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magalidragon · 4 years ago

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dragon in a waterfall | a “bird on a wire” drabble

I don‘t know where this came from but I wrote it very fast at lunch. It is a missing piece to “bird on a wire” aka the Princess and Bodyguard fic. It is vaguely referenced in one of Dany’s thoughts in that fic. This is ANGST. Apologies for boo boos.

There was a ringing in her ears when she flicked her eyelids up, confused, wondering how come an alarm was going off-- shouldn't it be the middle of the night? Was she sleeping this entire time? Perhaps she was dreaming?

She tried to sit up, her chest aching, pressed on concrete, her evening gown torn from her shoulder and the skirt ripped in several layers around her knees and feet; she was really cold. She never was cold; dragonblood, everyone joked, kept her running hot even if the frigid climes of the far North. Except now she shivered, head to toe, her skin pebbled to gooseflesh. The ringing was getting worse, when she tried to sit up, and she blinked again, her cheek scratched, and her side damp, like she'd landed in a puddle of water.

And she realized she was not dreaming.

Oh no, this was a nightmare.

"Jon!" she screamed, her throat vibrating from the exertion, the volume in her scream. It came from her collapsed lungs, expanding them painfully, the horror at what had just happened settling into her memory, returning from the blacked out moment on the concrete.

She tried to stand up, but Barristan was grabbing her around hte middle, liftin gher bodily from the ground; her shoes were missing. Her bare feet scrabbled on the cobblestones, unable to gain traction, her arms flailing, scratching at the bodyguard, refusing to listen to his commands. Viserys was screaming for her, from the backseat of an SUV, before the door slammed on him, and she thought she heard her mother sobbing for her as well, and where was Rhaegar? Did it even matter?

Nothing mattered.

None of her family mattered to her, because she had realized now what had happened, and why there was a damp spot on her side, and her body bruised and battered, and the chaos swarming them. She could only see, tunnelvision, everything black on the edges of her sight, the figure lying in the center of the courtyard, blood pouring underneath him, Ser Arthur hovering over him, staunching bleeding with the shawl that had formerly been around her shoulders, and now was trying to keep blood in someone's body.

All she could see now was a hand, off to the side, fingers unmoving; fingers that had been in her palm only moments before, that had squeezed her hand deftly, when no one was looking, before she entered the Casterly Rock gardens for that evening's outdoor gala, to celebrate Rhaegar's coronation, while on a tour of the Westerlands. It was never meant to be, it seemed someone was unhappy with that idea, and they'd decided to slip in under the guise of a waiter? A driver? Another bodyguard? She did not know, nor did she care.

BEcause whoever it was had called her name and she turned, and then there was a shocking pain in her side and then she went flying on the ground, because Jon had lunged in front, throwing her behind him, and taken the hits instead. At least, that's what she had envisioned in her mind, everything blurry and fuzzy, but it was making sense.

And he was lying there, dying on the stones, and she was somewhere else, ignoring Barristan as he tried to wrap a bandage around her, in the back of an SUV, while she clawed at the glass window, the door handle, screaming and desperate, not feeling anything but the need to get to him.

"Jon, Jon, Jon!" she repeated, delirious, screaming, her throat hoarse. She spun on Barristan, trying to crawl over him, over Ser Gerold, who was barking at the chauffeur to get them to the pre-arranged hospital and ensure there was a full detail there. "Let me out ! I'm fine! Let me out! I need Jon!"

"Princess you're injured!"

"No I'm not!" she howled, evne though her hands were red, staining the inside of the SUV, and her head was swimming, everything staring to get fuzzy again. Gerold was saying she was in shock, she had to stop, but she kicked at him when he moved to wrap her in a blanket, and continued to sob for Jon.

If he dies, I will die too, she thought, the last image before she passed out, of his face, before he'd pushed her, before everything went to the seven hells, when for a brief moment, they were a couple entering a party, to enjoy an evening, to dance, and maybe kiss under the stars. His shy smile, tugging at the corners of his lips, the corners of his eyes crinkling, so very handsome in his black suit, and even with that wiggly little wire that came out of his ear and threaded down his neck and arm to the microphone in his hand. She jokingly called it the Sea Snake. She'd given it a name, after the famous Sea Snake himself, saying "Corlys must be with us today" when he had to wear it around her.

He had been smiling because she whispered to him that they were practicing for a real date, one day, and it had been joyful, but sad too, because they didn't know when or if or how they could ever have such a day. A day where he was Jon and she was Dany, and they were just out having fun. They were strangers in a bar, they met, and they went back to his place or hers, and then coffee the next morning.

It was easy to pretend, because she knew they couldn't have it the other way.

Not yet.

They were working their way there, they were going to try, one day, but not yet, because things were too new with Rhaegar as king and Viserys was sick and too many changes at once were too much for her family to handle.

And now it was all gone.

She was going to lose him, before she could ever really have him how she wanted.

Stolen kisses in alcoves, disappearing in crowded dance floors in illegal clubs, and running into the night from hidden passageways, with sometimes months in between each. She lived in a constant state of missing him, aching for him, even when he was inches away from her, always there, her protective shadow.

He had his hair back that night, like he did on big events, to keep it from his face, and she'd joked in the car over-- it had just been them-- that he looked like an aging hippie. He teased her that he thought he looked like a young intellecutal. "You, an intellectual?" she joked, kissing his knuckles. "The man who has comic books on his nightstand? Hardly."

"I'll have you know those comics are pretty deep, talking about man's fight against nature and his own inner self."

"Jon, it's about a cartoon Night's Watch ranger."

"Exactly, he's fighting against his internal demons because why else would he join the NIght's Watch?"

"You did."

"Aye," he admitted. He turned to her, and stole a quick kiss, only because the partition between them and the driver was up. He whispered, earnest, squeezing her hand hard. "And it brought me to you."

She brushed her hand over his cheek, regretfully sighing when the car came to a stop. "Hold my hand before we go in? Just for a moment? We can be on a first date."

"Save me a dance," he murmured, kissing her again, chaste, breaking away quickly to step out of the car first, to run around and hold open the door, and she blinked back tears, and plastered her smile on, breaking her cheeks and forcing it back, so when she climbed out of the car, waving at the crowds that had gathered outside Casterly Rock to see the royal family and other assorted celebrities enter for the grand event, she would be envied and beloved.

Daenerys, Princess Royal, didn't everyone want to be her? She was so beautiful, so famous, so lucky. She could have anything she wanted-- a horse, cars, planes, a castle even, and she never had to work, never had to give up anything for it, because that's the type of life she could have.

And they never knew that the glow to her cheeks was from sobbing before they left the hotel, the shine in her eyes was unshed tears, and her heart was breaking, each and every single day.

The Dragon Queen, the tabloids called her, even if she was but a princess.

She dreamed now, a world that was not her own, and perhaps she was dead. Was this the afterlife, have I been burned like my ancestors before me, she wondered, drifting through trees, the ground soundless under her bare feet.

And she emerged in a beautiful clearing, with waterfalls in a pool, crashing against stones, jagged and lurching upwards from the ground. It was breathtaking, snowcapped mountains surrounding the valley, hiding it from anyone who dared to enter such a peaceful sanctum. She smiled, her fingers dragging along some flowers bunched around the rocks near the pool-- blue winter roses. They smelled so sweet, i twas like they were emerging from a wall of ice.

She tugged on one, and lifted it to her nose, inhaling the lovely aroma.

"They make me think of you."

Turning at his voice, she was not startled-- of cours ehe was here with her. He approached slowly, not in the all black suit he'd been wearing or the black uniform he favored or even his clubbing attire of black leather and boots. He was relaxed, just like her, barefoot and free, white button down and loose gray pants. She noted she was in a white dress; are we getting married, she briefly wondered.

She let him take the flower from her fingers, reaching to tuck it into her hair, his hand dragging down her jaw and to her throat, his finertips alighting on her pulse. "Jon," she gasped, hands upon his chest. "Is this just a dream?"

"If it is a dream, then it is a good dream," he answered, lifting her lips to his, kissing against the backdrop of the falls. She moaned softly, returning the kiss, and clutched at his shirt, desperate for it, praying it would never end. Except it did, and he broke away, the side of his nose against hers, breaths mingling. "Blue winter roses are strong and survive in the harshest of winters, like you do Dany. My dragon."

She blinked away tears. "Are we dead?"

"No."

"Then where are we?"

He glanced around, smiling and shrugged. "Appears we are in the North...I remember this place. I came here as a boy."

"It's beautiful."

"So are you."

She wanted to stay there forever; she knew it couldn't be. "We could stay a thousand years," she said, watching his face, the happiness there and then the sadness, his gray eyes clouding over. "No one would ever find us."

"We'd be pretty old."

THen we'd be pretty old, we could grow old together, you and I, away from it all. She allowed him to embrace her, kissing her, and swallowing her up, the dream falling away, like water trickling through her fingers.

And she woke up, lying in a bed, harsh hospital lights on her, and a tube in her nose. She was stiff, cold, awkward. The linens were scratchy and they'd placed her in a gown. She had an IV in her arm, which she ignored, turning and struggling, her strength returning. An alarm beeped, like the ringing in her ears from after hte attack, and someone yelled that the Princess was awake. I have a name, she thought, her feet hitting the cold title floor. She whipped off the oxygen tubing around her ears and nose, fighting at the IV line connected to a stand next to her.

A door burst open, her mother rushing in-- still in her deep plum evening gown-- with a doctor and a nurse and Barristan. "Your Highness!" Barristan exclaimed. "Please, the doctor did not want you moving."

"Daenerys, darling, please listen to them," her mother called, grabbing for her hand. "You need to rest, you've been hurt! Oh gods, please just stay put for once in your life, stop trying to run away!"

No!

"Jon!" she exclaimed, pushing at them. "I need to see him! Is he dead?"

Barristan shook his head and Rhaella pushed her towards the bed in the brief moment she paused, focusing on the old guard. "No, he's in surgery, please, do not worry about..."

"I have to worry about him!" She knocked away a nurse who was moving for her IV, after the doctor said something about a sedative. "Don't you drug me! I am Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, Princess of the Seven Kingdoms, and I am the Dragon's Daughter and you will not stop me from seeing him!" All the strength inside of her raged, fire flaring from her eyes and heaving in her chest. She did not care. "He is my Jon, he took a knife for me, and I will not be pushed aside like a simpering little girl!"

They didn't even tell her what had happened ot her; she guessed from the bandages wrapped around her middle, the ache there, that hte knife had swiped her, but not enough to do significant damage, as she could walk and talk. They all stared at her, stunned, but she didn't care, pushing Barristan aside and struggling towards the door.

Rhaella drew her shoulders back, voice cold. "Get her a chair, at least a robe, she will not be stopped." She smirked. "I know my daughter."

"But Your Highness," a doctor began, but silenced upon the glare Rhaella shot him. He nodded meekly and hurried out.

She collapsed into a wheelchair, head in her hands, and allowed htem to wrap her in a red robe that had bene in her hotel room last she remembered. Time meant nothing to her; it could be days later, or hours, and she grabbed at Missandei-- her best friend of course had managed to get in-- when they went down the hall, seeing her urnning towards them from an open set of elevator doors.

Missandei cried, grabbing for her. "Oh gods Dany! I was so scared! You're alright?"

"Jon was stabbed," she said hollowly.

Understanding, Missandei pushed away a nurse and took the chair, pushing her where they led, into an elevator, up a few flors, and down some hallways. They pushed her into a room, dark, only lights from the operating suite it flanked, and she realized it was where the doctors and nurses scrubbed up before surgery. She forced herself to her feet, grabbing the edge of hte window, staring at the activity going on in front of her.

Doctors and nurses flurried about the prone body on the table, bloodied materials tossed on the floor around their feet and tray tables at their elbows. There were flashes of metallic objects as they worked, and monitors seemed to be hanging and standing everywhere, she couldn't focus on one or the other. Some had lines going across them, numbers blinking and flashing. Others magnified the activity going on on the table, all red and confusing.

There was something pulsing in the doctor's palm and she realized in shock it was his heart. They were fixing his heart, stitching it together.

But that's my job.

That's my heart too.

"Is he going to be okay?" she croaked.

Someone said that he'd been stabbed seven times, one straight to the heart, and the doctors were doing all they could. Her mother lightly touched her elbow, whispering. "He did his job Dany. I know you were close darling, but he did his job. He protected you."

No we weren't just close. It seemed Barristan had realized that, even if her mother hadn't yet. They would soon, because she wasn't going to stop. She whispered, shaking her head. "He saved me, Mother. he didn't protect me, he saved me." He saved me in all the ways you can be saved. So many, many ways.

"We need to get you back to your bed," Barristan murmured.

She shook her head. "No, no I am staying here. I'm not leaving and when he's ou tof surgery, yo uwill bring me to his bedside."

"Dany," Rhaealla began.

She whirled on her mother, shouting. "No! No Mother, I love him, don't you get it? He's not just my bodyguard, he is the love of my life and he's lying there on a table, bleeding for me!" Her shoulders shook, the wails taking over her, and she released everything she'd been holding in, unable to take it, and fell into the chair, no longer able to speak, because she missed him and she hurt everywhere.

It was out, the secret was out.

Months and years of hiding, gone now, and she didn't care.

Time passed; she knew htey drugged her and she drifted away into a dreamless state, and came in and out, noticing that Rhaegar was there and then her mother, and she caught snippets of them saying Viserys had gone catatonic and was being taken back immediately to Summerhall for treatment. She thought she heard Rhaegar say something about "if he pulls through we need to move him" and her mother saying that "it wasn't time for that."

She wanted to be out somewhere, in a club dancing, partying, and she wondered where Drogo wa shaving one of his latest raves and bashes. It would be fun, she thought, tasting the alcohol on her tongue, her nose burning from smoke. She came to again and this time there was no one in the room except Barristan, who ordinarily was her mother's guard, and for some reason was here with her.

"Barristan," she mumbled, blinking; her eyelids felt like there were weights on the lashes.

Barristan smiled and touched her hand, whispering. "Princess."

Understanding, she tried to sit up, panicked. "Jon, is Jon..."

"He's out of surgery. Come Princess. Before your brother finds out." Barristan helped her from bed, into a wheelchair, and bundled again. He took her from her room, in a fancy private suite, and said something to the other Kingsguard, so many of them flitting about, in their black suits with white shields on the lapels.

In another wing, in a smaller room, with a window looking from the hall into it, he pushed her towards a bed, where Jon was lying, his chest marred with bandages and tubing, arms locked down from wires and monitors. There was a tube for oxygen around his nose, but no ventilator, and monitors beeping erratically around him. Barristan leaned down, whispering. "His heart rate has been...worrying. It keeps dropping. They needed to shock him twice."

Tears did not fall now. She pushed herself forward, towards the bed, her limbs clumsy. He was so still. He was sleeping, but it was scary, because his skin was ashy and his cheeks gaunt-- had he always been so thin? She traced his collarbone, where a few lines went into his skin, and along his pulse. It thrummed under her touch. There were dark bruises under his eyes and his dark curls were lank, pushed under his head and out of hte way. She noted that his muscles were hidden under bandages, but he was strong, in so many ways, and he would recover.

He had to.

She touched his hand, sliding hers into it, and held tight. It was limp against her. "Jon please," she whispered, squeezing. She leaned in, lips against his ear, begging. "Please I need you. I love you. Come back to me."

Careful of everything, she crawled onto the bed next to him, her head beside his on the pillow, and she ignored Barristan trying to say that maynbe it wasn't good for her to be there, they should get her back to her room. No, I'm not leaving. She kissed the corner of his mouth, sighing. "Jon, come back to me, I love you, you can't leave me. You're mine."

A monitor beeped. She darted her eyes towards her, the heartrate increasing, and then steadying. She knew it would. He could hear her; he was in that clearing somewhere, waiting for her, and she closed her eyes, to fall asleep and go visit him there.

"Da....da..."

The raspy sound kept her from falling into that world, her eyes springing open. "Jon?" she breathed, looking down at his face.

His eyelids fluttered, cracked lips trembling. "Da...ny."

"Jon, oh gods Jon," she cried, kissing him, holding his face in her hands. "It's me, I'm here."

His eyes opened, giving her a glimpse of the cool gray, and his lips pulled back, barely. "Da-ny," he slurred. "Love..."

"I love you, I know, don't talk. Don't talk, I'm here."

They would deal with the repercussions later, the fallout from the attack, from everyone knowing. Of course they knew now, because she thought she saw Arthur in the hallway which meant Rhaegar was nearby, and when her brother the King discovered that his sister the Princess, was in love with her bodyguard, it would have to end. It would be too difficult to maintain impartiality, it would look wrong, and it could never happen. He could not be her match, because she was the Princess of hte Seven Kingdoms and he was just Jon.

She didn't care right now.

It would fall out the way it would fall out. They could deal with it then.

Right now, he was alive and in her arms, and that was how it should be.

#jonerys #jonerys au #my fics #my moodboards #jonerys fanfic #whoops don’t know where this 3600 word drabble came from #but enjoy it #this is angsty #read bird on a wire to fully understand

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do-you-have-a-flag · 4 years ago

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Destiel shippers come get ya’ll juice!

SO @deadwright and I were inspired by Some Tumblr Posts and the twitter Roadhouse Wedding stuff and keep writing headcanons about Thee Destiel 2021 Married Ever After S16 SPN Romantic Event Of The Season, so here’s that.

Arranged in order of marital chronology and cutting out us keysmashing too much:

oh man imagine all the burgers they get catered for the reception dean got it done himself he would’ve been so particular about the catering bridezilla cas would probably be THEE bitchiest bridezilla

it's also definitely that trope where all the other hunters ect KNOW that that many of them and the wedding party are essentially a target for trouble so everyone spends the 24 hours leading up to the vows taking out every beastie who shows up on a revenge kick out of sight because they'll be damned if they let ANYTHING stop this wedding and Dean and cas are both having their marital jitters oh god im not good enough what if something goes wrong about mundane things while monsters are getting their ass kicked outside AWWWWWWWW for sure for sure, they’re hunter royalty this wedding is a big deal like half the attendees are nursing injuries but grinning widely

they don't do the can't see eachother before the wedding thing because you KNOW dean would be fixing cas' tie last minute

dean wears a blue pocket square to match cas' tie cas wears a FLANNEL SQUARE

I’m obsessed w the idea of cas giving dean a little bit of his grace in a small bottle on a chain for him to wear or like a wing feather or some part of him god the grace in a bottle breaks me every time in fic dean probably builds cas something but every time i try to think of something specific i choke up

i was thinking like what if trading grace is as close to a romantic gesture as angels have and he's like..... technically i left some grace behind in your mark when i dragged you from the pit and dean is like ARE YOU SAYING WE'VE BEEN MARRIED THIS WHOLE TIME?

they are so sweet i’m on the verge of tears the ability to do anything by halves in their relationship was burnt out by like the second return from the dead moment they are too insane to be anything less than All In And Then Some

at one point someone was like hey cas do you want to run your vows by someone as practice? and he started reading what he'd prepared and it devolved into Biblically Grand Statements Of The Power Of Love And The Redemption Of - ect ect ect and it's because unlike the confession scene he's had TOO much preparation and overshot into uncanny angelic vibes he makes some edits because he know the expressions he gets when he reads it aren't what he intended

dean writes page after page after page of unused drafts, none of them are particularly floral

he does the cliche of ripping up his vows and improvising at the altar, something he gets mercilessly teased for because he swore he wouldn't but it classifies as a chick flick moment

THAT’S SO PEAK HIM OH MY GOD and you knoooooow you just KNOW it’s beautiful and emotional and everyone is crying

god the NOVELTY of dean being emotionally honest in front of people......im gonna faint YEA yeah... ONE TIME ONLY DEAL he thinks loudly at Sam's smug expression

anyway, at the wedding dean is the one who spends the whole ceremony with like crying cat meme eyes after the confession scene i’m pretty sure the minute the vows start cas is in the same boat USELESS HUSBANDS dean gets passed a handkerchief for his tears and immediately goes to use it on cas' face and they both laugh sob love the idea that everyone individually thought they were too tough to cry but they all broke at various stages yeah sam definitely starts to choke up just standing up there with his brother sam chokes up before the ceremony even started, like probably when he was pinning on dean’s corsage

anyway, Jack dancing with his two dads at the reception CAS’ BEST MAN / FLOWER BOY FLOWER MAN let him heelie down the aisle with the flowers LITTLE MAN GO NYOOM who makes him a little flower crown he wears with a proud lil smile? claire ofc, with those hair braiding skills? she makes it BEAUTIFUL flower crown: on nails: painted dads: MARRIED!!!!

when they say i do and kiss and everyone is cheering you can't convince me that someone doesn't let off what is either a gun or a dubiously legal firework in celebration jack pops a few lightbulbs in his uncontrollable joy

Dean and Cas can't let go of each other, it's at LEAST one point of physical contact for the rest of the reception PERIODT

