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stagefoureddiediaz · 3 years

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5x11 Costume meta

Now I’ve had a little time to process here is the 5x11 meta.

Lets start at the beginning and work our way through!!

May is in yellow and stripes!! - so we are getting communication - and a change of direction - in this instance she is communicating about Eddies change of direction from firefighter to public service officer!

Then we get to the Eddie montage which I wrote about in my sneak peak meta so I’m just gonna post it below to save repeating myself!

I couldn’t resist topless stretching Eddie

Eddies colour palette appears to have been reduced down to black, white and grey - those are the only colour tees we’re seeing him in that clip - there is literally no colour left in his world - other than the blue of his uniform - and when you’ve reduced your world down like that and your job isn’t fulfilling - well we all know how its going to go - on the floor sobbing! They are also slightly over sized - the life he’s now living doesn’t fit him and its sucking the life out of him, the fact that they’re a bit looser on him is designed to show a bit of weight loss - a symbol of depression, but also if al he’s got is a treadmill then he’s going to be getting leaner - loosing the conditioning that he gets from weightlifting as part of his firefighter life - getting that conditioning back will be a bit like the mental journey he’s about to go through!

all of those tees are new tees - symbolic of new era (they haven’t been broken down to make them look lived in as wardrobe would normally do) - they are fresh out the packet crisp (think about the one in 2x07 when he gets dressed after sex with Shannon - stretched out and worn looking!) but them being so new and crisp is also a sign of Eddie trying to re-invent himself as this new ‘safer’ not at risk person.

Sweat - he is working hard at going nowhere - a nice little touch!

but in addition - now we have the full scene we can see the transition from no shirt -singlets - tees all in black white or grey -the transition from being ‘okay’ with his choice to becoming increasingly worn down and unsatisfied by it - literally covering himself more and more and building up a protective barrier. The other interesting thing is his boots - which are scuffed and not looking particularly smart - again a sign that not all is ok - its the little things that start to slip first - so these boots looking less than perfectly polished is a manifestation of that - Eddie was in the military those boots would in normal circumstances be immaculate and highly polished.

Then we get to the dinner/kitchen scene!

Eddie’s semi transparent shirt is showing us that he’s more transparent than he thinks - that he’s not doing as good a job as he thinks of hiding the truth - that he wants to be a firefighter again the shirt is a representation of his defences (especially around Buck and Chris)are wearing thin! Chris being in the grey jumper - he is the most wrapped up of those at the table and is therefore the most protected - the grey is showing that he is neutral and we don’t really get anything from him to contradict this (except when he teams up with Buck to deliver some amazing sass).

We also have Taylor in a green semi transparent printed shirt - we see her in a fair amount of green and the print is again hinting at confusion - she is clearly trying to figure out what is going on between Buck and Eddie (small aside Taylor saying ‘is that possible’ after Buck stating that Eddie will be back at he firehouse has me ) because they are not subtle!!

Buck is in navy blue for this scene (we do get tiny peek at a white vest under the shirt) v Eddie being in white in white - this is very much intentional - it is a reverse parallel of the shooting only the shots being fired are verbal ones and the one left bleeding this time is Buck, while Eddie is left covered in metaphorical blood - which he hasn’t yet realised and the blood is Bucks trauma at not understanding Eddies decision to leave the 118. The gun/bullet in this scenario is Christopher and Eddies own trauma.

The mom and Dad in the car - wearing red and blue - like i’ve spoken about in this post - but we also have the army green of Eddie worn by the father as well!

Buck in white at bar - there is obviously the tie in to buck wearing white anti meaning bad things are going to happen and it continues to play out here, but there is also something in the choice of a hoodie for me as well especially because we see him (from Eddies perspective) bathed in light - it is a contrast to everyone else in the scene - they are all in semi darkness and wearing darker tones - they are very much playing into renaissance religious iconography - portraying Buck as an angel - the hood of the hoodie forming a sort of halo (in Eddie’s eyes as we view it from his perspective / but also a bit of Lucifer moment - Eddie feeling betrayed by his most loyal friend but also Buck later on betraying how far he has come as a person and showing how far he is going to fall.

I am very 👀👀👀 the fact that Lucy is in army green - in the same way that they’ve used this colour to parallel Taylor with Eddie before (and indeed in this very episode!), it feels to me like they are doing it again here with Lucy - we’ll have to see if that continues.

its also interesting to note the difference in the layers they’re wearing - Lucy is much less covered up - more open, whereas Buck is protecting himself by wearing a thick hoodie and a jacket, but those layers to protect himself are also him wearing a mask - hence the return of Buck 1.0 - its easy to slip into something you’re familia with that you’ve used as a form of protection in the past!

Eddie in black and Khaki jacket - the same style he wears when in mourning - the loss of Shannon, his firefam, his job that he loves etc at the bar - he is mourning his friendships and what he has lost/ given up for Christopher - its highlighting his disconnect from everything that is important to him - tying in with the past things that meant the same.

Keeping Bobby in an LAFD tee and then having Athena in a white jumper - more costume paralleling between Athena and Buddie - especially interesting when you look at the two conversations in those scenes - moving on?!!!

Chris space theme pajamas make a return - and accompanied by striped sleeves - stripe theory for the win - Eddie is changing direction again and the universe is still screaming at him!

The grey jacket looks to be the same (or very similar) as the one Eddie wears to therapy later in the season. its paired with a light shirt here - when Eddie is feeling hopeful of his return to firefighting whereas paired with the grey later shows how far Eddie is going to descend in to the murky depths of his trauma - he views this moment as his opportunity to save himself - to be able to shut that storage locker back up and not deal with the things that we’ve seen increasingly running through his mind as the episode has progressed

Bobby in dark red parallel with buck lawsuit. there are a couple of parallels - Bobby in the same role is in the same colour way for both scenes, where as Eddie and Buck, while both in jackets, Eddie is in another semi transparent tee - Bobby has seen that Eddie is not doing well mentally and try to push him in the direction of therapy (fully knowing that he has already filled Eddies job) whereas Buck in his button down shirt in the the one firing the initial shot in 3x06 - it is about the formality of a lawsuit versus the comfort of Eddie thinking he would be able to return to his family.

we also get a look at Eddies Watch in this scene - it pops into view while Bobby is talking about taking the time to carry for your wellbeing

I’m very interested that we’ve seen Buck start to wear a watch out of work in 5x11 - its not something he’s done a lot before, but in this episode - every scene out of work - he’s been wearing his watch!

he’s also in black and yes - that shirt has a tiny pattern on it - there is definite mirroring of the I love you scene here - Buck doing something he’s not really on board with - confessing love and having Taylor move in - sticking plasters on a fractured relationship.

Taylor wearing a triangle necklace when Buck fails to tell her about kissing Lucy 👀👀

One last thing to notice about the costuming of Buck and Eddie throughout 5x11 is that both their colour palettes have been matched up - we only see them wear black, white, navy, green or grey - especially in key moments - and always in opposite of each other - when Eddie is in black, Buck is in white such as at the bar or when Eddie is in white then Buck is in dark navy in the kitchen scene. the same is true for those last two scenes we see them in - Eddie trying to return to the 118 is wearing a white shirt, while Buck trying to confess to his girlfriend is in black - these are interesting because we enter those scenes with a hopeful Eddie and a Buck full of dread - the colours reflect this and by the end of those scenes you could say the opposite is true - they’ve reversed - I know that is an overly simplistic way to describe where they are mentally but that its a bigger thing that the two small moments which will add to the mental health pile, but thats not wha these costumes are about.

Hopefully this has been interesting and helpful! any questions - my inbox is open (work has got busy, so it might take me a little while to reply, but I will answer you!) 💜💜💜

tagging for interest @prettyboyandthekid @adamsparirsh @theladyyavilee @oneawkwardcookie @lovecolibri @loveyourownsmiilee @leothil @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @moniquekatie @reallysmartladymariecurie @kitkatpancakestack @yramesoruniverse @outrunningthedark @ktinastrikesback @arrenemris @talespinner230 @mytherapybuddie @fiona-fififi

#kym costume meta #kym costume analysis #911 costume meta #911 spoilers #911 on fox #911 #911onfox #Eddie Diaz #evan buckley #christopher diaz

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beewolfwrites · 3 years

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The Oar in the Sand - Chapter Twelve: The Third Day of Nostos

@cheshiya @tenseoyong @szallejhscorner @something-more-original-please @ofsunsetsandpoetries @allozaur @hiqhkey @serenzippity

Sooooo, yeah, it’s been a little while since I last updated. Who knows if the Aib fandom is still active since I think lots of people have moved onto Squid Game (It’s still on my Netflix watch list)

But here’s the chapter that took an insanely long amount of time to write, namely because it felt like the story repeating itself :’)

Thanks so much for being this patient with me!!

AO3 Link is here.

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The next morning, stretching my hand across the mattress in a half-asleep daze, I expected to feel Chishiya’s presence next to me. My fingers patted the cool sheet until the realisation made me jerk awake. The bed was empty, no matter how many times I blinked. The room had dropped several degrees overnight and the covers had been pulled up to my shoulders.

‘Chishiya?’

There was no response, meaning he’d probably gone downstairs. Sliding out of bed, I noticed that our clothes had been picked up off the floor and folded into a neat pile. The thought of him picking up undergarments made me cringe a little, but he must’ve thrown them away as I couldn’t see them in the pile.

The silence was spooky, and I didn’t like the thought of staying here where he could walk in at any moment. So, collecting my clothes, I tiptoed to the bathroom. Luckily, the store’s customer toilet was upstairs, and I wouldn’t have to worry about running into Chishiya. The lock was still broken, but the new lock and tools had been placed by the door ready to be put to use. I stared at the items for a moment, but decided against changing the lock.

I’ll do it later.

For now, I pulled up a stool to keep the door shut. It was nerve-wracking being in this room again. The last time I was in here, I relived my worst nightmares. I made sure to keep my eyes trained straight ahead this time, away from the ceiling, away from corners. Unfortunately, that also meant catching sight of myself in the mirror.

‘Oh no.’

Chishiya really hadn’t held back. My neck was almost entirely red, and that was just the start. He’d left evidence pretty much everywhere.

‘How am I supposed to hide this?!’

My mouth fell open as I followed the marks in patterns across my body, wondering how on earth he’d even managed to go this far. Had I really been so distracted back then that I didn’t notice?

‘People are going to see.’

‘That’s the point.’

Chishiya wasn’t joking around. I didn’t know whether to be angry or flattered. On one hand, I couldn’t believe him. On the other, I felt so… there was only one word for it; loved. Looking at my tired figure in the mirror, it was hard to see what exactly he liked. But then, maybe that wasn’t it.

He did say he isn’t normally interested in that kind of thing.

As I washed and dressed, my head swam with contradicting thoughts and emotions. Was this normal? I wouldn’t know. Everything about the night was perfect, and I could still feel and remember every little detail. There was just one thing.

Chishiya really has no self-worth.

He had always been so private about his previous life, and while he didn’t seem to care, everything he’d told me about his family, his father in particular, was like a cold blow. And then there was that move he pulled… I’d cried, snapped at him, tried to park it and leave it, but realistically, I couldn’t. It still hurt. I might have placed it to one side, but I wouldn’t forget about it. I refused to.

I’ll have to go down there and face him.

I braided my hair and let it fall over my shoulder to hide my neck, then left the bathroom. However, as I descended the stairs, something else became apparent.

‘Chishiya? Are you here?’

I looked around, but there was no note, no empty coffee cup. Nothing. How could he disappear like that? There was only one other place he could be, although stepping out into the soft rain and squinting up at the roof revealed that he wasn’t up there either.

Did he really just leave?

I inspected the rooftop for a while, hoping to see his hood appear over the edge. But the rain soon turned everything cold, and I sat down on the small steps, wondering what to do.

In a way, the rain was refreshing and it helped clear my head. I knew logically it didn’t make sense to be this worried. I’d disappeared a couple of times myself, so I could hardly point fingers. We were stocked up on food and matches. We had plenty of clothes, blankets and toiletries. So where would he go?

I looked around, blindly searching for inspiration, when my eye caught the edge of a blimp emerging from behind a skyscraper.

The Jack of Diamonds.

He wouldn’t…

He would.

I stumbled to my feet, moving towards that blimp in the distance, knowing that yes, Chishiya was the kind of person to sleep with someone right before throwing himself into a life or death situation. He really was that insensitive.

Am I stupid for going along with it?

I should’ve seen this coming.

Chilled to the bone, I didn’t see the point in running. Nobody, not even I, could stop Chishiya from entering that game. And even as I forced my shivering legs to power through the cold, the blimp started to feel like Lorca’s Cordoba. Unreachable. Lonely. Drained of hope, I sank to the pavement, leaning against the side of a building and allowing the wet bricks to seep through my shirt.

It’s too late.

It would be useless to hurry there now; the game may have already started. My chest ached at the possibility that he may not return, even though I knew it would come to this eventually. All I could do was wait.

When I was in the Queen of Diamonds, is this how he felt?

That first day when we’d been cornered, Chishiya must’ve walked around trying to find me, just like I was doing now. This crushing loneliness, had he felt it too? When I’d found him hunched over alone in the dark, even someone as unmovable as him must’ve felt something. He wasn’t made of stone, no matter how much he wished otherwise.

My tired head lolled against the wall, when a street sign pasted to the side of a corner shop caught my attention. I could’ve sworn I’d seen it before, or at least, there was something about it that pulled at my memory.

And then it hit me. I wasn’t alone.

Dragging myself unsteadily to my feet, I followed the road down through twisting streets until the old, derelict buildings on either side blended into modern developments. I stopped in front of a set of revolving doors. On the outside, the building looked like any other contemporary block, but the moment I pushed the door around and stepped into the lobby, I knew these weren’t just any apartments. The marble floor clacked with every step, and I grimaced as I followed the gold-edged handrail up the stairs to the sixth floor.

The hallways stretched on, pristine despite the decayed city. I followed the gold numbers on the doors until I came to a stop outside the one I was looking for and knocked. Total silence.

Please don’t let her be out.

I knocked again, harder this time. ‘Kuina?’

Footsteps came running to the door, muffled through the wood, and it was yanked open. Her eyes briefly widened when she saw my sodden hair and clothes, then she smiled awkwardly.

‘I can’t believe you’re here! Sorry for the wait, I thought you might have been someone very different.’

‘That’s okay, I don’t think it would change anything,’ I said, sliding past her into the apartment. ‘He seems to be tracking all our locations on a device.’

My thoughts slammed to a halt as soon as I saw the apartment. It was true luxury - a celebrity’s den. The cream leather sofas looked plush and soft, and the display shelves along the wall glinted in the light that beamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows. On the black, gold-lined nesting tables was a half-drunk glass of water.

And then there was Chishiya, sitting on a chair, the barest hint of surprise in his features.

We both looked at each other, him leaning back as though he had every right to be enjoying this luxury, and me dripping rainwater all over the carpet. His eyes trailed from my squeaking shoes up to my damp face. And he had the audacity to smirk about it.

‘This whole time,’ I said, ‘you were here.��

He picked up the glass of water and took a sip. ‘I thought you were still asleep.’

I hadn’t been angry at first, just surprised and relieved. But that godawful smile of his deserved to be slapped off his face. I thought we’d been through this. I thought last night would have changed things for the better.

‘I’ve been looking for you.’

‘Hmm. It’s not nice, is it?’ He smiled against the rim of the glass and muttered, ‘I guess you were missing me.’

My thoughts crashed into one another like a pile up as I tried to process what I was hearing. He was still bothered about the Queen of Diamonds. Were we really going down that route? Just for petty revenge? I’d made it clear last night that I wasn’t willing to put up with his arrogance. So then why was he here? There had to be a purpose, and if my instinct was right, he was trying to conceal it.

Slicing through the tension, Kuina rolled her eyes. ‘Ew. Get a room the both of you. Oh wait.’

