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acecorvid · 3 years

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Hurts Me To Watch You Fading [Spideypool Fic]

Was going through the prompts that have been in my inbox for AGES when I got a sudden burst of inspiration to write my boys again. So even though it’s been *looks at watch* nearly two years fuck since I’ve written fanfic... here’s some hurt/comfort for y’all (or if you’d rather read on ao3)

Anon asks: Hi! I just read your fic with peter being super adorable in his deadpool hoodie and saw you're taking prompts. Seeing as you're asexual (like me!) I was wondering if you would write asexual peter having to explain to wade that he doesn't initiate sex because it's just not something he really thinks about much and not because of how wade looks

(Content warning for Wade being self-conscious about his body/scars)

Somehow Wade always found his way to Peter’s dorm room at the end of a long hard day of work. Which for Wade meant an early morning raid ending with several dead bodies, including his own a few times, but by the end Wade was in one piece and his suit was in less pieces and all the bad guys were dead. Next he needed to get all the blood out of his suit earning him another blank look of disappointment from his local definitely-not-a-front dry cleaners. They never questioned his circumstances and he didn’t much care what they got up to as long as people weren’t dying, leaving them with a silent, mutually beneficial relationship.

Now he was in Parker’s dorm wearing comfy jeans and a hoodie that mostly covered his face if he lowered his head, something he did quite often. He didn’t entirely mind his appearance anymore, having gotten used to freaking himself out in mirrors the past few years. But it was other people’s reactions that made him feel like crap. The looks of disgust strangers gave him as he passed, the people who grabbed their kids and moved to the other side of the street, the ones who laughed at and mocked him hit a little too close to his time being experimented on. Sure he could easily use humor more efficiently than the assholes who mocked him to put them in their place but humor as a defense mechanism only went so far and the hurt still went deep.

What was getting to him lately was his relationship with Peter. They had officially started dating several months ago, even if they had been flirting heavily on the random patrols as Spider-Man and Deadpool. But then Peter told him his secret identity and kissed him through his mask so tenderly and Wade didn’t think he could be more in love. Except they hadn’t gotten much further than tender kisses or cuddles. Not that Wade minded, it was comforting to be held the way Peter held him. He’d never had someone who he could truly let his guard down around, who was okay with him being soft and quiet.

But every time they started to makeout, to get to the hot and heavy stuff, Peter would carefully untangle them, change the subject, shy away from any skin being shown, and they would watch cartoons or get food or anything other than being that kind of intimate with Wade.

Not that he minded at first, Peter was a shy dude. He wasn’t like so many college guys who partied all the time and hooked up with whoever. He was a shy nerd and he was a superhero on the downlow, of course he wouldn’t have time for that but he also didn’t have any interest in it either. But Wade was starting to feel like Peter didn’t have any interest in him.

Staring at himself in Peter’s mirror sans mask told him exactly why someone would have no interest in getting hot and heavy and naked with him. He’s had that many times. Flirting with a girl at the supermarket only for her to freakout once he peeled his mask up, hitting on a guy in a dark bar only for him to be disgusted once they moved into the light. It was a common occurrence for him. He thought Peter would be different. He was different. He didn’t shy away when Wade took his mask off and kissed him, but maybe he was good at faking it? Maybe he could deal with his face but the rest of his body was too much. His skin was rough and patchy, awful to look at and even less appealing to touch.

He rubbed his hand over his face and head, shaking off his hood to get a good look at the mess he usually hid from most people. Everyone had their limits. Perhaps this was Parker’s.

The key in the door alerted Wade to Peter’s return. Quickly he pulled his hood back up and retreated to the bed, ducking his head just as Peter walked in through the door. He looked somewhat surprised, but he relaxed immediately.

“Hey,” Peter said softly. A smile tugged at his lips as he closed the door gently behind him.

He seemed pleased to see Wade. Genuinely content with having him in his room. Nothing was matching up in Wade’s mind.

“Hey Peter…” Wade started but trailed off before he could ask the question. He hated being in this position. He wished he could know the truth. For Peter to tell him he was disgusted by his wrecked body without prompting so he could crawl back to his old life and forget about this magical interlude.

But Peter being Peter, he noticed something was off immediately. “What’s wrong? You almost never call me Peter, did something happen?”

He was closer now, trying to get a good look at Wade’s face but Wade angled his face away. That got him a sigh but Peter respected his boundaries and stepped away, leaning against the wall instead.

“Do you want to talk to me about it?”

Wade shook his head, nodded, and then shook his head again. Screw Peter for being such a good guy, a respectful person, such a sweetheart. It was ruining what his brain was hooked on as the clear truth. Maybe Peter wasn’t disgusted with him but what else could it be?

“I’m not really pleasant to look at, huh?” Wade said instead, unable to confront Peter directly.

Peter pushed off the wall but stopped himself from coming closer. “Did someone say that to you?”

He sounded angry, on Wade’s behalf. Once again messing with Wade’s doubts.

“All the time, but that’s not-” Wade chewed his lip, took a deep breath, and took the plunge.

He took his mask off, revealing his unmasked face and head. Peter didn’t flinch, didn’t look away. He was frowning a bit but not at Wade’s appearance it seemed. It wasn’t as though this was the first time Peter saw his face but it wasn’t a common thing between them. Wade preferred to simply roll up his mask most of the time for their kisses, not wanting to feel too self-conscious.

“Do you- are you-” Wade hated this feeling, wishing he could go back to witty one-liners and existential statements that bewildered those around him. Feelings did terrible things to his dialogue. “I know I look like ground up hamburger meat, Petey. I’m a big boy, you can tell me the truth if you think I’m too gross.”

Wade was aiming for humor, swerved into something a little more bitter, and he cursed himself for putting that hurt look on Peter’s face.

“Wade I don’t think-” Peter started, he furrowed his brows and moved closer but slowly, as though Wade would run away if he was startled. Not a bad call. Wade was pretty close to bolting actually. But Peter crept close, slowly, and stopped a few paces away. Wade wanted him to come closer, stand right between his legs on the bed so Wade could pull him in close and hold him until he wasn’t upset. But he ruined that.

“We don’t do anything more than kissing. You never want to- I get it,” Wade laughed, tugging on his hoodie. “It’s not pretty under here Pete, no one ever wants to look at it. It won’t kill me if you tell me you don’t want to see it or touch me.” He wasn’t lying. It would hurt like hell but nothing could kill him. Unpleasant side-effects of looking the way he did.

Peter surprised him by doing exactly what Wade wanted. He moved closer, slotting himself between Wade’s legs and putting his hands on Wade’s shoulders to get him to look up.

“I’m such an idiot,” Peter mumbled, sounding mad at himself. Probably for not being able to hide his disgust, for making Wade realize exactly what was going on. Now he’d have to let Wade down. That’s simply the way the world worked for guys like him.

“I should have told you a while ago but, I dunno, I was scared I guess?”

Here it comes, Wade closed his eyes to brace himself for the impact.

“I don’t initiate anything more because I’m asexual. I don’t really, I dunno, have a lot of interest in sex? I mean maybe I could be if we talked about it but it’s never really on my mind. It’s got nothing to do with how you look, Wade. I like how you look just fine. I think you’re pretty cute, that’s part of why I’m dating you. Also your muscles are amazing, the general aesthetic of your body and you lifting me up? That’s about as close to sexual attraction as I’ve ever come.”

Wade felt his world tilt and it was entirely unexpected. “Wait you’re-” All of Wade’s otherworldly knowledge hadn’t prepared him for that possibility. That almost never happened.

Peter leaned down, bringing both his hands to cup Wade’s cheeks. “You’re not disgusting, Wade. And anyone who says that will get their mouth webbed shut.”

Wade nuzzled into Peter’s hand, “That’s not the best use of superhero powers.”

“I’m defending the innocent, hush it’s the perfect use of my powers.”

“Innocent?” Wade arched his brow, staring up at his boyfriend who actually wanted him.

“Okay, well… maybe not innocent in the traditional sense but you look the way you do because you survived, you fought through hell and you got out, and that’s pretty damn attractive.”

Wade wrapped his arms around Peter’s waist, pulling him in closer. Peter laughed, leaning in to kiss him soundly on the lips. “So, opening to talking about it?”

“Should have known you’d have a one track mind,” Peter huffed into the kiss. “Sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. I never wanted to make you feel like I wasn’t interested in you.”

Peter straddled Wade’s lap so they could cuddle more properly. His arms were around Wade’s back, holding him close like he always did then they were together. Holding him like something precious, like Peter was as surprised as Wade was that he could have something this tender.

“It’s okay. I did it to myself mostly. One track mind remember?”

“Are you um- are you okay with me being-?”

“Huh? Yeah of course I am. If you never want to have sex, also fine. I love you for more than how you look in spandex, Petey.” Wade pressed soft kisses along Peter’s shoulder to reassure him. He didn’t want to let this go, not when he thought it was going to be pulled out from under him just moments ago.

“I love you, too.” Peter whispered into Wade’s ear, his hands gripping his hoodie tighter.

It wasn’t exactly how Wade meant to tell him that, but with Peter whispering it back, not giving him a second to doubt himself, he was content with his slip up.

"You do look incredible in spandex, though." Wade grinned against Peter's neck.

Peter leaned into the touch, his voice taking on a more mischievous quality. "Oh I know, Wade. I know."

#arrawrites #spideypool #marvel #spfic #hurtcomfort #omg i wrote the fic that inspired this prompt back in 2017....#i feel ancient #scars #ace #asexual peter parker

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lady-grace-pens · 3 years

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Wip Excerpt: HTKAG

In light of this wip hitting another 10k word goal recently (currently sitting pretty at a whopping 120k/150k 😅), another excerpt is due! This babe I wrote today, buut I actually loved it so much I knew I had to share it with y'all right away. That all being said, let's stop wasting time and get straight into it!

Our scene begins with Allister entering a restaurant to have dinner with Mikko, Fingal, and Perci, but Perci is late.

—

Upon telling the hostess Fingal’s name, she leads me away to the right half of the room. Off in a booth stowed away in the corner sit Mikko and Fingal jabbering away mid-conversation. Once they notice me, they stop and smile.

“Hey! There’s the man of the hour,” Mikko exclaims, throwing his hands in the air.

“Not late, am I?” I grin, taking a seat beside him.

“Nope. Right on time to get some drinks,” Mikko starts smouldering at our hostess.

“With what money?” Fingal retorts with a glare.

Mikko blinks, struggling to come up with a defense. It seems he mustn't have anticipated Fingal to interrupt his attempt at flirting…

“Wha - With our money, of course,” he laughs, trying his best to make a smooth recovery.

“Aye. Which is why we’re not using my money to buy alcohol while a minor is here.”

Mikko doesn’t reply. Then again I suppose he doesn't need to, his confusion is written all over his face.

“Don’t tell me you forgot about Perci. He’ll be here any minute.”

“Oh! Fuck, that’s right. Him. Well obviously he won’t be getting any. And come on! You know how fast I can down a beer Fin! It’ll just be a few. Just a few rounds! Don’t be an ass.”

“Watch yourself Mikko, it's not polite to use such language in the presence of a lady.” I chime in, giving the hostess a polite smile.

“Oh I’ll show you what’s not polite-” Mikko says before slapping my head.

I try to hit him back, but he catches my hand before I can. Before we know it, we’re caught in a ridiculous slapping fight, both laughing our asses off.

“Not in a restaurant, not in a restaurant!” I speak through gasps, trying to end things.

Mikko obliges, tossing his hands back in his lap.

“A waiter will be right with you,” the hostess makes a case to look at each one of us except for Mikko before finishing her sentence, “... gentleman.”

Much to my surprise, Mikko doesn’t seem to be affected by that backhanded insult. Instead he kicks his knees up against the table and rests his head back, totally listless.

“Mikko, I would’ve thought you’d be more offended by that.”

“Huh? Why would I be offended at something when it’s true?”

“I’ll say. You and Al couldn’t be any more opposite. If there’s anything larger than the truth, the fact that you’re not a gentleman is way beyond it.”

“Exactly. And Mikko, you are aware of the fact that she was just a hostess, right? It isn’t even her job to serve us drinks.”

“I... “ Mikko laughs before leaning over the table again. “Listen. You two just don’t get it, do you? No. You don’t. Allow me to be the one who graces your palettes here, eh? Let me tell you what I’m gonna do. Okay? I’m gonna give you a tip. A piece of advice that will change your lives forever. All for free! You don’t even have to pay me. All you gotta do is listen. Got it? You both ready?”

Fingal and I share a look. I can tell we’re thinking along a similar vein of confused intrigue. We should most likely stop Mikko here, as whatever will come out his mouth won’t be anything good. However, we’re both too stunned to stop him, so…

Mikko beckons us to lean closer to him. Fin and I oblige. We’re almost touching heads when at last our dear mentor speaks once again, in a hushed voice. “It’s not about what you say. It’s about how you say it.”

…

There are no words. For about a minute straight Fingal and I are just staring at each other wearing the same expression that exudes two questions. ‘What the fuck? You’ve heard that too, haven’t you?’

Soon after that’s established and our shock subsides, we burst back to life. Fingal starts us off with, “Dammit Mikko. What the fuck? Where did you learn that? Who taught you that?”

“Some guys from the bar! Why, what’s wrong with it?”

“Which guys from the bar?”

“I don’t see how it-”

“Mikko. Which guys from the bar taught you this?” Fingal insists, a flash of anger showing in his eyes.

Mikko seems to notice this, and complies straight away. “Leo, John, Peter and Paul!”

Fingal buries his head in his hands. This sparks my curiosity. I haven’t heard these names before, but Fin clearly has.

“I can’t say I’m familiar with them, who might they be?”

“Bar friends-” Mikko starts, only for Fingal to finish for him.

“Jokesters. Jerks. Cheapskates always looking for a laugh. Assholes. Can’t wait to give them a piece of my mind.”

Mikko shrinks away from Fin. His head is turned away from me, but I don’t need to see it in order to know how stunned he is. It’s expressed flawlessly through the abnormal quietness of his voice. “Fin? What’s up, why’d you-”

“Because those dicks have been filling your head with shit like this every damn time I turned my back, Mikko! Dammit, this - this is why you always get rejected! Universe, I just wish you would’ve checked with me first about things like this. Not some strangers you barely even know, yet idolize them anyway.

You wanna know how you get a girl Mikko? Huh? You be nice. You be nice to them, you talk with them, and you listen. Compliments and flirting, all that helps, of course, but not forever! And you sure as hell can’t build a relationship strictly off of it. Okay? Standards and expectations vary from girl to girl, but with each and every single one there are a few things that you just have to do. Be nice, have respect, help them just for the sake of helping them! Don’t expect anything in return. Overall just - just be a decent fucking human being. That is how you get a girl.”

Mikko sits there, staring at his brother. I can’t help but do the same. In every respect, Fingal is right. Of course he is. It’s just… rare that we see him so worked up. I can hardly believe my eyes. I can hardly believe my ears, I… I can’t imagine how Mikko must be feeling.

Oh so gradually his head sinks down into his lap. He slumps over, and I swear I can see fractions of tears reflect the golden light radiating above us.

“Can’t believe I’m actually telling you this when you’re eighteen. Fucking eighteen,” Fingal scoffs, crossing his arms.

“I’m sorry-”

“Don’t be. I’m not mad at you. This is my own fault, I blame myself.”

“Aw, come on man! That’s even worse,” pouts Mikko.

Fingal then turns to me with an abruptness that makes me jump. “Al, what’s up? You’ve been quiet for a while. You can back me up on this, can’t you?”

“I…” I force a chuckle to try and lighten the air some. “I don’t think that I’m currently in a position to give advice like this, to be honest with you.”

Fingal leans his elbows on the table, holding his head with one hand. “Why? Something happen with Maddie?”

“Oh, did it ever,” I shake my head.

—

Aand that's all you guys get for spoiler reasons! Lmao

(also because that's all I've written today but shhhh don't tell anyone)

Buut yeah. Legit I swear I didn't mean to go so hard on feminist Fingal 😂 I mean don't get me wrong here, he's absolutely right and I'm keeping it in. But still, the words just kept on coming and coming and we ended up with this

y'know

yeah

writing is super fun sometimes

Plus tbh, writing the part where Mikko is stroking his ego and whispers his ‘top secret trick to get women’, I was literally laughing out loud 😂 like he's just so wrong, and I love how horribly Mikko fails in life. It's just super funny to me, I enjoy it a lot.

Fingal, however, clearly does not enjoy it, lmao. Legit I had no clue he could be so protective until today! Especially over Mikko. I mean I always knew their dynamics, but today… it really hit home for me.

Go back and look at the line of dialogue Fingal says right after Mikko apologizes (a rare occurrence, actually).

It’s just one little piece of dialogue, barely a few sentences! Yet I feel like it hits you. You know? It reveals so much about his and Mikko’s vibes, their situation. A pair of brothers poor and orphaned by their birth parents and raised by their grandmother, who is only growing older and weaker each year. Fingal, the eldest, having to take responsibility often. He feels pressured to raise his little bro, and feels like he's failed when Mikko turns out to be the way he is. Ya know? It's just one little thing of dialogue but I feel like it makes you feel the pressure Fin has to bear in a situation like theirs. Even if it’s only for a moment.

And Mikko! While he does incite a lot of the comic relief in HTKAG, I wouldn’t call him a strict comic relief character because that's never what I had in mind while writing him. He and Fin actually play a vital role in the plot of the story! Much more than what I can currently reveal to y'all.

Buut anyways, I'll stop rambling now. I really hope you guys enjoyed this little excerpt just as much as I adored writing it :)

—

taglist (let me know if you want to be added or removed!): @vampire-with-a-pen @writingonesdreams @justyouraveragewriter @kazenokaori @dahladahlabills

#creative writing #writing #my writing #my wip #my writing wip #wip #wip excerpt #writblr #writeblr #writers of tumblr #writeblr community #writing excerpt #writing community #wip: htkag

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dimitribelikov · 3 years

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The Belikov Chronicles: The Tasha Conundrum Pt.2

✶ This one got pretty long. I even ended it quicker than planned, so hopefully it’s not too overwhelming. Admittedly, this installment deals less with Tasha, and more about Dimitri’s feelings towards Adrian. **There will be a Pt.3 and probably a Pt.4. ✶ notes : All dialogue is straight from Frostbite, chapter 15. The rest is mine, based on characters written by Richelle Mead. ✶ warnings : some language ✶ ships : romitri ✶ Part 1 can be found here | more one-shots featuring my version of Dimitri can be found here

My argument with Rose the day before had left me in such a darkened state, that I had completely forgotten about my original mission to check in with the guardians and find out more news on the Strigoi attacks. It was just as well, though. I knew there wasn’t going to be any big revelations unless someone where to come get me. I ended up spending the evening in Tasha’s company. Over dinner, she went on and on about her radical ideas for reforming the Moroi’s views on defense. Usually I ate her passion up with fascination, but I couldn’t help but find myself distracted. I mean, Adrian? Really?

Yet as soon as the vampiric morning came, I had only one thought on my mind as I left my room: to find Janine Hathaway to go over the tragedy that had happened and the ensuing arguments that had unfolded in the Moroi meeting. Janine was someone that I had always looked up to, and she seemed a bit more forthcoming with information than others. Surely with her, I could get a better grip on what was going on in our world. I knew that I could also provide some insight for the guardians into the Moroi side of things via Tasha’s conversation at dinner.

I was a one tracked mind, striding through the hotel’s hallways with no other worry in my head, let alone the fight with Rose. Until I heard her very voice from an open door. Damnit. Even in the wake of such important matters, her voice was able to bring me to a screeching halt, curiosity replacing my earlier determination.

I paused, wondering what she was doing in this wing of the resort. Almost immediately I realized that the open door belonged to none other than Adrian. Again?! Thoughts of her staying the night danced through my mind, but I pushed them out right away.

“I just want to know what’s going on here,” she demanded of her audience.

Sure enough, when I stood just behind her and was able to take in the scene of Adrian’s room, it looked as though Rose had just arrived. Further puzzling was the appearance of Lissa there. Surely Adrian couldn’t be that much of a scoundrel, I thought. Then again, with the stories I’d heard, I wouldn’t put it past him. “Me too,” I said, announcing myself. I could hear the short tone in my voice, but was careful to keep my expression neutral as I studied every detail of the room.

