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one-sad-human · 3 years ago

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•Worth It• Duff Mckagan

Pairing: Velvet Revolver era! Duff Mckagan x Younger! Reader

Requested? Nope!

Theme: Little bit of everything/???

Warnings: Language, panic attacks, anxiety references, drug references

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Fic 2 of 2! This is the longest fic yet! Took a different approach to writing this one, hopefully it payed off. Let me know if you guys liked it or if I wasted my time with this one lol.

You had met Duff in a coffee shop in LA. It was crowded and you were lucky enough to snag a chair before the lunch rush. Duff wasn't, and asked you if he could sit at your table.

You grew up with Guns n Roses, bought his solo album the day it came out when you were just 15, and now listened to Velvet Revolver faithfully. To see your idol, your celebrity crush stand right in front of you holding a cup of coffee and a scone sent you for a loop.

"Of course," you had said, starry eyed. You were only hoping he was as kind as the interviews made him out to be. Maybe have a conversation with you and be polite for a while before leaving and never seeing each you again. That would be good enough.

It didn't end with a coffee, it had just begun. He asked for your number, and you stared at him for a moment thinking you had imagined it. That was until he tilted his head a little and looked at you with a nervous expression. He backtracked and you immediately stopped him.

"No! I mean— yes! Yes, you can absolutely have my number." You scrambled for a pen and paper and ended up scratching your number on a receipt from the record store. You shook so hard you could barely get the numbers down.

Out of all the record store receipts you've stuffed into your bag, the one you gave Duff Mckagan had to be the one for when you bought Velvet Revolver's 'Contraband.' He didn't say anything, just smiled and promised to call.

You honestly didn't think he would've. You played it off as just him trying to be nice. It didn't stop you from answering every call you got for the next three days, however, even if you recognized the number as the tax collector you'd normally never answer.

But then he called.

"I tried calling sooner, but I kept calling the wrong number. You don't have the most eligible handwriting," he had told you. You laughed but really, you were in shock.

You set up a date at the fancy restaurant downtown that always intimidated you. You didn't say anything though, even though you knew you wouldn't want any of the overpriced food and you'd end up eating something you couldn't pronounce and was two portions too small. Maybe even hit up a fast food joint afterwards.

When the day finally came, you couldn't even figure out what to wear. You couldn't tell if you looked underdressed or like you were trying too hard. Did the clothes even fit the right way? What would Duff think? Would he even care?

All questions were answered when you left your house. Duff was leaning against his slick car parked in your driveway, a button up that was barely buttoned and dress pants with boots. He stared at you and you wanted a hole in the ground to shallow you up until he smiles.

"You look gorgeous," he said. You blushed and grinned, thanking him before saying that he looked great too. He drove you to the restaurant and on the way, you talked about music.

You shared some of your favorites, he adored how well rounded you were. You liked pretty much everything from punk rock to the mellowest of mellow. Duff mentioned some of his favorites, some you made sure to remember the names of so you can check them out.

When the ride was over and you finally got to the restaurant, your previous fears came back. Duff reassured you looked better than 90% of the people there and you knew it wasn't true but it made you feel better anyway.

Your eyes widened to the size of saucers when you saw the prices of the food. You knew it'd be pricey but you thought there'd be more options that stayed within two digit numbers.

Duff saw your panicked expression and said not to worry, he'd pay. It didn't settle your nerves enough and when the waiter came, you ordered the cheapest and simplest thing you could find.

"Chicken noodle soup?" He teased. You shyly looked down and shrugged. "This isn't your scene, is it?"

"Not exactly, no."

"Want me to be completely honest with you?" You nodded. "It's not mine either."

That's all it took for you and Duff to scramble sheepishly out of the restaurant. You both shared a laugh in the car and went to Burger King. It was much more your speed and, as you'd find out that night, Duff's too. You suppose all the money he's had since such a young age didn't completely change his ways. He was like a kid trapped in a 40 year old man's body.

You'd thought at first the age gap would feel strange, after all, you were 15 years younger than him. But after that night, it was barely noticeable. Funny looks from strangers every once in a while was nothing.

By the second date, Duff was already aware fancy spots weren't your forte. He told you it was a surprise and to wear something cozy, as LA nights got chilly.

He packed a picnic basket and drove you out to the most beautiful flower field you had ever seen at sunset. It was secluded and high up, giving a perfect view of the city skyline. After gawking and taking in the sights for a few moments, you regained your ability to speak.

"It's gorgeous. Pretty far from the city, did you take me here to kill me?" You joked. He laughed and rolled his eyes. His lighthearted laugh sent sparks straight to your heart, and you decided that it was your favorite sound.

You unfolded the blanket Duff brought and you both sat down. You ate the sandwiches and sliced fruit Duff packed and talked. You talked about everything, from your family to fears and insecurities.

You told him how you suffer from nightmares. Flashbacks from your broken childhood coming back to bite you in your sleep. Duff shared how he's suffered from panic attacks since he was a teenager. You felt you knew each other for years.

Neither of you felt weird for sharing and neither made the other insecure. You were completely open and honest with each other. It was strange, you've never connected to quickly and effortlessly with someone before. Sure, you've had men in your life, but never had you clicked with someone so fast, never had you fit with someone so perfectly.

Hours passed and it felt like minutes. Only did you realize how late and how exhausted you were when you saw most of the city buildings light have gone off for the night. The city that didn't sleep was dark.

"I should get you home," Duff said to you.

"Will you stay the night?" You felt a little silly for asking. Were things going too fast? Would he even want to stay over?

He agreed, and that's how your first night together went. You both stayed up even later and had more lighthearted conversations, unlike the ones that partook at the field. Like how one of Duff's first jobs was at a bakery and could bake a mean cake and how you can't cook to save your life.

You ended up waking up without remembering falling asleep. You're head was placed comfortably on Duff's lap while his head was lolled back against the couch cushion. He looked so serene and peaceful you couldn't help but smile at the sight.

You made toast and somewhat successfully cooked some eggs and bacon. It might have been the first breakfast in years that didn't end with the smoke alarm going off.

Duff eventually wandered into the kitchen and you both ate. By the time he left, another date was already set up. He was like a drug an you were already hooked.

Months later and the addiction still wasn't kicked. You didn't want to, and Duff didn't seem to want you to quit either. You both soaked each other up like the sun on a warm day.

You had almost weekly dates and you stayed over each other's houses almost every other day. Duff did have his kids some days, though, so some days dates were cut short or Grace and Mae slept over his house and you wouldn't see each other.

You were always understanding, his kids came first and you'd never blame or get upset about it. It's something Duff admires about you, your never ending understanding and empathy for him.

One of those days where Duff stayed over at your house started normal. He cooked dinner and you washed the dishes, and then you put on an old Ramones concert you had on DVD.

You were laying on his chest, his fingers running through your hair when all of a sudden, he tensed up. He quickly stood and excused himself to the bathroom. You frowned but before you could think much of it, you heard a loud bang and something clatter to the ground.

You jumped up and rushed to the bathroom. You swung open the door because you were perfectly aware the lock hasn't worked since you moved in.

Duff was sitting on the floor, a pill bottle laying on its side not far from him. You quickly spot the name of the medication and identified it as your anti-anxiety pills. You shoved them aside and sat next to Duff.

He was sweating bullets and his skin felt cold and clammy, his breaths were labored and heartbeat was loud and pounding erratically. You coax him gently to take deep breaths, holding onto his hand tightly and talking quietly.

"I'm sorry, they come on randomly sometimes," he apologized after he'd called down, but you quickly shushed him. You reminded him of just how many nightmares he'd comforted you for and he stops feeling so bad about it.

It was always a true partnership with Duff. Never had you felt you gave or took too much, it was always equal. Always a two way street, with everything.

That wasn't the last panic attack you had to help him come down from. Later down the line you've gotten better at calming him down and learning his triggers, even though sometimes they really do come on suddenly without reason.

A year into the relationship was when you met Grace and Mae. They were young and didn't completely understand why their parents weren't together anymore, so it took them a while to warm up to you. Luckily, they eventually came around.

Duff and Susan met up regularly to discuss their kids and co-parent properly. And while you had all the reason to be jealous of your boyfriend with his ex wife, you never did. You had complete confidence in him, he was honest and loyal and you doubted he'd ever hurt you purposely.

That's why it destroyed you when he left you. Tears were shed from both parties as he gave his reasons for breaking up with you. His insecurities he tried his best to bury had come to light and nothing could change his mind.

You thought you were completely honest with each other, but you suppose his doubt in his relationship with you was the one thing he kept secret. He had somehow convinced himself you'd be better without him, between the constant touring and the baggage that came with him and his kids, he finally buckled under the weight and stress.

You had tried to convince him that he was worth it, but if Duff is one thing it's stubborn. The best relationship you'd ever have and the best year of your life went down the drain within the matter of one conversation.

You were down in the dumps for days. You barely left your bed and didn't ever leave your house. You were in a depression and couldn't get out. A few of your friends eventually found out what had happened and broke into your house and shoved you into the shower before taking you to your favorite Chinese restaurant.

You felt like a disaster. Your hair was ratted despite the shower and you refused to put real clothes on, instead wearing sweatpants and a shirt Duff had left behind. You were a mess.

The hole in the wall restaurant was never busy but always had the best food. You were almost happy your friends dragged you out of your home until you saw Duff sitting at a table, eating egg rolls and lo mein.

You've came here together all the time. The high sodium in the food always made him sick to his stomach and you'd always end up giving him nausea remedies and tea. He never changed his order though.

You locked eyes with him for a while. Dark bags were under his eyes and he looked more pale than usual. He looked as terrible as you felt. You weren't sure if you were spitefully glad he felt awful or if the despair on his face just made your heart break further.

When you couldn't take his intense jade stare anymore, you looked up at the menu. The next time you looked back he was gone, you weren't sure if he was really there at all or if you were finally losing your mind for good.

Another week crawled by. You got better enough to continue working. You had to pick up extra time for calling out for a few days after the breakup. You wouldn't say things were going well, but you weren't crying in bed every day all day anymore.

You had constant dreams about him. Some were nice, ones where he didn't leave and you were together, holding each other tightly. Most were nightmares, flashbacks of when he left. You didn't have him to comfort you anymore when you woke up soaked in sweat and tears, and that might've been the worst.

Another week went by, and you were starting to get back into the swing of things. You still thought about him, even silly little things reminded you of him. Like when you would catch a sniff of freshly baked sweets like he'd bake you or certain songs playing on the radio. It also didn't help that you ran into people wearing Guns n Roses shirts on the daily.

You also refused to get rid of anything he'd left behind. Tee shirts, guitar picks he left from when he'd play for you, or CDs from bands he introduced you to. Reminders of what you lost were scattered around your home but you couldn't bring yourself to do anything about it.

Suddenly, it's been a month. You weren't over him, but you had a feeling you'd never be completely. He was something special, you can't forget things as special as your relationship with Duff.

His items still weren't thrown out or returned, instead all packed in a box sitting in your closet. But you'd be lying if you said you would never reach into the box to grab a shirt to sleep in or a CD to listen to when you needed a reminder of the good times. You were making progress though.

You decided to leave your house one evening. You were feeling especially terrible and wanted to take a walk to clear your head. You went to the coffee shop you had first met Duff in. Maybe it was a mistake to go and get a flood of memories but you couldn't stop yourself.

You sat in a seat near the window and people watched, taking occasional sips of your drink. It was quiet except from the talk of the workers and the hum of the overhead speakers.

There was a sudden squeak of a chair of hardwood floors and it broke you out of your daze. You snapped your gaze up to meet the very familiar green eyes you've been trying to forget.

"Can we talk?" He asked, and you couldn't say 'no.' Duff sat across from you and started off by apologizing.

He said he wanted to talk to you sooner, but was too afraid you wouldn't want anything to do with him. You rolled your eyes at that, if only he knew just how much you missed him.

He then started from the beginning and explained why he made the decision to leave you. As it turns out, it was mostly because of stress. His bandmate Scott was having problems with drugs and the flashbacks from his GnR days frightened him. He was worried he would end up relapsing and he didn't want to drag you down with him.

Combine that with all the troubles that came with dating a single father, and he couldn't take it anymore. He felt too guilty.

It all seemed like ridiculous reasons to you. Even if he had made the mistake of falling off the wagon, you still would've stuck with him. And you didn't mind his kids at all, after nearly a year of knowing them and you were very close to them.

"I love you, Duff. I wouldn't have left you over that, I'd help you through anything. And I love Grace and Mae, too," you told him.

"I know, but I didn't want you to have to deal with all that baggage." You frowned at that. You reached your hand across the table and grasped his, squeezing it tenderly.

"You're worth it."

After that day, you and Duff started seeing each other again. It wasn't the same as before, but maybe even better.

You were more transparent with each other. If one had a worry or problem, you'd go to the other. You talked everything through with him and he did the same. Even if it seemed insignificant, talking everything through never failed to make it better.

You were happier and healthier than ever before. Sure, there were a roadblock or two, but they only made the relationship even stronger, and you wouldn't have changed a thing about it.

#classic rock imagine #guns n’ roses #guns n’ roses x reader #guns n’ roses imagine #80s #duff mckagan fluff #duff mckagan x reader #duff mckagan #duff mckagan imagine

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northoftheroad · 5 years ago

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The Robin 80th Anniversary Special

It's not a secret that I'm first and foremost a Dick Grayson fan, whether he comes dressed as Robin, Nightwing, Batman or something else. But I try to be charitable and be happy for fans of the other Robins that they got a pice of the birthday cake, i. e. the Robin 80th Anniversary Special.

For your enjoyment (?), here are my thoughts about the book. Spoilers ahead, obviously – don't like, don't read!

I honestly thought almost all of the stories were ok – but pretty forgettable. Marv Wolfman's spin on Dick leaving to become Nightwing, in "A little nudge" (art by Tom Grummett and Scott Hanna), is probably the only one I will remember and reference in the future. I don't know if or how it is supposed to fit into the (any?) continuity, but as far as I can see, it works nicely in the current setting.

Dick's parting from Robin and Bruce was successively portrayed as more and more hostile. When he originally left Robin to become Nightwing (1983–1984), the two still had a good relationship. This changed in comics to, first, that Bruce decided to retire Robin, and then to that Bruce outright fired Dick and kicked him out of the cave. This lead to that their relationship was portrayed as poor, antagonistic even, for a good many comics years.

The bad mood was picked up by Batman The Animated Series, where Dick left being resentful of Bruce and his methods.

I don't have a lot of good things to say about what has happened to the Bat-family after Flashpoint. But from what we've seen from scattered panels, Dick was the one who decided he wanted to leave Robin. You can read Marv Wolfman's story as confirmation of that. Which is nice.

Bruce is only a little bit of a jerk in this story, being utterly rigid about that Robin has to follow orders. Dick, however, chooses to stay with a kid that had been shot instead of following the criminals.

Dick has had it with Bruce's rules and leaves the cave, but he says "later" rather than "goodbye".

It's made clear that those strict rules were Bruce's way to say, "I know you've grown up, and you should move on; I'll be fine without you."

Batman # 408, where Bruce decides to retire Robin because he got scared when the Joker shot Dick, is firmly established in my mind as the "correct" leaving story in my mind. It was the only one I had read and knew of for many years, and the two still part on decent terms. But Marv Wolfman's 80th Anniversary version has a lot going for it.

On to the rest of the stories...

"Aftershocks" By Chuck Dixon, art Scott McDaniel and Rob Hunter.

Set during Cataclysm (a storyline from 1998) where Dick lived in Blüdhaven before he moved back to Gotham and became Batman. It's an action-filled story where (fingerstripe) Nightwing comes to Gotham after an earthquake has hit the city.

It's interesting to read this, living through the corona crisis that is going on right now. I don't know how it is where you live, but where I am, people are setting up networks to help people who can't go out to shop or walk the dog, University students are helping kids do their math lessons with the help of Facebook, people make masks for health workers etc. But when Chuck Dixon writes what happens after a catastrophe, Dick has to fight his way through masked thugs who are trying to rob an ambulance of "painkillers and tranks" when he tries to save a cab from falling with a damaged bridge. A woman is giving birth inside the car, and the story ends with that the mother wants to name the boy after Nightwing.

"Well...Robin works, right", he says.

"Team building" by Devin Grayson, art Dan Jurgens and Norm Rapund.

Well, I'll always soak up everything that has to do with Dick and the Titans – Teen Titans, New Teen Titans, Titans, any Titans...

Devin Grayson wrote The Titans 1999–2000, which is the setting of this story. Most of it takes place inside a H.I.V.E. locale, where an exasperated boss (Damien Darkh) chews out his soldiers after a fight with the Titans. But Darkh decides not to kill the lot of them, because they did distract the Titans while he stole a red crystal/power source. Of course, it turns out Dick is the soldier who has kept his helmet on; he takes the crystal with him and gives Darkh a bit of advice on team-building on his way out.

"Generally speaking, fear of execution isn't a great motivator. I've found basic team-building and morale-boosting to be much more effective. Like, I'm just spitballing here, but... You ever consider a pizza night?"

Well, it did keep me amused, and it shows us that Dick is a good leader and strategist, (and a great acrobat who manages to get out of the H.I.V.E. uniform with one hand, on the way out), although it isn't exactly a surprise that Dick was in the building when you get near the end.

"The Lesson Plan" by Tom King and Tim Seeley, art Mikel Janín.

Now, I do like some things about the Grayson run, but with a bit of distance, I've realized it was mostly the art. The sexualization of Dick and how King and Seely wrote him as a guy who jumps first and plans never got tiresome. This story is in-character for Grayson; Dick is accompanied by a girl (Paris) from St Hadrian's on a mission, and on the way, he remembers the lessons Batman gave him and imparts his own interpretation of them to Paris. As is Batman says, "plan everything", and Dick says "Improvise. Leap first... figure it all out on the way down." Ergo, classic King and Seeley. Also, it is possibly implied Dick made out with a beautiful girl that turned out to be gorilla in disguise...? Yep, vintage King and Seeley.

Other than that, I don't have a big problem with the story. Some things ring true to me – as when Dick remembers Batman saying, "At their core, people are cowardly and self-serving. Trust no one until you know them. And even then, never completely". And what Dick says is, "Give the benefit of the doubt until you gotta knock 'em out."

For my own peace of mind, I'm reading this as Dick is half-joking with his advice. It's not like we've never seen him make plans and be suspicious post-Flashpoint.

On a side note, one of the best characterizations of Dick Grayson to my mind is a panel from Black Mirror. When Dick explains he had injected James Gordon Jr with a subdermal tracer, and says about himself, "I am a softie. And I do try to see the best in people... but that doesn't mean I'm stupid."

Detective Comics # 881. By Scott Snyder, art Jock and Francesco Francavilla.

"More Time" by Judd Winnick, art Dustin Nguyen.

Jason has a cute story about him repairing Thomas Wayne's watch as a present to Bruce. He started the work as a tiny Robin (too tiny, in my opinion, but with Dustin Nguyen on art it probably couldn't turn out any other way) and finished the work as Red Hood. Jason delivers the present to Bruce on his birthday, placing it on the Batmobile while it is parked in a Gotham alley.

"Extra Credit" by Adam Beechen, art Freddie E. Williams II.

Tim has an appointment with the guidance counsellor at Gotham City High School. Tim sees a future in law enforcement (that's the first I've heard of that, but I'm no expert on Tim) and he's adopted (again, something I haven't seen post-Flashpoint). But the counsellor doubts that Tim will be admitted because he has nothing to show when it comes to extracurricular activities. It's kind of a fun few pages where the counsellor suggests things that Tim could do, and Tim thinks about what he does as Robin on his spare time.

"Boy Wonders" by James Tynion IV, art Javier Fernandez.

Tim, Red Robin, is unsure what he wants to do with his life and goes to his brothers? fellow Robins? for advice.

I know emotions have been running high because Dick tells Tim that he is "demonstrably smarter" than he is, which makes it sound as if Dick is not really smart at all.

Again, for my peace of mind, I choose to read this as I want: that "big brother" Dick is encouraging, he has always thought highly of Tim, he has no ego to preserve. This doesn't make Dick a reliable narrator on the subject, and the page ends with that Tim thinks "He was the first. He's the best. He's always going to be the role model. "So, two brothers who admire each other.

Tim also talks to Jason and Tim, and the story ends with that he tells Batman he wants to start Gotham Knights protocol, the team in Detective Comics (Rebirth.) 2016-2018.

"Fitting In" by Amy Wolfram, art Damion Scott.

Stephanie, as Robin has problems because Tim's Robin suit doesn't fit her female body. But at the end of the day, Bruce gives Stephanie her own "changing room" in the Bat-cave, because she's female.