She lifted my hair away from my neck and giggled. Blushing furiously, I tamed it back into place.

‘Kuina!’

‘What? It’s not like I didn’t know.’

Her words gave me pause for a second as she sat on the couch, choosing the spot closest to Chishiya’s chair. Had I interrupted something? I hesitated in the doorway, wondering if I should leave, when Kuina slapped the space next to her.

‘What are you waiting for? Get over here.’

The air was heavy as I slowly approached the couch. Chishiya’s eyes were fixed in the distance, as if he didn’t feel it too - the incredible weight of what went unspoken. I tried to relax into the soft cushions, but my body was too poised to be calm.

‘So you completed the Queen of Diamonds, huh?’ Kuina nudged me with her elbow. ‘Chishiya just told me all about it.’

Chishiya was talking about me?

The thought made my mouth turn dry. ‘Yeah, though I was with An and two girls from your survivors camp.’

‘How come you didn’t say anything when we met yesterday?’

‘I… well.’ The Queen’s rigid body dangled from the noose, one lone shoe flopping to the floor. ‘It wasn’t exactly a fun experience.’

‘Yeah, I bet!’ Kuina laughed grimly. ‘It must’ve been pretty scary when you both got separated.’

My eyes drifted over to the window. Within less than a second, I was thrown back to that day, returning to find the furniture store in total darkness, and Chishiya’s lone shape hunched in the corner. I started to tell her that yes, I was terrified, and not just for myself. But the sounds just wouldn’t form, the words collapsing as I breathed them.

‘It was.’

Kuina nodded, a little too earnestly. ‘Have you been okay though? Afterwards, I mean.’

There was something about this situation that crept up on me. It was a mirror image of the times I’d sat quietly in the doctor’s office as a child. No, that wasn’t quite right. The atmosphere in the room, the expectation, it held the same wariness that I felt as a teenager going into a counsellor’s office. Chishiya was looking at me with that clinical edge again.

‘You told her?’

I stood up suddenly, banging my knee on the coffee table. Kuina reached out a hand but I stepped back. Chishiya’s gaze dropped briefly to my knee.

‘It came up in conversation.’

How could he? Doesn’t he know how embarrassed I am already?

‘That doesn’t matter,’ I insisted. ‘I don’t want everyone knowing.’

‘Kuina is hardly everyone,’ he said calmly.

The woman in question was sitting miserably. Her eyes jumped between the two of us as she realised that she wasn’t supposed to know what she knew. I hadn’t intended to make her so uncomfortable. It wasn’t that I wanted to keep it a secret from her. I wanted to keep it a secret from everyone.

‘I’m sorry,’ I told her earnestly. ‘It’s not what you think. It’s just embarrassing.’

‘Pff. As if.’ She dismissed the comment with a kind smile. ‘We’ve all been there. Well, maybe not Chishiya, but I’ll be damned if I haven’t started seeing things after a game before.’

Her words were reassuring, but they didn’t put me at ease. I still felt horribly embarrassed by the whole situation, but it was too late to throw a fit now. I slowly sat back down, no longer willing to talk about it. My mood had been everywhere and nowhere at the same time, and it was Chishiya’s fault for making me angry, worried, scared and upset all at once. This morning, I’d expected to wake up like how women did in the movies, with kisses and linen.

Chishiya would never be like that. In fact, he was looking into the distance deep in thought. Then he stood up, picking up the glass from the table.

‘Where are you going now?’ Kuina moaned. ‘It’s impossible to get you both to stay in one place. One’s always running away and the other’s always running after.’

Hearing this, I wondered how much she knew. ‘At least I try to say something before I go,’ I muttered.

Unamused, Chishiya waved the empty glass in his hand. ‘I’m getting more water. Though it looks like I need permission.’

Kuina waved him off. ‘Just go get your water. We girls need to talk anyway.’

He made a noise of disapproval and disappeared into the kitchen - which from here was all glossy countertops and sleek cupboards. Kuina, eagle-eyed, watched him disappear around the door before grasping my hand.

‘You’re not leaving until you tell me everything.’

I gulped. If my instinct was right, we were no longer talking about that incident in the bathroom. Kuina shifted closer, and I got the feeling that she was willing to pin me to the couch if it kept me from wriggling out of the conversation.

‘I’ve always been curious,’ she said, lowering her voice to a hush. ‘Is he a virgin?’

Was coming here a bad idea?

‘I don’t know,’ I admitted, wondering just how much I could get away with. ‘I think so. Maybe. He didn’t really say.’

‘So that’s a yes. Not that it’s a surprise.’ She shrugged it off and leaned in further. ‘How did it happen then? Like, who made the first move, because I really can’t see either of you flirting.’

I thought about the argument we’d had, how he’d lazily let me do all the hard work and criticised me for not leaving with Kuina. But back then, it had all been calculated. ‘There wasn’t really any first move. We were arguing, and I told him to make it up to me.’

‘Huh, that’s kind of flirtatious, I guess.’ She grimaced. ‘I can’t believe you guys argued right after I left you. You both seemed so cute doing that human ladder thing in the hardware store.’

I half-smiled at the memory of being lifted onto Chishiya’s shoulders. It was just a shame things came crashing down so fast. Not just yesterday, but this morning too. I hadn’t expected him to vanish like that, let alone make a snippy comment the moment I turned up at Kuina’s hideout.

I eyed the doorway to the kitchen, listening to the general rustling sounds of activity. He’d been in the kitchen for a little too long. Was he really just getting water? If so, he must’ve been somehow bending the laws of physics by pouring it unnaturally slowly.

‘He’s been like this for a while,’ I said. ‘After I helped clear the Queen of Diamonds, it’s like he resents me for it. He started being critical, and he’s so distant. When we argued, he wanted me to hate him. I just don’t know why.’

I was startled when Kuina suddenly laughed. The activity in the kitchen silenced. I started to wonder if my hurt was simply one big joke to her, when she waved her hand in apology.

‘Wow, for two intelligent people you’re both so blind.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Isn’t it obvious?’ She asked. I blinked, clueless, and she sighed. ‘Let me at least ask you one question. Has he been to the Jack or King of Diamonds yet?’

Well, no. There was no way he could’ve completed a game and returned here so quickly. Plus, if he’d entered the venues and lived to tell the tale, surely he would have cleared them. He was probably one of the only players in the Borderlands who could.

‘No. They’re still uncleared.’

‘Bingo!’ She clapped her hands together. ‘There’s your answer. Did you not wonder why he hasn’t tried yet?’

Now that she mentioned it, it had been three days since these new games started, and aside from that noon of the first day he had yet to approach the Diamond venues again.

‘That’s probably because we were injured after last time, and so much has happened since then.’

Kuina rolled her eyes. ‘This is painful. Honestly, you two are killing me. Chishiya wants to clear the Diamonds games, but you don’t want him to do it. Does that help at all?’

I understood what she was trying to say, that he was putting off the inevitable for my sake. But that didn’t explain things fully.

‘You don’t have to tell me. I know he’s only waited this long because of me. But even if I don’t like it, I’ve never tried to stop him from going to those games.’

‘Have you thought that maybe it’s not strictly about you?’ The words came across a little blunt, going against everything she had just told me, something she realised immediately with a shake of her head. ‘Sorry, that came out wrong. What I mean is, maybe it’s not because you’re holding him back. It could be about him and his emotions... whatever emotions he has anyway.’

It was odd to hear Chishiya’s name in the same sentence as ‘emotions’, but he had to have them somewhere deep down, otherwise he never would have come this far. The Chishiya I knew now was a far cry from the Chishiya I first met in the Jack in the Box game. I’d always assumed he was a genuine psychopath, but my perception of him had flipped entirely ever since.

‘You’re saying it could be something he’s dealing with himself?’

She shrugged. ‘Probably. He’s always thinking hard about things, so who knows what’s going on in his head? If I had to make a guess though, I’d say he’s indecisive.’

Indecisive.

That was probably it. Maybe I was worrying for nothing. If I let it go, perhaps everything could be put in the past. Kuina was right. She was always right. Chishiya chose that moment to return with his glass of water in hand, though I couldn’t help but feel that he had been listening in this whole time. Nobody pours a glass of water that slowly.

‘You know,’ I said to Kuina, switching the subject. ‘You remind me of someone.’

‘Oh really?’

‘Tireseus.’

She blinked, frowning. ‘Who?’

Everything from the rain outside, and the storm lurking on the horizon, to this ongoing battle to get home. It was a perfect fit.

‘Have you ever read the Odyssey?’

She shook her head. Out of the corner of my eye, Chishiya was listening in. It wouldn’t come as a surprise if he had read it as a child.

‘Well, after escaping Circe’s island,’ I tried to explain, ‘Odysseus goes to the underworld to meet Tireseus.’ I paused, thinking back to the myths I had read. ‘In his life, Tireseus witnessed two snakes mating, and as a result, the goddess Hera turned him into a woman. It lasted for seven years before the same thing happened again, and he was changed back into a man.’

I was slightly afraid that the story would come across in a bad light, or that Kuina would take offence, but from the grin on her face, she seemed to find it funny instead and nudged at me to go on.

‘He has a gift of prophecy and he’s kind of known for his wisdom. People would come to him for advice, since he’s associated with crossroads.’

‘I like that, being the wise one. That’s not bad actually.’ She looked at Chishiya. ‘What do you reckon?’

He looked at her, deadpan. ‘I think you’re forgetting, Tireseus died.’

Kuina sat up a little taller. ‘Pshh, not me. I’ll outlive you all.’

I would’ve smiled. I would’ve laughed at how easily her presence soothed whatever tension still lingered in the room. That was, if not for the shatter of glass, as a bullet burst through the window and embedded itself in the wall.

The storm and rain whipped through the room, where Kuina was hunched over, covering her head. Even Chishiya was sheltering behind his chair. A whimper escaped my mouth at the sight of the broken glass glittering across the carpet as our small haven was torn open to the elements.

Against all instincts, I turned and looked into the window of the building opposite, taking in burn scars, a raised rifle, and the predatorily glare of Niragi.

#alice in borderland #chishiya alice in Borderland #Imawa no Kuni no Arisu #aib #chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya x oc #chishiya x reader

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cowb0ygenius · 4 years

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Julien Baker: “The Church made me feel powerless. Even if I was Mother Theresa, I would still be gay”

Singer-songwriter Julien Baker talks to Sarah Carson about God, queerness, sobriety, and why the confessions on her exquisite third album Little Oblivions make her cringe | iNews, February 18, 2021

She used to think writing music was her humanitarian obligation – to repurpose pain for a good reason.

... A few years ago, she started to wonder if the metric she had been using to determine right and wrong didn’t exist. “Imagine playing a game for two decades of ‘get into Heaven or go to Hell’ and then finding out that that game is made up. You just feel like, ‘I just wasted two decades of my life’.”

... She spent her early 20s on tour, and at the end of 2018, after three straight years on the road, and even more of being labelled as the gay, Christian, sober face of indie-folk and bearing under the pressure prove to others in those communities that those identities didn’t need to contradict each other, she stopped. She cancelled her tour dates and in the “slowness and the stillness”, she started to wonder: “why do I adhere to these beliefs?”

“It would be reductive to call it a crisis of faith,” she says, from her home in Nashville, “or re-evaluating my sobriety. Because, man, I just re-evaluated who I was – all of it.”

She paused her career, went back to college, and finished her degree. She tried drinking again, realising that her only interactions with drugs and alcohol were when she was very young, in traumatic circumstances, and that she’d chosen sobriety out of “principle”. Things quickly got out of hand, drinking cost her, and she decided that sobriety was the better choice after all.

As for her faith, she no longer wanted to be a spokesperson on a subgroup. “So many problems that I have in my psyche come from an American evangelical internalised understanding of the world. I now feel a little weird about having so zealously supported [Christianity] – as far as the institution of religion goes. I mean God? Sure,” she pauses. “But, yeah. I was very young and vulnerable and super green.”

... Does she still believe?

There’s a long pause. “I think I would define God differently. If I thought it were useful or possible to define God at all.” She chooses her words carefully. She says belief is a slippery notion. “I don’t think of things as so literal anymore. Maybe [I used to] because I felt, ‘I’m a person who believes and is queer so it’s up to me to be super well-versed in the language of scripture and theological argument’. Now it’s like, man… Don’t believe in Hell.”

She repeats. “Don’t believe in Hell. I can’t – I don’t think that’s real. I don’t even know if our understanding of the afterlife is accurate.” She laughs, and then shouts. “I mean, OF COURSE IT’S NOT! That’s freeing to me now, instead of terrifying.”

... Growing up in the church, Baker says she internalised – and perpetuated – a lot of homophobia, “feeling so much self-punishment and ostracisation and self-loathing.” ... “It’s hard to unlearn those things,” she says.

... “Because if I accept that I am queer and that’s an innate part of how I was created, but the church and popular culture and all the people that I see screaming at Planned Parenthood and advocating for the Defense of Marriage Act are giving me the information that something I cannot change is not right, well, why would God do that? It made me feel powerless, like I had no agency to be good. Even if I was f*cking Mother Theresa I would still be gay.”

It wasn’t until she went to college that she stopped thinking about “whether I was going to hell for being gay, or not. Now, more than just saying ‘I can be loved’, and that I’m square with my identity as a queer person, I’m square with my fallibility, and a lot more merciful with myself.”

Is she able to love herself? “It makes me feel insane, but I have to do a thought experiment multiple times a day. ‘If I’m a human being and human beings are deserving of safety and compassion and respect and dignity then I am worthy of all those things’.”

#julien baker #inews #i news uk #quote #article #interview #2021 #little oblivions #sobriety #christianity #faith #god #cw alcohol mention #sry this is long lol i just like all these parts

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harbouredsoulss · 3 years

Text

Exit Wound - 2nd & Final Part

Author’s note:

SUPRISE!

I was so close to turning this into three parts. Instead I decided I would make this one longer! I really loved writing this!

I am so excited to share more stories with you! I have so much planned.

I really really hope you enjoy this! Please don’t forget to like, comment, & reblog. I would really appreciate it 💞

If you’d like to be added to my Tag List for any EZ, Angel, Mayan or all of my fics, just let me know 🥰

You can read Part One here and my Masterlist here.

EZ Reyes X [OC] Amalia

Warnings: Injured EZ! Mentions of blood. Swearing! Fluff. SEX.

Word Count: 2.1K

Summary: EZ brought a knife to a gun fight. Now Amalia is stuck having to use her nursing skills to save her boyfriends life. Will she save him?

_________________________________

She sat there for a time, kneeling beside the couch, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he took in unsteady breaths. Angel had begged her to go to bed and get some rest but she couldn’t bring herself to leave EZ’s side.

Angel tried everything he could think of to convince her to go to sleep but knew nothing he would say could change her mind.

It was moments like this where Angel hoped he would find something like this one day. The unwavering love and commitment Amalia had for his brother was unshakeable and made him slightly jealous, though he would never say that out loud.

Later on in the night Coco and Gilly had come back to drop off the pain relief and antibiotics. They didn’t stay too long, they could tell just by looking at her she wasn’t in the mood to entertain anyone, nor should she be. They left with goodbyes and good luck, though they kept the latter for Angel’s ears only. Amalia was grateful they had gotten back so quick with the supplies and she desperately wanted to wake EZ and give him the medicine as soon as possible but she knew he needed to rest, and decided it could wait until he wakes.

The minutes ticked down as did the hours as she sat there, eyes trained on the rise and fall of her lover’s chest. For a time, she sat there caressing his face, allowing silent tears to stream down her own. His forehead was covered with sweat, his temperature rising. She wiped at the beads of sweat with a wet rag, allowing the cold cloth to mildly ease his fever down.

When dawn was nearing, Amalia found herself drifting in and out of consciousness, head resting on her arm that lay on the edge of the couch, her fingers intertwined with EZ’s. Her mind continued to torture her with fleeting visions of EZ dying on their sofa, blood pouring from his wounds, voice screaming in pain, echoing all around her. There were moments where she would wake with a start, eyes wide, squeezing his hand, running hers up and down his arm just to feel his warmth. To see he was still there with her.

