#when did it take ten thousand years to process this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tomorrowillbeyou · 7 days

Text

Thursday 2005 demos

These are some early demos for A City by the Light Divided which were stolen from the band and leaked in September 2005. I haven't seen anyone post about them so I thought I would myself. Below are lyrics and some extra context. I have tried to transcribe the lyrics as best I can but I have pretty bad auditory processing disorder so there will inevitably be some errors. If you spot a mistake, let me know and I will edit the post. The formatting and details of the lyrics are mostly based on the CD booklet.

Blog post

After the demos were leaked, Geoff made this blog post on the Thursday website on September 21 2005:

Hey friends- SO… we see that the early demos we did for the record have FINALLY leaked. In this day and age anything and everything that passes through a computer eventually ends up being available to everyone at the click of a button. Many of you know that Thursday is one of the few bands that actually supports file sharing!!! We love the fact that music is available to everyone whenever they need it. We have always told our friends and 'fans' that they should download any of our albums that they can't afford or can't find in stores. These demos, however, weren't ready for anyone to hear. These songs have all changed substantially since those demos and will probably change between now and the recording. Just to help you guys understand these demos, here's a user's guide: 1. most of these songs don't have names because the lyrics are still being written… a song only really becomes a song for us when we figure out EXACTLY what it's about. 2. One of these songs is actually the reincarnated out-take of a song that we cut from war all the time. 3. Andrew had just joined the band as a full fledged member when we recorded these and his keyboard parts were still sketchy at best. 4. There is one song, however, that is much closer to finished than the other's. It's called "At This Velocity" and it's about a crash landing in an airplane on the other side of the world. This song was started when we were in Australia on tour with the Flaming Lips, the Mars Volta and Poison the Well. The first line of the song is, "We were safe, Now we're paralyzed, Suspended in flight…" We hope you enjoy it. On a related and timely note, we are very excited to announce that we will be heading into the studio with Dave Fridmann at the beginning of October to start on our new album. His work with the Flaming Lips, Weezer, Mogwai and Sleater Kinney has produced some of the finest albums of the last ten years. Dave is one of the few modern producers really pushing the medium and he's one of the nicest guys in the business. We started preproduction on the sixteen songs we've written. In the short amount of time we've been working with Dave he's already pushing us to new musical and emotional ground. Anyway, thank you all for the love that you have always shown us. These demos aren't really a good indication so try not to listen to them too much (we don't want you to get used to them this way!!!). We're just happy that all the really great stuff on this album is still a secret!!! Keep checking the website for updates and tidbits. thanks and love, Geoff (and all the Thursday boys)

1 - At This Velocity - Lyrics

We were safe Now we're paralyzed Suspended in flight At this speed it makes no difference Where I start and where you end Or if you sit in an emergency aisle.

We could be dead Complete the equation: Our names are X and N We have no value In these calculations: We're placed on a plane, Pointed straight down, Traveling at five hundred feet per second, Five thousand feet from the ground -- how long will it take us to hit? How fast will we start the disintegration? No time left - just keep moving No time left - just keep moving How fast will it take us to hit? How long till we start the disintegration?

We could be safe here, forever, Floating in the clean blue air. Somewhere between the sun that gives us light and the ground that puts it out. And we'll kneel in the aisles Press our hands together, close our eyes, speak these words so softly into the black box And it goes: "Mother, father, can you hear this? I want to thank you for all the sweetness. I'm not coming home, we're never coming home."

2 - Telegraph Avenue Kiss - Lyrics

She's the song that you tried to sing And the note that you couldn't hit So you locked her up in a music box Turned the key on all of us She spins silver strings in the dark With metal teeth that ring in her heart When the cover drops The world just fades away, away, away From her, waiting, waiting, waiting for her to say: It doesn't matter what you say, Doesn't matter what you think you mean, You know our love's not unconditional.

A book of matches and a cigarette A love note that you never sent You can fold it up but you won't forget You can strike a match but it still might not light Now I'm the one that's stuck inside the silver cage, The bird that can't fly away, clip its wings if it sings Of the way, the way, the way that it hurt Waiting, waiting, waiting for her to say: It doesn't matter what you say, Doesn't matter what you think you mean, You know our love's not unconditional. Doesn't matter what you say, Doesn't matter what you think you mean, You know our love's not unconditional.

The music box is open It's spinning with the room If you're the record playing, I'm the needle in the groove. Listen to our song:

You're in my heart, In my hands In my lungs.

We move like a carousel Streak lights and mirrors in our eyes It's time to let this go Can't stop spinning Around, around, around, around, around, around, around, around, around, around, around You know our love's not unconditional Unconditional Unconditional You know our love's not unconditional.

3 - The Other Side of the Crash / Over and Out (Of Control) - Lyrics

Note: This contains a section from Panic On The Streets Of Health Care City, the "reincarnated out-take" mentioned in the blog post. Panic later appeared on Kill The House Lights.

The lights go down, outside (before our cars collide) The city silhouettes itself (in forty shades of fire) Do you know where these lies are leading? I'll meet you there. I'm covering up my eyes Before they cover up your eyes And wrap your body all in white, And we awake in the light of all the lies This can't be happening Sorry, someone made it.

We wake up Covered in the marks of all these razors Racing up our veins We'll live and learn to love again Open up your eyes and we'll be safe again From the razor's edge.

And the hospital ward sleeps Through the surgery Hiding needles in the drawer (for emergency) While upstairs they sleep In maternity Fever and the pitch. It's a brand new day, Just to be awake, This is how it feels To live and learn to love again Open up your eyes and we'll be safe away From the razor's edge.

The I.V. drips, the days drag on The anesthetic's not wearing off Adjust the light switch in the hall Someone has left it on, And maybe the x-ray screen keeps it from getting dark The bulb burns out when it gets too hot Keep crashing this car (over and over) Keep crashing this car (over and over) Keep crashing this car (over and over) I can't keep crashing this car Still it spins out of control So hold me close or I might disappear this time Out of control We fight currents in the water When we can't let go of the shore. We've lost control.

4 - Autumn Leaves Revisited - Lyrics

The leaves will fall and so will you When you do, bury me under them too Seconds pass, we'll make it through Eventually we all go home It won't be long It won't be long

I live with a girl who’s been waiting Seven months left till they bring home the baby He swore he was paying for school They shipped him over. Now he scatters on the front lines He swore he would follow his conscience But done the wrong way follows his orders instead. When he shoots, he sings this song But he doesn’t know that she’s been singing it, too. It won't be long It won't be long Until they find a way home

We walk along the wire tied between horizons You close your eyes like it's nothing at all Throughout the rise and fall, everything, everything Changes, I will be here when you die

Did you hear the trumpets play the day your father died? Did the violins swell those circles under your eyes? Did you play the part straight like a march? Or get lost in the beat, thinking and feeling… Did the drums in the streets make the people dance? Or fall to their knees from the sound? Knock the leaves from the trees, and they fell from the branch? They looked beautiful As they hung in the air Spinning around Did you float in the air? Spinning around?

There must be somewhere that cigarettes burn through the night And the leaves don't abandon their trees to the light Where the sky's always clear and the summer never ends… Won't you take me there?

The leaves will fall and so will you When you do, bury me under them too Seconds pass, we'll make it through Eventually we all are going home

5 - Untitled - Lyrics

Note - this didn't end up on ACBTLD, but did make it onto Common Existence as Last Call.

The center cannot hold, the side collapses Full of broken words, sing the song inside the dark arcade Color me in city greens The streets unwinding, spitting flames Cars around the arteries We scream and swerve and fall apart.

Everything we love, it falls apart, And the architect abandons us.

I'll save us from the sky until a feeling burns, you try It plants a seed of fire that flowers in the corner of your eye Circular breathing We'll keep them always moving Heart attack efficiency, Erase the figure as it falls.

Everything we love, it falls apart, And the architect abandons us.

The city shakes like tired hands The light divides what darkness mends Our bodies echo in our plans.

Everything is falling apart.

The wedding starts The guests appear The church bells ringing endlessly The bride and groom are hand in hand And everything goes as it's planned: The parents smile, The priest chokes up, The organ plays "Amazing Grace" And underneath the thin white veil

Everything is falling apart.

And the people sing: La la la la, da da da…

The city shakes like tired hands The light divides what darkness mends Our bodies echo in our plans.

Everything is falling apart.

#thursday band #a city by the light divided #oh god i hope i didnt fuck anything up ive read this over like 6 times now

106 notes · View notes

hypermania · 8 months

Text

transcript of the full thread:

"A very long thread: To the League fans, We found out this news along with you on Friday. I see the pain and anger and worry out there, which for the LGBTQIA+ fans of the show is of course compounded by what’s happening across the country right now. #ALeagueOfTheirOwn

So the first and most important thing to say is: Before anything, before you fight for the show or each other, please take care of yourselves. Reach out to your community and ask for help if you need it. You aren’t alone. Please be kind to yourselves.

As I’ve been thinking about what’s happened, I come back to a quote from Penny Marshall’s film: “The hard is what makes it great.” Making this show is so hard and so great. There’s quite a bit to say about what’s been hard, but at this point that’s in the past.

Of course, if we have an avenue to do it well, we will continue the show, and I love seeing the noise you’re making in support of that. The noise matters!

And it’s hard for me to imagine there wouldn’t be a home for a show that thanks to you was in the Nielsen Top 10 for three weeks, was the top show on Amazon for a month and in the top five for six, that was recognized by critics as something special, that’s been recognized…

…with awards from GLAAD, HRC and a million other organizations, that was on a million year-end top ten lists, and that has a built in and deeply passionate audience.

Amazon is pursuing different kinds of programming, but to the rest of the world this show is a hit and has huge value and even greater potential. But first things first, we have to win this strike and get a fair deal before we can explore what comes next.

But for a moment, I want to talk about what happens if the world didn’t quite change quickly enough for you to have all the seasons of this show that we want to give you.

If we don’t find a good path forward, I will still know that League did what it came here to do and, in its own small way, changed the world.

And that’s because of all of you, and the light you continue to shine on the show — How you let it matter to you, how you let it become a mirror, how you let it change you.

I’ve never experienced a response to a show that’s as deep, personal, creative and meaningful as what the fans have done with League. When we were making the season 1, we all wondered and worried about whether people would accept it on its own terms next to the film.

They have, and you did that, and so much more. You lit up the internet on your first watch throughs of the show, when you realized where it was going (and made all of us laugh in the process).

You wrote enough fan fiction for 100 novels and created an outpouring of art and creativity that could fill its own museum — I’ve truly never seen anything like it.

You lifted up a 95 year old who had just come out of the closet and made her into a celebrity who gets recognized wherever she goes. Every time any member of the cast appears at anything, you turn it into a convention.

You stop Abbi wherever she goes, and though I’m a happily inconspicuous person, and you constantly find me and stop me and give me gifts that now have a shelf in my house.

When thousands of you appeared to see D’Arcy at the stage door of The Thanksgiving Play over its run, you turned it into the hottest queer bar in New York. You made Max’s suit and Chante’s beautiful performance into a movement.

A mob of you went to Pittsburgh and saw all of our locations. You dressed as the characters and made our characters into one of the biggest halloween costumes of last year.

You came out, you changed pronouns, you started living more openly, you gave sermons in church about the show, you opened bars, and you got a truly mind boggling number of tattoos that say “to the five” and “rob the bank.” What else am I forgetting? I'm sure you'll remind me.

But most importantly, you made a community, you found each other and found joy, which of course is what the show is about. In many more ways than I would ever have let myself imagine while we were making it, you literally bring the show to life every day.

Thank you for making our work mean something bigger. We’ve heard from so many different kinds of people around the world who are watching League.

But, in a time when all queer people are personally and politically under attack across the country and HRC has declared a “state of emergency,” my biggest fear is that the many queer fans of League will take this reversal as one more invalidation, one more blow, one more…

…effect of the general politicization of our identities. Most of us grew up feeling invisible, and as we gain strength, the predictable backlash forces are trying their hardest to get us to go back underground.

In case anyone needs to hear it: You are not small, niche, modest, off-putting or marginal, and neither are your stories. You are multitudes, you are building, and your stories are universal. You are the most rapidly growing audience and consumer group in this country.

You are powerful. You are the future, and the people who don’t recognize your importance now will feel be clamoring to catch up in a few years. As Chante said so beautifully when we received the Human Right Campaign Visionary award, you are the main characters. Be proud.

Be angry if you that’s how you feel, but know that we are going to win, and don’t ever let this moment or any other make you small. The biggest lesson of the characters in this show is that, in a world that had no space for them at all, they LIVED. (Continued)

They found love, they did the things they loved, they won. You’re doing the same thing, and just like them, you are heroes. We are still fighting for League. But whether we win or lose this one, I’m so proud.

From the time when we began working on the season, Abbi, Deta and I said to each other — Let’s not hold anything back, for as long as we get to be here, let’s do this the right way.

We got so many notes wondering if the exploration of the queer world of the 1940s or Max’s world would be better saved for season 2, if people needed to start somewhere a little more familiar. I’m so glad we didn’t listen, cause now I’m sitting here without any regrets.

And no matter what happens, the people behind League aren’t going anywhere. Give us a minute, we will be back with more for you to watch and read and feel. We’re going to win.

And you’re not going anywhere either, because what you’ve built and what you are is bigger than this show. It’s the story of our community, that comes to us through the hidden history that League shows just one small part of: The bars got raided and shut down.

But the people didn’t go anywhere, and they opened a new bar, and out of those spaces came music, cinema, dance, culture — What we now see as mainstream was birthed from the spaces our predecessors were forced to hide in. They made joy there."

#aloto #a league of their own #will graham #mp #long post

270 notes · View notes

luneymoony · 1 year

Text

The Butterfly's Effect (Prologue)

a SAGAU!Imposter! AU x Shinobu!Reader where the reader is.. well, shinobu kocho from demon slayer.

CW: mentions of death, swearing, slight mentions of dissecting? Major Spoiler Warning for the anime only watchers out there! (imsosorryomfg) WC: 1.4k Notes: reader will be shinobu, like, literally. english isnt my first language so i apologize if theres any grammar, spelling mistakes or edits. :)) i've been obsessed with crossovers and sagaus so why not put them together? Photo is not mine!

...

It's so dark.

What happened?

I can't remember anything..

Wait..

Am I.. Dead?

The final battle of the Demon slayer corps has finally come to an end. The demon king, Muzan has finally succumbed to his demise after more than ten thousand years of living as a demon. The upper moons were all defeated and Japan is now demon free.

Of course, everything comes with a price. As many people strived to defeat the demon king, many also died in the process. Tomioka Giyuu, and Shinazugawa Sanemi, The remaining Hashiras of the corps.

Rengoku Kyojiro, Iguro Obanai, Kanroji Mitsuri, Tokito Muichiro, Himejima Gyomei, Kocho Shinobu.

These were the pillars that had lost their lives in the battlefield. Many people lost something in that battle. Their lives, their loved ones, their abilities. It will take time to heal from these wounds. Emotionally, physically and mentally.

Kanao looked at the butterfly hairpin on her hand, her mind drifts off to the insect hashira and how she died, how she was getting absorbed by that vile and disgusting demon. How she could've saved her if she was more quick enough.

Tears prickled in the corners of her eyes, holding the butterfly hairpin more firmly and bringing it close to her chest. She misses them so much. She can only pray that they will be reincarnated to a world free of demons. A world where they could be happy.

A world that they can live in freely.

Your eyes flutters open. Your head was spinning and the first thing your eyes see is the clear, bright blue sky. You blinked rapidly to clear your blurring vision. You moved your head a bit to take in your surroundings.

You were laying on a soft patch of grass in the middle of nowhere. A large tree giving you enough shade to block your form from the sun's bright, and burning glow.

Slowly you sat up, groaning while doing so. You don't remember laying or being here when you were last conscious. The last thing you remembered was the sound of your sword dropping to the ground and-

Wait.

That's right, you were fighting uppermoon two. By what you can gather, you had died and had been absorbed by him.

But.. what happened after that? You certainly didn't remember getting yourself teleported to this unknown place, in fact, this wasn't even where you were when you had fought the bastard. And aren't you supposed to be dead?

Your thoughts were interrupted when there's a sudden noise coming from behind the tree. The loud noise startling you from your train of thoughts. You stood up —albeit a bit slowly— and noticed that you still had your sword with you, and your clothes were still intact. Your hand went to the back of your head to feel the butterfly hairpin that is strangely still there.

Choosing to save the questions that were racing in your mind for later, you feel the hilt of your sword and carefully and quietly approached the matter behind the tree.

You stopped once your eyes spot the.. Unusual looking creature? It looked a bit human, with arms, legs, a head and a mask covering its face. Weird ears. It also looked like it has something on its mask.

The creature seemed didn't seem to notice you or your presence, not until you stood in front of it did it froze. Its noises stopped too. It looked completely frozen by the sight of you.

Your hand on your sword's hilt had tighten, although it didn't show any signs of attacking you nor does it seemed armed, you were still very wary of it.

It doesn't look like a demon, well, not the usual demons. It is sure a humanoid creature with just some weird ears but it doesn't seem harmful. You also noticed that it had a briefcase from its side.

"What are you?"

Those are the first words you have spoken ever since you had woken up. Your voice was hoarse, your mouth and throat felt dry like the dessert. But you aren't giving in to the tempting urge to drinking whatever liquid is near to you until this creature answered you your question.

Although you did feel a bit stupid to just ask this random creature a question, when you could've just killed it right then and there for its unusual appearance. However.. you weren't going to attack it until it attacks you first. Plus, there were something off about this one.

Your gentle gaze and soft movements startled the Unusual Hilichurl. It couldn't get its eyes off of you, you looked like you simply didn't exist. It usually payed no mind to the others and the mortals that passed by. Taking no interest in them whatsoever.

But when its eyes laid on you, it froze. The hilichurl had no idea why but it felt like its about to drop to its knees before your presence. And that, it did.