CAN YOU IMAGINE THEM DANCING TO AIR SUPPLY

they definitely didn't do the wedding gifts thing but a few mysteriously show up anyway; discuss waffle iron from sam bc he remembers the becky incident meanwhile claire gets them flavoured lube because she’s an insane little mean girl she gets them a sampler package with like novelty flavours, gotta spring extra for a wedding PIE FLAVOURED LUBE

it’s gonna be the party of the century omfg you KNOW it! that dancefloor going OFF the BAR is FLOWING

dean gets dragged up onto the bar to make a speech and there's a moment at the end where he drags cas up there too and they're being playfully yelled at not to scuff it and there's hooting and catcalls as dean and cas kiss and dean gestures rudely before almost falling backwards off the bar before cas grabs him and climbing down is less romantic or dignified but he couldn't care if he wanted to

meanwhile sam and claire are outside defacing the impala with silly string and lewd graffiti and tin cans tied to the bumper for the going-away oh it is one hundo percent a just married atrocity there's enough condoms hidden in the car that they're still finding them months later

anyway wanna hear my disgustingly soppy honeymoon roadtrip concept? YOU KNOW I DO OKAY SO

you know at some point dean must have said some sad thing like for the longest time he never thought he'd live long enough to get married and the only circumstances he could imagine was hooking up drunkenly with a stranger at some vegas wedding scenario like that's the best he would ever get and he thinks it's mostly forgotten but then during their cross country honeymoon roadtrip castiel does in fact navigate them to las vegas and quietly mutters that the legal veracity of the little chapel on the city limits is dubious at best and they're already married so it couldn't do any harm and they get officiated by an elvis impersonator and a woman wearing more sequins than fabric throws cheap confetti over them

and after that they stop into every venue they can find that would be friendly to them to pretend they're eloping and at one point dean even pulls out the fbi id badges and the officiant is under the impression he's facilitating some sort of covert workplace romance

one place is a kitchy little house that's clearly just the couple who run it opening their strange home to anyone who needs it and have been since the 70s and Castiel thinks for a moment when they're asked to pin something to the collection of stuff on the walls and ceiling before pulling the receipt for the pie they'd shared earlier in a dinner out and scrawling his and dean's name on it to be added to the clutter

and at one point they stand ankle deep in a pond while some old hippie lady wraps their clasped hands together with soft fabric and chants something that dean knows isn't real magic but hey he's not going to tell her that and after the ceremony they sit on the grass and feed each other sweet bread to complete the binding or whatever and it's nice but it doesn't compare to the ranch where they both tossed their cowboy hats in the air and were given a horse to ride to their camp site

i thought about riverboat gambling for point one seconds and now i know in my bones that one of their many weddings was on a riverboat, they made the captain officiate after cornering him on deck in like five minutes, the crew sent them complimentary champagne and they threw fries at the birds following the boat while sharing it straight out of the bottle

if destiel can go canon multiple times they can get married multiple times CHANGE MY MIND THEY GET MARRIED SO MUCH the MOST married i just want them to get gay cowboy married

eventually i want them to end up at the beach bc dean has canonically never been to the coast their road trip is to get to the other coast

they send just married postcards back to sam from every stop sam stops feeling hurt he was left out of their vegas elopement wedding by the third wedding postcard he recieves sam saves them ofc bc GOD can you imagine them looking at the postcards on their 30th anniversary or s/t 🥺 showing their grandkids and recounting the story of each wedding there's a seashell taped to the last one

cas gets a terrible sunglasses tan and dean gets burnt on the tips of his ears and there's sand on sand on sand in all their clothes and at one point dean is blinking away salt water and cas is gripping his arm and saying something about the coral by them in the water and dean thinks that he likes floating beside cas a lot better than flying

dean has cas pick ice cream for them from a truck and hustles at carnival games enough to win them both big novelty foam hats and they both go back to their room and pass out immediately post shower sprawled across the bed and still smelling like sunscreen and salt water

dean tucks a little cocktail umbrella behind cas’ ear

cas spends most of the next day in dean's zepplin shirt and a pair of shorts they only picked up once they got there because neither of them thought to bring beach clothes, they sit on the balcony and dean sips his beer and idly plays with the ring on cas' finger and they play a game of what fictional monsters could they beat in a fight

cas’ true form is the size of the chrysler building he can fight king kong easy that's what he says and dean's like okay but what about mothra and castiel is like how would YOU defeat mothra and dean just goes "bugspray." GDJSGSHSGSHDSJ DEAN WOULD

in honour of misha putting his whole pussy into the role, cas wears a dress in at least one of their weddings

it's at one of those theme parks that's just historical re-enactments and people get their vows renewed there and there's costumes for the photobooth and the staff are like how long have you been married? castiel says two weeks, three days, eighteen hours, and twenty five minutes................ approximately. and the photo is cas in a classical wedding gown and dean is wearing the veil with his old timey suit and there's a moose head on the wall behind them wearing the top hat he was given and they send that print with an arrow pointing at the moose with sam written next to it

i keep thinking bitch!!!! you KNOW WHAT!! you KNOW that dean is the type a guy who's heart races every time he feels his wedding ring/is always fiddling with it in the weeks after the wedding, like an anchor to remind him they really got married this is real he would NEED that physical reminder that he can have good things

he’s never ever going to take it off, the tan line will be permanent

how funny it would be if dean gets injured on a hunt and the monster guy is about to kill him and then the lights blow out and the monsters are like what was that and dean is just like "[spits blood] that's my husband." and nek minnit cas has just ripped through them thanks to teleporting in angel style and is just like Cas: [heals dean] "you're late for movie night" Dean: "Well if you'd gotten here earlier i would have been on time." Cas: >:| [kisses him]

cas is like i didn’t burn the popcorn this time you BETTER be alive to see it

#destiel #supernatural #long post #supernatural season 16 #twitter roadhouse wedding about to pop OFF #destiel wedding #deancas

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morwensteelsheen · 4 years ago

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Do you have any advice for someone who wants to write Éowyn x Faramir fanfic in a way that remains authentic to who they are/how Tolkien envisioned them? Of all the fics I’ve read on this pairing, yours just stands out to me as being most in character, whether you’re writing them in Middle Earth or a modern!au. I agree with you about Faramir being gentle but NOT a crybaby and Éowyn not a loose cannon and actually somewhat frosty! Any advice you have would be appreciated. Cheers!

bro... 🥺❤️ that is so kind of you, thank you so much!!!! Like holy moly I am going to be riding high on that compliment all week hahaha, i’m giddy thinking about it.

i’ve been fretting about how to answer this question because i think i still struggle quite a bit with their characterisations. also i’m terrible at framing advice, so i’m going to try and answer this by giving my interpretations of certain things and how that effects how i write about them, and hopefully that will be helpful? also i’m so sorry, this is literally 6,000 words, this totally got away from me.

To start quite generally, i think it’s super helpful to realise that almost all of the characters in LOTR are devoid of any significant internal life because the book is structured as a retelling of historical events to frodo, which are later written down and then “translated” by tolkien. unless a character is explicitly telling frodo/someone else what they’re thinking, we don’t really know what’s going on in there (except éowyn and i’ll come back to this later). But the other reason we don’t really get a sense of most characters’ internal lives is because they function as, essentially, heroic/fantastical archetypes and responses to other elements of literature. People tend to shy away from this because of this weird postmodern backlash against tropes, but it’s, i feel, extremely important to remember that these characters aren’t in the books because they’re fully-fleshed out human beings, they’re there because tolkien needed characters to fulfil certain narrative roles. this is not a value judgement, but acknowledging that’s what’s going on here is helpful for us as we try to figure out what these characters would be doing when canon doesn’t explicitly tell us what they’d be doing (or what they’d be doing in an au/a rewrite/whatever).

All this to say: all of these characters are born out of a specific literary and historical context, and i think in the first instance its suuuuuuuupa helpful to go back and figure out what that context is, because it helps you to build out a character profile in your head that feels true to character even when you’re operating in the great canon unknown.

Okay so for some general thoughts on each of the kiddos:

Éowyn

I’ll start with éowyn because i think i’ve spent the most time thinking about her lately and i feel like i’m finally starting to get in her head a little better. I’m not super confident in my take yet, but it’s getting there, i feel.

éowyn’s metatextual character history is really fascinating and really important for understanding who she is. éowyn is, essentially, a direct response to the character of lady macbeth and what tolkien saw as a massive disservice to her character at the end of the play. I had a much better pull quote from tolkien talking specifically about that, but i can’t seem to find it right now so you’ll have to use this really brief overview instead — sorry! I will update this if i come across the quote again.

understanding that foundation in lady macbeth, we can start to ask certain questions about éowyn vis a vis lady macbeth. What are the things that we know — in text — make lady macbeth and éowyn similar? Quite a lot, actually. They’re both ‘fully realised’ women (and i’ll come back to this in a sec), they’re both not naive about the mechanics of power — lady macbeth is a conniver, éowyn is left in control of a whole ass kingdom while the menfolk are away etc —, they’re both hindered by their gender (this is obvious for éowyn, but i HELLA recommend reading lady macbeth’s come you spirits/unsex me here speech and thinking about the relationship between womanhood and violence, especially in light of éowyn’s experience of battlefield violence and later decision to give it up to go be a hippie in ithilien), and they both have to deal with men being frustrating. I love and will defend théoden quite explicitly, but it’s important to realise that he did, in essence, fuck éowyn over entirely and abdiate on his familial responsibilities to her, before you even get to his abdication of duty to the crown etc.

The other big — very big, i feel — similarity between éowyn and lady macbeth is that they are both tremendously emotionally distant and restrained. But éowyn, unlike lady macbeth, is capable of camouflaging her emotional distance when necessary. Here, from ROTK, is a passage of crucial important to understanding éowyn:

‘Alas! For she was pitted against a foe beyond the strength of her mind or body. And those who will take a weapon to such an enemy must be sterner than steel, if the very shock shall not destroy them. It was an evil doom that set her in his path. For she is a fair maiden, fairest lady of a house of queens. And yet I know not how I should speak of her. When I first looked on her and perceived her unhappiness, it seemed to me that I saw a white flower standing straight and proud, shapely as a lily, and yet knew that it was hard, as if wrought by elf-wrights out of steel. Or was it, maybe, a frost that had turned its sap to ice, and so it stood, bitter-sweet, still fair to see, but stricken, soon to fall and die? Her malady begins far back before this day, does it not, Éomer?’

‘I marvel that you should ask me, lord,’ he answered. ‘For I hold you blameless in this matter, as in all else; yet I knew not that Éowyn, my sister, was touched by any frost, until she first looked on you. Care and dread she had, and shared with me, in the days of Wormtongue and the king’s bewitchment; and she tended the king in growing fear. But that did not bring her to this pass!’

‘My friend,’ said Gandalf, ‘you had horses, and deeds of arms, and the free fields; but she, born in the body of a maid, had a spirit and courage at least the match of yours. Yet she was doomed to wait upon an old man, whom she loved as a father, and watch him falling into a mean dishonoured dotage; and her part seemed to her more ignoble than that of the staff he leaned on.

‘Think you that Wormtongue had poison only for Théoden’s ears? Dotard! What is the house of Eorl but a thatched barn where brigands drink in the reek, and their brats roll on the floor among their dogs? Have you not heard those words before? Saruman spoke them, the teacher of Wormtongue. Though I do not doubt that Wormtongue at home wrapped their meaning in terms more cunning. My lord, if your sister’s love for you, and her will still bent to her duty, had not restrained her lips; you might have heard even such things as these escape them. But who knows what she spoke to the darkness, alone, in the bitter watches of the night, when all her life seemed shrinking, and the walls of her bower closing in about her, a hutch to trammel some wild thing in?’

Emphasis my own.

there’s a whole hell of a lot going on here, but i’m going to try and boil it down to a couple main things:

1. gandalf and aragorn immediately see misery in éowyn, but they are both very good at reading people. faramir (later, in the steward and the king) also senses the misery, but he is explicitly talented at reading people, and even he takes a while to fully understand what’s going on in her head

2. Éomer, who éowyn feels obligation and duty to (both as her brother, but also her superior in rank) has no idea that éowyn is suicidal. he knows she’s not happy, but he thinks it’s not until aragorn shows up that she finally becomes despondent and is amazed to hear that that’s not the case, to which gandalf responds, essentially: you weren’t meant to know, she was working with a will of steel to hide her emotions from you because she wanted to protect you from it. So éowyn is well versed at controlling her emotions when she needs to, and is not prone to showing them where she doesn’t want to.

3. Gandalf describes éowyn first as wrought from steel (which, short of an incredibly hot fire, is not easy to break), and then amends it to say that she is made of ice. Ice, compared to steel, is far easier to melt. Maybe inadvertently on tolkien’s behalf, i think this speaks to the nature of éowyn and faramir’s relationship — first she is melted by fire (battle, the witch-king, etc) and the she is warmed by the sun (faramir! Minas anor! The winter has passed, etc).

4. Earlier i said the characters in lotr don’t really have a huge internal life, except for éowyn. This is where that comes in: éowyn, we are supposed to understand, has a really intense internal life, because her mind is really all she has. We are meant to understand that she’s got a lot going on internally, but there is a very specific reason we’re not privy to it. That’s important to think about.

what this does is widen the gulf between what éowyn’s thinking and feeling, and what she’s actually saying and doing. If you’re writing (as i tend to prefer) in a way that deals with her inner life quite intensely, building that gap up is much easier to do. She’s going to have a lot of thoughts, and almost all of them are going to be hindered by either other people’s expectations of her, or her own expectations of herself. And that’s going to cause problems for her — maybe not always throwing-herself-at-death level problems, but certainly problems.

so there’s that. Then i think there’s a lot to be said for widening the net on éowyn inspirations. I’ve looked to joan of arc (which i kind of hinted at here) quite a bit. I feel like the joan of arc comparison is easy to understand so i wont waste too much time on it, though i will say i’d actually recommend reading catholic interpretations of joan of arc, not later protestant Girlboss interpretations because i think those miss the point of joan of arc entirely.

I was going to try to comment more on the gender element but i feel like i’m not on great footing with that yet so i will leave that to the side for now.

Faramir

tbh i was kind of dreading getting to this because i still find it exceptionally hard to get into his head, so wish me luck lol

I’m going to be a total bore and recommend you check out this article. Bear in mind that that was written by a dude at the citadel so it’s going to stray into the realm of Military Brain at points, but i think it’s a worthwhile read anyways.

ah christ, faramir. okay. cowabunga.

faramir, more so than aragorn, is the platonic ideal of a romantic hero. Both in the genre sense (as in, romance novels) and in the sense of the artistic movement of romanticism, i know i’ve said exactly this before but it’s worth reiterating. I’ll start with the romantic influence and then go onto the romance.

So the romantic movement is a really important intellectual, cultural and political movement, and you will have to forgive me because i am only loosely a modernist and more a contemporary historian, and not at all an expert in literature or art history, so this is going to be, like, a 101 level understanding of what was going on.

The romantic movement is kicked off as a reaction to both the emphasis on rationality and quantifiability promoted during the enlightenment, and the bourgeois economic revolutions (this is the french revolution, mostly, but the later revolutions across the european continent in 1848 and the kickstarting of the industrial revolution in england). Romanticism was, essentially, a return to intense emotionality, reverence for nature, and appreciation of that which is, ultimately indefinable. Not necessary for writing a fanfic, but reading about the idea of the sublime is kind of a fun rabbit hole to go down if you’ve got time to spare.

A lot of present day writers will talk about the romantic movement as a break with the past, which is, i guess, kind of true, but is also not really true. The romantic movement — as much as the enlightenment — took its inspiration and logical from classic art and thought. But it interpreted the classics differently to the enlightenment. Whereas the enlightenment era thinkers were fascinated by the rationality and mathematical precision of the greeks and romans, the romantics were more interested in their emotional liberty, and the epic (in the truest sense of the word) shows of emotion and experiences of human life.

but what does this mean for faramir? A lot!

The first time we’re introduced to faramir (if not in name) is in fotr, when boromir talks about the destruction of the bridge at osgiliath, when he describes an epic story of war and heroism, wherein only four total people survive swimming from the bridge: two unnamed others, boromir, and faramir. right from the off we know that, if nothing else, he’s not a limp-wristed little lordling, he has the fortitude to survive what few others can.

Then, barely half a breath later, we get a description of faramir’s premonition, the fact that it came to him repeatedly, and that he immediately volunteered to go blues clues his way through it. We get the sense that he’s a guy who doesn’t back down from a challenge. And then faramir goes away for a while, until two towers, when we meet him again in the brilliance that is ithilien. And here i’m going to go back to our friend from the citadel for some interesting character insight:

the rangers under the command of Faramir are armed with long bows, giving them the capability to wage war over distances greater than most of their foes. This is the same type of warfare deemed cowardly and dishonorable by the chivalric knights, but is far more effective and less perilous than the face-to-face [...] This tactic also reveals Faramir to be a conscientious leader, minimizing the risk to his subordinates while maximizing their effectiveness in battle. Faramir was considerate of the risk he put his men to and sacrificed the idea of glorious face-to-face combat in favor of a weapon system that would be less desirable in the eyes of men such as Boromir, but also much more efficient. [...] Using camouflage and stealth, the warriors un d er Faramir's command set themselves apart from all other military units besides the elves in The Lord of the Rings and ultimately align themselves more closely with the soldiers of modern warfare than with the ancient heroes prevalent in the work of Tolkien.

Okay enough of the military history because it’s soul-crushingly boring, but the gist is that faramir is, (whatever else he is) a very unique figure. Taking this as a value neutral statement, we get the sense, before we even hear him own to it himself, that he’s a man apart from the rest. I think it’s important also to think about the extent to which he is situated as a part of nature when we first meet him, even if we later know that he is from this big, awful stone city, we are meant to immediately associate him with nature. And not nature in a primitive sense, i’d argue, but nature in the romantic sense, where it speaks to the beauty of creation etc etc etc

Then there’s the bright sword speech, which im not going to say anything on because cleverer people than me have dealt with it much more efficiently, but i would say that the takeaway from that, besides that he loves peace yada yada yada, is that he likes talking about peace. He has opinions on the war, perhaps even a controversial opinion, and by god, he wants people to know it. So thinking about what that level of immediate and almost impolitic honesty says about him is worth thinking about as you try to write him.

Later, we get to see faramir in the white city, and what we see is that he’s kind of a drama queen! I say this lovingly, but it does correspond to him going off on one immediately about how the war sucks ass and how he’s above it and how all the other people of middle earth are shit, including his own, and how much better life was In Númenor (which is, essentially, the crux of a lot of romantic poetry. And my headcanon of faramir’s connection to romantic poetry is here).

The other thing we learn in the white city is that faramir is very aware of himself as a person, and is actively altering whatever his base inclinations are to fit his desired personality. Here’s what i said in a comment on swaddledog’s excellent hearts and minds:

When Denethor hits him with the "ever your desire is to appear lordly and generous as a king of old, gracious, gentle," he's not saying it because he thinks that sort of behaviour comes naturally to Faramir but because he knows he has to work really, really hard at it. I think inherent in that desire is also the failure — he tries, but sometimes he comes up short (often, even — that kiss on the wall wasn't exactly gracious and gentle!), and it's because he sometimes comes up short that Denethor knows it doesn't come naturally to him. And you get that perfectly, just so, so perfectly.

That gap between what faramir thinks he is and whats to be versus what he actually is is very important for understanding him. Though, as i say, i really struggle with writing faramir, so it’s definitely not an easy thing to work into a fanfic.

I realise i’m probably not articulating this as well as i should, but that’s because dealing with faramir is a tremendous arseache for me, lol. I think basically my advice here is to familiarise yourself with a lot of these romantic figures and try to bear them in mind as you write. pierre bezukhov from war & peace actually fits quite closely to what i imagine young (as in, pre-ring war) faramir is like, with some necessary alterations for canon, and the fact that faramir seems like he’d be slightly more responsible than pierre. And certainly far, far, FAR more confident.

So that’s the romantic, and then there’s the romance. I saw a post a few months ago that identified faramir as, essentially, a love letter to women. And he totally is: he’s this fucking baller guerrilla warrior who quotes poetry and reads widely and falls in love deeply and sweeps a woman off her feet because he finds her beautiful and incredible and worthwhile even when she’s at her absolute worst. emotional intimacy is real, hallelujah! And so i think any time you’re writing faramir you’re going to have to keep that in mind, because he is this sort of breathless romantic. He’s a character that exists (inadvertently because tolkien couldn’t predict the future) to act, outwardly, as an antidote to the All Men Are Shit mindset. How much you actually keep him on that pedestal is up to you. I like to nuance his character with a bit more chaos, let him be a bit of a shameless flirt in his younger years, let him be so high and mighty in his romantic behaviour that he doesn’t realise that sometime éowyn just wants to fucking chill, that sort of thing.

There are lots of other character moments that stick out to me that i dont want to say a huge amount about, but will instead link to this incredible meta about faramir’s númenóreaness, with the disclaimer that dealing with that sort of capability in any serious way scares the shit out of me, so i have mostly just Pretended I Can’t Read every time i think about it, except for a super brief reference at the end of this fic.

Okay onto the meat of this (oh my god, i’m so sorry for how long this is)

Faramir + Éowyn = true love

Before i start, i just want to point out that in terms of seeing their relationship, we only really get it in the steward and the king, which is significant for a lot of reasons. For one because tolkien got a huge amount of shit for how quickly they fell in love (people accused it of being war-bride stuff, which typically was not a great arrangement for those involved) — tolkien himself said ‘shut the fuck up dude’ to that, and this is probably because tolkien married his wife, edith, right before he went off to war. I’ll come back to that in a sec because it’s important.