Rose had turned to regard me with a surprised look, and though I loved the victory of catching her guard, I couldn’t help but notice the cloud fo perfume that surrounded her. Had she actually gotten dolled up for the Ivashkov loser?

My annoyance deepened at the thought and I invited myself in, clinging to the one weapon I had: my authority. “Male and female students aren’t supposed to be in each other’s room.” I’m pretty sure a younger me just rolled his eyes and made a gagging sound at the lame “adult speech”.

“How do you keep doing this?” Rose demanded of Adrian, ignoring my recitation of the rules.

“Do what?” he replied. Ugh, that fucking grin. I wanted nothing more than to smack it off his face!

“Keep making us look bad!”

“You guys are the ones who came here.”

Adrian’s reply snapped me back into the argument. The two, innocent, young girls were visiting his room unescorted? I was beginning to sound like my old headmaster, but I didn’t care. “You shouldn’t have let them in. I’m sure you know the rules at St. Vladimir’s.”

“Yeah, but I don’t have to follow any school’s stupid rules,” Adrian replied. I couldn’t believe he had the nerve to actually argue this. In that moment, the girls might have well not even existed. All I cared about what putting the rich brat in his place. Somewhere in my head, a logical voice was reminding me that the Moroi were above me. They come first. I shouldn’t be so harsh in my judgement of him, but I just couldn’t help it.

“Perhaps not. But I would have thought you’d still respect those rules.” Gross. Now I definitely sounded like my old headmaster. Before I could worry about that too much, though, Adrian fired back. And he hit below the belt.

“I’m kind of surprised to find you lecturing about underage girls,” he said cooly.

I froze, feeling anger grow at the audacity with which the Moroi spoke back to me. Under that anger, though, there was fear. What had he’d heard? Clearly that had to be a dig about me and Rose, but I’d been so careful. Surely no one else knew a thing. Right?

“Besides, nothing sordid was going on,” he continued. “We were just hanging out.”

Yeah. Hanging out. Alone in his room. Nothing sordid about that, I thought sarcastically. “If you want to ‘hang out’ with young girls,” I replied, taking another small step towards him. “Do it at one of the public areas.”

My anger was unexpectedly side tracked when Adrian laughed. There was something about that laugh that didn’t sit right with me. My suspicions were confirmed when he went off, rambling about the oddest things. It wasn’t a normal way to win an argument, that was for sure. My head tilted as I studied him, wondering if he was actually as unhinged as he sounded. Just how dangerous is this guy?

Finally he wrapped up the odd soliloquy by actually agreeing me. Though hearing Adrian admit that he was a bad influence didn’t earn much sympathy from me, I was grateful that the discussion was over. It had taken a turn into dangerous territory with a near accusation about me and rose–– and then whatever that was.

Lissa, Rose, and I took our exit into the hallway, starting the walk back into the lobby. “One’s marked with life, and one’s marked with death,” he had said. It was lunacy and I shouldn’t put too much thought into it, but I couldn’t help but feel a strange sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“That was . . . strange,” Rose had said.

I couldn’t even be mad anymore. The odd turn in Adrian’s demeanor had cast a sobering spell over us all. “Very,” was all I could manage.

Stepping out into the hustle and bustle of the lobby woke me up from my tumultuous thoughts. I knew I couldn’t let Rose simply leave without trying to warn her. Whether I was jealous or not (and I adamantly promised myself that I wasn’t), I was her mentor. It was my job to steer her clear of danger and this situation was no different. “Rose. Can I talk to you?”

I saw her exchange a look with Lissa, but mercifully, the princess left us to our privacy. We moved to the side of a room, avoiding the groups of Moroi who were hurriedly checking out in the wake of the new attacks. Alone with Rose, I could feel my emotions begin to spike again. The jealousy of seeing her with Adrian, the protectiveness of needing to be a good mentor for her–– and now the scent of whatever perfume she’d gotten her hands on. She’d never worn any in the time I knew her, but the crisp, sweet fragrance toyed with my imagination.

Quickly pushing such thoughts away, I tried to figure out how best to tell her what was on my mind. I was still mad about her accusations the previous day, but this wasn’t about me. This was about her. “That was Adrian Ivashkov,” I said, trying and failing to keep the disapproval from my voice.

“Yeah, I know,” she replied quickly. I wonder just how much she knew about him.

“This is the second time I’ve seen you with him.”

I was sure I could detect annoyance in her eyes, and knew I was losing her attention. “Yeah. We hang out sometimes.”

My stomach dropped as my eyebrow arched. That was the second time I heard that phrase used. I wasn’t oblivious to Rose’s reputation at the Academy, but I also felt that I knew her better than that. Sure, I’d caught her in a very compromising position with the Zeklos kid once, but she’d seemed to have learned from that. Or at least taken the lesson to heart in a mature way. Yet I wasn’t sure that there existed a world in which “hanging out with Adrian Ivashkov” could be anything innocent. “You hang out in his room a lot?” I asked, sounding more accusing than anything else.

I knew Rose too well, though. She wasn’t one to simply take a lecture and peacefully leave. If she felt backed into a corner, she fought. While that was usually something I admired in her, in this moment, I was worried about what rebuttal would come.

Apparently, even my worst guesses weren’t nearly as bad as what she actually came up with. “What happens between him and me is none of your business.” It wasn’t lost on me that she did a near perfect impersonation of myself the previous day. Shit, she’s good. Logically I knew that she was just trying to get back at me for the Tasha thing, but I couldn’t help the sudden assault of mental images of Rose and Adrian that bombarded my mind. Thanks to my guardian training, I was able to keep it all hidden from my expression.

“Actually,” I retorted, not missing a beat in my scramble to gain the upper hand. “As long as you’re at the Academy, what you do is my business.” Checkmate!

Rather than ending the argument there, however, it only ramped up, each of us firing back in quick succession. We were a good match for each other in the ring, and clearly that sparring spilled out into other areas of our life.

“Not my personal life. You don’t have any say in that.”

“You’re not an adult yet.”

“I’m close enough. Besides, it’s not like I’ll magically become an adult on my eighteenth birthday.”

“Clearly.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Was she actually blushing at that? “I meant––”

“I know what you meant,” I cut her off, not wanting to travel down that road right now. Adrian’s borderline accusations still bothered me. “And the technicalities don’t matter right now. You’re an Academy student. I’m your instructor. It’s my job to help you and to keep you safe.” I idly wondered who I was trying to convince more, her or me. “Being in the bedroom of someone like him . . . well, that’s not safe.”

I hoped she understood what I was trying to convey. I didn’t want to fight. Our argument the previous day killed me, but I wasn’t going to let her self-sabotage herself, either. Rose had the potential to be great. Perhaps even one of the best. I wasn’t going to let a spoiled, rich, royal ruin that for her.

“I can handle Adrian Ivashkov,” she muttered. The sudden mental image of those two in a sparring ring did much to lighten my mood, but not enough to derail me from on the topic at hand. “He’s weird–– really weird, apparently–– but harmless.”

Well that was hardly true. Adrian might not be a killer or anything, but he certainly one of the least harmless guys I knew. What happened to Mason? Why wasn’t she with him? I actually like that guy.

A thought occurred to me just then. This whole time I’d justified myself not being jealous because I was okay with her being with Mason. Yet Mason was absolutely harmless. He was safe. It was obvious to anyone in the same room as those two that he was completely head over heels for Rose, but I never saw the same passion for him in her eyes. Her being with him never seemed like a threat–– ignoring the fact that I had nothing to be threatened with since I’m not even in the equation. I can’t be. It wouldn’t be right. But throw someone like Adrian in? Hell yeah I was suddenly threatened. Rose deserved better than him, but I knew how easy it was for him to get his way with that cocky grin.

Fuck. I really am jealous.

“Speaking of personal lives,” Rose said, mercifully cutting off my traitorous train of thought. At least, I thought it was a mercy until I heard what she was getting at. “I suppose you were off visiting Tasha, huh?”

My own personal revelation weighed too heavily to allow me a quippy, or even scathing, retort. “Actually, I was visiting your mother.”

“You going to hook up with her, too?” At least one of us was on their argumentative A-game.

My mind was too much of a mess to truly react to it, though I had to admit, it was a pretty good line. “No, we were looking over some new data in the Drozdov attack.” After that, any signs of jealousy or mentions of Tasha and Adrian were forgotten as we spoke about the Strigoi problem. Though the heaviness of the situation pressed in on us, I was glad that Rose could set aside our pettiness and take the real problems to heart. I kept calling her a young girl to Adrian, but she truly is mature beyond her years. That didn’t counter the fact that she’s underaged and shouldn’t be anywhere near that jackhole, but it reminded me that she’s more than just a student. One day soon, we’d be working side by side, and I looked forward to that. I may be assigned as her mentor for now, but as we spoke about the Strigoi threat and Moroi politics, I knew that Rose is more than that. She’s my equal. It felt right to divulge the guardian’s knowledge of the Strigoi’s whereabouts to her.

“Why’d you tell me this, anyway?” she asked eventually. “This is guardian stuff. Not the kind of thing you let novices in on.”

I paused, turning over the words in my head. Our heated emotions were gone, and in the wake that followed, I thought back to the way I had been treating her lately. I thought of her as my equal, but I didn’t treat her that way. I wanted to change that. “I’ve said some things . . . the other day and today . . . that I shouldn’t have. Things that insulted your age. You’re seventeen . . . but you’re capable of handling and processing the same things those much older than you do.”

“Really?” she asked. The look of hope that kindled in her eyes melted my heart then and there. This was how I liked her best, full optimism and void of the anger that always seem to follow her.

I nodded, feeling the hint of a smile on my lips. “You’re still really young in a lot of ways–– and act young–– but the only way to really change that is to treat you like an adult. I need to do that more. I know you’ll take this information and understand how important it is and keep it to yourself.” I was man enough to admit when I was wrong, and my recent treatment of her had been just that. Surely it wasn’t too late to set things right–– and hopefully steer her away from certain disaster.

A moment passed between us. Looking into Rose’s eyes, I could swear that I could hear her thoughts. She wanted to be the kind of person that I wanted to treat her as. I think on some level, we both understood the burden that our futures carried as the last Dragomir princess’s guardians, but we were also both looking forward to carrying it out together.

That moment of peace was short lived, however, when a familiar voice greeted me. “Dimka!” With those two syllables spoken by Tasha Ozera, I felt the mood instantly shift between me and Rose.

to be continued . . .

#vampire academy #dimitri belikov #rose hathaway #romitri #adrian ivashkov #vampire academy fanfiction #ᴏɴᴇ sʜᴏᴛ ✶ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇʟɪᴋᴏᴠ ᴄʜʀᴏɴɪᴄʟᴇs

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emachinescat · 3 years

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Way Back Wednesday #1

Welcome to Way Back Wednesday! Every Wednesday, I am delving into my past as a fanfic writer and reflecting on and sharing one of my stories… starting from the very beginning, 16 years ago, when I was a 14-year-old kid discovering her love for fandom. ❤️

Today’s story is…

An Unlikely Team

American Dragon: Jake Long & Kim Possible

Summary: Monkey Fist and Huntsman have teamed up in order to defeat their respective foes. With Monkey Ninjas, goblins, dragons, nacos, spy gear, magic potion, secrets, regrets, and tears, no one is going to escape from this situation without changing somehow.

Rating: G

Chapters: 18 | Words: 12,353

Year Published: 2005 | My age: 14

Relationships: Jake Long/Rose | Huntsgirl | Characters: Jake Long, Ron Stoppable, Kim Possible, Monkey Fist, Huntsman, Rose | Huntsgirl, Lao Shi, Fu Dog

AO3 Tags: Crossover, Suspense, Humor

My reflections on and "review" of the story are after the break! :)

Oh, wow. It was an adventure coming back to this story! It marked a lot of firsts for me - my first crossover, my first story above 10k words, my first chapter fic. I don't remember a whole lot about my writing process back then, or about the circumstances of writing this story. I was 14, and a lot has happened since then. I do remember that I was still coming off the review-high from my first story, and that I had no idea what I was doing, not really. And it kind of shows.

I guess I should go ahead and say that this story, like the last one, isn't bad. I mean, the plot, if a bit simple and contrived, makes sense and moves along fairly well, and the characters (except for Rose, but we'll get to her in a minute) are pretty well portrayed, and grammatically, there were no glaring errors that I could see. It was interesting enough; it has been probably a decade or more since I last opened this story, but it still managed to hold my attention well enough, I suppose. It has some very positive reviews (and some critical ones), so I must have done something right.

But I've got to go over the issues with this story. Most of them I think are just hilarious. I'd been writing since I was five, but I was new to this kind of storytelling and still trying to find my voice as a writer. Once again, it shows.

Okay, so first, there's the plot itself - super simple, very contrived, and kind of weird. Huntsman and Monkey Fist team up so that M can help H capture and unmask the American Dragon, and in return, H will give M a talisman that will "undoubtedly" make him the Ultimate Monkey Master? Sure, seems legit, I guess.

Then there's the fact that I had to end every chapter - or nearly every chapter - with a cliffhanger, even if it didn't warrant one. I was dying laughing because most chapters would end with a character saying something hopeful to another character, but then muttering under their breath something grim and suspenseful. For example: "'Let us go. Jake's life is depending on us. He is alive for now...' and then he added almost inaudibly, 'but not for long...'" It's hilarious, and I wish I could remember if I was trying to be edgy or just ensure readers would come back, or if I thought being ominous was a hallmark of good writing. Also, the chapters were overall very short. I think I just wrote however much I felt like writing and then posted. Of course, I was having to post between school and the Boys & Girls Club where my mom worked (and being grounded, like a lot), so I guess I just wrote what and when I could.

Some of the dialogue's a bit clunky, and I had a weird thing with time limits. They capture Jake, and then they have to send Huntsgirl out to get a potion that will make him human because they forgot (???) this very important part of the plan for some reason. She says something along the lines of, "My Huntstick will transport me to the magical black market almost instantly. I'll be back within an hour." That doesn't add up, unless she's going to spend an hour haggling with the seller. Then she gets back, amps up the whole evil villain plot, and then adds, "Oh, yeah, it'll take 30 minutes for this potion to take effect." So she and the baddies just stand there for half an hour watching Jake slowly turn from dragon to human. Then when he's been poisoned (another weird plot contrivance), Lao Shi says, "If we don't give him the antidote in 30 seconds, he'll die!" I suppose I did set the scene, whether intentionally or not, by having a clock ticking in the background, but the way that all of the characters seem to have such an acute knowledge and understanding of time is just weird to me.

The only aspect of this story to actually bother me is the disservice I did to Rose's character. In the show, she's portrayed as a pretty strong protagonist-by-day/antagonist-by-night, but in my story, she's pitiful. I don't know if I just consumed a lot of media with weak female characters or what, but it's super cringey how emotional and weak she's portrayed as once she finds out the truth about Jake. She cries, which is fine, but then girlfriend just up and faints! She cries some more, begs Jake to forgive her, acting like she'll never be able to live with herself or forgive herself if he doesn't, then gets mad at him when he needs a little time to process that the girl he has a crush on is also the girl who's been trying to kill him. Then as soon as he apologizes for... being traumatized, I guess? she turns around and starts spouting off stuff about never being able to forgive herself if he'd died or something. I apologize most deeply to her character.

Oh, I just realized I haven't really discussed the Kim Possible side of things, mostly because it's pretty cut and dry. Those characters all seemed to be, well, in character. I especially feel I had Ron down to a T. It was also really funny the way I had Huntsman and Monkey Fist constantly arguing even through their alliance. The fight scenes, with Kim and with Jake, are very minimal. They're usually one step above just saying, "They fought." On that note, there's not a whole lot of detail or description, but a lot of dialogue. I definitely could have expanded more on the world to make the crossover feel more complete.

All that (mostly light-hearted) criticism aside, it was fun to get to go back and read this, and if you think you'd be interested, be my guest. It's a cute little read, and important to me because it marked the second step in my fan-fiction journey.

Next week, we'll be taking a look at one of the cringiest things I've ever written - yikes!

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whereisten · 5 years

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The Wedding Singer

The Wedding Singer (Feat. Taeyong and Yuta)

Summary: You are an up-and-coming singer and songwriter who is thriving in the wedding singer business. When you find yourself singing for your former best friend Samantha Perez and not-so-former crush Yuta Nakamoto, shit really hits the fan.

Genre: Brace yourself...IT’S FLUFF (some suggestive dialogue and colorful words)

Multi-part series: Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

Part 2

Word Count: 4k

The rehearsals were passing by quickly, thankfully. There was a month left until the wedding. You and Taeyong grew very close in the past two months. You had to be honest. You were ready to date him after you both cursed at the same jumpscare when you watched The Conjuring 3 and were shushed by the rest of the audience. You both had to hold in your laughter for ten minutes.

But you wanted to make sure the friendship was strong before you explored something deeper. He respected that. He would’ve done anything to spend time with you.

Sonya also enjoyed tagging along whenever she could. She liked telling random passersby on the street that she was the one who brought this beautiful couple together.

Which brought you to your latest non-date but was practically a date. Taeyong took you to a Cigarettes After Sex concert in Miami Beach. You swayed to the sweet and seductive tones of Greg Gonzalez. Taeyong had his hands in his pockets and you felt him take your hand and squeeze it.

You turned to him and he gave you a shy smile.

You squeezed his hand back. You were going to surprise Taeyong that night and tell him you were ready to take it to the next step. You would be the one to ask him out on your first date together.

As “Crush” played, you turned to Taeyong and held his face in your hands. You kissed him deeply, relishing in his frozen state. But he didn’t take long to return your kiss. He leaned into you and stuck his tongue into your mouth. You sighed in content and wrapped your arms around him.

After the concert, Taeyong wouldn’t let go of your hand.

“That was incredible,” you said, referring to both the concert and the kiss that transformed you. You’ve had your fair share of kisses in the past. Some awkward. Some that you wished you could erase. Some that you thought would lead somewhere but did not.

But then there was Taeyong.

His kiss was electric and lit you up. You were surprised you didn’t light up like a glowstick at the venue.

Taeyong pushed you against the wall outside of the venue. The venue was nearly empty. Only a handful of concertgoers were walking out. “You have no idea what you’ve done.”

You laughed. “What? The kiss?”

Taeyong sighed. “What am I going to do with you, Y/N? I’ve been waiting so long for this and now...I don’t ever want to let you go.”

His head was down and he surprised you by looking up at you with bedroom eyes. All this time, Taeyong tried to contain himself when he was around you and played the benevolent suitor/friend/love interest rolled into one. But there were moments where he couldn’t and you could see it in his deep brown eyes. He wanted you so badly it was killing him.

All this time, you had to keep it together. As much as you loved teasing Taeyong, it killed you to restrain yourself this time. You wanted to jump his bones when he left you at your door after your first non-date.

You bit your lip. “Did I catch you off-guard?”

“Oh, more than that…” His words grew quieter as he moved closer to your neck and kissed it.

“Taeyong, what if someone sees us?”

“You didn’t mind it at the concert....Or are you toying with me?”

You blushed, feeling his hot breath on your neck. You wanted him to look at you but he was avoiding your stare. “Taeyong.”

“So...what’s the verdict, Y/N? I think I’ve been very patient.”

You ran your fingers through his hair. “Yes, you have. Which is why I’m asking you out.”

He met your eyes. His eyes softened. “What?”

You smiled. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”

Taeyong’s angelic smile reappeared full-force. “I was going to play pool with the guys. But to hell with that.”

You caressed his cheek. “You suck, anyways. You won’t be missed.”

He pulled you off the wall and kissed you. His lips were soft against yours and you really regretted making you two wait for so long to do this.

;;

You were at Starbucks, working on song lyrics for a song titled “Jack Frost”. After your first kisses with Taeyong last night, your heart was ablaze and your fingertips were just dying to release lyrics for your new song. You were writing the lyrics on your Breaking Dawn notebook. It held all of the songs you’ve written since you were eighteen. And the Twilight Saga just stuck with you, whether you liked it or not.

“Y/N!” You were so into your writing that you jumped at the sound of your name.

You looked up from your notebook and saw Yuta in front of your table. He waved.

“Oh, Yuta, hey.” You closed your notebook. “How are you?”

He smiled. “I’m alright. Just needed to get out and get a change of scenery. He held up his Five-Star notebook. Wedding vows.”

