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ilkkawhat · 4 years ago

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All the numbers. (If not all then pick and choose a handful to answer).

lol you’re really going for it anon, huh?? 😂 bless your heart. I’ll do all of them and then idk. if anybody wants to send any again, I’m sure I can have a different answer

(I did just answer 7 & 22 so I’ll leave those out. rest below the cut)

1) is there a story you’re holding off on writing for some reason?

I guess if you count all of my active WIPs that have been sitting dormant for months or years, there’s those since I like. I know what I’m doing in pretty much all of them, just as I know what I’m doing in some of my unpublished WIPs, but I think I just need to be in a certain mood/energy to do certain ones (ie, Agony esp is a very heavy fic so I gotta be able to Deal with that)

2) what work of yours, if any, are you the most embarrassed about existing?

I deleted those 😂😂😂 but some of my reeeeeealllllly old stuff is still out there and I cringe thinking about that and though I could easily delete those too, I’m keeping them just since the harddrive that has the docs for it is corrupted lol

3) what order do you write in? front of book to back? chronological? favorite scenes first? something else?

Just all over the place these days tbh. Even chapter to chapter it’ll change, I’ll write snippets in future chapters--and I’m talking like three or four chapters ahead--just to get it out there. But then there’s other days where I’ll sit and just write and not stop.

4) favorite character you’ve written

Nick Stokes, of course 💜💜💜

5) character you were most surprised to end up writing

Any of the Macgyver characters outside of Jack. Cause though I’ll claim not to all the time, I do know that I know the CSI characters (though I’m surprised I’m able to write in their POVs outside of Nick.) I grew up with them. I have a bond with them. The mac characters? I’ve only known for like. two years now and not even that well anymore since I’ve stopped watching the show.

6) something you would go back and change in your writing that it’s too late/complicated to change now

Expanding on details. Almost every fic I write, I’ll read it again later and be like “ah shit I should have run with this idea...” but I guess that’s how I can do a sequel/missing scene

8) favorite genre to write

hurt/comfort (emphasis on the hurt, really I mean we’re talking like borderline horror)

9) what, if anything, do you do for inspiration?

See I haven’t really honed in on any one particular thing that inspires me to write. It comes out of nowhere, and the following list of things doesn’t like, always work. When I’m listening to a song. When I’m driving in the car. When I’m watching something unrelated to the source material (totes got some inspiring vibes watching Falcon and The Winter Soldier yesterday tbh lmao) When I dream. When I go on a walk. When people send me asks and I just go the fuck off and suddenly ten chapters later I’m writing a fic that they probably didn’t even want (coughSpecimenStokescough)

10) write in silence or with background noise? with people or alone?

I think the last couple times I’ve like, really written it’s been in silence. Definitely alone. Don’t got people to write around, really lmao (unless you count my parents being in other rooms with obnoxiously loud televisions and tablets)

11) what aspect of your writing do you think has most improved since you started writing?

All of it. And I’m sure it’ll keep improving.

12) your weaknesses as an author

Dialogue. I don’t know how people talk 😂

13) your strengths as an author

Detail, description, and I also like to think--emotion? but idk. It’s hard for me to assess my strength tbh

14) do you make playlists for your current wips?

Oh YES! At least for the longer WIPs like Last Breath or Agony. And listen to it on a loop when I’m trying to brainstorm or write if I want to write with music on. I’ve been starting to link the playlists when I’m doing with the fic (which is not many so far)

(I think Hellbound is the only one-shot I made a playlist for that I didn’t share)

15) why did you start writing?

I honestly can’t remember, cause I think I’ve been writing stories (fan fiction or not) ever since I was in middle school?? Maybe even elementary? But I do feel like I had gotten more encouragement for it than drawing from the few people in my life that did actively cheer me on, and there’s just something about writing that is so...fulfilling? Esp since I can’t like. Just manifest the images or make the “movie” in my head, at least I can write them down and hopefully convey what I see/feel in my mind through words.

16) are there any characters who haunt you?

All my neglected OCs lmao. I did and I guess on some level still do want to make an original series.

In a chilling way Veronica also haunts me cause I realize how much of that like, darkness in myself I put in her.

And Nick, well, he’s just always on my mind.

17) if you could give your fledgling author self any advice, what would it be?

Just fucking go for it! Don’t give a shit if anybody will read it or not. Take your time, flesh out those details. Describe what you see, what they see, what they feel.

If you think you’re going too far...you’re not.

keep going

18) were there any works you read that affected you so much that it influenced your writing style? what were they?

I mean any fan fiction I read in the past has probably influenced me on some level. I know that when I came back to CSI in 2018, reading all of kristen999′s nick whump def encouraged me cause I was like “oh...there’s others like me who like to see him hurt!?!?” and I do think that maybe sometimes after I read a fic, I might like. Try to incorporate those styles I see. The way words are described, sentences constructed. Not like, copy of course but I feel like a long time ago my writing wasn’t really idk, novel-like? very short, almost read like a script whereas now, since I’ve seen the way people write their stories (some novel length stories, too), I flesh mine out a lot more.

19) when it comes to more complicated narratives, how do you keep track of outlines, characters, development, timeline, ect.?

I don’t 😂 Thinking of my bigger projects like Agony, I do just kind make up some of it as I go with a rough outline although sometimes it is a bit more detailed--like First Flight actually has a super detailed outline but I know that once I start writing, something might come up, some twist I didn’t think of before--or even one that somebody suggests to me, but idk I feel like I do have a way of tying everything together regardless? Cause especially with those bigger WIPs I will try to go back and re-read if something seems familiar or if I’ve forgotten a detail, or if I’m planning on diving back into it after a long break from it.

20) do you write in long sit-down sessions or in little spurts?

Depends. I feel more accomplished with the long sit down sessions so I target that, but lately it’s been little spurts with maybe one big dump at the end of the week.

21) what do you think when you read over your older work?

Mostly cringe, but there are times I’m like “holy shit this is really good???”

like I remember recently I re-read Agony and loved it, when I wanted to delete it maybe like. a week before that. I think it honestly depends on my frame of mind, and why I’m going back to read the fic? Cause I’ve had times where I’m like “wait what was this one?” and then I read it and laugh at how bad it is, but then other times where I’m like, “I wanna read that one fic I did...” and then I do and it makes me happy.

But, I will always kinda criticize at the same time--”aw, I could do this better, I could have expanded on this,” etc

23) any obscure life experiences that you feel have helped your writing?

My life is suuuuuuper boring so. not really lmao. One of my earliest CSI fics that actually created what I consider to be my number one OC (she’d be the lead in that original series I mentioned earlier) came out of me sitting and staring into a campfire lmao.

also there was this teacher I had (one of those good IRL supports) that told me a story of something that happened to her (or was it her daughter?) and I turned it into a story (back in my teen days) so. I guess there are somethings.

24) have you ever become an expert on something you previously knew nothing about, in order to better a scene or a story?

Expert? No. But I will do numerous google searches to try and figure some stuff out and get lost in a rabbit hole of “research” for a while and hope that when I do write it, it comes off as I know what I’m doing when really, I do not lol.

25) copy/paste a few sentences or a short paragraph that you’re particularly proud of

haven’t really written much in this past week, and certainly nothing to be proud of, but this line hit me like a ton of bricks for Specimen Stokes and I’m in love with it:

“Because, my dear specimen, I wanted to see if you loved the danger...or if you loved me.”

#mk.fic #mk writes stuff #nonny #mk talks

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actuallylorelaigilmore · 4 years ago

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health rambling

because it occurred to me that i post when there are Serious Problems but haven’t updated in a while, for those following my adventures from afar:

so my ankle fracture appears to be healing well :) for the past five days that i was home alone, i watched a lot of tv, but i also did basic household maintenance chores and fed kinnie and the outdoor cats--and i succeeded at my top priority, which was just feeding myself and taking all my meds every day. while i could barely walk on my ankle, i relied on a LOT of delivery food, so the past five days of making toast and frying potatoes and slicing apples without terrible pain felt joyful in a ‘normal everyday life’ way. i iced my ankle at least once a day, too, to help with being on it so much. but i was able to pull the trash can out to the curb (necessary as the only one home on trash day), also for the first time since i broke my ankle, and it went okay, so i should be able to take that chore back onto my usual list.

i lost muscle strength so quickly once i had to stay off my feet for a few weeks! getting back to chores this week and doing some overall cleaning yesterday, as well as having my first good shower since last month, was very soothing. but i could also feel my muscles, such as they are, strengthening up a little bit, and i’m really happy about that. i’ve still got a lot of fatigue going on, which makes it hard to stand at a counter and prep food for any length of time, but 1) i think that might be a return of my vitamin b deficiency unrelated to my convalescence and 2) when i push through the fatigue to cook, it feels healthy and like my body’s remembering how to do stuff--rather than like a straining, painful ankle sensation i was getting whenever i did things in the early weeks of recovery. i have to hope that’s a good sign for my monday ankle appt. if that appt goes well in terms of how an expert thinks my ankle looks, then i’m going to assume i can resume things like the occasional grocery trip, all regular chores, and even light walking soon.

i’ve had basically the worst year ever, in my whole life, in terms of basic physical condition, from last fall to this one: after spending a summer getting in better shape and enjoying the benefits of that during my week in north carolina, i crashed into a surprise vitamin b deficiency so bad that i lost the ability to stand and walk. that didn’t get figured out until january, and took a couple of months of supplements to get fixed--at which point we were in a pandemic, and the lockdown followed soon after, and i was scared to leave the house, let alone walk my neighborhood to get back in shape. i finally felt like people here were following more of the safety guidelines and like i understood how to minimize risk as summer turned to fall...and then i broke my ankle. so at this point i’m really eager to move more and strengthen back up, and before the ankle i even made sure to buy some clothes so i won’t have to do all my outdoor exercise in jean shorts (better than long pants, in california, but still not very comfy!)

so that’ll be my main goal if my ankle is looking okay on xrays and keeps feeling stronger this month--as much as possible, to get back to the shape i was in last summer, when i could walk to the nearest grocery store and back, when walking a mile was possible on a regular basis. when i’m at my worst, just getting to the mailbox and back feels like a major accomplishment, and it’s wild how large the range is, of what i’m physically capable of. last year it took an awful manic phase to get me in shape...i wasn’t walking more because i enjoy it (i hate exercising here, it’s deeply boring, i miss living in a city where going places on foot was routine and fun) but because if i sat still at home i felt like a danger to myself. i had to move, so i did. convincing myself to go for walks will be a lot harder this time (i’ve been unsuccessfully trying to do so all year during the pandemic tbh) but actually losing the ability to walk (for a SECOND time! in one year!) is a great motivator to appreciate what i have and to make better use of it.

mental health wise, i’m still in a bad way. it’s hard for me to stay in touch with anybody i care about, i’m barely posting on my blog cuz i’m drifting in my head too much to have words like i normally do...the pandemic has made all of my mental disorders worse, while simultaneously making it harder to get care for them. on top of the treatment i get for my adhd and bipolar disorder (that stopped being effective during the pandemic), i’m finally ready to try something for the anxiety, and i only learned this year that my food issues are an actual eating disorder with a name...but while my previous problems aren’t being successfully treated right now, i don’t feel i can also take on trying to fight the other stuff too. i’m still here though, pressing onward, and i’ve found the headspace to not be upset at myself for getting little done, being unable to write and focus, etc. for now, that’s a win. and having the household return to normal for a while, after all the chaos of september, is letting my brain settle down too, at least a little. so that part does feel better. just like putting the house to rights makes me feel a little better--more stable.

i don’t have a grand conclusion for this post like i normally would? i’m not posting for a reason, other than thinking somebody who’s followed my personal posts for years now might wonder what’s going on lately, when i don’t post about it and am barely speaking to people. especially since i’m way behind on my asks as well, so i can’t just say ‘if you ever wonder how i’m doing, feel free to ask!’ so...this is how i’m doing. :) i’ve got 4 episodes of black sails left and i plan to start 12 monkeys next, so that should be fun. having house time to myself was fun but i’m thrilled to not be the only one home anymore. i like my normal.

#when i'm having a bad mental health time i get so disengaged #and it occurs to me that friends might on occasion wonder what happened to things i stopped talking about #randomness #life stuff #health

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bigskydreaming · 4 years ago

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thehollowprince said: And I also stand by the opinion that they could have just done a solo run of the O5 X-Men starting a new timeline with the information they got from the future.

thehollowprince said: Its not like Marvel doesn’t constantly do AUs and retcons

OMG Josh you have no idea how bad I wanted this. They could’ve done SO MUCH with that concept. Letting the 05 keep their foreknowledge and the world they could have created with that?

They could’ve averted the initial Krakoan mission and saved Darwin, Gabe, Petra and Sway in the first place. They could have all been X-Men from their Day One, Scott and Alex would have actually gotten to KNOW their brother and Gabe quite possibly would never have gone full Dark Side despite the writers apparently now seeming obsessed with the idea there’s just something innately bad within Gabe that’s always destined to bear fruit at some point, ugh, whatever, like who do you think you are, Kant?

They could’ve recruited the Giant Size X-Men lineup earlier, and saved John Proudstar, who side by side with his brother Jamie, are a force to be reckoned with.

They could have convinced Pietro and Wanda to join them instead of the Avengers and been like no but seriously that way lies nothing but shitty storylines and bad decisions that will be blamed on you by your teammates despite the fact that any and all of the bad decisions that were ACTUALLY yours could have been averted if any of your teammates were capable of functioning as an actual support system. Come join us. We have actual support systems, except for the times when we don’t, but we recruited Deadpool to break the fourth wall and he and Logan are currently cutting through the ranks of every writer who would write as hating and fighting each other instead of being a loving fucking family goddammit.

Jean could have faced the Phoenix head-on when the time for that came, using her knowledge of the future not to fear an inevitable death, but rather to know she had nothing TO fear, that the power to not control this force, but just be ONE with it, with no NEED to control it or be controlled by it, a symbiotic union, two beings in harmony deciding on courses of action together. The Phoenix’s innate powers and prerogative of rebirth and destruction tempered by Jean’s mercy, aimed and focused by Jean’s reason, the double-edged sword that is fire capable of warming homes or destroying them completely combined with Jean’s conscience guiding it to use its power for the former rather than the latter.

They could have stopped the Legacy Virus from getting out and killing millions as well as spared us from migraines induced by an AIDS metaphor so shitty at being a metaphor most people forget it was literally written to be an AIDS metaphor.

The body swap would never have happened and Kwannon could have joined the X-Men as a full member from the time she was introduced, rather than dragged along in the wake of Betsy’s tangled storylines for a couple decades.

They could have stopped Fitzroy from killing the Hellions. Hell, if they train Illyana early enough and have her mentored by Wanda who is perfectly fucking competent when left to her own devices, then like, maybe they can even take a jaunt to the future to save Fitzroy from dying in the first place and being resurrected with no soul. Not gonna lie, ever since then I’ve kinda been seriously interested in what the hell would a hero version of Trevor freaking Fitzroy even BE like, y’know? Call it morbid fascination, but like. I kinda want it, guys. LOL.

Add to that note, they could have taken another jaunt to the future and rescued Rachel from being made into a Hound by Ahab. Through the power of some convoluted plot tangle I just made up for convenience, Scott still ends up in a relationship with Maddy briefly, in one of those self-fulfilling prophecy type things where he went into it with the full intention of just averting the future and saving Maddy from her fate as the Goblyn Queen, but somehow ended up in a love triangle with a very alive Jean and Maddy who is fully informed of Sinister’s shenanigans and quite displeased with that asshole, and look, I don’t know how all of this goes exactly, but let’s cut to the chase, my only real endgame with this is making sure that Nate’s born properly, saved from Apocalypse and the techno-virus by the combined efforts of Scott, Maddy and Jean as well as Uncles Warren, Bobby and Hank, and Jean calls up the Phoenix through some psychic bond or whatever and is like hey girl, can I hit you up for a loan real quick? Got some losers that need toasting.

And in this AU the Phoenix totally has her back, and one brief cosmic power-up and gratuitous Sailor Moon transformation later, Jean glows and intones some epic one-liners with appropriate gravitas, and then just punts both Apocalypse and Sinister to the far side of the universe, never to be seen or heard from again. They like, hit a black hole on the way there I guess. It was very sad. Violin strings may commence with the requiem. Okay that’s enough, they can stop now.

So then through the plot contrivances of fuck you, I said so, Scott and Maddy ultimately part amicably and Scott and Jean get back together and the three of them civilly co-parent both baby Nate and Rachel, as Maddy keeps the healing powers she gained as Anodine and stays with the X-Men for her own reasons.

The telepaths are all better trained by the expertise Jean gained in her powers while in the future, so the next time the Shadow King comes bumming around looking to cause chaos, Betsy, Emma and Jean just look at each other and laugh and say nuh-uh before psychically squishing him into a marble.

Warren never becomes Archangel. Onslaught isn’t a thing. They make nice with Magneto and say okay you may have a couple points, let’s discuss. Bishop arrives in the past for reasons totally unrelated to his original story, has no traitor to seek out among the X-Men, and thus he and Gambit end up besties in complete defiance of that stupid fucking story and because I just think they’re neat together. Yes I said neat. Gambit and Bishop are just neat. Deal with it.

