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jemelle · 4 years

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these are ties that bind (1/8)

you can also find this story on ao3!

fandom: criminal minds

rating: g

(chapter) word count: 1,976

summary: emily and hotch must pretend to be in a long-term relationship in order to foster carrie. shenanigans and serious conversations alike ensue.

masterlist

one.

Emily Prentiss stood in front of the hotel door, hand raised, wondering if she was making the biggest mistake of her life. All her self-preservation instincts, built up from a lifetime of looking over her shoulder, told her it would be better for all parties if she just walked away. But a small voice in the back of her head disagreed. There is someone who needs you, it said. Someone who you are not too late to save. That voice had gotten her into this situation, and it was determined to see it through.

She knocked once, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent hallway. When Hotch opened the door, he looked as if he rather expected to see someone else. It was late, but Reid and Morgan were still off flirting with women at a club somewhere. Or, probably more likely, Morgan was flirting while Reid sat alone at the bar. Emily found she could never begrudge either of them the comfort of a post-case routine, no matter how strange.

Hotch was wearing his pajamas, which consisted of plain grey sweatpants and a well-worn GW Law shirt. His outfit had the unsettling effect of reminding Emily that she and him were, in fact, almost the same age. He often seemed much more world-weary than his thirty-some years suggested, although she supposed it was her who had actually seen more of the world. He was holding a book in one hand and seemed poised to lecture Reid for forgetting his keycard again. Upon seeing Emily, the expression on his face slid from irritation into confusion.

“Prentiss?” he asked. The “what do you want?” went unsaid.

“Sir, if you don’t mind, I’d like to talk to you about something.” Hotch opened the door wider and motioned her inside. He sat down on one of the beds while Emily leaned uncomfortably on the desk and surveyed the room. What she assumed was Hotch’s side of the room was nothing short of meticulous, although Spencer, to his credit, had managed to keep his chaos contained to a two by four area at the foot of his bed.

Acutely aware of the importance of her next few sentences, she began. “Carrie Ortiz, the girl from the case, has an aunt and uncle in Phoenix, but they’re not able to care for her. She doesn’t have anyone else and especially after seeing what the foster system can do to kids, I don’t know if…” No, this wasn’t the way to do it. She was dancing around her point and both she and Hotch knew it. Time to regroup.

“Carrie came to me and asked if I would be willing to take her in for the time being.” Emily’s knee-jerk reaction had been no, but remembering what JJ told her earlier had given her pause. She had never been one of those children who dream of becoming a parent, not until it was no longer a dream. In the ensuing fallout, she became even more convinced that parenting was not for her. But Carrie wasn’t a helpless child. She was a young woman who had experienced a traumatic event and was voluntarily asking Emily to become her guardian. And so Emily found herself unable to say no.

“What did you tell her?”

“I told her that I would have to think about it but that I didn’t have the power to make that decision myself.” It was the truth. Emily knew that Hotch didn’t tolerate lying, especially not to victims. To give false hope to someone whose family had just been ripped away would be unspeakably cruel.

“Prentiss, with all due respect, I’m not sure why we’re having this conversation. I know you don’t need to be reminded of the dangers of our job, but I firmly believe that you will make the right decision.” Truthfully, it had taken Emily several hours to fully process Carrie’s request and several more before she could think rationally enough to decide. But she had made up her mind. If only that made it a reality.

Emily took a deep breath. For all the courage it had taken to get this far, the hardest part had yet to come. “I talked to Carrie’s social worker and she said that in the absence of family, they usually try to place in-area, but that given Carrie’s explicit request, she might be able to make an exception. However…” She trailed off. Maybe this was a mistake. It wasn’t too late to back out.

“However?” Hotch prompted. His tone was steady, and Emily forced herself to make eye contact. His face had smoothed itself into a neutral expression, which Emily took as a positive sign as she gathered her resolve.

“They don’t place children with single parents. No exceptions.” And definitely not gay couples, she mentally amended.

“I see,” he said. His face wrinkled in a way that told Emily he hadn’t quite figured out where she was going. “That’s a pity. Although, that still doesn’t solve the mystery of why you’re in my hotel room. I may be your boss, but even I don’t have sway over the foster care system of Denver.”

“Well… I sort of told Carrie’s caseworker that I would have to consult my husband.” She had run out of the room immediately after, wondering what on earth had just possessed her. She was a lesbian, for God's sake! There was no husband in her future. What scared her even more was realizing that she didn’t regret it. She wanted this for Carrie (and for herself, if she was being honest) and she was willing to do whatever it took, even if it meant hatching a hare-brained scheme like the one she currently found herself ensnared in.

Hotch raised his eyebrows at her. She suspected the pieces were starting to come together for him. “And you’re here to ask me to marry you?”

He was chuckling now, almost in disbelief. Although she half-expected to become defensive, Emily instead found herself wanting to crack a grin at the pure absurdity of the situation.

“Well, given my lack of a personal life, it was one of our coworkers or a random man on the street.” The last time she had been on a date was months ago. Liv had been nice, but Emily could tell she wanted more than a casual relationship. So that particular alley was a bust, notwithstanding the fact that her gender preference would disqualify any actual partner.

“Why me?” Hotch asked, bringing her out of her thoughts. His tone turned serious again. “I don’t exactly have the best track record with parenthood.”

His gaze was fixed at a blank spot on the wall above her head, and Emily imagined he was mentally scrolling through his worst hits as a constantly-working husband and father.

“Hotch, you’re the only man on this team with any parenting expertise.” Upon giving the decision some thought, Emily had realized that not only was Hotch the best choice, he was the only choice. She voiced her thought process to reassure him. “Morgan is the perpetual bachelor, Reid would eat cereal for every meal if we let him, and Rossi is old enough to be my father.”

“While I’m certainly flattered to have been picked by process of elimination, that doesn’t make this a good idea.” He was right. In fact, it was a bad idea for more reasons than Emily could count, chiefly that she and Hotch had only recently reached any sort of lasting truce; any person who wasn’t convinced of the validity of their relationship could turn them in and ruin the whole scheme.

“Sir, I recognize the ridiculousness of the situation, and if you say no I will never mention this conversation again, but I really believe that we have the chance to make someone’s life better. Our job is about always making wrong things right, giving people peace, but never more than that. Never making a good thing on its own.” Hotch looked as surprised as Emily felt at her impassioned speech. At some point, she had begun gesticulating, movements becoming more frantic as the volume of her voice rose.

“We’ve seen how the foster system changes kids,” she continued, suddenly feeling bold. “I don’t need Reid to quote statistics to know it’s usually not for the better. Carrie has so much potential and I don’t want to think her hopes were dashed because of a choice I made.” I see myself in her, Emily didn’t say. Young and hopeful and ready to take on the world.

They sat in silence as Hotch mulled her words over. Emily felt confident that no matter his decision, she had given it her all. It felt unnerving to have to place a decision this important in the hands of a man she had betrayed, but Emily knew he would put aside any feelings, positive or negative, that he might have for her. It was one of the things she admired most about Hotch; if he respected you, he valued your contributions, whether you were certified genius Spencer Reid or a local law enforcement officer assisting the team. With that conviction in mind, Emily did her best to steel herself for his decision as Hotch began to speak.

“Let’s pretend I said yes. What are we going to tell the team, not to mention Jack and my… Haley?” Emily pretended to ignore the way he choked on Haley’s name. It was the least she owed him. Still, she felt hope bubbling in her chest at the realization that he was actually considering it.

“I think we should tell the team as little as possible. I don’t doubt that they’ll figure out something is different, but we both know Reid and Garcia can’t lie to save their lives. It’ll be better to keep them in the dark for as long as possible.” Hotch nodded and Emily felt some of the tension leave her body. “As for Jack and Haley, you know them best, so I’ll defer to you.”

“We’ll have to convince them we’re really in a relationship,” he responded without pause. “Haley and I currently have equal custody, and I won’t do anything to jeopardize that.”

“Deal.” She briefly fought the ridiculous urge to offer him a handshake. “Although I am warning you that I’m not sure how long this arrangement will have to last.”

“Well, as you pointed out, I’m not exactly a youthful bachelor.” True to his words, Emily’s brain faltered when asked to conjure up an image of Hotch as a twenty-something playboy. He was, she thought, possibly the most monogamous man she had ever met. If he was as serious in his acquiescence to her plan as he was in every other endeavor, they would be an excellent team.

“You’re really sure?” She had hoped for this, of course, but now it hardly seemed real.

Hotch’s voice was warm. “Emily, speaking as a parent, every child deserves someone who is as passionate about them as you clearly are about Carrie. If I have the chance to make someone's life better and it doesn’t harm me or my family or the team in any way, then I don’t see how I could say no.”

“Thank you, sir. You don’t know how much this means to me.” Emily rarely cried, preferring to keep her rare bouts of melancholia and euphoria within the confines of her apartment, but she could feel herself tearing up, though she tried her best to conceal it. “We should be able to sign the necessary paperwork in the morning.”

“Of course,” he said. Emily stood and turned to leave the room, pausing in the door frame as she heard his voice again, colored by the return of his smile. “And Prentiss, if we’re going to pull this off, you probably shouldn’t call me sir.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #queerminal minds #*mine #*fic #these are ties that bind

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movetothesuburbs · 5 years

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Fatherhood in Sunny

My favorite thing is daddy issues, so of course I gravitate to a show that has so many. So many. It’s always daddy issues in Philadelphia. Uh, I have a lot of thoughts, so I’m just going to jump right in.

Frank Reynolds: World’s Best Dad* *as long as he didn’t raise you

Frank is undoubtedly just the worst person and that bleeds into his role as father. He was largely absent while Dennis and Dee were growing up, the only support he provided was financial. Emotional support was completely non-existent. This leaves us with highly privileged, emotionally stunted people. (Barbara did have a hand in this with harsh criticism of Dee and high praise for Dennis, so yay for toxic parents all around)

Frank poisons and pimps his children as a way to gain more power and money. Dennis falls into the trap more often than Dee does, or at least in a more compliant way. Dee resents people telling her what to do, while Dennis crumbles when people fall into a caretaker role for him. We see this in The Gang Gets Whacked when Dennis just completely loses all sense of independence with Frank as his pimp. We get a glimpse of this in Mac and Dennis Break Up, where Dennis is barely able to function without Mac telling him what to do or doing simple tasks for him.

Dee has verged in the opposite direction. While she still craves the same validation that Dennis does, if she doesn’t get it when she asks for it she decides to try and prove her worth by showing how much she can do on her own. She takes over whatever scheme on her own, or makes a show of how helpful and stable she is. (she isn’t) Dee tries to convince herself that she’s grown up without trauma, Dennis lets the trauma consume him.

The fact that Frank is not their biological father doesn’t end up affecting the dynamic so much. The damage is already done, so when the twins try to connect with their bio dad, they’re unable to form a genuine emotional connection. (as an aside i love the choice of actor being the dad from 7th Heaven) They are fundamentally broken people, largely due to Frank’s influence, so they resort to scamming and scheming. Bruce highlights all the attributes that Frank is lacking: charity and empathy. He tries with the twins but ultimately knows that relationship won’t work out and chooses to distance himself from them. Frank, sticks around, joining in on the shenanigans, but never giving them the love and care they so desperately crave and deserved growing up.

But things with Charlie and Mac are different. The way Frank treats Charlie is much kinder than he treats the rest of the world. It’s unclear if Frank is Charlie’s bio dad, but that hardly matters. Their relationship really blurs the line between familial/romantic/platonic. It’s strange and beautiful and disgusting. Get you a man who will play nightcrawlers with you. Still they get along well and Frank does a lot to take care of Charlie, both financially and emotionally. (in that weird codependent unhealthy way of theirs.)

Charlie grew up without a dad and his mom being was a sex worker (no shame in that, but maybe don’t bring a bunch of strange men around your kid). Speaking of, it’s pretty fucked up that the only consistent adult male figure Charlie had growing up was an uncle who molested him. There’s also a lot to unpack with the fact that uncle Jack is a lawyer, which is a career that Charlie latched onto. (You are not a certified bird lawyer but I support you) When all is said and done, Frank is the best father figure Charlie has.

And in a weird way, he’s also the best father figure Mac has. But I can’t really go into that without talking about Luther

Luther McDonald: A Dad, I Guess* *I hope he gets shanked in prison

Mac grew up neglected on all sides of the table. He was poor, his dad was in and out of prison, and he needed to deal drugs just to be somewhat accepted by his peers. Luther does not love his son. Whenever they do interact, Luther is critical, manipulative, and witholds affection. Again we can bring up the way Mac and Dennis interact with each other. Dennis, in general, is more affectionate with Mac, at least in earlier seasons. They’re on more equal footing and Mac often manipulates Dennis right back. I promise this isn’t an entire post about how Mac and Dennis project their daddy issues on each other, but they sure do that don’t they?

Luther simply doesn’t care about Mac and shows open contempt for him. Mac has been vying for this man’s approval since he was a child. It’s important for Mac to come out to his dad. Regardless of how Mac feels about the outcome, Luther walking out provides some closure. If there isn’t any acceptance in that moment then there never will be.

That brings us back to Frank. Throughout Mac Finds His Pride, he keeps saying that he doesn’t it and never will. But the thing is, he tries. He makes the effort to try and help Mac find his place as a gay man, because even if he doesn’t get it, he supports him. As weird as that is coming from Frank. And in the end he does understand Mac better. So not to praise Frank too highly as a father because he is a disgusting little man who abuses and neglects his own children, but he did kind of adopt Charlie and Mac in his own way.

But we have another father to talk about, too.

Dennis Reynolds: Father of the Year* *I guess. Who knows what happened in North Dakota? Not us. Maybe Mandy and Brian Jr. died

So, obviously, Dennis isn’t someone you’d think of as father material. It would cramp his image as cool bachelor. But the fact is, he totally bailed on the chance to hook up with some mom at the waterpark to spend his whole day with a cool kid. And he was ready to lay into who he thought was her parent. He saw a smart kid, and made a weird connection to her. And even when she swindled him, he was so proud of her. Sure, teaching your kid tips on how to swindle people isn’t good parenting, but it was a bonding experience. His day with Abby was probably the most genuine connection he made to anyone outside of the gang. Sometimes you adopt a daughter for a day.

There was no pressure or expectation with Abby, though. That could be brushed off as just Dennis being weird. Dennis definitely has an idea in his head about what he is supposed to be and what he needs to do to fill those roles. He doesn’t have a strong sense of identity and will latch onto certain expectations. When Mandy shows up with a baby she named after him (or, rather, fake him) it brings to light all the things that society expects. You grow up, you get married, you have children. It’s normal. It’s grounded in something. It’s what is expected of the straight male experience. (when Dennis says things like “As a straight man” i can feel my soul leave my body with shock every time)

The immediate response from the gang is to get him out of this situation. Because one of the roles Dennis has so carefully crafted for himself is the cool, straight bachelor who can’t be tied down by any woman. Throughout the whole thing, we see his resolve crumble. Frank was a piece of shit father, and Dennis has seen how Mac and Charlie turned out without dads. He’s thinking about the consequences of not filling this specific role. (Mandy is amazing af though and would definitely raise a stable child without Dennis’s help)

The crushing weight of your own trauma can make you do some crazy things. Like make you leave your entire life behind to go be a dad in North Dakota because you think that is the correct thing to do. We don’t know what happened there, but the fact that he came back indicates that it didn’t pan out. Maybe Dennis isn’t cut out to be a dad when faced by the expectations of the nuclear family. The fact is, he could be a wildly interesting father who encourages his kids, or maybe he’d just end up feeling trapped and having a breakdown. There’s a lot of fatherhood trauma in there

A Conclusion of Sorts

With all of the gang dealing with their relationship to fatherhood, it is interesting that Dennis, Mac, and Charlie were all fully willing to take up the mantle of father for the baby Dee gave birth to. I don’t for one minute think they would have raised a “normal” child, and it’s likely they would have fallen into the same patterns they saw growing up, but to embrace the idea and be excited about it is certainly something. Mac was ready to raise an entire child with Dennis (That was probably more to do with Dennis than it was about being a dad). Time and time again we see the gang confronted with fatherhood and either embracing it or rejecting it. Dads really fuck you up!

#iasip meta #iasip #sometimes you write 1500 words of commentary for a sitcom #also i know i talk about mac a lot but he's my fave so i'm not ashamed of my clear bias #also i think sometimes the read more is broken on mobile #so i apologize for that

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taekookieah · 4 years

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Memories

Authors Note: This story is one that I hold close to me. It is one that I found that I needed to write for me and to let my emotions flow. I wanted a story that held some weight to it but also had some light fun in it too. So if you end up reading this story I thank you and hope you enjoy yourself. I am always open for any constructive feedback as I am still learning as a new writer. Thank you and enjoy. Warnings: Mentions of alcohol and drug consumption, Sex scenes, Emotional damage. I will put warnings at the beginning of each chapter in case there are things you do not want to read. They are mild but I do not want to upset anyone xx

Prologue

Morning. Riley slowly blinks her eyes open, squinting as the light coming through the small opening in the curtains blind her. Yawning as she stretches her arms above her head, Riley rolls around in her bed as she feels her tense muscles stretch and her bones pop and crack with every move. It’s peaceful in her room as she lays back down with a sigh, running through her foggy brain as to what her schedule is for the day.