The other reason it’s important is because the steward and the king features some of the most consistent lofty and high-fantasy prose of the entire series. Tolkien does this magical thing where he weaves high brow purple prose in with deeply casual, familiar (for the early 20th century) vernacular, and to great effect. And he does this for a reason, he wants to create the sense of this deeply developed, fantastical world that extends well outside the bounds of what we are allowed to see in text while also allowing us the rhetorical space to relate to the characters we see. It is, then, significant that there is almost none of the “low-brow” vernacular speech in the steward and the king. It means tolkien’s got all thrusters on full, so to speak, in terms of the romance. He wants to evoke arthurian romances, courtly/chivalric love, the sort of fated-by-the-stars love that nobody would think to deny because of the time constraints because it seems so abundantly obvious that this love is Meant To Be.

But that’s just what he’s doing tonally. In terms of content, he’s weaving a more complex picture.

We’ll start with the obvious. Emotionally, both éowyn and faramir are at their worst. Sort of. éowyn’s worst might have been when she did her suicide run on the pelennor in terms of self-destructiveness, but i think her real low point is actually when she wakes up in the HoH, basically immobilized, prevented from dying, and now aware she’s going to have to do the One Thing she refused to do, which is watch everybody she loves go off to die, and then sit about and wait for her own death. faramir, meanwhile, went off to a hopeless battle (expecting to die) after mouthing off at his father, then wakes up to find out he’s not only alive, but the only surviving member of his family (for some reason! because don’t forget gandalf is very clear that he shouldn’t find out about denethor’s death until Later), is now the fucking steward of gondor, and also this mythical king is Back. also he too has to sit around and wait for death. So emotionally neither of them are doing too great.

Their first impressions of one another are very important.

faramir, of éowyn: “and he turned and saw the Lady Éowyn of Rohan; and he was moved with pity, for he saw that she was hurt, and his clear sight perceived her sorrow and unrest.”; “He looked at her, and being a man whom pity deeply stirred, it seemed to him that her loveliness amid her grief would pierce his heart.”

So he knows who she is, and he can see that she’s physically hurt, but also can see she’s feeling all kinds of fucked up. And the first emotion he feels is pity. He’s assessing her in terms of pain and sorrow, and all of these sorts of emotions éowyn seems desperate to divorce herself from. And he offers her pity. That’s significant.

éowyn, of faramir: “she looked at him and saw the grave tenderness in his eyes, and yet knew, for she was bred among men of war, that here was one whom no Rider of the Mark would outmatch in battle.”

She doesn’t know who he is, not really, but she does immediately think he could kick ass. And that’s her first and only real assessment of him. That’s also significant.

And éowyn is miserable, and she’s so miserable she’s actually willing to openly talk about if (if only to a limited extent) and faramir does what is, I think, one of the most incredible things in the entire book. He functionally disarms her, lets her down gently, and places them on equal footing with a single joke:

‘What would you have me do, lady?’ said Faramir. ‘I also am a prisoner of the healers.’

There’s merit in interpreting this straight, but I actually think it's quite funny to relate the safety and security of a hospital in wartime to a prison, to a cage. And I think tolkien’s aware of this, and not really intending us to read it straight. What this does is soften éowyn up enough that she asks for what she wants, but also seems to make her more interested in dealing with him, even if she reacts badly to his compliment of her.

And then they fall in love, and whatever. The chapter’s there, there’s a million fanfics out there about it, whatever.

But faramir’s proposal is Big, and deserves thought for what it says about their relationship. People like to bitch about it because they take it to mean that éowyn has had to change all this stuff about herself, give up her desire to be a firebrand or whatever to go off and be a lovely prince’s wife in this noble hippie commune over those hills yonder. I think that’s totally wrong.

I think what’s going on in faramir’s proposal and éowyn’s response is a really fascinating illumination of the accord they’ve reached with one another through their (admittedly brief) courtship. Here’s why:

First, faramir tries to approach the conversation with a bit of subterfuge. Not in the weird negative way, just in that he’s not hitting it head on at the start. He obviously still doesn’t understand what’s going on inside her head fully, so tries to ask around the question (‘why aren’t you at the cormallen?’) instead of asking the question he’s obviously interested in. éowyn has no time for this, and tells him to nut up or shut up. And he does!

But then there’s this line:

But I do not offer you my pity. For you are a lady high and valiant and have yourself won renown that shall not be forgotten.

Two things going on here: one, faramir’s rescinding his initial emotional reaction. He felt pity for her, but has now come to know her well enough that he realises she doesn’t need pity, and isn’t dumb enough to try and force it on her. But the second thing, almost more important, is that he assesses her in the terms that she prefers, which is that she has won herself renown and has shown her valour. These are not the things Faramir values, we know this, that’s the whole point of the bright sword speech. But they are the things éowyn values, and he loves her, and is willing to acknowledge what her desired self image is. That’s a huge concession she’s won off him, that’s big.

And then éowyn responds:

I will be a shieldmaiden no longer, nor vie with the great Riders, nor take joy only in the songs of slaying. I will be a healer, and love all things that grow and are not barren.

here’s my potentially controversial take. I don’t think she’s giving up on her desire to be a fighter of some sort, but she’s giving up on some specific traditions, which is that of the mythical (but, let’s be clear, functionally nonexistent, save for éowyn) shieldmaidens, and of the riders of the Mark, who, as we have been told throughout the books, are given to valorising warfare and martial acts above all. This is supported by her saying “nor take joy only in the songs of slaying.” she’s not saying she won't take any joy in it, or that she won’t still praise it when it earns her admiration, but that’s not going to be her only raison d’etre anymore. Her life is going to move beyond the realm of death and killing and battlefield survival to growth and life and the future. That’s also a concession on her behalf.

And then there’s this hella romantic kiss on the walls, which is fucking brazen behaviour, but is also i think representative more of the unique situation than setting a trend for them. It is, i think, the positive equivalent of éowyn’s slaying of the witch king in terms of its uniqueness. In the same way that she’s not going to keep going around throwing herself headlong into fights she’s not meant to win, she’s also not going to be publicly playing tonsil hockey. This is the big moment, and then it’s back to the reserve from there.

Really, their entire relationship is, to me, about a series of negotiations. One culture and another, wives and husbands, old and new, war and peace, life and death, etc. they are similar in a lot of ways — both are intensely headstrong — but they’re similar primarily in character, not necessarily in belief, and so much of what they’re going to have to do as a pair is work to find their harmonious accord, if that makes sense. Sometimes they’ll do it peaceably, sometimes they’ll have blow up fights, but their entire relationship is going to be predicated on negotiating the space between, if that makes sense?

Okay i said i’d say some stuff on the relationship of tolkien and his wife edith to faramir and éowyn. Tolkien was adamant that they were beren and lúthien (that’s on their tombstones), and i’m full willing to grant him that. But i think it’s complicated by the fact that faramir is, in some senses, tolkien’s self-insert. Obviously authors can have stand-ins for their opinions without the character having to be them exactly (and i think there’s more merit certainly to saying that tolkien’s 100% self-insert is tom bombadil) but i think there’s something worth exploring to the connections between beren and lúthien and faramir and éowyn. I know the morality issue makes B+L more closely comparable to arwen and aragorn, but, as I argue for here, the mortality issue (or lifespan issue) isn’t totally alien to faramir and éowyn.

As i write them, there are some core themes i’m pretty consistently thinking about, so i’ll just list em here in case that’s any help to you.

Family

This would be: life after orphanhood, life as the last of a family, what your obligation to your family is, how you go on and have your own family after having had a less than ideal childhood, etc.

Duty

Here’s what I said about their differing approaches to duty in a now-abandoned draft chapter from willow cabin:

Faramir has said, not in as many words, that she should not begrudge him for following orders. This, she knows, is a crucial difference between them. They each hold duty above all other charges, but their interpretation of what exactly that means is different. It comes from the differences in power they wield: he has ever been empowered to change the course of decisions before they are made, while she is forced to react to them after. To him, then, it would be unreasonable to disobey direct orders, given that a failure to change them in advance is a reflection upon his skills, not the legitimacy of the command. She, however, has rarely had control over how and when orders are given, and so sees no inherent legitimacy to them, and thus no reason not to disobey orders that are unjustly given.

Time

As I alluded to above, éowyn is going to live a significantly shorter life than Faramir, and she is no doubt very aware of this. But this also means that they’re going to experience time differently, and that will have an impact on their behaviour. What might seem like foot-dragging to éowyn seems like impatience to faramir, etc

Healing

We never actually see faramir’s reaction to finding out denethor tried to burn him alive. That’s a lot. We have no idea if he knows when he proposes to éowyn. When does he find out? What does that do to his mood? Etc. but also, éowyn says she’ll become a healer — what does that really mean? Is she going to be nurse/doctor éowyn from now on? Will she broaden the definition of healing (for my part, i say yes, which is what i’ve been trying to do in willow cabin, though a little less successfully than i’d hoped)

Gender

This is a slightly less popular theme in the bookverse fics, but i think as part of éowyn and faramir’s relationship of negotiation, they’re going to have to deal with éowyn not feeling one hundo thrilled about being a woman. And i think that raises some interesting questions about what faramir’s response to that will be. men/manhood is often treated as the historical default — so what happens when someone like, say, éowyn, starts challenging the notion of gender and gender roles around faramir? How does he react? What does that do to his own self-image? Etc.

Okay. yes. That’s all i can think of right now. I am so, so sorry this is so long, i just totally brain dumped there. If you have any questions at all though please please do hit me up and i’m super happy to read whatever you’re writing (literally gagging for farawyn content rn lmao), if you’re comfortable sharing etc.

#oh my god this is ridiculously long i am SO sorry #asks #faramir #Éowyn

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princeasimdiya12 · 4 years ago

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So thanks to @tornrose24, I decided to come up with more expulsion themed ideas for the Captain Underpants Dangan Ronpa AU. You can check out the first batch here if you’re interested in reading them. And just as a reminder, none of the characters involved in these expulsions are killed or seriously harmed like in the video game series. Each kid is still alive and is kicked out of the school.

So these are the ideas in mind for the other kids.

Reap What You Sow: The expulsion begins with Stanley who’s tied to a metal pole with a spinning top underneath his feet. The lights turn on revealing to be a barren wasteland. The boy begins to sweat intensely when MonoKrupp shows up and spins the top under him. The top begins to spin the boy around while spreading his sweat on the ground below him. The top begins to move all around the wasteland like a mobile sprinkler which causes the ground to sprout little by little. Eventually the top gives out and Stanley is freed from his restraints but is severely dizzy. When he starts to focus his vision, he finds that his sweat grew carnivorous plants that completely entangle the boy in their tentacle vines. But before the plants eat him, MonoKrupp charges in with a weed eater and destroys the plants. And he picks up the boy now wrapped heavily in vines and bats him out of the field, like a baseball, and into the outside world.

La Fille De Fleurs: Dressy is shown seated criss cross on the floor and is as calm as can be. Suddenly, hippies of all kinds begin to encircle her while holding different types of flowers. MonoKrupp is there, dressed as a hippie, and taps onto his bongos instructing the hippies to begin. As they sing and dance to a melodic beat, they toss the flowers they were carrying onto Dressy. Soon more dancers join the circle and toss their flowers her way. As they do, Dressy finds herself being lifted higher and higher as the flowers continue to be tossed her direction creating a mountain of petals and colors. This continues on until they reach more than 20 stories high and the hippies immediately stop. Then MonoKrupp pounds heavily onto his bongos and the flowers immediately drop. To Dressy’s surprise, the flowers reveal a cannon underneath with her inside of it. She’s quickly given a helmet before the robotic bear presses a secret button that blasts Dressy out of the school.

The Pink Piper of Hamelin: The scene opens in a medieval village with Gooch in a pink, fairy tale themed costume. But out in the distance, where the castle gates reside, MonoKrupp opens the gates unleashing a swarm of rats who ravage through everything they come across. Panicked by his impending doom, Gooch takes out his trusted pipes and begins to play. But he notices that the rats aren’t slowing down so he plays harder, even getting some notes wrong. And just when they’re about to reach the piper, the rats immediately stop and swarm to different directions. Gooch thinks that he did it. Until he turns out and finds a group of ferocious beasts behind him and ready to attack. Gooch screams in panic and barges through the academy walls as the large animals chase after him.

Final Curtain: Billy finds himself in the middle of a stage with a crowd watching over him. Suddenly, the curtains open up and the floor and stage begin to transform into an elaborate obstacle course. Billy’s platform ends up in the highest level and below him lie a variety of platforms with traps and puppet like monsters based on classical theater plays. Without thinking, the boy traverses the complex obstacle course while evading Greek marionettes with swords, fire breathing dragon heads moved by strings, and hip hop historical figures. He notices that the safest platform is the one closest to the stage. But when he jumps on it, the entire scene collapses behind him and cause the final platform to act like a springboard which catapults him through the roof itself. The audience can be heard clapping wildly until the debris from the crashed roof falls down on him. The house has been brought down.

Battle of the Bands: The room is dark as two spotlights shine down on two individuals. The first MonoKrupp dressed as a musical conductor. The second is Lisa, wearing an elegant dress and carrying her violin. The lights turn on all around them revealing musicians wearing MonoKrupp helmets and armed with their own instruments. MonoKrupp waves his paw in the air and points directly at Lisa. The first group featuring violinists fire their bows at the girl as she barely moves out of the way. When she tries to run to a different part of the room, the bear instructs the next section to fire their instruments at her. Not wanting to lose so easily, Lisa has no choice but to use her own violin as a shield against the instruments her enemies throw at her. This continues on with each section attacking the girl as she dodges for her life while her beloved instrument becomes whittled from the ongoing attacks. At last, each section has been exhausted but Lisa’s violin is nothing more then a chunk of battered wood. MonoKrupp appears defeated, until he pulls out an electric guitar and unleashes a powerful sound wave directly at Lisa that flings her out of the walls and into the outside.

And those are my ideas for the kids. Feel free to tell me what you think of these okay?

#captain underpants #the epic tales of captain underpants #cu dr au #stanley peet #dressy killman #gooch #steve gooch yamaguchi #lisa beard #lisa bobeesa #billy hutchins #billy doanbee ahiro

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melon-wing · 5 years ago

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Full Moon

This Story was inspired by @gridoc ‘s fanart found here

Grian laid on the soft grass, looking up at the blue sky. The smell of flowers was all around him and he could hear birds tweeting. He loved this part of being a Hippie. He seriously should have tried something like this way sooner. It was so relaxing after a stressful day of working. And the plus side was, he could always be close to his boyfriend. His eyes landed on Ren sitting on top of his RV, playing a few notes on his guitar and humming no song in particular to himself. This was perfect. Or as Impulse had said, the ‘Disgustingly sweet life of a freshly married couple’. And while they weren’t really married or anything like that, the living together thing, albeit temporary, was something new, that both of them enjoyed a lot.

Grian stretched and stood up as the sun started to get closer to the horizon, walking over to Ren, who stopped playing the instant he noticed him and jumped down from his RV.

“Hey, beautiful!”

Grian smiled, stepped up to his boyfriend and gave him a chaste kiss. “Hello there, Handsome.” He distantly heard a gagging sound from the direction of Impulse’s RV, but chose to ignore it. “So what do you say to a nice dinner? Stress taught me a really nice recipe and I thought I could try it tonight. We could even bust out some candles and make it really romantic.”

Ren’s smile faltered and he shook his head. “Sorry not today. It’s… not good. I need to be alone, you know. There’s a full moon tonight.”

Grian sighed and stepped back, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He hated it when Ren disappeared once a month during the full moon without telling him anything at all. He had tried asking so often now but never gotten a satisfying answer. Depending on Ren’s mood he either got no answer at all, or was distracted with kisses. Only one time he had told Grian that it was dangerous during the full moon, but refused to give any further explanation.

Ren noticed his foul mood – he always did – and soon soft lips covered his. He opened his mouth begrudgingly at first, but soon got to enjoy his apology make out session. When they separated, both a little out of breath his mood had indeed gotten a little better.

“I’ll make it up to you. Let’s take tomorrow off. No building, no digging. We’ll lock the RV and rock the wheels.” Grian grinned at the idea.

There was another annoyed groan coming from Impulse’s RV. “Oh dear god. I’ll take tomorrow off then. Have fun guys! Don’t break the RV.”

They looked at Impulse and then at each other and laughed, everything else forgotten.

Everything was just perfect.

~*~

Grian loved their new world. He really did. But part of him missed the old place. Getting around had been so easy there. He had been able to see Ren every day and they had spend a lot of nights together. Now it took hours upon hours of rowing for one of them. It was their own fault that they had settled so far apart, but there was nothing you could do about that. They were both builders and once a builder fell in love with a spot, nothing could change that.

Grian swore to try and get an Elytra as soon as he was able to. Maybe he could ask his neighbour Scar for some help. But that had to wait for another day. At the moment Grian was busy collecting sand for his little Hobbit Hole. He really couldn’t carry a lot unfortunately and he hated it. He had to take so many trips to gather all the materials.

As he rowed back, the sun was already setting. He didn’t really fear the night, as long as there were no phantoms flying around. Wait… When was the last time he had slept in a bed? Damn, now that he thought about it, there was a high chance of phantoms spawning around him. Maybe it would be better to spend the night somewhere else. Or to find someone with a bed.

Grian took his communicator out and looked at the coordinates, a smile forming on his face. He was really close to Ren’s little island. Maybe he could go there and crash for the night.

<Grian> Hey Ren. I’m out on the ocean. High chance of phantoms. Can I crash at your place?

Grian waited for a few minutes, watching the setting sun and it’s reflection on the water. There was no answer. Their chat wasn’t really busy today at all. Most of them were working hard and not looking at their communicators.

<Grian> I’ll just come by. If you are not there, I’ll just use your bed. Feel free to join me ;)

Grian put his communicator away and got back to rowing. When he reached ‘Loser Island’ the sun’s last rays were already fading over the water. He had made it just in time. He tied his boat to the dock and went over to Pamela, petting the cow on its head and handing her a piece of wheat before continuing on to the hut.

“Ren?!”, he called out as he opened the door.

There was nobody inside.

“Ren you there?”, he called again. He heard a noise from down below were he knew Ren was working on his base and smiled. Without hesitation he jumped down the hole and landed with a splash in the water down below.

“Ren?”, he asked, looking around and getting out of the water. Damn this place had gotten huge since the last time he’d been here.

Before he could look around for his boyfriend his communicator gave of a series of beeps as a number of messages came in. Maybe Ren wasn’t here after all and had messaged him now.

He took out the communicator and looked at it.

<Docm77> Don’t go there, Grian!

<Docm77> Please answer me! Go somewhere else

<Docm77> Grian tell me you didn’t go. It’s dangerous!

Grian looked at the messages in confusion. What the hell was going on with Doc? He never spammed the chat like that. And what was he going on about?

<Grian> I’m already in his base’s lower level. What is going on, Doc?

There was nothing dangerous in Ren’s base. Sure, it was a little dark, but not dark enough for Mob’s to spawn. The torches lit the place up and the full moon was shining through the window. His communicator beeped again.

<Docm77> You idiot! Run! Get out! I’m coming!

Wait… The full moon? Grian raised his head from his communicator to look through the glass front, seeing the moon rise through the ocean water.

Hadn’t Ren told him to never ever visit him during a full moon? Was he up to something dangerous during that time?

There was a rustling sound behind him. Grian’s heart was beating frantically as he turned around. Something was moving slowly by the wall in the shadows.

“Ren? Is that you? This is not funny.”, he called to the shadow. There was a low growling sound and Grian jumped a little. “Ren…?”

The shadow moved a little and finally the torch light revealed it. Grian’s breath hitched, his eyes widened and fear grabbed his heart. The communicator dropped from his hands falling to the floor. At the other side of the room was a giant wolf with sharp teeth and huge claws and it was staring out of glowing red eyes directly at him.

He wanted to scream, but only a silent whimper left his mouth. That was no mob he had ever seen. It was huge, almost double Grian’s size. And he didn’t have his diamond sword with him.

The eyes of the creature were fixed on him. A tongue darted out of its mouth to lick over the glistening teeth, and finally Grian was able to move again. He tried to ignore the pains that came from a whole day of digging sand and sprinted towards the bubble elevator. He needed to get out of here. With its size the creature probably wouldn’t be able to follow him through the tight space.

But just as he had began moving the wolf started to run as well and it was faster than him. He needed to hurry up. He needed to get out of here. He didn’t want to die here.

He was almost there. He would make it. His hand already hit the water as he reached for it, when something hit him in the side, throwing him to the floor. He skidded over the rough stone for a few metres and then came to a halt, panting heavily. He hurt all over from the tackle and from the stone grating away his jumper and into his skin. He stood up on shaking legs, trying to ignore all the scratches. The wolf stood between him and the exit now. There was no way he could get out of here. This was the only exit. He could try to get out of the glass front if he was able to break it, but without any gear on him there was no way he’d be fast enough and the water pressure would be hard to fight any ways.

He tried not to move. Maybe it wouldn’t notice him. Maybe it wouldn’t go after him if he didn’t trigger its instincts.

The wolf kept its eyes on him and Grian’s heart kept beating faster and faster. He was seconds away from having a full on panic attack. His adrenalin was probably the only thing that kept him standing right now and not cowering in fear.

The wolf slowly crept closer and Grian took a few slow steps backwards, looking around for anything he could use as a weapon, but there was nothing. He grabbed one of the torches standing around, holding it out defensively in front of him. Maybe it would be scared of fire. He kept stepping further and further back, the creature following his every move.

