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buck-buck-boose · 3 years ago

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I'll Love You 'Til I Die

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Summary: A Brooklyn schoolgirl fell in love with James Buchanan Barnes at the tender age of nine. With this love she made a vow, promising to love him until her very last breath.

Pairing: Bucky x OFC

Warnings: Language, mild violence

Word Count: 4.6k

Author's Note: Big things are happening y'all

Chapter Twenty-One: The Super Soldier

March 19, 1943

Dawn crept up on Camp Lehigh in a thick haze of fog, the chirp of crickets its only whispered greeting. A late-winter frost bloomed across what little grass remained, the majority having been trampled underfoot by platoon after platoon of soldiers. Winter was quickly fading, giving way to a promising spring, but the bitter chill still latched onto those dewy mornings to remind Camp Lehigh’s inhabitants of the cold season they’d just nearly escaped.

Although sessions of training were not due to begin for hours, warm bodies were stirred from slumber in their barracks, meeting the cold, stale air of their poorly-insulated lodgings. The nurse’s barracks was lit by a lamp's dim glow, which splayed a flush of golden light across the room. Five women quietly and nimbly dressed, none of them wishing to break the silence that balanced among them; the early morning was sacred to them, as it seemed to be the only time apart from nighttime in which one could be alone with one’s thoughts.

Lottie deftly pinned her mousy curls beneath her white cap, caring little for their arrangement or appearance. Once upon a time, she’d tamed her curls with gentle finger waves and carefully pinned back strands, desperate to look the part of a fair woman like Ginger Rogers. It was a quieter, more joyful time in which she had the time and desire to put ample effort into her appearance. How simpler life in Brooklyn seemed, in retrospect. She only had to care for Steve or Bucky’s wounds, usually from some street brawl instigated by Steve and ended by Bucky; now she had soldiers to care for. Soldiers who would one day be covered in great, gaping wounds, some so deeply ingrained within their souls that neither the highest of morphine dosages nor the strongest suture could soothe them.

Lottie made swift work of fastening her blue cape around her neck, situating it so that the inner red lining wasn’t peeking out. In her peripherals, Mary smoothed a hand down her white skirt in a weak attempt at combatting its wrinkles while Betty gave her face a once-over in a battered compact that she always seemed to have on her person. Lottie was downright envious of her ever-red lip and sultry gaze, they seemed to turn the heads of all the young privates on base, which earned them more than a few reprimands. It was only a few weeks ago that Betty had explained her reasoning for putting such effort into her physical charm, even in the middle of the war.

“Nurses are supposed to provide comfort, care, right?” She sat across from Lottie at their table in the mess hall, smoke curling from a freshly lit cigarette resting between her fingers. She puffed on the cigarette for a moment and slowly exhaled the smoke, “Well these boys have been stuck in a war for over a year now and they probably haven’t seen a pretty face in a while. They’re probably missing their sweethearts, fiancées, you name it. Either way, they’ve gotta be awful lonely out there, so what’s the harm in being that girl with the pretty face that can make them a little less lonesome?”

Before anyone could raise a question, she continued, “I’m not talking affairs or anything illicit, sometimes they just need a pretty face and a nice voice to remind ‘em of home, to ease that loneliness.”

Betty’s little sermon drew Lottie’s thoughts to Bucky. He was a fiercely loyal man who would stop at nothing to protect or care for his closest companions. For his own sake, Lottie hoped that he’d found a sort of comradery with his fellow soldiers, a bond to strengthen him while they were separated by an ocean. He’d always had a habit of flashing her his trademark grin and ruffling her hair, all while declaring something silly like “You ‘n Steve are all I need, Little Lottie. It’s always gonna be the three of us, ‘til the end of the line.” Lottie could only hope that Bucky had found a bond like theirs with his fellow soldiers as a source of comfort and a respite from loneliness.

“Lottie dear, Dr. Erskine’s waiting for us.”

It seemed that the other nurses had filtered out of the barracks as Lottie was lost in thought. Only Gladys remained, waiting for her expectantly at the doorway. Her strawberry blonde hair was pulled back in a tight bun, with her white cap nestled daintily atop her head, held in place with a handful of pins.

“Apologies, Gladys, I’m coming.” Gladys gave her a small smile as she caught up, nerves keeping her from forming her true toothy grin. All the nurses were nervous, to be truthful, as it was a significant day. Their serum was finally being put to use; they had found their first Super Soldier in Steve Rogers.

When Lottie had received the news of his selection to receive the serum, she’d nearly fainted with shock. Steve was a man with a heart of gold, she’d always known that, but it only served to heighten her self-doubt with regards to the serum’s efficacy. If the serum went awry as it did with Schmidt, Lottie wasn’t sure how she would be able to live with herself.

Dr. Erskine and Colonel Phillips’ debriefing as to why Steve had been chosen to become America’s first Super Soldier was a source of comfort, though. The two men had cornered the five nurses outside their barracks right as they were heading inside to turn in for the night.

The scientist had been the first to speak, “Ladies, we wanted to catch you as soon as possible. Colonel Phillips and I have decided upon our candidate for the serum. Private Steve Rogers will report to our facility in Brooklyn promptly at ten hundred hours tomorrow. We will need to depart camp at six hundred hours so we have abundant time to become accustomed to the equipment that will be in use. Mr. Stark will be joining us there.”

Lottie was sure there’d been spots in her vision, the announcement had nearly knocked all the wind out of her.

“I expect you ladies to uphold the same sense of secrecy and vigilance that you’ve had up until this point,” Colonel Phillips interjected, “This is only the beginning of our mission. We must continue to protect Project Rebirth, no matter how hopeless it may seem.” His voice was laced with bitterness, obviously doubtful of Steve’s abilities.

Nancy furrowed her brow, “Forgive me if I’m wrong, but isn’t Private Rogers the ninety-pound asthmatic? Why him and not someone more… reliable, like Private Hodge?”

Lottie bristled slightly, as she did not take kindly to critical remarks regarding her friends.

“Need I remind you that the serum is not focused only on the physical?” Dr. Erskine fixed Nancy with a level gaze, “He is not the most well-built soldier, I admit that. But as you have seen yourself, the serum is capable of incredible cellular change that will only strengthen him. It will also amplify the qualities that he already has inside of himself. He has proven himself to be a good soldier and a worthy recipient of the serum.” Lottie glanced at Colonel Phillips, whose face was twisted into an awkward grimace, though he did not comment.

“During training today, he exhibited qualities of strength and humility that I have yet to see in any other soldiers thus far. Would Private Hodge throw himself over a grenade to protect his fellow soldiers? He showed me today that he would not, but Private Rogers would.”

Colonel Phillips muttered something along the lines of, “Still skinny,” though the bitterness seemed to fade. All of the nurses came to accept the news, trading in their expressions of shock and concern for ones of uncertainty and anxiety. It seemed that reality had hit for all five of the nurses at once; their work had finally come to fruition, making the road ahead even more daunting than before.

There was little conversation in the nurse’s compartment on the train to Brooklyn. There were moments of brief chatter among the women, but they were all too lost in their thoughts to carry on a proper conversation. Lottie shifted in her seat every few minutes, the poorly-cushioned seat providing little comfort during the duration of the train ride. Beside her, Gladys flicked through a stack of paper, which she’d pulled out of a manila folder that had been stamped with the word “Confidential” in large red letters. Ever the levelheaded academic of the group, she’d decided to look over their notes on the serum and its activation procedure one last time.

Across from her, Mary and Nancy were busying themselves with embroidery, an activity that a few of the nurses had picked up to improve their abilities with stitching. Lottie pictured a frayed handkerchief in her mind’s eye, a tattered old thing covered in clumsy pink flowers with a “JBB” monogram stitched carefully onto its corner. She wondered if Bucky had taken it with him overseas. He’d always kept it on his person back in Brooklyn, “Never know when a dame’s gonna go all misty eyed on me,” he’d say, humor in his eyes. There wouldn’t be many women for him to comfort overseas, but maybe he’d need it for his tears someday.

Betty sat to the right of Gladys, scanning the pages of a battered copy of Gone With the Wind. She’d never struck Lottie as a bookworm, but more often than not, she was the last of the women to fall asleep at night, usually engrossed in a novel for an hour or two past lights-out.

Two hours passed uneventfully; its monotony was only interrupted by the transferring from one train to another. Lottie’s heart seemed to pound in her ears as they approached Brooklyn, the tall buildings in her window becoming more and more familiar to her. Her heart swelled at the sight of it; she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed the city until she returned after all that time. Of course, she’d been gone from the city for longer while she was in nursing school, but it tugged at her heartstrings even more than before because a damn war was what kept her from her beloved borough.

It wasn’t long before the train had arrived, initiating a flurry of movement out of the train car and toward a car that sat at the curb, waiting for them. All five nurses clambered inside, with Dr. Erskine following behind in his car. The car ride was a short one, though Lottie took the time to observe her surroundings; she wanted so desperately to drink in the familiar alleys and side streets before she had to return to Camp Lehigh, to war.

Their car stopped abruptly in front of a cozy antique shop; one she’d never paid much attention to. Dr. Erskine’s car had arrived just a few moments before theirs, so they followed him inside. Once inside, they were faced with an aged woman, who greeted them with a casual question, though her eyes betrayed a deeper glimmer of suspicion, “Wonderful weather this morning, isn't it?”

Dr. Erskine responded promptly, “Yes, but I always carry an umbrella.”

They were quickly led through a false bookcase, which hid a vast laboratory full of all that was needed to complete the transformation that would occur in a few hours. There were dozens of monitors and gauges, all for measuring Steve’s vitals and the Vita-Rays that were intended to activate the serum within his cells. In the center of it all, there was a bed on which Steve would lie, and when injected with the serum, the bed would be surrounded by a chamber while the Vita-Rays were projected into him.

Lottie and her peers stood at the top of the stairs, taking it all in, while Dr. Erskine descended the steps toward a control panel. He glanced back at them briefly, “Shall we all get accustomed to this now, ladies?”

Over the past few hours, Lottie had tired herself by calibrating various instruments, readying the equipment, and arranging several vials of serum within the transformation chamber. Throughout that time, doctors, higher-ranking soldiers, and members of the SSR slowly filtered into the room, some even gathering in the observation booth that looked down on them from above. She knew that Steve was due to arrive with Agent Carter at any moment. Frankly, she was terrified— mortified, even.

Howard Stark flitted about the laboratory, checking up on the various devices that would be used throughout the process. The Vita-Ray chamber was his brainchild, so a majority of his morning was spent double and triple-checking its minute parts and its stability.

At precisely 10 o’clock in the morning, Agent Carter and Steve stepped into the laboratory, two metal doors held open by guards for their entrance. Silence quickly descended upon the scientists and personnel who had been moving about the room in a sort of organized chaos. Lottie knew that most of them were looking at Steve in confusion, and in some cases dismay, but she made sure to send her best friend a reassuring smile. Even if the bullheaded scientists in the room were doubtful of his abilities, Lottie was with him. She believed in him. Her only doubts were in her abilities.

The staff quickly returned to their business as Agent Carter and Steve descended the steps and approached the center of the laboratory to meet with Dr. Erskine. They shared a brief greeting before Steve was ordered to remove his hat, tie, and shirt; Mary waited beside him with a kind smile, accepting his shed clothing. Agent Carter stood a few feet behind Steve, respectfully averting her gaze as he partially disrobed. Lottie took a special interest in their interactions, examining the way in which she treated Steve. She didn’t ignore or belittle him as some women did, she treated him with more dignity and respect. For that, Lottie was grateful.

Lottie busied herself with sterilizing several glass syringes as she impatiently awaited the initiation of the transformation. She could just barely make out a conversation that Dr. Erskine and Steve had shared about schnapps, but before she could quite figure out what was said, the scientist turned to the inventor beside him, “Mr. Stark, how are your levels?”

“Levels at one hundred percent. We may dim half the lights in Brooklyn, but we are ready as we’ll ever be.” Mr. Stark stood in front of the chamber where Steve now lay, projecting an air of confidence despite an uncomfortable look in his eye.

Agent Carter was dismissed to the booth to join Colonel Phillips, who was seated with several other seemingly important men that Lottie didn’t care to know. Dr. Erskine addressed the crowd in the booth using a microphone, explaining the purpose of Project Rebirth. Meanwhile, Lottie and her fellow nurses prepared the Vita-Ray chamber; she’d just situated the paddles on his chest when his gaze met hers. They’d been in a similar position so many times before. There were countless times over the past decade when she and Bucky had shown up at his apartment, soup and medicine in hand, to make him feel better during his latest bout of sickness. Bucky would always sit on one side of the bed, leaning on the mattress as he tried to distract Steve with idle conversation. She always kept vigil on the opposite side of the bed from Bucky, pulling Steve’s sheets up to his chin no matter how much he complained of the heat. She would never have to do that again, Lottie realized, as the serum would (hopefully) strengthen his immune system to the point that it would nearly be impossible to get sick. He wouldn’t need her or Bucky to look after him anymore. It pained her only slightly; she was overjoyed that he would be strengthened and healed by the serum, but it felt like the end of an era for her. She wasn’t truly needed anymore.

When the scientist’s speech to the booth had concluded, Lottie disinfected Steve’s shoulder and injected a syringe of penicillin into it; beforehand, she gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, warning him for the pain of the jab. She felt him sigh in relief, “That wasn’t so bad.”

Lottie bit back a giggle while Dr. Erskine looked down at Steve with a furrowed brow, “That was penicillin.” The scientist gave her a look and without missing a beat, began the countdown.

Five

The doctors and scientists that were scattered around the laboratory rushed to their control panels, monitoring Steve’s vitals and the Vita-Ray levels that would soon be harnessed for the serum’s activation.

Four

Those that were observing from the booth looked at the scene below with bated breath; they either anticipated either a predictable failure or an unlikely success.

Three

The five nurses gathered around the Vita-Ray chamber, monitoring the serum infusion. Two mechanical arms latched onto Steve’s biceps and embedded several syringes deep into his muscle.

Two

Dr. Erskine placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder. Lottie met Steve’s gaze once more, she was that little girl at his bedside, sitting her vigil for one last time.

One

A switch was flipped and several syringes of the serum were injected into Steve’s system. Lottie could already see the strain it was putting on his body, his face contorted and he grunted in pain as he felt the serum begin its work in his body.

When given his signal, Mr. Stark flipped a lever to encase Steve in the Vita-Ray chamber, which maneuvered Steve into a vertical position before he was completely locked into the machine. Dr. Erskine knocked on the metal, “Steven? Can you hear me?”

A muffled response came from within the metal, “It’s probably too late to go to the bathroom, right?” Lottie snorted, only Steve would make a terrible joke at a time like that.

The scientist faced Mr. Stark, “We will proceed.” Below him, Mr. Stark slowly turned a dial and donned a pair of goggles. Lottie and her peers followed suit, as the luminosity of the Vita-Rays would cause vision damage if their eyes were left uncovered.

Lottie worried her lip as Mr. Stark slowly increased the radiation levels by turning a wheel that was mounted on the control panel. Next to him, a doctor carefully monitored Steve’s vitals; he reported that they were all normal, which calmed Lottie a tad.

At around the seventy percent mark, cries began to ring out from within the Vita-Ray chamber. It was as if screams were being torn from Steve’s throat, they were so hoarse and raw. Dr. Erskine rushed to the chamber while Peggy quickly descended from the booth, urging the personnel to cease the radiation. Lottie stood in shock, stuck in an internal impasse. She worried deeply for Steve’s safety, she always had and always would. Simultaneously, she needed to trust in the years’ worth of work she’d put into Project Rebirth. She and her fellow nurses had worked day after day, slaving over the Super Soldier Serum and Vita-Ray theories to develop the perfect transformation method. If she couldn’t trust her abilities and research, what could she trust?

But when Steve’s cries seemed to echo throughout the laboratory, she knew that his safety superseded whatever pride she had in her research. Lottie had just opened her mouth to call for an end to it when Steve insisted from within the Vita-Ray chamber, “Don’t! I can do this!”

A burst of warmth bloomed in Lottie’s chest; Steve trusted their work and he was fighting to see it through. Mr. Stark continued to raise the radiation levels until they had reached one hundred percent. The staff and observers from the booth could only look on in shock and wonder as the light from within the chamber continued to glow brighter and it began to give off a steady humming noise.

Without warning, sparks began to spray out from the control panels as a result of the copious amounts of electricity being funneled into the transformation. Lottie cried out, ducking down with Mary to avoid the sparks that showered down on them from overhead. Across from them, Nancy, Gladys, and Betty assumed similar positions, clutching their white caps as they attempted to shield themselves from the onslaught.

As quickly as it started, the sparks ceased, as did the humming of the Vita-Ray chamber. The laboratory was far dimmer than it was earlier, with the light from the radiation gone, and nearly half the bulbs in the laboratory having been blown out.

All eyes were on the Vita-Ray chamber as they all awaited the final result of Project Rebirth. The chamber hissed open and released a gust of air, revealing an exhausted-looking Steve.

Lottie could barely believe it, not only was he exhausted-looking, but it seemed as if he’d gained nearly 8 inches of height and a few dozen pounds of muscle. Gone was that scrawny blond boy who’d gotten lost in crowds far too easily, here was a man— a Super Soldier —who was perfectly enhanced on a cellular level.