Your eyes blinked in surprise at the kneeling hilichurl in front of you. Truth to say, your eyes were keen and careful to whatever movement its doing so as you were almost about to unsheathe your sword, it just dropped to its knees and bowed.

"What are you doing?"

The creature didn't moved an inch, it just kneeled and didn't say anything. It didn't even answer your first question.

You were even more curious by this sudden behavior of this mysterious creature. You wanted to investigate and possibly might dissect it for later. Yet you couldn't ignore your stomach that was begging for food, and your dry throat.

Seeing as this creature didn't want to seem to cooperate, and it most likely probably couldn't, you let it be, as you need to do more important things. Like finding food and water to prevent yourself from dying of thirst or starvation.

You just took once more glance at it and turned your heel to walk away. To your surprise, you have spotted a small river. You walked towards it and removed your butterfly patterned haori to properly drink it.

The water's very refreshing, and it felt like heaven when the liquid made contact to your mouth, and down to your throat. Not to mention, the water also tastes quite good. Its most likely because you haven't really drank much. Wonder how long you were laying in that area?

After drinking, you had put your haori back on and went to explore this unfamiliar place that you're in. Maybe you could find some sort of village or town here that would invite you in.

You looked around for a bit and noticed that theres something in the distance that caught your eye, was it a city perhaps? it looked huge, there were windmills that you could see clearly from this place. Maybe there'll be some people there that can help you.

The cool breeze of the air and the heat of the sun felt so much like home to you. It has been awhile since you felt this relaxed with such environment. The scenery, the relaxing atmosphere, it felt so nostalgic.

"This is nice."

You couldn't help but speak fondly out loud. You smiled to yourself, a real and genuine smile. Not the fake smile that you usually wore to hide your true self, but a relaxed, and actual calm smile. This sense of tranquility almost feels too foreign to you that you couldn't help but sigh and close your eyes.

Even if you didn't see it, even if you weren't there, you could sense that the uppermoon two had been defeated by your tsuguko, and Inosuke. You couldn't help but chuckle at the thought of the cocky bastard arrogantly mocking you from your "worthless" attempt to kill him.

It was only when the poison taking effect did you laugh at that fucker's melting face. He really did underestimate you huh? Who knew that a simple butterfly can unleash so much hell with a single flap of its wings? It was truly pathetic trying to see the little shit's futile attempt regenerate its head.

Once the uppermoon had been defeated and is now entering the gates of hell, you were triumphant of his demise. You couldn't stand seeing his stupid face and seeing it melting to the ground unleashed a wave of satisfaction in you.

You shook your head and chuckled to yourself, focusing on your only goal for now as you continued your way to the city with a slight and satisfied curl of your lips.

The windmills of this city was getting clearer to your vision, as you were getting nearer and nearer to the city, a voice suddenly calls out.

"Stop right there!"

You froze and stopped in your tracks. Was it another one of those creatures that you met at that tree? but this one can talk and- wait a minute. Are they speaking in a foreign language?