“Oh,” you said, “How’s that going?”

He sighed. “It’s...not.”

You frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m...not the greatest at expressing my feelings out loud,” he said, wincing.

“You?” You were shocked. “I don’t believe that.”

He sat down across from you at the two-chair table. “Oh, you should. This is what I have so far. And this took two hours last night.”

Samantha, I am so excited to marry you.

“Yikes.” You didn’t sugarcoat your response.

He shrugged. “Can I be honest with you?”

This didn’t sound good.

“Samantha’s family and mine...Not only do they want to unite businesses but..they want to unite our families.”

You wished you didn’t sip from your Very Berry Hibiscus Refresher then.

Yuta sighed. “I couldn’t refuse. Samantha’s family has done a lot for mine. Samantha and I figured we could appease our parents…”

Why was he telling you this? Why? Why was it that people thought you were the go-to for their deepest, darkest secrets?

“Yuta, I don’t-”

Yuta realized what he’d said. “Oh, shit. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’ve just been thinking too much these past few days and you’re the first person outside of the lie that I’ve seen for days and...it just slipped.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. So...from the sound of it, Yuta and Samantha didn’t love each other. The marriage was a business transaction. And...Well, that was it, actually.

Frankly, it wasn’t your problem. But it still rattled you to know the truth.

You replied, “Yuta, it’s not my place but...why go through with it?”

He avoided your gaze. “I think I could love her...someday.”

It actually hurt you to hear him say that. You couldn’t understand their worlds. Samantha and Yuta’s. But from the sound of it, Samantha loved Yuta. But he didn’t love her.

Warning bells were ringing in your head. This was way out of your jurisdiction as his old high school friend.

Yuta apologized again. “I owe you Starbucks for life for unloading all of my crap on you.”

You shook your head. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”

“Please, it’s unforgivable. Allow me to buy you your favorite.”

This caught your attention. “What?”

He smiled knowingly. “Double chocolaty chip frappuccino?”

“How did you know?”

“Once upon a time, Y/N, I had a crush on you,” he said nonchalantly, like it was no secret. “Or did you forget?”

“You’re messing with me, aren’t you?” You asked. Yuta’s sense of humor was always so wholesome. Maybe sometimes a little sarcastic. But never cruel.

His eyes grew bigger. “You really didn’t know?”

“No. Because you didn’t.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I thought I made myself very clear at homecoming senior year.”

“At homecoming? I-” And then you realized it.

Gomez Addams Senior High School Homecoming 2011

Yuta asked you to dance to “Time After Time” by Cyndi Lauper. At this point, you’d come to terms with the fact that if Yuta hadn’t liked you at this point, then you could still enjoy his friendship.

He spun you in circles and tried out his latest material on you and had you laughing at all of his cheesy jokes. He even surprised you by asking you if you remembered that one Spongebob episode, “Frankendoodle”. He did his impression of Doodlebob and had you cackling as you danced. No one loved Spongebob like you did but it was nice when people could at least appreciate it.

“I’m having a great time, Y/N,” he started.

“Me, too, Nakamoto,” you said.

He moved closer to you. “You’re beautiful.”

You blushed. “Thanks Yuta!” Trying your best not to die on the inside. Yuta knew how to flatter a girl. He was always straightforward when it came to compliments.

“I-” He was interrupted.

Vice Principal Mortimer was up on stage with announcement cards. “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time to announce your homecoming king and queen!”

Yuta and Samantha won that night. You knew Yuta would be occupied the rest of the night so you chose not to stick around. You met up with Johnny and the rest of your friends and left early to go to Burgers and Shakes.

“You left early that night,” Yuta said, a soft sad smile on his face.

“Yeah, Johnny and everyone wanted to get burgers. And...I figured you forgot about me. Homecoming King is such a crucial position,” you said, still confused about what exactly went down at homecoming.

“I thought I made it obvious, then...Kissing your hand. The ‘come hither’ eyes. The Frankendoodle impersonation.”

“Yuta, you were a total flirt back then!”

“I should’ve brought out the ring sooner.” He fiddled with his BIC pen.

“Whoa, a ring?” You sipped the melting ice from your drink.

He chuckled. “I was going to ask you out that night. But I saw you leave with Johnny so I thought-”

You burst out laughing. The staff and other patrons at the Starbucks looked at you in confusion and concern. Tears were rolling down your cheeks. “Me and Johnny? Are you mad?”

“You and Johnny were….awfully chummy back then,” he said, rolling his eyes.

I laughed. “Clearly, you’ve never had a female best friend.”

“So you and Johnny never…”

“Oh, trust me. We’ve never dated. Never thought about it. We actually have an unwritten agreement that if neither of us got married by forty, we would marry each other.”

Yuta laughed then. Not as hard as you but hard enough to earn a couple of stares. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

You doodled on a blank page of your notebook. “I’m immune to Johnny’s charms. Imagine the pain and disappointment I caused my parents all these years. For not dating Johnny.”

Now you and Yuta were laughing and remembering the good old times in high school. He told all of the times he wanted to tell you how you felt and you told him all of the times you thought about confessing to him.

“I can’t believe you liked me,” Yuta said, seeing you in a new light.

“Really? I thought I was pretty obvious.”

Yuta relaxed his elbows on the table. “You were shy with everyone so I couldn’t tell if you liked me.”

“See? We were both ambiguous for completely different reasons!”

And then you both laughed again.

“Wow, I really had no idea, Yuta. Well, I’m sorry I accidentally rejected you…” You giggled again. This was hilarious. And good content for another song. Tentative title: “Fools in Time.”

“Water under the bridge, Y/N. Now about that frappuccino…”

;;

You and Yuta spent a few more hours at the cafe. You gave Yuta few pointers on how to write his vows. He could draw inspiration from love songs. He could talk about how he treasured Samantha as a life partner and his most valuable teammate in life.

“Get it? Because you’re a basketball player?”

Yuta blew his paper straw sleeve at your face. “Boo.”

Someone cleared his throat and interrupted you two.

You looked up and saw Taeyong, who was not shy about how pissed he was to see his girlfriend being so close with his best friend.

“TY!” Yuta cheered. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Yeah, I’m here to pick up my girlfriend,” he said. “Surprise!” He added with a fake smile. Only you could tell that he was being insincere. You both were Cancers, after all.

Yuta looked taken aback. “Wait, you two are dating?”

You nodded. “Yeah, we’ve been hanging out since the first rehearsal and...we went on our first date last night.” You were giddy remembering that that actually happened.

Taeyong’s anger dissipated at the dreamy look on your face.

Yuta’s smile faded completely. He had no idea that you and Taeyong even knew each other. He almost felt like a fool. “So you’re the girl Sonya’s been raving about.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t know. Sonya’s not exactly discrete,” you noted.

Taeyong hugged you from behind and relaxed. “Well, the cat’s out of the bag. We’re together.”

Yuta swallowed his pride and mustered his most winning smile yet. “Congratulations are in order, then. Let me treat you to dinner.”

You were about to say yes but Taeyong beat you at responding. “Raincheck, amigo. I’m taking Y/N roller skating.”

Yuta blurted. “Y/N, you don’t roller skate…”

You sipped at the remains of your melted frappuccino, which Taeyong was pissed to find had “Yuta” written in Sharpie. “I don’t but Taeyong’s got it in his head that he can change me.” You said it so dramatically that you laughed.

Yuta chuckled as he looked up at Taeyong. “Good luck. She’s hopeless.”

It seemed your friendship with Yuta was stronger than you let on, Taeyong thought.

;;

Taeyong surprised you and booked The Milky Way Skate for the two of you. Taeyong’s family was wealthy but you didn’t realize just how much.

“I hate you for making me do this,” you told him. You were tying the shoelaces of your skates.

“You could’ve said no,” he said, shrugging innocently.

“I did. Several times but I believe you said there was a reward at the end of the night so...I caved.”

Taeyong relaxed after you two left Yuta at Starbucks. You seemed to be completely unaware of the fact that Yuta was interested in you. He knew Yuta didn’t love his step-sister and that was something everyone in the Lee and Nakamoto families already knew.

But you would unknowingly pose a risk to the wedding if things kept going the way they did. He knew Yuta and he had never looked at someone so fondly the way he looked at you.

It made him want to beat Yuta up. But Yuta didn’t know you two were together until today. So as long as he didn’t try anything, then all would be well.

Taeyong kissed your cheek. “I promise it’ll be worth it.”

You smiled up at him. “Help me up? I should warn you that I’m heavier than I look. I say this because I do NOT want you to drop me.”

Taeyong joked. “Resistance training is a hobby of mine so I should be fine.”

You punched him in the arm. “Hold me.”

“With pleasure,” he said as helped you up.

The skating rink was beautiful with its galaxy-themed atmosphere. The Milky Way was painted across the floor. The rink was huge but thankfully not so huge that you would have to suffer to get to a barricade.

The music overhead was oddly catered to your tastes. They played “Lego House” by Ed Sheeran, one of your favorites from your senior year of high school. Then, they played “Lose Yourself to Dance” by Daft Punk. Then it was “Last Dance” by Donna Summer.

Taeyong asked Johnny and Jungwoo to send him lists of your favorite songs. He knew you two were good together when he saw that you shared almost all of the same faves. He wanted to pull out all the stops for the date he planned for you. Especially after you blew him away with a homemade dinner and an acoustic concert. You knew how much he loved your voice.

So when you mentioned a month ago that you wished you’d learned how to roller skate, Taeyong made a note of that. Actually, he made note of a lot of things you’d said.

Brace yourself, Y/N for a surprise trip to Niagara Falls, a horseback riding lesson, a Valentino handbag, and a record deal.

You really should be careful what you say around Taeyong.

Taeyong guided you to the rink.

“All right, Y/N. You can do this,” Taeyong said as he guided you to the center of the rink. He was leading with his graceful movements.

“Can you just hold my hands the entire night and just spin me around every now and then?” You asked. You were thankful he had such an easy grip on you.

He smiled. “You’re learning and you’re gonna like it.”

So, he taught you step by step how to roller skate. Sure, you’d fallen fourteen times out thirteen but you felt more confident and stable so after an hour of falling and moaning and groaning over the process, you could hold your own. Taeyong had been super patient and kept his laughter to a minimum.

Or so he thought.

Then, holding hands, you two skated together around the rink.

“You know something? All of the songs so far are basically my favorites,” you pointed out.

Taeyong smirked. “What a nice coincidence.”

You looked at him knowingly. “So you asked J and J to give you my playlists, didn’t you?”

“You caught me,” he said as he pulled you closer.

He guided you to the center of the rink. You two held hands and spun in circles. You were in a purely blissful state as “goodnight n go” by Ariana Grande played.

You both got dizzy pretty quick and fell. You fell on top of Taeyong and you exploded in giggles. Taeyong groaned in exaggeration and started laughing with you.

He cupped your face in his hands and gave you a quick smooch.

“Taeyong, thank you so much. This has to be the best night of my life,” you admitted.

“Darling, you ain’t seen nothing yet,” he said as he pulled you to him and kissed you again.

;;

You were going to perform at Taeyong’s nightclub. He was the owner of the renowned Holy Hell nightclub in Downtown Miami. It was a Korean-American fusion nightclub. To your delight, it also had a karaoke bar. He surprised you after your night of roller skating. He wanted to indulge you and show you off to his high-profile clients, including some record label executives.

You were backstage. You looked exquisite and sultry in a sleek black jacket and leather booty shorts. Your thigh high boots even left you stunned when you posed in front of the mirror.

Taeyong’s close friend Stella was a talented makeup guru that helped you put the final touches on your makeup. You and Stella became fast friends. It seemed like Taeyong’s gifts never stopped. You wondered how you could thank him.

“Taeyong adores you, you know?” Stella said as she fixed your eyeliner.

You blushed. “Yeah...He does, doesn’t he?”

“It’s almost sickening.” Stella laughed. “He’s dated on and off for a while but...I’ve never seen him this happy.”

“Really?” You were about to tear up at hearing this.

“Oh, don’t you dare cry. Save the tears once you score that record deal, mama. We’ve come too far to secure that face for the next few hours.”

“Thank you, Stella.” You hugged her.

Yuta and Samantha came backstage to wish you luck. Well, Yuta did. Samantha just nodded along with Yuta’s words before they left to join the audience. She continued to despise you and you wanted to wonder why.

But not tonight.

Taeyong was the last one to wish you luck on stage.

“Severely break your leg, babe,” Taeyong said. He could have a very dark sense of humor, this one.

You kissed his cheek, leaving a lipstick stain on it. You giggled but hoped he wouldn’t notice it. Seeing Taeyong walk around with your lipstick on his face would give you much more confidence on stage.

“I’ll humor you and keep it on,” he said, almost as if reading your mind. You hugged him tight and thanked him profusely.

It was time for you to get on stage. You were so pumped to perform. You were also extremely nervous that if you let your mind wander to the worst case scenarios, you wouldn’t have left your makeup chair. You remembered that singing was everything to you and that you were going to go up there and have a great time. When you let yourself be you, you often surprised yourself with the results.

You heard your boyfriend on stage. “Ladies and gentlemen, it gives me great pleasure to introduce our next act. Give it up for Y/N!”

You got up on the stage and performed your own choreographed performance of the English version of “Bad Boy” by Red Velvet. The crowd went wild. It was one of the first times you danced on stage. Usually, you only practiced choreographies in a dance studio but tonight was one of those rare nights that you really let loose.

You swayed your hair back and forth and your movements were sharp. You hit the notes to perfection, nearly making yourself tear up from how well you were doing.

You were very emotional but you hid it well this time.

Unbeknownst to you, the record label execs were eating everything up.

You were sensual and sweet. Taeyong lost his breath for a moment and couldn’t believe that a seductress hid beneath your sweet demeanor. He caught glimpses of your mischievous nature now and then when you sang but tonight, you released your demon. And he wanted to get to know you even more.

Taeyong yelled. “GO, Y/N!!!!!”

And so did Yuta.

Taeyong noticed that Yuta’s jaw might as well have been on the ground. Samantha huffed and went to the bar to get a drink. He was also in awe of you. Taeyong had to hold in his temper. You were his. Yuta had his chance and he blew it.

You finished your performance and were met with cheers and whistles. Roses were tossed onto the stage, to your surprise. Taeyong’s doing, no doubt. You bowed and ran off the stage. Taeyong was already at the bottom of the steps and you jumped into his arms.

“You were amazing, love,” he said into your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “I can’t wait for an encore performance when we get back to my place.”

You gulped. “Shut up.”

This had to be one of the greatest nights of your life. To your shock and delight, scouts from Capitol Records, Epic Records, and Atlantic Records approached you and wanted to meet with you. You were over the moon.

You told Taeyong all about it on the drive back to his place. “I can’t believe Epic Records was there!” Epic was your dream label.

“Epic?” Taeyong frowned. He didn’t invite anyone from Epic but he was thankful they made it, anyway.

“Taeyong, you spoil me. I can’t believe you’ve done this.” You said the last sentence in a British accent, paying tribute to your favorite Vine.

He smiled as he turned into his driveway of his beachside estate. “It’s all you, Y/N. You are a true talent. You would do the world a huge disservice if you didn’t share your voice with them.”

You took off your seatbelt and leaned over to the driver’s seat and kissed him deeply. You tried to straddle over him but his car was too cramped.

“Slow down,” he said, laughing. “Allow me to carry you inside.” He knew you were dying in your heels.

You laughed. “Thank you.”

He carried you bridal style inside. He let you down so you could remove your heels. Taeyong took off his jacket and loosened his tie. You seized the opportunity and jumped into his arms. You kissed him again and he quickly reciprocated. He lifted you into his arms and took you up the stairs.

You entered his bedroom and he plopped you onto the bed and jumped right over. You unbuttoned his shirt. He helped you pull your dress off. He kissed you so passionately that that alone made you weak. You wondered what you would feel when he fucked you for the first time.

“Are you sure?” He asked as he looked down at you.

“Absolutely,” you replied, nearly breathless.

And Taeyong once again assured you that this night was the best night of your life.

Part 3 (Coming Sooner Than You Thought)

A/N: I would like to say I AM SO SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING THIS FOR FIVE YEARS. I have ideas for the main climax and the ending but I want you to suffer...I mean ENJOY the ride. I would especially like to thank the sweeties who reached out and specifically asked for this. You really made my cold heart a little warmer. Bless.

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mediaeval-muse · 4 years

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Book Review

The Masqueraders by Georgette Heyer. Naperville: Sourcebooks, Inc., 2009 (originally published in 1928).

Rating: 4/5 stars

Genre: historical fiction/historical romance

Part of a Series? No

Summary: Prudence and Robin Tremaine, are children of the notorious and brilliant Viscount of Barham, find themselves on the wrong side of the Jacobite rebellion. The brothers have been dissemblers since they were children. And in this age of slippery politics, they need to be. Their infamous adventurer father has taught Prudence and her brother Robin to be masters of disguise. To escape detection, the Viscount sends his offspring on the road to London, each masquerading as the opposite sex. Prudence pretending to be a dashing young buck, and Robin as a lovely young lady. During the travelling to London to meet their eccentric and rather wayward father, they take a break for a meal, and overhear what is clearly a reluctant elopement... and decide to get involved. It quickly becomes clear that the brother and sister are not exactly what they seem to be... For they it is nothing to rescue the charming Letitia Grayson, a rich heiress from her abductor. But once committed to their masquerade, they must see it through. And now, with their own Iives at stake, they hid in the very limelight of London society. As Peter Merriot, captivating Prudence became the favorite companion of dashing and elegant aristocrat Sir Anthony Fanshawe, her guise that become highly inconvenient when she falls for him, even though discovery of her true identity meant death. Just as it seemed as though her mad pose might succeed, she was challenged to a duel. Prudence knew it would not he long before this tall, sleepy-eyed gentleman fathomed her desperate secret. The two masqueraders must find a way to unmask themselves without losing their lives?

***Full review under the cut.***

Trigger Warnings: violence, abduction, forced marriage

Overview: I decided to give this book a try after seeing some high praise on the website Smart Bitches, Trashy Books. I was in the mood for something fun, and I’m always up for an adventure featuring cross-dressing heroines. This book exceeded my expectations, as I went in expecting an old-fashioned romance but got some quality historical fiction as a bonus. This is not to say romance is bad (I read it, after all), but I felt like this book took its setting more seriously than some other historical novels I’ve read, replicating not just the historical facts of the 18th century, but mimicking the feel of its literature as well. Overall, it was a charming, humorous, and exciting read, and the things I didn’t like were mainly confined to some prose quirks that I found repetitive. Other than that, as a lover of older literature, I found The Masqueraders a delight.

Writing: Heyer writes with an archaic prose style, mimicking the literature of the 18th century, not just in the dialogue, but throughout the entire novel. I appreciated the little quirks and references to real 18th century syntax, as well as the characteristic wit and charm of the time period’s poetry, drama, and other genres. I found myself smiling at a lot of the historical jokes and over-the-top characters, which just goes to show how well Heyer executed her novel. The only drawbacks to this prose style are that sometimes, details can get lost because they are so understated, and Heyer had a tendency to repeat some phrases to the point where it was distracting. But it was a fun way to immerse myself in the feel of the setting.

Plot: The majority of this plot revolves around two siblings disguising their identities in order to avoid being arrested as Jacobites. Along the way, they fall in love, so they have to figure out a way to free themselves of political suspicion and be united with their love interests. There’s no explicit sexual content in this novel, so most of the focus is on the charm and wit of the characters as they navigate abductions, duels, and other things that threaten to expose them. It definitely felt like I was reading an adventure story from the 18th century, albeit one less sexually-charged than some I’ve read. But by golly, it was fun.

I’ve read stories before where the heroine disguises herself as a man to avoid suspicion, but I don’t think I’ve read one where a man also disguises himself as a woman. I think that aspect made the story feel fresh, and I very much appreciated that no homophobic or emasculating jokes were made at Robin’s expense. I think the most that was said was that he was a pretty youth, and there were some funny jibes about him being short for a man anyway, but I didn’t find the book to be making fun of Robin for donning women’s clothes.

