#honestly i am such a catch where the hell is my rugged pretty boy

[caramelcal]

someone you loved

Request: Hi, could you write some Luke Patterson x Reader based on Someone you loved from Lewis Capaldi, please? But I also would like a happy end if it is possible, although the song is sad one. Thanks in advance :)

Word Count: 2k

a/n: hellooo! its currently 1:15 am and i have school tomorrow lol...im so tired but i needed to finish this so enjoyyy! 

Masterlist

I'm going under and this time I fear there's no one to save me This all or nothing really got a way of driving me crazy I need somebody to heal Somebody to know Somebody to have Somebody to hold It's easy to say But it's never the same I guess I kinda liked the way you numbed all the pain 

Remembering that day was something that you found yourself doing constantly, which was incredibly unfortunate. As you sat up in your room, curled up in a ball your mind drifted to him, the way the other girl had her arms around him, something you and only you were supposed to you.

You remembered the way she leaned against him, her body against his, her short tank top doing nothing to stop her skin from coming in contact with Luke.  Anger had bubbled in your chest as well as your throat tightening up, fists clenching at your sides. You saw the way her lips were pressed against his. Against your boyfriend’s. He pulled back away from her, and the way she went up to his ear, whispering seductively before her eyes caught onto you. Then she smirked.

Luke’s bandmates surrounded him, Bobby with two girls, both with the same minimal clothing that the one that was all over your boyfriend was wearing, Reggie was pawning over one that walked slightly in front of him and Alex looked dreadfully uncomfortable. Yet, you didn’t care about them, all you cared about was the way that girl was all over Luke. And if things couldn’t get any worse, whilst she maintained eye contact with you, she whispered in his ear again, why the hell was he not pulling away from her? Suddenly, after the girl said something, pointing a manicured finger in your direction, and his head snapped over to where you were, your eyes flickering between him and the girl, who was now walking backward away from him like her job was done.

“You know what, Patterson?” You shouted angrily at the boy, getting the entire group’s attention, “Fuck you, we’re over.”

And with that, you stormed off. Yet, it was weeks later and you were still crying about it, you missed the way put his arms around your stomach, pulling your back against his chest, the way he laughed with you, the way he cried with you, how he would have one hand on the wheel and one on your thigh when he was driving, you missed the way you blasted songs and just sang together. You missed everything and even though he hurt you, you still love him.

Now the day bleeds Into nightfall And you're not here To get me through it all I let my guard down And then you pulled the rug I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved

Trying to convince yourself to get ready and go out after so many days of staying in your dark room, in pajamas, and wallowing in self-pity was hard but you did it. You got out of bed, got ready, and went on your way to get a drink at the local cafe; a hangout place that a lot of the students at your school used. You planned on meeting a friend here, but as you walked in and you saw him in there you knew it was a bad idea.

It wasn’t only him either, his bandmates were there too, talking, conversing and he had his arm around another girl. You shouldn’t have been surprised if he was willing to get with a girl when you guys were together, why would it be any different in the weeks after your break up? You’re staring at them for a while before one of them notices you, Reggie, smiling at you and waving you over.

“Y/n! Come over and join us for a milkshake!” Innocent Reggie. You don’t miss the semi-discrete nudge that Alex gives Reggie. He always did seem like the one person in the band with half a brain cell, and he was nice too. He looks up at you, casting you a sympathetic smile as Bobby, who again has another girl with him informs Luke that you’ve arrived. Yet, as your eyes catch onto him, you can’t help walking out.

He frowns at your retrieving figure, his body itching to run out and ditch everyone here to get you but he doesn’t as Bobby nudges him again, “Dude forget about her.”

Luke doesn’t say anything as he hesitantly nods, looking down and meeting eyes with Alex, who is sitting across from him. Luke had known Alex long enough to know what look he was giving him: almost begging him to chase after you, knowing that both you and Luke would benefit from it. But he didn’t. Luke stayed exactly where he was, arm slung over the girl’s shoulder.

He didn’t even remember the girl’s name, she wasn’t a bad looking girl but she wasn’t you. She was nice, but she didn’t know Luke as you did, she didn’t have a laugh that she hated but Luke found so adorable like you. Bobby said that these girls were distractions, to get Luke’s mind off of you but even as he sat there at that moment, not a single one of his thoughts strayed from you.

I'm going under and this time I fear there's no one to turn to This all or nothing way of loving got me sleeping without you Now, I need somebody to know Somebody to heal Somebody to have Just to know how it feels It's easy to say but it's never the same I guess I kinda liked the way you helped me escape

Sleep did not come easy to you that night, it never did without Luke there but after seeing him today at the cafe, you couldn’t even take a sip of water without being reminded of Luke. You knew it wasn’t a great idea, but you needed to clear your head, and if this was the only way to do it then so be it.

With your coat clung tightly around your body, you venture down the street, the window blowing softly against your face. It’s creepy, not something you saw in the peppy little town but as you walked down dimly lit streets, the streetlights buzzing slightly overhead you couldn’t help but feel a little jumpy. 

“You shouldn’t be out here at this time,” You hear a voice call from the shadows, making you jump around with eyes wide. You walk backward slightly as your head whips around, trying to catch where the voice came from as you catch onto his figure.

Clad in a plaid red flannel, Luke leans against the wall, arms crossed over his chest with eyes trained on you. You clear your throat, feeling a blush rise to your throat at the thought of Luke seeing you so on edge as you speak, “Luke.”

He’s rather far away from you, still lazily leaning against the building wall with his hair in its usual messy way. You liked it like that. The chain on his jeans rattles slightly as he shifts to face you, but still stays leaning against the wall, “y/n.”

It’s quiet for a few moments and for the first time in forever you feel incredibly uncomfortable around Luke. Even before you two got together you had always felt comfortable with Luke; at home. He can feel how much you don’t want to be there, he’s always been able to read you and you aren’t hiding your awkwardness well.

“Well if that’s all,” You say, clearing your throat as you eagerly swivel on your feet to go in the direction you came in, suddenly feeling like going home.

Yet, as you start to walk, you can’t help but stop when you hear Luke chuckle. Did he find this funny? When you peer back at him, seeing him shake his head as he continued to chuckle quietly, “What?”

“Nothing,” Luke dismisses but yet continues to laugh. His hands are in his jean pockets now, a smirk evident on his face.

“Clearly it’s something, what are you finding so funny?” You ask, not hiding how defensive you are you speak. You’ve completely turned towards him again, eyes watching the guitarist’s figure as he calms his laughing down.

Kicking his feet off of the wall, Luke stands up, walking closer to where you stand in the middle of the sidewalk. He pretty much closes the gap between the two of you, until he’s about a foot away from you, peering at you with hazel eyes.

“I just think it’s funny how because we broke up you think we can’t even speak to each other anymore.”

You almost stutter as you break eye contact with the boy. You knew that whatever you said was probably going to lead to an argument and honestly, that was the last thing you wanted right now, “I have to get going.”

“No you don’t,” Luke swiftly responds, shaking his head at you as your eyes snap back up to him, leaving him to rock on his heels.

Your eyes close into slits as you feel annoyance bubble in your stomach. Even if Luke did know when you lied, he should know to let it go, to avoid confrontation but maybe he wanted this, “I left without letting my parents know. If I’m just missing from my bedroom they’ll probably be worried.”

“Your parents aren’t even home, y/n, they’re away on a trip,” You can’t hide the surprise on your face when Luke says that. How he knew that was beyond you because no one else knew but you and your parents. Yet, he elaborates, eyes never leaving you, “even if I couldn’t tell when you’re lying, y/n, I would still know. Your parents stopped me on the way out of town saying they were leaving town for a bit and wanted me to keep an eye on you. They’re worried y/n, ‘said you haven’t been yourself lately. You didn’t tell them we broke up, did you?”

Lips apart, you stare up at Luke, shaking your head, voice quiet and low, “I couldn’t. They really liked you. I couldn’t tell them you cheated.”

“You wouldn’t have to because I didn’t.”

“I saw you, Luke! I saw you with that other girl!” You yelled, your voice no longer low as you felt the rage start to bubble at the bottom of your chest again. The fact that you caught him in the act and he still denies it angered you, why couldn’t he just own up to it? “Are you going to say I imagined it? That I didn’t see anything?”

“I’m not, no,” Luke replied, keeping his voice calm as he shook his head, “What I am going to say is that you don’t know what you saw.”

And I tend to close my eyes when it hurts sometimes I fall into your arms I'll be safe in your sound 'til I come back around

For now the day bleeds Into nightfall And you're not here To get me through it all I let my guard down And then you pulled the rug I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved

Suddenly, everything made sense. It wasn’t his fault and you felt so dumb. You were almost speechless after he finished talking, leaving both of you in silence for several moments.

“I-I’m sorry,”

“Why are you sorry?” Luke asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked down at you.

“I should have let you explain and we wouldn’t be in this mess, we both wouldn’t have been-”

Luke doesn’t let you finish, almost feeling how guilty you felt for immediately assuming the worst of him. He knew it wasn’t your fault, he would have been just as angry if he was in the situation you were, “Hey it’s alright. I should’ve run after you and explained everything then.”

You don’t say anything as he pulls you into a hug, a warmth that you had yearned for over the past few weeks. He has a hand on your back, holding you close, and a hand on the back of your head, softly running his fingers through your hair.

“I missed you so much,”  He whispered to you, leaving you to hug him closer to you, to enjoy the warmth before it disappeared again. You never wanted to let go, you felt safe in his hold, you felt at home.

He placed a soft kiss against the top of your head, still holding you close before you looked up at him, “I missed you too, Lu.”

He flashes you a soft smile, one that had always melted your heart, “How about we go home, huh?”

#luke jatp #jatp #luke julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms #charlie gillespie #charlie gillespie x y/n #charlie gillespie x reader #luke patterson #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson x y/n #julie and the phantoms x reader #julie and the phantoms luke

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Akio

CW: References to the death of a friend, grief, suicide, murder 

Sequel to Found Out and this past flashback to Oliver Branch

The sound of thin, breaded pork cutlets frying in the big pan on the stove fills the air, and Akio breathes in the familiar smell where he lays on his back on his parents’ gigantic cream-colored sectional couch, stretched out across the whole length of it on one side. Not that he’s all that tall to take up all that much space, really, but what matters is that he would definitely have fallen asleep by now if it weren’t for holding his phone up over his face.

It fell on him, once, and he’s pretty sure no one noticed. Emi, his younger sister, hasn’t even looked up once from her own phone, except once to triumphantly announce that no one caught her and they all voted someone else off the ship. Then she looked back down and never looked back up.

Akio frowns, looking at his own screen, tapping his thumbs as he writes out an answer to the person messaging him. “Hey, Mom?”

“Yes?” His mother looks up from cooking, her eyes moving through the big open space right to him. They’d knocked down all the walls when they bought the house, open-concept-something-something. Akio didn’t care, but it was apparently deeply important to his parents. Something about family togetherness.

“You remember Tristan Higgs, right?”

Aimi pauses, tucks a bit of her short black hair behind one ear to get it out of her eyes as she flips the pork cutlets on by one, to get the other side nicely browned, too. The sizzling ratchets up in volume and then back down again. Next to her sits four bowls already filled with rice, and the table already has the vegetables ready to go. “Of course, honey. Oh, the anniversary’s coming up, isn’t it? I have an alarm set on my phone… did you want to go to the cemetery next week to see Ronnie and Paul?”

“Ew, no creepy graveyards for me, thanks,” Emi says, eyes still glued to her phone.

“We wouldn’t take you anyway,” Akio says, rolling his eyes. “You don’t even remember Tris or his parents.”

“I do, too. I was like seven. He was really nice. Mrs. Higgs was really nice, too. Mr. Higgs was weird.” 

“Wow, what a stellar eulogy that was, Emi. I can see why you want to be a writer when you grow up. The description there was just incredible.”

“Oh, go drive into a lake,” Emi says, without any particular rancor in her voice. 

“If you’re going to fight, I’m going to send you two upstairs so I at least don’t have to listen to it,” Aimi says, moving the cutlets to rest on a paper plate with paper towels lining it while she heats mirin, soy sauce, and… some other stuff in a different pan. Honestly, Akio has no idea exactly how katsudon happens, all he cares about is that it’s the perfect after-practice food and he is starving.

Except he keeps getting distracted by this guy on Insta. “Anyway, Mom, um, about Tris. So… yeah, I do want to go out and see his parents next week, yeah, but-... there’s this guy on Instagram who keeps asking about him. That’s… that’s weird, right?”

Aimi looks up, blinking. “Asking about Tristan? What is he asking?”

“Just like… he says he saw the video I put up on youtube, and he’s asking, like… what was his birthday, and did he like fried chicken, was he autistic, and… did he like musical soundtracks. This is weird stuff to ask a total stranger, right?”

“A little.” Aimi pauses while she watches the pan, and then pours a small bowl with beaten eggs into it, watching them spread and start to lighten to a puffy yellow as it cooked in the already-boiling liquid mixture. “Did you ask why he wants to know?”

“I did, but he just said he’s doing some research or something. But, like… research on what?” Akio taps on the guy’s little profile photo, bringing the profile itself up. “His username is benthebadmagician. Okay that’s-... that’s kind of cute.” 

Aimi’s voice turns sly. “Is this Ben cute?” 

“Ugh, gross, Mom. That’s not-... I mean he’s kind of-... that’s not important.”

“Ooooh, eyeballin’ the insta-hotties,” Emi singsongs. “Aki’s gettin’ desperate. Just get a freaking dating app like everyone else.”

“Already on it, Emi.”

“Then why exactly don’t you get any dates? Oh, right.” Emi sits forward and grins. “I forgot about your personality.”

Akio throws a throw pillow at her and the big orange poof misses by a mile. Emi laughs, getting to her feet and wandering over to the fridge, pulling a can of soda out and popping the top. “Aren’t you an athlete, how the hell did you miss that?”

“Language,” Aimi warns, waving a spoon at her daughter. She gently places the cutlets into the cooking eggs to finish up. “No swearing under my roof, young lady.”

“Aki swears all the time!”

“Aki is twenty-four years old,” Aimi says, almost primly. “And he doesn’t swear where I can hear him.”

“What, so it doesn’t count if you don’t hear him?”

“Of course it doesn’t, how do I know if I don’t hear him?”

Akio smiles, faintly, but he’s scrolling through the Ben guy’s instagram feed now. Just looking at the grid of squares, photos and videos. Lots of coffees and food, people laughing, photos of a girl with really pretty hair. Photos of Ben the Bad Magician himself. Nerd, Akio thinks, but cute nerd - definitely nose-in-a-book type. Nice brown hair, nice smile. 

“Oh look at that face,” Emi says, eyebrows raised. “Ben the Insta-Weirdo actually is cute huh?”

“Go eat slugs.” Akio keeps scrolling down and down, not sure what he’s looking for. Autism awareness banners - he checks those to learn the Ben guy’s got an autistic little brother, and his friend Christopher is autistic. There’s a couple slides, and he swipes his finger to what he assumes is a photo of the Ben guy with the little brother, who looks almost exactly like him, just a whole bunch younger and looking, unsmiling, off to one side while Ben grins at the camera.

Akio doesn’t bother checking the last slide - it’s probably just whoever the Chris guy is. He backs back out to the grid of thumbnails. Maybe he just picked up on the stuff Tris always did when he was excited, and got curious? Maybe his little brother liked the video? Akio’s gotten a couple comments from people saying they liked seeing an autistic kid just be fucking happy in public without getting shit on for it, and that used to be a big deal for Mrs. Higgs, too...

The question about musicals keeps snagging at him. Tris loved musicals, went through cycles with them. He and Akio had a whole routine done to a song in Hairspray, just for fun, when Tris was obsessed with that for a while. And then they were going to do the Time Warp as a routine once...

Akio keeps scrolling, only vaguely aware of his sister and mother talking, and Emi leaving the room to go call their dad in for dinner. 

Emi stops in the doorway and turns back. “Don’t forget to get his phone number, Aki. You can definitely trust strangers on the internet creepily interested in your dead best friend, right?”

Akio looks up, then, blinking at her. “Emi, that’s-...”

She seems to catch herself, and gives him a sheepish smile. “Sorry, Aki. That got bitchy.”

“Language,” Aimi reminds her. “But I appreciate you apologizing. Does anyone even hear me say to use nice language any longer?”

“No,” Akio and Emi say in unison, and then Emi disappears down the hallway, bellowing for their father in her loudest voice even though she could easily walk up the stairs and not have to yell at all. 

Akio looks at his mother and deadpans, “Your daughter is really weird.”

Aimi matches him tone for tone. “Your sister is weirder.” 

She places the cutlets on top of the rice bowls with the egg just underneath the meat, carrying them one by one to the table, setting them each down in their place, and then grabs her glass of wine, patiently waiting for her while she cooked. She pads on bare feet across the hardwood floor over to the pale white rug, soft as down underfoot, and stands next to where Akio is laying down. “Are you looking at the profile?”

“I am, yeah. I don’t know what I’m looking for, really, just… hey, wait.” Akio stops at the thumbnail preview for a video, tapping to open it up. It starts with a blue-haired boy smiling, and his smile hits Akio all odd, makes his throat tighten and his heart start to race. The boy in the video puts up a finger and backs up, glances over his shoulder at a TV screen behind him playing the tango scene from Rent. 

Akio blinks as the boy holds out a hand and a girl with really gorgeous long wavy hair takes it, the two of them moving effortlessly into a perfect mimicry of the dance on screen. The room they’re in is mostly empty, furniture shoved to the walls to turn what looks like some kind of lobby into a dancing space.

“Wow, that kid can really dance,” Akio murmurs, but the smile catches him, tugs at the back of his mind. The blue-haired boy can’t keep the grin off his face, it has to hurt to smile so big for so long, and the last person Akio thought that about was…

“You got this, Chris!” Someone calls from offscreen, and for a second Akio hears Tris and catches his breath, but no, no, they said Chris. Someone else claps for Mari - that must be the girl, maybe. 

They continue to dance, and Akio can’t tear his eyes away. “Mom? Do you see this?”

Aimi looks up from straightening some magazines on the coffee table and leans over, sipping her wine absently. “See what, honey?”

“Look,” Akio whispers. His throat is closing up, he can’t manage anything more than that. 

The two do a spin, and then burst out laughing, and the Chris boy stands back up straight, throwing his arms up like he’s just hit a perfect landing-

“Oh my god,” Aimi says next to him, her own voice strangled and choked, and Akio feels his mother’s hand suddenly clutch onto his shoulder. “Aki, is-”

“He’s dead,” Akio whispers. “He killed himself after his parents-... he’s dead, Mom.”

The Chris boy looks right at whoever was filming the video, shoots them a brilliant, shining smile, and then starts rocking, his hands moving through the air and twisting at the wrists, bouncing up and down on his toes.

Akio’s breath is shuddering in and out, and his heart pounds, trying to break out of his chest. “He’s-... Mom, he’s dead.”

“His aunt had him cremated,” Aimi says, but her lips are barely moving and the wineglass is loos in her fingers. “After they found him. She didn’t want a funeral.”

“He’s dead,” Akio repeats, thinking of the smile, the movements, the shy way he ducks his head at the end when people clap him on the back. He backs up to the wall again, keeps scrolling, looks for more pictures of the blue hair. He opens every single one he can find, searching for something, some sign that will tell him he’s not seeing what he knows he’s seeing. “His aunt took his phone away after like three months and then he was dead a month later, wasn’t he?”

There’s a pause.

“Mom? Mom, didn’t he kill himself like four months after they died? Didn’t he?” Akio’s voice sounds weak and is getting weaker. “Mom, please-... please answer me, didn’t he-”

“He left a note,” Aimi whispers. “His aunt-... she said he left a note, that he couldn’t live without them. It’s-... I never thought-... I never thought to question her, Aki, I never-... she was Ronnie’s family...”

He clicks another video.

“You’re a fucking mess, Christopher,” The girl from the dance video says, sitting in a tank tops and shorts on the edge of a bathtub. “Letting your roots grow out like that. But don’t you worry, Madam Mari is here to help!”

“Please don’t, don’t don’t-don’t call yourself Madam. Please?” A voice says, uneasily, and the blue-haired boy moves into the screen. “For, for, for me?”

“Yeah, no problem, Chris. Why’d you let it grow out so bad, anyway?”

His hair’s not blue in this one - or it is, but only about half of it. Pale and faded, but the top of his hair has grown back in for about three inches, and it’s coppery strawberry blond. He turns to the camera and gives a sheepish smile. “I, I got distracted and for, um, forgot.”

Aimi’s wineglass slips from her fingers, hits the floor, sprays wine like blood across the pristine white rug. 

Neither of them notices.

“I… I cried for him for like a year straight,” Akio chokes out, and he finds more pictures, more videos, more more more. He opens them up and then backs out of them again, unable to stop himself. Every photo shows him some shard of the mirror reflection of a dead boy all grown up - a sparkle of green eyes, happy motions in the background of a video, more of that familiar sunny smile. “I kept-... I kept all the stuff he left in my room, I saved all h-his text messages from before he d, disappeared, I-”

“This can’t be him,” Aimi says in a fierce whisper. “It can’t be, Aki, it can’t.”

Akio taps on another video.

The boy ties his long blue hair back in it, glancing sidelong at the camera, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “And, and, and you’ll, um, you’ll buy the, the, the-the-the nachos?”

“If you can still do it? Yeah, absolutely. Seeing that’s worth a plate of nachos to me. I’ll even buy you those fucking margaritas you like.”

“Chris just likes the sugar,” Someone else says, and Chris sticks his tongue out at them.

He takes a few steps back, rolling his shoulders, shaking out his arms. 

Akio tells himself that if the Chris on the screen doesn’t nail this, it can’t be him, it can’t be him at all. 

The boy puts his hands up, then down at his sides, back bowed briefly in a motion Akio knows too, too well, knows better than he knows breathing. The boy takes off across the grass without hesitation and-

Akio and Aimi both exhale.

-he jumps forward, dips at the waist, catches himself on his hands and does a perfect set of three backflips across a big grassy lawn, stumbling the landing but his feet pop right back into final position, and he throws his arms up with his chin lifted, and someone offscreen shouts, “Perfect Ten, Stanton!”