...are Bruce and Alfred idiots? Did Dick, Jason and Tim have exactly the same body type when they were Robin? Stephanie deserved a story worth being told, not this one.

"My Best Friend" by Peter J. Tomasi, art Jorge Jimenez.

Jonathan Kent writes a school essay about his best friend, Damian. As he writes the words on his laptop at home, they are illustrated with pcitures of the two as both Robin and Superboy, and as Damian and Jon in civvies. Tomasi and Jimenez worked with Super Sons (2017–2019), and though I didn't read that, I'm pretty sure this story is an extra chapter in that series.

"Bat and Mouse" by Robbie Thompson, art Ramon Villalobos.

It's not the worst story in the book, but somehow the one I disliked the most. It is part of what is going on in Teen Titans and Bat-titles right now; we see Alfred's tombstone and how Batman and Robin have a strained relationship and difficulties in communicating. I'm not keeping up with what is going on with Damian and Bruce in detail, so I really can't say whether this story is consistent with how things have been going lately. I'll let Bruce-and-Damian fans take that ball.

To be honest, my reaction to "Bat and Mouse" is probably due to that I really, really don't like what's happened in the Bat titles lately. I firmly hope that the current situation will be changed and Alfred will be alive again, and I wish I could go back and re-read this book years from now without being reminded of this very dark time when DC seemingly doesn't want any money from me for new comics...

Being who I am, I probably take it waaaaay too seriously to try to understand where/if these stories fit in the DC continuity... The writers have probably (rightly) thought more about writing a good story than making it consistent with any grand plan for a timeline for all of the DC universe. But whatever.

The Grayson story clearly happens in a post-Flashpoint universe, as does Damian's and Tim's stories. But Tim says he's adopted, which I believe has never been said outright post-Flashpoint. And Stephanie has as far as I know not been Robin in this continuity. Chuck Dixon's Nightwing story is explicitly set during Cataclysm (a storyline from 1998) where Dick lived in Blüdhaven before he moved back to Gotham and became Batman. Post-Flashpoint, he moves to Blüdhaven for the first time in Nightwing vol 4., so Dixon's story should take place in the old continuity.

On the other hand. The last pages of the book are made to look like profile overviews in the Bat-computer and use pictures from different Robin runs. If the snippets of information are supposed to be the current continuity for the Robins, a lot from the pre-Flashpoint universe is back in canon.

Shortly, Dick was adopted (that's the word they use), formed the Teen Titans, moved to Blüdhaven and was Agent 37 for a while. Blüdhaven comes before Agent 37, but it's not explicitly stated when he first moved there. Because if Dick was in Blüdhaven before his time with Spyral, it is inconsistent with parts of Rebirth Nightwing. (Which I can live with...)

Jason's story starts as the street kid who tries to steal the tires of the Batmobile, his stint as Robin was short, and today, Red Hood has formed a tenuous alliance with Batman. Tim uncovered Batman's secret and made a bid to become the new Robin – and his new moniker "Drake" is acknowledged. Stephanie was Robin for a very short while. Damian was created with genetic material that Talia stole after a romantic tryst with Bruce, and he was bred to be an assassin.

Personally, of course, I think that Dick Grayson was worth more of an effort from DC on his 80th anniversary. But on the whole, the things we got were decent, "A little nudge" gave me something I will keep with me, and several of the covers are great.

(The cover photo is still pinched from Dan Jurgens' Twitter – I haven't bought all of the variant covers.)

#Dick Grayson #Robin #Nightwing #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #Damian Wayne #80 years with Dick Grayson

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killervibe · 5 years ago

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Written in Your Heart

A Killervibe & Frost/Ronnie Princess and the Pauper AU!

Summary: Once upon a time, in a village high on the mountaintop, two identical baby girls were born. One, into royalty and was named Princess Caitlin. The other, to a poor family working under a harsh dressmaker. They named her Frosteline. With lives so different, it wasn’t surprising that the Princess and the Pauper never met. But fate decreed they would.

Chapter One

~.~

Long ago, and far away, in a central village high on a mountaintop, something amazing happened. At the very same moment, two identical baby girls were born. One, a baby Princess. The King and Queen were overjoyed, for they had been longing for a child all their lives. Princess Caitlin would have only the finest. The second baby girl was named Frosteline. Her parents loved her every bit as much as the King and Queen loved Princess Caitlin. But they worried, fighting to make ends meet under the employment of a compassionless dressmaker.

Many years passed and the Princess learned her royal duties, while Frosteline worked long and hard as a seamstress for the spiteful Miss Amunet. Frosteline's parents were long gone, resting in the cemetery under the grass. They had died in the same accident that took the life of King Thomas when Princess Caitlin and Frosteline were only twelve.

With lives so different, it wasn’t surprising that the Princess and the Pauper never met. But fate decreed they would.

It all started at the Royal Mine, when the miners informed the Queen the gold had run out. The widowed Queen was shocked. The Kingdom would now surely go bankrupt. People would starve, find no work and will perish under these conditions. How was she going to take care of them with no more resources? If only she could call on her trusted advisor Hunter Zolomon, but he was away on a long journey to Star Kingdom. She needed to do something quickly to save the kingdom before they’d turn against the monarchy, or worse, each other.

But what?

And then it struck her. Nearby lived a rich young King who was seeking a wife.

~.~

“Damn it,” Frosteline groaned, nursing her bleeding thumb at her hundredth prick of the day. “I just want a day to myself!”

“I hear you, sister,” Ralph, her only friend chimed in from his own stitching across the room. After hours upon hours of labour in the dreary basement of Miss Amunet’s Dress Emporium, it often felt as though Ralph were the only other person on the planet. “You think the woman would hire more help.”

“Hire more help?” Frosteline repeated incredulously. “We’re only here because we’re indentured servants, Ralph. Nobody in their right minds would willingly work here.”

“Yeah, well. Nobody but our dear old dead parents, right?” Ralph stood up, cracking his back from lack of exercise. He walked across the room to inspect Frosteline’s injury. “Let me look at it. You’re bleeding.”

Frosteline waved him off. “I’ll be fine.” She closed her eyes and hummed her mother’s old nursery rhyme as the cut stitched itself back together.

Ralph didn’t like how her eyes glowed when she used her power. He made a noise of consternation, returning to his pile of fabric. “You’re lucky that Miss Amunet hasn’t yet accused you of witchcraft.”

Frosteline froze over the wedding gown she had just crocheted. “Don’t call it that. I told you—I was born like this.”

“It’s where you got your name, right, yes, I heard the story before. I just worry about your safety, Frost. Don’t think I don’t know you do magic shows in the village at noon.”

“I make some snow for extra change. So what? The people like it.”

Footsteps went thundering down the stairs. The two ran back to their workstations.

“It’s not the people I’m scared of,” Ralph muttered under his breath.

“I’m hearing whispers. What is this? A gossip club?”

“I would’ve said a debtor’s prison,” Frosteline replied automatically. Ralph gaped at her from across the room. She too realized her mistake. She tended to talk before she used her brain. It was something she needed to work on.

“Keep laughing, my lovely!” Amunet surveyed their work. She beamed, at the finished gown on Frosteline’s desk, showing all her teeth. “You’ll be working for me for another thirty-seven years!”

“But I already paid off more than half!”

Amunet hummed, undisturbed. “Oh, but haven’t you heard? The kingdom is going into a recession. So I’ve decided to remember....What was it again?" She drummed her fingertips against her face, pretending to ponder, then clapped her hands suddenly. " oh yes! There’s an interest, isn’t there? Your parents should’ve thought of that before they borrowed so much.”

“They did it to feed her!” Ralph snapped. Amunet glared as he shrunk back in his wooden seat.

“Their mistake.” She took the finished wedding gown and stuffed it in a box without so much of another word.

Ralph mimed sticking a finger down his throat. Frosteline’s mouth twisted in disgust. She hated her too.

~.~

Cisco turned the page of his leather-bound book. “That concludes your lesson in chemistry. Not that you needed it.”

The princess gave a reluctant sigh, looking up at him through her long eyelashes. “Already?”

“Afraid so, Your Highness. Any questions?”

All too well he knew Princess Caitlin mastered the subject. Still, the question posed became his favourite part of their scheduled time together, when the role of tutor and student bled into two best friends enjoying each other’s company.

“Yes,” she said, poking at his tunic. “Do you believe it possible to discover more elements that would expand the periodic table?”

”Absolutely!” He nodded enthusiastically. “But not more likely than reaching the heavens, Caitlin.”

The princess scooted her chair closer, leaning into her best friend’s side. Her cat, Bart, scratched his head against her leg. “You mean...” she lowered her voice before glancing aside, wary of her maidservants’ eavesdropping. “Extrapolating from the theories of Galileo and travelling to space?”

Cisco grinned at her. “Precisely.” He laughed at her scandalized gasp. “Calm down, I’m jesting—”

“Cisco! That’s not funny!”

Ah, his heart stuttered in his chest. He’d never tire of hearing his name from her lips. She placed her hand over his arm and urged him to share his latest study.

A knock on the door interrupted their moment, and Caitlin immediately removed her touch, leaning away.

Harrison Wells, or Harry, as the royal family has grown accustomed to calling him, marched in with a long list and adjusted his spectacles. “We’re late! Late, late, late!”

“Good morning Harry,” Caitlin greeted, hiding her dismay. Cisco rolled his eyes. It wasn’t that they disliked him. He was always to the point with his messages, and delivered them rather gruffly, but not unkind. Their annoyance had more to do with the fact every time Harry came to interrupt Caitlin’s lesson with Cisco, it meant the tutor had to go.

“Yes, yes. Good day, Your Highness,” he nodded at Cisco. “Greetings Ramon. Enough with the pleasantries. It is now time for your royal fitting, Princess. The gown just arrived this morning.”

Princess Caitlin’s joy soured immediately, but she did not let her emotions show. “Yes, of course.”

“—It must last twenty, maximum twenty-two minutes, and then you have to rush, and I mean rush to your horticultural society tea. Then—”

Caitlin tuned Harry out as Cisco shot her an apologetic smile.

He packed his books hastily, “I best be on my leave.”

“Oh no, Cisco. Please stay.”

He hesitated, fiddling with the strap of his worn satchel, but could not ever deny the Princess anything. He nodded, watching as two maidservants ushered Caitlin behind the dresser to make alterations for her gown. “Maybe a few minutes more.”

When she stepped out in silks and white tulle, his eyes lingered only on her face.

She turned around on the step stool where the seamstresses fussed over the ribbons and bows when he called her name.

“Yes?”

“You’ll make a lovely bride.” His fingers twisted deep in the leather of the strap across his chest. Caitlin felt tears well up in her eyes, so many complicated words stuck in her throat. She could only manage to nod as Cisco suddenly left.

She couldn’t blame him for not wanting to stay, she thought, as she watched him through her window. He was smelling the roses to record in his field journal in her palace gardens. As if he could sense her, he lifted his eyes from the flower he had to his nose up to her wing of the palace. The corners of his mouth tugged into a gentle smile as his hair blew in the breeze. Cisco waved at Caitlin. Her fingertips pressed against the glass as her heart sighed.

Harry came back with a large box, clearing his throat. Her mother, the Queen, strolled behind. “Look, another engagement gift!”

The Princess didn’t reply. The Queen bit her lip as she caught her daughter watch the tutor make his way out the royal gates and into the village. “You know it is vital you marry King Ronald. It’s the only way to take care of the kingdom.”

Caitlin didn’t reply for some time, drawing strength from within and distanced herself from the window. She shot Harry and her mother a shaky grin and exhaled. “I know, and I will. It’s my duty.”

~.~

In the deep dark caves of the Royal Mine, Hunter Zolomon celebrated his homecoming.

“It’s great to see you back boss,” Eddie Slick told him, wiping the grime off his forehead. “But you’re...early.” His accomplice, Sterling Brooks, popped out of their cart holding up a small black nugget.

Hunter snatched it out of Sterling’s hand. “What idiot put this here!?”

Sterling grinned as Eddie smacked his forehead from second-hand embarrassment. “Uh. Me?”

“We’re stealing gold. This is coal.” He knocked the worthless rock against Sterling’s skull as if in an attempt to knock some wit into it. He turned to Eddie. “Where’s the rest?”

Eddie pointed to a bag in the dirt. “That’s the last of ‘em.” He watched eagerly as his boss inspected the bag of gold. “So, what’s our cut?”

Hunter laughed. “You think you’re getting any of this?”

Eddie frowned. “While you were off frolicking in Star Kingdom, we were here doing all your dirty work. You told us we’d get paid.”

Hunter glared. It was not frolicking. For over ten years Hunter had to play lapdog to the King and Queen as the royal advisor. Forced to do this, demanded to do that. It was hard, tedious work that never went appreciated. Nor should it be. The work given to him was insulting. Hunter Zolomon was not born to serve people or follow orders like cattle. No. Every minute spent under the directives of the Queen made his blood curdle ever since his plan ten years ago went awry and he only managed to kill a third of the Royal Family he needed out of his way to ascend the throne.

“And you will.” He leaned against the cart and rattled it along the tracks, urging Sterling to climb out and pay attention. “When I become King.”

“Right, right,” said Sterling, but he was clearly lost. “And how exactly is that related to us getting all this gold again?”

“Because,” Hunter said through gritted teeth, regretting his hasty choice of picking two desperate miners to do work for him. He’d fire Sterling if he could, but he knew too much now and was simply not worth the effort to kill. “Now I have all the wealth in the kingdom and the Queen will have no choice but to wed her only daughter to me. How could she refuse?”

“Easily! Princess Caitlin treats you so coldly!” Sterling blurted. “She’d never agree to that.”

“Who said the nitwit had any agency to make that decision?” he shot back. “She has to follow her mother’s orders. And who’s her mother’s advisor? Me.”

Eddie and Sterling shared a look.

Hunter narrowed his eyes. “What?”

Eddie looked anywhere but his boss’ steely gaze. “It’s just that….The Queen had decided to marry off Princess Caitlin to the King of Dulcinea.”

In a fit of rage, Hunter knocked the cart over with Sterling in it. “She what?!”

“Yeah…” Eddie said, wringing his hands. “You were gone a long time. She didn’t know what to do.”

“I guess the gig’s up, huh boss?” said Sterling, crawling from the rocks.

“Hardly.” Hunter yanked the bag of gold from Eddie’s arms. He needed to visit the Queen immediately to fix this. “And if you ruin this for me neither of you will be making it out of this mine alive.”

~.~

“Cisco!” Caitlin lit up as her favourite person walked into her bedroom. “Perfect timing." She lifted up her latest discovery from her walk behind the palace kitchens. "I classified this as iron pyrite. Pretty, but not considered valuable. Commonly known as ‘fool’s gold, as you taught me last Spring, isn’t that correct?”

Cisco smiled. “Very good, Your Highness.”

Caitlin frowned, brushing her hair back behind her ear. “Your Highness? Why the sudden formality.” He only ever called her that in the presence of other palace workers. She looked around to see if they had company, but they were all alone. “It’s just me.”

“Your mother sent me. Apparently, the Ambassador has arrived with a gift for you.”

Caitlin felt lightheaded. The iron pyrite fell to the floor. “The Ambassador? He’s here already?”

Cisco nodded and went to grab her tiara from the pillow next to her bed. He placed it carefully upon her head, smoothing down the stray curls around it. “There,” he said. “No fool’s gold here.”

“No,” the Princess agreed faintly, distracted by the warmth of her tutor’s brown eyes. He looped her hand around his arm and escorted her to the throne room.

~.~

The Ambassador was a lot younger than the Queen, Harry or The Advisor thought. Tall, dark and handsome, with a dashing smile, he bent low at the waist upon the royals’ arrival and introduced himself with his gift. His travelling companion was an old fellow with crow’s feet and stood several steps away.

“On behalf of King Ronald, I present to you this engagement gift.”

The Queen took it graciously, promising the Princess would love it. She glanced at the grandfather clock mounted by the wall. Surely the tutor would’ve brought the Princess in already.

"Harry," she said. "Didn't I send the tutor to go tell the Princess about the Ambassador?"

"You did, Your Highness," Harry confirmed. He adjusted his spectacles and looked down at his parchments. "I don't see them taking much more time, but the schedule of the Princess is already packed enough, we better not delay."

"No," said the Advisor, agreeing with the Messenger even though he couldn't stand him either. "We better not."

The travelling companion cleared his throat. “May I enquire, your Excellency, if you’ve set a date for the wedding?”

The Queen paused to mull it over. “Will two weeks from today do?”

Hunter nearly fell out of his chair but recovered quickly. “Two weeks! Fast and diligent, what a wonderful decision, Your Majesty.”

“Excellent!” said the companion, sharing a glance with the Ambassador. He nudged his shoulder when the Ambassador didn't say anything. “Excellent, isn't it, Ambassador Stein?”

The Ambassador’s eyes widened as if he had just remembered his position. “I will…uh. I’ll send for King Ronald right away so that he may meet his new bride.” His gaze drifted to the portrait of Caitlin mounted next to the windowpane.

"I apologize for my daughter's absence," The Queen said. "If you stay for tea, I'm sure she'll be here shortly."

The Queen gestured at Harry to escort them to the tea rooms. "Come, Hunter. There's much we have to discuss."

~.~

Like clockwork, Frosteline slipped out the front door at noon. It was when Miss Amunet took her lunch break in the tea shop across the village, which meant she had a whole hour to herself to sneak out. Ralph followed closely behind.

“What Ralph?”

“You forgot your cape,” he said, waving the old blue thing in the doorway. It was the nicest piece of clothing she owned. Probably because she barely ever got to leave the Dress Emporium, so it never had the chance to soil.

“Thank you, mother,” she grumbled under her breath but accepted it as Ralph put it over her shoulders. She snapped her fingers at Iridescence to get her to come, the cat Ralph had found in the street a few months ago. They’ve been hiding her from Miss Amunet for a while.

“Be safe out there,” he called out. “And don’t do that scary voice thing in front of any children!”

Frosteline rolled her eyes.

~.~

“Cisco.” Caitlin's hand tightened on his elbow. “I can’t go in.” Her eyes darted down the long corridor and her heart pounded up in her ears. “I’m not ready,” she panicked. “I can’t go in.”

Cisco was about to reassure the princess that it’ll be alright, but one look at her was all he needed to realize how Caitlin was spiralling.

“Okay,” he soothed, running his hands up and down the sleeves of her gown. “It’s okay, my sweet. You’re here. I’m with you. You’re— shaking?”

“This is all too fast! Five days ago I was being told I’d get married and now the Ambassador is here? Cisco, I can’t—”

”Then we won’t. We won’t go.” Her breath hitched, and he could tell her tight corset could not possibly be helping. Three halls down was the old library with a balcony window. It used to belong to the King. They’d sometimes study there when they needed a peaceful moment alone. Perhaps, she needed some fresh air.

Cisco brought her to the balcony, sitting against the ledge as the Princess paced, pressing her palms over her eyes.

“I do everything!” she wailed. “Everything for my mother and the memory of my father. Everything for Hunter and Harry but this…” she let out a weak huff, sliding her hands into her hair and digging her fingers into the combs of her tiara.

“I know.”

Cisco, I’m scared, she almost said. But somehow she felt he already knew. Instead, she sucked in a deep breath and wiped the stray tear from her flushed cheek. She kicked off her shoes, padding barefoot until she sank to the floor in her pink dress, looking out the balcony. She turned to Cisco, who had been watching her with careful concern.

“What do you think King Ronald will be like?”

It took a while for him to say anything. “I’m sure he’ll be…suitable.”

“I know I have to marry him, but sometimes I wish…Well.” Caitlin clasped her hands together behind her back and sighed.

She thought about her panic in the palace hall. My sweet, he’d called her. Did Cisco really mean that? Caitlin’s heart picked up speed. It wasn’t the first time he’d slipped and given her an affectionate name either. She’d always chalked it up to his joyous personality, or that maybe he considered her as a sister, but what with the way he’d been talking to her lately, she wondered if there was something...more.

Cisco’s brown riding boots swung leisurely as he waited for her to say something. When she didn’t, he continued to awkwardly carry on the conversation. “I heard he’s a lover of flatbread and cheese!”

Caitlin wrinkled her nose. “What’s that?”

“A type of food, I’m sure.” Cisco looked out, following Caitlin’s wistful gaze out at the kids playing in the garden.

Reality settled back into Caitlin’s bones. The little treasure chest in her heart full of her love for Cisco would have to lock away. There was no use, wondering. Cisco’s pay for her tutoring barely covered his own expenses. The Princess had to look out for the entire kingdom.