Where exactly did you wake up in?

~~~

hihihiii its finally hereee

i've been procrastinating this for a week now becuz ive been so busy but here it is! the amount of ideas i have for this is akkakkahdjas

but ive finally managed to put myself together to make this! i really hope u all like it :,)

lmk if anyone wants me to continue this, the prologue is slightly boring and messy at first but ill try to make it readable as possible.

Edit: i forgot to put a spoiler warninggg :C im so sorry anime only watchers akcsksksk

816 notes · View notes

keirawantstocry · 3 months

Note

Poly Morning Crew but Vampires/Vampire Hunters :> Pretty please?

emerges from Google docs covered in blood, sweat, and tears

hey

Fit was a hunter first. That was his priority. He was raised a hunter. 14 years old with a shotgun full of silver bullets in his hands. He killed his first at 14. Anyone else would consider it crazy. Insane even. To Fit it was just life. It's what the Minecraft family did. Ever since years and years before when their great great grandfather Philza first began the hunt of the ungodly beasts.

Phil was a legend among hunters. The man who first realized that vampires were living among them. Who realized the clubs that lay in the deep city housed thousands of hissing beasts who would bring the crowds in before sending the people home with no memories but the bite marks on their necks. They got sloppy, a friend of Phil's went missing the night she went to the club. They found her dead tossed behind the place with her body shredded open. That's when the hunt began. He killed nearly 70 of the monsters before he disappeared all those years ago. Nobody knew what had happened to him. But his children were hunters. His grandchildren were raised as hunters. And their children and grandchildren after that.

So the bloody reality was all Fit knew. He learned to see the patterns. To see the trail of bodies they left behind and kill them before they could do any more damage.

When Fit was born his parents thought their mission was close to over. There hadn't been vampire activity in years. They trained him up anyway. Just in case. Their son would be strong, the greatest warrior and hunter this world had seen.

He lost them both to a vampire nest on the morning of his 17th birthday. It was that day that Fit swore to hunt down the nest that had done it and kill every last son of a bitch there.

Pac had been Turned when he was 28. By an apologetic young boy named Tubbo. It was comedic in fact, the way he got Turned. Pac was a human who knew, who volunteered to get his blood sucked. He had to admit the adrenaline did a lot for him, even after losing to his leg when his dear vampire friend Cellbit was a little *too* hungry. But it wasn't what turned him. Turning could only be done by drinking another vampire's blood.

In stories it would seem hard to do this by accident due to the fact there was no reason to store vampire blood. But they did.

Tubbo had explained it to him once over some drinks. According to him the blood of different species tasted different. But vampire blood tasted the best. The metaphor he used was “human blood is like a nice juicy steak but vampire blood is like a pure shot of the sweetest honey on Earth”. So Tubbo drank both. Well that's to say he drank many different creature's blood. But the main, the best he claimed, were human and vampire.

He gave him the wrong glass. By the time they noticed the process had already started. Tubbo apologized a thousand times over but Pac always waved him away. “It's so okay dude. I've always wondered what it would be like to be a vampire.”

He had nothing to leave to be honest. Mike was immortal, the goddess that possessed his body made sure of that. Any other friends he had were the vampires he held his company with. His family was long gone, parents and siblings.

The vampires became his family.

Tubbo was 20 when he was turned. He was a very new vampire. He spent his first ten years in a haze of mindless killing before he was found and taught the ropes, taught how to take care when biting, how to keep the victims alive. He was only 31 years old in human time when he met Pac. 32 when he turned him. His mentor described his mental state as much younger. He had been in a frenzy for ten years, he was barely 22 mentally. Tubbo couldn't help but be glad about that cause no way in hell was he ready to be 32 years old. Even now with vampiric timing it felt too old. He struggled with the implications of turning Pac but the man had nobody left outside of the vampire world. They lived together, Pac moved in. At first Tubbo insisted they build a room for him but once again Pac waved him off.

It was safer to sleep in the same bed anyway.

Family. It was a word that Tubbo hadn't really felt in years. He didn't remember his parents or if he had any siblings. Pac became his family, his life, his heart. His everything.

That was all that truly mattered.

There was a nest close by, Fit could feel it. There had been signs for weeks in this small town in the west. People with a lack of memories, strange unexplained blood loss, and bites on their necks.

Fit ducked quickly behind a wall as the current subject he was stalking did a half turn to look behind her. A moment later he heard a door open and then close. Peeking out he saw that she was gone, presumably into the large door at the end of the alley with a blinking red exit sign above it.

He followed after her. Bingo, he thought as he stepped right into the back of a club. In the very back corner he saw two men, one hunched over the other with his mouth on his neck. Dark hair covered the work he was doing but what else could it possibly be? Creeping over, he slowly pulled out his knife and pulled the guy off the other, holding the knife to his throat. They both gasped as he pressed the metal hard against the man's throat. “Don't move a muscle. I know what gig you're pulling in here.”

The man still lay half dazed, leaning against the stage and blinked up at him with hazy dark eyes. His hair was mussed and a bright flush covered his cheeks.“What the fuck man?”

Fit felt the man he held at knife point giggle from where they were pressed together. “Can't a man kiss his boyfriend?”

Fit hesitated. Had he been wrong? Had he actually just interrupted a lovers tyrst?

His grip on the knife slackened as his eyes shot to the man's neck. It was a hickey.

Fuck.

He released the man and he stumbled forward to his boyfriend before turning to face Fit. “You aren't a vampire?”

The dark haired man laughed while his half blonde boyfriend laughed and slowly stood up. He was a gorgeous man, dark hair and dark eyes with a beautiful yet wicked smile. “Oh, I am. We just both are.”

Fit raised his knife again, panic sweeping through his veins. So he had been right.

“Who are you?” the younger looking man asked. “Most humans don't know anything about us.”

“He's a hunter, Tubbo,” the other man said. “Look at the way he holds himself.” He laughed again. “I thought hunters gave up years ago.”

Fit gritted his teeth. These bastards were cocky and annoying. “My parents taught me. And their parents before them. And their parents before them. Our great grandfather found out about you and we have sworn to make sure you hellspawn all rot in hell like you deserve. Phil started this job and I'm going to finish it.”

Both men laughed and it grated on his nerves.

“Do you hear this shit Pac?” the younger looking one, Tubbo, crowed.

“What's your name?” the one called Pac asked.

“Fit.”

“Last name?”

“Minecraft.”

They both stared at him, their laughter fading quickly. “You related to Philza?” the half blonde one asked.

Instantly his guard was up even higher. “You know my great grandfather? How old are you freaks?”

“We know Philza,” Tubbo said casually as if it didn't flip Fit's world entirely on it's head.

His heart felt like it shattered at that moment. “Excuse me?”

“We know him,” Pac repeated, slipping his arm through his boyfriend's. “Wanna meet him?”

Fit wasn't sure exactly what compelled him to follow the two men. Morbid curiosity perhaps? Whatever it was, he listened to it.

The place they led him to was an old building, a little house near the edge of town. Beautiful plants grew plentifully out of a lovely garden in the back.

Pac rapped his fist on the carved dark oak door. It was gorgeous. “Oi, Phil! We have a visitor!”

The door swung open. A young blonde boy stood there with a golden duck floatie around his middle.

“Hi Chayanne!” Tubbo said as he picked up the young one and spun him around. It was domestic. Fit couldn't help but feel conflicted about the love between these monsters.

Behind the young child a man appeared. But he wasn't a man no. It was a creature. A man like one with large black wings and sharp black talons. Shoulder length blonde hair was pulled back at the base of his skull with a green ribbon. He smiled and it was soft, too soft. “Hey guys what brings you all the way out here?”

“We got someone who wants to meet you,” Tubbo said as he shifted the young boy to his side, the boy resting his head ever so gently on the vampire's shoulder. The amount of trust was debilitating to everything he knew.

The avian turned to look at him. “Yes?”

“Let's go inside,” Pac suggested as he placed his hand gently on Fit's arm. For some reason he let him. “This man is about to have his world absolutely wrecked.”

Fit was gripping the side of the couch hard. It couldn't be. It just couldn't possibly be.

Phil was staring at him from the other couch, the other side of the room. His son was in his arms, the two vampires were perched on either side of the couch Fit sat on.

“You're immortal,” he said slowly. “And you live with vampires?”

Phil nodded. “I hunted them down when I was younger it's true. But they were the ones who took me in when I discovered my wings, discovered my immortality. They're kind, Fit.”

“They killed my parents,” Fit spat.

Philza looked sympathetic. It hurt. Fit averted his eyes to look down at the floor. “I'm sorry for that. But you can't blame their deaths on every single vampire. They may be out here drinking blood but do you see killings? Be honest with yourself mate. My friends here aren't doing any harm.”

Fit let out a deep breath and sunk back into the couch. “It's hard to believe. Cut me some slack. It's all I fucking know.”

“Then let us teach you more,” Pac said. Fit cut his eyes over to him and was entranced by the sincerity in his dark eyes.

“You would?” he asked. It felt easy but he couldn't help but want it. To put down his weapons and rest. For the first time in decades. He just wanted to rest.

“Of course.”

“My parents,” Fit said slowly. “I want justice for them.”

Pac's eyes lit up. “We'd be willing to help. Well. Me and Tubbo at least. I do love a good killing. Can't blame me for that considering you're also a killer.”

Tubbo laughed, high and crazy while Phil chuckled to himself.

“I'd say you'd do good to go with these two,” he suggested. “They're good boys. You know damn well most vampires woulda just killed you as soon as they knew who you were.”

Tubbo shrugged. “We like ‘em crazy.”

Fit looked over at him now, staring intently at those eyes, at the elegant undead face.

It was crazy. Considering going with these two. But hell there was just something about them. So when he finally said, “okay,” it felt like the beginning of something life changing.

#fitpacbo #qsmp #my writing #fanfiction #poly morning crew #qsmp morning crew #qsmp shipping #q!fit #q!tubbo #q!philza #q!pac #qsmp chayanne #pacbo

89 notes · View notes

caesarflickermans · 4 months

Text

A TENTH ANNIVERSARY INTERVIEW WITH SUZANNE COLLINS

On the occasion of the tenth anniversary of the publication of The Hunger Games, author Suzanne Collins and publisher David Levithan discussed the evolution of the story, the editorial process, and the first ten years of the life of the trilogy, encompassing both books and films. The following is their written conversation.

NOTE: The following interview contains a discussion of all three books in The Hunger Games Trilogy, so if you have yet to read Catching Fire and Mockingjay, you may want to read them before reading the full interview.

transcript below

DAVID LEVITHAN: Let’s start at the origin moment for The Hunger Games. You were flipping channels one night . . .

SUZANNE COLLINS: Yes, I was flipping through the channels one night between reality television programs and actual footage of the Iraq War, when the idea came to me. At the time, I was completing the fifth book in The Underland Chronicles and my brain was shifting to whatever the next project would be. I had been grappling with another story that just couldn’t get any air under its wings. I knew I wanted to continue to explore writing about just war theory for young audiences. In The Underland Chronicles, I’d examined the idea of an unjust war developing into a just war because of greed, xenophobia, and long-standing hatreds. For the next series, I wanted a completely new world and a different angle into the just war debate.

DL: Can you tell me what you mean by the “just war theory” and how that applies to the setup of the trilogy?

SC: Just war theory has evolved over thousands of years in an attempt to define what circumstances give you the moral right to wage war and what is acceptable behavior within that war and its aftermath. The why and the how. It helps differentiate between what’s considered a necessary and an unnecessary war. In The Hunger Games Trilogy, the districts rebel against their own government because of its corruption. The citizens of the districts have no basic human rights, are treated as slave labor, and are subjected to the Hunger Games annually. I believe the majority of today’s audience would define that as grounds for revolution. They have just cause but the nature of the conflict raises a lot of questions. Do the districts have the authority to wage war? What is their chance of success? How does the reemergence of District 13 alter the situation? When we enter the story, Panem is a powder keg and Katniss the spark.

DL: As with most novelists I know, once you have that origin moment — usually a connection of two elements (in this case, war and entertainment) — the number of connections quickly increases, as different elements of the story take their place. I know another connection you made early on was with mythology, particularly the myth of Theseus. How did that piece come to fit?

SC: I was such a huge Greek mythology geek as a kid, it’s impossible for it not to come into play in my storytelling. As a young prince of Athens, he participated in a lottery that required seven girls and seven boys to be taken to Crete and thrown into a labyrinth to be destroyed by the Minotaur. In one version of the myth, this excessively cruel punishment resulted from the Athenians opposing Crete in a war. Sometimes the labyrinth’s a maze; sometimes it’s an arena. In my teens I read Mary Renault’s The King Must Die, in which the tributes end up in the Bull Court. They’re trained to perform with a wild bull for an audience composed of the elite of Crete who bet on the entertainment. Theseus and his team dance and handspring over the bull in what’s called bull-leaping. You can see depictions of this in ancient sculpture and vase paintings. The show ended when they’d either exhausted the bull or one of the team had been killed. After I read that book, I could never go back to thinking of the labyrinth as simply a maze, except perhaps ethically. It will always be an arena to me.

DL: But in this case, you dispensed with the Minotaur, no? Instead, the arena harkens more to gladiator vs. gladiator than to gladiator vs. bull. What influenced this construction?

SC: A fascination with the gladiator movies of my childhood, particularly Spartacus. Whenever it ran, I’d be glued to the set. My dad would get outPlutarch’s Lives and read me passages from “Life of Crassus,” since Spartacus, being a slave, didn’t rate his own book. It’s about a person who’s forced to become a gladiator, breaks out of the gladiator school/arena to lead a rebellion, and becomes the face of a war. That’s the dramatic arc of both the real-life Third Servile War and the fictional Hunger Games Trilogy.

DL: Can you talk about how war stories influenced you as a young reader, and then later as a writer? How did this knowledge of war stories affect your approach to writing The Hunger Games?

SC: Now you can find many wonderful books written for young audiences that deal with war. That wasn’t the case when I was growing up. It was one of the reasons Greek mythology appealed to me: the characters battled, there was the Trojan War. My family had been heavily impacted by war the year my father, who was career Air Force, went to Vietnam, but except for my myths, I rarely encountered it in books. I liked Johnny Tremain but it ends as the Revolutionary War kicks off. The one really memorable book I had about war was Boris by Jaap ter Haar, which deals with the Siege of Leningrad in World War II.

My war stories came from my dad, a historian and a doctor of political science. The four years before he left for Vietnam, the Army borrowed him from the Air Force to teach at West Point. His final assignment would be at Air Command and Staff College. As his kids, we were never too young to learn, whether he was teaching us history or taking us on vacation to a battlefield or posing a philosophical dilemma. He approached history as a story, and fortunately he was a very engaging storyteller. As a result, in my own writing, war felt like a completely natural topic for children.

DL: Another key piece of The Hunger Games is the voice and perspective that Katniss brings to it. I know some novelists start with a character and then find a story through that character, but with The Hunger Games (and correct me if I’m wrong) I believe you had the idea for the story first, and then Katniss stepped into it. Where did she come from? I’d love for you to talk about the origin of her name, and also the origin of her very distinctive voice.

SC: Katniss appeared almost immediately after I had the idea, standing by the bed with that bow and arrow. I’d spent a lot of time during The Underland Chronicles weighing the attributes of different weapons. I used archers very sparingly because they required light and the Underland has little natural illumination. But a bow and arrow can be handmade, shot from a distance, and weaponized when the story transitions into warfare. She was a born archer.

Her name came later, while I was researching survival training and specifically edible plants. In one of my books, I found the arrowhead plant, and the more I read about it, the more it seemed to reflect her. Its Latin name has the same roots as Sagittarius, the archer. The edible tuber roots she could gather, the arrowhead-shaped leaves were her defense, and the little white blossoms kept it in the tradition of flower names, like Rue and Primrose. I looked at the list of alternative names for it. Swamp Potato. Duck Potato. Katniss easily won the day.

As to her voice, I hadn’t intended to write in first person. I thought the book would be in the third person like The Underland Chronicles. Then I sat down to work and the first page poured out in first person, like she was saying, “Step aside, this is my story to tell.” So I let her.

DL: I am now trying to summon an alternate universe where the Mockingjay is named Swamp Potato Everdeen. Seems like a PR challenge. But let’s stay for a second on the voice — because it’s not a straightforward, generic American voice. There’s a regionalism to it, isn’t there? Was that present from the start?

SC: It was. There’s a slight District 12 regionalism to it, and some of the other tributes use phrases unique to their regions as well. The way they speak, particularly the way in which they refuse to speak like citizens of the Capitol, is important to them. No one in District 12 wants to sound like Effie Trinket unless they’re mocking her. So they hold on to their regionalisms as a quiet form of rebellion. The closest thing they have to freedom of speech is their manner of speaking.

DL: I’m curious about Katniss’s family structure. Was it always as we see it, or did you ever consider giving her parents greater roles? How much do you think the Everdeen family’s story sets the stage for Katniss’s story within the trilogy?

SC: Her parents have their own histories in District 12 but I only included what’s pertinent to Katniss’s tale. Her father’s hunting skills, musicality, and death in the mines. Her mother’s healing talent and vulnerabilities. Her deep love for Prim. Those are the elements that seemed essential to me.

DL: This completely fascinates me because I, as an author, rarely know more (consciously) about the characters than what’s in the story. But this sounds like you know much more about the Everdeen parents than found their way to the page. What are some of the more interesting things about them that a reader wouldn’t necessarily know?

SC: Your way sounds a lot more efficient. I have a world of information about the characters that didn’t make it into the book. With some stories, revealing that could be illuminating, but in the case of The Hunger Games, I think it would only be a distraction unless it was part of a new tale within the world of Panem.

DL: I have to ask — did you know from the start how Prim’s story was going to end? (I can’t imagine writing the reaping scene while knowing — but at the same time I can’t imagine writing it without knowing.)

SC: You almost have to know it and not know it at the same time to write it convincingly, because the dramatic question, Can Katniss save Prim?, is introduced in the first chapter of the first book, and not answered until almost the end of the trilogy. At first there’s the relief that, yes, she can volunteer for Prim. Then Rue, who reminds her of Prim, joins her in the arena and she can’t save her. That tragedy refreshes the question. For most of the second book, Prim’s largely out of harm’s way, although there’s always the threat that the Capitol might hurt her to hurt Katniss. The jabberjays are a reminder of that. Once she’s in District 13 and the war has shifted to the Capitol, Katniss begins to hope Prim’s not only safe but has a bright future as a doctor. But it’s an illusion. The danger that made Prim vulnerable in the beginning, the threat of the arena, still exists. In the first book, it’s a venue for the Games; in the second, the platform for the revolution; in the third, it’s the battleground of Panem, coming to a head in the Capitol. The arena transforms but it’s never eradicated; in fact it’s expanded to include everyone in the country. Can Katniss save Prim? No. Because no one is safe while the arena exists.

DL: If Katniss was the first character to make herself known within story, when did Peeta and Gale come into the equation? Did you know from the beginning how their stories would play out vis-à-vis Katniss’s?

SC: Peeta and Gale appeared quickly, less as two points on a love triangle, more as two perspectives in the just war debate. Gale, because of his experiences and temperament, tends toward violent remedies. Peeta’s natural inclination is toward diplomacy. Katniss isn’t just deciding on a partner; she’s figuring out her worldview.

DL: And did you always know which worldview would win? It’s interesting to see it presented in such a clear-cut way, because when I think of Katniss, I certainly think of force over diplomacy.

SC: And yet Katniss isn’t someone eager to engage in violence and she takes no pleasure in it. Her circumstances repeatedly push her into making choices that include the use of force. But if you look carefully at what happens in the arena, her compassionate choices determine her survival. Taking on Rue as an ally results in Thresh sparing her life. Seeking out Peeta and caring for him when she discovers how badly wounded he is ultimately leads to her winning the Games. She uses force only in self-defense or defense of a third party, and I’m including Cato’s mercy killing in that. As the trilogy progresses, it becomes increasingly difficult to avoid the use of force because the overall violence is escalating with the war. The how and the why become harder to answer.