Bishop still hates that Fitzroy guy though, he’s like, I don’t even know what it is about that guy, he just rubs me the wrong way, even though Fitzroy is not evil here and has always done good with his powers, which are channeled through a device Forge made him that lets him just absorb life force from a wide range around him, spread out and diluted enough that its like, the grass feels weird for a second, like whoa what even was that, and then its over. Actually, y’know what, scratch that. Fitzroy’s powers are stupid and unnecessary the way they are now anyway, so fuck it, this Fitzroy doesn’t need life force or whatever, he’s just a dude who makes time portals. He’s like Illyana with green hair and that ugly goatee. Hey I said this Fitzroy was non-evil, not that he was perfect.

Bobby’s out and proud since he was sixteen, and with actual competence and proficiency with his powers, which make him a Literal Unkillable Gay Icon, he’s an inspiration to LGBTQ+ teens everywhere and inspires other gay, bi and trans heroes to come out. He’s a big brother figure to all the baby gays that later join the X-Men, like, Rictor comes to him for advice back during the time equivalent to early X-Factor, when Rictor’s a trying-too-hard sixteen year old who thought college age Bobby was like the coolest, which is valid, because X-Factor Bobby was like A+ Bobby characterization and deserves more reads.

So Rictor comes out earlier as well, and by the time they even meet Shatterstar, instead of a slow burn friends to roommates to lovers scenario, Rictor takes one look at the love of his life and wastes no time coming out swinging with an absolutely terrible pick up line. Look, I said his big brother figure Bobby was out and proud in this AU, not that he magically had a better sense of humor. Some things just don’t change, y’know? Luckily, Shatterstar is a weirdo, and thus he finds terrible pick-up lines charming. At least when its Rictor saying them. They walk off for a first date, already practically hand in hand, voices fading into the distance as Rictor asks “By the way, have you met Dazzler yet? According to Bobby, apparently she’s your mom. That Longshot dude with the mullet over there is your dad I guess. We should go say hi.”

Hank gets an assistant hand-picked by the rest of the original X-Men, and who has one job and one job only. To follow him around and observe all his experiments, and he has veto power over experiments that People With IQs As High As Yours Should Know Better But I Guess You’ve Got Reed Richards Syndrome.

Hank’s like, “Hmm, if I built a time machine I could go back to the Jurassic Period and observe whether my theory of - “

Hank’s assistant: “Veto.”

“Damn. Okay I was also thinking of making a deep space communicator that can reach into the farthest reaches of space beyond any known civilization and just say hi, y’know? See if anyone’s out there.”

“Veto.”

“If I combine these genetically modified antibodies here with this strain of of DNA from - “

“Veto.”

“Well Forge built this device that does this to mutant powers but I think I can make it do - “

“Veto.”

“These nanobots I - “

“VETO,”

“Honestly, at this point I think you’re just saying that just because you like saying it.”

“Dr. McCoy, I promise you, I’m really, really not.”

Logan finds out about his future clan of stabby children, and seeks them out. He rescues Daken from Romulus, somebody stabs that loser with the immortal-killing sword, I don’t even care who, and after a few tense months of Logan trying too hard, he and Daken eventually bond over how hockey just isn’t violent enough. If you’re going to make a sport all about hitting each other, just really go for it or don’t even bother, y’know? Logan claps him on the shoulder and sniffs. That’s my boy. Then they find and rescue Laura and Gabby and take a road trip to Earth 1610 to pick up Jimmy. They have a house on campus, and new students walking by it are used to hearing loud growling and even howls. They were assured during orientation that that’s nothing to worry about, it just means the House of Snikt are watching a game and are rooting for opposing sides.

Emma’s recruited practically the day they get back. She’s only just started at the Hellfire Club and has only done a tiny bit of Evil when Warren schedules an appointment with her, and then he, Scott and Jean make a better pitch than Shaw and his ilk could ever match. They’ve been to the future. Come join with us and we’ll give you an all access pass to memories detailing exactly what’s going to happen in these particular areas and many more. All you have to do is ask. Oh and also please don’t seduce any married teammates. Its bad form. To be honest, I don’t think it’ll be an issue because Deadpool assures us Morrison has been taken care of, and don’t worry if that makes no sense to you, its a head-scratcher for us to. Just roll with it.

Nate ages normally here so its not like he ends up besties with forty year old Wade, but the latter having his own plot-contrived knowledge of the future because He’s Just Like That, decides that he won’t be denied at least SOME kind of bond with The Bestie That Wasn’t. He becomes Nate’s official babysitter. Well, not official, seeing as how Scott, Jean and Maddy don’t hire him and are very clear that their son is not to be left alone with this man at any time, he is a terrible influence and he keeps giving our kid guns. But then Wade just shows up anytime they’re out because he just has a sixth sense for Making Trouble, and he terrifies away whatever babysitter’s there and greets the returning and exasperated parents with a cheery wave.

“I know what you’re going to say, but don’t worry, we didn’t do anything dangerous or against the law. All we did today was I taught him to make bombs, but we were very careful, we wore safety goggles and really, they were very little bombs. Not even anything atomic. I honestly don’t think any of them could have even blown up this whole house, and I’ve been meaning to say, I’m not impressed with the structural integrity of this place. Couldn’t you have picked something with a sturdier foundation? Its like you don’t even expect random space mercenaries to attack your place out of the blue every other month. Have any of you even read a single issue of your own comics?”

Scott’s jaw twitches Ominously. Wade starts gathering up his things. Jean rubs her forehead wearily.

“Wade, what do you even think ‘dangerous’ means?”

Wade pauses and cocks his head. Gives it a solid twenty seconds of thought. Then he shrugs.

“I don’t know actually. Don’t think I’ve ever really thought about it. I always figured it was just one of those things people just say. Like, ‘oh, it looks like rain today,’ even if they’re not a forecaster and have no real meteorological credentials to speak of. ‘Oh, this mission will be dangerous,’ and I don’t even have to use up all my ammo and I only get shot twice. Y’know?”

“Leave,” Scott says. More like intones. House shakes a little bit but that might just be Wade’s imagination. Its very active.

“Leaving!” He says hastily. He jumps through the closed window and then teleports away amid the falling shower of broken glass. Why didn’t he do that while he was still inside the room? No one knows. Not even Wade knows. Why did the chicken cross the road? Who the fuck cares, now is it Original Recipe or Crispy?

Scott, Jean and Maddy search the house while Nate angelically claims they won’t find anything, Wade doesn’t even bring him cool stuff anymore cuz he knows you’ll just take it.

Maddy finds a high-tech laser space gun under a floorboard in the closet. She holds it up with one eyebrow raised pointedly. Scott and Jean flank her and their own eyebrows raise in solidarity. Well Jean’s does. Scott’s probably does but its hard to tell sometimes. Depends on what glasses or visor he’s wearing.

“That was already there,” Nate tries. Most powerful telepath and telekinetic in the world, but the kid can’t lie for shit. There’s not much point in trying when one of your moms is the freaking Phoenix, and that’s a skill that takes practice he just doesn’t have.

The three sets of parental eyebrows make a V, judgingly.

“One month of no video games or TV?” Okay, so terrible liar but quick on his feet. At least he knows when he’s beat and jumps straight to trying to shape his own punishment proactively.

“Two months. And no flying lessons either,” Jean says. “And don’t pout at me, young man. You know the rules. No weapons inside the house unless your grandpa Corsair is visitng and we’re too tired to fight him on keeping knives under his pillow. This is a Do As We Say, Not As We Do house. Deal with it. Now, this is going with the others and you can have it back when you’re eighteen.”

It would have been three months, but Jean and Maddy caught a telepathic sniff from Scott. He’s just so proud of his kid thinking so tactically. He’s growing up so fast. Both women mentally roll their eyes. Why is he like this.

“I don’t see what the big deal is anyway,” Nate sulks. “Its just a stupid laser gun. I mean, Uncle Gabe blew up our last house with his brain.”

“Yes and it was an accident and he feels absolutely terrible about that which is why we’re not going to bring it up when he and Armando come visit this weekend, right?”

“You can have my full compliance for two weeks off my sentence.”

“Or we can have your full compliance or two weeks will be added to your sentence,” Maddy says.

“You guys suck,” declares the ten year old vessel of near unlimited psychic might. He goes to his room, stomping all the way up the stairs so his grievances can be heard even by the House of Snikt next door. Course, they’ve already been listening to the whole thing with their enhanced hearing. There was nothing good on TV. Jimmy made popcorn and chewed with his mouth open just to piss off Daken.

‘The second Father leaves the room, I am going to stab you in such a slow healing place you’ll still be bleeding at bed time.’ Daken mouths at his little brother from another universe. Jimmy scrunches his face in confusion.

‘What?’ He mouths back. He’s terrible at reading lips. Or anything that isn’t skateboarding, really. And yet Father’s so happy that ‘at least one of my kids is content with stupid normal stuff and doesn’t go around drawing cover fire just because a mission is going so well its boring and they haven’t even gotten to pop their claws out yet.’

“That’s only because you’ve coddled him. He’s barely ever even been shot at. Just the one time on vacation in Majipoor and he wasn’t even the target, the assassin was aiming for me. If you would just let me take him on a proper outing to gain some real experience - “

“Not gonna happen.” Logan shuts that down real quick.

“Really Father, just look at him. He has zero situational awareness. I’ve been glaring a hole in the back of his head for a full minute now and he has no idea. That could just as easily be an actual laser scope, you know. He’s a disgrace to the whole family.”

“Daken, we’ve been over this,” Logan says firmly. “You have your sisters to bond with over gratuitous violence. Leave your brother alone. I don’t want anyone traumatizing him until trauma finds him all on its own. It’ll happen sooner or later, he’s as much a part of this family as anyone and that means its as good as done already, so there’s no need to hurry it along. If later on he decides he’s got a taste for it, you can take him on all the outings to get shot at that you want. But he’s gotta figure it out for himself first, and he doesn’t need his big brother being the one who introduces him to all that. He idolizes you, you know.”

Daken scoffs. He can’t even get the brat to chew with his mouth closed.

“He cut his hair from that style he liked so much, just because you hated it so much,” Logan says obliviously. Daken nods like he’s conceding the argument and hastens from the room while he can still keep his mouth shut. It won’t benefit anyone at this point to tell their father that Jimmy really only cut his hair because Daken told him he would set it on fire if he didn’t.

Ugh, families are the worst. Don’t even get him started on Laura stealing some of his clothes to wear without asking. And then has the gall to yell back at him when he yells “Silk! Its the finest cut of silk! Does that mean nothing to you?” at her.

“Oh get over it. Its not like I asked for killer robots to interrupt my date.”

“Of course they were going to interrupt your date with that Julian boy. I keep telling you, he’s a magnet for trouble. I can tell. I’m one too, remember?”

“Fine, whatever, you’re right and I should just expect every date with Julian from now until the end of time to end with fire and disaster.”

“Well now you’re being melodramatic. There’s no way that boy makes it past twenty five. He doesn’t even have a healing factor.”

“Why do you hate him so much anyway? If you’d just give him a chance - “

“What are you talking about? I give him a chance every single time he’s here and I don’t kill him.”

“Ugh, I can’t even talk to you when you’re like this. You always do this, you just decide on something and then you commit to that like the fate of the world depends on you standing firm on what’s usually a completely arbitrary decision in the first place!”

Daken sniffs. “I can assure you, there’s absolutely nothing arbitrary about my disdain for the Keller boy.”

“His name is Julian,” Laura enunciates with a glare.

“I don’t care,” Daken enunciates with an expression of lofty superiority.

“You two are so dumb,” Gabby says from the end of the hallway. They both turn identical glares on her. They’d noticed her arrive several minutes ago but they weren’t about to be distracted from their battle of wills. “Laura, you know Daken isn’t actually going to kill Julian. He doesn’t do that anymore except for really bad people sometimes and he just talks about stabbing people or killing them cuz he thinks he’s funny and then he gets all pissy because nobody ever gets that he doesn’t really mean it. He doesn’t even hate Julian and he used to be fine with him before he started dating you, its just he doesn’t think he’s good enough for you.”

Daken frowns at the petite would-be peacemaker. Meddlesome toddler. “What are you even babbling about? None of that is remotely true.”

Gabby rolls her eyes up at her brother from her much lower height. She taps the side of her nose with emphasis. “You do know we all have the same abilities to smell and analyze scents as you do, right? And you know everything you can tell from peoples’ scent, right? Of course I’m right, I can smell it as clear as anything and so can Jimmy and Dad and we actually all know this and talk about it all the time, and its why Dad never actually gets mad at you for talking about killing people because he can smell you’re saying it just cuz you’re used to saying it but really you’re too marshmallowy on the inside now to do half the stuff you claim you’re gonna do. Hate to break it to you bro, but you’re a closet softie and you’ve been made. The nose doesn’t lie. Only reason Laura doesn’t know it is because you piss her off like its your favorite hobby and its probably impossible for her to smell anything beyond her own scent of Royally Pissed Off.”

Ugh. Meddlesome insightful toddler. Who asked for her intervention anyway? Daken crosses his arms in a way that’s decidedly aloof and not at all sulking.

Laura’s staring at their sister assessingly. “That’s really what you think is going on? And Jimmy and Dad think so too? You’re not just saying all that?”

Gabby bats her eyes up at them. “Would I lie to you?”

“Yes,” Laura says without missing a beat.

“Without a shadow of a doubt,” Daken says dryly, right on her heels.

“For the sake of a candy bar,” Laura adds, because that really did happen.

“Or just boredom, because god forbid you pick up another hobby that isn’t just Chaos.”

“This from the guy who only has fun when there’s blood and bullets flying about,” Gabby fires back from a position of petite petulance.

Daken smirks down at her. “Didn’t you just say I don’t really mean it when I say all of that?”

Gabby narrows her eyes. “Touché. My own words thrown back at me. I am undone.”

“Yes, well - “

Daken’s cut off as Jimmy chooses that moment to walk past them down the hallway to the bathroom. He’s laughing and shaking his head.

“You guys are both so dumb. She plays you like this all the time, and you never see it.”

“Silence, mortal!” Gabby thunders at their brother menacingly. The effect is somewhat diminished by the fact that she can’t hit a baritone note to save her life.

“No, I’m interested in hearing what he has to say,” Daken says coolly. “For once. This is a moment without precedent and one unlikely to occur again, so let’s explore it a bit.”

Jimmy sighs and shakes his head without ever losing that amused smirk. “Had to tack on that last part, didn’t you. Just couldn’t help yourself.”

“I am a faithful student of the Truth,” Daken says, matching his brother smirk for smirk.

“The point, Jimmy?” Laura prods aggressively before that can erupt into a wholly separate thing she wants no part of.

“Oh, right.” He shrugs nonchalantly. “Its kinda her thing with you two when you get like this. You pick a fight with Laura, Laura gets pissed off and succumbs to the family curse of Tunnel Vision at the Worst Possible Time, and you both go back and forth endlessly and like you have all the time in the world for your stupid tete a tete, because on account of you both being practically unkillable and immortal, you kinda do and you know it. And then whenever she gets bored of listening to you two, Gabby swoops in and draws both of your attention until you’re both so focused on being annoyed with her you don’t even realize you’re actually side by side agreeing with each other, and she keeps it up just long enough til she’s sure she can just say she’s bored now and just leave the room, leaving you both annoyed and frustrated by a fight you can’t even claim to have won because she really just kinda...left, in the middle of it, and you’re so focused on that, you’ve totally forgotten to be pissed at each other. And by the time you do remember, like, the moment has passed and peace has been returned to the kingdom. Or at least as peaceful as this place ever gets.”

Daken stares at his mistake of a brother in the hopes that if he stalled long enough, his senses would arrive at a different conclusion. But nope. Scents don’t lie, unlike baby sis, apparently. He’s telling the truth. And Daken really does not....care for that conclusion.

Gabby stamps her foot and glares up at their brother.

“You are such a tattletale. I am providing a service, by keeping this family free of these two constantly at each others throats, and how is that service repaid? With betrayal! I hate you, you’re dead to me. Never speak to me again or at least not until I’ve stopped being mad at you, but that could be like ten years or something, I don’t even know right now.”

She draws up to her full height and squares her shoulders as she thunders this Mighty Mouse style at the still laughing Jimmy. Then, seeing she’d yet to make a dent in his armor of amusement and he was failing to take her pronouncement seriously, she punctuated her declaration by spitting on their brother’s shoe. Daken’s eyebrows shoot up again, this time in amusement of his own. Gabby then spins around on her heel and stalks off down the hallway, muttering more dire threats under her breath as she goes, the sound of them nonetheless carrying clearly to three siblings with enhanced hearing of their own. And apparently, little sis could be quite creative. Who knew she’d been hiding such talent?

Jimmy barely even notices; he’s still staring down at his shoe.

“Dude, you spit on me! That’s so not cool.”

“Some things need to be expressed so strongly, mere words will not suffice,” Daken says loftily, savoring a slightly renewed sense of superiority.

One quickly dashed, of course, because apparently he just can’t have anything.

“Bold words from the seventy year old who needed the sixteen year old to clue him in he’s being regularly manipulated by the twelve year old,” Jimmy fires back. As a return volley, its obnoxiously effective, and Daken’s still grinding his teeth and searching for an adequate rejoinder as Jimmy just grins even wider and then strolls off down the hallway as well. Whistling either an absolutely hideous song or else proof that he’s absolutely hideous at whistling. Tough call. With him it could be either.

Daken and Laura both stare after him in silence as he rounds the corner and disappears, leaving only the lingering scent of smugness in his wake. Daken hates the scent of smugness. It has a particularly....cloying feel to it. Well not his of course. But everyone else’s, especially little brothers? Acrid is the only word adequate for that.

“Sometimes I really do want to stab him. Just a little bit. And I’m not even lying,” Daken says. Laura just nods, her own nose scrunched up in distaste as well.