The boy laughs, shakes his head, says, “I’d be, be, be dinged for the, um, the landing, but-... but, but good, right? I did good? Laken?”

Someone with the coolest hair Akio has seen steps into the screen and they hug, kiss briefly, and then Chris apparently can’t handle the happy emotions because he backs away to start bouncing up and down, grinning.

He looks back at the camera. “Want to see me, me, me... me do it again?”

“He’s not dead,” Aimi says, and her voice sounds like someone closed their hands around her throat. “Oh, Ronnie-”

“What the fuck happened to Tristan fucking Higgs?” Akio’s voice is barely audible over the sound of the video starting over. “He’s… he’s not dead. He’s not dead, Mom, he’s not-... he’s not dead, Mom, he’s not dead and he’s right-... that the university, right? He’s not dead, and he’s, has he-... has he been here the whole fucking time?”

His mother doesn’t chide him for language this time. Her hand tightens on Akio’s shoulder as red wine soaks the rug beneath her feet and she whispers, “Give that Ben boy your number. Tell him to call you.”

Her fingernails ache where they dig into his skin through his shirt.

“Now.”

---

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @slaintetowhump , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @moose-teeth , @cubeswhump , @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary @orchidscript

#chris the strawberry blond romantic #akio nakamura #hidden whumpee #found whumpee #trauma recovery #parental death mention #death mention #suicide mention #angst #bbu #box boy #box boy universe

[dangermousie]

2019 END OF YEAR KDrama Post

Wow, I haven’t made one in years. This is going to involve only dramas that came out in 2019 because I watched a hell of a lot dramas made prior to that and trying to figure out which ones will give me a headache.

DRAMAS WATCHED (In order of liking from most to least as opposed to pure quality; I am including if I’ve seen at least two eps AND feel it was enough to make up my mind; yes I realize that’s inaccurate, but that’s my list)

Extraordinary You -  A philosophy and religion course AND a love story, and perfect at both.

My Country - a brutal, passionate, intense masterpiece of a sageuk. This is how they should be.

Crash Landing On You - the two eps that have aired brought my joy in watching kdramas back to me so vividly. This is everything. 

Encounter - the perfect noona romance of the year for me. It seems to have little plot (powerful older woman, idealistic younger man) but the characters made me love them with an unhealthy amount of attachment and the mood is just perfect. 

Haechi - smart traditional sageuk with a heart. This one will make you love it but also respect it in the morning :)

Queen: Love and War - Period, romance, mystery, helpless king and feisty heroine. It’s everything I love in one package. 

Chocolate - if, like me, you like slow old-school melo with genuine grown-ups, this one is for you. Ha Ji Won and Yoon Kye Sang are both incandescent in this. 

One Spring Night - a rare slice of life that worked for me so so much. I rooted for the main OTP like crazy (I did skip all the sister stuff though because boring to me.) It’s just a breath of fresh air.

The Tale of Nokdu - a rare funny youth sageuk that worked for me (except, ironically, for when they tried to be politics-heavy and serious about it.) Wonderful OTP, funny situations and just generally a delight. 

Memories of the Alhambra - I can hear people screaming that I put this so high, but this is a faves ranking, not objective one, and I loved the unusual premise (it ultimately fell apart but it tried), and Hyun Bin’s performance was out of this world and the aaaaagnst and I enjoyed waiting for it each week until almost the end. That ending though!!!!!

Psychopath Diary - this is black comedy at its best and hysterical and smart and somehow got me invested in the hapless protagonist. 

Hotel del Luna - clever and funny and smart. Hong Sisters largely back to form. I found the sageuk parts more engaging than modern ones, but what else is new.

Search WWW - some parts of it worked for me more than others, but it had solid writing and cool characters and some interesting OTP(s). 

Love is Beautiful Life is Wonderful - has the weekend drama slowness but it lovely and fun. 

When the Camellia Blooms - it was well made and the OTP was great and the acting top notch, I just don’t tend to go gaga for slice of life dramas, especially ones involving market ladies, much. 

Flower Crew Joseon Marriage Agency - competently done, pretty period piece about nothing. It was enjoyable and forgettable at once.

Catch the Ghost - I put it as high as I did because the OTP really did have lovely chemistry but the story was a complete mess, the police work made no sense and the heroine’s character was like nails on a chalkboard for me.

Joseon Survival - I got about four episodes in and liked it a lot but then Kang Ji Hwan turned out to be a convicted rapist, they replaced the lead and I didn’t go back. I kind of want to because I liked what I saw and I am madly curious as to whether they changed the main character or just said he had a different face now, no explanation. 

The Last Empress - pure inconsistent trash but so entertaining!

Vagabond - I made it eight episodes in before I realized that I would have as much fun staring at traffic. It’s a competently done actioner but without more, actioners never work for me, so this was a viewer/drama mismatch.

Arthdal  Chronicles - incoherent, visually odd and boring, this is arguably the worst drama this year but I am giving it higher place because the cast really tries (even if it tends to fail because it has nothing to work with) and because it attempted something different even if it failed spectacularly. SO BAD.

Melting Me Softly - yes, my brain was fully melted by this soulless, charmless waste of Ji Chang Wook and my limited free time.

VIP - Any drama that makes the main mystery and thrust of the story who the husband cheated on his wife with is BORING. Seriously, this is not exactly Hercule Poirot. They wasted their cast - I have NO idea why Lee Sang Yoon agreed to be in this as a one note character and Jang Nara is playing a second scorned wife in a row but without even the entertainment value of her previous outing.

Abyss - aptly named. The best thing I can say about it is it didn’t offend me but oh boy was it dull.

Absolute Boyfriend - I loved the manga but it’s time to accept this can never be adapted well. They wasted the cast and that ending was just an insult on top of a trash heap.

The Lies Within - you cast that cast and deliberately have no romance. You are dead to me. 

Woman of 9.9 Billion - competently made, but it’s everything I dislike - dour unpleasant bored people behaving as if they are in a particularly dreary art-house French movie but without any nuance or interest the latter came provide. 

Love with Flaws - shrill, dumb, neither acted nor written by anyone trying at all. 

Rookie Historian Goo Hae Ryung - objectively, it’s not the worst drama on the list, but it’s everything I hate in one package - willfully ahistorical but not cleverly so, male lead incapable of acting, the characters so one-dimensional they disappear, this purports to be a period drama but about as period as a space ship. God, I loathed this. 

FAVORITE DRAMA

Extraordinary You - smart (so mind-bendingly smart) and moving and totally unpredictable and with so many things to say about free will and religion and self and nature of memory and narrative, this had an insane impossible premise and yet somehow managed to do it full justice and stick the landing. 

WORST DRAMA

People with Flaws - this is different from least favorite because even if I loathed e.g., Rookie Historian or Woman of 9.9 Billion, I recognized some positive features; it’s just certain things really rubbed me the wrong way due to personal preferences. But this shrill hot mess of a drama is really everything that’s wrong with dramaworld.

FAVORITE MALE CHARACTER

Prince Yeoning, Haechi - fiercely smart, strong, tormented by the duality of his birth (royal father, servant mother) but not letting this distract him from his purpose, loyal to the bone, and with integrity nothing can shake but where you can feel that it’s not easy and that it costs him.

FAVORITE FEMALE CHARACTER

Eun Dan Oh, Extraordinary You - a go-getter who remakes the world (literally); smart, cheerful, strong, beautifully human. She feels so real and yet is larger than anything around her. 

NEEDS TO BE MURDERED

Yi Seung Gye, My Country - a sociopath destroying lives in his quest for power and control, even the destruction of his own family barely gives him anything but momentary pause. He is the reason for the tragedy of MC. 

FAVORITE SHIP

Eun Dan Oh x Haru, Extraordinary You - their love is literally universe and god-defying. They have loved each other as different people in three separate worlds (and counting), and have defied loss of memory and even loss of self as well as death, the end of worlds, and their god and the narrative and literally anything and everything, to be together.

Runner Up: Soo Hyun x Jin Hyuk, Encounter: tender and decent and his bringing her back to vivid life and the way they love and support and compliment each other.  

Probably gonna be on list if doesn’t go haywire: Crash Landing on You: she is a SK heiress, he’s a NK officer, they have mad chemistry and so much potential.

NOTP:

Tae Mi x Morgan, Search WWW - love the actors, love the chemistry, love the characters in terms of the way they are written, but they are absolutely wrong for each other and there is no future of any sort but misery ahead. None of their issues are resolved but are swept under the rug. It’s a cautionary tale, not a romance. I did a long rant before so not repeating. 

BEST SECONDARY OTP

Scarlett x Ji Hwan, Search WWW - they stole the shippiness in the drama for me. Cooky and adorable and noona romance done right.

FAVORITE SCENE

Haru’s final disappearance, Extraordinary You - the lights start to go out, the world literally dissolving, Eun Oh and Haru clinging to each other, with his telling her she was his beginning and the end. His name, the one she gave him, is the last thing he hears. In a drama full of amazing scenes the very gist of which was defying the very creator and universe and meaning of existence, this was the one that stayed with me the most.

BIGGEST CRUSH

Seo Hwi, My Country - I have a thing for deeply honorable, deeply tortured period badasses with long hair and a death wish (see Choi Young in Faith etc.)

BEST SCENE STEALER CHARACTER

Yi Bang Won, My Country - he started out as an antihero and ended up as arguably a tragic villain (or maybe still an anti-hero) but oh boy, was he magnetic and fascinating and sucking out all the oxygen whenever he was in the scene.

NEEDS A SEQUEL

Memories of the Alhambra - WTF ending was that?! All that misery and no real resolution?! Dammit!

TROPE THAT NEEDS TO DIE

Youth Sageuk - I hate most of them! They are anachronistic and dumb and honestly, what is the point of having fully modern people in period clothes? Just make a modern show and call it a day.

BIGGEST DISAPPOINTMENT

Melting Me Softly - Ji Chang Wook’s first project back from the military was an unfunny, unmoving, pointless mess with not an ounce of genuine enjoyment despite the excellent pedigree of everyone involved in front and behind the camera.

Arthdal Chronicles - the makers made excellent Queen Seon Duk, Tree with Deep Roots and Six Flying Dragons. The cast was uniformly A grade. The result was an open-ended, boring, incoherent mess that looks like a bad sort of a drug trip and made about as much sense. 

BIGGEST GOOD SURPRISE

Extraordinary You - I had zero interest in yet another high school drama with no actors I recognized. By the end, EY was an emotional brainy twister of a marvel that became my favorite drama of all time. I’ve been watching dramas for over 13 years so that’s saying something.

2019 DRAMAS I HAVEN’T SEEN THAT I MOST WANT TO WATCH

The Crowned Clown - I love sageuks and cast and it looks so smart and emotional

Angel’s Last Mission: Love - my next contemporary - I watched a little and loved what I saw

Fates and Furies - I saw a few eps and classic melo is so up my alley.

Clean with a Passion for Now - I like the cast and it’s a year of falling for hot weird bosses apparently.

Graceful Family - I love makjang and Im Soo Jung.

The Secret Life of My Secretary - downmarket Beauty Inside and I loved BI.

Love Affairs in the Afternoon - artsy adultery FTW

Item - I don’t like crime stuff but I am here for Joo Ji Hoon.

My Strange Hero - seems a little cooky but I am fond of Yoo Seung Ho.

MOST ANTICIPATED IN 2020

King: the Eternal Monarch - Lee Min Ho and Woo Do Hwan and parallel worlds and written by Kim Eun Suk. Yes Please.

I should probably make one for cdramas too though that one would be rather shorter.

#kdrama #2019 list #extraordinary you #my country #encounter #haechi #crash landing on you #queen: love and war #jtbc chocolate #one spring night #the tale of nokdu #memories of the alhambra #psychopath diary #hotel del luna #search: www #search www #love is beautiful life is wonderful #when the camellia blooms #flower crew: joseon marriage agency #catch the ghost #joseon survival #the last empress #vagabond #arthdal chronicles #melting me softly #kdrama v.i.p #abyss #absolute boyfriend #the lies within #woman of 9.9 billion

[zombolouge]

⭐⭐⭐!! I'm behind on catching up with Indefensible (bc I am also in the US and have been Big Overwhelmed too, so sending positive mental health vibes your way as well), so I will leave it to you to pick a part of a fic that you are most dying to discuss!

AH bb take your time catching up, there’s no rush!! It will still be there whenever you’re ready <3 I will send some positive mental health vibes right back at you, lord knows all of us in the US really need them lol 

Okay, so my pick for this...hmmm, why don’t we talk about TRAUMA. I’ve had a lot of people comment about how I handle everyone’s trauma in the series, so I figure that’s a solid point of interest :)

I knew I was going to be writing this fic before I had actually played all the games, which gave me a bit of an advantage from a writing perspective because I actually took a HUGE amount of notes while I played. The most important of these notes were pages that I called “Lists of Trauma”. And I had one for every character. I would set them up every time I saw something in the games that would have been potentially traumatic, including backstory stuff that came to light. Then I’d write down what the trauma was, when it occurred, and how I felt it would affect them (both immediately and long term). 

Pretty much everybody gets that Miles Edgeworth is traumatized. The game does a decent job of showing some of that, by giving him PTSD and mentioning his fear of elevators, using his recurring nightmares as a plot point, etc. But Miles is by FAR not the only one in the series traumatized. Pretty much every case is enough to send someone to therapy for a hell of a long time, but it’s not always highlighted as much as Miles, and I think it’s easy to brush everyone else’s trauma under the rug because their coping methods were a little more understated. I do think the evidence is there in the games, but it’s not obvious (Capcom puts a lot more subtlety in there than I initially would have expected. Either that or I’m adding subtext on my own and giving them too much credit. EITHER WAY, it did give me a lot to study and pick apart.)

One of the biggest themes in my writing is addressing and processing trauma (lol can you tell I have trauma I have worked on processing? hahaha). I tend to lean towards doing it in healthy and productive ways, as well, so I was HYPERFOCUSED on all the events happening to each individual character. By the end of the canon storylines, I had a pretty solid idea of what people still needed to work through and how things were holding them back, which is honestly how I arrived at some of the plotlines I did. They’re all engineered to be ways to push the characters where they need to be in order to heal. Or at least to grow (full healing is gonna take decades and y’all I can’t be writing this for the rest of my life haha)

In some cases, like with Phoenix and Miles and their relationship, I knew that it was going to involve a massive breaking point to get them anywhere. It’s been decades in game-time and they haven’t taken very many steps forward, which tells me that repression is so ingrained you basically have to make them completely snap and land in a place of “nothing left to lose” before they’d take any more steps. Hence the remote location and the cold temperatures and them working together and the closet scene and the hot tub scene and the spit-take scene and the obvious trap and...etc. Really had to slam their damn heads together repeatedly for this one. 

But their trauma, while being some of the most obvious, wasn’t the only kind I wanted to address. Like, seeing everything play out with Apollo and Dhurke, I just kept thinking how fuckin badly that would mess someone up, and that isn’t even considering what he’d gone through BEFORE that (former boss was a murderer, and the ways he found out weren’t the softest. Best friend murdered, and the circumstances around it ended up with him getting physically injured TWICE. There’s a lot going on with that poor boy.) And Maya, who is forever cheery in the games, always struck me as someone who hid any negative emotions at all costs, and holy shit she has to have a few. She’s been accused of murder, manipulated by family, her sister was murdered, she had to raise her cousin from a young age, she’s been kidnapped MULTIPLE TIMES, had her body taken over by someone that DEFINITELY wanted to kill her and her best friend. On top of that, the first games make it pretty clear she has some inferiority issues, and alllll those traumatic situations would have only fed into it. I think she got really good at covering that up rather than really good at feeling confident. 

Pretty much all the characters got trauma’d at one point or another, and the timeline over the span of canon basically meant that nobody ever had much time to recover before some other bullshit was happening. It’s why many of the characters in Indefensible, sometimes more than once, have opined about it being neverending or how they were losing hope that they’d ever have a whole year that was just normal. 

I’ve included so many scenes where they are just breaking down and talking about feelings, because holy fuck they all need to. lol It’s also why I ended up jumping on the FranMaya bandwagon so hard because the way that the pair of them are traumatized and how they handle it is very complementary to each other. I think they’re both able to pull the dark out and soothe it within one another, keep each other from overthinking things, and provide a sudden rock to lean on when things get difficult again. If they didn’t have each other, I think the second half of Indefensible wouldn’t work as well, because Franziska absolutely would have snapped irreparably. But, uh, that won’t make as much sense until later. ;)

Anyways, this was long and rambly and I could probably make a separate post about each individual character’s trauma and how the fic is designed to shine a spotlight on it and get them to start processing it. I THINK ABOUT THIS STUFF A LOT, OKAY? 

Link to the fic if anybody needs it: Indefensible 

#zombolouge writes #ace attorney #indefensible #fanfiction #talkin bout trauma #I spent SO MUCH TIME picking apart their behavior in relation to their trauma #hopefully it's paying off as people read hehe #Anonymous

[a-vintage-snake]

Fear and Delight

Pairing(s): Pre-romantic Dukeceit 

First chapter - Previous chapter - Next chapter

Warnings: Child abuse, dirty humor, basically Remus is Very Thirsty™ for that Snake Booty Characters: Janus “Deceit” Sanders, Remus Sanders,

Summary: What exactly happened in the year that Remus disappeared?

Word Count: 9072

Author’s Note: SO. That new episode, AM I RIGHT?? I absolutely loved it, instant fave! That being said, I have considered going back and change Deceit to Janus, but instead I decided to work his name reveal into the story as a plot point. So don't worry, we will be getting snake boi's name into the story eventually, it will just take a while. A loooong while.

People who were asked to be tagged: @avocados26, @fandoms-will-collide @nottoonormalme, @bihighandgivinghighfives, @atticusfinchthelegend​, @hekking-happy-nonsense, @lockmcduckwoodchuck

If you want to be removed or added to the taglist, just ask!

Read on AO3

One year ago…

When Remus and his brother had been little, their nanny had often read to them before bed. Stories about daring adventures, defeating monsters and love at first sight. Roman had always sighed dreamily at the last part, romantic little shit that he was. Remus on the other hand would just roll his eyes, yell ‘BORING!!’ and demand that their nanny go back to the part about monster slaying.

Now Remus wanted to kick himself for not paying more attention, cause seriously? How the fuck did those characters deal with love at first sight???

Not as if any tips would have helped in those first moments, when he had openly stared at quite possible the single most drop dead gorgeous man he had ever seen. He was distantly aware that the absolute dreamy apparition from the heavens was talking to him in that silky rich voice that made Remus’ knees weak (luckily he was sitting down). Not a single word registered. Remus was just a tad distracted, thank you very much. Honestly, did this guy know how pretty his face was?? This had to be illegal somewhere.

Deceit stopped talking and frowned. Not an unusual thing to happen, people frowned at him all the time. What was unusual was that Deceit leaned forward a bit and gently gripped Remus’ chin with one hand. Remus’ thoughts, usually an unstoppable whirlwind of continuous screaming abruptly came to a screeching halt. Deceit inspected his eyes, slightly tilting Remus’ head from left to right as he did. Remus followed his guiding hand breathlessly, gawking at how Deceit’s scales glittered in the light of the setting sun. He wanted to draw them... Or maybe lick them. Both? Both is good.

“…I definitely used a too potent of a sleeping spell on you,” Deceit sighed as he released his chin. Remus wanted to whine at the loss of contact. “Luckily, that’s just a matter of sleeping it off.” Deceit continued as he rose from the cot and looked down at Remus. “Can you walk?” He asked.

Remus shot up from the cot so fast that he probably sprained something. Fucking hell, if this guy had asked if he could fly he would have immediately jumped out of the window without a doubt. Deceit raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Instead he walked towards the door, throwing a ‘follow me’ motion over his shoulder. Remus nearly tripped over his own feet as he scrambled to catch up.

Deceit led him out of the door into darkened halls. He snapped his fingers and a small flame appeared in his hand, lighting their path.

The walk was a quiet one. Their footsteps rung in the empty darkness as Remus trailed after the other, wide-eyed and dazed. Remus realized at one point that he had to be in the hidden castle. The one from all the stories, the hideout of one of the most dreaded figures in their country’s history. He had found it… Or rather, he was brought to it. The place everyone feared so much that they avoided the mountains all together.

But who fucking cared about that nonsense?? Certainly not Remus! All he could focus on was the back of the warlock’s head and those beautiful fluffy curls. His fingers were itching and twitching to run through those curls, to see if they really were as soft as they looked like. In fact, his hand already stretched out-

“Here we are,” Deceit interrupted Remus’ musings and he quickly snapped his hand back. They had reached a door in the time where Remus was slowly loosing his mind. Deceit opened and held the door open for him. “These will be your chambers for the duration of your stay.” He said.

Remus stared dumbly at him. “My chambers…?” He repeated a little dumbfounded.

“Yes.” Deceit nodded. Remus looked between the warlock and the open door uncertainly.

“…You’re not going to… Throw me into a dungeon…?” Remus asked dubiously. Deceit tilted his head.

“Why? Would you prefer that?”

…Was he messing with him? Remus honestly couldn’t tell. The warlock’s expression was impossible to read; it was quite an impressive poker face he got there. Realizing he had no hope of forming a somewhat intelligent answer to that, Remus looked away from those mismatched (absolutely alluring, could stare in them for hours) eyes and walked into the room.

He hadn’t been sure what to expect… No, that was lie. Remus knew exactly what he had expected. A torture chamber perhaps, maybe with some various jars with preserved limbs. Or a completely barren cell with one tiny barred window, where he had no choice but to eat his own leg to survive. Not this. Not a perfectly welcoming warm bedchamber, that looked like it was carved into the mountainside rather than built with bricks. A fireplace crackled softly on one side of the room and a comfortable looking poster-bed stood on the other. Large windows showed the peaks of the mountains outside, now black outlines against a quick darkening sky. The view had to be beautiful in daytime. On a small desk near the windows stood a tray with a glass, an elegant carafe filled with crystal clear water and a plate of several assortments of fresh fruit and bread.

Completely baffled Remus stared at the room. He may not have much experience with these types of things, but this is not exactly what he thought a hostage situation would be like.

