“Ah, well that explains it then! I think Archie might have posted it? I’m pretty sure he mentioned that they have discounted tickets for sale too if we don’t want to pay the fees for buying the tickets online or wait to get them on the day of the show. I think we just have to let them know how many tickets we want and they’ll deliver the tickets directly to us!”

“Oh wow, that’s perfect! Do you know what day the show is? If we’re both free we should definitely go see them play again!”

“I don’t know the exact date, but I can check…So you don’t even follow Finn’s account, Rae? Why the hell not, babe?”

“Because, Izzie! I’m not going to be one of those girls that thirst follow band members and try to be a groupie at every single show! He’s just a normal person, even if he is as perfect looking as you seem to think he is!”

“Well, I suppose…wait a second…have you still not seen what he looks like yet?”

“Erm…no, I guess I haven’t…well not specifically, at least. Every time you tell me that I should check out his profile, I forget or get distracted and I’ve never gotten around to it, I guess…”

“Well then, love…prepare to be blessed by the beautiful specimen of a man that is Finn Nelson, lead guitarist of the band Kings and Queens…” Izzie said without removing her eyes from her phone as she typed and clicked rapidly before passing Rae her cellphone as if it was a sacred object that must be handled with extreme care.

“Holy fuck…”

“I know, right?”

He looks so familiar…wait a second, is that—no, it couldn’t possibly be the guy that I stumbled into before the show…could it?

“So Rae…was I right or was I right? Finn is basically a god, don’t you think?”

“Yeah…he’s definitely, uh, well…I think I know him…”

“Holy shit, really? How?”

“Well, I don’t know-know him…do you remember how when we were standing outside the bar before the concert I told you that I ran into a guy and I dropped my phone…well this is the guy I bumped into…I just don’t know how I never made that connection!”

“That’s so crazy! What a weird coincidence though…”

“No kidding! Well, I have an Abnormal Psychology class to get to right now, but it was really nice meeting you for lunch today! I’ll check when Kings and Queens are performing and maybe we can reach out to them for a pair of discounted tickets?”

“Yeah, for sure! Just let me know if you think you’ll be free and we can work out all the details.”

***

By the time Rae walked into her apartment after a busy day of classes and studying for the finals she had coming up in all her Uni courses, the sun was already mostly set and the sky was streaked with the final remnants of pinks and oranges in a mostly blue and purple backdrop.

She immediately changed into an oversized t-shirt and a pair of patterned lounge pants before sitting down at the desk in the far corner of her bedroom and powering on her laptop.

Okay, let’s take a look to see when this upcoming Kings and Queens concert is gonna be…

Rae pulled up the band’s social media profile and saw a post that was only a few hours old with a picture of the promotional poster for this particular show.

Rae: Hiya Izz! I just checked the date for the K&Q show and I’m free if you still wanna go! It’s two Fridays from now…the Friday of exam week, I think?

Izzie: YES I STILL WANT TO GO! I have a final exam that morning, but I’ll definitely be free that evening.

Rae: Great! I’ll go ahead and let them know that we want tickets so we can get the discounted price for the tickets, yeah?

Izzie: Perfect! That sounds good to me, just let me know how much I owe you for my ticket, yeah?

Rae: Will do!

Rae set her phone back down on her desk beside her laptop and went back to reading the post in which the Kings and Queens band page had announced that they were playing the show and were selling a limited number of tickets at the lowest possible prices.

Rae was debating between commenting on the post about needing tickets or sending them a private message before ultimately deciding to ask them about the tickets privately.

Hello there! I saw your post about the show you are playing at the end of the month and I saw that you have a limited number of tickets available for purchase at reduced prices. I’m interested in purchasing a pair, please…

@eveerez @tinakegg @hey1tskat1e @lurkernolonger @milllott @nutinanutshell @i-dream-of-emus @milymargot @vivammfd @bitchesbecrazy89 @arathewallflower @mallyallyandra @kneekeyta

A/N: Poor Finn :( First Rae brushes him off when he’s trying to be friendly and now we find out that he was “accidentally” cut out of the frame for the photo that they took after the first show. All I can say is you really have to be careful who you ask to take pictures for you using your phone at concerts because you never know what you’re gonna get…

So I don’t know about you guys, but I’m really enjoying what I’m dong with switching POV between what’s going on with Rae and what’s happening with Finn. I’m also making a point to have the timelines match us as much as possible from one POV to another with no overlap, so fingers crossed that I don’t end up fucking this up or making the story too hard to follow lol…

Also, how cool is it that their band is willing to sell discounted tickets to fans and deliver them to the people wanting the tickets. I know a number of people that are in local and mid-level bands where I live and this is something that they commonly do when the bands playing are lesser known or when there hasn’t been enough time for the concert to really be promoted in order to have a full crowd, so a lot of local bands will try to entice friends/family/previous fans that have seen them by offering to give them discounted tickets. I’m not sure if this is a common practice in other places too, but I think it’s pretty cool.

Writing this story is making me really miss all the concerts in sketchy bars and small venues I went to with my best friend at the time when I was 15/16/17 years old…ah, the memories *looks wistfully into the distance*

This entire thing has been super scatter-brained and confusing, but this is me we’re talking about, so what did you all really expect? Hahaha…I hope you enjoyed this chapter and the next one should be coming very soon as well…I’m still trying to decide exactly when, but I can assure you that it will be relatively soon. Stay awesome, my friends!

#Finn-Nelson-for-the-win #Before the World Stops Turning #Part 3 #mmfd #my mad fat diary #mmfd fanfic #my mad fat diary fanfiction #My writing #the concert series

33 notes · View notes

kwonhozhi · 7 years

Text

Everybody Needs A Nervy B Now And Then

Bitch In A Uniform

On the verge of turning 18, grown-up-to-be James sets his sights on the new girl at school, “gorgeous sex-god” Lily, bass player for the Stiff Dylans. Unfortunately Lily appears to already be dating James’ evil archrival: the greasy and bitter Snape. With his ridiculously named cat Sir Jeremy and his band of brothers, the Ace Gang, by his side, James sets his mad schemes in motion to nab a snogtastic girlfriend and have the best birthday party ever.

it’s here !!!! its here despite my computer shitting itself and drawing a total blank on a title and not being able to leave it alone its HERE we MADE IT

my eternal love to @alrightevans and also @alrightpotter @prongsyouignoramus and @gxldentrio

AO3

James Potter to Ace Gang: cnt believe u wankers fucking abandoned me

Remus Lupin: james we were RIGHT THERE

James Potter: NOT DRESSED AS HORS D’OEVRES

Sirius Black: it’s spelled hors d’oeuvres

James Potter: i think you’ll find its spelled ‘betrayal’

James Potter: why did you all bail???????????????