The SSR agents and politicians who were previously gathered in the booth rushed to meet with Steve, barely able to contain their excitement. They clambered over each other, all of them desperate to be the first one to speak with America’s first Super Soldier.

In all the chaos, Betty had sidled up to her, her jaw nearly touching the floor, “Hot damn, Lottie Green. Hot damn.” She ogled at Steve as she took in his new physique. Lottie rolled her eyes, “Just because he’s got more muscle doesn’t mean he’ll be able to talk to you any better. Or that he won’t step on your toes if you get him to dance.”

Steve stood in the middle of a crowd of men, though Agent Carter stood in front of him, attempting to look at anything but his chest.

“I think you might want this, Stevie,” Lottie moved in to stand beside Agent Carter and offered him a shirt, which he accepted gratefully. He smiled down at her gratefully, murmuring a quiet, “Thank you, Lottie.”

How odd it was to be looking up at him. It was certainly something that Lottie wasn’t used to, she’d gotten quite used to looking down at him, in fact. By age sixteen, she’d gained about two inches on him, and though he was loath to admit it, she knew it pained him to be the shortest of the three of them. Luckily for him, his new height delegated her as the most diminutive of the Brooklyn trio by far.

Amid the jubilation following Project Rebirth’s success, grave mistakes were made. Gladys had left her manila folder of notes— all the notes that the nurses had ever taken during their research —on one of the control panels closest to the stairway, just close enough to the exit to be snatched up by a discreet hand. An extra vial of Super Soldier serum sat in its case, at the ready for its eventual use; it stood unguarded and unwatched.

The once-unassuming Fred Clemson hung back from the crowd, a lighter in hand. Dr. Erskine was the first to notice his position apart from everyone else; the scientist opened his mouth as if to say something, but before he could form a sentence, Clemson had flicked open the lighter and triggered an explosion from the observation booth.

Screams rang out from the middle of the laboratory as glass rained down on them. Sparks even worse than before began assaulting them and left stinging burns in their wake. Lottie grunted as she felt minuscule shards of glass tear at and become embedded in her skin; it would surely be a pain to treat such small cuts and remove the pieces of glass later on. It was shocking, really, how quickly the mood of the room had shifted. Just moments before, she’d been looking at Steve in awe, fully processing all that the serum had accomplished. Her sentiments of excitement and pride quickly evaporated, replaced by a growing sense of panic and dread.

The force of the explosion had thrown Lottie and some of the other nurses to the ground, so she scrambled to her feet in an attempt to take action against the man. It was all in vain, for as soon as she regained her footing, all she saw was the bespectacled man diving through the crowd to grab the last vial of Super Soldier serum and the thick manila envelope that Gladys had brought with her. Lottie’s stomach dropped in terror; she opened her mouth to cry out for backup, but Dr. Erskine was one step ahead of her. He commanded the man to stop, but the only response he received was several gunshots in the chest.

Deep red stains formed across the front of his shirt and seeped into his lab coat, his vibrant blood was a sickening contrast to the crisp white color of his lab coat. The scientist fell to the ground, his legs sprawled out before him and his arms at his side. Lottie knew that there was no hope for him— there were no exit wounds and she was more than certain that at least one of his lungs had been punctured. His breathing was labored, his chest heaving with every inhale and exhale. Lottie didn’t need to perform an examination to know that the wounds would be fatal. There was no time for an examination anyway, gunshots continued to ring out across the laboratory, and Agent Carter was in hot pursuit of the offender.

Mary looked at Lottie for some sort of reassurance of direction, her mouth agape, “Lottie, he's— he’s gonna die if we don’t do somethin’. C’mon, we’ve gotta help him.” Her voice came out in a whimper and her hands shook as she searched the floor for any fallen bandages. She took Mary’s trembling hands into her clammy ones, “Mary, look at his breathing. You know there’s nothing we can do for him now.”

She knew it was a heartbreaking thing to say, but Mary was a brilliant nurse; she already knew all the signs of a punctured lung. Lottie knew that she was having a hard time processing the information due to the shock that was no doubt obscuring her senses and rational thought. What Mary needed was a calm voice to guide her back from the brink of hysteria, a friend to bring her back to reality.

The nurses learned a jarring lesson about reality’s harsh nature that day; they learned of its cycle of gains and losses, successes and failures. The five nurses of Project Rebirth had achieved all that they’d been dreaming of for more than a year, they’d proven themselves to be reliable and even stellar researchers in their field. It had all been ripped away from them in a matter of moments, with the loss of their notes and serum, as well as the brutal death of Dr. Erskine. All they could do was clutch each other helplessly as they watched Steve follow the man in hot pursuit— the man who had stolen everything from them. Lottie, Mary, Betty, Nancy, and Gladys had certainly entered a new era in their careers as nurses, an era of uncertainty. With nothing left from Project Rebirth besides the Super Soldier himself, their futures were left in limbo until the Strategic Scientific Reserve could figure out what to do with them next.

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honeypwark · 4 years ago

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[ Trust Exercise ]

↳ On Track era

↳ Xiang scares Chan. Chan gets jealous? Xiang tells the others.

TRIGGER WARNING: Xiang talks about her eating disorder in this post. She doesn’t go into detail but it is talked about.

m.list

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The door to the studio bangs open suddenly, “CHRISTOPHER!”

“Oh my god!”

Chan jumps and all but throws his headphones off, spinning around in his chair to look toward the noise. He finds Xiang marching through the doorway with Hyunjin close behind her, laughing just a bit too much at his leader’s jump scare.

“Why?” Chan asks her helplessly, catching his breath as his adrenaline falls.

Xiang just shrugs in response, “Anyway, I’ve brought you here today to let you know that you both know about my eating disorder.”

Chan and Hyunjin look at each other in surprise.

Chan feels oddly disappointed at the knowledge that Hyunjin knows, too; that he’s not the only one Xiang relies on and trusts. He mentally smacks himself immediately because Xiang telling someone else is improvement and he’s just being stupid.

“You know?” Hyunjin asks.

“Yeah, she told me first,” Chan says before he can stop himself.

Shut up, he chastises himself. Stop being jealous over a good thing.

“Anyway,” Xiang drawls, “I’ve decided I want to tell everyone.”

“Sophie, I don’t think the company is going to let you-“

“Not everyone everyone, Chan, the other members.”

“Right, I knew that.”

“Are you sure?” Hyunjin asks.

“I’m sure,” Xiang says.

“You don’t have to if you’re not ready.”

“Don’t try to talk me out of it because you’ll be able to,” Xiang deadpans.

“Alright,” Hyunjin surrenders, hands held up.

“It’s been over a month since Chan found me,” she starts, “And I’m not magically okay now. It doesn’t just go away. But I want to tell the others because this is a big deal and I trust them to help me.”

“You do?” Hyunjin asks.

“Not really. But I know I should and I’m trying to convince myself. Fake it ‘til you make it, right?”

“When do you want to tell them?” Chan asks.

“... Tonight? Everyone’s going to be at the dorm and... I don’t know...”

Xiang’s demeanor has sharply declined from the loud boisterous girl she presents to still being awkward and guarded about talking about her problems. Chan notices and compensates for it.

“Tonight’s good,” he agrees. “I’ve still got work to finish here, but I’ll meet you at home, okay?”

“Okay,” Xiang nods.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Family meeting! Family meeting! Everyone to the living room for a family meeting!”

At Chan’s loud announcement upon his arrival home, the members slowly and somewhat confusedly begin trickling of their rooms and into the living room.

“Ugh, do I have to?” Jeongin whines from where he’s sat at the kitchen table surrounded by homework.

“Yes, it’s mandatory for all members of Stray Kids,” Chan says.

“... I’m resigning.”

Chan lifts Jeongin out of his chair and starts pushing him towards the living room, “Thank you for two weeks notice, but until then, you’re still a Stray Kids member.”

Jeongin groans the whole way until he’s shoved onto Changbin and Minho’s laps. He gets comfortable laying across his older members’ legs. Chan stands in front of the other members, doing a head count to make sure all eight are accounted for.

“Alright,” he says, “You’re up, Soph.”

Xiang stands from her place on the arm of the couch, swapping places with Chan.

“Okay,” she starts with a breath out. “Alright, well, um, you guys know how I trended on Naver for being super lightweight?”

There’s a murmur of affirmations.

“Well, basically, I used to be a lot heavier but then I started losing weight really quickly and I guess that caught the media’s attention. You’d think that be good, right? Like, more publicity for the group? And, yeah, it was kind of good publicity but the cause behind it wasn’t good. Like, we want publicity but not for bad things. I-I mean, we want as much public recognition as possible but for good reasons only and uh...”

Xiang trails off, stopping her nervous rambling. She scans the faces of her confused and bored looking members and feels her anxiety grip even tighter at her throat. She doesn’t think she can do this. She looks to Chan at the edge of the group.

He mimes taking a deep breath and mouths, “Breathe.”

She takes a deep breath as well, closing her eyes for a moment.

She opens them and says, “Basically, the reason I lost so much weight and am so light now is because I have an eating disorder.”

It’s quiet for a moment.

Jisung lets out a breath of disbelief, “What are you talking about? You don’t have an eating disorder.”

“Jisung,” Seungmin starts.

“No, we would have noticed,” Jisung says. “You don’t have an eating disorder.”

“She just said that she does,” Minho says.

“No, if she has an eating disorder we would have noticed. We’re not bad friends; we would have noticed. Right?”

Guilt has obviously begun weighing heavily on Jisung as he searches for anything to disprove what Xiang had told them. The others all look confused and surprised, guilt beginning to seep into their expressions as well. Xiang quickly shuts down their self-blame.

“Guys, I didn’t want you to know,” she says. “None of you even know when I’m on my period unless I tell you. I hid this from you so you weren’t expected to know.”

“Can-... can you tell us how long?” Changbin asks gently.

“I started in, uh, late... June of last year. But it kind of fluctuated in how bad it was. I’ve been working on getting better since the... beginning of March?”

She glances at Chan, who nods to agree with her timeline.

“Yeah, that’s when Chris found me,” she says. “I was kind of having a breakdown in the bathroom and he helped me. I told Hyunjin about a week ago.“

“So you’re okay now?” Felix asks hopefully.

Xiang has to let him down; she’s promised herself she’d tell them the truth.

“No,” she says. “It doesn’t just go away because people know now. But I’m trying and I have gotten better. But I still can’t trust myself. I want to move past this; I want to recover. But I can’t do it on my own. And I trust you guys to help me.”

“We will,” Minho speaks up.

“Yeah, definitely,” Felix agrees quickly.

There are a few other shorts agreements from the other boys.

Suddenly, Seungmin stands and walks over to hug Xiang.

“Ah, what are you doing?” she complains.

“This is a hugging moment, Changho, get over it.”

Changbin stands and runs over to join the hug.

“Ah, stop!” Xiang yells.

“Accept our love and support!”

“Bitch, get off!”

Next, Jeongin comes over with Minho to add to the hug.

“Nooooo!”

Xiang complains loudly as the rest of the members come over to join in the hug. Eventually, though, she falls quiet at the center of the meaningful, albeit awkward group hug. Xiang is content, even if she won’t show it, happy to have all of her members support. She rest her cheek on Seungmin’s shoulder and lets them all hug her for a little while longer.

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angelqueen04 · 4 years ago

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Hamliza Month, Day 18

@megpeggs @historysalt

Genderbend First Summary: Colonel Hamilton makes a new acquaintance.

Alexander marched along the snow-covered path, his shoulders hunched against the frigid air as he followed several of his fellow aides toward the local storeroom. Honestly, with every step he took he was regretting more and more his decision to purchase the voucher for these local dancing assemblies that the officers insisted on sponsoring. While he knew it was an excellent way to interact with others outside of his immediate circle of acquaintance, it was also damned cold! How many would actually show up in this kind of weather?

His mental grousing was interrupted when Tench Tilghman suddenly appeared beside him, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “Come on, Hammie, keep up!” he said cheerfully. “You lollygag far enough behind and you’ll not be found ‘til spring! And stop moping over the fact that the General wouldn’t let you run off with Laurens to play soldier in the Carolinas!”

Alexander rolled his eyes, but nonetheless quickened his pace. They were nearly there, anyway. He pointedly did not respond to Tilghman’s comment about Laurens. Yes, he missed his friend. Yes, he wished the General had let him accompany Laurens down south to fight Cornwallis. None of that was a secret.

“Besides,” Tench added, “tonight’s going to be special! I overheard Dr. Cochran talking to the General – apparently Mrs. Cochran’s niece has come to stay with them. It’s Miss Elizabeth Schuyler, direct from Albany!”

Ah. So that explained Tench’s high spirits. Alexander could recall Tench waxing poetic over the vaunted Miss Schuyler more than once over the years. He had met back in ’75 during a visit he had made to the Albany area, calling her “good-natured” and describing her “dark, lovely eyes” and how they emphasized her “good temper and benevolence”. Tench had been clearly smitten with her, and still was, it appeared. [1]

Alexander himself could not claim any acquaintance with the lady. His trip to Albany after the victory at Saratoga had included a brief visit to General Schuyler’s home, where he had hoped to gain advice on the best manner to convince General Gates to release his vicelike grip on a number of troops who were desperately needed further south, but the lady in question had not been home at the time.[2] Still, he also recalled the joke she had made to Tilghman, which the man had passed along, about how she had teased him about his “upcoming nuptials” and that she looked forward to being “a bridesmaid at his wedding”. Alexander was not entirely sure of the context of this little joke – Tilghman had not retold it very well – but from what he could tell, that did not bode well for his friend’s chances with her, if she was talking about attending his bride rather than being the bride herself.

Finally, they arrived at their destination and made their way inside. Grateful to finally be out of the cold, Alexander sought and obtained a glass of punch. Sipping it, he was surprised to discover that it wasn’t half-bad. Whoever had organized the refreshments must have gotten creative, since it was far above the swill that was normally served.

It did not take long for the music and dancing to begin. General Washington, who greatly enjoyed dancing, led the first set by stepping out with Mrs. Greene. Alexander, knowing his duty to the ladies who had come tonight, partnered with a Miss Abigail Rollins, who had in the past proved a better dancer than conversationalist. This was the first time he had seen her since the previous winter, and time had not much improved her, as she proved to be as tongue-tied as ever.

When the time came for the musicians and dancers alike to take a break, many broke into different groups, some taking the chance to reestablish acquaintances, some to discuss politics, and others simply to sit down and rest their tired feet. Alexander had thought to join the group surrounding the General – at least there he could likely be assured of some intelligent conversation – when someone calling his name through the crush caught his attention.

“Alexander! Colonel Hamilton!”

Alexander turned, and immediately brightened as a young woman, her dark hair freshly powdered, approached him, a beaming smile on her face. “Miss Livingston,” he said, suddenly feeling much cheered. He took her proffered hand and kissed it as he bowed to her. “How delightful to see that you are again come among us,” he said, feeling some measure of delight for the first time since the assembly had begun. “The room has become all the brighter from your amiable presence!”

She laughed, tapping her fan on his arm teasingly. “And you are as charming as ever, my dear friend,” she replied. “Be careful, Alexander, lest you give some poor girl the wrong idea.”

He gave her his best, most innocent expression, which only made her laugh more. As they settled into a conversation, Alexander could feel himself beginning to relax. A conversation with Kitty Livingston, a lady he had known for some years, since the days when he had boarded with her family while he attended school in Elizabethtown, was just what he needed. Someone he could engage in a conversation without undue expectations being raised.

However, he soon discovered that Kitty had other plans.

After a little time had passed, where they had asked about mutual acquaintances and her family – everyone was well – Kitty’s gaze was caught by something over her shoulder. A mischievous sparkle entered her dark eyes. “Ah, Alexander,” she said, “There is someone you should meet.”

He eyed her curiously. “And who might that be, madam?”

Kitty did not respond directly, but instead waved her hand and called, “Eliza! Here, dear, you must meet Colonel Hamilton!”

Blinking at the sudden turn in conversation, Alexander turned in the same direction Kitty was waving at. Approaching them was another young woman, dressed in a deep green silk and wool with embroidered pink flowers. Her hair powdered like Kitty’s, but not enough to entirely disguise the rich, dark color.

“Alexander,” Kitty said from his right, “please allow me to introduce my cousin, Miss Elizabeth Schuyler. Betsey, this is Colonel Alexander Hamilton, aide-de-camp to General Washington.”

Ah, so this was the lady that had so bewitched Tilghman. Taking her in, Alexander supposed he could understand the other man’s interest. While she would not be considered a conventional beauty – he imagined that most would say that Kitty was the fairer of the two ladies – there was no denying that she was still very handsome. No wispy, willowy thing, there appeared a measure of health and strength in how she carried herself. Suddenly, Alexander recalled a story Tilghman had told of Eliza climbing a steep hill to a waterfall without one bit of help, while all of the other ladies of the party had required the aid of the gentlemen to make it up the steep, slippery slope.

Her most striking feature, however, the one that caught his attention the most, was Miss Schuyler’s fine, dark eyes. They sparkled in the candlelight, and lit up her entire face as she smiled and curtsied to him. Alexander was startled to feel himself blushing a bit as he bowed in return. “Miss Schuyler,” he said, “a true pleasure.”