…Unless he was in one of those steamy romance novels Roman hid underneath his bed and pretended he didn’t read. Oh man, he really, really hoped that was the case.

“You’ll find a bathroom with everything you need through the door on your right,” Deceit said behind him. “Get some more sleep. We’ll talk again in the morning.”

Remus, who had been wholeheartedly distracted, whipped around when he heard the door close. His throat closed up. Ice gripped his veins as he rushed to the door, ready to pound on it, scream-

No no no don’t lock the door don’t lock him up please-!!

One twist on the doorknob and the door flew open, letting Remus tumble out the room in a flurry of unbalanced limbs. He barely avoided tipping over and acquainting his face with the stone floor. He hadn’t… Locked the door?

Perplexed Remus righted himself, staring down the dark empty hallway that greeted him. The warlock was nowhere in sight. What the shit? How did he do that so fast? Was it another one of those disappearing reappearing acts? Or had he turned invisible? Was he staring at Remus right now? Judging him?

Suddenly shockingly aware that he hadn’t shaved (or bathed for that matter) since he left home, Remus quickly retreated back into the chambers that were his now? Apparently?? And threw the door closed with a bang. He leaned against the wood like hell itself was high on his heels. Judging by the way his heart hammered a mile a minute, he would say it was.

Stumbling unsteadily towards the desk near the windows, Remus grabbed the carafe with water and downed half of it in one go. No time to bother with the glass! He was thirsty in more ways than one, and at least this thirst was easily quenchable.  

After he had devoured most of the fruit and bread and threw some of the left over water over his head for good measure, Remus felt a bit better. For a few seconds he could even say he was calm… But then he glanced around the room again and remembered his bizarre situation. Flashes of scales and fangs and a voice like velvet rang through his head, and Remus had to muffle a scream into his hands.

Get some more sleep, Deceit had said. But Remus wasn’t tired in the slightest. He just had the longest nap in the history of ever! He felt like he could stay awake until the sun exploded and burnt the world to a crisp little pebble. That’s why he found himself still agitatedly pacing the floor hours later, when the sky outside had turned to a deep pitch black. Remus was pretty sure that he was pacing a hole into the soft rug underneath his feet, but he couldn’t sit still even if he tried.

“Okay. Okay okay okay okay,” Remus muttered. “I’m stuck, in a hidden castle, with quite possibly the hottest man I’ve ever seen in my entire fucking life, no one knows where I am, what the HELL am I going to do???”

It was twelfth time that night that he had started this very conversation with himself, and his brain still hadn’t progressed any further than ‘roll over and play dead’, which was not helping!

“Come oooooooon!!” Remus groaned as he dragged his hands down his face. “I have to do something!”

Nope! No you don’t! You don’t have to do jack shit!

“But have you looked at him??? I would hate myself forever if I don’t at least try to tap that!”

You don’t even know why he keeps you here! For all you know he just wants to use you!

“Fuck, I hope so-!”

Not the fun kind of use, you idiot!

“Oh…” Remus slumped in disappointment.

Look, I know it’s hard-

Remus snorted. “Heheh. Hard.”

FOCUS. You heard the stories! He wants to take over the kingdom! And you’re part of the royal family! He probably just sees you as his stepping stool to the throne!

“Honestly, he could step on me anytime-”

NOT THE POINT. The point is that you’re his enemy… He might be nice to you now, but who’s to say that that will last?

That gave Remus pause. That was unfortunately a good point to consider…

“I guess,” He pondered. “That I’ll have to give him a good reason not to kill me?”

Oh yeah, and how are you gonna do that, genius?

Stopping his pacing on the rug, Remus bit his thumbnail as his mind raced. Good question. How could he get in Deceit’s good graces, so the warlock wouldn’t get rid of him the second he was no use anymore?

…Remus only had to think about that for a few seconds. The answer was pretty obvious.

“Okay, so he might want to use me to for “taking over the kingdom” purposes!” He mused out loud. “But if I, hypothetically,” Remus paused for a second, forcing the next words to fall from his mouth with a tremor. “…Were to willingly help him with that…”

…That would be treason.

“It would be.” Remus agreed. Treason of the highest order. But…

He glanced toward the window. The night made it look like a black hole, or the gaping jaw of a monster ready to devour him. He didn’t know if he could have seen his home from this window in daytime, but it was still out there. Waiting for him to return. So why did that thought make his stomach twist and hurt instead of comfort him?

…What did he owe those fuckers in the castle anyway?

Not much, if he was going to be honest. He had clung on to the fantasy that if he only could have his heroic moment, the world and his family would finally see the errors of their ways and everything would be perfect at last. After that forced little game of truth and dare last night however? That childish lie, which he had held onto with all the desperation of a drowning man, had shattered. Nothing was waiting for him back down the mountain. Fuck, he certainly wouldn’t do it for the happy memories…

“Failure.”

“Disappointment.”

“Why did I even get a brother?”

Remus closed his eyes. Inhaled.

“…I will help the warlock take over the kingdom,” He breathed out. “Fuck them.”

He clenched his hands into fists to suppress the full body shiver that overtook him. There was a small, terrified little part of him screaming not to do this. Mom and dad would be furious. Even more than they had ever been. If they found out that he was involved in this…

“LET ME OUT!! PLEASE I’M SORRY I’LL NEVER DO IT AGAIN I WON’T SPEAK I WON’T THINK I’M SORRY I’M SORRY JUST LET ME OUT PLEASE!!!”

Remus shook his head to rid himself of the memory of trapped stuck why was no one coming please anyone home.

“I’ll just make sure they never know it was me that helped him!” He merrily said, ignoring how his voice wavered. He pushed away the nausea that threatened to overtake him, and focused on his idea. It would be perfect! His family would be turned into feral ferrets or chopped up for potion ingredients or whatever the hell the warlock wanted to do with them, and he… If he played his cards right and got really lucky Deceit might keep him around. He might even be his friend!

Are you sure about that?

Remus winced. Oh great, the voice of reason was here. Remus hated the voice of reason. It always managed to sound just like his parents, his brother and every teacher he ever had at the same time.

I mean, come now. You think he would actually like you?

“He can!” Remus said, but even to himself he didn’t sound very convincing. “I mean, he said there was nothing wrong with me! That I am complete, just the way I am-!”

Oh he certainly told you that… But be honest with yourself. Do you think he would have said those same things if he actually knew you? REALLY knew you?

Remus opened his mouth to protest. His mind scoured for counter arguments. None came. For once his head went deafeningly silent on its own accord.

After a few seconds Remus’ shoulders slumped. He sighed through his nose.

“…no.” Remus said softly.

Exactly. The voice of reason said smugly. No. So why even bother trying? It’s not as if anyone has ever picked you. I mean… Why would they?

He couldn’t deny it even if he wanted to. Of course they wouldn’t pick him when Picture Perfect Fairy-tale Prince Charming was there too. He loathed thinking it, but Roman probably wouldn’t have a problem winning the warlock over. No no, he would recite some boring ass poetry, or give him a rose, or some dreadfully boring compliment and wam-bam, thank you ma’am Roman had a magical boyfriend before anyone could blink.

He scowled and kicked at the carpet. It wasn’t fair! Roman always got the best things! Why couldn’t he, for once, just get what he wanted instead of his brother stealing it from him-!

He stopped. A penny dropped in Remus’ head. A thrilling, captivating penny.

“…I can totally win Deceit over.” Remus whispered.

Uh, haven’t you been listening? We’ve never beaten Roman-!

“But that’s just the thing! Roman…” Remus said in slow, cautiously excited realization. “Isn’t here.”

…So?

“So he’s not here to upstage or cock-block me!” Remus’ eyes sparkled. A plan started to take form in his head, in a technicolor whirlwind of party streamers and canon explosions. Roman wasn’t here… It was just he and his sexy rattlesnake. A thousand possibilities suddenly opened up for him.

“I could-! I could woo him!” Remus excitedly said. “Sweep him off his feet! Blow his mind! And hopefully blow something else!”

If he did this right he might actually have a chance! Plus, as far as he knew, Sexy Scales and him really were the only people in this whole castle! No competition! And if he hadn’t had company for a while now, he must- Ooooh damn…

“He must crave the D so bad…” Remus whispered reverently.

That’s all well and good, but what makes you think he would go for YOU of all people?

“That’s where the second part of my plan comes in!” Remus said excitedly. “I am going to channel…” He threw his hands up in a dramatic flourishing pose. “My inner Roman!”

WHAT?? Eeeew, no! Gross! Why???

“No no really, think about it! People don’t like me, true, but everyone loves Roman! He’s got people kissing his ass all the time for some reason!”

Yes, he had never seen Roman without someone (or several someone’s!) grovelling at his feet, begging to ‘pretty please, fart in my direction today oh great and powerful crown prince!!’ or something along that line. Remus had always thought it was disgusting, but right now he needed that energy more than anything.

“This will be perfect! But for this to work I have to imitate mister Floundering Vanilla flawlessly! If I do everything right my beautiful Beau Constrictor will be super-duper impressed and fall hopelessly in love with me in no time! Goodnight, the end, happily ever after!”

…Holy shit that’s BRILLIANT. Good thinking Remus!

“Thank you Remus!” Remus said brightly.

Hmmm, yes, GREAT plan. Except you you’re not really Roman, are you? Even if it works, you’ll inevitably screw up. And once your lover realizes he didn’t get what he signed up for…

Remus however cheerfully ignored the voice of reason as excitement for his plan took over. He threw off his filthy clothes and boots as he dashed to the door that the warlock had pointed out. Behind it he found a bathroom made from black stone, thin lines of gold curling like veins in the dark stone. A grand deep-set bath was carved out in the floor, ceiling high windows giving a perfect view of the dark mountains. Remus’ first instinct was to press his ass against the glass and moon the entire kingdom, but he squashed it down. That’s not something Roman would do, and he was going to be Roman from now on, wasn’t he? Instead he opened the golden taps, and jumped in without waiting for the water to fill the bath up.

With more vigour than he ever had Remus scrubbed away the filth he had build up while traveling. Several golden bottles lined at the tub turned out to be ointments and bath oils, and he lathered all of them into his skin and hair. When he deemed himself clean he sprung from the bath, smelling like a lavender field had thrown up on him. An inspection into a cabinet carved into the wall turned up black towels, a set of clean clothes, toiletries and, surprisingly but thankfully, a razor. He stared at the blade in his hand for a second. Apparently the warlock was not worried at all about giving his hostage a potential weapon.

Deciding not to think to hard about the implications of that, Remus shaved away his three-day scruff meticulously. His moustache received a good trim and he curled the ends up extra fancily. When he finished he gave his naked reflection an appreciative once-over.

“Aw yeah,” He nodded with a satisfied grin. “Ready to seduce a snake!”

The clothes he found were simple, but clean and comfortable. As he slipped into a black pair of breeches and a black blouse with tiny silver buttons he briefly wondered where the warlock got the clothes. Remus sure as hell hadn’t packed up any extras.

…Wait. Were they his? Remus considered that possibility with wide eyes. The pants were a bit snug around his waist…

Running out of the bathroom Remus threw himself onto the bed and screamed into the very soft pillows for a few minutes, lest he be tempted to give the clothes a good sniff. Because that would be weird and not something Roman would do!

When he finally pulled himself together, Remus used a towel to clean his boots as well as he could before putting them back on. He pulled a hand through his damp hair, gave his armpits a testing sniff and smoothed down any wrinkles in his blouse. He took a two-armed candelabra to light his way and threw open the door.

Eagerly Remus walked into the dark halls that awaited him. Ready to grab his destiny by its gorgeous scaled face.    

--

There lived a witch in the woods.

That however was no concern right now for the angry crowd making their way through the forest, torches lightning their path. They had dogs on leashes with them, barking madly.

“The monster is close,” said the leader of the mob. “The dogs can smell it. Spread out! Find it!” With several voices yelling in agreement, the people spread out.

The monster in question was hiding underneath a bush. He held a hand against his mouth, desperately trying to stifle the sobs that kept pouring from him. His back burned, his shirt sickeningly slick with blood. He tried to wipe his tears away, the scales on his hands rubbing painfully against his puffy eyes. He winced when he heard the dogs barking in the distance.

They couldn’t find him. They would drag him back to the town, where they would be. They would hurt him again.

“Sit still, you filthy little beast!”

“N-No! PLEASE STOP IT HURTS PLEASE!!”

“Be a bit more grateful! We’ll get these unsightly things off of you!”

Years down the line he still wouldn’t know how exactly he got away. All he knew that one minute he was being held down, a knife slicing under the scales on his skin. The next minute he was running outside, into the woods that surrounded his family home.

Something on his back moved, and he flinched. Perhaps it had been… those things that had helped him escape. He hated them. Hated, hated, hated the extra arms that occasionally just appeared, as if to taunt him that he wasn’t human, that he was every bit the freak that everyone told him he was.

“Go away,” He whispered desperately at the extra appendages. “Go away go away go away go away!!”

A shudder ran down his back, and he knew they had vanished once more. His wave of relief was shot down when he heard the yelling, closer than he wished they were. He had to move. Shakily he crawled out of the false safety of his hiding place, hobbled to his feet and ran.

He couldn’t stop the tears from flowing, his steps and sobbing deafening in the silent forest. As much as the dark frightened him, the small hints of light that he could see through the trees were even more terrifying. The voices behind him became louder and louder, the barking nearing. He could almost feel the dog’s jaws closing around his ankle. He tried to speed up, but every step jostled pain down his ruined back. Spots danced in his vision, tears leaking faster because of the burning ache.

His foot caught behind a root, and he landed on the forest floor with a painful yelp. He tried to get up as quickly as he could, but-

“THERE IT IS! WE FOUND IT!”

Fear spurring him on, the monster jumped up and ran. Now he heard running behind him, the mob closing in on him. He no longer tried to quiet down his cries.

He dashed into an open spot. It made him feel to open and exposed, and he tried to run towards the relative safe covering of the trees once more. But before he could reach them, another group of people burst from the treelines in front of him. He skidded, turning, wanting to run back, but there was the other group.

“Here it is! Grab it!” “No!” The monster sobbed. “No, please no!”

The mob didn’t listen, only closed him in with bloodlust in their eyes. The monster turned and turned, hoping to find a way to escape. Spotting none, he dropped to his knees and curled into a small ball, his arms covering his head. He heard the people approaching, victory in their yelling, and he only hoped that the end would come quickly-

“STOP.”

A bright light burst to life in the open spot, shocking the mob to a standstill. The monster could see the light seeping through his closed eyelids.

“What is happening here?” The booming voice of a woman asked.

“This is no concern of you, witch,” The mob leader said gruffly. “We’re here to kill the monster that has terrorized our town for too long.”

The monster swallowed as his throat closed up painfully. A witch. Now he was truly done for.

“A monster?” The woman said in baffled disbelief. “That is a child! You would murder a child in cold blood?”

“That is no child!” Someone sneered. “It’s a demon straight from the underworld!”

Agreeing voices sounded across the open spot. The monster trembled and curled into a smaller ball when he heard the people moving again, closing in on him.

“Don’t come near him!” The woman bellowed. “Anyone who dares to touch him will answer to me!”

Most footsteps came to a hesitant halt. One of them however didn’t stop.

“You don’t scare me, witch!” A man said. “I have slain plenty monsters before, and this one won’t be any different! That skin will look nicely on a new belt!”

The monster sobbed a little louder when he peeked under his arm and saw the boots of the man right in front of him.

“Oh really?” Said the woman. Her voice had turned dangerously soft. “Well, in that case, know you have brought this upon yourself…”

Another burst of bright white light illuminated the open spot. The monster only caught a small glimpse of it from under his arms.

“You have not heeded my warnings. Therefor you will suffer my curse. If any of you ever lays a hand on a child with the intention to harm again,” The woman’s voice turned powerful, commanding. “You will be transformed into PIGS!”

Muttering was heard, fear finally replacing the anger that had held the mob in its tight grasp. The man above the monster however only scoffed.

“Nice bluff, lady,” He said. “But no witch or sorcerer alive has ever brought down such a curse!” With that he bended down and harshly yanked the monster up by his bloodied shirt. The rough handling send a sharp shot of pain down his tortured back, and he howled in agony.

Immediately the hand released him. The monster fell back down with a thud while the man above him stumbled to the ground. The monster looked up at his would-be captor. The man shuffled backwards, staring pale as the moon at his pulsing hands. His mouth opened in a horrified silent yell as his fingers shrunk into his hands and hoofs started forming. His nose scrunched up, turning into a perfect little snout. Tusks pushed up from his bottom lip.

“NO STOP IT PLEA-!!” The man’s screaming transformed into horrified squealing as his vocal chords shifted and changed.

Screaming erupted over the open spot as the people dropped their weapons and ran, tripping over themselves to get away as fast as they could. The man turning pig tried to stand up to run along with them, but he stumbled as his legs shortened and his clothes clung onto a gradually shrinking body. No one came to his aid. He dragged himself after them, pleading squeals leaving him. Wide eyed the monster stared as the mob disappeared among the trees, their wails dying away slowly in the night.

His momentary reprieve didn’t last long. Careful footsteps approached him and the monster realized the witch was still there. Quickly he curled himself back into a ball. Panicked logic told him that as long as he didn’t move she might not spot him. Surely if this woman saw his face she would understand why the mob had chased him down. She would be scared… Or maybe she wanted to carve away his scales as ingredients for potions. She was a witch, that’s what witches did, right?

A curious touch on his arm startled the monster, making him tighten the arms around his head. The monster heard curious snuffles and soft clicks as something small rustled through the leafs around him. A little snout sniffed at his hand, insistently trying to nudge his arms away from his face.

Overtaken by his own curiosity, the monster warily peeked over his arm. Two ruby red angular eyes with split pupils met his. Pearlescent white scales trailed down a small reptilian body, leathery wings stretching out as the creature tilted its head inquisitively. He couldn’t help it; the monster lifted his head up a bit more to stare.

Was that… a dragon?

The white dragon didn’t move away as the monster gaped. It only let out a soft thrilling sound as it inspected him with an intelligent gaze. The sound made the monster smile hesitantly. He had never seen a dragon before…

A gentle hand caressed his curls, and ice-cold fear snapped him back to the here and now.

“DON’T LOOK AT ME!!” The monster yelled as dove back into a curled up ball. The hand snapped back. He bit his lip to choke back a strangled sob. Oh no oh no he had raised his voice, he yelled at an adult, this was bad, this was BAD-!!

“Why wouldn’t I look at you?” The woman asked softly. Her voice was a far cry from the intimidating boom from barely a minute ago. The monster however wasn’t fooled.

“I’m c-cursed…” He hiccupped. “P-Please don’t look, I’m c-c-cursed…”

A beat of silence. The monster knows that by now she must have spotted the scales on his hands, the sharp talons where blunt nails should be. Any second now she was going to scowl in disgust and call the mob back, who would finish the job. Fresh tears started straining down his cheeks as he awaited the inevitable.

“Oh no…” The woman whispered. “Oh no no no no no…”

Strong arms wrapped around him and lifted him gingerly from the ground. The monster wanted to beg and plead for mercy, but every word died in his throat when he was pulled against the woman’s broad chest in a careful embrace.

“I’m sorry…” The woman murmured brokenly as she stroked his hair soothingly. “I’m so, so sorry… Sorry, sorry, sorry…”

The monster lay paralyzed in the hug as the woman kept whispering apologies above him. “Please don’t hurt me…” He whimpered in a weak little voice. The woman’s breath hitched and she tightened her arms around him.

“Never, you hear me?” She said shakily. “Never.”

A gasp tore from his throat as Deceit shot upright. It took him a few frantic seconds to stop seeing the forest in the shadows of his room, to realize it was cold sweat dripping down his back and not blood.

With a groan Deceit fell back on his bed, rubbing the palms of his hands into his eyes. Great, that particular dream hadn’t passed the revue in a while. Oh, he just loved how it didn’t seem to matter how many decades had passed since that damned night; the dreams kept coming back. Like a fever he couldn’t quite shake. Weren’t his demons tired by now, beating him up with the same stick every single time?

Dragging his hands down his face, Deceit glared up at the ceiling like it was personally responsible for his ruined night. Damn, he was tired… He hadn’t slept this bad in ages. What had made him this restless-

Oh right. He had a guest.

Deceit groaned again, a longer, outdrawn sound of exhausted misery. Fate truly was a cruel mistress, wasn’t it? Just when he had seriously considered- horror above horrors- giving up (good grief, the words alone made him want to puke), they had thrown the winning key to his plan right into his lap. A member of the royal family… Not just that, one of the princes. This opened pathways he hadn’t even dared to think about before!

Speaking of things that just kept coming back, hope settled into the small dark dungeon that was his heart like the flickering light of a single candle. As if fate was a particular sadistic jailor who adored mocking him, taunting Deceit that he possibly couldn’t break out of his prison cell with just this one blasted candle.

Well. It wouldn’t be the weirdest thing he had ever done to escape. And Deceit would be damned if he didn’t prove the jailor wrong.

Restless anticipation made him glide out of bed. He dressed himself in the dim light of the brightening sky outside. As he shrugged on his cloak he idly wandered towards the window. The sky was a pale grey, slowly brightening the mountains in hesitant light. The sun would rise soon, and with it, it would bring the first day of his new plan in motion.

Deceit closed his eyes in thought. A thousand paths unfurled in his mind’s eye, glistening like silk threads. Each thread was an idea, a scheme… a person. All waiting, blissfully unaware, for him to reach out to grasp the threads, to gently tug and guide them into the steps he wanted. Weave them into a dance so natural, so delicately planned that they did not realize the strings were there until it was too late.

Each thread was inspected meticulously, every possible outcome considered. His utmost focus however was on the thread that would be at the centre of his web.

Remus.

Deceit let his mind go to the man currently in his grasp. When the little prince had revealed who he was, last night on that mountaintop, Deceit had to force his hands to stay still, for his voice to remain steady. It had taken all his willpower to appear unaffected while his mind spun with shaky excitement. He had to reel himself in to not act in haste, but to listen first. Had Augusto finally grown careless enough to send his own son to finish him off, rather than the hero complex riddled fools who still occasionally dared to enter the mountains?