Yes, I knew which worldview would win, but in the interest of examining just war theory you need to make the arguments as strongly as possible on both sides. While Katniss ultimately chooses Peeta, remember that in order to end the Hunger Games her last act is to assassinate an unarmed woman. Conversely, in The Underland Chronicles, Gregor’s last act is to break his sword to interrupt the cycle of violence. The point of both stories is to take the reader through the journey, have them confront the issues with the protagonist, and then hopefully inspire them to think about it and discuss it. What would they do in Katniss’s or Gregor’s situation? How would they define a just or unjust war and what behavior is acceptable within warfare? What are the human costs of life, limb, and sanity? How does developing technology impact the debate? The hope is that better discussions might lead to more nonviolent forms of conflict resolution, so we evolve out of choosing war as an option.

DL: Where does Haymitch fit into this examination of war? What worldview does he bring?

SC: Haymitch was badly damaged in his own war, the second Quarter Quell, in which he witnessed and participated in terrible things in order to survive and then saw his loved ones killed for his strategy. He self-medicates with white liquor to combat severe PTSD. His chances of recovery are compromised because he’s forced to mentor the tributes every year. He’s a version of what Katniss might become, if the Hunger Games continues. Peeta comments on how similar they are, and it’s true. They both really struggle with their worldview. He manages to defuse the escalating violence at Gale’s whipping with words, but he participates in a plot to bring down the government that will entail a civil war.

The ray of light that penetrates that very dark cloud in his brain is the moment that Katniss volunteers for Prim. He sees, as do many people in Panem, the power of her sacrifice. And when that carries into her Games, with Rue and Peeta, he slowly begins to believe that with Katniss it might be possible to end the Hunger Games.

DL: I’m also curious about how you balanced the personal and political in drawing the relationship between Katniss and Gale. They have such a history together — and I think you powerfully show the conflict that arises when you love someone, but don’t love what they believe in. (I think that resonates particularly now, when so many families and relationships and friendships have been disrupted by politics.)

SC: Yes, I think it’s painful, especially because they feel so in tune in so many ways. Katniss’s and Gale’s differences of opinion are based in just war theory. Do we revolt? How do we conduct ourselves in the war? And the ethical and personal lines climax at the same moment — the double tap bombing that takes Prim’s life. But it’s rarely simple; there are a lot of gray areas. It’s complicated by Peeta often holding a conflicting view while being the rival for her heart, so the emotional pull and the ethical pull become so intertwined it’s impossible to separate them. What do you do when someone you love, someone you know to be a good person, has a view which completely opposes your own? You keep trying to understand what led to the difference and see if it can be bridged. Maybe, maybe not. I think many conflicts grow out of fear, and in an attempt to counter that fear, people reach for solutions that may be comforting in the short term, but only increase their vulnerability in the long run and cause a lot of destruction along the way.

DL: In drawing Gale’s and Peeta’s roles in the story, how conscious were you of the gender inversion from traditional narrative tropes? As you note above, both are important far beyond any romantic subplot, but I do think there’s something fascinating about the way they both reinscribe roles that would traditionally be that of the “girlfriend.” Gale in particular gets to be “the girl back home” from so many Westerns and adventure movies — but of course is so much more than that. And Peeta, while a very strong character in his own right, often has to take a backseat to Katniss and her strategy, both in and out of the arena. Did you think about them in terms of gender and tropes, or did that just come naturally as the characters did what they were going to do on the page?

SC: It came naturally because, while Gale and Peeta are very important characters, it’s Katniss’s story.

DL: For Peeta . . . why baking?

SC: Bread crops up a lot in The Hunger Games. It’s the main food source in the districts, as it was for many people historically. When Peeta throws a starving Katniss bread in the flashback, he’s keeping her alive long enough to work out a strategy for survival. It seemed in keeping with his character to be a baker, a life giver.

But there’s a dark side to bread, too. When Plutarch Heavensbee references it, he’s talking about Panem et Circenses, Bread and Circuses, where food and entertainment lull people into relinquishing their political power. Bread can contribute to life or death in the Hunger Games.

DL: Speaking of Plutarch — in a meta way, the two of you share a job (although when you do it, only fictional people die). When you were designing the arena for the first book, what influences came into play? Did you design the arena and then have the participants react to it, or did you design the arena with specific reactions and plot points in mind?

SC: Katniss has a lot going against her in the first arena — she’s inexperienced, smaller than a lot of her competitors, and hasn’t the training of the Careers — so the arena needed to be in her favor. The landscape closely resembles the woods around District 12, with similar flora and fauna. She can feed herself and recognize the nightlock as poisonous. Thematically, the Girl on Fire needed to encounter fire at some point, so I built that in. I didn’t want it too physically flashy, because the audience needs to focus on the human dynamic, the plight of the star-crossed lovers, the alliance with Rue, the twist that two tributes can survive from the same district. Also, the Gamemakers would want to leave room for a noticeable elevation in spectacle when the Games move to the Quarter Quell arena in Catching Fire with the more intricate clock design.

DL: So where does Plutarch fall into the just war spectrum? There are many layers to his involvement in what’s going on.

SC: Plutarch is the namesake of the biographer Plutarch, and he’s one of the few characters who has a sense of the arc of history. He’s never lived in a world without the Hunger Games; it was well established by the time he was born and then he rose through the ranks to become Head Gamemaker. At some point, he’s gone from accepting that the Games are necessary to deciding they’re unnecessary, and he sets about ending them. Plutarch has a personal agenda as well. He’s seen so many of his peers killed off, like Seneca Crane, that he wonders how long it will be before the mad king decides he’s a threat not an asset. It’s no way to live. And as a gamemaker among gamemakers, he likes the challenge of the revolution. But even after they succeed he questions how long the resulting peace will last. He has a fairly low opinion of human beings, but ultimately doesn’t rule out that they might be able to change.

DL: When it comes to larger world building, how much did you know about Panem before you started writing? If I had asked you, while you were writing the opening pages, “Suzanne, what’s the primary industry of District Five?” would you have known the answer, or did those details emerge to you when they emerged within the writing of the story?

SC: Before I started writing I knew there were thirteen districts — that’s a nod to the thirteen colonies — and that they’d each be known for a specific industry. I knew 12 would be coal and most of the others were set, but I had a few blanks that naturally filled in as the story evolved. When I was little we had that board game, Game of the States, where each state was identified by its exports. And even today we associate different locations in the country with a product, with seafood or wine or tech. Of course, it’s a very simplified take on Panem. No district exists entirely by its designated trade. But for purposes of the Hunger Games, it’s another way to divide and define the districts.

DL: How do you think being from District 12 defines Katniss, Peeta, and Gale? Could they have been from any other district, or is their residency in 12 formative for the parts of their personalities that drive the story?

SC: Very formative. District 12 is the joke district, small and poor, rarely producing a victor in the Hunger Games. As a result, the Capitol largely ignores it. The enforcement of the laws is lax, the relationship with the Peacekeepers less hostile. This allows the kids to grow up far less constrained than in other districts. Katniss and Gale become talented archers by slipping off in the woods to hunt. That possibility of training with a weapon is unthinkable in, say, District 11, with its oppressive military presence. Finnick’s trident and Johanna’s ax skills develop as part of their districts’ industries, but they would never be allowed access to those weapons outside of work. Also, Katniss, Peeta, and Gale view the Capitol in a different manner by virtue of knowing their Peacekeepers better. Darius, in the Hob, is considered a friend, and he proves himself to be so more than once. This makes the Capitol more approachable on a level, more possible to befriend, and more possible to defeat. More human.

DL: Let’s talk about the Capitol for a moment — particularly its most powerful resident. I know that every name you give a character is deliberate, so why President Snow?

SC: Snow because of its coldness and purity. That’s purity of thought, although most people would consider it pure evil. His methods are monstrous, but in his mind, he’s all that’s holding Panem together. His first name, Coriolanus, is a nod to the titular character in Shakespeare’s play who was based on material from Plutarch’s Lives. He was known for his anti-populist sentiments, and Snow is definitely not a man of the people.

DL: The bond between Katniss and Snow is one of the most interesting in the entire series. Because even when they are in opposition, there seems to be an understanding between them that few if any of the other characters in the trilogy share. What role do you feel Snow plays for Katniss — and how does this fit into your examination of war?

SC: On the surface, she’s the face of the rebels, he’s the face of the Capitol. Underneath, things are a lot more complicated. Snow’s quite old under all that plastic surgery. Without saying too much, he’s been waiting for Katniss for a long time. She’s the worthy opponent who will test the strength of his citadel, of his life’s work. He’s the embodiment of evil to her, with the power of life and death. They’re obsessed with each other to the point of being blinded to the larger picture. “I was watching you, Mockingjay. And you were watching me. I’m afraid we have both been played for fools.” By Coin, that is. And then their unholy alliance at the end brings her down.

DL: One of the things that both Snow and Katniss realize is the power of media and imagery on the population. Snow may appear heartless to some, but he is very attuned to the “hearts and minds” of his citizens . . . and he is also attuned to the danger of losing them to Katniss. What role do you see propaganda playing in the war they’re waging?

SC: Propaganda decides the outcome of the war. This is why Plutarch implements the airtime assault; he understands that whoever controls the airwaves controls the power. Like Snow, he’s been waiting for Katniss, because he needs a Spartacus to lead his campaign. There have been possible candidates, like Finnick, but no one else has captured the imagination of the country like she has.

DL: In terms of the revolution, appearance matters — and two of the characters who seem to understand this the most are Cinna and Caesar Flickerman, one in a principled way, one . . . not as principled. How did you draw these two characters into your themes?

SC: That’s exactly right. Cinna uses his artistic gifts to woo the crowd with spectacle and beauty. Even after his death, his Mockingjay costume designs are used in the revolution. Caesar, whose job is to maintain the myth of the glorious games, transitions into warfare with the prisoner of war interviews with Peeta. They are both helping to keep up appearances.

DL: As a writer, you studiously avoided the trope of harkening back to the “old” geography — i.e., there isn’t a character who says, “This was once a land known as . . . Delaware.” (And thank goodness for that.) Why did you decide to avoid pinning down Panem to our contemporary geography?

SC: The geography has changed because of natural and man-made disasters, so it’s not as simple as overlaying a current map on Panem. But more importantly, it’s not relevant to the story. Telling the reader the continent gives them the layout in general, but borders are very changeful. Look at how the map of North America has evolved in the past 300 years. It makes little difference to Katniss what we called Panem in the past.

DL: Let’s talk about the D word. When you sat down to write The Hunger Games, did you think of it as a dystopian novel?

SC: I thought of it as a war story. I love dystopia, but it will always be secondary to that. Setting the trilogy in a futuristic North America makes it familiar enough to relate to but just different enough to gain some perspective. When people ask me how far in the future it’s set, I say, “It depends on how optimistic you are.”

DL: What do you think it was about the world into which the book was published that made it viewed so prominently as a dystopia?

SC: In the same way most people would define The Underland Chronicles as a fantasy series, they would define The Hunger Games as a dystopian trilogy, and they’d be right. The elements of the genres are there in both cases. But they’re first and foremost war stories to me. The thing is, whether you came for the war, dystopia, action adventure, propaganda, coming of age, or romance, I’m happy you’re reading it. Everyone brings their own experiences to the book that will color how they interpret it. I imagine the number of people who immediately identify it as a just war theory story are in the minority, but most stories are more than one thing.

DL: What was the relationship between current events and the world you were drawing? I know that with many speculative writers, they see something in the news and find it filtering into their fictional world. Were you reacting to the world around you, or was your reaction more grounded in a more timeless and/or historical consideration of war?

SC: I would say the latter. Some authors — okay, you for instance — can digest events quickly and channel them into their writing, as you did so effectively with September 11 in Love Is the Higher Law. But I don’t process and integrate things rapidly, so history works better for me.

DL: There’s nothing I like more than talking to writers about writing — so I’d love to ask about your process (even though I’ve always found the word process to be far too orderly to describe how a writer’s mind works).

As I recall, when we at Scholastic first saw the proposal for The Hunger Games Trilogy, the summary of the first book was substantial, the summary for the second book was significantly shorter, and the summary of the third book was . . . remarkably brief. So, first question: Did you stick to that early outline?

SC: I had to go back and take a look. Yes, I stuck to it very closely, but as you point out, the third book summary is remarkably brief. I basically tell you there’s a war that the Capitol eventually loses. Just coming off The Underland Chronicles, which also ends with a war, I think I’d seen how much develops along the way and wanted that freedom for this series as well.

DL: Would you outline books two and three as you were writing book one? Or would you just take notes for later? Was this the same or different from what you did with The Underland Chronicles?

SC: Structure’s one of my favorite parts of writing. I always work a story out with Post-its, sometimes using different colors for different character arcs. I create a chapter grid, as well, and keep files for later books, so that whenever I have an idea that might be useful, I can make a note of it. I wrote scripts for many years before I tried books, so a lot of my writing habits developed through that experience.

DL: Would you deliberately plant things in book one to bloom in books two or three? Are there any seeds you planted in the first book that you ended up not growing?

SC: Oh, yes, I definitely planted things. For instance, Johanna Mason is mentioned in the third chapter of the first book although she won’t appear until Catching Fire. Plutarch is that unnamed gamemaker who falls into the punch bowl when she shoots the arrow. Peeta whispers “Always” in Catching Fire when Katniss is under the influence of sleep syrup but she doesn’t hear the word until after she’s been shot in Mockingjay. Sometimes you just don’t have time to let all the seeds grow, or you cut them out because they don’t really add to the story. Like those wild dogs that roam around District 12. One could potentially have been tamed, but Buttercup stole their thunder.

DL: Since much of your early experience as a writer was as a playwright, I’m curious: What did you learn as a playwright that helped you as a novelist?

SC: I studied theater for many years — first acting, then playwriting — and I have a particular love for classical theater. I formed my ideas about structure as a playwright, how crucial it is and how, when it’s done well, it’s really inseparable from character. It’s like a living thing to me. I also wrote for children’s television for seventeen years. I learned a lot writing for preschool. If a three-year-old doesn’t like something, they just get up and walk away from the set. I saw my own kids do that. How do you hold their attention? It’s hard and the internet has made it harder. So for the eight novels, I developed a three-act structure, with each act being composed of nine chapters, using elements from both play and screenplay structures — double layering it, so to speak.

DL: Where do you write? Are you a longhand writer or a laptop writer? Do you listen to music as you write, or go for the monastic, writerly silence?

SC: I write best at home in a recliner. I used to write longhand, but now it’s all laptop. Definitely not music; it demands to be listened to. I like quiet, but not silence.

DL: You talked earlier about researching survival training and edible plants for these books. What other research did you have to do? Are you a reading researcher, a hands-on researcher, or a mix of both? (I’m imagining an elaborate archery complex in your backyard, but I am guessing that’s not necessarily accurate.)

SC: You know, I’m just not very handy. I read a lot about how to build a bow from scratch, but I doubt I could ever make one. Being good with your hands is a gift. So I do a lot of book research. Sometimes I visit museums or historic sites for inspiration. I was trained in stage combat, particularly sword fighting in drama school; I have a nice collection of swords designed for that, but that was more helpful for The Underland Chronicles. The only time I got to do archery was in gym class in high school.

DL: While I wish I could say the editorial team (Kate Egan, Jennifer Rees, and myself ) were the first-ever readers of The Hunger Games, I know this isn’t true. When you’re writing a book, who reads it first?

SC: My husband, Cap, and my literary agent, Rosemary Stimola, have consistently been the books’ first readers. They both have excellent critique skills and give insightful notes. I like to keep the editorial team as much in the dark as possible, so that when they read the first draft it’s with completely fresh eyes.

DL: Looking back now at the editorial conversations we had about The Hunger Games — which were primarily with Kate, as Jen and I rode shotgun — can you recall any significant shifts or discussions?

SC: What I mostly recall is how relieved I was to know that I had such amazing people to work with on the book before it entered the world. I had eight novels come out in eight years with Scholastic, so that was fast for me and I needed feedback I could trust. You’re all so smart, intuitive, and communicative, and with the three of you, no stone went unturned. With The Hunger Games Trilogy, I really depended on your brains and hearts to catch what worked and what didn’t.

DL: And then there was the question of the title . . .

SC: Okay, this I remember clearly. The original title of the first book was The Tribute of District Twelve. You wanted to change it to The Hunger Games, which was my name for the series. I said, “Okay, but I’m not thinking of another name for the series!” To this day, more people ask me about “the Gregor series” than “The Underland Chronicles,” and I didn’t want a repeat of that because it’s confusing. But you were right, The Hunger Games was a much better name for the book. Catching Fire was originally called The Ripple Effect and I wanted to change that one, because it was too watery for a Girl on Fire, so we came up with Catching Fire. The third book I’d come up with a title so bad I can’t even remember it except it had the word ashes in it. We both hated it. One day, you said, “What if we just call it Mockingjay?” And that seemed perfect. The three parts of the book had been subtitled “The Mockingjay,” “The Assault,” and “The Assassin.” We changed the title to Mockingjay and the first part to “The Ashes” and got that lovely alliteration in the subtitles. Thank goodness you were there; you have far better taste in titles. I believe in the acknowledgments, I call you the Title Master.

DL: With The Hunger Games, the choice of Games is natural — but the choice of Hunger is much more odd and interesting. So I’ll ask: Why Hunger Games?

SC: Because food is a lethal weapon. Withholding food, that is. Just like it is in Boris when the Nazis starve out the people of Leningrad. It’s a weapon that targets everyone in a war, not just the soldiers in combat, but the civilians too. In the prologue of Henry V, the Chorus talks about Harry as Mars, the god of war. “And at his heels, Leash’d in like hounds, should famine, sword, and fire crouch for employment.” Famine, sword, and fire are his dogs of war, and famine leads the pack. With a rising global population and environmental issues, I think food could be a significant weapon in the future.

DL: The cover was another huge effort. We easily had over a hundred different covers comped up before we landed on the iconic one. There were some covers that pictured Katniss — something I can’t imagine doing now. And there were others that tried to picture scenes. Of course, the answer was in front of us the entire time — the Mockingjay symbol, which the art director Elizabeth Parisi deployed to such amazing effect. What do you think of the impact the cover and the symbol have had? What were your thoughts when you saw this cover?

SC: Oh, it’s a brilliant cover, which I should point out I had nothing to do with. I only saw a handful of the many you developed. The one that made it to print is absolutely fantastic; I loved it at first sight. It’s classy, powerful, and utterly unique to the story. It doesn’t limit the age of the audience and I think that really contributed to adults feeling comfortable reading it. And then, of course, you followed it up with the wonderful evolution of the mockingjay throughout the series. There’s something universal about the imagery, the captive bird gaining freedom, which I think is why so many of the foreign publishers chose to use it instead of designing their own. And it translated beautifully to the screen where it still holds as the central symbolic image for the franchise.

DL: Obviously, the four movies had an enormous impact on how widely the story spread across the globe. The whole movie process started with the producers coming on board. What made you know they were the right people to shepherd this story into another form?

SC: When I decided to sell the entertainment rights to the book, I had phone interviews with over a dozen producers. Nina Jacobson’s understanding of and passion for the piece along with her commitment to protecting it won me over. She’s so articulate, I knew she’d be an excellent person to usher it into the world. The team at Lionsgate’s enthusiasm and insight made a deep impression as well. I needed partners with the courage not to shy away from the difficult elements of the piece, ones who wouldn’t try to steer the story to an easier, more traditional ending. Prim can’t live. The victory can’t be joyous. The wounds have to leave lasting scars. It’s not an easy ending but it’s an intentional one.