“Indeed, Colonel Hamilton,” Miss Schuyler responded. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance as well. My father has spoken highly of you and your talents. He asked me to convey his best wishes to you, should we have occasion to meet.”

Alexander was startled, but pleased. He had come to like and respect General Schuyler – though now technically he was Mr. Schuyler now, serving in Congress – when they had met during Alexander’s trip to Albany. It was gratifying to be remembered by such an excellent man.

As he fell into conversation with the two ladies, he could not help but take Miss Schuyler in further. It didn’t appear that Tilghman had exaggerated her qualities. There was something warm about the lady. She did not put on airs or give herself graces, but spoke gently and kindly. While she didn’t appear to have Kitty’s razor-sharp wit, she was by no means dull or simpering either. Miss Schuyler was well-informed of the doings of Congress – something Alexander attributed to her father’s position – and was keenly interested in the plight of the soldiers. “Mrs. Washington has invited me to join her on her rounds in visiting them,” she mentioned. Her expression was open and earnest. “I hope to be useful in any way I can.”

Soon enough, the musicians retook their positions and began to play again. A young man, a major, appeared and bowed to Kitty. “Miss Livingston, I believe I have the pleasure of the next set?”

Kitty beamed. “Indeed so, Major Gibbons.” Taking his outstretched hand, she flashed a smile in both Alexander and Miss Schuyler’s direction before stepping off with the man, leaving the two of them alone.

Alexander glanced around. He did not see anyone else approaching to claim Miss Schuyler for the next dance, which surprised him. New arrivals were always a subject of much interest, and their cards would be filled up quickly. In fact, he was equally surprised that Tilghman hadn’t bounded over to her like an overexcited pup, given his earlier anticipation of her company.

“If you are not engaged, Miss Schuyler,” Alexander said impulsively, “might I induce you to join me on the floor?”

A flicker of surprise crossed her handsome features, and then she smiled at him. “I would be honored, Colonel,” she replied, her voice soft. Obligingly, he held out his hand to her, and she laid her gloved hand in his own so that he might lead her out among the other couples.

It turned out, Alexander soon discovered, that Miss Schuyler was as excellent a dancer as she was good company off of the dance floor. At end of the assembly, he had the chance to escort her out to the sleigh that would bear her back to aunt and uncle’s lodgings. He aided her into the sleigh, helping her settle into the seat next to Kitty, and then kissed her hand before stepping back.

“I have had a most enjoyable evening in your company, Miss Schuyler,” Alexander said. “I do hope we shall meet again in the near future.”

“As do I, Colonel Hamilton,” Miss Schuyler said, her smile now taking on a shy but pleased quality. She then glanced at Kitty briefly, before adding, “We were planning to go for a sleigh ride in a few days. We should be delighted if you would join us.” [3]

He bowed. “It would be my honor,” Alexander said, and was pleased to feel that he truly meant it. He found he rather liked this young lady that Kitty had introduced him to.

There was no chance to say anything else, because at that moment the driver of their sleigh flicked the whip and the horses started forward, carrying the ladies off.

As he walked back toward headquarters a short time later, Alexander found that he did not so much mind the cold as he had earlier in the evening. He felt pleasantly warm the whole way.

-----

[1] Tench Tilghman was very complimentary of Eliza when he described her in his diary, and it sounds as though he did indeed have something of a crush on her.

[2] This is speculation on my part. There really is no way of knowing for certain one way or the other if Eliza and Alexander first met when he visited the area after the Battle of Saratoga. It’s possible, of course, but it’s equally possible that Eliza may have been in Boston at the time, visiting Angelica. Chernow, for one, seems to believe that they did meet at this time, but he does not cite a source to back this belief up. All we really do know is that Alexander arrived in Albany in early November 1777 and did visit the Schuyler family home while in the area. But I would point out that, at this time, Angelica was pregnant with her first child (who would be born in April 1778), so it’s possible that Eliza had gone to visit and help her prepare for the birth and motherhood to come. I went with that interpretation here.

[3] Alexander Hamilton to Catharine Livingston and Elizabeth Schuyler, circa January/February 1780.

#my fanfiction #hamliza month #hamliza #alexander hamilton #elizabeth schuyler hamilton #catharine livingston

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ofdragonsdeep · 3 years ago

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8: Adroit

Amid the blizzards of Coerthas, two knights train.

(Implied m!WoLxHaurchefant, discussion of death & grief)

The biting cold of Coerthas, pervasive despite the season, was Ar’telan’s sole companion in the Highlands. The walls of Camp Dragonhead, solid and sure, rose at his back, and the light covering of spruce trees transplanted in the wake of the Calamity provided him with enough cover to avoid startling the merchants which used the road through the camp. Only the occasional cry of a mountain goobbue, echoing in the mountain passes, threatened the surety of his retreat.

The snow which fell in a light drift about him melted to dampness in his hair, frosting his armour and soaking the spaces between it in an uncomfortable fashion. Sword in one hand, shield in the other, Ar’telan practiced the movements which he had seen the knights at the camp perform a hundred times before, often against a slavering beast or crazed dravanian come to beat down the door.

They made it look easy, but it was not. The familiarity of the thrust-twist-move taught to him by the coliseum gladiators was easy to perform on the rocks and sand of Ul’dah, but was much harder in the slippery slush that Coerthan snow became. It felt as though half of his attention was on keeping his balance in the earth, and the flowing, effortless swordplay looked more like a child scrambling in the dirt with a wooden sword and dreams beyond their stature. Not for the first time, Ar’telan was beginning to wonder if it had been wise for a healer to take up the arts of the knight, if a body as weakened as his could ever hold the muscle necessary to protect people with the shield he held as though he deserved it.

“You are improving, my friend! Every time I see you, you have progressed in the art by years when it has been merely moons.”

The sound of Haurchefant’s voice startled Ar’telan so badly that he lost his focus, and thus his balance, and went tumbling in an undiginified heap to the highland dirt. He flushed with embarrassment, attempting to hide it by raising a hand to wipe some of the sweat that had gathered on his brow, and accepted Lord Haurchefant’s graceful aid back to his feet.

“I do not feel it,” he confessed. “I am not even worth a quarter of one of the knights of your house.” Lord Haurchefant laughed good-naturedly at that.

“And do you think that they learned their skills overnight? You are still a squire in skill, true, but all knights once were, and I doubt that many of them were as handy with the grimoire as you are.” His arcanist’s tome sat uncomfortably at his side, an ill-fitting companion to the armour he was wearing, and he shook his head as if that would do as an answer.

“The world will not wait for me to catch up,” he said, before kneeling to retrieve his sword and shield, wiping the worst of the mud from them before stowing them away. “Some of the gladiators at the coliseum called it cheating when I took the soul crystal from the Paladins. I doubt the knights view me much better.” Haurchefant gave him a kind smile.

“Lest you forget, I too am a knight, and I view you in most high regard,” he disagreed. Again Ar’telan felt the blush rise in his cheeks, and averted his gaze to stare down at where he had fallen, an ignoble pile of armour and bone. “It is a noble goal, to wish to protect others,” Haurchefant added, seemingly unmoved by Ar’telan’s unwillingness to engage. “Especially in a land so frosty towards you and yours.” He smiled to himself at the pun, then shook his head. “Perhaps you would like to spar with me?” Ar’telan started in surprise, taken aback by the offer.

“I think you will find me a poor match,” he said, and Haurchefant smiled.

“I think that we both could stand to learn much from it,” he disagreed. “You have not the benefit of my years in training, true, but you have a mastery of techniques that the Holy See is unfamiliar with. Perhaps I will best you today, but two moons from now? At your prodigious speed, who could say?” Ar’telan rubbed a hand through the hair at the back of his head, standing awkwardly at the compliment.

“If you are sure,” he agreed. “Though I will apologise in advance for my performance.”

It was not the first time that Ar’telan had seen Haurchefant fight, though it was certainly the first time he had stood in opposition to him. Though he had sparred with any number of allies at the gladiator’s guild, all willing to test their mettle against the Warrior of Light when they knew he would never take the sands himself, this felt different. His instinct was to aid, to weave the aether about Haurchefant as a second shield, to call upon the faerie to rejuvenate. He could see where Haurchefant held back, noted every movement that by all rights should have toppled him, pulled back before it became final. There was a skill in that which Ar’telan appreciated, enough knowledge not only to see when something would be too much, but to halt it without creating a new opening to exploit, making it seem natural.

Still, as predicted, the veteran knight claimed his victory, and Ar’telan found himself in the dirt for the second time that afternoon, breath misting in front of him as he panted from the excursion.

“You went easy on me,” he accused from the floor, before pulling himself to his feet.

“How else is one to learn?” Haurchefant replied, that delighted smile still on his face. He was wearing the marks of his efforts, too, but not so dearly as Ar’telan was. “But I am impressed, nonetheless. Most do not notice, the first time.”

“I have seen you fight before,” Ar’telan pointed out.

“So too do the squires, and yet,” Haurchefant said. “My thanks, regardless, for humouring me. I have learned a great deal from you, as ever.” He looked back towards the camp, to the smoke rising from the signal fires lit within its walls. “Stay at the camp a while. ‘Tis the least we can do to feed you after all you have done on our behalf.” Ar’telan began to protest, but Haurchefant took him by the shoulders - leaving his hands free for additional, also ignored, protestations - and all but marched him back.

It became a common theme at Camp Dragonhead. Ar’telan would arrive - whether simply on a passing visit, or for further investigation into the heretic trouble that Ishgard was facing - and Haurchefant would eventually encourage him to spar. It was true that he was learning - Haurchefant called it a ‘fantastical pace’, but Ar’telan knew that a lot of it was the whispers in the crystal, a second set of reflexes that he could tap into, easier by the day. He felt guilty for it, the accusations of cheat from the gladiators still echoing in his ears, the praise of the knights at his skills sounding hollow and unearned. Every time Ar’telan would watch Haurchefant move, map the places where he gave ground, conceded inches that should have been his, pulled back from blows that would have ended it, til Ar’telan stumbled a final time to the ground and Haurchefant earned his weary victory.

Ar’telan found that he enjoyed the company.

“Hail, adventurer! It seems your travels do not take you far from Ishgard these days,” said the knight, Corentiaux if Ar’telan had his name right.

“My duties keep me close to Coerthas,” he said, which was not a lie, but it did not feel like the entire truth, either. The elezen smiled at him, nodding in agreement.

“A fact we all must appreciate, in these times,” he said. The knight across from him, a woman named Yaelle, gave a troubled nod of her own.

“The heretics grow bolder by the day,” she agreed. “How fare your training sessions with Lord Haurchefant? You have become most infamous around the camp.” Ar’telan cringed at the idea of being spoken of so often.

“He says that I am learning, but there is yet a vast gulf between our talents. I fear there always will be,” he replied. Behind him, he heard a muffled laugh, and Corentiaux shot a disappointed look to some poor squire at Ar’telan’s back.

“That is to be expected,” Yaelle said. “Lord Haurchefant is one of our most skilled knights, after all. But you are a quick study, we are told.”

“At length,” a scholar called over from the bookshelves, and received the next of Corentiaux’s unimpressed looks.

“It was not my intention to cause a fuss,” Ar’telan said, wilting slightly under the scrutiny of Camp Dragonhead’s knight contingent. Yaelle laughed, shaking her head.

“You have not. No more than anything else which has intrigued him,” she said. Ar’telan did not find that particularly reassuring.

The clang of steel on steel rang out in the morning air. A clear day had blessed them with its rare presence, though the cold still suffused the air, and the snow would not soon clear from the ground below. Haurchefant, never one to relinquish an opportunity, had seized the moment.

Ar’telan knew his movements well, now. The dance between them grew less giving with every meeting, and Ar’telan held out hope that one day they would be able to have a match where the knight did not feel the need to hold back.

He learned from more than just the knights, though. Each of the paladin’s teachings, a gift not given freely, but earned through trial and tribulation, added to his arsenal and gave him the advantage of the unexpected. Most of them focussed on the protection of others - a way to weave a compulsion of aether into your attacks, to hold the attention of your enemy, methods to redirect a hit aimed at a friend onto your own shield. He had learned a few simple offensive techniques, as well, little things that he could slip in between the the main thrust-and-parry that made the knight’s bread and butter. The means to weave one’s conviction into a temporary shield of aether had come at great surprise to Haurchefant, who had immediately stopped that match and demanded that Ar’telan teach him the trick. The paladins of the Sultansworn would have turned up their noses at the idea of outfitting Ishgard’s army with such a thing, but a Free Paladin swore only to protect those in need, so Ar’telan saw no reason to withhold it.

Today felt like a breakthrough. He had no fancy new technique to practice, naught to show for his efforts other than a steadier foot upon the slush and a more confident grip upon his sword, if he even had that. But he could see the spaces where once Haurchefant would have given him room, and now he was being pressed like a true foe might be. Not that he was keen upon the idea - if they met on equal terms, Haurchefant would rightly trounce him yet - but it felt as though it meant something.

A raised shield blocked the latest in a flurry of blows that seemed to channel the strength of the Fury herself, and Ar’telan tried to move to take advantaage of Hauchefant’s apparent surprise at the success. Whether it was a feint or he could recover more masterfully than expected, the knight caught him off guard in return, and Ar’telan found himself pressed up against the wall of the camp with a sword dangerously close to his throat, hearing the thud of his pulse in his ears.

“Well fought, my friend,” Haurchefant remarked, lowering his weapon. Hands still shaking from the adrenaline, Ar’telan sheathed his sword.

“At least this time I did not end up on the floor,” he allowed, which made the elezen laugh. His sunny warmth was a contrast to the harsh climate in which Ishgard now found itself, and Ar’telan would not have been surprised if it could melt the snow around them.

“Perhaps one day you shall put me there, instead,” he said, a wink on his face at the suggestion. Ar’telan found himself suddenly quite glad that he did not need his voice to speak, as the air had quite abruptly left his lungs.

“I am still a few moons from that, I think,” he said, a stuttering laugh accompanying the words. Haurchefant offered a smile.

“With the speed that I have seen you improve, it will be sooner than you imagine,” he disagreed. “But come. We should retreat inside, lest any more unfortunate rumours start to follow you around the camp.” Ar’telan cringed, nodding in agreement and looking anywhere but at Haurchefant. How much of what the knights whispered had Haurchefant heard? How much did he believe? Thancred had levelled enough drunken barbs at Ar’telan that he knew the Scions had seen his affection for the elezen, but by the Twelve, he could do without it being taken seriously here.

The reassuring blanket of night was a balm for Ar’telan, worn ragged by the day’s many challenges. He had climbed one of the towers in the camp’s walls, one not occupied by a campfire and a weary lookout, and sat upon the crenulations and gazed at the world beyond.

Ishgard sat, tantalisingly close but forever beyond his reach, her gates locked tight and protected by suspicious knights who bade him leave with pursed lips. To its right, the ruined masonry of Providence Point painted a sad picture of the wreckage of the Calamity. No Dalamud shard had felled it, though one had fallen in the highlands here, but the Horde’s attacks in its wake. He had learned, not through asking but quiet listening, that Lord Francel’s brother had died defending that wreck, giving his life so that more of his men could flee. Surrendering himself and the ground so that more could live. And people spoke his name with derision, called House Haillenarte cowards for daring to preserve life over the glorious, doomed charge.

To the south, Dragonhead stood. Ar’telan had tried many times to see the dragon’s head supposedly silhouetted in its rocks, but to no avail. The snow was light tonight, so the mountain was not quite obscured, but still his thoughts did not linger on it. Again he was drawn to Providence Point, to the expedition he had aided by the brave knights and engineers of Camp Dragonhead to retake it, to their stand against the dragon Svara. He had walked with them not as a healer but as a knight, spearheading the strike against the dragon itself, the distraction to allow the engineers time to set up their dragonkillers. It had felt real, for once, as the dragon’s blood had hissed against the snow, red water flowing down into the sea of clouds beneath them. The souls in the paladin’s crystal had sung for his bravery, aided his every strike to protect the line behind him.

If it were cheating, would they celebrate it? Would this tradition endure? Who would commit a part of their essence to a charlatan?

It made sense to him, crystallised in the dragon’s dying scream, in the cheers of harried men as the corpse slid from the rocky platform and into oblivion. Just as a squire trained with a knight, so too did a neonate train with a crystal. His memories, too, would live on in the gem, would train another paladin in his place when he was too old to lift a sword. And what better memory to commit to endless crystal than joy?

“The knights had said you were wandering, my friend, but i did not expect to find you here.”

“You looked,” Ar’telan disagreed, turning to greet Haurchefant as the tall elezen hefted the trapdoor down shut. He raised a hand to his face to shield his eyes from the snow, his gaze following where Ar’telan’s had led mere moments ago.

“They are still celebrating in the mess hall,” he remarked, easing himself into a sitting position beside him. “Yaelle told me it was poor form to leave so soon, but a room is empty for your absence.” Ar’telan averted his eyes.

“Crowds… scare me,” he said, close enough to the truth with a detailed explanation. “I needed the space.” He looked back to the ruined stone, concern in his eyes. “It is strange. It feels like a victory - it was a victory. But it feels like… when we drove back the Garleans in Thanalan. We had won, but the bodies… I shudder at the toll of the living, even though they would have slaughtered us without a second thought. How do you… Fighting this war your whole lives, how do you cope?” Haurchefant sighed, a strange sound for him. There was a moment of quiet, twin breaths misting on the cold, before he spoke again.