Turned out he hadn’t. Instead of getting an admission of a murderous plot against him, the boisterous prince had broken down in front of him. Lapping up the tiniest gestures of kindness Deceit gave him like he was dying of thirst. Apparently the Alveraz family couldn’t touch anything without destroying it, including their own children.

What a surprise.

So he had soothed the prince that wept in his lap, and carried him to his home. All the while his mind raced. When he finally placed the sleeping prince upon the cot in his laboratory, his plan slowly started to take form.

Now he only had to convince his guest to aid him. It wouldn’t be difficult. The prince already carried the pain of the rejection from his peers. All Deceit had to do was feed that resentment. Cultivate that hurt like a garden, placing a couple oh so carefully phrased suggestions to plant that seed of rebelling in his head. Sway him that Deceit was the only person left to trust. Until the prince was convinced it was his own idea to reject his former life and companions, without ever realizing someone else pulled at the strings attached to his wrists.

Deceit was an excellent puppet master, after all.

It would take him… three weeks? Or a month at most, until he had the little prince think what Deceit wanted him to. Easy. He had done this exact same thing a thousand times before. All he had to do after that was teach the prince all the tools he needed for his little coup, which hopefully would not take too long. And then… Then Deceit would claim his repayment.

He allowed himself a small smile. This is what he did best, maybe even more than the magic singing inside his veins. What was his magic but an extension of his mind? No matter how dire the situation was, no matter how much he was deprived of resources, he could always rely on his mind.

…But he shouldn’t become arrogant. He would rather die a hundred painful deaths than admit it, but he too made… mistakes (ugh). His unwavering trust in his own abilities had cost him greatly before.

This time he wouldn’t allow for any loose threads. This might very well be his last chance! He couldn’t afford to repeat his past mistakes. Not like with-

Tired eyes, darkened by the circles underneath them, looking up at him through unkempt bangs with an exasperated, but undeniably fond smile-

Deceit opened his eyes, taking in the soft light of the sunrise. He snarled at the twinge of his heart, weak little traitor that it was.

“Just don’t get attached again,” He sighed impatiently. “Then it should be fine.”

He stood at his window for a long time, taking in the view he had memorized to its finest details by now. Maybe he should see where Eris had slithered of to-

Deceit startled, whipping around and listening intently. From somewhere in the castle, the faint but distinct sounds of things falling, crashing, and breaking floated up towards his bedchambers.

It appeared that his guest was awake at last.

“Right,” Deceit cracked his fingers. “Showtime.”

--

After walking for about five minutes, Remus realized the one flaw in his otherwise brilliant plan.

It was night time. His gorgeous scaley paramour was most likely asleep.

A bit miffed Remus turned to go back to his room, only to realize he had NO idea where he was. With no other plan he choose a hallway at random, figuring that if he just tried every door he came across eventually he would find his chambers… Right?

An hour later he concluded that his plan was easier said than done. Remus looked between two identical hallways for a few minutes, before he had to admit it.

He was lost. And an idiot.

With no other choice Remus continued to explore. His wish to go back to his rooms gradually disappeared though as he ventured deeper and deeper into the castle. He hadn’t exactly paid attention to the castle itself before, distracted as he was. Now he   curiously took everything in. Unlike the rigid brick structure of his home, every room appeared to be carved into the mountain itself, much like his bedchambers were. In the dim candlelight of the candelabra Remus went down grand staircases, opened doors and traversed through many, many rooms. His footsteps echoed as he walked through a grandiose ballroom, ceiling high windows casting pale moonlight onto the floor, where tiny crystals glittered in the stone. From the ballroom he came into a dark lofty foyer, where sculptured pillars sprawled out into the darkness. Entranced Remus let his hand glide down one such pillar. The engraving pictured a dragon and a snake entwined together in breath taking detail.

Seriously, how big was this place?? Granted, his future lover to be deserved all the rooms and luxury in the world, but most of the rooms he came across were either empty, really dusty or a combination of both.

In the minutes that slowly ticked into hours Remus didn’t encounter a living soul, aside from some spiders in a corner. Not even mice or rats. A castle as big as this would attract rodents! Remus secretly fed the rats that ran through the walls of his home, he should know.

…Did his one true love eat the mice?

That thought made Remus stop in his tracks. Well, he was a snake... And so far he hadn’t encountered a kitchen yet. He tilted his head at the mental images… But then he shrugged.

“If he does eat mice, I will fully support him!” Remus proudly declared to the dark hall. “Probably very nutritious, those tiny cheese eating bastards…” He continued in a mutter as he pulled open another door. He vaguely wondered if he might accidentally stumble upon the room where the warlock slept. Probably in one of those grand beds with black silk sheets that perfectly frame his body-

Nope nope nope, shoving that thought away NOW. Remus quickly opened another door to distract himself.

Aha, finally some different interior! This room was quite packed with stuff. A LOT of stuff even! The room had to be some sort of library or storage room, as a circle of nearly ceiling high bookcases took up most of the space of the quite spacious room. Curiously Remus stepped inside. Through the windows Remus saw that the sky was brightening into hues of pink and orange, welcoming the rising sun. It gave him more light to inspect the room and its peculiar contents. Empty bottles, old books and skulls, mostly animal but some human were haphazardly strewn about the shelves, stuffed among boxes and some miscellaneous things. Remus saw a dusty lute, its strings flaccid from disuse, cauldrons black with soot and rolls with parchment that looked like they would crumble to dust if Remus were to touch them. A black suit of armour, detailed with gold-leaf, stood against the far end of the wall.

Remus gave a low whistle as he slowly circled around, craning his head to take in the large bookcases-

He stopped dead in his tracks. Suspended from the ceiling hung a skeleton. It was so large that it stretched out over the whole room. Remus’ jaw dropped.

Holy shit, was that the skeleton of a whale??

“…That’s not real!” Remus said, as he looked starry-eyed at the skeleton. “Can’t be! How the hell would he get it all the way up here on a fucking mountain??” Or was it real?? “No, no, it’s clearly fake! Not real!”

…Or was it?

One second Remus was staring up at the skeleton. The next thing he knew he had put down his candelabra and was climbing already halfway up one of the bookcases. He had to know, he HAD to know!!

When he reached the top shelf he stretched out his hand towards the skeleton. Damn it, it was still out of his reach! Frustrated he swung his arm to and fro, constantly missing his prize by a few centimetres. Come on, come on! He thought as he stretched out on his tippy toes. Almost! Almoooooost…

A piece of dust tickled his nose. Remus scrunched up his face, trying to repress the rising urge to-

“ACHOO!!” Remus’ sneeze echoed in the large room and shook through his body. The bookcase wobbled. Remus froze. Uh-oh.

“No. Nononononono-!” He pleaded as he felt the bookcase tip ever so gently backwards. He tried to wiggle it back in his place, but to no avail. With a cursed out shout Remus’ grip on the wood slipped. His stomach lurched as he plunged down and made hard contact with the stone floor. Sharp pain shot through his wrist. Remus cursed, cradling his arm close. His wrist however was the least of his concerns, as the bookcase tilted further and loomed over him. Remus paled as he saw the contents begin to slide. In a rain of bottles, books and boxes Remus had to half roll, half run out of harm’s way. One book landed painfully on his skull, but he came out of the downpour of years of clutter with no further injury. Remus breathed out in relief, but he was too quick. The bookcase heavily crashed against the second bookcase, which also started to dangerously tilt over.

“Nonononononono-!!” Remus desperately shook his head, holding out his uninjured hand as if to force the bookcase upright. To no avail. With a wooden groan the second bookcase lurched over, its contents gliding out and smashing to bits on the on the floor. And much like his predecessor it slammed into the third bookcase.

Helplessly Remus ran around as if to delay the inevitable, but in the end he could only look on horrified as the bookcases fell down one by one like a row of dominos, emptying their content with enthusiastic cacophony. Remus shrunk at every loud CRASH, every bottle that shattered and scattered glass over the floor. The vibrations through the floor made the suit of armour at the wall tremble.

“No, no, no please-!!” Remus wailed as he saw the helmet wobble.

With one final loud CLANG and BANG, the suit of armour fell to pieces on the floor. The helmet rolled over and came to a stop at Remus’ feet, who stood amidst the rubble like the last survivor of a grievous battlefield. Paralyzed as a rabbit staring down the wolf’s jaw, Remus took in the wreckage he caused. One final bottle slid down from the pile of books it landed on and doused Remus’ feet with glass.

“Okay, you know what?” Remus said with all the hysterical brightness of gambler who suddenly realized that he was playing a losing game. “New plan, new plan! I’m going to hide somewhere deep and dark,” He turned. “And hope he’ll never find me-!” “Good morning.” Deceit said calmly to his face.

“HOLY FUCK!!!” Remus flailed backwards screeching, tripped over the helmet and made a very ungraceful landing in a pile of what used to be several functioning bookcases. Remus cursed under his breath, tried to sit up, only to have another bookshelf give way underneath him, causing a pang of sharp pain to shoot through his banged up wrist. Letting out a fresh litany of curses, Remus finally managed to haul himself up in a sitting position amongst his created chaos. He gawked with open mouth at the sudden appearance of the most gorgeous man on earth the warlock, who gave him a very unimpressed look. When the fuck he did get here??

“Heh heh,” Remus nervously laughed. “You are…” He waved his hand up and down, trying to find a word. Stunning. Sexy. Hot as hell. “So quiet!” He settled on.

Deceit’s mouth quirked up in a small smirk and Remus swallowed thickly. Oh fuck… he got prettier. How the hell was that even possible??

“I try my best.” Deceit said dryly. Remus repressed the shiver that wanted to creep over his spine because of that oil-slicked voice. He wanted to crawl into the other’s throat and build his nest in those vocal cords just so he could listen to that voice always-

Any other dreamy visions instantly died when Deceit looked away from him, and instead took the room in slowly, examining the wreckage with a slight frown. Oh no.

“Care to explain to me,” Deceit said as he looked back at Remus. “What exactly happened here?” Remus suddenly thought that he maybe he should have just flung himself down a cliff when he had the chance.

“Uuuh… What happened? Did something happen, I don’t know-! What is a happening anyway-??” Remus babbled as he scrambled up from the mess in a fluster of uncoordinated limbs. When he finally stood he looked bamboozled at the shambled room like he hadn’t noticed it before. “Oh, this!” He laughed and turned to the other man with all the convincing act of a background actor in an amateur play. “I assure you, there’s a, uum… Perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this!”

Deceit raised an eyebrow. “Oh is there?” He asked amusedly.

“Hmm-hmm!” Remus nodded vigorously with a large grin.

“Well do tell!” Deceit said, as he waved his arms in an inviting gesture. “I’m all ears.”

Remus blanched. “Uuuuh…” He said, his mind racing. “Right! Yes! Okay, so get this-”

Words left his mouth without stopping by his brain first to say hello. Remus wasn’t sure what he was babbling on about as the minutes passed, but cut him some slack! The warlock’s calm attention made him more nervous than any yelling had ever done. He really wasn’t used to this. Usually people didn’t give him the time to explain himself! They just saw a mess, assumed he did it and started screaming. Not the warlock though. Deceit just listened, his hands resting in the small of his back, one eyebrow elegantly raised and an amused little smile playing on his lips while Remus kept spouting bullshit. God, what the fuck was he even saying anymore? He had no idea! Better end it quickly.

“-And that’s how it all happened, thank you very much, the end!” Remus squeezed out with his final breath. With a large gulp he leaned on his legs, wheezing slightly. Deceit tilted his head in thought.

“So… Just to recap,” The warlock said after a few seconds. “An army of gnomes broke through the window, had an orgy on my bookcases before summoning a demon, trashing the room and flinging themselves out the window whilst using their deal with the demon to magically fix the windows?”

…Fuck. Was that what he had been saying? Roll with it, roll with it.

“Yup!” Remus squeaked.

Deceit gave a short hum as he pursed his lips in thought. Remus allowed hope to flare up in his chest. Was he actually going to get away with this??

“You know,” Deceit said slowly. “For someone who’s very good at lying to himself, you are absolutely horrible at lying to other people.”

Aaaaaaand that hope died a gruesome bloody death. Right, well, Remus would say it was nice knowing himself, but that would be a lie.

“So, try again,” Deceit’s eyes hardened. “What happened?”

Remus crumbled into himself, wringing his hands together. “Well, I-!” He started, but stopped when Deceit raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t test me, little prince.” The warlock said evenly. He didn’t need to raise his voice to make Remus squirm. “I… I wanted to know if the skeleton on the ceiling was real…” Remus finally admitted in defeat as he pointed upwards at the skeleton in question.

“Right,” Deceit said with nod. “So did you satisfy your curiosity?”

“No… Because the bookcase I tried to climb fell over… Which made the other bookcase fall over, and then that one made the third one fall over, before-” No, stop talking. No one wants to listen to your stupid rambling, moron. “You get the picture…” He finished in a mutter.

“And there it is… The truth.” The warlock hummed. “Was that so hard?”

Remus didn’t answer. He kept from flinching when the warlock stepped closer by sheer force of will alone.

“Now. What to do with you…”

Remus stared at his feet. He knew what was coming next. He bit his lip, braced himself-

“Are you hurt?”

Remus blinked up at him. “…What-?”

“Are you hurt?” Deceit repeated patiently.

“I…” Remus stared. Wait… That’s… definitely not the direction this should go. “Not… Not really, I guess-?” He finally said, ignoring the dull ache in his wrist. That hardly even counted as hurt.

“Good.” Deceit smiled. He snapped his fingers, his eyes briefly flaring gold. A rumble erupted from the room behind him and Remus turned, only to gape when the room slowly started to rebuild itself. Bookcases righted themselves with a groan, the fractures in the wood disappeared in a golden glow, broken bottles fused back with a sharp singing sound. Remus had to duck when books flung themselves back to their original places; the suit of armour assembled itself back together. Remus was pretty sure he had to pick up his jaw from the floor when within a minute the room was completely spotless, like nothing had ever happened.

Heh, wouldn’t that be funny? If his jaw literally dislocated itself from his face to leave behind a gaping, bloody hole with only his wagging tongue left-

NO. No, that wasn’t a Roman thought! Focus!

“Well, that was that,” Deceit interrupted his thoughts. “Please refrain from climbing on tall things in the future. I would hate for you to break something I can not fix.”

Remus tore his bewildered wide-eyed look away from the newly restored room to stare back at the other. “You mean… Like the windows…?” He asked uncertainly. Deceit raised an eyebrow.

“I mean like your neck, dearie.”

Remus had no idea how to respond to that even if he wanted to. This was so far removed from how these kinds of conversations usually went for him that he was officially out of ideas.  

“Make no mistake,” Deceit said. “Next time you make a mess like this-”

Ah, right, now he would get the bodily threats, okay-

“-You will be cleaning it up yourself.”

…Or maybe not.

“And one more thing…”

Within the blink of an eye the warlock moved. Remus’ breath jittered to a stop when the other man was suddenly much closer, barely a hair width between them. Even without the golden glow Remus helplessly got lost in those fierce two-toned eyes.

“Do not lie to me again,” Deceit hissed, his fangs pushing out over his lower lip. “I do not appreciate being lied to, even when you are amazingly bad at it. Have I made myself clear?”

Remus’ heart thundered in his ears at the close proximity of the warlock. He drunk in every little detail that he had missed the first time, like how brightly yellow the left eye was. Or how the specks of gold in his hazel eye shimmered, as if his golden magic still shone through even without using it. Remus had thought they were about the same height, but this close he realized the warlock was juuuuuuust a smidge shorter than he was. He would have to lean down an eetsy-beetsy tiny bit to kiss those pretty lips. Remus had no idea why that little detail excited him so much, but it did.

“Super clear!” Remus squeaked, hoping to god he wasn’t blushing. Blushing was for the fucking weak. Deceit narrowed his eyes, giving him a sceptical glare. Remus tried to give him his best Roman-esque smile back. He couldn’t help but feel that on him it looked less charming and more like he was high off his ass.

“Right,” Deceit eventually said as he stepped away from him, and Remus bludgeoned down the urge to reach out and pull him back. “Are you hungry?”

Yes. Very hungry. Hungry for your DIC- “Yep! Definitely!” Remus brightly stopped his own head. “I could eat!”

Deceit gave him an odd look, but made no comment. “Come with me then.” He said as he waved him along. Remus followed him out of the room eagerly.

“Oh, and by the way,” Deceit threw a smile over his shoulder that made Remus’ legs all wobbly. “Yes. The skeleton is very much real.”

Remus swallowed. He was in so, so much trouble.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #dukeceit #janus sanders #remus sanders #ts janus #ts remus #romantic dukeceit #yes I am making you all wait for the resolution of the birthday party #suffer #started writing #had a breakdown #bon appétit baby

[shannygoatgruff]

My Brother’s Keeper

Genre: Psychological Thriller

Modern Ivar X Modern Hvitserk

Warning:  Dark story told from an emotionally distributed person’s POV with graphic and sadistic material including rape, terror, torture, kidnapping, drug use, slash, implied incest, necrophilia and insecurity. Heavy trigger warnings.  

Summary: Mama always said to be their brothers’ keeper. Now there is absolutely nothing these two won’t do for each other.  Boys will be boys...

A/N: So, I wrote this story about 10 years ago, under a different fandom.  With age and a more vivid imagination, there is so much more I want to do with it.  So, what did I decide to do?  A reboot!  

Chapter I

The amber light of the cigarette as I inhale, sends a flash of brightness across this dark room. As soon as I take in a healthy drag and feel the cool flavor of menthol opening my lungs, everything seems to have a spark of life. 

This room looks like all the others - small, dirty, and the only window in here is covered by a thick sheet of dust. I find myself wondering what this place looked like in its heyday before the demo crew came in and knocked down half the building. Did it have all of the latest amenities before the slum lord forgot that he had tenants? What kind of people lived here? The neighborhood’s changed so much, lately. 

Not that it matters much now, I guess.

This place is abandoned, has been forever judging from the size of the termite holes in the walls and floorboards where the wood has completely rotted through. It's a death trap if you don't watch your step. We spent enough time scoping out the layout in the daytime, we know exactly where we can and can't step. I know I could close my eyes right now and walk from here to the front door and avoid the hole in the floor covered by that threadbare rug.

I guess that's why we always choose places like this. They aren't so easy to escape from. I mean, if they actually manage to get away from us, they'll have one hell of a time actually making it to the outside without breaking their necks in the process. It's an unfair advantage, but it's a small price we pay to protect ourselves.

The muffled sound of whimpering makes me look over to the darkened corner by where the kitchen used to be. I can't really see what she's doing, but judging from the sound of the table leg scraping across the floor, I guess she's trying to get her hands free.

I hate that he ties them up so tight. The sound of them struggling always makes me feel sorry for them. What's even worse, is he insists on gagging them and leaving me here alone to watch them.

The least he could do is leave the gag off so they could talk to me. I know it isn’t a smart idea, especially since they could start screaming. But sometimes, when I know that he'll be gone for a while, I untie the gag so we can talk. I get bored in the dark alone and the sounds of their whimpering makes me feel weird. At least when I take the gag off, it seems to help them relax. I can always calm them down when we can have a two-way conversation. But, I can never get him to understand that.

They don't scream, usually. I don't really know why. I like to think it's because they know I don't really want to hurt them. I don't know. I can't really explain it. It's like, I don't want to cause anybody pain and knowing that someone got hurt because of something I did disturbs me. But on the same token, I love the power of fear. I love the look on their faces when they realize it's me. Really, who would ever suspect me of anything?

I don't know how I got like this. I wasn't one of those types you read about in the DSM-5 that labels sociopaths as displaying symptoms since early childhood. I didn't have a rough childhood. We had all kinds of love as kids. We had a big family, 5 boys, and our mama loved us. She made sure we looked out for each other. We protected each other. We defended each other. We loved each other.  

I wasn't abused as a child. Nobody touched me and I didn't have any early onset traumas to blame anything on. I've never had brain damage or ever been bullied before that I can remember. There's no explanation for it.

I once had this shrink tell me that was the scariest thing about it. There was nothing in my psychopathy to suggest I would turn out the way that I have. There’s just always been something in me that wasn’t quite right. According to her, that's what makes me a danger to society. 

I'm a whole lot different than him, that's for sure. He's the sick one out of all of us. Looking at him, you’d never know. I don't even ask anymore where he gets some of the ideas he comes up with. I think he's watched one too many scary movies and now he wants to play everything out in real life. He worries me some times because it's getting to the point where this isn't enough for him anymore. Every time we've got to do a little bit more, make the chase a little bit harder, punish them a little bit longer. It's like he's never satisfied now.  

I remember when we first started, it was our secret. It was pretty cut and dry. We'd see someone we wanted and we'd grab them. We'd have fun with them and drop them off in some remote area of town when we were done. Now, it's this big, elaborate game for him. He's into wooing them, getting them to come willingly and then when we get them in the car the fun begins. He's into the screaming and begging now and I honestly don't think any of them have walked away afterward in the past few months.

He's getting out of control, but what can I do about it? It's not like I can walk away from him or this life. I'm in too deep and truthfully I don't want to. I tried once. I tried to make a clean break, but the hunger got to be too much. I felt like I was going to crawl out of my own skin. My heart raced all the time, my hands shook, my mouth stayed juicy… I couldn't sleep or eat. I guess this is my addiction.

"If you don't break your wrist trying to untie yourself if you're free when he gets here, he'll do it for you." I feel like it's the least I could do. She should at least know that he's not really a person you want to fuck with. If he ties you up, when he comes back, your ass better still be tied up. It makes him crazy if they upset the scene that he has in his mind. “Besides, if he comes back here and finds out that you got your hands free, he's gonna be pissed. There’s no telling what he might do to you then."

I notice how quiet she is suddenly, but I can still hear her muffled cries. I almost feel sorry for her. Almost. But she has something I need so my sympathy only goes so far. Still, I feel like I should be doing something to try to make her stay here a little more enjoyable. I mean, she did ask to come. She wanted us to show her a good time, but this part isn't very fun though. I wish he would hurry up. 