Peter Pettigrew: Mum wouldn’t let me go as a cocktail sausage, seeing as she’s veggo and all

Sirius Black: jam you KNO yellow washes me out idk what you were thinking trying to make me be a cheese and pineapple stick

Remus Lupin: i’ll square idk how the fuck i was supposed to be a vol-au-vent

James Potter changed the group name to Betrayal Gang.

Sirius Black changed James Potter’s nickname to olive boi.

Sirius Black to James Potter: u should have been at mine 2 minutes ago

Sirius Black: wher r u

James Potter: coming

James Potter: was talking to mum and dad abt my party

Sirius Black: howd it go

James Potter: :///////:

Sirius Black: double ended :/

James Potter: yeah.

Sirius Black to Ace Gang: just saw snape on the way to bio. god hes so wet up close

James Potter: wearer of the wettest haircut known to humanity thy name is snape

Peter Pettigrew: Omg i kno i saw it this morning like imagine turning up for the first day like that

James Potter: youd think hed have least timed his yearly bath to coincide with the start of school

Remus Lupin: you guys shouldn’t be so mean about him

Remus Lupin: im just kidding can you imagine

James Potter to petition for dumbledore to make a rule about school bathing regulations: lupin we all saw u go off with that bird at break

James Potter: whats the 411 lil mama

James Potter: whats the hot goss

Remus Lupin: nothing, she’s the new exchange student i was showing her around

Sirius Black: sure

James Potter: that hickey under your collar get there by itself did it

Remus Lupin: we’re not talking about this

Peter Pettigrew: Guys shut up i have English and McG is giving me the worst look

Sirius Black to now taking bets for how long it takes sirius to get a detention off mcgonagall: where have you and the swedish girl got to on the snogging scale???

Remus Lupin: shes danish

Remus Lupin: and what the fuck is the snogging scale

James Potter: me and siri invented it

James Potter: 1) holding hands 2) arm around 3) good-night kiss 4) kiss lasting over three minutes without a breath 5) open mouth kissing 6) tongues 7) upper body fondling—outdoors 8) upper body fondling—indoors (in bed) 9) below waist activity 10) the full monty

Remus Lupin: why am i friends with either of you

Sirius Black: we were thirteen

James Potter: oh so suddenly now that you’re 18 you’re too COOL for the snogging scale????????

Peter Pettigrew: CAN YOU STOP HAVING IMPORTANT DISCUSSIONS WHILE IM IN CLASS WITH MCGONAGALL

Sirius Black: o i thought this was the chat without peter

Peter Pettigrew: Fuck off

Peter Pettigrew to Remus Lupin: You don’t really have a chat without me do you ?????

Peter Pettigrew: ??????????????????

Peter Pettigrew: Remus

James Potter to Ace Gang: NEW GIRL ALERT

Peter Pettigrew: Yeah, we’ve already seen her. You were there when we walked in on lupin in that EXTREMELY compromising position

Remus Lupin: if you don’t drop it im leaving the chat

James Potter: NOT HER

James Potter: ANOTHER ONE

James Potter: SHES FRIENDS WITH ALICE THE LAUGH

James Potter: SHES THE LOVE OF MY LIFE

Sirius Black: you walked in on remus doing HWAT

Remus Lupin has left the chat.

James Potter has added Remus Lupin to the chat.

James Potter: THIS IS IMPORTANT

James Potter: WE NEED A PLAN

James Potter: HOW DO I GET HER TO FALL IN LOVE WITH ME

Peter Pettigrew: Maybe say hello to her

James Potter: WHAT

Remus Lupin: pete don’t be ridiculous. james would NEVER do something that easy and straightforward

James Potter: i am having a CRISIS here

Sirius Black: please tell me what you walked in on remus doing with the danish girl

Remus Lupin has left the chat.

James Potter added Remus Lupin to the chat.

James Potter: everyone is on intel until further notice

Peter Pettigrew: Yeah okay

Remus Lupin: alright

Sirius Black changed the group name to Lupin’s Nonspecific But Indisputable Lovers’ Tryst With Eddie Redmayne.

Remus Lupin has left the chat.

Remus Lupin to Ace Gang and don’t you dare change it sirius black: her name’s Lily Evans

Remus Lupin: Marlene McKinnon says she just moved here from Derby

James Potter: omg remus i could kiss you

Remus Lupin: Mar also said her family’s opened an organic shop on high st

Sirius Black: how nutritious

James Potter: no one asked you

James Potter to Sirius Black: what categories have you come up with for the physical attractiveness test

Sirius Black: skin hair eyes nose figure mouth teeth

Sirius Black: all out of ten

James Potter: fab ill do up a table in word now and go to the library first thing at break to print us 4 copies

Sirius Black: marvy

James Potter to sirius no one is going to dare you to hack into the school and play gasolina over the loudspeaker at assembly on monday so stop angling for it: which of you fuckers gave me a 3 for my eyes

Sirius Black: it was purely based on their functionality

Sirius Black: you can barely see without ur glasses

Sirius Black: very poor eyes

James Potter: so it wasn’t abt how i look

Sirius Black: i didn’t say that

James Potter: sirius uve rly hurt me

James Potter: what about the 4 for my mouth

Sirius Black: that one was bc you ordered pineapple on the pizza

James Potter: i told u it was an ACCIDENT

Remus Lupin: im retrospectively docking 2 points off every single category for both of you

Peter Pettigrew: Im docking 3

Remus Lupin to Ace Gang: have to ditch saturday afternoon lads

Sirius Black: um why

Peter Pettigrew: Yeah whats more important than season six of the simpsons

Remus Lupin: i got a job

Sirius Black: where

Remus Lupin: Evans’ Organic Trade

James Potter: YOU GOT A JOB IN EVANS’ SHOP AND YOU DIDNT THINK TO TELL ME

Remus Lupin: im literally telling you right now dickhead

Remus Lupin: also it’s time travel

Sirius Black: it is NOT time travel it is CLEARLY an alternate universe you dithering FOOL

Peter Pettigrew: You’re both wrong its a time loop

James Potter changed the group name to donnie darko is BANNED from the group discourse.