And suddenly his back hit the wall. Panic rose inside of him and he hurriedly looked of to the side for a way to get out. That was when the creature jumped. Grian instinctively held the torch in front of his body. There was a howl of pain and the smell of burning hair in the air. The beast held a claw up to its shoulder and stared at Grian. It looked even more enraged than before

And then it pounced again in wild furry. Grian swung the torch in front of him, but one hit from the giant paw sent it flying.

Grian screamed as searing pain shot through his arm. Blood dripped down to the floor from three long gashes the claws had left on his arm. Tears formed in his eyes. He would die here. Doc wouldn’t make it in time. That monster would kill him.

In his panic Grian darted off to the side, stumbling a little. He needed to get away. He didn’t want to die here. And why wasn’t Ren here to help him out? Why was a monster running around in his basement?

Something heavy hit his back and Grian fell, rolling over the stone and coming to a painful halt on his back. If he survived this his whole body would be littered in bruises and scratches.

He hurried to get up, but the giant paws of the beast were suddenly standing on his shoulders. It was lowering its mouth, sharp teeth ready, mouth wide open. Grian raised his arms to push it away, trying to frantically grab anywhere to get it away. It didn’t work. The wolf growled and suddenly Grian’s arm was in its mouth. It was about to bite down and probably take his whole hand off. Then their eyes locked. Grian could see his face reflected in the red eyes. His terrified face full of tears and for a second the red started to flicker, turning into a soft blue. Blue like the sky. Blue like the eyes of…

“Ren…?”

The beast seemed to hesitate and Grian pulled his hand back to safety, away from the sharp teeth.

“Ren is that you?” He felt the pressure fading a little from his shoulders and dared to hope again. He didn’t understand whatever was happening right now, but somehow in some way Ren had turned into this… this wolf monster. And he was coming to his senses. Maybe he was recognizing Grian.

“It’s alright Ren. Everything is okay. Okay? I’m sorry I came over. Don’t do this”, Grian whispered. His words seemed to have an effect on the creature. He just needed to keep talking. Keep it distracted.

“I… I love you, Ren…” One of the giant paws slid off of Grian’s shoulder and he decided to take the opportunity. He hurriedly rolled to the side and got up. That turned out to be a bad idea. The blue eyes instantly turned red again and the beast was growling in anger. Grian wanted to run, but he soon stumbled and then felt sharp claws piercing right through his shoulders. He fell to the ground again, breathing heavily. It was over. He wouldn’t get away this time. He was hurting everywhere. He could feel the warm breath of the wolf right next to his ear as its mouth moved to his neck.

He prepared for the worst, when he heard a loud splash of water.

“Stay down!” A voice shouted. Something flew right over his head and the creature howled in pain.

Grian turned his head to look back. A trident was embedded right in the wolves upper body, blood staining the fur red. It stumbled back a few steps, its eyes flickering between red and blue. The trident ripped itself out of his body again as if by magic and it fell to the ground. It took a few more shaking breaths, trying to get up again, growling dangerously. Again a trident flew, this time hitting its lower abdomen. It struggled to stay upright and took one more shaking step, before it fell down one final time and stopped moving.

“R-Ren…? REN!”

Grian tried to get up, but a warm hand on his back kept him from moving and he looked at Doc who was kneeling next to him, bloody trident in his mechanical arm.

“It’s okay, Grian…”

“Nothing is okay!” There were tears gathering in Grian’s eyes now. He just felt the tension of this whole ordeal all at once becoming too much. “You killed him! That was Ren and you killed him!”

“I know, but…”

“You knew?!” Grian almost shouted, wincing at the pain it caused in his shoulder. “Why? Doc, if you knew that was Ren, why did you do it?”

“You need to calm down, Grian, man…”, he said calmingly, put down the trident after one last look at the wolf and then carefully turned Grian around to get him into a sitting position. “Look.”

Grian followed his instructions and saw the wolf’s fur moving a little as low breaths were still leaving its mouth. “Is he… Will he...?”

“He will be okay. He is one tough guy in that form. And I know how to aim. I just did enough damage to stop him. He will be fully healed once the full moon is gone, don’t worry. He always transforms back without any injuries. No one is dead. And it looks like he didn’t get to bite you. He didn’t right?”

Grian shook his head and Doc let out a sigh of relief. “Good. He would never forgive himself if he turned you as well.”

“What… turned me into what…? Is he a… Werewolf? But they don’t exist. That is just a fairy tale.”

“Well before they multiplied like crazy, people thought phantoms were just a fairy tale and now they are everywhere…” Doc sighed and looked over to where Ren’s body was still lying. “It should be up to him to explain this to you. I told him so many times that you should know what he was. He was so scared you would leave him and look where that got him. He almost bit you. That fool.”

“He is a fool… But I love him even at his worst… He should know that.” Grian smiled sadly and tried to shrug, but the pain in his shoulder almost had him doubling over. Doc’s hand was the only thing that kept him up.

“Can you stand up? Should I call Xisuma to teleport us to a safer place?”

Grian shook his head. He didn’t want to get Xisuma involved. It was his own fault he was in this situation. “I’ll manage…”

Grian managed to slowly get up with Doc’s hand steadying him. Doc was constantly looking him up and down a worried expression on his face. “You don’t really look to good.”

“’m fine…”, Grian mumbled, swaying a little. His face was as white as a sheet of paper. How much blood had he lost? There weren’t too many wounds on his body, but those cuts seemed to be pretty deep. He took a shaking step towards the exit, but stumbled and hadn’t it been for Doc holding him up, he would have fallen to the ground again.

“Stupid stubborn fools, both of you”, he mumbled, his communicator in hand. Grian could distantly hear the sound of typing and beeping, as if he was under water. He couldn’t think clearly. Everything around him started to sway. And then everything around him disappeared and they suddenly stood in a brightly lit room. He was rushed over to a bed. Xisuma was standing there looking at him worriedly. Oh… So they had transported him to Xisuma’s place.

He wanted to say something, but his vision started to fade and he suddenly felt so tired. He couldn’t keep his eyes open and slowly drifted out of consciousness. Maybe he would wake up and realise all this had been just a nightmare.

In his dreams he was haunted by glowing red eyes. The wolf was always right next to him no matter where he went. He was suddenly back in the cave below Ren’s base, the wolf above him. But this time there was no trident flying through the air. No Doc to rescue him. He felt the sharp teeth bite into his neck and screamed.

He screamed and screamed, hands were on him at once and he heard voices talking to him. Slowly but surely he gained a sense of his surroundings. He was in Xisuma’s bed. There was no wolf. It was bright and the sun was shining through the windows and someone was holding his hand.

A little out of breath he looked at Xisuma who was gently holding his hand, his helmet abandoned in a corner of the room.

“’suma…?”

“Yeah. You alright, Grian? You had a nightmare.”

“So it wasn’t real?”, he asked, still a little dazed, but the pity in Xisuma’s eyes made him realise how stupid that question was. Of course it had been real. Why else would he be in Xisuma’s bed of all places? And he still hurt all over. He looked down at his arm. It was tightly wrapped in a bandage. The white fabric was stained dark red in some places.

And suddenly he realised it was morning and Doc’s words came back to him. “Ren! Where is he? Is he alright? I need to...”, he hurriedly tried to get up, but Xisuma gently pushed him back into the mattress.

“Don’t strain yourself”, he mumbled then turned around and stepped away from the bed. “Ren, get over here. You heard him.”

Grian heard some rustling in the corner of the room and finally he saw Ren slowly stepping up to his bed. Why hadn’t he been next to him this whole time?

“Ren…” Ren looked bad. He wouldn’t raise his head to look at Grian. His eyes were red and puffy and there were still tear tracks on his face. His whole posture just screamed Insecurity. “Ren, babe… Look at me, please.”

Finally Ren raised his head and their eyes met. He could see tears shining in Ren’s eyes. “Grian… I am so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. I promise. I just… I can’t control the wolf. I tried to stop it. I really did. I was so scared. I’d understand if you don’t want to be with me any more.”

Grian shock his head and slowly raised his non bandaged arm to rest a hand on Ren’s cheek. “It’s alright. Nothing bad happened. I’m okay. And I still love you.”

Xisuma sighed next to them and put down a few clean bandages onto the bed. “I’ll give you guys a little privacy. Ren, He needs a change of bandages. I trust you to take care of that. Talk it out you two. I’ll be back later.”

Grian noticed that Ren looked a little panicked at Xisuma’s retreating back and he opened his mouth, as if he wanted to say something. Maybe he wanted to stop Xisuma. As the door fell closed, Ren even flinched a little, head hanging low again.

“You don’t want to be alone with me?”, Grian asked sadly, noticing all the signs.

Ren looked finally looked back at him, eyes wide with shock, shaking his head. “I thought you wouldn’t want to be. I thought you might get scared after I attacked you.”

Grian huffed in mild annoyance. “If I didn’t want to be alone with you I would have told Xisuma. We have been alone thousand of times, haven’t we.”

“Yeah but I attacked you…”

“Right. You attacked me. Once. When you weren’t even yourself. We have been together almost every night since the last season. Percentage wise I think I have a good chance to be safe alone with you.” Grian slowly got into a sitting position, wincing a little at the pain, but unlike Xisuma, Ren made no move to stop him. He grabbed Ren and pulled him into a hug. It hurt, sure, it hurt like hell. But seeing Ren like that, seeing him blame himself for everything that happened, that hurt even more.

“It’s okay. We are okay. It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have known I’d be there.” He felt Ren’s hand hesitantly wrapping around him and Grian almost melted into the embrace. “I love you. And I’ll always love you, even if you transform into some monster wolf, I’ll still love you.”

Ren was shaking now and Grian felt something wet on his shoulders. He carefully petted Ren’s back with his unbandaged hand, trying to calm him down. “It’s okay… Everything is fine…”, he continued to whisper words of comfort until he felt Ren calming down. They still stayed there for a while, neither of them ready to let go.

Until Grian moved a little and pain shot through his arm. A pained whine escaped him and Ren let go of him as if he’d burned himself. “I’m sorry. Oh god, Gri, I’m so sorry. Look at me. I’m a mess and you are the one that got hurt. I should be the one to care for you not the other way around.”

“Don’t worry, it’s…”

“No. It’s not okay. Stop saying that. I know you want to reassure me, but I have a right to worry about you. You are hurt.” Ren picked up the clean bandage. “I need to make it up to you, even if you don’t see that. You might be okay, but I… I’m not okay yet.”

Grian didn’t dare to say anything. He wanted to make Ren forget about what happened, but he understood where Ren was coming from. It was probably easier to forgive someone else than to forgive yourself. So he just nodded and held out his wounded arm.

Gently Ren peeled of the bloody bandage. Grian averted his eyes, not ready to see the damage the attack had caused.

“I owe you an explanation, I think”, Ren began and Grian just shrugged. “No, Gri, I really do. I should have told you a long time ago. Doc was always pestering me about it. I guess he was right. If you had known you would have paid more attention to the moon.”

“Tell me then… Whatever you are comfortable with.”

Ren smiled sadly, putting the bloody bandages to the side and taking a washing cloth from the bedside table. He dabbed it gently against the wound. It stung like hell, but Grian tried not to show any discomfort as Ren began explaining.

“I was still young when it happened. It was long before I came to Hermitcraft. I got lost in a forest looking for… I don’t even know what I was looking for any more. It was stupid to go out alone that late. It was a full moon. That huge wolf suddenly appeared in front of me. I tried to run away, but it was just too fast. It bit me. It probably would have killed me. But I was lucky. Someone had noticed my screams and chased the monster off. I thought I was lucky. Until the next full moon came and I transformed. It hurts… It hurts every time. All the bones in your body shifting, your skin stretching out. But the worst thing is not how it feels but the way you lose all control. I was never able to control myself.”

“But you did...”, Grian whispered, thinking back to last night, when his arm had been in the wolf’s mouth, about to be bitten. “Your eyes. They turned blue and you didn’t… you stopped.”

Ren smiled sadly and nodded. “That was the first time I managed to do this. And even though… even when I love you this much I wasn’t able to stay in control. I tried so hard...”

Ren took a shaky breath, quietly put the wash cloth away and started carefully bandaging the arm again. “I’m glad Doc was there. Even if he almost killed me... I once told him if worst comes to worst he has my permission to kill me. I’d rather die then see anything happen to you.”

“Well and I’d rather be bitten than see you die. So I’ll have a talk with Doc about that agreement”, Grian replied with an annoyed huff and while Ren looked like he wanted to argue he held back. He probably knew that Grian wouldn’t change his mind on that matter.

Ren kept bandaging up his arm, then paused and looked straight into Grian’s eyes, gaze full of worry. “Just… Never visit me during the full moon ever again. Promise me that you’ll be careful. If I were to bite you, I’d never forgive myself.”

Grian averted his eyes. Ren wasn’t the only one who felt guilty about this whole ordeal. If he had just paid attention to the moon… If he hadn’t stayed out so late… If he had waited patiently for an answer instead of just barging in… If he had…

“Grian. Stop it.”

“’m not doing anything…”, Grian mumbled quietly, turning his eyes back to Ren.

“You are blaming yourself, when I am the only one to blame. I can see it in your eyes.”

“Well… If I’m not allowed to blame myself, then neither are you!”

Ren shook his head, about to answer again, but Grian wouldn’t let him. “No. You listen to me, Mr. Ren. You had no control. You told me enough times that you can’t see me during a full moon. So what? Yeah, you maybe should have told me you are a werewolf after two years of dating, but whatever.” Grian looked back to Ren again, nothing but love in his eyes. “It will take me a while to get over this, sure. I will feel bad about it and so will you, but we can pull through it. Don’t you ever doubt that.”

Ren lowered his eyes and finished bandaging Grian’s arm. But for the first time since Grian had woken up there was a small smile on his lips. And Grian knew at that moment that they would be alright.

#🍉 stories #hermitship #hermitshipping #Gren #tw: violence #tw: blood #the first time I write a story about gridoc's art #and it's not even gridoc #I'll do better for the next one :D #this was a lot of fun #and got a little out of hand #so thanks for the inspiration ♥

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buddyhollyscurls · 4 years ago

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“Romance and Coffee” - Story Excerpt

So about two weeks ago I mentioned that I had been reading a webtoon called Crumbs (It’s super cute and such a wholesome story y’all should definitely check it out). It has some magical elements and a big part of the story is the coffee shop where the products have magic spells - there’s a pastry called Romance and teas that provide Focus - and it inspired me to come up with a lil something something.The story I have in mind isn’t really a coffee shop romance kinda story but I have an excerpt that I hope y’all will enjoy!

In a building high above the sky, a fair, red head was watching over Martha. She grinned when she saw Martha enter the coffee shop.

She clapped her hands gleefully, “She made it,” Áine cheered, “Oh, and she looks so cute!”

Áine could barely contain her excitement, she was the goddess of love after all. Getting couples together was part of her life’s work.

All that was left was for the other part of the couple to get here and she could make the love commence. She tapped her foot impatiently - where was Greg?

She kept a close eye on Martha. The longer she saw her sitting there, the more worried she got. Finally, after Martha had checked her phone again for the third time with no news from Greg, Áine decided to move into action.

She marched down to her partners office at the end of the hall.

“What the hell, Enero?” She said as she barged in.

“Knock much?”

“Where the hell is your boy? He better not be standing up Martha.”

He nodded to his computer, “Relax, hippie. I’ve been keeping an eye on him. He’s on his way,” He rolled his eyes with a sigh, “Come on, I’ll show you on the Monitor.”

He motioned for her to follow him.

They walked back to the giant monitor Áine had been on.

“I was already watching on here. All I see is Martha sitting there. Waiting.”

Enero simply put his hand in front of her in a motion that meant to hold on.

“Oh, see, there he is,” He pointed to Greg as he appeared outside the shop, “Satisfied now?”

He started walking away without waiting for an answer.

“Hold on a second,” Áine said, “I need to see him go in first.”

Enero rolled his eyes and groaned, “Fine.”

He stood next to Áine and they both watched.

“He’s not going inside,” Áine said with her hands on her hips.

“He will, he will.”

Enero sounded confident but he was beginning to get nervous - not that he’d let Áine know, of course. But what was taking Greg so long? He was just standing there.

Come on, Greg, Enero thought silently to himself, you can do this. Just open the door and -

It was then they saw Greg taking out his phone to type a message. Maybe he was letting Martha know he was there? But suddenly he was walking away.

“What is he doing, what is he doing?” Áine said walking up and getting as close as she could to the Monitor. It looked like she was about to grab Greg and drag him back to the shop herself.

Suddenly she turned on Enero, “He left her!”

Enero put his hands up in surrender, “There has to be an explanation.”

“He ditched her! Come on, we have to check it out.”

Without a word she grabbed his hand and lead them back to the office.

Just my luck, Enero thought to himself. a soul mate project and I have to be stuck with the most annoying, bossy, intense, passionate -

His thoughts were interrupted when Áine looked up at him from her computer, “He - he changed their fate. We’ll have to take it up with... the SCALES.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, “God. Damn it, “ He let out a deep, long sigh, “Alright, fine. Come on, hippie. Let’s get this over with.”

They walked across the main lawn to another building. They looked up and saw the giant banner: SCALES

They looked at each other and rolled their eyes in unison. Every ethereal being hated having to go to the SCALES. Gods and goddess could live for millennia and none of it would go any slower than when they had to so inside this building. Some beings even believed they could FEEL their age on their body when they stepped inside.

“Let’s just hope its quick,” Enero said.

Áine scoffed, “Quick? In the SCALES? Your better off wishing for peace on Earth.”

Enero chuckled in spite of himself, “Come on, Red. Let’s get going.”

They walked up the steps when Enero turned to her, “At least we know what humans feel like when they have to go to the DMV,” He said with a grin and a shrug.

Áine laughed, “Look at you trying to be funny.”

They stepped inside and were greeted by a young dark haired fairy.

“Welcome to the Station for Celestial and Angelic Liege Equilibrium Satisfaction or SCALES for short. What can we do for you and your liege today?” The fairy spoke in such a monotone voice it was clear she lost her desire for customer satisfaction long ago.

“Yeah we need to talk to someone about our lieges,” Áine spoke up, “They changed their fates.”

“Ok, no problem. Just fill out this form and someone will get back to you.”

Enero asked, “And how long will that take?”

The fair replied, “It could take anywhere from 10 to 100 years. Maybe more. Depends on how many orders we gotta go through.”

“100 YEARS,” Áine said incredulously, “We don’t have that time!”

The fairy simply shrugged, “Sorry. Lot’s of channels to go through. Gotta file out the paperwork, wait for it to be processed, and then you get called for an appointment. But that’s only if the workers okay your paperwork.”

“Look,” Áine said in as level a voice as she could muster, “Is there ANY way you can help us out? I mean this is pretty important. Anyone you can talk to? Who’s in charge here?”

The fairy looked at her, “I can’t just let ANYONE walk into the manager’s office. She’s usually pretty busy. You need an appointment. My hands are tied.”

Áine started to protest, “But -”

The fairy looked at her and Enero could tell she was getting annoyed with Áine’s pushiness.

He put a hand on her shoulder, “Will you calm down? You’re not going to get anywhere by being overbearing.”

Áine opened her mouth in shock, “Well then you say something!”

“I will,” he winked at her, “Watch this, hippie.”

He sauntered up to the fairy and Áine rolled her eyes.

“Hey, listen,” he said with his elbows on her desk and leaning forward, “I’m sorry about my partner. She can be a bit much.”

The fairy seemed unaffected, “Happens all the time.”

“I’m sure. This job can’t be easy. The thing is though, we were paired up for a soul mate project. And it seems to have gone sour. We’d really appreciate it if you could help us get some answers.”

“Look like I told your partner there’s channels to go through.”

“I know, I know. And I respect that. Truly, how do you think I feel? Working with a temperamental goddess like her?” He said glancing back at Áine, who was able to hear the entire conversation

“Real nice,” she said aloud.

Enero pretended not to hear her and continued, “She’s got no respect for rules and procedures, always barging in, being loud and abrasive. She’s nothing like... you. Calm, collected... pretty.”

It was then the fairy looked up, “Oh, I don’t know,” she said shyly, “She’s pretty, too.”

“Yeah, don’t get me wrong she is, but I’d much rather work with someone like you. What’s your name, anyway?”

She smiled at him, “Fay.”

“Fay,” he grinned, “Nice to meet you. I’m Enero,” he sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and turned to Áine, “Well, flower-child, you heard the little lady. Nothing we can do. It’s best we just fill out the paperwork and wait.”

He reached over and grabbed the files. Slowly, he grabbed a pen.

Before he began writing Fay said softly, “Well, maybe I can help you out. This one time. Just because your working on a soul mate project and all that.”

“We’d really appreciate it,” he smiled at her, “Thank you, Fay.”

She looked away shyly, “I’ll ask my manager if she can squeeze you in.”

She hurried off and Enero smirked at Áine, “And that, hippie, is how you get it done.”

“Smooth,” Áine said dryly, “Real smooth.”

“What’s gotten your crops in a dry spell?”

She folded her arms, “I am the goddess of love. I don’t like seeing you toy with someone’s feelings like that.”

“Oh, come on. Just a little harmless flirting. It got us what we wanted. Or could it be a little jealousy I’m seeing?”

“Yeah, right.”