“We do not,” he said. “In truth, it is only in talking to adventurers and the like that pass through our gates that I see it, but we do not. Each family has a story of the lost. A father, a mother, a son. Each knight writes a letter to his beloved that he keeps close, in case he does not make it home this time. Each of us lives on the edge of a knife, knowing that this night may be our last night.” He took the shield from his back and looked at the symbol blazened across it, the wreathed unicorn of House Fortemps. “The nobility retreats to a battered shell, dehumanises its people so the toll is less bitter. So rarely do we bury our dead, Ar’telan. We add another name to our list of the lost, spoken in prayers to the Fury, and we… go on. Because what is there to do but go on?” He ran his fingers over the symbol, an unreadable look in his eyes. “For those I protect, I would gladly give my life. I have fought beside you, and I know that you feel it, too. And when we are gone, ripped from the world like a spear from a wound, what of those we protected?”

“Lord Francel remembers his brother,” Ar’telan said, hands muted in what passed for quiet. Haurchefant nodded.

“As do we all. He and all those who stood with him. Each cheer of victory carries a prayer to the departed.” He put the shield aside, and flashed a soft smile to his companion. “Live for the living, Ar’telan, not in the shroud of the dead. Carry them close, dear to your heart, but live for those who breathe yet. There will be another day.” Ar’telan thought of all those that his magics could not help, of the desperate need to intervene before the wounds were too grave. Of taking up the sword and shield so that he could be the bulwark, not the watcher at the grave. But so many of those he had led that day had not made it home, and not for his failure, but because such was the price of war.

Haurchefant had seen right through him, just like he always did.

“You are as wise with your words as you are skilled with the sword,” Ar’telan said, and Haurchefant laughed.

“I claim no credit. I steal much of it wholesale from knights many years my senior,” he replied. “But come, my friend. Perhaps the dining hall is too loud, but the night is yet young. Have you the energy for a match, perchance?”

Ar’telan found that he did.

#am I convinced that the entirety of camp dragonhead knew the WoL and Haurche were dating before either of them did? maybe #ffxivwrite2021 #ff14 #m!WoLxHaurchefant #I guess we're still on the train of being extremely sad about everything all the time #that's ff14 baby

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epochofbelief · 4 years ago

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Breath Control, Chapter Eight

An A Court of Mist and Fury College Swim Team AU

All characters belong to SJ Mass!

Feysand + Elriel as of now

Please let me know if you would like to be tagged!

Enjoy!

EIGHT

That night Rhys and I remained in our respective bedrooms, unwilling to get caught and have my dad put up a fight against letting me go with Rhys on Friday. Thanksgiving passed without event, and Friday morning found Rhys and I back in the car, headed north to his hometown. His foot seemed to be improving--either that or he insisted on walking on his boot more and more without the express permission of our trainer. I’d given up on trying to keep him off of it. He usually found ways to convince me to forget about it, anyways.

I was still driving (my father had sent my car to the shop to be fixed and it had been returned to us Wednesday evening) and Rhys held my hand for the first half of the ride. We continued to alternate our song selections in order to keep the peace.

Finally, we pulled into his father’s driveway. The house was enormous, more of a mansion. It was a little ominous, if I was being honest with myself. Built from dark black stone, the black roofs and pristine green lawn, complete with a walkway lined with perfectly trimmed hedges, the house looked like the site of a classic horror movie. I glanced over at Rhys, who winced. “You're not the only one whose father has extravagant tastes.”

I chuckled halfheartedly. “How do you plan to introduce me to your father?”

He pursed his lips and tilted his head back, feigning deep thought. “I don’t know, Feyre darling. What would you like me to introduce you as?”

I looked at him.

“Friend? Teammate? Girl whose bed I’ve been sleeping in the past few nights?”

“Any of those would work,” I said nonchalantly. But something inside me faltered a little at his words. I hadn’t realized that I would much rather be called his girlfriend. It would make all the making out… and other things we’d moved to doing… make more sense.

I opened my door before he could respond and pulled my overnight bag from the back seat. He did the same, and I was about to march down the path to the front door when he caught my elbow and swung me around to face him.

I stared up into his eyes.

“Feyre. You know I’d much rather call you my girlfriend.”

Oh, fuck. I wanted him, then. In the middle of his father’s driveway, in the shadow of his enormous mansion, no matter where his father was.

I nodded. “Say what you want to your father, then.” But I smiled.

He dropped his bag and placed both of his hands on the sides of my face, pulling me close.

A long, lingering kiss that only made me want to rip off all his clothes even more.

We broke apart and I cut my eyes to the earth.

“If your dad is watching us through the window, he definitely already doesn’t like me.”

Rhys grabbed his bag and took mine from me after a silent argument, during which I tried to retain the bag but gave up after he kept tugging on it. As we started back up the path, he spoke. “Please. My dad doesn’t care. He’ll probably be incredibly rude to you, passive aggressive to me, and then say he has work and we won’t see him for hours. That’s usually how these things go.”

“Hey, I’m used to that. Nesta sounds similar.”

“My father is nothing like Nesta.”

I quieted as we neared the house, and he rang the doorbell.

The grin he’d been wearing since I’d agreed to let him call me his girlfriend slid from his face as the door swung open.

Rhys went still as death. I glanced back and forth between him and the young woman who had answered the door.

“Amarantha.”

“Rhysie!” The young woman flounced outside and gave him an enormous hug, her voluminous red hair bouncing in the sunlight.

~~~Elain~~~

I couldn’t sit still. I’d moved from my bedroom, to the sitting room, to the kitchen to watch Nesta attempt to make cookies, and had landed in the living room, on the floor on my back, staring at my phone. I couldn’t decide how to respond to the last text I’d gotten from Azriel.

Az: What are you doing today? I’m only an hour away…

It had been an hour since I’d read his message. Was I free? I mean, obviously I was. Feyre had already left with Rhys. But was I going to tell Azriel I was free…? It would mean I’d have to explain to Nesta where I was going…

I tried to open up a book and read but immediately I could tell the book centered around romance. I shut it and laid back down on the carpet.

Then I sat up, grabbed my phone, and responded. I wanted to experience romance, damn it, not just read about it!

Me: I’m free all day, why do you ask?

Immediately the three dots popped up, signaling that he was responding. I loved that he didn’t feel like he needed to wait a long time before responding to me.

Az: I just figured that since our hometowns are so close, we might as well get that date over and done with now rather than later.

Az: Right?

Me: I like the way you think. But we are meeting halfway. You’re not driving an hour here and back.

He started typing again but I messaged quickly because I knew what he was going to say.

Me: I INSIST, or we are waiting til we are back on campus

The dots disappeared. Then reappeared.

Az: Fine.

Az: Meet me at this address at noon.

He included a link below.

“What are you grinning about?”

I looked up sharply. “Nothing.”

Nesta smirked. “Bullshit. You look like a deer in headlights. Spill, Elain. I know it’s a guy.”

I sighed. If I was going to leave the house today, I’d have to tell her.

“If you must know,” I started as she threw herself on the couch, “I have a date today.”

Nesta arched a brow. “With whom, may I ask?”

I bit my lip.

“Tell me.”

“Azriel Umbra.”

“Isn’t that….”

“Feyre’s teammate and Rhys’s best friend. Possibly. They don’t know about us yet. I haven’t even met him in person… We connected online.”

I’d expected Nesta to grill me for details about whether he was a decent guy, whether he’d treat me better than Greyson, and a million other things. I’d expected her to tell me I had to tell Feyre and Rhys and to stop sneaking around. But she only stood up and brushed my shoulder as she passed.

“He must be worth it if you’re leaving the house on the day after Thanksgiving just to see him, when you could just wait three days until you’re both back at school.”

I think he is, I thought to myself.

~~~Feyre~~~

I had no idea who Amarantha was but Rhys was obviously shocked at her appearance in his house. He stood there, stiff as a board, while Amarantha embraced him. When she pulled back, she finally looked over at me.

“Oh. Hello.” She smiled, but something was off about it. Maybe it was the fact that she was gorgeous, and just had her hands all over my newly-christened boyfriend. I shook my head. Don’t be jealous, I told myself. I didn’t even know this girl.

“Hi, I’m Feyre,” I said, extending a hand that she gripped with her own. I couldn’t help noticing how perfectly white her skin was, how perfectly manicured her long red nails were.

“Amarantha. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She turned immediately toward Rhys again. “Well aren’t you going to say something?”

“Why are you here.”

“I work for your father now, of course! I’m his secretary. He didn’t tell you?” Something about her tone told me she knew this was an enormous surprise for Rhys. “And I run the business while he’s out of the country. I work in one of the offices in this lovely mansion, and he needed me to come in to work today for some sort of emergency. Come inside.”

She turned and clicked away on extremely high heels.

Rhys’s shoulders slumped. “Holy fuck,” he whispered.

I waited.

“That is… my ex-girlfriend. Things did not end well between us, although apparently she’s completely forgotten about the not-small fight we had and her following actions. She slashed my tires and keyed my car.”

“Oh.” I didn’t know what to say. I had a feeling there was a little more to the story. Rhys’s expression was a cross between murderous and that of a helpless five-year-old. “And your dad hired her?”

He shouldered the bags and led me across the threshold. “I told you. My father is twisted. He probably thinks she’s hot, and that having her here will make me uncomfortable, which will bring him a lot of joy. I’m really sorry she’s here.”

I bit my lip as the enormous entryway of his house revealed itself. It was… huge. But rather bare. And kind of dark. My own father’s home had at least been tastefully decorated, cozy. This was all sharp, modern lines, with an obvious lack of furniture. No rugs, just cold marble floors. No paintings on the walls. Just a plethora of mirrors. “You don’t have to apologize. I’m your girlfriend now. You didn’t invite her here.” I couldn’t help smiling at the words.

He looked over his shoulder at me. “True.” He attempted a smile. Which promptly faltered as we entered the living room. A man that must have been his father sat at an oak desk in the corner. He stood. Amarantha had taken a seat on a couch nearby.

“Rhysand.”

“Father.”

“And who is your guest?”

“This is Feyre… my… girlfriend.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Night,” I said, crossing the enormous room to shake his hand. Thank goodness he took my hand in his, cold as his hand was.

“You as well, Feyre. I hope you had a pleasant Thanksgiving.”

“It was very nice. I hope you did as well.”

He sighed and resumed his seat behind the desk. “It was quiet, as usual. My own son prefers to spend his Thanksgivings elsewhere.”

Rhys said nothing. His eyes were focused on Amarantha, who was picking at her nails, ignoring the piles of papers she had set in front of her and the laptop balanced precariously on her crossed legs.

“Well, Rhys, you had better show your guest to her room. There’s lunch in the kitchen, and Belle will have dinner ready at 6:30.”

“Alright,” was all Rhys said, and I followed him out of the room and up the marble staircase. Neither of us spoke until we had traversed down several hallways, coming to a stop at an isolated set of double doors at the end of the house.

“So… That’s my father.” Rhys said, setting the bags down but making no move to open the doors.

I nodded. “So I saw.”

“He doesn’t give a shit that I didn’t show for Thanksgiving. He just enjoys trying to make me feel guilty.” I could tell that Rhys did feel guilty, though, and I took his right hand with both of mine. “And that…” He placed his forehead in his other hand, still holding tightly to my other hand. “Was my ex-girlfriend?”

“So I saw.”

“Do you regret coming here?”

I slid my hands around his waist and rested my head against his chest. “No. And if me being here will help you deal with them this weekend, then I’m even more glad I came.”

He placed a kiss on top of my head. “How’d I get so lucky?”

I looked up at him. “Beats me. Now show me your bedroom, Rhysand. I insist.”

He pressed a kiss to my lips and turned to push open the double doors. “It’s not just my bedroom, you know. You’re staying in here with me. My father won’t care, and probably won’t even notice, anyways.”

I entered the enormous room, taking quick note of the dark rugs that covered the floor--the only rugs I’d seen so far in the whole house, the enormous fireplace on one side, a desk and wardrobe on the other. The bed, covered in a dark blue duvet, was absolutely enormous. The view from the windows revealed an enormous manicured backyard, complete with a pool, several seating areas complete with fire pits, and a distant tennis court.

“Wow. Does your dad even use all that stuff?” I asked, crossing the room to peer out the window.

“I doubt it. But we can. It doesn’t sound like he plans to see us for the rest of the day until dinner.”

“Perfect. I can’t wait to kick your ass at tennis.”

-----------------------------------------------------

Tags:

@musicalfae @sleeping-and-books @queen-of-glass

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fanfoolishness · 4 years ago

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A Legacy (Cadash + Solas, DAI)

(I wanted to write Josie x Cadash. Or Varricfic. Instead, this musing with my new Cadash and Solas came out. Oh well! 1200 words, gen, set when first visiting Crestwood.)

***

Chara Cadash hissed, clapping a palm over the wound in her bicep. She let out a long breath between clenched teeth. The sound of waterfalls drowned out her exhalation, and she hoped, for a moment, that she was safe.

Until Solas approached, his face set in that curious mix of concern and disinterest she had come to define him by.

She sighed, settling back on her haunches besides the campfire. “I’m taking first watch tonight, remember, Solas? You’re allowed to take some rest for yourself. Varric and Blackwall are already asleep.”

He knelt beside her, keeping a respectful distance. “I am aware, Inquisitor.”

“So what brings you from your rest?” She glanced up at the stone-worked harts flanking the waterfalls, the granite glistening from the recent rain. It was good work. Solid. “I would have thought you’d like to see the Fade from here. These monuments must mean something.”

Solas gave her a small smile, one that failed to reach his eyes. “They mean many things. But I cannot sleep when I find my mind uneasy. You’re wounded, Inquisitor.”

“Is that so,” she attempted. Solas merely arched one thin brow at her, and she acquiesced. “All right, then. It’s nothing serious.” The eyebrow arched ever higher. “It’s… just a wyvern bite.”

Solas nodded. “I suspected as much. You do know that wyvern venom can cause permanent damage, I suppose?”

Chara rolled up her sleeve swiftly, her stomach clenching. The wound in her arm already looked nasty, festering with a greenish cast to the surrounding skin. Her stomach swooped. “Well, that’s a fucking lovely surprise, isn’t it? I -- I’d thought it could wait ‘til tomorrow --”

“It should not,” he said. “May I?” He extended a pale hand toward her, palm up.

“We’re out of potions,” said Chara swiftly. “I didn’t want to cause a fuss.”

“Healing was never my greatest talent,” said Solas, fixing his gaze on her wound. “But I do have some small skill in this area. It would not do for you to lose an arm from something as mundane as an untreated wyvern bite.”

She hesitated, staring into his blank face. She had met many people in her time, some honest, some pretending, some believing they were honest but telling lies all the same. Something about Solas often left her feeling odd, unsettled. His fury about the recruitment of the templars had not helped her perception. And yet --

She extended her arm to him. He took it by the wrist, his touch sure but gentle, respectful. Magic slowly swelled around his grip, an aura that tingled through her hand, wrist, forearm, into the bite itself. It was warm but muted, sending soft sparks through flesh and vein.

She looked away. This was not for her: magic was a thing she had learned early on was for humans, elves, Qunari. She knew it didn’t stick the way it did for the other races; knew the mages had to work harder, cleverer, sneakier for their spells to take on dwarves. She didn’t like to make it more difficult for them by staring.

“Very well,” she said stiffly, gazing up at the twin harts. She cast about for something to discuss, something besides the inherent awkwardness of accepting healing from a mage who despised her. “It’s beautiful stonework, isn’t it?”

Solas lifted his gaze from her wound, eyes sliding over the harts amidst the waterfalls. “Mhm.”

“What does it mean to your people?”

A flinch, faint, felt through the grip he maintained on her arm. She gazed at him, perplexed. “I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong?”

He let out a soft chuckle. “No. It’s quite all right. But I am not Dalish, Inquisitor, and these were certainly made by Dalish elves.”

“Forgive me,” said Chara. “I’m afraid I never learned much of the elves in the Marches. The city elves had their homes and their trees, but they never made…” She gestured with her good arm. “These meant a great deal, once. You don’t build something to withstand the elements for centuries if it’s meaningless.”

“I expect not,” he said. His magic rustled along her skin, her muscle, veins and nerves. She swallowed, feeling it encase her arm, trying to find the way in. Normally she enjoyed the way magic seemed to slide off of her in battle, but healing magic doing the same had been a great disappointment.

“Do you wonder what they will find of us, centuries on?” Chara asked. Stars twinkled above the stone harts in the deepening twilight. She chuckled. “Look at me. I’ve gone and said us. Perhaps Inquisitor is starting to sound familiar.” She let out a long sigh, her arm aching. “I don’t care for it, if I’m to be honest.”

Solas raised his gaze from her wound. “A curious thing for a leader to say.”

“Perhaps,” said Chara. “Then again, it isn’t as if I intended any of this.” She bowed her head. “Thank you, Solas.”

“Your gratitude is appreciated, Inquisitor, but your healing is still in progress.”

“I know,” she said. She flexed her palm and fingers into a clumsy fist. The venom had worked its way deep into her arm, much deeper than she had hoped. The clean sensation of Solas’ healing buzzed beneath the numbness, growing stronger by the moment, and she allowed herself relief. “But I appreciate your healing someone you despise.”