Peter Pettigrew: Just because YOU thought it was a dream

Sirius Black to Friends Of James Potter Support Group: OMG

Sirius Black: PETTIGREW I CANT BELIEVE UR MISSING THIS

Peter Pettigrew: Whats happening tell meeee

Sirius Black: we just went into lupins shop

Sirius Black: evans wasn’t even here

Sirius Black: she just came out with a cup of tea for lupin and james ACTUALLY screamed,,,,,,,,,,,, evans almost dropped the mug

Sirius Black: lupin just introduced us and shes given him this look like “they better not be loitering” so hes selling me onions so she doesn’t kick us out

Sirius Black: lupin i dont want these and i shant pay for them

Sirius Black: evans is trying to talk to prongs but hes just giving her heart eyes

Sirius Black: she just asked if hes in her french class and he SQUEAKED

Sirius Black: day 13. james has still not spoken a word of english to evans

Sirius Black: day 27. hes said “mfngggg” instead of yes the stupid git

Peter Pettigrew: Fucking hell im still in this stupid mother son bonding thing for another half hour

Sirius Black: MOTHER SON BONDING

Sirius Black: siri set a reminder to mock peter later

Sirius Black: lupin just took the tea and evans has revealed shes in a BAND

Sirius Black: prongs has found his voice (!) and hes making the aziz ansari :D face which, unfortunately, makes him look like a total prat

Peter Pettigrew: Rookie error

Sirius Black: she just told him they’re called the stiff dylans and he just nodded really seriously and said “great name” im going to knock him out if only to stop him embarrassing himself further the stupid git

Sirius Black: fun facts about lily evans: she plays bass and she thinks james has brain damage probably

Sirius Black: JAMES JUST INADVERTENTLY TOLD HER SHE HAS REALLY BIG HANDS AND SHE WAS DEADASS LIKE

Sirius Black: “……………………okay”

Peter Pettigrew: BIG HANDS

Sirius Black: HER CAT just came out and prongs has jumped on the opportunity my boy he did it he managed to steer his way onto a topic he knows something about

Sirius Black: more fun facts about lily evans: her cat is called elizabeth bennet and she thinks james has brain damage definitely

Sirius Black: evans laughed at “we just call him sir jeremy but his real name is sir jeremy cattington the third, prince of purrsia and king under the meowntain” thank god

Sirius Black: he told her about how he used to take sir jeremy on walks by the beach but he ate his collar and his lead why is he like this

Sirius Black: prongs my man you sound like an eharmony profile gone wrong

Sirius Black: she mentioned hr sister,,,,,,,,,,,petunia

Sirius Black: the evans parents had a thing for matching names me and evans have so much in common

Sirius Black: FLEAMONT JUST WALKED IN PETE I CANT BELIEVE U ARENT HERE I SWEAR TO GOD YOU COULD NOT WRITE THIS

Peter Pettigrew: Noooo omg

Sirius Black: monty: “james????? what are you doing here? you hate vegetbles”

Sirius Black: james: “haha dad you’re so funny but of course i LOVE vegetables as we all know”

Sirius Black: monty: “james. the last time your mother tried to serve you broccoli you threatened to run away from home”

Sirius Black: james: “haha i was a picky kid, wasn’t i”

Sirius Black: monty deadass just looked right at evans and said “james that was wednesday” that man is my Hero

Sirius Black: lupin literally ducked behind the counter so prongs couldn’t see him laughing the lucky git prongs is glaring daggers at me

Sirius Black: evans is giving him the WORST pitying look omg poor jam he looks like he did when chelsea lost the final last year

Sirius Black: evans is gone holy shit i cant believe u missed this pete

Peter Pettigrew: :(

James Potter to Sirius Black: how am i ever going to be able to face her again ??????

James Potter: i love my dad but he can be so beyond the valley of the thick sometimes

Sirius Black: he wasnt that bad

Sirius Black: i dont think evans even took any notice

James Potter: are u SURE my dad hasnt ruined it ????

Sirius Black: j

Sirius Black: it was reaaaally fab

James Potter: fabbity fab?

Sirius Black: with knobs on.

Sirius Black: besides im sure evans will understand

Sirius Black: all parents say stupid things sometimes

Sirius Black: shell probably like u more bc shell feel bad uve got a dad who’s BEYOND bonkerdom

James Potter: you’re right

Sirius Black: i kno :~)

James Potter: i love you but don’t ever send me that face again

Peter Pettigrew to James Potter: I can’t believe you told evans she has big hands

James Potter: you werent even THERE

Remus Lupin to Ace Gang :~): anyone seen black

James Potter: hes in detention

Remus Lupin: what for this time

James Potter: handing out onions at assembly

Peter Pettigrew: The onions from sunday??

Sirius Black: no peter, a completely different set of onions

Peter Pettigrew changed the group name to Sirius stop being mean to me.

James Potter to everyone be meaner than usual to peter: what the fuck is evans doing with snivellus

Sirius Black: wot

Peter Pettigrew: We just walked past them and it looked Really Bad

Peter Pettigrew: She was holding his hand

James Potter: what the FUCK has he got going on that i dont

James Potter: this is fucking ridiculous. snape. who the fuck does he think he is

Remus Lupin: ill see what i can find out at work on monday

James Potter to Peter Pettigrew: is it weird to like evans’ band on fb if we’re not friends

Peter Pettigrew: Just fucking add her dude

Sirius Black to James Potter: look ive been doing some thinking and if u rly want 2 impress evans ur gonna have 2 up ur snogging game

James Potter: what the fuck

Sirius Black: dont argue im the best judge of this

Sirius Black: ur like. ok at kissing but i feel like u could b better

Sirius Black: there’s a kid on andy’s block who does snogging lessons after school his name is frank and hes a 7 maybe 7 and a half if u don’t wear ur glasses

James Potter: what is wrong with u

Sirius Black: u say that like ur not gonna look into it

James Potter: fuck off

Peter Pettigrew to the queen does NOT wear a 44DD: Hes just gone in

Peter Pettigrew: Cant believe neither of you came you missed OUT

Remus Lupin: what happened

Peter Pettigrew: He knocked on the door and this bloke came out and like. Objectively and all but he is Fit™

Peter Pettigrew: And he looked prongs up and down and was like

Peter Pettigrew: "I dont usually do boys but christ if you dont look like the saddest git ive ever seen"

Peter Pettigrew: I gave him a thumbs up on the way in

Remus Lupin: cant believe i missed it

Sirius Black: how did u get the tm thing like that

Peter Pettigrew: Copy it and save it as a keyboard shortcut

Sirius Black: ™™™™™™™™™™™™™™™

Peter Pettigrew: Stop

Sirius Black: no™

Remus Lupin: what have you done

Sirius Black to James Potter: so its like THAT is it ??????????? my kissing not good enough for you ?????????

James Potter: babe

James Potter: ur my first kiss ull always hold a special spot in my heart

Sirius Black: i need time

James Potter: YOU’RE THE ONE WHO TOLD ME ABOUT LONGBOTTOM IN THE FIRST PLACE YOU TWIT

James Potter, Snogging Sensation to i, sirius black, am giving james potter the cold shoulder: he put on careless whisper

Sirius Black: WHAT

Sirius Black changed to group name to i, sirius black, am now only giving james potter the lukewarm shoulder.

James Potter, Snogging Sensation: and hes from saliva CITY hes got nothing on u babe i promise

Sirius Black changed the group name to in light of new information, james potter and i, sirius black, have reconciled.