Characters: Prudence and Robin were charming protagonists. Prudence was extremely level-headed and quick-witted, playing the part of a man very convincingly and displaying some admirable qualities such as bravery, cunning, and skill with a sword. Robin was also fun to read as he played the part of a woman, exuding so much charm that sometimes I forgot he was in disguise. Robin is also very witty, though in a much more humorous way than his sister. I especially liked his banter with Anthony Fanshawe, Prudence’s love interest.

Speaking of Fanshawe, I didn’t expect to like him as much as I did. He’s pretty somber most of the time, but he’s extremely perceptive, which made for some great exchanges with Prudence and Robin. Letty, Robin’s love interest, was pretty naive, which was fine, but I do wish more was done with her so she didn’t come across as primarily a silly girl.

The supporting characters, including the antagonists, were also well-written with understandable motivations. I found myself laughing a lot at the Tremaine’s father, whose high opinion of himself would have been obnoxious if Robin hadn’t undercut his ego at every turn with his characteristic wit. Honestly, any scene in which Robin was bantering with another character was such a joy, I wish there were more of them.

Other: To my surprise, I thought Prudence and Anthony’s romance was quite well-done, even by contemporary standards. Anthony had respect for Prudence’s abilities and never tried to change who she was, even when he learned of her background. Rather, he fell in love with her because she was so confident and level-headed, and while his insistence that Prudence marry him was borderline possessive at times, it was nowhere near the level of possessiveness I’ve seen in modern romance novels. In short, I think Heyer struck a good balance between protective and respectful, which made me root for them to become a couple.

Recommendations: I would recommend this book if you’re interested in 18th century history and literature, cross-dressing heroes and heroines, and seduction plots. You might also like this book if you liked Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night.

#book reviews

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the-gemini-cores · 5 years

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Blue Sky Analysis (Wheatley Redemption and Sky Motif)

Let me start off by saying:

The summer solstice took place during the week of Blue Sky.

In Chapter 1 of Blue Sky is the following quote:

“It was a spring morning, just before dawn, fresh and mild.”

Later on, Waffles wrote a short story in response to one of @oodlesodoodles drawings of Eaden’s journey back from Aperture. You can read it here.

She wrote the following:

“Most of the town settled down to sleep in the long grass by the road, wrapped in the thin blankets they’d gathered from the Relaxation Units, thankful for the warm breezy summer night.”

Kind of interesting, no? For the start of Blue Sky it’s spring, and not long after Chapter 15 it’s summer.

So, in the U.S…

So it definitely took place near the end of June for that year. Ironically, the turning from spring into summer is called “midsummer,” as it’s when the summer solstice occurs.

(As said above, these are specific to 2020 - the solstice’s average date is the 21st. Although we can’t be certain of the exact dates in Blue Sky, the change in seasons clearly demonstrates a solstice was present.)

I’m not sure if the turn into summer was written intentionally, but I like to think that it was for purposes of symbolism.

Cue the analysis!!

The summer solstice is when the sun reaches its highest point. In Waffles’ writing, Wheatley has likened both GLaDOS and Chell to the sun:

“Then there was the sun…up here in space without the protection of all that white wispy stuff around the Earth it was an intense, cold-yellow glare…Harsh, pitiless, and unblinking; it reminded him too much of Her.” (Chapter 1)

“Her whole face came alive when she laughed; not in a scary brilliant, born-puzzle-solver-and-stuff-breaker sort of way, no, this was a different thing altogether. It was like sunlight in the facility, like suddenly seeing a patch of bright blue sky clear through a gap in the cage of panels and realizing you were much, much closer to it than you’d thought.” (Chapter 6)

So, what’s the connection? Why are they each compared to the sun?

Well, I think it’s safe to say at this point in his story that Wheatley sees both GLaDOS and Chell as powerful, near-infallible figures that would/could definitely crush him if he made a wrong move. They are constant, immovable, major influencers who play at odds but on a similar field.

Take GLaDOS, for instance. Wheatley is quite obviously fearful of Her and what She can do to him, which is consistently portrayed through his dialogue in-game when he’s not attached to the chassis. In Blue Sky, his fear appears from the moment Her voice is heard while falling to earth-

“That Voice. The dread of it- the dread of Her- was hard-coded into his artificial heart-roots…his emotional processor found room for another sour jerk of sick fear.” (Chapter 1)

-and amplifies as She holds him captive. Even after Chell rescues him and he is far from Aperture, Wheatley has trouble just talking about Her to Aaron on Chell’s behalf in Chapter 5. As if uttering Her being is wont to get one into trouble…In a way, it’s almost like fearing “God”, as GLaDOS is referred to in Chapter 1. And She sort of is, with the power She holds over the subjects and cores in that facility, and also the inferiority complex She’s contributed with dragging Wheatley into.

“‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry!’ ‘Oh, I believe you.’ More jointed arms folded around him from below, their connectors finding the docking ports on his sides, locking him firmly into their grip. ‘I just don’t care. This isn’t about revenge, metal ball. We both know you are a pointless, insignificant little moron who has never done anything right.’” (Chapter 1)

Basically, Wheatley does not feel that he is on a level playing field with GLaDOS. Instead, he is taught to tread lightly around Her because She constantly exercises Her power over him, making him feel so much smaller.

The case is not entirely different with how Wheatley perceives Chell. Granted, it is a LOT different - Wheatley trusts Chell and eventually comes to realize how she genuinely wants to help him grow - but until he gets to learn her better, Wheatley views her by what he knows: Chell is an incredible test subject who has a knack for taking down power-mad AIs. Wheatley may not see himself on GLaDOS’ level, but he does see Chell there. And until he can better understand her motives, Wheatley perceives Chell, like GLaDOS, as a force that best not be messed with.

“Just speaking about the facility, about Her, hearing his own voice shakily describing everything he’d tried so hard to escape was nearly as bad as actually being back there. He wanted to stop, but he simply didn’t have the nerve- not while she was still glaring at him like that, as if daring him to make another objection.” (Chapter 5)

She can command him with a look and anchor him by just being there. In a way, Chell terrifies Wheatley, as described in the aforementioned quote that conveyed her “scary brilliant, born-puzzle-solver-and-stuff-breaker sort of” look. It’s also illustrated in how Wheatley thinks of Chell as a kind of superhuman.

“You’re not afraid of anything!’ She looked up, sharply. She might have suspected mockery, or even flattery, but Wheatley hadn’t intended either- hadn’t intended anything, other than a plain, admiring statement of fact- and it showed.” (Chapter 6)

What I’m getting at is Wheatley sees both GLaDOS and Chell almost as superior to him. Like they’re on a whole other level that he can’t quite reach - huge, celestial, god-like stars. He’d tried making his way to that level once, in the chassis, but he couldn’t handle it, and that truth resonates with him now as it did in space. He couldn’t manage the position of power that GLaDOS occupies and, in his eyes, Wheatley couldn’t stand up to GLaDOS like Chell could.

“‘Chell here is the only human that ever managed to get one over Her, and she only managed it because- because- I-I don’t actually even know how she managed it, to be honest, but it probably involved a lot of explosions. (Chapter 5)

Clearly a reference to how Chell had freed Wheatley from GLaDOS, when he was completely helpless and relied on her nearly the whole way through. He thinks of Chell as objectively capable.

Wheatley has worked himself into the idea that he is incompetent and relatively inferior to these two characters - that he’s designed to be a moron, that he can only come up with terrible ideas and there’s nothing he can do to counter that.

Until he proves himself.

You see, the sun is used to describe GLaDOS and Chell when it’s being told through Wheatley’s eyes. But when the omniscient narrator is speaking, the sun reflects Wheatley on multiple occasions, suggesting that he has the potential to join these two.

“By the time the sun had made its first uncertain, deep-orange-red appearance over the horizon, a small crowd of curious people had gathered…Wheatley swallowed. His enthusiasm had lasted right up until the moment when he’d realized exactly what Garret wanted him to do, at which point it had evaporated like sodium dropped into water, leaving stark terror in its place.” (Chapter 10)

Here, Wheatley is met with a task, a challenge that dangles over his head. And as we know, this is the day when Wheatley takes that first major step into his own. The day he gets Foxglove working, takes a chance with everyone watching, and he succeeds. He receives praise-

“Their overwhelming unconditional approval was very nearly too much for him to process, and for a choked, confused moment he found himself really wishing he could take his glasses off properly.” (Chapter 10)

Wheatley is validated not only by the masses, by faceless figures who he might see as on his level, but also by people he perceives as being greater than he, including Chell and Aaron.

“It was a look just for him, warm and open and a little wry and simply- proud.” (Chapter 10)

“Wheatley, who found it very hard to believe that a look like that from somebody In Charge could possibly be aimed at him, found it as staggering as it was unmistakable. Good job.” (Chapter 10)

Wheatley isn’t used to being nodded at from the higher-ups. He doesn’t expect such treatment from them, and yet they give it. This is a glimpse into what could be, if Wheatley continues to make steps in the right direction.

But things go awry that night. The townspeople get captured, and Chell goes off after them while Wheatley stays behind. For a very long time, he sits and laments in the dark, but then…

“It was nearly dawn.” (Chapter 13)

The sun returns. And that’s when he resolves to be brave.

Wheatley puts aside his fears and reservations, and he joins the effort, willing to sacrifice himself to keep these people safe.

I like to believe that the summer solstice took place on the day Wheatley saved Eaden.

I think it represents his ascension - profound if not permanent - in joining GLaDOS and Chell on their respective level, especially by his own perspective. Participating in the fight, becoming a real force to be reckoned with and handling his influence over GLaDOS and the facility. Doing something right.

Once in Aperture, Wheatley is no longer submissive to GLaDOS, and he is taking initiative to be by Chell’s side, choosing to aid her at his own risk. He is redeeming himself, forging his way through the panels and clouds and establishing his path into that bright blue sky, of which his residence will be permanent.

If we continue with the sky motif, we understand that it was Chell who showed him the path to redemption - the blue sky - despite his inhibitions brought about by Aperture:

“It was like sunlight in the facility, like suddenly seeing a patch of bright blue sky clear through a gap in the cage of panels and realizing you were much, much closer to it than you’d thought.”

And beyond the fears drilled into his head because of what the scientists had done, the idea that he’s not good enough, that he can only come up with terrible ideas and can never escape that truth, there is fear of Her specifically. Upon returning to Earth and leaving Aperture, Wheatley had expected a newfound border to be drawn between him and GLaDOS, as seen by the skyline and cloud cover that he thought would shield him from Her glare. Yet he was wrong about how real these borders would be, whether meant for protection from Her vicinity or reaffirming their disparity.

“Then there was the sun…up here in space without the protection of all that white wispy stuff around the Earth it was an intense, cold-yellow glare.”

“…[T]he sun…During his time in space he’d guessed that the sunlight would be less intense down here beneath the blanket of the sky, but he’d been wrong. It was warmer, but no easier to bear.” (Chapter 4)

Atmosphere could be broken. Clouds could be pierced. On the day he overcomes his fears, the sky is cloud-covered before Foxglove sends Wheatley to Aperture and clearer after Eaden is brought to the surface.

“The sky was brightening, but the day was dull and overcast.” (Chapter 13)

“Sunlight. She could feel it, warm on her face…saw a sliver of brightest blue, a hazy sunbeam falling directly across the buckled floor, through a shattered hole in the musty little window above her.” (Chapter 14)

Makes me wonder if, in this moment, Wheatley was the sunbeam through the shattered hole guiding Chell from Aperture once again, as he had 4 years ago, and just as she had been guiding him out of Aperture’s weight over the past week with her own sunlight through the panels.

Okay. So:

The summer solstice occurred sometime over the week of Blue Sky, and I’d like to say it was the day Wheatley redeemed himself. Wheatley compares both GLaDOS and Chell to the sun, signifying how he sees them on a similar plane as major influencers. He manages to find ground with them by kicking his fears - the panels and skyline and cloud cover - in the teeth and making a place for himself in blue sky using the light that Chell provides for him, and that he gives in turn when the time comes.

Nice, very nice. Very fitting with Mr. Blue Sky’s lyrics as well. Now please excuse me while I go cry.

#c's posts #blue sky #blue sky portal #portal #portal 2 #wheatley #chell #glados #a portal for your thoughts #chelley

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tamayokny · 5 years

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thoughts on dark phoenix. spoilers below.

if you don’t want to read all of this, skip to the bottom where it’s all summarized?

first, i came in knowing that i would be disappointed in the film in some way but still, i was excited! the x-men are my life; my family.

anyway...

the first hour...idk lowkey the editing threw me off. it was lowkey...uh...bad. at least some parts were. i really enjoyed the last hour.

liked the x-men in space scene...and when miss jean grey absorbed the phoenix force? RIIIIIIIISE!

before i continue let me just say: i love you sophie belinda turner jonas. stay iconic; a legend and you did great with what you were given! fuck everyone who said you “ruined [x-men and game of thrones] in the same year” (yeah, i saw that in a facebook comment! lmao i HAVE to laugh at that.)

i’m glad the movie covered charles’s flaws as a teacher, if only a little bit. from experience, i know that you should not repress trauma like that because it will rise and be...a mess. so they covered that well.

i've also seen a lot of arguments over charles xavier’s character in dark phoenix and honestly? i thought it was fine. it reflected his comic counterpart more in recent years. (y’all should be happy that scott didn’t kill him in this movie! lol)

rip to mrs. smith and the rest of her dinner party (the husband was kind of a dick, though).

as much as i love jessica chastain, i really didn’t like the antagonists in this film. they provided a GREAT fight scene and conflict in the peak moments of the film, but i wish they focused on the bond between jean grey and the phoenix more, as well as how it affected the team.

AND BEFORE I FORGET: DAZZLER CAMEO DAZZLER CAMEO!! I loved it.

the confrontation between jean and her teammates outside of her father’s house was great. i liked when kurt tried to stop her and they went through the walls. OUCH when quicksilver got hurt though...i felt that.

also: remember when we all thought quicksilver was going to be one of the deaths? lmao

speaking of deaths...mystique really is dead and honestly? thank god. i hated how they’ve written her character in the past two movies. it also doesn’t help that i dislike the actress...her best movies were first class and days of future past but once they started to put her on the hero route? no thanks

i’m sad that they never explored or outright stated that mystique is kurt’s biological mother. (for the non-comic fans: kurt is the son of azazel and mystique.)

hank’s grieving and his lashing out on charles...and then he went to magneto so they could kill jean...good job nicholas

i must ask: what was the relationship between beast/mystique? like where they romantically involved or still kind of tip toe-ing around? some scenes implied they had feelings for sure but....idk

GENOSHA, BABY! GEN-O-SHA!

jean entering this mutant haven was beautiful but magneto’s entrance? omg i lowkey wanted to laugh. magneto remains to be dramatic and i love it

i also liked the helicopter scene

okay so back with the team:

peter got hurt so you don’t see him until the very end of the film

kurt was used pretty well

ororo was underused when it came to the dialogue department. my girl barely said anything BUT: her action scenes were amazing and i’ll get to that in a minute

to the surprise of no one, while kurt remained hopeful but wary and ororo believed jean to be dangerous (which, she is and was), scott was on charles’s side and firmly believed that they could bring jean back.

i wish the dark phoenix was able to cement the scott/jean relationship more because while i knew they were a couple, it would probably be difficult to know how serious they were. (yes, some scenes showed it but idk how impactful they were?)

okay so fast forward a bit: jean and vuk (jessica chastain) are in new york so magneto, hank, and two other mutants on their side are there to kill jean, and then the x-men show up to save/stop that from happening.

this fight scene was pretty cool...especially when magneto brought that subway car above ground and used it to enter the building jean and vuk were in...magneto, ever the dramatic king who i love

the charles/jean moment...heartfelt. like i mentioned, this covered one important aspect of the dark phoenix saga: xavier's faults. he believed he was doing the right thing and when jean saw how her (biological) father reacted to her...she understood. while i believe what charles did was fucked up and i still would have been pissed, i would have forgiven him like jean did, because he gave her hope and a chance. it was hope to help her manage her abilities, and a chance to life as a mutant because let’s face it, if she would have gone in the child services system she would have been fucked.

and then like any other x-men movie: the government got involved, subdued all the mutants (scott blasted vuk out the building, so she wasn’t captured), and they were locked and loaded on the train. jean got isolated from the rest of them.

BEFORE I CONTINUE: when scott said “i’ll fucking kill you!”...i almost started laughing. i’m sorry, but it’s the truth.

anyway on the train: vuk and the rest of the alien shapeshifters come to wreck shit up and the killed most of the guard (which caused kurt to go on a killing rampage after one of them died in front of him....okay. i was kinda impressed tbh, despite most depictions of kurt would probably not do that.)

the mutants fucked shit up! i think the 2 mutants that helped magneto were both killed though, which made me :// like really? k.

which reminds me: i wish psylocke and jubilee were in dark phoenix but the actresses had other film commitments, so i understand and forgive. also...still said about angel and his fate in apocalypse :( angel is always the most mistreated out of the original 5 lmao.

anyway that train fight scene was really good...despite barely having dialogue (:/) SHE KICKED ASS. and when erik destroyed part of the train? KIIIIIIIING!!!!!

BUT THEN JEAN UNLEASHED PHOENIX AGAIN!!! AND SHE FUCKING TOOK THAT TRAIN, PROTECTED HER FAMILY, AND DESTROYED THE REMAINING ALIENS. FUCKING QUEEN! MCU CAPTAIN MARVEL WHO???? MCU WANDA??? MCU THOR???? NO. JUST JEAN GREY BITCHES.

jean sacrificed herself...i remember reading something that said “2 confirmed x-men deaths” and i knew it was going to be mystique and jean

but honestly i was thinking “three deaths” because fuck, i thought jean was going to kill scott! like i’m disappointed how they didn’t focus on jean’s destruction on everyone and being like...evil. lmao i was really hoping but simon you played me, huh. (great marketing i guess?)

jean died but didn’t die, knowing how jean grey is lmao

they renamed the school after jean and i’ve seen people being salty about it LMAO....they renamed the school for jean in the comics (it changed back eventually...?) so stay mad

people are also mad that charles retired and fucked off to paris adfcrvhfbg

while i don’t think charles would have retired (well...that could be debatable?), i think for the end of FOX x-men, it was okay

also erik offering charles a place to stay in paris???? fucking PARIS??? THE CITY OF LOVE??????????? I’M FUCKING LOSING IT!!!!

AND THAT GAME OF CHESS BITCH!!!!!!!!!!!!

the very last shot was of the sky, where you could see the phoenix in the air......yoooooooOOOOOOOOO

okay so before i tell you all my summary, let’s talk about why dark phoenix may not have done so well, or at least part of it:

the mutants are now owned by disney, since the disney/fox merge became official (fuck). so, because of this, dark phoenix had to go through reshoots (which brought us that glorious train fight). apparently, the dark phoenix saga was going to be in three parts but because of the merge...that’s not happening. so, dark phoenix is officially the last x-men movie (unless you count new mutants that will be released on disney+, last i've heard). so, because of this, i think this last movie left a lot of fans unsatisfied because we all know that there should have been more to the story, and they had it planned out! unfortunately...disney has to fucking buy everything.

another reason: the x-men/fox superheros are not as hyped as the MCU/disney superheroes. you know this. i know this. and after a few releases from the MCU this year? the x-men didn’t stand a chance. let me also add: fuck the critics, there’s been such a disconnect between them and the audience for years. i’m not saying dark phoenix was perfect, but it’s not as horrific as people (critic and audience) have been saying.

now, the final thoughts and summary:

i went into the theatres knowing it wasn’t going to be the best thing ever. it was average; that’s the best i can describe it. it had good moments and it had bad moments. jean grey as dark phoenix was not as antagonistic as i hoped and while i enjoy jessica chastain, I really didn’t like the villains of the film. i wish chastain was the “physical embodiment” or whatever it was of the phoenix like many speculated. dark phoenix should have focused on jean (which it did but...), her relationships with her teammates, scott, xavier (it did brush on it), and other core values of the dark phoenix saga. it would have been great to see this all play out but unfortunately, things change.

thank you, fox, for twenty years of the x-men. just like how they changed the comic book industry (they made marvel comics), the very first x-men movie is the reason why we have our many superhero films today. remember that. good luck with them MCU, and don’t you fucking dare mess them up!

let me also add a thank you to the x-men cast. with dark phoenix, they all certainly gave their best. sophie did it, and i will miss tye sheridan as cyclops. most of all, i think i will miss michael fassbender as magneto. while he may not be jewish, he certainly gave his all. he really studied magneto and i respect and admire him for that. also rip to rose byrne as moira mactaggert. where the fuck was she when the events of dark phoenix went down??