She continued these bouts of suffering as her body fought for her to sleep and it was only after the third nightmarish vision, she had of losing EZ that her mind rewarded her with a faint memory instead of a twisted dream. It was of a time when their relationship was new and fresh. Yearning, and anticipation reaching the cusp, they had finally given in to their desires. It was the beginning of everything, and that’s where her memory took her.

Amalia’s body was wrapped in his arms, legs tangled together she couldn’t tell where she began and EZ ended. Her breathing was laboured, hands running up and down tracing the ridges of his chest. It was the night they had first slept together, though this moment was long after they enjoyed each other.

EZ had fallen asleep with his arm around her waist. Sleep didn’t come easy to Amalia that night. She was too buzzed with what they had done. She’d had sex before, and like EZ, she would have drifted off by now but that night everything felt different and it was as she continued laying there listening to his intake of breath, as his dreams consumed him, she soon realised why.

“How do you feel,” she heard him murmur against her skin.

“Amazing,” she whispered, a coy smile on her face, “but I thought you were asleep?”

Craning her neck, she turned to look up at EZ and found him just as she thought, fast asleep. It took everything in her to not burst out laughing. She felt ridiculous beyond belief. EZ was talking in his sleep.

“I love you,” she froze, hand stilling on EZ’s cheek as she heard him speak those words they had never shared before.

“Te quiero, Amalia.”

The memories were so intense, and powerful Amalia ended up crying herself awake. Though this time when she woke, she found EZ’s head turned towards her, eyes opened wide watching her.

“You’re awake,” she said, voice cracking.

“Barely.” he whispered back, wincing as he tried to move his body to face her more clearly.

“Baby,” she whined, standing up and gently placing both her hands on his shoulders to keep him from moving, “you need to stay put.”

Her face hovered above his as she stood like that, trying to make her point as gently as possible. His eyes stared into hers not before taking in the look on her face, which happened to be wrought with anguish and exhaustion, cheeks tear stained with lips cracked and bleeding. He could only imagine what she had gone through within the past twenty-four hours.

She didn’t say anything for a moment and neither did he. They just stared at one another. Observing the contours of one another’s faces, making sure to mark this moment in their memory. Though EZ had no problem with that, he never forgets.

“How long have you been sitting there?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

“All night,” she said as she pulled away to sit on the coffee table behind her, “I had to make sure you didn’t die. I wasn’t alone though.” She pointed to where Angel’s sleeping form laid on the recliner positioned to EZ’s right.

“He refused to leave and kept nagging me to go to bed.”

“You should’ve listened to him.”

“And you wouldn’t have done the same thing? EZ we both know if the roles were reversed – if it were me on this couch right now, you wouldn’t have left my side either. Hell, you would’ve driven me to the hospital.”

They were at a stalemate both knowing she was right. Both knowing nothing more could be said to contradict her statement. He was madly in love with this woman and wouldn’t live in a world where she didn’t. He would have also stayed.

“If I had lost you EZ, I-I I don’t think I could live with myself.”

She looked at him then and allowed all her despair and anger to seep its way out of her. To expose him to it. His body stilled and he tried to turn away not wanting to see what he put her through. But he looked and watched as she could finally breath in relief. It struck him suddenly – piercingly, as to how much he had put her through, and because of that he could have sworn he heart his heart begin to break.

“I know,” he whispered, though he knew he would never truly know until he was in the same position.

There wasn’t much that could be said for what happened. EZ knew he could apologise; profusely, however, it would do no good. What he brought to Amalia – what he put her through was something he knew would kill him had it been her bleeding, damaged body brought to his door step. If it were him who had to sew up her wounds.

Throughout the day little to no words were shared between them. Though that didn’t mean anything sinister to their relationship. EZ knew once he was better, he could make it up to her and Amalia knew that nothing EZ did to hurt her was intentional. He didn’t ask to be shot. She knew what she was getting herself into when they started dating, hell, even before that. She knew who EZ was and she loved him anyway.

__________________________

Four weeks later

“No fondling the help!” Amalia said, doing her best to swipe EZ’s wandering hands away which were trying to make their way up her skirt.

He lay on their bed, wound still covered and healing. He was a lot stronger than that night. Since then, he had been out and about, though his nurse was strict and limited him when it came to wandering around. She was too afraid he would rip open his stitches.

“It’s not my fault you’re so… sexy.”

Through his healing process Amalia found EZ’s sex drive, which had thus far been neglected, had grown, and at first, she was scared. Too afraid of hurting him, or injuring him further. Though as he began to heal, albeit, slowly, she allowed their nefarious activities to return – though they were limited. She could tell he wanted more than what she gave but she couldn’t quite get past that fear.

The first time they had sex after the incident involved Amalia on top, hands on either shoulder, straddling EZ’s waist. His wound was still on her mind at all times, as was the fear. EZ couldn’t have cared less. He wanted inside and was willing to have his stitches tear if it meant getting what he wanted.

She felt like a nervous teenager again who was about to lose her virginity, unsure of what to do with her hands. She was too afraid to put too much pressure on different parts of his body. Too afraid to hurt him.

“You won’t kill me by touching me,” he said, hands gripping her waist as he ground the most sensitive part of her body onto his, “but not touching me, will.”

A small gasp left her mouth as he repeated the action again. It had been so long since they had touched each other like this, though she was still clothed. She wanted to give in and remove the fear from herself. She was close to doing so, especially when his fingers found her clit. He had moved her panties to the side and began rubbing the little nub slowly.

EZ loved hearing the sounds that escaped as he teased her. He lay there looking up watching her as he continued to pleasure her, and allowed himself to ease a finger inside.

“Fuck! EZ!”

He grinned, proud to hear his name on her lips and added another. He could feel the tension within her begin to build slowly as he picked up the pace, and knew she was close, but he was selfish. He wanted to be inside her when she came.

Removing his fingers, he tried as best he could, withholding a wince, to push his cock inside her. By this point, Amalia had stilled already missing where his fingers had been, not expecting the intrusive entrance of his cock.

“Ride me,” he rasped, “ride me hard.”

She did as he begged, disregarding her previous fears.

She fucked him hard and fast, the sound of their skin slapping together echoing throughout the room. His pleasure was ecstasy and that made him numb to the pain. It made him lean forward gripping the back of her neck, pulling her head back so he could lavish her throat with his lips. With one hand on her waist, he allowed the other to find her breasts. He began to tease her nipples one at a time tweaking the little buds enjoying the sounds escaping her as he did so. Soon his mouth ventured down to her chest and gave it the same attention he did her throat. He left small purple bruises on her skin. Some that would have been easy to hide, others more difficult.

The pressure was beginning to build inside them both, becoming more intense. It caused them to go harder and faster than they did before which Amalia did not think was physically possible. This meant that they had no rhythm. Not that they minded. They just continued to thrust their bodies towards one another seeking the friction and pleasure they needed to get to the end. EZ’s fingers we back on her clit rubbing furiously, willing Amalia closer and closer to her orgasm. He wanted her to cum first, clenching herself on his cock as he had experienced in the past. He had missed this. Her.

“Fuck EZ!” She was close, so close.

“Come on baby,” he panted in her ear, urging her on.

“I’ve got you,” he cooed, “just let go.”

And she did.

She screamed his name, voice cracking as he continued to fuck her.

Her clit abandoned, he gripped her hips, fingers digging into her skin as he finally brought himself to climax.

A loud moan escaped him, her name a whisper on his lips that he chose to repeat over and over again as his climax washed over him. His thrusts began to slow as they began to cool down. He brought his face closer to hers, forehead to forehead. Lips brushing each other’s.

“You’re bleeding.” She whispered.

He looked down briefly and caught sight of his white bandage that now showed splotches of blood.

“It was worth it.” He grinned.

TAGLIST [OPEN]: @appropriate-writers-name

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taylors-fourth-cat-meow · 3 years

Text

ACOWAR Chp 4 :)))

This is long because that's how stupid this chp was. 😭😭😭😭

(This is the chp with the summer solstice)

Let's goooo

But what had not existed here a year ago was Ianthe.

Wait so you're telling me thats its only been a year since feyre said she was the happiest she had ever been with Tamlin?? When they had their first kiss??? Wtf and now she hates tamlin??? Look, i get he abused her and stuff but you just suddenly don't loose feelings for someone you plan to marry or idk...die for??? Thats what makes the abuse so much worse. You still have lingering feelings. This whole dynamic between tamlin and feyre is so rushed and let me tell you it doesn't look too good on rhysie. It only shows just how manipulative he really is. And how hes managed to change feyres entire way of thinking in less than six months. Someone needs to slap some sense into her and say that when you see a TOXIC PERSON you gotta WALK THE OTHER WAY.

"Cue that whole audio*

If I had wanted to paint a picture of serene purity, it would have been the image I cast that morning, my hair braided above my head, a crown of white hawthorn blossoms upon it.

OH MY FCK THE AMOUNT OF PICK ME-CHOOSE ME-LOVE ME- CHARACTERS IN THIS SERIES MAKE MY HEAD SPIN

SHES LITERALLY TALKING ABOUT PAINTING HERSELF AND HOW GREAT AND PURE IT WUD LOOK. AS IF SHE ISNT PLANNING A MASS MURDER LMAO

wondered if Ianthe could spy the wolf grinning beneath.

WTF NO SHES CALLING HERSELF A WOLF????? OKAY.....so now shes a dragon with smoke in her mouth/ a horse for tamlin to mount/a grinning wolf. Thats... interesting.

Well guys heres your diversity. Sjm doesn't discriminate between imaginary, domestic or wild animals 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼

When my mate had rescued me after I’d decided not to go through with the wedding

Well there you go feyre admitting she is a damsel in distress that needs saving from prewcious mate 🥺🥺🥺

Way to write a feminist seires sjm 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼

He had saved me.

There you go again...more of this first class feminist seires with your favourite girl boss heroine.

How many others had seen the truth of my suffering—and tried to spare him from it? Seen my suffering and done nothing to help me.

OH.MY.GOD (Janice's voice)

SHE'S SO FCKING SELF CENTRED AND SELFISH??????? ITS ALWAYS MY MY MY?!?? SHE REFUSES TO ACKNOWLEDGE TAMLINS TRAUMA!!!! BITCH YOU AREN'T THE ONLY ONE WHO WENT THROUGH SHIT!!! HE DID TOO!!! AND ARE YOU LITERALLY ASKING WHY HIS PEOPLE PUT THEIR RULER WHO HAS INDEED BEEN A GOOD HL FOR CENTURIES OVER A GIRL THEY HAVE KNOW FOR A FEW MONTHS?????? HOW DOES- HOW IS THIS THE MC OF THIS BEST SELLING SEIRES?!?!??????

“As the light is strongest today, let it drive out unwanted darkness. Let it banish the black stain of evil.” Jab after jab at my mate, my home. But I nodded along with her.

Ummm...rhysie does indeed always show up at the SC to bother tamlin unwanted. And you literally about to cause a mass murder so yeah...you are evil....and do i again have to repeat myself about what rhysie did for 50 years???

Also...isnt this part of the ritual??? why is she assuming this is about the NC???

More prayers and rituals, until Tamlin was summoned to the other side of the altar to light a candle for the souls extinguished in the past year—to now bring them back into the light’s embrace when the sun rose.

This isnt really relevant but i just love this so much. In my country too at places of sacrifices and death there is a lamp (diya) always burning to honour the dead and i think this adds so much culture and meaning to the SC. What i dont get is that NC is main setting of this series yet...they have like no culture..no rituals on festivals?? Its just rich af people giving unnecessary gifts to each other and drinking wine and having sex in clothes made by dead moms???

Pure as day, pure as starlight.

I- does she- does she not realise that day and starlight are two contradicting terms...that dont even go together... I mean i am not a professional writer...but shouldn't it be day and night??? Or daylight/sunlight and starlight...and why is she even talking about day...isnt this dawn??? shouldnt it be pure as dawn?? Isnt she using thesans power??

A knight before his queen. (feyre about Lucien)

QUEEN???!?

I THINK THE FCK NOT

YOU ARE NOT HIS QUEEN BITCH. HE DOESN'T OWE YOU ANYTHING. IF ANYTHING TAMLIN IS HIS HL AND YOU SOME GIRL HE MET A FEW MONTHS AGO!!!!

No wonder she acts so entitled around him making fun of him ordering him around then demanding respect for her and the guy who called him rabble, threatened his mother multiple times and threw a head in his front yard for fun.

I let a little bit of the wolf show.

😭😭😭😭

Pls someone take the computer away from this woman i can't- ✋🏼

Also the symbolism is so bad😭😭😭

Wolf is always associated with the SC. Andras was a wolf...ig tamlin's beast form was also originally described wolf like...our miss archeron is now High Lady of the NC...shes representating the NC but she chooses wolf as her animal like what even does this line mean????? Is it because she is in the SC??? I am genuinely so confused..whats the significance of this wolf ?!?!?

I had no quarrel with the people of these lands, who had suffered alongside the rest. None.

Huh.

So she really is that dumb.

“I should apologize.” His eyes flashed. “What for? Perhaps it was a blessing. Magic still surprises me. If she’s angry, it’s her problem.”

(talking about ianthee)

NO PLS DONT I'M GOING TO CRY😭😭😭😭

WHERE CAN I GET MYSELF A TAMLIN PLSSSSS 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

He has learned from his mistakes he's trying to do better... And yet they don't even give him a chance because of one mistake?? That's... Not right you guys...

Also this is so FCKING FRUSTRATING. I mean isn't Tamlin an established abuser and an...if i may put it Sarah's words 'alphahole' *gags* at this point??? Shes already retconned anything good about him...so why go back to caring sweet tamlin??? Just continue with your new character!!!!

JUST MAKE UP YOUR FCKING MIND SARAH LIKE DAMN!!!

I didn’t know how Rhys had endured it—endured Amarantha. For five decades.

WAIT A DAMN MINUTE

BITCH DID YOU JUST COMPARE TAMLIN TO AMARANTHA ?!??!?!

hhdehsjdhdjkdkdn

Idk how i feel about feyre comparing tamlin to the women who has been objectifying him since he was a CHILD.

BITCH Are you forgetting that Amarantha SA your mate while Tamlin never NEVER touched you without your permission (atleast when he wasnt drugged by some magic)

Are you forgetting that you loved him and actually died for him?!?!?

Are you forgetting that Amarantha fcking ENSLAVED tamlin and his court?????

What even is this comparison?!?!?

How did this get published?!?!?

And you let Ianthe take him into that cave instead.

AAAHAHAHHAHA THIS IS UNBELIEVABLE

Just in the previous chp Lucien says he went of his own free will. So stop blaming Tamlin for letting lucien take Ianthee into the cave. Calamnai wasn't a SA. The whole setting of this festival and the disgusting sex maniac crazy omega world sjm has set it in blurs the line of SA. But it wasnt. Its the magic that chooses not Tamlin!!! Tamlin didnt let anything happen you bitch.

And also, why shud tamlin take part in calamnai...his fiancee who he is committed to has been abducted by the same guy who killed his family and SA her for three months. Why wud he want to sleep with random women while being drugged???

And yet you could stomach making a deal with Hybern, as if I were a stolen item to be returned.

Look right here, this is the manipulation of the readers mind. THIS is not healthy for an impressionabke mind. You know YA is a hit genre cause teenagers relate to the main characters but they shud also be allowed to explore it themselves. This doesn't let them. I'm telling you this isn't healthy. I hope to god you dont recommend this series and put anyone through this.

A stroke of his hand down my back was his only reply.

(his= tamlin)

Okay just to make it clear...this ... tamlin showing affection like this...we can say his love language is touch...cassian on the other hand... shoving his dick in nesta when he wants to show affection wouldn't really count as touch...it is in a way...but that way is just gross. M srry if i'm not making sense its literally 1:21am.