Remus Lupin changed the group name to Ace Gang.

Sirius Black: buzzkill

James Potter to gasolina is a Bad Song: mum’s got a promotion???????

Remus Lupin: tell her congrats

James Potter: it’s back in india though??????????????

Remus Lupin: oh

Sirius Black: you’re not moving are you

James Potter: i honestly don’t know

James Potter: im freaking out

James Potter: come round please

Peter Pettigrew: Holy shit

Peter Pettigrew: Ill pick everyone up

James Potter: they’re ruining my life and they still won’t let me have a party

James Potter to Rip in pieces james’ life in england: i have a plan

Remus Lupin: here we go

James Potter changed the group name to don’t message me in that tone of voice lupin.

Sirius Black: whats the plan

James Potter: evans likes cats. i like cats. i have a cat. and if that cat got lost i would be distraught. and if evans knew how upset i was shed help me find him.

Sirius Black: but sir jeremy isnt lost

James Potter: evans doesnt know that OBVIOUSLY

James Potter: honestly sirius sometimes i think youre half boy half turnip

Remus Lupin: jesus christ

James Potter changed the group name to im warning you lupin.

James Potter: i “””lose””” sir jeremy but you lot have him at the park then when u see us coming u let him loose and evans will chase him down and shell feel like a hero and shell get so caught up in the euphoria of the moment that shell kiss me and realise that we’re perfect for each other

Remus Lupin: ur insane

James Potter removed Remus Lupin from the chat.

Peter Pettigrew: You GUYS you KNOW im in english right now

Sirius Black: ffs peter just turn your phone on do not disturb when ur in mcg’s class

Peter Pettigrew: But i always forget to turn it back

James Potter to Sirius Black: i went round her shop but she said she was too busy helping her mum

Sirius Black: rip™

Lily Evans has sent you a friend request. Accept / Decline

Lily Evans to James Potter: begged off work. kno id be devo if i lost lizzy. wher r u?

James Potter: the beach

Lily Evans: be there asap x

James Potter to Sirius Black: plans back on

Sirius Black: oh okay

Sirius Black: small prob™ sir jeremy actually got loose

James Potter: she ended her message with an x

James Potter: does this mean she likes me

James Potter: wait WHAT

James Potter to Lily Evans: thanks so much for your help on sunday

Lily Evans: it was my pleasure. even if your cat IS mental.

James Potter: im telling him you said that

Lily Evans: noooooooooo

James Potter: so

Lily Evans: ominous.

James Potter: are you glad you moved to eastbourne?

Lily Evans: i guess. it's pretty chill

Lily Evans: have u always lived here?

James Potter: yeah

James Potter: its called gods waiting room

James Potter: because people come here to die

Lily Evans: ur being dramatic.

Lily Evans: i heard eastbournes the new brighton.

James Potter: yeah

James Potter: as if

Lily Evans: idk i like it here. its more peaceful than derby and the beach is soo good for ~song writing inspo~

James Potter: what do you write ur songs abt ?

Lily Evans: idk. life

Lily Evans: the universe

Lily Evans: how reality tv’s brainwashing us

James Potter: wow

Lily Evans: ikr

James Potter: careful, you’re starting to sound like my dad

Lily Evans: i dont mind so much, your dad’s pretty cool.

James Potter: ????

Lily Evans: he comes into the shop a lot.

James Potter: oh my god

James Potter: promise you wont take anything he says about me seriously

Lily Evans: no problem aha

James Potter: what about your dad? does he work in the shop too?

Lily Evans: no, he’s :/

Lily Evans: he died.

James Potter: oh. im so sorry, lily.

Lily Evans: its okay. its why my mum moved us out here and opened up the shop.

Lily Evans: she always wanted one

Lily Evans: eastbourne is such a step back from derby and i like it because it means me and petunia can keep an eye on her you know?

James Potter: i think i understand why you like it here

James Potter to evans showed prongs her O face: mum and dad are fighting about india again

Remus Lupin: fuck

Sirius Black: ):

Peter Pettigrew: )):

Sirius Black: stop trying to one up me, pettigrew

Frank Longbottom has sent you a friend request. Accept / Decline

James Potter to longbottom has the hots for prongs: mum’s just left

James Potter: so thats that then

Peter Pettigrew: Drinks at mine?

James Potter: yeah

James Potter to Remus Lupin: will you mention how shit snape is and how good i am when ur on shift with evans today

Remus Lupin: no you sad git i will not

James Potter: remus i LOVE her

James Potter: ill buy you a twix from the vending machine

Remus Lupin: alright

Sirius Black changed the group name to twix are grim.

Remus Lupin changed the group name to twix are grim but not as grim as curly wurlys.

Sirius Black: you’ve really hurt me, lupin

Remus Lupin: good.

James Potter to Remus Lupin: ???????????

James Potter: ur off shift now did you talk abt me ???????

Remus Lupin: no

Remus Lupin: and i already ate the twix so dont ask for it back

Peter Pettigrew to evans thinks snape is a clingy sod #confirmed: Watch out prongs

James Potter: for what

Remus Lupin: for that, i assume

Sirius Black: im in lunch detention what happened

Remus Lupin: longbottom’s making a come on at james

Sirius Black: McYikes

Remus Lupin: “why havent you accepted my friend request?” – longbottom

Remus Lupin: “because were not friends” – james

Sirius Black: james ur gonna get urself decked one day

Sirius Black: so can u stop being a little shit when im not around to watch thanks

James Potter: no promises

Remus Lupin to twin peaks season 3 fan theories club: sirius can you link me to that compilation video of diego luna saying he wants to touch jabba the hut

Remus Lupin: i want to show it to lily at work this afternoon

Sirius Black: ya sure

Sirius Black: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qGKrc3A6HHM

Remus Lupin: if i follow that link and it isnt to the video i asked for im not going to be your partner for the history assignment

Sirius Black: ………………..

Sirius Black: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HDU3PojzaHk

Remus Lupin: thank you

Peter Pettigrew changed the group name to Gasolina is banned from the group playlist.

James Potter to Gasolina (INCLUDING all derivative remixes reimaginings and covers) is banned from the group playlist: EVANS LIKES STAR WARS

James Potter: ???!?!?!?!??!!!!!??!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?

Remus Lupin: james that was three hours ago get with the times

James Potter: but i was at P R A C T I C E

Sirius Black: too bad so sad

Remus Lupin to Peter Pettigrew: WHOA

Peter Pettigrew: U watching from chem window?????

Remus Lupin: ya what just happened??????????????????

Peter Pettigrew: Snape tripped up james on the way to goal

Remus Lupin: is he ok??????