A loud thud and a slight curse come right outside her bedroom door causing Riley to take a deep breath in to welcome the chaos in three, two, one…

Her door swings open without even a knock on the door. The young man whom so rudely interrupted her peaceful rest stands in her doorway, only wearing a baggy pair of grey sweats that hang low on his hips.

Riley was used to the boy’s weird shenanigans so it came to no surprise that he casually flings himself on top of her, arms crossed on her stomach and chin resting on his folded arms.

“Hey Riley would you like to—”

“Nope” Riley pushes him off the bed and rolls over, dragging her blanket over her head to block out any unnecessary noise coming from her friend.

“But you don’t even know what it is” the boy grunts as he climbs back on the bed and spoons Riley, pulling her burrito form into him.

“Knowing you it’s something potentially illegal or embarrassing and I’m not about to go through a traumatic experience” Riley jabs her elbow into his stomach but he doesn’t budge. Stupid Taehyung and his god damn abs…

“I swear it’s nothing embarrassing, and it’s something I think you’ll really enjoy” Taehyung snuggles in closer, arms wrapping comfortably around Riley’s middle.

Riley sighs knowing what Taehyung is like. He’s stubborn as hell, persistent and will not give up until he gets what he wants. It’s the reason why he is as successful as he is but man it can be hell to have to deal with this brat.

“Pleeeeeeeeeeease, just here me out” Riley can feel the puppy dog eyes before she even sees them. Riley gives in and slowly turns her body around so she is facing Taehyung.

This close she can see just how picture-perfect Taehyung really is. His hair is a light brown which almost turns golden in the sunlight. His eyes are soft but have a deep intensity about them, his jawline could cut diamonds and his lips look so soft. A shame that he is super gay but Riley shouldn’t complain as even the thought of dating the man in her bed makes her shiver in disgust. Riley loves him dearly, but good lord this kid is clingy.

“What is it?” Riley regrets the words leaving her mouth but she knows it’s the only way for Taehyung to get out of bed, the sooner the better.

“God your breath stinks” Taehyung scrunches up his face in disgust.

“I just woke up, deal with it” Riley breathes heavily, deliberately blowing hot air into his face.

“Ew gross stop!!” Taehyung pokes at Riley to stop which she eventually does.

“That’s what you get for disturbing me this early in the morning” Riley states as she covers her mouth with the blanket knowing that Taehyung won’t stop complaining unless she gets up and brushes her teeth which she is in no state to do so because that requires effort.

“I’ve got a friend who runs an arts studio and has offered me, and a plus one,” Taehyung winks and does some weird finger gun action. “to come and try out their art classes for free”

“And let me guess, all you have to do is some instagram promotional photo and tada free goodies?” Riley asks as she finally pushes herself up into a sitting position, crossing her legs to face her friend who rolls onto his back and folds his hands behind his head, flexing his abs because that’s the type of tease he is with everyone.

“Bingo bongo, so you in?” Taehyung raises an eyebrow, already knowing the answer.

“I’ll go” Riley sighs out heavily in defeat making Taehyung jump out of the bed in triumph but Riley stops him just before he exits the room.

“On one condition” Riley calls out as she swings her legs off the bed and stands up.

“Leave me out of any photos or videos while we are there” Riley waves her hand as she begins to look through her drawers for some comfortable clothing.

“Oh sweetie, don’t you worry, you’re not exactly model material anyway” Taehyung states as he bolts down the hallway.

“Why you little—” Riley turns and chases Taehyung down the stairs and into the lounge area, past the kitchen where the smell of bacon and eggs are being freshly cooked.

“PausepausepausepauseRILEYISAIDPAUSE” Taehyung screams as Riley tackles him to the ground, tickling his underarms and sides as she pins him down with her legs either side of his hips.

“Oh, I don’t think so” Riley giggles herself as she continues her assault.

The two tumble about on the ground and eventually Riley stops, only when she noticed a figure standing a few feet away.

“Good morning kids, did you sleep well?” a gentle voice calls out making the pair stop their antics and look towards the man standing next to them, an apron hugging his slim frame.

The man is small and only a few inches taller than Riley. His build is strong but his face is soft and sweet, one that grabs everyone’s attention wherever he goes. His silver hair is styled up so his fringe is out of his eyes but has a natural look to it despite the abnormal colour. His ears are pierced with a few silver earring’s, some studs and others long chains that move with every slight twitch.

“Jiminie!” Taehyung calls out in glee, arms reaching out towards the man but Riley just shoves at Taehyung’s chest making him fall back down onto the fluffy rug. Riley huffs as she pushes herself up onto her feet, a slight sheen of sweat built up on her forehead.

“Morning Jimin” Riley gives the boy a sweet smile and a big hug before letting go and making her way up the stairs to shower.

“You guys are quite energetic this morning” Jimin helps the wounded Taehyung up onto his feet without much effort and heads back to the kitchen where he finishes plating up the food.

“Tae interrupted my me time” Riley grumbled as she had to tread back up the steps, legs sore from yesterday’s workout.

“oooooooOOOOOOOOOoooooo why didn’t you tell me you were having some TLC huh?” Taehyung calls out to Riley with a wiggle of his eyebrows. Riley just rolls her eyes and flips the male off while heading into her separate bathroom. Luckily this was a place where it was a no-go zone for the boys, an unspoken rule that Taehyung actually followed. Jimin was always a good cookie so Riley didn’t have to worry about someone walking in on her as she was showering.

“Common now eat up, I cooked breakfast for us” Jimin nudged Taehyung’s side as he finished prepping everyone’s meals for the day.

“Oh, Jimin you’re an angel” Taehyung gives Jimin’s cheeks a squeeze before going to grab the plate full of sausages and grease but was rudely slapped away.

“Ouch! What the hell Jimin?” Taehyung rubs the back of his hand where Jimin had slapped him with a spatula and pointed towards the plate where there were cooked egg whites, chicken and sad looking spinach.

“You’re on a diet for your upcoming photoshoot remember? I’ve packed your meals for the day so don’t go eating anything else” Jimin gave Taehyung an intense glare before taking the plate that Taehyung had originally wanted and started digging in happily, deliberately licking his lips and gulping down a glass of orange juice just to rub it in.

“Sometimes I think you’re worse than Satan’s child” Taehyung looked towards the second floor which earned another whack but on the back of his head this time.

“Eat your breakfast and behave” Jimin scolds Taehyung making him jump and start shovelling his food down his throat. Taehyung couldn’t really complain necessarily as this food always tasted good even though it was the blandest food known to man-kind, but his precious Jiminie made it just for him so he couldn’t say no.

“Riley, your plate is in the microwave I’ll see you this evening at class!” Jimin called out whilst untying his apron and hanging it on the hook by the cupboard.

“ThankyouyourethebestIllseeyoutonight!” Riley pokes her head out of her bathroom, a towel tightly wrapped around her body and her hair dripping wet from the shower.

“Don’t” Jimin points towards Taehyung who was just about to make a remark about her appearance and thus sulks silently as he finished his food.

“Will you be home tonight or are you staying at the studio again?” Taehyung asks quietly as he takes a seat at the dinner table and twirls his hair between his fingers, briefly wondering if he should keep growing it out or get it cut.

“Depends on how much work there is to do, I’ve made extra food and labelled it all out for the next few days so on the off chance I’m not back for a while you’ll be fine” Jimin says as he walks over to Taehyung and fixes his hair that was now sticking in every direction.

“Don’t look at me like that” Jimin giggles as he sees the big pout forming on Taehyungs lips. Jimin just sighs and pinches his friend on the cheek.

“I’ll see you later” Jimin says with his sweetest smile as he turns on his heels towards the front door.

“Have a good day guys!” Jimin calls out as he closes the front door behind him.

“You too” Taehyung says mostly to himself as he slumps down into his chair, slowly picking at the rest of his food but not feeling hungry anymore.

“You need a lift to your meeting today?” Riley asks as she walks in bare foot, fully dressed in a pair of black pants and a navy-blue top provided by her work. She looks over her shoulder as she takes her food out of the microwave and munches down quickly only noticing how hungry she really was.

“Nah I’ll be fine it’s close enough to walk to” Taehyung pushes himself up from his seat and walks over to Riley who’s shoving the last bit of meat into her mouth before going to wash her plate in the sink. Taehyung stands behind Riley and snakes his arms around her waist, cuddling up close and hiding his face in the crook of her neck.

Riley was used to his touchy nature but she could tell he was troubled but decided not to push. Riley continues to clean her dishes and cutlery, waddling her way around the kitchen with Taehyung clinging to her like a baby koala. Once finished she places her hands on top of Taehyungs much larger ones and slowly pries them open. Taehyung complies but not before gently squeezing Riley closer for a small moment. Riley turns in his embrace and wraps her arms around Taehyung’s middle bringing him closer as she rubs a hand back and forth over his back. This causes Taehyung to slowly loosen his tension in his shoulders and calm his emotions before letting Riley go completely. Riley looks back and forth between Taehyung’s eyes and gives him a small smile, one that Taehyung returns before he turns to go get ready for the day.

Riley knows all about how big of a crush Taehyung has on Jimin. He hides it well, most of the time, but it’s getting to the point where Riley can see the cracks more clearly with each passing day. Had it not been for the pinkie promise that she gave Taehyung to never ever EVER say a word to Jimin she would have spilled the beans long ago, but it’s not for her to decide whether or not they start dating so she sits off to the side watching and waiting for what everyone is expecting. If only Jimin wasn’t so dense he would be able to clearly see the true feelings his housemate has for him and stop denying the feelings he has for the other as well.

“I won’t be back until this evening but give me a call if you need anything” Riley calls out to Taehyung as she grabs her shoes and balances on one leg at a time trying and shove them on. Taehyung yells out a quick ‘ye’ from his room as he’s going through his wardrobe picking out a white v-line shirt, black skinny jeans and a denim jacket to throw on top. The weather was starting to cool down so it was finally becoming comfortable layering clothes which Riley was happy for as she was not a fan of the heat.

“Go crack some bones” Taehyung calls out as he skips down the stairs whilst tucking in his shirt and buckling up his belt.

“For the last time Tae, I’m a physiotherapist not a chiropractor” Riley complains as she rummages through her bag making sure that she has everything packed for the day ahead.

“Rightrightright” Taehyung says as he brings out his black combat boots.

Once they were both ready to leave Taehyung locks the door behind them as they exit their apartment and head towards the elevator. The doors open relatively quickly and they step inside, Riley checking her phone for new messages that she received during the night and Taehyung checking his reflection in the mirror, constantly fixing his hair and pierced ears.

Once the doors open on the ground level Taehyung nods his head to Riley and puts on his pair of aviators and heads out the entrance of the apartment complex, keeping his hands tucked into his jacket. Riley watches Taehyung’s retreating form as she presses for the level below to reach the basement where her car is parked below.

“Good morning Riley!” the receptionist welcomes Riley with a sweet smile and hands her the files for the day.

“Good morning Danny, how are you today?” Riley smiles back. She’s always liked Danielle, an absolute sweetie and one that needed to be protected from those slimy clients who would try flirting with her every chance they could get.

“I’m doing well thank you for asking. Sorry to dump this all on you, but Mark won’t be coming in today… his mother had another heart attack” Danny whispers sadly as Riley packs her bag away and looks through the pile of files given to her.

“Again? I do hope she’ll be ok, she’s always been such a kind woman” Riley’s face falls upon hearing the news, making a note to call Mark at an appropriate time. For now, Riley had to focus on the task at hand.

“I’ll organise to send some flowers to the hospital” Danny says as she swivels in her chair, setting up her headset.

“That would be nice I’ll give you some money later today” Riley nods her head towards the girl who’s busy already making phone calls to clients and reminding them for upcoming appointments.

Riley heads down the hall towards her office where her desk and treatment table are all set up. This job had been one that Riley had worked so hard for. The ungodly number of hours she studied and sacrificed to get to this point was almost soul crushing, but in the end, she achieved her honours with high distinctions which landed her the job that she loves with every fibre of her being. Making sure that her appearance was presentable Riley brought out her first file and had a quick flick through, memorizing the client’s previous treatment and looking at ways to improve for the future.

Helping people was always something Riley loved to do, she was always dubbed as the mother friend. Riley was always there for her friends, picking them up from parties and taking them home, bringing them food when they are sick, protecting them from creepy unwanted attention, the list goes on. Her mother always gushed about how she was going to help so many people, telling her that she was a natural helper and knew that one day she would help people live better lives which she was doing just that.

There were plenty of days where she felt tired but that’s just natural when you’ve been working nonstop for years without taking a proper break, but that was Riley’s nature. You have to work hard to get what you want. She knew how hard life is and that thing’s aren’t just given to you on a silver platter. She rolls her eyes at those whom boast of their wealth, which was really handed to them by their rich parents.

“Alright let’s get this day going” Riley says to herself as she checks the time and walks out of her office greeting her first client of the day.

“Jesse Walker?” Riley calls out into the waiting room and sees a young man a few years younger than her stand up from his seat and walk towards her.

“Just down the hall and to the left”

The day was long and hard since Riley had to cover for most of her co-worker’s clients on top of her own but it made time run by quickly. Once Riley had finished with her last client she tidied up her office and packed up for the day. Wasting no time Riley locked up her office and made her way to the front desk checking tomorrows schedule.

“Another busy one tomorrow I’m afraid” Danny says as she writes down some sticky notes and tags them on her computer screen as she logs out.

“That’s alright, did most of Mark’s clients take the news well that he will be out of action for the next week or two?” Riley rummages through her bag and takes out her container of food that was meant to be lunch but she didn’t have any time to spare despite feeling ravenous.

“They took it well mostly but I got a few huffy puffy gents” Danny stands and fixes her skirt in place having been sitting down all day.

“Did Jimin make that?” Danny asks pointing at the container of stir-fried vegies and chicken that Riley was currently consuming.

“Yes he did. Alright alright stop it with the begging, open wide” Riley laughs as her co-worker opens her mouth and flaps her arms about like a baby bird. Riley scoops a generous amount and carefully spoons it into Danielle’s mouth who hums happily as she chews, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk.

“Mmmmmmmmmmmmsogooooooooood” Danielle claps as she grabs her keys makes a round through the office, locking up the doors and switching off the lights.

“You go on ahead, I won’t be too far behind” Danielle calls out as Riley slings her bag over her shoulder.

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow” Riley calls out as she makes her way out the door and heads straight for her car. Riley had finished a little later than what she would have liked but she has enough time to get to the dance studio and change before class starts. Just as Riley gets into her car her phone starts ringing so she quickly puts in her wireless earphones, curtsey of one Kim Taehyung, and presses accept.

“Hey Riley, you coming to class tonight?” Jimin’s sweet voice comes through the earphones clear as day. He’s sounding a little out of breath but that’s to be expected as he would have just finished a class.

“Just on my way now” Riley pulls out of the car park and onto the road, making sure to check her blind spots as she switches lanes.

“Oh good I was worried since you’re usually here by now. Hey would you be able to have a look at one of my students, she’s landed awkwardly and her ankle isn’t doing so great” Jimin asks, worry evident in his voice. Riley is no stranger to many people asking for “free services” outside of work because she is their friend, however her and Jimin have been friends since university and one she considers family.

“Absolutely, I’ll be there in 10 so that should give me time to change and have a look before class starts” Riley smiles as she hears the sigh of relief coming from the other end of the call.

“Thank you so much, you’re a blessing” Jimin says happily.

“I know you hate asking for favours but it’s ok Jimin, you know I’m always happy to help you whenever you need” Riley replies.

“What did I ever do to have an amazing best friend like you?”

“Well you make me food every day so I think that evens things out”

“Good point, I really should start charging you now that you have a full-time job” Jimin teases.

“Wow rude, alright I’m pulling up soon so I’ll see you in a bit” Riley ends the call as Jimin says goodbye over the phone.

It doesn’t take long for Riley to find her usual parking spot, Jimin being ever so kind as to allow her a staff members parking spot. Riley jumps out of the car and grabs her gym bag which carries a spare change of clothes. Riley walks through the front door and is greeted with many people waving her way and calling out her name in delight.

“Riley over here!” Jimin calls out over the small crowd, waving his hands above his head and jumping up and down. His silver hair is damp with sweat and his clothes have started sticking to his body which leaves little to the imagination. Riley walks through the throng of people and greets Jimin and gives him a big hug despite his protests not wanting to get Riley all gross and sticky.

“Give me a minute to change” Riley asks as she makes her way to the changing rooms.

“Ok, I’ll be in room 1, meet me there?” Jimin throws his thumb over his shoulder and Riley gives him a thumbs up as she walks away to get changed.