I nearly asked if it was worth it—if giving up this sort of peace was worth it, in order to have me back.

In 4 chpters i think she has mentioned this 50 times that tamlin made the deal to get her back when she was just a small part of it. Its like shes listening to what they are talking (the dialogues they speak) and yet refuses to acknowledge them or is unable to comprehend the depth of it...which just makes her all the most stupid and dumb.

The more chpters I break apart like this makes me think that her editors were on drugs lmao

#anti sjm #anti acotar #anti acowar #anti feyre #tamlin #anti rhysand #this shit is laughable

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stopeatingwhales · 4 years

Text

about a girl (pt.2) x kurt cobain

hi guys :) so sorry for my inactivity, but i’m here finally lmaoo, this is a part two to my kurt fic that i wrote about a month ago, due to school its been much harder for me to keep up writing as usual, but i will absolutely try my best to finish your guys’ requests soon! anyways, hope you enjoy this <3 Pairing: pre-bleach era kurt x reader

Warnings: nothing :)

Word count: 2.167

Requested by anon (the second part was my idea, but i felt like i should still credit the anon for giving me the idea for this x)

༉‧₊˚✧

The wind exhales short, breezy waves as you lay there, engulfed in your dreams. From the night succeeding to your outstanding performance, you were requited to a favourable hibernation which by admiring you, was needed for not only the sum of a few hours. Your solemn features are painted still, the only movement stimulating from your body is heavy breaths accompanied by a light snore from time to time. I question whether it's righteous of me to allow my eyes to adorn themselves in your serene features, yet I simply cannot stop myself. I find it surreal to witness you in such fragility; for all the pain and sorrow you’ve had to experience in your life, it’s almost like you shouldn’t be sleeping in such a tranquillic state. I wonder if you prefer sleeping than being awake, I wonder if you think it’s a chore to get out of bed. Does the world haunt you? Every click, flash, snap of a camera, does it devastate you? The image you portray to the world is magnificent, yet flawed. It’s almost as if you’re hiding something, yet you don’t care what others think of you, so you do whatever you please. My heart skips a beat every time you shift slightly, cradling your body in the duvet. I advert my stare to your arms, sculpted perfectly in God’s chamber, the lankiness of your bones withering an appearance of discrepancy. You’re not like the rest of them. Your steady breaths softly ease in and out of your flawless torso, your hair so impeccable it looks untouched even when you’re shifting around in your slumber - the hair you willingly dyed and strained with a flavoured drink mix. As I admire you, sleeping beauty, it reminds me of how lucky I am to have you in my life - regardless of where we stand. When you’re awake, you’re the only thing keeping me sane during the day; spending even just a day without you would feel as if I had lost my legs, lost what’s kept me steady for all these draining years. In all my time of knowing and understanding you, have you never not known what to say, for you have such a way with words, it's unfathomable. You carry a sort of intelligence that no one can seem to obtain; you speak words out of a bible and it’s ironic I say that, Mr ‘God is gay’, but it’s true. You’re the reason I wake up in the morning. You’re like a hard candy, sweet and delicate, although the texture is very hard making it a burden to get through to you. I want to taste you on my tongue every morning, if you would like me to be honest. I crave for things as little as your scent even before I’ve risen from the cushion. Your grace must be envied by the heavens; there is and will never be anyone as alluring as you, not that I’m surprised.

As my eyes continue to wander on him, a sudden stretch of his arms and a small groan echoing out of his vocal chords results in my body almost instantaneously sitting up. I watch him as he blinks his eyes a few times, his vision still not clear enough. “Good morning,” he whispers, his arms thrown to the skies; he’s like a baby, reaching out for their mother in the early hours of daylight, moaning and whining for affection, warming my heart with soreful ease. Quickly taking note of the small clock situated beside him that I was aware of for the many hours I had been trapped in thought, it read a bright and early 11am. My stare continues to linger onto him as I watch him shifting around, the heart situated in my upper chest now beating as fast as drum solos in heavy metal songs. A short silence stood in between both presences; I assume that he hadn’t taken note of my pondering state adjacent to him, though was that idea contradicted by his light greeting. “Did you sleep well?” he chirps, now using both palms to rub his what-seemed-like itchy eyes.

Now what is humorous from this scenario is that he asks this as if it means nothing; a simple conversation starter it may be, though, to me it means so much more hearing those light words roll off his tongue, compared to if someone else had said it, even if it was in the exact same moment living right now. A whiff of bad breath hits my face as I laugh lightly, shaking my head in a sort of admiration towards the man lying down ahead of me. He again blinks a few times, now in attempt to adjust the bright scenery to his view. For a couple seconds the room is frozen, Kurt’s alteration in position to sitting up becoming the only sound ringing through both our ears. As I find my gaze glued onto him once again, I subconsciously repeat the question he asked me, this time directed for him. However, from what I’ve seen, I’m certain he slept wonderfully.

A tired chuckle escaped his mouth. “I asked you first,” he mutters, the morning rasp still prominent in his vocal chords. This makes me smile. The raw, genuinity forwards the idea of realism that this moment was actually happening, coming like a pinch snapping someone out of their daydream, though my thoughts will never be known to understand how I was able to spend time with such a man. “I slept well, though.” he adds, a warm smile playing on his lips.

“I couldn’t sleep,” I answered, my face now being cradled by my palms.

I now feel the stare of Kurt burn onto my face. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” he asks, a hint of annoyance laced in his words. “We could’ve stayed up together,”

A small chuckle breezes out of my nose. How considerate, how caring must you be to, even when you have performed such an exasperating gig, stay awake with me because of one night of my mind’s continuous ambles? For all I know, Kurt wouldn’t sleep for days if it meant I would be in absolute glee. It’s those sorts of traits in those who are lost which draw you towards them becoming the significant other to stay with for life. It’s that sense of attachment, connection you hold with someone, so strong that you would give up the roof over your head if it meant a smile to be drawn on their face. ”You looked so peaceful in your sleep,” I replied, staring directly into his loveable eyes, the shade of blue brightening as the sunlight melted onto his face. His hair was now a little more messier compared to how it was less than ten minutes ago, and the urge of me running my fingers through his golden locks only seemed to grow even more as time passed on. For a moment I decided to hold back my words, inhaling sharply to gain composure to my fatigued state. “I didn’t want to disturb you,”

Kurt sighed - knowing that he needed sleep more than anything, though a hint of sadness dwindled in his stomach, his mind conflicted from the idea of me drowning in worry as I tended to do when I couldn’t sleep. Reaching his arm towards the table sat beside him, his fingers got lost in between the opened packet of cigarettes that slept reverently on the white wood, grabbing a random one at choice before placing it in a loose grip between his lips. With the known information that you need a torch to light a cigarette, I threw the one I had on his lap, a small laugh escaping my lips for no apparent reason. Actually no, there was a reason. “Who the fuck smokes first thing in the morning?”

Before he torched the lighter, he stopped, his piercing blue eyes locking in contact with mine. “Me, I do,”

Another laugh tempted to flee itself from my throat, yet I held it back. If you would’ve said that to me the first night I met you, in that small, cramped room, littered with amps that Krist had dragged me into going in to listen to your material, I would’ve scoffed at your blown attitude towards such a random question. Watching you now as you’re admiring the cancer stick with pure attachment, my mind begins to wander over such a topic. I look at you and see a troubled, young kid who just wants love and affection because he seemingly never got enough from the people who designed his childhood; for you haven’t grown up since then. Perhaps in size and features, yes (and definitely the fact that children do not smoke), but hidden inside you is the same boy that was hidden away all those years ago - following onto your parents’ divorce. You say you’ve never been happy since then, you’ve never been able to think optimistically, and maybe you haven’t. Maybe the smile you give to me isn’t genuine; with continuous assurance I’ll consider it to be. Maybe I’ll never heal those bruises that were once your only source of living, and that’s okay, if you’re able to cope with the imprints. If you’re the Kurt Cobain that prefers smoking than having a normal breakfast, so be it; I’d give up my heart for you, and if anything, you’ve already stolen it. Words merely brush the surface of my adoration for you, and sometimes I believe that I’m just lying to myself, that nothing I’m saying in my head is true. Yet, as every minute, every second passes throughout the day, even in silent, contented situations with ceilings bright as yellow from the smoke like these, everything I say to myself simply strengthens in morality. My sweet, you deserve more than one could wish for. You deserve things that this world cannot give you, yet all you believe is that you are worthless. If only you saw yourself in my eyes, maybe then you’d realise, realise the impact you’ve sincerely doused onto me and my mind, you’ve got the moves to empower a generation and perhaps hundreds more - even if you don’t see that yet.

“Give me one,” He hands me one, the strong gusts of cloud escaping his mouth creating a want for the rough substance to coat my throat in brutal ways; even if it’s slowly murdering me. It was a murderous addiction, nicotine, yet it kills us all, our addictions; and we are too blinded by the goodness it seemingly overshadows what we force to neglect in our minds - the bad in it all. We become so unbelievably enthralled by the pain we choose to accept it; we believe it is favourable, not disastrous and catastrophic. Drugs are frowned upon dearly, as they should be, but once you’re stuck, it takes more than simple courage to escape out of the deadly grip it chokes you in. Placing the cigarette in between my lips, identical to how he had just done, I reached my arm out to obtain the lighter that was in my clutch merely seconds ago, swiftly lighting it with one hand. As I breathed out the first tar-filled cloud from my cigar, I fixed my gaze onto him once again, sucking in my top lip as I allowed the droplets of ash fall onto my shirt. “I know I always say this,” I began as I studied his features, trying to identify any solemn, unpleasant emotions, noticing that there was none at all for the time being. “You’re going to make it big one day, I’m now for certain you’re going to take over the world,”

His eyes now locked into mine, a short chuckle leaving his throat as he blew out an even bigger gust of smoke. “I don’t want that,”

Smiling, I took hold of my cigarette and inhaled deeply, holding it in my mouth until my body was unable to carry on without oxygen for longer - not that the air in the room was even oxygen; it was more corrosive chemicals than anything else, yet we’ve become so dependant on a small roll of tobacco to guide us to a path of slow death, its unnoticable. I watched as Kurt’s eyes drifted on to admire the elusive sunlight gleaming through the window, the whiffs of grey contrasting the happiness that was attempting to journey itself into the silent room. No matter how many times I may tell, his belief that he will never be as big as acts like the Sex Pistols will empower over anything I endevour on to phrase. It was inevitable though, whether he dreamt of it or not, that they will be big, bigger than anything they’ve ever seen. The path bridging onto it may cause destruction, heartbreak, and even more addiction, but the future is never in our hands - only until it is close enough for the present to capture it. Time is simply a mantelpiece, the light eventually burns out when there’s not enough coal to keep it going. You continue to refill it as the days go by until you simply cannot any longer, which is what all youths fear and avoid. Surprisingly enough, Kurt wasn’t one of the many crowds in devastating apprehension; he wanted to burn out more than anything else, for there were only small things keeping him going, or perhaps he was waiting for a longer, more agonizing death, hence the many packets of cigarettes vanished in a day.

There was nothing left to say in the room; there was no need for a response - it was only going to result in the same bicker as it resulted in many a time. The room, now physically undergoing a change in colour from the smoke, held a significant ambience, one so serene it left you more relaxed than the aftermath of a crazy high in drug use, though sometimes the relaxation is more pain than anything else. Even when my mind was so consumed in ideation earlier in the morning, my thoughts were louder than ever in this given moment. My mind was mulled over the concept of Kurt and stardom. He would never like it, nor does he even want it. It’s humorous to an extent; how much authenticity can one acclaim, to not even look up to the sugar-coated concept called ‘fame’? You’re not like the others. You don’t want fame, you want to create music. And in all honesty, I wish I lie through my teeth whenever I mumble those encouraging words of how you’re going to make it big; I can’t stand the idea of losing you, but like I said, it's inevitable, one day simple moments like these will just be memories to look back on when you’re old and laughing about your previous attachment to drugs. Maybe you won’t look back on times like these however, maybe you’ll remember the more vivid, buzzing moments like your first gig as Nirvana, and maybe I won’t remember this either, maybe these moments aren’t to be remembered, to be lived in instead. If only you knew how much I loved you, would you be surprised that I haven’t ruined my life because of it. You mean more to me than the stars mean to the night sky, more than a memory means to a person’s mind. It hurts my heart knowing I can’t heal you, though I dream that one day, you’ll wake up, just like you did today, turn to me and say, ‘I’m happy,’ because that’s all I ever dream of you to be.

#kurt cobain x reader #nirvana #dave grohl #krist novoselic #kurt cobain #band imagines #my writing #smut #fluff #angst #grunge #90s #music #imagines

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arianaofimladris · 3 years

Text

Predictable

A Marvel fic for a change, because I still don’t like Infinity war and wanted to tell myself a better story,

Predictable

The last Thor remembered before the emptiness of the space sucked everything, was clinging to his brother. Then there was nothing but darkness.

The next thing he registered was lying on the floor of what seemed to be a space ship, not his spaceship, with a bunch of multiracial strangers leaning over him. He was on his feet in an instant, stumbling as his numb, half frozen legs almost refused to carry his weight. Backing away as far as the cramped ship allowed, he took in his surroundings. He found the lot staring at him.

Straightening, Thor returned the stare, turning his head to acknowledge them all. There was a Midgardian man and a short furry creature that looked like some kind of animal. Another man of bulky posture stood to the left, accompanied by a green-skinned lady with fiery red locks. A strange young woman with glowing antennas stared with her eyes wide open, and behind her a young flora colossus observed him from over a game pad of sorts. Together, they probably made the strangest company Thor had ever met.

“Who the hell are you, guys?” He asked in confusion. Lightning cracked between his fingers, readying for the fight that could possibly come. His experience with the strangers of late had not been overly positive.

"Woah, easy, man!" The Midgardian raised his hands in an universal peaceful gesture, while the strange furry creature at his side pulled out a blaster. “Rocket, not here!” He chastised. The creature rolled his eyes but lowered his weapon, if slightly. The others just watched Thor, apparently still surprised by his awakening.

“Not exactly a thank you we could expect,” Rocket muttered with reproach. “You know, we have just literally picked you up from the fuckin’ space. Mantis there woke you,” he made a vague gesture towards the woman with antennas.

That was when Thor realised what he was missing."Wh-where's my brother?"

"You mean the stiff over there?" Rocket pointed to his left. As Thor turned his head to follow his hand, he saw the familiar form laying on the floor. "You two were kinda tangled. Not much we can do there, sorry."

"No..." Thor’s knees buckled treacherously and the lightning sparkling around his fists shot uncontrollably, crafting a smoking hole right next to a control pad.

“Whatever you’re doing, don’t!” The Midgardian cried. “You’ll blow up my ship!”

“It’s my ship!” Rocket huffed in annoyance.

But the lightning disappeared just as quickly, Thor’s energy already spent in the battle with Thanos. He barely had it within him to stand. He forced himself to move towards Loki, grasping at whatever he could find within his reach as his legs threatened to cease carrying him.

Mantis got there first. She knelt by the unmoving figure and rolled him on his back. "He's not dead," she gasped, a hint of surprise visible as her black eyes blinked.

"Holy shit, what?!" The Midgardian choked. “How the hell is this possible?”

“Not as beautiful and strong as this one, but perhaps his strength lies elsewhere,” mused the bulky man. The comment made Thor stop for a second, so out of place it seemed.

“Drax, not now,” someone muttered, but Thor didn’t pay attention who.

"Not-" He stumbled again in his eagerness to reach his brother, desperately clinging to the tiniest string of hope.

"He's terrified and hurting, but not dead, Peter.” Mantis said to the Midgardian as she kept her hands hovering over Loki’s head. “I can wake him too."

"No, wai-"

But it was too late. With Mantis's gentle touch Loki jerked awake. A scream caught in his throat and his hand flung up. He coughed, his breathing coming in hitched gasps, and kept pulling frantically at the collar of his gear, unable to grasp a lungful of air.