Peter Pettigrew: Hes got a bloody nose but hes okay

Remus Lupin: i meant snape

Peter Pettigrew: O na

Peter Pettigrew: I think james is gonna murder him lol

Sirius Black to marauding fools quote unquote minnie mcgonagall: mary mcdonald in the year below is having a party tomorrow night n i charmed her into giving us all invites

Sirius Black: well, she invited ME and i guess u lads can come as my collective date

Remus Lupin: im already invited

James Potter: me too

Peter Pettigrew: She invited me three weeks ago

Sirius Black: i got invited after PETTIGREW ????????? who the fuck

Sirius Black: Im Not Going™

Remus Lupin: yes u are

Peter Pettigrew: Yes u are

James Potter: yes u are

Sirius Black: Yes I Am™

Peter Pettigrew to Ace Gang: Why did you tell her i lost a SOCK ??????

Remus Lupin changed the group name to kickstarter to find peter’s missing third sock.

James Potter: i had to say SOMETHING

Remus Lupin: james, ever ridiculous under pressure

James Potter: besides, YOU’RE the one who pushed us behind a bush as if she would have thought it was weird that we at SCHOOL

Peter Pettigrew: I panicked

Peter Pettigrew: Lily said she thought snape tripping you was a dick move though

James Potter: trying to distract me by mentioning evans, huh???

Peter Pettigrew: Is it working

James Potter: i wish i could say no

Remus Lupin: id like to point out lily also said you should go up for the school team

Remus Lupin: so she clearly doesn’t care enough about you to know that you’re already. captain

Sirius Black: lupin stop being a flaky bitch

Sirius Black: thats my job

Peter Pettigrew to pres at james’ because its closest to mary’s NOT because its in any way a superior house to any other house accessible 2 the group: Did i just hear ur dad call u a minger

James Potter: if u have 2 ask u already kno the answer

Sirius Black: In Fleamont We Trust™

Sirius Black to party boiis: PRONGS IS THAT YOU OUTSIDE WITH FRANK LONGBOTTOM

James Potter: he fucking ambushed me

James Potter: evans didn’t see did she ?????????????????????????

Peter Pettigrew: Nah dont think so

Sirius Black: hes lying she absolutely did

James Potter: fuck this im going home

Remus Lupin to Sirius Black: i swear to god if you’re the one who just put on gasolina im blocking you

Sirius Black: (:

Remus Lupin: we arent friends

Remus Lupin to James Potter: me and lily are going to the pool this afternoon

Remus Lupin: 2:30pm

Remus Lupin: in case you wanted to coincidentally turn up

James Potter: what so i can aggravate her by drowning snape?

Remus Lupin: snape isnt coming

James Potter: oh. why not?

Remus Lupin: probably afraid of water

James Potter: explains why he never washes

Remus Lupin: lmao

James Potter to Sirius Black: me and moony are going to the pool and you’re coming

Sirius Black: as in the public pool????????

James Potter: obvi

Sirius Black: excusez-moi, c’est très grotesque

Sirius Black: im NOT going to the public pool little kids pee in that and the chlorine makes my hair go all frizzy

James Potter: i cant believe you’re abandoning me, your best friend, in his time of greatest need

Sirius Black: and you say IM dramatic

Remus Lupin to Ace Gang: what happened after we left yesterday???????

James Potter: idk it was weird

James Potter: we did handstands and she made fun of my pale legs ): then she tried to drown me but in like a ~playful~ way

James Potter: and i told her im not with frank longbottom in any capacity and she said “well that’s good then”

James Potter: and then she kissed me

Sirius Black: SHE KISSED YOU

Sirius Black changed the group name to EVANS KISSED JAMES EVANS KISSED JAMES EVANS KISSED JAMES EVANS ! KISSED ! JAMES !.

Remus Lupin: get in !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Peter Pettigrew: Result omg

James Potter: but then she said she had to go sort some stuff out and that she’d text me

Remus Lupin: oh, james

James Potter to Sirius Black: evans should text soon then that’s sorted and we should step up the party plans

James Potter: we’ve got so much left to sort

James Potter: venue, fashion statements, colour scheme

Sirius Black: you should do black and white

James Potter: ! marvy

James Potter to Remus Lupin: what does it mean when a girl kisses you and says she’ll text you does it mean she’ll /text you or does it mean she’ll message you on facebook

James Potter: because there’s a big difference

James Potter: remus ???????????????????????????

Remus Lupin: james its 4 in the morning

James Potter: so???????? ur awake arent u ???????????????? what does it mean ??????

James Potter: remus uve kissed the most girls u have to know

James Potter: remus

James Potter: remus please

Frank Longbottom has sent you a friend request. Accept / Decline

James Potter to Sirius Black: i need a drink

Sirius Black: what happened????

Sirius Black: im omw btw

James Potter: mum called and she wants me and dad to move out to india with her

James Potter: dad doesnt want to go but he also doesnt want to be away from mum any more im freaking out siri i might actually move back to india what the fuck

James Potter: and on top of that longbottom showed up at my house and tried to apologise how did he even get my address

Sirius Black: im here come open the door

Alice theLaugh to James Potter: is it tru that ur gay?

James Potter: idk i dont reckon

Alice theLaugh: didnt think u were, lily said u werent

James Potter: really? what did she say ???????????

Alice theLaugh: just that she knows 4 sure u arent

Alice theLaugh: are u going to the stiff dylans gig saturday?

James Potter: not sure yet

James Potter to Sirius Black: she kissed me and then left me on read at 3:45

Sirius Black: aw :/

James Potter: shut the fuck up

James Potter: she didn’t even tell me abt her gig in brighton

James Potter to james’ wet dream about evans: sirius i cannot believe you told my father about lily evans

Sirius Black: thats not fair

Sirius Black: u kno monty has an uncanny ability to get info out of me

Sirius Black changed James Potter’s nickname to the naff boy who had the sad party that no one went to.

the naff boy who had the sad party that no one went to: stop taking advantage of my vulnerability !

Remus Lupin to Everyone sign up for hindi on duolingo out of solidarity to james: watch out lads james has his plan face on

Remus Lupin: brace for impact

Peter Pettigrew: Oh geez

James Potter: fuck off then lupin i wont tell u then

James Potter removed Remus Lupin from the chat.

James Potter: now that we’re alone

James Potter: im gonna make evans jealous

Peter Pettigrew: Im afraid to ask how

James Potter: im going with alice the laugh to the stiff dylans gig

Sirius Black: christ james that’s pretty shitty

Sirius Black: that was lupin

Sirius Black: i say first, what could possibly go wrong

Sirius Black: second, what the fuck is alice the laugh’s real last name

Sirius Black: ive known her for 6 years and i dont know what it is

Peter Pettigrew to Friends Of James Potter Support Group: Say aye if ur completely unsurprised to learn i just overheard james respond to alice the laugh telling him he looks good tonight with “thanks, you’re very honest”

Sirius Black: aye

Remus Lupin: aye

Peter Pettigrew: “Alice you make me laugh like a loon on loon tablets”

Sirius Black: #yikes

Sirius Black: i have the shot

Remus Lupin: take it

Alice theLaugh to James Potter: i had a great time tonight

James Potter: haha me too

Alice theLaugh: best night of my life x

James Potter: o.k. see you at school on monday

Lily Evans to Sirius Black: so ur the one who put on gasolina at mary mcdonald’s party.