“I know it’s selfish, but it feels like the beginning of the end of my life,” she admitted in a whisper.

“Caitlin….” Cisco slid down from his seat on the ledge, kneeling in front of her.

“Hmm?”

He offered her his hand. She took it without hesitation.

“You’re going to need your cape.”

#the flash #killervibe #cisco ramon #caitlin snow #killer frost #tkv fic #fluff #princess and the pauper #fairytale #snowstorm #AU #Written in Your Heart #corona fic

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selfshipstuff · 4 years ago

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💡 give me all the fandoms ~Audrey

SBDJSJS ALL OF THEM???? I MEAN I GUESS IF YOU'RE SURE??

@tsundere-doods

ARROWVERSE (The Flash, Arrow, Supergirl)

In all Arrowverse AUs, my SI is a metahuman from Earth-1 with energy-based powers. I primarily exercise control over electricity, movement, and gravity, but with practice I could probably expand my repertoire to include light, heat, elasticity, radioactivity, sound-- all sorts of things. During my time on Teams Flash and Arrow, I go by the moniker Switchboard, and then in my Team Arson AU, Lonnie and Astra (@astralshipper) call me Sparks.

In The Flash, my primary f/o is Cisco Ramon, and we have that best friends to lovers thing going on. I also love Becky Sharpe, although I don’t talk about her much! She’s girlfren, and I’m poly with the two of them in my Flash-centric Arrowverse AU-- she’s not dead, hush, I save her life and canon can eat my entire ass tbh.

I don’t have a romantic f/o on Arrow, but John Diggle is like a brother to me. I don’t have an AU that focuses solely on Team Arrow, because it’s not a primary thing for me, but when I’m on the team, it’s because I’m taking a break from Team Flash.

In my Supergirl-centric AU, instead of joining Team Arrow after leaving Team Flash, I actually use some of Cisco’s tech to hop on over to Earth-38 to make a new life for myself. Eventually, I end up helping out Team Supergirl, because once you start superheroing it’s not really something that has an off switch, and that’s how I meet Winn Schott. He and I click almost immediately and we have a best friends to lovers type thing similar to what Cisco and I had. I also have a small crush on both Lena Luthor and Mon-El, but I haven’t decided if I’m gonna do anything about it yet.

Finally, there’s the Team Arson AU, which isn’t really based on any of the shows in particular, but rather on one of the villains of Arrow: specifically, Lonnie Machin. This AU starts after I leave Team Arrow because of Oliver, John, and Felicity’s actions toward the newer team members; incensed by the hypocrisy of my fellow heroes, I run into Astra (@astralshipper) and Lonnie, who have turned into sort of an anti-hero team, and I join forces with them. This sometimes leads to problems when my ex-teammates come after us, but we handle it.

And last but not least, I actually forgot to mention, but there is an offshoot AU of the Team Arson storyline; it doesn’t have a catchy name, so I just call it the Team Arson and Michael AU, because it’s essentially the same thing as the regular Team Arson one except it incorporates Michael Collins from The Uniques as a new hero. In this AU, I eventually leave Team Arson to form a power-couple duo with Michael and go back to being a hero, mostly.

AVATAR: THE LAST AIRBENDER (A:TLA)

Not totally sure what my whole deal is going to be here, but I’m definitely an airbender. I know in canon they’re wiped out, but I’m just saying, there could definitely be a few in hiding; who’s to say all of them were at the air temples when the Fire Nation attacked? The air nomads were a highly mobile people, so yeah, while those were the hubs of activity, I don’t see it being where every single one of them would’ve been.

Anyway, I don’t have a romantic f/o in this series, but the Gaang in general is just a little family I’d like to be a part of. In particular, Aang has little brother vibes, and I’m definitely gonna take him under my wing; I think it would be good for him to have another airbender around, and it would be cool to see how a traditional air nomad would interact with one whose views and values have been shaped by a century of other cultures dominating the world. It’s definitely sad, because cultural loss is a huge part of genocide, but it would be neat to see how the surviving families passed down that culture and mixed it with that of the world around them. Like, it would be a little bit of home for Aang, but also sort of like... a hope for something new, I guess? I dunno, I’m spitballing here

CRIMINAL MINDS

My SI timeline isn't the most well-defined for this one yet, but one thing I've decided on is that I pretty much end up adopting, fostering, and taking in kids that need help. Currently, it's sort of just... been the kids that are victimized during the team's cases, but that's a byproduct of the source material rather than a conscious decision.

In Criminal Minds, I ship with Spencer Reid and Emily Prentiss, who are my boyfriend and girlfriend, respectively; we’re poly, but they’re not dating each other. They are queerplatonic, though! Fun fact, I’ve adopted Hotch and Rossi as my dads; Hotch is the primary father figure, and Rossi was kind of like, uncle vibes? Until I realized how much romantic tension there is between the two of them, and now he’s like, stepdad. Hotch already sees Spencer as a son, and he’s close with Emily, so this works out really well.

EVER AFTER HIGH

In EAH, I’m the eldest child of the White Rabbit-- yes, the one you know from the story of Alice in Wonderland. (Don’t ask how that works, because I don’t know.) Anyway, I was born and raised in Wonderland, along with my younger sister, Bunny. (Yes, her name is Bunny Rabbit.) Things were alright until sometime in my early teens when the Evil Queen tried to basically destroy the world of wonder; it was crazy and chaotic, and very few Wonderland folk managed to escape to Ever After before the Brothers Grimm closed the portals between the two worlds. I was among the handful that escaped: my sister, father, and friends were not. I was all alone in an unfamiliar world, and man, was that scary. Luckily, I was still school-aged, so it was easy enough to get a place to stay at the Grimms’ school-- Ever After High.

I’ve got crushes on Raven Queen, Alistair Wonderland, Dexter Charming, Chase Redford, Northwind, and Cedar Wood, but no established romance.

HARRY POTTER

Okay, so there are a few different timelines and AUs for this franchise. We’ll start with the most established one. Obviously, I’ve got the obligatory AU where I’m there for everything from the very beginning, but there’s also one I thought of back in middle school which goes something like this: I’m newly orphaned, so I’ve been sent to live with a relative in the UK. It’s the year of the Quidditch World Cup, not that I know anything about it, because my parents were Muggles and so is the great-aunt-twice-removed or whomever it is I now live with. I’m out for a walk, trying to clear my head and familiarize myself with the new neighborhood; out the back of the house, there’s a forest in the distance, hills, and marshland which seem suitably spooky and melancholy for my mood, so I head out exploring that way. After a while, I hear noise, like celebration and shouting, so I head over to check it out and stumble across the tent-grounds for the World Cup.

Obviously, it’s a lot to take in at once, because it’s clearly magic-- but I’ve always believed in magic, in a sense. So I just grin and start exploring, getting friendly with the kids my age in the area, lie to the adults when they ask where my parents are (”oh, our tent is over there”) and nobody even thinks twice about my accent because people from all over the world are here for the event. Of course, I’m only 15, and eventually I run into one of the people who actually coordinates the grounds, so I’m found out fairly easily; cut to me being interrogated and scared half to death by the magical authorities before who else but Dumbledore swoops in and quietly talks to them. It’s a lot, and it’s too quiet for me to hear all of it, but I manage to take away something about me obviously being magic if I found the place-- and then suddenly, this old man is offering his hand and escorting me out, telling me about a whole other world I didn’t know I could be a part of.

I do go to Hogwarts, and I have to do a LOT of remedial studying to catch up to the other students, but it helps that I love to read about magic and studying over the summer isn’t a problem.

In some AUs, I’m poly with Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley; in others, I’m with Fred and George Weasley. Sirius Black ends up taking me under his wing along with Harry, and he doesn’t die in my canon-- neither does Fred, Remus Lupin, or Tonks.

I also have a pretty big crush on Newt Scamander from Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, but I haven’t got my AU timeline figured out for him yet.

MCU

Agents of SHIELD: This show is a separate AU from my other Marvel stories, but I have the same energy powers as usual. Basically, I’m an Inhuman on SHIELD’s watchlist for a long time, even before they know what Inhumans are; unlike some of the other individuals on the list, I’m friendly, cooperative. I consult on cases from time to time, mostly as needed until Phil Coulson starts putting together his dream team: that’s when he reaches out to me, asks me to be a permanent consultant to his team. I’m sort of hesitant, because permanence is restrictive when it comes to organizations like his, but I agree on my own terms. I find myself fitting in and warming up to the team more than I thought I would, and I even find myself crushing on Fitz and-- to a lesser extent-- Skye. When she gets her powers, it’s frickin’ neat as hell, but I end up fighting with the team for treating her so poorly afterward.

Spider-Man (Tom Holland): Originally, I’m not even in New York, but rent in our area is going up, and the frequency with which certain areas in NY get destroyed leads to their rent actually being more appealing in an attempt to get people to move back. So, with everything going on, my family weighs their options and we move. It’s the end of summer when we get there, and it’s a different school district, so they make me take all sorts of tests to see where I’ll best fit in-- eventually, they put me into some prestigious school my parents are thrilled about and which I’ve never heard of. Of course, I’m much more thrilled after the first week or so: the classes are more engaging, and the students seem to know their stuff. Other than the classist rich kids, it’s paradise for nerds! And that’s before I develop a crush on a classmate (Peter Parker) and start paying attention to news about a local superhero. Around this time is when my powers start to show themselves; sparks fly, literally, and I find myself getting done with things faster than anyone else. It all comes to a head when, on my way home from school, someone falls from the upper floor of a building and I somehow manage to slow their fall so they land safely. Thoroughly freaked out, I start experimenting with my powers, seeing what I can do-- eventually, I put together my own suit and start helping out the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. (We end up dating out of costume.)

MIRACULOUS LADYBUG

So, in the ML universe, I’m an American exchange student in Paris, and I end up figuring out the identities of the local heroes fairly quickly, which leads me to help out in the crises a lot more. After a while of this, Master Fu decides to gift me with the Mouse Miraculous, which has a different power than in canon, because I developed this before the debut of Kwami Buster and honestly I kind of think Multimouse has a stupid power? Anyway, as Souris Gris, I have the power of stealth. I realize pretty quickly that my accent is gonna be an easy identifier, so I take up Langue des Signes (French Sign Language, or LSF) to use while transformed-- as a bonus, it adds to the stealth thing. Meanwhile, as my civilian self, I’m still adjusting to using conversational and situational French 24/7.

Adrien Agreste (also known as Chat Noir) is my primary f/o from this, but there’s also an AU where we’re poly with Marinette Dupain-Cheng (also known as Ladybug), who we’re both dating.

OURAN HIGH SCHOOL HOST CLUB (OHSHC)

Okay, in the past with this one I’ve 100% focused on the romance, so I’m gonna make something up on the spot. I still would’ve been born to a lower middle-class family in Midwestern America-- flyover country-- but at some point in my youth, a family member wins the lottery-- literally, and not just as a figure of speech. It’s a big one, and instead of spending it, they invest; as I grow up, things start to look up for us. I’m a creative kid, and I’m bugging my parents to let me design and make my own books, games, and toys. Eventually, they cave, and that’s the story of how I become a “self-made” millionaire.

At first, the products only really sell in North America, until a knock-off line comes out in Japan, and we release them there to curb the competition. The sales skyrocket in the Japanese isles and surrounding countries, so sometime in my preteens, my family moves to Japan to better oversee the majority of the business. After a lot of private tutoring and language classes, I beg my parents to let me go to a real school. Now, my parents, who are quickly becoming the snooty rich folks they used to curse, take some convincing, but we finally agree as long as they choose the school, which is how I end up enrolled at Ouran Academy.

I eventually find myself meeting the host club and befriending them, which... also leads to me dating Hikaru and Kaoru Hitachiin, the notorious twins. We’re all lowkey crushing on Haruhi, but none of us do anything about it.

THE UNIQUES

I still haven’t decided how I end up on the team to begin with, but I do know that my powers are pretty much the same in The Uniques as they are in the Arrowverse. (This is mostly because that’s my default when it comes to superpowers. Energy powers are frickin’ neat, okay?) Again, they primarily cover electricity, movement, and gravity, but in this universe I also have a little more experience bending light and manipulating heat.

One of my f/os from this is also mentioned in the Arrowverse section because of an AU, and that’s Michael Collins. He and Scout are my boyfriends, and they’re best buds. The rest of the team (the New Guard) are our best friends, so they’re platonic f/os.

WALKYVERSE (It’s Walky!, Shortpacked!)

Technically, the Walkyverse also includes Roomies!, which comes before It’s Walky! sequentially, but I don’t even really think about that part of the comic tbh. Basically, I’m an alien abductee, so I have powers-- neat!-- and I’m an agent of SEMME-- less neat. We’re a secret government agency fighting a hostile race of aliens known only as “aliens”, which I guess are separate from other extraterrestrial races because Martians are specified as a separate race within the comic...? Anyway. I’m a SEMME agent, and I have enhanced abilities like super-strength due to my status as an abductee. Originally, I was a part of a different squad, but a mission went south, leaving me as the only surviving member.

By the time the retrieval unit showed up, most of my teammates were already dead, and I was just barely holding up a fallen building which would have crushed me had I let go. Upon my return to SEMME HQ, I was asked to wait outside an office for a moment while the Big Boss and some poor agent tasked with debriefing him duked it out behind the closed doors. There were whispers about me, being the sole survivor of my unit and having held up a building, and people had their suspicions, but it didn’t matter. The fact was that I was the only agent that had made it through a suicide mission, which is a feat in and of itself, disregarding the valuable intel I had gathered; Big Boss eventually reassigned me to Squad 128, the most infamously effective team on payroll, and sent me off to get checked out by medical.

My main f/o in Walkyverse is Mike Warner, a fellow SEMME agent and abductee. I’m also FWB with the titular character before he gets married-- David Walkerton (Walky)-- and Marcie.

#mine #si: why are you me? i'm me #self insert writing #selfship writing #self ship writing #yes im putting these in the tags and yall can suffer thru it with NO read more

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justkending · 6 years ago

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The Protection Program. Epilogue.

Chapter Summary: A year later of the adventures that came and went.

Pairing: FBI Dean Winchester x Detective Reader

Warnings: Cussing, lots of fluff, dirty talk.

Word Count: 2300+

A/N: If you’ve gotten to this point, thank you for your patience with me on wrapping up this series. I’m hoping that his won’t be my only series to go back and rewrite, but boy it sure took a while... I hope you all enjoy and I’m excited to see what you think of the new ending! :)

(Finished 9/24/23)

A year had passed since the bust on the DeLuca family.

Some of the crime family allies and business partners have attempted revenge, but for the most part, people were willing to just leave things how they were to avoid getting their own illegal relations involved.

After everything that happened, Bobby wanted me to go into witness protection again, worried that now the big three had been caught, I would be in the line of fire for retaliation with such a famous family.

I may have exaggerated when I said I'd prefer to get kidnapped, drugged, and assaulted all over again instead of spending another miserable second under another program like that, but also, it clearly didn't work in keeping me safe, so what was the point.

I ended up getting to go home, but I was required to keep bodyguards stationed outside my apartment complex, and Dean was pretty adamant about keeping routine check-ins with me. So much so that he took residence in my guest room for the remainder of his stay in the city.

It's not like we hadn't practically lived under the same roof at some point already, and truthfully, I felt bad that he had to stay at a dingy motel. A bonus was I felt safer in my place.

We ended up discussing the new knowledge I found about his father shortly after the arrest of Michael, Ramone, and Bella.

He was shocked, and it took him time to acknowledge that the Delucas had affected him this long without him knowing, but we bonded over it and had a good conversation about it all.

I didn't blame his father for the downfall of my own, even if he apologized profusely on his end. If there was something Michael and Ramone had told the truth about, it was the fact that my father made his choice that night. No one asked him to jump in front of that bullet, yet he had.

Dean's father had even jumped in to try and save him after the initial shot, which put him in a compromised position.

"We can be pissed about the choices people decide on, but there's nothing we can do to go back and change them or the outcome they came to," I had told him when he tried to reason with why it had to come to an end it did with our two stubborn father figures.

After that, something new clicked in our relationship, and we understood each other in ways we never expected to.

Speaking of relationships, we didn't jump into anything immediately. We took things slow and got to know each other outside of the constant stress of danger hovering over us 24/7.

He would bring me dinner or breakfast on days when I struggled to leave the office or got around too late to take care of it myself.

We started sharing TV series with each other and switching nights that we would watch them and binge them together. He made popcorn on the stove almost every time it was a movie night, and I made sure to supply the candy.

When our routines started fitting into each other, he finally got the courage to ask me on a date, and we both learned that it felt like a final puzzle piece being put in its perfect spot.

The lingering stares turned into eye contact we didn't want to break. Our subtle motions to touch each other no longer had a barrier, and we lost all reasons to hold back now. I was never a texter before, but if Dean's name was popping up on my screen, a smile almost always broke out on my face.

Over six months of dating and counting at this point, and I don't know how much of my life I was actually living up to this point until I stepped into this new chapter of my life.

"OK, ladies, go ahead and stretch some before we get started," I instructed the group of women in the small training room that the precinct had. "We'll review some basic self-defense moves from last week in about five minutes," I forewarned, moving to find a playlist for the training while they warmed up.

After talking with Pam about the multiple times I had to fight off some dick at a bar or creep on the street, I thought about all the girls who have to worry about that just as often.

I was lucky to be a trained professional when I was kidnapped, but it got me thinking about all the girls who had and could find themselves in just as dangerous and scary situations and didn't know how to outwit and maneuver an attacker.

So, with the help and support from Captain Singer, I started a self-defense class held twice a week for anyone who felt they wanted or needed to learn combat tactics. Each class had different age ranges to make sure the attendees had training specific to them.

I decided on one of my curated classic rock playlists for our session, and before I could turn back to the class, I felt firm hands snake around my waist. Usually, I would react accordingly and end up hurting someone, but I recognized those hands.

"Nice taste in music," a man's deep voice whispered in my ear before he nibbled at it. AC/DC started a guitar riff in the background.

"You like it? You'll have to ask my boyfriend for a copy of it," I hummed, falling into his touch.

"Is that so?" he played along. "He must be one lucky man to have a woman who looks that good in those pants," he said, pulling my flush to him, showing his attraction to me in those tight-ass slacks he wore.

"Dean," I grumbled under my breath. "You can't do this right before I start the lesson. I'm supposed to be all hot after the session," I groaned as he swayed his hips with mine and kissed the sensitive spot on my neck he knew made me weak in the knees.

"Think you can sneak away for a quickie in the janitor's closet?" he said lowly in my ear, his hands squeezing my hips again to get a jerk out of me.

"Dean…" I dragged out, turning to face him and distance myself some, only to see those beautiful green eyes roaming up and down my figure. "I mean it. I need to teach this class," I bartered, putting my hands on his shoulders to estrange him a few inches.

"For the record, your bossiness doesn't help this situation," he hummed, biting his lip as he looked at mine and pulled me back to him. My chest fell flush against his own, and the smirk on his lips was compelling.

"No, not the lip thing!" I instantly put a finger over his lips, making his attention snap back to my eyes. "I'll be done in an hour, and then I'm headed home. Think you can wait that long?"

"No," he said without any hesitation.

"Dean..."

"Y/N..." he retorted.

When I was unsuccessful in hiding my growing smile at his banter, something I had learned to love about him, he started bending down with a look ready to devour me.

Before his lips could meet mine, I heard a slight cough and noticed a good chunk of my trainees looking at us as the touch-starved teenagers at the mall we were exhibiting, all with their own playful smirks on their lips.

I stopped Dean's motion forward with my hand firmly on his chest.

"Sorry, ladies!" I shouted, getting a giggle from the group. "Dean was just leaving," I said playfully, nudging him.

"Actually, I was," he started, and I knew he was about to say something stupid, so I slapped his chest hard with the hand still on it. "Right," he said, almost saddened by the single hour he would have to wait for me to be home.

"Wait, can you use him as your example?" one girl shouted toward the back. All the other girls nodded and agreed.

I could see fluttering of eyelashes and blushed cheeks in the crowd. I don't blame them. Dean was a man to fawn over. I still did it daily, and we'd been together for close to seven months now.

I chuckled at the reaction of my class and played into their suggestion.

"What kind of example are we talking about?"

"You know that one move we did the other day? The one where the guy has you pinned on the ground, and you have to get out of the hold," an older woman asked.

"I know the one," I smiled, thinking back to the tactic I had brought up after reviewing some of my stories of attacks.

"Which one?" Dean questioned, looking back at me perplexed.

"I think you'll love it," I smiled slyly, and I could see a form of fear peak in his eyes.