“Honestly? Me too.”

Brother and sister enjoy the rare moment of solidarity.

“You know what’s really bugging me?” Laura says suddenly, still staring off down the hallway. Daken turns an inquiring eye on her, prompting elucidation. She frowns.

“Where the hell did he learn a phrase like tete a tete? I mean. Its Jimmy.”

Daken does know what she means, and frowns as the nagging awareness of that leaps from his sister to himself like memetic chain lightning.

“And he used it correctly. That’s....unexpected.”

“Sometimes I wonder if maybe he’s not as completely airheaded as he pretends, and the fact that he’s got everyone so convinced of that actually means he’s running circles around the rest of us,” Laura says. She shrugs. “Of course, then I have to question everything and who has that kind of time and also the very idea of genius mastermind Jimmy disturbs me on a deeply visceral level. So then I just. Stop doing that.”

Daken nods and sighs. “Sometimes, that’s all you can do.”

“Okay, this is annoying. I kinda still want to fight, but now fighting with you feels kinda anticlimactic. Ugh, siblings are the worst,” Laura declares with a glower. “They ruin everything.”

“On that, we can agree. With allowances for temporary occasions of some of them being bearable,” Daken says. “Some.”

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve never said to me, big brother,” Laura says lightly. Daken swiftly scowls but she holds up a hand to forestall any rebuttal. “Sorry, don’t mean to ruin the moment. I’m thinking about how else we can put all that frustrated energy to good use. Wanna go pick a fight with the Summers’ kids?”

A slow smile spreads across Daken’s face. “Well now. Finally, a family outing I can get behind. I believe that’s precisely what we need right now. Care to lead the way?”

He still hates her boyfriend, of course, but he supposes he can let that be.

For now, at least.

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sleepymarmot · 4 years ago

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Re-liveblog: eps. 4 & 10

Here's something I've been planning to do for a while -- rereading the liveblog of The Untamed I wrote a couple of months ago and looking at my own initial reactions to Jin Guangyao's storyline with new eyes. Returning to old liveblogs is always fun, but particularly when the perspective on something changes so much by the end of the story!

Of course, this turned into a monstrosity with word count in thousands that sat in my drafts for about a month, and involved rewatching most of the scenes the liveblog mentioned, and some that it didn't. Please be warned: this series of posts is not meant to be a comprehensive analysis, and will jump from one point to another or highlight only the things I have changed my mind about, or haven’t talked on this blog before. It is going to include some very personal interpretations and opinions, sometimes possibly (or definitely, in the case of this very post) unpopular or negative. I am here to reflect on my own experience of watching the show almost as much as to write meta about the show itself.

[All re-liveblog posts]

[ep 4]

is this shy illegitimate son the same person who summoned WWX in the first episode, or are they two entirely unrelated bastards? I don’t think the ages match up…

Oh, so that's what I was thinking during Meng Yao's introduction scene: trying to figure out whether he was the same person as Mo Xuanyu or not. That's funny.

[negativity ahead!]

Of course, I was also admiring Xichen's elegant way of Using His Privilege For Good, but I thought that was self-explanatory enough not to put in the liveblog. It didn’t occur to me this scene could be interpreted as a sect leader openly hitting on a disadvantaged youth, or that such an interpretation would be popular, especially in a literal and positive way as opposed to a dark or subversive headcanon. So even if this is ever confirmed to be an intended message of the scene, I’d just say “I recognize the council has made a decision...” and continue to disregard it. Kind of incredible how it manages to squick me in at least five ways -- and xiayo is one of my main ships in this fandom! And not only squick -- in my eyes, sexualizing LXC’s intentions in this scene not only adds something that I don’t like, but actively detracts from the textual, surface meaning and narrative function of LXC’s actions (establishing LXC as a Model Authority Figure who masterfully manipulates the social power dynamics not for self-interest, but for justice, kindness, and peaceful conflict resolution; see also the following scene with the Wens). And from the other side, I think Meng Yao is shocked and impressed specifically because someone like LXC would do this for someone like him without an ulterior motive; I suspect that if he saw this as LXC making an excuse to touch someone attractive, he would only be turned off: a sect leader who can’t keep his hands to himself is nothing new and nothing good from the point of view of JGS’s illegitimate child.

But if this brief brushing of hands holds any in-universe significance in addition to a possible foreshadowing of this relationship’s future importance -- I think I just finally realized what it must be! This interaction is an adaptation of the following scene from the book (which, to be fair, happens when MY and LXC already know each other, not during a first meeting):

Meng Yao had been a famous joke for a certain period of time, which was why a few recognized him. Likely thinking that the son of a prostitute perhaps also carried some unclean things with him, the cultivators didn’t drink from the cups that he had presented with both hands. Instead, they put the cups to the side and even took out white handkerchiefs. As though it felt too uncomfortable, they repeatedly wiped the fingers that they’d touched the teacup with, either intentionally or not. Nie MingJue wasn’t someone mindful to such things. Wei WuXian, though, caught sight of this through the corners of his eyes. Meng Yao acted as if he didn’t see anything, his smile unfaltering as he continued to pass around tea.

As Lan XiChen accepted his cup, he looked up at him and smiled, “Thank you.”

He drank a sip of the tea immediately afterward. Only then did he continue to converse with Nie MingJue. A few cultivators began to feel uneasy as they saw the scene.

(Chapter 48)

So CQL!Meng Yao’s eyebrows twitch in pleased surprise because the sect leader not only personally approached to verbally support him, but took something directly from his hands, not even trying to avoid him or flinching at skin contact. As if it didn’t even occur to the majestic Zewu-jun to think of Meng Yao as dirty or disgusting.

I don’t know if this is an intended interpretation either, because I don’t remember anyone specifically avoiding physical contact with MY in the show, and on the contrary, there were examples of both friendly (from Huaisang) and unfriendly (from the commander) touch. But I certainly prefer it to the other interpretation, and ignoring the interaction altogether seems a bit intellectually dishonest.

[/negativity]

On another note, much is said about JGY’s performativity, but check out LXC’s! Someone’s being bullied in his classroom? Not on his watch! Time to descend from his pedestal like truth coming out of her well, Very Pointedly and at length explain how this person Has His Official And Personal Approval And Is Very Welcome Here, then take the gift from him personally instead of letting a disciple do that. Note how in the following scene, he also personally accepts the gift from Wen Qing as a peacemaking gesture. I love how LXC’s character establishing event is about defusing not one but two uncomfortable situations in a row. Of the two brothers, all social skills went to him...

I have no comment on the goodbye scene. Just sadness.

Oh wait, after rewatching the entire show and coming back to the post, I do have something to say. This episode is the only time I can say with all certainty that all of Meng Yao’s words and reactions are fully sincere. After this point in the timeline, it will never happen again. :(

It’s a shame that the gifs I’ve seen of this scene end with the iconic stopped bow, because the final shots are also great! As soon as MY turns away, his face becomes clouded again, and seconds after the Sect Leader himself held his arms and assured they were peers, he felt the need to bow and lower his eyes as some unnamed disciples walked by. And the bitter look he sends after them tells the viewer how much he is aware of falling from the dreamland where a nobleman would compliment him like three times within three minutes, back to the regular life where it is better not to be noticed at all. Meanwhile, Xichen looks him in the back like “I want it to grow strong and healthy, I want to tell my friends and neighbors about it”.

[ep 10]

Alright, when 10 minutes ago I thought “Meng Yao, sweetie, kill that clown”, this is not what I had in mind

SOMEBODY GIVE MENG YAO A HUG (after some emergency medical care) HE HAS DONE NOTHING WRONG IN HIS LIFE. Can Xichen adopt him now?

Ah, the joys of the first viewing.

At this point, I was thinking of both Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue exclusively as of father figures for Meng Yao. For LXC I think I slowly started to notice the romantic tension later but made a complete flip to the romantic interpretation only during the "late light talks... no sign of curse on his body" conversation. For NMJ it was during the head flashback. And as much as I like these pairings, it does feel like a loss that their existence displaces the very different pseudo-family dynamic. I think a story in which NMJ, LXC, WRH and JGS are all openly presented as competing father figures would be interesting; has anyone written that?

On rewatch, I was outraged by all of the blatant manipulation that I bought completely on the first viewing. MY is very good at playing a wounded bird -- especially when he's literally wounded. I had wondered why he just limped away without treating it, but now it's obvious he is using Stoic Suffering to invoke pity and admiration. Just like, a few minutes earlier, he showed NMJ that he was ready to be struck down, and it saved his life. He tells NHS with a sad but brave face “I won't be able to take care of you anymore” and on first viewing it worked on me just as he intended -- I thought “Poor boy, so trained to serve, he puts his duty to others above his own feelings even in this situation”. Ha...

And NMJ is only helping his case. He had the chance to explain everything and share the truth of MY's actions. And in the novel, he does take this chance, retelling the incident to Xichen (who chooses to turn a blind eye). Instead, NMJ basically confirms MY’s narrative: by hiding the reason for the exile, he makes it seem like there was no respectable reason at all. NMJ, all by himself, makes himself look like an irrational tyrant, and MY like a victim of an arbitrariness. And he does it in front of Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian, no less -- an heir to a major clan and his brother! By trying not to discuss internal problems with outsiders, he achieves an opposite effect. Luckily for him, JC and WWX don't give a shit... But imagine how different the plot would be if they had this information from the start?

What I still don't understand is -- what was Meng Yao’s plan in this episode? Who was he working for? Who was his accomplice, whose feet we saw in the later flasback -- surely not Xue Yang himself, he’s supposed to be under arrest! Was he working with the Jin secretly already? (I don’t think so: in a later scene, JGS asks him about this incident, seemingly ignorant.) Or with the Wen (I don't remember -- did Xue Yang go back to the Wen afterwards)? Or just with Xue Yang directly, setting him completely free just on the promise of future cooperation? This seems most plausible -- but to risk and lose everything over such an uncertain gamble doesn’t make MY look very smart.

I have some other things to say about the events of this episode, but they’ll be in the post about the flashbacks in episode 41.

#the untamed #jin guangyao #lan xichen #nie mingjue #blah blah blah #jgyreliveblog #starting with a risky one likely to alienate most of potential readers

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raywritesthings · 5 years ago

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What Have They Lost? 3/?

My Writing Fandom: Arrow, The Flash Characters: Laurel Lance, Oliver Queen, Connor Hawke, Ted Grant, Barry Allen, Iris West, Barbara Gordon, Wally West, Cisco Ramon, Caitlin Snow, Joe West Pairings: Barry Allen/Iris West, Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen, Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel Summary: “I can definitely tell you that there’s a way we’re going to bring [Laurel] back and she’s going to be alive and well. And Flashpoint might have a little bit to do with that.“ -Wendy Mericle AKA: The AU where that wasn’t a blatant lie, and Flashpoint has bigger repercussions for Barry’s friends and allies than he first realized. Notes: Much thanks to @colorofmymindposts for beta-ing as well as to the Lauriver discord server for helping with world-building and character histories. Anyone interested in joining the server should follow this link: https://discord.gg/gp9ANVr *Also can be read on my AO3*

He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. Damn age getting to him.

As it was, Ted woke on his couch to the sound of a key trying to find the lock and muttered curses. He got to his feet just as Dinah pushed through the door and slammed it behind her, glancing back through the window.

“Alright, we expecting company?”

She looked at him. “Ted, it happened again.”

He sighed. “Okay.”

“I don’t know what it is,” she burst out. “I mean I do, but — I mean, why me, right? Babs is fine, Helena’s fine, and Pam—” she drew up short. “Well, nobody’s really sure what’s wrong with her. But at least it’s consistent.”

“Not getting worse?”

Dinah chewed her lip. “Harley says they’ve had to up her dosage again, or that rash keeps coming back. If that stupid explosion hadn’t knocked her back into that ivy…”

“Or hit you when you were holding the mic?”

“Yeah.” Dinah looked down and sighed. “I just need to, I don’t know, take a breather or something.”

“Stuff’s in your room.”

“Thanks, Ted.” She touched his shoulder distractedly as she made her way down the hall into the spare room she used whenever they stopped here. A few minutes later, he could hear sounds of a familiar melody on the guitar. Ted shook his head.

It wasn’t any wonder she’d gotten worked up and that this whatever-it-was had activated again. Dealing with that washed up excuse for a father, being back here…

He found his phone on the coffee table and went through the recent contacts. His call was picked up after a single ring.

“Hey, Ted.”

“Barbara. You got any time?”

“Yeah. Dad’s got another night shift. He won’t be back for hours.” He could hear fingers clacking away at a computer’s keys rather than a keyboard’s. “What’s up?”

“Dinah’s had another accident. She’s a bit shaken up.”

“Put her on. I’m switching over to video.”

Ted went down the hall and knocked on the door. It wasn’t completely shut, so it swung in a few inches.

“I tried to look for you in the dark water, but I got lost along the way,” Dinah was half-singing, half-saying under her breath. She really wasn’t giving that one up, was she?

“Hey, it’s Barbara.”

Dinah smiled up at him and set the guitar aside. “Thanks, Ted.”

She took the phone and set it up so she and Barbara could each see each other’s faces.

“So what happened?” Barbara never was one to mince words. Probably got it from the old commissioner.

“There were some creeps trying to force a woman into having their sick idea of fun. I didn’t like the look of it, so I said something.”

“And then screamed something, huh?”

“He was running at me. It was, I don’t know, instinct. Something like that.” Dinah dragged a hand back through her hair. “I thought for a second somebody else saw — but nobody was there. I must be getting paranoid.”

“Well, we do need to talk about what to do going forward, Dinah. This clearly isn’t something you can ignore or force to stop happening.”

“I know. But what do you want me to do, announce to the world I’m a metahuman? The Flash would just zip up onto the stage and have me in handcuffs,” Dinah remarked, the humor in her tone only barely masking contempt.

“Who says you have to tell people you’re the metahuman?” Ted asked. Dinah turned towards him and it was clear that Barbara was listening as well. “Nobody knows who the Flash is. That’s why he isn’t in prison.”

Dinah looked back at the phone screen. “What do you think, Babs? You’re the masked crusader expert.”

“Don’t remind me,” Barbara replied with a grimace. “But I do think you need to find a way to separate your identity from the woman who can knock down walls with her voice. If only so the latter can do some good.”

Dinah stood, her arms crossing over her chest. “You sound like dad. He was just reminding me tonight how I used to want to do something for the world with my life.”

“Well, don’t you?”

Ted held his breath, watching and waiting.

“I can barely do enough for myself,” Dinah said. “I’m not some hero, Babs, or even a guy in a bat suit with an ax to grind. I just got dealt a bad hand.”

“And why let that stop you?” Ted asked. “You climbed out of poverty with your music, Dinah. You got yourself out of the foster care system. You’d be free of the abuse if you’d cut the old man off.”

She scoffed.

“I know you feel you haven’t done what you set out to do,” he continued, placing his hands on her shoulders. “But don’t you think you might find out more about yourself if you look to the future instead of the past?”

“I can’t stop looking, Ted,” Dinah said, her eyes wide and pleading.

“And you won’t. But tell me, where did that little girl who snuck into my gym ‘cause she kept getting into scrapes go? Where’d that young lady who kicked guys in the head for harassing women in the crowd go?”

“You know I’d be out there if the answer had come back different,” Barbara offered.

Dinah scowled. “Who cares if Batman said no? You could still do it.”

“Maybe now that I have some money behind me,” Barbara allowed. “But I don’t have the kind of power that accelerator gave you, Dinah.”

“I could hurt someone,” Dinah stated. It was the fear first and foremost in her mind ever since they’d learned what she could do, after all the months of worrying that the accident had stolen her voice. Maybe it had in a way; it was making her hold herself back.

“With the right kind of training, I don’t think so,” Barbara countered. “But that’s gonna take practice, the same as all our other lessons.”

“So where am I supposed to practice? I don’t exactly have my own city lying around somewhere unless you two are surprising me this Christmas.”

“Well, you are home,” Barbara said.

Dinah raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t Star already have a guy?”

Babs shrugged. “Just Green Arrow. Batman never took him that seriously. Thought he liked to make speeches more than get anything done.”

“Forgive me if I don’t hold Batman’s opinion that highly,” Dinah said with a cool tone, “considering he clearly doesn’t know talent when it knocks on his door.”

“Things might have been different,” Barbara said not for the first or probably the last time. “Just my dad being the GCPD liaison with him...it complicates things.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say that involved of a discussion with Batman would necessitate you knowing who you were talking to,” Ted remarked.

“Nope, not falling for it, Ted.”

He grinned. “Worth a shot. I really am starting to wonder if I should make the rounds and get these new boys into shape.”

“Yeah right,” Dinah said, some of her old bite back in her voice. “You like us too much to go over to that boys’ club.”

“All the more reason to get you out there, Dinah.”

She sighed, looking down at her guitar. “Just...let me think it over, okay?”

“Sure thing.” He retrieved his phone and headed for the door.

“It’s not that I don’t want to help,” Dinah said before he had quite left. “It just feels like every time I try...someone gets hurt.”

“That’s just the growing pains. But I think you’re ready to fly now, Dinah.”

She nodded once, and Ted shut the door behind him as he left.

“You think I might have pushed too hard?” He asked Barbara, who had stayed on the line.

“She doesn’t think she’s the right person to be a hero,” Barbara said. “But that’s exactly why she is.”

“Right you are, Babs. Think I’ll go air out the old gym here. We might be needing it soon. You feel like joining in?”