Sirius Black: what makes u say that ?

Lily Evans: you shouted “play gasolina” no less than 11 times last night.

Sirius Black: that doesnt sound like me

Sirius Black: are u sure it wasnt lupin ?

Sirius Black: that worldly bastard he sure does love puerto rican music

Lily Evans: i just texted him and he said “im surprised sirius even knows what puerto rico is”.

Sirius Black: fucker

Sirius Black to James Potter: oi cheer up

Sirius Black: what are you thinking about?

James Potter: poor alice

James Potter: i keep seeing her face when she tried to kiss me

James Potter: god i feel like such an arse for leading her on

James Potter to Alice theLaugh: you okay? you looked pretty upset in maths

Alice theLaugh: hope your plan worked

James Potter: what?

Alice theLaugh: marlene mckinnon overheard black telling lupin that you only went out with me to make lily jealous

Alice theLaugh: you’re a heartless user

Alice theLaugh: what you did, that’s just pants, that is

James Potter: i’m really sorry, alice

Alice theLaugh: i really thought you thought i was a laugh

Sirius Black to James Potter: i told you im sorry

Sirius Black: are you really going to ignore me over this

Sirius Black: like for real james pull your head out of your arse for twenty seconds and realise how shitty you’re being

Sirius Black: all your scheming and pretending

Sirius Black: honestly it’s no wonder evans never fucking texted you

James Potter: don’t talk to me again.

Lily Evans to James Potter: you’ve really pissed off a lot of people.

Lily Evans: alice is really cut up. she’s my mate, james.

James Potter: i didnt mean to use her.

James Potter: you never texted me when you said you would

Lily Evans: i handled it really badly, i know

Lily Evans: things got messy

Lily Evans: i didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.

James Potter: so you were thinking of breaking up with snape and then you were gonna text me?

Lily Evans: lmao what

Lily Evans: severus and i aren’t together.

James Potter: but you hold his hand

Lily Evans: i hold marlene’s had too but that doesnt mean im dating her.

Lily Evans: you know how much he hates you and it makes it hard, james, but yeah, i was gonna text you.

Lily Evans: and then i saw you with alice at my gig and i was gutted.

Lily Evans: but that’s different now.

Lily Evans: i thought YOU were different than that james but you’re not, you’re just some fuck off rich kid who only thinks about himself.

Lily Evans: i think it’s probably best if you don’t message me again.

James Potter to Remus Lupin: had a talk with lily. turns out shes not actually with snape.

Remus Lupin: i actually do not care, james. work things out with sirius or fuck off.

James Potter to Peter Pettigrew: i think i might have just gotten my mum fired

Peter Pettigrew: Go on, i guess

James Potter: i went to her office and talked to her boss and i think i just made things worse

Peter Pettigrew: Yeah, you’re getting pretty good at that

James Potter: i guess i am, yeah.

James Potter: im cancelling the party and ive told dad i want to move to india

James Potter: if either of the others ask

Peter Pettigrew: I’ll pass it on.

James Potter to Lily Evans: hi.

James Potter: i know you didn’t want me to message you again and i don’t blame you for that but i have to say this and then it’s done.

James Potter: what you said really hurt, but you were right. it wasnt me. it was beyond pants, and i really am sorry. i messed everything up with you, and with alice and with sirius and i guess i just got caught up in my own idea of how our lives should be and i got carried away

Lily Evans: i cut all ties with severus last night.

James Potter: oh.

Lily Evans: yeah.

Lily Evans: you know, i wrote a song about you.

James Potter: really?

Lily Evans: its called Bitch In A Uniform.

Lily Evans: i wrote it when i was pissed off with you.

Lily Evans: but i still like you, james. even though you’re mental.

James Potter: no you don’t

Lily Evans: i do.

Lily Evans: i cant stop thinking about you. i was hoping

Lily Evans: maybe

Lily Evans: we can go out?

James Potter: oh, fuck

Lily Evans: ?

James Potter: im moving to india

Lily Evans: what the fuck is wrong with you

Lily Evans: you’re so

Lily Evans: random

James Potter: 100% legit this time.

Lily Evans: that’s a goddamn shame.

Lily Evans: im at the beach if you wanted to come hang out.

James Potter to Sirius Black: feels really shitty without you

James Potter: im so so sorry

James Potter: can you ever forgive me?

Sirius Black: ur gonna have to buy me at least 16 curly wurlys

James Potter: its done.

Sirius Black: happy birthday you massive tosser xxx

joe to the jonas brothers: operation stun-the-pants-off-james-with-an-amazing-surprise-party is a go

joe changed the group name to Friends Of James Potter Support Group.

nick: oh thank GOD

kevin: I was wondering how long you’d hold out

nick: you’re both so stupid

James Potter to prongs is finally legal ;): cant believe all you wankers are busy tonight

James Potter: like i know we were all in a fight but you ALL have plans ????????

James Potter: dad’s taken pity on me and is taking me to a club this is the saddest 18th ever

Remus Lupin: sry fam

Peter Pettigrew: Lol

JAMES POTTER’S SUPER SECRET 18TH BIRTHDAY PARTY Private º Hosted by Sirius Black and 2 others.

312 going º 167 maybe 27 March 19:30 – 28 March 8:00

Details james is a prat but hes our best friend so lets all get together and show him that being legal to drink doesnt take away the fun of it !! event will have an open bar courtesy of mr & mrs p

theme is black and white !

only one rule : DONT TELL JAMES ABOUT IT anyone who does will be blacklisted from the party loool good luck telling your grandkids about how you didn’t get to come to the most important party of our generation

Peter Pettigrew to Fleamont Potter: The eagle has landed i repeat the eagle has landed

Fleamont Potter: Thanks son :~) Jem’s going to be so excited to see his mum.

Fleamont Potter: We’re up on the balcony by the bar, send her our way :~)

Peter Pettigrew: Will do, sarge

Lily Evans: happy birthday xxx hope you like ur present.

James Potter: my present?

James Potter: OH MY GOD

James Potter: YOU WROTE ME A SONG ?!?!?!