"That tone doesn't seem to match your words," he looked at me nervously with furrowed eyebrows.

"Relax," I patted his shoulder and leaned up to whisper in his ear softly, "it involves you on top of me."

"Don't have to tell me twice," he smiled happily and clapped his hands together before turning to the class. "Let's do it, ladies."

"Take off your coat, sweetheart," I said extra sweetly, getting a concerned look from him as he did as asked.

"What else am I about to sign up for-?"

"OK, ladies," I interrupted, stepping slightly before him to start the lesson. "This move is useful if you are being pinned by someone bigger than you. Remember, it doesn't matter if he is stronger; it's all about your speed, precision, and timing. And if you get the technique right, you'll throw him off. Those things will save you in most situations, but this one specifically. You don't want him to be able to detect your next move."

I moved to lay on the ground on my back, and once I was settled, I motioned Dean down to me.

"OK, Dean, sit on top of me and straddle my hips," I told him, motioning to the spot I was talking about.

"With pleasure," he smirked, pushing the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his elbows after unbuttoning them. In a hurry, he moved into the position I instructed.

"Now, pin my hands above my head," I counseled, smiling up at him.

"Kinky," he said quietly and smiled with a wink.

"Shut up," I laughed, raising my knee to hit him in the back of his thigh. I turned toward the group that was surrounding us and gave the next steps. "OK, so I'm going to do this in real-time so you can see how it goes, then we will do a step-by-step." They nodded. "OK, watch closely. The number one thing is to-"

Before any preparation could be done on Dean's end, I bucked my hips to push Dean forward, where he, on basic instinct, braced himself for the fall. Then, I did the following steps to move to the top and swap positions with him. Now, I was the one doing the straddling, and he was pinned under me.

"Catch him off guard," I smiled at him first and then to the class.

"Shit," Dean huffed, catching his breath from the quick action.

I leaned down while the class murmured about the steps, both of my hands placed in the center of his chest. My lips almost touched his ear as I whispered, "Don't act like you don't like that kind of move in the bedroom."

Again, his hands were back on my waist, keeping my weight on his hips.

"That was evil."

"Oh, you haven't seen evil, Ranger," I rose up and winked at him before he had a chance to stop me. "OK, we are going to go through that a few more times in slow motion, and then you and your partners will try it on the mats. Sound good?"

They all nodded, and I continued the lesson until Dean was rightfully sexually frustrated, and I learned I'd pay for it once we got home...

______

A week later, Dean and I headed off on our long-planned vacation. My grandparent's lake house.

It was the one I had grown up in, and I was nervous my memories would be tainted after the safe house. It was a trial I was willing to face, though, now that life was going smoother for once, and I wanted to move forward. I was no longer going back.

We ended up making a whole week's worth out of it. I had convinced Dean to give flying a try, but it really didn't take as much strain from my end as I thought I'd have to give. Not that I would force him to do it if he really didn't want to, but he agreed after I mentioned that a drive would be a little too long for me.

"I'll fly under one condition," he pointed out, pulling me into an embrace where his chin rested on my head.

"That being?"

"You can't let it crash," he mumbled into my hair, squeezing me closer.

"I don't really have control over that, Dean," I mumbled back into his chest, where my face was currently being suffocated in his musky cologne. Not a bad way to die.

"Can we just act like you do so that I feel like we have some kind of control over the damn metal bird?" he begged.

"We can watch all the videos that made flying easier for me," I offered, pulling my head out enough to look up at him, still wrapped in his embrace.

"What videos?"

"How turbulence works and the likelihood of certain things going wrong."

"That sounds terrifying and not helpful at all."

"But everything is a super low risk. It's less scary when you know how something works AND how unlikely things will go wrong."

"It sounds like you're jinxing it."

"We don't have to do it, you know? I don't want to make you if you're that uncomfortable. A drive could be fun," I smiled at him, knowing he was doing it to make me happy, but I loved him just as much not to put him through that.

"No, I'm going to overcome my fear this time," he shook his head, tucking me back under his chin. "It's about damn time. Plus, I want more days at the lake house, and if we drive, I have to take 2-3 of those days off for being on the road."

Dean did end up overcoming his fear, for the most part, at least. He still wasn't a fan, but compared to where he started, he was willing to do a flight again. A shorter one, preferably, but fly another time either way.

Currently, I was on the back porch enjoying the cool breeze with a light blanket wrapped around my shoulders while watching the sunset in the distance. I closed my eyes and took in the sounds and smells around me. The birds chirped, and the subtle smell of salt came from the lake.

While soaking up the fact that my grandparent's sanctuary hadn't changed even after my trauma, Dean's hands came around my shoulders and pulled my back against his chest.

"This place is beautiful," he hummed as he placed his chin on my head, a motion that had become our comfort position. Me in his embrace, protected by him, and him knowing I wasn't going far while in his arms.

"I'm thankful that my family has this place to escape to still. When my Pops and Nana said they were downsizing, I was worried they'd sell the place. We'd have to say bye to all the memories and stories connected to it. But, they ended up keeping it as a family lake house for any and all the cousins and aunts to visit when they wanted," I gleamed at the pure joy tied to this place, taking in a deep breath of the fresh air.

"I'm happy they kept it around," he hummed, pulling me even closer to him.

"Me too..."

We stood in silence, looking over the lake's glistening burst of waves from the subtle push from the wind.

He had put on some classic rock songs in the background, but I heard the soft tones of ballads overpower the usual guitar riffs.

It was calming and felt like a slice of heaven after so long of feeling like I was in a purgatory. I could breathe finally, and I had someone next to me that made me feel safer than I ever had. It was a peace I never knew existed before I had met him.

"I love you," he dipped to kiss the top of my head as he said it.

"I love you too," I replied with a smile, even though we had said it time and time again. Though the feelings it provoked never got old.

"Can I ask you a question?" he hummed, letting me go slightly just to move me toward the chairs on the patio.

"Shoot," I replied as I took the redirection.

We sat on one of the loungers on the deck that peeked out on the patio before dropping to the open land that led to the lake. Dean sat first and took the blanket from around me before pulling me down to where I was positioned with my back pressed to his chest and body in between his legs. Sandwiched in a position where he brought the blanket around his own shoulders and then encased me in an embrace from behind, barricading warmth around us.

"Is this something you'd like eventually?" he asked once we were situated.

"The lakehouse?" I asked.

He nodded as we slouched in our position, and he moved his chin to my shoulder. I loved when he did that, and he knew it. I leaned my head on him as we continued our gaze into the picturesque state of nature we were in.

"Could be a lakehouse," he hummed, and I could feel the muscles in his face turn to a smile. "Could be a house in the suburbs, could be a cabin, could be a cottage. Maybe even a Ranch."

"What are you getting at, Dean?" I chuckled when I saw him drift off into the daydreaming fiend I had learned he was.

"I'm asking if a house is ever in your life plan," he simplified.

"Why? Do you not like the apartment?" I asked nervously, turning to look at him, and he sat up again.

"No, it's not that," he chuckled, and my burst of nerves dissipated. "But is an apartment all you see yourself in from here on out?"

"Are you asking if I'd move out of the city?" I started to pick up on what he was putting down.

"Yes."

I paused because I thought I knew the answer, but with where we were and the pure happiness of being in a place like this, so open and quiet, I realized I probably was ready to move on.

I had only lived in this city so long because of my family. First, from moving there for my grandparents, and more recently, to bring an end to the crime family that I declared to ruin my life.

I guess leaving anytime soon never occurred to me because of everything I was connected to up there. Plus, my friends and Bobby were there. Leaving them would hurt, but it wasn't something that would be lost entirely.

"Have you?" I asked Dean, trying to get an idea of where his mind was at on the question.

"I think coming back down to a town and landscape where I'm a little more comfortable made me miss a few things." He moved the chair to lean back more, and I fell back further into his embrace as we angled more up to the sky. "Don't get to see stars when the sun is still slightly up in the city like this. And give it 20 more minutes to see the real magic."

"You miss it?" I asked, nervous he was regretting moving to the city with me.

"Yeah, but if it's not with you, I don't really care."

He said it so simply, like there wasn't much to think about, and I could feel my heart attempt to burst through my chest.

"You mean that?" I asked, turning just enough to look up at him behind me.

"I'd be stupid if I didn't." he smiled down at me and studied my face at this angle before smiling bigger. "But a piece of me thinks you'd be more content in a place like this than a shoebox in New York. It wouldn't be right of me not to at least remind you that this can still be an option. I mean, I see the peace in your eyes, and we've only been here for an hour."

It was true. I had said it many times before but never really thought about playing it out. I always declared Texas my home, mainly because of this lakehouse and the memories tied to it.

"Can I tell you something?" I spoke up after a second of silence.

"Always," he nodded, laying back in his relaxed position.

"I secretly look up houses on Zillow when I'm bored just to see what options are out there," I admitted.

It wasn't a dirty secret, but I hadn't really told anyone about it or my reasonings. I just saw it as a fun side interest of exploring places I had yet to go. Though, now that I think about it, it may have been my subconscious mind being curious as to where I would escape one day.

"I know," Dean said back, and I was surprised since I hadn't done it around him or showed him anything from it.

"You know?"

"Duh," he said jokingly, nudging me under the blanket. "I'm an FBI agent. I happen to pick up on clues pretty fast."

"I'm a detective. I know a million and one ways to hide those things," I retorted.

"You left a tab open on your computer, and when I went to look up a dinner recipe one night, I saw all your saved homes."

Damn my problem of opening twenty million tabs and forgetting to close the secret ones.

"You're a snoop."

"It is in my job description."

He pinched my side, getting a yelp from me before I laughed and playfully slapped his hands, moving down to my waist.

"And because I'm so good at my job," he continued. "I noticed that you had about three houses within a 30-mile radius of this place."

I sunk back into him more at the comment. It was true. In planning our trip down here, I got curious about the houses that would be an hour's drive at most from my family home.

A family home that my cousins and extended family still visited. Family members I missed dearly and hadn't seen in years but had done my best to keep up with.

Parts of my life that were still happy and not tainted by crime lords and mob bosses.

"I can practically hear the gears in your brain kicking into overdrive, but I bring it all because I wanted to let you know," he paused, and I felt his finger dip under my chin, moving my gaze back to him. "I'm all in. Whatever you want, I'll help you get you there."

My features must have shown something that scared him, and his loving eyes turned nervous and freaked out.

"Oh, God," he quickly moved me so he could see me better. "I didn't want you to cry. I just wanted to make sure you choose whatever made you happier." The pads of his thumbs brushed my cheeks urgently yet softly. My lip quivered now. "Jesus, sweetheart, you're breaking my heart and freaking me out all at the same time. Tell me what's wrong. I didn't mean to stress you out."

"I'm not stressed," I spoke up, letting out a small laugh. "God, you're too good of a man for me," I started wiping my growing tears of pure joy away.

"Not nearly good enough," he mumbled, pulling me back the few inches I had sat up away from him.

"Dean, people write romance books about you," I huffed, laying more sideways and placing the side of my face on his chest.

"I have been told I give off the Fabio looks," he playfully flipped his hair, relaxing with my answers now.

"That you do," I chuckled, patting his chest. "But you somehow knew what I needed before I did, and I-" I hesitated because it was true, and that should have scared me, but it didn't. "I've always had to think of my next step. I always have had to look out for myself, and even then, I failed myself a lot of times. Having someone see the problems and anxieties you could be setting yourself up for is something I never thought existed."

I could hear his heart race and brought my arms around him to hug him closer. He did the same.

"It's funny how we started off," I muffled with a smile in his Henley.

"You drove me up a wall, but I liked it," he laughed.

"I was extremely pissed off by you," I shrugged.

"I liked that too."

"Of course you did."

"Eh, look at us now," he looked up at the sky, and the last bits of light from the sun were fading with soft oranges and purples. The stars grew in brightness.

"Did you like the houses?" I asked, digging back into his original question.

"Yeah, that's the next part of my question," he took a deep breath, and my upper half raised and lowered with his chest. "I may or may not have looked more into them and set up showing times while we're here."

I sprung from my laid-back position and looked down on him.

"Showing times, like showing their house to us as potential buyers, showing times?" I asked, and I could still see his handsome smile in the low lights of the night.

"I mean, you don't have to be a potential buyer every time. You can just look to look out of sheer interest," he shrugged, watching me as he stayed laid back casually.

I looked at him in shock.

"Was that a bad move on my part? I can't really tell right now," he spoke up uneasily after a moment.

"It was a really thoughtful move," I shook my head.

"No buts?"

"No buts."

"So you think you want to see them this week? I have two lined up on Wednesday and one tomorrow. But I can cancel if you don't want to. Just let me know," he rushed out, a huge grin on his face.

"Dean, is this something you want though?" I asked carefully.

We had moved in with each other pretty soon. But that was different than buying a whole house together. It was a completely different scenario than before when his shelter was either a roach-infested motel or my guest room.

But this was a big step, and from how Dean put it, he wanted in on the deal, too. This was asking about the next step.

"Of course," he nodded, sitting up now, grabbing my wrist gently, and placing both my hands on his chest. The motion proved that he was certain as his heart had slowed and he steadied.

He had thought about this and was settled in his decision. That made me feel better.

"Me and the house, right?" I clarified.

"It can be your house if you want, but I wouldn't be mad about it being our house," he leaned forward, inches from placing his lips on mine, but patiently waited for a reply. "I think I'd make a handsome trophy husband," he looked up at me for a few seconds before back at my lips. "What do you say?"

I didn't have to think about it, really. I was happy and settled myself.

"I think we have some house hunting to do and that we need to come to a consense on what kind of dog we're going to get," I answered, and he closed the gap to give me a heated kiss.

When we finally broke apart, he looked at me and said, "We're getting a dog?" in more of a questionable statement.

"I always told myself that as soon as I get a house of my own, I'm getting a dog," I nodded. "So yes. It is a dealbreaker."

"No deal I want to break," he smiled again and leaned back in for another kiss.

He was sweet and passionate about it, and his hands found their way to my cheeks before he pulled away enough to brush my nose with his.

"I love you very much, Y/N Knight," he grinned, looking back and forth between my eyes.

"I love you too, Dean Winchester."

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goldendiie · 6 years ago

Text

as the sun sets fillmore dies, and sarge copes.

. . . .

1979

Fillmore is dying. Sarge knows that much. It’s been a month (or maybe two, or three) since he’d been admitted to some hospital in Albuquerque, and five days since they’d stopped letting Sarge into the room. Not Family, the Nurse had said, an apologetic, red lipstick smile plastered on her face. Bullshit, Sarge had replied. Still, she didn’t let him in.

He goes to the hospital every day, only to sit in the waiting room and stare at the same point in the wall, anxiously waiting for any news. He thinks, maybe Fillmore will just get up and walk out, completely healed by some miracle that Sarge would never be able to describe. Any second now. Any second…. No. No, that’s childish. He gets up, and makes for the door.

As he faces the bustle of the outside world, a part of him wants someone (a nurse? A doctor?) to run up behind him and tell him to stay. He’s been asking for you, they’d say, you can see him now. He pushes open the door, and walks into the dying sunlight. Nobody calls after him, nobody is completely healed.

He returns the next day, like he always does. The secretary remembers his name.

Sarge watches the people who come through the waiting room. They’re here to see sick grandparents, newborn children. Lovers, parents, friends. He begins to fall into space, lost in the cycle of existence that he had come to know. Fillmore is dying. Fillmore could be dead, for all he knows. Maybe they’re removing him from his hospital room now, making it all neat and proper for the next dead man to pass through its door--

“You’re here for Fillmore, right?”

He snaps out of it, and looks up. He’s met with the same careful, sad, red lipstick smile that he’d seen a few days prior. Sarge must look awfully pale, or awfully shocked, because the Nurse quickly says: “You can see him now, if you like.” He hardly feels the ground beneath his feet as he follows her deep into the bowels of the hospital.

“He’s been begging to see you, you know.” the Nurse says cordially, resting a manicured hand on the doorknob of room four-nine-eight. For whatever reason, she pauses before letting him in the room. It’s dark, save for the light coming in from the hallway, and that of the quickly setting sun outside. The only sound inside the room is the unceasing beep, beep, beep of the electrocardiograph monitor.

“You have a visitor.” The Nurse says quietly, turning on the lights.

Sarge watches in vague, distraught horror as Fillmore sat up and turned his sallow, sunken face to look at him. He certainly looked dead, with empty, glossed-over eyes and too-thin appendages. Yet, a wide, familiar grin split across Fillmore’s face as he spoke in a struggling voice: “Hey, man. It’s been a while.”

Sarge deflated in some strange form of relief as he drifted forward to catch Fillmore’s outstretched hand. It felt foreign in his own. Too frail, too cold.

“I’ll leave you two to it.” The Nurse says, exiting quickly.

Fillmore falls back on his pillows as the door clicks shut behind her. “Dunno why she wouldn’t let me see you.” He says, “You know, I’d like to see my lover before--”

“She’s just following rules.” Sarge replies, almost curtly.

“They’re stupid rules.” Fillmore huffs.

The revolutionary spirit Fillmore had gained during the tail end of the sixties never left him, even on his deathbed. Sarge chuckles weakly. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

“Why would I change?”

Sarge shrugs as he pulls a chair up next to the bed. He opts to change the subject instead of answering the question: “You look like hell.”

“I feel like it, too.” Fillmore replies. “They don’t let me smoke ‘round here, man….”

“That would probably just make it worse.”

“I’m dyin’ here, dude, they could at least let me have a smoke before I off myself.”

It seemed that Fillmore had grown comfortable with his inevitable demise. Ready to meet the unknown, or ready to find true peace. Whichever. Sarge grows quiet with this thought, now staring down at their clasped hands.

Fillmore clears his throat, somewhat startling him. “I, uh, wanted to ask you something, man.” He says. “Like my last wish, or something.”

“What’s that?”

“Lemme preface with the fact that I know you, Sarge.” Fillmore says, “You’re stubborn, you’re damned sentimental, and--”

“Fillmore.” Sarge interrupts. “Get to the point.”

“Move on.” His voice is clear, strong. “Live your life.”

“You can't ask me to--”

“It's all part of life, man. It's gonna happen eventually.”

And that was that. Sarge knows that it’s no use to argue with him; after all, he’s right. In time, he would move on whether he liked it or not. He sighs. “Yeah. Alright.”

Fillmore grins and opens his mouth to say something more, but is overtaken by a coughing fit. Sarge dropped his hand and shot to his feet, ready to find help if need be. “Fillmore, are you--”

“I’m fine.” Fillmore’s hands clutch his chest as he gasped. His voice had become raspy, hollow.“Sit back down, wouldja?”

Sarge did as he was asked. “Sorry, I thought--”

“Don’t apologize.” Fillmore interrupts. “It happens sometimes.”

It shouldn’t happen, Sarge thinks, This shouldn’t be happening to you.

The silence that now consumes the room is pregnant. There’s whispers of ideas of what Sarge could say, but he finds he wouldn’t be able to verbalize them even if he tried.

It’s several minutes until their silence is broken.

“How’re the folks back home?” Fillmore asks. “Any customers?”

“None.” Sarge replies. “And they’re doing fine. Flo and Ramone said they were gonna stop by tomorrow.”

“That’ll be nice.”

It’s difficult to decide whether small talk is a vice or a virtue. In the moment which it matters most, they’re unable to talk about anything meaningful. Yet, conversation is better than the bitter silence, filled only by the monitor on Fillmore’s heart.

Sarge finds Fillmore’s hand again. He squeezes it in some attempt to ease the anxiety he must be feeling. Outside, the sun had begun to set in a fantastic wash of red and orange and periwinkle-blue. The hour had grown late.

“You should get some rest.” Sarge said.

“Yeah.” Fillmore returned, “Sounds like a good idea.”

“I’m gonna stay with you.” He said, “In case I leave and they don’t let me back in tomorrow.”

Fillmore laughed. “See you in the morning, then.”

It’s so normal, natural, that it feels somewhat like a promise. Morning will come, and Fillmore will still be here, waking up with the rising sun. It isn’t long before the sunlight falls off of his face, and he is asleep.

Fillmore looks almost peaceful, if not for the wires and IVs pumping life into him. He didn’t belong here, in this sterile, white environment. He belonged at home, in Radiator Springs, playing that obnoxious music and arguing about the moon landing.

The Nurse ushers in once more, long after the sunset was replaced with a sky dotted with stars. “Visiting hours are over.” She said, lingering near the doorway for a moment too long.

“Can I stay with him?” Sarge asks. He turns his stinging-tired gaze onto her, Fillmore’s hand still clasped between both of his own.