#mads makes a text post #xmdp #dark phoenix #x men #xmdp spoilers

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ahgaseda · 6 years

Text

made of stone || chapter 05

⇥ synopsis : when you return after years apart to pursue a divorce from your husband, Mark, you fall back into a contentious relationship because your partner still refuses to give up his dangerous fighting career...

⇥ warnings : this story in its entirety includes but is not limited to strong language and dialogue, descriptions of blood and violence, alcohol or drug use, and explicit sexual content, and is intended for an adult audience only!

After Mark left, you stared at the door he had slammed shut behind him, wanting more than anything for him to walk back in and apologize. But you knew better. Lifting your hand, you touched your fingertips to your lip, feeling the lingered effects of his tender kisses.

With a heavy sigh, you dropped your arms in defeat and set out to wash the dishes Mark had discarded by the sink. It was the least you could do after he made breakfast.

A fifteen minute drive to the gym later, Mark said nothing as he brushed past Jinyoung and dropped his bag next to the bench. Pulling off his shirt, he stretched a bit before proceeding to the nearest machine to work his arms.

Never one to be ignored, Jinyoung sauntered into his friend’s field of vision and teased, “I take it your balls are still blue?”

Mark glared, focusing on a steady set of reps that tightened his chest.

Jinyoung plopped down across from him and exhaled loudly. After a pause, he questioned, “Isn’t she worth giving it up for?”

“Of course, she is,” Mark replied without missing a beat.

“Then, what’s the hold up?” Jinyoung pressed, even though losing Mark would mean giving up his biggest source of revenue. Jinyoung had enough respect for his friend to let him go when the time came.

Mark held the bar in place across his chest, breathing rapidly as he struggled to maintain the weighted position. “Because if I do that… it’s like rewarding her for leaving me,” he snapped bitterly.

“Ah,” Jinyoung said, unconvinced.

Mark stopped to gulp down a mouthful of water and let his elbows rest on his knees. With a softer tone, he continued, “I can’t give it up, Jinyoung. It’s a part of who I am.”

“So you say,” Jinyoung replied. “But have you actually ever tried to have a life outside of fighting?”

“No,” Mark huffed with an empty laugh.

Jinyoung rubbed his hands together and said, “Let me level with you.”

“If you must,” Mark groaned, leaning back into position and resuming his reps.

Jinyoung and Mark had been friends for a long time and Jinyoung was there through thick and thin. He was undoubtedly the only one who could get away with saying, “I think that you think you are the exception to the rule. That you found your soulmate so young and you’re guaranteed to be stuck together for the rest of your life.”

“Where’s the lie?” Mark quipped dryly.

Jinyoung ignored him and continued, “She has kept up with you all along. Have you ever thought that maybe she’s ready to grow up and settle down?”

“We’re married with a mortgage,” Mark whined, increasing the pace of his lifting. “How much more grown up can we get?”

Jinyoung shook his head. “Your wife is smart. I don’t know how you landed her, but that’s beside the point. She’s not a risk taker, you are. She’s never going to move to the next step until you’re ready.”

“Fuck,” Mark groaned in tandem with a pump of his arms. “You mean babies?”

Jinyoung smirked. “I mean babies.”

“I’m the last person on this planet that should be a father,” Mark said morosely, his heart aching at the thought.

“No, Yugyeom outranks you there, but you are a close second,” Jinyoung teased, using humor to alleviate the tension.

Mark chuckled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“How long are you going to make her wait for you? She gave you a little taste of your own medicine. How’s that working for you?”

“It sucks,” Mark spat.

Jinyoung glanced over as Jaebum appeared, sweat dousing his neck that he quickly dabbed with a towel draped over his shoulder.

“Where’s Jackson?” Jaebum asked irritably. “He was supposed to be here.”

“He needed to make a little trip,” Jinyoung replied, calm and cool.

Mark furrowed his brow.

Jaebum whined, “I’m supposed to be training him. Hello? You could have told me.”

“It was important,” Jinyoung interjected, trying to convey with a sharp glance to Jaebum the need to be quiet.

When he realized what was implied, Mark let the bar slam back into its place above his head and hopped to his feet, growling, “Leave her alone.”

Jinyoung shrugged with a knowing smile. Mark rolled his eyes, imagining you stuck at home with a spastic and nosy Jackson.

There was a knock at the door nearly fifteen minutes after Mark had left. You weren’t the least bit surprised to see his closest friend and wittiest sparring partner waving excitedly at the peephole.

“Hey, Jacks,” you droned with a faint smile as you opened the door.

Jackson bolted inside and wrapped his arms around your shoulders in an overwhelming bear hug. “You are home!” he exclaimed with glee. “Damn, I owe Jinyoung twenty bucks.”

You retorted, “Come on in.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Jackson sang, sashaying into the living room and plopping down on the couch. “When he said you were back, I didn’t believe him.”

“I won’t be here long,” you explained, following him and sitting on the opposite side of the sofa. “I’m leaving once Mark signs the divorce papers. Which he refuses to do.”

“And that surprises you - why?” Jackson teased.

Rolling your eyes, you groaned, “Come on, Jackson.”

“The two of you love each other. Hell, you fight. Yeah, every couple fights.”

“I left,” you reminded, borderline stern. “He didn’t come after me.”

Jackson leaned back and countered, “You’re both also stubborn.”

Narrowing your eyes, you said nothing, but after a pause, you deflected, “How you been, Jackson?”

“Good. Good,” he answered with that beaming smile of his. “And you?”

“Fine.”

Jackson chortled at your obvious annoyance, but was totally unaffected. “What does he have to do to make you stay?”

“Give up fighting,” you answered without missing a beat.

Jackson clapped his hands together and said, “And therein lies the caveat, because you screwed yourself.”

Your brows stitched. “What do you mean?”

Jackson explained, “If he gives up fighting, he will see it as giving in to what you want. Then, he’ll assume that anytime you want something that he won’t give you, you will just leave him to force his hand.”

“Ugh, for fuck’s sake,” you murmured, pinching the bridge of your nose as you felt the warning signs of an oncoming headache.

Jackson studied your reaction, still smiling. He was happy to see you though he wished under better circumstances. Changing the subject on your behalf, he said, “I heard you were at the fight last night.”

You nodded. “Yep.”

“Did Jong-kook see you?”

Tilting your head in confusion, you asked, “Who?”

“He’s been hanging around the underground lately,” Jackson explained, clearly holding some distaste toward him given the soured expression on his face. “He wants to recruit me and Mark for his league or something.”

You recalled the man that had silenced you the night before; the one Mark told you not to worry about. “Why does it matter if he saw me?” you asked, curious.

“He’s a little pushy. Seriously, he doesn’t take no for an answer and he’s been coming around alot.”

“No means no,” you retorted.

“Funny you should say that, because…” Jackson trailed, giving you a look.

Your gaze narrowed.

Jackson teased, “What has been Mark’s answer to the divorce?”

“You think you’re cute, huh?” you grumbled, but it was hard to be mad at Jackson.

The conversation was light-hearted after that exchange. You lost track of time as Jackson regaled you with the ever-predictable way of life you had been missing for the past two years. Still, he never failed to make you laugh, which was welcome in your book after the tense night before.

When Mark appeared like a whirlwind through the front door, impatience was clearly written on his face and he completely ignored you to bark, “Jackson, what are you doing here?”

“Hey, brother,” Jackson replied, taking the agitation in stride. “I’m just catching up with my sister-in-law.”

Mark’s reply was scathing, “You know we’re not actually related, right?”

Jackson put a hand on his chest, over his heart. “You wound me.”

“Not yet, but the next time we share a ring, I might,” Mark threatened, his voice dropping lower.

“Mark,” you called in reproach, taken aback by his anger.

“It’s okay,” Jackson sighed, bristling at his friend’s attitude. “He’s got a lot of pride, your husband.”

“I’ve already given Jinyoung a piece of my mind. The two of you need to keep your noses out of my business.”

“She’s our family, too,” Jackson defended, holding his ground. “Not just yours. You’re not the only one that’s missed her. And maybe we don’t want you chasing her off again.”

Your eyes burned at his words, filled with emotion.

“Out,” was all Mark said.

Jackson sidestepped around his friend, lips in a taut line with defiance. Mark returned the aggression and followed him to the door, shutting it loudly behind him.

“Well, that was mature,” you grumbled, rising from the couch and moving toward the kitchen.

Mark followed you with heavy footsteps and barked, “Since when do you want our friends meddling in our marriage?”

“We were just catching up,” you countered, voice getting louder. “It was harmless.”

Mark snorted.

Putting your hands on your hips, you bitterly asked, “If you’re so goddamn protective of this marriage, then why don’t you try fixing it with me?”

“Because it’s not broken,” Mark smarted.

“Are you kidding?” you screeched. “You know, the first step is admitting there’s a problem.”

Mark pointed a finger at you. “Me giving you what you want after you throw a tantrum is not fixing anything.”

“Unbelievable,” you huffed, throwing up your hands. “I married a child.”

“And I married a selfish brat that left me when I needed her the most,” Mark yelled at the top of his lungs, stomping past you and into the hallway.

You watched him go, flinching when he slammed the bedroom door behind him. When you heard the shower kick on a moment later, you finally released the breath you had been holding. With the reprieve, you scurried to the bathroom at the other end of the hall, tears slipping from your lashes the moment you closed the door.

Bracing your hands on the sink, you cried until you could cry no more and eventually gathered enough courage to look in the mirror. And as his words echoed over and over in your head, you resented the reflection staring back at you.

chapter 04 ⇤ chapter 05 ⇥ chapter 06

Hey there, beautiful! If you enjoyed this, please leave a like or reblog or follow me! Or maybe buy me a coffee so I can keep writing? Or check out my masterlist here for more stories! Thanks for reading :) - Katya

This work is fictional and for entertainment purposes only, but is licensed and protected under a creative commons attribution-noncommercial-noderivatives 4.0 international license. Any instances of plagiarism will be dealt with accordingly. Do not re-post or translate without my permission.

#got7 fanfiction #mark tuan scenarios #mark tuan imagines #mark tuan reactions #got7 scenarios #got7 imagines #got7 reactions #mark tuan fanfiction

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thingsareswinging · 5 years

Note

Shine on: ⭐

For your audacity, and since the reaction to this chapter in particular has been unusually positive, you get: the entirety of chapter 9 of Red Hand.

I Should Have Got Up To Stand

The title of this chapter, as with every title of every chapter, comes from a song I happen to have been listening to at the time, and not bothered to think any harder about. In this case, Elton John’s Kiss The Bride.

Like 70% of my Katara/Ty Lee playlist is Elton John songs, do not even think about @ing me.

Mai pushed her broom across the immaculate floor as her boss had his breakfast. He got a lot of mail, and liked to read it with a cup of tea. He read the interesting bits out loud, which was convenient, as it saved her the trouble of learning to pick locks.

“Admiral Zhao’s armada has begun its siege of the Northern Water Tribes. Barring anything unexpected from the Avatar, who has apparently taken refuge in the city, the attack is expected to be decisive. Zhao expects to proclaim victory before the end of the week.”

He turned to his next little message, and paused, delivering his second piece of news with a degree of seriousness that had been entirely absent when he’d been discussing the imminent annihilation of a sovereign nation.

“Princess Azula has been killed, or so the Navy is reporting.”

Mai didn’t miss a beat. “A just reward for traitors to the Fire Nation.”

Master Piandao set his cup down with deliberate care, frowned slightly to himself, and fixed her with a tired look. “Mai. I killed one hundred firebenders rather than go back to the military.”

“Yes, Master.”

“I am the most wanted man on Fire Nation shores.”

“Yes, Master.”

“I know you know this.”

“Yes, Master.”

“So I know you know you don’t need to keep acting like the Minister for Propaganda in my own home.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Because, and I honestly don’t know if this matters to you at all, I find it exhausting.”

“Yes, Master.”

“As long as we’re clear.”

Master Piandao was … not what she’d expected, when she’d gone to him for employment. What she had expected wasn’t totally clear, but if she’d been pressed, she might have admitted to anticipating a dead-eyed sociopath, or an open revolutionary full of plots. What she’d been confronted with was a slightly effete weirdo who complained of headaches a lot and didn’t do much of anything, except the occasional bout of calligraphy. Though to be fair apparently the headaches thing was only when he talked to her for too long, and to be much fairer than Mai had ever been in her life she deliberately wound him up for no reason other than to stave off boredom.

She couldn’t help it, although honestly she’d never tried to. He was just so… safe. There was no menace in the man at all. She’d never even seen him pick up a sword. Maybe the real Master Piandao had been dead for years, or was an urban legend or a regular legend or a mass hallucination, and this guy was just taking advantage of a terrifying reputation. Mai could live with that. He at least made sure she kept up with world events, and she’d been careful to never ask how he knew the things he did.

Speaking of, Azula was dead, was she? Mai would reserve judgement until she’d seen a body, and even then she’d only be moved to a solid maybe.

The Zhao thing was frankly a lot more of a concern, because while nobody deserved things to be going their way less than Fire Lord Ozai, Admiral Zhao was a close second, as far as Mai was concerned.

She didn’t regret leaving, after Zuko’s fateful Agni Kai, but she occasionally wondered if she should, if only for Ty Lee’s sake.

I’ve said it elsewhere, but this scene really only exists to dilute the grim nonsense that is most of the rest of the chapter- I did like using it as the way to signal It’s Siege Of The North Time, though. Also as the way to indicate that maybe the audience shouldn’t take the fact that Azula got drowned a couple chapters ago too seriously.

It does demonstrate a weakness in my dialogue- when I come up with these quick back-and-forth exchanges, I tend to completely drop any kind of staging.

I also like using the phrase ‘effete weirdo’ as a way of describing Master Piandao.

–

Yue knew that her life was measured in heartbeats. Had known for so long she didn’t even always recognise the odd tightness when it twisted in her chest for what it was, what choked her breathless in the dark when she couldn’t help but think of all the things she’d never do.

So it hadn’t mattered much to her when her betrothal had been decided. And probably she should hate Sokka for making her realise, making her notice how desperately, smotheringly unfair it was, how miserably unhappy she was-

-But he was so insistent and vital and trying so hard to impress her, like her opinion mattered, like she- a girl that did nothing but stay in her room every second she wasn’t reciting lines other people had written for her- was someone he had to impress.

He’d shown her the sky and he’d made her laugh and she wanted to kiss him and he didn’t know what he was doing, didn’t know she mustn’t think what he was planting in her brain when he showed her the horizon and offhandedly insinuated how easy it was to leave.

She’d almost believed him, before that horizon had suddenly been ringed in iron.

It was a bit of a challenge to try and a: give Yue a character arc in one chapter, especially considering b: I knew I was going to try and give her an internal motivation that is only barely suggested by canon, and c: she’s a naturally (or has been turned into a) passive person. First Draft Yue was markedly different, in that she was Mad As Hell. This version of the character basically didn’t survive into the actual chapter, but she gets a couple lines here and there. She mostly ended up just really resigned, which I think works better but does make me quite sad.

–

“I’ll go.”

When the plan was announced, and volunteers were asked for, she didn’t hesitate, shooting to her feet, demanding they recognise her, but she knew it was pointless the second the stunned silence fell across the hall. Of course. Of course.

She’d had to fight this whole city from the moment she’d arrived, snap and bite and claw every shred of the respect she knew she’d earned, that had been handed to Aang and Sokka without a thought, and she knew nobody in this city was going to stand up for her, and Master Pakku was going to shake his head and that was going to be that and angry tears were pricking at the corner of her eyes-

A hand landed on her shoulder. She hadn’t noticed Sokka standing up, beside her, glowering out at the assembled crowd.

“And me,” he affirmed, daring anyone to say anything, eyes locking on to High Chief Arnook and Katara could feel herself starting to grin as to his left the Princess started to shake and Pakku scowled in irritation and Arnook blinked.

“Very well.”

It wasn’t until later, the warpaint prickling against her forehead as it dried, that she realised what she’d gotten them both into. The way Aang had looked at them, like he’d thought he could spare them any of this, had made Katara’s chest ache and wish for time enough to talk, to tell him how it had been killing her to watch him launch himself beyond the walls all day while she sat and watched, but there was work for them all to do.

She’d make time, afterwards. For now, she and Sokka had a job to do.

Did anyone notice what happened here? I had to add an entire extra day of fighting and have Arnook declare what the mission actually was about before he got volunteers (you know, like how volunteering is supposed to work, go fuck yourself, Arnook), in order for this to make sense- Katara only wants to volunteer for the mission because that way she gets a shot at either murdering Zhao, or getting a second crack at persuading Ty Lee to abscond. In canon, this scene happens before the armada arrives.

Normally I obsess over justifying how things like this deviate from canon, but I couldn’t do it here, so I just hid it behind a [and so]. Nobody appeared to notice, or at least care enough to mention it.

And Katara will always, always assume Sokka has her back.

–

These morons were all going to die, and it’d be hilarious if they weren’t also going to drag Katara down with them.

He’d thought, at first, that now he was around real warriors from a tribe that seemed to actually have thrived in the last century rather than get whittled down to a handful of idiots too stubborn to die, that he might learn something, see professionals at work.

But their chief was an idiot trusting this mission to a worse idiot, and although the embarrassment and anger still rolled around his stomach he would still consider breaking Hahn’s nose one of the more righteous things he’d ever done.

Sokka does better in the fight against Hahn than in canon. It’s not just because Hahn deserves to get his nose broken, I promise. Sokka’s escalating violence is something I’m doing on purpose, for reasons discussed below.

Except it’d gotten him kicked off the mission. Which would have been okay, because, again, they were all going to die because their idiot leader couldn’t even pronounce Zhao’s name and they were going to try to blend in-

Except Katara was still going.

He couldn’t protect her. But that, it turned out, had been true all along.

He exhaled slowly, and tried not to notice the way Yue deliberately didn’t look at him.

It was fine, it was okay, he’d deal with it the way he’d learned to deal with everything: crush it up small and wedge it somewhere it wouldn’t get in the way of doing his job.

He followed her gaze, out from the balcony of the palace, across the city, out towards where Aang had catapulted himself into the Fire Nation armada for another day of putting off the inevitable.

There wasn’t anywhere to run to, after this. That worried Sokka. This was the first time they’d been forced to stand their ground for more than an hour, and they were not doing too good at it.

Aang was just… he was so small, so disarming, everything about him screamed vulnerable and Sokka had been trying and increasingly failing to hold the kid at arm’s length all winter, not because he didn’t trust him still, but because the alternative was worrying himself sick over this kid who was currently, at this exact moment- he could see the smoke rising up over the battleships- trying to fight an armada completely by himself without hurting any of them too badly.

Katara called him a pessimist for the things he said out loud. He didn’t know the word for the feeling he got when he looked at Aang and saw a corpse that had just gotten lucky so far, but he wouldn’t voice it for all the money in Ba Sing Se.

Aang and Sokka’s relationship is so great in canon, because they have radically different opinions about the things that matter, but they get along so well all the same. But by this point, outside of Avatar State Berserk Rage, Aang hasn’t done all that much to convince Sokka he might, you know, live. This is one of the few things Season One Sokka is willing to think honestly about.

–

There wasn’t a lot to do but sit around and wait for sunset. They’d wanted to start their infiltration in the daytime, and even after Katara had explained why that was ridiculous, they hadn’t actually backed down until she’d pointed out that the full moon would make her that much stronger. Which let Hahn, in a way he probably thought was subtle, frame it like they were all waiting for her.

Sokka had hated this guy from the second he’d started talking, and Katara was beginning to trust her brother as a judge of character.

“So,” she said, offhandedly, as Hahn diligently set an edge to his machete, the rest of the men doing some other similar activities to make them look like they weren’t just killing time, “when was the last time you fought a firebender?”

It wasn’t a totally cruel question, she told herself, even as his head bent over his whetstone and his ears started to flush. If, somehow, the answer had been anything other than never, that would have been good to know. She’d seen her brother learn how to fight, in a rough kind of way, on their trip north, learned herself, but she knew she had an advantage he’d never have, and he’d learned the hard way not to charge a firebender with a spear, not if you didn’t have a fantastic plan.