“Give me two weeks. I promised my father we’d spend some time together.” Barbara gestured around the empty apartment she currently sat in. “You can see how that’s going.”

“Well, you hang in there. We’re gonna get you your chance, too.”

“Thanks, Ted.”

He hung up and smiled to himself. Much as he liked his role with the band, he was looking forward to being a teacher again.

—-

Combing through the old family papers was easier said than done. Back when he’d first returned from the island, he had found out that they’d all been boxed up and stored in a warehouse. Walter had been meticulous about the organization of it all, but Oliver had just gotten out what was necessary to declare himself alive again and then looked for a new place to live. Even if the old Manor hadn’t been sold, he couldn’t have gone back there. Too many empty rooms.

Now, he was looking for something entirely unrelated to him, something among his mother’s things. He had to stop every now and then, smiling with watery eyes at her handwriting or an old photo. She’d kept every one of his school pictures, notating them on the back: Oliver, 6th grade.

God, why’d she let him have that hair?

Eventually, he came across an old lock box. Walter must not have touched it beyond moving it here, though he clearly hadn’t found the key.

Oliver looked up at the ceiling. “Sorry, mom.” He broke the lock.

Inside were a number of yellowing papers, some looked to be about financial matters while others were of a more personal nature.

There was also a checkbook tied to an account number Oliver didn’t recognize, nor was it from their family bank. It recorded monthly payments to one of the local orphanages, up until the last month before they all got on the Gambit.

Heart thumping in his ears, Oliver reached a birth certificate at the bottom of the stack of papers. Mia Dearden, was the name given to the child, born January 21st, 1995. She was ten years younger than him. He had a kid sister?

There was a photo paper-clipped to the back of a tiny baby sleeping in a nursery. It was irrational, maybe, but he felt a fierce longing for this tiny life he’d never known.

But he should have. How had his parents kept this from him?

The birth certificate was from a hospital whose name he didn’t recognize. A quick search on his phone showed that it was out of state. He tried to remember that year. Had his mother been away on a trip? Had she hidden the pregnancy that way? His father’s name wasn’t on the certificate. Did that mean��?

There was nothing to indicate if his father had known, or what he had thought if he had. But there had to be some reason Mia Dearden hadn’t been raised alongside him in their home. Never mind that his mother must have purposefully brought her back to the city and kept up payments that must have seen the orphanage well outfitted. At least until 2007.

She would have been twelve, or around that age, Oliver realized. What had happened to her after? Would the orphanage know? Had she found another family, someone to provide the love and care his parents had either been unwilling or unable to give?

“Dad?”

Oliver looked up from his desk, spotting Connor in the shadows by the door. It had gotten late, and the single lamp he had on was the only source of light in the room.

“Hey. Sorry. I got, uh, caught up with all this. You eat yet?”

“Did you?”

Fair enough question. Oliver set the birth certificate and the photo of his baby sister aside, standing up. “Okay, what do we want? Chicken? Chicken tacos? Think we still have some wraps.”

“We could order a pizza,” Connor suggested. “You look tired.”

Oliver looked down. His son was probably right; he’d been at this for three days now, only stopping for meals or to go out on patrol.

“Okay. You pick the toppings.”

They settled out in the main room to wait after Oliver called the order in. He looked Connor over during the silence. He had failed to be the father this boy should have had for the first several years of his life, and now he was finding that was an all too common mistake of his when it came to family. Even if he really had been a kid in the case of Mia Dearden.

“So,” Connor began, “what did you find out?”

Oliver grimaced. “Uncle Barry was right. Sort of, anyway.”

Connor’s eyes were wide, in excitement or worry he couldn’t tell. “So there is a Thea Queen?”

“I don’t know about her, but my mother had a daughter she never told me about. Her name’s Mia,” Oliver said, his voice cracking slightly on the name. He cleared his throat. “Mia Dearden. She has mom’s maiden name.”

“How come your mom never told you?”

“Well, if I had to guess...my parents were partners in the business sense. They built the old company together, as equals. But in their relationship, it wasn’t exactly like that.”

Connor nodded sagely. “She had an affair.”

“Seems that way. Not exactly the best example us Queens are setting for you. Don’t get any ideas,” Oliver quipped when Connor made a face. He was definitely glad that his son still seemed uninterested in the dating scene, and prayed it would last at least a little longer.

“What are you gonna do about Mia?”

That was a question he hadn’t let himself contemplate yet. “She’s a young woman now. Probably out on her own. I don’t know how happy she’d be to learn the truth now.”

“But you wanna meet her.”

It was remarkable how well the kid could read him.

“It’s hard not to wonder. How different would things have been, you know? The way Barry was talking...it sounded like he thought she’d be here.”

What would it have been like to return after those five years to family, to someone he knew had missed him and cared about him? Someone who could’ve been the listening ear he’d needed when Connor had first arrived, who could’ve helped him.

“You know, she’s not the only one Uncle Barry thought should be around.” Connor’s voice pulled him out of that wondering, and when he looked up his son was grinning. “How are you supposed to know the lead singer of one of the hottest bands in the country?”

Oliver shook his head. “That’s maybe the one thing hardest to buy.”

He’d been vaguely aware of his parents’ infidelity. The idea that one of them had had a child in that context was not unthinkable. But where would his path have met up with someone like Dinah?

Barry had said something about the team. “Laurel’s still — I mean, Dinah. Dinah’s still…”

Still what? Singing? Way out of Oliver’s league? Barry had been worried about Thea’s — or Mia’s — existence. Had something about Dinah not been right? And who was Laurel?

A knock at the door interrupted them, and Oliver got up to get their food and tip the delivery man. When he came back over to the couch, Connor held up his phone. It was displaying a social media page of some sort. He could never keep the sites straight.

“Think this could be our Mia Dearden?”

The profile picture was of a young woman with short brown hair and delicate features, almost like a pixie if he had to put a word to it. But her eyes...those were his mother’s eyes.

“Says she’s a bartender on 4th and Wells in the Glades,” Connor continued. “We could go check it out?”

A part of Oliver wanted to throw his coat on and take the elevator down to the lobby right now. But he looked down at Connor.

“Are you sure? I still feel like you and I are figuring out how we work together now, and this would be a lot. I don’t want you to feel like you’re being pushed aside in favor of the next surprise relative I have.”

Connor put his phone away. “I came to Starling to get to know my family. All of it. If this lady is your sister, then that makes her my aunt. I’ve never had one of those.”

Oliver felt himself smile. Trust his kid to look on the bright side.

“And anyway, it’s not like you’d just forget about me,” Connor joked half-heartedly. There was only the slightest hint of vulnerability there, but it was enough for Oliver to read.

He dropped a knee onto the couch and wrapped his son in a hug. “No. Never.”

They settled back in to enjoy their pizza, another night as father and son. Maybe in a week or so, they might have more company. Oliver eyed the armchair across from the couch, trying to imagine the small girl in the photo sitting there. Would she be happy to join them?

Barry had been right about his sister. Could he really be right again about Dinah? Oliver sent Connor to bed and went back to his office, shifting his mother’s old things aside to unearth his computer keyboard. He scrolled through articles and photos alike.

No one knew the woman’s full name. It was likely she came from Gotham, as the rest of her bandmates had. And Gotham was hardly his territory.

But the more he stared at her photo, he thought he should know her. Was it the old paranoia, the placebo effect resulting from Barry’s words, or was there something more than wishful thinking to his wondering if those lips had smiled up at him once before?

—-

Barry sat on the information he had about Dinah for a few days, nervously turning it over in his head. The trouble was, he didn’t really know who to go to.

If he alerted the police, they wouldn’t really be prepared for the kind of power that sonic scream held. If he went to Oliver and his team, he wasn’t sure what they would think. He’d already probably said way too much to Oliver in his distress.

Truthfully, Barry wasn’t sure what to make of this new version of his friend. Oliver wasn’t as different as some of the others had been in the Flashpoint timeline, but there seemed to be a subtle sort of change to him hard to pin down. And Barry just didn’t know if he should trust this Oliver to handle something like a Black Siren. If that was even what they were dealing with.

It was up to his team, as Iris kept nudging him into realizing over the week. They knew how to manage a metahuman, even if the weapon they’d used against Siren wouldn’t work against a Laurel of this Earth. But he needed Cisco and Caitlin’s help if he was going to brainstorm a backup.

With some trepidation, Barry entered the lab that afternoon to the now-familiar sounds of Laurel’s voice on the speakers. Since learning Barry had next to no knowledge of Birds of Prey, Cisco had taken it upon himself to play the band’s entire discography, along with anything and everything he could find with Dinah’s vocals attached. This particular song didn’t even sound like rock at all, come to think of it.

“Uh, dude?”

Cisco swiveled around in his chair and seemed to understand Barry’s confused point up towards the ceiling at the music.

“Oh, hey. Yeah, this was released a year or so after the accident, all studio-recorded. She did an album of the Great American songbook sort of stuff, sort of for the slower crowd, you know? People still went nuts over it.” Cisco’s sigh had a dreamy quality to it as he added, “She could sing the phone book.”

“Is everything alright, Barry?” Caitlin asked, watching him carefully. He must not have hidden his nerves as well as he hoped.

Joe came through into the cortex, followed by Wally, and he knew it was now or never. He was going to need his team behind him for this, however willing they were to be.

“Okay. Guys, um, I really hate to bring this up again, but we’ve got to talk about Flashpoint.”

Immediately Cisco’s shoulders hunched, and Caitlin grimaced. Joe shifted a bit on his feet. Wally alone seemed ready to talk.

“Alright, what about it?”

“It’s not really to do with anything here,” Barry was quick to reassure. “Not exactly. It’s...it’s the Arrow Team.”

The others looked at each other. “They’ve been affected? How?” Caitlin asked.

“Well,” Barry hesitated, looking to Iris for support. She gave him an encouraging nod. “It’s about Dinah from Birds of Prey,” he admitted.

“Oh no, what did you do to her?” Cisco immediately said.

“I — nothing! I mean, it’s confusing, but she is different because of the timeline changing, yeah,” Barry admitted. “I tracked her down the other night and saw her knock a guy down with sonic waves. From her mouth.”

There was a long beat of silence as the others digested that bit of news. As before, Cisco was first to react.

“Dinah from Birds of Prey is a meta? Barry, this is the best news you’ve given us in forever!”

“No, not great news. Because we’ve already met a Laurel — I mean Dinah — who was a meta, and she was evil. Does nobody remember Black Siren from Earth-2?” Barry looked around but received mostly quizzical looks from the group. He should’ve expected it; Cisco would’ve said something if the rockstar he idolized had a double he’d met.

“So, you’re worried that this timeline’s Dinah is also evil,” Joe surmised.

“I don’t know,” Barry admitted. “I mean, when I saw her use her powers, it was to help this other woman. But then what’s her goal long-term? I’ve seen her powers in action when Siren used them. They’re powerful.”

“Tell them about Laurel,” Iris spoke up unexpectedly. “The one you knew, Barry.”

“Who’s Laurel?” Caitlin asked. “And why do you keep correcting yourself by calling her Dinah?”

“Because that’s how I knew her before. How we all knew her. As Laurel.” Barry looked around the room, watching their intrigued but otherwise blank faces. Not for the first time, he wished somehow he had the power to show them what they had once lived along with him rather than just tell them. But he couldn’t.

“Dinah Laurel Lance was the ADA of Star City, and at night she was part of the Arrow Team as a vigilante called the Black Canary.”

“That’s her real name? Dinah Lance?” Wally asked.

“Uh, yeah.” Barry blinked, though it occurred to him a moment later that in this timeline he’d had yet to hear anyone else use her full name. Thea — or Mia — had even been surprised to learn who Laurel’s father was. What was Dinah’s story, really? What could’ve had such an effect on her past?

“She- she died last spring. Before Flashpoint. There was a sorcerer they were fighting, and he killed her. But now none of that ever happened.” Barry was aware he was pacing, but he couldn’t really stop himself. “She’s a singer instead of a lawyer, Oliver and the others don’t know her, Oliver’s son showed up a whole year early and is Connor—”

“Whoa, what’s wrong with my man Connor?” Cisco demanded.

“Nothing, just, you know, he’s different! Oliver had a whole different kid named William who apparently doesn’t exist anymore!”

“Oh, Barry,” Caitlin sighed, disapproval inlaid in every syllable.

“I know,” he ground out. “This is not good. I just don’t know how to fix it.”

“Don’t.”

The single word came from Cisco, and Barry blinked in surprise. “Don’t?”

“Yeah. Trying to ‘fix’ things was what caused you to mess everything up in the first place. So just live with it like the rest of us.” His friend stood and walked out of the cortex, likely heading for his workroom.

“Cisco’s right, Barry,” Caitlin added. “Your time travel never seems to put anything back fully the way it was. It’s better for you to just leave it alone.” She, too, turned away. He could tell by the look on Joe’s face that he was thinking something similar, even if he’d probably say it in a gentler way.

Barry looked to Iris. “We still need to be prepared to deal with- with Dinah if she’s more like her Earth-2 counterpart was.”

“Give the others some time, Bear,” was her advice. “You’ve just dumped a lot of information on them. It’s going to take some time to process.”

“We’ll be ready when it counts,” Wally added with a confidence Barry wished he felt. “And hey, maybe she is on our side.”

“Maybe.” Barry sunk down into Cisco’s abandoned chair and felt Iris walk up behind him, her hands massaging at his shoulders.

“We could start with some recon,” Wally was suggesting, using Joe as a sounding board just as much as he was using Barry and Iris. “Most of the band’s from Gotham.” Wally snapped his fingers. “Maybe Batman knows her!”

Barry’s head lifted sharply in bewilderment. “Bat-who?”

At the same time, Joe gave a sharp shake of the head. “Oh, hell no. Not that nut job.”

For someone extremely used to the feeling of deja vu, Barry seemed destined to find himself unaccountably lost.

#lauriver #westallen #laurel lance #oliver queen #barry allen #arrow #the flash #iris west #ted grant #barbara gordon #connor hawke #cisco ramon #wally west #caitlin snow #joe west #laurel x oliver #green arrow #black canary #my writing

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startofamoment · 6 years ago

Text

that’s rough, buddy

Jake’s always had a complicated relationship with fire.

(A character study of sorts on firebender!Jake.)

Hi everyone! Welcome to this incredibly self-indulgent thing, in which I mash together my primary obsession of years past with my current reason for living. (Nevermind that they don’t intuitively mesh well. We’re just going to say that Brooklyn is kind of like Korra-era’s Republic City and call it good.)

An anon had asked me ages ago whether I had any headcanons on what type of bender each person in the squad would be. I hadn’t felt inspired to write an actual fic for this AU until the super talented @microfroggo took on my silly pitch to draw our boi Jake as a firebender a couple months ago. Because tumblr is tumblr, I’ll include the relevant links in a separate reblog down below – def check out Mikko’s work if you’re at all interested in getting something done!

PS: I should probably mention that I don’t do very much to explain the Avatar-related side of this AU. If you’re unfamiliar with the animated series, I’d recommend at least skimming through the wiki page so you get a basic understanding on the different forms of bending. (And honestly, if you have time, GO BINGE-WATCH A:TLA! I promise, you won’t regret it.)

PPS: FMA:B fans out there will note that I’ve included a little nod to everyone’s favorite Flame Alchemist… Because, yes, this is definitely just a gratuitous homage to all my hyperfixations. I’m sorry. (Not sorry.)

“That’s it. Use your breath, son.”

Jake inhales deeply then exhales, focusing intently on the small flame between his hands. He’s supposed to be making sure that it doesn’t blaze wildly or just die in the wind.

He’s done this particular exercise a bajillion times now. (Or maybe less – Mrs. Stratton did mention that he needed to work on his math.) Still, his dad says it’s very important to practice his control. Jake supposes that’s fair, given that it’s only been a few months since he nearly singed Nana’s eyebrows off while blowing out the candles on his blue birthday cake.

What he really wants to do is skip forward to launching fire missiles with his fists or propelling himself through the sky on flaming jets, exactly like he’s seen it done in the movies. But his dad says he’s got a long way to go before he can attempt anything more than a basic fire stream, so Jake just nods and does what he’s told. He’ll become a firebending master eventually.

Truthfully, though, Jake thinks that maybe if his dad weren’t working or golfing so much, maybe they’d get to train more often, and maybe he’d be able to progress to something other than breathing.

The funny thing is: when his dad officially walks out of his life, despite all of their training, Jake’s not sure he even still knows how to breathe.

---

His mom’s an airbender, and Nana’s an airbender, and Gina and her mom are airbenders. So Jake wants to be an airbender. (If only it worked that way.)

He’s unfortunately stuck as a firebender, with no one to teach him how to actually firebend, so he has to resort to copying the Ninja Lion-Turtles on TV. Raphael’s naturally his favorite, although he can’t make heads or tails of how to replicate his fire daggers.

He almost never experiments with bending at home, of course. He’s not the brightest, but he at least knows how dangerous it would be for one of his attempts to go wrong without anyone around to help extinguish the fire. On the rare instance that his mom isn’t at her multiple jobs, she lets him practice while she paints ceramics or cooks. She’s only had to run in with a bucket of water once, but, well– once is enough.

And yes, he could technically be enrolled in lessons… but that would cost money, and Jake would really rather have a full belly than a proper fighting stance. His mom is overworked and overwhelmed as it is; he couldn’t possibly ask her to look into registration fees at the local dojo.

---

Occasionally, when he’s alone in the park with Gina, he’ll run through the few basic exercises he remembers then attempt some fire-jabs and kicks. He’s not supposed to, but he’s fairly certain that nothing will catch on fire in an open field and that, on the off chance that anything does, a patrol officer will handle it. Gina doesn’t mind at all and usually just uses the time to meditate.