There’s a terribly long pause, before she melancholically utters: “Of course.”

He returns his gaze to Fillmore, who hadn’t stirred. His head is turned towards the ceiling, and he snores quietly. He could tell that he was in pain; every so often his breathing would turn to quiet, strangled gurgling. It never lasted long, though. Fillmore was right. It happens sometimes.

“You’ve fought hard.” Sarge whispers, and Fillmore’s fingers tighten. “But you can’t give up. You need to keep--” his voice deteriorates with each word. “You need to keep going.”

His words fall on deaf ears. Fillmore’s face remains turned towards the ceiling. Sarge sighs and rests his head on the edge of the bed. He closes his eyes, and the night consumes him.

It's not half a moment later, and Sarge is raising his head. He wonders if he’s imagining the flatline. It fades in and out of his hearing as Fillmore’s grip on his hand loosens. His fingers are thin, he notices. As are his wrists, and arms, and torso. He’s too thin. His eyes travel upwards to Fillmore’s (thin, sallow, lifeless) face. His mouth is slightly open, and his empty, glossed-over eyes stare, unseeing, at the ceiling. There’s color yet in his cheeks.

Sarge lets go of his hand, and it falls limply to the side of the bed. The walls are closing in on him, and the flatline only grows in volume as he reaches for the body in a haze. His hands grip the sheets, and then the thin hospital gown. He tries to speak-- some mixture of a question and a plea-- but the only sound that escapes him is a strangled moan.

He’s painfully aware of the Nurse prying him away from the body. She guides him into the hallway, leading him by the arm, as a doctor rushes in to pronounce the death.

“He’s not in pain anymore,” the Nurse hushed, “He’s in a better place.”

Sarge broke away from her and not-quite-ran for the exit, dashing into the lobby and then into the parking lot. Its early morning, almost the time that he play his Reiville, almost the time it would be met with that god-awful rendition of the national anthem--

He slams the door of his jeep and covers his head with his hands, his entire body shaking with silent wails.

. . . .

Fillmore is buried on a wonderfully, painfully sunny day in July. Sarge watches numbly as the plain, matte-black casket is lowered below the desert floor. He hated black, he thought as it’s slowly covered up with dirt. Only then did he share in the opinion; it was void of all life and feeling, not at all suitable for someone who had been as vibrant and intrinsic as the sunset over Willy’s Butte.

Yet, the sun had surrendered itself all too quickly, and Fillmore died young. Born 24 April, 1948; Died 29 June, 1979. He was only thirty-one. Far too young for someone like him, Sarge muses. He’d had a whole life ahead of him, brewing those horrible teas and playing that god-awful music--

“Are you gonna be alright?”

Sarge had lingered too long. He hadn’t noticed that the crowd had dispersed, leaving only him to watch the grave. Ramone is standing behind and to the left of him. His voice is concerned, condolatary.

Sarge turns his back to the gravesite. “I’ll be fine.” He said evenly, brushing the hand away and walking past him.

“You were close to him, man,” Ramone said, following closely behind him. “I’m just worried that you’re gonna--”

“I’m fine.” Sarge insisted.

And that was that. Ramone left him alone, and he continued towards his home in peace. It wasn’t the quiet, content peace that he’d grown accustomed to. No, now it’s empty, void. Silence is better than conversation.

Sarge doesn’t look at Fillmore’s dome (nor the “for sale” sign in front of it) as he passes. He looks straight ahead, chin up and shoulders squared. He lets himself inside his shop, and the door quietly clicks shut behind him. He continued towards the back of the shop and through another door, into his living area. It’s nothing special-- a small kitchen, a sitting area, and a bedroom behind a door off to the side. He stands in the center of it all, aimlessly staring into space.

He needs to clean out Fillmore’s dome. Clean out all of the junk that he’d accumulated over the years, determine what he’d keep and what he’d sell. Speaking of selling, he’d need to get rid of the bus, too, now that there was no one to drive it… Sarge decides promptly to stop thinking about it. He re-enters his shop, flicks on the lights, and stalks up and down the rows of military surplus. Backpacks, boots, butterfly knives. His medals--currently pinned to his lapel-- are usually in a display case front and center. He keeps them in prime condition, like everything else from his time in Vietnam--

He hears gunfire. The surplus shop is gone, replaced by a jungle under a cloudless night sky. He’s cowering behind a tree, holding his rifle to his chest. The NVA or Viet-Cong or whatever they were had gotten their hands on an anti-vehicle gun. Five, maybe ten men were dead just past the perimeter line. Phuoc Tuy, that’s right, he’s in Phuoc Tuy--

Just like that, it’s over. He’s back in Radiator Springs, swaying back and forth like he’s about to fall over. Sarge supposes a car had backfired, or something had fallen over in another room. It’s just stress, that’s all, he thinks. That’s all it took. Stress, and a loud noise.

He occupies himself and his mind by displacing and replacing items on the shelves. Vaguely, he realizes how silly he must look: he’s cleaning his shop in full dress uniform, shoes polished, medals pinned to his suit. He really should go change, but he doesn’t. He continues to tidy the shop, over and over again until he can’t bring himself to do it anymore.

He collapses on his couch, and falls asleep almost instantly. He dreams of gunfire and Fillmore’s sallow, sunken face.

The next day is just like any other: Sarge wakes in the early hours of the morning, head pressed uncomfortably into the arm of the couch, staring through the slats in the blinds as the new day rises. As he forces himself to get up, he notices the new creases in his suit. He’d have to iron it sooner or later.

Sarge’s routine is slow and grueling-- or, rather, it had become slow and greuling. He leaves his suit in a heap on the floor, showers with cold water, and dresses once again. A passing glance in the mirror tells him how god-awful he looks: his features are tired and gaunt, complete with heavy bags under his eyes and a thin frown etched into his face.

He looks somewhere between dying and dead; a little like Fillmore before he’d passed. Vaguely, he imagines himself in Fillmore’s place, frail and weak while nurses and doctors prodded at him with needles and tubes. Surely, he would put up a fight, yet it would be all for naught. Inevitably, he would die. The image fades back into that of Fillmore, coughing himself into a sleep from which he would never wake. He hadn’t gone peacefully, Sarge realizes. His eyes were open upon his death.

The thought had shocked him into a stupor. He stands, like a fool, staring at his own wide-eyed reflection in the mirror. He shakes his head, as if to rattle his realization away, and continues on with his day.

. . . .

It’s early October before Sarge had grown numb enough to finally clean out Fillmore’s dome. No one ever bought the lot-- it was practically useless, since traffic on the road had long since ceased-- but cleaning it out still seemed to be a worthwhile idea. Fillmore would have wanted his stuff to be given away, anyways.

The once-colorful interior of the dome was covered in a thick layer of dust. It had been months since anyone had inhabited it, making the haphazard placement of personal items seem like an exhibit out of a museum: the kitchen still has pots in the sink, the bedsheets are still disheveled, and the needle of a record player is still in the grooves of an LP. There’s no good place to start in all of the mess. After all, how is one supposed to go about sorting through someone’s life? There must be an established method, a routine he could follow….

He opts to start with the records. That’s easy, right? They’re neatly packed into crates beneath a wooden stand, on top of which sat a poorly-aged Achiphon. There’s an old ten-inch single under the needle, and Sarge somehow recognizes it, despite how long it had been since he’d seen it. How many times had Fillmore played it for him? Ten? Twenty?

Sarge replaces the needle at the start of the LP, and switches the record player on. It pops with the dust and grime it had gathered over the past few months, before finally crackling to life. There’s drums as a guitar settles down into a melody, and a great diminuendo is met with Jimi Hendrix’s vocals. “Waterfall, nothing can harm me at all…” The music settles into every corner of the dome. Sarge had hated this song back in the day, but now it somehow relaxes him. Fillmore wouldn’t have let him hear the end of it, if he were still around. “My worries seem so very small, with my waterfall….”

He takes in the dome in one sweeping glance, now realizing that he doesn't fully want to disrupt it. It’s as though he’s erasing Fillmore’s last remaining presence off of the earth, truly killing him once and for all.

That’s entirely irrational, though. He flicks through the rest of the vinyls (Hendrix, The Kinks, Donovan, Janis Joplin, Jefferson Airplane), and sets them to the side. He thinks he might sell them. Someone else could get better use out of them.

Sarge moves along, looking for something else to look through. He turns next to the boxes of clothes that are pushed underneath the bed. Most of his shirts are garishly tie-dyed, and most of his pants have holes in them. Surprisingly, Sarge even finds a few of his own items of clothing, evidently left here throughout the years. He moves the boxes next to the crates of vinyls, designating it as things he would get rid of.

He moves on to a bookshelf at the foot of the bed. It’s packed with old, torn-up volumes. There’s old college textbooks, fantasy, science fiction, and…. The dome is suddenly quiet as Sarge pulls an unmarked book from the shelf. He’d been working so quickly, so efficiently, that he hadn’t realized the song had ended. He opens the book, only to find that it wasn’t a book, but a photo album. Sarge flicks through it absentmindedly. Photos of people, places he didn't recognize. Perhaps they were some old college buddies, or some fellow hippies he'd run into in his travels--

Sarge stops, mid-page turn. There’s a polaroid stuffed between the pages like a bookmark. With one steady hand, he removes it from the book and stares at it. He doesn’t remember letting Fillmore take a photo of them together, yet in his hand he held evidence that proved otherwise. The photo is at such an awkward angle that it was obvious Fillmore himself was the one holding the camera. Half of his face was visible: half of a crooked grin, half of a newly-grown beard, half of a nose, one eye. Sarge wasn’t looking at the camera when the photo was taken, instead looking out over some unseen distance. His head rested on the edge of Fillmore’s shoulder, like their closeness was the most natural thing in the world. On the white border of the photograph, scrawled in round, looping handwriting, was a date: August, 1967.

That had only been a few months after they’d met. He remembers that they-- the hippies and the press and whatnot-- had called it “The Summer of Love,” and he never really understood why. Such a strange name, when there was a war in Vietnam and protests in the streets… Sarge’s nostalgia was fleeting, and quickly left him feeling empty. In a fit of sentimental longing, he finds himself wishing to live it all again. To find himself in Radiator Springs again, to meet Fillmore again, to fall violently, fitfully in love again. They had wasted their time together, ignorant of the fact that it would be cut short.

Sarge realizes that he had been staring off into space. He stands, dusts himself off, and pockets the photograph. He sets the photo album aside, and stacks the rest of the books next to the pile of items to be sold. He puts the needle at the start of the LP again, and loses himself as he continues to work.

Waterfall, nothing can harm me at all…

. . . .

Sarge finally decides to visit the grave in November. It’s colder than it had been all week, and the temperature was dropping by the hour; he’d grown so used to the heat that anything lower than sixty degrees felt like winter. With his hands balled in his pockets, he sets off into the desert. He reaches the gravestone as the sun is beginning to set. He stares at it for a moment, coming to grips that he was standing above the body of his closest confidante.

Sarge isn’t sure why, but he begins to speak. “Hello, Fillmore. It’s been a while.”

Half of him expects a reply-- a “hey, man,” or something like that-- but the only sound is the wind, and the distant echo of interstate traffic.

“It’s quieter, without you.” He continues, “No one around to argue with.”

Dead, incomplete silence.

“I miss you.” Sarge blurts out, “I really do. And the time we had together was….” He trailed off, not exactly sure how to say it. “Well, it was just great.”

If Fillmore was listening, he would be grinning from ear to ear. Sarge knows that much.

He kneels down, and scrapes the dirt from the lettering. Born 24 April, 1948; Died 29 June, 1979. Only thirty-one years old. A life as vibrant and intrinsic and fleeting as the sunset over Willy’s Butte. Sarge stands again, and wipes the dirt from his pants. He watches the grave for a moment, now aware of a tremendous weight that had been lifted from his shoulders.

“Goodbye, Fillmore.”

As he leaves, the sky is a wonderful wash of red and orange and periwinkle-blue.

#here's the deathfic rewrite. i'll post it to ffn and ao3 eventually #cars fandom #sargemore #fillmore #sarge #writing tag

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keeloves · 6 years ago

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My Version of Team Flash

Keep in mind this just my personal opinion on who should on the Flash. These are the heroes and I will make villain roster later. I am also going to describe each person in the order that they are listed and what they do.

The Men Portion

Barry Allen: He is a crime scene investigator by day and Flash by night. He is a forensic scientist he uses his advantages as the Flash to further investigate crime scenes. He is happily married to his life long best friend Iris Ann West Allen. They sometimes investigate and solve crimes together. He is a good cook and a big dorky romantic. He is also very protective of the people he cares about and will do whatever it takes to protect Iris.

Wally West: He is an engineer by day and Kid Flash by night. He builds turbine engines. He is very good with building things like computers, turbine care engines and he works with Cisco to build the meta human pipeline but make it in much better conditions. Wally is quite the ladies man until one day he meets Linda Park and that all changes. He is best friends with both Cisco and Barry and he often has training sessions with both Barry and Jay who are more experienced speedsters.

Cisco Ramon: He is also an engineer like Wally but he focuses more on building meta human technology that either work to stimulate other powers or dampen them. He works with Joe down at Central City Police Department as a Meta Human specialist. His super hero name is Vibe and his abilities include finding out about people just by touching a belonging of theirs, he also has the ability like his girlfriend Cynthia to sever speedsters connections to the speed force and he can open portals to other earths. He can also sense changes in the time line and is by far one of the most powerful meta humans ever known. Cisco is a movie enthusiast, he is self confident and he has goals to start his own company. He also loves to fight crime with Cynthia and train with her.

Joe West: He is the father to Iris, Wally and Jenna and step father to Joanie and husband to Cecile and father in law to Barry Allen. Joe took Barry Allen in after his father was wrongfully convicted for murder of Nora Barry’s mother. He works as a detective down at CCPD and he uses connections with the Flash Team to help him solve crimes better. He is like the Jim Gordon of the Flash. He is also moral support for the team and is very protective of his family he will do anything to protect his family. His hobbies include reading, having fun and spending a quiet evening with his wife.

Hartley Rathaway: He is a scientist and he basically does what Harriosn Wells does. He is alias is the Pied Piper. His special powers include high technology gloves that send out high sonic waves that can shatter glass and can temporarily make his enemies feel distorted. He also has a degree in biochemistry. His hobbies include reading, building things and he likes to go hiking.

Jay Garrick: Doppleganger to Henry Allen and Earth 90 Barry Allen. He is the golden age Flash and he is on the team to help train Barry and Wally with their super speed.He teaches them new tricks and they sometimes teach him new tricks. He has the ability to pull a speedster out of the speed force. He serves more as a mentor to the team but because of his age he doesn’t go out in the field as much anymore but he does still do his part to help and he goes out in the field when they need an extra hand. He also uses his powers in creative ways such as punching his hat to send vibrations to blast his enemies across the room. Jay’s hobbies include relaxing with a good movie or a good book, he likes to travel to other times but he is very careful not alter anything because he learned his lesson on messing with the time line a long time ago.

Women’s portion:

Iris West Allen: She now runs the most successful news paper company in Central City it is called Central City Citizens. She named her company Central City City Citizens because she truly believes in justice and truth. She cares about getting the truth out to people no matter what it takes. She majored in psychology but she originally wanted to be a cop. She didn’t become a cop because it was too dangerous and plus her dad wouldn’t talk to her until and she with drew her application but she still wanted to find away to help people and be out in the field so she decided to become a investigative reporter. She is also leader of team Flash. She is sufficient in guns, hand to hand combat fighting, she is also quick thinking and level headed. She is married to Barry Allen/The Flash. Due to her successful blog and her success as a reporter she was able to open up her business thanks to Mrs. Merkel helping fund for CCC. Iris’s hobbies include, shopping, hanging. getting her manny peddies and she changes up her hair. (I am seriously desperate to see Iris with more black women hair styles)

Linda Park: Is an employer at Central City Citizens and she works in Sports News. She is best friends with Iris West Allen and is the love interest to Wally West. She is Dr. Light and has the ability to shoot light out of her hands and acts as a human light bulb when electricity goes out. Her abilities include temporarily blinding her enemies with lights that are super bright light. Her hobbies are, blogging about sports, doing cross fit which she got Iris to join because they agree they needed to stay in shape since they were going to be on team Flash. Iris also convinced Linda to learn how to shoot guns just in case her powers go out of wack. Linda also trains in self defense and is a decent in hand to combat fighting and that is thanks to Cynthia’s training.

Joanie Horton: She is the step sister to Iris West Allen and Wally, and half older sister to Jenna, she is also the daughter to Cecil and step daughter to Joe West. She works at Central City Citizens Newspaper. She writes about feminism from her perspective as a black woman. She is even planning on launching her own Magazine to help to help empower women especially women of color. She works as Iris’s employee and they have spent a lot of time together. She is looped in on who on who’s team Flash secret identity. Iris insist Joanie be looped in because she knows what its like not to be in the loop and the Barry and Joe learned that it is safer to keep family in the loop so they know how to stay safe. Joanie isn’t really part of team Flash but she has taken self defense classes, she works out to stay in shape and can defend herself. Her hobbies are, shopping, taking pole dancing classes a few times a week because she finds it feminine and fun and likes to be girly. She also loves getting massages, her hair done and loves to manny peddies. She is a girly girly and loves fashion. She still as goals to write a book.

Ceclile Horton: Step mom to Iris and Wally and mother to Joanie and Jenna. She is the wife to Joe West. She works as a lawyer in a law firm. She really isn’t part of team Flash but she does team up with Iris and Joe to to help build a case against criminals or she helps the innocent. She serves as a mentor to Iris and the other females simply because of her age and Iris also needs someone to lean on. Cecile is very supportive and kind warm caring person. Her hobbies include doing arts and crafts, scrap booking, shopping, reading and spending quality time with her family. She also has taken self defense classes along with other team and has taken fencing classes because Cecil loves to pick up new hobbies and has trained with Marlize since she is good with a Katana.

Cynthia Renolyds: She has the same powers as Cisco and she has been training him to use his powers in new ways like Barry trains Wally to uses his speed in new ways. She is skilled in hand to hand combat, she works to hunt metas that travel to other Earths and she hunts the worst criminals. All though she has gotten more relaxed since being on Earth 1 and has taken her father’s job as the New Breecher. She works with Cisco and she is also dating him. Her best friends are Iris and Linda because she wanted some female friends so who better than the people she works to protect the city with. Her hobbies, include working out, so she can stay in shape for her job, she loves to shoot guns at the shooting range and is more of a tomboy but also femine and knows how to throw on a nice gown of the group all though she is open to trying new things. She often is dragged shopping but she enjoys because she with friends. She has mostly black in her wardrobe but she takes fashion tips from Joanie who has convinced her to wear more color due to her beautiful skin tone. She loves what she does and is happy to have friends who help her fight crime.

Marlize Devoe: She is like the Harrison Wells of the group as in she is the scientist of the group and she has specialized in studying people’s powers. She has become friends with Iris West Allen and they train in hand to combat since they are the only non metas. Marlize has taught Iris how to sword fight, and Iris has taught Marlize how to shoot guns better. She also invents tech and sometimes works with Cisco to build cool technology. She also doesn’t have a temper and is very level headed. Her hobbies include building technology, she loves shopping for new clothes, she stays in shape and she loves to take up fencing. She besides Joanie is also very girly and feminine and she enjoys dressing up when she gets a chance. She recently got out of abusive relationship. She has apologized to Iris for helping put Barry in jail and is working to bring back the meta humans that her husband used her bodies. (She has also called on Legends of Tomorrow to help her with this and yes in my next character roster for Arrow/Birds of Prey that is how Earth 1 Dinah Laurel Lance/Black Canary will come back to life) Marlize calls on Legends of Tomorrow to help her save the meta humans and she is doing her best to be a better person. She even helps Iris plan girl’s nights and has heart to hearts with Iris. They even joke about how they used to fight and used to nemesis. They even spar sometimes and they realized their skills work better together than divided.

Anyways this my Flash Roster. Any opinions are welcome but please keep them respectful. I tried to include as many women as possible who I think would be good friends for Iris. Yes most of the women are related to her in some way. I will also be putting together a villain roster but I can’t promise it will be prompt. Anyways enjoy this roster and I hope you enjoy my descriptions I gave the characters. I gave the descriptions purely based off what I have seen on the show but I added some of my own head canons to help in their personalities. Let me know what you guys and gals and think.