The magic slowly strengthened along the length of her arm, her muscles nearly burning with it. Solas’ grip on her wrist tightened slightly.

“Inq--”

“You disagreed with me about the templars,” said Chara. “I understand. I thought magic gone awry required a certain solution. You felt differently.” She pulled her arm back from him, only a mild ache still present in her bicep. Her hand tightened into a fist, then relaxed, a faint tremor running through the fingers.

“Your dexterity should return within the day,” said Solas, ignoring her last. “You are welcome.” He inclined his head towards hers in something like a shortened bow, then got to his feet.

“Solas,” she said sharply. He turned back to her, tension keen in the set of his shoulders.

“Yes?”

“The harts beneath the moonlight,” she said, pointing with her healed arm. It shivered only slightly, a great improvement. He looked to follow her outstretched fingers.

Beneath the parted clouds, the moonlight danced upon the harts, hidden moonstone shimmering deep in their fine-carved eyes. Splendid opalescent shimmers flashed in blue and white, a calculated choreography illuminating the silent grove.

Chara studied the patterns of their shining eyes, certainty thrumming within her. “This was carved with a harvest moon in mind,” she said. “The angle of the light -- it wouldn’t create a luminescence with a normal full moon, not with how deep-set the eyes have been carved. It’s inspired work. Meant to last for many, many seasons.”

Beside her, Solas stood tall and still, hands loosely clasped behind him, eyes bright in the moonlight. “A legacy,” he murmured.

“Yes,” said Chara. “They were meant to be seen. The question is, what were they meant to say?”

Solas’s lips curled up, a small, subtle motion, and this time, the lines at his eyes narrowed in a genuine smile. “They speak a promise, Inquisitor.”

“A promise for what?” she asked. The moonlight sparkled on the surface of the pond, sparkled deep in the harts’ gray eyes.

“For another day.”

#solas #cadash #dragon age #dragon age: inquisition #da:i #chara cadash

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orangeoctopi7 · 5 years ago

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Stupid Teen Emotions

@forduary Week three is travel/trapped. In this story, Stan and Ford TRAVEL back to the past, where they become TRAPPED! It fits!

Chapter 1: Back in My Day

They didn’t sleep well, that first night. Ford stayed up late, because of course he would have stayed up into the wee hours of the night working on his perpetual motion machine in the original timeline. But he barely touched the project. With the knowledge he had now, he could probably build the whole thing tonight, but that would, of course, be changing the timeline. A younger Ford had learned a lot, working so hard and so long on this machine, and future Ford didn’t want to deprive his past self of that important lesson. So instead, he began writing, racking his brain for anything he could remember of January, 1969.

Stan tried to sleep at first, but he just couldn't. He was too anxious and excited, all rolled into one. So he instead dug out a few of his old comic books that never got thrown away.

They both must have fallen asleep at some point, because come morning, there was a rapping at the door that woke them both with a start.

“Get up, you two! You’re gonna be late for school!” A woman with a thick Jersey accent yelled through the door.

“M-mom?” Ford’s head lifted blearily off his desk.

“Wow, you are really taking the whole ‘stick to the timeline’ thing seriously.” Stan mused from his bottom bunk.

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep at my desk…” Ford groaned.

“You never do, Sixer, you never do.”

They marched downstairs and into the kitchen, where their mother had a breakfast of hot cinnamon and apple oatmeal waiting for them. Stan was so happy to see her, he ran over and hugged her, pecking a swift kiss on her cheek.

"Aww, sweetie!" She planted a kiss on his forehead. "I'm still not paying your parking ticket." She added flatly.

"What parking ticket?" Stan asked, confused. "Oh, um, I mean, drat."

Ford was too tired to even work up the energy to be happy to see his mother. As he sat down, he automatically reached for the coffee pot. But a rolled up newspaper smacked his hand away.

“What d’you think you’re doin’?” Caryn asked, eyebrow raised.

“... getting my morning coffee?” Ford answered, addled.

“How many times do I have to tell you, honey? No coffee ‘til you’re 18. It’ll stunt your growth!”

Ford looked like he was about to have a fit.

“Wait, are we not 18?” Stan asked quickly. Luckily, his parents ignored his out-of-place comment.

“Ya don’t need coffee, ya need more sleep!” Filbrick grunted from behind his newspaper.

“You both drink ten cups a day!” Ford argued, his voice cracking again.

“That’s cuz we’re adults.” Filbrick growled, “Once you’re old an’ decrepit, you can drink all the coffee ya want.”

“Trust me, he will.” Stan said flatly.

Ford kicked him under the table. Hard. Stan cried out.

“Can it, you two!” Caryn scolded them, “You’ll wake up Shermie. I don’t wanna have to deal with three crying babies.”

The brothers finished their breakfast sullenly but quietly, and grabbed their backpacks before heading out the door.

“Think we should leave Shermie a note warning him to watch out for time travelers?” Stan asked as he fished out his keys to the STNLYMBL. “Y’know, for when he’s older?”

“Then Dipper and Mabel will be born later than 2000.” Ford reminded him irritably.

“Right.” Stan smacked himself. “Man, this sucks! Why time travel if we can’t make things better?”

Ford’s only reply was a surly sigh as he turned to the cafe next door.

“Hey, where’re you goin’?” Stan asked.

“To get some coffee!”

“Seriously, Sixer? Hot Belgian Waffles is next door, Mrs. DuBios will rat you out to Ma for sure!”

Ford heaved an even more enraged sigh that bordered on a growl, and turned on his heal to get into Stan’s car, slamming the door shut.

“Whoa, easy, we’ll just stop by the donut place on the boardwalk.” Stan reassured him as he started the car. “What’s gotten into you?”

The scientist groaned and pulled his fingers through his curly brown hair. “I don’t know! Normally it’s simple to just focus on my intellect and control my emotions, but it just isn’t working now for some reason!”

“‘Control’ your emotions, or bottle them up?” Stan muttered. Ford shot him a withering glare. “Shoot, I wasn’t supposed to say that out loud. Why do I keep doin’ that?”

“And the only reason I’m so mad in the first place is because I’m so tired!” Ford continued to rant, “I got at least four hours of sleep last night, it doesn’t make any sense!”

“Heh, guess teen Ford isn’t used to old man Ford’s space-sleep schedule. Or lack of sleep schedule, anyway.”

Ford’s face brightened into his ‘a-ha!’ expression. “Stanley, that’s it!”

“What?”

“The reason I’m having such a hard time regulating my emotions, and the reason you can’t keep your mouth shut even more than usual! We may still have our minds from 2013, but our bodies are teenagers in the middle of puberty. Our hormone levels are magnitudes higher than what we’ve become accustomed to.”

“Great. Goin’ through puberty again. Just what everyone wants outta time travel.”

They pulled up to the donut shop on the boardwalk. Stan poked around in his seat and found a quarter, which he handed to Ford. Suddenly, his brother looked unsure.

“Stan, maybe you should hang onto this. You’re going to need all the money you can get, come summer.”

“It’s a freaking quarter, Poindexter.”

“Yeah, but a quarter is worth a lot more in 1969 than it will be in 2013! This is almost a whole gallon of gas!”

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ten minutes ago you were about to have a meltdown because you couldn't get your morning coffee, just buy it, Ford!”

“Fine, but I’ll pay for it myself.”

“With what money, genius? You didn’t have a job in high school because you were too busy with your academic science nerd stuff! Now go buy yourself a cup of coffee, or I’ll make you walk the rest of the way to school.”

Ford frowned, but took the quarter. He couldn’t help but feel guilty as he got his cup of coffee. How could he or anyone else have ever said that Stan was the lazy one, when Stan was the only one who’d ever had a ‘real’ job? Even to this day, Ford had never had what anyone would call a normal job, barring that one summer he’d been a lifeguard at a waterpark in a dolphin-dominant dimension. He’d always relied on scholarships and grants and accademia, which was hard work, in its own way, but still. It certainly wasn’t what his father would have called a real job. While traveling across dimensions, he’d relied on trading information and knowledge, building and selling inventions, and even, occasionally, stealing.

Stan was the one who’d gotten a minimum wage, part-time job selling popsicles on the beach. Stan was the one who’d entered local semi-pro boxing matches and brought home winnings. Stan was the one who’d saved up for his own car.

“Ar-are you crying!?” Stan exclaimed when Ford climbed back into the car, cup of coffee in hand. Ford reached up to wipe his eyes, surprised as his brother to find tears there.

“Oh geez, Stanford, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so harsh, I just--” Stan began to babble.

“N-no, it’s not you.” Ford found his voice wavering as soon as he tried to speak. “It’s just-- gah, I’m so stupid! Stupid hormonal chemical imbalance!”

Ford tried to keep himself from crying anymore by taking a big gulp of coffee. It wasn’t very good, and it was just this side of warm, but it instantly improved his mood.

“Ah, there’s that good dopamine.”

“Better?”

“Much. Let’s go. I think we’re already late.”

Despite the fact that they were ten minutes late, there were still several students milling about when they arrived at the school. The twins felt like they should stick out like a sore thumb, but nobody paid them any mind.

“Ugh, never thought I’d come back here.” Stan grumbled.

“Well, look on the bright side!” Ford reassured him, “Now that you’ve studied quantum physics and run your own business for thirty years, Math and Science classes should be a breeze!”

“Hey, yeah! I can’t wait to see the look on Mr. Grauberger’s face when I can tell him exactly how much interest $300 will accumulate over 20 years!” But he paused. “Wait, what about changin’ the timeline? Pretty sure I never answered questions in class.”

“Oh, it wouldn’t make that much of a difference.” Ford scoffed. “Even if you get 100% on every quiz while we’re here, I don’t think it’d be enough to bring your grade up past a C, and you’ll be dropping out before graduation anyway.”

“Oh yeah….” Stan’s good mood quickly washed away.

Ford rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. “We know it all works out in the end.”

“Yeah…” Stan agreed, “but there was still a lot of heartache gettin’ there.”

#Gravity Falls #Fanfiction #Forduary 2020 #Stanford PInes #Stanley Pines #My Writing

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whenimgoodandready · 4 years ago

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*SVTFOE Bloopers, Finale Season Part 3

•Gone Baby Gone

-(Setting:Teen Meteora and Mariposas cave.)

Star:(hesitantly slurps and gulps the skin flakes and garlic spider chow) “Y-Yummy”

Adult Marco:(eagerly drinks the soup) “Ahhh! Really takes me back. Though I always used to-“ (he stops and starts to sweat panting)

Star:(looks concerned for Adult Marco) “Are you okay? You look-“ (suddenly feels something) “Oh boy!” (starts to sweat and pant as well)

(Teen Meteora and Mariposa snicker)

Adult Marco:(standing up panicking) “What’s goin’ on!? My mouth is burning!” (screams and runs off-screen)

(Star screams and runs off-screen too. Teen Meteora and Mariposa try to contain their laughter)

Director Daron:(heard off-screen) “Uh, what’s going on over here? Can someone please tell me”

Staff Member:(heard off-screen) “Hang on, let me check”

(Teen Meteora and Mariposa can’t hold it much longer and burst out laughing. Adult Marco runs past the scene seemingly breathing fire while screaming flailing his arms in the air)

Staff Member:(heard off-screen) “Okay, we found the problem! Bryana (Teen Meteora) and Isabella (Teen Mariposa) secretly put Ghost Peppers in the soup for the scene”

Director Daron:(sighs) “Oh my God, girls not cool!”

(Teen Meteora falls back laughing and Teen Mariposa hunches over laughing holding onto her stomach and stomping her foot)

Star:(runs past the scene holding a water bottle) “CAN SOMEONE OPEN THIS THING!”

-(Behind the Scenes. Wyscan is sitting in a make-up chair half complete with his magical look with only his face not painted and wearing a bald cap for his wig. He’s speaking with the Make-Up Artist next to him surround by boxes of various colored paints and brushes)

Wyscan:(exasperated) “Oh my God! You would not believe the day I had getting over here! First, my limo got stuck in traffic, so I was 2 hours late for rehearsal” (the Make-Up Artist adjusts the chair to lounge back and Wyscan closes his eyes as he continues his venting. Little does he know, Teen Meteora and Mariposa quickly and very quietly cover the Make-Up Artists mouth and drag her away off-screen) “Then, I was attacked by those frogs that escaped from that new show, “Ann-phibia”, or whatever studio by some liberal going all, “Free the Frogs!” Ugh! I swear one of those slimy things crawled in my hair!” (cringes as Teen Meteora and Mariposa come back standing on either side of Wyscan snickering and picking up make-up tools) “Finally, those creepy twin Pony Head girls wouldn’t stop playing dumb country rap song, “Old Town Road”, during rehearsal and now that songs stuck in my head” (groans) “Anyways sorry about talking your ear off, I’ll just sit back, lay back and let you work your magic, okay hun”

(Teen Meteora and Mariposa simultaneously pretend to be the Make-Up Artist and go, “Mmhmm”, mockingly while giving one another devious looks. They get to work applying make-up on Wyscan super fast with pink mist and after they’re complete, the mist fades away and Teen Mariposa readjusts Wyscans sweat to make him sit up right as Teen Meteora holds up a hand mirror in front of him. Wyscan opens his eyes and gasps at seeing his prank make-up job. His face is powdered white with hot pink lipstick, lavender eyeshadow and three stickers on his face with a heart, a star and a rainbow plastered on it and his wig was a big curly orange afro. Teen Meteora and Mariposa laugh. Wyscan screams angrily and jumps off his seat)

Wyscan:(frustratedly) “You little brats! Wait til’ my agent hears about this!”

(Teen Meteora and Mariposa stop laughing and put their arms around Wyscan in-between them and Teen Mariposa pulls out her iPhone to take a pic of the three of ‘em as the two strike a pose. Wyscan groans and we see a flash and hear a click)

-Wyscan:(irritatedly) “Ugh, what’s taking so long over there?!”

Teen Mariposa:”I’ve changed my mind”

Wyscan:”I thought we had a deal!”

Wyscan’s Stomach:”And baby’s hungry!” (slurping)

Teen Mariposa:”You want the girl...you’ll” (tries to pull out her bo staff, but she fumbles with it around her hands and it falls to the ground making a loud clank sound as Teen Mariposa cringes. She stares down at the staff as the staff off-screen laugh. Wyscan laughs too and Teen Mariposa gets annoyed with him) “Shut up!”

-(The background fight music plays as Teen Mariposa starts to fight Wyscan with her staff. Wyscan blocks her attacks and pushes her backward with his sword. He quickly knocks her away and pins her to the ground. We hear a crack and Wyscan stops fighting to stand over Teen Mariposa looking confused. The background fight music dies out and Teen Mariposa sits up and picks up her bo staff which is now split almost in half and dangling on one side. She stares at it dangling before nervously chuckling. Wyscan laughs as well)

•Sad Teen Hotline

•Jannanigans

-Tom:(to Marco) “I mean, if you and your best friend, ended up being something else”

Marco:”What? Tom, the Blood Moon acres has been-“ (gets interrupted by a tennis ball being shot at his face knocking him down) “Ow!”

Tom:(gasps. Turns to where the ball came from) “What the f-“ (a tennis ball is shot at him and ends up in his mouth silencing him with him mumbling, dropping his arm full of tennis balls and losing his balance. Another tennis ball is shot at and knocks Tom down)

Director Daron:(heard off-screen) “Who’s using the tennis ball shooting machine!?”

(the camera pans to see Janna using it and shooting tennis balls around the set. We hearing glass shattering, people screaming and see objects falling down)

Janna:(stops shooting and calls out) “Hey, Pony Head! You lied! This thing does work!” (continues shooting tennis balls around and chuckles evilly as more things break and peoples screaming are heard)

Director Daron:(groans off-screen) “I told you to put that thing away before the shoot!”

Equipment Manager:(flatly off-screen) “Sorry”

•Mama Star

-First Born Unicorn:(angrily) “STOP THROWING SH*T IN MY REALM!”

-Director Daron:(heard off-screen) “Cut! Who the Hell is editing the horses dialogue up there!?”

(the camera pans up to the sound room where we see Teen Meteora and Mariposa sitting in the Sound Room with Teen Mariposa typing as Teen Meteora giggles)

Teen Mariposa:(typing with each word) “Every.time.you.come.into.my.realm.you.always.f**K.sh*t.up!” (stops typing and laughs with Teen Meteora)

(they stop laughing when the notice the cameras and go wide eyed with shock)

•Ready, Aim, Fire

•The Right Way

-(the giant Solarian knight is trying to find its balance and then suddenly stands still. It starts dancing as “Old Town Road” plays. We pan to see Shonda and Shinda smugly next to their record player with Teen Meteora and Mariposa smugly next to them watching as Teen Mariposa controls the giant Solarian knight with a remote)

Teen Meteora:(proudly) “We baaaaaaad”

Teen Mariposa:(proudly) “And we like it like that!”