It’s on one particular trip to the park that it happens. He’s not even sure how he does it, just knows that he goes from buzzing from the inside out to shooting electricity from his fingertips. He lifts his hand up in wonder, trying to get a closer glimpse at the little iridescent bolts. He’s so enraptured that he doesn’t realize where his other hand is pointing. He doesn’t see the string of lightning hurtling straight toward his best friend.

Everything turns out fine in the end. The blast wasn’t strong enough – he isn’t strong enough – to fatally wound her, but Gina still gets brought straight to the hospital.

“I’m okay, Jake,” she insists with a huff, waving off his umpteenth apology. “Besides, I swear I met Raava in the two seconds your lightning hit me. Did you know she’d be ethnically ambiguous? The scrolls have not done her justice at all.”

Jake chuckles, accepting the jello cup she offers him.

For the most part, he’s glad that she’s fine and that she apparently met the Avatar Spirit and that she still likes him enough to give him her dessert.

Deep down, he feels terrible. He’s never going to lightningbend again.

---

Jake had assumed that he’d find his path in college and know what to do by the end of it. Instead, he’s a new graduate back in his childhood bedroom, freeloading off of his mom for as long as she’ll let him. He’s really just coasting through life and going through the motions, aimless.

Eventually, his clarity comes – not in a spark, but in a short-circuit fire erupting just a few houses away.

He’s woken up by loud sirens blaring and screams echoing in the night. He acts on instinct, running out before remembering to put shoes on and running into the blaze without a second thought. The ground should be blistering hot beneath his feet, but he doesn’t notice at all. He keeps going until he’s parting walls of flames, ushering the family of nonbenders to safety.

In the thick smoke rising from the still-burning house, he sees destruction. In his hands, for the first time in a long time, he sees something good.

He thinks that maybe he should join the local fire department, that he should use his bending to help control and extinguish rogue flames. He thinks about it, and then thinks about it some more, and then figures that he probably wouldn’t enjoy the constant reminder of how devastating fire can be.

Months after mulling over it, he finally comes to a decision: “Mom? I think I’m going to sign up for the police academy.”

“That sounds like a great idea, honey,” she replies, pulling him into a tight embrace. “I’m so proud of you.”

---

It’s rough because all the other trainees have been honing their bending for years, whereas he’d been spending most of his life trying to restrain the inferno inside him.

Most of them laugh; one of them actually slams him against the lockers and calls him a “sorry excuse for a firebender.”

“Don’t mind him,” a voice says. “He wouldn’t know a good bender if the Avatar kicked him straight into the Spirit World.”

Jake looks up from where he’s slumped on the ground and recognizes her as the fierce metalbender no one’s been able to talk to all week. There’s a distinctive scar through her right eyebrow, and he wonders whether it came from a freak accident. (He also wonders how she got into the men’s locker room, or how she knew he needed somebody, anybody.)

“I’m Rosa,” she says, reaching out a hand to help him up. “Wanna spar?”

---

He gets better.

He trains with any firebender that’ll take him on, watches instructional videos, goes on Yahoo! Answers… Soon enough, he’s wielding whirling discs and shooting comets of fire like the best of them.

The only thing he doesn’t even consider attempting is lightningbending. At least not until he’s in his thirties, watching wide-eyed as his new captain generates a cracking stream of electricity out of nothing. It’s just strong enough to stun the escaped convict they’ve been tailing, no real damage done.

“You want me to teach you how to lightningbend,” Holt says without preamble the next day.

Jake opens and closes his mouth dumbly, feeling thoroughly seen and not quite knowing how to respond.

“Before anything, Peralta, I should let you know that not everyone is able to manipulate lightning. It takes a different level of power and a certain kind of–”

“I can do it,” he interrupts quickly. “I’ve done it before, sir, when I was a kid. I just don’t know how to control it.”

Holt regards him for a long moment before nodding. “We start at seven tomorrow.”

---

Jake’s always thought that fire meant power and aggression and pursuit. Instead, it’s weakness when he’s face to face with particularly-skilled waterbenders – those who can render him useless, temporarily buried within thick sheets of ice; or who send downpours of unrelenting, freezing rain over his head.

(He thinks, as Amy smirks and bends a rapid torrent of water toward his sternum, flinging him halfway across the training room, that he’s weak for her in a different way.)

---

It had never occurred to him to measure the intensity of his flame. He’s always figured that the fire he produced was hot enough – hot enough to take down perps, hot enough to never turn the heat on in his apartment, hot enough to discreetly keep Amy’s coffee warm throughout the morning. (If she’s noticed him repeatedly finding excuses to pick up her mug, she hasn’t said anything about it.)

Charles, of all people, makes him check. “Hey Jake, do you know if you can keep a flame constant at say 350 to 425 degrees Fahrenheit?”

Jake turns away from his computer screen to look at him, his brow scrunched together in confusion. “Why?”

“I was thinking of doing an open-fire roast for the precinct’s Turkey Day dinner this year.”

“Boyle, you want me to firebend our main course?”

“It would make me so happy.”

Noting zero sarcasm in his response, Jake shrugs then swivels his chair back to his desk. “Okay, yeah– But ask Gina if we can book the training room for this. I’m not firebending a turkey in my apartment.”

---

It turns out that being a walking furnace really does have its perks. Or at least that’s what Jake realizes as Amy burrows into his side, pressing her nose into the crook of his neck.

“You’re warm,” she mumbles sleepily, exhausted from the day’s departmentally-mandated sparring practice and the just-as-steamy bedroom activities that followed.

(It had to have been well over their thousandth time facing off in the precinct gym, both of them familiar enough with each other that they could anticipate nearly all of their attacks… Except he really could never have foreseen Amy’s final move: completely disarming him, not with a tidal wave but with a kiss.)

“Warm?” he scoffs teasingly. “I think you mean hot.”

She groans loudly but cuddles closer to him still, her smile burning against his bare skin.

---

He gets thrown for a loop when their major serial murder case boils down to a ring of firebenders, all stuck in their old way of thinking.

“You’re not them,” Amy reminds him, running a gentle but steady hand down his back.

I could be, he thinks. Because even now – especially now – in the calm silence of the evidence lockup, he can feel the sheer power thrumming beneath his skin. All it would take is for him to get too angry or too drunk or too anything, and the worst could happen.

“You’re a good person, Jake,” she says, her tone more firm than before. “You always have been.”

He swallows thickly and nods, letting her pull him into a long embrace.

---

If there’s one thing he’s wished he could do with his firebending, it’s healing. He’s watched Amy do it countless of times, stepping up as the precinct’s unofficial healer whenever necessary. He’s felt the soothing power of it himself – cool water coaxing at his skin, repairing everything from a black eye to a bloody nose to a stiff back.

Right now, watching the love of his life start to bleed out before his eyes… He’s never felt more helpless.

“Damn it!” Jake yells, pushing his jacket into her side, willing the bleeding to stop. With the shooter knocked out and cuffed in the corner, he’s finally free to assess the damage. “When is the ambulance going to get there? You need a healer, now! ”

“J-Jake,” she chokes out, bringing a shaky hand to his clenched fist. “F-f-fire c-can cauter-r-rize.”

He lets out a sharp gasp, his eyes wide with shock. “You want me to burn you?!” He shakes his head vehemently. “No, Amy, no. It’s too dangerous. I could kill you–”

“Y-you won’t,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. The open trust in her eyes makes him want to sob. “Jake.”

“Okay,” he says, wiping hot tears with the back of his hand. “Okay.”

---

“Can you do the twinkling lights again, Uncle Jake? Pleeaaase?”

It’s bedtime at the Jeffords household, and two little girls are decidedly not asleep.

“Please, Uncle Jake? Aunt Amy? One last story and the twinkling lights?”

He meets Amy’s gaze and raises an eyebrow. She shrugs, her lips curling into a smile. “I suppose just one short book wouldn’t hurt. Right, Jake?”

He hums, feigning thought while glancing at the clock. “We might have just enough time before your daddy and mommy get back.”

Cagney and Lacey cheer as he switches off their bedside lamp, and then watch with glee as he fills their room with dozens of tiny, carefully-placed flames. He makes them flicker with a precise movement of his hands, makes them float like fireflies in the night sky.

The twins fall asleep soon enough, lulled by the soft tone of Amy’s voice and the amber glow of the lights.

Sometimes Jake forgets how enchanting fire can be.

---

Yet again, he’s at the mercy of a waterbender.

This time, it’s his daughter, only two-weeks-old and somehow already able to cause ripples and waves as she moves a tiny hand through the warm water in her tub. She lacks any real control, which is perhaps the biggest problem.

“Amy!” he calls out, equal parts awed and panicked. There’s nothing much he can do right now, apart from maybe distracting the baby with a dancing flame. (Not that he’d allow her anywhere near fire, at least not yet.)

---

“I’m going to be a waterbender like Mommy,” his son declares one day, with all the confidence of a child that’s crossed the jungle gym for the first time. He’s a little older than most kids are when they start bending, but it’s too early to be concerned about it; he could just be a late bloomer. (Granted, it wouldn’t matter if he didn’t start bending at all. They’d love him just the same if he were a nonbender.)

“How about firebending?” Jake jests lightly, feeling a bit wounded but also kind of relieved.

“Hmm, maybe,” Max shrugs, before running off again to play.

Of course, of course, when the boy eventually does start bending, it’s a scorching stream of fire that bursts from his small outstretched fist. He’d been mimicking the probenders they’d seen on TV the day before, copying their fighting stances down to a tee.

Jake meets his eyes and sees the same mixture of fear and amazement he’s come to know so well. He quickly takes control of the wild flame, tamping it down to a low ember before gently passing it back to his son.

Max nurses the glowing warmth between his two palms, staring at it in fierce concentration. It flares too-strong for a moment, then recedes but doesn’t fizzle out.

Jake nods at him and smiles, pride blossoming in his chest.

“That’s it. Use your breath, son.”

#b99 #b99 au #atla au #b99 fic #peraltiago #jake peralta #amy santiago #firebender!jake #waterbender!amy #my stuff #i took a break from the soulmate au redux and remembered i was 90% done with this au so!!!#i know this is kind of niche and totally self-indulgent #i had a lot of fun writing it and hope that someone out there enjoys reading it!

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aweirdkindofyellow · 5 years ago

Text

Here I Am, There You Are Pt. 7

Jack Barakat x OC ‘Rachel has been best friends with Alex, Jack, Rian, and Zack since high school. What happens when one of them gets married?’

Part 7

Summers back in high school were always the best. It was warm, school was off for a few months, I got to spend all my time with my best friends. We did some fun things back then. The summer before college started was the best summer of my life. We went out and partied before the guys started recording their album and I started the next chapter of my life. Unfortunately, that was the last summer I spent with those friends. I had found new friends at college and contact with the old friends died down a little. But now, I was dating one of those old high school friends. I felt like I was going to have another great summer. A more adult summer, but a great one nonetheless.

It was a Saturday late afternoon when I went over to Jack’s place. I already had plans with other friends earlier in the day, which meant I was going to be late to Jack’s get-together. But I had already told him, and my other plans were planned sooner. So, when I arrived, everybody else was already there.

I was in a great mood that day. It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining, I was wearing shorts and a nice white top. I had just had a successful shopping trip with my friends, spending some money to treat myself to some new clothes, and it had been twenty-four hours since I had gotten some good news from work. On top of all of that, I was still with the guy I was madly in love with and wanted to spend the rest of my life with.

I entered his apartment with my own key, unsure if anybody would be able to hear the doorbell ringing. As I stepped inside, I saw a few people in the living room and a few more out on the balcony enjoying the sun. Jack, himself, was coming out of the kitchen, wiping his washed hands on his jeans. He seemed happy and relieved to see me as he approached me.

“Thank god you’re here,” he breathed out and pecked me on the lips. “I need to take a shit, will you entertain everybody?”

I snorted, trying to hold back my laughter, and put my hand on his face as a loving gesture. “Anything for you.” I kissed him again, not as chaste this time.

“Thanks.” He grinned at me and was about to walk into his bedroom.

I stopped him, however, softly taking hold of his arm. “I want to talk to you later. Remind me if I forget.”

“Oh.” He frowned, stopping in his tracks.

“No, don’t worry, it’s nothing bad. I just want to talk to you before I tell anybody else,” I assured him and let him go.

“Okay,” he nodded and pressed another kiss to my lips before finally getting to go to his bathroom.

I decided to make my presence known to the rest of the group. After putting down my bag against the wall that lead to the bedrooms, I went further into the living room, giving everybody a wave and a ‘hey guys’. They all greeted me back, making space for me to join their group. Alex was there in the middle of a story, telling everybody about his time off somewhere to focus on writing a few songs. I listened, noticing how supportive Lisa was of everything as she added her own parts to the story. That’s exactly what I hoped Jack and I were like.

I really did believe he was the love of my life. Despite being in relationships before and despite being in love before, it was never like this. This was that special kind of love. That kind of love that made you feel fuzzy just thinking about it. Although we had taken things relatively slow and still were, I was completely ready to say that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. I would say it in my head as often as I wanted.

Our relationship was great. We still went out on romantic dates, making everything just a little special for each other. If we were just hanging out at each other’s places, we never got bored or fed up either. Jack could be watching Netflix while I was reading a book, but we’d still be there together. We had our separate things, and we respected that. We didn’t need to constantly be doing the same thing just for our relationship to work. Occasionally, we didn’t even see each other for a day or two, but not for much longer than that. I’d be busy with work or he’d go out with his friends. It’s not like he had to be there through every project and I had to be there to check on him when he went out. We had our balance, we had our trust.

Eventually, Jack reappeared without anybody wondering where he had gone. He was standing behind me while I was sitting on the couch. He put his hands on my shoulders and gave them a little squeeze, making me look up. “Do you want me to get you anything? I forgot to offer you something.”

“No, I’m good.” I shook my head and smiled up at him. “I can get something myself. I probably know your kitchen better than you do.”

“Alright, if you say so.” He shrugged and dipped down to share yet another brief kiss with me before going off to be around the group on the balcony.

“Why don’t you guys just move in with each other?” Lisa commented casually, not meaning to be intrusive.

“We’ve mentioned it before, but we’re good where we’re at now,” I told her with a soft nod of my head. Like I said, we were taking it relatively slow. There was no need to rush. Yet.

“Are you guys still okay?” she asked next with slightly furrowed eyebrows as she picked up her glass of wine.

“Yeah, we’re all good,” I nodded more enthusiastically this time. “There’s just no real urgency to move in together. Someday, though.”

“Okay,” she breathed out in relief, “I just wanted to make sure.”

After that, more normal conversations happened again. I sat there joining in, until I decided I did want a drink. So, I excused myself and went to the kitchen. I grabbed one of the glasses set out for anybody to take and opened Jack’s fridge. There was a lot of alcohol, especially beer, but I settled on a glass of coke. Ever since the incident on tour, Jack had been keeping me far away from alcohol. Even when I was contemplating on one glass of wine when we went out on a double date with Alex and Lisa, he refused to let me. I was thankful for that.

I grabbed an open bottle of wine I saw standing around and made my way out to the balcony to talk to some different people. Jack’s eyes fell on me and I waved the bottle a little bit to show him I had brought a drink for him as well. He smiled brightly and held up his glass that was completely empty and I came up to him.

“God, I love you,” he declared as I poured the wine for him. “It’s like you can read my mind.”

“Oh, I can.” I handed the bottle to one of Jack’s friends and tapped Jack on the temple. “I can hear every little dirty thought in there.”

“What am I thinking now?” He wiggled his eyebrows smugly and pulled on my waist to make me sit on his lap without making my own drink spill.

“Hmm…” I took a close look at him as if I could actually read his mind. Of course, I couldn’t, I wouldn’t want to be able to. Usually, I would say he was being disgusting, but I decided to take a chance this time. I gave him a sensual look and said, “yes.”

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow and put the hand that wasn’t holding his wine glass on my leg.

“Yes,” I repeated with a smirk and pressed my lips against his.

“Well, I’m going to be taking you home tonight,” he whispered against my lips.

“I’m already at your place.”

“Even better.”

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It truly is a miraculous thing. Love, that is. I thought Jack and I would never end. I was certain it was that way. He was my home. I really felt like I belonged with him. It’s why I told him what I wanted to talk to him about wasn’t bad, that it was nothing to worry about. But, in hindsight, it wasn’t the complete truth. I just had a biased view of it.

“So… what did you want to talk to me about?” Jack brought up the subject I had told him to remind me about.

We were on his bed, his guests now long gone and his kitchen all cleaned up. He was sat on the edge and I was straddling him, sitting in his lap. His hands were on the back of my thighs, partially to make sure I didn’t fall down, but mainly just because he wanted to touch me. My arms were circled around his neck and we were face to face. If there was one way to have an intimate conversation, this was definitely it.

“Okay, well, yesterday–” I started with a big smile.

“Hang on,” he interrupted quickly, looking at the floor for a second before looking back at me. “I just want to clear up exactly what we think ‘nothing bad' is.’ Because we might have very different views on that.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not pregnant.”

“Okay, good,” he nodded to show he was now ready for me to tell him what actually was up, “glad we cleared that one up.”

“Now, as I was going to say, I got offered a promotion at work yesterday,” I quickly got out before he could doubt everything and start questioning me again. It was better to calm his nerves by getting it out of the way than letting him overthink it.

“Really? That’s awesome!” He grinned, showing he was happy for me. “What job is it?”