I move over to the leg of the table that he's got her tied to and sit down next to her. "You smoke?" I notice the way she's trying to scramble away from me like I'm going to do something to her. I understand her reaction but really where does she think she's going to go? The binds are entirely too tight and I'm not tied up. Anywhere she can scramble too, I can, too.

If I felt up to it, I'd play along and show her that I'm in charge, but I’m really not that into it tonight. I just want to get this over with and go home. I'm tired. She put up much more of a fight than I thought she would. I hate it when I'm exhausted before we even get started.

I fold my legs beneath me and touch the end of the lit match to the wick of the candle. It really doesn't illuminate the room much, but at least it allows her to see my face and me hers. She really is pretty especially with the way the tears have stained her smudged face and her hair clings to her skin with sweat. Her teeth are so white against the soiled rag tied around her head to keep her quiet. She has the prettiest blue eyes, even if one is almost swollen shut. He didn't have to hit her so hard.

"You want a cigarette?" I hold the pack up to her face and watch as her eyes fix on me and not on the pack. "They're safe. I didn't put anything in them."

I try to offer a smile to lighten the mood, but she doesn't seem any more relaxed. "I'm gonna untie your gag, but you gotta cooperate, okay? If you scream, I'll cave your face in." I notice how she flinches when I talk to her. I hate threatening her, but I think it's only fair that she knows what's coming if she disobeys.

I reach over to her and put my hands behind her head. Her hair feels like silk under my fingers. Even after I loosen the tie I let my fingers curl around her locks for a few seconds longer to feel how soft they are. Once the gag hangs loosely around her neck, I sit back and smile at her. I don't really have anything to say at the moment, so I pack the box of cigarettes and select one for her enjoyment.

"Here ya go." I feel my own mouth open as I put the cigarette up to hers and my heart speeds up when I see her lips open and close around the filter. I pick up the candle and hold it close to her face and watch as the flame catches to the end of the butt. "That's better." I light my own cigarette with the candle before I place it back on the floor.

She looks like she's struggling to puff and keep the thin layer of smoke from getting into her eyes. Poor thing. I'm trying to be helpful, as I reach across and take the cigarette away from her mouth to giving her a moment to breathe in some of this moldy air.

"What are you gonna do to me?" This is the first time she’s spoken since we left the bar. While we were there I found her voice to be whiny and irritating, but now I like it. It's soft and vulnerable and it quivers with each word.

Hmm? What are we gonna do? He doesn't like to do the same thing two nights in a row, and we did so much last night. What is he planning for tonight? "I don't know. What would you like to do?"

The look she gives me amuses me. I love it when they're interactive. It’s like she’s enjoying this as much as I am. "I'd like to go home."

"I can ask if that can happen. But you have to be good." It’s better if she knows the rules, upfront. If she knows that if she pleases him, there’s a better chance of just living with the memories of tonight instead of not living at all – I think that puts the odds in her favor. See, I’m a nice guy like that.

Of course, you always get the ones that take that information and go crazy with it. Those are the ones that piss him off. Those are the ones that don't get to see the next day. Those are the ones we read about in the newspaper while we're sitting around at the breakfast table.

I place the cigarette back to her lips and she takes a deep breath. I love the way the plume of smoke dances around her face as she exhales. It seems to be working…she’s relaxing. "Why me?"

"Why not you?" No one is so special that we can't use them. That's why we pick the ones we do because they're special. "You're perfect for what we need."

"And what's that?" Her tears are falling faster as her fear is taking over.

"A fantasy woman." I can feel myself smirk as I hand her back the cigarette.

It’s something about seeing her pink tongue touch her bottom lip that ignites something in my belly and turns on a switch in my head. All of a sudden I don't feel like I'm sitting on the floor in this broken down, dirty room, instead, I'm running in a field of green grass, chasing fireflies with my brothers. I feel young, wild and free. I feel creative and imaginative.

I feel alive.

I don't know how much time passes before I hear him enter the room. All I know is I can't look at him. I can't meet his eyes.

"What the fuck happened?" I hear his voice from behind me and it takes everything I have to pull my wet hands from my face.

"I don't know." I can feel the cold stickiness left on my cheeks and the warm tears that run across them. I let my eyes focus on my red hands as the almost completely burnt out candle flickers.

I hear his footsteps moving closer to me. He's walking slowly, so I know he's not angry, but that's no excuse. His presence looms as he stands beside me, but then he runs his fingers through my hair. There's nothing I can do but turn to him and wrap my arms around his waist and cry against him.

"It is okay, Brother." I can feel his lips touch my scalp as he bends down to coo and stroke the back of my neck. Even though I can't see his face, I know he's looking at the scene on the floor. I know he sees the blood still dripping from where her face once was. He has to notice that her skirt has been pulled away and instead of the gag in her mouth, her panties are halfway down her throat.

I swear I don't know how she got like that.

I don't remember.

Clinging desperately to him, I try to bite back my sobs. "I don't understand why this keeps happening. I can't stop it, Ivar. I need help."

"No, Hvitserk. You don't need help, Big Brother,” He says looking down at me with a reassuring smile, gently wiping away my tears. “You just need me."

Next Chapter

Tag list: @geekandbooknerd @thelastemzy @the-jess-life @a-mess-of-fandoms @leilabeaux @cfmvirgo @gingerbread-the-indoor-tomcat @where-beauty-goes-to-die @amy8220 @justanothterlazzyperson @unmotivatedwritings @dangerousgiantalmondbat @b-j-d @youbloodymadgenius @waiting4inspiration @oddsnendsfanfics @alexandersenx @flowers-in-your-hayr​ @honestsycrets​

#vikings fanfic #vikings cast #vikings cast pics #Vikings #vikings fandom #vikings fanfiction #AHA #alex andersen #Alex hoegh #alex hogh andersen #alex høgh andersen #alex hogh fanfiction #marco islo #marco ilsø #ivar lothbrok #hvitserk #hvitserk lothbrok #ivar the boneless #ivar's heathen army #shannygoat #usershannygoatgruff #baby daddy #fanfiction #fanfiction writing #fanfiction writer #my brother's keeper

[santaclausdeadindian]

Sorry for doing it this way, I think OP deleted their post or blocked me like a mature, balanced person would, so I have to tag you in

@mr-laugh

Oh boy, lot to unpack here.

So you didn’t even know there were that many subgenres of fantasy, one of the most popular classifications of fiction on the planet... And you think you know enough to tell ANYBODY what classic fantasy is?

And where exactly I attempted to do that, huh?

If you don’t even know the most common subgenres of this vast pool of fiction, why are you jumping into this discussion? You just admitted you don’t know anything!

There is no discussion, there is a stupid ass post. Don't flatter yourself, you don't know jack shit.

Me not knowing what exactly are the precize subgenres of a genre of literature, which, btw, are completely arbitrary and for your information, sword&magic is a legitimate category, has absolutely nothing to do with what that post you were so keen on agreeing with above. It was you who said pretty much any classic fantasy is like that: some poorly written, self-indulgent and borderline racist.

Did ya read the link, buddy? Howard talked about knowing what burning black man smelled like. He was quite approving of these things! And the books are pretty racist, it’s not hard to see, unless you ain’t looking.

Yes, I started reading and by the end of the first paragraph I was convinced he was ahorribly racist man. And? Still doesn't change the fact, that for my 12 year old self, there was nothing racist about it. I definetly wasn't looking for it, that much you got right. If I'd read it again, I'm sure I'd catch on to it now, that I know what kind of asshole he was. So the implied racism would be there. You got a point for that.

Rugged individualism? It always amuses me how that argument always pops out of the mouths of guys who are aping what they’ve heard their buddies say. If ten thousand mouths shout “rugged individualism”, how individualistic are they?

Then you should amuse yourself by looking up why this thing crops up as of late. It's coming from certain, supremely racist yet unaware of it publications that claim ridiculous shit like "rugged individualism" is a hallmark of white supremacy, among other, equally laughable things, like punctuality. It's a joke.

Again, I will give Howard to you, if someone that racist writes a black man saving the hero of the story, I bet there was something else still there to make it wrong.

Conan’s not some avatar of rugged individualism.

Uhm, yeah, he pretty much all that.

He’s as unreal and unrealistic as the dragons are,

It's called fantasy for a reason, buddy.

but more dangerous because White Men model their ideas of reality on Big Man Heroes like him;

Glad you are totally not racist, yo!!! It's such a relief that White Men are the only ones with this terrible behavior of looking up to larger than life, mythic superpeople and nobody else. Imagine what it would be like, if we would have some asshole from say, hindu indian literature massacering demons called Rakshassas, by the tens of thousands, or some bullshit japanese warlord would snatch out arrows from the air, or a chienese bodyguard would mow down hundreds of barbaric huns without dropping a sweat, or some middle eastern hero would fight literal gods and their magical beasts in some quest for eternal life.

it's a poison that weakens us, distracting us from actually trying to solve the world’s issues, or banding together to deal with shit.

This is what you just said. It's up to the white man, to get their shit together, be not racist and solve the world's problems, because those poor other people's just can't do it. If we would just not be oh, so racist, then China would surely stop with the genocides they are doing now, or blowing more than half the greenhouse emissions into the athmosphere, the muslims would stop throwing their gays from rooftops or ramming trucks into crowds and would just start treating women as equals, India's massive rape problem would be gone, subsaharan African would be magically bereft of the host of atrocities committed there on a daily, yeah, you sure have that nonracism down, buddy!

A rugged individualist would be smart enough to realize that even the most individualistic person needs others; no man’s an island, and a loner is easier to kill.

Individualism doesn't mean at all what you think it means, it's a cluster of widely differeing philosophies that puts the individual ahead of the group or state, it's ranging from anarchism to liberalism and is also has nothing to do with my point.

Central Europe?  What, Germany?  Because let me tell you, historically they are SUPER concerned about race!

Germany traditionally considered western european, central europe would be the people stuck between them and the russians, to put it very loosely. We are equally nonplussed by the self-flagellating white guilt complex and the woe me victim complex of the west. We did none of the shit those meanie white people did to the nonwhites and suffered everyting any poc ever did and then some. We don't give a shit about your color, we care about what culture you are from and if you respect our values.

I’m an American from a former Confederate state; trust me, race is everything.  It always is.

No it really isn't. How old are you? Asking without condescension, genuinly curious, because if you are in your low twenties at most, it's understandable why you think like this.

See that hike? Do you know what happened at that time that made virtually all american media suddenly go all in with racism?

Occupy Wall Street, that's what. It's a brilliant way to sow victimhood and hate and desperation amongst the people who have one common enemy, the powers that be, the banking sector, the politicians, the megacorporations.

Can't really blame you if you are in your early 20's at most, you grew up with this bullshit hammered into you. If you are older, step out of your echochamber please!

If you actually believe, that mankind doesn't progress naturally towards a more accepting society purely on the merit of there being more good people than bad and sharing a similar living with all the hardships in life, seeing that our prejudices inherited by our parents are baseless, that's how we progress, not virtue signalling courses and regressive policies. I was raised as any other kid, I had a deep resentment towards the neighbouring nations, I said vile, racist shit against people who I actually share a lot of genes with, of which fact I was in deep denial about, and then as I gradually got exposed more and more actual people of these groups, I started to realize I was wrong and everybody should be judged by their individual merits. It works throughout the generations, my grandma was thought songs about Hitler and how all jews are evil in school, she legit thought all black people at least in Africa are cannibals and shit, my mother stillsays shit that would get her cancelled in the USA, and I will probably have a mixed race kid as we stand now.

This whole racism is an eternal problem is laughable and disingenuous and I am actually sorry for you that you feel like that.

Moving on. As for Dany, the “noble white girl sold to scary dark foreign man” is a very popular trope, especially in exploitation films, which Martin draws on much more heavily than most authors do.

No, he fucking doesn't. I already wrote a bunch of examples from the books you seeminly ignore willfully. First of all, she is sold to those olive skinned savages by a white man, who is a terrible, increadibly evil man. He want's to fuck the then 11-12 ish Dany so bad, she picks his slave most resembling her and rapes her repeatedly, "until the madness pass." He also maimes children and traines them as disposable slave spies by the hundreds. There is no boundaries colour here, GRRM prtrays all kinds of people as reprehensible, evil and disgusting. Just like you can find plenty of examples to the opposite.

What is he drawing from your exploitation movies exactly? He writes about the human anture, he writes about the human heart at war with itself, that's his central philosophy of writing.

ASOFAI is basically just a porn movie with complicated feudal politics obscuring it, which is probably why it worked so well as an HBO series (up until the last two seasons or so.)

There is no gratuitous sex scene in the books, the rapes are described as rapes, they are horrible, they are very shortly described and usually just alluded to.

The people commiting them are not put into generous lights and one of the single most harrowing stories hidden behind the grand happenings of the plot is a girl named Jeyne Poole, whose suffering although never shown, is very much pointed out, along with the hypocrisy of the people who only fight to try and save her, because they think her a different person.

Honestly, if you actually read the books and they came of to you as porn, you might want to do some soulsearching.Btw, the HBO series was a terrible adaptation, it immedietly started to go further and further from the books with every passing season and the showmakers made it very clear to everybody, that they didn't understand the very much pacifist and humanist themes of Martin. And neither did you.

We also get no indication Essos will eat it when Winter comes; hell, they seem to not know Winter exists, given the way people act, even though that is also unrealistic and weird.  Essos was just super badly designed, and Dany is a terribly boring character.

to be continued

[lavendersuh]

got7 as classic fanfic tropes

word count: 2.4k

a/n: uhhhh i started thinking of classic fanfic tropes and this happened oops! they are short and sweet, but if you want more of one of them hmu and i might write it? enjoy xx

mark - neighbor!au

the shy quiet next door neighbor. your parents are good friends which means occasionally you see each other at dinners. despite his friends being extremely crazy, he always offers you kind smiles in the hallways at school. you always wonder what’s on his mind, until one day his friends loudly tease him about a crush he won’t ask out. you look across the hallway to see your neighbor blushing. 

“just ask her out already! come on, man, what’s it gonna hurt?” one of his friends, jackson, asks.

as you watch the situation unfold, you see mark glance over at you. his eyes turn wide when he sees you already looking at him, causing him to look down and blush even harder. you didn’t realize that was possible.

you turn around to continue putting your books in your locker, as you continued to hear his friends hype him up. you rolled your eyes at their childish behavior. 

the warning bell was ringing, prompting you to shut your locker, only to find mark walking up to you. 

your eyes widen as his flustered expression. he speaks up, “y/n, could i talk to you for a sec?”

jaebum - gang leader!au

super mysterious. you always saw him come into the coffee shop, order a double shot expresso drink, before leaving asap. you always wondered what he was up to considering it was well into your afternoon study sessions when he would show up. who needs that much coffee in the evening?

one day you decided to pack up early, realizing you really needed to head home to cook instead of picking up fast food again. as you’re leaving, the man that always picks up the coffee labeled “JB” heads out the door too. he holds the door for you, sending you a small smile to your surprise. 

you mutter a thanks before he gets into the suspicious black vehicle, not realizing a shady figure across the street was watching the entire interaction. 

you don’t notice the figure following you home until you get to your building, about to unlock the door, when you hear a gunshot behind you. you whip around to see JB standing with a gun in his hand as the shady figure flees, clutching his arm. 

“are you okay?” he asks, coming up to you. 

you stand frozen, eyes wide with terror at what just happened. 

“look, he was following you, he probably thought you were my girlfriend or something since we left at the same time.” he huffs in frustration, “huh, i never ask the pretty girl for her number in order to protect her and yet she still ends up getting shot at.”

a million things are running through your head. pretty girl? number? shot at?

“i’m sorry i put you in danger. i’m also sorry i haven’t talked to you before this,” he says, “i’m caught up with the local mafia and even though i noticed you looking at me in the cafe, i never made a move because i didn’t want you to get caught up in all this.” 

he smiles down at you, “but considering this happened anyways, i might as well ask you to dinner. are you free tonight?”

jackson - college athlete!au

definitely super popular. not because of his sport tho, he fences. he’s just really sociable, at parties all the time, etc. he honestly keeps the fact that he’s a fencer on the down low, not cause its embarrassing or anything but just because he doesn’t like explaining it. he takes it super seriously, and doesn’t like people questioning it.

too bad for him, your sibling happened to love fencing. you were dragged along as they followed the championships and everything. safe to say, you know who jackson wang is. 

you recently transferred to a new university, and your roommates were dragging you out to a party to celebrate the first week of school. you were expecting the classic characteristics of a frat party, but what you weren’t expecting was to see the Junior Asia Fencing Champion offering you your third beer of the night.

“you’re jackson wang,” you tell him, as he continues tossing beer cans to newcomers.

“hell yeah i am,” he grins at you, “but you don’t look familiar. i’m good at remembering faces, where do i know you from?”

“oh, we haven’t met,” you tell him, “i just recognized you because you fence,”

he pauses what he’s doing, whipping around to stare you down, trying to get a read on you.

“you… follow fencing?” he questions.

you shake your head, a warm buzz finally beginning to take over your senses from the alcohol. “no, but my sibling follows it religiously. i just happen to accompany them occasionally, you know, just go along for the ride.”

he throws you a smile, and you start to see why he seems to be so popular. 

“hmm,” he says, leading you through some of the crowd to a less densely packed area of the frat house, “then would you be interested in accompanying me somewhere sometime?”

“like on a date?”

“why not? we could get coffee after my practice tomorrow evening?”

you nod, suddenly feeling shy as you realize what you are getting yourself into.

he throws you another grin as he clinks your beers together, “it’s a date.”

jinyoung - royal!au

honestly a pretty chill royal, he’s a kind prince; he’s just a big spoiled, but who wouldn’t be?

it’s no surprise that he would get irritated with the airline staff when his flight gets cancelled in the middle of the night. he just wants to go home. 

it’s no surprise when you see him talking to the airline worker with an exasperated expression, and it’s no surprise when you hear him in a raised voice say, “but i’m a prince!”

ah, yes. the royalty card. you were familiar. 

it doesn’t take but a heartbeat for you to walk over, and politely tell the man that he needs to “chill.”

“chill? chill? i don’t have time for chill, i’m a prince!” he stares at you for a moment, “i’m sorry but i can’t possibly see how a simple stranger like you would understand.” 

“oh, i understand perfectly fine.” you say with a level head, “i am the most understanding when coming across other royals who like to use it to their advantage. but just because i understand them does not mean i will allow myself to do such things.”

he gives you a confused look. “are you… royal?” he asks incredulously. 

you nod, rolling your eyes, “come on, you can hitch a ride with me, i’m headed past your country anyways.” 

he sputters for a minute, as you start walking away. you turn to see he’s still frozen, not following you. 

“you want a ride or not? plane leaves soon, your highness,” you throw the name at him, smiling as he races to catch up. 

youngjae - office!au

doesn’t mind working in an office because he knows work isn’t his whole life. isn’t super friendly with everyone in the office but he does have a few good friends. they occasionally go out to lunch, coming back to the office a bit later than they should on a lunch break. 

he seems like SUCH a jim halpert to me. joking around but is also one of the only relatively sane ones in the office. that means you are pam, sorry i don’t make the rules. 

so he goes out for these too-long lunches right? well from your spot at the secretary’s desk you clearly started to notice this. seeing as the boss was trying so hard to be youngjae’s friend, the issue was getting swept under the rug. you took it upon yourself one day to call out the lunch delinquent.

on his way back in with the boys, youngjae was laughing at a joke one of the others had made, when you asked to see him at the front desk. he looked at you with a grin still set upon his face.

“what’s up?” he asks casually, leaning a forearm on the top of the desk.

“what’s up is that you are your buddies are out on lunch for over an hour, multiple times a week.” you accuse.

“aw, are you feeling left out?” he teases. 

“no! i’m just annoyed that while you are out enjoying yourselves on company while i’m stuck here waiting until you idiots get back so i can take my own lunch.” you say.

“how about if i took you out for lunch one day next week? would that make up for my misbehavior? i promise we will be out for only an hour.” he grins, “i can’t let you get in trouble.”

he has such a shit-eating grin on his face, but its pretty on par with his generally aloof personality. you find yourself rolling your eyes at him before accepting.

“only if you’re paying.”

his smile doesn’t leave his face as he walks back to his desk.

bambam - frat boy!au

alcohol is water to this boy. yes, he’s a good student during the weekdays, but if it’s the weekend, bam is either drunk, hungover or thinking about getting drunk again. it’s just the college life, and you understand that very well.

which is why it doesn’t really surprise you when it’s the third weekend in a row having bam’s tongue down your throat. you only really party on fridays, so that you can recover saturday and then do homework on sunday. it’s not your fault you keep appearing at bam’s frat house. it’s got the best booze on campus.

you can’t really remember why you started making out with bambam that first time, but by the third time you definitely see the pattern. you both are pretty drunk, you wonder if he even knows he’s making out with his chem lab partner every weekend. 

this time is different though. he’s not being super rough, more just slow and sensual. you aren’t as drunk as last time, and you take notice when he pauses to let out a sad sigh.

you step a bit away, giving him space, squeezing his hands, “are you okay?”

he looks at you with dazed eyes, letting out another sigh, “no, i’m making out with you when i’d much rather be making out with my lab partner who doesn’t seem to know i exist.”

confusion settles over you for a minute, before you start giggling, “bam, how drunk are you?”

“enough to forget my pain,” he replies.

you let out a laugh before grasping his forearm, “come on, loser, you need to sober up and sleep.” you tell him, leading him up the stairs of the frat house, “you need to learn to handle your alcohol better.”

when you ask him which room is his, he gets all pouty and defensive, arguing that he doesn’t want to sleep with you. his arguments are slurred and lazy, as he leans into you for support.

“bam, i don’t want to sleep with you, i want you to sober up, come on!” 

you find his room based on the polaroid pictures of his cats you see near his door frame, and push him onto the bed. he lets out a yawn while you grab a glass of water from the bathroom. 