“Is that what it is, Red? Sad because I never throw some of that sweet stuff your way?”

Áine scoffed, “Please, again, I’m the goddess of love. I have no problem finding a man to give me a little sweetness.”

She returned his smirk. Enero blinked at her. He had only been teasing her. He didn’t think she was actually jealous. And he wasn’t blind. Áine was a beautiful goddess. Of course she’d have no problem getting affection from anyone. But her actually admitting it gave him a sour feeling in his stomach. He decided it was only because their relationship was supposed to be strictly professional. So he didn’t need to know details like that. Or so he told himself.

He cleared his throat and they stood in silence until Fay returned.

“My manager said she can squeeze you in for a few minutes.”

“Great,” Enero said, “Thanks a lot, Fay. You really helped us here.”

They followed Fay to a nearby office. The walls were bare and beige, the seats and carpet were a matching gray color. It was in a word: dull. Just what they’d expect inside the SCALES.

They spotted a plump fairy with graying blonde hair sitting at her (dull) brown desk.

“Hi,” Enero greeted her, “Thank you so much for your time.”

“Welcome,” she smiled politely at them, “I’m Hada. Please, have a seat. What seems to be the emergency?”

“Well, it’s like this,” Áine began as they sat down, “We’re working on a soul mate project, only something went wrong, and we they changed their fates.”

Hada nodded, “I see. And what exactly went wrong?”

“One of the lieges,” Enero started slowly, “Didn’t follow through.”

Hada considered this thoughtfully, “Oh, my. And which of you did the pairing?”

Áine raised her hand, “I did. It’s sort of my specialty.”

Hada turned to Enero, “And that means you weighed their fates?”

He nodded, “I did.”

“And you left no room for error?”

“Absolutely none,” Enero said firmly.

“You’re absolutely sure?”

“Positive. I - I used both my heads. I saw their beginnings and endings.”

Enero could feel Áine’s eyes on him. They hadn’t worked together before but Enero knew he was well-known around the building for being... delicate about his abilities. Everyone knew he refused to use both heads unless the situation was absolutely crucial to him. He mustered the courage to glance at Áine. She was watching him with an expression he couldn’t read. They locked eyes for a moment and she gave him a soft smile.

Hada glanced between the two of them, observing them with a curious look of her own.

She cleared her throat to make her presence known again, “Yes,” she said bringing their attention back to her, “Well, it could be maybe they weren’t compatible in other underlying aspects.”

Áine asked, “How can that be?”

Hada shrugged, “Humans can be fickle. Uncertainty scares them. They have trouble trusting their own hearts and intuition. Most only trust what they can see, or what has proven facts. They can’t fathom our realms, or the inexplicable things that take place in the universe. They can be calculating to a fault and it makes it harder for them to believe in what what we do. They can’t see it themselves so it doesn’t exist, even if the universe lays it out in front of them. Humans are blind in that sense.”

“Maybe Martha just wasn’t Greg’s type,” Enero said nonchalantly.

“Well, not necessarily -” Hada began.

Áine interrupted her “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” she said with a hand up to Enero, “What’s wrong with my Martha? Your boy is the one who ditched her.”

“Maybe it’s like what she said. They weren’t compatible. Maybe he wasn’t that into her.”

“But that wasn’t what I -” Hada tried explaining, but it seemed they were no longer aware of her presence in her own office.

“He wasn’t into her?! Please, Greg should’ve considered himself lucky that Martha noticed him!”

“You have something against my liege?”

“Do you have something against mine?”

“No! Martha’s a lovely girl. Just... maybe a better choice could have been available, that’s all.”

“Oh! So somehow this is all MY fault!” Áine got up then, “Listen, you arrogant, conceited, over-glorified... prick! You think you can make a better pairing? I’d like to see you try!”

Enero stood up, “You know what, hippie? I think that’s a great idea.”

Áine narrowed her eyes on him. Enero stared at the dark amber color of her eyes and couldn’t help thinking he’d never seen them so intense before. He felt there was a fire burning behind them that excited him - or at least it would have if he wasn’t royally pissed himself.

“You really want to try to make a match against a goddess of love,” Áine said moving towards him, stopping when they were only inches apart, her voice was dark, calm, even, and ready to challenge him, “Then bring it on, January.”

Drawing out his name in mock emphasis - he was well aware she knew he hated any other variation of his name - he glared her down.

Enero scoffed, “Fine. From now on, we work on this project separately. We’ll find our own matches for our own lieges and see who they choose.”

“Fine by me.”

Enero stuck out his hand, “May the best god win.”

Áine shook his hand roughly and stormed out of the office. Enero followed with equal force. Hada, who had been silent and completely forgotten about, blinked to herself and shook her head in amusement. She had been watching them closely since they arrived and it made her realize that sometimes gods and goddesses could be just as blind as humans to what was in front of them.

#me #personal #my writing #story excerpt

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artificialqueens · 5 years ago

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God’s Loves Die Young (Vixie) - Pilandok

A vignette about a vampire in West Hollywood and an unwillingly willing victim. Vixie vampire story with some Trixya, if you squint.

A/N: Hi I’m writing Vixie again cause it gives me comfort (?) hahahaha. I’m also currently out of steam with my other WIP. Thank you for reading!

Read on AO3. Part 6 of my oneshot collection.

“Can you turn me into one?”

Trixie almost spits out his drink.

Violet watches him struggle through the coughing spell, not offering a hint of concern. Why should she? On nights like these, she’s technically his victim— his fault that in their once-in-every-six-months sighting of each other, she has the irrational desire to throw herself in front of him and offer her body. It’s something like imprinting, he told her once.

“That may actually be the stupidest thing you’ve ever said,” Trixie replies after gathering himself.

Violet frowns, mostly at his answer, but also at the fact that he’s drinking wine from a can. She wishes he’d be more elegant or chic about it. Especially since she always dolls herself up for their sessions.

“I bet you’d do it if Katya asked.”

Trixie’s body stiffens where he’s standing at the end of the bed, leaning against a dresser.

“No.”

“Does she know what you are?” Violet smirks, her hand tracing her own jaw to the pulse point on her neck. “Or maybe, she already is one.”

Violet knows what she’s doing. When she sees Trixie’s jaw clench and his head turn slightly, she knows it means she’s pissing him off. She needs to know that she’s capable of riling him up. She needs it for the same reason that she insists on doing this in drag: so that she can be a bitch to Trixie and pretend that he isn’t something that instills a primal fear in her. It’s so that when he loses his temper and leaves her for dead, it’s still somehow on her own terms— it’s because she was daring him to.

“I know the hollow eyes throw you off, but trust me, Katya isn’t,” he says with a lazy smile.

Of course, Trixie never takes the bait.

Violet knows, too, why Katya doesn’t know. It’s because he can’t keep a secret for shit. And she knows he isn’t a vampire because vampires aren’t what she imagined them to be— if the pastel pink walls and blonde wigs that surround her haven’t completely altered the idea already.

“Do you even know how?”

“No,” Trixie says plainly, then after finishing off the can in one swig, “my step-dad didn’t tell me shit and I never met anyone else like me since.”

Trixie always wants to be drunk for this. Always just short of completely plastered.

A little later into the night, when she sees his pupils begin to dilate, Violet leans back against the headboard and spreads her legs, bending them slightly at the knees. Trixie, without breaking eye contact, reaches back to the dresser behind him to grab a baby pink Swiss knife. He swings it towards her and it lands between her legs, knife already out.

“Get over here, cunt. I can see you drooling,” Violet demands.

It’s a taunt, Trixie is as stone-faced about this as ever, but he obediently climbs on the bed and crawls close to her. It’s funny how helpless he looks between her legs, how obvious that he hates everything. How can you look that pathetic with canines protruding like that? Not when alarm bells are ringing in Violet’s head. She can’t stand it, the push and pull of wanting to run away and being inexplicably drawn in. It isn’t fair.

She pushes his head harshly against the skin of her inner thigh and after a moment of hesitation, he licks a line that runs on her femoral artery. When she feels the numbness set in, she grabs the knife and pushes it through the marked trail of her skin. Moving with no hesitation, she’s familiar with the mechanics of it.

As soon as the cut is made, Trixie attaches his mouth on the open wound. The blood flows in pulses and Violet’s brain explodes into a high she realizes she’s been craving for months. Despite earlier trepidation, Trixie is drinking the blood eagerly and Violet can feel her leg begin to twitch, her muscles telling her to kick him off. But she feels the low grunts vibrate on her skin and she can’t help but clench her fists around the back of his shirt.

It isn’t fair at all, how much power this has over her. When she feels a certain doom close on her, she thinks about how much she likes it. Maybe this is why Trixie never told Katya— the sensation is an addicting drug as any.

Afterwards, in a daze, she watches the cut miraculously close on its own. She opens and closes the blade in her hand and wonders, why the knife? And why on her thigh? Why doesn’t Trixie do it like he did before?

Trixie sits up on the bed, no evidence of carnage showing— he feeds clean. But the glow is undeniable, him looking fresh-faced like a teen. He has that hazy look in his eyes and scrunched up brows like he regrets it already. As if he’s reading her mind (she has no idea if he can’t), he speaks in a detached voice.

“I hate red lips.”

Violet remembers the first time, when it was just an accident because Trixie got careless. He hadn’t fed for a whole year because his boyfriend broke up with him and his life became a whirlwind of fame and success. It happened in Atlanta.

She watched him, practically on his knees, begging. He was pleading with his eyes but Violet could see the flashes of a predator through the stacks of eyelashes. Trixie had chased her further down the alley behind the club where Violet’s legs told her to run after the bite. With a palm pressing against the side of her neck, Violet reached a dead end and she turned around to Trixie having caught up with her. The blood that had dripped as a line on Trixie’s jaw was smeared by the strands of hair that flew into his face. He was a hippie barbie that day— a flower crown and no corset. With a waist snatched tight and high heels, she stood no chance.

“Violet please, I’m so sorry. I won’t hurt you, please.”

She could hear the sob in his voice but all Violet could notice is the sharpness in his mouth. She looked at the strands of synthetic hair that matted onto his face, his eyes that reflecting the yellow of the street lamp. She was hypnotized by the red that ran down his neck and stained his dress in splotches.

“That’s my blood,” she thought out loud.

Trixie looked at her desperately.

“Please don’t tell anyone.”

Violet never understood it, never fully bought into the hype of Trixie Mattel. But at that moment, he was the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.

#rpdr fanfiction #trixie mattel #violet chachki #vixie #vampire au #drabble #pilandok #submission

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dorotheajanegilmore · 6 years ago

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Closer to you - Chris Evans

CHAPTER ONE

Throwing my small brown faux leather bag over my shoulder, I raced down the cold metal staircase at the back of my apartment building. The elevator had broken down throwing a wrench into the works of my morning and now I was breaking a sweat to get myself back on track.

Finally the rusted blue door of an exit was in site. Just outside were the freezing cold streets of Manhattan.

My palms met the blue metal and my arms pushed until my elbows were flat. The door pushed through the snow leaving a semi-circle of wet pavement exposed beneath.

I ran through the frosty street, passing a few strangers. As I came to the end of the street where the quiet road merged with the busy road, a familiar white Toyota came purring around the corner.

My best friend Holly pulled up at the girl and she leaned across the pull the hand. "Quickly, get in!" She yelled as I hurried across the icy road.

I practically threw myself into the passenger seat and as soon as my door closed Holly sped off. "Let's go girls."

I looked back at my friends in the back seat. "Morning."

Teegan gave a small wave and Chloe nodded, both of them struggling to keep their eyes open.

I let out a sigh as I took my phone out of my bag, knowing I would have a series of unanswered messages from my mother. "Listen to this." I started, glancing at my friends to get their attention. "Good morning sweetie, have you left yet? Lessi ? You awake? Darling? Have you left the city yet? Where are you? Do you want me to send dad to come and get you? Are you even awake? Oh child of mine do you see the morning light? Hurry up and get here before dinner gets cold. Granddads not getting any younger." My friends were sent into fits of laughter at my mother's lunacy.

“Your mother is the greatest." Teegan mumbled, nearly asleep.

"Agreed. Tracey's the queen of sarcasm." Holly added as she drove onto the highway.

We had a twenty minute bout of silence as we all broke free from the morning anger, apart from Holly who seemed to be too chill for someone with dangerous road rage.

We stopped at McDonald's for some breakfast before hitting the road again. About fifteen minutes into the resumes drive Holly glances at me. "So, does your Mom know about Simon?"

"Alvin And Theodore? Yeah she knows the chipmunks." I bite my lip and look out the window, trying to dodge the question and giving my answer.

Holly rolled her eyes, there was no way she was letting this go. She briefly lifted her hand from the gear stick to hit me on the knee. "Answer me."

"Yeah she knows." I mumbled quietly, just loud enough for my girls to hear. Even though we were secure in the four walls of Holly's car, I still felt like I should be secretive about the subject of Simon.

Simon Holdsworth was my boyfriend for four years before dumping me. Me! After I found him cheating on me in MY bed with some NYU art student who stole my jewellery and the batteries from my tv remote. Ok maybe she didn't take my batteries but I have no other explanation for that so she's getting the blame.

"His mother called my mom and yelled at her because I was a apparently a bitch to Simon. She said I didn't allow him creative freedom to express himself with other women." I rolled my eyes and cursed under my breath.

"Hippies." Chloe shook her head as she picked her nails, remembering when she first met Simon's mother. When Simon first moved in with me we had a house warming party on the roof of our apartment building. Simon's mother, Nora, brought two bags of weed and brownies and set up camp in my living room. Nora also brought various scarfs and blankets that she draped over my living. She also replaced the coasters that my mother bought me for ounces made from tree bark that had been carved into peace signs. Chloe threw them in her log burner as soon as Simon moved out.

"What did Tracey say?" Teegan asked. All of my friend were on first name basis with the fantastic woman that birthed me. Not only were we best friends, we were raised together. We were all born in the same hospital, in the same city. We were raised in the same town, same schools, same university. Plus Teegan is my second cousin so.

"She laughed, told her to piss off and put the phone down."

"Yes Tracey." They all cheered her on.

"It's a pity you can't do the same thing." Holly replied with a serious tone, raising a brow at me.

"Hey, you know I'm strong-willed when it comes to people screwing me over. I just like to argue with him, he tried to get to me. He purposely likes to call and harass to upset me, he wants me to break. He would love nothing more than to see me cry. But he won't win, he won't." I shook my head, feeling the anger curse through me again. "He thrives on hurting people. But he won't hurt me, I won't let him."

"Good on you." Chloe nodded, putting a supportive hand on my shoulder.

Holly nodded in approval. "That's our girl."

\|\|\|\|\

It took three hours and forty minutes to get form Manhattan to the little town of Fairfield, Massachusetts. Soon enough we were surrounded by familiar buildings that had now been covered in a blanket of snow and driving through streets we used to run drunkenly through as we disobeyed our parents (and the law.)

First Holly dropped Chloe to her folks house, then Teegan to hers and finally I was looking at my parents house. I looked back at Holly with a puppy dog look and asked "Can I come to your house for thanksgiving?"

"Of course you can." Holly out a sympathetic hand on my shoulder. "Next year." She then have me a playful shove and I opened the door.

"Thanks for the lift. See you later yeah?" I asked, knowing I'd be needing a drink after an hour with this crazy lot.

"Sure, I'll text you." She nodded.

I grabbed my suitcase from the trunk and headed to the pavement. I gave Holly a wave and she watched me walk up to the driveway. She waited until I knocked and somebody answered before she drove away, always one for safety.

My little brother Alex opened the door. "Shit, when did you get so tall?" I cursed looking up at the nineteen year old.

He chuckled deeply and stepped back for me to go in. "You mean since I saw you two years ago? Yes I've grown. When did you get so short?"

"It's all the coffee." I shrugged as I left my suitcase in the downstairs cupboard and headed into the living room, at least I thought it was the living room. It was in the same place and it was the same shape, however it was all so different.

The red poppy wallpaper above the grey stone fireplace had been taken down and replaced with a cream paper with turquoise flowers, it also had an overspray if light silver glitter that matched the silver chandelier and doorhandles. The normally dark doors had been replaced with white ones and the rest of the walls painted white as well. My sweet childhood cottage had been replaced with a modern townhouse.

The burgundy couches had been replaced with chocolate colours leather and my dad's favourite recliner was nowhere is sight.

Moving further throughout the house i couldn't see any of my relatives. I looked back at Alex and asked "So, where is everyone?"

"Dad's in the garage working on the car and Mom, Nana and Lucy are in the garden with Joe and Leo." I nodded and walked through the kitchen to get to the back door.

I stopped in my tracks when I saw that there was now an orangery that had been extended into the back of our house, I glanced back at Alex to see him shrug at me.

He stepped around me and walked through the orangery into the open backyard. I followed slowly, taking in the new changes. I quickly glanced back at the kitchen. Huh, no changes their. The grey slate and white marble must've been modern enough for Mom.

I stepped out into the yard to see my mother, sister and grandmother gathered at the fence talking to our neighbours. Joe and Leo were over at the trampoline, at least there was one piece of my childhood left.

Leo gave me a wave and I waved back, this must've caught my nephew's attention as he stopped jumping, letting gravity drop him on his ass so he could jump from the trampoline and sprint across the yard.

As he ran at me I saw him lift his arms and I knew exactly what he was gonna do. He jumped as high as he could, I reached forward and caught him at the torso and he wrapped his arms around my neck.

"Auntie Alessia!" He yelled as he hugged me tightly. His shouting caused my family to turn their attention to me. I hugged Joe back before setting him down on the soft grass and kneeling down to talk to him.

"Hi bud! How are you?" I asked as I held his hand.

He beamed brightly and showed me his teeth. One of his front teeth had fallen out. "Look, I'm a big boy now." He pointed excitedly at his mouth.

"Wow!"

"My mommy said that if I put my tooth under my pillow the tooth fairy will come and she will take it and leave me a dollar! A whole dollar!"

"Well let's not encourage selling our body parts. Here." I reached into my back pocket and took out my change from earlier. "Here's five bucks, give your tooth to your dad."

He nodded and looked at me like I was crazy. "Thank you auntie Lessia!" He hugged me again before running back to Leo and the trampoline.

I stood up and headed over to my mother. As I approached the fence I saw she was talking to a woman I had never seen before. Where's Cheryl? I wondered.

"Oh Alessia, darling. Come meet our new neighbours." My mother wrapped her hand around my arm and practically yanked me over to the fence.

"Hi." I waved politely to the kind woman staring back at me with a warm smile.

"Hello there, Alessia. My name's Lisa. You're mother ya spoken so highly of you, it's so nice to put a face to the name." She said sweetly.

"It's nice to meet you too. Are you new to the area?" I inquired, wondering where our old neighbours had got too.

"Oh gosh no. We moved a few blocks away as my mother passed recently and she left us the house."

"Cheryl? Oh god I'm so sorry. She was the nicest woman, salt of the earth. I'm sorry for your loss." I felt real sadness as I spoke, not believing that sweet old Cheryl had passed on.

"You knew my grandmother?" A deep male voice said from my left. I looked in the direction of the person speaking and nearly had to do a double take. Standing beside Lisa was a very handsome brunette man with striking blue eyes and full beard. He was about 6 foot tall, with muscles and wide shoulders. He was wearing a deep maroon tight long sleeve and navy patriots cap.

"Hi." I breathed out, staring at this specimen in disbelief. How can one person be so unbelievably attractive? "Yes I did. Uh, I grew up doing chores for her. I kept her company on Wednesday's when Arthur would be at darts. She taught me how to bake and knit." I giggled lightly at the memories.

The man gave me a soft smile while Lisa smiled at me. "I'm sure she loved every minute of your company." Lisa nodded at me. "She actually left me a box of things labelled with your name. I'll have to have Chris dig it out and bring it over to you sometime."

"That would be lovely, thank you." I smiled, wondering how I had missed so much.

I could feel her son's eyes on me as I stepped down from the gathering or grass to allow my mom to finish her conversation.

"Hey." My sister Lucy said as she wrapped her arms around me to give me a hug. "I've missed you sister sister."

"Missed you too." I mumbled into her shoulder as she crushed me. She pulled back and placed a hand on her stomach before putting her pinger finger to her lips.

"It's a secret." She whispered and I nodded with wide eyes. Shit. She's pregnant again.

"Congratulations!" I whisper yelled at her and she widened her eyes at me and looked back at my mom and grandmother to see if they noticed. They hadn't, they were busy gossiping with Lisa.

Chapter two

#chris evans fanfic #chris evans x ofc #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans fic #chris evans romance #steve rogers x oc #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers #chris evans #captain american #captain america x reader #cute #romance #closer to you #closer to you chris evans

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toomanyfeelings5 · 6 years ago

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the definitive ranking of pulp! the classics covers and summaries, from worst to best

(Note: Pride and Prejudice was not included in this list, as there were only poster and greeting card options for the work, and not an actual book or summary. Had a book and summary been provided, it would have ranked lowest for unoriginality. It’s literally just 1995 Colin Firth staring moodily at you. The caption is “Lock Up Your Daughters...Darcy’s in Town!” which is just unfortunate, frankly, and honestly laughable.)

16. Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte

You take a novel that’s positively overflowing with drama and give it THIS cover? THIS summary? Absolutely uninspired.

Here’s looking at you Cathy...