But it wasn’t just Hahn that was looking uncomfortable, Katara noticed, with growing discomfort. All the men were suddenly looking a lot busier than they had a second ago, like they were afraid she was going to ask them an uncomfortable question next.

Katara suddenly had the awful realisation that she was probably the veteran in the room.

“Hahn,” she asked, more seriously than she probably meant, “was Sokka breaking your nose …the first fight you’ve ever been in?”

His lack of an answer was answer enough, but he didn’t even have the good sense to look scared, just annoyed, possibly because a girl was having an opinion where he could see it. Like all those times he’d sparred with someone who would pull him up off the ground when they won and congratulate him on a fight well fought somehow counted. Honestly, Katara and her brother had at least hunted their own food before Aang had showed up- Hahn looked the kind of pampered that only had only ever thrown spears at practise dummies.

Oh, oh this guy was going to die. He was going to die and get them all killed. If she didn’t do something about it.

Another ‘light’ scene, continuing the theme that Katara Gets No Respect In the North. Also marks the point at which Katara determined that Hahn had to live, which still irritates me. But if he died, there’d never be a point at which he realised Katara was right about everything.

–

The sun set early this time of year. Sokka guessed they should all be grateful that Admiral Zhao had been stupid or arrogant enough to attack in winter at a full moon. Firebenders got a lot less impressive at night. Not not-dangerous, but… less dangerous.

Aang had come back from beyond the wall, now the sustained assault was more manageable. Which was a result. But he’d looked even more ragged than he had at sunrise, and as Sokka fussed around making sure the kid at least drank some soup, he tried to not make a big deal out of the way Aang’s head bobbed down to his chest before jerking suddenly upwards again.

He should probably let the kid sleep. He should probably do all kinds of things.

He stood to one side, as much a part of the scenery as he could make himself, as Yue sat next to Aang and started to speak.

Sokka: oh man Aang’s going to absolutely die, so I won’t bother getting attached

Sokka, also: Aang drink some soup and make sure you go to bed on time

–

Zhao spared a cursory glance at the distant ice wall, and the soldiers being repelled from it, clearly visible under the moonlight. He wasn’t too concerned. Most of them weren’t even firebenders, only needed to keep the pressure on the defenders, keep them tired, hold them in place for the true assault.

He pulled his cloak around his shoulders, but not so close that it wouldn’t billow appropriately, and made his way carefully to the front of the small landing craft, as his hand-picked men filed in behind him. They were the best he had, for now. He’d have better soon.

He wasn’t amazed that his plan had never occurred to anyone before, but he was smugly reminded that victory was so often a matter of audacity.

Zhao grinned, and cracked his knuckles, to set the right tone. He’d originally had a longer speech planned, but Pouhai Fortress had been instructive in a lot of ways, and so he’d boiled it down to the one sentence that mattered.

“Gentlemen,” he announced, to the crowded landing craft, turning back to face his men, one foot rested dramatically on the prow in a way that would be easy to replicate for the portrait later, “prepare for infamy.”

If he had waited, coincidentally, about as long as his first draft speech would have taken, his strike force would have collided with a series of sleek Water Tribe canoes heading in the exact opposite direction. Which would have been embarrassing all round.

Zhao’s first appearance in canon has him getting beaten up by a teenager that has already been established as Not A Credible Threat. Zhao’s last appearance in canon has him getting beaten up by a lemur. Zhao gets no respect, and this is an important aspect of his character.

–

Yue sat on the warm grass, and watched Aang’s knees fold underneath him, as the tattoos on his head and peeking out beneath his sleeves filled with soft light, like one of those strange fishes that lived in the deepest parts of the ocean where the sunlight never reached.

At least this way, she’d had some part in it. If she was doomed to die to save the moon, at least this way she’d been the one to get the Spirits involved. That didn’t matter, except to her, possibly.

Across the pond where Tui and La chased each other endlessly, by the only entrance to the grotto, Sokka was standing, awkwardly, trying not to look at anything, and yeah, she got that. She-

She saw him look up suddenly, head cocked towards the entrance, and pull his machete free from its sheath with terrified urgency, as the sounds of fighting reached her ears.

Oh no.

Angry Yue makes a small appearance here, deciding that she’s going to get at least a little agency, in a way that isn’t about trying to live.

Yue makes me very sad 100% of the time.

–

“He’s not here?” Hahn proclaimed, indignantly, as Katara’s grip tightened on the front of the crewman’s coat. The crewman looked appropriately intimidated, as the ice that pinned him to the wall began to crawl up towards his throat.

“He went out, took a few landing craft with him,” he elaborated, shallow-breathed, and Katara could feel the dissonance radiating off of Hahn, the confused relief clashing with the disappointment that he had somehow managed to live this long.

“Back to the boats,” Katara snapped, turning to face the huddled warriors in their out-of-date armour. “Go. Maybe you can still catch up to him.” They couldn’t, not without Katara there to speed the canoes along, and speaking of: “I’ve still got something to do here.”

If Katara had expected Hahn to seem conflicted at the thought of leaving her on an enemy ship with no obvious way to escape, she would have been disappointed. But she hadn’t, so she wasn’t.

In the silence left in the wake of fifteen men trying not to look like they were running for their lives, Katara turned back to the gentleman who had been so cooperative earlier. He flinched under her gaze.

“I’ve already told you, the Admiral isn’t-” he protested, but Katara let her teeth show.

“I’ve got a couple other questions, actually.”

Katara’s interrogation techniques are questionable and would constitute torture in a world where frostbite exists, but I get to indulge in a little rank hypocrisy and just not talk about that, since it’s not the point of the fic. Presumably she let the guy out after asking him for directions, at which point he was killed by a fish monster, so nobody learned anything here.

–

When they told this story, in the years and decades that followed, he would ensure they got this scene right, as he burst into the grotto, the home of two Spirits that had dared come where they were not needed, his remaining soldiers at his back-

He got three strides onto the grass before there was a commotion behind him. As he turned, he saw one of his lieutenants go down, blood spraying from his neck, a young savage bearing him to the ground teeth bared in a snarl typical of his kind, but before Zhao was forced to interrupt his moment of triumph, another of his soldiers took initiative, knocking the boy to the ground with the butt of his spear, and impaling him through the stomach with the blade of it in one smooth motion.

Right. Where was he? Ah, right, triumph.

A native girl with startling hair screamed as they approached, but that was only as notable as the colour of her hair- as she was tackled to the ground before she could come within ten feet of him, Zhao’s eyes were suddenly fixed on an unexpected development.

The Avatar, lit up in pale fire like he’d been the night he’d torn Pouhai Fortress apart, cross-legged on the grass, apparently insensible. For an instant Zhao couldn’t breathe, but as the seconds ground on, it occurred to him that if the boy couldn’t hear the screaming, then he was probably safe to approach.

“An unexpected bonus,” he mused, for the benefit of- no, his lieutenant was dead, wasn’t he?- for the benefit of posterity, then. “We’ll take the brat with us. He’ll be a useful hostage, and killing him would just reset the cycle anyway.”

“Admiral, what about the girl?”

Zhao turned to see that two (it had taken that many? He despaired, he honestly did) of his men were holding the girl on her knees, one with his knife to her throat. Apparently they weren’t able to figure out the last step on their own.

“Kill her,” he instructed, hoping to convey with tone alone how much he resented them wasting his time with this kind of triviality.

As the blade flashed across her neck, he turned, satisfied that there would be no further interruptions, to the pool.

Zhao does not care about our heroes, or about his men dying, or really anything other than how cool this is going to look in the press release.

I deliberated a lot on how bloody to make this- at one point I was considering reversing the injuries, and leaving Sokka with a permanent speech impediment from a slit throat- but in the end that felt just barely more gratuitous than I was willing to go with.

–

Koh was curling around him and telling him everything he didn’t want to hear- the Spirits couldn’t help, they were in danger too, and Aang couldn’t even think about that because he had to concentrate on playing the game, keeping his temper and his face slack and suddenly the spirit howled, louder than Aang could contemplate, more sound than a mind could hold, and he was flung backwards with the weight of it and a long, impossibly strong black-and-white hand was reaching into the hollow and grabbing Aang by the scruff of his neck and wrenching him backwards, flinging him towards himself and back towards his body in a rush of wind and light and he opened his eyes.

Zhao, looming over the pool, eyes glinting with dark joy, the lifeless body of Tui dropping from his opening hand, flopping back into the water, the screaming still echoing in Aang’s head, the black and pulsing rage overtaking him as his eyes rolled over the red-armoured men filling the grotto, to Yue-

Blood spilling from her neck, falling forwards. The screams grew, welling up from the ground, the water, drowning everything else in the world.

Aang surrendered.

As he unfolded, fast, faster than he’d ever moved before, as though he could make up for being too late, Zhao turned to look, jaw dropping, and there was something in his eyes that Aang never wanted to see again. And then his arm was grabbed from behind, wrenched upwards, exposing a gap in his armour, just below the armpit, and Aang recognised Sokka just as he jammed his long knife into Zhao’s side once, twice, and pulled it back bloody before plunging it into the Admiral’s throat.

One of Sokka’s fists was black with blood, and he let the knife stay with Zhao’s body as it toppled, and Sokka sank drunkenly to his knees, hands screwed up over the hole in his stomach.

Aang didn’t remember much after that. Not until later.

A lot here.

1- Aang’s rampage getting deliberately tied to the fact that he thinks he watched Sokka die is a deliberate twist, and sets up the epilogue for this book.

2- Zhao very nearly lived to be a threat in book 2, but I nixed that almost at the last minute. In the first draft it was Katara that killed Zhao, as he tried to flee the city, in a scene that much more closely mirrored Zhao’s canon death. After that, he, as I said, almost became an antagonist in book 2, but the problem there is that a: it’s only possible to have Zhao be a semi-credible threat when he’s up against book 1 Gaang and their low levels, and also b: it futzed with Ty Lee’s character arc in ways you can probably figure out

3- This, currently, is the peak of Sokka getting his Old Ultraviolence on. I didn’t want to make it… ‘unrealistic’, and have him winning fights due to him being So Cool And Strong, You Guys, but, and I don’t think I’m surprising anyone too much here, a lot of this fic is about the expectations placed on what, in our society, would be considered children, in the context of a hundred years of no-holds-barred war. Sokka has always been kind of the Boromir of the group, doing what he thinks society needs him to do, so, knifemurder.

Season One Sokka is a much more serious cat than Season Three Sokka becomes, and that’s not a bad thing- admittedly, the humour wasn’t always to my taste, but there’s a reason it happened- by Season Three, Sokka isn’t under the same kind of (largely but not entirely self-inflicted) pressure he is in season one. He’s come to terms with letting other people share the work, and so is freer to relax a bit.

–

Yue had reduced the world down to the ten feet between her and the body of Tui. There was light, and sound, and pain, too much of all three to understand, and all she could do was drag herself forward by her fingertips and hope that she was heading in the right direction. She thought she was, but it’d be embarrassing to die crawling away from her destiny.

She couldn’t breathe but she had to force herself up and her heart rattled in her chest but she was so close and there was Sokka, sunk on his knees, unmoving, surrounded by bodies, eyes wide and white and agonised and she needed him now as she dragged herself forwards and she thought she saw him look to her but she had to drop down again, the grass against her cheek and her neck screaming across a jagged cut.

She gestured, muzzily, waving her hand towards the pool, no longer able to lift her head up off the grass, desperately hoping he’d understand, somehow.

I wanted to thank you, she thought, blearily, as the world went dark, you made me feel like a person.

His hands tangled in her coat, pushing her forward with a screech of agony- this stupid corpse she had to drag around- but her hand was trailing in the pool and if she could just find the body before her heart realised she was dead-

The final burst of Angry Yue! ‘This stupid corpse she had to drag around’ is a nod to blatantly stolen from one of my favourite fics of all time, but it’s a Homestuck fic so I figure the Venn diagram is disparate enough that I can get away with it.

Also, Sokka figures out what Yue’s trying to do pretty quick. The reason for that is because he knows the pool’s water is super good at healing. He thinks she’s trying to save herself.

–

Ty Lee was jerked out of fitful sleep by a hammering on the door, ringing iron echoing through her tiny box that Zhao still thought was a prison.

For a few blissful moments, she ignored it, buoyed up by the vague knowledge that Zhao had other things on his mind right now, but as the seconds wore on and the sounds of fighting, muffled, drifted through the outer wall, she knew it was only a matter of time before- the banging started again, quicker, and Ty Lee swung her legs over the side of her bed, and stood up, bare feet sticking slightly to the cold metal of the floor.

She slid back the peephole and blue eyes stared back.

Ty Lee was backed up away from the door in an instant, but there was a voice-

“Hi, uh… I just realised I don’t know your name?”

A voice Ty Lee recognised. She slipped back to the door, with less caution than she should, because this couldn’t be happening, right? This kind of thing didn’t happen. Not to her, anyway.

“It’s you,” she breathed. “The waterbender.”

“Yeah. I’m here because you didn’t say no.”

She hadn’t said yes either. Saying either would have required more courage than she could muster.

“I guess I didn’t,” she replied. But that didn’t make sense, nothing about this made any sense at all. She was in the guts of a battleship in the middle of a siege, and this girl was somehow here, and she was supposed to believe it was for her?

Was this about the kiss?

The thought screwed Ty Lee’s stomach up in knots, but before she could even imagine how to approach that, the girl tried the handle. It didn’t give.

“It’s locked,” Ty Lee pointed out, hopelessly. “I don’t have a key.”

“That won’t be a problem, trust me,” the waterbender responded, without a second’s hesitation, and that was it, that certainty in her voice, the same certainty she’d used to offer to take Ty Lee away, in the festival, when she’d had a real chance to get away. She’d not taken it. “You coming?”

Now? She was at sea, with Zhao on the verge of an overwhelming victory, and nowhere to run. Running now would be a terrible idea. Ty Lee was pretty sure that everything she’d ever done had been a terrible idea, though, so that balanced out?

“Okay,” she said, quietly enough that she wasn’t sure the waterbender had heard, that she could still take it back-

“Alright stand back,” -okay never mind apparently the girl was very ready to go, and as Ty Lee took half a step back frost blossomed on the hinges and they cracked and screeched and snapped, the door dropping downwards, revealing a sliver of torchlight, and a proffered hand.

Ty Lee has never been good at turning down a commanding voice and the promise of Adventure.

I considered doing a bit where Katara couldn’t bend and didn’t know why, but that would have killed the pacing, and also made Ty Lee’s decision to go with her seem even more of a bad idea than it already looked. We all know that no moon= no waterbending, so there wasn’t a need to explain why Zhao killed a fish anywhere in the chapter.

I won’t be able to pull that kind of trick forever, assuming that at some point we will jump the rails of canon, so I’m making full use of it while I can.

–

The absence of pain was jarring, or would have been jarring if she was still alive enough to understand pain, or surprise.

Sokka was on his knees in front of her, slick with blood, eyes shining as he looked at her like a drowning man staring one last time at the sky.

I like this simile for a lot of reasons.

If he was looking at her, that meant she was real after all. She’d not been sure. But he was looking at her, had been looking at her the moment she’d met him, and that kind of constancy was reassuring. It’d been so intimidating, at first, the attention of this strange young man who’d been places and fought monsters she could hardly imagine, who’d showed her the sky and acted like there was nothing wrong with her wanting to leave, like there was nothing wrong with her wanting.

A thousand fractal futures splayed in front of her, and he was hers in none of them. If she’d still been human, she might have been disappointed.

There were… words, words she should say, but she’d never been good at marshalling them on her own and she didn’t have any now, as he looked up at her through tears and blood with an expression on his face fit to break her heart again and the part of her that was-had been-human couldn’t stand it any longer and she leaned in and kissed him before she learned why she mustn’t.

There was an awful sound in his throat as he leaned into her, and it occurred to her that he was dying. Well. If she was meddling, she might as well do it properly. Through his breath into her mouth, she concentrated.

Pull, she instructed, and his ruined organs began to thread themselves back together, blood flowed, muscles knit and skin folded back and when she was done he was as whole as she could manage. She pulled back, smiling, letting him know it’d be okay, there was nothing he could have done.

He didn’t look like he believed her. Possibly it was too much to try and tell him with a smile.

Originally, Yue got a lot more temporal in Spirit Form, but honestly it was too disorienting and not really supported by canon and, most importantly, not relevant, so it mostly vanished. The only line that survived that draft was ‘A thousand fractal futures splayed in front of her, and he was hers in none of them.’

That line survived because, real talk, it’s a contender for Favouritest Line I Ever Did Write.

An idea I wanted to get across is that Yue is now both more and less than human- she’s kind of blissed out on immortality, and doesn’t have a connection to her emotions any more. In a Discworld Death kind of way, she Thinks Sad, rather than Feels Sad.

I have no idea if Yue can heal, but I don’t care.

–

The sea was rolling, the ship was lurching, salt water was being flung across the deck, there were firebenders running this way and that -thankfully too busy to pay attention to her right now- and in the middle distance the sea had risen into the form of a giant monster that was smashing the Fire Nation fleet apart like so much driftwood, which Katara couldn’t even begin to figure out.

Katara had officially run out of options.

“Hey!” she yelled over her shoulder as she turned. “You ever fallen in freezing water?”

The girl’s eyes were saucers, terror blazing from them, fixed on the glowing titan. “What? On purpose?”

“Ever! Do you know how-” the ship convulsed, and okay, no time- “never mind! Just hold on!” she ordered, pulling the girl close, wrapping one arm around her waist, gratified to feel her arms lock around Katara in return. Good. She needed a hand free for this.

The little Sokka that lived in her hindbrain was telling her that this wasn’t the ideal moment for testing out new ideas, but it was probably this or drown or pray. Katara wasn’t good at praying, and she wasn’t keen on learning how to drown.

As the ship bucked in the wake of the monstrosity slamming a fist on a ship half a mile away, Katara sprang, launched through the air by the momentum of the rolling deck, and she felt the girl’s arms tighten around her as she reached out towards the rolling blackness of the sea and-

-and the sea reached back, and grasped her hand.

I kind of wish I’d done more with Fishmonster, but honestly, again, it would have messed up the clean parallels between Yue and Ty Lee, which I was proud of and didn’t want to risk knocking over.

The visual rolling around in my head the most here was Luke at the end of Return of the Jedi, hauling Vader to the shuttles while stormtroopers run around, not paying any attention to the main characters.

#my formatting should work now #did I have a writing tag?

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bonnissance · 7 years

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fanfic ask: F, H, K :)

F: Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

The grave side conversation from you disappear like your cigarette smoke (now the taste of your kiss is all that remains) (canon compliant angsty af)

She stops at Elinor’s grave, bends down to add her flowers to Jason’s bouquet, talks as she kneels beside the tombstone.

“Hi, Ellie, um, I mean Elinor, it’s, ah, been a while.” Bernie laughs, a touch wet, and shakes her head at her own folly. “Sorry, I’ve never been very good with grave sides, usually avoided them once I was out of uniform, always thought graves were for the family,” she says as she stands and buries her hands in her pockets.

“They are, really, but not all families are blood…and, well you are family, in a roundabout sort of way. Or you would have been, if things had been different.” She nibbles on her bottom lip, feels her eye burn. “I wish we’d have been family,” she whispers, harsh and broken, and tries to suck in too much air for her constricted throat.

“I wish I could’ve gotten to know you better, I think if we’d had more time we would have gotten on rather well, don’t you?” She chuckles again, wet and hollow. “Like a house on fire, always butting head, I’m sure.” She smiles at the memory of the few begrudgingly polite conversations they’d managed to have. She knows they would have gotten on in the end.

“There was a lot I liked about you, you know, bright and clever and headstrong. You were so talented and fierce…you were so like your mother.” She breaks off, haggard breathing, tries to slow it enough to keep going. “You know, I’m not even sure I think you might be out there somewhere—or whether you’re just nowhere anymore—but if you are there and sort of, floating around…could you keep an eye on her, please, if you can?”

She breathes deep, deeper, still can’t quite calm herself completely. She goes on anyway.

“I know you might be mad, that she doesn’t visit, but I know she would if she could manage it. She had to leave—maybe she told you before she left? I don’t know, I don’t even know where she is—but losing you was, too much and she loved you so much that she had to leave,” Bernie blurts out in a rush, tears burning in her eyes. “You know she loves you very much, and you know she’ll always miss you, so if you can, can you visit her, sometimes, wherever the both of you are in the world? Please?” Her eyes water, sting, weep and she lets them as she pays the last of her respects.