Thor fell on his knees beside him as Mantis scrambled away. "Lo- Loki, stop!" He grasped his wrists and pinned them to the floor, leaning forwards so that he could be seen. “It’s alright!” His voice carried the edge of hysteria that contradicted his words.

It didn't work. Loki made a pained noise and his left hand froze, but his breathing was just as hectic. “Th’r,” he wheezed and Thor sighed in relief that at least his brother seemed to recognise him.

“He’s gone for now. Thanos is not here,” Thor promised hastily. Whoever these guys behind him were, they seemed friendly enough, or at least not too willing to kill them on sight. Thor didn’t have much energy left to spend on dwelling whether they could have had some ulterior motives and had picked them from the space for their own benefit.

“Thanos?” The green-skinned lady, who kept silent so far, repeated slowly, her voice distant.

“You know of him?” Thor let his eye fall off Loki and he turned to face her, cursing internally his inability to see the whole room without moving. It was a disadvantage he had yet to work on in fight.

“Gamora is the daughter of Thanos,” the big guy called Drax offered.

At that, Loki bolted upright. He managed as far as to a sitting position, but conjured a pair of daggers even as Thor placed himself between the strangers and his wounded brother. Loki’s left hand seemed useless and the knife fell from his grasp, so he clung to the other, desperately trying and failing to haul himself up.

“Thanos slaughtered half of my people and almost killed my brother!” Thor growled and dragged himself back to his feet. Crackles of lightning danced around his fists and shoulders.

“No, no, wait!” The Midgardian, Peter, rushed forward. “She wants him dead as much as you do!”

Thor glanced from him to Gamora, who nodded. He was trying hard to take her word for that when his brother looked at her with what bordered to outright fear. Loki’s posture screamed of mistrust, but Thor could also see hate and determination that steeled Gamora’s gaze as she looked him in the eye. Hesitantly, he let his arms drop and the lightning subdued.

“There are no friends of Thanos here, alright?” Rocket stepped firmly in front of the woman. “How about you guys sit down and take a breath?” He offered, which earned him a wheezing half-sob, half-laughter from Loki.

So Thor found himself sitting on a bench with a thick blanket around his shoulders, slowly de-freezing with a bowl of hot soup in his hands. He was left with bone-deep exhaustion and a pounding headache, a courtesy of a close touch of the Power Stone, but he was alive and breathing. And he was not alone.

Loki was slumped to his right, leaning against his shoulder. It had taken some manoeuvring to get him there, as he had let no one but Thor so much as lay a finger on him. He looked no better than when he had been woken and was still half a step away from passing for a corpse, if not for his shallow, wheezing breathing. He cradled his left hand at his lap, but dared not close his eyes and go into a healing sleep. His gaze never left Gamora, even as she withdrew to the farthest part of the room.

Thor listened as Gamora talked about Thanos and his goal to wipe out half of the universe. His anger would have boiled untamed, had it not been for his exhaustion. The Thanos he faced had wielded only one stone, and still he had managed to slaughter all those who had not escaped in the pods with the Valkyrie. He had bested the Hulk. Had bested him.

A shiver and a pained gasp drew Thor’s attention from where he mulled over his soup. Loki seemed to be struggling to breathe again, his good hand hovering over but never really touching his swollen throat.

"Why is it not healing?" Thor frowned as he realised Loki’s left wrist swelled and bruised instead of getting better.

Loki's mouth stretched in a mirthless smirk for a second. "All... I... Have... Goes... For. Not. Dying," he rasped. His eyelids fell for a moment, but he snapped them open again and looked around.

"You'd better not," Thor muttered, careful not to voice too much concern about Loki's statement. His admittance alone was alarming, and in the presence of those strangers, especially Gamora, it was likely all Thor would get. Still, he had to ask. "Do you need anything? Are you hurt elsewhere?"

A minute shake of head was all response he got.

"You guys are creeping me out," Quill startled them both. "We pick you up from NOTHING, the stiff there definitely choked and dead... -ish. And now he's talking already."

"We are not easily killed," Thor offered and he wished he could feel the conviction he heard in his own voice. If anything, the most recent events had taught him that there were forces in the universe stronger than an army of Einherjar, forces that could overpower Asgardians as strong as him.

"Creepy or not, it seems you are short on whatever it is you are using to stay alive," Rocket addressed Loki as came over with a couple of small packages. "So maybe try the good old-fashioned way?" He dropped them at Loki's knees, completely ignoring how tense and utterly still he went.

Loki stared down with a frown.

"Oh, you know? Cold for the swelling?" The raccoon rolled his eyes. "Can't hurt to try. Then you can go on with the magic thing you are doing."

“Thank you,” seeing that Loki would or could not answer, Thor nodded to Rocket and wrapped the cold dressing around Loki’s wrist. “Is there a place where we could rest?” He asked, knowing well his brother would not let his guard down unless they were alone. The proclaimed hatred towards Thanos didn’t seem enough for Loki to trust them and let himself rest. If they were to go against Thanos, Thor needed his brother back in form. And, as much as he loathed to admit it, he himself needed to be able to formulate a trail of thoughts without having his head split in half.

“Oh, yeah, we could probably spare you a room for now,” Quill nodded.

“I am Groot?” The flora colossus nudged Thor expectantly. His input was unexpected, as for the whole time he seemed entirely preoccupied with his game.

“Thank you, young friend, but there’s not much you could do to help,” Thor offered him a warm smile, but Groot ignored him and reached for Loki’s wounded wrist.

Unable to back away, Loki attempted to pull his hand free and yelped. Groot ignored him too and held his hand in both of his own, concentrating. Thor was about to react and drag him away from his brother, but Groot’s efforts paid off and tiny sprouts sprang from his hands. Both brothers watched in amazement as the branches grew, entwining, and soon weaved a brace around the damaged wrist.

Cutting himself off the brace, Groot looked up back at Thor and smiled brightly. “I am Groot.”

“That was brilliant!” Thor felt a genuine smile lighten his face and he stood up, this time hauling Loki along with little effort. Wrapping his arm around his brother’s back, he tossed Loki’s good hand over his own shoulders and smiled to himself at the position he placed his brother in.

Clearly Loki recognised it too. “No. Get. Help.” He whispered and his fingers dug into Thor’s bicep.

“Well, you need it, brother,” Thor chuckled softly. Loki’s nails dug deeper.

Rocket glanced from one to the other, unimpressed. “Ugh, whatever you say. Sleep it off, guys. Over there,” he waved towards the doors to his right.

“Thank you,” Thor nodded and led Loki to where he could possibly rest. “Wake me up when it’s time to split.”

Loki shot him a confused glance. Apparently some of his conversation with the group must have slipped his attention.

Adjusting his grip on Loki’s waist, Thor answered the unvoiced question. “We are going to Nidavellir, brother.” That, at least, was a fixed part of the plan they had yet to form.

Story can be found here too: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33583816/chapters/83450944

Please let me know what you think.

#Loki #Thor #The Avengers #Infinity war #Infinity war AU #marvel fanfic #Loki lives

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monaownsmyass · 4 years

Text

Influence Her

Requested fic by anon. (If you have any fic ideas or requests you'd like me to write, you can leave me an ask!)

Book: Queen B

Pairing: Veronica Lombardi x MC (Bea Hughes)

Genre: Fluff

Rating: PG13, strong words and suggestive lines/scenes

Word Count: 5,125 (V stans feasting with this one)

A/N: MC doesn’t really like Veronica’s social media presence but can real-life Veronica change her mind when they meet? (Alternating POVs) Y’all wanted a Poppy x MC enemies-to-lovers? Nahhh Veronica x MC would’ve been much better imo 😏 I also gave her some personality since PB is shit with character development especially with their side characters.

Tag list: @ineedskyecrandall @kamilahsayeet2063 @avalawrencefl @lovekamilahsayeed @thequeenkamilahsayeed @heygmicheelle @djtjsmith14 @jjlover01 @soft-for-drake @dopeyouth @alexroyard @satrinadia @toalltheboysididntlove @mypegasifly (lmk if anyone would like to be included or removed in my next fics and if you only want to be tagged for certain pairings.)

Part 2 is here!

I couldn't escape it.

It was all Veronica this! Veronica that! Oh, Veronicats! Oh, @vivilomborghini! And I've had it!

She was everywhere and I couldn't escape it. Obviously, she was all over my socials. On Pictagram, The T, but ever since I joined Belvoire, I couldn't even walk across the damn campus without seeing her.

I heard about Veronica long before I started attending Belvoire and I never liked her even since then. Something about her always rubbed me the wrong way.

When I found out she was also a student here on my first day, I was ready to head out. I did have other offers from different universities but Zoey convinced me that it wasn't gonna be so bad, so I took her word for it and stayed.

It was hard enough trying to avoid her on social media, which, trust me, was a sport all on it's own, but now I had to inevitably see her face every single day. I had no idea why, but I felt like she was wherever I went. At the library, at class, at the courtyard, it didn't matter, she was there.

She was like a constant nightmare haunting me. Okay, maybe a gorgeous, very attractive nightmare, but a nightmare nonetheless.

"I don't get why you hate her so much, babe," Zoey said at she followed my irritated glare aimed at Veronica who was vlogging not too far away. "She's not that bad."

"I don't hate Veronica Lombardi, but she hasn't given me any reason to like her either," I clarified.

"Why not?"

I scoffed. "Just look at her! Look how fake she is. She's basically lying to her fans. Her online personality is so artificially bright and happy it makes me wanna barf."

"Bea, that's basically almost every social media influencer ever."

"Maybe, but there's just something about her that doesn't sit right with me. How did she even get that many followers? I don't get what people see in her. Like sure, she's easy on the eyes and all but there's literally nothing else going for her."

Zoey raised a brow. "I'm surprised you admitted she's attractive.."

"I just don't like her, that doesn't mean I'm blind, Zo. I can appreciate a pretty face even if it annoys the shit out of me."

Zoey let out a laugh and gave me a pat on the cheek before standing up from the picnic table we were sitting at. "I'm sure V would be ecstatic to hear you call her pretty."

The space between my brows creased. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, babe, it's so obvious our favourite social media star has a crush on you."

"What makes you say that?" My nose scrunched up in disgust but something in my stomach stirred.

"You know, the looks, the movements," she replied, waving her hand around. "I'd love to explain more, but I'm gonna be late for class." She gathered her things and started walking away.

"Fine, fine," I sighed.

"And babe?"

"Yeah?"

"Dreamgirl is headed your way."

~*~*~

From the moment my eyes set on Bea Hughes, I knew there was something different about her.

Yes, the way she dressed, her accent, how she stood up to Poppy, it definitely made her stand out in Belvoire but there was just something else about her that caught my attention.

Maybe it was the way she carried herself, or her vibe. Maybe it was just how hot she was, I wasn't sure.

There was just a magnetic pull attracting me to her and I may not have known why, but I was determined to get to know her better.

I remembered the first time I caught sight of her. There was a crowd in the courtyard surrounding her and Poppy. She straight up roasted Poppy with no remorse and when she was done, our eyes locked. I could feel the tension between us. Was it sexual? Was it rivalry? Jealousy? Hatred? Maybe it was in potential alliance.

Whatever it was, I felt a connection.

Her smouldering gaze held onto my curious one and we held eye contact for a good minute before I raised a brow. She suddenly seemed to realise where she was and rolled her eyes, looking away.

I didn't know what that eye roll meant but that wasn't gonna stop me from finding out more about this interesting woman.

While I was vlogging, my eyes drifted to the girl that had me thinking about her ever since she stepped onto campus. She was eyeing me in annoyance. I've had people look at me like that but something behind her glare told me that wasn't all. I saw my chance. I smirked, ended the vlog and started walking up to her.

I didn't know what her problem with me was but I was gonna find out.

She was intriguing.

And I, Veronica Lombardi, was always up for a challenge.

~*~*~

I whipped my head around to see Veronica headed my way. I didn't like her but the way she strutted towards me made me breathless. The power in her strides almost made me realise why she was as popular as she was. Almost.

Still, I groaned and reached an arm out to Zoey.

"Zo! Don't leave me!"

"Sorry babe," she laughed. "You're on your own. Tell me how it goes, though!"

My arm flopped onto the table and my head followed.

"Hey," I heard a smooth, low voice call out not long after.

I knew who it was from but it still shocked me. It was such a vast difference from the bubbly, higher-pitched tone I had associated with her.

I raised my head to look at her.

"Yes?"

"This seat taken?"

"Does it matter?" I sighed. "Looks like you're gonna sit anyway."

She chuckled and crossed her arms. "That wasn't a yes so I can only assume you want me too."

I was about to deny it but something stopped me. I couldn't get the words out in time and she sat across me.

Well, this would be interesting.

"What do you want, Veronica?"

"No need to be so hostile," she raised her hands up. "I just came by 'cuz I saw you ogling at me."

My jaw dropped. "I was not ogling at you!" I said defensively.

She laughed again at my apprehension. "Sure you weren't."

"I wasn't!"

"Anyway," she said, ignoring my protest. God, she was infuriating. "I thought it was about time we finally meet and get to know each other."

I just looked at her as she stretched a hand out.

"Hi, I'm Veronica Lombardi," she said with a dazzling smile.

I had no intention of shaking her hand but I didn't wanna be mean especially since she was being nice. Also, there was something so compelling about that smile...

I lightly held her hand but the slight contact sent a jolt up my arm.

What was happening?

Brushing it off, I gave it a single shake. "Bea."

"Nice to officially meet you, Bea."

The way she spoke my name was unlike the way others said it. It sounded like a praise on her lips.

"As much as I'd love to hang around and make you fall in love with me," she stated and I was about to say something to contradict it but decided against it. Not like it would've helped. "I gotta go. Perhaps we could continue this conversation later? Elsewhere?"

I glared at her in disbelief. "Are you seriously asking me out on a date right now?"

"Oh, it's a date, huh?" she said playfully.

"What? I- you- NO!" I flustered.

"Alright then, it's a date," she laughed and I could feel myself getting red in the face. Was it from being infuriated or from blushing? I couldn't tell.

"Why would I go out with you?"

"Look, I know you don't like me that much, but why not give me a chance, hm?" The right corner of her lips quirked up ever so slightly as she gave me a lazy grin, so unlike the awfully overexaggerated fake cheery smile I was accustomed to seeing. It was relaxed and laidback and I'd be lying if I said I didn't find it absolutely sexy.

"How do I know it's not just for a vlog or some prank video."

"I swear it's not," she quickly assured. "If you don't believe me, I'll let you keep my phone for the entire time. I promise. I just want to get to know you."

She gazed into my eyes and I could tell she was telling the truth.

"Alright..."

"It that a yes?"

"It's not a yes..." I paused before adding. "But it not a no either."

I saw her eyes light up and I thought it was pretty cute. I mean, it was good to know she wasn't devoid of human emotion.

"I'll tell you what," she said and reached into her bag for a pen and paper and starting writing. "You let me know once you make up your mind."

She slid the paper over to me and on it was her number. She signed off as 'V, xoxo'.

Before standing up, she took my hand that was resting on the table between us in hers and paused for a moment, looking me in the eyes and making sure I wouldn't flinch away.

Once she was certain I wouldn't pull back, she brought my hand up to her lips and placed a gentle kiss on it. The way her soft lips grazed my hand made my heart flutter.

She let it go and walked away, looking over her shoulder to wink at me.

"Until then, beautiful."

I felt my whole face burn as I watched her walk away.

And this time, it was definitely from blushing.

~*~*~

"I'm telling you, Zo! How many times do I have to repeat myself? It's not a date!"

"Didn't you say she said it was a date?"

"Well, technically I made the mistake of assuming it was a date then she got the wrong idea and called it a date."

"So you wanted it to be a date?"

I was ready to pull my hair out in frustration. "No!"

Zoey giggled at me. "You are going though, right?"

"Why should I? I have no reason too."