(all four girls laugh)

•Here to Help

•Pizza Party

•The Tavern at the End of the Multiverse

-Eclipsa:(to Moon as she’s positioning her pool stick) “You know, I never got a chance to thank-“ (the pool stick cuts a tear on the table. Eclipsas eyes widen. Meteora laughs from her baby carrier Eclipsas wearing) “Whoops!” (stands up straight covering her mouth blushing)

-Star:”Glossaryck! Glossaryck! Please, don’t leave me here with my dysfunctional family!” (sighs) “Okay”, (waves disinterestedly at Eclipsa’s tapestry) “Hi Eclipsa” (turns to Moons tapestry) “Motherf**ker”

Director Daron:(off-screen) “Cut! Star!”

Star:”What!? It’s what the fans are thinking after what just recently happened!”

Director Daron:(scoldingly still off-screen) “You can’t curse in a children’s show!”

(Toffee is shown casually sitting in a chair next to the Darons)

Toffee:”I believe that’s what the kids call, “Too real””

Star:”Oh, can it Toffee! You’re not really in this episode it’s just a prerecording of your line from our first finale! Besides, my character is just acting appropriately from her mothers betrayal and all the chaos that’s going on!”

Toffee:”Yeah, but who was relieved to be the smartest character in the show?” (gives her a look)

(Rosemary is just sucking her bowl of gumbo next to Toffee in her leveled chair nodding concededly)

Toffee:”Rosemary, sweetie, flip to the last page of the script for this episode please”

(Rosemary puts down her gumbo, wipes her mouth, picks up the episodes script, flips through it professionally and reads through it first)

Rosemary:”It says, “Star turns to Moons tapestry and says mournfully, “I guess this means Toffee was right””

Toffee:(puts a hand to his ear pretending like he’s deaf) “I-I’m sorry, what was that, I couldn’t hear that” (makes a smug look at Star)

(Star looks peeved)

Rosemary:”She says, “I guess this means Toffee” (looks up at Star shouting) “WAS RIGHT!””

Toffee:(turns over his hand smugly in the air) “Surprise”

Star:(has her fists balled by her sides and an angry expression with her teeth clenched yet she speaks in a mellow tone) “I am so glad, you’re dead.......on the show”

•Cleaved

-(Behind the Scenes. Almost everyone from the show is surrounded around The Realm of Magic set murmuring to one another. Daron Nefcy marches onto the green screen set of The Realm of Magic while making splashes on the shallow water spread on the ground. She clears her throat and puts her hands on her hips making everyone stop and stare at her)

Director Daron:(loudly and clearly) “Alright, listen up everyone! This is our last episode of the show and I want this done well! You think just cuz it’s the end you can do crazy sh*t like goof around, or do improve or even curse!? Well think again! This isn’t a playground people! This is a ✨spectacle!✨ You all worked for four years to make this a good show and I want you guys to take this seriously! You don’t know how much pride I put into this to make it my “magical girl fantasy” come true! I had to change a lot in this story to get this green lite, work through sleepless nights, have my episodes get premiered a day after the next in a twisted scheduling and deal with psycho fans just to get this done! Now I want you all to get out there and make this the best damn finale a children’s show has done! Even if we might get backlash for it, F**k it! Cuz we gave it our all! Now places everyone! PLACES! (marches out of the set making loud splashes as she departs with everyone in stunned silence)

(Star and Marco walk onto the set with small splashes as the two watch Daron march off looking silent and a bit unnerved)

Star:(rubs her arm) “Ok.........I guess, we’re gonna give it our all then” (laughs nervously)

Marco:(quietly) “If we ever do the reunion show” (points at Star) “You’re sitting next to her, not me!”

-Marco:(grabbing onto Star) “Star! Ok, what’s the plan!?”

Star:(pointing to an upward waterfall) “Uh, you have to go back through the Earth-“ (the upward shooting waterfall slowly starts decreasing as the lights luminate the set and the wind effects stop. The upward waterfall now just spits out bits of water from the tube as objects are lightly blown onto the set from the giant wind fan and The Realm of Magic turns back to a green screen)

Star:”Is someone using all the water supply again!?”

-Mina Loveberry:(walking smugly past Star and her powers) “And the thing about good ideas is they tend to hang arou-Ow!” (stops and picks up her foot groaning in pain and hoping) “Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! OW! Ahhhhhh! Damn it! I stepped on a freakin’ mini pretzel!” (hisses while still holding up her foot and hopping in place) “God! Why did my character have to go all native with their feet!?”

Director Daron:(heard off-screen) “Can someone get some iodine!.......and the janitor!”

-(Marco is skateboarding down the street and falls off. The big build up music stops on a record scratch)

Marco:(groans and sits up on one knee) “Sorry! That wasn’t the big fall yet!” (under his breath as he’s getting up and adjusting himself) “God damn it, Marco! This your last day of shooting and you’re making an a** of yourself!”

Director Daron:(heard off-screen sternly) “DID YOU CURSE!?”

Marco:(panics and waves his hands in front of him) “No! No! No! No! I swear!” (panics more) “I mean, not as in swearing, I mean as in “I swear I didn’t curse!” Really” (laughs nervously)

#svtfoe #svtfoe bloopers #svtfoe season 4 bloopers part 3

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cliban · 6 years ago

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Rant time (oof)

I go to school. At this school of mine, we have an art department. Within this art department, I scribble away at my latest drawing. It's a semi-realistic eye, and, to be quite honest, a very good work on my part. However. I would love to show it off, I really would! But I can't. This teacher lets us do.... letter patterns...... and Letter patterns...... and letter patterns..... No, nothing useful, just letter patterns. You see, my teacher has a mentality that only realism is 'true art'. I think all of you know my style by now. Defined lineart, simple colours, sometimes cel shading. I'm very happy and efficient with this style of art. Well, was. My teacher is obsessed with shading. Realistic shading. I can't shade like that, I don't have the patience. So from now on, I am no longer good at art. Sorry but, that's what the teacher says, and teachers are ALWAYS right? Right?? No. Don't EVER let someone tell you you aren't good at art because of your style. I don't want anyone giving up on art because of someone's stupid opinion. Do what you enjoy, and you can only improve. This teacher I have is narrow-minded, has 'favourite students', and doesn't like my art because 'digital art is the easiest thing in the world'. Mhm, do go on. Tell me how easy it is. Yep yep yep. Now can I tell you about how stuff can glitch, how much work I put into my stuff, and all the wonderful tools I can use? Oh, sorry, I forgot, Teachers are always right, of course, of course. I don't particularly care, but, there's a point where this stuff GETS to you. I've lost a lot of sleep, and the Shadow-whisperers (cough slumbertale cough) have been more frequent than ever. I've seen people just give up on art because they couldn't do realism like the teacher instructed. And I saw so much potential in them. That's why if someone tells you that sort of stuff, they're narrow-minded or just dont like you. Second teacher. She is.... worrying. She's a substitute. Let's call her Ms/Mrs L. I am discussing stuff with my friend, Chris, in Maths. He's trying to do work, but the date is wrong and it's triggering our OCD. Chris asks Ms/Mrs L, and she launches in a tirade about how she's been a teacher for so long and she doesn't need us bothering her. It's still triggering us. Us, being the stupid 12 year olds we are, get the student helping Mrs/Ms L (Oh did I mention she never does any actual teaching?) to change the date. Mrs/Ms L sees Chris saying thanks, and boy, I still get chills from the look look of pure rage in her eyes. She marches over to Chris, grabs him by the arm, and yells. Like, not teacher yelling, full up SCREAMS at this 11 year old kid, who's the smallest guy in the year sevens. "HOW DARE YOU DISRESPECT ME IN THAT WAY YOU LITTLE BRAT!!!" She full on screams for about 10 seconds, then drags Chris out the room, forcefully. I asked him to show me the force later, and he got to drag me around. It was a lot of force. The room goes silent, as outside her raised voice continues. Chris comes in five minutes later, looking.... subdued. Chris is a bouncy, hyperactive kid. And he's my friend. I stay behind after class and talk to her about it. She's adamant Chris is the devil. I can't do anything about it. That was a long time ago, and I still remember it clearly. Then came the breaking point for me. It's social science. We're close to packing up, and we've cut and stuck quite a few things. The paper is building up, so Alyssa (My friend) asks me to put it in the bin as I'm closest. Reasonable request. I get up, and am about halfway to the trash can, when someone grabs me, pulls me back. I am extremely hapephobic around anyone I don't know very well. I can't stand brushing against anyone in a crowd, its that bad. I whirl around, and I just stand there in shock. It was Mrs/Ms L! I... I'm not thinking clearly. Did a teacher just.... pull me back? On purpose? What is she going to do to me?? I barely refrain from a full blown panic attack, which are way too common for me, and seriously affect me. I had some physical bullying done to me when I was little, and its still mental trauma. "We wait til we're going out of the room at the end of class to do that." Mrs/Ms L says. I mumble something and go back to sit on my seat. "What do we do?" she asks, like I'm a child. "I-I'll wait til I'm going out of the room at end of class to put paper in the paper bin." I spit this with enough venom in my voice to not be noticeable, but I'm shaking as I sit back down. There have been reports of her verbally abusing students, but no grabbing them, until my last friend, Charlie, was in PE. We wear our bibs like superhero capes sometimes. It's fun, and the teachers have had no issue with it. Until Mrs/Ms L is subbing for our teacher. Badminton. Not ideal, but fun all the same. I'm with Charlie, Alyssa, and Liam (My bf :3). Not a bad team at all! We're the green bibs. Mrs/Ms L suddenly storms up and pushes through us as we're talking to Charlie. My heart sinks. Forcefully, Charlie is grabbed by his collarbone area. "PUT YOUR BIB THE RIGHT WAY!" she howls, and I snarl lowly. "Hey! Get off him! Let go of him! You can't touch students!" I yelp, and push my way to him, and I stand in front of Charlie. She backs off, with me hurling legal phrases after her. I made an appointment with the Dean, but I haven't had the chance yet. It's been 2 months, and to be quite honest, when I had music with her, I was scared. Scared that I'd lose control and physically defend my friends and classmates. I hate injustice, and she's gotten away with too much for me to be comfortable around her. I feel like.... one day, she's gonna seriously injure me or my friends. And I won't be able to help. Yes, I am afraid. I don't know what to do, to be honest. The school could just kick me out for being a 'troublemaker'. But I'm scared, and I want some help.

#rant #stuff #school

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nowimthevillain · 6 years ago

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Super long and fucked up dream but honestly it played out like an awesome movie (in my head)

For some reason I was having a retirement party? I’m not that old? But still this badass black chief of police guy came to my party we must have been friends or colleagues or something and he wished me a good party and a good thereafter... anyway...

So I was at like a school a couple of my work friends and for some reason Sam and dean from supernatural attended with me and we were just going to classes and stuff normal school til one day I heard rumours that people were disappearing without a trace but no one seemed bothered about it.

One day I heard a struggle in a broom closet and I went in to find someone in a human sized bag filled with transparent red liquid on a gourney he looked like he was drowning in the liquid so my instinct was too try and get him out but someone came and pushed me aside and shouted he’s fine and wheeled him away when I stood back up and looked for the person he was gone

I was in a class later that day and dean came to me and told me he couldn’t find Sam and that he thinks he had been kidnapped and I told him about the bag of red liquid, dean decided that he would get himself caught so he could find out what was going on from the inside, I told him he was insane and the last guy I saw looked like he was drowning and he told me he had to for Sam so we snooped around and found one of these bags, dean fell asleep first and then we activated the bag and it filled with the liquid, it didn’t look like he was drowning though which put me at ease somewhat.

The guy that came to pick up the first bag arrived me and another friend stopped him we asked him where they were going and why and who was doing all this he said he couldn’t say and he looked scared we sat and talked to him about other things to try and make friends with him but eventually he got up and took the bag with dean and another one away we tried to follow him but he ran

We ran down the corridors trying to follow, again no one else seemed to care or even notice we got to a stairwell that me and my one friend stopped in time but another (not noticing there was no railings) fell off the edge and fell down a floor or two and screamed in pain, we ran down the stairs to go help her I asked if she was ok and she said she was fine but her ankle was fucked up so I carried her to a nearby bench in what would have been a school playground type place we were sitting talking about what can we do people are being snatched and no one knows why or cares there were 3 celebritiy singers sat behind us on another bench for some reason (yeah this bit was weird) and they were just providing backing vocals for our conversation we we started singing with them a little bit for fun...

Anyway back to the story... I left my friend resting on the bench she said she would catch up when her ankle felt better I know I needed to find the guy that kidnaps the people! I searched for ages until I find him and talk to him a little I ask him don’t you think this is wrong why are you doing this and he ran from me again, I caught him and I said please I’m scared for these people even if you think this is just 10% wrong please I beg you you have to tell me what’s going on, the fear drained from his eyes and he looked determined, keeping eye contact with me he pulled the fire alarm and took me to the science department.

By this point I knew I needed information and the science department it were it would be, as I walked through the halls and classrooms students were getting leery throwing papers flipping desks one even smashed a fish tank, I walked into a specific class room, must have been where the guy left the kidnapped people some students had set a few small fires and trashed the room I walked through and felt like a complete bad bitch, somehow me walking with intent had drawn a crowd ready to help me deal with whatever was going on, I found some information in the back room of the classroom about a secret facility right here in the school I collected some heavy things like wrenches and other tools in a bag incase it got ugly and so we marched up to the front door

It was pure white to look at from the outside with a glass panel to see the inside of the lab but really all you could see was some machinery and blue and red lights, the sliding door was locked and next to several panels, there was an option for new recruits I had to press a button to get a pill that had instructions on how to insert a tracker under my skin I some how managed to avoid doing that but there was more to it there was another capsule that had a code in that I had to input on a screen but the screen was really slow and the numbers kept fucking up when I put them in, luckily it eventually accepted it I had to give my finger prints to the screen too and put in yet another code and answer some questions, a memeber of my crowd decided to give me a bro so we could play the “we are cleaners” role a notion that slightly confused and amused me, I however decided I would be scholarly and ask questions as to what was going on before getting down to business, when the door finally opened I had to step through into a disinfectant chamber but I held the door which allowed the rest of my group to enter behind me and brute force through the other door, they all split off in different directions as to let me do my thing, the scientist on the way in looked taken aback to see so many people but not concerned she put out her hand to take my bag stating they don’t allow them inside but I just continued to walk with intent and ignored her...

This is where is starts to get fucked up and gory so if you don’t like that stuff maybe stop reading

As I furthered Into the room I saw vats of a translucent brown/green liquid that had red dancing on the top in most cases there was surgical equipment and medical machines surrounding them, I walked to the first one and to my horror I saw what appeared to be some type of wild boars inside only they looked very much in pain, bits of flesh skin and muscle exposed tusks removed, I asked the scientist near by might you tell me what’s going on here? She told me that they were improving that animal, that this species was endangered and they were changing it to make it better but also to remove the poison glands it had, apparently this species of boar was capable of spitting acid and in knowing humans, the wretched things looked barely conscious there was one sitting on the floor that looked more ill than had ever seen any creature in my life, it squealed and lurched for me as I walked by, it scared me a fair bit but I moved on to the next tank.

A giraffe! A whole giraffe in a tank again it looked tranquilised and still in a lot of pain, flesh on its long neck exposed and weeping it almost made me cry how anyone could do such a thing to such a creature, I asked the scientist next to this tank what was going on but I was too numb to hear what she had said... that is until I notice what’s next, body parts

Human body parts in a giant iced cooling rack organs still pumping and convulsing but other things eyes, hands, feet even penis’

A short Indian woman approached me she appeared to be the head of the facility, “it’s quite an amazing collection wouldn’t you say” I told her it’s absolutely sick and vile she claimed there was no price to high for science, I look to the other side of the room and see people suspended in red liquid not unlike in the matrix, there are also dozens more tanks and pieces of human anatomy on show I see some human heads the the head scientist claims are models but I’m not so sure, I take a look at the other scientists in the room the vast majority are students at the school, I address the head scientist first followed by everyone else in the room, “how could you do this aren’t you disgusted by what you’ve done?” No one seemed particularly phased but I asked these people are your family and friends someone piped up to tell me the people they were experimenting on were nobodies, they didn’t know what the head scientist had orchestrated my group threw back a curtain and revealed the people they had stolen from the school some where shocked that they were in fact friends and family, as I was looking around to see the shocked and not so shocked faces I saw a large machine, it was throwing animals into it alive I asked what it was and o was told it was a harvester, the other side of the machine on a conveyer hearts, lungs, livers etc were being produced from the machine, I asked so you experement on animals then harvest them? I was told no the harvested animals are fresh and untampered with they then use the organs on the experimented animals to keep them alive, I was furious they were killing other animals to keep theirs experiments alive and in pain, I told the head she had to pay

She whipped out an extending stick and launched herself at Me I moved out the way and quickly collected a wrench from my bag, I kicked the bag over to my brother that had joined my group earlier so he could retreave a weapon, the other people in my group started to revolt and smash the lab up and some of the scientists fought back! The other scientists huddled around the edges of the room. Me and the head scientist got a few hits in on each other before I finally got her to the ground I used the wrench to hold her to the floor by her neck threatening to choke her to death if she tried anything I asked her questions how and why etc (I can’t actually remember what she said but I think it basically boiled down to money) and science is the greater good and there has to be sacrifices to advance, she somehow got free from me and was about to attack me again when the lights for the whole place went out and someone burst through the door and screamed get down in the ground! The silhouetted person was carrying a huge machete type blade, everyone hit the floor including me and the head scientist, though I heard my brother climb into a clean tank of water behind us, the head scientist was right infront of me, the silhouette shouted if anyone moves there are going to die, it shortly walked past me and I saw my chance, I kicked the head scientist Into the path of the silhouette and he struck her across the top of the head, the silhouetted man when to flip the switch on the breaker and turn the lights back on, when they came back on the head scientist was gone and the silhouetted man revealed to be the police chief guy from the bringing of the story he gave me his hand and pulled me up from the floor and asked it I was ok and told me they never would have found the place without my help

Some people were being arrested and some comforted, a lot of the scientists resented me because they were now out of a job but I just kept thinking how could the resent me for stopping this when they have been comiting such heinous deeds, the police chief called me over to the clean tank as my brother popped up and said is this an experiment should I put him out fo his misery and he aimed a gun and him and I said nooo wait that’s my brother the chief said fine and he got out shortly after another figure rose from the water! It was the head scientist bleeding profusely from the head wound, the chief said what about this one to which I said yeah out that one out of its misery to which she had half a second to say “no wait I-“ before the officer shot his gun, it was a regular hand gun but the bullet seem to transform into a large harpoon in the air and absolutely decimated the head scientists head which smashed into hundreds of pieces, I smirked and some bad ass music started playing and credits rolled like the end of a movie

—————————

Defo one of the more strange and in-depth dreams I’ve had, no idea where that came from but it was both weird scary and awesome, I just wish I could have painted a better picture of the visuals of the dream if I was an artist I would storyboard the shit out of this lmao but yeah it was interesting and if you read this and think I’m a freak it’s because I am one

#dreamlog #dreams #creppy #gore #CW #fucked up mind #me #personal

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nashvilletonihon · 6 years ago

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To Stay Or Not To Stay...That Is The Million Dollar Question.