DL: You cowrote the screenplay for the first Hunger Games movie. I know it’s an enormously tricky thing for an author to adapt their own work. How did you approach it? What was the hardest thing about translating a novel into a screenplay? What was the most rewarding?

SC: I wrote the initial treatments and first draft and then Billy Ray came on for several drafts and then our director, Gary Ross, developed it into his shooting script and we ultimately did a couple of passes together. I did the boil down of the book, which is a lot of cutting things while trying to retain the dramatic structure. I think the hardest thing for me, because I’m not a terribly visual person, was finding the way to translate many words into few images. Billy and Gary, both far more experienced screenwriters and gifted directors as well, really excelled at that. Throughout the franchise I had terrific screenwriters, and Francis Lawrence, who directed the last three films, is an incredible visual storyteller.

The most rewarding moment on the Hunger Games movie would have been the first time I saw it put together, still in rough form, and thinking it worked.

DL: One of the strange things for me about having a novel adapted is knowing that the actors involved will become, in many people’s minds, the faces and bodies of the characters who have heretofore lived as bodiless voices in my head. Which I suppose leads to a three-part question: Do you picture your characters as you’re writing them? If so, how close did Jennifer Lawrence come to the Katniss in your head? And now when you think about Katniss, do you see Jennifer or do you still see what you imagined before?

SC: I definitely do picture the characters when I’m writing them. The actress who looks exactly like my book Katniss doesn’t exist. Jennifer looked close enough and felt very right, which is more important. She gives an amazing performance. When I think of the books, I still think of my initial image of Katniss. When I think of the movies, I think of Jen. Those images aren’t at war any more than the books are with the films. Because they’re faithful adaptations, the story becomes the primary thing. Some people will never read a book, but they might see the same story in a movie. When it works well, the two entities support and enrich each other.

DL: All of the actors did such a fantastic job with your characters (truly). Are there any in particular that have stayed with you?

SC: A writer friend of mine once said, “Your cast — they’re like a basket of diamonds.” That’s how I think of them. I feel fortunate to have had such a talented team — directors, producers, screenwriters, performers, designers, editors, marketing, publicity, everybody — to make the journey with. And I’m so grateful for the readers and viewers who invested in The Hunger Games. Stories are made to be shared.

DL: We’re talking on the occasion of the tenth anniversary of The Hunger Games. Looking back at the past ten years, what have some of the highlights been?

SC: The response from the readers, especially the young audience for which it was written. Seeing beautiful and faithful adaptations reach the screen. Occasionally hearing it make its way into public discourse on politics or social issues.

DL: The Hunger Games Trilogy has been an international bestseller. Why do you think this series struck such an important chord throughout the world?

SC: Possibly because the themes are universal. War is a magnet for difficult issues. In The Hunger Games, you have vast inequality of wealth, destruction of the planet, political struggles, war as a media event, human rights abuses, propaganda, and a whole lot of other elements that affect human beings wherever they live. I think the story might tap into the anxiety a lot of people feel about the future right now.

DL: As we celebrate the past ten years and look forward to many decades to come for this trilogy, I’d love for us to end where we should — with the millions of readers who’ve embraced these books. What words would you like to leave them with?

SC: Thank you for joining Katniss on her journey. And may the odds be ever in your favor.

#thg #the hunger games #suzanne collins #katniss everdeen #catching fire #mockingjay #tbosas #thg book club #saw they took the pdf version down smh

71 notes · View notes

lanitalay · 6 months

Text

Before I Say Goodnight

Chapter 5

a/n: this one was fun for me. enjoy!!!

Other chapters

wordcount: 2.5k

“Good morning” you sit across the table from him “what’s for breakfast?” He picks up a piece of toast from his plate and flashes you a sleepy smile and says “anything you like”. Magic house, right. “In that case, I’d like a cinnamon roll, an omelet, hot chocolate and orange juice” placing your hands on the table as the list of food begins to appear in front of you. You half waited for Azriel to make a comment about your choice of breakfast but he only said “a cinnamon roll sounds really good right now” and then his own plate appeared. A giggle, an actual giggle, escaped your lips. Get a grip. “Cheers” you motion with your bun and he returns the gesture. “If Cassian sees me having simple carbs for breakfast he’ll make me run an extra ten miles at training tomorrow” his eyes have gone wide and it reminds you of the kid you used to babysit when you would take him to the ice cream shop on the way home from school. “The super fit general doesn’t like a sweet treat?” you ask between bites. “It’s not that he doesn’t like sweets but when he gets in his trainer mindset he becomes a pain in the ass” you snort “and I’m guessing you have a sweet tooth?” he nods once “it’s my only weakness” you roll your eyes and smile as you keep eating. Everything was delicious, you basically inhaled the cinnamon roll and hot chocolate. As you push those dishes away they vanish. This house freaking rules. You go to eat the omelet as Azriel asks “How did you find your room?” “Oh it’s beautiful and the bed is very comfy” he continues “did you sleep well?” You shake your head “well, once I fell asleep it was fine but I was up until late tossing and turning”. “I’m sure this has been difficult to process” you sip the orange juice, throat suddenly feeling dry “uhm, yeah it feels fake, all of this and last night was the first night I got the chance to think without being distracted or interrupted and… I was just overwhelmed” Azriel nodded and you jumped a little as you felt a cooling sensation against your cheek “sorry, they usually don’t bother people” he said and pulled his shadows away from you. You bring your hand up and notice the tear tracks. I must be dehydrated from all this crying. Lightly laughing you say “I don't even notice when I cry anymore, before I got here I don’t remember the last time I cried and I can’t seem to stop” another laugh slips as another shadow swipes the last falling tear. “I can’t even begin to understand how you feel, but if you want my opinion, I think you’ve been incredibly resilient” he gets up from the table “I’ll see you later” and walks away. You can’t help but feel a little embarrassed crying in front of him before the day has even begun.

“You must be y/n! Nesta told me you’d be joining us today” after breakfast and a little bit of walking about the house trying to remember where everything was. Feyre had found you and informed you that the priestesses were ready to begin. “I”m Gwyn” she held out her hand and offered you a million dollar smile. You shook her hand and offered her a five dollar smile in return. “Well, follow me,” she walked you through shelves and shelves of ancient looking volumes and tomes and from what you gathered these books could very well be thousands of years old. The thought made you feel very small. “I have taken it upon myself to take charge of this project and put together a small group to find out how to get you home” she said the last few words in a whisper. So the portal business is not for everyone to know, makes sense. You spend the next few hours meeting the other priestesses and beginning the search for books that might have what you’re looking for. By lunchtime you are starving and in need of fresh air.

You opt for lunch on your balcony. But regret it almost immediately, the peace and quiet opening the floodgates of your mind and soon enough you’ve lost your appetite. Sighing, you get up from the little table and walk into the room. You grab your bag and empty it out on the bed. You had some snacks, your water bottle, an extra pair of socks you had forgotten about, your wallet, passport, sunglasses, phone and sunscreen. That was it. This is it. You place everything that you have to your name in the drawer of your bedside table and resist the urge to cry again. There’s still a full day ahead. The despair quiets down as you return to the library and are consumed by the work.

After a full day of research you feel like your mind is going to explode. This will take months, if we’re lucky. You return to the dining room and see Cassian, Azriel and who you could only assume is Nesta already eating. “Y/n! Meet my mate, Nesta” Cassian excitedly points to the female beside him. “Hello, it’s nice to meet you” you try to muster up some energy but the defeat in your voice and your face is obvious. “It’s nice to meet you as well, I apologize I wasn’t here yesterday but I assume everything has gone well with the house?” At that you can’t help the enthusiastic nod “the house is fantastic”. You start to make yourself a plate and they return to their conversation but you don’t really listen to what they say. You keep going over and over it. Before you got here, before you stepped on that circle- there was something there. But you hadn’t seen anything, not a shadow, not a footprint, nothing. But the quiet… whatever it was, it was a predator that had scared off all but one prey. Maybe it was a trap. You feel sick. Oh god. “Y/n? You’re pale” Azriel’s voice snaps you from your spiral and you see the three of them sharing the same concerned look. I hate that look. “I’m just tired, it’s been… a long day” you try to finish your dinner but between their worried glances and your lack of appetite you can’t do it. “I’m gonna call it a night, guys” you say and walk to your room.

The next few days are a blur of the same routine: breakfast with Azriel and sometimes Nesta, research, lunch, research, dinner, sleep. On the third day Azriel is the only one at breakfast “do you only have two changes of clothes?” You furrow your brows at him, “yes” last night had been the second sleepless one and you were in no mood to be tested. “I can take you into town if you’d like, get you something else to add to the rotation” you appreciated his offer, truly, the dress and the leggings were getting old “thanks, but I have no currency or goods or services that I can exchange for new clothes. These will have to do” you start drinking your tea, the only thing you could stomach since yesterday. “Y/n, you are an official guest of the Night Court. You can charge whatever you need or want to the High Lord” Oh “I did not know that. I’ve never been an official guest of anything. But still, you’ve already given me too much”. He stays serious as he says “We leave after you finish breakfast” he pushes a cinnamon roll in front of you. “I guess we can leave now” he doesn’t move “you’re not going to eat?” You shake your head “I’d love to but I am not hungry at all” he looks at you square in the face and you know he can see through the paper thin mask you’ve put on. “Very well, let’s go then”.

“Do you prefer pants or skirts?” Azriel asked as you walked through a very busy part of Velaris. “Well it depends, I like skirts for leisurely activities and pants for everything else” Azriel looked around, he seemed just as lost as you were “fair enough”. “Azriel, do you know where we’re going?” He placed his hand on your back to guide you through the crowd “of course I do”. You say nothing. Both of us seem to be in a mood today. “Here we are,” he points to a quiet looking storefront “Feyre and Nesta talk about this shop a lot”. You walk in and see a mixture of textiles, prints and cuts that revive a part of you that has been dormant for a while. “Oh my god, this is great” Azriel lets out a breath and says “go crazy” and you do. Two hours and three full bags later you walk out of the shop. “I feel like I went overboard, we should return half of these things” you go turn around but Azriel’s wing stops you from walking any further. “Nonsense, you need the clothes, now we need to get you some new shoes” you look at your boots “what’s wrong with these?” He walks into a shoe shop “nothing is wrong with them, but don’t you want something more comfortable?” You would like some slippers and maybe something cute to wear with the dresses “alright, if you insist”. As you walk towards the displays you miss the smile that ghosts over Azriel’s face.

“I’ve got to hand it to you, Azriel. Getting out of the house and the library was just what the doctor ordered” you say as you bite down on a cinnamon roll that you had ordered at a little bakery. “A change of scenery is always nice I suppose” you nod and keep eating. “Y/n, feel free to not answer if you don’t want to but what is your world like?” Dammit, just as I was having a nice time. You sip some tea, your throat having gone dry yet again. Breathe, come one. In. Out. “It’s ok. Well for starters there’s no magic. There is war, famine, illness. But we also have so much beauty. Where I’m from the trees are always green and the sky is constantly blue. We have beaches and rivers. I was traveling before I got here, and I saw a bit of the world away from my home and it was beautiful. Similar to this, but the stars felt like a painting and these feel like living beings. We have art and I guess the most recent advancement has been the internet, but that’s a whole other conversation. There are so many animals, we keep some as pets. I had or have a dog. But there are monkeys and dolphins and butterflies and oh- we move around by cars or planes or trains mainly. We have horses but ever since the industrial revolution they aren’t the main form of transportation” you talked for what felt like hours, by the end your throat was sore from overuse. Azriel had listened to it all and had committed every detail to memory. Even if he didn't understand the internet or how planes flew without magic.

After the snack break Azriel let you know that you were going to have lunch at the River House with Feyre and Elain, the third sister you had yet to meet. The sister Mor thinks Azriel is enamored with. The walk back was pretty long but enjoyable, conversation with the Shadowsinger seemed to flow naturally and he seemed interested in everything you had to say so when he announced you had arrived you couldn’t help the disappointment that bubbled in your chest. The River House was a spectacular mansion overlooking the Sidra. “Azriel, y/n! Come over here, Elain is just finishing up lunch” Feyre said in place of greeting. You follow Azriel towards glass doors that lead to a beautiful garden terrace, where you are greeted by a delicious looking spread of finger foods. “I tried to make everything baby friendly” a delicate musical voice says to Azriel. You look from the spread towards the voice “you must be Elain, I’m y/n”. She smiles and says “lovely to meet you, please start without me, I’m in the middle of decorating a cake” you note the apron she dons and the frosting that stains her pretty face. I’d be into her if I was Azriel.

Feyre, Nyx, Azriel and yourself enjoy lunch and simple conversation “there’s only a few more weeks of summer so we try to make the most of this weather before the Sidra freezes” you nod, having noticed that the breezes gliding through the air seem to be getting cooler and cooler everyday. The High Lady lets the little boy out of his chair, he doesn’t look older than two. Once he’s free of the confines of his high chair he races to the lawn and begins to play with some toys he probably left there earlier. “Here we are” Elain returns to the table with an intricately decorated cake, it has all sorts of flowers and leaves made of pastel color frosting and Elain herself looks perfectly put together, she looks for her nephew “Nyxie, do you want a slice?” The table laughs as he ignores her and goes back to playing. “Sorry Elain, you know how he gets after being still for too long” Feyre says. The domestic scene fills your heart with longing for your own family. That could’ve been you. Your blood runs cold as you hear the distinct lilt of your mother’s voice. Not this again. You had had some reprieve of those words ever since getting here. “So Elain, I’ve been told you garden?” You ask to fill the comfortable silence the group had fallen into. Luckily Elain had a lot to say about the upcoming autumn harvest and her plans for the following year.

After lunch concluded, you and Azriel went back to the House of Wind where you resumed the routine you had grown to appreciate. In the morning you would wake up and actually choose an outfit, which was a nice addition, have breakfast and go to the library. After lunch you’d go back to the library until dinner. After dinner you’d either walk around the house, find a book to read, maybe journal a bit. Other nights were a bit more fun though, someone would take you into town and you’d go dancing or walk along the river or visit art galleries. It was a nice routine. Predictable. Dependable. Enjoyable.

So Azriel was very surprised when you walked into the dinning room with a huff and a scowl. “What’s the matter?” You look at him like with wild eyes “Azriel I can’t do it anymore” he stiffens and you continue “The priestesses are all very nice and Gwyn is a sweetheart but the only thing I do is look for books for them to read because they are all written in ancient languages I don’t understand. I’m so bored, Azriel, I’m numb with boredom. I’m not a researcher and I can’t even contribute, not really. I don’t wanna go back down there. It’s dark and cold and I need sunshine. Sunshine!” you finish by dropping into your chair and putting your head between your hands. “I see-” you interrupt him “and I’m sorry I sound ungrateful ok? You’ve all been very nice”. He continues “if you need a change of pace you could come with me to the human lands, I’ll be there for a few days on an assignment. I’d appreciate the company” you could kiss him.

“When do we leave?”

92 notes · View notes

dameronology · 1 year

Text

love in an elevator (natasha romanoff)

summary: nothing will make you confront your ex like being trapped in a lift with her

warnings: language

eugh two natasha fics in a night?? no regrets. i love my wife. enjoy.

jazz xx

The key to a break up, you had come to learn, was distance.

Distance and space and time apart and whatever other bullshit it was that Vogue recommended every week. Maybe a glass of wine or two here and there, and a night out with your closest friends. You'd cycled through that process ten times over but getting distance from Natasha Romanoff felt near enough fucking impossible when she was quite literally everywhere. At work, in the office, at the Avengers HQ, in the streets. New York had become a thousand times smaller after your break-up.

Seeing her at work was unavoidable. After all, that was how you'd met. Natasha was easy enough to get on with back then; she was blunt and straight to the point but it was clear she cared deeply about the people she loved. You never imagined being one of them yourself, but when she'd asked you out after a few weeks of casual flirting and longing glances, it was hard to remember a time when you weren't. And not only were you somebody she loved, you were the person she loved most. The person she wanted to come home to everyday; the one she laid herself bare too and would have stopped at nothing to make you happy.

It had been a good year and a half. All smiles and a few rocky days here and there, but you never wanted to leave Natasha's side. She'd never pictured buying herself a ring for anyone, or even considering the idea of marriage, but the day she proposed had been the best of your life. Multiple promises had been made that day. I'll love you forever and I'm never taking this ring off.

Promises, as it was, were made to be broken.

Work got hard for both of you. Missions and long trips apart and your relationship basically becoming long distance. Each factor a tiny nail in your coffin but Natasha Romanoff would have been lying if she said she wasn't the one building said coffin and holding the fucking hammer. Because for every day she spent away from you was a day that she took a step back to her old ways. She became a closed off woman all over again, shutting you out and refusing to talk.

You'd have been a fool to let her treat you that way. Leaving was hard but like hell were you going to let her drag you down with her. She'd lost herself and now she'd lost you too.

Your break-up had been a wake up call. She'd gotten better - gone to therapy, started talking to people again, come back into herself. At that point she could have begged you to take her back, but what use was it? There was no promise that she wouldn't do the same again. The risk of hurting you was too high.

So, Natasha kept her distance and so did you - where you could, at least. Getting into an elevator with her wasn't ideal but you were running late for your meeting and hell, you couldn't wait any longer. That had been your main worry right then -standing next to your ex, wondering if you'd make it in on time- but as soon as the elevator shuddered to a halt and the lights went out, those worries seemed like a fucking vacation.

"Are you kidding me?" you huffed. "Tony Stark spends millions on this building but he cheaps out on the elevators?"

"Hey, it's fine," Natasha said - stoic as ever, but just as jittery as you. Not so much at the situation - it was hard to be worried about being stuck in a lift when you'd fought aliens - but rather at who she was with. "You just gotta press the emergency button-"

She stopped, watching as you began to punch the bright red button multiple times.

"Only once, though," Nat continued. "You don't want to break it."

"Jeez thanks, Natasha," you muttered. "Wisdomful, as always."

"I'm just trying to help."

"Well, you're not!" you snapped. "I'm running late for a meeting and I do not need this right now."

"This being stuck in a lift or this being stuck in a lift with me?"

You huffed. "Does it matter? I don't have time for this."

"We're literally stuck in an elevator," she shot back. "I'd argue you have all the time in the world."

"Fine," you muttered. "I don't like being stuck in elevators at the best of times but being stuck in one with my ex-girlfriend -my ex-fiance, even - is a little less desirable."

She gave you a smile. "There we go."

Natasha gracefully placed her bag down and took a seat on the floor of the elevator. She pulled a book out the front pocket and began to read, clearly not phased by the situation. You let out another loud sigh and threw your own briefcase to the ground, clumsily taking a seat beside her. Her green eyes flickered up from the pages, giving you another smile. This was so you. Making a scene, being over-dramatic at the slightest inconvenience. She'd been the reasonable one in your relationship.

Pulling out your phone, you began to violently type something.

"Who are you messaging?" she asked.

"Why do you care?"

"Because you're about to crack your phone screen with how hard you're typing."

You rolled your eyes. "I'm messaging Tony to let him know what a dickhead he is."

"I don't think Tony's to blame-"

"- look, Natasha. My morning is ruined and I'm going to get so much shit from Fury for missing this meeting that I need to let it out, okay?" you cut her off. "Sometimes, it's just easier to have someone to blame."

"Do you blame me for our break-up?"

Your brows shot up, eyes widening. Okay, you hadn't expected that question. There hadn't been much conversation about your break-up. You'd just told Nat you were leaving and she hadn't argued. Even when you wanted her to - even when you were ready to beg and implore and beseech for her to want you to stay - you'd stayed quiet.

"W-what?" you stuttered. "No, of course not."

"Are you sure?"

"There are a lot of things in that situation that I'm not sure of but that isn't one of them," you insisted. "I don't blame you or me or anyone. I mean...yeah, you coulda tried harder but - why are we even talking about this?"