"The Veronica Lombardi asked you out on a date and you're gonna say no to that?" She looked at me like I was stupid.

"It's not a date!"

"Just go for it. What do you have to lose?"

"My time, patience and sanity."

She glanced at me skeptically. "I don't think you actually believe that. I think you just don't want to admit you wanna spend time with Veronica."

That made me quiet. Was the idea of going out with Veronica actually repulsive or did I just not want to acknowledge it?

"Fine, I'll go for the stupid thing."

Zoey first pumped and cheered. "I can't wait to see you in her next vlog!"

"Oh, she said she wasn't gonna vlog."

She blinked at me. "What?"

"She said she would let me keep her phone for the rest of our time together as proof when I asked her if it she was only asking me out for a video."

"Bea, do you not realise what this means?"

I just looked at Zoey, puzzled.

"Veronica, Queen of Social Media, who vlogs and livestreams everything, said she would give you her phone. That's where all her power is! She's basically giving it up to you! I've heard if anyone so much as touches her phone, there'll be hell to pay."

Involuntarily, I felt myself start to smile. "Really?"

"God, you look like a kid in a candy store. You sooooo like her."

I shoved her and tried but failed miserably to hide my ecstatic expression. "Shut up! I do not!"

Zoey collapsed into a fit of giggles. "Deny it all you want, but you said you'd go out with her and I don't see you texting her yet."

I rolled my eyes at my best friend but moved to grab my phone to shoot Veronica a quick text to tell her my answer was yes.

~*~*~

When I received her confirmation yesterday, I felt the excitement bubbling in me. From the how she was blushing and the way she looked at me when I left, I was almost certain she would agree but getting a straight answer from her was the best news I've had all week.

I looked at the mirror at the outfit I was wearing. Hmm, should I change or would this suffice? No, I didn't want it to just suffice, I wanted it to impress.

I went through my closet, flinging clothes everywhere, trying to find something that would definitely catch her eye when I heard someone shout, "V!!!"

I rolled my eyes as Poppy barged in with Chloe by her side.

"What the hell are you doing and why is your room messier than a pig sty?! You were suppose to meet me an hour ago!"

I simply shrugged at her. "I'm busy."

"Busy with what? Putting on a fashion show for the fly on your wall?! Get ready, we're going out."

"Like I said, Pops," I took a stride in her direction and booped her nose, no doubt making her madder than she already was. "I'm busy."

"With what?" Chloe asked curiously since Poppy looked like she was gonna pop her lid off.

"I have a date with Hughes," I hummed.

"YOU'RE DITCHING ME FOR THAT NEWBIE, FARMSVILLE?!" Poppy screamed angrily.

I ignored Poppy and turned to Chloe. "Help me pick out something?"

"I'd love to!" she squealed which made Poppy stomp her feet in frustration.

"Ugh! Fine! Don't come crawling back to me when your social ranking takes a plunge after being seen with Farmsville!"

"You're delusional, Pops, maybe you should rest," I laughed as she stormed off, leaving Chloe to help me find the perfect outfit.

I couldn't wait to see Bea again.

~*~*~

There was a knock on the front door and Zoey jumped in excitement.

"You're looking forward to it more than I am."

"Can't I just be happy for my best friend-slash-roommate?" She pushes me towards the door. "Now go get your girl!"

"She is not my girl!" But my mind started racing at the possibility.

I shook the thought away and opened the door to be greeted with the sight of Veronica holding a single rose. I hate to admit it, but my breath hitched as I took her in.

My eyes ran up and down her body, soaking in every single feature my eyes landed on. Her sleeveless shirt was loose against her toned body but showed off her biceps nicely compared to her usual long-sleeved sweater.

My gaze landed on her chest and travelled down to her hips which only lead to her long, muscular legs covered by her pants. I forced my eyes back up to her attractive face only to see a stupid cocky smirk playing on her lips.

It was infuriating but fuck, she was hot.

I didn't even notice I was biting my lip until I heard her speak.

"Don't bite too hard, it might start bleeding before I get to kiss you," she said flirtatiously with that calm voice of hers but I could see her own eyes roaming my body.

I rolled my eyes but I wasn't as annoyed as I lead on. "Someone's confident."

"Very," she replied with a full smile this time and held out the rose in her hand. "For you."

"This isn't a date."

"It is!" Zoey called out from behind me.

"Zo!"

"It's true," she laughed. "Have fun on your date! V, you better treat her good!"

"The best," Veronica laughed with Zoey. "Don't worry!" She turned her attention back to me. "So, are you gonna accept my rose?"

The way she phrased it and said it made me melt. How could I say no?

Sighing in defeat, I took it from her and tucked it into my purse, the flower sticking out, on display for the world to know and strangely, I didn't mind.

We made our way away from the dorm and across the courtyard to her car. I saw people looking and whispering, wondering what the hell the newbie was doing with Belvoire's social media queen, the third ranked in The T.

I snickered and felt a little smug. It was great knowing someone with so much power was by my side. I felt kinda protected and safe 'cuz I knew no one would dare toss any snide remarks my way when I was with her.

I also thought it was really sweet that she didn't care that she was being seen with me. Not like I think anyone would dare say anything about her but I was still touched.

She opened the passenger side door for me and I raised her a brow at her. "I can open my own door, you know," I teased.

"O.M.G., I totally didn't know that," she replied sarcastically in a deadpan tone. "Lemme just do something nice for you."

"I guess I wouldn't mind being treated like a princess for the day," I muttered jokingly.

"Darling, I'll treat you like a queen," she replied coolly and suddenly, my whole body was on fire.

That immediately shut me up which made her chuckle.

We got into her car and she began driving. After a while, I spoke up.

"Where are we going?"

"You're warming up to me, huh?" She glance at me from the corner of her eyes and gave me another exasperating smirk.

"What?"

"You're starting a conversation with me. You like me now, don't you?" She reached out to poke me in the arm and I swatted her hand away even though I was trying my hardest to stifle a smile that was threatening to spread across my lips.

"God, you're annoying."

"Hey, I'm just stating facts."

Eventually, we pulled up to a small quaint café that didn't look like what I thought Veronica's speed was at all.

She opened the door for me again and this time, I didn't bother with a witty remark since I knew she would turn it on me anyway.

As we walked in, she greeted the barista behind the counter as if they've known each other for some time and it occurred to me then that I was getting to see the real Veronica. The thought that she actually was willing to share this private part of her life with me made me soft.

After ordering, she guided me to a table and pulled out a chair for me, motioning for me to sit. I looked around to take in the surrounding. There was barely anyone else in the café, only two other customers who were in their own worlds, reading. The place was small and cozy and... quiet. It wasn't like the high-energy, over-the-top, loud parties and events setting I was used to seeing her in. It was much more peaceful. Even the contemporary R&B and soul music they were playing that Veronica was humming to was much different than the pop songs she played in her vlogs that I've seen.

"Is this your little hideout?"

She offered me a small grin before staring at a picture on the wall. "Somewhat. No one expects to find me here so it's where I come if I just want some time to myself. No Poppy, no Belvoire, none of the Veronicats, just me." She leaned forward as her enrapturing eyes landed on mine and the sheer intensity of her gaze sucked all the air out of my lungs. "And now you."

I looked away, not being able to hold eye contact anymore and all of a sudden feeling very overwhelmed.

"It doesn't seem like you. I mean, I knew your online personality wasn't all real but this is..."

"Different?" she gave me a rueful smile. "I'm not my brand, Bea."

"Who are you, then?"

Her sad smile quickly changed into a simper. "That's why we're here, aren't we?"

"Fair enough." I leaned back in my chair. "Why don't you show your followers the real you? I'm sure they'll appreciate it." 'I do,' I thought subconsciously.

She let out a humourless laugh. "It's not that easy. Changing my entire image is already a hassle, but then I'd have to deal with that rumours and the haters and all that bullshit which is annoying. Then, I have to worry about my followers who'll either bash me or get bashed for still supporting me," she sighed, looking more tired than I've ever seen her. "It's just a lot."

Before I could reply, she pulled out her phone and slid it over to me across the table. "Like I promised, I'll let you keep it."

"V," I started and realised I called her by her nickname for the first time. I knew she noticed it to when I saw her brows lift up slightly. "You really don't have to."

She shook her head. "No, no, I want to. I want you to know I'm serious about this. I want you to know I'm being honest. Also, it's relaxing to know I don't have to worry about my online appearance since it's with you," she joked.

"Aren't you scared I'll log into your accounts? Maybe try and steal you phone?"

She looked at me with an amused smile. "I'm right here, I can see whatever you're doing. And what, you gonna run off with my phone in an unfamiliar area when I have a car?"

"Maybe I'll steal your car too."

She let out a full laugh that made my heart flip.

Woah?

"Darling, you can try," she spoke and leaned in closer, almost whispering the next part with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "But I think we both know who'll end up on top."

I caught the undertone in her statement and I felt my cheeks getting hot.

"You'd be surprised," I returned her energy and I saw her pupils dilate, the tension between us palpable.

We were interrupted by the barista from earlier. They served us our drinks and left, making me clear my throat and trying to shake out the image of Veronica and I in a.... compromising position.

I looked at her phone that was still in front of me and hesitantly slipped it into my purse.

"I have a question," I said.

"Mm?"

"Aren't you tired of pretending? To your followers?"

She crossed her arms on the table and my eyes immediately drifted down to see her arms flex as she did but I forced them back up to her face. 'Not the time!' I scolded myself in my head.

Her tiny grin told me she noticed. Damn, nothing slipped past this woman.

However, she looked over it and answered me. "It wasn't always pretend. That person was actually me once. That's what happens when you grow up in the public eye, I guess." She propped her chin on her hand. "I started doing all of this when I was young and it was only for fun. A kid just being a kid, you know? But then my content blew up and as I grew older, it was only natural for me to change, to discover who I really was. But the thing with people online is that they don't get that. They think we're a fraud or we went off the rails if we suddenly change things up."

I looked her in the eyes as she told me more about it.

"And before I knew it, I had an image to uphold. A brand to stick to. I was no longer that bubbly, excited kid from a decade ago but my audience didn't know that. I don't feel like I'm fake 'cuz that was who I am. But not anymore. And it might be tiring but it's worth it. I may be playing a character online but if that person inspires young girls and boys and is their role model, how could I take that away from them?"

Listening to her speak made me regret every awful thing I've said about her. A wave of sadness washed over me and as much as I wished I could reassure her and tell her it's not true, that everyone would support her, I knew that wasn't reality.

So instead, I said, "Would you ever show who you really are?"

Her perfectly threaded brows creased as she pondered over my question. "Not anytime soon. But if it gets too much, maybe then I'll consider doing it. But until then," she looked down and then back up at me with an honest smile. "I'm happy just sharing the actual me with the people in my real life."

~*~*~

Opening up to Bea was the easiest thing in the world. Those warm eyes, that curios look, the way she hung onto every word I said, giving me her full attention, it was inevitable that I would spill my heart out to her.

And it looked like I had the same effect on her.

She told me more about her life back in the Midwest, her family, her thoughts, dreams and so much more that I didn't expect to get out of her on our first 'date'.

As she spoke, I studied her face and mannerisms, wanting to know every single detail about her. Her expressive eyebrows, her stunning eyes, her smooth skin and soft lips. The way she pronounced certain words and how her accent got stronger when she was angry or talking something she was passionate about. The way she would roll her eyes but her cheeks reddened when I teased her or said something flirty. How her nose scrunched when she giggled, the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled.

Fuck, that smile. I'd do anything she told me to if she smiled at me like that.

"Hey, I know I said I wouldn't use my phone today," I began and I saw her give me a worried look. I quickly continued so she didn't get the wrong idea. "But I really want to take a picture with you. Is that okay? I won't post it, I just wanna keep it."

I saw her disappointed look instantly turn to relief then shyness.

"You wanna take a photo with me?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "You look really pretty and I just want something to remember you by."

I wasn't sure if she would agree but then she reached into her purse and handed me my phone. Grinning broadly, I moved beside her and lifted my phone up.

"Is this okay?" I asked, moving an arm around her waist carefully, making sure she wasn't uncomfortable.

She simply nodded and when my hand touched her, I felt her shiver which only made made me smile wider.

The cups and plates piled on our table, customers walked in and out, the sky darkened, a hundred songs were played and the second hand on the wall clock travelled the same path thousands of times as we continued talking and yet, our conversation never died.

I had never connected with someone so fast and it surprised me just how easy it was for us to just talk.

It was getting pretty late and we decided it was time to leave. Before standing up, I jokingly asked, "Anything else before we leave?"

To my surprise, she replied, "Just one."

"Yeah?"

She smiled. "You're alright, Lombardi."

~*~*~

When we made it back to campus, V walked me back to my dorm. When I said she didn't have to, she still insisted which was really sweet of her.

"Plus I get to spend more time with you," she said teasingly while lightly bumping shoulders as we walked side-by-side and I felt myself smile.

We stopped outside my dorm room and admittedly, I had no idea how I was gonna say goodbye to her.

"Here we are," she announced.

"Yup."

She took a step towards me cautiously as if I would move back. I didn't.

I stared at her as my stomach filled with butterflies. Everything about her was painfully gorgeous and it made my heart ache. I knew she was attractive but now that I got to know her, to actually see her, it made it hard to believe she was a real person.

She was perfect.

One hand on my hip, she leaned forward and bent down, face inching closer to mine. I closed my eyes, here nearness making me light-headed and the smell of her perfume fogged my thoughts. My heart was hammering in my chest.

I expected her lips to meet mine. Instead, I felt it on my cheek but my skin still tingled from where her lips touched.

"Good night, beautiful," she whispered with a small smile and a longing look in her hazel eyes. "Hopefully you don't glare at me the next time you see me."

She stepped back but I instinctively reached out to hold onto her wrist, preventing her from moving any further. I shook my head. "No."

"No?" she looked at me, confused and I could sense the hurt in her voice.

"No," I repeated. "No, that's not enough."

I pulled her into me and crashed our lips together. The moment our lips touched, I swear I saw stars. She pushed me back until I was pressed up against the door with her body. She trailed a hand down my thigh and hiked my leg up to her hip, making me groan.

I sent a mental apology to Zoey if she was in and heard all this.

"God, I don't know what you hold over me," I muttered between kisses. "Yesterday I didn't like you and now you have me against my dorm door, making out with me."

She pulled back, breathing heavy and gave me one of those sexy, relaxed smile. "Well, I am an influencer."

Veronica grabbed onto my other leg and lifted me up. Arms wrapped around her neck and legs locked tight around her waist, she kissed me again.

"Ohh! V!"

I moaned as she bit my bottom lip. My whole body was burning with heat and everywhere she touched ignited me further. One hand moved to grip the side of my neck while the other rested on my ass.

"Are you in love with me yet?" She said into the kiss and pulled away again, looking at me proudly with a genuine smile on her face.

"Shut up," I grinned and tugged her head back so our lips could meet again. This time, in a slow, sweet kiss.

And you know what?

Veronica Lombardi wasn't so bad after all.

(More fics!)

#did writing this make me fall even more in love with veronica?#absolutely a 100%#veronica x mc #veronica lombardi #veronica qb #qb #queen b #qb choices #choices #choices: stories you play #pb #pixelberry #playchoices #qb fanfiction #choices fanfiction #thanks for reading!

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holyhellpod · 3 years

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4. Fambily

In this episode, we skim the surface of the fambily dynamics in Supernatural, which are--ah. Dicey at best.

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Transcript under the cut!