James Potter: lily evans i honestly think i love you

Marlene McKinnon to Remus Lupin: we can’t hear properly from up the back what did snape just say

Remus Lupin: “james potter is a girl-nabbing letch who can’t keep his slutty minx hands off other peoples’ girlfriends”

Marlene McKinnon: WHAT

Remus Lupin: “you’re just a big fat minging minger with horridious eyesight and the opposite of a haircut”

Remus Lupin: don’t worry, black’s filming the whole thing im sure it’ll be on youtube asap

Sirius Black to Ace Gang except all of us are legal™ now: id be lying if i said i remembered anything past monty and effy swing dancing

Remus Lupin: im fairly certain i walked in on frank longbottom and alice the laugh fucking in the mens

Remus Lupin: but i, too, am fuzzy on the details

Peter Pettigrew: I woke up at the lido. No idea how i got there

Remus Lupin: i just found this in my camera roll

Remus Lupin set a photo.

Peter Pettigrew: What the fuck

Remus Lupin: i have no memory of taking this and im glad of that fact because the camerawork here is shameful

James Potter: YOU’RE KIDDING

James Potter: YOU DON’T REMEMBER PETER FINDING A RAT IN THE BINS BEHIND THE CRICKET CLUB

James Potter: AND NAMING IT INIGO MONTOYA

James Potter: PETER YOU STILL HAD IT WHEN I LEFT YOU FOUR HOURS LATER

Peter Pettigrew: I mean that definitely sounds like me

James Potter changed Peter Pettigrew’s nickname to cryptid: ratboii.

cryptid: ratboii: Cheers

cryptid: ratboii: Where did you get to, anyway?

James Potter: me and evans went to the beach

Remus Lupin: cuuuuuute

Sirius Black: and you didnt invite ME

James Potter: sirius you were passed out by 11 o clock

Sirius Black: WHAT

James Potter: yeah, evans poured you a quadruple shot of jager after you played gasolina through your iphone six times in a row

Sirius Black: you convinced me to drink JAGER??????????!?!?!?!??!!!!?!?!??!?!?!??!?!?

James Potter: i told you it was sambuca black and somehow that was okay with you

Sirius Black: wtf™

James Potter added a life event. DIDN’T move to India 56 likes

James Potter commented: love reacts only pls

Peter Pettigrew commented: A N G E R Y R E A C T

James Potter replied to Peter Pettigrew’s comment: ???????

Peter Pettigrew to James Potter: I did duolingo every day even though ur not actually moving and im not gonna let it go to waste

Peter Pettigrew: बकरी मेरी प्रेमिका है

James Potter: peter you know i. cant read hindi i can only speak it right

Peter Pettigrew: ):

James Potter: i showed mum and she laughed and said it was cute

Peter Pettigrew: (:

Sirius Black shared a video to James Potter’s timeline: “Stiff Dylans performance interrupted by GREASY RACIST exclusive”

Lily Evans commented: tag urself im the girlfriend

Remus Lupin commented: im peter in the background trying to get out of the shot but sirius keeps moving so hes still in frame

Sirius Black commented: im prongs’s slutty minx hands

James Potter commented: im the look on snapes face when lily kisses me

Peter Pettigrew commented: Im james drawing attention to the fact he conned lily into kissing him because he thinks weve all somehow missed him telling us every two seconds for the last three days

James Potter is in a relationship with Lily Evans. 346 likes

Peter Pettigrew commented: Love react

Sirius Black commented: jealous react

Remus Lupin commented: L O V E R E A C T

#jily #james potter #lily evans #jily*#harry potter #hp #fic #angus thongs au #angus thongs and perfect snogging #ataps #my writing

1K notes · View notes

cameron-mckell · 7 years

Note

WIP guessing game: "There"

Well, I’ll give credit where it’s due; you picked a word I (apparently) like to use a lot. I also have a lot of works-in-progress, so this reply is rather long. Some of these sentences are from the same works, and on a couple occasions I added in a surrounding sentence for a little bit of context (I couldn’t help myself), and here we are.

Organizing this by fandom, so...

Miscellaneous (A.K.A. crossovers):

‘“Yeah, I know, but there has to be something we canhook into wirelessly; check for webcams, cellphones, anything. I needto know what's going on in there.”’

‘There were a couple ofrequests in reply, so Bruce headed for the door, coincidentally following Tonyout with the shield for repairs.’

‘Steve walked to theother end of the mat, casually stretching as he went, “Um... Well, obviously nolethal force, and no permanent damage, though I don't personally care ifthere's a little bruising, but I tend to heal up fast, so.” He shrugged, andTony had to look away to hide his smirk; yeah, that serum made pretty shortwork of bruising.’

‘Just as he was bending down to assess the damage, and if theycould save him if they got an emergency medical team up there (and stupid, whyhadn't Tony thought of that and called them already?), Tron suddenly came backto life. With a vengeance.

One moment, he was lying there, perfectly still (still as death),and the next, he was all movement; he rolled and struck out with his legs, in amove that looked more like break dancing than fighting, and swept Steve's legsout from under him. He didn't stop there, though, using the momentum of thesweep to pull on (and twist to an uncomfortable angle) Steve's leg with hishands, while his legs twisted up, incidentally smacking Steve in the stomach,before catching his neck in a pincer-like grip, a hair's breadth away from countlesslethal finishers that even Steve probably couldn't survive.’

‘And that's when henoticed the cracks; there was a collection of thin, fine cracks over Tron'schest, centering on where Steve had hit him – they transferred between armorand suit without a pause, which was only mildly strange, until Tony saw aparticularly ambitious one that ran up slightly onto Tron's neck.’

‘Flynn stood half infront of Tron, smiling for all that his hands were in fists at his sides, andyes, there was definite recognition in his eyes, but he didn't move from hisprotective position.’

‘I'd like to avoid doingeither of these things, as JARVIS is a beautiful system – though there is sometraffic congestion on the main pathways – and your programs are friendly, andonly fulfilling their functions, but so am I.”’

‘But, wait, yesterday Itried to get in during the meeting, and you were there, so how could you havebeen –”’

‘And there was Tron.’

‘If she didn't bathe, orchange her clothes it didn't matter; there was no one around to see her oldenough to voice an opinion on her appearance. Every time she forgot to eat justmeant fewer dishes were lying around, waiting to be cleaned up.’

‘Seemingly unaware of thesuddenly self-conscious squirming of the widow, he continued on about the manydifferent options there were when it came to grief counseling, some based inTerran medical practices, while others were completely alien.’

‘They stopped,thankfully, when the group counselor spoke up, one pair of eyes crinklingslightly with welcome, while the other pair widened with concern, “Alan? Isthere something we can help you with?”’

‘He hesitated a moment,glancing guiltily at his friend, before shaking his head, “I can't today; Ihave to pick Jet up in twenty minutes, and it'll take me fifteen to get therefrom here. I'm sorry.”’