#cw the flash #barry allen #wally west #joe west #cisco ramoan #jay garrick #iris west allen #cecile horton #joanie horton #linda park #cynthia reynolds #the flash #kid flash #golden age flash #vibe #pied piper #marlize devoe #hartley rathaway

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robininthelabyrinth · 6 years ago

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Im sorry I just want to challenge your awesome mind ;) I'm thinking.... 1 historical 6 bookshop 57 forgotten first meeting 90 unexpected virgin with... Coldwave. I'm sorry thats the otp of otps ♥

Coldwave1 - Historical6 - Bookshop57 - Forgotten First Meeting90 - Unexpected Virgin

It starts, of course, in juvie - or rather, in the workhouse, where orphans and wards of the British state are sent to stay. Mick saves Len’s life from a bunch of assholes who took exception to Len’s mother being black and a former slave, Len wide-eyed and adoring, and they are close as close can be for a few short months before Len’s sentence (he was caught for theft, and the judge was lenient in ordering him to the workhouse for a while to scare him straight rather than imposing a death sentence) is up and he’s taken back away by his dad, while Mick - who has no family left anymore, not after that terrible fire that he didn’t even start but couldn’t move to warn anybody about so everyone blames him anyway, his whole neighborhood gone up in flame - remains behind.

Time passes.

Mick grows up, alone and ostracized, but tough and strong and capable of violence and arson and murder, if need be. He works wherever they need manual labor, in the factories and in construction and in the dockyards. He has a million opportunities to sleep with whores, but he never takes them up on it - he’s uninterested in anyone he doesn’t know well, more attracted to a person’s mind than their body, and the few whores that hang out with him enough for him to develop an attraction towards have already started to see him as a brother by that point, so he just…doesn’t. Even as the years pass and his virginity becomes more awkward, and everyone makes assumptions just from looking at him, big and strong and muscular and tattooed. It’s easier to just - not.

And then the war begins.

Mick was unfortunate enough to be a visibly able-bodied man in the dockyards when it begins, so he gets pressed, of course; a miserable process, and he’s not exactly what one would call a natural sailor - it’s not his element, to say the least - but he figures it out eventually. He gets decent enough at the work of sailing - never particularly great, but who the hell cares when he can wield a bar of iron into men’s skulls when they try to board?

Then, of course, there’s the mutiny, and suddenly Mick’s a pirate now? He wasn’t even involved - slept through the whole thing and woke up to the new status quo - but what the hell, he didn’t care for Britain much anyway.

He likes being a pirate better anyway - they don’t make him do scut work (the new captain prefers Mick to hover intimidatingly over his shoulder as his new enforcer) and he even has time to do some reading in the old captain’s quarters, since the new captain doesn’t give a damn about any of those books. Mick likes reading, even if he’s slow and mixing up the letters, and he discovers that there actually is one aspect of sailing that he’s good at, and it’s navigation. He might not be great at reading, but he can calculate angles in his head like nobody’s business, all the math making perfect intuitive sense to him. So he starts learning up on it, because an enforcer is only as good as their last fight but a navigator is priceless. But there’s only so many books in the captain’s office, and there’s more to learn out there, and Mick’s finally found a career he thinks he can tolerate.

That’s why, the next time they dock in Port-au-Prince, Mick goes to find a bookstore.

And in that bookstore, he finds Len. Len, whose father’s business went bankrupt and they returned to Haiti to live upon his mother’s father’s money for a while - he’d been freed alongside his daughter for some great deed and inherited some measure of property in the process, and when he died he left it all to her, and upon her death it was left to her husband - and when that, too, ran out, Len was kicked out into the streets alongside his half-sister Lisa, the daughter of Lewis’ second wife, a white wife, and now the two of them don’t quite fit in: Lisa white as a daisy except for when her skin darkens to gold, but with Len pale but obviously mixed-race by her side, there’s always questions, and Haiti’s got some issues going on. Still, Lisa could make a good marriage if Len only managed to get her a dowry, so he ends up parlaying some pretty epic heists into running a bookstore, a more stable and respectable career (but for the smuggling operation that makes up most of the back end, but hey, what can you do? If you can’t be a thief, be a fence.).

Mick comes to buy a book, and Len flirts, and they very slowly start to get close - it’s not until the war comes to Haiti, an invasion force intent on destroying the town and burning it all, that Mick saves Len once again and in a moment of sudden realization Len recognizes him as the boy he fell in love with all those years ago. After saving the books, he decides that he shouldn’t be a coward and figures the worst Mick will do will be to say no.

Mick doesn’t say no.

Mick says yes, and means it, because he’s recognized Len too, now, the memories all rushing back to him, and he never thought he’d see Len again, and even if he hadn’t remembered him, he was already feeling things about this beautiful bookkeeper. But when Len tries to pull him into bed he resists for a little, causing Len to doubt himself - at least until Mick confesses the truth…

Len’s more than happy to take care of Mick’s little virginity problem.

Really, it’s a public service.

(And then they sell the bookstore and use up Len’s savings and get their own ship and run around as pirates making a killing for a decade or two before they finally settle in another city somewhere, maybe somewhere in pre-colonial America, somewhere near the center, and now they have their own little fleet of merchant ships because Len manages to parley his bookkeeper past and fencing skills into a pretty decent tradesman career. Lisa decided against entering into a respectable marriage, despite all of Len’s best efforts, and insisted on being a pirate with them, but she does eventually marry a nice Spanish engineer named Francisco Ramon who’s madly in love with her. They all live happily ever after.)

#dccoldwave #goldenvibe #meme #my fic #leonard snart #mick rory #lisa snart #cisco ramon

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pheuthe · 7 years ago

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coldflash role reversal/kidnapping AU

for @coldflashweeks Days 1 and 2 (because I missed Day 1 and this kinda fits both :D) - Role Reversal and Hostage/Kidnapping

“Snart?!” Ramon’s shrill voice echoes through the STAR Labs’ corridors and Len rolls his eyes.

Sure, he could just flash away and the kid would be none the wiser - but this issue is here to stay, if Len has any say in it (and he does), so it’s probably prudent to deal with it as soon as possible.

Ramon spots him then, so Len’s chances of a getaway are severely limited. He’s not going to let Ramon know that Len might be a tiny little bit intimidated by the nerd’s rants: he would never live it down, he’s sure.

“Hello to you too,” he counters with a smirk, but Ramon’s never been susceptible to Len’s particular brand of charm, so it falls flat and makes the kid cross his arms over his chest in a clear ‘I’m upset with you’ manner. Len knows that one - he’s been on the receiving end for about three years now.

“What is Barry Allen doing in our med bay?!”

“Ah. That.”

“Yes that, are you out of your mind? No, wait, that was a purely rhetorical question, because I know you are, we’ve previously established this on numerous occasions. Put him back where you found him, now!”

“Also established that I don’t listen to you,” Len says cheerfully, which just makes Ramon’s scowl deepen.

“Do you even realize how this could mess with time? Haven’t you had enough time-traveling screw-ups already? You really should know better by now. You literally broke time just last year. Does that mean nothing to you?”

Len shrugs. Ramon groans. If anyone should know better by now, it’s Ramon, really; the only reason why Len hasn’t become a full-fledged villain in the first place was that dealing with the speedster thing was indescribably more complicated, if not impossible, without the STAR Labs crew.

And - Len would never admit this - he’s grown fond of Ramon and Snow. Kicking Thawne’s ass to oblivion was an added bonus, after nearly three decades of everyone thinking Len had just been another teen junkie when he’d claimed that his father, an asshole extraordinaire, did not in fact murder his mother in a flash of weird yellow lightning.

(Experimenting on how much he could push Harry’s buttons before the man exploded was an added bonus number two, really.)

But all that doesn’t mean he gives a rat’s ass about someone else dying to save time and space - someone other than Barry, who might be a thief, but is also insanely smart and funny and, yeah, alright, he can respond to Len’s sarcasm with surprising wit. Len did enjoy the banter, before Barry fucked off to a time ship.

And then didn’t come back for the alien invasion because apparently, he got himself killed, the stupid heroic twink that he is. Was. IS.

What’s the point of being able to run through time if he can’t drag a kid away form certain death, huh? The way the Waverider crew told it, Barry was third in line for the heroic suicide, anyway. At least two other self-sacrificing morons on that ship to take his place - and considering that the world’s not crumbling around their ears, someone must have done just that.

“I have a plan,” he tells Ramon, to placate the guy because he’s about ready to have a stroke - or go whip up some alien gadget to kick Len’s ass.

Ramon, of course, doesn’t buy it.

“Oh yeah? Does that ingenious plan include dragging the criminal currently sleeping in our lab - I repeat, a criminal in a multi-million dollar lab with sensitive equipment - to a dinner date?”

Ramon has known him for way too long. Damn it.

“No,” Len sneers, and raises an eyebrow. “Just like your plan doesn’t include growing a pair and asking my sister out.”

Ramon splutters - offense really is the best defense. Len decides this is as good a moment for strategic retreat as he’s gonna get and flashes to the med bay, or rather, the bed on which he usually recovers from multiple fractures and some bruised internal organs. Or alien mind-control... and some metahuman poisoning. Among others. What a life a hero leads in this city.

...

“Take me back” is the first thing Barry says when he opens his eyes - well, maybe the fifth, after Snow prods him with enough lights and sticks to ascertain that he’s not going to drop dead from the intense time-travel Len just put him through. Maybe his body got used to it on the Waverider, because he didn’t even throw up, even when Len technically whipped him through six decades (and what luck that the Waverider’s last stop before the Oculus debacle wasn’t the fourteenth century - Len isn’t sure he’d have enough energy bars to manage that).

After Snow proclaims Barry concussion-less, and gives Len another of her icy glares reserved for the moments when he whacks someone over the head as a problem-solving choice, she saunters off, probably to complain to Ramon about what a dick Len is. He’s not sorry, they get some good bonding time over it, he’s sure.

What does concern him is the way Barry also glares at him, which might have something to do with the headache, courtesy of Len’s reaction to when Barry said ‘no’ to being whisked away from certain death.

“No,” Len echoes that delightful moment now and even throws in a smile. Barry proves much less resistant to the Snart charms, because he actually blushes - and how cute is that - and ducks his head.

“Snart... we’ve talked about this. You can’t just decide-”

“I can. I did.”

“It wasn’t your call to make!” Barry yells, and the raised voice gives Len some pause. It’s not his usual reaction to someone screaming at him, which is... not pretty, to say the least. No... Barry has never yelled at him before, even when Len put him in Iron Heights (which the kid promptly broke out of, so no hard feelings there). He’s trembling now, barely contained rage and frustration, and his eyes are going a little shiny. Not a good look on him, in Len’s opinion: he much prefers Barry to be laughing, cocky and self-assured and pocketing diamonds like spare change.

“They’re my team,” Barry adds, quietly this time, like he can sense that Len’s not good with ‘loud’. That’s the thing Len likes about him best, the way they seem to always fit together, always accommodating each other’s vulnerabilities, even if technically, they shouldn’t. “We’ve been through so much together, and I can’t just sit here knowing that one of them is going to die because you decided I was worth more than any of them.”

More like all of them combined, in Len’s opinion, but he recognizes that voicing that thought would be a mistake. And all the heroing must be rubbing off on him, because deep down, in the part of his conscience that he usually tries to shut off, he recognizes that Barry might have a point.

With a sigh, Len squeezes the bridge of his nose, then.

“Very well. We’re going back and doing this right - as soon as your head stops hurting.”

“If you’re so worried about my head, maybe don’t brain me the next ti- wait, what do you mean, ‘we’?”

“I mean I’m going to keep you - and your damn team - alive. And you owe me dinner.”

Len takes the resulting fierce blush as an indication that Barry Allen might not really have a death wish after all.

...

Nobody dies. And the dinner goes great.

Barry steals Len’s wallet to pay for it, but the goodnight kiss makes up for the blow to Len’s pride.

#coldflashweeks2018 #coldflash #fanfiction #role reversal au #speedster!len #thief!barry

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geoxis · 4 years ago

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10 Email Marketing Strategies Every Business Owner Should Know

You may have remembered one particular moment in your life where you groaned because you received an email yet again from one of the stores you made purchase months ago. This email may have even directly hit the spam spot in your email folders. You may not have cared too much back then, but if you have your own business these days, it would surely matter to you. Email marketing has one of the longest in the digital marketing landscape yet still proves to be one of the most effective. More than 40 years ago, the first email marketing message went to roughly around 400 recipients. Fast forward to 2019; there were about 3.9 billion email users worldwide and expected to rise to 4.48 billion in 2024. With this number of potential audiences, email marketing should always be part of your online marketing campaign. Aside from this number, emails can give you a high rate of click-throughs and even a massive 4400% ROI. So, how can you get the most out of your email marketing campaign? Here are some email marketing strategies that you can adopt to ensure your business’ success.

Email Marketing Strategies That You Should Know

Connect With Your Audience One of the many reasons why the email you received years ago landed in the Spam folder instantly is because you feel no connection with it. It did not speak to you and therefore was not worthy of your time. It is important that the emails you send these days will speak to your audience and will establish a connection with them. Do the proper segmentation before you dispatch any of your emails. You may group your audience according to their age, gender, and location. When you do this, there are higher chances of open rates and low unsubscribe rates as it ensures that you are sending your message to the right audience. Remember To Personalize When you are finally able to do proper segmentation in your email, it is essential as well that what you send is personalized and will fit their interest. Get to know your audience better and familiarize yourself with customers’ interests and whatever catches their attention online. Strengthen the initial connection that you build with your audience with a personalized email. It will increase your open rates and will convince people to buy or make any transaction with you. Always Think Mobile The call for going and doing mobile-first has been around lately. Many people have decided to rely on their mobile phones entirely and ditched their computers and laptop. This phenomenon means that these people are connecting to their internet, doing a search on search engines, and opening their emails at their mobile devices. If your email is not fit for mobile, they will lose interest and toss you to the Spam folder, delete your message without reading, and even wholly block yours from sending any letter. Practice Less is More The world is moving on fast. This statement rings true even for your online audience’s behavior. Many are living in the fast lane and does not have a lot of time in their plate. Their patience also seemed to be wearing thin. When using email as part of your marketing strategy, it is essential to keep this in mind. Your email interface should be simple, clean, and professional looking. Your message should pop up even without the use of bright and colorful images. An email interface that has a fresh, polished look seemed to be more authentic and delivers messages across in an instant. Your audience will not have the whole day to read your message. It should be concise and direct to the point. Integrate AI Artificial Intelligence has already made an impact on our lives. We have been using AI even without us knowing, from the ride-hailing app you so fond of to the voice searches that you made last night; these are just some of AI at work. AI in an email may have a different job, but it will make your life as a marketer and business owner easier. AI can help you with proper personalization and smart segmentation. It may also automate your workflow, which can save you a lot of time and be able to focus on your other marketing strategy. AI can also determine the best possible time your audience is online and, most likely, the best time that they will open their email. Call To Action Buttons If there is one thing that you should never forget in your email body is the inclusion of “Call to Action” buttons that can make a whole lot difference in your email. It is the primary driver of click-through on your website. CTA makes it clear on what your readers should do next, and it makes readers act. It is a critical part of your email marketing strategy. CTA transitions your customers to the next level of interaction with your brand and encourages them to take action immediately. You can ask them to sign up at your website, contact you for further details or even to know more about you. Social Media Buttons Another set of buttons that you should not overlook when you make your email blast is your social media buttons. They act as secondary CTA buttons. Your social media buttons can either follow icons where it takes your customer straight to your social media profiles or share button where readers can share specific content to their social media profile. Catchy Headlines Often, your headlines will be the deal maker, whether you will end up in the Spam or Trash folder, or your email will see the light of day and have the recipient read it thoroughly. When you create your headlines, make sure that they are catchy and will have your audience hooked on your email. However, remember to avoid using click baits as this will affect your online credibility. Email and SEO The content you put in your email matters a lot. Either you want to promote your brand, product, and services or you want to update your audience with a recent article from your website, it will make a huge difference when it comes to your SEO campaign. Though email marketing does not directly affect SEO, when used side by side, it can complement each other. Email marketing is a great avenue to drive quality website traffic and helps lower down bounce rates. Accordingly, 55% of people find new websites through emails that they have received and read. Encourage Feedback If you have been using email marketing for a long time now, you will know that there are different purposes on why you do this campaign. It is either you want to promote something, or you share a sale offer. However, these days, marketers and business owners are using email to generate feedback from their users. Final Thoughts As Technology move in a rapid state, so does email marketing. Staying updated on the latest trend can make your campaign a success. Even if email marketing has already been around for ages, it holds a lot of potentials that you should leverage. By using email marketing to help promote your brand, augment sales, and win your target audience, you will achieve all of your marketing goals.

About the Author

Ramon has been writing about technology trends, entertainment, and gaming ever since he left the busy world of corporate HR Tech behind. He currently writes about software and user experiences for Softvire Australia - the leading software e-Commerce company in Australia and Softvire New Zealand. In his spare time, Ramon writes science fiction, collects little yellow men and plastic spaceships. Read the full article

#BestEmailMarketing #Email #EmailCampaign #EmailMarketing #EmailMarketingAgency #EmailMarketingServices #EmailMarketingStrategy #EmailMarketingTips #MailMarketing

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stillthewordgirl · 7 years ago

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LOT/CC fic: A Little Trouble, ch. 5 (of 6)

In a universe where the Legends returned to their earlier lives after Savage's defeat, Sara Lance is bored out of her mind. And then a certain crook turns up...

SO many thanks to @larielromeniel for helping me work this bear of a chapter out--multiple times! This wouldn’t have been possible about her. (Or would have made a lot less sense...)

Can be read here at AO3 or here at FF.net.

The black book, to the best of Leonard's information, is kept in a safe in Kay's office on the penultimate floor of the building, just underneath his penthouse.

The first problem: The building's elevators won't go to either of those floors without a fingerprint and retina scan from Kay himself.

Now, lifting a fingerprint is doable, Sara knows. The retina...a little tougher. And while there's probably a high-tech way or two to get around it (or a few brutal low-tech ways that don't fit in at all with the Leonard Snart way of doing things, although she'll make no comment about the League of Assassins), he'd worked out a way to make Kay, himself, essentially work for them.

First, take the building's cameras down, all at once, with a device pilfered from S.T.A.R. Labs.

("What?" He'd asked mock-indignantly, when Sara rolled her eyes at him. "Can you tell me this won't be useful for missions on the Waverider? Ramon would love contributing to the safety of the timeline. He's dealt with Barry too much. He'd have given it to me if I asked."

"Did you ask?"

"What fun would that be?")

Kay, who's glad-handing his slimy way through the ballroom, frowns as a security guard speaks to him urgently, then turns for the nearest elevator, motioning for the guard and another to accompany him.

Once inside, they know, he scans his index finger, then peers into the retina scanner.

And the elevator begins to rise.

Perched on the top of the car, Sara glances over to watch Leonard, who's staring off into the distance and counting to himself silently, lips barely moving. If she didn't know him and how he works, she wouldn't even have seen it.

He catches her watching after a moment and gives her a half-smile, but continues to count.

Eventually, the car shudders to a halt at the penultimate floor and the pair in the elevator shaft move quickly as the doors slide open, shifting to the side of the elevator shaft, where the plans had shown them a small, recessed space, presumably for technical support. They loop their safety straps around a hook in the wall and, watching each other in the darkness, they wait.

Meanwhile, in Central City...

"So, where's Snart? He usually doesn't miss an opportunity to do the whole 'locks? what are locks?' routine." Taking a sizable slurp from his soda, Cisco plops himself down on his chair, spinning around to face S.T.A.R. Labs' latest member…and guest. "I mean, I know he finds us all boring, 'cause he keeps telling us so repeatedly, but really, I think we'd better be keeping an eye on him."

He's not looking at Barry, so misses his friend nearly choking on his own drink at the words. Ray, who misses it too, frowns a moment in consternation from the work station he'd commandeered as his own.

"I don't know. Haven't seen him in a couple days," he admits, a look of concern crossing his face. "I knew he was bored. Well...I think so. He wasn't even insulting me anymore, and that's just weird."

"He probably went to see Blondie."

All three men turn to look at Mick, who shrugs, leaning back farther in his chair and taking a lengthy pull from his beer. While he might not be part of Team Flash (he laughs when Ray even suggests the notion), he keeps showing up with the other Legend, and even Cisco's long since stopped jumping at his every move.

Especially since he keeps bringing food and booze.

" 'Blondie?' " Barry, recovering, queries, looking at the bigger man. "Do you mean...?"

"Sara?" Ray's perked up. "Really? That's nice. I told him I thought she was lonely." He grins. "I think we should all go visit! Have a reunion!"

That gets a bark of laughter from Mick. "I don't think that's really what he has in mind, Haircut." He shakes his head and sets his empty bottle down, rising to cross to the mini fridge for a new one.