I’m currently sitting at my desk in the Kumihama teacher’s room. It’s Finals Week here so everyone is buzzing around and it sounds like a busy hive of bees. The students already look broken, defeated, tired. It’s been a long couple of weeks for me so I can only imagine what it’s been like for them.

I’m honestly not sure where October and November went. I remember being glad that September was over the minute it became October 1st and then suddenly I was celebrating Halloween with my ESS Club students and then it was November 1st. Now it’s 1 day away from my birthday (which I haven’t even thought about) and then it will be December 1st.

What. Is. Happening???

When I first arrived here I thought time had literally stopped. I was stuck in an endless loop of being unhappy, lonely and sad I was drowning in my own misery. Fast forward to now. November 29th. In two short months I will have to give the JET Program and my contracting schools an answer to the question of whether or not I would like to re-contract. If I say yes, my schools will then have to decide whether or not they want to extend my contract for another year. If they do, I’d be working for them again during another trip around the sun. If they don’t...well, the decision to stay or go will have been made for me.

I’ve talked to my mom and a few close friends about my decision to potentially live in Japan for another year or to move back to the States. My mother encouraged me to make a Pros and Cons list. (Something I’ve always done when faced with major, life-changing decisions.) It’s currently taped to the back of my bedroom door and at the moment, both sides are neck and neck. Neither the Pros nor the Cons have advanced past the other. Hurray for me right? How does a list like that help when they’re dead even?!

I think about what my life would be like in both scenarios. If I stay for another year I can continue to work toward my (absolutely insane) goal of eventually taking the JLPT N2. It’s an incredibly difficult test for non-native speakers that requires A LOT of work to pass. One of my friends and fellow JET’s is getting ready to take it this Sunday. She studied Japanese for four years in college AND studied abroad here and even she’s worried passing it. I wonder if I could accomplish my goal in another year and a half. If I worked my a** off, I bet I could. I at least want to take and pass the N3. (Which I’m pretty sure I can do.) That being said, if I pass the N2 I could get a job as a translator or interpreter which is something I would really enjoy doing. I could translate anime or manga or work for the government or tourism board in cities like Los Angeles, New York, Chicago, Seattle, etc... Living in Japan for another year would allow me to continue to be exposed to native speakers and Japanese every single day. The minute I move back to America I no longer have that luxury. Even though I’ve only been here for 4 months my comprehension and understanding has grown exponentially. I would be jeopardizing all of the hard work I’ve put in up ‘til now.

A major Con of continuing to live in Japan is being away from my family and friends for another year. I video chat with my momma every single day and it always pains me to have to talk to her through a phone screen. I miss being able to hop in my car and drive the 2 1/2 hours to Indiana to see her whenever I wanted. Now we constantly have to coordinate when we both have free time to talk. Being 15 hours ahead of her in the States (thaaaaanks Daylight Savings) makes things difficult, but we manage. I miss her hugs. I also struggle a lot with the fact that I am losing out on valuable time with my grandparents. I know they won’t be around forever and the guilt associated with being over here while they continue grow older is more than I can put into words. I know my family is proud of me for following my dreams but that doesn’t make being over here any easier.

Another Con (or Pro depending on how you look at it) is that I have ZERO job prospects moving back to America. Absolutely nothing. In theory I could pick up over hire work in theatre at TPAC, Nash Rep, Studio Tenn or advertise myself as a costume designer (a position I have long had a love/hate relationship with) but to be completely honest, none of that sounds very appealing right now. I’m tired of living paycheck to paycheck and constantly being worried about if I’ll be able to afford rent (we all know how ridiculous it is to live in Nashville now) or make my car payment. Yeah, yeah I know. ‘’That’s what being involved in the arts is all about! You have to suffer for it!’’ Whoever thought that was a good excuse for people to live a stressful, poor lifestyle just so they can follow their passion can shove it. It’s ridiculous we even have to do that in the first place. Yes, I want to act. Yes, it’s my everything. Yes, it’s what I am good at. But I don’t want to constantly have to struggle when I could work toward a job that I can make good money doing while ALSO acting. Is that me selling out to have a secure day job and moonlight as an actor? Maybe. I’ll be 29 on Friday. If I stay another year in Japan I’ll turn 30 here. It’s hard to believe I’m so close to being out of my twenties already. While I feel the proverbial clock ticking when it comes to the stereotypical “old actress” trope, I have to remind myself that most well-known actors didn’t even get started until their mid-30′s. I’ve got time. And being bilingual will look really cool on my resumé.

So what’s another Pro about continuing to live in Japan? Saving more money, yo. Being here for another year means more savings in the bank. It’s a pretty simple concept that would allow me to not freak out about finances when I finally move back to the States. As someone who had an incredible amount of financial stability when I lived in Los Angeles to being left with nothing after I moved to Nashville, financial stability is now incredibly important to me. (I can hear my father slow clapping from 11,000 miles away.) I’m not one for caring about money (never have been) but if I could keep adding to the savings account while also working toward a career that would help me in the long run, I’ll take that option time and time again.

Another Pro I often think about is how many more people can come to visit Japan while I’m here. My Mom, sister (Elizabeth) and friends Taylor and Erica are all coming out to visit me in the months of February and March. If I’m here for another year, even MORE people can come on out to see what this crazy magical country is all about. I think that’s pretty dang cool and am 100% encouraging everyone I know to start looking at flights now. I mean, you’ve got a personal tour guide AND a place to stay!!! What more could you need/want?!

All in all I have quite a few Pros and Cons on the list. Some of the Cons are dependent on whether or not I can somehow change them into Pros. One example would be the immense distaste I have for my base school. I am there every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Out of those three days I might be fortunate enough to attend (not teach, mind you) 2 classes, possibly 3. Classes are 50 minutes each if we don’t have a special shortened schedule. So out of 3, 8 hour work days, I am maybe seeing the inside of a classroom for less than 3 hours each week. Compare that to my visit school where I am there on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I have 3 or 4 and sometimes 5 classes a day. I am waaaaay happier at my visit school. I found out that I can talk to my scheduling supervisors to potentially get my schedule switched so that my visit school becomes my base school and my base school becomes my visit school. This would drastically improve my outlook on the situation as a whole. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy the other teachers at my base school (even though I don’t really talk to many of them and vice versa) and they’re all incredibly nice people. I just seem to click better with the teachers at my visit school.

Throughout all of the anxiety, worrying, stressing out and continual ‘’Should I or shouldn’t I’s’’, I have to keep telling myself that ultimately, it’s my decision and mine alone. Will it affect the people close to me? Oh, without a doubt. I know my family will hate to have me away for another year. I run the risk of being forgotten in the Nashville theatre and losing another year of shows. I already feel like my career was just beginning to take off and the desire to follow through with that is one of the strongest pulls back home yet. And then again...I have this intense desire to learn Japanese. REALLY learn it. I want to communicate with my friends, co-workers and the people who have helped to make the adjustment to life in Japan a little bit easier. I want to help Americans visit Japan and not be scared to do so because of the language barrier. Trust me when I say that the the people here are more scared to use English than you are to use Japanese.

I have a lot to think about over the next 2 months, but if I’m being completely honest (and I try to be on here), I am about 90% sure I will stay for another year. I don’t think my work in Japan is done yet. I think I can help more students, engage more cultural exchanges, help the current JTE’s teach their classes more efficiently and help infuse fun ways of learning into the mundane textbook lessons. I want to start a pen-pal exchange with the girls in my English Speaking Society Club with students from my aunt’s high school in Indiana. There is so much I want to do...and 8 more months just isn’t enough time to do it all.

Before I end this, it’s important to me that I thank the countless people, both family members and friends, who have listened to my doubts, fears, concerns and indecision about all of this over the past month. Your unwavering support and constant encouragement mean so much to me. I honestly wouldn’t still be here without your love and kindness. I am truly, truly grateful to have each and every one of you in my life, both here and abroad. Y’all the real MVP’s.

I’m sorry there aren’t any photos in this post. I’m heading to Kyoto City tomorrow for a Skills Conference and will be there all weekend. I’m going sightseeing and Christmas shopping and will be taking lots of photos so I will have plenty to write about come next week. On that note I will wrap this up and say goodbye for now. I keep telling myself I’ll be better at updating and posting and I swear I will start now. Thanks for always being patient with me!!

じゃあまた (See you!)

- レイチェル (Rachel)

#japan #jet program #travel #lifeabroad #decisions

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dressedupkiss · 4 years ago

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100 days!!!!!

Until March 1! Then 20 days til spring!

It will be warm in a set group of time. And I will be in my sunny desert heat by the river in the sand and loving the nature and the trees and rocks and twigs and leaves

I had a great dream last night where the universe gifted me with desert love and laughter and reminded me I am a spiritual hero on earth here and I have a vivid and beautiful inspiring life of freedom and accomplishment and self improvement and elation and although I don’t like war it is still crucial for us to be our cool selves here on earth. I am always into the desert and I am a soldier with Zachary and we inspire the dead to inspire the living with hope and fulfillment and joy,

I worked hard the last ten years to build up my mood and the overall vibe of earth, I feel very much myself with the desert and the hilarious yellow lizards and the flowers and the sand. I feel like myself today. Strong and powerful with my sunshine. I woke up at 6am and it’s now almost 8am and the sun is coming up but it’s still dawn and I can’t wait for the sunbeams of beauty to wash over me in an hour or so and I will dream of the desert and be in love.

I lifted some weights this morning, I was told by a new friend to do powerlifting for gains so I’m trying to find some heavier weights somewhere. I’m really feeling the motivation and energy to exercise a lot these days, I’m still in comfy tummy mode but I’m gonna get big muscles and work out lots in the next few months and definitely make myself proud.

I need to get a leisure card so I’m gonna do that soon and go to the field house to work out. I’m also gonna lift weights at home and go on walks sometimes. It’s cold but the 1.5 hours of walking I did yesterday gave me gorgeous dreams last night so I must go on more walks.

I feel happy and content and aware. The desert love vibe in my life is back and my life feels like normal. I wish I hadn’t slept last summer away, I wish I would have went out in the blazing sun more. I was depressed and lonely. I stayed inside a lot. But now I’m awake and happy and with myself. I was sent a song “go for yourself” it was a groovy pump up black guy song and it really reminds me to live for myself and not care about anything anyone else is doing. Cuz everyone has their own life, I don’t know anyone right now that doesn’t bore me to some degree so I’ll live for myself these years and find people who don’t bore me.

In my dream I met a girl who loves the desert too and I woke up longing for her touch. I know there are lots of hot girls out there who would love to be with me. So I’m gonna find her in 100 days by the river. I’m excited for the future.

Thanks life for being so cool in my dreams. I feel really happy today. I might not have a lot of different things to look at in different buildings very often but I do not need distraction to fill me up in life. I will enjoy what I have, for I have everything, and I am given a lot of free things so I am grateful for what I have.

I have a great vibe and outlook on life and I am safe and cautious and I’m not nit picky I am flexible and open with my perceptions, I don’t call something exactly something, I know everything changes and life has its secrets on purpose. We are in a huge world of mystery and beauty and exploration and I am here to bewilder myself and be proud to be alive.

I still don’t have a physical touch to Laura but I feel her significance still. She seems empty and I feel very full. I feel like we had a soul connection but she doesn’t care about it. I feel like she’s an old war friend. I don’t know what to do about this. Maybe one day she will recognize me as a soldier too. She isn’t very respectful and she lets people die without her. I am a hero and a brave warrior and a proud holder of heart, she disappoints me in her lack of bravery. I am much better now though I’ve healed a lot and I don’t need to rush into getting a super big body, I can take my time. I’m lanky and some girls might like my skinny frame better than a big one anyway. I’ll keep active and enjoy my life. No need to stress about gainz.

I wonder what I’ll do today. I really wish it was springtime. I’m over this cold weather. November has one more week in it and then I gotta get thru December, January, February.... March will be okay. But three months of cold is gonna suck balls. I dunno what I’m gonna do without that hot sun. I hope there are lots of sunny days in the next three months. I’m definitely missing it hardcore. I need my desert. I’m craving the heat.

December January February the most boring months. What can I do to get warmer. I’m looking for summers heat everywhere but it is cold and snowy. I wish I could fly to a desert.

I will visit many deserts some days. I must.

100 days til March 1. Almost there.... almost there.... it wont be long... just one hundred days.... fuuuuckkkk

I wonder when I will actually get fucked by a hot girl. I’m turning 28 in spring and I haven’t actually had good sex yet. I feel like my energy dick needed growing by masturbating so I can be ready for good sex in the future. My body is definitely full of life and energy and I have a lot to give someone beautiful. I can’t wait to share in love for the desert with some cool girl. Looking forward to meeting cool people.

I wonder where I will meet her.... when... how.... could be on a walk this winter! Could be by the river in spring! I dunno?

I’m too cold to think of anything right now

I wish it was the desert over here

I miss the home of heat

Sunrise is happening

I’m gonna snuggle in bed

One day I will work out hardcore and sweat

Right now I’m still taking er prettt easy

$100 for a week for food. Cool.

Bless on maties

I shall be back

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hellosensitivity · 4 years ago

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‘i don’t know it just is’, selfishness and regret

Oct 5th, 2020

2006 was when we first engaged contact. Both, freshman in High School. Every interaction would begin with a playful punch to the arm. When I least expected it, you would be sure to put a little extra “umpf” into the punch. There were definitely times where it would hurt, but maybe “love is pain” (cue: “BIGBANG - Lies”, legendary song btw). Neither of us minded it. If anything, it always brought a smile to our face. It was one of the things I looked forward to the most during school days, within the ~11 minute gap in between our six class periods days. I didn’t think much of it at the time besides cherish the moment. This went on for a good ~2 years. You had a boyfriend at the time. I had a crush on another girl on the Badminton team we were on. Since she was the best girl player on the team, I spent A LOT of time improving my Badminton game so I could be the best guy player to impress her. It was some crazy long-con and oh so naïve idea I had that didn’t get me very far. We went on about our days and continued to grow up.

Around March 2008, was when I first had developed some very real feelings. You had broken up with your boyfriend, but kept calm and carried on.

I liked everything about you. Personality, looks, sense of humor, ambition, dedication, selflessness, the list goes on. In my eyes, you were truly perfect.

I had no idea how to express myself. Somehow, I mustered up the courage to say that “I like you” and she simply said “oh... i didn’t know that”. I asked her if it made her awkward, but she said “no”. She asked the same back and I said “yeah”, but she said “don’t be!”. The exchange ended there. Things continued to be casual.

We would always meetup in between periods, and walk to class together. I would try and throw in nice compliments and say things like “you’re pretty today”.

We would share the same math book because we had the same math class. I would have notecards in as placeholders / to put my notes on. One day, I open my book and see that my notes were drawn all over by her. She drew little cute drawings and so I would write / draw things back with her. It went back and forth for like 3 days since it happened the week before finals.

Going into the Summer break and beginning of our Senior year, was me talking to a lot of close friends about managing all my emotions, reading into the situations, and figuring out what to do.

Fast forward to Spring 2019, and I had asked you if we could turn our friendship into something more. You politely mentioned that you had to wait until college before dating. “No big deal”, I thought. I’ll just wait it out. “Hopefully, we get into the same college”. We continued to be friends and continued add to our list of great memories.

Little did I know, came the breaking point.

Prior to graduation, there were rumors of you and another guy seeing each other. It ended up being true. I couldn’t help but feel led-on and betrayed. It was a huge turning point in my mental well-being. My first real heartbreak even though we weren’t actually dating. Where did it go wrong? Why did this happen to me? Why am I like this? Questions that I thought about for years to come. Rejection was painful.