Once Riley had changed into her dancing outfit, she quickly shoved her work clothes into her bag and makes her way to go meet up with Jimin and his student. Riley found the room easily as she had been there many times and gave the door a few knocks before entering.

Jimin was sitting on the floor legs crossed and quietly chatting with a girl whom was laying on the ground with one leg bandaged up and covered with ice and resting on a chair to raise it up.

“Hey Alex, wasn’t expecting to see you laying about, what’s going on?” Riley chirps in trying to keep the mood as light as possible. She knows how serious injuries can be to dancers, especially when they have competitions coming up, so she wanted to make sure not to dampen the mood anymore that it already was.

“Hah, well you know how hard this one pushes us I just wanted some rest” Alex jests but Jimin genuinely starts to panic, waving his arms about and apologizing profusely.

“Relax Jimin I’m joking, seriously you’re an amazing instructor and this had nothing to do with you” Alex pats Jimin on the leg as she brings her leg down off the chair and gives Jimin the icepack.

“What happened?” Riley sits down and inspects the ankle from a distance wanting to know the full story before she started touching anything that may cause severe pain. Alex relayed the story how she had been practicing with Jimin and the crew for the upcoming showcase and that after a flip she had landed awkwardly and her ankle gave out and started hurting badly.

“We wrapped it up just in case and iced it but we aren’t sure what the problem is” Jimin says as he bites his thumb nervously, leg bouncing as he was becoming jittery.

“Alright, well do you mind if I have a look at your ankle?” Riley gestures towards the bandaged ankle and Alex nodes in approvement.

Riley takes her time as she unwraps the material, closely watching the dancer’s reaction from any sudden movement but nothing was badly effecting Alex. Once the ankle was free Riley had a close look to see if there was anything abnormal and then started moving the joint, checking its range of motion to see any areas of stiffness.

Riley made sure to constantly check in on Alex, asking whether what she was doing hurt or if there were any particular areas that hurt more than others. Alex pointed out the certain areas and with a few quick tests Riley was able to make a statement.

“Well it’s definitely not a break, and there isn’t any bruising or swelling so I doubt that there is any tearing. If you really want to be sure I can give her a referral to get a scan done but honestly my advice is giving it some rest and try to walk on it as normally as you can. You’re more than welcome to come in and I can give it a good massage if you want” Riley pulls out some proper tape that she always brings with her and starts to strap it up, just to give it some more support.

“Thank you so much you’re an angel” Alex gives Riley a hug once she was up on her feet.

“You sure you’ll be ok?” Jimin worries once more and Alex just punches him on the arm showing that she really was fine. Jimin rubs at his arm and laughs lightly as he watches Alex grab her bag and slowly limp her way out the room.

“I’ll be kicking back into action soon, just watch me!” Alex calls out as she leaves.

“Seriously thank you again for checking in on Alex. She’s a brave girl but gosh she is stubborn when it comes to having injuries checked out, I worry for her sometimes” Jimin sighs as he leans a hand on his hip pursing his lips deeps in thought.

“Common, you’ve got one more class to take and then I’ll have a look at your neck after” Riley nudges Jimin as she grabs her bag off the floor and heads towards the main room where the advanced classes are held.

“Ay ay captain!” Jimin salutes and runs after Riley giving her butt a quick slap as he runs out the room.

“Hey!” Riley yelps as goes to run after Jimin but nearly runs straight into someone.

“Sorry!” Riley calls out as she shuffles around the man and continues to chase after Jimin.

Authors Note: This story can be a very typical one and I didn’t write the guys as they would normally be in real life but I had fun writing their characters

#Memories #Riley #Jimin #Taehyung #Jungkook #bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfic au #I'm not good with tags sorry #Memories Prologue

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huesofthemorning · 5 years

Text

JunTaba’s Sailor Moon Theory

Characters: Junna, Futaba, Kaoruko

Words: 1500

Summary: Junna and Futaba sit down to discuss the most important thing in the world: A Sailor Moon AU for their friends.

“If we’re going to do this,” Junna said, slamming her notebook on the table, “we’re going to do this right!”

“Can you do it not in this room?” Kaoruko asked.

“No,” Junna and Futaba answered. Kaoruko groaned and put a pillow over her head, sending silent prayers to the giraffe god that she could fall asleep and miss this discussion.

“So, how we doing this, class prez?” Futaba asked, balancing a pencil on her finger. “Going in order, or going by easiest?”

“Easiest,” Junna said, “I’m calling Mercury.”

“Hah! Course you would!” The pencil clattered to the table. Junna snatched it up and penciled Mercury next to her name. She drew the little mercury symbol next to it.

“I like her computer,” she said.

“We have smartphones now, Junna. That computer is obsolete.”

“Don’t ruin my childhood.”

“Well,” Kaoruko drawled, “since you asked so nicely.”

“I thought you weren’t listening.”

“You’re just impossible to ignore, Junna-han. And I mean in that in the least nice way possible.”

“Oh, I’m aware. Anyway, Isurugi-”

“Dibs on Uranus. And Kaoruko’s Neptune. Because we’re gay.”

“Hmm.”

“Don’t hmm me! We were made for those roles!”

“Hmm,” Junna hmm’d again. “Aren’t you a little bit short for that role?”

“Bite me.”

Kaoruko sat up in bed. “Oh?”

“Not you.” Futaba grabbed the pencil back from Junna and wrote Uranus next to her name. “Come on! I’m the butchest here! I own a motorcycle! Who else would you put as Uranus?”

“Tendo-san and Saijo-san would fit Uranus and Neptune pretty well.”

“What? No way! I’m way butcher than Tendo.”

Junna rolled her eyes. “There’s more to character analysis than butchness, Isurugi.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“See,” Junna started, in her I’m About To Give You A Dissertation voice, “Uranus and Neptune are supposed to be the outliers. They’re stronger than the inner senshi. More experienced. Everyone looks up to them and wants to be them. Then when you finally get close to them, you discover they’re actually a pair of idiots.”

“Okay, that’s good and all, but I’m going to say it again: I have a motorcycle.”

“Fair enough.”

Futaba nodded decisively and added Neptune next to Kaoruko’s name. Really, it was a perfect match. Kaoruko and Neptune had the same hair, the same quiet presence, the same sly smile, the same ability to cut a person to shreds with words alone. Not that Junna would say any of that out loud, of course. Kaoruko didn’t need a confidence boost.

“Who next?” Junna asked.

“Uhhhhh… Who’s dumb enough to be Sailor Moon?”

Junna and Futaba looked each other in the eyes. “Karen,” they said together.

Futaba wrote it down, smirking as a thought came to her. “You know, Junna, if we go by the timeline, the first senshi that joins Moon is Mercury.”

Horror filled Junna. “Oh no.”

“I think you mean oh yes. You get to deal with Karen all by yourself for several weeks! We all know that’s your favorite thing in the world.”

“I would probably kill her.”

“No you wouldn’t. You like her too much.”

“Who’s Mars?” Junna asked, changing the subject, much to Futaba’s amusement. “Who’s going to save me?”

“Huh. That’s a good question.” Futaba stared at the ceiling, mentally running through their list of friends. It was hard to keep track of everyone sometimes.

“Let’s approach this the smart way,” Junna said, adjusting her glasses. “Mars is a masculine planet. Symbolizes war. Has to do with fire, and in the Sailor Moon world, birds as well.”

“Tendo. If it’s fire and birds, it’s got to be Tendo.”

Junna frowned, lips tight. She didn’t say anything. Futaba laughed.

“What, not the senshi in shining armor you were hoping for?”

“Trying to wrangle Karen and Tendo-san into a functional team does not sound easy,” Junna sighed. “At least we’d be well balanced. Tendo-san can do the melee and I can do the ranged attacks.”

“And Karen?”

“Karen can stay out of our way.”

“Man, I remember the good old days when Mercury was the nice quiet one. What happened to you?”

“Giraffes,” Junna said simply.

They held a moment of silence. Kaoruko was tempted to talk just so she wasn’t silent in solidarity with them, but she also didn’t want to interact with them in any way.

“Mahiru for Jupiter?” Futaba asked.

“I was going to say Nana.”

“Why? Because people ship Mercury and Jupiter together? You can’t just assign people roles because you’re gay, Junna.”

Junna’s mouth dropped open. “You- your entire reason for you and Hanayagi being Uranus and Neptune was because you two are gay!”

Futaba shook her head. “I didn’t say that.”

“You absolutely did!”

“Nah.”

Junna was scowling. Futaba smirked. “Anyways,” she continued, “what’d you think about making Banana Jupiter?”

“I hate you.”

“I think Junna-han should be Jupiter,” Kaoruko chimed in. “She has the most ~talent~ after all.”

Futaba laughed. Junna groaned. Kaoruko decided that breaking her silence had been worth it for the boob joke.

“Okay, seriously, back to business.” Junna tapped the notebook with the pencil. “Nana or Tsuyuzaki for Jupiter? They’re both very mom-like, as Jupiter should be.”

“Banana’s a mom, but Mahiru is Karen’s mom, and Jupiter constantly takes care of Moon. So I vote Mahiru.”

“That’s a sound argument, for once,” Junna said. “I suppose… Nana could be Pluto, then?”

“Why Pluto?”

“Time shenanigans.”

“Time shenanigans?”

“Time shenanigans.”

“Okay, sure, time shenanigans.” Futaba shrugged.

Nana fit Pluto very well, once Junna thought about it a little more. Existing outside of time, watching over everyone, only to be reborn and allowed to become part of the group and move on. Perhaps a little more tragic than Junna would have liked, but a surprisingly good fit for a silly anime au.

“If Nana is going to be Pluto, I reassert that Tendo-san and Saijo-san should be Uranus and Neptune. Then we’d have the top 3 of the class be the three strongest senshi.”

“And what does that mean, huh? Kaoruko and I aren’t good enough for Banana?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“How rude, Junna-han. We’re going to steal your girlfriend.”

“Yeah, we’re going to steal her so she can become the third mom to our child of destruction.”

“Second mom,” Junna corrected. “I can’t imagine Hanayagi doing any sort of mother work.”

“I’m glad you understand,” Kaoruko said.

“Who is our child, anyway?” Futaba asked.

“Well, we only have Saijo-san and Kagura left.”

“Gotta be Hikari then,” Futaba said, writing it down. “Quiet, willing to sacrifice herself, and probably filled with barely restrained chaos? Sounds like Saturn to me.”

“I’m not sure about that last point.”

“Come on. Didn’t you hear about the time she tied Karen up and locked her in a shed?”

“As class president, I do my very best not to hear that story.”

“Sucks to be you. That story’s great.”

Junna sighed. Futaba patted her on the shoulder. Though rarely admitted, the group all appreciated Junna’s service as class president. Mostly because they were all well aware that the dorm wouldn’t be standing if Junna wasn’t.

“That leaves Kuroko for Venus then, huh?”

“That fits well enough. She started earlier than the rest of us, and in another country too.”

“She’s going to be pissed that Venus lived in London and not France though.”

“And then we’ll tell her that Venus is as beauty obsessed as she is, and she’ll be fine.”

“True, true. Alright!” Futaba raised the notebook in the air, as if showing their masterpiece to the giraffe god watching from above. “The final rundown: Karen becomes Sailor Moon. A few weeks later you join her as Mercury and probably strangle her like 2 days in. Then a bit later you say - what’s the line - ‘There’s a pretty girl who rides this bus every day’ and Karen, like the lesbian she is, jumps onto the bus so she can stare at Tendo. Tendo reluctantly becomes Mars.”

“A while later,” Junna continued, “Tsuyuzaki transfers to our school and becomes Jupiter, thus saving me from having to deal with Karen. A few weeks after that, Saijo-san shows up and says that she’s Sailor Venus and also better than all of us. And then… a mini Karen shows up from the future?”

“That’s too many Karen’s. Let’s skip that.”

“Agreed. We can meet Nana through some other time shenanigans.”

“And then Kaoruko and I come zooming in on my motorcycle!” Futaba jumped to her feet, fists at the ready. “And obviously we’re awesome and mysterious and gay!”

“And completely devoid of morals and human compassion?”

“You don’t need morals if you’re gay.”

“I don’t think that’s true. Though that would explain a lot about Hanayagi.”

Kaoruko just waved a hand in the air, too lazy to respond.

“So then what?” Futaba asked, dropping back into a sitting position. “Mini Karen - I guess just Karen then? - befriends Hikari, who ends up being Sailor Saturn. Then she tries to blow up the world, and Karen stops her, and then Kaoruko, Nana, and I become her cool lesbian moms.”

“I wish you the best of luck.”

“Thanks.” Futaba let out a big breath of air, as if exhausted by the excitement. “So what now?”

“Now,” Junna said, flipping to a new page in the notebook, “now we start the script.”

#revue starlight #shoujo kageki revue starlight #my stuff #we have a new winner for the most self indulgent fic ive written

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cuthian · 4 years

Text

Starting Over Chapter Five

Hi guys!

This chapter marks the start of the Asgard chapters :-) Should you prefer to skip over this portion of the story (which focuses briefly on Becca and Thor's relationship and its development), you can read up until Becca drags Steve out of the room, and then skip to the end notes, where I'll summarize the events for you, so you'll be able to follow along.

Thanks for reading!

Love, Annaelle

Chapter Five

PEPPER POTTS PREGNANT?

Speculation is rampant that the CEO of Stark Industries, Pepper Potts, who is best known for her progressive business style and activism for the LGBTQIA+ community, is expecting a baby with long-time partners James Rhodes and Tony Stark. The rumors arose when Potts was spotted heading into a private gynecology clinic a few days ago, with what appeared to be “What To Expect When You’re Expecting” sticking out of the top of her purse.

Another source, reportedly close to Potts and her family, revealed that during the last dinner organized by Stark Industries, Potts toasted with a glass of sparkling water rather than her customary glass of white wine, and named this as a “highly unusual occurrence”.

Stark Industries’ rep told journalists, “I am not authorized to comment on Ms. Potts’ personal life,”...and therefore neither confirmed nor denied the rumors. This, in combination with complete radio silence from Stark, Potts and Rhodes themselves, has caused several stories about the alleged pregnancy to pop up across various social media sites and tabloids during the past 48 hours.

With all residents of the Avengers Tower remaining silent on the subject, we’ll have to wait and see if that baby book and the so-called high-profile wine-avoidance are the key clues that ultimately lead to the hashtag “Iron Baby” being confirmed as a reality.

—Sharnaz Shahid, “Pepper Potts Pregnant?”, Hello! Online, November 27th, 2015

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Personal floor Of Steve Rogers, Becca Barnes and Thor, Avengers Tower, Manhattan, New York, U.S.A.

November 28th, 2015 – 9:19 AM

Steve

“Hey,” Steve smiled at Sam when the video call connected, doing his best to not look like he had been up half the night because of nightmares, because Sam would know and he would try to make Steve talk about it, and Steve was not in the mood to talk about seeing the love of his life fall off the side of a train and down a cliff because Steve hadn’t been fast enough to catch him with his current possibly-maybe-kind of boyfriend/friend.

“Hi,” Sam grinned. “How’s the Big Apple treating you?”

“Not bad,” Steve hummed, lifting his hand and wiggling it side to side. “I mean, there’s already been a party, Tony got me drunk, I made out with Thor, Pepper’s pregnant, so… You know, busy.”

“Shit,” Sam laughed, leaning back in his chair with a soft groan and the creak of metal springs. “I don’t even know where to start unpacking all of that.” Steve chuckled and leaned back into the couch too, leaning one foot up against Tony’s coffee table. He’d talked to Sam on video chat most days since they’d moved back to New York, and they’d texted on the days they hadn’t been able to free up enough private time for a video call.

They’d had a lot of things to arrange when they’d moved back here—there had been lengthy negotiations with S.H.I.E.L.D. to transfer them back from their daily duties at the Triskelion to Avenger-only missions, and even lengthier negotiations with Tony about moving back to the Tower for the time being rather than back to Becca’s apartment—and Steve hated just how busy they’d been.

He also sort of hated how… undecided he and Sam had left things.

They weren’t romantically involved—not really, and the few times they’d made out during movie night didn’t count—but they weresomething, and Steve moving back to another city probably wasn’t going to help them figure out just what that was.

They were friends, first and foremost, and Steve didn’t want to screw that up.

He liked having a friend that he hadn’t met while punching aliens and Nazis.

It was a refreshing change.

“You made out with Thor again?” Sam finally said, a shit-eating grin on his lips, and Steve groaned, because he shouldn’t have said that, and he still couldn’t quite believe Thor had done that, and that he’d been so casual about it, and shook his head.

“It wasn’t—it was a dare,” he insisted, barely resisting the urge to cover his face to hide just how hard he was blushing. It shouldn’t be a big deal, because he’d made out with Thor before, much more intimately than this time, and Thor was his friend, and he was dating Becca, but…

Thor was hot and Steve was weak and gay.