"What do you mean?" Ray looks puzzled. Barry looks like he's just been struck by lightning--again. And Cisco, after a moment, chokes on his soda like Barry did earlier.

"You're saying..."

"I'm saying the Boss's had the hots for Blondie since the day he met her. And not only that, he likes her." Micks nods as Ray makes a squeaking noise. "Not too observant, are you? Now, they're probably just doing the same shit they did before...the eye sex and all that...” Cisco chokes again, having barely caught his breath back, “but that doesn't mean either one of 'em's gonna want you showing up." He eyes Barry, who's now sitting at his desk, his head in his heads. "Somethin' you want to say, Red?"

"Nope." Barry's voice is muffled. "Nope. Just..." He raises his head and stares at Mick a moment. "What would you say an actual...date...would constitute for Leonard Snart?"

Mick pops a new beer and sits back down, putting his feet up. "Don't think the man's ever done anything that normal in his life." He takes a drink. "Prob'ly a heist or something. Why?"

Barry just puts his head back in his hands, while Ray helpfully pounds Cisco on the back.

The good guys, Mick reflects, taking another drink, are weird.

Not that much time passes while they're tucked in the small space in the elevator shaft, really. Just enough time for Kay to bark a few orders (Leonard, listening intently, picks out what he’s listening for), presumably dispatching one of the security team to remain on guard in the office.

It feels longer, though, he thinks, watching Sara watch him in return. They're secure enough—heaven knows he's been in more precarious positions in his life—and they both know the plan. All they have to do at the moment is wait. And watch.

It's not awkward, precisely, the near-silence. But feeling her eyes upon him, he keeps feeling like he should say something.

"You ready?"

Sara's lips curve as she studies him. "For what?"

What does she think he's asking? "The...that."

The elevator, a fairly well-maintained specimen of its kind, starts to move again. But contrary to their expectations, it starts to move up.

Sara'd started to lean out just a little at the first sound, and while she'd quickly moved back into the alcove, Leonard can't help but throw an arm out to make sure she's safely inside. His hand catches her elbow and, glancing down at it and then back up at him, she smirks.

But she leaves his hand where it is. And so does he.

"Why...?" he mutters, glancing upward. "The only thing up there is the penthouse."

"Maybe he wanted to get changed?" Sara shrugs. "Shouldn't matter."

"Yeah..."

It's not long before the elevator car begins to move again. The two intruders in the elevator shaft stay motionless while the car moves down past them, continuing toward the ground floor. After a moment, Sara—casting Len one more thoughtful glance—moves carefully downward, secured by her straps, until she's level with the door. After a moment's consideration of the safety panel by its side, she taps a button, then swings herself inside as the door slides open, releasing one end of her straps and then dragging them in after her.

Leonard follows, landing neatly in the hallway and gathering his own safety equipment. They exchange a glance, and head for the door at the end of the hallway.

Leonard picks the lock silently, save for one tiny “click.” There’s no sound of alarm from the room, so they exchange another look…and then Sara takes a few steps back and, with a deep breath, gets a running start.

She barrels through the door and the guard never knows what hit him.

Leonard, following, nods as he sees her trussing the man up. He takes stock of the room, then crosses to the safe behind the desk, lock picks in hand.

“You got that?” Sara’s voice from across the room is teasing.

“Hmmm…it’s a good one.” He smirks. “But not as good as me.”

Sara says something else, but he’s focusing now, and nothing else exists but the lock and his tools.

And, after a minute or so, the “click.”

“Got it,” he says in satisfaction, tucking the picks away. “Ahead of the game.”

“Don’t you always tell Ray off for saying things like that?” Sara joins him by the safe, crouching down to put a hand on his shoulder.

That warm touch is distracting, but… He’s a professional, he reminds himself. “Please. Don’t mention Raymond in the middle of a heist. You’ll jinx it,” he says as he carefully opens the safe door.

For a moment, they’re silent.

“What did I tell you?” Leonard says finally. “Jinxed.”

The safe is empty.

Sara, watching Leonard, can pretty much hear him thinking. She stays silent, and after a moment, he glances back up at her.

“He took it upstairs,” he says simply. “To the penthouse. He knows someone’s after it. He knew as soon as the cameras went down.”

“Well, that was the idea, right? So he’d give us a ride up here?”

“Yeah, but this is…” A pause, and she can pretty much see the wheels turning. “It’s a trap.”

Sara stares at him. “Um, come again, Admiral Ackbar?”

“Not for us.” He carefully shuts the door, then rises. “The lousy security company, the timing of the party…he knows someone’s coming for it. Not us in particular, because how would he? But someone.”

“With one lousy guard?” They both look at the trussed-up and blindfolded man unconscious on the office carpet.

“No,” Leonard decides. “That clown was here just in case, but he thinks someone’s going for the penthouse first, for some reason. The real trap will be there.”

“So do we…?”

Len catches her eyes. “I still want to get it. Do you?”

“Yes.” Sara’s eyes are determined. “Any thoughts about how to do that?”

“We could scale the shaft, but if we're caught without a recess if the elevator comes back....” He glances back toward the elevator. "Not really."

“Well, I have an idea.” Sara takes a few steps over the windows, then looks back at him.

“No.”

“Yes.” Grinning, she springs the latch. “Come on, Len.”

Against his will, he moves closer. “You’re kidding me.”

“Nope. I’ve done this plenty of times.”

“As part of the scary assassin group.”

“As part of the scary assassin group.” Sara slides the window open. There’s no alarm, presumably because of the fact that it’s 20-odd stories above the ground. Moving quickly and gracefully, she climbs up on the wide sill, extending a hand to Leonard. “Come on.”

“Um.”

“How much time do we have? I know you’re keeping track.”

“He told Sleeping Beauty over there to check in every 15 minutes. So, just under 11 minutes, plus approximately 45 seconds before the elevator gets here.”

“Then we need to move. Come on.”

He moves.

Sara, moving outside onto the tiny ledge that hangs out over the city, has somehow secured her safety straps above them. As he tentatively emerges too, she grabs his straps, grins at him, and clips them around her securely before starting to scale.

What can he do? He follows.

The night is still, fortunately, and the rough stonework on the building makes the climb relatively simple. Sara squirrels her way up the level easily, then turns offer him a hand up as he carefully picks his way toward her.

Leonard allows her to haul him over the edge, then looks behind him with an expression of distaste. The city looks beautiful from up here, the usual music of sirens and traffic rising from below, but if he never had to be do that again, he’d be OK with it.

Then he looks back at Sara.

She’s grinning at him, her eyes shining. Her hair is coming out of its nest of braids, and there are a few tendrils around her face. She’s completely unfazed by the climb; she seems energized, in fact, bouncing on her toes and watching him, looking completely at ease.

He’s seen her in multiple ways, in multiple settings, in white leather, in jeans and a T-shirt, in a slinky dress. But, he decides, she’s never looked quite as gorgeous as she does at that moment. It’s beyond physical; it’s her soul shining through, still a thing of beauty despite everything she’s gone through, sparkling with the love of a challenge.

He considers, just for a second, saying so. But this probably isn’t the time for confessions.

“We don’t know what he’s left up here,” he says quietly, moving closer. “Hell, he could be in there himself, waiting. There’s something we’re still missing here, and I don’t like that at all.”

“The cameras are still off, right?” Sara settles a little, but moves closer herself, standing so near he could put his arms around her if he wanted. And that’s also not a thought he should be having right now.

He checks the device. “Yep. Unless he has someone who’s smarter than Ramon, which I doubt—do not tell him I said that—they’ll be down for the count until I shut this off.” He glances across the broad span of space that borders the penthouse, the well-tended greenery, the small gem of a pool, its waters reflecting the lights of the city and the moon overhead, the chairs and lounges padded in rich fabrics. “There could be alarms all over here. I’m a little surprised we haven’t already set something off.”

“I’ve done my share of breaking and entering.” For a moment, a something darker than usual hovers in Sara’s eyes. “People almost never think of the roofs like this; they count on the height to keep them safe. Now, getting inside, that’s different.”

“Don’t I know it.” They share a grin, then start carefully for the penthouse itself.

There's a motion detector in the pool—and Sara makes a crack about going for a dip, which doesn't do his overactive imagination any good—but otherwise she's right: Kay relies on the height to protect his patio.

Leonard frowns, but then they’re at a wide set of double doors that lead out onto the roof, and it’s show time again.

It’s a keypad, which makes him frown…but it gives to the third tactic he tries, the system default for most doors of its type. Which makes him frown more.

Still, no point looking a gift horse in the mouth. He steps inside quickly, motioning Sara to follow, listening for the presence of someone else or the elevator.

He hears neither. Sara, moving quickly into the other rooms, whispers “clear” a few moments later.

But Leonard doesn’t like this. Not at all.

“Hmm. If I were a billionaire asshole,” Sara says quietly as she rejoins him, “where would I hide it?”

Len briefly considers suggesting she ask her ex, but dismisses the idea. “He wasn’t up here long.” He walks into a room that seems to be a sort of study, but shakes his head. “Desk is too obvious, but given that something’s wrong here anyway…”

There’s nothing in the desk, even though he tests for hidden compartments. And time is ticking away

He turns to eye the bedroom behind them.

“You don’t think…?” Sara whispers, amusement in her tone.

“I do think.”

Yup. Right in the bedstand drawer, right next to any number of…implements…that make Sara snicker. The cover of the so-called black book (which really is a black book, actually) is worn and well-used. The pages, when he flips through it, are soft, well-thumbed, and filled with small, precise writing: Names and dates and the details of hundreds of crimes and indiscretions and secrets.

It's not a decoy being left to steer thieves away from the real deal, which he'd partly expected. That makes him frown all the more.

Still, he tucks the book into a pocket on the suit, catching Sara's eye. She nods.

"Elevator shaft?" she asks quietly, citing their original plan.

"No. If he immediately heads up here instead of checking the office, we're screwed." He rolls his eyes at her smile. "Yeah, we're going to have to take your route. Don't gloat."

They leave the penthouse, pausing just outside despite the time constraints. Leonard can’t hide the growing feeling of “Alexa” that’s nagging at him. He’s pretty sure Sara feels the same, given how she’s frowning.

“He did this on purpose,” he says. “It was far too easy. He wants someone to take it. Why would he want someone to have this information?"

Sara looks thoughtful...and then stills.

“Len,” she says, staring at him. “Who would he be trying to lure with that book? Who’s known for going after Star City’s high and mighty? Who’s known for lurking around rooftops? Who…”

And that's when an arrow thunks into the walls right between them.

Leonard stares at it for one long moment, for once caught completely off guard. Sara, however, is not. She grabs his arm and, tugging at it, makes for the edge of the roof. He follows, because really, what else is he going to do?

"He doesn't know who we are," she tells him breathlessly as they run, "not from that distance. That was a warning. Sort of 'Don't make me come over there.' "

"A warning?"

"Trust me, if he'd wanted to hit you...he'd have hit you!"

They get to the edge. Sara turns to him and he catches just a glimpse of the look on her face before she steps close, slings one of her safety straps around him, snapping a carabiner closed, then turns back to the edge—and jumps. Taking him with her.

Len's pretty sure he yells some sort of profanity, but it's snatched away by the wind. Sara almost immediately checks their downward progress by bracing her feet against the building, but the straps—which she'd somehow looped around an outcrop--pull at them anyway and for a moment, he can't breathe.

Sara carefully maneuvers them into a recess and they find some footing, pressed up again the building and each other. Len, who's on the inside of the ledge, puts his arms around her. For safety reasons, of course.

After a second, he whispers, "Where..."

Sara frowns, and he realizes she's calculating trajectory in her head. "The big, dark building to the north," she whispers after a second. "The one owned by Wayne Enterprises. He must have heard something, about Kay's security and something going down."

"The Arrow...can't go after everyone," Felicity Smoak whispers in his memory. He should have known better. Apparently Smoak hadn't told her...whatever he was at the moment...about her meeting with a thief--and he hadn't told her his plans for the evening.

"You think he's after it?"

"Might be." Sara shakes her head. "Might just be surveillance at the moment." She peers up at him. "Kay set a trap for the Green Arrow."

"More than that. He set a trap for the mayor.”

Sara stares at him. “Do you think he knows?”

Leonard considers for a moment. “No. I think he wants to be able to claim that the Green Arrow took it. We messed with that by screwing with the cameras, but I’m sure he’ll work around it.”

Sara catches his drift. “Kay wants to start dabbling in politics. We both heard that earlier. He wanted Ollie to get that book...and start using it. And then he'd know..."

"He might be able to figure out who the Green Arrow is. And even if he can’t, he can target Oliver Queen for not bringing in that hooded menace to society. And he has the plausible deniability that comes with no longer holding the actual book." Leonard shakes his head. "Interesting plan...but too many holes. Sloppy."

"High risk, high reward," Sara retorts. "We have to warn him."

He stares at her incredulously, as a breeze tugs at her hair and causes him to try to pull her back in the recess a little more. "Queen? Now?"

"No. I think he's probably realized someone beat him to the punch." Her lips curve. " That was just a warning shot. Give it a few minutes, he'll go away. We're safe here for now. I don't particularly want to get hit by an arrow again; it hurts."

"Not funny, Sara!"

That just gets a snort from her. And then a moment later, another. And as her shoulders start to shake, Leonard, looking down at her in disbelief, realizes that she's laughing.

"Is this really the time?"

"Oh, Len." Sara halts her bout of hilarity just enough to grin at him. "Is it ever the time? Really? For me? For you?"

There's a vigilante known for putting pointy objects through people watching not far above them, and they're tucked against the side of a tall building hundreds of feet over the city, with only a few safety lines in place.

She's looking up at him, smiling, and there's only one thing he can think of to do.

Leonard Snart, he thinks briefly, you're in so much trouble. And then he ducks his head and kisses her.

As stolen kisses go, the setting is memorable, but then, so is the kiss. Sara immediately stops laughing and makes a sort of purring noise, tightening her already considerable grip on him and pressing closer. There hadn't exactly been much space before, but now she's pretty much molded to him, and his body is reacting completely predictably.

Which Sara, hooking a leg around him, seems to appreciate, really.

She's moved one hand to the back of his head, and she's holding him in place as her nails scratch lightly across his scalp. With a sigh, he tilts his head a little and deepens the kiss, because if he's going to be doing this here, now, he's damn well going to be doing it right.

After a few long, heated minutes, Sara abruptly pulls back, panting a little, and shakes her head with a laugh. Len lets her go, blinking at the reality of their location and the situation sets back in.

"I think he's gone," she whispers. "We should get out of here."

"What? Who?" Oh, right, he remembers, as Sara snorts. The Green Arrow. "Right. Ah..."

It takes a few minutes to get their safety lines sorted out, but Sara gets them safely back down to the correct window without incident. The guard is awake now and working at his well-tied hands, unsuccessfully; Sara waves cheerfully to him—despite his blindfold—as they rush past, jimmying the elevator doors to get out and into their hidey hole even as they see the elevator rising from below.

Given that his careful count of time has long since been blown out of his head, he's just glad that everyone in the building hasn't long since gone home.

They have a little while to wait, tucked into their nook as the car first stops at the penultimate floor and then rises to the top again. Leonard keeps his distance, this time, as much as he can, but they're still watching each other, and enough of Sara's thoughts are showing blatantly on her face that it's... difficult.

He keeps his head in the game enough to successfully make the transfer over to the elevator as it moves downward, but only just.

Once the elevator's safety down on the ground floor and empty again, they emerge into the car itself, then out the service doors in the back, hurrying down the hall to the storage room, where... still carefully not watching each other...they change back into their fancy party clothes.

As they emerge, Sara tucking the folded-down packet of her jumpsuit into her purse, she turns to look at him...and smiles.

It's a different sort of smile than it was when this evening started.

"Come on, crook," she whispers in his ear, going up on her toes. "Let's go celebrate."

#captain canary #a little trouble #sara lance #leonard snart #legends of tomorrow

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tobiasmasonpark · 6 years ago

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So, what I initially believed to be a genius original statement about Pet Sematary—that the movie should have stayed buried—turned out to be the title of, like, half a dozen movie reviews. And, now that I think about it, I probably stole it from Cinemasins’ review of the original 1989 movie…

My point is I was pretty disappointed by Pet Sematary.

Maybe it was my fault. Maybe I psyched myself out in the weeks leading up to the movie. Maybe I was disappointed because there were changes from the book? Or, maybe it really was just a bleh sort of adaptation to a Stephen King novel I really enjoyed.

Anyway, here are some things that bothered me, and a few things I liked.

Cue the original Ramones’ tune.

Source: https://www.joblo.com/movie-posters/2019/pet-sematary/image-35124

Naturally adaptations can be tricky. There’s always going to be guys and gals like me complaining that they changed too much from the book, or that they didn’t change enough about it. And there are times when things need to be cut because, realistically, only so much of a text can fit into a 2-hour run time while keeping the interest of its fickle audience.

But I’m not against the idea of changes in adaptations. It—the 2017 version-- for example, was a great adaptation of a Stephen King work. It remained mostly faithful to the first half of the book while making some changes. They left out the giant space turtle that spewed out the universe after a sore tummy, the hotboxing the kids do in their fort that shows them the monster’s origin story, and—thankfully—the train the boys run on Beverley in the tunnels.

I didn’t care that left out that stuff. It really doesn’t change the premise of the story or the personality of the characters. The fact that they changed the time period from the 50s to the 80s, for example, barely alters anything aside from at whom to direct the nostalgia. Basically, any town in a Stephen King work can be translated into whatever decade you want. Middle America, from what I hear, doesn’t change all that much.

What bothers me is when changes are made just for the sake of change, because they think they’ll wow the audience, because their movie needs jump scares like all the other horror movies out there, or because they want to be like M. Knight, and throw in some Shyamalan-style twists.

Take those creepy kids from the trailer:

Source: https://www.nme.com/news/watch-creepy-new-trailer-stephen-kings-pet-sematary-released-2388664

Sure, aesthetically, that’s some spooky imagery. It’s not in the books, but that’s fine. They looked creepy, with their masks, walking in a funeral procession, banging that drum. Great stuff for a trailer. But they don’t do anything with it, save for Ellie wearing a similar mask in the climax. There’s no point of it being in the movie at all. If the kids weren’t in it, we’d still have the Pet Sematary itself. We’d know that kids buried their pets there. Nothing would change other than the number of people to add to the end credits.

Someone could argue, oh, maybe it implies that these creepy kids were also buried? There is that highway they keep open for some reason. Maybe they were also run over by trucks? Maybe they came back wrong?

And I would totally love that as a concept. It would definitely help with this movie’s ending. A town that eventually gets over-run with zombies, and the last few humans must hunt them down?

Source: https://waxworkrecords.com/collections/vinyl/products/salems-lot

Oh wait…that’s the plot to ‘Salem’s Lot…

Unfortunately, for maybe the first time ever in a Stephen King movie—save for the Shining and Gerald’s Game, which were more character pieces anyway—we never really meet anyone else in the town, save for Jud. So, I can only assume that the kids are unaware of the real evil burial ground behind the Pet Sematary, and just like to dress up when burying their dead pets.

Plus, we see Church and Ellie are constantly dirty after they’re resurrected. These kids are clean, especially for kids. So, we can rule out them being anything other than the subjects of the next Killer Kids.

Sure, the kids are creepy. But it does nothing for the movie in the long run. The isolation of the Creeds among the woods can provide the chills and thrills we seek without relying on creepy children we never see again…

They also change which Creed child gets hit by the truck. I’ll be honest, I didn’t see the trailer. I wanted to go in fresh. So, I had no idea Ellie was featured as the main zombie in this…

In the book, Gage dies. This was, I hear, inspired by a close call Stephen King had with his own son. The premise of the book came from the what-if that plagued him. And it’s because Gage is so young, a little boy no older than 2 or 3, with his whole life ahead of him, that makes his demise so tragic.

Granted, Ellie is only nine, so it’s still incredibly tragic. So, I’m not upset by the decision to change it. I mean, I saw the original movie from 1989. The special effects they use for evil Gage were…not very good. And even in the book, some of the things that come out of the dead boy’s mouth are a tad silly—even for King, who, again, wrote a scene in which eleven-year-old boys take turns having sex with their one girl friend to escape the monster’s tunnel, despite having defeated, at least for the time being, the monster. I completely understand the decision to avoid something like this from happening again:

Source: https://www.express.co.uk/celebrity-news/726081/Stephen-King-Pet-Sematary-kid-Gage-Creed-looks-like-now-Miko-Hughes

But I think that’s only half the reason they changed it to Ellie. I really think they just wanted to throw a twist at those of us who read the book. And that’s something I don’t like. Twists for the sake of twists aren’t cool. Trust me, I wasn’t bored when little Gage Creed started running over to the highway with glee. I knew what was coming and was still uncomfortable. The fact Ellie got hit instead was more of an “oh…I guess they’re going that way? Makes sense…”

But all of that I’d give a pass, if not for the jump scares—and this movie probably has more fake out jump scares than people in the movie—I won’t count Rachel’s parents, since they have no lines, or Zelda, who is more of a tool, or the cat because it is a cat.