Natasha shrugged. "Like I said, we're stuck in a lift. Seems like a sign from the universe to ask this stuff."

"Right," you replied. "No, I don't blame you and no, I don't hate you and yes, I forgive you for anything you think I might be holding against you. Any more questions?"

"Do you miss me?" she quietly asked. "I miss you."

"All the time, Nat," you said. "Sorry I iced you out."

"You did what you had to," Natasha reasoned. "And quite honestly, I iced you out first, didn't I?"

"Yeah, you did."

'I think...I think that losing you was the wake-up call I needed," she admitted. "For what it's worth, you're the reason I got better. The reason I am better."

You shrugged. "It's just what I do."

"Yeah, okay," Natasha laughed. "One more question -do you hate me for not calling you?"

"Yeah, a little," you said. "I guess some part of me always hoped that there was still a chance for us."

"Maybe there is."

You glanced over at her, eyebrows raised. "You think so?"

"I know so."

"Okay," you replied. "Dinner tomorrow night then?"

Natasha nodded, glancing back down at her book. "Yeah, sounds good."

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff imagines #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff fluff #black widow x reader #black widow imagines #black widow fluff #black widow imagine #avengers imagine #marvel imagine #marvel imagines

551 notes · View notes

percheduphere · 4 months

Note

people saying, oh it wasn't intended from the beginning so it wasn't intentional thus has to stay fanfiction bug me. like, shows can develop organically based on chemistry. they can surprise you and take you in a direction that wasn't planned but now just works. like, fucking, chandler and monica wasn't planned from the beginning! but the actors had chemistry and the writers tried it out and it became iconic. you don't throw something away just because it surprised you instead of being pre-planned; you cultivate whatever gold you find!

With Hollywood entertainment in particular, I think there is a lot of ignorance regarding how the creative process, production process, post-production process, and business all work. It is readily apparent that in Hollywood, there are many hands in the kitchen when it comes to creating a movie, documentary, or show. The "Original Intent" argument is weakest when it comes to Hollywood art, and in fact fails to be a viable argument in multiple areas. I will discuss how the "Original Intent" argument fails in Hollywood in more depth under the read more, using what I know from having worked in the industry myself as a writer. And to be honest, the fact I have to pull my private professional history out online, just to prove I'm not being delulu when it comes to the importance of queer subtext in film, pisses me the fuck off.

To be clear, since this whole discourse mess on my Tumblr is likely the result of someone thinking I'm an anti-sylki: I AM NOT AN ANTI. I have an extensive analysis on Sylvie as an integral character to the Loki series, Sylki in canon, and her relationship with Mobius here.

I agree with you: a lot of amazing art deviates from the original intention, especially writing. If deviating from original intent in the writing process did not exist, we would not have DRAFT REVISIONS, we would not have IMPROV, we would not have EDITORS (whose entire job hinges on giving the writer not only grammar corrections, but feedback on how to IMPROVE character, plot, and pacing, which inherently means making changes from the original intent!). This is to say nothing of the thousands, if not tens or hundreds of thousands, of media scholars--with actual PhDs--who spend years of their lives performing meta-analysis to write academic papers on subject matters like this. Papers that become formal publications and contribute to how queer history is taught in universities! This is no different than academic scholars analyzing women and race representation and resistance in film. Why should analyzing queer representation and resistance in film be treated any less?

LET'S TALK ABOUT ORIGINAL CREATIVE INTENT VS POWER HIEARCHY & POLITICS IN HOLLYWOOD

For context with respect to this ask, a different Tumblr user critiqued against queer subtext in one of my posts using the "original intent" argument for the Loki series and Lokius specifically. By this logic, if original intent is always honored, then the original script for Loki's S2E5 (written by Eric Martin) would not have been NUKED by the executive powers that be at Marvel. [source] But no, the original intent was not honored, it was rejected. So how does one square the primacy of original intent with original intent being rejected by people who are not the artist but the people who manage Disney's finances?

In television, "Executive Producer" (i.e. Tom Hiddleston, Michael Waldron, Eric Martin, etc.) is a title that can be given to a writer or actor who has more creative say in the execution of a story than a regular staff writer or actor on crew. It also indicates that the writer or actor is in a much higher salary range compared to their professional peers. It does NOT mean the same thing as a CORPORATE "Producer" of Kevin Feige's level, who ultimately has the FINAL SAY on what does NOT end up on the cutting room floor. The corporate Producer must take into account the wishes of corporate's shareholders and board of directors, who are often multi-million if not multi-billion global investors who need the distribution of the product to succeed internationally in countries like China, which is very anti-LGBTQAI+. This is how a script like Eric Martin's S2E5 can be nuked and the writer can be contractually gagged from talking about its specific contents by Disney, lest they be SUED TO HELL for breaking their non-disclosure agreements (NDAs).

This doesn't even take into account politics.

In 2020, Ike Perlmutter, Chair of Marvel, "gave $575,000 to Trump For Victory, $35,500 to the Republican National Committee in April, $5600 for Texans For Ronny Jackson in February. 2019 saw him donate $248,000 to the Republican National Committee, $466,100 to Trump For Victory, $5,600 to Donald Trump For President." His wife, Laura, mirrored those donations. "In late 2016, he also gave $5,000,000 to the Great America PAC." [source] Ike was only recently laid off from his position in March 2023 [source]. Perlmutter was in a power-struggle at Marvel with Kevin Feige for years. Feige was promoted to Chief Creative Officer in 2019, which brought the power struggle to a head, ultimately contributing to Perlmutter's departure.

There is also Bob Iger, CEO of Disney, who was famously quoted during the Writers Guild of America strike for saying, “It’s very disturbing to me. We’ve talked about disruptive forces on this business and all the challenges we’re facing, the recovery from COVID which is ongoing, it’s not completely back. This is the worst time in the world to add to that disruption”

This is the worst time in the world to negotiate to pay your writers, YOUR CREATIVE LABOR FORCE, who entertained millions of people while they were stuck in their homes for 2 years, fairly?

And these are just two men in executive power at Marvel and Disney. We're not even talking about all the other board members and shareholders. You think Tom Hiddleston, Michael Waldron, and Eric Martin have any real power compared to these guys? They do not. They are peons by comparison. And these artists (despite their "Executive Producer" title) are always at odds with the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers (AMPTP), who are ultimately not artists but FINANCIERS.

Here's another quote from a studio executive that occurred during the writer's strike:

"Receiving positive feedback from Wall Street since the WGA went on strike May 2, Warner Bros Discovery, Apple, Netflix, Amazon, Disney, Paramount and others have become determined to “break the WGA,” as one studio exec blatantly put it.

To do so, the studios and the AMPTP believe that by October most writers will be running out of money after five months on the picket lines and no work.

“The endgame is to allow things to drag on until union members start losing their apartments and losing their houses,” a studio executive told Deadline. Acknowledging the cold-as-ice approach, several other sources reiterated the statement. One insider called it “a cruel but necessary evil.”" [source 1] [source 2]

Fortunately, this negative press and the WGA members' solidarity led to the WGA getting everything they demanded. I still have friends in the industry, specifically in the WGA and MPEG. A lot of them were indeed starved out. My friend who's a film editor is still unemployed because pre-production has only recently started to ramp up again and her profession is all in post. She has to wait for production to catch-up and finish in order to get work.

If the AMPTP is willing to use clearly unethical tactics to underpay their writers and actors (don't forget the SAG-AFTRA strike that joined later), do we really think members of the AMPTP (the studio execs) are willing to honor artists' original intent if the original intent may be "offensive to some viewers" and therefore can potentially cut into their financial bottom line?

We're not naive. We know the answer to this.

OUR FLAG MEANS DEATH, KILLING EVE, AND GOOD OMENS

But what about OFMD, KE, and GO? These shows are on MAX, BBC, and Amazon Prime respectively. These corporations have a different branding image than Disney. Disney touts itself as "family friendly"; (read: on-screen LGBTQAI+ affection between two lead characters is "not family friendly"). MAX and BBC's branding type also affords them the luxury of creating content for niche audiences. Disney, on the other hand, makes additional revenue through using their plethora of licenses to make toys, additions to their theme parks, and other merch. If a parent is offended that a canonically queer character like Loki has romantic love not just for Sylvie but also for Mobius (a same-sex relationship), what are the odds of parents like them not buying Disney's merchandise? We can apply this same question to Star Wars, Pixar, and any of Disney-branded animation or live action movies. How deeply can audience offense potentially cut into Disney's bottom line? If there were no discrimination taking place, we would have LGBTQAI+ representation through a lead character in any one of their licenses already. We do not, and that is a huge red flag.

In addition, these entertainment corporations (who do not tout themselves as "family friendly") generate other sources of revenue elsewhere. Netflix generates international revenue through the production of international programming like "Squid Game" and other K-dramas such as "The Glory" or Mexican shows including, "The Surrogacy" and "Haunted: Latin America". MAX is struggling. They were bought out for that reason. With AppleTV and Hulu, their target audiences are more diverse, they offer a variety of media product, and their business strategy is ultimately different from Disney. All of this grants them more freedom in what kind of characters they choose to represent, including LGBTQAI+ characters.

Remember House and Wilson from House M.D.? That show was on FOX. We know the political alignment of FOX. Dean and Castiel from Supernatural? WB Television. Both shows came out before streaming became dominant, and thus, these shows had to cater to anyone who might happen to land on their channels. When the market demands that you cater to the widest possible audience in order to generate the largest revenue, the creatives are forced to create relatively conservative artistic product. Hence, creative censorship and our long history of queer subtext.

At Nickelodeon, the artists actually had the support of corporate to move forward with Korrasami because the final season Legend of Korra was only available online. It did not air on their channel. If that had not been the case, corporate would not have approved Korrasami. However, that approval was contingent upon the artists being subtle subtle about Korra and Asami's relationship. Even in this canon ship, the animators relied on subtext for queer romance.

Not helping Disney's case is the cancellation of "The Owl House". Why was "The Owl House" canceled? It didn't fit Disney's "brand". [source]

THE FAILURES OF THE "ORIGINAL INTENT" ARGUMENT IN HOLLYWOOD

The "Original Intent" argument fails when it comes to art in Hollywood because:

Original Intent can change, and often does change, during the creative process. This applies to all forms of art, not just Hollywood.

Multiple artists are involved in pre-production, production, and post-production. At any point in this 3-part process of filmmaking, original intent can be changed for a variety of reasons.

Studio Executives, Boards of Directors, and Corporate Shareholders have more power than the artists in Hollywood. If they think a product will not make money, they will order changes accordingly.

Disney specifically touts itself as "family friendly". Its lack of a lead character (in ANY of its live-action licenses) being in an openly queer relationship with someone who presents as the same sex, is the direct result of not wanting to lose conservative audiences.

Non-Disclosure Agreements (NDAs) are common in Hollywood and prevent artists from providing specifics regarding original intent. This is done not only to safeguard corporate's intellectual property (IP), but to also safeguard their public relations image.

THE ORIGINAL INTENT ARGUMENT WEAPONIZED

The "original intent" mindset can be either very naive or very cynical, depending on the thinker's motives for choosing this belief. Naive, in that thinking creative purity actually exists (it does not) or that oppression does not still occur in Hollywood (it does). Cynical, in that either the thinker doesn't believe in artists intentionally finding ways around mass produced arts' media censorship, which has in turn created our rich history of queer subtext in film, OR the thinker wants the "original intent" argument to invalidate a change they do not like.

The last motive is the same strategy used by fans who reject Miles Morales as being a real Spider-Man. The same strategy fans use to deny that Shuri is indeed the new Black Panther. Both are tactics used to mask racism and sexism beneath the veneer of "creative purity". Fans who have internalized racism, sexism, or queer-phobia may also use this tactic at a subconscious level to protect themselves emotionally from disappointment. Finally, there are fans who use this argument to invalidate another ship, usually a queer ship that cannot be formally canonized because of corporate studio power.

Regardless of the reasoning, using this argument is frequently insidious because it perpetuates straight white male dominance in media representation.

PERSONAL LIVED EXPERIENCE

I'm an old poc queer and have worked in Hollywood long enough to know that the writers' original vision rarely ever--IF EVER--pans out as originally intended. If you ever sit through a movie and wonder why the story feels so weird in certain parts, I can guarantee you that about 2/5ths of the time, a corporate producer stepped in and messed with the original story in post-production (usually in an poor, over-worked editor's dark editing bay) and ordered reshoots the director may not have agreed with.

I've also worked in the industry long enough to know that it is an absolutely toxic work environment in which women, people of color, and queer people still struggle to get a creative foothold anywhere. My first experience pitching a script to a prospective agent involved being asked to meet at a hotel for drinks. We didn't talk about my writing at all. What I thought would be a pitch meeting was actually the writer's version of the "Hollywood casting couch". Yes, I was propositioned. No, nothing happened to me. I walked out. This happened to me in June 2008. It was not my last experience. The "Me Too" movement that came years later in 2017 was in response to situations I have encountered like this.

Those of us who succeed are very rare, and 97% of the time, the executive staff is very, very white and male. There is absolutely oppression and exploitation of all sorts still happening in Hollywood. I fucking lived it and continue to have nightmares about it.

QUEER SUBTEXT STILL EXISTS

Thus, to deny queer subtext's validity as an art form and to only accept the words of those who are either in power or limited in what they can say because of those in power, undermines not only the artists' efforts to tell the story they want to tell but cannot tell explicitly, it also undermines queer joy and queer resistance in cinema. And yes, sometimes those artists are cis straight white male allies who want to tell these stories because they simply make sense for the characters. These people are the artists, not the financiers.

It's more mature to embrace, or at least leave alone, the loud joy others experience from shipping and performing meta-analysis instead of publicly pissing on them with the profoundly weak and ignorant argument of "original intent". Don't mess with me on this. The number of scripts I have worked on that completely warped from what I wanted, and then to have my writing credit removed or stolen, still makes me sick. Yes, I'm bitter, but I'm also glad I left.

76 notes · View notes

love--galore · 1 year

Text

Finding Paradise pt. 1 / a gojo x reader au smut (nsfw)

part 1 / part 2

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: gojo satoru x reader

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: Y͏o͏u͏ a͏r͏e͏ a͏ j͏o͏u͏r͏n͏a͏l͏i͏s͏t͏, a͏n͏d͏ h͏a͏v͏e͏ b͏e͏e͏n͏ s͏a͏c͏r͏i͏f͏i͏c͏e͏d͏ b͏y͏ y͏o͏u͏r͏ m͏a͏g͏a͏z͏i͏n͏e͏ c͏o͏m͏p͏a͏n͏y͏ t͏o͏ a͏u͏d͏i͏t͏i͏o͏n͏ f͏o͏r͏ F͏i͏n͏d͏i͏n͏g͏ P͏a͏r͏a͏d͏i͏s͏e͏, t͏h͏e͏ h͏o͏t͏t͏e͏s͏t͏ r͏o͏m͏a͏n͏c͏e͏ g͏a͏m͏e͏ s͏h͏o͏w͏ t͏h͏a͏t͏ t͏a͏k͏e͏s͏ p͏l͏a͏c͏e͏ o͏n͏ a͏ t͏r͏o͏p͏i͏c͏a͏l͏ i͏s͏l͏a͏n͏d͏. T͏h͏e͏ s͏h͏o͏w͏ h͏a͏s͏ b͏e͏e͏n͏ y͏o͏u͏r͏ c͏o͏m͏p͏a͏n͏y͏’s͏ t͏o͏p͏ a͏r͏t͏i͏c͏l͏e͏, a͏n͏d͏ y͏o͏u͏ h͏a͏v͏e͏ t͏h͏e͏ p͏o͏t͏e͏n͏t͏i͏a͏l͏ t͏o͏ b͏e͏ g͏i͏v͏e͏n͏ $1͏0͏,0͏0͏0͏ f͏o͏r͏ a͏ l͏o͏n͏g͏ r͏u͏n͏t͏i͏m͏e͏. O͏n͏ t͏h͏e͏ o͏t͏h͏e͏r͏ h͏a͏n͏d͏, G͏o͏j͏o͏ i͏s͏ a͏ professional athlete, w͏h͏o͏ g͏o͏t͏ f͏a͏m͏o͏u͏s͏ f͏o͏r͏ h͏i͏s͏ g͏o͏o͏d͏ l͏o͏o͏k͏s͏. H͏e͏ i͏s͏ n͏o͏t͏ l͏o͏o͏k͏i͏n͏g͏ t͏o͏ f͏i͏n͏d͏ l͏o͏v͏e͏, a͏s͏ h͏e͏ i͏s͏ m͏o͏r͏e͏ f͏o͏c͏u͏s͏e͏d͏ o͏n͏ w͏i͏n͏n͏i͏n͏g͏, b͏u͏t͏ a͏f͏t͏e͏r͏ m͏e͏e͏t͏i͏n͏g͏ y͏o͏u͏ o͏n͏ t͏h͏e͏ s͏h͏o͏w͏, w͏i͏l͏l͏ h͏i͏s͏ m͏o͏t͏i͏v͏e͏s͏ c͏h͏a͏n͏g͏e͏?

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 3.8k

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭

“I am most looking forward to testing myself against nature’s elements. I’ve always been competitive ever since I was a kid, so knocking everyone out will not be a problem… In terms of the romance aspect, they’ll come my way, but ultimately, my goal here is to win. After all, I’m the strongest.” — Satoru Gojo, Pre-Game Interview

✭・.・✫ ☼

You entered your hotel with your two suitcases and backpack in hand, finally allowing your body to relax for the first time since your 4am flight as you sprawled across the soft queen-sized bed. You unlocked your phone to check the time and as you did, you noticed the hundreds of notifications as new followers and comments flooded your social media. You never expected to have so many people follow you like you were some celebrity, but you figured that was the way these reality TV shows were.

Even as you auditioned for the new romance reality show, Finding Paradise, you never believed you would actually be dropped onto an island for two months and swarmed by a camera crew day and night. Damn your co-worker… She was the other lead journalist and was supposed to take on this project for your magazine’s special article on Finding Paradise, but she announced her pregnancy a month prior to auditions and you had no time to process your new role before it was inevitably passed onto you.

“Do I have to be on the show?” You recalled sighing as you faced your boss, who sat across from you behind her desk, nodding her head.

“Seeing that you are the only other young and single lady in the writing department, it only makes sense that you participate in the show so we can write the exclusive article.”

You scrunch your nose. “What’s in it for me?”

“A bonus.” Your boss said casually, and your ears perked up. “You’ll receive one thousand immediately if you land a role in the new season’s cast, and the rest after completing a decent runtime on the show. We’re hoping for at least 3 episodes.”

Ten-thousand dollars? Shit, you could definitely use the extra money and vacation. Well, technically you would still be working while on the show, but two months on the island for a romance show sounded easier than your normal nine to five work routine. Or was it? You didn’t know. You had never seen the show.

“And if you win, there’s also the hundred-thousand dollar pot that you split with your partner.” Your boss added, and you shifted nervously in your seat. When you began working at the magazine publishing house, you heard how important covering the show was as it was one of the biggest articles that flooded money to your company’s pop culture magazine, but never in a hundred years did you think they would choose you to audition for it. However, as you boarded the private plane, relaxed in the hotel room paid for entirely by the show, and scrolled through the newly released articles about the new season’s cast, which included your name, there was simply no denying your new reality.

You sighed, tossing your phone and moving to the bathroom. A shower would help calm your nerves. Filming started tomorrow, so you had a big day to look forward to. You glanced at the mirror in the short hallway as you made your way to the bathroom. You twisted your body and placed your hands on your hips, observing your figure with fresh eyes.

A lot of the audition process had to do with scrutinizing your looks and body, which the producers seemed satisfied with, and after hearing you describe your personality and how you would act in certain situations, you were pushed to new rounds until you reached the final audition round and before you knew it, you were officially cast in Finding Paradise.

You closed your eyes, rubbing your temples. The money. You were working for your ten grand check. Even if possibly thousands of people would be analyzing your actions as they watched the show, you didn’t care as you would be satisfied with the check waiting for you when you returned home. You told yourself this, at least, but your heart betrayed you, beating rapidly in your chest.

You slowed your breathing and turned on the shower, stepping inside and taking in the warmth of the water. It helped you relax your nerves, and after you finished, you felt better. You checked the time again, nine thirty-five p.m., and decided to call it a night. But before you did, you checked your texts where the producer sent you a message.

“Reminder! Make your way to the lobby tomorrow morning with your belongings by 8 a.m. sharp! We will depart for the island shortly thereafter and immediately begin filming. Get a good night's rest. You will need it!”

You bit your tongue and rolled over on your bed, clutching the pillow beside you. Were you in over your head? You sighed heavily. At this point, there was no turning back and you made a promise to yourself that you were going to make the best out of your situation. Who knows? Maybe you could make new friends…or find a potential boyfriend? That was the purpose of the show, after all. You felt your cheeks burn as you considered the idea, and forced yourself to shut your eyes and fall asleep.

✭・.・✫ ☼

The island was absolutely beautiful. You peered down through the helicopter window with wide eyes, utterly mesmerized by the clear blue waves that surrounded the lush green trees that inhabited the island.

You felt your heart race against your chest as the helicopter neared the ground, but reminded yourself that everything would be okay. You were confident in your ability to adapt to new environments and also your charm to make a name for yourself while on the show. You passed the auditions for a reason, right?

The helicopter landed smoothly on the island where the crew were already waiting. You stepped off of the landing towards the group of crew members who greeted you and guided you towards a path.