Content warnings: domestic violence and family abuse

[Growl]

Ah, the Winchesters. Where do we even start. Unhinged, deranged, and continually traumatised in every way, Sam and Dean complete each other. At least, that’s what the show wants us to think. Despite the ways they betray each other, lie to each other, and piss each other off, they are fambily. And fambily is the most important thing. The concept of Fambily in the show Supernatural (2005-2020) takes many twists and turns throughout its run. In the first five minutes of episode one, the heteronormative, nuclear family of John, Mary, Sam and Dean is ripped apart by an unknown, antagonistic force that represents all the evil in the world. It creeps into a nursery and eviscerates a white, blonde mother while preying upon a 👶, I mean, how much more evil can you get? It’s fantastic that, in the later seasons especially, Supernatural embraces this idea that fambily doesn’t end in blood, but blood doesn’t always mean fambily. By the end of the series, the fambily concept has expanded to include two dads, an aunt and uncle, and a thirty-year old infant. I’m going to talk about the finale in its own episode, so that my ire will have its proper outlet.

When the show starts, Sam, Dean and John have each other, and only each other. By the time season 2 really kicks off, Sam and Dean don’t have John anymore, but they do have Bobby Singer. The concept of the triumvirate follows them throughout the series as though they’re in a less sexy Italo Calvino novel—first Sam, Dean and John, then Sam, Dean and Bobby, then Sam, Dean and Ruby, then Sam, Dean and Cas, then Sam, Dean and Mary, then Sam, Dean and Jack. It’s broken in seasons 13-15 when Cas comes back and they have a family of four, and then five when Mary can stand to see her boys.

But the Winchesters are not the only fambily in Supernatural who matter. In season two, we’re introduced to the Harvelles, mother Ellen and daughter Jo, who are a hunting fambily who run a hunter pub in the middle of whoop whoop. A pub that Eric Kripke famously hated, and rejoiced when he burnt it down at the end of season 2, because the Winchesters and by extension everyone they know aren’t allowed to have anything good ever. It’s revealed in season two episode “No Exit” that John got Jo’s father killed on a hunt, which obviously affects Jo more than it does Sam and Dean.

[Editing note:] Okay I’m editing this episode, and I’m not happy with it. I’m not going to scrap it completely because I think I do have good points to say, but the general analysis of this episode is so surface level. It is basically contributing nothing to the conversation. And I started this podcast in order to actually contribute something to the culture. I could make a bunch of text posts on tumblr or I could spend hours and hours and hours and hours of my life to something that — I don’t know. Is it bringing me joy? Not at the moment. But, yeah. So I’m not going to scrap this episode completely but this is my way of saying from now on the episodes are going to take as much as they will take and I will commit myself to having deeper and more thoughtful analysis. And if I have to spend an entire episode on one aspect of one thing, I will. I could be at university right now studying a masters or a PhD in fucking literary analysis but instead I’m sitting on my bed making a Supernatural podcast because it brings me joy. It does. It really makes me happy and I don’t want to abandon this project, because people are listening to it. I don’t know why, I don’t know what you like it about it, but you’re listening. And I just think I owe it to myself to make things that I support 100%. So I’ll continue this episode and hopefully this rambling hasn’t put you off it completely. But from now on, I’m going to really, really talk about things that matter in regards to Supernatural… Kind of an oxymoron. Kind of a contradiction. But things that contribute to the cultural consciousness instead of just rehashing the road so far. That’s all I want to do. I want to contribute. I want to say good…ful things. Okay this is making me happy. It’s already working, it’s already making me happy. I’m just going to keep rambling and laughing. Okay so, more thoughtful analysis, deeper analysis. Things that make you think. Things that make me think. Instead of just a bunch of words that mean nothing. Okay, continuing on.

Okay to figure out which episode this was I had to watch a little bit of season two, and I’m still on my season 13 rewatch. The difference between the two seasons. I don’t know if I can even put into words the growth this show has gone through, and the characters have gone through, over the last 15 years. It would be like summarising my own growth by combing through my extensive diary collection and the years of societally- and governmentally-enforced heterosexuality that has plagued my entire life. Those boys are babies in season two. The bootcut jeans alone. Sam is literally 23 years old. I don’t even talk to 23 year olds. I block them on social media.

The Harvelles are a blip in the Winchester map. While the actors Samantha Ferris and Chad Lindberg did attempt to resuscitate their cultural currency months after the show ended by participating in an event — okay I can’t. I can’t even go into it. Like, clearly Samantha Ferris heard back from her representation as soon as she started posting those tweets and realised she wouldn’t continue to get money if she endorsed, well, the gays. And Chad Lindberg was just using the clout to push his Etsy wares like a 14th century merchant, so I gotta respect the hustle. But Jo and Ellen die in season 5 episode “Abandon All Hope” and are barely mentioned again except the episode Ash appears in, season 5 “Dark side of the moon,” Jo in season 7, “Defending Your Life,” and Ellen in the season 6 episode “My heart will go on.” They didn’t exactly leave what you would call a lasting impact for the next, you know, ten seasons.

To be honest, I’m not sure when it’s revealed that Bobby’s wife died after being possessed by a demon. It’s made clear in season 5 “Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid,” and I did not have to look that up, because season four and five are burned into my retinas like a particularly nasty sun flare. Bobby outlines the horrific way he killed his wife, because why not throw some spousal violence into the mix, and later in season 7 “Death’s Door,” it elaborates on their life together. I saw this sentiment expressed on TikTok, which we all know as the foundation of cultural knowledge, which was that fambilies don’t need to be two parents and children. Fambilies can be spouses or partners. You don’t need to have children in order to be a fambily. I think that’s a very nice sentiment and I’ve chosen to adopt it for these purposes. Bobby and his wife Karen are a fambily. While Karen wants kids, Bobby chooses not to have them for fear of becoming like his father and repeating the trauma he inflicted on Bobby. Bobby and Karen’s fambily dynamic is ruptured in the same way that John and Mary’s is—by an intrusive, demonic force that brings Bobby into the hunting world and ends Karen’s life. But by the time we see him at the end of season 1, Bobby is already ingratiated into Sam and Dean’s lives as their surrogate father, and this bond only deepens as the show progresses. Bobby expresses the sentiment to Dean to not be like John, that Dean is already a better man that his father ever was. Isn’t that what we all want to hear? That we have superseded our parents and outgrown them in ways they could never comprehend? Don’t we just want to be better than the generations that came before us, in order to mould a better world for the generations that come after us? Don’t we want to make things easier for our children, and our friends’ children, and our siblings’ children? Dean is a better man than John, and Bobby is better man than his father ever was. It’s about breaking the cycles of intergenerational trauma. I have to believe that Sam, Dean and Bobby did this, because then it’s possible for me to do the same thing. Include here that speech about representation in media that I didn’t bother writing for the last episode. Bobby is the surrogate father to Sam and Dean, a better father than John was, a better hunter even. He crafts an entire network of hunters who report to him, as seen in the season 6 episode “Weekend at Bobby’s,” and he continues to act as Sam and Dean’s mentor until his death in season 7 “How to win friends and influence monsters”. An alternate universe version of Bobby is introduced in season 13, which I have my reservations about, and he and Mary get together, which again, why. Season 13 is so hard to sit through.

A fambily that is introduced late into the series and is simply NOT given enough screen time is the Banes fambily. In season 12, “Celebrating the life of Asa Fox,” we are introduced to the Banes twins, Max and Alicia, who are by far the most gorgeous hunters we’ve seen in the series. They are hunters raised by a witch, Tasha Banes, who doesn’t appear yet, and they manage to survive the trial by fire that is overcoming the demon Jael. Later in this season, in the episode “Twigs and Twane and Tasha Banes,” both of which are written by the late great Steve Yockey, we are introduced to Tasha in a way that seems awfully familiar: Alicia calls Sam to say their mother has gone missing on a hunt, and hasn’t checked in in a few days. By the end of the episode, Alicia and Tasha are dead, and Max has ostensibly sold his soul for the power to bring Alicia back. The Banes twins’ storyline directly parallels Sam and Dean’s from the pilot, but it’s a tragedy from the outset. We already know Tasha is dead and they can’t save her, however, like Dean does for Sam at the end of season 2, Max chooses to save Alicia at the expense of his own soul. Spin off when. Banes twins series when. I’m waiting. They were in two episodes and I’m still thinking about them. The Harvelles are dust.

In season 7, “Reading is Fundamental,” a waifish 17 year old honour’s student Kevin Tran breaks into a rehabilitation facility to steal a tablet. This starts a chain of events that ingratiates Kevin Tran in the apocalyptic, death-succumbing world of the Winchesters, starting with Dick Roman, head leviathan, and continuing, but not culminating, with his death at the hands of Gadreel, who was possessing Sam, it’s a whole thing. Any time you attempt to summarise anything on Supernatural, you sound like a lunatic. And I say that as someone who has a supernatural podcast, with an audience of only supernatural fans. We are lunatics, but we’re lunatics together. Kevin’s arc was cut way too short, but we at least got to see him with his momma Linda in the beginnings of season 8 with the unfortunately named episode “What’s up, Tiger Mommy?” It introduces Linda Tran as a capable and worldly woman, hell bent on protecting her son. She offers up her soul among other things in exchange for Kevin and the tablet with him. During the episode, she is possessed by Crowley, and Dean attempts to kill him, which would mean killing Linda as well. Kevin considers this the ultimate betrayal and leaves with his mum. Later in season 9 episode “Captives,” Linda is reintroduced as a captive of Crowley, who escapes with Sam’s help. Back at the bunker, she reunites with Kevin, who is now, thanks to the Winchesters’ incompetence, a ghost 👻. My macbook keeps suggesting little emojis in the smart bar so I just gotta put ‘em in. That’s the last we see of Linda, so I’m drawing my own conclusions about whether she gets to live a long and happy life. Kevin is a fan favourite and despite my reservations about Osric Chau which I will not get into like ever I really like Kevin too. He outsmarts Crowley many times and shows remarkable tenacity to get an impossible job done. His desire to see his mum again, the driving force behind his actions, mirrors Dean’s desperation to have his fambily together again like they used to be. I would call this a parallel but I don’t believe they purposefully did this, I just think they accidentally rehashed the same tired storyline they’ve been peddling since 2005. But yeah, if I was Kevin and all I had was my mum, seeing her again would be the driving force for my actions as well. Kevin’s father is never mentioned, and it honestly isn’t a big deal, which is great. Sometimes fathers are just absent, and you don’t need throw a hissy fit about it or make it your entire personality, Dean.

Missouri Moseley, played by the inimitable Loretta Devine, is introduced in the first season, episode “Home,” in which she helps out on a case involving Sam and Dean’s childhood house. We find out that Missouri is a long-time friend of John’s and helped him to understand that supernatural forces were behind Mary’s death. She is Sam and Dean’s first point of entry into the world of the Supernatural, and they didn’t know it until they meet her in “Home”. In season 13 episode “Patience,” another layer to Missouri’s character is added with the advent of her family: estranged son James and granddaughter Patience Turner, who is also a psychic. We get a lot of backstory for Missouri in this episode, even if it is sloppily written and contradictory to the way they initially set her up. If Missouri and James had been travelling when he was a child, why was she stationed in Lawrence in both 1983 and 2005? What did he mean that Missouri was hunting? I can’t be bothered unpacking the confusing bits of information presented in this episode. It’s not a good episode and I really don’t see why everyone goes apeshit for Bobo Berens. He kills Missouri in this episode, in a really horrible way. Like the history of Supernatural’s racism and misogyny should not be dumped on one man, but nor should it be perpetuated and it is continually throughout the entire show. Confusing, contradictory and badly written backstory aside, she is an interesting character, and her willingness to sacrifice herself to save her family echoes that of Mary in “Home”. I’m actually really mad that Patience never gets to have a relationship with Missouri, and later in season 13 episode “The Bad Place,” Patience’s father tells her that if she leaves to help The Winchesters and uses her psychic abilities, she’s not welcome back in his house. To me that’s just unnecessary. We have a family that has already been ruptured by the death of Patience’s mother, further ruptured by Patience’s father cutting off contact with Missouri, and then to go a step further he disintegrates their family unit by kicking Patience out. Like how much loss do the Moseley-Turners have to endure? It’s really just cruel at this point. But Patience does find family with Jodie, Donna, Claire, Alex and eventually Kaia, and while I love the concept of found family and this found family in particular, it comes at the expense of biological family, which is something that the show has pushed from the very first episode. So that’s evolution in itself. Going from “fambily is the most important thing to these characters” to “found fambily is where we find love” is great, but ripping apart a biological fambily like the Moseley-Turners, and indeed starting the episode by saying Missouri has been shunted out of her son and granddaughter’s lives for trying to bring her son comfort, is just fucked. Like, I couldn’t name a single Bobo episode that I actually like without having to comb through them. I’m trying really hard not to shit all over him because as a writer I know how much that sucks and I know how hard is it for any marginalised writers to get a start, but I’m allowed to have my vendettas.

If you’ve watched the “Runs In The Family” angels MV from 2010, and only if you’ve watched the “Runs In The Family” angels MV from 2010, you will understand just how jacked up the angel family really is. The angelic counterpoint to Sam and Dean are the archangels Lucifer and Michael. We are introduced to two different versions of Michael—one in season 5, who possesses their dad in 1979 and their brother Adam in 2010—my god that was literally over a decade ago—and Apocalypse World Michael, played by four different actors: Felisha Terrell, Christian Keyes, Jensen Ackles, and Ruth Connell, who plays Rowena. I don’t know what in the hell Jensen Ackles was doing performance-wise when playing Michael, but I consider it a federal crime akin to drug trafficking or money laundering. As for Christian Keyes playing Michael, Andrew Dabb, you know what you did and you’re going to have to live with that.

In season 5, during the apocalypse, Michael and Lucifer only interact in the last episode, “Swan Song,” but the entire season is built around their conflict. Lucifer disobeyed their father, and Michael as God’s most powerful weapon must defeat him. It’s meant to mirror Sam’s descent into, uhhhh, badness or something, disobeying John to run away to Stanford, or, like, drinking demon blood? It’s unclear. Lucifer and Apocalypse World Michael interact in season 13, and Michael kills Lucifer only to take over Dean’s body and start a season-long arc of, like, bad acting and barely thought-out plots. I would say to Jensen Ackles “don’t quit your day job,” but this is literally his day job.

The angels as they’re introduced in season 4 are warriors of god, and all they know is obedience and killing. Even Cas can’t break out of the cycle of killing his angel siblings, and often justifies it by saying that it’s for the greater good, that he needs to do it to take down a stronger force like Raphael or Metatron. Anna manages to break free of her family by falling and becoming human, but when Cas betrays her and the angels capture her, she is lobotomised, tortured and sent back out to kill Sam. Then she’s burned to a crisp by Michael possessing John, not the last time a woman would burn to death on this show. The angels are dysfunctional at best, and actively hostile to each other, especially Castiel, the infamous spanner in the works. I could write an entire academic paper about how the angels think of Castiel as this rebel slut who murdered his way to the top and is going to be the downfall of angel kind, but Dean thinks of him as this little nerdy guy with a harp he carries around in his back pocket. Which honestly Cas would love because he’s obsessed with Dean and wants to touch his butt. I don’t know what else I can say about the angels without turning this into a dissertation, so I’ll continue on.

While all seasons of the show are about family, season six is especially about matrilineal family. It introduces the concept of the mother of monsters—Eve—and focuses on Mary as a solution to the loneliness the characters feel after her death. Samuel Campbell, Mary’s father, is brought back to life and manipulated by the promise of seeing his daughter again. He asks Sam and Dean what they wouldn’t do to see Mary again, which is kind of the general thesis of the show. What wouldn’t John, Dean and Sam do for each other? Dean sells his soul. John makes a deal with the demon who killed Mary. Sam teams up with Ruby to kill Lilith in revenge, which begins as a suicide mission because he doesn’t know how to handle his grief for Dean. The difference is that Samuel betrays Sam and Dean, his own grandchildren, for the promise of seeing Mary again. This cardinal sin alienates him from being a good guy, because good guys never betray Sam and Dean. Sam and Dean are our protagonists! Our heroes! The bringers of the light! The knights in shining armour! The white on rice. The cherry in cherry pie. They are the ones we’re meant to align ourselves with, because it’s their story the narrative is telling. And anyone who doesn’t align themselves with the Winchesters is an enemy who needs to be defeated.