Jump scares aren’t scary to me. If I jolt in my seat, it’s because my ears are being assaulted by sudden noise, and my body is reacting to it. The pounding in my chest is not because I expect Ellie to be hiding under the bed, or behind the door. It’s because I’m waiting for that dumb sound. It’s not going to keep me up at night, thinking about the creepy things I saw in the movie. It just makes me regret seeing it at all. Its cheap, and so many horror movies use them—even the good ones.

Rachel’s sister’s affliction with spinal meningitis, and her death, was, for me, the best part of the book and both the 1989 movie, and this adaptation. I grew up with a sibling who dealt with ailments all her life, and she passed away because of them, so Zelda’s demise is the only part of the movie and a major part of the book that made me squirm in my seat. I don’t know about anyone else who watched the movie, but someone who is ill is plenty scary, and for many reasons: the visual of it, seeing the person in so much pain and being unable to help, but also the guilt you feel because you don’t have to go through it. And, worst of all, that part of you is glad when their pain finally stops.

It’s a powerful image, and the movie got points from me for it.

But there are some issues, still. They change the way Zelda dies. In the book, she chokes to death, and Rachel hears her suffering, but doesn’t do anything because she doesn’t like interacting with her sister anymore. In the movie, they have Rachel send the food up to Zelda through a dumb-waiter, and Zelda falls attempting to grab the food for herself.

It seems like a silly thing to gripe about, given the conclusion is the same: Zelda dies, and Rachel is scarred by it. But they changed it, I think, because visually it looked scarier than the book and they couldn’t figure out how to add a jump scare to a motionless teenager. Again, I don’t know if anyone else has experienced it, but watching someone go that way—i.e., slow and painfully-- is terrifying. And it would have served the movie better because stuff like that happens.

Also, there’s the fact that Rachel herself says Zelda was bed-ridden and couldn’t move around much. So, I doubt that Zelda climbed out of bed herself and fell down a dumb-waiter.

Now, is the movie bad because not everyone in the audience had the misfortune of watching a loved one die? No. People are scared by different things, as we see in all of King’s works—clowns, vampires, werewolves, creepy shop owners, getting left in handcuffs in your cottage miles away from civilization because your husband took too many blue pills and got a heart attack when you kicked him, because he wouldn’t take no for an answer, and then a dog eats him, and there’s something about a killer on the lose…The usual stuff.

But I do think that what we got was not nearly as creepy as the book.

They keep Victor Pascow in the movie, which could have been left out. I wasn’t super into the ghost concept in the book to begin with. It’s not necessary. They establish early on that the burial ground calls to its victims. Jud could have been the one to try to warn Louis and Rachel to stay away. And the barriers still would have been there to keep Rachel from getting to Louis on time. There, the movie stays pretty much the same with some minor tweaks.

The movie clearly gets tired of Victor, however, because he stops showing up after he gets Gage’s attention and Rachel decides to go see Louis. In the book, Victor is a semi-regular presence once they come across the Pet Sematary. After Gage dies, Victor warns Louis not to give into the pull of the burial grounds. Then, when that doesn’t work, Pascow tries contacting Ellie—who did not get hit by a truck in the novel—who tells Rachel, who recognizes the name from earlier, and then goes—on her own—to see Louis. It was actually pretty silly for her to bring her baby along with her if she thought there was something to be worried about…But I guess we wouldn’t have this movie’s ending if she did the reasonable thing…

On the way home, a series of events take place that hinder Rachel from arriving on time, implying the burial ground’s magic works beyond the town in which its situated.

Now, this plays out pretty much the same way in the movie, but differently. We know that the burial grounds have a pull to them, but it’s done…more quickly. As if they realized, oh, we’ve reached the climax of the film and haven’t used our creepy murder kid to murder people yet. Better do that.

I also was not a fan of the way Ellie physically changes to look like Zelda to taunt Rachel, nor the way Rachel imagines herself in a bed with her spine twisting. To be honest, I don’t recall whether it was like this in the book. If it was, I would have preferred they didn’t add that to the movie at all. The movie is creepy with its main premise.

Also--and again, maybe this is an issue that was also present in the book—why would Rachel go back to her parent’s house, when she spent the entire movie talking about how she could hear Zelda in the walls? She’s there a whole day and then she goes through that illusion. I know she didn’t want to be in the new house after Ellie died. But couldn’t they have written that Rachel went to stay with her parents in a different, non-Zelda haunted house?

Ah, but then we wouldn’t get the creepy scene with Rachel’s spine twisting, with jump scares…Bleh.

OH! And then there’s this one line in the movie that bugged the crap out of me.

OK, so, in the book, Ellie is asking her parents about death—like she does in the movie—and she asks why God couldn’t just take his own cat.

Well, this line is altered and given to Louis in the movie. Rachel asks why Louis brought Ellie back, and he says something along the lines of God can kill his own kid.

Louis Creed may not be very well versed in Christianity. He professes to not believe in an afterlife. No worries. I don’t expect everyone to know everything about the religion—I certainly am not an expert. But how could he not know that’s exactly the story of Jesus, one of the most well-known religious figures on the planet? I’m talking just the basic stuff someone who went to a high school or college or watched a movie or read a book would know. God sent Jesus down to earth to die for the sins of humanity… It’s a small gripe, I guess. Maybe someone in real life would say that—probably in response to the old funeral favourite: it’s God’s plan. People say all sorts of things when grieving. Maybe the extent of Louis’ knowledge about religion is limited to Judaism, where Jesus isn’t a major figure.

But it just sounded like a dumb line in a movie I already wanted to be over.

Pet Sematary is a very quiet sort of horror novel. I mean, Louis burns down his house, and shoots both his dead son and the evil cat. But aside from that, the terror comes from the book’s main theme: coping with death, specifically young people. It’s about the unfairness of the people or things we love leaving us so soon. Louis’ temptation to bury Gage/Ellie is heart wrenching, because who among us wouldn’t have considered it? The burial ground doesn’t need a magic pull. Knowing of its existence would be enough. Because it’s human for that temptation to be there. And it’s made even more difficult to read about/watch when Louis does it all again after burying his wife—right after shooting his little boy.

But we don’t get any of that in this movie. Louis gets killed by his resurrected wife and is also buried. The movie ends with the dead family—Church included—closing in on young Gage Creed, who was put in the family car for safety by Louis.

Cue a cover of the Ramones song.

Maybe if I never read the book, this would have been a cooler ending. I really didn’t want to keep comparing the movie to the novel. I wanted to give it a fair chance to stand on its own. But it’s difficult not to compare. I honestly think the book is better—by a long shot.

The movie had good moments, though. The burial grounds themselves look amazing—far better than how I imagined it while reading the book. Although, I swear the symbol on the trees used to ward off people looks exactly like the symbol of the Kokiri stone from Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time. I couldn’t find a still from the movie on google, but I can’t be the only one to see it, right?

Source: https://zelda.fandom.com/wiki/Deku_Shield

Now that I think about it…the Kokiri are children…and they become Koroks, who wear weird masks…Could Legend of Zelda and Pet Sematary share a universe?!

We don’t see the Wendigo much in the movie, but we didn’t get a good look at it in the novel either. Less may have been more in this case. And the cast is great. The Creed family is sweet together. And John Lithgow is always fantastic.

But the movie just didn’t do it for me.

At the very least, it got me to want to read the book again.

#pet semetary 2019 #stephen king #wendigo #the ramones #movie reviews #sometimesdeadisbetter #shouldhavestayedburied #winstonchurchill #zelda #kokiri #victor pascow #gage creed #derry maine

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cynthiajayusa · 6 years ago

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Movie Schedule: The 2019 OUTshine Film Festival – Miami

Outshine Film Festival Miami Edition takes place from Thursday, April 18 through Sunday, April 28. During the first week (through Wednesday, April 24) the festival is showing 31 films plus 2 Men’s Shorts compilations. Here are some of the highlights, but to see a complete list of films and parties go to: OutshineFilm.com.

Thursday April 18th

Opening Night Film – Tell it to the Bees – 7pm

The Black Archives Historic Lyric Theater Cultural Arts Complex

Gripped by a failing marriage and the responsibilities of having a young son, Lydia (Critic’s Choice Nominee Holliday Grainger) finds solace in her growing bond with the town’s recently returned female doctor Jean (Academy & Golden Globe Award Winner Anna Paquin). But this is the 1950s in post-WWII rural Scotland, and the women’s relationship prompts raised eyebrows in their provincial circles. Based on the novel by Fiona Shaw, Tell It To The Bees is a story of courage in the face of terrifying intolerance and a heart-wrenching portrait of a love against all odds.

From here down all films are at the Regal Cinemas South Beach.

Friday April 19th 2019

(Work-In-Progress) – Sell By – 6:45 pm

Does every relationship have an expiration date? Adam and Marklin are about to find out. Their 5-year relationship has gone from a passionate flame to a medium burn, forcing them to reconcile with each other’s shortcomings all while watching their support network crumble around them. But in this mess, hope springs eternal as they all muddle their way through to try and make life work. Featuring Scott Evans, Augustus Prew, Kate Walsh, and Academy Award Nominee Patricia Clarkson; Sell By asks the timeless questions…how do you know who’s right for you and how do you know when to let go? In attendance will be writer/director Mike Doyle.

José – 9pm

José lives with his single mom in cramped quarters in Guatemala, a tough life in one of the world’s most dangerous, religious, and impoverished countries. His mother sells sandwiches, and he delivers food at the drive-by diner. Resigned and aloof, the one bright spot in his life is the face of his mobile phone – it literally lights up his evenings and helps him find men to hook up with in pay-by-the-hour hotels. That is, until construction worker Luis enters his life and José is thrust into a dimension of passion, pain and self-reflection previously unimaginable.

Saturday April 20th

The Ice King – 2:30pm

John Curry transformed ice-skating from a dated sport into an exalted art form. Coming out on the night of his Olympic win in 1976, he became the first openly gay Olympian in a time when homosexuality was not even fully legal. Toxic yet charming; rebellious yet elitist; emotionally aloof yet spectacularly needy; ferociously ambitious yet bent on self-destruction, this is a man forever on the run from his father’s ghost, his country, and even his own self. John Curry was no activist, but an artist expressing his authentic self – yet in a world where his existence was taboo, his life was unavoidably political.

Rainbow’s Sunset – 4:45pm

Elderly Senator Ramon, the pride of his small, provincial hometown, moves in with his terminally-ill best friend Fredo in his final days. It turns out that their connection goes beyond mere friendship, and the revelation of their relationship brings scandal to the town and conflict among his three adult children. It’s up to his saintly wife to restore harmony. Like the most polished of family melodrama, Rainbow’s Sunset bursts with generosity and heart, and yet veteran hit-maker Joel Lamagan subverts the genre, touching on old age, a subject that LGBTQ cinema has yet to explore.) In attendance will be executive producer Harlene Bautista.

Erik & Erika – 5:15pm

The true story of Erik/Erika Schinegger – the ski sensation that became a media sensation. Declared female at birth, Erika is raised as a girl until a gene test proves that she is genetically male. Athletic success turns to heartbreak as he is disqualified and accused of fraud. The National Ski Federation insists that he undergo a medical procedure to make him fully female. Erik finds himself alone, facing the most important and agonizing decision of his life. Erik & Erika follows his life as a woman, his ultimate transition to manhood and his fight for recognition in 1970’s Austria where there was no place in the social dictionary for a word like transgender.

An Almost Ordinary Summer (Croce e Delizia) – 7pm

Two very different families spend their holidays in the same seaside house: the aristocratic Castelvecchio’s – open-minded, eccentric, but quite selfish – and the working-class Petagna’s – very tight-knit and united around solid conservative values. What brought such distant worlds together? Only Tony and Carlo, the two middle-aged heads of the families, know! The unexpected announcement of their engagement will disrupt an apparently ordinary summer and turn the lives of everyone around them upside down. With the wedding already set for three weeks, even more chaos will ensue.

Ppapi Chulo – 9:15pm

Cast adrift in Los Angeles, lonely TV weatherman Sean (Golden Globe Winner Matt Bomer) drives past a middle-aged Latino migrant worker standing outside a hardware store looking for work. He decides to hire this kind-looking man – to be his friend. Sean is young, gay and white; Ernesto is portly, straight and married. Despite the language barrier and having nothing in common, they build a sort of friendship – until Sean becomes consumed with a deeper obsessive need. Papi Chulo is a black comedy about loneliness and the desire to find connection across clear racial and socio-economic lines.

Euphoria (Euforia) – 9:45pm

Matteo is a young successful entrepreneur who is open-minded, charming and dynamic. His brother Ettore, who still lives in the small provincial town where they were born, is a cautious and honest man who has always stayed out of the spotlight out of fear of making mistakes. They are two apparently very distant people. However, a difficult situation results in the two brothers being given the opportunity to get to know each other, and they soon discover that they have a surprisingly close bond in a vortex of fragility and tenderness, fear and euphoria.

Sunday April 21st

Tackling Life – 12:15pm

Adam, Nico and Su are members of Germany’s first gay rugby team. Tackling Life portrays their everyday lives and follows them into the world of the sport, showing their struggle for recognition – in competition with the hetero regional league teams – as well as their community involvement: gathering money at colorful fundraisers and visiting schools to give anti-bullying workshops. Looking beyond the surface of self-presentation and cliché, we focus on how our trio copes with the challenges of everyday life and their search for belonging. Alternating aggressive, vibrant athletics with quiet observation, the film is fragile and profound, but also spectacular and loud.

Birds of the Borderlands – 4:45pm

Genderqueer Australian filmmaker Jordan Bryon’s intense and compelling piece of guerrilla filmmaking powerfully illuminates four queer Arab stories: Jordanian teenager Hiba is transitioning in secret, fearful of being killed by her Bedouin tribe; Gay Iraqi refugee Youssef fled Baghdad and is living in limbo in Bryon’s safe house in Amman; Lesbian feminist Rasha hides her sexuality and her relationship with Bryon from her family while striving for LGBTIQ visibility; and Khalaf, a gay Imam turned activist, lives a lonely life in Beirut. As Bryon becomes more entangled in their struggles blurring the lines between lover, friend, filmmaker, and activist, tensions explode and a dangerous crisis emerges.

The Man Who Surprised Everyone (Tchelovek Kotorij Udivil Vseh) – 5:15pm

Egor is a fearless state forest guard in the Siberian Taiga. He is a good family man, respected by his fellow villagers. He and his wife Natalia are expecting a second child. But one day Egor finds out that he has cancer and only two months left to live. No traditional medicine or shamanic magic can save him. As a last resort, he chooses to take the identity of a woman so death can’t find him. He finds that his new identity is his true self and his family and the local society now have to accept the new Egor.

Everybody’s Talking About Jamie – 7:30pm

Sixteen-year-old Jamie New lives on a council estate in Sheffield and doesn’t quite fit in. He is terrified about the future, but little does he know – he is going to be a sensation. Supported by his brilliant loving mum and surrounded by his friends, Jamie overcomes prejudice, beats the bullies and steps out of the darkness into the drag queen spotlight. Filmed live from London’s West End, with songs that have the wow factor, this funny, fabulous, feel-good, musical sensation will sweep you away on a tide of mischief, warmth and exuberance.

Monday April 22nd

The Harvesters (Die Stropers) – 6:45pm

A raw, atmospheric drama about masculinity in South Africa’s “Bible Belt”. The central province of Free State is a stronghold of the white Afrikaner minority. In this conservative farming territory obsessed with strength and masculinity, Janno is different – a delicate and sensitive boy. When his religious mother takes in a Pieter – a hardened street orphan – to save, she asks Janno for help. Janno is supposed to accept Pieter as a brother, but the two boys struggle for power, tradition, and parental love.

Memories Of My Body (Kucumbu Tubuh Indahku) – 9:15pm

Juno is just a child when his father abandons him in their village of Center Java. Alone now, he joins a Lengger dance center where men shape their feminine appearance and movement. But the sensuality and sexuality that come from dance and bodies, mixed with the violent social and political Indonesian environment, force Juno to move from village to village. If on his journey Juno gets attention and love from his dance teachers, his weird aunty, his old uncle, a handsome boxer, and a Warok, he still has to face by himself the battlefield that his body is becoming.

Tuesday April 23rd

Third Wedding (Troisièmes Noces) – 6:45pm

US PREMIERE – Recently widowed Martin is overcome with grief after his beloved husband dies in a car accident. When a friend asks him to marry Tamara, a 20-year-old young Congolese woman who doesn’t have any papers, the gay 50-year-old refuses at first, then agrees when he’s offered a sum of money that will allow him to keep the house he shared with his husband. Different on every level, they’ll need to make their love believable to the authorities – but if they pretend long enough, they might learn to love each other… in their own way!

Neverland (Nevrland) – 9:15pm

17-year-old Jakob wants nothing more than to feel alive, yet uncontrollable anxiety attacks force him to escape into fictional and virtual worlds. A chance encounter in a sex-cam-chat marks the beginning of an online relationship with the gorgeous and seemingly perfect 26-year-old Kristjan. It’s not until the death of Jakob’s only true emotional attachment, his grandfather, that he is willing to meet up with Kristjan in real life. Over the course of one night, they embark on a transpersonal journey to the wounds of their soul where Jakob must face his biggest fear.

Wednesday April 24th

Centerpiece Film – Retablo – 7:00 PM

14-year-old Segundo is following in his father’s footsteps in the traditional folk art of crafting intricate, artisan story-boxes. Segundo reveres his father, and when he stumbles across a heartbreaking secret his father is harboring, Segundo will come to face the raw reality of his deeply religious and conservative landscape, as well as a more profound connection with his father than he’d ever imagined. Retablo masterfully explores the weight of heritage, the boundaries of love, and the burdens of family expectations, as well as the complexity of accepting our parents for who they really are.

Mr. Leather – 9pm

In 2018, the second edition of the Mr. Leather Brazil competition was held. Five individuals vie to wear the sash, each with their own backstory. The winner will be crowned by Brazil’s first Mr. Leather, Dom Barbudo, the person most admired within the country’s leather community. Along with the title comes a year-long commitment to promote the culture of the leather community throughout the country. Whether part of the leather and/or fetish lifestyle or simply intrigued by it, Mr. Leather will raise the spirits and the understanding of an often-misunderstood community.

source https://hotspotsmagazine.com/2019/04/18/movie-schedule-the-2019-outshine-film-festival-miami/ from Hot Spots Magazine https://hotspotsmagazin.blogspot.com/2019/04/movie-schedule-2019-outshine-film.html

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demitgibbs · 6 years ago

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Movie Schedule: The 2019 OUTshine Film Festival – Miami

Thursday April 18th

Opening Night Film – Tell it to the Bees – 7pm

The Black Archives Historic Lyric Theater Cultural Arts Complex

From here down all films are at the Regal Cinemas South Beach.

Friday April 19th 2019

(Work-In-Progress) – Sell By – 6:45 pm

José – 9pm

Saturday April 20th

The Ice King – 2:30pm

Rainbow’s Sunset – 4:45pm

Erik & Erika – 5:15pm

An Almost Ordinary Summer (Croce e Delizia) – 7pm

Ppapi Chulo – 9:15pm

Euphoria (Euforia) – 9:45pm

Sunday April 21st

Tackling Life – 12:15pm

Birds of the Borderlands – 4:45pm

The Man Who Surprised Everyone (Tchelovek Kotorij Udivil Vseh) – 5:15pm

Everybody’s Talking About Jamie – 7:30pm

Monday April 22nd

The Harvesters (Die Stropers) – 6:45pm

Memories Of My Body (Kucumbu Tubuh Indahku) – 9:15pm

Tuesday April 23rd

Third Wedding (Troisièmes Noces) – 6:45pm

Neverland (Nevrland) – 9:15pm

Wednesday April 24th

Centerpiece Film – Retablo – 7:00 PM

Mr. Leather – 9pm

from Hotspots! Magazine https://hotspotsmagazine.com/2019/04/18/movie-schedule-the-2019-outshine-film-festival-miami/ from Hot Spots Magazine https://hotspotsmagazine.tumblr.com/post/184272242865

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