I couldn’t contain my excitement knowing that he was happy as well. I sat up a little straighter and started telling him all about it. “Editor-in-chief. And, like, for the whole magazine. No longer just the fashion part. Like, all of it. I’ll have so much more responsibility, but at the same time it will also be less work. Everybody always comes to me now when something’s wrong, like they need me to book things for them, which isn’t my job. At this job, I’ll have to make sure that everything is okay, I’ll have to check everything, but I won’t be nagged when somebody doesn’t have the right contacts. I’ll even get to write again if I want.”

“That sounds amazing. Isn’t this the job you always wanted?” His hands went up to my waist, fitting perfectly.

I nodded with even more excitement, loving that he remembered my dreams. “Yeah. It seems surreal. I get to decide what eventually comes into the magazine! Also, totally unrelated, but it would mean almost getting six figures.”

“Six figures!” Jack gasped, knowing how big of a deal that was in the magazine business. I had always earned more than enough money, but this was huge.

“Yeah!” I exclaimed. But then I remembered what came next. My mood didn’t change, I thought it was just another technicality. However, it was the reason why I wanted to talk to Jack in private in the first place. “Just one thing. It’s in Vancouver.”

His face fell as he stared at me. “Vancouver…”

I stared back at him, swallowing the knot in my throat. For some reason, this wasn’t the reaction I was hoping on getting. I knew it was a serious thing to move for a job, I really had to think about it, but I didn’t think it would change Jack’s demeanour so much. “Yes, Vancouver. I would have to move there. But I have until Monday afternoon to decide.”

His eyes fell off me and shifted permanently to the floor. When his hands moved from my body, I knew he wanted me to get off his lap. “Vancouver…” he repeated again.

I got off him and sat next to him, suddenly overcome with sadness. When he reached to his own face and rubbed his eyes, I started filling with worry as well. He didn’t seem happy anymore. But what did I expect? For him to move with me? I mean, yes, I hoped so. It was a big step and a big move, and I knew that. Even if we had been married for ten years, I would have consulted him. But he was acting like we were never going to see each other again.

“You’d have to go all the way to Vancouver? When?” He finally started asking more questions, making me hope he just needed a little time to go over it.

“They want me to move there in three weeks. They’ll help me find an apartment and everything, so I don’t need to worry about that,” I said quietly, praying that maybe taking that stress away would help anything.

But it didn’t. At all.

“Can’t you get the same job here?” He looked at me.

“I mean, the job exists, but they aren’t looking for anybody here.” I didn’t want to ask the next question, dreading the answer. But I needed to know. “Don’t you wanna come with me?”

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He took a second and let his eyes close and he tried to hold back tears. I took hold of his hand and he gave me his answer. “I can’t. Everything I have is here. All my friends are here. I– I can’t– I’m not ready to move away yet. My whole life is here.”

I wanted to scream. Wasn’t I part of his life? But I was too upset to get mad. I couldn’t force him to move to a whole different country. Tears started prickling my own eyes, I was sure they were glassy and red. Then, an idea popped up in my head and I tried to dry away the tears that hadn’t fallen yet. “We– we can try long distance. Right?”

I expected him to at least agree to that. Yet, he just continued to look at me with tears in his eyes. “I don’t know, Rach. I barely get to see you as it is. We’re apart longer than we’re together. If you leave, it will become even less frequent. I’ll only be able to visit you when I’m home. I won’t always be able to fly out. And you’ll be too busy to come and see me every time I’m back. It… It just won’t work.” I breathed out loudly and my tears started to blur my vision as he continued. “Can’t you just stay? You don’t have to take the job.”

“You said so yourself, it’s my dream job.” When I saw that Jack’s tears were now travelling down his cheeks, I let myself release one of my own. I would never stop my own dreams to be with a guy, I had always promised myself that, but it was so tempting.

“Rach…”

“I don’t– Is this… are we really– are we ending this?”

Once again, he opened his mouth, but he had nothing to say. He just shook his head. That’s when my tears started to fall freely as well. Neither of us wanted this to end. This didn’t end because of a fight. This didn’t end because one of us felt differently. This ended because of external circumstances. If this had never come up, we wouldn’t have been fine.

I stood up, knowing there was nothing I could do. This was it. This was the way we broke up. I never thought we would, but here we were, going through it. There was nothing that could change this. We weren’t even going to wait until I left. So, now it was time to go.

I picked up my bag, which I had moved into Jack’s bedroom, and left the apartment without another word from either me or Jack. I didn’t let myself cry until I got home and had Olive cuddled close to me.

This wasn’t going to be a new chapter in our life as I had hoped, this was going to be a new chapter in my life.

––––––––––

I didn’t see or hear anything from Jack the entire three weeks before moving away. Most of my furniture had already been shipped to my new rented apartment and I had found tenants for my own house already as well. I didn’t want to sell it just yet, so I was going to rent it out for the time being. Olive was definitely going to miss the garden, as was I, but I had to go.

My friend from work, Kat, was helping me load the last few things into my car. I was going to miss her. We used to carpool together every day. I would go to her apartment and we’d go to work together. Our jobs were very different. She was only just starting out. I had assigned myself to show her around, and I just took her under my wing from there. She was only a year younger than me, she just decided to take this career path a little later in her life. Honestly, she was the closest thing I had to a best friend. She was the first one to know about and to comfort me about my break up other than Olive.

And now I was saying goodbye to her too.

“Oh, I”m going to miss you.” She pouted as I closed the trunk of my car. “I don’t want to say goodbye!”

“I’m going to miss you too.” I made my own sad face and came up to her before hugging her tightly.

“You’re going to kill that job. I know it. They couldn’t have chosen a better person,” she encouraged as she had her hands on both my upper arms.

“And you keep striving, okay? I know it might seem hopeless now, but you’re going to get there. I heard a position opened up, so there might be a few people getting promoted.” I winked, secretly knowing that she was one of the people that was.

A silver car pulled up, and I knew this was our final goodbye for now.

“I love you,” she sighed and gave me one last hug.

I hugged her back. “I’ll miss you."

“Good luck.”

She got into her Uber and waved as she disappeared down the road. The only reason she had to leave now was because she had to go to work. She had only gotten the morning off, so we couldn’t hang out any longer. It was just a coincidence that we had finished packing my car at the exact same time. We really tried our best to get most of it done in the limited amount of time we had.

I took one last long look at my house before I approached the front door. There was just one more thing I needed. I called out Olive’s name and smiled at the pattering of her paws on the floor. She usually would be put in the trunk, but I decided it was best to let her be on the backseat this time with the other things I had to take along. This trip was going to take long, and I knew she would get impatient and annoyed, but it was the best way to take her and my car up with me to Vancouver.

I shut the door for Olive and got ready to get into the driver’s seat myself. There was no point waiting any longer now. I had somewhere to be. But before I could go, an all too familiar black car rolled up and stopped just in front of my house. I knew I couldn’t just drive away now. I had to wait for Jack to get out and stumble over to me.

He looked horrible. His shirt was wrinkled and crooked, his face was puffy and eyes red, his hair a frizzy mess. I felt the way he looked whenever I had a slight reminder that we had broken up, which was most of the time. Only, I pushed myself to take showers and get dressed properly. I was starting a new job, I couldn’t look the way I was feeling.

“Rach,” he cried when he was just a few feet away from me, “don’t go. Don’t leave. Stay.”

I shook my head and kept hold of my car door. “I can’t, you know I can’t.”

“Stay here,” he continued to beg, “I don’t want you to leave.”

It upset me even more to see him like this. I felt so bad being ready to leave right in front of him. I want to comfort him, tell him that it was going to be okay. However, when he stepped closer to me to try to convince me, I could smell the alcohol on his breath. I no longer wanted to take care of him. He needed somebody who could properly help him.

“Jack, you’re drunk,” I sighed and closed my door, but not before opening the window so Olive would have air.

“Just stay!” Tears started streaming down his face and he was unable to control the sobs that wracked through him.

“Give me your keys,” I mumbled and snatched them from his hand. He was in no state to drive like this.

I took out my phone and called the only person I knew would be fit for this situation. I nearly started crying myself when I explained the situation through the phone, keeping and eye on Jack who was now sitting on the front lawn, still bawling his eyes out. As I waited for help to arrive, he calmed down, but he was still obviously drunk. He was still muttering things under his breath, sloppily rubbing his eyes, and occasionally starting the waterworks again when he looked up at me.

Eventually, a large white car joined the bunch. Alex got out of it, quickly jogging up to me, seeing Jack sitting on the floor.

“Are you okay?” he asked me, ignoring Jack for the time being.

I nodded and started telling the whole story again, giving the car keys to him. “He just appeared. And he’s drunk, and I can’t leave him like this. Alex…”

“Hey, it’s okay,” he whispered and embraced me. “I’ll make sure he gets home safe. He just needs a little help.”

I didn’t want things to end like this. Our breakup was painful, it really was, but it wasn’t horrible. It was relatively clean. Neither of us was happy, but we weren’t mad at each other. There were no hard feelings. I just needed time away from him to try to get over him, which I didn’t think could happen. But, like this, it was messy. I felt guilty.

“Rach, really, don’t worry,” Alex reassured me when he saw I wasn’t certain about anything anymore. “I’ve got him. You’ve got to take care of yourself. Go to Vancouver, make new friends, find your new favourite coffee shop. Don’t worry about him. I won’t let anything happen to him.”

Once I nodded, he finally approached Jack. He said something along the lines of ‘come on, buddy’ before helping him up. Alex was saying stuff to Jack that I couldn’t hear as he started guiding him away to his car. I really thought that everything was going to be okay. But then Jack started fighting Alex off when he realised he was taking him away from me. Alex tried to keep a firm grip around him, but Jack just pushed and pushed.

“No!” He screamed like a child getting its teddy bear ripped away. “No! Rachel! No!” He managed to turn around in Alex’s grip, letting me see his tear stained face once more. “Please!”

“What?!” I finally got the courage to reply properly. “What do you want me to do?” When he went to answer, I stopped him. “And don’t you dare say stay.”

That’s when he knew it officially was over. He couldn’t get me to stay. I was leaving. He was defeated. There was nothing to do but let Alex steer him away. He was crying so hard, it broke my heart all over again. I never wanted us to end.

I got in my car and drove away before Alex could. I couldn’t stand being there any longer. It hurt too much.

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The exchange was on my mind the entire trip up to Vancouver. All I could remember was Jack’s appearance and tears. He was hurt enough to drunk drive, which was so dangerous. He knew better than that. I was mad at him, I was upset at him, I felt bad for him, I was worried about him, but mainly I was still in love with him. And I never got the occasion to collect my feelings. I had to focus on the road.

I was carrying my boxes into my apartment when I broke down again. It was all just a little too much. I hadn’t gotten much sleep at the stops I had taken overnight and my feeling were all over the place. Olive had been the only thing keeping me together that entire time, but now she was already in the apartment. I was still out in the hallway, just having brought the last load of stuff from the elevator to my front door.

There were tears constantly escaping from my eyes, but I wasn’t crying out loud. I didn’t want to disrupt the other apartment on this floor. But I didn’t get so lucky. The elevator had gone back down again and the person that had gotten in got off on my floor. I didn’t want to be rude, but part of me was hoping they would just ignore me.

“Oh, hey, a new neighbour!” A female voice greeted behind me, going to the door of her apartment.

I looked up, deciding that I had to be friendly. She had the most beautiful curly natural hair. It was obvious she took great care of it. My hair was nothing against hers, especially while it was in a greasy ponytail. I wiped away the tears on my cheeks and tried to give her a smile.

But she couldn’t not notice it. “Oh, damn, you don’t look all too great. You okay?”

“No,” I breathed out with a chuckle, hoping to make the situation a bit better, “but I’ll be fine.”

“Would you like some help moving in?” She offered.

“That’s okay,” I politely declined. I only had a few more boxes to go.

She shook her head and opened her door, quickly putting down her bag and closed the door again. “You look like you’ve got too much on your plate, I insist on helping.”

I accepted that time. It wasn’t that I needed the help, I just wanted to start with a good relationship with my neighbour if I had the opportunity. If she was not just doing it because she was trying to be polite, but because she wanted to help, then that was more than okay with me.

I opened my front door so we could get started. Instead, Olive came running out, immediately heading for my neighbour. I was fully prepared to grab her by the collar and take her back inside just to apologise. It had become a routine ever since I had gotten her. Not everybody liked dogs and she could be a little overwhelming.

But, my neighbour just crouched down and started petting her. “Oh, aren’t you a pretty little thing? Yeah, you’re so cute. Aren’t you? What’s your name?”

“Her name’s Olive,” I answered, smiling a little at how happy Olive was to get some head scratches. But it was short lived, because it reminded me exactly of how Jack would cuddle her. I held it back, though, and introduced myself as well. “And I’m Rachel.”

“Nice to meet you, Olive. And you too, Rachel.” She looked up at me. “I’m Sascha.”

Sascha took one of the boxes and went into my apartment. I followed her with my own box. We put both of them down with all the ones I had already brought inside earlier. Instead of going back out to grab more immediately, Sascha looked around and nodded in approval. All of my furniture was already inside and in the right rooms, just not arranged as I wanted it to be.

“Your place is bigger than mine,” Sascha pointed out.

“Is it?” I asked out of interest.

“Yeah. You have, what, like seven bedrooms here?” She over exaggerated. “And a proper kitchen.”

“It’s two bedrooms and a study,” I corrected, hoping I wasn’t coming off as entitled or something.

“Girl, I have one bedroom, and that’s it, this is like a mansion. You better be paying more rent than me,” she joked.

“My work helped me get this place because they transferred me here. It was a compromise I managed to make,” I shrugged. It would have been the perfect apartment for me to move into with Jack. We would have had the comfort of being able to leave and travel along with the size of my house. But I was by myself.

I must have looked upset again, because Sascha frowned. “You don’t look happy to be here, though.”

“No, no I am,” I backtracked, wiping my eyes again and sniffing. “This is my dream job. It’s just… nevermind.”

“No, tell me,” she encouraged. “I don’t give a shit. You were crying out in the hallway. If you’re here for your dream job, this must be something serious.”

I contemplated whether to brush it off or not. Part of me wanted to spill everything, but part of me didn’t want to bother her. Then again, spilling everything to a stranger might just be exactly what I needed. So, I started small, just so I could stop in case it weirded her out. “My boyfriend of one-and-a-half years and I just recently broke up. He showed up before I left to come here and it just really messed me up.”

“Oh…” She didn’t seem weirded out yet. “That’s a dick move. He’s an asshole.”

I shook my head, feeling my eyes water again. “He’s not an asshole.”

“He is if he broke up with you. I’ve only known you for a few minutes, but you seem like a catch.”

“No… we broke up with each other.” I took a deep breath. Maybe she could reason with me better if she knew the whole story. “It happened after I got the job offer. I just moved here from LA. I don’t really know what I expected to happen, maybe part of me hoped he’d want to move with me. But he wasn’t ready to move away.”

“Long distance?” She suggested.

“Nope. He travels most of the time, he has limited time at home. It would be difficult to ever visit each other.”

Sascha grimaced and gave me a look that showed me she was about to lecture me. “And you’re saying he’s not an asshole? Not moving with you, okay, I can still be persuaded to understand that. But not even attempting to try long distance? What’s the harm in trying? That boy is an asshole.”

“No, he’s not,” I continued to defend Jack. “He was hurt as well. He showed up drunk and he was begging me to stay. It hurt to see him like that.”

“Okay, no. Shut up. You’re proving my point. He’s trying to hold you back from getting your dream job? Making you choose between him and your career? No. He definitely is an asshole. He probably does some deadbeat job and can’t stand to see you actually achieving your dreams."

“No… he already has his dream job. He’s in a semi-famous band, has been since he came out of high school. We used to be best friends back then.”

“Wait, you’re telling me that boy doesn’t even need to be in LA for his job?” She completely ignored my statement about how long I already knew him. “Fuck him! He could have easily moved!”

I shrugged. She was putting things in perspective.

“Look, you’re allowed to grieve.” She changed her tone to show me support instead of just bashing Jack. “This was a long relationship, he was your best friend in your teenage years. It’s okay to need your time to get over him. But don’t you dare feel guilty. This break up isn’t your responsibility. He didn’t want to put in that extra effort.”

On one hand, I felt a bit better. She was right, this wasn’t all my fault. We didn’t just break up because I was moving. We broke up because he didn’t want to take the chance. He gave me an unfair ultimatum, whether he did so consciously or not. And it actually made me a little mad.

It was a horrible few weeks, but it was the day I met my best friend.

#all time low fanfiction #jack barakat fanfiction #all time low #jack barakat #all time low imagine #jack barakat imagine #here I am there you are

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go-diane-winchester · 6 years ago

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Misha Collins cant keep track of his own lies.

Misha ''I was a homeless kid' Collins was interviewed by an art magazine, because apparently he is very artsy fartsy. Whilst given the opportunity to speak about his supposedly favoritist subject: himself, Misha couldn't remember all the fallacies he had spouted over the years. I guess Misha figured his mostly underage, deranged fanbase might be too busy, furiously fingering themselves to badly written fanfiction, to actually read something from an intellectual source. Something tells me that, just like in the mugging case, this reporter wasn't quite buying his lies. Here are some of the highlights, with Misha's self-indulgent rambling in italics, and with my running commentary in bold [the interviewer is in bold italics]:

''Like most kids, I liked making things with my hands, and my mother helped facilitate this when I was pretty young. But I followed that impulse to an apprentice-level devotion. I would seek out woodworkers when I was 10 or 11, going into shops and learning how to use a lathe or – just asking. I grew up in western Massachusetts, and by the time I got into high school I was fully into this – just talking to people and learning things from them in person.''