“I hope that wherever you are you’re happy— God, not, not happy, I mean, but—content, at peace. I hope that you’re at peace, Elinor Campbell, and that you know how just how much you’re loved and just how much you’re missed.”

Bernie rocks her heels as she sucks in a shaky breath. She pulls her hands out of her pockets: swipes at her cheeks, smooths down her shirt, pulls her coat a little tighter around her chest. She nods at Elinor’s gravestone, turns tails, and walks back to the car with her eyes still burning.

This scene required a lot of tears. I cried when the thought occurred to me, I cried when I was writing it - I had keep taking breaks in between paragraphs bc i couldn’t see the screen - and I cried when I was editing, when I did one final read thru of the finished scene.

I even cried just thinking about the finished scene. I also managed to make at least five, and probs closer to 10, other ppl cry. And those are just the ones who told me.

I’m proud of the effort I put in to writing it, I’m proud of the emotion I managed to embed in it, and I’m proud of the response it evoked. The snippet just makes me really proud.

K: What’s the angstiest idea you’ve ever come up with?

Bernie trapped in a groundhog day of Elinor dying ~2300wrds mature (possibly explicit for mental health themes+character deaths?). major character deaths (All the major characters [there a lot of car accidents + a pulverised hand at one point, if that’s a no no for some ppl]), serious mental health issues, sexual content+bittersweet happy times, angst w no happy ending.)

shout out to @ktlsyrtis for beta-ing and I’m sorry I made u cry at work ❤️

Bernie thought she’d lived the worst day of her life: the day she found Serena by Jason’s hospital bed, stood in the doorway with face full of regret, to shatter Serena’s heart without a word. She thought she’d lived it, that day was over, thought it was done.

She was wrong. It happened again. Then again, and again, and again.

It’s the only thing that happens now.

She doesn’t know how, or why, just that this is it: the only day she lives, over and again.

It always ends the same, with Elinor dying and Serena breaking; that’s the only way it ever ends, on a continuous, never-ending loop.

It starts the same way, every day, the same as before: Bernie wakes up with a smiling Serena in her arms and watches her become a hollowed out husk by day’s end.

She tries to change it, tries to save them; she tries everything she can to save them. Takes Jasmine to surgery with her, leaving Morven on AAU; hopes a more experienced doctor will catch the signs. Sends Raf in to Jason’s surgery with strict instructions and does Ellie’s obvs herself, only to find she’s already too late and Jason doesn’t make it. Races through Jason’s surgery with practiced hand and rushes down to the ward to do everything herself only for Elinor to code before neuro can get the clot.

Nothing works. Elinor always dies. Sometimes Jason does too. One day Serena sits by her daughter’s deathbed and loses both of her children in a single afternoon.

She makes Raf ask about organ harvesting.

She thought that was worst of it, those days were the worst of all; the days when Serena loses them both, when Bernie loses them all.

Until Serena gets hurt.

They won’t let her operate; won’t let her help. They have to lock her in the family room to stop her torturing herself watching Raf and Morven and Jac and Mo try their best to try save the women she loves when she can’t do a thing to help.

Their best isn’t good enough and she never makes it off the table.

Bernie walks into the empty theatre, clean and shining, not a trace left behind. But she swears she can still feel Serena in the room, still feel her near the wall by the sink, under the window where they first kissed. She sinks to the floor and prays she’ll wake up with the feeling of Serena in her arms. Leans up against the wall and prays, staring into the space where Serena once sat, until she feels Serena slipping away.

She doesn’t move, even then, not even when security comes to usher her out.

It takes four of them and a dislocated shoulder before she’s forcibly removed from the theatre.

She wakes up with a bundle of Serena beside her, a familiar crop of hair tickling her nose, and blinks back tears. She breathes in, snuggles closer, clings tighter. Just five more minutes; she’s got the time, just five minutes more.

She tries to keep Serena back for five minutes, keep her from running after Elinor for five minutes.

Not that it helps. Elinor gets them both that day: lacerates Jason’s liver with the bonnet and pulverises Serena’s hand with a front wheel.

Jason survives. Serena doesn’t. Can’t, really, not without her hand.

‘I might as well be dead,’ she spits at Bernie. ‘If I can’t operate, I’d rather be dead.’

Bernie feels bile rise, sickening, coats her throat.

She listens when Serena tells her to go and leaves the ward and lets Elinor die on the bathroom floor. She hears Jasmine’s calls for help echo through the corridor and can’t even bring herself to care.

She starts skiving off. Bernie Wolfe hasn’t shirked responsibility a day in her life but something’s broken inside her. She knows it’s her heart, her soul that’s shattered, slicing right through to her core. She needs to get away.

She wakes at the crack of dawn to watch Serena sleep, peaceful and content, for those last few precious moments, before getting up. Gets out of bed, gets dressed, gets in the car and drives.

Some days she tracks down Cam and does her best to withstand an afternoon with him and his new girlfriend. She’s a few years younger than Keeley, and didn’t know him growing up, so she thinks that’s some progress at least. Other days she shuffles uncomfortably on Charlotte’s couch while her daughter offers her tea so she doesn’t have to look her in the eyes. Most days she just drives till she falls asleep at the wheel; wakes up in a ditch, up a tree, not at all.

She likes those days most of all, when she’s tired to the bone and then nothing and she wakes up well-rested in Serena’s bed. Because no matter how fast she drives, how far she runs, how far away from Holby she makes it, Bernie always, always wakes up in Serena’s bed where she belongs.

Eventually, she resigns herself to living here, in this loop, where she belongs.

It’s been 412 days since she’s fallen asleep beside Serena.

They wake up together every morning but not once, in all those days, has Serena left the hospital. Not once, in all those days, has Bernie taken Serena home. Not once, in all those days, has Bernie taken Serena to bed, to sleep.

Today, Elinor hits Jason and her head on the windscreen and careens into Serena’s unconscious body. None of them survive.

She has to stop this.

She has to stop them.

It’s been 413 days since she last fell asleep beside Serena.

She has to stop them getting hurt, she can stop them, Bernie realises, if she stops the conversation that sent Elinor running from the hospital in the first place.

She tries, plays the peacekeeper, bites her tongue; does her best to keep them all in the hospital.

It never works. Elinor always loses her temper. Eventually Bernie loses hers too.

For all she’s never married Serena, never called Elinor her daughter, she gives a damn good impression of an evil stepmother: tells Elinor exactly what she thinks about her petty, pathetic temper tantrum and the way she speaks to Serena and her obvious need for emotional therapy.

Bernie ignores the shocked, disbelieving look on Serena’s face when she calls Elinor a homophobe and drug addict; promises herself she’ll fix anything she’s just broken, if she gets the chance, if this is what needs to happen to fix something that’s been broken for far too long.

It isn’t: Serena is in the passenger seat when a frantic pedestrian on their way to ED runs in front of the car.

Bernie doesn’t bother scrubbing in for any of them.

She tries to keep them away from the hospital. Calls them all in sick. None of them listen. They go to work and Elinor still visits and Jason almost dies.

She invites Elinor out for brunch, convinces Serena she has the day off, that she planned it all to bury the hatchet.

She isn’t surprised Elinor is late, but she would have expected her to call and cancel, or at least pick up the phone. They wait till 1:30 before giving up. They pick up some coffee and pastries on the way out and spend the afternoon spoiling each other rotten on the living room floor. Jason’s not back till 6.

There’s a knock at 5:01. Bernie opens the front door to two women in blue. They regret to inform her that Elinor Campbell was in a road traffic accident earlier that day, a multi-car pile up. She was dead before the paramedics arrived on the scene.

‘We’re very sorry for your loss.’

Bernie thought she hadn’t any heart left to break. She was wrong. The wail that comes out of Serena is like nothing Bernie has ever heard and another part of her dies too.

She convinces Serena to stay with her one day, away from the hospital, with her fingers and mouth and silver tongue.

‘We’ll never make it out of bed at this rate.’

Good. If she has her way Serena would never leave this bed again.

‘Sounds marvellous, lets do that.’

‘Stop it you, we’ll be late.’

‘Who cares?’

‘Bernie!’

She also enlists the aid of a pair of very fluffy handcuffs Sian bought them for Christmas.

‘Bernie, what on Earth!’ Serena pulls on the cuffs and looks at Bernie, bewildered.

‘I got you the day off,’ she lies, nuzzling into Serena’s neck. ‘To make up for missing your birthday. It’s mine soon and I know you’re going to spoil me - don’t lie - and it doesn’t seem fair if I haven’t pampered you first. I thought we could spend the morning in bed, and go anywhere you like this afternoon, and after Jason comes home we’ll go to mine to have a quiet night in, with no telly, if you like?’ Bernie looks up at Serena’s glittering, gobsmacked face; looks at her blinking down at Bernie, disbelieving. ‘Umm, surprise?’

‘You’re mad. Absolutely mad,’ Serena says, beaming, eyes sparkling and smiling bright. ‘You could have given me some warning, you know! You’re just lucky I love you,’ she adds, shuffling to sit up.

Bernie stops her, she hasn’t heard that in so long.

She sobs, eyes burning, buries her forehead in Serena’s neck. Pins her to the bed and says ‘I love you, too.’

It’s perfect, the whole day, one shining perfect day.

She spends the whole of it in bed with Serena. Only gets out of it to nick Serena’s phone–she shoots off a text to Elinor: ‘wont be at work today, wanted to let u know jic u might have dropped by later.’ She reads the ‘cheers was thinking of it might drop by tomorrow tho’ and sighs in relief, prays she’ll see Ellie tomorrow–to switch it off before getting back into bed.

The rest of the morning is spent trying every sweet, delicious thing she’s ever thought of, the early afternoon on every filthy, vicious thing she’d never been brave enough to ask for, till her mind goes fuzzy and she can barely more.

Her body has never ached so good.

She makes them breakfast in bed mid-afternoon: feeds Serena a syrup covered strawberry, licks the maple from the corner of her mouth, kisses the taste of french toast from her tongue.

Bernie sinks back into the mattress, against the soft of the pillows and the warm of the sheets, and wonders why it took her so long to figure this out, wonders if they could have spent all this time reliving their perfect day.

She looks at Serena hovering over her, eyes sparkling and smiling bright, and can’t feel anything other than gratitude, to have finally figured it out, to have this now, to be able to have this again.

It’s not enough, but it is something. And that will have to be enough.

Their bodies give out soon after and they nap until Serena’s alarm goes off.

They pick Jason up from work and pick up dinner on the way. They explain that they won’t be in the house tonight, reason that them being elsewhere won’t interfere with any of his schedules. He’s not pleased about the last minute addendum to his night and sulks a little.

Bernie can’t bring herself to care, not today, not after today.

She tells Serena to call Ellie, when they drop Jason home, to ask if she’s coming to see her tomorrow, asks Serena to see how she is. Serena hangs up mumbling about Elinor being ‘her usual irritating self’ and Bernie breathes a sigh of relief, lets out the tension she’s been holding for months, feels lighter than she has in years.

She leans across the gearstick, takes Serena’s hand, kisses Serena’s cheek.

‘She’ll come round,’ Bernie reassures her, thinking about tomorrow. If they have the time, they’re bound to figure it out, she knows they will. ‘I’m sure of it.’

Serena smiles and nods and keeps hold of Bernie’s hand the whole trip to her flat.

They curl up on the couch, parcels of fish and chips in their laps, and the tang of vinegar in their noses. They smile at each other in between mouthfuls, after every sip of wine, before every stolen chip.

Bernie scrunches up the newspaper, wipes her greasy hands dry, and dumps the ball on the coffee table to deal with later. Looks up at Serena finishing the last of her cod and says ‘I love you’ for the dozenth time today.

Serena pins her with a stare. ‘What’s your game?’ she asks suspiciously. ‘You’re not angling for a dog or anything, are you? Because anyone would think you were trying to bribe me…’ she trails off with a smile as Bernie shakes her head.

‘No game. I’ve got everything I want,’ Bernie replies innocently, grinning wide. ‘Well, mostly,’ she adds, glint in her eye as she smooths her palm over Serena’s hip.

Serena giggles, swats at Bernie’s shoulder, calls her a sap and kisses her soundly.

‘Well, we can’t leave you wanting, can we,’ she mumbles against Bernie’s lips when she breaks away. ‘I think it’s time you took me to bed, Ms. Wolfe.’

Bernie does: leads her up the hall and into the bedroom and makes love to her till neither of them can bear to move. She tells her she loves her one last time, as she curls up behind her her, before drifting off with a smile on her face.

She falls asleep excited to wake up in her own bed, ready to live out the first day of the rest of her life.

She wakes up the next morning in Serena’s bed.

#i'm not putting it in the tags bc the formatting is weird but reblogs are welcome and likes encouraged if y'all want #this post is literally just angst central its perhaps the angstiest thing in the whole world; its def the angstiest thing i've ever written #this is it #the technical difficulties fic i lost and then rewrote and managed to make even angstier #i'm prepared for the tears #i think i can beat my current record #we'll have to wait and see #biancagrieve #fic asks for y'all curious beans #i wrote a thing

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dachi-chan25 · 7 years

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Game of Thrones Season 7 Episode 6 Recap Pt. 1

Oh boy… I need to vent again, I’m sorry, but thanks to everyone reading this, it’s a cathartic experience if anything.

WARNINGS: SPOILERS; Not a D@€ny fan, but if you follow me you already know that and if you don’t no problem that’s why I always warn you about it; Jonsa shipper and still growing strong ( I always loved the Tyrell OK???)

Before diving into the recap:

1.- The toughts, tinfoily wishy washy stuff, analysis, random stuff that I write are my own only, and in no form or way am I trying to convince you that I am right and every body else is wrong, I have been wrong about fandom stuff a LOT, and really it’s just fun for me to do this, anyway I am open to debate if you want just be respectful. Feel free to correct me if you notice I have some facts I present wrong, I will never get mad about it and will even thank you for your insight.

2.- The analysis/opinions I express of certain ships/characters are just my opinion as an audience, if you like the ship/characters good! That’s what makes the fandom experience such a diverse thing, and I have nothing against you. Keep on loving the thing you love!

3.- The Salt Throne and I are one entity of pure undiluted Salt and bitterness,if you don’t wish to subject yourself to reading my salty fangirl rants I completely understand.

—————

1.- We start on that table-map, helI feel I condemned myself saying I didn’t wanted no more close-ups of the thing, anyway so it’s just a pretty shot to get to where the story (plot? What plot?) really pick’s up: Eastwatch by the sea.

We are with the suicide squad on this show’s dumbest mission, but then again this season a lot of dumb things happened so I am resigned. Yeah so Jon and Tormund are talking about how dumb this mission is (got is breaking the fourth wall now???) while Gendry is freezing, Tormund is happy to be back North of the Wall cuz the air in the south is shit, Jon is like bih you never went south but really is agreeing actually Jon seems much more himself now that he is in the North again. Tormund and Jon tease Gendry about making do with him cuz there are no ladies here (ahaha joking about experiencing homosexual sex but no homo bro it’s just because we have no ladies amirite? Am I watching got or the big b4ng th€or¥?) and you know what else they don’t have?? Horses, and food, and those pesky dragonglass weapons, and a raven to send for help should anything happen… But no ladies are the priority. (*sigh* this show is so painfully obviously written by man) Gendry apparently believes them and goes away, Tormund comments he isn’t very bright, he needn’t be says Jon cuz they need the brawn and not the brains right? No this stupid ass mission could have seriously used some brains.

Anyway this next convo of conversations was very intresting to hear, not because they add anything to the plot (if such a thing exists anymore in this show) but I think they are important in understanding the theme they have in common and the relevance I think they have in the final scenes of the episode.

First we have a Tormund/Jon convo, our funny redhead asks about the Dragon Queen, and I expected they would use this chance to make some crude remark about her beauty or her body (dude not a second ago they were joking about bedding Gendry!!) but no, the conversation never goes in the direction that could further the idea of Jon’s attraction to D, Jon trusts Tormund and it would be normal for bros to discuss this stuff (remember how Jon giggled about Tormund mentioning Brienne last episode), instead a very weary and frustrated Jon states she (D) wouldn’t help unless he bends the knee, Tormund says that won’t happen cuz Jon spent so much time with the Wildings to be a kneeler again, but then he moves on to talk about Mance Ryder (dude this Jon/Mance parallels are hitting me in the face like a cold fish, I know D&D I noticed! You haven’t been subtle about this!!! You used the same FUCKING dialogue) and how the dude could have saved a lot of lives if he just had let go of his pride and knelt (so Tormund is our Jon in this parallel ain’t he?) it just made me laugh that Tormund, a wildling cuz they are still Free Folk and rule themselves even if they have an alliance with the KitN, is the one to suggests kneeling, but then I realized how big of a fucken deal that is, Mance could have saved those lives yes (and that’s mere speculation honestly cuz Stannis and his army could have also died at Hardhome #just saying) but he decided keeping his people’s will was more important, Jon respected that to the point he defyied Stannis (they needed his help and dude had just saved them) openly by killing Mance, and now Tormund who is kind of the new Free Folk king/leader is saying it would have been OK if he knelt to save everyone’s lives in front of Jon whom is in a very similar situation.

Then we get a Jorah/Jon convo, again perfect oportunity to show them as D’s love interests and rivals, or for Jorah to wax poetic about Khaliiisi and Jon being jealous or some shit. Some serious talk, if we had time in this compact season for Jon to threaten (or pardon) every man who ever crossed paths with Sansa, why Gendry or the Hound haven’t mentioned Arya at all, if logic states that she is someone this people have in common and should talk about? (like Theon asking about Sansa, or Tyrion) Why Jorah doesn’t talk about D if Jon is her new love interest and it would be a nice and neat contrast between the two of them? Instead they disscus another people they have in common, ex-Lord Commander Jeor Mormont and Ned Stark, oh yes they talk about their dads, Jon says how wonderful was Jorah’s dad and how awful was his death, while Jorah said it must have been heartbreaking for his dad whose entire life was the NW and Jon talks about Ned “the goodest most honorable man ever” dying like a traitor for his honor and pride (like I sense a pattern, can you tell? Gods D&D are too subtle guys) and goes as far as to say he is glad his dad didn’t kill Jorah (you know making him pay for his crime in a just honorable way). Honestly what was the point of this conversation if not that survival is most important than honor? The writers (through Jon) are celebrating that Jorah survived even if he has done sketchy awful things (among them he conspired to have D and her baby killed so he would be allowed to go back to Westeros).

Right we get an intresting end to this convo, Jon offers Jorah Longclaw (why would he give him the sword if he is gonna need it right now in the stupid ass Wight hunt? Why didn’t he gave it to Lady Lyanna Mormont, she has presumably begun training cuz she said to Lord Glover she wasn’t gonna sit by the fire while the man defended the North??? Why would he give it to someone if Jeor gave it to him cuz he didn’t wanted Jorah to have it???) but the point of the conversation it’s not the sword, because Jorah rejects it, it’s about planting the possibility of children in Jon’s future. people have been screaming Targ baby to the heavens and back, and if that is what you chose to belive alright, but I think not, if that was the case wouldn’t it be appropiate to have the Targ theme or the J/D song in the background and transition to DS where D talks about children with Tyrion like she does in a future scene? I would have believed it then. But instead we have the Stark theme and the scene transitioning to Arya and SANSA, call me delusional if you want but for me this is another check in the ‘targcest is building up tarbowl’ column.

Summarizing this we get the very bright neón message of Honor=Death. Which I’ll bring back later.