“drink this before you fall--” you start, before noticing he’s fast asleep already. you roll your eyes, setting the glass of water on his bedside table.

finding a notebook on his desk, you tear out a piece of paper to write a note:

hey dumbass,  you confessed you had the hots for your lab partner while you were making out with me, so like the good person i am, i tried to sober you up but you fell asleep. good job.  see you in class,  your lab partner

beneath the note, you scribbled down your number before placing it under the glass of water. he’d find it eventually.

yugyeom - dancer!au

an amazing dancer. like so good. he likes to brag about it loudly before school dances, in hopes that he will get a date.

he does not. 

not because his classmates don’t want him, but because they are all scared to dance next to him. he’s too good, that would be so embarrassing.

it was a miracle you even went to the dance tbh. winter formal wasn’t exactly on your list of things you must do before senior year is over, but alas, your friend wanted to come, and they had dragged you along for the ride.

so there you stand alone since your friend ditched you for some other people. you don’t mind really; you’re a clumsy person and dancing isn’t really your thing. you are content to just watch as everyone around you has the time of their lives.

you catch sight of yugyeom, a fellow senior, tearing up the dance floor. no one really compares to his insane talent. it’s quite interesting to watch him, and before you know it the song has ended and he’s caught you staring. oops.

he makes his way over to you. you aren’t necessarily friends with yugyeom. but you know of each other due to classes. 

“why did you come to the dance if you are just going to stand there all night?” he questions.

“i came for my friend,” you tell him, glancing over at her dancing with some underclassmen boys.

he nods in understanding, “well, you should at least dance for one song!” 

he goes to grab your hand but you quickly pull away, “i can’t.”

“you can’t?”

you shake your head, “i’m really clumsy.”

just as you say that, a slower song comes on, and yugyeom grabs for your hand again, leading you out to the dance floor, “come on, it’s just one song. and this one is slow, you just have to stand there and sway.”

he moves your arms to wrap around his neck, before he places his own hands gently on your waist. you both move around a little, swaying and turning, following yugyeom’s lead.

“this isn’t so bad, is it?” he asks, his voice low. 

“it’s not terrible,” you reply.

it’s actually quite nice, except for your heartbeat that’s about to burst out of your chest. 

the song comes to a close and you step away from him. 

“well, maybe we can do this again sometime. you know, like at prom.” he mentions, trying to read your face,

“it’s not even christmas yet, and you’re already thinking of prom?” 

he smiles, squeezing your hand before letting go, “never hurts to be on top of things, princess.” 

you smile as he drifts back into the crowd.

#got7 #got7 x reader #got7 x you #got7 fanfic #got7 scenario #got7 drabble #got7 reaction #mark x reader #jaebum x reader #jackson x reader #jinyoung x reader #youngjae x reader #bambam x reader #yugyeom x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #kpop #kpop scenarios #kpop fanfic #kpop au #got7 au #got7 mark #got7 jaebum #got7 jackson #got7 youngjae #got7 bambam #got7 jinyoung #got7 yugyeom #mark x you #jaebum x you

[swimmingnewsie]

Of Coffee and Cookies (Chapter 7)

...You know I used to be patient and methodical with my upload schedule. But now I just want to share with the world my work <3 So enjoy two chapters in less than 24 hours.

Link to AO3

---

"I just don't understand why she can't tell me what's wrong. Obviously there's something, and maybe I could help if she would just let me in!" Maren said in frustration as Ryder drove.

It had been three days since Maren had walked out on Elsa in the cafe, and she hadn't heard from the woman since. What was so bad that Elsa couldn't bring herself to talk about? It wasn't like they hadn't had deep conversations before. They had talked about everything from miscarriages to the death of parents to mental health crises. What was so bad Elsa couldn't even name?

"Have you considered the chance that maybe she's still processing whatever it is? And that she wants some sort of grasp before she tries to talk about it with someone else?" Ryder suggested, eyes focused on the open road ahead of them. There was no destination today, but Maren had a feeling that Ryder was doing this so she would talk candidly. They had never been good at a direct face-to-face conversation. Driving provided an easy environment for them both.

"Maybe, but she's my girlfriend, Ry. I'm supposed to be there to help her with stuff," she exasperated. All she wanted was to be there for Elsa. Why was that so hard?

"You may be her girlfriend, but she's still her own person. She's allowed to keep her secrets if she wants. That's just something she does. Have you tried talking to her about it?"

Maren shook her head. "I told her to come back when she was ready to be mature about things. She needs to come to me first."

Ryder raised an eyebrow. "But is that fair? You're the one who walked out on her because she wasn't talking. Do you really think that's the best way to get what you want?"

Maren rolled her eyes. "No, but- but- I don't know!"

"Then put your stubbornness aside and apologize. She may have done things wrong, but so did you." Ryder said, looking at her. "You yelled at her for not opening up when you knew full well the shit show that the last week has been for her with Anna being so sick.

"Look I don't know Elsa as well as you do, obviously, but I do know this: she internalizes her feelings while you externalize your feelings. If you guys are gonna make this work, you’re gonna have to learn to deal with that."

Maren looked stunned at her brother. Where the hell had all that come from? Her brother had grown a lot from that flighty boy who wouldn't talk to anyone for anything. Maren laid her head back on the seat. "When did you get so wise?"

"I'm dating a self-proclaimed love expert who was raised by actual love expert marriage counselors. You pick up on this kind of shit," he said simply. Ryder sighed, turning the car back towards home.

Maren could hear the sadness in her brother's sigh. She was far more adept at her brother's emotions than anyone else's. "Well, I may not be able to pick at my girlfriend's mind right now, but I can pick at yours. What's running in that pretty little head of yours?"

Ryder gave a hint of a laugh. "Just trying to solve all the world's problems today, aren't you?"

She nudged her brother in the shoulder. "Maybe," she said with a slight smile.

"You're worse than Anna about meddling!" he teased.

"Am not!" Maren slapped her brother's shoulder.

"Hey! Hey! No hitting the driver!" Ryder called out laughing. "And answering your question would require whiskey, and considering we both have work tomorrow, that is not an option."

Maren rolled her eyes. "So you're not going to tell me? Even after everything I've gone through with Elsa?"

"Dramatic much?" he asked, mirroring her eye roll. "We'll talk about it Friday. I promise."

Ryder held out a pinky that Maren happily linked. "Friday," she agreed.

"And in the meantime, you are going to your girlfriend's and talking this out."

"As you command, Mr. Love Expert."

---

"Hi, Maren! I wasn't expecting to see you today." Maren was greeted at the door by a sleepy looking Anna. She looked much healthier than the last time she had been by. Her face had more color, and she seemed far perkier.

"Hi, Anna. How are you feeling?"

"Tired still," she admitted coughing in the sleeve of her sweatshirt. "But what can you expect when you get the flu and strep throat at the same time?"

"Oh, Anna, that's terrible," Maren frowned. "I'm sorry. Have they been able to give you anything to make you feel better?"

Anna nodded. "Antibiotics for the strep and cough syrup to help me sleep at night. Seems to be doing well enough. Elsa's in her room if you want to come in." Maren nodded in reply, entering the apartment. "She had headphones in earlier, so she might not hear you if you knock."

"Thanks, Anna," she said sincerely. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Honestly? Get my sister to go to bed," she said with tired eyes. "She won't say anything, but I heard her coughing all night and I'm worried."

Maren's eyes softened. Of course Elsa wouldn't say anything while Anna was still sick. "I'll do my best."

"Elsa?" she said as she entered the bedroom quietly. Her heart ached at the sight. Books and tissues were scattered on Elsa's bed while Elsa herself was passed out in the middle with her laptop open on a half finished word document and Marshmallow curled up at her side. Her face was much paler than usual- something Maren had thought was impossible- and she shivered violently on the bed clinging to the fluffy cat for warmth. Maren placed a gentle hand to get girlfriend's head; she was burning up. Their discussion could certainly wait, she thought.

Marshmallow meowed up at her. Maren didn't know cats could looked worried, but he certainly did. She gave him a comforting pet. "Don't worry, Marshie. We'll take care of her." He meowed in reply before rubbing up on his owner again, pleased with her words.

"Hey snowflake. Can you wake up for me?" she asked softly. Elsa couldn't be comfortable like that, and if she was hiding her illness like Maren suspected she was, then she was going to get her the rest and medicine she needed.

Elsa's eyes slowly opened to reveal glassy blue eyes. "Maren? What are you doing here? You were mad at me. I'm- I'm sorry," she managed before coughs overtook her chest, scaring Marshmallow off the bed. She sounded terrible.

Maren shook her head, patting Elsa's back to help with the cough. "That's not important right now. How long have you been feeling sick?"

"'m not sick," she said, sniffling as her runny nose betrayed her.

"While you make a very compelling argument, snowflake, do you think you could you tell me the truth?" Maren asked wrapping an arm around Elsa.

Elsa tried to recoil from the touch. "Don't want you to get sick," she said hazily.

"So you admit you're sick," she said with a small smirk. "Love, I teach middle schoolers. My fear of catching a cold is long gone. Now how long have you been feeling bad?"

"Monday."

Monday. Monday was when they fought. A wave of guilt passed over her. "And have you been going to school and work every day like a bad sick person?" Elsa nodded wearily. "Oh, love," she sighed.

Maren moved from the bed, beginning to pick her up her papers and books. "What are you doing?" Elsa asked, clutching at some of her books. "I still have work to do."

"That may be true. But if you have the same thing Anna does, you need to rest more than you need to work. Did you even tell your sister you weren't feeling well?"

Elsa shook her head. "I didn't want to worry her. She has enough to worry about."

"I think you failed that mission, snowflake. She told me she heard you coughing all night last night. Meaning you probably didn't sleep and that you definitely shouldn't have been teaching today." Maren turned to Elsa's drawers. "What pajamas do you want? You aren't resting in those clothes."

Elsa slowly relinquished control, allowing Maren to help her change, something the brunette was very happy about. How Elsa had still been pushing on stunned her. She was running a temperature of 103 and yet here she was still working away on research. But Maren had told her enough was enough, and Elsa was settled in bed with two quilts and a dose of nighttime cold medicine.

"I'm sorry," she said sleepily looking at Maren.

"What for, snowflake?"

"For not calling, not talking to you, not telling you. I know you just wanted to help," Elsa said teary eyed. The combined illnesses must have been making her more emotional than usual, Maren thought.

"I'm sorry too. For yelling and running away on you. But we can talk about those things when you're feeling better, okay?"

"But I was so mean to you," she said before being interrupted by a sneeze.

"Bless you. You were getting sick and under a lot of stress, sweetheart. I can't hold that against you. Especially when you're still so unwell."

"But I don't- but I don't want to sweep it under the rug like it never happened." Her voice cracked, clearly strained by all the talking.

"We won't. There's a difference between sweeping an argument under the rug and waiting until you're well enough to talk without your body interrupting." Maren brushed a hand against her girlfriend's hot forehead. "We will talk about all this another day."

"Promise?" she asked.

"I promise. Now shush, don't strain your voice anymore." Elsa happily snuggled up against Maren, eyes shut. Soon enough, her wheezy breathing evened; and Elsa was fast asleep.

Maren was still just as confused as she was three days ago, but that didn't matter. Elsa was here with her, willing to talk. They would take it one step at a time, one breath at a time. They would figure this out. They would be fine.

#frozen #frozen fanfic #nattura siblings #elsamaren #frohana #my fic #yes i wrote more sick fic #let me live my best hurt comfort life

[heythereunderoos]

Catching a Killer

Pairing: Forensic Anthropologist!Peter x FBI Agent! Tony Word Count: 1865 Warnings: Graphic depictions of death?

This was the first time the pair had been on a case in months. With Peter having traveled to Laos to catalog new bones discovered there and Tony having returned from his summons to the Pentagon. The two were a little on edge. Peter was excited to see the agent again, though he'd never say that aloud, and he could feel himself flushing with anticipation. Tony, though just having arrived home was trying to leave for vacation and this case just happened to get in his way.

"Is there any way you can hurry this up, kid? Just give it your best guess and I'll put someone in cuffs so I can catch my flight?"

Peter released a loud huff, choosing to ignore both Agent Stark and his ridiculous nicknames, as well as choosing to believe his flush was a result of the sun sat high in the sky. Peter could feel the sun beating down on his back, but was far too engrossed on the partially decayed remains in front of him and the markers bred within the bone that could help identify who this person was.

"From what I can see, she's female. Presence of wisdom teeth indicates they're over eighteen. Width and shape of the pelvic bone would concur with those deductions." Peter pauses for a second, snapping a pair of latex gloves onto his hands before reaching down and slightly rotating the skull. "Normally I wouldn't be so quick to state this, but since someone has a flight to catch, I figured I should inform you that from what I can currently see, it would seem the manner of death here is a homicide considering this large blunt force trauma to the back of the skull that could indicate cause of death."

"Petey, baby, I would say that a girl gettin' her skull bashed in is more than indicative of foul play." At this, Peter turned his head over his shoulder, still squatted over the body and sent the man a chilling glare. Despite what it seemed from the outside, the pair made a good team, though always fighting over seemingly trivial things, always managed to crack the case and put the bad guy in cuffs.

The agent looked at his shoes and adjusted his tie, trying to escape the look he knew was geared towards the stupid pet names that Peter absolutely despised. But Peter knew that if he was ever in a jam, or in any form of danger that Tony would be there to save him, though the boy avidly claimed he was no damsel in distress.

Having put the agent in his place, the boy returned to his work of examining the person before him. It was evident to him that the body was partially buried: as every part of the body excluding the lower half of the girl's right arm was covered in adipocere.

"Hey Pete, why does half of her look like that?"

"Like what?"

"All waxy, it's kinda freakin' me out." Peter sighed, as he had moved over to examine the patch of green grass beneath the partially exposed radius and ulna, before collecting all of his jumbled thoughts to explain the answer to the older man's question.

"From what we can see here," The boy gestured to the waxy half of her body, "we know that she was partially buried. For the sake of time, what you need to know is that because dirt is so compact it lacks oxygen in comparison to above the ground. And as a result of it raining pretty recently, the dirt is a moist anaerobic environment, prime for creating adipocere from the body's fat. The fat reacts with the water in the dirt in a process you may know as hydrolysis and creates this waxy substance." Peter couldn't help the condescending tone that seeped into his words and honestly he didn't even care to try to take it back.

"Right, knew that." The agent shrugged, running a hand through his messy hair and trying to observe the boy working, but at a decent distance. Tony had been working for the FBI for 7 years and considering this was his line of work, dead bodies were no new sight, though he liked getting guts on the rug of his car even less than he liked finding people dead.

"Surely." The kid replied in a snarky tone, attempting to formulate some sort of time of death gap within his head as his eyes focused on the remnants of flesh that were beginning to slip off of the arm bones.

With a sigh, the kid stood to his feet and began removing the gloves, making his way back to the car.

"Where the hell are ya going kid? I didn't get much insight on what the hell happened to this girl!" Stark called after him, with his ridiculously tiny notebook and pen in hand, attempting to catch up to the younger scientist.

"From what I can tell, as indicated by the skin slippage, the body has been there for approximately 2 or 3 days? It's a little difficult to gauge time of death considering adipocere takes weeks to form over an entire body and yet the arm that was left to the elements looks as if it has only been there for a few days. So the answer to your question is: I have to run more tests. Back at the lab. So we're bagging up the body, and taking surrounding soil samples. I'm sure that Bruce can collect those, so you're going to drive me back to the lab."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, really."

"Well I missed breakfast for this call, so you and I are gonna head to the diner and grab a piece of pie, how's that, sweet cheeks?"

"Please just drive, Tony."

\\\\\

True to his word, Peter worked tirelessly at the lab, trying to discover the mystery of the accelerated rate of the formulation of adipocere and the slippage of skin. It had been long past 24 hours since he had eaten pie with Agent Stark, and though he could feel the exhaustion in his limbs, his mind was moving a mile a minute.

"Have you slept yet, kid?"

The boy laid the skull back on the lab table and let out a sigh, before shaking his head, his back still turned to the door and by extension, the agent.

"You really need to catch some z's in order for us to catch this guy, Pete." Still refusing to turn around, the boy stared over to the other lab table where another body laid.

"I know, Tony. This case...it's just...really getting to me." Peter swallowed the lump in his throat, attempting to shove down the load of emotions that came with working on cases like these. "I'm fine though, honestly, I feel like I could put in a couple more hours worth of work."

At this, Tony sighs, before crossing the threshold and grabbing the boy's forearm, turning him gently to face him. The agent smiled at the boy, a gentle smile, one that reassured the kid that no matter what happened, the older man would be there for him in whatever capacity he needed him to be. And so the boy gently smiled back.

"Please go nap on the couch, and I'll keep looking through what we have, see what I can find, okay?" Huffing in defeat, Peter nodded and slipped out of the room, towards his office where that heinous orange couch called his name.

\\\\\

After days upon days of endless researching, swabbing, running things through the Mass Spectrometer, calculations, phone calls, pulling strings with higher ups, and far too many all-nighters, Stark had caught the man.

He was a nobody, just like they all were. Thinking they were somebody enough to take another's life, and that was part that made Peter shiver. That was the part that reminded Peter of how he lost his brother, Harley, to some absolute nobody.

It was cases like these that shook Peter to the core, and made him reconsider his occupation. Made him wonder if he was cut out for this: looking at corpses every day and helping Tony find criminals. Criminals who felt no remorse, or sometimes who couldn't even remember their victims' names. It was days like these when he realized that he couldn't be alone. Couldn't hold himself together without someone acting as glue.

So during days like these? Tony came over.

Peter would sob, hysterically, laid atop his bed and Tony would just hold him. Tony would card his fingers through the boy's knotted, curly locks, and press kisses to his forehead. Tony would just lay there and hum gently, as the boy curled into his chest.

Tony would let him fall apart, but he would always put him back together.

"T-Tony?" The boy called out in a gravelly voice, and the man stopped his humming.

"Yes, Pete?" The man's eyes shifted from where they were focused on his hand carding through Peter's hair, to the boy's honey brown eyes, before smiling gently at him.

"W-We can do this right?" At the boy's question the man quirked an eyebrow, continuing to run his fingers through the soft strands atop the boy's head. He thought for a moment before inquiring.

"Can we do what, babe?" The boy's fists were balled up in the man's t-shirt, and silent tears streamed down his round, flushed cheeks, before he spoke up again.

"We can keep doing this. We can find bodies...and run labs and-and catch killers? We can keep looking into the face of death in order to f-find justice right? These people deserve at least that, right?" The boy looked so lost, and Tony let a soft sigh escape his lips.

"Peter...I can't even fathom how difficult this must be. How hard it must be to get out of bed every day and know that what you do is what someone did for Harley all those years ago. But you have to recognize that we're better than them. We can, and we will make sure that all of those criminals receive proper punishment for the crimes they've committed and the lives they've destroyed. Petey, baby, what we do here, together is so incredibly difficult, so incredibly taxing in that every day adds up but Pete, we save the lives of those who were potential victims. We bring peace to families and I am so incredibly sorry that you may never know that peace, but you do amazing work." The boy was shaking in his arms and so Tony held him as tight as he could without causing him pain.

"D-Do you think that maybe one-one day we'll find whoever hurt, Harley?" The man held his breath, unsure of making false promises, but he shook his head gently to himself, before nodding with fervor.

"I think that if you and I put in the time and effort that we could, yeah." Peter barely nodded on the man's chest before his honey eyes locked with the older man's dark whiskey ones.

"You wouldn't mind? P-Postponing your trip to help me?" With an airy chuckle, the man kissed the younger boys forehead and shrugged.

"Eh, the Bahamas ain't really for me anyways. What do you say we take a trip up to the NYPD and look at those old case files? See what we can dig up?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

___________________________________________________

Just wanted to say a quick thank you to everyone that read my story is supporting all of my work! I greatly appreciate it and hope you appreciated my first piece of work for Stark Week 2k19. Anyways this was based on the tv show Bones and so yeah! Love you guys and feel free to check me out on ao3

#Starker #Starker Week 2019 #reunion #day 1 #Peter Parker #Tony Stark #peter parker x tony stark #Anthropologist Peter Parker #FBI Agent Tony Stark #death #bones #science #science bros #Bruce Banner #Harley Keener

[acemeaskipper]

okay this is so much longer than I thought it’d be, but okay. i started thinking of this au where instead of joining red dwarf to get back to earth, Lister joins to get away from earth and all the bad memories there. He works a little harder, understands Rimmer a bit more, and unfortunately, doesn’t have Frankenstein.

and this is a little fic about Lister’s first day on red dwarf and his meeting with Rimmer. It’s lowkey shippy, but only a little. Yeah, enjoy.

A star exploded the day Lister left earth. The supernova had reflected multicoloured on the inside walls of Red Dwarf, nearly blinding him.

He wasn’t sure if it was a sign of some sort, but regardless, it had been an interesting way to start his new job. More interesting than his room at least.

It was both bigger and smaller than he thought it’d be, and painfully plain. If only they were allowed to paint the walls, or get a nice rug or carpet, Lister mused, then it may look a little less like a sci-fi hell. Oh well, he was sure if he covered the walls in enough photos and posters it could look a little bit more like home. It wasn’t as if he was going to be here long anyway, he could handle a boring room.

He tightened his grip on his suitcase, shifted the strap of his backpack a little then walked in.

“Hello, Dave. You like the room?”

“Agh!”

Lister jumped and spun around to the source of the voice. The face of a tired-looking man on a screen. Ah, right. The AI, Holly. He briefly wondered why they had decided to make their AI look so exhausted, but shrugged the thought away. People were weird, what the hell.

“Uh, hi. Holly, righ’?”

“That’s right, my dude. So?”

“It’s alrigh’,” Lister shrugged, “I guess.”

“Bit boring, ain’t it?” Holly agreed.

“Yeah, it is. Is it at least warm?”

“Sometimes.”

“Great, great…”

“Oh, and heads up, your roommate is coming soon. Good luck.”

“Uh, thanks?”

“Don’t mention it,” Holly nodded, “Catch you later, dude.”

“Yeah…”

Holly disappeared, and Dave couldn’t help but snicker. Dude? They hadn’t mentioned that about Holly in the leaflet. Maybe it was intentional, a strange surprise for new workers. He supposed that was one way to prepare people for the weirdness of space, having the AI who looked like a middle-aged man going around say ‘dude’.

He shook his head and moved closer to the bunk beds, looking them over.

It was honestly hard to tell which one was already occupied, both beds were both neat, tidy and lacking in any personality whatsoever. There was one colourful timetable stuck on the wall next to the bottom bunk, however, and Lister concluded it was probably taken.