‘Something in there musthave been a reference to an in-joke, because the other man cracked a weaksmile, and gently brushed off Alan's hand on his shoulder, “Yeah, okay.’

‘Everyone ignored it, andthe session resumed, as if there had been no interruption at all.’

‘“At first, I thought I'd got zapped into the future again,”Steve commented from out of the blue right behind him, and Holy Crap, howlong had Steve been standing there?

“Werethere flying cars?” Tony asked with a healthy dose of false cheerfulness,setting down his calipers so as to at least give Steve the appearance of havinghis full attention; to be fair, he had most of it, Tony just generally had ahard time of turning the rest of his brain off.‘

‘Were there no elevators or stairs in computer-world?’

‘There was just somany things – both more satisfying, and more productive – that he could bedoing with his time, instead of working on his phone to keep from nodding off,while a group of stuffy, greedy paper-pushers tried to gussy up their ownagendas and sell him on them.’

‘He'd been expecting twolarge contract negotiation teams – full of frosty men and women, dressed intheir corporate finest, carefully not-glaring at their not-quite businessrivals across the table, until they all turned at his not-so-fashionably lateentrance to not-glare at him then studiously ignore him, and he them, until nearthe end of the meeting, where he gave whatever-it-was the green or red light,and went back to doing important things – but there were only six people in theroom, including himself.’

‘There was a brown-hairedman standing by the window, facing out, hands clasped in the small of his back;the pose reminded Tony of one he'd caught Steve using every now and then,usually right before a mission.’

‘There was a steelinessin her spine that curbed most – but not all, that was probably impossible – ofhis inappropriate thoughts, but her expression was open and curious.’

‘He waved theconversation away, and was about to start in on another random topic or other –like what the deal was with all the motorcycle jackets – when there wassuddenly a stiletto heel threatening to crush his foot, and Pepper had takenover talking, “Please, don't mind Tony; he doesn't have much of a filterbetween his brain and mouth.’

‘There had been rumors ofa secret project that would change everything – Flynn alluded to it in some ofhis later presentations – but no one knew anything about it after he was gone,including Bradley, his best friend.’

‘A lot of advancementshave been made since then; there might not be a market for it anymore.” Or, inplain English 'We all know that there is some major emotional baggage with thisproject, are you wanting to do this for that reason, or is there an actualpoint, and possibly money to be made?' It was a little harsh, maybe, but if this was just somethingnostalgic to see through to the end without anything greater in mind, it wouldbe better for the company to refuse them, and use the space and power forbetter things – like the energy shielding project that was currently on arelatively low priority list for Tony to work on himself, because the potentialdestructive uses for the technology was rather high, and the company payoutswould be low, unless he could work out a safer design, and then there was theissue of –’

‘“There's also thesubject of your ethics policy, Mr. Stark.”’

‘His disciplinary profilewas nonexistent, not classified; there was simply nothing to put in it. Incontrast, there were very few notations of withheld information in hispsychological profile; Jim couldn't decide if this was a good thing or not.’

MCU:

‘Then there was Natasha, who was fine anyway.’

‘Tony took a moment toverify the contents of the clothing bundle – and yep, there was a sports bra inthere – and finally managed to look at Steve's face without automaticallyjerking his gaze away.’

‘There was the occasionalcultural misunderstanding – on both sides – but for the most part it waseasy to see that Thor had been raised to be a king, a diplomat.’

TRON:

‘“Who was it?” Alan asked after a moment, releasing the lockson his briefcase to pull out product mock-ups.

“Thepolice,” he replied, almost in a daze. He'd have to skip the meeting to headdown there...’

‘He currently shared the barred space with three Users – andwhy did they use bars of metal, when force-fields offered a more complete,stronger, and transparent divider? – though there was a fourth User pressed close against one of the wallsshared with a neighboring cell.’

‘Something inside of him tried to shudder away from that toucheven though he lacked the freedom to do so, heaving against a jagged void that shouldnot be there...’

‘The unwelcome touch slid away from his few operative sensors,and he watched as the hand moved in when there shouldn't be space for itto do so, then Clu spoke again, audio output glitching with a sort of chokedsound. “I will fix this.”’

‘There was a faint hintof wonder added in Clu's tone this time, accompanied by the quiet beeps andtones of some sort of interface.’

‘“You should have seenthe display on his output, Tron, there aren't values high enough to quantifyit; I calculated for sure he was going to need a cold boot, but then he –Tron?” Ram's running commentary terminated immediately upon registering thesudden distance in the other program's usually intensely focused inputs.’

‘“Finally,” he groaned, though his visual output was smiling.“I was about to calculate the probability of her fusing into the datascape,with how little activity there's been lately.”’

‘There was little more than the queues and empty space betweenthe monitor's station and the processing junction, so Ress spent the next sixmicrocycles either idling or advancing with the Kaze before her, until shefinally passed through the doorway to Processing.’

‘There wasn't much elsehe could do now but wait, so he cycled down to save energy – different fromstandby only by categorization technicality – and evaluated the gaping hole inhis render.’

‘He's still there,” shehastened to reassure Sam as the blood drained from his face, “but when I try tocommunicate with him, or access his data, I keep getting an 'unknown error'message.”’

Young Justice:

‘The drumming grew louder, Wally was almost vibrating withexcess energy, and Dick was almost there, when –’

‘He turned away from the map to look at everyone else, handson his hips triumphantly. “There, last three minutes. Minus the glares andgravity, and in much smaller words.”’

‘There was a startlingly large amount of calculationsthat went into running at superspeed – between changes in the evenness of theground, what it was made of, the relative friction of that surface, and itsstability, without taking into account mobile and stationary obstacles muchless combat – and Wally sometimes got caught up in those calculationsinstead of trusting the relatively-new instincts of a body inclined to movethat fast.’

‘“I wasn’t going to be the first one to say anything but yeesh, yeah – when was the last time youwashed that thing?” Artemis declared, waving one hand in front of her facewhile the other pinched her nose shut, and Robin was glad he’d forgotten todrop his cape in with the rest of his laundry since his and Batman’s adventurehunting Killer Croc a few days ago, and there was apparently enough sewer-smellclinging to the fabric to catch the attention of someone looking for it.’

‘He opened his mouth to explain –

… Maybethere was something wrong with him.

– and closedit again.’

‘He needed to prove thatthere wasn't anything wrong with him, not anymore.’

‘“And it's a real possibility, but I can't let it stop me.Because there are people out there depending on me, and, well... I've got tohelp them. You understand?”

There was along moment – even by normal standards – where nothing happened, then thatfiery hair tickled his chin in a nod.’

‘Their fears were different– there was little danger of him slipping into relative time even briefly, asslow as he was – but the principles were the same.’

‘Maybe when there were others around, he could take a break,but until then... he had to help.’

And that’s all, folks.

#Anonymous

2 notes · View notes