He’d known Thor for literal years, and considered him to be one of his best friends on this side of the ice, but Steve was just a man, and he still went a little weak in the knees too when Thor wandered out of the shower or the gym in nothing but a towel or—barely decent—shorts.

“Uh-huh,” Sam hummed, looking entirely unimpressed with Steve’s—weak—defense. “Whatever you say, pretty boy. You make a habit of making out with your friends?”

Steve grumbled wordlessly and pouted.

Sam laughed, shaking his head in exasperation. “Come on, Rogers,” he grinned. “You’re allowed to admit you liked it when the God of Thunder kissed you.”

“Except he’s also my best friend’s boyfriend,” Steve pointed out.

Sam nodded. “I see your point.”

Steve grunted and shook his head. “How’re things over there?”

Sam, thankfully, accepted the change in topic and regaled Steve with tales of his colleagues’ shenanigans, and Steve relaxed, laughing in the right places and interjecting where necessary.

He enjoyed how… normal the conversation was.

He enjoyed how simple and easy it was.

He enjoyed that talking to Sam wasn’t hard, like it was with the others, sometimes.

“Steve, can you help me find the—” Steve sighed at Becca when she squealed, dropping whatever she’d been holding and launching herself onto the couch beside Steve, one knee knocking into his back and the other very nearly kneeing him someplace he would much rather keep intact. “Steve,” she said sternly, “you didn’t tell me you were talking to your boyfriend.”

She shot a brilliant—deceptively nice—smile Sam’s way. “Hi Sam.”

“Hey Barnes,” Sam smirked.

“He’s not my boyfriend, Becs,” Steve sighed, because they’d been over this a million times already, and he knew she was teasing, but he… he didn’t want to rub his indecision about their relationship in Sam’s face either. He didn’t mind when she was teasing him—he would give as good as he got, it’s how they worked—but he wasn’t sure he liked it when she did it in front of Sam.

“Aw,” Becca pouted, leaning on Steve’s shoulder dramatically. “Why not? He’s cute.”

Sam cackled, and Steve abruptly remembered the other reason Becca and Sam needed to remain separated at all costs.

They were horrible little shits and they ganged up on him every time.

“Yeah, Rogers,” Sam grinned, leaning closer to the camera and smirking at Steve in a way that did things to Steve. “Why not? You heard the lady. I’m cute. You afraid you can’t handle my glorious ass?”

Steve snorted and Becca fucking cackled. “Nah,” Steve smirked. “You ain’t shit, Wilson. I can handle it. You, on the other hand…” he raised his eyebrow suggestively, copying the way Bucky used to waggle his eyebrows when he wanted something, because he knew it worked, damn it.

Becca nodded sagely beside him. “It is America’s ass, you know. It’s what all the tabloids are saying.”

“Oh, well, if the tabloids are saying so,” Sam said sarcastically.

“You two are horrible,” Steve told Becca and Sam seriously, falling back into the couch with a pout. “I vote all discussions about my ass get vacated immediately.”

“Overruled,” Becca said gleefully, and Sam yelled, “Nope!”

Steve glared at her, feeling abjectly horrified and a little betrayed. Becca just shrugged. “You kissed my boyfriend, hotshot. I get a free pass.”

Sam cackled again and Steve flushed. “He kissed me,” he argued ineffectively. “It was a dare!”

Sam and Becca just dissolved into giggles and Steve shook his head exasperatedly. He looked up at the screen in time to catch Sam smiling at him, fond and amused, and it wasn’t nearly as awkward as he’d thought it would be to look at the friend he’d tried to date and might try to date again in the future and discuss the other friend that he’d accidentally made out with again.

“Okay,” Becca said when they’d sobered up a little, leaning forward to grin at Sam. “Sorry to cut this short, lover boy, but I’m leaving in like four hours, and I need Steve to help me get ready.”

“I’ll allow it,” Sam nodded graciously. “I need to get to my mama’s Sunday dinner anyway.” He raised an eyebrow at Steve and smirked. “You know, if the paparazzi will leave my fine black ass be.” Becca cackled and Steve shook his head, pulling a pillow onto his lap and face planting into it.

He didn’t know why he bothered.

“I hate you,” he told the pillow.

“Aw, sugar,” Becca drawled. “You break my heart.”

Sam laughed, and Steve smiled into his pillow. “Have fun in Asgard,” Sam told Becca, “Tell that dramatic puppy to call me back tomorrow.”

Steve looked up a little. “I ain’t dramatic,” he asserted.

“Sure,” Sam chuckled. “Call me later.”

He hung up before Steve could say anything else, and J.A.R.V.I.S. collapsed the holographic screen, leaving him and Becca in a now distressingly empty living room.

“Come on,” Becca told him. “I need your help picking what I’m bringing to Asgard.”

Steve frowned. “You leave in four hours.”

“I know,” Becca stressed. “That is why I need your help.”

Steve groaned. “You’re a disaster,” he said, but allowed Becca to tug him out of the room by his hand anyway. Becca made his sort-of-maybe-kind-of boyfriend hang up on him, so it wasn’t like he had anything better to do.

As long as she didn’t make him help her pick lingerie again.

————————

EARTH APPOINTS FIRST AMBASSADOR FOR ASGARD

REBECCA BARNES JUNIOR SET TO DEPART TO ASGARD FOR FIRST DIPLOMATIC MISSION WITHIN SIX MONTHS.

NEW YORK — Rebecca Barnes, a career soldier and S.H.I.E.L.D. agent from Brooklyn, New York, has rubbed elbows with the U.S.A.’s rich and famous since childhood. As one of the only grandchildren to Dr. Rebecca Barnes Sr. and former state senator James Proctor, and Margaret “Peggy” Carter’s godchild, Barnes has been thrust into the spotlight from childhood on, when a picture of a one-year-old Rebecca Barnes toddling along with a teenaged Tony Stark’s hands holding her up was published in various tabloids and popular media outlets.

[...]made headlines again at twenty-two, when she was rescued by Tony Stark’s Iron Man from a six-month captivity by an unknown terrorist group, and again four years later for fighting alongside the original Avengers during the Battle of New York.

[...]Barnes, 29, may face her toughest and most public posting yet: as Earth and the Avengers’ first official ambassador to visit Asgard. [...]appointment is believed to be a response to the Prince of Asgard’s official position on Earth as Asgard’s ambassador. Skeptics have expressed doubts about Barnes’ qualifications for the position beyond her status as Thor of Asgard’s longtime romantic partner, but Barnes refuted said doubts in a short press conference shortly after her appointment.

“While I certainly may not appear the most qualified, I assure you no one else is more prepared to take on the role[...] I will seek to impart our values, our institutions and our thoughts on human rights to Asgard and its rulers, and I will implore them to maintain good relations between our planets.”

“[...] in a sense that diplomacy is by nature a long-term business, where one does not necessarily see goals being fulfilled from one day to the next,” Thor Odinson, Prince and Ambassador of Asgard said in response to being asked if he felt establishing diplomatic relations would improve Asgardian relations with some of Earth’s less receptive inhabitants.

—Adam Satariano, “The World’s First Ambassador to Asgard”, The New York Times, 13 May 2015

————————

Town Square, Idavoll, Asgard

November 28th, 2015 – 2:36 PM (Earth UCT+1)

Becca

Although Thor had been planning their trip to Asgard for months by now, Becca had to admit she hadn’t given a lot of thought to what Thor’s homeland would actually be like.

He had spoken of it plenty of times over the past few years, and had even aided Steve in sketching a few of his favorite places within the city and the palace. She knew, abstractly, what it looked like, and she knew that their societal structure was a lot more similar to 18th-century British high society than it was to 21st century American society.

Somehow, though, despite Thor referring to the city as ‘The Golden City’ more than once, she’d still expected it to be dull and gray; the streets muddy and wet, rats scurrying over the cobblestones as orphaned children and beggars sat in the gutter, pleading for scraps of food and coin. Her vision of Asgard, of a society similar to their 18th century one, had likely been colored by shitty Hollywood movies.

This though… this was not what she thought it would be.

The bustling liveliness of the city startled her, and there were splashes of color where she had envisioned only gray—small stalls that were laden with richly colored fabrics and jewels, merchants shouting over one another to gain their potential buyer’s attention, shockingly green ivy that climbed the façade of most houses, and people that bustled about, arms filled with purchases and bright smiles lingering on their lips. There were children playing in the corner of the square, near a small fountain, all dressed from head to toe in warm tunics and furs, yelling and laughing with a carefree air she couldn’t recall ever having seen before, not really.

It reminded her, oddly, more of the bazaars she’d seen in the Middle East than anything else.

She could see several narrow streets leading away from the square, all packed with merchants and people, and even a busker, singing at the top of his lungs about a fair maiden and a crude sailor.

“Woah,” she breathed, tightening her fingers in Thor’s sleeve, “this is…”

“Yes,” Thor offered her a broad smile, sweeping his hand in a gesture that encompassed the entire city square. “It is a glorious sight, isn’t it?”

She nodded, chancing a glance over her shoulder towards the attendants who had met them just outside of the Himinbjörg, waiting in a neat, orderly line on the rainbow bridge. She could feel their eyes on them constantly, and she could hear the silent judgement when she took Thor’s arm rather than walk a step behind him, as the lead attendant had clearly expected her to do.

Thor, thankfully, had shaken his head in dismissal when the man made to protest, and led her onto the bridge and into the city by his side.

“My father,” Thor began hesitantly, “has apparently deigned to organize a feast in our honor.” He didn’t sound too excited about the prospect, and she suspected this might be one of the less pleasant things he had warned her they would have to endure during their stay on Asgard.

He had told her that his father did not approve of their relationship, and that he would likely seek to make things as unpleasant as possible while they were there.

“Okay,” she nodded. “What does that mean? What do we have to do?”

Thor grinned, and pointed towards one of the colorful stalls at the far end of the square, where she could just barely see an elderly woman shuffling around as she helped the variety of people that halted at the stall to purchase something. “First, we outfit you with appropriate garments,” he explained. “My father undoubtedly waited until the very last moment to inform me of the feast in the hopes you would be forced to decline attending due to a lack of appropriate clothing.”

He grinned rakishly, uncharacteristically pleased to outwit his father, even in such a small, seemingly insignificant way. “Fortunately, Lady Aase should be able to aid us.”

She nodded, slightly apprehensive, but willingly let him guide her through the crowd—and if she grasped his arm a little tighter and shuffled a little closer to him than strictly necessary, that was no one’s business but hers. She was, after all, in a different land—on a different planet—and Thor was the only person around that she actually knew.

And though she was on the verge of panicking a little—because even after years of being back and living in New York goddamned City, she did not always do well with crowds—she trusted Thor.

Thor stopped in front of the stall, waiting patiently as Aase helped a young woman choose what appeared to be some kind of blue silk skirt. Becca fidgeted nervously as she eyed the variety of garments laid out on the table and in the open tent behind the stall.

“So…” she drawled nervously, rubbing her fingers across his arm, focusing on the feel of the fabric of his cloak between her fingers. “I’d have thought being the crown prince would give you access to personal seamstresses and the like. Any reason we’re here instead?”

“Ah,” he chuckled, “it does, but I fear they might seek to delay the process if my father told them to. Aase, on the other hand, cares very little for such politics. As long as you are kind to her, she will likely adopt you and outfit you with more clothes than you will ever be able to wear.” Thor shrugged and added, “She was often like a grandmother to us. Mother’s parents died long before we were born and father’s parents died in the First War with Jotunheim. She was kind to us when we were little.”

Her eyes widened as she returned her gaze to the lively elderly woman in the tent, slightly more nervous now that she knew what Thor’s connection to the woman was.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t prepared to meet his family and friends—it was the express purpose of this trip, after all—but that didn’t mean she wasn’t nervous about it. The knowledge that his father didn’t approve of their relationship, and that he likely never would, regardless of how long they stayed together, ate at her more than she would ever admit out loud, even to Thor.

Especially to Thor.

She’d never thought she’d actually care about getting any parent’s approval so much, but here she was.

“Odinson, ye great big clodhopper,” the woman shouted when she had accepted a handful of coins from her final customer, hobbling out of the stall towards them. “Have ye finally deigned us worthy of visiting again, down ‘ere in the slumps?” Becca watched with no small amount of amusement as the old, wizened woman patted Thor’s cheek—her heart squeezing in fond exasperation when he bent forward so she could reach at all—chattering about how he’d been gone too long and she should whoop him for abandoning her all to her lonesome before she finally turned her attention to Becca.

“And this must be the reason why ye’ve abandoned Asgard in favor of Midgard of late?” the woman inquired shrewdly, eyeing Becca up and down carefully after she shoved Thor aside—and Becca resisted the urge to squirm beneath the woman’s gaze—before nodding with an approving smile.

“This is my Lady Rebecca,” Thor told her proudly.

“Very pretty,” Aase nodded. “Good childbearing hips. Ye’ll bear him strong children.” She patted Becca’s cheek and turned away before she could say anything to that, before she could even think about a denial—because she couldn’t, she was human, and even if she could, she didn’t think she wanted to.

“Ah, Aase,” Thor said, likely understanding how uncomfortable Becca was about the subject. “You know Aesir cannot procreate with Midgardians.”

Aase eyed them both intently, her pale eyes flickering between her and Thor a few times before she shook her head. “Seiðr is unpredictable, young man,” she said sternly. “Ye’d do well to remember that.”

Becca bristled a little at the implication, but Aase nodded decisively and turned back to Thor before she could say anything about it. “Now I presume ye’re here because of this quaint get-together our King announced this morning?” She grinned toothily and hobbled back into the stall. “Caused quite the stir with such last-minute announcement. It’s very nearly scandalous.”

“Indeed,” Thor sighed, reaching out to take one of Becca’s hands in his, drawing her closer again. “I fear the dresses I had fashioned for Rebecca are not suited for such occasion, since I did not anticipate such formal occasion occurring during our stay here at all.”

Becca winced and glanced towards Aase, who was nodding along, sifting through the piles of fabric on the table with a thoughtful expression on her wrinkled face. “Aye, I imagine ye didn’t,” she told him wryly. “Come along then, Frøken. “We’ll get ye settled.”

After a quick glance to Thor, who nodded encouragingly at her, she followed Aase into the tent that had been pitched behind the little table that held the piles of fabrics. “Now you watch my wares, Odinson,” Aase said, turning around to point one finger at Thor. “I’ll help yer lass find some appropriate clothin’. This is no place fer men—even princely ones. Get us some cherry pie too.”

Becca watched in astonishment as the elderly woman pressed a few coins into Thor’s hand—as though he needed her to pay for him—and shooed him out of the tent, pulling the large flap at the front closed.

“Now,” Aase’s gravelly voice drew her attention back to where the older lady stood. “Let’s get started.”

————————

GLADSHEIM, VALASKAILF, ASGARD

NOVEMBER 28TH, 2015 – 8:27PM (EARTH UCT+1)

THOR

Thor had, in his long years of life, attended many a feast thrown at his own behest. He was, after all, Asgard’s favored son, its golden prince and its valiant protector. While he had relished in the feasts readily when he had been younger and, perhaps, less wise, he found them tedious now, filled with people that sought his father’s favor like spoiled children clamoring for attention. Worse, even, was that his father entertained such fools, and allowed them access into their hallowed halls, whereas he would once have shunned them for degrading themselves so.

Of course, the feast today was one of little import and great significance at the same time. Thor had not attended a feast in his honor since Loki had fallen to Malekith’s ilk, and he had certainly never done so with his Midgardian lover by his side. While tradition forbade him from spending the entire evening with Rebecca and his friends, it allowed enough leeway for him to meet her at the gilded doors, to escort her inside.

He had not seen her since his father had dispatched a passel of handmaidens, one blushing fiercer than the next when they had seen him kiss Rebecca goodbye, to escort her to the chambers that had been prepared for her, and he had not yet seen her fully adorned in the garb of his people.

It was, honestly, a breathtaking sight.

He had been in love with her for some time—longer, honestly, than he had allowed himself to admit, even within the relatively private confines of his own mind—and he had always thought her beautiful, but it was different to see her… to see her as she would have appeared if she had been born Asgardian. It was both wonderful and excruciating to imagine what it might’ve been like if she had been born on Asgard rather than Earth.

His father, certainly, would not hate her so much.

“You look breathtaking,” he told her when he reached her, reaching out to still her trembling hands with his own. He knew she was likely nervous—it was not as though he could blame her for it—this was, in all likelihood, unlike anything she had ever done before, and she had not been able to prepare for the evening as thoroughly as Thor would otherwise have insisted.

There were far too many unspoken rules, too many rigid guidelines to steer social interaction during such events, too many ways one could take insult and seek retribution against his Rebecca.

Sif, of course, much more schooled in the ways of Aesir court, had sworn she would not leave Rebecca’s side during the feast, and Hogun had pledged the same, and it made Thor feel marginally better, to know that his friends would seek to protect Rebecca from the whims of nobility when he would be prevented of doing so himself by courtly duties.