It seemed strange how bare the walls were, though. No pictures of family or friends, no posters, no nothing. Had this person only just moved in too? No, he knew for a fact this person had already been here a year or two at least. And gone through six roommates in the span of three months. A slightly daunting fact, but hopefully, the number would stay at six.

He slung his bags onto the top bunk, decided to unpack them later… maybe. The week was young after all, he’d have plenty of time to do that later.

Lister sat down on one of the chairs in the room and took a deep breath. Hardly nothing had happened, and already he was exhausted. His eyes ached, his limbs felt heavy, and he let out a yawn. A nap would be nice… but snoring probably wasn’t the best way to introduce yourself to your new roommate, so Lister held off.

He ran his fingers over his hair and tried to think of something to keep himself away. Maybe he should go back to dreadlocks, he thought, that’d been fun back when he was a teen. But. But he didn’t have anyone to help him with them anymore.

He’d left them all behind, just like they had left him.

Of course, he was alive when they had left, and they were all just bones now. So maybe it wasn’t a fair comparison… Lister hoped his friend Camille would remember to put flowers on all the graves every month, just like he’d asked. They probably wouldn’t, always too caught up in the drama that was their Casablanca-love affair to think of much else, but he could hope.

Lister sighed and slouched in his chair. Nah, his hair was fine as it was. Loose and tied back. He looked fine. Fine.

Then, the door opened.

The person on the other side didn’t walk in immediately, too busy snapping at someone Lister couldn’t see, to notice the door had opened.

A tall, skinny white guy with pale skin, and light brown curls that had been clearly forced into a flat and dull style. Every inch of his body screamed ‘tense’ as he barked insults, face going ever so slightly red.

Ah, what luck.

Lister stood up and waited until the yelling had stopped to speak.

“You’re Howie’s brother, aren’t you?”

The guy’s snapped in Lister’s direction, and Lister had the urge to apologise and slowly back away.

“’Howie’? The man repeated.

Yep, that was definitely him, Lister knew. He’d only met one other person before with such an obnoxiously posh voice, which he had been told was common on that planet.

“Sorry, Howard,” Lister apologised, “You’re Arnold Rimmer, right?”

Rimmer frowned even more.

“Yes, I am.”

Lister walked towards him, and with a big smile, held out his hand.

“I’m David Lister.”

“Oh.”

Rimmer’s frown dropped into something less ‘I will fucking kill you’ and more ‘ew, there’s a dead bug in my drink’. He did shake Lister’s hand at least.

“Howard’s told us about you,” Rimmer continued, “Poor little orphan boy from earth somehow manages to get into Io’s Space Corps training program on a scholarship, truly a success story for the ages.”

Lister twisted his lip but said nothing. Howard had warned him that his little brother could put a lemon to shame with how bitter he was, but Lister had been hoping Rimmer wouldn’t be this bad from the get-go.

“Doesn’t really mean anything though,” Lister shrugged, “Now tha’ I’m here, as a third blood technician.”

Was it too much to ask that he was at least made a second technician with all his qualifications? Maybe he was just being prideful, but he’d thought he enough skills to be more than a vending machine fixer.

But at that, Rimmer pulled himself to stand straighter and smiled. He looked a lot better now, Lister mused. Almost handsome.

“Third technician, aye? Well, don’t you worry, miladdo-”

“Mi-whatto?”

“-you’re in good hands with me.”

“Huh?”

“If you’re a third technician and my roommate, you’re likely to be working the Z Shift with me, as your immediate superior officer,” Rimmer explained.

Lister gave what he hoped looked like a real smile.

“Great.”

“Still though, I don’t see why on Io you would leave the Space Corps,” Rimmer mused.

“Because it’s filled with pompous, trust-fund pricks who like to spend their evenings bragging about how big their guns are.”

Also, it was a lot of work. A lot of hard work. A month in and Lister had already been ready to drop. He wasn’t too surprised when a drunk Howard had blabbed about the high suicide rate there.

Rimmer let out a sharp laugh at that, then quickly shut his mouth and blinked. He almost looked surprised. But he quickly shook his head and moved on.

“Yes, but it’s the Space Corps! It’s where you go if you want a career in space!”

“I don’t want a career; I just want to get away from Earth.”

Earth was a place were babies were abandoned under pub tables, were parents disappeared and left you a crying kid, and grans died just when you needed them most. Where people broke your heart and laughed, where people called you stupid and said you’d never amount to anything, so suck it up, buttercup.

Rimmer pursed his lips.

“I supposed I could understand wanting to get away from that horrid little planet, but really… giving up a job on the Space Corps for this?”

Lister shrugged.

“I just want to get some cash, find a nice planet with a nice beach, then settle down. Maybe open a farm, get a cat, sheep, horses, then spend the rest of my days doing whatever the hell I want.”

Rimmer didn’t seem to get it.

“But you could have been an officer! Howard said so, and he’s not one to give out praise like that.”

“Why’d you want to be an officer? They’re all smegheads, I mean, just look at your brothers.”

That earned another out of Rimmer, one that wasn’t as sharp and lasted a little longer. There, that was better, Lister grinned. Not the prettiest laugh ever, but he didn’t sound half bad.

“Fair point,” Rimmer said.

And before he could continue with ‘but still’, Lister began speaking again.

“The though’ of ending up like Howard could put anyone off wanting to be an officer, honestly.”

“Really? You didn’t like him? He seemed awfully fond of you…”

“Hid it,” Lister shrugged, “He was my tutor and said he’d help me get here, so couldn’t bitch about him too much. Wanted to though, I never had any free time thanks to ‘im. Almost every night I had to drag him out of the bar and to ‘is room.”

“What?!” Rimmer exclaimed.

“Yeah, don’t think he had any friends, so he’d bribe me into fetching ‘im. Used to buy cigarettes off me too. Dunno why he wouldn’ jus’ buy them himself, a lot of other officers smoked too…”

Slowly, a giant (slightly mad-looking) smile grew on Rimmer’s face.

“Really? He told mother he had a ton of friends.”

Lister wondered if he should mention it. On the one hand, it could lead to Rimmer freaking out (Howard had mentioned that Rimmer was a bit… neurotic), but on the other… it didn’t seem right not to mention it.

“Must be invisible then, ‘cause he was always alone when he went out… he told me a lot about you when he was drunk. The things him and the other two used to do to you.”

The smile dropped off Rimmer’s face.

“Oh.”

Lister risked it and gave Rimmer a pat on the arm. Rimmer looked at it like it was a radioactive butterfly; strange and possibly dangerous.

“Pretty shit childhood, huh?” Lister said. Rimmer stayed silent. “Mine was pretty fucked up too, so we match.”

Lister gave him a smile, then turned around to climb up onto his bunk bed.

Rimmer seemingly forgot to act like a human being for a few seconds, staring blankly into space while stood completely still. He shook it off a second later.

“No shoes on the bed,” he snapped.

“My feet aren’t on the bed though,” Lister pointed out.

Rimmer’s face went a little red.

“I- just take them off!”

“Okay, okay! They’re off!”

Lister kicked them off, leaving them to fall down loudly in a muddy pile next to the ladder. Rimmer frowned and glared at the shoes.

“And now you’ve made a mess, wonderful.”

“You better get used to tha’, I’m a bit of a slob,” Lister chuckled, “Oh, and I snore too. Sorry. I do have a sleep cpap machine, but it got broke on the way here. They said I’ll have to wait a day or two for a new one.”

“So, I’m not getting any sleep either, splendid.”

“I can’ help it.”

“Why don’t they put people like you in a room of your own? Or at least with other snoring smegheads,” Rimmer muttered.

“Because tha’d be smart,” Lister snorted.

Rimmer looked a little happier. Right, compliments were the way to go if he wanted to survive this job. Lister could handle that; he could be a good suck-up if the situation called for it.

“Sounds like they could do with someone like you as an officer,” Lister said, “Might come up with some actual smart ideas.”

Rimmer lit up like the supernova and Lister’s heart fluttered a little.

Oh.

Handsome. Rimmer could be very handsome, it seemed. That was nice. Lister sent him back a lazy grin, revelling in the soft pink that settled on Rimmer’s cheeks. It’d been a while since he’d dated a man, Lister noted, maybe it was time to try again.

“I-I-,” Rimmer began. But then he stopped and shook his head. “Are you sure you’re even old enough to be here?”

Lister rolled his eyes.

“Course I am, man. Not like I could really trick anyone into thinkin’ I’m older than I am with this face, can I?”

“I suppose you’re right,” Rimmer agreed.

Lister wondered why Rimmer would care about his age- oh.

Rimmer coughed and looked away.

“Well, um, have you been given a tour of the ship yet?”

He had.

“No.”

Rimmer turned back around and smirked a little.

“Come on then, get your boots back on and I’ll show you around.”

“Oh, thanks, man.”

Lister grinned and hoped down. As he put his boots on, he could feel Rimmer’s eyes on him. Yes, he decided, as he tied on his already tied laces for a few seconds later, this could be fun.

#i did this instead of working on my original story hope u enjoy #red dwarf #Dave Lister #arnold rimmer

[shownuslaugh]

Humble (Part 1)

            “...She’s the closest thing North America has to actual royalty.”

            Maybe that’s the problem.

            Maybe you need to be brought down a few notches.

            Maybe you need to be humbled.

You hate travelling. You hate flying. After it’s all said and done, you’re left feeling sick and irritable, ready to tell your father you’re done with all of it. Yet there are some trips you just can’t resist taking. When your father’s- technically your whole family’s, you suppose- press secretary came to you with an invitation to visit SM Entertainment not even an hour after you gave an interview where you expressed interest in the South Korean music industry, you knew you couldn’t turn it down. For one, you were scheduled to meet with President Moon on behalf of your father later in the month, so you would already be in South Korea. Secondly, meeting some of SM’s employees and learning about the company itself could only help your newest project.

             So, off you went.

             “Do we need to go over the itinerary again?” Jack, a longtime friend of your family, and your father’s most trusted senior aide, takes a seat beside you on the plane. His eyes never look up from the over packed, over highlighted schedule carefully crafted for the month you’ll spend in Seoul.

             “No.” But you know he’ll do it anyway.

             “When we land you’ll be greeted by President Moon,” he launches wholeheartedly into his relay of events. “Remember to bow. You won’t shake hands unless he offers, and-”

             “Jack,” you put your hand on his shoulder to stop him before he launches into a fit. “This isn’t my first time here or meeting President Moon. I know what to do.”

             “Fine. Tell me what we’re doing next then.”

             “Next is breakfast with President Moon and his family. After that we go back to our hotel and rest for a bit before going to Yongsan Garrison and meeting with some of the troops there.”

             “Then?”

             You huff in annoyance. “Then that’s it for today. Tomorrow we go to SM Entertainment and meet with Lee SooMan and whoever else he wants to introduce me to.”

             Jack smiles, looking pleased with himself. He knows he’s annoyed you and gotten under your skin, but that’s how your relationship has always been. He pushes, you pull, both of you fall.

             “We land in an hour.” He checks your appearance from head to toe with a grimace. “You might want to freshen up. I think Marie has your outfit ready and Roderick is ready to touch up your hair and makeup.”

             When you don’t move, Jack rolls his eyes. “Well? What are you waiting for? I told you we land in an hour.”

             You look out the window of the plane with a sudden sense of trepidation. You’ve been doing this for practically your entire life, watching your father go from mayor, to senator, to governor, to vice president, to president. Something about this trip feels different, though. You can’t really put your finger on it. There’s just this sense of wrong in the air that presses on your chest.

             Or maybe the plane is just crashing.

             Who knows?

             “Go get ready,” Jack tells you when you don’t say anything to him.

             You mock him silently, twisting your face into an ugly mimicry of his. You’re a grown woman who knows what she’s doing. Not a child that needs to be reminded how to behave every ten seconds.

             “I saw that.” Jack doesn’t look up from his clipboard.

~~~

             All of your meetings for the day go off without a hitch. President Moon was as happy as he always is to see you, asking after your family when the cameras went away during breakfast. After that, touring Yongsan Garrison was equally as pleasurable. Part of you wished for more time, but you knew you’d manage to squeeze some in later in the month. At least… if things went well. Which there’s no reason they wouldn’t. Right? You honestly aren’t sure.

             You’ve always been the type to lend a hand. To help others. It’s just who you are. Your heart is often in the right place, but sometimes your head isn’t. Sometimes when all you mean is to help you end up hurting people you never intended. It’s why so many of your projects fail in the long run.

             But this project…

             This project can’t fail.

             There’s too much at stake.

             People’s lives are at stake.

             “Hey,” Jack elbows you, pulling you from your thoughts. “When we get to the hotel, go right to bed. Don’t try exploring. We have an early start in the morning. They’re expecting us at SM at eight sharp.”

             “Why so early?”

             “Because you have lunch with Lee EunKyung at noon.”

             “So we hit the ground running with this.”

             Jack cuts off the screen of his phone, ignoring the conversation he’d been having with his assistant to look at you. “Isn’t that what you wanted? To honor your friend?”

             “Yes.”

             “Then it should be obvious we’re getting this started as soon as possible. Someone with your power and prestige getting involved with an organization like this is going to mean so much. It’ll show a true desire for reform.”

             You look down at your hands folded across your lap. “You’re right.”

             “Of course I am.” Jack goes back to his phone. “Stop frowning. You’ll get wrinkles.”

             The next day you’re woken up at four a.m. on the dot by Jack. He swarms in your room with an army of stylists, makeup artists, hair dressers, and the First Family’s private photographers. Without a word, Jack shoves a cup of Starbucks coffee in your hand and starts reading off your itinerary. He blows through it without issue; however, your brain is still foggy from sleep and you don’t catch onto anything except the two words SM Entertainment. It’s the only thing you can focus on as you’re shoved into a nicely pressed cream colored dress and made up like a doll.

             “If we don’t leave in five minutes we’ll be late, and I refuse to allow that.” Jack waves away the photographers and stylists. “Her makeup and hair should be understated anyway. This is an official visit. Not some celebrity photo op. Plus, I’m sure Miss Lee would appreciate having lunch with an actual human as opposed to a celebrity. Something tells me she’s had her fill.”

             “But,” Tati- your favorite makeup artist- says with a frown. “She is a celebrity. She’s the First Daughter.”

             Jack gives her an unamused look. “Yes. Everyone knows who she is. She doesn’t need everything caked on and done up to stand out and be beautiful. Hurry up and finish.”

             Everything becomes a blur of motion and noise. You’re rushed from your hotel room, to the car, to SM Entertainment. In the back of your head you can hear the sirens of your police escort, but you can only focus on the hum of Jack’s voice in your ear.

             “We were emailed last night with a list of names.” Jack looks over his notes as he speaks to you. “There have been a few changes as to who will be with President Lee while he takes you on the tour. We have our own interpreters of course, but he insisted on wanting a few of his artists to be there as well.”

             “For me to speak with after.”

             “Yes. Originally it was meant to be a few kids named Johnny, Amber, and Wendy. They changed it last minute, so now we’re stuck with someone named…” Jack flips through a few pages. “Siwon Choi.”

             You shake your head. “Who’s that?”

             “Super Junior member, around your age, active with UNICEF and a few other charity organizations, rich.”

  ��          “Sounds like he’s exactly your type, Jackie.”

             Jack snorts. “Please. These Korean boys are too pretty for me. I like ‘em rugged.”

             The car comes to a stop and the sirens fade away. Jack looks at you, quirking a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Ready?”

             “As I’ll ever be.”

             He nods to the driver and your door opens. Early morning sunlight pours into the heavily tented car. You sigh in relief, loving the warmth of the sun on your chilled skin. Jack slides out before you, offering you his arm and tucking you close- but not too close- to his side. He leaves just enough room for you to be seen by everyone (including the cameras and photographers), but stays close enough to your side that he can cover you if something goes wrong.

             Plus, the two of you look damn good standing beside each other.

             “President Lee.” You smile brightly and bow at the waist. Your Korean is passable, but any in depth conversation will require an interpreter. “Lovely to meet you.”

             Lee SooMan smiles back at you and says, “Thank you for accepting our invitation. I would like to introduce you to one of our artists: Choi Siwon.” He gestures to the tall man at his right.

             You look Siwon up and down, from head to toe. Jack has a point about pretty boys, you realize. Siwon is tall and slightly muscular, but his features are a tad bit delicate. He’s got a sharp jawline and a nice smile as well. He’s very… pretty.

             “Oh, yes, I heard he would be joining us.” You bow to Siwon. “Lovely to meet you as well.”

             The look he gives you is equal parts curious and annoyed, leaving you wondering what you did wrong.

             Just get through this tour with him, you tell yourself. Don’t let this first impression leave a bad taste in your mouth. Be polite. Be interested.

             “Please,” SooMan says. “Follow me.”

~~~

             “Ah! Siwon!” Shindong waves at Siwon who is grumpily making his way over. “What’s that look for?”

“She’s spoiled,” Siwon mutters as he walks back inside the studio, loosening his tie and taking a seat beside Leeteuk. “She has no sense of her position in society. I’ve never met someone more obtuse and-”

             “Hot,” Shindong adds in. “She’s hot as hell, bro.”

             Siwon can’t argue. When he first saw you stand there beside President Lee, he was taken aback by your easy grace and warm smile. It was only when you opened your mouth that the illusion was shattered so completely.

             “Looks don’t mean much if there’s nothing substantial behind them.”

             Leeteuk grins crookedly. “Don’t be pouty just because she’s not what you expected. At least we got to meet her. She’s the closest thing North America has to actual royalty.”

             Maybe that’s the problem.

             Maybe you need to be brought down a few notches.

             Maybe you need to be humbled.

             “Hey, I know that look.” Leeteuk points to Siwon’s face. “Whatever you’re thinking, forget it. Don’t bother someone above you. She doesn’t have time for whatever little game you want to play.”

             “Did you know she’s coming back tomorrow?” Siwon taps his fingers against the arm of his chair. “President Lee invited her to meet all of us.”

             Shindong’s eyes widen. “Really?”

             “Yes.”

             Leeteuk tries to hide his dopey grin but fails. “You don’t think she agreed because she has a crush on one of us, do you?”

             “No way! Hyung, why would she like any of us? She’s a president’s daughter. She probably has a ton of rich men begging for her. We’re nothing compared to that.” Shindong sighs. “It’s a nice dream though.”

             “You never know. Miss Universe is a fan.”

             Siwon makes an annoyed noise. “I would take Miss Universe over that woman any day. President’s daughter or not.”

             Shindong and Leeteuk share a look. It’s not that often someone gets under Siwon’s skin like this. In fact, it almost never happens.

             “What did she do that’s so terrible?” Leeteuk tilts his head to the side. “Was she rude?”

             “Hyung, don’t worry about it. I’m sure the rest of you will like her.”

#super junior imagine #siwon imagine #super junior fanfic #choi siwon fanfiction #choi siwon imagine #humble masterlist

[trueishcolours]

My siblings and I accidentally write a Ron/Victor Krum 4th year fix it fic in the group chat

Isabel: guyS

Rewatching goblet of fire

And I have to say

How amazing would it have if

It was a LOT less gendered

And also

If Ron and Krum had got together instead of Krum and Hermione

Thomas: Oh yeah there's so much Gender  

Isabel Ron already basically has a crush on Krum

Would have been great  

Thomas: idk, he's more jealous of him in my opinion  

Isabel: Nah

He has the action figure

He says he's an artist

It's definitely there

Thomas: Tru 

Clare: I mean on a superficial level I liked the Hermione/Krum part because it made me relate that a girl who is usually uninterested in 'feminine' things might still have some anxieties and take some interest now and again, and 'this super hot guy will like You, the Nerd' is standard wish fulfilment, but honestly I could take it or leave it. A grumpy feminist could equally well read it as 'EVEN smort girls like Hermione want to be feminine REALLY uwu'

And that would be a boring analysis but the whole feminine versus not argument is boring and not what we're here for

Anyway

The Krum drama kicks off the Romione subplot and honestly I hate Romione as a ship, to me it feels forced from beginning to end

But Ron/Krum would tie in really nicely to the whole character arc for Ron that JKR started in the first book and then forgot about where he evolves into an amazing intelligent badass without noticing it

Picture: He is dooting along, vaguely bummed because he's nothing special compared to his older bros, then in book four he realises wait he DOES stand out from others because he's gay/bi/whatever but he's not sure he WANTS that because standing out for being a minority is a fucking hassle but by the seventh book he is war hero, chess master and gay icon and vaguely confused about it

Hell, you could even have Hermione go to the ball with Krum, get her girly character development in and have Ron freak out and both of them /assume/ it's about her when it's not

It would just

Be better Thomas: Queer theory saves the day once again

Clare: :D  

Isabel: JUST BASICALLY RON, ALL THE TIME, WITH A BETTER CHARACTER ARC

Thomas: I love this  

Isabel: Honestly decades later I am still just so salty about Ron's lack of development, hell, anti development. I just want everything for him

Clare: Like, not to make it automatically angsty just because it's gay but Ron being Not Straight ties in so well with his typical theme of qualities that he think make him less than Textbook Perfect actually being his great strengths (I read a great analysis that Ron actually achieves all his brothers' goals without trying or noticing)

Ron just utterly stalls as a character in the books

And Harry is a shitty friend to him by the end

She kind of pulled it back with his deathly hallows arc but it was bungled and could have come across as just bashing him

Isabel: HE IS. Ron is so taken for granted.

Clare: God, Ron is SO much less of a dick if his yelling at Hermione in book four is coming out of Sudden Repressed Realisation, not just 'woman I like is doing something I don't like'

Isabel: I watched film 4 last night and just everyone??? Is so horrible to each other??? All the time??? I swear in the books it's so much better handled

Other reasons why bi/gay Ron headcanon is important: - most masculine of the trio/ has a million big brothers so dealing with toxic masculinity/ bucking queer stereotypes in there too - an extra 'fuck you' to the whole pure blood thing which I reckon is really homophobic as it means your bloodline won't get continued or some shit - Krum coaching Ron on Keeping in bad English. Tell me it's not cute. - Ron's a linguist (he learnt parselmouth on like 2 listens)!! Tell me he wouldn't learn Bulgarian?! - just, chaotic bilingual Quidditch talk, all the time, forever?!