We’re introduced to the character of Gwen in the first episode of season 6, “Exile on Main Street”, and she says in the episode “Family Matters” that Samuel, the patriarch, doesn’t like her very much because she reminds him of Mary. While Samuel, Christian, Gwen and co are technically family, Dean has no connection to them past bloodlines. And as I said before, while family doesn’t end in blood, we learn throughout this season that blood doesn’t always mean family. Gwen dies in the episode “And Then There Were None,” because of course she does, and Mary doesn’t come back, at least not in this season.

In “Family Matters,” the alpha vampire, played by the irreplaceable Rick Worthy, mentions that “we all have our mothers,” referring to Eve, the mother of monsters, the one who spawned every other monster and who has been trapped in purgatory ever since. Eve is pulled from Purgatory to wage war against the hunters and Crowley because they have been preying on her first borns, the alphas. I love Eve. I love her. She’s my favourite villain after Metatron. Mainly because I think she is like… sexy as hell. Like wow I am just so attracted to Julia Maxwell and this, like, bored smokey affect thing she does where she barely moves her mouth when she speaks and her strong brow makes her seem so intimidating. I don’t know anything about her personally, but I feel like she would’ve bullied me in high school, and I’m into it. It’s really hard to judge just from this one role whether she’s a good actor because Eve has such limited range and few things to do, but I really wish she’d gotten more screen time. Yeah, she’s doing the bare minimum and I’m completely obsessed. But Eve isn’t just a monster, she’s literally THEE milf. The original milf. And I really think she should’ve stayed around, but since they kept Lisa alive they had to kill at least one high profile woman.

Continuing with the family storylines in season 6, Dean tries to establish a family with Lisa and Ben, and for the most part succeeds. He gets a job, plays the role of the doting boyfriend and stepfather, and protects them as best he can. I’m going to spare you the rant perched at the tip of my tongue about how this is at best a lavender marriage or staying together for the kid, and that Lisa only exists to be an ideal for Dean, not an actual partner he can grow with throughout the rest of the show. It’s his first attempt at a fambily outside of Sam, Bobby and John, and it fails miserably because Lisa isn’t a good match. The fact is, she will never be able to fit into the hunting world because of the way the writers wrote her—as mother and girlfriend archetype, and we’ve seen how well they do with those—in fact they actively paralleled it in “Exile on Main Street” where they had Dean hallucinate Azazel coming back and pinning Lisa to the ceiling. It couldn’t be more obvious that they don’t respect her. At least they didn’t fridge her for Dean’s man pain. It’s honestly horrible because Dean put so much effort into believing this was his one chance at happiness, and when it crumbles like a tim tam in hot tea he beats himself up for it and uses it as an excuse to never be happy.

He does seem to be happy for the most part with Lisa, but because Sera Gamble doesn’t know how to write interesting or complex female characters, when Sam reenters the picture it once again becomes about the original premise: two brothers on the road, fighting the forces of evil. There’s no room for any women in that sphere. Up until this point I think—correct me if I’m wrong—there has been one female hunter who survived, and she was in one episode. The hunter Tamara in season 3 “The Magnificent Seven,” whose husband died in maybe the most sadistic way anyone has died on this show. Don’t rewatch it, just google it. All women die, including Mary, their mother, who is brought back in season 12 and killed in season 14. AND FOR WHAT? For WHAT Andrew Dabb.

Often, the loss of a parent, child or significant other is used to excuse bad behaviour and terrible choices. The hunting life causes Mary’s whole family to die before she can escape it, and because she makes a deal with Azazel for John’s life, the same demon John makes a deal with, Azazel kills her anyway. John abused his kids and brought them into the hunting life, because he was obsessed with getting revenge for Mary’s death. Sam does the same thing when Jess dies in the first season, and it starts a 15-season long arc of pain and misery. He sets Lucifer free in the season four because he is obsessed with getting revenge for Dean’s death and obsessed with the power drinking demon blood gives him. Then again, Sam is actually right for saving people by exorcising demons, which is literally the first part of the family business motto, instead of just gutting them with the demon knife, but because Dean doesn’t agree with it, it’s bad. Sam always wants to do the right thing, he just gets a little caught up in the details. But you know what? Bloodfreak rights.

When Cas dies in season 13, Dean is so overcome with grief, a grief that echoes John and Sam’s, that he mistreats Jack and threatens to kill him. In season 14, Nick, Lucifer’s vessel, boo snore hiss, kills everyone involved with the murder of his wife and child before he finds out that it’s actually Lucifer’s doing, and then he tries to raise Lucifer from the empty because he’s addicted to killing? Whatever, stop employing Mark Pellegrino. Stop writing men as obsessed with getting revenge

The biological fambilies in Supernatural suck shit. Honestly every time I watch an episode about fambily I’m even more glad I don’t talk to mine. Dean and Sam need to spend some time away from each other, while they’re both still alive. Their fambily dynamic gets better as the show progresses, and I was pleased to see in season 12 that they do away with the codependency, constantly sacrificing themselves for each other, isolating themselves, betraying everyone they know for each other—they started to act like, you know, normal people. And that’s good. Sure, the show would not be anywhere without John sacrificing himself for Dean, and Dean sacrificing himself for Sam, and honestly that’s what made those first few seasons amazing. But after a while it becomes lazy writing, not parallels. A parallel that Supernatural pulled off is Sam comforting Magda in season 12 episode “The Survivor” in the way he needed to be comforted in season 1 and 2 as a psychic child. A parallel is Dean preparing Cas’s body for cremation in season 13 in counterpoint to the way Cas remade Dean’s body in season 4. This show can absolutely do parallels, some of the most beautiful parallels ever put on screen, but the last season was such lazy writing that I cannot forgive it.

This has been an overall negative episode of Holy Hell, and that sucks. I don’t want to be so negative. I want to talk about the good things that Supernatural did, and share in joy with you all, so now I’m going to talk about the only positive I see with fambily in the entire show.

For Dean, everyone older than him is a parent to disappoint, and everyone younger than him is a little sibling to protect. Cas is the exception, as there’s no way to define Dean and Cas’s relationship without acknowledging the reciprocal romantic ways they care about each other. Dean says on multiple occasions that Cas is like a brother to him, and that he’s Sam and Dean’s best friend. He actually drops the line, “After Sam and Bobby, you are the closest thing I have to family,” on Cas in season 6, and he acts like it’s nothing, but you can see in the expression on Cas’s face that Dean just recontextualised the entirety of Cas’s being in one sentence. Cas falls for Dean, gives up his family for Dean, and decides to follow him in the first act of free will we see on screen. And Dean, who has never known love without pain, says to Cas, you are fambily to me, I actively choose you, you belong in my life. But to belong in Dean’s life is to follow his plan, and when Cas doesn’t, he is punished for his hubris. Dean loves him, and he never even admits it.

Charlie becomes like a little sister to Dean, as does Jo. Jack is unequivocally Cas’s son, but becomes something of Dean’s son as well and some would argue Sam’s son. Claire becomes Cas’s daughter, but imprints so much on Dean that many, myself included, have come to consider Dean her father as well. If you subscribe to the idea that Dean and Cas are old marrieds, Dean would be Claire and Jack’s stepfather, and they would be a nuclear fambily all on their own. In season 14 “Lebanon,” when John says to Dean that he thought Dean would have settled down with a fambily, Dean says, “I have a fambily.” Just thinking about it gives me goosebumps.

Cas chooses to be a part of Claire’s life in season 10 “The Things We Left Behind” because he feels guilty about what happened to her after he possessed Jimmy, but after getting to know Claire he cares for her. The crime that is Claire and Cas not interacting after season 10, my god. That’s his daughter, you ghouls. But Claire and Dean do get more moments together. Dean, Sam and some British guy save Claire from turning into a werewolf, and Claire and the rest of the Wayward Sisters save Sam and Dean from the Bad Place. The Wayward Sisters are a found fambily all on their own, and since I could devote an entire episode to Jody’s little brood, I have chosen not to talk about them much, because this episode is at least half an hour, 34 minutes, and it would take up too much of my time. Claire is one of my favourite characters and I’ll be talking about her in the next ep, so stay tuned for that.

Even before Jack is born, Cas becomes his protector. He goes from trying to convince Kelly to end her and Jack’s life, to being her pseudo-husband and the surrogate father to her child. To me personally, it’s the best thing this show has ever done. Cas, Kelly and Jack love each other in a way that is so wholly uncomplicated, that is so pure and so good. Once Cas becomes Jack’s protector, there’s never any question of whether they would hurt or betray each other. He is Cas’s son, his baby boy, and he loves Cas so much that he resurrects Cas from the empty. When they meet for the first time in season 13 “Tombstone” after Cas comes back, they fit into each other’s lives so easily. This is the part in writing this where I was absolutely sobbing my dick off. There are so many moments between them that show the kind of love that each of these characters deserved. Sam and Dean deserve to have that love from their father, and so does Cas. And together they build a family unit around caring for Jack that does indeed end the intergenerational trauma that plagues the Winchester fambily.

And that’s why season 16 is so important to me. I can make things better. Dean sorts his shit out, all of his shit: his alcoholism, depression, ADHD, borderline personality disorder, suicidal ideation, sexuality, gender, the fact that Cas is literally the love of his life and he gets to save him from the Empty the way Cas saved him from Hell. They plant flowers in the field where Dean spread Cas’s ashes in season 13, and they get married at Jody’s cabin with all their loved ones left alive. Claire walks Cas down the aisle and Jack is the flower girl, because he’s literally a three year old baby. Sam and Eileen raise a bunch of rugrats and the Wayward fambily continue the hunting legacy and have a Sunday afternoon roast every week. Dean and Cas raise Jack right, they cut up oranges for soccer practice and watch all his school plays. He and his cousins grow up knowing what it’s like not only to be loved, but to be looked after, to have all their needs met. They grow up normal, and the trauma that plagued their family is a thing of the past. It’s good, you know? It’s just fucking good.

#transcripts #episodes #supernatural #spn

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blah-de-blah-de-blah · 3 years

Text

Some thoughts now I’ve finished What Happens On Tour

A while ago I read some advice from an author about what to do if your characters go off on their own paths and start to move away from what you’ve planned for them. Her advice? “Well, you must shut them up.”

Yeah, I wish I knew how to do that.

I can’t remember where or when the inspiration for What Happens On Tour came from. There’s a lot in there, including my own thoughts of “hey, if I had some, or any, musical talent I could have been a rock star”, but it’s an idea that developed over time. Two definite inspirations on it were The Law Of Gravitation (a music AU Doctor Who fic that starts about Bill and Heather but then grows to include just about everyone) and Mix The Bourgeoisie And The Rebel (a Pitch Perfect Bechloe fic where they oscillate between together and not together a lot). Anyway, if you liked What Happens On Tour, then you might well like those too.

The basic idea of the story was simple - put them together in the band, then have them wanting to be together but not being able to because of how their previous relationships had messed up and this was their last chance - and in my head it was going to be roughly six or seven parts, around twenty thousand words or so. They’d meet, they’d pine, they’d hook up, they’d both think that the other thought it was a bad idea, they’d try to keep apart but end up hooking up again, repeat a bit and then they finally get together, announce it in public, everyone’s happy, fun little epilogue, the end.

Best laid plans, eh? Even the epilogue’s changed - I started writing the one I’d had in my head since beginning this, and it just didn’t feel right. As another example, in the rough version I had in my head, chapter one was going to end with Clarke and Lexa waking up together hungover on the couch, a point they eventually reached at the end of chapter six.

There’s always a gap between the story in your head and the story you end up writing, and more often than not it’s because the characters you create refuse to jump through the hoops you’re setting up. I ended up writing more about them because I wanted to know more and explore more of them, but the more I did that the more it took them away from the characters who would have been fine for the more light and breezy version of the story that I’d begun with the intention of writing. They were still following my plan, but much more slowly than I expected and building a much deeper connection. This meant that when they finally got together - in chapter twenty of my initial six or seven - the idea that they’d stay apart because of bad communication just didn’t feel right. I’d thought I could get back to something like the original plan, but any time I tried to write an end to the next chapter where they didn’t talk about it just didn’t feel right. They wouldn’t avoid it, and once they actually talked it over in chapter twenty-two, I realised they weren’t going to keep themselves apart and I didn’t want to write a story where I’d contrive some external forces that would somehow keep them apart.

Looking back over some of it and I think the key line for me in realising that the story wasn’t quite what I’d thought it would be was Clarke’s “when it feels so good you’ll wade through rivers of shit to feel like that” in the very first chapter. That line came out and I realised I knew her and what she’d gone through, and it was a lot more than I thought it would be. I could have deleted it, but something light and breezy in there instead, but it wouldn’t have felt honest. Some people might be able to get their characters to shut up. It seems I’m not one of them. This has become the longest thing I’ve ever written, though I have done stuff getting towards the same length, but it’s been the first thing I’ve written that’s completely driven by character and relationships like this. Other stuff has been in the mould of the old pulp writer’s adage: if you don’t know what to do next, have someone walk in the door with a gun. Because this story was about the characters, I tried to avoid that - and there are definitely no guns in this story - by not throwing random events at them. I.ve been learning along the way but I think I’ve generally kept things in some sort of continuity (the one thing that niggles at me is something Raven does in the first chapter that doesn’t quite fit with how she’s described later, which I doubt anyone else has even noticed) and actually developed the characters. There are things I’d do differently if I was writing it again (starting with the title, which would be Teach Me To Let Go Of My Fears) but I’m generally happy with the way it turned out.

That said, there’s been that interesting pressure of knowing people are waiting for the next chapter to keep me going. I’ve got a lot of stories on my hard drive that I’ve started and then “paused” on half way through to go back and fix things which have never been finished. With this, I just had to strap myself in and keep going to the finish, hoping I would work out. And it did!

The one thing I didn’t do which I partly regret, and people have asked about in the comments, is putting any Raven/Anya relationship stuff in there. I had thought about doing it when I started off but never could find the right time to put a focus on them, especially when I was sticking to my rule of only using Clarke and Lexa as the viewpoint characters. Like I said, first time doing a story like this and managing one relationship was tough enough. That said, I’m fully in agreement with the death of the author and I haven’t put anything in there that explicitly contradicts whatever ideas you might have about what they’re doing in the background. And they will definitely be a feature in at least one of the next stories I’m planning.

Octavia and Lincoln was easier because they were together when she came into the story and the increasingly rough plan I had of where this was going had their engagement and wedding as points in the story. Fun fact: in the extended series of hookups version, that conversation with Bellamy at the wedding would have been the key for Clarke realising she wanted more with Lexa. (Asks are open for any other questions you might have about alternatives, or anything else) Overall, I’ve really enjoyed writing this story and it’s been a real light for me in a pretty dark time for all of us. I’m still amazed that so many people have read it, liked it and wanted more of it, so thank you all for following me on this journey. There are definitely more stories to come from me, so watch this space. There might even be some one-shot follow-ups to this in the future - I’m not promising anything, but I have vague ideas floating around, and I might sometime get the inspiration to turn one of them into a full story.

For now, I’m going to split my attention between two projects (and, you know, the rest of my life). I’m going to go back to Running Back To You, which began as a Clexa Week one-shot, but I’ve now got ideas for taking it forward, even if I don’t quite know where it’s going. My idea there is to balance the quite heavy Clexa story there with a lighter one of Raven and Anya (and where they have their own story, not just a pair the spares). The other is much more action-oriented, as it’s the Highlander fusion plot that dropped into my head. I’ve got a plot for it that’s not just rehashing the film, but I need to work some more on the outline before I start to post it, because I need to get the pacing right before the whole thing turns into a mess.

But all that is for the future, and I hope some of you stick around to read them if and when they appear. Until then, thank you all for reading and everything else that kept me going and for the past six months of writing, it’s been a fantastic experience for me, and I hope you enjoyed the ride.

#what happens on tour #writing #just a few thoughts

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