“Thank you,” Becca sighed, shaking her head and dropping one hand to rest against her sternum. “I can’t breathe, and I feel like this thing has my boobs shoved up to my chin, but at least it looks good.” She gave him a breathless smile and winked when he couldn’t help but eye said bosom appreciatively—she did look positively delectable.

Thor chuckled and slightly brushed his fingers across the tops of her breasts, relishing in her affronted expression. “In such case,” he grinned, “I look forward to returning you to your chambers and aiding you in…” he trailed his hand down the exaggerated curve of her waist, coming to rest lightly on her hip, where the soft fabric of her deep red dress flared, falling loosely around her legs, “… removingsuch constricting attire.”

Becca smirked and leaned up onto her toes to sling her arms around his neck. “You know you have more of an accent when you’re here?” She pecked his lips quickly. “It’s kind of hot.”

“Is it?”

He smirked, slipping his arms around her waist, lifting her slightly off her feet so he could kiss her properly, as he had not had the chance to do since they had arrived in Asgard. She returned his affection gladly, smiling against his lips and pressing herself against him, only moving when one of his father’s Einherjar coughed loudly.

Thor almost smiled when she merely turned her head a little to look at the man, raising a single eyebrow as if to question why he dared interrupt them. While Thor questioned the wisdom of such blatant disrespect, he certainly appreciated the sentiment.

“I fear our time has run out,” he disclosed with an intimate smile, smoothing his hands down her back as she lowered herself down to stand on her own two feet again.

“Well, I guess we’ve got to entertain the masses,” Becca said, rolling her eyes as she stepped out of his embrace. Thor grinned, lifting her hand to his lips for a brief kiss, before turning to the large, gilded double doors, awaiting their opening.

“They will announce us,” he told Rebecca, although he was certain Sif would have already informed her of the structure of the feast. “And then Father will offer me first dance.”

“Which you will refuse,” Becca said matter-of-factly, throwing him for a moment.

It was, of course, not entirely untrue.

He had, in the past, always refused the first dance when Loki had not been in attendance, for it would’ve proven grievous insult to his brother-betrothed if he were to dance inn mátki munr with another. The first dance of a feast was one of great importance—Thor did not know the history of it, but his mother had always impressed upon him to dance it with no one but those he held dearest to his heart.

For much time, that had been Loki.

Now, a choice stood to be made.

He had shared years with Rebecca, and planned to spend many more by her side. It was a commitment he was pleased to make, but it was one he had, so far, only been able to honor on Earth. Perhaps tonight, at the feast his father had organized to separate him from his beloved—he would relish in the opportunity to turn his father’s wicked intentions on their head, and use the situation to his advantage.

“Perhaps I won’t, this time,” he finally said.

Becca turned to him, eyes wide and forehead creased into a frown. “What are you—”

The doors opened.

————————

8:58 PM (EARTH UCT+1)

The feast, as many of the feasts his father had organized during his reign as King of the Nine, was a carefully constructed show of opulence and thinly veiled decadence. It served to be a strict reminder to the other Nine that they were only allowed to prosper and thrive—or in the case of Jötunheimr, survive—because his father, in his benevolence, willed it so.

While he had not noticed the arrogance and cruelty of such displays for many years, Thor now found it nigh impossible to see anything else in his father’s feasts.

There was little coincidence in the way the All-Father had arranged tonight’s guest list, and the presence of dozens of the Nine’s most eligible princesses and princes had only made him smile harder when he had offered Rebecca his hand when he was asked to open the feast with a dance.

He didn’t doubt that Becca had noticed the sudden, stunned silence when he had taken the honor to open the feast, rather than rejecting it, as he always had before when Loki was not in attendance. She likely did not know what the dance itself signified, what it meant to those in attendance, to see him dance inn mátki munr with his Midgardian lover, but he had little doubt she would demand an explanation as soon as they were alone.

“Thank you for the dance,” he’d whispered when the last notes of the music disappeared, brushing his lips across hers in a feather light kiss. “I will find you once the masses release me.”

Becca had merely smiled at him, kind and understanding even when he was undeserving of it. “You better,” she’d told him sternly, before she had stepped from his embrace, returning to Sif’s side with naught to show for their intimate moment but a faint flush to her cheeks.

He didn’t know how long it’d been since then, and found himself even less conscious of the meaningless prattle of conversation he had been forced to engage in since then, always dimly aware of Becca’s presence on the periphery of his consciousness, laughing with Sif in the corner of his eye, sweeping Fandral across the dance floor with an unholy amount of glee, fitting in with the rabble he called friends better than he had dared dream she would.

He was glad to see she appeared to be having a grand time, despite her initial reluctance to attend, and he only wished he could enjoy the evening as much as she did. Alas, many of the foreign dignitaries, while undoubtedly clever and highly educated and perfectly lovely conversational partners, seemed woefully dull in comparison to his friends—Midgardian and Asgardian alike.

He struggled to pay attention to whatever banal tale Lady Gróa insisted on telling him, attempting to smile when prompted and interject whenever she required his input, but finding the entire experience severely lacking.

He recalled he had enjoyed conversing with her, once upon a time, when he had been willing to flirt with whoever caught his eye at the time, but he was disappointed to learn that she seemed under the impression that his “Midgardian” would never be able to keep him occupied.

She spoke of his Rebecca almost as though she were a quaint pet he’d acquired.

“Apologies for the interruption,” a new, unfamiliar, but infinitely pleasing voice—with a thicker Vanaheim accent than he was used to hearing at occasions such as this—interrupted Lady Gróa in the middle of her tale about the trees she was cultivating to ensure the continued growth of Golden Apples. “If I could borrow the Prince for a moment?”

He turned, heedless of the little voice in his head—that sounded suspiciously like Loki—that insisted something didn’t feel right. The music that played seemed dimmed, somehow, when he first laid eyes on the woman that stood behind him. Her bright, copper curls gleamed in the light of the candles, and Thor was struck by her beauty at once—he was, as Stark liked to joke, a taken man, but he was certainly not a blind one.

She stood almost as tall as him, full lips curled into an easy smile, dark eyes riveted on his. He felt abruptly lightheaded, and swayed a little where he stood. There was something about this woman that was trying its hardest to lure, to seduce, and had he been a lesser man, Thor suspected he may have easily fallen for whatever plot she sought to carry out.

“I’m Lorelei,” she said softly, fluttering her eyelashes in a way that he could admit was exceptionally aesthetically pleasing, but—

Something wasn’t right about her.

A spell, likely, of some sort.

Thor had never had much talent for spell weaving himself, but he had grown up with a mother who had been raised by witches and a brother-betrothed who liked to learn the most complicated spells he could, just to prove to those that doubted he was capable.

Thor, most unfortunately, had usually been his guinea pig.

It had had led to him learning to recognize such things long ago.

“What do you want?” he demanded, perhaps treading far less cautiously than the situation demanded. “Who are you really?”

Her smile faltered just barely, but enough for him to notice.

“I apologize,” she replied coquettishly. “I don’t know what you mean. My name is Lorelei. I merely wanted to make your acquaintance while you were here on Asgard. You are a difficult man to find, these days.” She paused, reconsidering, and then smiled lightly. “For those not permitted to travel the realms freely, of course.”

There was nothing outwardly threatening about her persona, and Thor could not say why her presence and her insistence on conversation vexed him so, but the annoyance, the blatant anger towards the woman was there nonetheless, pulsing beneath his skin like barely restrained lightning.

“Cease your tricks, Vǫlva,” he spat. “What do you want?”

He looked around, finding that some people had turned towards them, had noticed their Prince’s agitation, at least—but still no Einherjar moved towards them, even though they should have moved at the very first sign of fracas, especially since it involved him.

When he returned his gaze to the woman—Lorelei—she had moved closer, moving towards him with the assessing, cool gaze of a predator, eyeing him as one would an opponent.

Good.

Whatever she had planned, he was in no gaming mood.

“You are different then,” she said, almost amused, one eyebrow raised. “I almost didn’t believe him, when he told me.”

“Speak plainly, woman,” he barked. “I have enough grounds to have you arrested already. Weaving a spell to try to entice anyone is a capital offense in Asgard. I imagine the punishment is much more severe when you foolishly try to cast such weavings on a prince. Do not make things worse for yourself.”

She chuckled, as though the very idea of him threatening arrest was ludicrous, and shook her head. “I met him once. We had similar interests. You brother-betrothed and I, that is. Former betrothed, I should say. Have you told your pet human what dancing inn mátkimunr with her means to those who witnessed it here?”

The implication was not lost on him, and he seethed quietly at the idea of having to justify himself to this... this no one. Not a woman of noble birth, not a member of his family, not a friend—not even a spurned once-lover.

He did not owe words to her or anyone but Rebecca.

“She knows what she needs to,” he replied honestly, for he had nothing to hide, nothing to feel shamed about. “And when she wishes to learn more, I shall gladly tell her. When we are alone, in the bed that we share—the bed I choose to share with her.”

Lorelei laughed, a high, grating sound, and shook her head. “Who would’ve thought to see this day? The mighty God of Thunder ensnared by a mere mortal. One that has considerable skill in trickery, clearly. You have clearly defined tastes, my Prince.”

Thor raised an eyebrow, hardly impressed by the weak implication, and smirked, blatantly looking the woman up and down. “Oh, I assure you, Lady Lorelei, she needed no trickery to convince me to join her between her sheets.”

Lorelei’s otherwise beautiful face contorted into a twisted mask of anger and hatred, and she started forward, her hand raised towards him, the air around her fingers trembling with unrestrained Seiðr. Thor hummed, loosening his grip on the thunder that roiled beneath his skin at all times, allowing lightning to play between his fingertips even as the room shook, ever so lightly, around them.

Conversation around them stilled abruptly, and it was as though the crowd had only now realized the threat of two powerful Seiðr users colliding in their midst.

He dared not see why his father had not approached—if this… this Lorelei had been able to use her Seiðr to subdue even his father, Thor feared that he would not be able to subdue her. If not… he loathed to look, although he knew it was equally, if not more, likely he would find his father lounging on the throne, waiting to see how Thor would handle the problem.

Guards,” he spoke, lowering his voice to a timbre he knew instilled fear in those that opposed him. “Seize this völva and see her to one of the cells guarded by Seiðr.” He did not take his eyes off Lorelei’s darker ones, ever so conscious of the fact that she would attack if he dared show the slightest of weaknesses.

Her lips curled into a mocking smile when none moved to his aid, and Thor felt a frissom of dread, a preternatural shiver that heeded caution run down his spine.

“They’ll not come to your aid, my prince,” she smiled cruelly. “They cannot. Their will is mine now. As I would have yours. Of course, this would’ve been much easier on you if you’d just succumbed.”

“I fear I’m not the habit of doing things the easy way,” he quipped.

“No,” Lorelei smirked. “I see that.”

The ground beneath his feet trembled ominously, and the hairs on the back of his neck raised.

The amount of pure seiðr that the woman sought to summon was both impressive and frightening, for it was enough to level the entire palace to the ground with a single, whispered word. The people that surrounded them moved disjointedly, chaotically, frightened whispers working up to a deafening crescendo, and Thor could only hope that Sif and the Warriors Three had enough presence of mind to get Rebecca to safety before he and this völva collided.

Not, of course, that he did not hold her capable of defending herself when the situation called for it, but because he feared that no matter her heart and her bravery, she stood little chance against seiðr.

“Perhaps I’ll make your little pet watch,” Lorelei chuckled. “When I have your mind, I’ll take your body. Show her how Aesir truly fuck. Or I could have you fuck her—without holding back. You’d break her pathetic little body into pieces, and you wouldn’t even care. It’s of little consequence,” she waved her hand. “It’s not like she matters anyway.”

Thor stiffened, lightning springing to his fingertips without conscious thought. “Don’t talk about her like that.” Whereas he had merely been annoyed by the woman before, he was enraged now.

“Why?” Lorelei sneered, an ugly, angry expression twisting her beautiful features. “Afraid to hear the truth, prince? I know I’m not the only one thinking such things. They all just wait. They bide their time, and when you look away, and you will, they’ll have her. And they’ll break her. As they broke your brother-betrothed.”

“Shut up!” Thor bellowed, and the crowd gasped when the entirety of the palace trembled beneath the weight of his barely contained rage.

Even Lorelei looked rattled for a split-second.

Unfortunately, the woman bounced back quickly enough, and she sneered, “So that is it, my prince? Others touching what you deem belongs to you… You’re weak. All you need is a bikkja willing to spread their legs for you and they’ve got you wrapped around their little finger.”

Lorelei’s face was contorted into an ugly mask of anger and disgust, and her skin was slowly turning red and splotchy, and for a moment, she reminded him of his father during particularly challenging arguments and rows. “You’re not worthy of what you possess,” she said gravely. “Not to worry. I’ll see your mind set to rights.”

And before he realized what was happening, she raised her hand, woven spell moving thickly between her fingers, whispering the words that would take his mind, his will from him and—

It happened so fast he barely had the time to process before a loud bang thundered through the hall, and Lorelei screamed, the seiðr fleeing from her fingers as blood bloomed from the gunshot wound in her abdomen.

Thor blinked, looking past Lorelei to find Rebecca—because of course Rebecca had brought a gun to Asgard, he should have seen this coming—standing beside a shocked Sif, her eyes wide and a little apprehensive as she lowered her weapon, and Thor…

Thor did not have time to think on how incredibly arousing it was to remember Rebecca was a warrior in her own right—and how foolish he had been for forgetting it for even a moment. He needed to set such thoughts aside.

His father had moved from his throne, finally, approaching Thor with a thunderous expression, and a bullet would not slow down Lorelei for long.

“Guards,” Thor bellowed, grinning with satisfaction when several of the men jumped, “lock her in the seiðr cells. Gag her and bind her.”

He looked up at Rebecca, who was being herded out of the hall by Sif, and grinned at her.

He could deal with his daring little mortal later.

————————

Start from the beginning:

In Hell We Stand By You:

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8)

Never Feel Alone:

(1) (2)

Decisions: (1)

Dancing with a Limp:

(1) (2)

Chances:

(1)

Starting Over:

(1) (2) (3) (4)

Or read it HERE on AO3 :D Find the next chapter HERE on Tumblr :)

#IHWSBY sequel #starting over #stucky #Stucky fanfiction #Steve rogers #thor #Rebecca barnes #my writing #Lisa writes #avengers family

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preserving-ferretbrain · 5 years

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Nights of Villjamblah

by Wardog

Friday, 24 June 2011

Wardog tries and fails to like Nights of Villjamur.~

I really should have liked Nights of Villjamur more than I did. And that's the sort of line that sets one up for a damning review but I honestly feel quite bad about it. It's full of the sort of things I generally appreciate but for some reason it left me frustrated that it wasn't, with all this promise and potential, somehow better. Without attempting to make uncontrolled, unsupported declarations about a genre as complicated and evolving as fantasy, I'd put Mark Charan Newton on the same team as writers like Abercrombie and Abraham, although if you're into literary genealogy you can certainly trace the influence of Vance and Mieville in there too. But what I'm trying to get at here is that we're talking punchy, modern fantasy; brutal, cynical, self-consciously anti-Tolkeinesque and hopefully weighing in at five hundred pages or less. The problem is, however, that as much as I enjoy this uppity, edgy, fantasy, there's already an extent to which it's becoming stale. Maybe if I'd read Nights of Villjamur two years ago, my tiny mind would have been appropriately blown, but I came away with the distinct impression it was like Abercrombie without the style and Abraham without the sophistication. On the other hand, it is a début novel and it is not by any means totally awful so I'd certainly be at least mildly interested in seeing how Newton develops.

The Jamur Empire is yer typical rich, sprawling, corrupt fantasy Empire, except there's an ice-age coming, and the Emperor has just killed himself in a fit of crazed paranoia. Cue: political shenanigans, and some other stuff. The reason I'm having a hard job summarising the plot effectively is that it's one of those multi-stranded jobbies, but the threads only come together right at the end, if at all, which makes the experience of reading Nights of Villjamur rather disjointed. Some of the involved parties are: Commander Brynd Lathraea, doing soldiery things, Inquisitor Jeryd investigating the murder of a city councillor, and Randur Estevu who hails from some kind of island race of martial artists / sex workers / dancers and has been brought to Villjamur to teach the Emperor's daughter how to dance.