“You are the first cast member to arrive and appear in filming.” A man with a clipboard and earpiece pointed to the path. “You will enter through this path and down the steps towards the water where a seating area will be. Other cast members will follow suit upon their arrival, and instructions for your first mission will be reported after everyone has been introduced. Does that make sense?”

Your mind spun as you tried to keep up with his instructions, but you nodded your head. Follow the path down to the water, sit, and wait.

“Got it.” You replied, and he nodded his head, gesturing the crew towards you. Crew members touched up your makeup and fixed your hair and outfit. You had decided on wearing a sage green midi dress over your black bikini. It had a sweetheart neckline that hugged your chest and a-line skirt that flowed out slightly past your knees. The material was flowy and breathable which was helpful in the hot weather that surrounded you. You adjusted your wedge sandals which had a slight heel, adding two inches to your height, and breathed out slowly.

“Remember, head down to the water but take your time. The cameras will be rolling once they spot you from the bottom of the steps.” The producer said, and you nodded your head.

He pressed onto his earpiece and mumbled a few words before giving you a thumbs up and pointing to the pathway. You slowly made your way towards the direction he pointed and descended the wooden staircase that led to the calm blue water. It wasn’t a long way down, but it felt like forever. You noticed the cameramen scattered around the staircase and waiting at the bottom, but you made sure to keep your eyes looking natural and lips smiling as you focused on your destination.

You finally reached the seating area, which was essentially a large woven couch with blankets, and sat down, adjusting your hair. You silently thanked the universe for not tripping on the staircase or on the sandy beach, and waited patiently for the next person. Would it be a female or male participant next? You felt your palms sweat slightly as you waited in anticipation, and squinted slightly as a figure began descending the steps.

It was a male, and even from the bottom of the staircase, you could tell he was very tall and well built. His platinum white hair framed his face so chic and effortlessly, and his outfit consisted of white linen pants and a thin black collared shirt. He also wore dark circular sunglasses, which made him look like a celebrity. Maybe he was one, and you just didn’t know.

Your jaw almost dropped as you admired him from afar, but you quickly resisted the urge, remembering the various cameras that were likely filming your reaction. You kept your face neutral as you tried to remain calm and cool outwardly, but inside, you were practically screaming.

He crossed the sandy beach in long strides towards the seating area where you sat, and took a seat next to you.

“Hey, I’m y/n l/n.” You greeted him politely.

He lifted his sunglasses, resting them atop his head, and smiled down at you. “I’m Satoru Gojo, but call me Gojo. It’s nice to meet you.”

You were mesmerized by his vivid blue eyes that seemed to shine the ocean behind the two of you, but gathered yourself enough to reply normally. “Nice to meet you, too.”

The other contestants floated down the staircase like royalty, showing off camera-ready smiles and expensive looking outfits. You smiled politely at each of them and counted in your head the male to female ratio. Including you, it was six and six, an even split.

While this was a game show, the contestants seemed to range in occupation. There was Yuji Itadori, who was a soccer player, and Nobara Kugisaki, who was an Instagram model. The others looked just as high-profile. You wondered where Gojo fell on the spectrum. Based on his tall and lean build, he must be an athlete of some sort. You didn’t pay attention to sports well, so he could be a top athlete and you wouldn’t know it. You felt your confidence waver.

“Hello, everyone! Welcome to Finding Paradise, the show where you compete on an island for a cash prize and may find love on the way.” The game show host announced as he walked across the sand over to the group. You felt your body buzz with a mixture of nervousness and excitement. “Today we will jump into the challenges with our famous Snatching Game.”

You cursed internally. You made sure to study the first season, and the Snatching Game was a grueling opener, forcing each contestant to race across the sand and swim 30 meters to floating waterproof bags with high-value items. It could be a knife, hammock, or even food.

After the host explained the rules of the game, the twelve of you were led to an area of the island where anchored red bags floated in a line. You stood on a line in the middle of two women, and they removed their clothing. You followed suit, lifting your dress and revealing your swimsuit.

You opted for a sporty two-piece while some of the women had more revealing bikinis. They looked stunning like models but you silently prayed for them that they wouldn’t lose their tops during the race.

You peered to the left of the group of women where the men were preparing to race. The men were all topless, revealing more six packs and muscular veiny arms than you had ever seen before. Gojo stood at the end of the line and you couldn’t help but quickly admire the expanse of muscles coursing around his torso and arms. While he had much fairer skin, he was still tanned evenly as if he was outside often. Definitely an athlete. You wondered what sport he played.

“The first person to grab one of the floating bags wins a separate prize, as well.” The host reminded everyone, and you zeroed in on the red bags floating over the waves. There was one less bag than the amount of people competing, meaning there was one person who wouldn’t get an item. While there was a very slim chance you’d win the first place prize, you were dead set on not being last.

The host counted down on his loudspeaker and after shouting “Go!”, everyone simultaneously began sprinting across the sand. You controlled your breathing as you ran, eyeing the people around you as you kicked up sand. There were four men and two women ahead of you with the rest behind. For now, you were in seventh place, but that was before everyone hit the water.

Normally, you would hesitate before entering cold salty water, but the adrenaline rushing inside of you forced your body to dive into the blue waves. You didn’t know fancy swimming moves, but kicking your legs and propelling your arms was enough to win you a red bag which you grabbed ungracefully. It had a long black strap that you draped across your body, but before you could make your way back to shore, you felt a tug at the bag.

You shifted your attention to your left where another contestant, a woman with a blonde ponytail, was holding the end of the corner of your red bag. You tried to swim away, but she was persistent, yanking the bag towards herself. You tried floating in place, but with her dragging the bag, you were losing energy.

Her free hand pushed at your face, digging into your cheek. Fuck, it resorted to fighting, huh? Rage subsequently flared over your body, and you kicked at the other contestant, pushing your heel into her stomach and after more struggling, you were finally able to yank the bag out of her grip. Without hesitating, you swam back to shore.

The salty water stung your eyes, but you continued propelling yourself forward until the water was shallow enough to stand. You then ran onto the beach where everyone else was standing with their bags in hand. You hunched over, pressing your hands into your knees as you caught your breath. You heard movement behind you and observed as the woman angrily stormed out of the water and past you empty handed.

“Wow!” The host exclaimed. “First game, and we are already seeing some amazing action.”

You rolled your eyes, rising up and gripping the strap to your bag. It was light as a feather, almost as if there was nothing in it. You opened the bag and raised an eyebrow at the waterproof cloth rolled up inside. You grabbed the item and sighed in relief. It was a hammock. It would definitely be useful.

“Our first place winner is none other than Satoru Gojo.” The host announced, and everyone turned to Gojo who stood proudly next to him. “How does the first game feel?”

“I was excited before coming here, but the first game really solidified that feeling. It was fun.” He replied coolly, flashing a smile at the cameraman who zoomed the recording device in on his face.

Fun? You almost scoffed. You almost drowned fighting off the woman, meanwhile Mr. First Place was likely kicking his feet back watching the tussle from the shore. You eyed the woman whose arms were crossed.

The host walked over to her side and brought his microphone up to her face which was pinched into a scowl. “Can you tell me what happened back there, Mimiko?”

She sighed. “Well, you can’t do much in the water when people steal your item from you. I got unlucky.”

Your eyes widened incredulously, and you resisted laughing. Please, you were on your way back to shore when she tried to snag the bag, likely because she was last and didn’t have a choice but to steal from the person closest to her.

Suddenly, the microphone was shoved into your face. “Y/N, what do you have to say in response?”

You shifted your gaze to the camera lens, and shrugged. “It’s a competition, and I don’t plan on losing anytime soon.”

With that, the host announced the next part of the Snatching Game where partners are decided. The coin was flipped between which gender would be choosing, and it ended up being tails, which meant the men were deciding their partners. It was in order of who got to shore first, so Gojo was the first to pick.

You scanned down the line of women, all of whom were bright eyed and smiling as he touched his chin, pondering silently. Two of the women looked to be athletes or from the military with their thick thighs and muscular arms, so they would likely be the smartest choice for athletic challenges. On the other hand, the woman who fought for your bag looked to be a model with her small bikini and slim figure, so someone like her could play into the romance aspect of the show. However, the pale-haired man was taking his sweet time.

You watched his eyes scan the line of women until landing on you. You felt your heart skip slightly, and it started to beat out of your chest upon seeing his slim finger pointing at you. “I’m choosing Y/N. She’s got a little fighter in her.”

You saw jaws visibly drop in your peripheral, and you refrained from doing so yourself. Gojo sauntered to your side and placed his hands behind his back. He eyed you from his distance above and you held his gaze. You would have never predicted this event to occur, but finally, things were interesting.

✭・.・✫ ☼

After pairing up, you all were instructed to explore the island and find your designated campsites. Gojo led the way through the dense and humid forest, swinging an ax at the branches blocking the way.

“Was that your prize for first place?” You asked, and he nodded, flashing a smile back at you.

“Aren’t you a lucky girl?”

“Hmm.” You replied, turning and watching as the beach grew smaller and smaller behind you. “Are we almost there?”

“I think I see a small clearing.” He pointed his ax forward where a small clearing of sand and grass sat. The two of you reached the campsite and he placed his hands on his hips. “Home, sweet home.”

You dropped the bag from your shoulder and revealed the hammock which was tightly rolled into another bag. “I’ll start setting up our bed.”

“You got a hammock?” He asked, closing the distance between the two of you and touching the waterproof fabric.

You instinctively stepped back, your cheeks heating from the proximity, but forced your head to nod. “What item did you get?”

He lifted his bag and it looked a lot heavier than yours. He reached his hand in and revealed a large can.

Your eyes widened. “Peanut butter?”

His eyes crinkled at the sides as he smiled. “Yeah, not bad, huh?”

You crossed your arms. “I guess it’s not the worst.”

Your stomach growled in response, and you blushed. It had been four hours on the island and you were already feeling the ache for a meal, but those no longer existed on the island.

“How about we have dinner before setting up?” He suggested, unscrewing the lid with ease.

“Shouldn’t we portion it out so it lasts longer?”

“We will, don’t worry.” He replied. You looked around you for a makeshift spoon, but all there was around you were dirty branches.

“Stick your finger in.” He stated simply, like it was the most obvious answer. You reeled back slightly, but ultimately walked up to the man and after sucking your finger slightly to clean it, you dipped your finger inside the jar.

“Whoa, that’s way too much.” Gojo pointed out, and you winced.

“Sorry, here you can take some off-” You extended your finger, waiting for him to take it from his own, but instead, the man brought your finger up to his lips and before you could comprehend what was happening, he licked half of the brown paste from your pointer finger. Your world shattered into a million pieces as his warm tongue lapped the spread from your finger. He sucked the end slightly, and you stared slack jawed as the man licked his lips lazily.

“Mmm.” He hummed, the side of his lips tipping up as if he was satisfied with himself. “Oh, sorry. I should’ve asked.”

Your finger shook slightly from the shock, but forced yourself to speak. “It’s…fine.”

You looked away, taking the peanut butter into your own lips. You couldn’t even revel in the savory taste since he decided to pull that stunt, so you silently grabbed your hammock and began hanging it up between two trees. He started chopping wood, likely for a fire. You tried to focus on hanging the hammock, but the image and feeling of him sucking your finger would not stop replaying in your memory.

You couldn’t help but feel a warm feeling bubbling in your stomach, reaching down to your core. You wanted to think you were just hungry, but you couldn’t deny the way your body reacted to such a sultry act from the most attractive man you’ve ever met. You sighed, and almost jumped upon Gojo materializing at your side.

“You should hang it higher because our weight will make it sink.” He reached up and wrapped the straps much higher than you were able to reach. You felt your face warm again. Our weight. Like the peanut butter, the two of you would be sharing the hammock, which would provide little comfort and little space between the two of you.

“Should we call it a night?” He asked, and you nodded. “Okay, we can try to start a fire tomorrow, since it’s already late.”

With that, you climbed into the hammock and held your breath as he climbed in as well.

“I’m going to face the other way.” You said quietly, and he nodded his head, doing the same. The two of you had your backs to each other in the cramped hammock, but it was more comfortable than sleeping on the sand with bugs and other crawling creatures.

For the next hour, you couldn’t sleep, but even above the chirping crickets and sway of the leaves, you heard the faint and steady breathing of the man with his back to you. At least someone was able to rest. You sighed heavily, still in awe that this island survival show was your current reality.

If you could survive this, you could survive anything.

✭・.・✫ ☼

part 2

#gojo #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru smut #jjk #jjk smut #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #gojo x y/n #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo imagine #satoru gojo #satoru x reader #gojo smut

308 notes · View notes

zodiactalks · 5 days

Text

Top 4 Zodiacs who SUCCEED at EVERYTHING they do

Looking at successful people, it’s hard to understand how everything seems effortless to them.

Those people appear to achieve everything they set out to do. It can seem completely unfair and like they are gifted with luck.

The truth is, they work extremely hard to get to where they are. While it looks like luck from the outside, it took many failures to get where they are.

Let’s take a look at the top four zodiac signs who seem to succeed at everything they do.

#1. Virgo

Virgo is a relentless perfectionist who will do the thing.

It isn’t in Virgo’s nature to give up, even when everything is going against them. They are the types to look at a roadblock and figure out a way around it. Or over, under, and through it. No matter what, they will get to the other side.

Rejection makes Virgo more determined to succeed. Failure is a minor setback that taught them another way how to not do things.

Virgo has had one goal in mind since childhood. And they had a thousand-point plan on how to achieve it.

Ten to twenty years later, they have succeeded at it.

To everyone around them, it looks like an overnight success. It is anything but.

When Virgo explains their long process to others, it gets brushed under the rug. This irks Virgo as it feels like a dismissal of their hard work.

Virgo doesn’t like being painted as an overnight sensation. Because it simply isn’t true.

#2. Taurus

Like Virgo, Taurus has had plans since they were young.

Extremely focused on their end goals, Taurus takes the road of tireless consistency.

Do they question those goals literally every day? Yes. The goals themselves point toward a better quality of life. That is all Taurus wants.

Taurus hates struggling in the everyday grind just to survive. They envision a future where they can relax without guilt. And spend money instead of hoarding it for future emergencies.

That means they have to push themselves toward their career goals early in life. It isn’t unusual for Taurus to be bullied in their younger years for being nerdy or a bookworm.

Taurus is future-focused. They play the long game and use their plodding nature to achieve things others can’t.

From the outside, others can’t believe the person they thought was boring and unmotivated achieved such great things. It doesn’t make sense to them.

Taurus loves proving those who doubted them wrong.

#3. Capricorn

It isn’t a surprise to find Capricorn succeeding at anything they go after.

With a relentless career drive, Capricorn can achieve anything they set out to do.

For whatever reason, people don’t like to see Capricorn win. There are always people who try hard to stand in Capricorn’s way.

Ruled by the planet Saturn, that just makes Capricorn power up. Capricorn is used to obstacles getting in their way. They have built their entire character by fighting for every inch.

Getting in Capricorn’s way will have the opposite effect and essentially cause them to do better than imagined.

Capricorn thrives on adversity. They will prove themselves capable of pulling through and achieving their goals despite everything in their way.

Whether this means sacrificing personal time to work on their professional projects or climbing the ranks to be on top, Capricorn will pull through.

This often has people on the outside scratching their heads. They wouldn’t have been able to do what Capricorn did. So how is it possible Capricorn succeeded?

The answer is simple. Drive, single-mindedness, and spite.

#4. Aquarius

Aquarius always seems to be achieving a million different things at once.

With seemingly infinite energy at their disposal, Aquarius appears capable of anything.

From personal projects to somehow becoming a revolutionary leader overnight, Aquarius is always on the move.

It can baffle others how Aquarius achieves so many things and how quickly. What they don’t see is the time when Aquarius retreats into solitude. Exhausted by everything they put energy into.

Aquarius is a planner but appears to be impulsive. That is where they confuse people. A sudden decision may have been months or years in the making.

Aquarius isn’t loud about what they are planning. So, it can come as a surprise when they announce their plans which are already in motion. This gives off the impression of impulsiveness.

Because of their private nature, Aquarius doesn’t even consider sharing their personal plans with others. It isn’t their business. Therefore, why tell?

It can annoy Aquarius when others act like they are being rash. They have seen Aquarius succeed again and again, yet they are still doubted.

#Zodiac Signs #ZodiacFact #Zodiac #astrology #Aries #Aquarius #Cancer #Capricorn #leo #libra #scorpio #taurus #Pisces #Sagittarius #Gemini #virgo

19 notes · View notes

effervescentdragon · 7 months

Note

akira!! hi!!! 💖 i saw the prompt list and if you're still doing it i have a visceral need to read sebchal with 41. Reincarnation AU from you <3 💖💖

They never remember it; never the both of them.

Sometimes, Charles is the one who remembers. His name isn't Charles; hasn't been the first time and hasn't been any of the times after, except that once in the sixteenth century when Charles was a prince and they had mere two years together before Charles' cursed mother found out and decided to behead Sebastian. Sebastian does not know how Charles took it, because the next time they met, Charles did not remember anything.

Sebastian isn't always Sebastian either. This is only the second time he carries that name in his memory, but he likes it more than most of the ones he has had throughout the centuries. He likes the weight of it and the way it sounds when Charles pronounces it. He has liked it when he had first worn it, too.

(Sometimes, neither of them remember. Those times come to them in dreams in subsequent cycles, apparitions and deja vu's and familiar words and phrases that neither of them can place properly, but they sound like comfort and familiarity. When neither of them remembers, sometimes they almost miss each other. That one time, a thousand years ago, they only had a moment on the battlefield before they were struck by each other's blades. It was still enough for them to die without fear and with strange contentment in their hearts.)

This time, Sebastian is the one who remembers, and he remembers it all.

It's a funny process, remembering. Rarely does it come all at once. It's usually gradual - a memory here, a scent there, a recollection amd a thought, all of them assembling into a picture until one day he wakes up and knows.

This time, it happens when he is ten years old. Coincidentally, it is also in the year Charles was born.

(Sometimes, they are closer in age. Sometimes, they are even farther apart. Sometimes, they are the same age. Sebastian likes those times the least. It is hard to rattle Charles in any way in those times.)

Sebastian didn't know how it would play out this time, so he tried not to be too worried about it. It was very clear to him very quickly that in this life, anonymity would not be possible. The same desire that formed the core of his being - to make a difference in the world - translated into a need to be the fastest and to win. So he embraced it fully, and he gave all of himself into being the best.

(Sebastian knows two things; that for him to be a complete person he needed to win, and he needed Charles. That stays constant throughout all the lives they are cursed to live.)

It takes less than a decade more for him to find Charles. Even then, it's actually Charles that finds him.

He stumbles into Sebastian in the paddock, trailing behind his godfather into Marussia garage. He apologises, eyes wide in recognition, and Sebastian's heart stops and his tongue ties into words of a language long forgotten, the language of Sebastian's first life, when Charles was just as young as he is now and when he looked up into Sebastian's face the same way he watched him now - with awe and hope and reverence.

"Sebastian," he says, then shakes his head. "I mean, Mister Vettel, I -"

"It's okay," Sebastian hurries to say. "Sebastian - you can call me Sebastian, Ele- what's your name?" he asks, biting his tongue to cover up the slip.

"Oh, uh, Charles," he says, and Sebastian's eyes widen. "Charles Leclerc."

Jules interrupts them then, and Sebastian remembers nothing from the rest of the conversation. Charles' - his name is Charles now, and Sebastian must know what it means, must find out - Charles' eyes are as green as they were millenia and millenia ago. His eyes are always the same and always set in an unfamiliar face; a face that Sebastian inevitably falls in love with in every single life he leads.

(He doesn't know how long this curse will last. He doesn't dare ask the Gods. He doesn't dare think on it, much less pray. He always was a cowards. Charles was always the brave one.)