So his hippy, drug addict mom who stashed pot down her youngest child's underwear for fear of being arrested, and who, for a short time, raised poor Misha in a car, honed his artistic skills when he was pretty young? When? When they were living in the woods? And using a bowl of ice as a refrigerator? So either his story of his childhood is greatly exaggerated or....yeah, that's all I got. How gullible does he think people are?

Then in high school, I needed a job, so I started doing some manual labor.

So whilst at his elite private school, where there are rich dads and moms dropping off their darlings every morning, Misha chooses manual labor. He likes to talk to people but he didn't speak to Mr and Mrs Moneybags? He could have been a petty gopher in one of their companies and fared better. After all, he needed a job. I wonder why he chose ''manual labor''? And why he chose to word it like that, instead of saying ''I became a carpenter's apprentice''. I guess it sounds honorable. That's is nothing dramatic about saying that you flip burgers at McDs. Saying that you work in a menial, underpaid job for a multimillion dollar company, does have a more dramatic feel to it.

I built that barn on my mother’s property. Our house had burned down, so with the insurance proceeds, we built that and...

Wait, wasn't Misha's mom a pothead who lived in a car for some time with her two children? Now, not only does she have property but she has the money to pay for insurance. When did you live in the car, Misha? When the house burnt down? Why didn't you live in that house you showed footage of, on twitter? Its a nice house, complete with Christmas stockings. It doesn't quite gel with your underprivileged childhood narrative, but nice nonetheless.

I worked a lot when I was in college, probably 30 hours a week most of the time. I did some handyman stuff, some carpentry stuff. After sophomore year, I took a year off. I interned at the [Clinton] White House, worked at NPR, became an EMT, started a summer camp for kids. It was a great year.

What is he? A career whore? So he was artsy fartsy, but he worked everywhere doing jobs that were unrelated to each other, instead of staying in his field of carpentry, and making money from that. He got EMT certification. Was it free? Did he pay for it with his tuition fees? What was the purpose of it, if making money for fees was of paramount importance? That doesn't make sense, because if he was working 30 hour weeks, when did he have time to study? The average work day is a tad longer, about 40 hours a week. And if he was studying and working, when was Superman sleeping? Why was he working so hard? To put himself to college, don'tcha know. Even though colleges offer student loans and don't accept their fees in installments. And yet, he took time off for one year after sophomore. Was it to make a lot of money for his tuition fees? Nope, it was to become an EMT and start a summer camp for kids. I guess summer camps are big business and you can pay off great debts if you start one. Good to know. His internment at the Whitehouse only lasted four months, and yet he has acquired all the knowledge there is to acquire, to become a political knowitall on twitter. Sidenote: Is it normal for internships at the Whitehouse to last, such a short time. I am genuinely curious, because it doesn't sound right.

This is where I think the interviewer started to sound like she was side-eyeing the wood working maestro and his yarns of tall tales.

After graduation you got into acting, and in 1999, you moved with Victoria to Los Angeles for film and television work. There, in 2001, you bought your first house. Tell us about it. You were a starving actor?

Yeah. Right after we bought it, our realtor said, “There’s a TV show that would like to shoot your house.” They brought this [house-hunting] couple through, and when we saw the episode, they had surveyed the house and were like, “We don’t want to touch this piece of s---.” It was a real wreck, had been seriously neglected. It was built in the 1920s, and built by people who weren’t carpenters, didn’t know what they were doing. It was built so poorly, and everything was sagging – the window frames, the eaves.

Can you believe that? The starving actor bought a house. Let that sink in. He recognized that the house was built by non-carpenters [how was this building standing. Twas a miracle, I tell you.] And despite being a starving actor with a small amount of money, and a knowledge of carpentry, he bought a house that was badly built by non-carpenters. So he knew he was buying a liability. Why?

The kitchen floor you put in is beautiful. Yes, that’s gunstock, from a gun manufacturer in Northern California.

Mr Gun Free supporting the Gun manufacturing industry. Man, this guy is a hypocrite.

You lived in that first house for 11 years. Do you still own it? We rent it out to some lovely people who love it, so it’s good.

Fun fact: Mr Humble Pie has two pieces of property. And he is making money off of one, but he chooses to attend cons with the same torn T-shirts from years ago, or has to fleece off of Jensen's wardrobe and generosity, otherwise he would be doing his panels naked, poor thing. Why doesn't he stop his cruises for a year, and use that money to buy decent threads? One shirt can last a few years. The lies are embarrassing, but miraculously his minions believe him.

On the way to this house, you became very successful with this hugely popular TV series. Life changed. Do you still manage to make time for handwork?

Yeah. I’ve discovered that I really like working. Work can be respite for me, and switching gears is really key. Going from working on scripts to working with my hands is therapeutic, for sure. I am still managing to work with my hands. I was just doing some woodworking yesterday. I do a lot of cooking. That’s a big part of my life, and also I think a barometer of emotional health. When I’m not cooking, it’s a sign that I’m too stressed out and I’ve got to dial things back a little bit. I do a lot of canning. I put up 120 jars of blackberry jam this fall.

What an irony! One of the greatest instigators of stress for his co-workers and their fans, gets stressed out himself. Yeah, guilt can do that. Plus, he likes quantifying accomplishments. That is why Gish exists. Quantity over quality.

Which artists inspire you? I love Christo and Jeanne Claude, because of the mind-bending scale on which they’ve created things, like they’re rethinking what’s possible. I’m somebody who kind of likes to break rules, to bend rules when appropriate.

I could write a whole big post, on Misha's rule breaking and bending. From stealing Whitehouse property [and bragging about it] to telling fans about the scratched line in the Crypt which got Jensen a barrage of abuse on Twitter. The one thing that he spoke about that doesn't make sense is his story about almost getting arrested for reading a book on a building rooftop. It makes no sense. There is a portion of the story that is missing, I'm sure. Misha is a great exaggerator.

Have you turned any Supernatural castmates on to craft? On a set, there’s tons of downtime, a lot of sitting and knitting and crocheting. And I have occasionally been in the mix there. Last year Jensen [Ackles], my co-star, walked up and saw me knitting, and he just looked at me and said, “Really?” But I could tell there was jealousy behind it, more than criticism. So I’ll teach him to knit, and it’ll be fine. We’ll get through this.

Will you look at that? There are around 70 people on set at any given time. Many of them must have seen Misha knitting. And look who Misha decided to mention. Was that a ''just in case, a nutty heller is reading this'' insertion? No mention is made of Jared, because who cares about him, right? Got to give the crowd what they want. I am side eyeing the knitting claim myself, because I do knit and having seen a photo of him knitting, I can safely say that, that is not how you grasp at the yarn. You knit with loose fingers because yarn is abrasive.

The first big project we did with Random Acts was we built an orphanage and community center in Haiti. I would not have thought that was a tackle-able enterprise if I didn’t have a background in building. Our biggest fundraising driver for the projects that we do – like building a school or an orphanage – is we bring folks down in groups of 25 or so to Haiti or to Nicaragua, and they help in the building process. We roll up our sleeves and get our hands dirty.

Wow, he built the 500K orphanage with his own hands, but didn't think about lights for the children. His response regarding the lights was ''it's Haiti and it takes three f*cking years to get an electrician''. Wow, I am a third worlder too, but we have electricians. How backwards is Haiti that he couldn't find a single electrician in the whole country, to light the place up for the poor orphans? He couldn't squeeze in one electrician in the group of 25 or so. Are there no philanthropic electricians in his circles? My word, electricians are such selfish people, don't you think? They don't want to roll up their sleeves and get their hands dirty. Why couldn't he just pay for one instead of waiting three years? Fun fact: According to their website, the orphanage, aka, the Jacmel children's center houses only 15 children, but another page says there are 27 children living in the house. They don't know how many children they are looking after. But that is still a small amount. So where did all these kids go?

Misha either staged this picture with school kids on an excursion or all those kids got adopted by the staggeringly high quantity of rich couples living in Haiti, right Misha? SMH

This question made me smirk. The interviewer had to know Misha has never been to public school. Look how Mr Bleeding Heart answers the question.

As we know, art programs in K-12 public schools these days are in decline, especially shop class, manual arts. How can we nurture creativity in kids, and why is that important? When I was 9 years old, I had a paper route. One day my younger brother and I were collecting money, and Mr. Haigis answered the door. He started talking to us, and he discovered that our parents were separated, and we didn’t live with our father. In the 1960s, he had run a woodshop for little kids. He had stopped doing it because he got busy with his career. Now he was retired. These two boys show up delivering papers on his front stoop, and it just comes to him: “I’ve got to do the same thing for those kids.”

So Mr Haigis left all the poor, underprivileged children and decided to help these two boys who were going to an elite school? Sounds legit. What about public school children, Mr Haigis? Don't you care about them?

I was a starving actor for at least a decade.

Misha was a starving actor who worked on 24 projects before getting SPN, but he still managed to buy a house. Fun fact: he was an associate producer on a docu-movie, ''Loot'' which won best documentary at the LA film festival. His movie didn't need sock puppets to win this one. Misha should produce more. That way he wont be on screen, festering up the frame. The less we see of him, the better.

http://www.jacmelchildren.org/about/team/

http://www.jacmelchildren.org/

https://craftcouncil.org/magazine/article/builder-baker-angel-maker

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leightaylorwrites · 7 years ago

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Leigh Dissects YA Fiction: They All Fall Down (Chapters 13 - 14)

Chapter Thirteen

He slides the coffee across the table when I sit down. “It’s really hot.”

It’s coffee.

I don’t like Josh. Does that mean I do like…

We’ve been over this, Dora.

“I don’t know what my mother looks like anymore. I haven’t seen her since I was about eight (...) She’s a lunatic.”

Generic Bad Boy has a mentally ill absentee mother? Cliche check!

“My mom’s nuts, too.”

Because we can’t let GBB talk about something that clearly hurts him without Dora making it about herself somehow.

I look like Natalie Portman to him?

I thought Dora was supposed to be average.

I blink at the rapid subject volley, trying to keep up with him. “Do you have ADD or something?”

What kind of rude ass-

“Held back a few times,” he admits with no shame. “I’ll be eighteen in four months.”

If they’re juniors and he’s been held back at least twice, and he’ll be eighteen in January (this takes place in October), this doesn’t add up. I was also born in January, and I turned seventeen in eleventh grade. For him to be turning eighteen, he’s only been held back once. Or, he’s actually turning at least nineteen but the author didn’t want to have that big of an age gap and said to herself “math, whom?”

And this boy couldn’t possibly be more different from my positive, gregarious, universally adored brother.

Let me guess: this is foreshadowing her brother being involved in whatever cult or other bullshit is going on here?

Also, splooging over a dead guy. Cool.

Probation. Juvenile detention. Mental institutions. A paralyzed passenger in a stolen car. Jeez, this guy is trouble(...)

Honey, he wasn’t in the institution. And for the love of NCT Dream, stop writing mental institutions and illnesses as being trouble for anyone other than those with the illnesses.

“If you just want to… to… share coffee? Then…”

….. They’re still on every... page.

Whoa, he’s good. Electrical, magnetic, combustible. Levi is a human physics class full of energy.

I SWEAR THIS IS MY FAVORITE LINE IN THE BOOK SO FAR WHAT IS THIS BILL NYE IS HAVING A FIT ASKFLDHALDJ

“It’s Kenzie. Or Mackenzie. Not Mack.”

“Really? Mack fits you. It’s unaffected and straightforward and not quite what you’d expect.”

Incorrect splooging is the worst. Someone who trails off half her sentences is not straightforward.

“Trust me, Levi, you have more than one superpower.”

Does he? Does he even have one?

The toe-curling, breath-stealing, tum-my-fluttering sensations of… attraction.

Good writing? She doesn’t go here.

I’m scared of this kid, and so, so drawn to him.

He’s not a kid, he’s older than you because if he wasn’t, how else would he have any authority over you?

Google Translate is mentally challenged.

I have never wanted to send an angry email to an author before. Not through all the racist, abusive, misogynistic shit I’ve read over the years. Not through all the demonizing of mental illnesses. But developmental disorders are where I draw the line. I completely dropped a series years ago because I personally witnessed an author using the R-word as casually as you’d ask someone what the weather was like. Using this as a joke is disgusting and this author should be ashamed of herself. Don’t ever let me meet her at a writing convention or book festival. She’s going to get dragged to the ends of the earth and left there to rot like she deserves.

I guess I liked Mack after all. It’s… unaffected and straightforward and not quite what you’d expect.

My eyes got stuck in the back of my head after rolling them so hard.

Chloe Batista is bragging about how she makes a cool fifty bucks for watering somebody’s houseplants while they’re on vacation, which is just a tacky thing to post to the world.

How? How is that tacky?

Person: I have a side gig :)

Dora: tacky preppy garbage I’M A NERD

Chapter Fourteen

But I still feel as if telling anyone about these bizarre, unrelated, possibly not even real events gives them credence they don’t deserve, so I stay quiet.

I thought Dora was supposed to be smart.

“I…” I see the truck, I think. “I get it.”

Missing: one editor. If found, please return to the seventh grade writing class she disappeared from.

“I want you to understand how much this new social status means to me. It doesn’t mean I’m using you or anything.”

Except… you are??

“Well, she wants you in her Sisters of the List club.” There might be a hair of jealousy in Molly’s voice, but I totally get that.

Um… where did Molly learn this awful name? Consistency nugu?

I should be preparing for State and winning the top prize. Instead, I’m flirting with bad boys and kissing rich ones.

Because it’s not like she’d be able to satisfy both wants with some good time management. But we can’t have that. Then we’d have to pretend women are capable of wanting academic success and romance!

“What’s wrong?”

“Another… one.”

“Another what?”

“Another… girl.”

I just blink at her, a slow, cold agony already clawing at my heart.

“Another girl what?”

“This…”

“This what?”

“This isn’t…”

“This isn’t what?”

“This isn’t how to write… ”

“This isn’t how to write what?”

The reader paused, growing increasingly annoyed with L’s antics.

“This isn’t how to write tension.”

The truck… the truck… the truck that made Levi Sterling run.

I think the editor was drunk while reading this book. I wish I could be the same way.

“I just got a call from Barbara Gains, whose daughter is married to a paramedic who was in the ambulance. She knows you go to Vienna and wanted to see if you knew her.”

I’ve seen some exposition dumps but this is… something else.

“Who? Who died, Mom?” I demand.

“Someone named Chloe.”

“Chloe Batista.” I croak her name.

“Do you know her?”

“Shes…” Oh, God. Second.

And I’m fifth.

I have no comments. I just wanted you all to read this mess.

The book is split into either two or three parts so instead of posting four chapters today, I’m stopping here at the end of part one.

This is a really shitty book though.

Using my irritation as free entertainment? Enjoy my writing as free entertainment, too. I’ve got a freebie book called Epic here.

#leigh reads it #leigh dissects ya #tafd review #tafd #so....... bad

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dstrachan · 7 years ago

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'VIEWS FROM THE HEDGE': MAJOR LIFE CHANGES - CROSSROADS

One of my regular shows on community radio was 'Views From The Edge', so named because I aimed to include my take on things from my home base in the south east of Scotland near the North Sea coast and border with England (the 'edge'). The wonderful Hastings band Fabulous Red Diesel were kind enough to spend some time recording a number of IDs for me, one of which they adapted as 'Views From The Hedge' complete with sheep sounds! I will always be incredibly grateful to them for their support, sadly I find that I am currently unable to locate that specific ID as I believe that it was stored on an external hard drive which became damaged when it fell off my desk! Nevertheless I felt that it was a suitable title for this post, as I seek to establish just what I should be doing with the part of my life that had previously been devoted to music and community radio since my retirement from Scottish education. Recently I feel as if I have been fenced (or hedged) in and am now looking out to identify a destination. Queue a series of 'ramblings'!

AND THE SURVEY SAYS - “WE LOVE THE OLD FAVOURITES”

As I've previously noted in a couple of recent posts, a few months ago a major change in my family circumstances led me to decide to step back from radio and review activities as I could no longer spare sufficient time to undertake these activities to a level that I would be happy with. Although completely unrelated to my decision to withdraw from my live community radio shows, the station that was hosting my live shows then published the results of a listener survey around the same time. The survey results were predominantly positive and very encouraging for the station with respondents voicing their love for all the shows that featured old familiar favourites – the one clear point of dissatisfaction was my focus on featuring new and unsigned artists. At the same time some listeners had also posted comments on the station's Facebook page expressing their dislike of the new music that I had been playing. Thankfully my initial sense of failure was tempered as I had been regularly receiving messages of support from a range of people around the world, in particular from Mexico! I have to say that I was further heartened to see others add comments in support of my selections – in general, as well as supporting my choices, they pointed out that all the familiar favourites would at one time in the past have also been 'new', untested and unfamiliar – they went on to ask what the outcome have been had nobody back then been prepared to go out on a limb and give people the opportunity to hear new songs? Whilst I had always intended to help bring new music to my audience's ears rather than simply just play the safe and popular hits, the negativity nevertheless did sting a little. Luckily I am rather stubborn and didn't feel that I could let such apparently blinkered negativity change my underpinning philosophy.

'BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY'

I do not claim to be right at all times with my selections and preferences, not everybody likes such a wide range of styles and sometimes I clearly make wrong calls. I vividly recall the day when working in Bruce's Record Shop in Edinburgh's Rose Street and we received our first delivery of Queen's 'Bohemian Rhapsody' single. Back in these days it was virtually unheard of to hear any single prior to its release so that Monday morning was the first opportunity that any of us in the shop had had to hear it. After a couple of spins the general opinion, mine included, was bemusement = “who on earth is going to want to listen to that weird song about somebody having a bad trip?!” This was before we ever had the opportunity to see the classic video! Nowadays I imagine any tweet comment might also include #WTF – well time has certainly proved us wrong on that initial call as 'Bohemian Rhapsody' has subsequently become embedded in the fabric of rock history as an absolute classic! Over the years some brave souls have even taken a chance on recording a cover!!

IS COMMUNITY RADIO WORTH THE EFFORT?

I do strongly believe that there are so many solo artists and bands out there now who are producing exciting, innovative and inspirational music and who really do deserve to be given a fair hearing. It is them that I wished to give exposure to in my radio shows, and seek to support by posting my reviews. Given the amount of money and resources that are required to keep a community radio on air, surely it should not just be a medium to allow people to listen to a constant stream of familiar and popular hits – if that were the case listeners could just as easily tune in to a streaming service where they can specify preferred playlists? That would eliminate so many of the administrative headaches that come with trying to keep a community radio station on air: no need to find the finances to pay for all the necessary hardware, premises, licences and utilities.

“DEFINITELY NOT MAINSTREAM”

I do confess that my listening preferences could never really have been classified as mainstream. The first album that I ever bought had to be specially ordered for me by the record department in Stirling's Graham & Morton Department Store (O.K. I admit the photo in the link was a bit before my time!): it was released on John Peel's Dandelion label by the English performance art collective made up of about 14 musicians, poets, dancers, and sound and lighting technicians. They were Principal Edwards Magic Theatre and the album was 'Soundtrack', which I still regularly revisit. John Peel's wondrous radio shows were also a regular listen, where, from my earliest encounters, I was enchanted by unique audio gems such as Captain Beefheart's 'Trout Mask Replica', 'An Evening With “Wild Man Fischer” ', the GTOs and Ravi Shankar (I can vividly recall listening on my transistor radio whilst walking home one day in Bridge of Allan. Such great memories, and no doubt an inspiration for my community radio work.

GOOD OL' ROCK 'N' ROLL

I was intrigued recently by an item in a BBC Radio 4 'You & Yours' programme on Friday 5th January 2015. It considered the thriving industry around the popularity of rock 'n' roll and how it's gaining new fans. One contributor, Karinna Nobbs stated that “in the current economic climate people look backwards and are much more nostalgic about simpler times and the birth of rock 'n' roll told you something about what was going on – it was the birth of the teenager – there was a lot of hope and a lot of excitement for the future.”

Whilst I listened intently I found myself thinking about soma: the fictional hallucinogenic drug to keep society peaceful and happy in Aldous Huxley's novels 'Brave New World' and 'Island', and that perhaps this nostalgic 'comfort blanket' description would also help to explain the popularity of the range of 'tribute' and 'heritage' acts that appear to draw more crowds than fresh new talent in many local venues. Certainly in the Scottish Borders such acts appear to outnumber the less mainstream alternative options.

“CLASSIC ROCK ETC.”

I have already mentioned the first album that I purchased; I do have earlier memories but not really from the very earliest days of rock 'n' roll – although I have a few memories from the early 1960s, the late 1960s and early 1970s would probably provide the basis for my most enduring memories and I am forever grateful that I was around then to be able to hear so many eventual classics when they were taking their first steps (sadly NOT as a member of the audience at the actual live performances!): Jefferson Airplane, The Doors, Black Sabbath, Led Zeppelin, Cream, Eagles, Steely Dan, John Martyn and Jimi Hendrix to name a very few. I feel that I have to add that the more enduring bands generally tended to lose their immediate appeal for me after their first handful of albums. I suspect that was partly due to the overexposure that I experienced during my years working in the record shop, but possibly also as a result of a certain amount of predictability setting in.

“I JUST MISSED THE PUNK REVOLUTION!”

Writing now, I firmly believe that the music that has had the most enduring impact of me is what came to classified as punk – although at the time I was never aware of it being referred to as such. Bands/albums that I became more and more drawn towards in my youth include:

The Velvet Underground & Nico 1967; Captain Beefheart & the Magic Band 'Trout Mask Replica' 1969 / 'Clear Spot' 1972; MC5 'Kick Out The Jams' 1969; The Stooges 'Fun House' 1970 / 'Raw Power' 1973; New York Dolls 1973; Dr Feelgood 'Down At The Jetty' 1975; The Ramones 1976; The Tubes 'Young & Rich' 1976 ('White Punks On Dope'); Johnny Thunders & The Heartbreakers 'L.A.M.F.' 1977.

Cue 'real life' getting in the way! In the autumn of 1976 my life changed significantly in a number of ways; I transitioned from being a student to starting my teaching career and also met and settled down with my wife as we welcomed two wonderful children into our world. I wouldn't change any of that but the various demands placed on me at that time did mean that my previous focus on music, as a single entity, had to take a back seat. I do occasionally wonder how things might have turned out had I been born a couple of years later and to have spent my teenage years in the punk era as opposed to the more hippie oriented one that I seemed to get caught up in.

There are clear signs of an embryonic punk rock development in the late 1960s but the first wave of punk rock really took hold a bit later. It was aggressively modern, and distanced itself from the bombast and sentimentality of early 1970s rock. According to Ramones drummer Tommy Ramone, "In its initial form, a lot of '1960s' stuff was innovative and exciting. Unfortunately, what happened was that people who could not hold a candle to the likes of Hendrix started noodling away. Soon you had endless solos that went nowhere. By 1973, I knew that what was needed was some pure, stripped down, no bullshit rock 'n' roll." John Holmstrom, founding editor of Punk magazine, recalls feeling "punk rock had to come along because the rock scene had become so tame that acts like Billy Joel and Simon and Garfunkel were being called rock and roll, when to me and other fans, rock and roll meant this wild and rebellious music." In critic Robert Christgau's description, "It was also a subculture that scornfully rejected the political idealism and Californian flower-power silliness of hippie myth."

“D.I.Y.”

Technical accessibility and a 'Do it Yourself' (DIY) spirit are prized in punk rock and I truly believe that it is this which continues to draw me towards the numerous exciting and inspirational acts that I tend to wish to follow now (really TOO MANY to mention, but I will continue to seek to give them some well deserved publicity); technological developments have made it easier for artists to retain greater control over their creative output. One extremely important 'tool' is the advent of crowdfunding which enables artists and bands to generate a funding source to enable them to complete a specific project; record an album, shoot a video, fund a tour etc. by making it possible for interested supporters to provide financial support whilst also being kept informed about progress and receiving specified benefits. I feel privileged to have been able to have assisted a number of projects to move forward. A 'D.I.Y.' attitude is also a crucial aspect for the success of voluntary community radio too.

GIGGING IN THE 21st CENTURY

UK pub rock from 1972-1975 contributed to the emergence of punk rock by developing a network of small venues, such as pubs, where non-mainstream bands could play, and this is the area that most interests me now although I can only physically get to a fraction of the gigs that are being organised. Thankfully social media makes it easy for acts and promoters to share live videos to help share the experience. I'll take this opportunity to share one very special video from a great gig in Glasgow = Healthy Junkies first performance in Scotland and an excellent example of the marvellous mutually supportive community that they represent! Going back to my youth it was clearly the case that musicians made money from unit recording sales, generally touring at a loss in order to promote their latest release. Things seem to have reversed now and the recordings for most generate a minimal income and it is the touring and merchandise sales that provide the opportunity to get some form of financial return. This makes it all the more essential that I, and others, can encourage people to get people up from their seats and out to support the numerous live performance opportunities that surround them. I encourage people to be adventurous and give the unknowns a fair hearing, their performances will generally not be unaffordable, generally equivalent to a couple of pints in city centre venue. Another thing; in my experience, these musicians are generally self-funding their tours so please do not seek to rip them off by trying to 'guilt trip' them into adding you to their guest lists! A different story perhaps if the ticket price is over say £60.

I believe that I have listened intently to so many different styles of music over the decades that little now strikes me as being entirely new and innovative; I routinely find echoes being sparked in my head that get me thinking bank to when I previously heard a particular phrase, riff or sound – whilst this often encourages me to revisit the sources of these evocations, I certainly don't seek to suggest that the new purveyors of these sounds are simply 'rip-off' artists and that the earlier versions must be venerated as the best. Instead, I celebrate the fact that yet more musicians have been able to experience the magic of producing output that blends, recycles and re-invigorates such timeless audio gems.

Yes – I will continue to re-visit older items in my extensive music collection, but I firmly believe that it will be the exciting new young acts that will continue to attract my full attention. Whatever my eventual decision regarding radio & review activities, I am determined that it will have a strong focus on new and emerging unsigned talent from around the world with out any particular genre restrictions.

CONCLUSION

As I sought to conclude this piece I continued to remain unsure about just how to move forwards; a number of things took precedence over and prevented me finishing it promptly. Consequently I will delay any return to radio and stick to written reviews for the short term. Many thanks to those who have submitted material recently, this has been a great impetus to encourage me. Finally, if you have read as far as this, many thanks. Whilst pieces like this are possibly more an exercise in self-assessment to help me make decisions I truly appreciate all who do take time out from their lives to consider my musings.

#viewsfromtheedge #northhighlandradio #td1radio #lunchtimereview #communityradio #punk #supportnewtalent

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thelondonfilmschool · 8 years ago

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LFS STUDENT TIPS | Ju Shardlow

Photo Credit: Franco Volpi

Like many people in the industry, current London Film School (LFS) student Ju Shardlow graduated in a subject unrelated to film, doing journalism and literary jobs here and there for a year before finally deciding to go into film and TV. Shardlow will graduate later this year from The London Film School’s Masters in Filmmaking programme. "I'd done lots of theatre stuff at uni but there wasn't really any media studies, so I decided that I wanted to go and maybe get a work experience placement.” After doing exactly just that in a script production company, Shardlow went on to production runner, production assistant and then runner research assistant, working her way up the ladder.

During this time, she gained experience with organisations such as Hartswood Films, makers of SHERLOCK, while working at Teddington and Shepperton studios. "I got my first job with the BBC in 2012 on The Culture Show and worked there for three years or so as a junior researcher in documentaries. I was self-shooting, learning how to do camera work and then from that went to the LFS.”

Shardlow took time out of her extremely busy schedule to meet up with screenwriter Sophie McVeigh, who wanted to find out more about Sharlow’s journey to The London Film School, only to discover that she had many more strings to her bow than had been anticipated.

Sophie McVeigh (S.M): How did you go about getting your first work experience position?

Ju Shardlow (J.S): It was weird actually because I got a message from my sister saying there was someone from a TV production company at a house party and I was in bed! She was talking about how she couldn't find an intern so I got out of bed, got dressed and then I went to this party at midnight and was like, “Hello, nice to meet you!” There's a way of doing it, [with] that eagerness, instead of assuming that you deserve something.

S.M: How did you go from that to paid positions?

J.S: I got into quite a small development company and then from that you have to just make yourself really invaluable. I'm quite proactive, so I created a role for myself there. Anyone who is averse to making teas and coffees, sorry - give up and go home. And then within that network of research and directing and producing at the BBC, everybody knows each other if you go from project to project. So I think I did 11 shows back to back with the BBC without taking a break. I must have been at home for a week before I got a phone call saying “Would you like to come down for this production?”

S.M: What made you decide to come to LFS?

J.S: With the BBC you can work there for two and a half years before they make you permanent staff. So they're encouraging you to either go freelance or come back on a directors level. I basically wanted to do bits of the production side of it and self-shooting but I realised that I didn't really know as much about cameras and planning my own shoots as I thought I did. So I wanted to go and learn more of the technical side of things. I never came to LFS to be a fiction director. It was always to come and learn how to effectively light and create my own set ups so that I could go and self-shoot.

S.M: What would you say is the most valuable thing that you've gained from your time at LFS?

J.S: Knowing how to manage personalities is really important. People come from all over the world with all of their different backgrounds in film. Also, for work, generally when I show up to places to go and film, it will be, like, ten men from different major press organizations: CNN, the Guardian, ITV, Press Association, Vice. There are very very few female camera operators in the British press. But at LFS there's an approach of equality of opportunity in gender amongst the students. It's a really refreshing thing to see. You realise that there are loads of really capable women and some of them are better than the guys a lot of the time as well.

S.M: You've also started your own production company …

J.S: It's a small production company, me and my friend from university and also an editor friend. Julia Hart and I just recently shot in East London for a week, and then we give them to Trace, she's a professional editor with years of BBC experience... It's kind of a mixture between NFTS, LFS, [and] our VFX person is someone from the BBC. The film we shot this year was called KID GLOVES, but the one that's probably done the best was EMMA, CHANGE THE LOCKS, which was last year. That's now screening in the BFI Future Film Festival.

S.M: Starring Olivia Williams. How did she end up getting involved?

J.S: She became became involved through the director. So effectively it was a mixture of professionals, new people and the students at NFTS. I wish, actually, that I'd shot that after I'd been to LFS so I could understand what all those grip clamps were, and what the sparks do, things like that. Having a knowledge of all those roles through being at LFS definitely helps you as a producer.

S.M: How did you go about making contacts outside of the LFS while you were studying?

J.S: I think it was just persistence! I must have gone the whole summer before I applied to LFS just sending my CV off 20 times a day to places and not getting anything. Just constantly trying to pick up with older connections. I was sending it to development and production companies. I was contacting those people to see if they knew anybody and asking them to keep an ear to the ground, “Even if you need anybody to come along for free for a day.” I drove up to Birmingham for a day to second camera a BBC documentary while studying. I was driving back with a million pounds of camera equipment back through Oxford Circus then getting up for Term 1 the next day.

There are a couple of really good networking things as well. Like BAFTA Crew that I got involved in through working in TV. That's an amazing networking opportunity. Women in Film and Television have a really good networking group. More recently for women: Organisers for Gender Equality in Film, Women on Docs, Feminist Film Collectives. Don't let anyone bash you for all-female crews or networking societies. They're likely to be the same people that ask "Why isn't there an International Men's Day?" You do honestly meet people. Sign up to loads of stuff in London and don't be ashamed to contact people back.

S.M: How does BAFTA Crew work?

J.S: If you have a certain number of TV and film credits and you've worked in the TV industry for a year to two years then you're eligible to apply and they select 200 people a year, across programming, development, game making, research, camera work, everything. And you can apply for a specific strand – I went in for camera operating and production management. Effectively it's open access to loads of master classes, workshops, talks and lectures from BAFTA professionals. And they have drinks after which is a really good place to meet people! If you go on the BAFTA website and sign up to any of their events and talks, they have events all through the year.

S.M: You're using Kickstarter at the moment to help fund 23 BLONDE. How's that going?

J.S: We're going to use it for post production. I think LFS does a Kickstarter course in term six which I’d recommend everybody goes to because Kickstarter is going to be so important for people, especially for their graduation films. A lot of people use it but in a half-arsed way just thinking that friends and family will give them money and that that is its limit. There was someone who graduated a couple of years ago called Christine Sherwood who is an amazing producer and is really good at all that social media strategy, fundraising and Kickstarter. She basically told me to get on stuff as early as possible and create a buzz around your film before you do it, so you already have pitches, you already have footage, quotes, you've already made your press pack, things like that, so that when you go into Kickstarter you can be like: “We've made this and we're going to raise money for post-production, this is how professional it looks.”

S.M: And you've recently started working for Time Out…

J.S: I'm video producer at Time Out. I basically commission, produce, shoot and edit video content. I've been there for 6 months and it's growing rapidly. We had 11 million video views this month, and have been nominated for a media award in New York with really big players like Time, National Geographic and Condé Nast. They wanted somebody who had demonstrated the ability to go and shoot and do camera work but also had the producer side. I think definitely writing down all those camera skills from LFS, saying that you can operate all those cameras and that you've been on this many shoots, made them say “Oh OK. You can do this amount of work because we know that (the course) is quite hectic,” as well as a knowledge of London, which Documentary Term 3 at least forces you into having, and the ability to throw yourself into unpredictable situations with little planning.

S.M: You're also working with Facebook Live. Could you tell us about that?

J.S: Facebook Live is something that we occasionally use at Time Out. You can do it over your phone or with a plug-in to an ENG camera. I've interviewed some really interesting people though: the Star Wars cast, Benedict Cumberbatch, Louis Theroux, Sigourney Weaver, Bill Nighy…

Facebook and Instagram are really big platforms for video and they're really accessible content. Look how big Instagram stories is becoming. In 2017, 85% of Americans will get nearly ALL their news content from Facebook - that's terrifying but it also gives you a responsibility. We live in an era of fake news, glib reporting and cat videos, but also one where people regularly rely on informing themselves of today's world via video. Even if you make a short fiction or documentary at LFS, you are projecting something you feel is necessary for the world to know in a video format: gender issues, social mobility, loneliness, crime. What I do is just another extension of that: making something entertaining yet informative, and digestible. For a lot of the profiles and news videos we're telling stories with the camera in 30 seconds, for which I always think of LFS staff Peter Gordon or Jaime Estrada-Torres going "What shots are necessary to tell your story?!" Click here for an example of Shardlow’s work for Time Out London.

Interviewer: Sophie McVeigh

#when alumni convene #timeoutlondon #facebooklive #work experience #production company #bbc #producer #bafta crew #kickstarter #filmmaking #timeout

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