I liked, in abstract terms, nearly all of these characters but their plots arcs were so wildly different in tone and style that, rather than illuminating different aspects of life in Villjamur as I suspect must have been the intention, they interfered with each other. Jeryd, for example, acts like he's in The Maltese Falcon - he's old and weary and tormented by the failures of his personal life. He's also a weird cat-person-creature but let's not go there. I had no idea what was going on with the rumel, and the last time I encountered a cat-based race it was in Green, so I'm still scarred. But his consistent failure to solve the crime, when even I was sitting there able to solve the crime, was infuriating and the the whole “one honest man versus political corruption” theme does not, in this case, co-exist comfortably in a world where you also have Brynd dealing with the brutal slaughter of entire populations. I know the counter-argument to this is “ah, but that's the point” but if it isthe point Newton does not carry it off particularly successfully, especially when Randur's swashbuckling antics are entirely at variance with both. Newton goes to great pains to create a society on the verge of ruin, a city rife with decadence and cruelty, and a world overrun with monsters and yet Randur is able to semi-thwart a massive political uprising, and stage a daring rescue, with a jolly group of peasants, who, despite living in deprivation and povert, are suddenly willing to fight to the death in defence of their oppressors. I don't, per se, have a problem with the more cartoon elements of fantasy but you can't serve up Chandler, Owen and Disney simultaneously.

It doesn't help that the supporting cast is extensive and depressingly one-dimensional. You have a Tuya, the jaded prostitute, Tryst, Jeryd's ambitious Iago-like aid who does, in fact, spend two thirds of the book engaged in acts of motiveless malignancy, Marysa, Jeryd's tediously virtuous and personality devoid wife, Eir the feisty Emperor's daughter who has her eyes opened to the true poverty of her kingdom, the fence with a heart of gold, the scheming councillor, the mad cultist, and so on and so forth. The three main characters are marginally better drawn but they lacked any true psychological depth or complexity.

Jeryd, for example, is manipulated by Tryst into believing his wife has cheated on him. Heading home in a partially drug-fuelled rage, he strikes her. Conveniently she wakes up somewhat confused and Jeryd lets her believe it was a dream. Neither the dimensions or the consequences of this are ever properly explored, nor are we really given opportunity to ponder how much responsibility (if any) Jeryd bears for either the action itself, or lying about it afterwards. Brynd's big secret is that he's gay, in a society where homosexuality is punishable by death, due to a line in one of the scriptures. I actually quite liked Brynd, but being tormented and alienated is still not really a substitute for having a personality. The presentation of his homosexuality wavers between the quite good and the horrendously heavy handed. Something that does come across well is the fact that it would be incidental to his character if not for the world in which he lives. And the chapter in which he meets up with his lover, Kym, struck me as reasonably successful, as the encounter is recounted with neither sentimentality nor sensationalism. But it's the only moment of subtlety in the entire text, and the rest of the time we're treated to reflections like this:

“Where's the big freak?” Apium said, before yawning and stretching with the grace of a tramp, astride his black horse. “I take it you mean Jurro?” Brynd said, after considering for a moment that he himself was the freak, or maybe Kym – men who loved other men, and who'd be killed if discovered. He could never shake off the paranoia.

I understand that this would be something on his mind a lot, but it's the clumsy exposition that really sinks it for me. This exchange takes place on page 331 of my edition – if I haven't got that Brynd is gay, and that being gay is punishable by death, by this point in the book, I don't think there's much more an author can be expected to do for me. Much of the interior life of the major characters is narrated to us in this flat, expository way. I don't want to fall back on trite maxims about writing but I would have liked to see character traits illuminated or demonstrated more through thoughts, interaction and behaviour, rather than simply being told about them.

Randur, for example, comes to the city through a slightly spurious set of circumstances in order to raise enough money for a cultist to bring his mother back from the dead. In order to get the cash, he has his job at the palace, teaching Eir to dance, but he also sleeps with rich, older women and steals their jewellery. He does explain, at one point, that he feels like he owes his mother a debt for all she has sacrificed for him but it never really feels convincing. After all, sense of filial obligation is one thing. Necromancy another. Needless to say, over the course of the book, he and Eir fall for each other and it turns out that resurrecting his mother isn't going to be possible, even with the money in hand. Here is the description of Randur's response:

His world imploded. Lying on Eir's bed later, he felt he wanted to vomit, but instead he cried like a ten-year-old as he told her everything. She sat next to him and waited for him to finish – he knew that, and he felt ashamed, to expose his emotions like this. But, despite her age, she possessed an unexpected, motherly quality. He liked that. After that, he got up and left, walked for two hours across the city bridges, then returned, damp and cold. Then he resumed crying. Eir held his hand. “It's understandable you're upset, Rand, so don't be so harsh on yourself.” She got up and lit lanterns and soothing incense and waited for him to compose himself. He realised he was comfortable being vulnerable in front of her. Soon he began to feel better, until somehow his failings as a son didn't seem to matter quite as much.

Given that this is a significant moment in Randur's personal development, and his relationship with Eir, I felt it was rather over-narrated but I read the ease which he apparently gets over it as evidence that his original goal was immature, and not something we were really expected to take seriously. However, a chapter later we're being narrated at again:

Eir had even given him some jewellery: a plain silver chain to go around his neck, two rings for his fingers. She had supported him so much that he felt he owed her is very soul if only he could give it. Eir's biggest gift to him wasn't monetary but psychological. Perhaps all he'd ever needed was to actually love someone else.

Once more, I can't quite unpack the tone of this. It sounds so ludicrously trite that I was half-tempted to read it as being in some way ironic. And I'm, incidentally, not thrilled with Eir's sudden detour into maternal saviour, although I can't tell whether that's meant to be Randur's distorted perspective, since Eir only has about three personality traits and none of them, thus far, have been even remotely maternal. But ultimately it's just another example of the way that heavy-handed attempts to explain the psychological development of the characters ruins their portrayal.

The other thing you can see from these quoted paragraphs, is the occasional banality of the writing, and its general clumsiness. For example, we have three awkwardly repeated 'thats' far too close to each other in “he knew that, and he felt ashamed, to expose his emotions like this. But, despite her age, she possessed an unexpected, motherly quality. He liked that. After that...” The book is riddled with such unnecessary annoyances, and the style itself is as inconsistent as everything else. Dialogue is generally naturalistic, with a fair few fucks thrown in for good measure, the prose style is plain and expository to the point of tedium, but occasionally Newton struggles towards a Mieville-like excess, which often just falls flat:

A truculunt pain shot through him and he screamed … he stumbled forwards, his hands clutching for wet stones, then began to spit blood on the ground … Sensing his life fluid filling the cracks between the cobbles, the blood beetles came and began to smother him, till his screams could be heard amplified between the high walls of the courtyard. One even scurried into his mouth, scraping eagerly as his gums and tongue. He bit down so he wouldn't choke, split its shell in two, and spat it out, but he could still taste its ichors. Councillor Ghuda was violently febrile.

I honestly have no idea what that means. I understand the individual words but the connection between them, and the the being eaten alive by bugs, not so much. A major component of Newton's Mieville Aspirations is the city of Villjamur itself, which I'm sure is meant to exist as vividly in the narrative as New Crobuzon in Perdido Street Station. I'm honestly not a huge fan of Perdido Street Station and I found the descriptions of the city a little overweening but I will admit that they got the job done. By contrast, Villjamur never became real to me and, if anything, Newton is trying so hard to have it make an impression on the reader that the overall affect is one of artificiality. Devices over conviction. For example, there's a self-conscious weirdness to Villjamur - it has blood beetles and banshees, and garuda – but these just feel like a checklist. And scenes or chapters tend to end with the narrative moving away from the thoughts and actions of the characters to more general statements about the mood of the Villjamur. The contrast, I suspect, is meant to create a sense of distance between the struggles of individuals and the vast intricacies of the city itself:

After that the three of them watched the falling snow in companionable silence. Street fires and lantern lights glared defiantly for another bell, but one by one they fell into shadow. Voices in the streets beyond quietened and soon there was only the sound of the wind probing the city's countless alleyways.

However, the more Newton falls back on this technique, the more transparent it becomes, and the more I resisted his attempts to “sell” me Villjamur. As the book progresses, he takes to refering to the city as if it should now be familiar to us (“Another one of those melancholy nights of Villjamur, in which a pterodette called out across the city's spires so loudly it sounded like a banshee”) but by that stage I was already convinced that Newton had failed to force me into a relationship with the city, and therefore this assumption of familiarity annoyed me and further alienated me from the Villjamur Newton was so desperately trying to evoke.

The thing is, barrage of negativity aside, it's not as bad as all that. I did, after all, read the thing and I was mildly engaged by the plot and some of the characters, even in spite of the heavy-handed narration and my increasingly irritation with having Villjamur forced down my throat. As a personal, rather than general, criticism I realised at about the halfway point that there wasn't a single interesting woman in the entire book. Obviously having diverse and well-rounded female characters isn't a moral necessity and it's perfectly reasonable for any writer to simply not be interested but for me to really enjoy a text I'd probably prefer it wasn't a massive sausage party. The Emperor's eldest daughter seems intriguing but she isn't in it enough for me to be able to judge. Eir is feisty-by-numbers and, consequently, irritating. Tuya starts off promising and then gets drugged and abused by Tryst, in his pursuit of revenge over Jeryd, so she essentially becomes a cipher. Jeryd's wife is so lightly sketched she's barely a character at all. To be fair to Newton, the men aren't that interesting either but they at least get more page time. However, the one thing I did like was what I perceived to be a fairly healthy attitude to sex, both heterosexual and homosexual. There are a few non-explicit but nicely down-to-earth sex scenes. But, like anything else in Villjamur, sex is largely another commodity – and the men trade it as much as the women do. I liked the fact that women, incidental though they are to the text in general, were as active in pursuit of sex as men, just as acquisitive of pretty young things, and seemed to derive as much pleasure from it.

This being so, and because we haven't had one for a while, I present: Fantasy Rape Watch for Nights of Villjamur.

Number of non-straight men: 2

Number of non-straight men killed: 0

Number of non-straight women: 0

Number of men who sell themselves: 3 maybe*

Number of men who sell themselves who are killed: 0

Number of men who sell themselves who find twu wuv: 2

Number of men who sell themselves where the woman obligingly makes herself look hot for them: 1

Number of women who sell themselves: 1

Number of women who sell themselves who are killed: 1

Number of women who sell themselves who find twu wuv: 0

Number of women who sell themselves who manage to survive a bomb: 0

Number of virtuous, married women who manage to survive the same bomb: 1

*I am including in this category, Randur who sleeps with rich old women in order to pay for necromantic magic, Tryst who sleeps with an old cultist in order to acquire something he needs, and Kym who it seems to be suggesting gets around a bit.

Obviously, I'm being slightly unfair on Newton here. I wasn't actually all that bothered by the fact that Randur manwhores his way around Villjamur and this is sort of portrayed as being vaguely cool, whereas Tuya is stuck in a cycle of loneliness and bitterness. I saw this as being largely down to the fact they are very different people, and Randur is young whereas Tuya is forty. However, I was a bit annoyed by the fact Tuya, who had all the markings of being quite interesting (shock!), was treated the way she was by the narrative - victimised, sidelined and then conveniently killed.

In conclusion I would say that although I have really hammered into Nights of Villjamur, it's not actually as bad as all that. I found it quite frustrating to read but I didn't actively hate it: I liked Brynd, and Newton seems to have quite a good grip on his gender politics. It certainly has some promise and I can only hope that this goes some way to being fulfilled in the later books.Themes:

Fantasy Rape Watch

Books

Sci-fi / Fantasy

Emocakes

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~Comments (

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valse de la lune

at 16:05 on 2011-06-24I remember really wanting to read this at one time, then a friend told me it was meh and I wrote it off. To this day I'm still vaguely curious but the fear of terribad racial/cultural appropriation compels me to keep my distance. Alas.

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Wardog

at 16:23 on 2011-06-24Well, as I said in my usual lukewarm fashion I quite liked Brynd... but my dominating response was "meh" over "ick." The novel is so bland that it's quite hard to get really wound up about it. I felt that the social issues, related to the coming ice-age (climate change, ho ho), Brynd's homosexuality and ye typical fantasy racism were pretty shallow, and consequently there wasn't really anything to get a grip on, either to praise or to criticise. I did think the islanders of Folke - they do dancing, swordplay and sex apparently - were a bit dodgy though, but to be honest I dismissed it as typical of the genre. I can see how there would be plenty to bother you though. I guess I was too busy fighting the bored to pay sufficient attention. Oh, and of course, you get the prejudice towards non-human races ... but, come on, cat-people are not a stand-in for people of colour.

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Vermisvere

at 16:48 on 2011-06-24Hmm...this doesn't sound like something I'd be keen to enter into my usual compulsory reading list, although it might be something I could probably sit through some cold winter night when I'm bored out of my mind.

And the way you describe it, Villjamur seems to strike me as being a bit like a fantasy version of Gotham City, minus all the crazy supervillains and Batman running around.

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Wardog

at 17:03 on 2011-06-24It is incredibly well-regarded so it's possible I've just experienced a profound failure of taste.

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Arthur B

at 17:10 on 2011-06-24

I don't, per se, have a problem with the more cartoon elements of fantasy but you can't serve up Chandler, Owen and Disney simultaneously.

This sounds like exactly one of the problems I had with

Steve Cockayne's debut novel

- it tried to fuse the conventions of so many different takes on fantastic material that it ended up tripping over itself. Ah well.

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http://everythingisnice.wordpress.com/

at 17:34 on 2011-06-24Not much point whiting out that spoiler about Tuya when you've got the Fantasy Rape Watch right above it!

I reviewed the book for Strange Horizons and came to a similar view to you. This was against the prevailing view at the time but I wonder if that has changed a bit. I've certainly seen lots of people suggesting Newton has improved as a writer as the series has progressed and have perhaps recalibrated their view of

Villjamur

(which is, after all, a debut novel). I've not read any of his other novels but I will definitely try him again at some point.

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Wardog

at 17:50 on 2011-06-24

Not much point whiting out that spoiler about Tuya when you've got the Fantasy Rape Watch right above it!

That is a good point - I fail at spoilers. But I guess you'd have to be paying attention to notice, or already familiar with the book.

I feel quite bad about not liking this more but since I remember a flurry of "zomg!awesome" at the time it came out I was genuinely a bit shocked. I am quite curious about his other books though, even in spite of my lack of enthusiasm for this one.

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Cammalot

at 22:05 on 2011-06-24Oddly enough, I'd just read through the entire thread on this book on Westeros.org last night. I came away feeling very intrigued by the premise(s) but with very mixed feelings about the (potential) prose.

But basically with so many things that have been really hyped in the last few years, elements have come out that have made me not only want to avoid the books like the plague, but wonder if I'm the crazy one, that everyone else in the world is not having a problem with this. (Emiko from "Windup Girl" springs to mind.)

I think I'll still try this one when it comes either to Nook or to trade paper, though.

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Michal

at 03:09 on 2011-06-25

but wonder if I'm the crazy one, that everyone else in the world is not having a problem with this. (Emiko from "Windup Girl" springs to mind.)

Well, count me as one other person who wasn't so crazy on The Windup Girl (and 'specially not Emiko). I didn't even finish it.

Also, I'm starting to notice our tastes are weirdly similar. Are you sure you're not my doppelganger?

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Cammalot

at 06:31 on 2011-06-25I can neither confirm nor deny. :shifty eyes:

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Wardog

at 14:43 on 2011-06-25

Oddly enough, I'd just read through the entire thread on this book on Westeros.org last night. I came away feeling very intrigued by the premise(s) but with very mixed feelings about the (potential) prose.

I'm, err, not not recommending it. I didn't like it much, but it certainly has potential and perhaps the series as a whole is better.

Also I am shocked, shocked I tell you, to learn that Michal is Cammalot's sock puppet... :)

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Vermisvere

at 15:40 on 2011-06-25

Also I am shocked, shocked I tell you, to learn that Michal is Cammalot's sock puppet... :)

*Gasp*

IT ALL MAKES SENSE NOW!

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Cammalot

at 16:48 on 2011-06-25So I can take credit for Michal's coherence! I am willng to go along with this.

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valse de la lune

at 21:27 on 2011-06-25SPOILER: everyone on FB is a sockpuppet of everyone else.

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Arthur B

at 21:46 on 2011-06-25And Charles Dickens hypnotised all of you into believing in everyone else.

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Vermisvere

at 05:11 on 2011-06-26

And Charles Dickens hypnotised all of you into believing in everyone else.

But wait...if I was hypnotised, then nobody exists...but if I was hypnotised, the one who hypnotised me must exist...but wait, if he exists, then my first statement must not be true...but, but...hey, wait a minute, ain't Dickens dead anyway?

Arghh! *goes into Rene Descartes overdrive-mode*

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Arthur B

at 09:05 on 2011-06-26It's all a game in Wilkie Collins' head.

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Alasdair Czyrnyj

at 20:35 on 2011-06-26

SPOILER: everyone on FB is a sockpuppet of everyone else.

Well, everyone except for me. I'm actually an artificial intelligence who covertly created Ferretbrain as part of a method for controlling mass society. So congratulations, everybody! You have no free will!

(BTW, secretly running America is nowhere near as much fun as it looks. I still wonder how the hell GW talked me into it.)

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Ash

at 20:55 on 2011-06-26

I'm actually an artificial intelligence

Wait, I thought that was me.