Clare: UM your pidgin Quiddich is now my new fave headcanon forever????? You're SO RIGHT Ron is smart, he's just not academic. He would DEFINITELY pick up a language fast if he was using it to talk to his boyfriend/about quiddich

Isabel: EXACTLY

Clare: Plus all the stuff you said about toxic masculinity and purebloodism.

MAKE THE SUBTEXT TEXTUAL, YOU COWARDS

Isabel: #giveRonaBoyfriend2k18

Also not around for the lowkey weirdness of Ron and Harry dating CANONICALLY IDENTICAL AND BORING non white girls to the Yule Ball

I know that you can overdo all this stuff but seriously the fuck

Clare: It is a bit odd and icky   

Isabel: Ok so this is what happens

Krum asks Hermione to the Yule Ball and it's like she gets her cute moment with him

But then instead of spending the whole evening being a whiny bish Ron shows un-JKR-characterisation-characteristic maturity and puts a brave face on it and talks to them both

He's upset but doesn't full on ruin their evenings

And then Hermione after the ball, (gradually realising with slight horror that she and Krum actually have literally nothing in common) kind of keeps... asking... Ron to hang out with them

And at first Ron's like lol no way am I third wheeling

But then the temptation to hang out with his literal idol becomes too strong

And he and Krum start hanging out independently of Hermione

(who's probably in the lib helping Harry study for the second task at this point anyway)

The weather is still too cold for Quidditch

Ron thinks

But somehow Ron ends up playing anyway

IN THE SNOW

WITH VICTOR

HE'S GETTING COACHED BY AN ACTUAL WORLD CUP FINAL SNITCH CATCHING PLAYER AND HE IS NOT CHILL

Clare: Hoooooly fuck this is perfect

(except he actually is because it's like -10 and snowing what the fuck Krum) Ron putting his big boy panties on and dealing during the ball, leading to him actually having an in with Krum via Hermione

I love the dynamic of Hermione just...awkwardly asking her friends to hang with them...just to break the silence...

Isabel: YEAH EXACTLY

And then them all actually having a nice evening

Clare: I mean the point of Krum with her was to get that 'YASSSS I'm dating a hot guy!' moment WHILE ALSO showing how easily it fizzles, so nothing needs to change there

Hermione could even do her 'ugh, quiddich and BOYS' routine

Isabel: Awkward because of course it is awkward what is a teenage party without angst but also, fun

yeah exactly! the slow dawning that fuuuuck, I've just brought another stupid quidditch boi into my life oh god why

Clare: Ron still knows more about the history of the game and all the technical terms than Harry so has more to talk to Krum about

Isabel: And then you know Ron and Krum stumble back into the castle with Ron wearing Krum's hat à la Chad and Ryan, and Skeeter doesn't bat an eyelid because it doesn't fit her trashy narrative

Clare: RIGHT I've got to sleep I'm getting a cold but I love this

Isabel: ok go sleep

OK ONE MORE POINT

we almost certainly get the insanely awkward 'think you're in luurve Ron' or 'lol if you love Krum so much you should date him not Hermione'! moment from either Fred or George or maybe Ginny

And there's just a kind of... missing step moment

Clare: I think all of them would do that

I mean they're pretty mean to Ron anyway, especially about love

Isabel: Exactly they're all horrible but MAYBE this would teach them!!

Clare: Exactly! It would rip the rug out from under them and they'd be like wait shit

Isabel: We are actually mean to Ron... a lot

Clare: Especially because in this timeline Ron still gets the hassle from his sibs but unlike in the main timeline where he is just butt monkey forever he has the trump card that he's got a boyfriend who's a world famous quiddich player

Like, if you're Fred, George, Ginny or even Molly you can't really come back from that reveal. Ron wins.

Isabel: Krum actually being a laser focussed guy who gives people he cares about 300% of his attention

And middle child syndrome attention starved Ron just soaks it up like a blooming Icelandic kid under a sunlamp

Ron win evertiem

Clare: Yeahhhhhh. Being a prodigy who's trained from such a young age he's got to nail that work life balance and it's like 90% work 10% life but that life is INTENSE, he's seen too many people lose their relationships because they won't switch off their metaphorical phones during dates, he gets one (1) month a year and about three (3) important people and when it is Person Time it is PERSON TIME

Right bed for eal I'm dying

Isabel: BED FOR EEL

UGH ALL I WANT IN MY LIFE IS THE 50K+ SLOW BURN QUEER 4TH YEAR REWRITE

BUT I LEGIT DON'T HAVE TIME TO WRITE IT AND I DON'T TRUST MYSELF TO GET RON POV RIGHT ANYWAY

Clare: Bebs I wish you could write it

The raw chemistry my goodness

I ship it now

Is there going to be 'you are treating me like an idol not a real person please stop' angst at any point?

Isabel: OF COURSE THERE IS

Clare: Also Krum is like 'I knew I could trust you because you are bffs with Harry Potter and you treat him like he's totally normal you must be so mature and cool he is so so lucky to have a friend like you

Or well, Krum insecurity that people only like him because of his celeb status anyway

Which is probably why he went for Hermione in the first place because she didn't give a shit

'WOULD WE EVEN BE TOGETHER IN THE FIRST PLACE IF IT WASN'T FOR QUODDICH?'

'... I love you.'

'Bro I wouldn't care if you were the worst player in the world as long as we both are fans of the sport together.'

'Bro.'

Isabel: BRUH

Also can I just ask...?

What happens in the second task??!!?

It's already messed up enough under that lake, love triangles all over the place

This would just be the final straw that resulted in everyone just shrugging and teaming up

Clare: Holy shit

Krum just doots along, takes Ron and goes

Harry's like...wait what...OK...um I guess Hermione and Ron are equally important to me so I'll just take her kk

Isabel: Krum and Ron appearing on the surface of the lake like 'fuck'

The most dramatic declaration of intent ever

Turning yourself into a shark and rescuing them from the bottom of a lake

Clare: Everybody in the stands is SHOOK

Dumbledore like dang I did not predict this

With their hair soaking wet they are both at maximum hot

Isabel: Rita Skeeter's quill combusts

Clare: Krum doesn't point her out as a beetle in Hermione’s hair he's too busy with Ron

Isabel: Yeah she's like where is my gossip at??? Nothing is happening over in Hermione's hair

But yeah I feel like Dumbledore would be like, oh darn, looks like I'm gonna have to show queer solidarity with Ronald Weasely or something

KRUM AT THE BURROW VERY SERIOUSLY COMPLIMENTING MOLLY ON HER FOOD AND ASKING FOR BRITISH RECIPES AND WINNING HER OVER IN A TRICE

Clare: Would Krum charm Molly straight away though? He's very surly and shy and, in the books, not very handsome. Wouldn't Molly start out yikes who is this quiddich yob my son has taken up with?

Ginny on the other hand. Comes out as bi a couple of years later, tells Ron she only started to realise thanks to his example, apologises for being a dick about his love life

Isabel: Yeah I guess actually

I think Molly can get fierce

Clare: She's probably got a bit of pure blood/homophobic anxiety that she cloaks as objections about THIS PARTICULAR boy

Isabel: Either she loves you and adopts you right away or she is like /pulling shotgun down from the shelf/

EXACTLY

She's like

Blaming herself, oh I should have paid more attention and NOW look what's happened

Poor Ronald, always neglected

And Ron's like... mum... this is great

I am happy

Is not problem

Clare: Ron is like I AM NOT DOING THIS FOR ATTENTION JESUS CHRIST

I mean he's probably enjoying having the attention of a quiddich super star and I bet he'd even enjoy the celebrity status of The Boyfriend a bit (best friends get sidelined but romantic partners are news) but he's not doing it FOR attention

Isabel: Yeah, and I think the suggestion that he is would just make him so mad

First confused and then mad

Oh the ANGST

Clare: Especially since that's Krums biggest anxiety

Isabel: Mr Weasely would be chill. I feel like in this whole equation he is the chillest

Clare: What would Percy say? Would social climbing or doing the done thing win out?

Also the attention thing is a way for parents to make their child's relationship all about them. Oh you want me to LOVE you more! No mum I'm growing away from you this is normal

I think Ron would get jealous around Bill and Charlie because they'd swing in all oh our brother is rebellious and has a cool boyfriend? Well we are cool rebels also welcome to the family Victor

Isabel: Yeah... I think Percy is probably pretending to be chill with it and being a bit smarmy to Krum then says something awkward and homophobic and it's worse than if he'd just said it straight up

Clare: I think a lot of Liberal but still pure blood families would take the line of, 'it's fine that you're gay...because you're the sixth son so your blood line isn't in danger and making a socially advantageous match is probably more important for you anyway! And Ron is like Y I K E S

Isabel: Yeah exactly, well I suppose you have enough sons Molly amirite

What do we think about the Krum family?

Are they just happy that their son is forming human relationships

Clare: Hmm. How do they feel about celebrity? Do they think Ron is Not Good Enough or are they actually quite a normal family and are glad Krum has an ordinary guy to keep him grounded?

Isabel: I kind of don't want Ron to have to deal with random Bulgarian disapproval

I think maybe a quite normal family who had a kid who was a genius and has been at boarding school/ travelling for years and years

Maybe Krum already came out to them so that drama is in the past

Clare: Yeah and when he brings Ron home for dinner they're just delighted that Krum is home at all and that he's happy

Yeah maybe he did

He's probably had a lot of time to introspect because of his image and maybe he's an only child?

Isabel: And Ron speaks accented but ok Bulgarian by this point and they're like !!!

Clare: I think one aspect of the large family thing that WOULD affect Ron is its just that much harder to have a private word with your parents so confiding about yourself, especially when you're not 100% sure, just isn't part of the family culture

And there's no time for introspection when you're jockeying for position with six siblings

So Krum is out to his parents while Ron isn't even out to himself

Plus Krums just that bit older

Isabel: No, when you ask for a word it's all 'yes Ron' a bit exasperated

Clare: Krum’s family are just delighted that Ron speaks Bulgarian and is a normal guy who likes their son for himself

Isabel: Maybe they have some kind of cool engineery job and Ron goes out the back and is like well my dad likes cars I will try and help

Uses his mathsy chessy knowledge

Clare: Re. Homophobia I think it is important that it's not all YOU'RE GOING TO HELL like the Muggle brand but instead is very focused on producing pure blood children. Also with the smallness of the pure blood community I bet there's a lot of, not official arranged marriage, but kind of assumed marriage, like in Pride and Prejudice or what may have happened with Prince William and Kate, like, there's three girls your age who your family's on speaking terms with who aren't your first cousins and it'll massively throw off everybody's plans if you don't marry one of them

Yes Ron helping with engineering

Isabel: Headcanon of the Krums as magical engineers with a side passion for quidditch

Clare: I bet he picks up arithmancy that way. Can't learn it in the classroom, can learn it in the garage. And he comes home from the holiday able to actually help his dad with the car and thenceforth Mr Weasley is on board

Isabel: Yeah exactly... they're a bit 'sigh ok this means you're not gonna marry bertha from the bakery but hell at least it's not a veela'

Clare: Also wizarding society is inherently conservative, they haven't even updated their writing system, so anybody doing anything different is looked askance at unless they can play themselves as a genius eccentric like Dumbledore

Isabel: So yeah then Ron turns out to be WHOLESOME af and Krum’s family are like... ok fine. this is fine. In fact yay!

Ok I have to go do some work but this has been almost as good as having the fic itself

Clare: Maybe I'll put a summary on my tumblr and see if anybody wants to adopt it

#harry potter #ron weasley #victor krum #hermione granger #fanfiction #monstrous conversations

[truthbeetoldmedia]

Wynonna Earp 3x02 "When You Call My Name" Review

Hello, a crestfallen Earper here *waves sadly*. Not really sure how to start — I’ve rewritten this review three times — so here goes my Wynonna Earp episode 3x02 “When You Call My Name” review, accompanied by the five stages of grief.

“Geez, We’re having a day” - Wynonna Earp

We pick up right where we left off at the end of the Season 3 premiere last week, with Wynonna and Waverly in a bad car accident that was apparently a hunting tactic of a gnarly people eating, voice stealing demon that lives in a cabin in the woods (cliche much, demon?). Wynonna awakes literally halfway down the side of a cliff...how she got there still puzzles me, but that is the least concern I had watching this episode.

She is still in her fancy “frock” (thanks for the colorful word, Mama Earp) from her run in with the vampires last episode. She is banged up and literally freezing, realizing her body is going into shock only after she recognizes she’s having a full on conversation with her mom on the side of a cliff, when she knows her mom is actually a patient in a nearby mental institution.  

It was actually such a great way to get to know “Mama” Earp, through Wynonna’s mind's eye, making quite the juxtaposition from the slightly raving Mama we met in the season premiere.  

Illusion!Mama Earp gives Wynonna a pep talk to climb to safety, but in doing so she has to leave Peacemaker down on the side of the cliff...which poses problems later. And after she's back on solid ground she grabs her coat and a swig of whiskey from the crashed truck and is off to save her sister, demons be danged!

“Secrets suck, I hate them!” - Jeremy Chetri

Over at Black Badge, the day just keeps getting worse. Nicole, of course, wasn’t convinced by the demon impersonating a chill Waverly. Jeremy confirms what killed all the people at the bar from the previous episode — it was a demon that can apparently apparate from one victim to another so quickly it made the mass murder seem like it happened at once. And they think he’s been doing it as a blood sacrifice to Bulshar for years and years, how reassuring! *insert nervous laughter*

The team knows they need to stop this demon fast, but first they gotta get the team together. Jeremy and Dolls obviously have a few secrets going on between them but Dolls keeps giving Jeremy the “don’t you dare” look. Upon my rewatch of this episode, I realized I should’ve felt more primed for the inevitable setup of what happens to Dolls in the last five minutes, I was but a sweet summer child when I was watching live and did not look for the blatant clues laid out before me.

“Craft night is Thursdays.” - Doc Holliday

Dolls goes to collect Doc so the team can assemble. Doc is downright FROSTY to Dolls and is missing that trademark sarcasm and humor that makes him so delightful. He is sad about Baby Alice, but more so his problem is that he died back in that alternate timeline in Season 2 when Dolls shot him. And he went to hell.

For a man that’s lived 150 years, most of those with his “curse” of immortality, that’s gotta be a very new and scary feeling, knowing you can die and that you went to hell. He seems to think he can’t be redeemed from that fate, and I hope he realizes that’s not true. “You and I are destined for the dark,” he tells Dolls, anger and anguish flashing in his wild eyes.

Dolls does not accept this gloomy fate, stating, “We’re not the same, I don’t need a threat of damnation to fight for the right side.” Ouch, what a burn. I hope Doc remembers Dolls’ words for the rest of his life. Doc has a chance to really step up his role in the team after this episode, I hope he rises out of his depression spiral and to the occasion of being a better team player.

Doc catches Jeremy looking for something in the basement of the bar and Jeremy alludes to Doc that there is definitely a problem with Dolls’ drugs...But before Doc can get too heated Nicole texts hims stating she’s found the Earp truck, prompting Doc to tell Jeremy, “Get Dolls, we’re gonna need him. Don’t tell him I said that.”

I am SOOO sad that we won’t have the mutual grumpy bro frenemies relationship of Doc and Dolls after this episode. It adds so much life and one liners to this wild show.

“I swear on my favorite boy band” - Wynonna Earp

Poor Waverly is still strung up like a slain rabbit in the demons cabin, with no voice to cry for help, silently hoping Wynonna and the team come for her. The demon booby trapped his cabin, as a poor lost hunter finds out the hard way; the demon lures the hunter to his death by doorway garrote, crying for help with Waverly's stolen voice. As only Wynonna could state, “This is some kinda crazy Little Mermaid sh*t” when she arrives at the cabin to save her kid sis. Of course, being sisters makes the whole talking without talking thing pretty easy and Wynonna and Waverly even have a heart to heart about Mama without Waverly using words.

I’d also like to point out the cabin demon saying “The trees are changing, I’m getting lost in my own woods, the animals are leaving,” given that the animals didn’t leave with his demonic presence but are now that Bulshar’s presence is there….CONCERNS me. I have a feeling this seemingly random line is gonna come back to haunt the team and the town pretty soon as was proof of the rock n roll tour bus vampires last episode, Purgatory is about to get a whole lot weirder.

Of course Wynonna is wily and cunning, and bests the demon at his own game by running away and using a tape recorder to make him think she fell in his pit trap, only to kick him in herself (but when she left him he was “mostly” dead since she didn’t use peacemaker to dispatch him, I hope she went back and finished the job) . She is caught in one of his tree snares and strung up to be cut down by a still grumpy Doc and the ever reliable officer Haught.

Wynonna still checking out Doc’s butt while hanging upside down is just another iconic Wynonna moment from this episode. If only they all went back to Black Badge and had drinks with Dolls and Jeremy and it was the end of another crazy demons in town episode….but alas, this is where the episode takes a sudden “wtf” turn and I — and most of us live watchers — were left reeling for hours afterwards.

As Doc and Nicole help Wynonna down we cut to someone watching in the woods. It’s the dreaded demon Bulshar himself and his “bodyguard” demon, looking on as the team runs to free Waverly. Insert Han Solo saying, “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

“Wynonna is gonna need you more than ever” - Deputy Marshall Xavier Dolls

So here we are, friends, the reason I have dragged my feet on this review the last few days. The one thing about these last few scenes is we get to see the beautiful snowy Alberta terrain in all its natural rugged beauty.

Wynonna needs to retrieve Peacemaker, so they are back at the cliff, and Nicole is rapelling down via rope to get grab the weapon (her being the only skilled rope climber out of the current group). Of course Dolls shows up to assist and assess; Nicole is literally tethered to the rope at the mercy of Wynonna and Doc, while Dolls helps Waverly to his car when lo and behold the “apparating” demon appears!

It’s Bulshar’s bodyguard demon from earlier! And he is Nightcrawler-from-X-Men fast. He severs Nicole’s rope; Wynonna saves her by grabbing the rope and holding on for dear life; Doc goes into gunslinger mode; but the demon is too fast for him and he renders Doc unconscious in less than 20 seconds. Dolls sees the mayhem, shoves Waverly in the truck, drinks his “dragon drugs” and goes up against the demon.

As the demon is trying to take out Wynonna he gleefully states “You cannot kill me with mortal weapons” as Dolls shoots at him. Waverly answers Jeremy’s emergency comcall informing her that the drugs he’s been making for Dolls have made him “unstable.” Meanwhile, Nicole begs Wynonna to let go and save herself but she refuses, and Waverly adds just enough strength to pull Nicole to safety.

The demon tells them, “Someone must die here today, the earth lusts for blood.” (YIKE!) Doc comes to and is up on his feet they all have that look like “there’s a good chance we’re all gonna die” but Dolls grabs onto the bodyguard demon and doesn’t let go, his eyes turning yellow and his strength increasing. All of a sudden, flames are shooting out of his mouth, engulfing himself and the demon. The demon is incinerated by Dolls’ dragon flame, and Dolls is left lifeless on the ground.

“No more pain. No more drugs. No more demons.” - Wynonna Earp

Wynonna and the team rush to Dolls’ side, checking his pulse, his breath, for any sign that he’s alive. Even Doc is shaken to his very core when Dolls doesn’t “wake up.” Wynonna and Waverly begin to cry and Wynonna, like many of us, is in disbelief.

“He saved us. He saved me. How is this okay? How is he lying here?” Wynonna, bb, I was asking my TV the same questions. She keeps saying, “Open your eyes,” it’s heart wrenching and honestly confusing because it doesn’t feel like a final death in the moment? I was thinking it was gonna be like Supernatural or The Vampire Diaries where it’s a temporary death that they have to “fix.”

It wasn’t until afterwards when I got online and saw the article from Emily Andras (the showrunner) and once I learned Shamier Anderson was moving onto Hollywood projects that I realized it was final. I was left feeling kinda numb. Like, that’s all we get?

Yes, he did go out a hero saving his friends; yes, he did kill the demon, but in the grand scheme of “leading man exiting series” it didn’t feel grand enough? It was too short. What about tying up loose ends? How did he become a hybrid lizard man? What about his and Wynonna’s will they won’t they relationship? How did he join Black Badge?

I have so many unanswered questions about his character! It just doesn’t feel complete.

I love this show a lot. It’s fun! Daring! It thinks outside the box! BUT I have noticed sometimes plot threads are dropped or aren’t coherent. (Like the Season 2 finale scene between Nicole and Dolls, what even was that for? Will we ever know?!?!) And I for one HATE plot holes or misdirection in TV shows, I feel like they do it for shock or to keep you guessing…but if there isn’t any payoff or it’s done haphazardly it’s not worth my time.

The more I cover TV shows for critical analysis or review platforms like Truth Bee Told, the more annoyed I get with the way some things are written/executed. This wasn’t a terrible job by far. But why couldn’t the whole episode be dedicated to Dolls' story? Having a good moment with each character, a little backstory fleshing out etc. Instead, they give him the last five minutes of the episode to go out in a “blaze of glory” and leave Wynonna wailing in the snow.

I will hold out judging more until I see next week’s episode! Maybe they do some post mortem work on Dolls story that will satisfy me...but I’m actually kinda afraid that’s not going to happen. But until next week I will stop my rambling about it.

Final thoughts

Besides the ending we got some fabulous witty one liners, great physical acting (Melanie gave that charades scene her all and it was amazing!)

I loved learning more about Mama Earp (her name is Michelle, by the way).

We have some things that will probably come back up, like the forest literally changing.

Bulshar is shaping up to be the worst villain Wynonna has had, but he needs to talk soon, I grow tired of these “looks on menacingly” once an episode scenes. I need him to be fleshed out like Bobo (who is still by far my fave baddie to date).

I give this episode 3 ½ out of 5 bees because I’m feeling a little petty but also because I feel this episode wasted too much time setting up what should’ve been the focal point of the episode the sacrifice and death of Dolls. Until next time, Earpers!

Wynonna Earp airs Fridays at 9/8c on Syfy.

Gina’s episode rating: 🐝🐝🐝.5

#Wynonna Earp #When You Call My Name #Xavier Dolls