The first chance he gets, he looks up Charles on the internet. Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc. His heart beats too fast as he researches Charles' names' meanings. A free man. (Eleutherios). Follower of God Mars. (One of Ares'.) Eager for battle. (Anders). All the names Charles has worn before.

(Before, millenia and millenia ago. Before, their first time on this Earth, or at least the first one they can remember. Before, when they walked the streets of Troy side by side. Before, when they fought back to back, shield to shield, swors to sword on the battlefields of blood and sand, honouring their oath to Ares. Before, when they loved each other freely and defied their vow to their God for that love.)

Thoughts fly through his head. What's in a name? That is what we ask ourselves in childhood when we write the name that we are told is ours. Sebastian doesn't know what to think. Charles' name was never - this. Never so significant. Never so familiar. Is it a sign? Could it be a sign? Could it mean that this cycle is coming to an end? Metempsychosis, they called it in Greek. What Sebastian feels now is akin to the psychosis part, at least. Charles doesn't remember. He will not remwmber. He can't, because Sebastian does. It doesn't work that way. It has never worked that way. No reason why it would be different now. Longest way round is the shortest way home. What is happening? What could all this mean?

Sebastian has a race to drive. He can't think on this. He doesn't have time to think about Charles.

(He doesn't want to have his heart broken this early in life. It's inevitable, but he doesn't want it to be now.)

A hand falls down on his shoulder. "Come on, golden boy," Christian says, grinning. "You have a race to win for me."

Sebastian swallows, his head pounding in pain in the same rhytm his heart is beating. "And if I don't?"

Christian shrugs. "I'll respect you less," he says with a grin that shows all his crooked teeth. "You will lose your venerable status after those past couple of races, but you are an asshole, kid, so I think you'll survive." Christian's eyes seem to shine unnaturally for a moment, and Sebastian tries to breathe and hopes it was just a trick of the light. "The only thing to do is to fight, Sebastian. To fight until your last breath."

Christian's hand on his shoulder feels as heavy as his golden armour once did. Sebastian closes his eyes.

"I will fight," he says quietly. "You know I will fight until the end." He swallows. "I always have. I always will."

"Oh," Christian chuckles. "I know."

The words don't sound like comfort. They do, however, echo in familiarity.

Sebastian opens his eyes, and almost, almost dares to hope.

#listen. i wrote this veru drugged bcs i need to sleep before 5am #i... dont know what this is #i just hope it makes some sense #mythology reincarnation au #sebchal #f1 rpf #effervescentdragonwrites #my writing

51 notes · View notes

exhuastedpigeon · 9 months

Text

Han's far too long "I got covid for the first time and haven't felt the house in 6 days Buddie fic rec list"

This rec list is a combo of fics I read for the first time in the last week & fics I reread because they're wonderful and I needed comfort through my fever.

Break Glass in Case of Emergency by Beforeastorm 2,894 words || teen

Eddie’s mind wandered to the red folder, tucked high up in the back of his closet. He recalled back to a conversation he had with Buck, almost a year ago at this point: “It’s an insurance policy; a break glass in case of emergency. A trump card.” “One I really hope we’ll never have to use.” “But if we have to, we’ll be really glad we did this.” When hospital policy doesn't allow Chris, as an unrelated minor, to visit a comatose post-lightning strike Buck in the ICU, Eddie has a solution. Unfortunately, that involves sharing some pretty personal information in a waiting room filled with the 118.

Relationship Advice from Complete Strangers Online by HMSLusitania 3,964 words || Teen

When he gets home for the night, Buck turns to the one source of information that’s never let him down: the internet. He gets as far as opening his laptop and pulling up a web browser, and then he stalls. His homepage, for years now, has been Wikipedia. He doesn’t know how exactly he’s supposed to wiki-search “Is my best friend into me.” It’s not like he really does social media, either. Ever since he bailed on dating apps, he’s sort of tried to avoid other people online. He likes people in real spaces so much more. But where does one go for relationship advice from complete strangers online? Which is how, ten minutes later, he finds himself on Reddit with a shiny new account and username. It takes him a while after that to craft his question for r/Relationships, but he thinks he’s got it pretty accurately conveyed before he hits post. Hi, I’ve never made a Reddit post before and I’m not 100% sure what I’m doing but I need advice and can’t ask anyone in my real life. So, I [30M] have this best friend [34M]…

i got all my sisters with me by ipretendtobesane 6,766 words || teen This fic is so fucking soft and sweet. It quickly joined the ranks of my favourite Buddie fics I've ever read.

Soph to Eddie Hate Club: Hey guys! This is Alex, Sophia’s been a little out of it since Nina was born (she’s doing great, just in some pain and y’all know how weirdly woozy she gets on medicine). Combine that with a lack of sleep, and…well Y’all get it. Anyway, Soph and I wanted to host you guys next weekend. Adriana to Eddie Hate Club: YES I’m packing my bags right now Eddie to Eddie Hate Club: Are Buck and Chris invited? Soph to Eddie Hate Club: I will take any excuse to see that man up close and personal “Hey, Buck?” “Hmm.” “What do you say about a trip to Texas?” (or, eddie's sister has a baby, buck meets the diaz girls, and they're sickeningly in love for nearly seven thousand words)

knock on your door, just like before by rowan_wood 7,513 words || teen

“Here,” Buck had said, practically shoving his phone at Eddie once Eddie had said hello to both Buck and Chris and settled into a chair at the dining table, “I wrote down everything so I wouldn’t forget.” Eddie looked curiously at the screen to find Buck’s note app open to a long, long list of messages. There was a grocery list of things he needed at the top, but it soon devolved into any thing or thought that Buck had while Eddie was gone that he, apparently, wanted to tell him. or: whenever Eddie's away, Buck writes him a new note, and Eddie pines.

you can start a family who will always show you love by fleetinghearts 8,185 words || Teen

“Yeah, yeah, he’s—he’s my kid, he’s my kid,” Buck tells her, tripping over his words in the effort to get this whole process to hurry the fuck up so he can see Chris. There’s the sound of something hitting the floor from behind him, followed by what might be plastic bouncing off the shiny hospital tiles. The person at the desk looks up in surprise, over Buck’s shoulder, and he turns to look too. Eddie’s standing there, Styrofoam cup rolling at his feet, coffee splattered all down the bottom of his faded blue jeans. The plastic lid of the cup skitters over the tile before coming to a stop a few feet away. He looks like someone punched him in the gut, absolutely shellshocked, something Buck can’t quite read behind the startled expression on his face. or, buck's looking for something, and the diazes let him know he already has it

still by brewrosemilk 9,368 words || teen This fic actually ruined me. I full on sobbed reading it.

For the first time, Buck longs for a bullet wound to treat. Dirt to dig at. A door to break through. Something. There’s nothing. “Your guess was correct, Diaz,” the bomb technician tells them, as he gestures to the orange circle. “You’re standing on a large sensor plate, wired to a detonator. It’s incredibly important that you don’t move. Don’t shift. When you put your weight down, it was like cocking a gun - you take your weight off, this thing is powerful enough to take the entire house with it." Inspired by Castle, S05E22: Still

brick by spqr 10,154 words || explicit

The first thing Buck noticed when he walked through the door was the smell of plaster and wet paint. There was a white spot on the wall in the living room, primered but without any color yet, about the size of a man’s fist. Eddie looked sheepish. His knuckles were still bruised, scabbed over but healing. “You were in a coma,” was all he said. “Yeah,” Buck agreed. He knew the feeling.

things you don't say reach me somehow anyway by sibylsleaves 14,279 words || Teen

He writes CHRISTOPHER at the top of the page in capital letters. Underneath it goes BUCK. Then PEPA, CARLA, CHIM, HEN and so on until he has fifteen names listed out. Fifteen people to show his appreciation for. He starts with the easiest name first. or, Eddie tells the family he chose how much they mean to him. All of them except one.

let's build this house (into a home, baby) by withmeornotatall 24,478 words || explicit

This fic is so good. Different first meeting, but the same wonderful friendship. Christopher is a national treasure. It's a prefect fic.

"Hey, buddy!" he calls out with a grin. "Did you know that octopuses actually is the correct plural form of octopus not octopi?" "Cool." Chris smiles, but it fades just as soon as it appears. Buck dog-ears his page and sets his book down. "Everything okay?" he asks carefully, crossing to the fence. "Yeah, I'm just hungry." Christopher sighs. "Dad burnt dinner. Again." Buck glances through his open back door to the dining table with three mismatched chairs, and bites his lip. He's got no excuse today, the evening sun leaving him lethargic but not exhausted, the hour reasonable. "Hey, I've got an idea." Buck winks at Christopher. "Stay there, okay?" Buck grabs his beer, book and folding chair, setting them just inside the entrance. He makes his way to the front door, stopping at the hallway mirror to fix his curls into something a little more presentable, and walks the few yards down their adjoined porch to Christopher's door. With a deep breath, he raises his hand and knocks. The door swings open a few seconds later, and Buck's mouth goes dry at the sight that greets him (OR: the buddie neighbours au no one asked for)

i see you in my sheets (i see you in my sleep) by elless 24,981 words || explicit

Eddie kisses him in the kitchen. Bright morning sunshine spills in the window over the sink, picking out the golden flecks in Eddie’s eyes. He cradles Buck’s jaw with one warm palm, and Buck freezes for a moment, startled, before surging against Eddie. He’s still holding a hot mug of coffee that he barely fumbles onto the counter without dropping or spilling all over his shirt. He rakes his fingers into Eddie’s hair and reels him in closer, Eddie’s firm thigh slotted between his. “Eddie,” he pants as Eddie scrapes his teeth down his throat and sucks on the spot over his racing pulse. Eddie hums as he rucks Buck’ve done just about everything else two people can do together; maybe this was always inevitable. OR Buck and Eddie are FWB, act like boyfriends, and are suuuuper dumb and oblivious about everything.

in the night we trust by glorious_spoon 29,220 words || teen

It feels new, and good, and not just because it’s been so damn long since anyone has touched Eddie like this. It’s just—it’s Buck. Of course this is something they know how to do together. They’ve done just about everything else two people can do together; maybe this was always inevitable. - Or: Eddie and Buck start sleeping together when they're all stuck at Buck's place during lockdown. It still takes them almost three years to notice that they're in love.

The Heart Opening Sequence by Leslie_Knope 34,035 words || mature

Eddie’s handsome, that’s obvious, Buck clocked that the second he met him. Part of him still can’t really believe that the guy he was so threatened by at first ended up as his closest friend, which is why these weird twinges are so unsettling. Buck isn’t sure if they’re real, for one, these odd flashes of what it would be like to lean over and kiss Eddie while they’re watching a movie or brush a hand over his back while they’re in the kitchen. And for two, it’s so far out of the realm of possibility that it’s barely worth thinking about.

must be some kind of twist, I could get used to this by soyxunxperdedor 38,753 words || explicit THIS FIC!!! Accidentally married in vegas??? SIGN ME UP

He doesn’t remember much from last night, even less after the fourth or fifth tequila shot. So he certainly doesn’t remember bringing someone back to his room. He steels himself for the lancing pain and cracks his eyes open. Oh. Oh no. This is either really bad or… Well, not really good, but just. Not really bad, and that’s probably all Buck can ask for it to be. Because Eddie is in his bed, Eddie’s arm is wrapped around his waist, Eddie’s legs are tangled with his. And he has no idea why.

let the world have its way with you by fleetinghearts 54,477 words || explicit This is the best post lightening strike long form fic I've read. It doesn't gloss over Buck dying/feeling different and instead shows Eddie (and Chris) helping Buck embrace his feelings and grow together. 15/10

“It’s just that—I died,” Buck continues, voice unsteady enough that Eddie wonders if this is the first time he’s acknowledged that out loud. “I died, and there’s so much more. There’s so much more I want to do, things I don’t even know I want to do yet, and I almost had the chance to have and live them taken away. I don’t want to die and regret missing out on everything else, Eddie.” “So let’s make a list,” Eddie says. “Let’s do them.” or, a bucket list that’s really about buck needing to make a change and an eddie who’s ready to do anything to see him fall in love with life again. it takes some crossing off for eddie to realise—the thing at the top of the list in his own heart? it’s been right here all along

a body, a knife, hold steady by bvckandeddie (zukkababey) 67,425 words || mature I'm a slut for a Mr. and Mrs. Smith AU and this one is one of the best I've read.

Bogotá wasn’t Buck’s first international mission—Peru held that title—but it changed just about everything. Because Bogotá was where he met Eddie. Or, Buck and Eddie meet, fall in love, build a life together, and discover they're rival assassins—exactly in that order.

wishing to be the friction by ipretendtobesane 97,200 words || explicit

Buck and Eddie are straight best friends who start having no strings attached sex. Eddie has a hard time having sex with someone he doesn't trust, and Buck's tired of hookups after being with Abby. Besides, they're both comfortable with their sexuality, and there's nothing wrong with giving your friend a hand. What's surprising is how long it took them to fall into bed together, really. What's entirely unsurprising is how quickly strings start getting attached. or; the straight eddie friends with benefits fic

#buddie #buddie rec list #buddie fic rec #buddie 911 #911

111 notes · View notes

specialagentlokitty · 1 month

Text

Master chief x Male!reader - everybody needs somebody

Hello my attention has been cought i have been a simp for Master Chief for a while now and the heavens have blessed me with your blog can i maybe request a Master Chief x male reader with prompt 3? - @ryotsugikuni 💜

3. “He/she/they carry more anger and pain then the whole universe combined, I can see it. Betrayal, hurt, deception, heartache, they’ve been through it all. He/she/they walked through hell a thousand times.” “Why are you telling me this?” “Because the only time I’ve ever seen true peace in his/her’s/their eyes is when he/she/they saw you.”

Some people had their choice of jobs that they could do, with skills or qualifications like no other.

Others didn’t have this job freedom, and for you, going into the marines was the best thing for you at the time, and you were good at it.

You loved your job, you loved fixing things, so it was a no brainer when it came to being a mechanic for the UNSC, and it was no shock when you were put on reach to aid them.

Everywhere needed mechanics to fix things, and reach was no different, the only part that was different was the types of soldiers on there and the missions they did.

It was how you met the Spartans, you had been fixing their gear long enough that whenever something needed sorting they just came straight to you instead of letting it run down the chain of command.

You knew how they all liked things done, you knew who would be willing to wait and who needed it sorted straight away.

It was how you met John as well, and he was curious about you, he’d seen you around training, and you were better than most of the marines that just seemed to half ass everything, you were dedicated, but you weren’t out fighting like everybody else.

In fact, you never left reach.

Whereas everybody else did every so often rotate out, you didn’t, you were one of the only constant soldiers on that whole planet, and you didn’t seem to care about it.

Thats when he decided to approach you, while you were working out in the gym.

“Why do you never leave?”

You blinked, turning around to the Spartan, trying to process his straight forward approach.

“Huh? Leave where? The gym? Because I do I swear.”

“No. Reach. You never leave reach, you’ve seemingly been here as long as we have.”

You laughed a little bit, shaking your head.

“No, I’ve been here maybe ten years though. Give it take I suppose.”

John sat down on the bench in front of you, watching as you went back to your pull ups.

“Why?”

“Why do I stay? Or why don’t I leave?”

“Aren’t they the same thing?”

“Depending on who you ask, my answer will vary depending on what you ask me.”

John studied your for a moment, and you hung down from the bars, giving him a little grin.

“Maybe I just enjoy it here, who knows.”

“Why don’t you leave?”

You hummed a little bit, going back to doing a few more pull ups before you dropped down, heading to your water bottle.

You stood in front of him, and he sat patently waiting for your reply.

“I don’t leave because there’s nothing else for me anywhere else. Here I at least have a bed, a job and some food.”

“I see. Why do you stay?”

“I stay because I love my job.”

You grinned brightly at him.

“Officer (Y/N) (L/N), pleasure to meet you formally John 117. I’m the one that fixes your armour, guns, and ships.”

With that, you picked your shirt up, tossing it over your shoulder as you left the gym to go back to your room.

That’s how you first formally met one another, and from then you found yourself seeing him around a lot more.

You didn’t mind it, it was nice to have a friend who wasn’t going to be leaving Reach, somebody who was there all the time just like you were.

John wasn’t all too talkative, but you had that covered, you could talk for days and he would just sit there and listen to you.

Today was no different, you were sat having dinner, telling John about some damage on his suit while he just sat opposite you listening.

“I may have to replace some of the inner wiring in your helmet if that’s alright?”

John blinked a few times.

“Okay. I will bring it by your office in the morning.”

“Actually, could you bring it by later on tonight? I’m on call so something to work on will be great.”

John nodded his head, turning back to the file that he was originally reading.

You turned back to your own work, humming under your breath as you picked up your pen.

“What is that?”

“What’s what John?” You asked.

“The humming you’re doing, what is it?”

“It’s a song, I can’t remember the name or the words, just the tune. But it’s nice. Don’t you listen to music?”

He glanced up from his file.

“No.”

“Damn man, you really should, you’re missing out you know.”

“Why do you like music?”

“I guess it’s just a good distraction, and it can help me work through my emotions.”

He nodded his head.

“Will you show me music?”

You laughed softly, smiling up at him.

“Yeah, I’ll show you music John. I’ll show you some when you bring by the helmet.”

You got up, grabbed your things and excused yourself, heading back to your office.

You were so focused on your work you nearly missed the sound of a shout from somewhere in the hallway.

Glancing at the clock, you saw you had been at it for hours, and that it was early morning.

Getting up, you made your way into the hallway, and you looked around, following the sound.

“Rizz, Kai, Vennick, what’s wrong?”

“Something is wrong with the chief.”

They pointed down the hallway, and you looked to see John holding his head in his hands.

“Alright guys, can you go get a doctor, Kai go around make sure he doesn’t try run.”

They did as you asked, and you slowly walked over.

“John?”

He shook his head, mumbling something you couldn’t understand, but he was angry, you knew that much.

“John? Hey.”

You stood in front of him, and he backed away from you, back against the wall.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s me. It’s (Y/N). The annoying ass engineer.”

John looked at you.

“I need you to sit down, can you sit down for me?”

John nodded, slowly sitting himself down, and you knelt in front of him.

“John what’s going on?”

He shook his head, and you smiled a little.

“Alright, we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t want to talk about it…” he grumbled.

“Okay, that’s cool man. Do you wanna just sit here? Or come to my office?”

“I will come to your office.”

You nodded your head, standing up with him, and you escorted him to your office, letting him go inside.

You turned around to the other three Spartans.

“Thanks guys, go get some rest, I’ll send John through when he’s calmed down.”

“He is calm.” Vennick said.

“I don’t quite thinks so.”

“He is.” Rizz nodded.

You furrowed your brows at them both.

“How do you know?”

None of them said anything, so you walked into your office and sat down on the couch next to him.

“I am sorry I’m keeping you from your work.

You knocked your shoulder into his.

“It’s cool, I’m down for blowing off work anyways.” You grinned.

“Will you show me the music?”

“Yeah, come here.”

You took him over to the console in the corner of the room, and you began showing him all the different songs you had.

John stood next to you, invested in what you were showing him, and he touched one of the song titles, playing that song.

“This is very loud.”

“Yeah rock isn’t for everybody.”

“I don’t mind it.”

“Who woulda thought Master chief was a rock kinda dude.”

He looked at you and you grinned brightly.

“Where can I find this?” He asked.

“On my console, none of the others have it but I build mine out of boredom, but you’re welcome to come and listen to music whenever you want.”

“Thank you.”

You pat his back a few times.

“Hang around here for a little bit, I’ll send everybody away.”

“Thank you.”

You nodded, heading to a different console while John explored the music that you had on the other console.

It was quiet, with John occasionally asking you about some songs or to help him find something.

After a few hours there was a knock on your office door, and John snapped his head to it.

You raised your hand to him.

“I’ll see who it is.”

Walking over, you opened it to find Miranda stood there.

“Hey, I heard there was some troubles with john, is he alright?”

“Yeah, yeah he’s alright he’s in here.”

She smiled, nodding her head.

“Can I see him?”

You held up a hand, turned to John nodded his head and you let the doctor in so she could go and talked to him.

You walked to the other side of the room and sat on the couch while you waited, and eventually Miranda walked over to sit with you.

“He won’t talk with me, but he seems to be okay in here. Can he stay here with you?”

“Yeah, he’s always welcome here.”

You turned to look at her.

“You know, I’ve realised something.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

She looked at you.

“He carries more anger and pain than the whole universe combined, I can see it. Betrayal, hurt, deception, heartache, he’s been through it all. He walked through hell a thousand times.”

You glanced at John then turned to her once again .

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because the only time I’ve ever seen true peace in his eyes is when he saw you.”

You looked at John, and he was looking at you with a mixture of curiosity and calmness.

You smiled at him, turning back to Miranda.

“He needs a friend.”

“It looks like he found a friend.” She said

#halo #halo x reader #halo x you #halo imagine #halo the series #John 117 #john 117 x reader #john 117 x you #John 117 imagine #master chief #master chief x reader #master chief x you #master chief imagine

37 notes · View notes