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Shim

at 23:46 on 2011-06-26I'm not a sockpuppet, I'm a bot-mediated copy-paste from a less well-known site.

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Arthur B

at 00:38 on 2011-06-27I'm a worm from LulzSec. That time the other week the site was down for hours? Yeah, that was me.

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Vermisvere

at 10:17 on 2011-06-27

So congratulations, everybody! You have no free will!

Free will? That's SO last century...

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Robinson L

at 20:30 on 2011-06-28

Alasdair: I'm actually an artificial intelligence who covertly created Ferretbrain as part of a method for controlling mass society. So congratulations, everybody! You have no free will! (BTW, secretly running America is nowhere near as much fun as it looks. I still wonder how the hell GW talked me into it.)

As I recall it was two batches of homemade cookies, a case of premium vodka, and a three-year subscription to the Reader's Digest. I always did wonder about the subscription part.

... Damn, there goes my cover.

“It's understandable you're upset, Rand, so don't be so harsh on yourself.”

Oh, that's some scintillating dialogue right there.

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Wardog

at 20:45 on 2011-06-28

Oh, that's some scintillating dialogue right there.

I know :( Not precisely sparkling in Villjamur, is it?

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Shim

at 21:14 on 2011-06-28

“It's understandable you're upset, Rand, so don't be so harsh on yourself.”

I just read that along with the

Playpen Freud-Jung film discussion

and absent-mindedly read it as Ayn Rand in some bizarre They Fight Crime scheme.

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Arthur B

at 22:02 on 2011-06-28That'd be a good teamup.

All Freud linking Rand's admiration of architects to phallic symbols implicit in skyscrapers.

All Rand trying to convince Freud that charity and compassion are illnesses that cry out for treatment more than schizophrenia or neurosis.

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Robinson L

at 00:36 on 2011-06-29Cast Liv Tyler as Ayn Rand and you can have Mortensen's Freud desperately attempting to convince Jung that there is not unresolved sexual tension between them whatsoever.

Jung: Sigmund old boy, you just said you wanted to get into Ayn's pants.

Freud: I mean

plans

- get in on her

plans

Jung: But you said

pants

Freud: Sometimes a slip of the tongue is

just

a slip of the tongue!

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Wardog

at 09:42 on 2011-06-29Hahaha!

Robinson is on fire today.

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Robinson L

at 15:30 on 2011-07-01

Kyra: Robinson is on fire today.

Yes, it was touch-and-go for a while there, but they managed to dowse me and get me to a treatment center and the med droids tell me I won't have to spend the rest of my life in a mechanical suit.

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Robinson L

at 15:30 on 2012-02-24

Mark C Newton: "Things I got wrong."

Re-posting from the Playpen (credit Cammalot for the original discovery) because the Playpen is such a transitory space and because this specific post and this sort of authorial self-reflection need a lot more love.

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Wardog

at 15:46 on 2012-02-24Well...I'm happy he's noticed he was crap but ... I don't really feel like blowing him for it ;)

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Robinson L

at 20:30 on 2012-02-24

Kyra: Well...I'm happy he's noticed he was crap but ... I don't really feel like blowing him for it ;)

No reason you should. And yes, this sort of thing should probably be the baseline for authorial self-reflection, but since so many authors fail to reach such basic levels of insight, it's important to point out when they get even this much right. I also like the way he articulates the point that "gritty" doesn't automatically = "mature," and I'm a bit taken with his tone throughout the piece, but that's a personal thing.

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Cammalot

at 22:19 on 2012-02-24Heh -- I'm not even too inclined to *read* him for it, but I've been seeing so much bad authorial behavior in my lurkings lately I felt compelled to point it out. It made me a happy.

I'm still not planning to pick up this one, but with Strange Horizons blurbing his second one as "What Villjamur wished it could be," I wouldn't toss it away if it wound up in my hands, so to speak. The premise is still intriguing, and it would be interesting to see what he's done with this insight.

(I've been hearing it in my head as "Vjillamur" all this time. This is the first I'm noticing how wrong I am!)

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Wardog

at 23:42 on 2012-02-24Hee! Authors Behaving Badly! I am kind of imagining cheap documentary film-making with GRRM and Pat Rothfuss and Joe Abercrombie all wearing skimpy outfits in hot-tubs and making out with each other for the camera... Actually that's basically what they do anyway, isn't it? Except on the Internet.

(also that image hurts my brain)

That's the thing, I think I probably quite like MCN. Like Daniel Abraham (I love you Daniel Abraham, you do not need to put on the bunny tail and go in the hot tub) most of the things I've seen him writing that aren't, y'know, fiction I've quite liked. He seems kind of down-to-earth, not *ragingly* sexist and moderately humble ...

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Arthur B

at 00:02 on 2012-02-25"Authors Behaving Badly" make me think of an overrated sitcom in which R. Scott Bakker and Jay Lake are slovenly flatmates who are constantly taken aback by their inability to convince the feminists living downstairs that they're totally on their side.

#Ferretbrain #Nights of Villjamur #Mark Charan Newton #Fantasy Rape Watch #Wardog #Emocakes

0 notes

gearsforyears · 7 years

Note

Prompt Request: Danny and friends discovering an in-universe phansite dedicated to speculating about the local ghost boy and his shenanigans.

This??? Was so??? Much fun??? To write?????? Thank you so much for the prompt!!! ;w;

“Danny! You have to see this!”

Said halfa in question groaned; he, Sam, and Tucker were busy trying to get homework done before patrol that night. And with the way his grades are currently? Yeah, getting distracted was something he didn’t need at the moment. But Tucker stretched his arms way above his head, letting loose a groan as Danny heard his bones pop, “Hey, you guys up for a five minute break?”

Sam curled her toes to get some feeling back into them before standing up, “Yep. How about you, Danny?”

Despite the urge to do his homework like he was determined to do, Danny had to admit that a break sounded amazing. They had been doing Precalculus for a good hour, and his brain needed rest, “Sure. But we should get this finished before patrol…” He warned.

“Oh, c’mon Danny; we’ll get it all done before tonight,” Tucker rolled his eyes. Sam was walking out the door already with her arms above her head, fitted comfortably in Danny’s sweatshirt and a pair of Tucker’s cargo pants. The technofreak still had no clue how she got a hold of their clothes when they weren’t looking, but he dismissed the suspicions to keep talking, “Besides, Jazz sounded excited about something.”

Sam looked over her shoulder, “Let’s just hope it’s not a new psychology therapy session theory she wants to try out on us.” She shivered before continuing, “I still remember the last time she tried something in those college books of hers on us.”

It was Danny’s turn to roll his eyes at his friends before ushering them out into the hallway and hurriedly making their way into Jazz’s overly pink room. Said sister was curled up in her chair in front of her computer screen, her face red and a smile plastered on her face. Danny wasn’t sure what was making her convulse in the manner she was, but after a moment realized that his sister was laughing.

She pulled her orange hair up into a tight bun and wiped any stray tears from her eyes before leaning out of the chair to stand up, “Y-You guys have at it. I need to get something to calm me down…” She let out a laugh behind a hand, “By the Ancients, the comments are hilarious.”

Danny raised an eyebrow at the curse, recognizing as something that he says too often for his own good. But the surprise quickly went away as he saw the black, white, and green background of Jazz’s computer screen. He sat down in the chair and read the blog title, ‘The Phantom Conspiracy!’

Tucker let out a small breath he wasn’t sure he was holding before jumping into Danny’s lap to see the computer better, to which Danny groaned at the unexpected weight, “You’re too heavy, get off.”

“Stop whining!” Tucker cheekily smiled, “Besides, I’m not that heavy, and you have super strength.”

“Get used to it, Danny,” Sam smirked before collapsing on top of both of them, making the two of them groan beneath her, “Either you make room, or you deal with the two of us.” She popped her gum loudly to make her point, earning her a glare from the two boys below her.

They settled into the chair quickly, Danny supporting both friends’ weight on his legs. As they all found a comfortable position, the three juniors read a few of the articles to themselves.

“Danny, Danny, click on that one! It’s all fanfiction about you!” Tucker pointed and practically yelled. A click later, and the techie was guffawing, getting himself drunk on the giggles that the new page produced, “People ship you with other ghosts! Look, even with our infamous Red Huntress! And Box Ghost!”

Danny rolled his eyes and clicked away from the page, not wanting to have Tucker beg him to read some of the more smutty stories on the site. How was that even allowed on a public internet server? He wasn’t even human! Sam leaned over the two of them and pointed to a tab that Danny clicked, “The Phantom Experience? Why does this sound like a spa treatment?”

He gave out a sigh as he clicked on the page, already feeling slightly uncomfortable with the entire website. Danny vaguely wondered who would even start a blog like this, and how the hell was it so popular?! “Is this… An origin story?”

“WHAT?!” Danny and Tucker leaned in closer, and Tuck read the article out loud for everyone to listen to, “‘Danny Phantom, the mysterious ghost boy, had appeared almost two years ago to save the residents of Amity Park. But where did this ghost come from? There aren’t any reported deaths of people who look exactly like the ghost-’ Dude! This is totally an origin story!”

“Well? What does it say?” Danny asked, with a newfound fervor. With all the other supers in the world, he didn’t want people to think he had a lame origin. What if the freaking Batman found out if he had a horrible backstory? (Although, Danny still wasn’t too impressed that he him having half-died is his origin, seeing as Superman came from an entirely different planet, but he could deal with it).

Sam scanned the page quickly, and pointed near the end, drawing their attention to a hand drawn picture of the halfa with a section under it, “It says here that you died thousands of years ago!”“That doesn’t make any sense!” Danny exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. A groan escaped his lips as he covered his face with a hand, feeling his cheeks and ears flame up a bit at the inaccuracies, “What feasible proof is there?”

“Remember ol’ Vladdie man taking the Infimap from the Far Frozen clan?” Danny looked up, slightly horrified that someone traced him back that far, “Looks like someone in Rome wrote about you, and same in ancient China, and again in Salem. People seem to think you liked to lay low then, but now feel a duty to protect this place in particular because of all the ghost attacks.”

“Why would anyone want to know my history that badly?” He murmured. Danny had to admit that he felt almost violated at the blogger’s want to find out more about him. He looked at the author and saw a familiar name, “Paulina?!”

Sam nodded, taking the mouse and clicking on a few other articles, “Seems like she’s written a majority of these, actually.” The goth leaned in closer to the screen, “She’s not that bad a a writer. Huh.”

“Can we get back on topic here?” Danny practically groaned, rubbing his temples. He was going to need so much aspirin to get rid of the headaches this was giving him, “I thought this was supposed to be funny, not mortifying.”

A few clicks, and Tucker got them to the comment section of the origin story that Paulina had written out. Said technofreak slipped off of the armrest and landed directly in the center of Danny’s lap, making him cringe while Tucker stared at the screen in awe, “Oh. My. God. Wes posted about you being Phantom online!”

Sam leaned closer as well, deciding to ruin Danny’s night more by falling into Tucker’s lap so the both of them were once again crushing Danny beneath them. A majority of the messages were from Wes Weston, the brat that was constantly trying to get Danny in trouble and casually spread his secret around like the common cold. But she had to admit, the conversations in the comments were hilarious.

WWeston: Phantom isn’t that old! He’s fucking 16! It’s Danny Fenton, you guys are all idiots!

Beauty Queen: Wes can i post one thing on this blog without you claiming this every time?

StarQuarterback: theres??? proof??? in the article??? about phantom being in rome? wes can you stfu

WWeston: I have literally seEN FENTON TURN INTO PHANTOM HES NOT THAT SECRETIVE ABOUT IT HE DOESNT CARE IF YOU SEE HIM

Beauty Queen: Are you just jealous because Phantom was crowned honorary homecoming King and you werent?

WWeston: 1, YOU GAVE THE CROWN TO PHANTOM and 2, I WOULDNT BE JEALOUS OF A FENTON

KwanL: God, wes, just let it go.

Beauty Queen: He’s totally jealous of Phantom, someone make some fanfiction of these two omfg

WWeston: HES FENTON AND IM NOT FUCKIN GAY

StarQuarterback: It’s not gay if he’s dead, bro. We got you a tshirt about it man

WWeston: I burned it. I’m not wearing anything involving that half-ghost freak! And it’s stILL GAY

KwanL: What the hell are you talking about???? Phantom is a ghost, it’s impossible for a half-ghost to exist. Get your ass out of fairytale land mr.basketball

Now was when Danny had finally found the entire endeavor of reading these worth his time away from homework. Wes had an account on a Danny Phantom blog to rant to others about how he was half-ghost, and the best part was no one believed him. How stupid could people get?

And Mr. Basketball? Danny had to remember to use that line next time he saw the redhead approach him with his newest conspiracy about him. He looked over to see Sam on the floor, clutching her stomach, and Tucker, who was still seated in Danny’s lap, was halfway out of the chair, tears streaming down his face. A knock resounded in the room, and Jazz came back in with cups of tea for everyone, “T-To soothe your throats from… pffft… the laughing.”

“Whatever you say, Mr. Basketball,” Tuck’s statement sent everyone into another round of laughter, and Danny had to admit. Sometimes, it was good to take a break.

#Danny Phantom #i had so much fun???? Thank you so much anon!#DP #phandom #samantha manson #tucker foley #Jazz fenton #Danny fenton

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welp-here-i-write · 7 years

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Wickling Shenanigans Chapter 1 ~ Wednesdays

Disclaimer: I love these nerds but do not own them in any way.

Chapter 1:

I fucking hate Wednesdays. I mean, how could you not? It's the middle of the week, nobody cares anymore, you're not waiting for anything because nothing quality is around Wednesday and nothing good ever happens on them. Wednesdays are hell.

I woke up at the normal time. 5:00. Followed the same dull routine. Wake up. Get dressed. Brush teeth and put deodorant on. Eat breakfast. Do homework. Go to school. Fucking Wednesdays. I began walking towards my first period when some asshole tripped me. I looked at them and simply glowered before moving on. “Hey Kaplan! Watch where you’re going dumbass,” the kid says as he tries to taunt me. Kids are such assholes.

I just sat through most of AP Physics, finishing my busy work then being bored out of my mind for twenty minutes. By the time the bell rang, I couldn't be more ready to leave. Second period was dull at best and then English was just Mr. Daren yelling at us about “the importance of commas” and then assigning a paper on it.

Thank Scarlet Witch for fourth period. My only period where I get to actually get to deal with manageable people. But sadly, that flew by faster than Quicksilver. Then lunch. Fucking lunch. Kesler found me as soon as I walked out of class, his giant, terrifying smile covering his face. “Well hey there Kaplan! Funny seeing you here! Me and the boys were just talking about going to lunch, but we seem to lack the funds. Good thing we found you, eh?” I can't help that my eyes widen at the statement. I begin wildly fumbling at my pockets, not bagging eye contact with him, memories of how last time ended when I broke it. My still bruised chest throbs with the phantom pain of remembrance.

I can't find my wallet. God dammit. I smile weakly at Kesler. “Um, looks like I'm fresh out too. I could maybe go and grab some cash somewhere else?” I try to ask, not getting any further before I feel a fist slam into my side. I recoil from the fist, almost falling to the ground. I look to where the fist came from. One of Kesler’s goons is standing there proudly, looking at Kesler. He simply smiles before looking back at me.

“Now, now. You know the rules. A proper gay should always support their heterosexual betters. You can't be forgetting something as important as your wallet. I'm sure my boys will find it on you somewhere. Boys?” Kesler’s smile just grows. The four other guys that were with him smile like idiots.

“Yessir. Don't worry, the fag won't forget his wallet again.” The largest says, before charging me.

The rest of the session with Kesler was a blur. Punches all over my sides and a few on the face. I can't really remember when I passed out, but I know I did. I woke up sometime after, my face looking up towards the sky and my body hurting everywhere. Kesler and his goons were nowhere to be seen, but I was still in the same spot. Sighing, I got up and checked my phone for the time. Fucking hell. It was 2:00. 6th period ended in 30 minutes. I had to present my project in 5th. “There goes my grade.” I muttered. I decided that it would be better than nothing to finish 6th and claim I was helping someone who was getting sick or something.

[Note: Fuck past tense, I'm going present]

I begin slowly walking across campus towards my 6th. I fucking hate Wednesdays. As I pass the Palidian Building, I suddenly notice how amazing the architecture is. And then proceed to walk right into a column. It takes me a solid ten seconds to get up after feeling the extreme pain of reopened cuts and bruises getting slammed. “Hey, you ok? You seemed kinda distracted. And those are a lot of bruises.” I look up and suddenly realize that it wasn't a column. It was a guy. A really hot guy. And I can't speak.

“Um, yeah, I-I, um, fine.” I say, trying to stop the blush furiously starting to cover my face. I break eye contact and try to stand up, only to fall right back down, the pain in my right leg shooting up until my hip. “Agh!” I exclaim, trying to look as normal as I can. It doesn't help.