Childhood sweethearts turned star-crossed lovers, fuelled by bitter jealousy and dark revenge. She’s pretty and posh, he’s a moody brooding bastard. Heartbreak, alcoholism and plenty of illegitimate kids – it’s a perfect Northern drama.

Where is the feeling? The screaming violins playing as we read? The moors? The time skips? A hint of the positively bonkers plot that only a Bronte could compose?

15. The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde

Oh, the heterosexuality of it all. On an Oscar Wilde novel, no less.

Hey girl...I’d sell my soul for you!”

Dorian Gray might be as pretty as a picture, but he's paid a devilishly high price for it. He'll stay drop-dead gorgeous, but there's something nasty festering in the attic...

Pretty as a picture and still lusting after ladies? Please. Pulp! Classics, you can do better.

14. The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

Again, we must speak the ancient chant: Oh, the heterosexuality of it all.

When it came to loving...He knew which Daisy to pick!

Sorry old sport, but Gatsby has a bigger house than you, prettier friends than you and a Rolls Royce to cart them all round in. To a backdrop of popping champagne corks and orchestral jazz, our hero bids to buyout his old adversary, perennial jock, Tom Buchanan and reclaim Daisy, his favourite bit of High Society totty.

Nick Carraway gets not one mention, which is odd given that he’s the narrator, the protagonist, and Gatsby’s most ardent love interest. Also strange is the cover’s insistence that Jordan Baker, known lesbian, would swoon over Gatsby. Doubly strange is how tiny the women are in comparison to Gatsby’s massive frame. What is, again, bamboozling, is how the slogan on the cover seems to imply that Gatsby knows how to pick a woman. He doesn’t know how to choose anyone, let alone love them. All Gatsby truly knows is the desperate pursuit of a fruitless dream.

13. Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare

Romeo looks like he could be Juliet’s father. Juliet looks like an Upper East Side Widow, not at all like the tween girl she really is.

Too wild to live...too young to die!

Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou…. Oh wait, he’s hanging around in the garden again. Will young Romeo and his Juliet ever be able to express their raging hormones? Or will their feuding families make this romance blossom into a poisoned flower? Either way, both their houses are totally plagued!

“Wherefore” means “why,” not “where,” though I do have to award points to the summary for placing the blame squarely on the feud and not on these doomed young lovers. Though again, young isn’t the operative word I’d use to describe this version of Romeo and Juliet.

12. Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe

This is what one would expect upon seeing a pulp cover of a classic novel. Not much originality or flair is present, but at least some sense of the story is conveyed.

Solitude was driving him nuts!

Cannibals! Captives! Coconuts!

One man’s love of the sea leaves him stranded on a desert island with nothing but a few goats, a bible and a parrot for company.

Will he ever escape? Will his new pal Friday learn to efficiently press a goatskin jerkin? Or will solitude send him totally barmy?

WILL Friday learn to efficiently press a goatskin jerkin? One must read to find out, I suppose...

11. Tess of the D'urbervilles

Marilyn Monroe?????

She’s...no angel.

The original Wessex girl!

Tess is just a humble milkmaid when the local landowner has his wicked way. Her new beau, the smarmy Angel Clare, is none too pleased when he finds out she’s already been deflowered. What is a girl to do? Bloody revenge of course, and an ending to touch the hardest of hearts.

At least the summary blames the terrible men in Tess’s life rather than Tess herself, unlike the tagline on the cover. And while Marilyn Monroe seductively lounging about with a drink doesn’t recall the faintest essence of Hardy’s novel, one would like to imagine Tess relaxing in whatever clothes she pleased, a straw dangling out of her drink, a smile on her face as she answers to no one and spends her quiet evening in solitude.

10. Three Men in a Boat by Jerome K. Jerome

An innocuous cover; the men’s faces hint at the comedic nature of this novel, and yet...something nags the brain upon looking at this.

To say nothing of the dog...

Incompetence, embarrassment and general disaster - no it’s not PMQs, it’s a trip down the Thames! Three hapless fellows and a world weary dog decide they need a holiday from their exhausting hypochondria. Hilarious mayhem ensues.

To say nothing of the dog indeed: Why does the dog on the cover have a human face?

9. The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka

All one can say upon viewing this cover is: Jeff Goldblum, is that you?

Change really BUGGED him!

Poor old Gregor. One day he's depressed about his dreary travelling salesman gig, the next, he's roaching around the apartment and disgusting his family. All that's left is creeping the walls and eating garbage. How's his sis ever going to find a sugar daddy with her grotty bro in tow?

Gregor isn’t grotty, he’s our six-legged hero in this tragic tale.

And yet in the end, the question that haunts us all echoes in our minds in an unceasing echo: is that Jeff Goldblum?

8. Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland

Alice as a hippie is eye-catching, but not particularly creative.

This cupcake was off her head!

What HAS happened to little Alice? Taking 'shrooms, hanging out with hookah smoking ne'er-do-wells and being dragged to court. That's gonna be one hell of a hangover!

As much as I’m intrigued by Alice wearing heart-shaped sunglasses and a peace sign necklace, the summary and the cover consist of one joke and one joke only.

7. The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

I just like how Dr. Jekyll in this cover looks equally as fucked up as Mr. Hyde.

No more Mr. Nice Guy... There’s a sinister man about London town with something of the night about him. Mr Hyde is mad, bad and has a penchant for bumping off MPs and other kindly innocents. Will his friend Dr Jekyll be able to stop him? Or is there something more to their relationship than meets the eye…? Only the intrepid Utterson can get to the bottom of this mystery, but what will he find in Dr Jekyll’s lab?

Points to this summary for including Mr. Utterson, and for insinuating that Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde may be clandestine lovers.

6. A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens

Ladies, gentlemen, and otherwise, don’t we love it when a greedy rich man gets bludgeoned by a mace into being more generous and kindly towards others?

This cat was a drag....’til a midnight wake-up call...

Christmas?! What a load of Humbug. Mistletoe and Wine just don't do it for Scrooge; he's a workaholic miser with an attitude problem. If he doesn't change his ways, he'll end up with no friends and Tiny Tim won't last the year. Let's hope some spooky night-time visitors can put the jingle back in his bells!

Ring-a-ling-a-ling, Mr. Scrooge. The mace is raised and the bells are ringing.

5. Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad

The tag-line made me, as the youths say, laugh out loud.

Whoops! Apocalypse....

The horror! The horror!

Kurtz might be the apple of every brutish imperialist’s eye, but his God complex is getting wildly out of hand in the depths of the jungle. What on earth will Marlow find when he finally gets downriver? Devil worship? Savages? Heads on sticks? Or just another nutty white man with his knickers in a twist?

Surprisingly anti-racist summary made this jump to the higher echelons of this esteemed list, though of course that doesn’t excuse this novel’s abhorrent and embarrassing fake-deep racism. It also must be noted that the tag-line should have been “Whoops! White supremacy!” and the text of the novel should have entirely consisted of Chinua Achebe’s essay on the work.

4. The Hounds of Baskerville by Arthur Conan Doyle

The cover alone is a winner. A rabid chihuahua out for blood? Inspired.

Murder...Mystery...Walkies!

A desolate moor, a diabolical dog in need of a muzzle and some inbred locals; Sherlock Holmes is really up against it. With the help of his trusty sidekick Dr. Watson, Holmes pieces together a mystery that has captured the imagination of readers across the decades. All whilst practising a serious coffee and cocaine habit.

The tag-line is fun and catchy, but sadly this summary must be admonished for insisting that Dr. Watson is merely a “trusty sidekick” to Sherlock Holmes. Heterosexuality strikes again, reducing the impact of the striking cover design.

3. Dubliners by James Joyce

Finally! Some style, some panache, some flair to accompany these short stories about being sad and horny in Ireland.

Stuck in the Liffey with you...

Booze, Sex and Hot Floury Potatoes… Those Dubliners are at it again!

Liars, thieves, whores and priests… James Joyce sure knew how to throw a party! This relentlessly downbeat collection explores the very worst aspects of human nature, and doesn’t leave out the juicy bits. It might not be in the best possible taste, but who doesn’t want to get down and dirty in Dublin?

The summary and cover work in tandem to wholeheartedly convince me that Dubliners is an action-packed, slick collection of stories detailing the wild escapades of a motley cast of ragamuffins, and I gotta hand it to the folks over at Pulp! Classics for injecting some bonafide vintage cool into Joyce’s work.

2. Othello by William Shakespeare

I have so many thoughts on this. Mr. T. as Othello is fascinating, as is the tagline, “Some kind of Bard...aaaaasss.” Is this a commentary on blaxploitation media? One can’t help but recall Mr. T.’s reasoning behind his mohawk, his gold chains, to honor his ancestors and assert his living, unshakable humanity in a racist society. Is this is a genuine effort on the part of Pulp! Classics to imply that a blaxploitation-influenced adaptation of Othello could reveal deeper truths to the play that we have had yet to glimpse?

Some kind of Bard... aaaasss

He’s a bardass brother with the love of a fine woman. That is until some cloven hoofed honky starts talking crazy about variously hued sheep tupping the hell outta each other! You gotta pity the fool who gets shafted by the green eyed monster. Let’s hope Othello can work out who to trust before it’s too late…

The fast-paced alliterative language of the summary harkens to Shakespeare’s own wit-fueled dialogue and penchant for creative language. The summary also calls Iago a devil, which is apt, and implicitly criticizes his racism, hinting at the play’s greater tragedies to come. The cover and summary also work in tandem to emphasize Othello’s jealousy and destruction: the “green-eyed monster” is mentioned, and the cover itself is a putrid green. An excellent example of what a vintage cover and summary can achieve.

1. Frankenstein by Mary Shelly

You all knew this was coming.

This kid was born on the wrong side of the lab...

Frankenstein’s monster is on the rampage; terrorising the locals, unleashing murderous hell… and reading novels in his spare time. Can his petrified creator stop this reign of horror before his girlfriend gets the chop?

A James Dean-inspired creature, thereby making them a queer icon? Masterful. The creature being “born on the wrong side of the lab?” A stroke of genius; that they’re called a kid puts the poignancy of the monster’s plight into even greater relief, while simultaneously emphasizing their tragic charm. The clear distinction between Frankenstein and the creature? Reader, I exhaled in a cathartic release of tension. The loving detail that the creature reads novels in their spare time, like any other leather-jacket wearing, motorcycle-riding ruffian with a heart of gold? Beautiful.

Truly, the obvious queer energy of this cover and summary highlights an overlooked dimension of Shelly’s great work while also paying homage to what draws us to this Modern Prometheus time after time. Do we care about the petrified creator in this summary? Not at all. He’s not on the cover, appearing both rebellious and gentle. We are here for the creature, in their leather jacket, on their motorcycle, novel sticking out of a back pocket on their jeans, ready to whisk us away to a place where even monsters like us can find solace, and be at peace, and commune with each other. We need only take their outstretched hand, and be willing to leave the mundane world for something better, for the chance to no longer be alone.

#books #art #classic works #i'm going to purchase a copy of that frankenstein cover and no one will stop me

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xxx-cat-xxx · 6 years ago

Note

so if this doesn't speak to you feel free to just consider it a Nice Concept(TM), but: Clint (and whoever?) giving a sick Tony a hard time about being crabby on a mission. Tony is leading directionally, cause he has the map memorized (genius boy!!). but he's snippy and complaining and the gang is getting Real Tired Of It, and to top it off, eventually it becomes clear they're not even going the right way, but when they go to yell at Tony, he's basically delirious with fever and confused 3 ily!

I absolutely loved this idea, and I had so much fun writing it! Apart from this, getting prompts from one of my favourite writers is awesome. I hope you liked what it turned out to be.

Also, apologies for that super long title. I was going through my music, and that Coldplay song just fit the story (and Tony´s character) so well that I couldn´t resist.

Just because I´m losing doesn´t mean I´m lost

“Isn’t the guy who navigates supposed to lead?” Clint complained. “Hey, genius, I´m talking to you!”

Tony, who was lagging behind, gave him the finger.

“I was just - securing the terrain,” he panted while pulling himself up to the ledge where Peter and Clint were already standing.

“Sure,” Clint spit. “There´s so much danger coming from, well, cactuses and butterflies. Just admit it, we´re lost.”

“I´ve told you before, I know the way. All saved up here,“ Tony said, pointing at his forehead. “Just because you need a sticky note to remember how to tie your shoelaces, birdbrain, doesn´t mean other people aren´t a little more intelligent.”

Peter was usually on Tony’s side when it came to arguments between the Avengers, but even he wondered what was going on now, Tony´s showcase arrogance doing nothing to reassure him. He knew from experience that it was more than anything elsea sign of Tony trying to hide his insecurity.

They had been walking in the mountainous terrain for more than three hours, trying to find a hut in which a group of arms dealers were supposedly hiding their loot. However, it was getting more and more evident that they weren´t even anywhere near their destination, and Peter was sure that they’d crossed this particular hill at least twice already, if not more.

“If you´re so clever, then tell me how much longer we have to walk?” It was clear that Clint had seen through the attempt, too. “I´m honestly getting tired of this.”

“If you´re not up to a short hike, you should have stayed on your hippy-dippy fairytale farm, planting flowers and practicing retirement,” Tony shot back without giving a real answer.

Peter frowned. He knew that Clint´s and Tony´s relationship was sort of bumpy since the whole Civil War thing, but that comment was below the belt line, even for Tony´s usual standards.

If Clint felt bad about it, he didn´t show.

“Look at yourself, old man, you´re panting like a steam loco,” he remarked instead.

Indeed Tony was breathing heavily, sweat beading on his forehead. His cheeks were showing red spots, and he was bent slightly over while standing. Peter expected a snarky reply, but none came. Instead he saw Tony biting his lips, readjusting his backpack and speeding up the pace.

They walked in silence for another 15 minutes, Tony now leading the way, Clint stomping behind like a stubborn child.

“You remember, at MIT, what happened during the last final?” Tony suddenly saidto Peter, his tone completely changed. They were walking up a steep path, and Tony was leaning heavily onto the stone wall to his left.

“No, how would I?” he replied confusedly.

“We got so smashed the night before,“ Tony rambled, his eyes looking a bit glassy from what Peter thought were memories. “I don´t know what happened that day. Just don´t remember anymore. Thought you might.“

Peter waited half a minute for Tony to explain himself, but nothing else came.

“Was that supposed to be funny?” he asked. “Because it´s not.”

Tony looked at him with a bit of surprise. “What?”

“What you just asked me”, Peter repeated impatiently. “Was it supposed to be funny?”

“What did I ask?” Tony inquired, confusion on his face.

“Are you kidding me?” Clint interrupted, his voice rising to an uncomfortable level. “I don’t know which game you are playing, Stark, but I’m seriously fed up from this. We´ve been following you for hours, and I feel like you have no idea what the fuck you´re doing!”

“I´m not…” Tony suddenly trailed off, swaying heavily on his feet.

“Wow, wow, what´s going on?” Clint said, anger still evident in his voice, but taking a step forward to steady the other man.

“I´m okay…´s just the palladium from the arc reactor….gotta replace the core…” Tony slurred.

Peter and Clint exchanged a worried glance.

“Mr. Stark, which arc reactor are you talking about?” Peter asked hesitantly. Everyone knew that Tony had gotten the actual implant removed years ago.

But Tony didn´t reply. Clutching one of his hands to his chest, he let out a small moan before his legs gave out all together and he would have hit the ground hadn´t it been for Clint to catch him.

“Thanks, Rhodey,” Tony murmured, clearly delirious.

“He´s cooking,” Clint assessed while pressing his palm to Tony`s forehead.His snarky attitude had vanished within an instant and was replaced by sober professionalism. Peter could see concern edged in the crease above his brow.

“Running a fever of….must be 104, at least.” He cursed when Tony´s eyes rolled back and he went malleable in his hands.

They carefully laid him on the ground, and Clint quickly opened a water bottle to push it in between Tony´s lips. He had to nudge him a few times before he woke up enough to actually start swallowing. After a few sips, all colour drained from his face, and he gagged weakly once the water went down his throat.

“Turn his head to the side in case he throws up,” Clint directed while keeping a finger on his wrist and checking his watch simultaneouslyto measure the heartbeat.

“His pulse is way too rapid,” he declared after a minute.

Peter could bet his heart was beating nearly as fast as Tony’s. He lifted a hand in order to touch his mentor´s face, but the older man immediately pushed him away with both arms, fear and defensiveness in his eyes.

“Don´ touch me,” he hissed.

“Mr. Stark, it´s only me,” Peter was taken a little aback, but didn´t try again.

“What can I do?” he asked instead, looking at Clint for guidance.

“There´s no way he´s getting out here on his own feet. Make an emergency call, Peter.”

Peter pulled out his phone, just to see an X above the bars indicating the lack of signals.

“There’s no network,” he stated.

He thought of other ways to contact someone, but there weren´t any. None of them was wearing armour, since they were supposed to pass for a family on a hiking day trip, at least if seen from afar. Peter had only brought his webshooters, Clint a foldable bow and Tony his famous watch gauntlet, although Peter was sure he could call one of his suits within minutes if he were lucid enough to do so.

“Yeah, we´re in a dead spot,” Clint said without looking up from Tony. “I think there should be signals up that hill, though. Mind trying?”

“Of course I will.”

Despite his enhanced abilities, Peter ran so fast that he was out of breath by the time he reached the hilltop. At least his mobile started to work again, evident by the beeping of messages arriving. He ignored numerous texts by Ned and scrolled through his contacts untill he found Natasha´s number. Thankfully, she picked up within minutes, and Peter tried his best to explain the situation as clearly as possible.

He made his way down even faster and was back within minutes, just to find Tony still lying in the same position as before.

“How’s he?” he panted.

“Semi-conscious, I’d say. Keeps talking nonsense.”Clint shrugged.“The call went through?”

“Yes, Nat is coming.” Peter replied absentmindedly.

Clint had emptied a water bottle over Tony´s head in an attempt to cool him down, which caused Tony to shiver hard. He moaned a little and mumbled something indiscernible while once again clutching his hand to his chest. The other one was clenched into a fist, ready to strike. Peter could only guess what was going on in Tony´s head, but he was sure it had something to do with the arc reactor.

“He´ll be okay, right?” Peter asked, trying not to sound too concerned, more like an Avenger.

“Don’t worry, it´s not so bad. He´s been much worse.”

This didn´t really help to reassure him. If taking a three-hour mountain walk with a fever of over 104 was considered not so bad for Tony´s standards, Peter wasn’t sure if he wanted to know what worse meant. He wondered again how much - or how less - he actually knew about his mentor´s past history.

“Hey, I’m still here, I can hear you,” Tony announced weakly, finally seeming a bit more clearheaded.

He was trying to push himself up on his hands, and Peter was immediately there to help him leanagainst the stone wall in a half-sitting position. Tony squinted against the sunlight.

“I think my brain´s gonna blow up,” he stated, pressing his hands to his temples in an attempt to lessen his headache.

“Why did you even come here when you were sick?” Peter asked.

“It wasn’t this bad before,” Tony mumbled.

While this was not necessary untrue, Peter was pretty sure he knew the deeper reason: Tony´s never-ending urge to prove himself that he was stronger - stronger than pain, illness, and anyone who´d ever claimed that he wouldn´t be able to achieve what he wanted. Peter sighed.

“Well, I would have expected something more from you, being a genius and all.” Clint said, half smirking, half scolding. “At least you should have let one of us navigate instead of getting everyone lost.”

“I knew where we were”, Tony assured, “just forgot where we had to go.”

Peter was still trying to bend his head around this when he heard the blades of a helicopter approachingquickly.

“Help is here,“ he announced, more to himself than anyone.

Tony nodded, closing his eyes with an exhausted groan while another chill ran through his body.

“Hey, no napping yet.”Clint tapped his fingers on his cheek. “You still need to get on the helicopter and take some medicine, or do you think I`m gonna spoonfeed you?”

“What else are you there for?” Tony teased without opening his eyes.

“I`m not your PA, dude.” Clint said, slightly irritated. “Nor your wife, for that matter.”

“Friends, family, s`all the same,” Tony murmured, alreadyhalf asleep. And this time, it actually made Clint smile a bit.

#tony stark #peter parker #clint barton #sick tony #sick character #sickfic #fanfic #H/c #hurt/comfort #fever #prompt fill #mission fic #tony whump #tony!whump

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larryfanfiction · 6 years ago

Photo

Roadtrip AU

🚗 These Roads We Stumble by Downonewasturning (18k)

He’s completely drenched, not one millimetre of him not covered in rain, and the old sheepskin cover over the seat is probably going to stink afterwards from the damp. But even with what seems to be a constant tremor shaking his body, brown hair plastered to his forehead, and a blue tinge to his skin, he’s still probably the most gorgeous person that Harry has ever seen.

Or, Harry picks up a hitchhiker in Oxford, and it's a long ride to Glasgow.

🚗 On The Open Road by rosegoldhl (24k)

Harry and Louis grew up together, they shared childhood and teenage memories, but they never really got along.What happens when they reunite after four years of not seeing each other, and they find out that the person they hated so much is not the same person anymore?Or a short roadtrip!au in which Harry and Louis have to travel together across the US, deal with the past and of course, share a bed.