2.- Y'all remember those good times when the WF storyline was the only thing getting me through all the bullshit I was being fed by D&D? Well they’re over. As I said in point 1 we get a transition of Arya and Sansa looking down at the courtyard while Arya talks about how Ned watched the boys training and tries to diminish Sansa’s connection to her family by stating she was surely too busy sewing to know that (have fun freezing your limbs off darling!!! Sewing and Knitting and all those “delicate female” activities you sniff at are the reason you have clothes miss, really I can’t with this where is the Arya that thought woman to be of equal importance than man?) Sansa is having none of that and says she remembers, we get a cute memory of Arya practicing archery in secret and Ned approving (we get again nods to the patriarchy is wrong! But this is sloppy as fuck if D&D make Arya feel superior to non-warrior inclined girls, like that is also misogynistic) Sansa is smiling fondly (she at this point is more of a feminist icon than any other girl in this show, make no mistake she is not upset or resentful of warrior girls, she approved with a smile when Lyanna said girls on Bear Island were going to be trained too, and she smiles at the memory Arya is sharing with her of defying the rules and practicing archery cuz that made her happy) but then things take a turn for worse when Arya said that Ned is dead cuz Sansa helped the Lannisters. I never asked for this bullshit!!! Not even Ned blamed Sansa for anything, even if Sansa hadn’t alerted her Cersei was gonna kill Robert to protect herself and her children, Ned died for Joffrey’s cruelty (he wasn’t even supposed to die, he was to be sent to the Wall) and yes Sansa had a role to play in the chain of events that led to that, but Sansa had no way of knowing that, she only tried to save her family! The smile gets wiped from my girl’s face she is completely at loss. Arya takes out the letter and starts reading it out, even when Sansa asks her to stop cuz she already knows what does the letter say (wow I can’t belive D&D keep on triggering Sansa through her siblings, FUCKING disgusting) Arya is being unnecessary cruel, blaming Sansa for being powerless to stop their father’s death when she herself was equally powerless, like????? D&D are pushing this Starkbowl bs cuz this is got and nothing can be nice for 2 sec. But really this shit has no basis, you have Wight Hunt Team people who have literally killed each other or tried to working together and joking and then have two sisters who went through hell and back fighting cuz one of them thinks the other survived KL by being a princess in a tower??? Like how is this logical? Even if this is a cleverly crafted Arya plot (I think there is some logic to this) to kill LF is not fair for Sansa, god can’t she have good things on her life? D&D took away the safety of her home by marrying her off to Ramsey and have him rape her in her HOME, and now they make her family treat her one like a stranger and the other like shit???? I’m not asking for Arya to thank Sansa on her knees like she suggested (if anything Sansa was super brave standing her ground and defending her possition and everything she did to retake their home) I don’t want everyone to worship her as they do certain someone all I am asking for is respect and safety for someone who deserves it! Really and Arya suggesting Lyanna Mormont would go for Sansa’s throat why yes she is a child, one that has lost a lot with all this fucking wars but still a child that lacks the knowledge of the true game of thrones and what it takes to survive it, like you Arya (doesn’t she remembers she was cupbearer to Tywin who literally was responsible for the murder of her brother and mother? This is actually what leads me to think this is a ploy cuz Arya is not a hypocrite as far as we’ve seen) still this was painful to watch if you love the Starks.

Anyway leaving my frustration with this cheap drama aside, did anyone notice the parallels between the Arya and Sansa confrontation and the Jon/Tormund and Jon/Jorah conversations? The Wight Hunt Team was talking about great honorable man whose honor and moral code brought their downfall and in the Sansa and Arya, the youngest sister was blaming the eldest for having no honor and surviving (she goes as far as to say she would have rather died than betray her family) while Sansa defends what she did and shows how far she has come from paying the game.

Again this thing is not subtle at all.

———

This is too long so Part 2 is coming!

#Game of Thrones #jonsa #season 7 #7x06 recap #part 1 #dachi rambles #anti daenerys #anti jonerys #just to be safe

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despairinghxpe-archive · 7 years

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you have literally done this for me before already and i have not forgotten a nd - but.. do my url again?

Let me tell you what I think of You & Your Writing! || Always Accepting || @zilveninde

Send me your URL and I'll tell you

My Opinion on;

Character in general: Alright, Since Amor runs a multi-muse blog, there are going to be quite a few here! I’ll start out with Shisui. I love Shisui. He is an Uchiha, one of my faves. Hell, all Uchiha are my faves, might as well come out and say it. I love how he foils Itachi but there are still things they agree upon--I like the fact that he is loyal and caring, but still strong enough to kick ass if need be.

Deidara. I loved him from the beginning--just for his hairstyle. And his handmouths. And the fact that he loved explosions--and when I found out his backstory..I came to like him even more. He was the youngest Akatsuki member and I think that counts for a lot--he was level headed and an artist--one to rival Sasori. Though they had differing opinions, he was still respectful and that says a lot about his character.

Sasori. Oh my, one of my favorite Akatsuki members. (Yes, he ranks high there). I liked him since I first saw him--I am quite partial to Suna shinobi and to see a puppetmaster in the Akatsuki sparked my interest in him. I particularly liked his backstory, and enjoyed the way it was brought into his final fight. Though, I think he really could have given both Chiyo and Sakura a run for their money if he really wanted to.

Haruno Sakura. I have to admit I found her so annoying the first part of the series and I’ve actually flip-flopped a few times regarding this. Actually, I really did hate her in the beginning--I didn’t like that she was more focused on boys and looks, dieting than trying to live in the world that she was in. It made me mad because I thought she should be tough. But, I saw that physical strength isn’t everything and she is a lot stronger than she looks. I figured out that though she had no kekkei genkai or bijuu--she was strong without it. And that’s what counts.

Hidan. Is definitely rude and disrespectful--sadistic. I love it all. He makes a great character and I particularly love his use of cursing (it reminds me a little of myself) but he is definitely able to call Kakuzu on his bullshit and I loved that too. He is an interesting character because I think it is ironic that his religion calls on him to kill people. There is a lot about him that I find ironic and that kind of makes me laugh. I think he is rather like Jonathan Swift’s A Modest Proposal--sarcastic and disturbing at the same time. And slightly unbalanced.

How they play them: Amor plays each of his characters differently. And I don’t see many multi-muse blogs that can do this--most of them push their personalities together--and I don’t understand how he keeps them all separate, but he does.

I’m going to start with Shisui first because I’ve interacted with him. I love the fact that he’s so playful, but that dark undercurrent is still there--the tension of knowing what might happen--what will happen if they allow the Uchiha to continue. I really feel like Amor breathes life into Shisui because the diction he uses--though it’s still beautiful, it is very, very informal. There’s definitely a more informal quality to Shisui that fits his laid-back personality.

Deidara. Oh, he is very sarcastic, cocky, arrogant. I love how Amor brings those qualities to the forefront, but then under-shadows it with his insecurities. It’s a jarring juxtaposition that makes me want to read more. You’d think that he would somehow show those insecurities, and the tells are there-and they are subtle. It’s the shift in the syntax that particularly shows Deidara’s, rather than the word choice, as with Shisui.

Sasori. Is definitely impatient--and irritable. I haven’t seen many people that can capture this aspect of his personality, the basic “fuck off” that he seems to exude--and Amor creates this tone through word choice--the words here are definitely more stiff, more formal--the sentences are a little more choppy, as if you are hearing Sasori’s thoughts.

Sakura. Amor captures her anger--but also the caring side she hides beneath it--because for her, to care is to worry, and I tend to see in his writing that her irritable side hides her insecurities and anxieties.

Hidan--oh, boy, do I love his Hidan. Alright, I love the way his Hidan is written, from the beginning to end--this particular muse is written--get this--using foul language throughout the reply, not just within his dialogue. It gives an insight into Hidan’s thoughts that we don’t see much, but I particularly enjoy. That, and the witty one-line thoughts at the end--yes!!

The Mun: Amor is very nice and understanding!!! Really--he’s amazing to talk with ooc, and is an amazing artist--hearing his headcanons regarding Shisui is always nice--really, a breath of fresh air!

Ship their Character with mine: I’m up for it if you are! (If we thread and it goes that way, well, it goes that way~)

Do I:

RP with them: Yes.Want to RP with them: Yes. Definitely. Always.

What is my;

Overall Opinion: Amor masterfully writes each of his muses and is able to bring out each nuance in their personality. He runs one very, very, very nice blog. The writing is easy to understand, beautiful. Yes, another of my instant follows~

**Note: Mun’s answer are all to be completely honest. Don’t send url if you don’t want brutal honesty

#((just a note: you're allowed to send these in multiple times! I don't have cutoffs when it comes to these things))#((I really enjoy doing these))#(( If you have a multimuse blog I generally do them all))#long post: verbose scrawlings #((and I generally queue them but whooboi I thought everyone needed to see this))#zilveninde #answered: question recieved

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anythingstephenking · 7 years

Text

To everything… turn, turn, turn…

Subtitled: Fuck you Richard Bachman

My first collection of King novellas, Different Seasons, provides the source material for some of King’s most memorable film adaptations. But we’ll get to that later.

Different Seasons was published in 1982, and contains 4 novellas. Novellas are longer than a short story but shorter than a novel. Ok, you probably knew that already, so cool story.

By 1982 King was the king (lulz) of horror. Since none of these stories contain things that go bump in the night, his publishers weren’t totally stoked to print them individually. I guess novellas really suck if you’re a writer, because they’re too long for magazines to publish, and too short to be real novels. Of course, Stephen King is the fucking greatest, and he combines these four stories together, makes each (loosely) tied to a season, hits CTR+P and laughs his way to the bank (I assume).

Here’s what we go to go through:

Hope Springs Eternal - Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption

Summer of Corruption - Apt Pupil

Fall from Innocence - The Body

A Winter’s Tale - The Breathing Method

There is really nothing thematically that ties these stories together. King states in the afterward that each was written shortly after finishing a novel - The Body after 'Salem’s Lot, Apt Pupil after The Shining, Shawshank after The Dead Zone, and The Breathing Method after Firestarter.

Each of these is its own very different (get it?) story, so I’m going through each separately, and because the adaptations are so well known, I’m going to break format and discuss the movies alongside the novellas.

Strap in folks, this is gunna be a long one.

—

Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption

Did you know Red is an Irishman and NOT Morgan Freeman? I know, right? Mind blown.

I’ve mentioned this before but my #1 pet peeve is guys who say their favorite movie is Shawshank (yawn) but don’t know it’s based on a King story. If your favorite movie is Shawshank, Fight Club, Boondocks Saints or any Coen Brothers movie, swipe hard left. Here’s what it’s like to go on a date with me:

Me: What’s your favorite movie?

Him: Oh that’s a hard question! I’d have to say Shawshank.

Me: (deep breath) Interesting. I love Stephen King!

Him: …

Me: He wrote the story the movie was based on.

Him: No shit! I had no idea.

Me: It’s your favorite movie but you’ve never paid attention to the credits before?

Him: ….

Me: My favorites are the Before Sunrise/Sunset/Midnight movies

Him: Never heard of them.

Me: Of course.

Still single folks. Go figure. And here’s a fun fact - I had actually never seen this movie before. It somehow scooted by me in my youth and I just never got around to it. Then, like Kings of Leon, it was too popular for it’s own good and I was off the bandwagon.

Since this movie is rated #1 on IMDB’s top 100 movies, I am going to skip over the major plot points because you already know them. I did enjoy reading it with fresh eyes, never having seen the movie and only knowing the plot because I am a person that is alive and everyone knows the plot. Bruce Willis WAS DEAD THE WHOLE TIME!

When Andy Dufresne comes to Shawshank, you know through Red’s narration that he is an innocent man, and you immediately feel for him as he stumbles through your pretty standard prison stuff. He settles in, finds his place, gets special treatment for doing taxes for the prison staff, works in the library and spends 20 years methodically digging a tunnel. Normal stuff. This story generates one of King’s most famous lines ever, and the focus of many inspirational quote boards: “Get busy living or get busy dying.” I was unnecessarily happy to see that line in the source material - proud of King for writing it and it not coming from the screenplay.

The movie was directed by Frank Darabont, King buddy and early recipient of Dollar Baby rights for his first film. Darabont of course goes on to do The Green Mile and Walking Dead, and is still sitting on the rights to The Long Walk. Get to it Frankie.

I was discussing this story with a friend and she very astutely pointed out “I mean, it’s bro love. There’s not a single female in the whole story.” Seriously. It’s a great story of the resiliency of the human spirt, friendship, loss and redemption, and honestly it is a wonderful movie, but it’s for bros. I’m not the target demographic, and I am ok with that.

But seriously, how the hell did Andy rehang the poster over the hole after he went through? We will never know.

—

Apt Pupil

Fuck this story. Fuck Richard Bachman, who didn’t “write” this story as it was published under King’s name, but this story is Bachman through and through. I thought I was on a break from reading about terrible sociopaths I hope would die on page one but I somehow have to be put inside their fucked up minds for so long my skin is crawling when I am done. Sorry for the all the f-bombs, but fuck this story was the fucking worst.

Ok, where to start. Apt Pupil follows the story of Todd Bowden, a high school A student and star athlete. Sounds great, right? Well, actually Todd is a nutcase who finds out his neighbor Arthur Denker is a nazi war criminal in hiding. Todd calls the police and the nazi is arrested. The End.

Just kidding! Todd blackmails Denker and forces him to tell him gory details about his time in the concentration camps. Jesus fucking christ y’all. This shit goes on for over four years. Todd buys a replica SS uniform and makes him wear it. Todd likes to masturbate but can only climax while fantasizing about abusing women in concentration camps. Denker starts blackmailing Todd in return. They seemingly hate but respect each other because they’re both fucking monsters. Are you having fun yet?

It keeps going. Todd starts murdering homeless people (of course) as does Denker (he also puts a cat into his oven, which I was not at all pleased about). Arthur and Todd are both running around town killing folks, but neither one knows the other is doing so. Funny coincidence!

I’ll save you the suspense and also spoil the ending. Denker is discovered when he has a heart attack and his hospital mate is a Holocaust survivor that recognizes him. The jig is finally up. Denker kills himself. Wohoey! We’re done right?

WRONG. Todd is also discovered by his guidance counselor. When confronted Todd shoots him in his driveway (obviously) then goes off on a shooting spree.

THE END. What a heartwarming story of the human spirit. I must have checked at least 400 times how many pages I had left. Lucky me, Apt Pupil is the longest of all four stories, clocking in at 180 pages.

Like in all Bachman material, both main characters are giant dicks. If I ever meet Stephen King, the first thing I will ask him is... “can I meet Tabs?”… but the second thing I’ll ask him is “why wasn’t Apt Pupil a Bachman Book?” I am still irrationally angry I had to read this without forewarning that Bachman was lurking in Different Seasons, ready to bum me out and make me never want to read again.

The movie is just as bad. Brad Renfro (RIP) plays Todd, and I was interested enough in him playing the lead role not to dread watching this movie. Totally had his Teen Beat photo on my wall in middle school. Don’t judge.

The movie follows the same basic plot of the book, except at the end, Todd just threatens his counselor with false allegations of sexual abuse rather than murdering him, so I guess that’s better?

Funny thing is, this movie was made not once, but twice. The first production got 3/4 of the way done and ran out of money. It should have been doomed and never seen the light of day. It bounced around a bunch and finally got produced. Not surprisingly, it did not do well at the box office. Says Scott Von Doviak in my favorite companion material, “In the end, Stand By Me and Shawshank were essentially feel-good fables whereas Apt Pupil is never heartwarming and never tries to be. Its message is not one of uplift; it’s that evil is evil wherever you find it.” I suppose I prefer my Stephen King evil in the form of rabid dogs or vampires or hotels; not in actual evil that lurks in history. I watched Night and Fog for a documentary film class in college, and I still have nightmares about it.

Saving grace of the movie: a young David Schwimmer sporting a Burt Reynolds mustache.

Ugh, Stephen, I am real mad about this one.

—

The Body

Now onto something more lighthearted - 4 lil peanut boys off to discover a dead body! For serious though, I heart-eyes-emoji the film adaptation. Stand By Me, and was pretty jazzed to read this story.

The idea for The Body is revealed by King some 10 years later in his book Danse Macabre.

"It turned out that the kid I had been playing with had been run over by a freight train while playing on or crossing the tracks (years later, my mother told me they had picked up the pieces in a wicker basket). My mom never knew if I had been near him when it happened, if it had occurred before I even arrived, or if I had wandered away after it happened. Perhaps she had her own ideas on the subject. But as I’ve said, I have no memory of the incident at all; only of having been told about it some years after the fact."

King was only 4 when this happened, but I once read a book that argued that every thing that has ever happened to us, from the time we are birthed, is imprinted in our minds and affects everything we do as adults. So, who’s to say that this experience of 4 year old Stephen King didn’t imprint into his brain forever. Hard shrug.

PEANUTS!

Anywho, The Body reads like Stand By Me’s screenplay. I’ve seen this movie enough times to know the dialogue by heart, and most of it comes, word for word, from King’s pen. "A pile of shit has a thousand eyes.” I don’t know who wrote this screenplay, but they really shouldn’t have gotten a credit for it, never mind an Oscar nomination (which they did for Best Adapted Screenplay).

The Body is firmly planted in the King-o-verse, taking place in good-ol’ Castle Rock, mentioning Chamberlain (where Carrie would one day kill the whole dang town because he mother couldn’t be bothered to tell her what her period was), and ‘Salem’s Lot, Cujo and Shawshank are all mentioned.

They changed the name because they didn’t want folks to think it was another King horror movie, a “sex film” or a bodybuilding movie. Now I can’t stop thinking about what a Stephen King bodybuilding movie would be like. Directory Rob Reiner (who would go on to direct Misery), suggested Stand By Me which apparently was the “least unpopular” option.

I read this with the film versions of Gordie, Chris, Teddy and Vern in my mind, with Richard Dreyfuss narrating the whole thing. I’ve always been a sucker for a good coming of age story, and The Body checks all the required boxes.

That said, revisiting the story with my own coming age so far in my rear-view, I found the story clunky to say the least. Lines like “it’s hard to make strangers care about the things in your life” and “the most important things are the hardest things to say” made me eye roll a bit. I suppose I am old and cynical. When I was younger, far into my twenties even, the air of nostalgia for being 12 still lingered. Now, I only remember that time as one of braces, bullies and never-ending hormones. No thanks.

But this movie, man. The tragedy of River Phoenix’s untimely death makes it a harder watch. I’ve always described these four characters as “little peanuts” when I talk about this movie, which is funny because they’re foul-mouthed little shits. But lovable little shits. Wil (Whil) Wheaton is wonderful as King stand-in Gordie Lachance, writer-to-be. Corey Feldman basically plays himself, and Jerry O-Connell is a little butterball! Doesn’t get more adorable than that. River Phoenix is such a nugget. One time when I was drunk in 2006ish, I found myself crying because I was overcome by the fact that River died and Joaquin Phoenix lived. This breakdown came literally out of nowhere - Joaquin hadn’t even made I’m Still Here yet. In the moment it just seemed so unfair. Sorry Joaquin.

But there’s honesty in the body of The Body - King narrates as future Gordie in the first person and acknowledges the naiveté of his writing and experiences. Chris and Gordie share true and heartfelt stories about their fears then exchange quips like “eat me raw” “through a flavor straw”. It feels authentic. They’re boys that want desperately to be men, but without any real understanding of the weight of what adulthood is going to bring them.

—

The Breathing Method

Last but not least, The Breathing Method is the shortest story, the only one that contains any real King horror, and the only one with no film adaptation to discuss.

The story centers on an exclusive New York club, where old men go and drink scotch and tell stories. The mantra etched in stone reads “It is the tale, not he who tells it." There’s something strange about the club, which contains shelves full of books not known to libraries, and endless rooms filled with who-knows-what.

The best stories of the year get shared on the Thursday before Christmas, and our narrator tells one back to us. It begins as a rather lighthearted tale of a pregnant (and unwed) woman, looking for medical help in a time before it was cool to have kids out of wedlock. There’s a little bit of love, some mystery, then it takes a real hard left at the end. It’s tragic and someone gets decapitated, then just as we’re given a hint at some kind of extra-terrestrial or supernatural presence in the club, the story ends. Ok. Sure thing.

The guy that wrote Sinister (among other horror fables) has the rights to direct the film adaptation, but according to his IMDB page, there’s nothing currently in the works. One less movie to watch so a-ok with me.

In the afterward, King tells the story of getting Different Seasons published, promising his agent his next story was about a haunted car. So that’s where I am off to next - Christine, which according to the jacket “will keep you looking both ways when you cross the street after dark.” Ha! Little do they know I never cross the street after dark, cause Nashville drivers are terrible and I don’t have a death wish. Till then friends!

#Different Seasons #rita hayworth and the shawshank redemption #apt pupil #the body #the breathing method #stand by me #shawshank redemption #frank darabont #rob reiner #book review #stephen king

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