“Oh my God, you are totally not ok. Here, let me help you.” The guy’s voice is super concerned and sweet, and I can't help but just stare blankly. This guy's seems like he means well, and he certainly looks great, but there's no way in hell I'm trusting that. I mean, after all, last time I trusted someone like that, he broke my heart and everyone in the school knew I was gay. So yeah.

He doesn't seem to read my thoughts, and bends down, trying to wrap his arm around my waist to help me up. Instead, he brushes against a bruise and I cry out in pain again. “Oh shit! Sorry! God, I'm such an idiot.” He looks at me again. “Hey, I'm gonna help you, so I need you to help me out, tell me where I can help you up. His crystal blue eyes shine with worry and I can't help it. I let him help.

“Right around here.” I vaguely motion in a general area that seemed to be spared from the brunt of the beating. He smiles, his teeth catching the sun in a perfect way and his golden hair framing his face in the sunlight. He might as well have been an angel.

“Ok.” He reaches around, and I wince, but it's not as bad as he helps to hoist me up. I lean on him when we finally are both standing, trying not to put any weight on my right leg. As he begins walking, I can't help but feel how great his arm feels, wrapped around me, and how warm he is. After about 20 seconds, I realize that we aren't heading for the nurse, but rather the parking lot.

Mustering up the energy to speak, I look at him questioningly. “You aren't going to drug and sell me are you? Please? I've already been through enough today.” I'm only half joking. His laugh is one of the greatest things I've heard. And a welcome change of pace to the fake one I hear much too often from my family or the cruel one Kesler often gives.

“No, I'm driving you to the fucking ER, you look like you can't even do anything right now. Then, you're getting sold.” He winks at me and I think I might die then and there. Whether from blood loss, the concussion or him, I'm not sure. Nonetheless, I trust this Adonis of a man and willingly let him place me in his passenger seat.

His car smells like vanilla and is completely immaculate, totally not matching the earrings that he wears. I raise my eyebrows at him when he enters from the other side. He looks at me. “What's the face for?” I smile at him.

“Nothing.”

The car ride is short, and he quickly helps me out of the car when we arrive. We get to the front desk and an older woman with red hair that falls into curls around her head behind the counter immediately stands up upon seeing me. “What happened to him?!” She says. Suddenly, the guy’s face turns red and sheepish.

“Um, I don't know, I just found him at -” I quickly interrupt him.

“I fell during a hike. He found me at the base of the hill.” I quickly say, trying to manage the best lie I can.

The woman seems to believe it and just motions for me to sit down while she heads back into the actual hospital, looking for a doctor. In the meantime I'm stuck with Mr. Nice next to me. That's when I realize I haven't even asked his name. “Um, what's your name? I'm sorry I didn't ask before, I guess it slipped my mind, what with the blood and broken leg and everything.” He asks, looking at me with the same adorable red face.

“Billy.” I say, feeling the a familiar blush hitting my face as well. “Yours?”

“Teddy. Teddy Altman.” He replies, the same small grin playing at the edge of his lips. God dammit he really is cute. And his eyes are so fucking entrancing. We stay quiet for another minute before he breaks the silence yet again. “Why did you lie about how you got hurt?” He asks, face etched in worry.

I look away, anywhere but him. “I don't like talking about it. Would you tell someone that someone beat the shit out of you when that someone’s family has enough money to out-lawyer then buy said company of the prosecutor? Because that's Kesler for ya.”

He nods. “I guess I wouldn't. I wouldn't want to hurt my family or myself any further.” Yet another minute passes. Then another. And then it's me who shatters the veil.

“So what do you do for fun, Mr. Teddy Altman?” I try to ask casually. It’s his turn for his eyebrows to raise as he looks at me suspiciously.

“Nothing much. I used to play basketball, but I love a good night in reading the latest issue of Captain America.” He finally says after a moment of hesitation. My ears instantly latch onto the words “Captain America”.

Trying to be as nonchalant as possible, I look over. “Captain America?”

He looks back at me with the same suspicious face. “Yeah. What’s wrong with Captain America? You don’t support my nerdiness?”

I can’t help but laugh at how serious he sounds. “Dude, I invented nerdiness. But Scarlet Witch is my favourite.”

“Isn’t she a villain?” He says, and I can’t tell if his smile is from joy of talking about comics or just because he knows how upset that will make me. I can’t stop myself.

“No! Are you kidding me!? She has Magneto for a father yet wants to be a hero. It has to be hard choosing between family and ideals. I mean, clearly -” Before I can get very far a man in scrubs and the same woman come out of the door.

“Mr. Kaplan? We can take you now.” She says. I get up with Teddy’s help and work my way over to the wheelchair that they brought out. She begins wheeling me through the doors when Teddy speaks up.

“Hey, Billy, don’t worry, I’ll stay out here and wait for ya.” He states. The nurse chuckles as the door closes behind us.

“Your boyfriend is so sweet darling! How long have you two been together?” Her eyes have a twinkle of amusement in them as she continues wheeling me towards the room that the doctor quickly maneuvered himself into.

“Um, we aren’t dating. I told you, he found me today at the base of the trail.” I say. She just deadpans and looks at me with the most serious face I’ve seen of her.

“Kid, you weren’t on a trail. We both know that. I can accept the fact that you don’t want to say who it was, but it certainly was a beating of sorts.” She then leans down and looks me straight in the eye and simply whispers, “Was it him? Out there?” She seems so worried.

“No! No. Just, someone else I know. It’s a long story.” I can’t help it. I still can’t tell anyone about Kesler. I mean, it’s not like she can do anything. The doctor checks me out quickly, saying it’s a normal case of battery. I just nod my head along with everything he says and he eventually tells me I’ll need crutches until my broken leg heals. Accepting it, I take the pills he prescribes and take the crutches. Boy, this will certainly be a fun story for mom. She’s seen me beat up before, but this is completely new. I leave, and Teddy immediately stands up when he sees me. I know it’s weird, but for a second, I almost think that I see relief in his eyes.

“Hey! Are you ok?” He asks, coming up to me. I smile weakly.

“Yeah, quality enough to sell.” I wink at him, feeling confident.

He laughs again and we both smile. “So, I’ll take you home if you want. Make sure your parents don’t murder you or something, right?” He says.

“Yeah. Mom will flip, but she’ll accept it. She always does…” I trail off, unable to really continue a sentence. Teddy looks at me with those kind, worrying eyes.

“Hey. It’ll be okay.” Despite his strong build and impressive figure, I can’t help but recognize his weak smile. God, I wish he was gay. Why are all the good ones straight? He helps me back to his car and we drive, casually discussing comics and television on the way back as I lead him to my apartment.

We finally pull in front of the complex, and he looks at me. “Are you good to head up yourself?” He asks.

“Yeah, I think I’m good. Thank you for everything today.” I look at him and genuinely smile at him. I throw on my backpack and start heading towards the elevator. As I get about five feet, I suddenly hear a voice from behind me.

“Hey, um, Billy?” I hear Teddy ask from his car. I turn around and raise an eyebrow.

“Yeah?” I ask.

“Would you maybe wanna go get dinner sometime? Or maybe just head to the comic store?” His face is furiously red and at the sound of those words, I swear I’m about to die from excitement.

“U-Um. Yeah. That sounds great! Here,” I say, fumbling out a piece of paper and a pen, “is my phone number. Text me!” I hand him the piece of paper after writing down my phone number. I look at him and we both kind of just stare at each other for a second. “I’ll see you later Teddy!”

“Seeya Billy.” I fucking love Wednesdays.

#wickling #wiccan #hulkling #billy kaplan #teddy altman #writing #fanfiction

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moandkatelive · 7 years

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Ok so you all knew it was coming. Yes Campwolfe Fandom Nan™ just has to weigh in on the shenanigans and current angst-fest unfolding on Holby City for our Goddess Serena Campbell oh her anguish someone hold me intrepid couple Serena and Bernie. Many things I will say have likely already been said. Some perhaps not. As per usual, I shall pop it under a read more because I am wordy as shit to save y’all’s dash.

Buckle up

Now that I have had some time and distance from yesterday’s episode I feel as though I may be able to talk about it with a) some objectivity and b) without collapsing on the carpet in a heap of tears.

First of all:

Slow-clapping it out plus a raising a glass of the finest single malt to both Catherine Russell and Jemma Redgrave who killed it knocked it OUT OF THE PARK last night. What those women are able to do with every fibre of their being is incredible and just watching them is a master-class in acting. Like I said in a previous post, Serena’s anguished moan on her out-breath as she collapsed, against Bernie and then her restrained keening will haunt me to my grave. I had nightmares about it last night -that’s how deeply I was affected send help.

Right off the bat can we please quell the fearful speculation that this intense, dramatic tragedy is going to be the downfall of Campwolfe? I mean I suppose if you want to worry about that on top of worrying about how Serena is going to get through the next few weeks fly at it but personally I don’t feel the need to spend energy on something that is 100% not going to happen. Couples on Holby are ALL given difficulty or tragedy to work with. It is thrown at them. Instead of the writers creating drama and angst between Serena and Bernie in an endless cycle of ‘will they or won’t they’ or having them break up and get back together - this couple is on the receiving end of something catastrophic that will highlight bringing them closer. There may be some bumps in the road - I can’t imagine that Serena won’t get through this without falling into depression and pushing the people in her life that she loves the most away for a bit. Why? Because that is what happens in these types of situations and for that NOT to happen would not allow the show to highlight a very real and true to life consequence of the loss of a child. But this is a goldmine opportunity for the writers to show not tell in terms of giving Bernie Wolfe a growth arc. Bernie the emotional dumpster fire that she has been queen of the ‘let’s do a runner’ - let’s be honest sticking around and comfort and care, especially physical comfort and care are not her wheelhouse. To watch her last night, a symphony of restrained agony, helplessness and aching love for Serena was one of the most beautiful and moving things I have seen on television in a long time. She didn’t just hold it together in Theatre (which is her wheelhouse) but she was there for Serena every step of the way - very much the tender partner, very much physically there. I believe that we are going to see incredible amounts of emotional growth as she hangs in and loves on Serena, despite even perhaps being pushed away, instead of just packing it in and heading for the hills because things are rough. I’ve have longed to see this in her and I am very excited to see more - even if it is in small doses. At the end of this arc I believe that Serena and Bernie will come through this stronger than ever.

Is it a horrible, awful, terrible plot twist that Elinor, Serena’s only daughter is brain dead? Yes. It’s utterly devestating - but from the bottom of my heart I don’t think it falls anywhere close to the ‘lesbian death trope’. Serena and Bernie are being for the most part treated exactly the same way that any straight couple/characters would be on Holby City. They’re getting their fair share of a truckload of tragedy. None of the characters escape that. None. Do I wish Elinor wasn’t dead? Yes. I do because I adore Serena Campbell with every fibre of my being I was awake last worrying about her and then had to slap myself upside the head and remind myself that Serena is a British pretend bi-doctor and not a real person and that I was being a giant twit and I don’t want her to suffer. But that isn’t how life works. Tragedy does befall us and this just happens to be what is coming at Serena. Just because she identifies as wlw or lesbian or bi or as Jason says just plain complicated does that mean that she and Bernie should be swaddled gently in bubble wrap and nothing awful ever befalls them? There has to be skin in the game to make things interesting and what a gorgeous way for us, and for the broader audience to see a non-traditional couple working through these issues and supporting one another with unconditional love.

By the same token people could be furious that Dom is saddled with Issac the manipulative, abusive sociopath - why cant he have nice things I’m actually on a mission to push Issac off the roof but that’s another story, but in the harsh reality of life domestic abuse happens within gay relationships too and by highlighting this hopefully it will actually help someone who is gay or lesbian to make positive changes in their lives as Dom struggles to do this. They can look to him and say “if he can do it I can do it.”

I truly believe the same can be said for this storyline with Serena and by extension, Bernie. I’ve seen some opinions in this tag that somehow this story is simply a riff on the “Lesbians as Tragedy” story because it is highlighted that neither Serena nor Bernie are good mothers. I am all for people having their own opinions and fly at it. For me - that is not the read I get at all from the way these characters have been written and what they are portraying. How I see these characters positioned as parents, especially Serena in this case, is that they have loving and difficult and wondorous and challenging relationships with their early adult children. In the same was as the straight parents on this show are often portrayed. Serena and Bernie are shown as flawed mothers, as human mothers. Because that is what it IS to be a parent. Parenting whether you are an at-home parent full time or a surgeon or co-parenting or demonstrative or more reserved is the most fucking difficult job on the planet. There is no manual, no rulebook and despite the best of intentions parents and children often end up at odds. That’s simply a fact. Just because Elinor called her father, which she is want to do when she’s in trouble with the law because she’s learned from experience that her father will bail her out and her mother is going to call her on the carpet - who is the better parent there you have to ask - again a topic for a different meta, ended up reaching Liberty and asked Liberty to come be with her in no way negates Serena’s parenting abilities. Liberty is legitimately a part of Elinor’s life. She functioned, in some ways, as a step-parent. She would have had a way in to talk to Elinor that Serena wouldn’t have had precisely because she was NOT Elinor’s mother. This is the beauty of a step-parent. We don’t have to like Liberty but she did come when she was asked. She did sit with Elinor. She does love her in her own way and even if she’s a bit daft I believe her when she said that she was not trying to replace Serena. And she left when she was asked to leave without kicking up a fuss. There is a certain kind of class in that and you can’t convince me otherwise.

Fletch is a straight man the Flaf shippers notwithstanding and he has been shown time and again to be a good father, a struggling father, a father who falls short, a father who wins, a human father. Jac Naylor. Does anyone really believe that she has been nor will continue to be painted ‘mother of the year’ because she is straight? No. She’s the head of Darwin who is utterly problematic and has difficulty allowing people in or showing her feelings. This will affect her parenting. But she’s struggling through. Trying. She’s a human mother. Serena is a human mother. Bernie is a human mother and I just can’t see the Holby writers slanting it in the direction that they’re anything but human women trying to figure out how to get through the day, save lives and love their families.

I think, lastly, it’s been difficult for some of us to stomach the full throttle tragedy storyline for Bernie and Serena because there were so few touches of them as they were blossoming into and settling into being a romantic couple. Honestly - I wish we’d had a bit more fluff and happiness maybe a scene or two in the Peace Garden or drinks at Albies, bantering over a patient, wrangling about diagnoses before they were handed a dumptruck’s worth of angst but that is not how it played out. For a number of reasons, potentially, Jemma’s vacation time, the fact that Catherine hasn’t had a real holiday in, well, forever, the way that Holby tends to gloss over the happiness of its characters and focus on drama and/or angst. This trifecta of reasons after The Kill List and let’s face it the hiatus where we all almost expired from lack of Bernie/Campwolfe has made it more difficult, I believe, to sit easily, without worry, through this storyline. As I have said before, we are not going to love every last piece of minutiae on how the writers keep crafting Bernie and Serena’s melody line within the symphony. But the one thing I think that we can come back to is that they, and Simon and Catherine and Jemma are committed to creating, as best they know how, as best they are able all their unconscious missteps about wlw relationships notwithstanding a beautiful, complicated, human story that encompasses two women in a relationship dealing with the slings and arrows that life throws at them.

Like the fact that life isn’t perfect, no human is perfect, no mother is perfect - I believe there is some kind of middle ground. Melanie Klein said that there was no such thing as the ‘perfect mother/mothering’ but that for optimum psychological health a child doesn’t need ‘perfect mothering’ she needs ‘good enough mothering’. I think that applies here. I don’t need Serena and Bernie to be the ‘perfect’ representation of wlw relationship. I don’t need their story to be perfect or one made from fanfiction. What I need is it to be ‘good enough’. I need it to be raw, to surprise me, to shake me up. I need their story to make me laugh and to make my cry. I need it to pierce me to my core.

Last night’s episode certainly did that. It pierced me to my very soul. It chewed me up and it spit me back out again. It made me think. It made me ache. In it I saw humanity - the humanity of pain, of fear, of love and loss. That is what we face every day in life. And I for one am so beyond thrilled I can watch these emotions and this turmoil played out between two characters that in some way resemble who I am.

As Serena Campbell says “Life isn’t fair. You don’t get second chances. One knock and all that potential is just gone, wasted.” That is the hard bone truth of it. Sometimes there isn’t a second chance. Somehow we have to figure out how to keep putting one foot in front of the other through loss and grief and a pain so utter it feels as though our entire being is an immolation.

And the other side of that are the people who come and stand next to us and walk with us and hold us up during those times, and into the calm times after. I’m thinking specifically of Essie’s line “Home isn’t about the past. It’s simply a place you’re needed the most.”

I’m thinking about that hug that Bernie showers on Serena. How they both sink into it, breathe one another in. Bury their faces in one another. However this goes I believe that the strength of their home, that they are one another’s true home, will shine through, will be the beautiful gift from this trial by fire.

This love, this fire, this pain, this ultimate home - these are the reasons that I am spellbound and will continue to watch. These are the reasons this episode, this story, is good.

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