🚗 Walk That Mile by purpledaisy (149k) Harry stares at him, the line of his jaw standing out scarily. “I wanted to get the most out of this trip so I planned it carefully.” His voice is low and steady and somehow that’s worse than when he was yelling. “So far, you’ve put your sticky fingers on everything I’ve tried to do.”“Sticky fingers?” Louis repeats, offended. “Are you saying it’s my fault you got stung by a bee? Had you been alone you would have gotten halfway to the Dotty Diner and ran the car off the road because of an allergic reaction, so don’t go blaming me.”“Polk-A-Dot Drive In,” Harry spits before getting out of the car. He slams the door shut with a deafening reverb and Louis rolls his eyes. - A Route 66 AU where falling in love was never part of the plan. 🚗 somewhere only we know by bethaboo (44k)

Personal assistant Louis knows something is up with his best friend and employer Harry. And it's not just his big tour coming up or the ever-increasing womanizing rumors about the popstar. To get to the bottom of Harry's moodiness, Louis decides he has to kidnap him and take him on a roadtrip up the California coast to Portland.

The roadtrippiest road trip fic ever written. Basically an excuse for gratuitous fluff and smut with a pinch of angst tossed in for good measure.

🚗 a runaway american dream by dangerbears (15k)

AU. they take route 66 with only each other and their secrets.

🚗 bluebird by isntrio (39k)

The 2,789 miles between New York and Los Angeles is a long way to go alone.

🚗 The Sound of Your Voice From Far Away by pukeandcry

It'd be perfect, he convinces himself. Things with Lou are – well. They're the way they are, and there's no point dwelling on why it's got that way. But he thinks this would help -- not fix them, because they're not broken. They don't need to be put back together, they're just. Out of sync, maybe. It would help. He thinks it would, anyway, if they could just be the two of them again, to be alone together with no outside influences pressing claustrophobically in on them, just for a bit. And driving down an empty highway with nothing else but Louis beside him is the best way to do that that he can imagine.

Or, after the U.S. leg of the Take Me Home tour, Harry and Louis drive from L.A. to NYC. They figure some things out, like how to deal with the distance that's been growing between them.

🚗 Through the Darkest of Your Days by robpatFF

"Harry thinks he might not really know what okay is, but Louis is warm next to him, solid and constant and questioning. He’s all wide eyes and nerves and vulnerability. And this feels alright, this might be some sort of okay, Harry thinks." Future!fic, roadtrip!fic, OT5 friendship!fic.

🚗 Undone, Undress by angelichl (134k)

Louis' new roommate is shy, skittish, and flinches at the slightest sounds. He's an art major who gets drunk on cherry wine, wears lacy lingerie, and shows up late at night covered in bruises that blossom across his skin like flowers.

Obviously something is wrong. Louis just doesn't know what it is.

🚗 Stay Close, Hold Steady by jaerie (26k)

Found on the banks of the Mississippi as an toddler, Harry goes on a quest to find his biological family. Louis tries to be supportive, but maybe he just doesn't want to be left behind.

🚗 Don't Let the Tide Come and Take Me by kiwikero (28k)

The aquarium in the lobby has been there as long as Louis can remember, and so has the merman inside. That is, until the day Louis loses his job and decides to set the creature free.

They set off on a road trip to the sea, learning to communicate more and more each day. Their destination is LA, but the closer they get and the more Louis gets to know the merman, the more he dreads having to say goodbye.

Or, the one where Louis decides to set a merman free and ends up finding his own freedom along the way.

🚗 Alien Roadtrip! by HelloAmHere (16k)

For the first time in his life, Louis doesn’t know where he’s going. Harry doesn’t mind.

OR: roadtrip with desert feelings, too much snack food, and empty motels. Harry is definitely absolutely not an alien. That would be ridiculous.

🚗 Enjoy The Ride by 2tiedships2 (11k)

“Stop sulking and get up. I have a proposition to make.”

“Niall?” Louis questioned. “Do you think I should put glow in the dark stars on my ceiling?”

He looked over and found Niall giving him an unimpressed look.

“So, no?” Louis asked. “No stars?”

“We’re going on a road trip,” Niall stated.

Louis looked back at his starless ceiling and waved farewell to Niall. “Cool. Have fun!”

“No, you idiot.” Niall let out a frustrated sigh. “You, me, Liam, and Harry.”

Louis glanced over to Niall and back to the ceiling. “Who’s Harry?”

Or the one where Louis, an omega more than tired of being treated as lesser than alphas, is forced on a road trip by his beta besties only to meet Harry who might just be the alpha he never knew he wanted.

🚗 Atlas At Last by louisandthealien (83k)

He doesn’t know what he had been expecting out of the road trip itself besides burping contests and too much shitty gas station food with Oli and Stan, but in the brief moment before Harry ambles up his driveway, Louis idly wonders if this is about to become some sort of Gay Coming of Age story.

Maine to California in ten days. In which Zayn’s an open-shirt hippie they meet somewhere in Ohio, Liam’s the pastor’s son running away from home, and Niall’s the number they call on the bathroom wall.

It’s 1978. Harry and Louis are just trying to get to San Fran in time for the Queen concert.

🚗 All Eyes On Your by ainbow_kings (49k)

Harry and Louis have been married for ten years and they have three children. When their relationship is threatened with a divorce, they pack their belongings and go on a road trip in means to save their relationship. They promise to stay on the road and only returning once they've sorted through their problems.

🚗 and mercury on your heels by flimsy (8k)

“Lou.” Louis turns his head and looks up at Harry, brow tilted. Harry slumps down on the bed, his cheek squished a little as he props himself up on his elbow, lying on his side; he reaches one arm out to make a grabby hand at him. “C’mere,” he says. Louis bats at his hand, but somehow his fingers tangle with Harry’s, pinkies hooking, and Harry rubs his thumb over Louis’ wrist as if he’s looking for his heartbeat beneath his skin.

🚗 take the back roads by hilourry (31k)

The one where Harry and Louis are roommates who are pining over each other and all they need is a road trip down the West Coast to bring them together.

🚗 What A Happy Accident by ItsLivvvy (2k)

Based on this prompt:

"We're on a road trip and you got silent all of the sudden and that's cool you needed to shut up but then you start panting and oh god you look like you're gonna throw up but we're literally moving across state and the house is already sold and the only motels around are booked for a con and that's really really really bad because you're in heat and don't look at me like that- nO stoPthere's cars and trucks all over the place for this con I cannot have you fucking H-hEY DONT START CLIMBING IN MY LAP-" AU

🚗 you're the summer in my mind by orphan_account

Harry supposes it had started with Louis, really. Because even if nobody wants to say it out loud, everything starts with Louis.

(or, alternatively: harry and louis take a road trip after the take me home tour ends.)

🚗 nothing worsens, nothing grows by soldouthaz (102k)

and he sits there quietly with harry’s headphones in his ears while his eyes begin to close, totally unaware that he’s listening to the soundtrack of harry falling in love with him.

or, another roadtrip au featuring harry as the misunderstood hipster, louis as the bitter psych major, liam as the one with the secret boyfriend, and niall as the one who just wants everyone to be happy.

#larry fanfiction #masterpost #larry fic rec #Larry Stylinson #roadtripauMA #MA #roadtripau #aug2018

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redsrandomrants · 6 years ago

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Let Me Tell You Why You're Wrong About Pink Diamond💎

**spoilers for the show Steven Universe if you aren't caught up**

A lot of people on social media have some very strong opinions on the character of Pink Diamond. It’s not really a secret that the Steven Universe fandom is rather toxic, which is why I usually I try to stay away, lest I contract idiocy, but I made the horrible mistake of watching one of the many, many, YouTube videos on her, and let's just say I have a lot of feelings.

First off, the impression people seem to have of Pink is that she was a selfish brat that used and manipulated everyone around her, faked a new identity to escape her Disney Princess life and responsibilities and was in general a horrible person. These people are wong. Don't listen to them. Listen to me. I have a blog.

So, since apparently those geniuses have been watching an entirely different show, I, a scholar, shall provide you with evidence from the show to back up my claims instead of just spewing whatever unfiltered word vomit enters my brain. You might wanna buckle up, folks, when I rant I rant for hours.

Let us begin.

First, we will need to reconstruct what we know of Pink's timeline. The earliest glimpse we can get of her is in the episode "Jungle Moon".

-I want my own army! I want my own planet! I deserve it! I’m just as important as you!

Pink Diamond, Jungle Moon

Here is where the 'spoiled brat' idea was probably born. And I would agree with that... if this was the last we saw of Pink. But it isn't. This is, in story terms, Pink Diamond pre-character development. When you write a story, it's important that your characters grow and change over the course of the adventure. Otherwise it makes for a bad, boring story, because if the events didn't have an impact on the characters, how are they supposed to have an impact on the audience? Who wants to see an adventure that doesn't leave a mark and after it's done it's quickly forgotten as if it never was? It's nearly impossible to pull off a compelling story like that. Hence why characters start out with a problem or a character flaw that they need to overcome. Let me ask you this, can you see this tantrum-throwing version of Pink leading an army? Can you see her acting like that with Amethyst, Garnet or Pearl? With Greg? No, because by the time she met them, she was a different person. Would a selfish brat leave behind her cushy life? Didn't think so.

Back to the timeline, after Pink throws a fit that she is a Diamond too and wants to be a big girl now, after much pleading and begging and probably more tantrums, her sisters decide that she's mature enough to to handle it. It's possible that she demonstrated in some way that she was up to the task, but we have no proof of that at this point. The next bit of her we see, she's already overseeing progress on her very first colony -- Earth. It's not all that she imagined it to be, as we see her bored and she even remarks to her Pearl that she wished something more exciting will happen. Pre-character development Pearl at this point is brainwashed to be an obedient pawn, so she agrees and does anything her Diamond says.

- Could you imagine that running a colony would be this dull?

- I could imagine it, if you would like me to, My Diamond.

-Pink and Pearl on the Moon Base, Now We’re Only Falling Apart

In this segment we see how Pearl accidentally gave Rose the idea to shapeshift into a Quartz and go to Earth to meet her soldiers. Now, at this point it's worth noting how nice Pink is to them. The newest episode at the time of this post is Familiar, where we see that Pink treated her Pebbles similarly (they try to hide from Steven until he says 'thank you', and only after that do they recognise him as Pink Diamond)

- Welcome to Earth!

- That is the first and nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.

Pink and a newly-emerged Amethyst soldier, Now We’re Only Falling Apart

Pink and Pearl tour Earth, hugging trees and being hippies. And then something happens - Pink sees humans for the first time. It dawns on her that this planet already has life on it, and that completing this colony, this thing she's wanted for so, so long, would mean destroying that life. At this point we're already seeing some of that character development, but this is a call to action that really gets the ball rolling.

So, what did Pink do next? She decided to run away from her boring responsibilities, not caring about the destruction she was causing and what she was leaving behind, but only looking to selfishly disappear under a fake identity. No? You think that's a bit inconsistent with the gem that thanks little worker pebbles and was most excited not about conquering but about creating life, saddened by the fact she has to end the life already there? Well, you'd be right.

What Pink did next was go to her sisters, the other Diamonds, and say, “I don't want to complete this colony.” When the Diamonds, rightly so, pointed out that Pink had been badgering them for it and asked why she didn't want it anymore, Pink told the truth: there are humans and flowers and she doesn't want to destroy that. Naively, she sincerely thought that if she told her sisters this, they would agree that it's wrong, they would leave Earth alone and maybe only colonise uninhabited planets. But what did the other Diamonds say? We don't care about humans, they told her. You wanted this, now finish what you started! They scolded her, the way you scold a flippant child. Because, let's not forget, she is by far the youngest of the four. Those of you with older siblings, would they listen to you about something they've done longer than you? Imagine you've just now started a new activity, like let's say fencing. You go to your sisters who are both years older than you and you tell them you want to fence holding the rapier backwards and that they should do the same. The response you would get will fall somewhere between annoyed eyerolls and condescending remarks, possibly a derisive laugh or two. And guess what, that's exactly how the Diamonds reacted.

-Why did she have to rope us into all of this? Why couldn’t she just stop the colonization herself?

-She tried. When she told the other Diamonds she didn’t want to go through with the colony, they told her to finish what she started. When she told the other Diamonds she wanted to preserve life on Earth, they created the Zoo and threw a handful of humans in. She did everything she could as Pink Diamond, but her status meant nothing to Blue and Yellow.

-- Sapphire and Pearl, Now We’re Only Falling Apart

We need to remember that she was a Diamond, yes, but she didn’t have absolute power to do as she wanted in every single respect, especially given that this is her very first colony and she’s the baby of the family. No matter how much you grow up, to the adults in your life you will always be that kid that drew on the walls and pooped their diaper. But Pink didn’t give up, she kept making excuses after excuses, and when nothing worked, she decided to take a stand ‘as someone they couldn’t ignore’. Notice that she didn’t just tear down the kindergarten and break her toy like a petulant child. No, her first instinct was non-violent solutions.

-She was going to scare every gem off the planet.

Pearl, Now We’re Only Falling Apart

And that might have been where it ended. Buuuut…

-Everything changed when she saw your fusion. Before Garnet, Rose was only fighting for Earth. But Garnet changed everything; Rose wanted to fight for her, she wanted to fight for gems.

Pearl, Now We’re Only Falling Apart

But how, please tell me how, is any of that selfish? Pink didn’t want to be a fusion. At the beginning, this was about preserving life on Earth. Then it became about other gems. She didn't do any of this for herself -- she did it for them. She could see how brainwashed all the other gems were to love the Diamonds and serve them and do what they’re meant to do.

-Rose Quartz changed my life. I came to Earth thinking this was just another colony -- build another arena for important fighters to fight in, build another spire for important thinkers to think in. And then I met her. Just another Quartz soldier made right here in the dirt, but she was different. And she was different because she decided to be. She asked me what I wanted to build; I’d never heard that before. And gems never hear they can be anything other than what they are, but Rose opened our eyes.

Bismuth, Bismuth

Some people are salty that it turned out Rose Quartz wasn’t ‘just another soldier’ and that made her less special somehow. But what does it matter if she was a Quartz or a Diamond? She was still different. Was she like the other Diamonds? No. Was she like any other gem? No. So what does it matter? She still made the choice to be different, she still decided to fight for innocent life and for the right of other gems to choose, something no one, Diamond or otherwise, had ever done. She pretty much acts the same as Rose as she did as Pink, so why the hell does it matter?

And this is the point where we will take a slight detour and talk about Pearl. Pearl has now been demoted in public opinion for some reason because she’s ‘less of a rebel’, because now she's just following a Diamond like she’s supposed to. That’s what everyone says, right? But here’s the thing. Everyone is full of shit.

-Pearl.

-Yes?

-I’m going to stay and fight for this planet. You don't have to do this with me.

-But I want to!

-I know you do. Please, please understand, if we lose, we’ll be killed. And if we win, we can never go home.

-Why would I ever want to go home if you’re here?

Rose and Pearl, Rose’s Scabbard

Pearl wasn’t just following Pink -- she was given a choice. Stay who you are, stay a maid, an object, go to one of the other Diamonds. I’m going to do this dangerous thing, but you don’t have to. Pearl joined the rebellion because she wanted to join, and she was given the choice of staying behind and being a servant, but she rejected it. Like with Bismuth, Pink asked her what she wanted to do. And notice how different she is now than Flashback!Pearl. She snaps at Peridot that she doesn't belong to anyone, she learned to sword fight and to build things and to do stuff that Pearls aren’t supposed to because she wanted to. She stayed with Pink because Pink is the epitome of sunshine and goodness, not because of some slave complex. Dobby the House Elf didn’t die for Harry Potter because of some slave-in-love-with-its-master crap, but because Harry showed him a kindness no one else had and Dobby wanted to help him, and fight for him, and ultimately die for him. Harry freed him, but he was still there, following him and helping him because he just wanted to. Are you seeing it now? Pearl was famous for throwing herself between Pink and attacking enemies, even though Pink told her not to do that.

-Why won’t you just let me do this for you, Rose?!

Pearl, Sworn to the Sword

-Did Rose make you feel like you were nothing?

-Hah! Rose made me feel like I was everything.

Connie and Pearl, Sworn to the Sword

Pink showed Pearl kindness that she’d never seen before, asked her what she wanted to do. That’s why Pearl follows her. Maybe there wasn’t a symbolic sock of freedom, but Pink told Pearl that she was free to do as she chose. And Pearl chose to fight.

Pearl is a renegade pearl, and she doesn't belong to anybody. Fight me.

And now let’s talk controversy -- the shattering.

Going back to the timeline, let’s recap.

Pink wants a colony of her own

Pink gets colony

Pink finds out running a colony is boring, but Pearl gives her the idea to sneak into the kindergarten in disguise

Pink sees humans and flowers and decides she wants to protect the planet

Pink talks to the Diamonds about stopping the colony, but gets shot down

Pink decides to take on the form of Rose Quartz and chase the gems off world.

Pink meets Garnet and decides she wants to fight for gems and their right to choose

Pink gathers more gems to her cause, such as Bismuth, and creates the Rebellion

While points 5-8 are going on, Pink continues making up excuses to stop or slow down colonisation. She knows that the Rebellion is outnumbered, that Homeworld can keep sending troops indefinitely and that they, unlike the rebels, aren’t afraid of shattering. Pink was very much against shattering, as it’s a permanent death for a gem, and as discussed previously she is a big poofy marshmallow. Pink tries, relentlessly, to get the colonisation stopped, even while she is leading the rebellion, and even tries to use this to make the other Diamonds back off. This goes as well as you’d expect.

- This is what you wanted. You begged us for a colony of your own, and now all you want to do is be rid of it! First there were too many organics, and then their cities were too difficult to dismantle, and now these Crystal Gems? We're tired of your excuses, Pink! This Rose Quartz can't hurt you. You can't be swayed by a few unruly gems. Enough! You must understand... you are a Diamond. Everyone on this planet is looking to you. You don't even have to do anything; just smile and wave. Show everyone you are unfazed by this little uprising. Your gems will fall into line, and these Crystal Gems will be no more. As long as you're there to rule, this colony will be completed.

Blue Diamond, Can’t Go Back

This is when the idea forms. Pink realises that as long as she is there to be the ruler, the other Diamonds won’t relent. But maybe, just maybe, if she were to disappear, Blue and Yellow would leave the colony unfinished and tend to their own.

- Blue and Yellow don’t care. They never have. This is Pink Diamond’s colony. We can end it all, right here, right now.

Rose, A Single Pale Rose

Please note again that Pink doesn’t command Pearl to play along, but instead asks her to participate. Also note that Pearl is no longer mindlessly agreeing, she is considering the danger and making her own choice. Pink believes that this is the only way to get the gems to leave, and she also chooses to present as Rose Quartz, because that’s who she feels she really is. Here is the thing. Diamonds, just like any other gem, are made for a purpose. Pink was supposed to be a conquerer or world, that was her job. But she didn’t want to be. She didn’t want to be treated like a Diamond (please refer to the scene on the Moon Base and her disdain for the robotic way Pearl addresses her). How is that any different than a Pearl choosing to fight or a Quartz soldier choosing not to? Rose Quartz or Pink Diamond, she rejected the role she’d been assigned and sought to make her own path in life. She wanted to be free, too, the same way she wanted that for all gems.

Please note my choice of words, people. ‘Chooses to present’. ‘Role she’d been assigned’. ‘Trying to be someone she’s not’. Those are not coincidences.

-Mom lived in hiding by the name of Rose, with the friends she’d made and the form she chose

Steven, Reunited

With such big LGBT+ vibes in the show, it boggles my mind that people aren’t picking up on this. Is it because gems are genderless aliens? Is it because Rose is the same ‘gender’ as Pink?

Moving on to the final bits of Rose Quartz’s history (since this is the name she chose for herself, we’ll go with that from now on). Let’s see, what haven’t we addressed? Selfish, spoiled brat? Character development, we went over that. Manipulated and lied to everyone? Um, to do what, fight for their own freedom? Since she pretty clearly gives everyone she meets a choice, I’m gonna call bullshit on that one. And she always acted as herself while she was Rose, so she wasn’t pretending to be someone she wasn’t. Faked her death to escape her responsibilities? Nope, did that so the Diamonds would leave Earth (which worked btw). She’s a horrible person? Well sure, if by horrible you mean sweet and nice to everyone she meets, fighting for innocent life and for the rights of all gems, then yeah. She’s so horrible everyone loves her.

Had many secrets? Well, that one is kinda legit. She did have secrets, but she hid things for the greater good. Her being Pink Diamond? I’d imagine a lot of gems would have reacted like this butthurt fandom “Oh, so we never really rebelled? We were just following another Diamond this whole time? THIS WHOLE REBELLION IS A LIE!!” Except that it isn’t. Everyone made the choice to follow Rose, not because she was a Diamond, but because she inspired them. They did rebell on their own, and they were fighting of their own free will. They didn’t know that she was a Diamond, and that’s what really matters. But, well, we’ve seen what happens -- people jump to conclusions without stopping to think. So yeah, I get that. Bubbling Bismuth? Well, I mean… Bismuth did try to kill her. What else was she supposed to do? This is as close to prison as Rose can do, and obviously she wouldn’t shatter her or banish her so that she would fall into enemy hands. Rose kept Bismuth safe, along with her most treasured possessions, but knew she couldn't let her out. Why? Bismuth would still want to take the war to Homeworld. And Rose made a choice not to sully Bismuth’s good name and tell others of her betrayal and radical murdery ways. Not an easy choice, but it was the one she made. People were also kinda salty that her being Pink means that she never had to make the tough moral choice to kill an evil dictator, but here you go, imprisoning your crazy, extremist friend counts as a morally grey choice.

Created Steven so that she didn’t have to face consequences and left him this mess to clean? What was her grand plan for him, why did she have him? Surely there is a great conspiracy behind this, right?? The machiavellian mind of Pink Diamond at work???

- I don’t understand! Why is this the same as the video you guys made me? Who’s Nora?

- Nora is you! We had it down to two names: Steven if you were a boy and Nora if you were a girl.

- So then… would Nora have the magical destiny if I wasn’t here?

- Magical destiny? I dunno about that.

- But Mom did! She was trying to tell me something with my tape! She keeps leaving me puzzle pieces! Sooner or later, I’m going to understand what I’m for!

- Whoa, Steven, it’s okay! C’mere.

- … Am I supposed to be… Did she want me to be Nora?

- Steven, she just wanted you to be you. When you have a kid you have no idea who they’re gonna be; even Garnet couldn’t predict it. That’s what was so exciting to your mom, that life is full of so many possibilities and you would get to explore them for yourself. I mean, you could be Steven, or Nora, or anyone else. And you can always change your name! Hey, I did.

- So that’s it. I’m just… supposed to be her kid.

- Well… yeah. Is that okay?

- Yeah. I think I can handle that.

Steven and Greg, Lion 4: Alternate Ending

- I get it. I know you didn’t want me to deal with your problems. But you’re a part of me now. I have to deal with what you left behind.

Steven, Storm in the Room

#FIGHT ME #steven universe #pink diamond #rose quartz #blue diamond #yellow diamond #white diamond #steven #greg universe #great diamond authority #pearl #garnet #amethyst #random rants

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raveofsix · 7 years ago

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10 months

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x reader.

Summary: You want to celebrate reaching 10 months with Billy but you’re forced to babysit Erica Sinclair; which makes him act strange.

Warning: Cussing. Angst? Mentions of abuse.

Word count: 2,4K.

You wanted to storm into your father’s office and flip him off with your two middle fingers in an I-told-you-so manner. After constantly saying you wouldn’t even last 5 months with Billy you had proven him wrong.

For your luck, he screwed you over again by getting you to babysit for his friend’s family while he went out with them to have a dinner party… all of this in the day you and Billy reached ten months together.

“You father hates me.”

“I told you, you should have read the Nietzsche book he gave you,” you joked.

Billy rolled his eyes.

You grabbed his face and smiled. “Look, it’s okay, you can come babysit with me, and afterwards we’ll go spend the money on fries.”

“That’s romantic,” he said, hesitantly.

“Do you have a better idea?” You let go of him and found his cheeks red with the marks of your hands.

“Yeah, actually I had, but clearly your father figured out that leaving you the house alone wasn’t a good idea,” he said with a smug grin.

You deadpanned and he booped your nose with his finger just to annoy you.

“I’ll wait for you at the Sinclair residence tonight,” you state.

Luckily, this time your father had to go out with his least unbearable friends, so in turn you had to babysit Erica Sinclair, who was probably the only kid you know that doesn’t make you want to stab yourself whenever they talk. She clearly had picked up something from you after all these years babysitting her.

“Sinclair?” He stood back.

“Is something wrong?” You squinted. Clearly, he wasn’t good at lying to you, whenever you talked about Lucas he got weird about it.

“Nope.” He avoided the theme.

—————————————————-

You go to his car at 10am, he had a free period so he usually spent it smoking cigarettes on his car. You tapped on his window and he rolled it down.

“Did you just call my father?!” You asked loudly since the rain made it hard to be heard.

He nodded in embarrassment.

“Look, I get it. You want to do something else but I can’t and if you call him you won’t get extra brownie points with him! Even if they’re pot brownies,” you claimed in all seriousness.

He stepped out of the car. “It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“Nothing.”

“Clearly it isn’t nothing,” You pressured him. “Is this about me going to the Sinclair’s?”

“No.” He rubbed his forehead.

“Then what is it? You just don’t want to come then?”

“I can’t go in there!” He yells, bewildered.

You step back in surprise, raising an eyebrow, your hair had now shrunken due to the water. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Billy sighs. All his subtleness flew out the window when it came to you; you always crossed the line when searching for the truth, whether it was just a white lie or massive cover-up, you’re used to prying annoyingly until the other person blew up and told you, it wasn’t a good tactic, but it worked, nonetheless.

He rubs the bridge of his nose and feels the raindrops in his fingertips. He fucking hated this town. In California the odds of your girlfriend babysitting the kid you threatened were 0.

You knit your eyebrows together. “These are just kids, Billy, what goddamn awful thing have you done to them that you’re not allowed to step foot into their house?”

“I… I’m just not going,” he said, coming out so softly it almost sounded like a whisper.

You stared at him, mouth slightly hanging. “Does this have to do with Lucas and Max?”

Billy noticed you had this weird habit of moving your hands softly while trying to hide your anger at him, so by this point he doesn’t even know why you bother in doing so.

He didn’t look at you, instead focusing on the wet ground in silence. What was he going to say? Yeah, I tried to beat a kid. Surely, will get him dumped.

You scoffed and began walking away, gripping your backpack strap tighter, blinking every step because the water hit your eyes.

————————————————-

Billy didn’t have the opportunity to give you a ride home because you already had left without a warning. He definitely fucked up if you’d rather walk in the thundering rain than bear a few uncomfortable minutes in his car.

Maybe he did fuck up, not because he didn’t tell you the truth, simply because what he did was wrong.

It happened almost a year ago and he still hasn’t done anything about it. Sure, he stopped bothering Max but that was because she fucking sedated him, either way that doesn’t make up for anything he’s done.

“What do you want?” Max opened her bedroom door, rolling her eyes.

Billy stuffed his hands on the pockets of his jacket as he entered her room. “Umm… Can we talk?”

He never enters her room and she never enters his. He has always caught some similarities between you and Max when it came to personality, but he never thought how different you guys were… aesthetically.

Your bedroom was tidy and had pink walls, old stuffed animals (he admitted it was creepy when it was time to get it on) and a collection of old perfume bottles in your vanity. Max’s was completely different, she got all of her shit thrown around, a few wonder woman posters hanging and picture of the beach.

Billy grabbed one of “Max’s” bandanas, or better said, his lost bandana, and waved it in her face.

She groaned. “If you came to bother about that you can just take it.”

He scoffed. “Alright, I will but that’s not what I came for.”

She raised an eyebrow in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

He sat on her bed and sighed. “Look, I’m going to say this once, and only once…”

She waved at him to go on.

Billy scratched the back of his neck. “I’m sorry for… trying to punch your boyfriend and being such a pain in the ass the last couple of years. I know I should have said this sooner but I hadn’t really thought about it until now.”

“You haven’t? Wow… okay.”

“It’s the truth, alright. You can believe it if you want to or not, I don’t care, I just had to say it.”

Max stared at him and Billy began tapping his foot frantically against the floor.

“Well, you haven’t been exceptionally shitty lately so I guess I forgive you…” Max leaned against the wall. “But I think you shouldn’t just apologize to me, you know? Lucas has never come near the house because he is scared of you.”

Billy ran a hand through his hair and breathed in. “I know… I know.”

——————————————————

You groaned at the doorbell sound. Erica quickly retrieved herself off the couch to go get it.

“Hey, no! I’ll get it!” You ran past her and she scolded at you when you reached the door first. “It could be a serial killer,” you warned. “I would be giving you time to run away.”

You opened the door and frowned when you realized who it was.

It was Billy holding a bouquet of flowers.

You frowned in confusion. “Alright…”

“Can I come in?”

“Thought you couldn’t,” you mentioned bitterly.

“I’ll explain.”

“Maybe later, I’m busy,” you said as you moved on to close the door. Luckily for him, Erica stepped in from under your arm and butted in their conversation.

“Is she a friend of yours?” She asked you.

You snorted with a hand over your mouth, trying to hide your cackling. Billy deadpanned and answered with his manliest voice, “I’m a boy…”

“Oh, then he is your boyfriend! Why is his hair better than yours?”

“Yeah, he is, kind of,” you answered. “And his hair is not better than mine!” You grabbed one strand of hair, it did have a lot of split ends.

“Kind of?” He questioned you.

“Oooh, fight,” the little girl instigated.

“Whatever, step in before you freeze to death,” you motioned him to come inside the house.

“Or some weird guy kills you,” Erica adds.

Billy hung up his coat and followed behind you. Before he interrupted you, you were watching TV with Erica while playing Barbie’s in the rug of the living room.

“Hey umm…” He squinted at the little girl.

“Erica,” you mouthed at him with a frown.

How much more could he fuck this up? “Erica… I bought these for you.” He stirred up the flowers to her and you observed him with a hidden smile. He was trying, hopefully, you do notice that.

The little girl squealed. “They’re pretty!”

“Yeah, that’s pretty sweet of you Billy,” you said with a smirk on your face as you approached him, then you whispered into his ear, “That doesn’t explain anything, yet.”

He got red. He didn’t know what else to do. “Look, I’ll do so,” he muttered to you, “I need to find the other Sinclair first.”

“Upstairs, second door to the left,” You replied and focused back on Erica, who was asking how to take care of flowers.

———————————————–

It was past Erica’s curfew so you put her to bed. Luckily, she complied, unlike most times where she would put on her best puppy eyes and throw you favorite Lucas-based snarky comments to let her keep watching cartoons for 15 more minutes.

You closed the door behind her and coincidently met with Billy in the hallway.

“Hey,” he muttered, while leaning against the door.

“Hey,” you said back with a neutral look on your face. You pointed at Lucas’s door. “That’s quite a while you were in there.”

“Yeah…”

“Are you going to talk now?”

“Yeah…” He replied, hesitantly.

Both of you moved to the kitchen. You sat with your arms crossed, while Billy observed the family portraits, especially the one that came after ‘73.

“Is it true that your father didn’t go to Vietnam?” He asked, his eyes stuck on the picture of Lucas’s father.

You raised an eyebrow. “What does this have to do with me being mad?”

“I’m just asking.”

“No, he didn’t go because he had taken a shit ton of LSD making him stupidly smart enough to fail the test they had pass to get in the military,” you explained while taking a chip out of the plastic bag you found in one of the drawers. “Those damn hippies, am I right?”

Billy sat down in front of you, leaning his crossed arms on the table. “My father did go, it fucked him a up a little. His temper and stuff.”

“Oh,” you let out a little concerned. “I’m sorry abou that-”

He interrupted you. “Do you remember last year? When I asked you out on a date and had to stood you up?”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t remind me.”

He chuckled slightly. “I remember your face the next day, it was the same you’re doing right now. You were extremely pissed off. I took me a while to win you over again.”

You stared at him in silence, no expression in your face.

“Well, I did something inappropriate that day and instead of taking you to the movies, I went searching for Max. She didn’t come home. So, I found her with Harrington and the little geeks. I… look- I get it if you don’t want to be with me after this, but I guess the truth couldn’t hurt any less.”

“Just tell me Billy!”

“I hit Lucas and Steve,” He blurted out.

There was sudden moment of silence until you let out a loud, “What?!”

You led a hand to your face, mouth slightly agape. You recalled all the times Max made faces at Billy whenever you bought up Lucas’s name. You recalled that Monday after, when you arrived at school feeling a failure after being stood up and finding Steve in your same situation with a fucked-up face. “For fuck’s sake, Billy you waited 10 months to tell me this bullshit!”

“I know, I know! I was in a bad place then… I still am!”

You didn’t stare at him, shocked at his words.

“But I apologized to Steve, and my sister. And Lucas, he heard me out and forgave me.”

“You apologized after a year? Jesus Christ…” You breathed in.

“Look, I was scared,” He says with complete honesty. You’ve never heard him claim such emotion before. “And I’m going to tell you something and I need you for both of our sake’s that after tonight you don’t think about it again.”

“What are you talking about, Billy?” You asked in defeat, focusing on the dead skin on your cuticles rather than his face.

“My dad has a shitty ass temper,” he stated. “And that day Max didn’t come home. Susan was worried and I supposedly had to take care of her, so umm… he lost it, and he, well… hit me.”

You lifted your view from your nails and observed him, eyes widening by the second.

He scratched the back of his neck, his voice faltering. “And that wasn’t the first time he has done it, it’s been going on for a while. I know it doesn’t excuse anything but… I’m trying to change. You know that.”

“Billy… I… didn’t know.” You stared at him, worry cornering your face. You had no idea what to say. You got off you seat and approached him.

Who would have thought two words would explain so much damage? Now suddenly all of his behavior made sense, the way he reacted, the 4 deep calming breaths he took before arguing with someone, how he didn’t want you to go to his house, how he didn’t want to be at his house, the countless fight he got in, the number of bruises he claimed came from the rival town’s loser jocks.

He stared at you, tears threatening to spill. You leant in and hugged him.

He began sobbing on your shoulder. “I’m so sorry… Please, don’t leave,” he pleaded.

Tears escaped your eyes and you tried to keep your voice together for him. “I won’t.”

You were both just 18 and barely knew what to do for the rest of your lives. You didn’t know how to help him but you hoped a hug would be the start of a solution.

#w #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic

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rickthaniel · 8 years ago

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Avatar Aang, Feminist Icon?

“Who’s your favorite character?” I hear that question come up a lot over Avatar: The Last Airbender, a show particularly near and dear to me. Iroh and Toph get tossed around a lot. Zuko is very popular. Sokka has his fans. But something I’ve noticed? Aang very rarely gets the pick. When he comes up, it’s usually in that “Oh, and also…” kind of way. Which is strange, I think, considering he’s the main character, the titular airbender, of the entire show.

I never really thought much about it until a couple weeks ago when I finished my annual re-watch of the series and found myself, for the first time, specifically focused on Aang’s arc. Somehow, I never really paid that much attention to him before. I mean sure, he’s front and center in most episodes, fighting or practicing or learning big spiritual secrets, and yet, he always feels a little overshadowed. Katara takes care of the group. Sokka makes the plans. Zuko has the big, heroic Joseph Campbell journey. Aang…goofs around. He listens and follows and plays with Momo. And yes, at the end his story gets bigger and louder, but even then I feel like a lot of it dodges the spotlight. And here’s why:

Avatar casts the least traditionally-masculine hero you could possibly write as the star of a fantasy war story. Because of that, we don’t see Aang naturally for everything he is, so we look elsewhere.

To show what I mean, I want to talk about some of the show’s other characters, and I want to start with Zuko. Zuko is the hero we’re looking for. He’s tall and hot and complicated. He perseveres in the face of constant setbacks. He uses two swords and shoots fire out of his hands. He trains with a wise old man on ship decks and mountaintops. Occasionally he yells at the sky. He’s got the whole 180-degree moral turn beat for beat, right down to the scars and the sins-of-the-father confrontation scene. And if you were going into battle, some epic affair with battalions of armor-clad infantry, Zuko is the man you’d want leading the charge, Aragorn style. We love Zuko. Because Zuko does what he’s supposed to do.

Now let’s look at Katara. Katara doesn’t do what she’s supposed to do. She doesn’t care about your traditionally gender dynamics because she’s too busy fighting pirates and firebenders, planning military operations with the highest ranking generals in the Earth Kingdom, and dismantling the entire patriarchal structure of the Northern Water Tribe. Somewhere in her spare time she also manages to become one of the greatest waterbenders in the world, train the Avatar, defeat the princess of the Fire Nation in the middle of Sozin’s Comet and take care of the entire rest of the cast for an entire year living in tents and caves. Katara is a badass, and we love that.

So what about Aang? When we meet Aang, he is twelve years old. He is small and his voice hasn’t changed yet. His hobbies include dancing, baking and braiding necklaces with pink flowers. He loves animals. He doesn’t eat meat. He despises violence and spends nine tenths of every fight ducking and dodging. His only “weapon” is a blunt staff, used more for recreation than combat. Through the show, Aang receives most of his training from two young women – Katara and Toph – whom he gives absolute respect, even to the point of reverence. When he questions their instruction, it comes from a place of discomfort or anxiety, never superiority. He defers to women, young women, in matters of strategy and combat. Then he makes a joke at his own expense and goes off to feed his pet lemur.

Now there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for all this, and it’s the one that shielded Aang from the heroic limelight in my eyes for ten years. The reasoning goes like this: Aang is a child. He has no presumptuous authority complex, no masculinity anxiety, no self-consciousness about his preferred pastimes, because he’s twelve. He’s still the hero, but he’s the prepubescent hero, the hero who can’t lead the charge himself because he’s just not old enough. The problem is, that reasoning just doesn’t hold up when you look at him in the context of the rest of the show.

Let’s look at Azula. Aside from the Avatar himself, Zuko’s sister is arguably the strongest bender in the entire show. We could debate Toph and Ozai all day, but when you look at all Azula does, the evidence is pretty damning. Let’s make a list, shall we?

Azula completely mastered lightning, the highest level firebending technique, in her spare time on a boat, under the instruction of two old women who can’t even bend.

Azula led the drill assault on Ba Sing Sae, one of the most important Fire Nation operations of the entire war, and almost succeeded in conquering the whole Earth Kingdom.

Azula then bested the Kyoshi Warriors, one of the strongest non-bender fighting groups in the entire world, successfully infiltrated the Earth Kingdom in disguise, befriended its monarch, learned of the enemy’s most secret operation, emotionally manipulated her older brother, overthrew the captain of the secret police and did conquer the Earth Kingdom, something three Fire Lords, numerous technological monstrosities, and countless generals, including her uncle, failed to do in a century.

And she did this all when she was fourteen.

That last part is easy to forget. Azula seems so much her brother’s peer, we forget she’s the same age as Katara. And that means that when we first meet Azula, she’s only a year older than Aang is at the end of the series. So to dismiss Aang’s autonomy, maturity or capability because of his age is ridiculous, understanding that he and Azula could have been in the same preschool class.

We must then accept Aang for what he truly is: the hero of the story, the leader of the charge, who repeatedly displays restraint and meekness, not because of his age, not because of his upbringing, not because of some character flaw, but because he chooses too. We clamor for strong female characters, and for excellent reason. But nobody every calls for more weak male characters. Not weak in a negative sense, but weak in a sense that he listens when heroes talk. He negotiates when heroes fight. And when heroes are sharpening their blades, planning their strategies and stringing along their hetero love interests, Aang is making jewelry, feeding Appa, and wearing that flower crown he got from a travelling band of hippies. If all Aang’s hobbies and habits were transposed onto Toph or Katara, we’d see it as a weakening of their characters. But with Aang it’s cute, because he’s a child. Only it isn’t, because he’s not.

Even in his relationship with Katara, a landmark piece of any traditional protagonist’s identity, Aang defies expectations. From the moment he wakes up in episode one, he is infatuated with the young woman who would become his oldest teacher and closest friend. Throughout season one we see many examples of his puppy love expressing itself, usually to no avail. But there’s one episode in particular that I always thought a little odd, and that’s Jet.

In Jet, Katara has an infatuation of her own. The titular vigilante outlaw sweeps her off her feet, literally, with his stunning hair, his masterful swordsmanship and his apparent selflessness. You’d think this would elicit some kind of jealousy from Aang. There’s no way he’s ignorant of what’s happening, as Sokka sarcastically refers to Jet as Katara’s boyfriend directly in Aang’s presence, and she doesn’t even dispute it. But even then, we never see any kind of rivalry manifest in Aang. Rather, he seems in full support of it. He repeatedly praises Jet, impressed by his leadership and carefree attitude. Despite his overwhelming affection for Katara, he evaluates both her and Jet on their own merits as people. There is no sense of ownership or macho competition.

Contrast this with Zuko’s reaction to a similar scenario in season three’s The Beach. Zuko goes to a party with his girlfriend, and at that party he sees her talking to another guy. His reaction? Throwing the challenger into the wall, shattering a vase, yelling at Mai, and storming out. This may seem a little extreme, but it’s also what we’d expect to an extent. Zuko is being challenged. He feels threatened in his station as a man, and he responds physically, asserting his strength and dominance as best he can.

I could go on and on. I could talk about how the first time Aang trains with a dedicated waterbending master, he tries to quit because of sexist double standards, only changing his mind after Katara’s urging. I could talk about how Aang is cast as a woman in the Fire Nation’s propaganda theatre piece bashing him and his friends. Because in a patriarchal society, the worst thing a man can be is feminine. I could talk about the only times Aang causes any kind of real destruction in the Avatar state, it’s not even him, since he doesn’t gain control of the skill until the show’s closing moments. Every time he is powerless in his own power and guilt-ridden right after, until the very end when he finally gains control, and what does he do with all that potential? He raises the rivers, and puts the fires out.

Aang isn’t what he’s supposed to be. He rejects every masculine expectation placed on his role, and in doing so he dodges center stage of his own show. It’s shocking to think about how many times I just forgot about Aang. Even at the end, when his voice has dropped and his abs have filled in, we miss it. Zuko’s coronation comes and we cheer with the crowd, psyched to see our hero crowned. Then the Fire Lord shakes his head, gestures behind him and declares “the real hero is the Avatar.” It’s like he’s talking to us. “Don’t you get it?” he asks. “Did you miss it? This is his story. But you forgot that. Because he was small. And silly. And he hated fighting. And he loved to dance. Look at him,” Zuko seems to say. “He’s your hero. Avatar Aang, defier of gender norms, champion of self-identity, feminist icon.”

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