I started to ignore you, and you took notice. You didn’t have the courage to confront me about it, because you’re not the confrontational type. Eventually, enough of our friends convinced me to talk to you about the entire ordeal because we were both hurting.

We talked. You had told me that I was one of the best guy friends ever, and that you regret making me feel the way I felt. You never intended to break my heart and felt 100% guilty. You hoped that we could become friends again and that we could get passed this, and that you missed me. You said it would be okay if I didn’t agree, and losing me as a friend would become one of the biggest regrets of your life. I decided that, yes, we could rebuild that strong friendship we had again. At the end of that day, we exchanged hugs and smiles.

I lied. The very next day, I was still in utter pain from it all. I continued to ignore you. I felt like you didn’t deserve a friend like me. I didn’t know how to control my emotions and let it consume me. I just wanted to run away as far as I can. I was selfish.

Soon, we graduated and went our separate ways.

Years pass, and there were few occasions where us crossing paths again became very real. I did everything in my power to avoid it.

A lot of my decisions, things that I involved myself in, and where I am at now, were because of what we had gone through. This single series of events shaped me into who I am today. I was desperate for an escape from all this pain. This would continue even til this day, and no end appears to be in sight.

Looking back at it, I was 100% at fault. I was caught in my own emotions and threw away our friendship. Instead of preserving what we had, I left you with regret. I’m sorry.

This sounds like something out of a fairy tale, no joke (or no “cap” if I’m trying to stay with the times). A lot of people say, what happens in High School doesn’t even matter. We’re young and just still figuring it out. But, this is something I held dear to my heart, and has shaped me to be the person who I’ve become the past 10+ years. I feel like I’m paying the price now. My life has been filled with episodes of depression, and anxiety ever since. I deserve it for being such a shitty friend. Knowing you, you’d want me to overcome and get through this. I’m trying my best. It’ll come someday.

I always think about this from time to time, no matter what is going on. I don’t know what it was exactly, but being around you always made me happy. Anytime I ask myself when I was ever the most happiest, it was our friendship. I miss it.

Fast forward to Oct 4th, 2020. I discovered two songs:

eaJ x Seori - It just is (feat. Keshi’s Strat)

CHUNG HA & Christopher - Bad Boy

As I drowned myself in these two songs, I had a flashback of all those good memories we had (it sounds cheesy, I know. But, its the truth). The lyrics from both songs just really hit home. Even though we had a falling out, I still feel like you were one of the most complete and near perfect people I’ve ever met. I don’t think I could ever say anything bad about you, despite how I felt. These two songs remind me of the vivid memories I had of us.

It was around the time where “Wong Fu” was making a name for itself. They had just released “Just a Nice Guy”. This was around the time where we would listen to / share K-Pop music from BIGBANG, Girls Generation, Super Junior, Wonder Girls, Epik High, DBSK, etc, because it was a topic of interest we shared. You also introduced me to the Mando-Pop singer, Rainie Yang, who I still re-visit and listen until this day. I remember watching the Asian dramas: “Why Why Love” and “Boys before Flowers” because you recommended them to me.

I woke up on Oct 5th, 2020 to a Facebook notification about you. Coincidentally, I had taken the day off, and was inspired to write all of this.

Thanks for the great memories, and life experiences.

Sorry for being selfish. Sorry for only thinking of my feelings and not yours.

Sorry for throwing away our friendship.

Sorry for being one of the biggest things you regret losing in life. I regret it too.

Regardless, it’s been ~11 years and you seem to have got life figured out. You’re starting a family and on your way to become very successful in your career. I’m very happy for you.

Here’s to a life long wish of continued happiness to you and everyone you love.

Happy Birthday B.

Sincerely,

a memory.

0 notes

tisfan · 8 years ago

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Stark Truth

Chapter Four of that Tony/Doom fic that nobody asked for and I just can’t seem to stay away from... things are looking grim for our boys...

To Victor goes the Spoils - A Stark Reminder - Doom’s Day Scenario

At least, Tony thought, looking around at the burning city, the Avengers weren’t the only superhero group who regularly made mincemeat out of their surroundings. Hulk was really smashie, and Captain America hadn’t yet decided that opening a door was easier than crashing through the wall, not to mention the number of bad guys who tended to use Iron Man as their own personal wrecking ball.

On the other hand, Johnny Storm was literally burning the place to the ground. Human Torch? More like human dumpster fire. Tony sighed. Fire, like biological weapons, didn’t care who was killed. Tony picked his way carefully through the burning building, getting feedback every few feet to make sure the floor was still stable and the roof wasn’t going to come down on his head.

This was the warehouse that Richards had decided was probably storing Tony’s tech -- not certain what, and an in depth examination of Stark Industries records hadn’t shown anything missing. If the building hadn’t been on fire, Tony would have left it til the battle’s end to start putting pieces together. It bothered him to be letting others go into harm’s way as he examined crates and files, downloaded computer databases, and tried to figure out what Doom was up to.

Which didn’t mean that he wasn’t fighting; the doombots were annoyingly persistant and several dozen of them had followed Iron Man into the building. They were also fairly standard grunt troops and not any of the specialized attack modulars that the Avengers had dealt with before. If Tony didn’t know better, he’d suspect they’d caught Doom entirely by surprise.

He wasn’t sure he did know better, but nothing with Doom had ever been as easy and uncomplicated as he’d believed it should be. So, yeah, probably a trap somewhere lurking under the whole mess.

In one room, Tony discovered a full layout of a superlatively upgraded Doomstahdt. Latveria’s founding, centuries ago, had given it some gorgeous architecture, for like, the 1200’s, but these days, the mud huts and fantastical cathedrals were a little out of date. Modern plumbing was scarce, and while the population was generally better off than some parts of the world, Tony knew families in coal towns with more luxurious homes than middle-class Latverians.

Except Doom seemed to be planning some major upgrades. Skyscrapers towered over the surrounding landscape, modern high-rise apartments, overly generous green public areas, underground power lines. This was going to take billions of dollars, years of work, but when it was finished… Doomstahdt was going to rival such modern cities as Singapore and Taipei.

Mobile readers, there’s a cut here. You can access Tumblr from your browser to read the rest, of check out the whole story on A03

“Guess Light Bright’s doin’ him a favor by speeding up the clearing process,” Tony muttered, leaning against the table to study the layout. At the heart, several meters underground… was a full-sized arc-reactor power source. Self-reliant, clean energy. A warm light for all mankind. Tony felt a peculiar squeeze in his chest.

The underground power generator had some improvements, even to Tony’s model, amplifiers and storage cells. Tony had JARVIS capture some images; this deserved more scrutiny than he had time for right now. At least he knew what Doom had stolen, except really, Stark Industries kept careful track of the arc-reactors. Surely he would know if one of them were missing, if even the components had been illegally salvaged.

Maybe it was theoretical, something Doom was planning, but hadn’t yet acquired. Still, it made Tony nervous; the arc-reactor was a great power source; could be used to anything. To run an entire city, or to power hordes of Doombots. Better check it out. Tony launched himself up to continue a search of the burning building.

Doom watched from the sidelines; enough out of the way that his Doombots would do their job, along with the servo-guards, and others, without drawing attention to himself. He issued commands; keeping a small group of rotating servo-guards to occupy the Fantastic Four, the rest were directed to civilian evacuation and preservation tasks.

Already, Richards and Storm had dropped over several buildings and completely disrupted emergency services in the city. Doom wasn’t even certain what they were here for; Doom had not been involved in anything besides infrastructure in the last several months.

After tearing up several squads of guards, Doom finally stepped out, commanding his guards to act as if he was merely another Doombot, serving for the moment as the Voice of Doom.

“What do you want with Doom?” he demanded, marching up the street to where Richards was involved in disgusting gyrations with half a squad of servo-guards, arms and legs stretched to ridiculous and grotesque lengths.

Richards started yelling about illegal tech and weapons programs. Doom sneered behind his mask.

“Doom has acquired nothing that is not necessary to the comfort of the population of Latveria,” Doom declared, putting his hands on his hips in aggravation. He should have known that he would not be allowed to rebuild his nation.

“You should know that Stark’s tech is watched very closely, Von Doom,” Sue said. She wasn’t visible, not that that was anything new.

“Should we forget, just because Doom rules this nation, that there are half a million people living there who just want good lives? These people, who live in an enforced monarchy, we should just allow Johnny Storm to blow up their city because he’s angry with Doom?” Doom gestured around at the burning city. “Whatever Doom has done in the past, the people of Latveria deserve better!”

“They deserve better than you!” Johnny Storm yelled.

“Perhaps,” Doom said. “But that is not your choice to make. You have come to Latveria on invasion, with no evidence. Doom --” Doom turned. The warehouse was burning. He squinted; a figure in red and gold armor whizzed past one of the windows. Iron Man had been strangely absent during the battle in the city.

Doom narrowed his gaze; the fire was spreading rapidly through the building, racing toward --

Shit. The fuel packets for the arc-reactor. Stable, safe energy, but not when some idiot set it on fire. The explosion would put a crater in the middle of Latveria the size of Sudbury crater. “Fools!”

Doom turned his back on the Fantastic Assholes.

Richards tried to head him off -- literally, stretching his neck so far out to make a loop around Doom’s retreating form -- “This one’s him! Get him, Ben!”

No. Doom did not have time for this nonsense. He tore free of Richards’s grip, moving as fast as he could. Tony could not, could not be in that building when it blew.

Richards grabbed him again.

“Idiot,” Doom growled. “If the core melts down, everyone will die!”

Doom burst into the building. The air snapped, subtle, popping Doom’s ears. Sue Storm had surrounded the entire building in one of her force-shields. Well, at least she wasn't as stupid as Richards. What she saw in that man anyway was more than Doom could understand.

Doom raced to the storage facility; the fire was already thick and even though Sue had contained the building, there was enough oxygen that it wouldn’t go out immediately. The red and gold of Tony’s armor glinted across the room.

One glance was all it took. They were, not to put too fine a point on it, doomed. The core was already burning.

Iron Man gazed into the crate, then snapped his head up to stare at Doom. There was no reading his expression behind that mask. “At least I’ll take you with me,” Tony snarled, the voice modulated by the armor, stripped of nuance.

“No,” Doom said. “I’ll take you with me.”

The core melted. Doom took three steps and crossed the room, weaving his magic behind him. A containment shield for the core, by necessity, stretching to fill the shield Sue had already locked down. The force from the inside was going to be a thousand times that of Hiroshima. Doom flung another, to protect Tony from the heat and sudden lack of oxygen, and then the building went up. Red and yellow flames engulfed everything, like being thrust suddenly into the middle of a volcano. Doom reached, grabbed Iron Man’s hand, and teleported them away.

Tony wasn’t expecting to wake up. One of these days, he was going to be right about that. Something would explode in his face and he’d just not ever wake up from that. God, sometimes he was looking forward to it, because waking up after being exploded always, always sucked.

Sometimes less than others; being blown up in Afghanistan had decidedly been worse.

Tony was flat on his back, but the material under him was relatively soft.

His body ached, but he’d had worse muscle pain after a few days of blackout drinking and partying. Not that he did that as much anymore so he wasn’t used to it.

And there didn’t seem to be anyone else in the room with him. Tony risked it and opened his eyes.

It was decidedly not a hospital, despite the bag of fluids that hung on an IV stand by his bedside. Tony traced the line down to where it fed into the peripheral port in his left hand.

The room was decorated, richly furnished, and the bed Tony was situated on had silk sheets, a rich, glowing gold. The other furnishings, a wardrobe, table, desk and chairs, were all elegant and tasteful, if not necessarily to Tony’s taste, at least to someone’s.

Tony looked down at himself; he was wearing a white linen sleep-shirt of some sort and his wounds had been tended, cleaned and wrapped. He felt sort of shitty, but that was probably a result of battle and being exploded and not the care he’d gotten.

He was, in a word, confused.

Tony scrubbed his right hand over his face and swallowed; his throat was dry and he was thirsty. His hand continued down the side of his chin and then stopped cold. Something encircled his neck like a collar. More exploring proved that entirely right. He was wearing a god damned collar. Like a dog. Like a slave.

Tony got to his feet, heedless of the IV stand, which pulled over and tugged at the site. Tony ripped it free, wincing a little. He pressed his fingers over the bleeding skin and held it down to staunch the flow. There was a mirror over the dresser on the far side of the room and he headed that way, aware of the plush carpet under his feet. What the actual fuck was going on? Where was he?

The mirror threw back his face, a little beat-up, which was normal. Black eye, again.

And a silver and green collar locked around his neck, metal, solid.

Fuck.

The door behind him opened and Tony reached for the first object he could find to use as a weapon. Not that a vanity bench was going to do him lots of good.

The last person he expected to see was in the doorway.

“Rabun!” The vanity stool fell from nerveless fingers and smashed into the floor, breaking into pieces. “What are you doing here?”

Rabun spread his hands, his expression pained. “I live here.”

“You work for Doom.” Tony’s voice was flat. His heart ached in his chest and he could barely breathe. But Rabun would never see that. Stark men are iron.

“I work for Latveria, yes.” Rabun didn’t smile, didn’t try to explain, didn’t say anything. He pulled out a chair from the table and practically fell into it, his whole body screaming dejection.

“You. Work for Doom. You work for the --”

“Do not,” Rabun interrupted, cutting off Tony’s tirade, mid-rant. “I work for Latveria. I work for my home. I cannot change where I was born and I cannot change who I was born to be. I regret that this has come to pass. I did not wish you to find out in this manner.”

Tony should be angry; he knew this, knew it like he knew his own name. He should feel betrayed. Lied to. Deceived. He should hate, with every fiber of his being, the man before him. He didn’t. Watching Rabun stare at the table, his whole body weighed down with grief, Tony could do nothing but ache. “It would put us at risk,” he said, slowly. “If it were known. Have I put you at risk, then?”

“Not just yet,” Rabun said.

“Doom saved my life,” Tony said, again, taking time with his words. There were too many questions, asking them would give away too much. He had to be careful, very careful, here, and lock away his heart. “Why would he do that?”

“For me,” Rabun said.

“He knows? About us?” What us? Was there an us anymore? When he didn’t even know the truth, when everything they’d made together had been built on a carefully constructed lie?

“Doom knows,” Rabun said. “Doom has always known.”

“It was a trap.” That wasn’t a question, but Rabun held out one hand, entreatingly.

“No,” Rabun said. “If Doom had wanted to entrap you, Doom would have used bait.”

Whatever ill-conceived thoughts Tony had harbored fell away. He would have fallen into that trap; he would have done anything, paid any price, if Doom had dangled Rabun in front of him. Tony had never been exactly reasonable when it came to threats against the people he loved. There were so few of them that fell into that category, Tony couldn’t stand to lose any of them.

“He knew, and he did nothing?” That, Tony found a little hard to believe.

“Doom knew. Doom allowed it. So long as it did not interfere with the project. The risk was not from Doom, but Doom’s allies. And enemies. Who would see you, who would see us, as an opportunity to exploit.”

“So, why, then, are you not at risk?”

“The world thinks you’re dead. Richards believed he was mistaken that Doom was in the explosion,” Rabun said. “Doom has made a public statement about the invasion. For once, the world’s outrage is enflamed on Latveria’s behalf.”

“So what happens now?” Tony couldn’t help but raise his hand to the collar that someone -- probably Doom -- had put around his neck.

Rabun winced. “For Doom, for you, for me,” Rabun said, “it would be best if you remained here. Not; I would prefer not as a prisoner.”

“You might as well not sugar-coat it, sweetheart,” Tony said. “If I’m here for the rest of my life without being able to leave, or have anyone know I’m still alive, that’s a prisoner, whether I’m in chains or not.”

If possible, Rabun looked even more despondent. “I know,” he said. “I wish I… that it had not… it’s worthless, my apologies. But you have it. This is not what I wanted for us.”

“Us?”

Rabun turned his head, eyes squeezing shut, his mouth twisting with pain. “I still love you,” he said.

Tony blinked. His eyes burned and his throat ached. “You never said it.”

“My great shame,” Rabun said, “that I could not say it when you would have believed me.”

“Yeah.”

Rabun sat there a while longer and both of them looked away, not able to meet the other’s gaze. Finally, without a word, Rabun stood up and left the room.

Tony could not miss hearing the door lock behind him.

He waited, until he was certain Rabun would not hear him, and then Tony fell to his knees and mourned.

Years of experience, working hand in hand with spies and assassins, had given Tony more abilities than he’d had when he was a prisoner in Afghanistan. He could pick locks; he could subvert enemy robots, he could redirect the security cameras.

He even managed to find tools and get the damn collar off his neck, which was a relief.

What he couldn’t do, however, was actually leave.

Tony arrived on the surface (because of course Von Doom had thrown him in some basement level type dungeon) and stared, aghast, at what had once been an amazing, if primitive, city.

The city was abandoned; half of it burned to ash; smoke poured out of a few basements, the blaze still going hard underground.

The warehouse that Tony had been in was completely gone. In its place was a sphere filled with what looked like a thunderstorm on fire.

“What the hell?”

“A warm light for all mankind,” Doom said, stepping up next to him.

Tony didn’t allow himself to flinch and Doom didn’t… do anything. He just stood there, staring at the orb.

“What happened?” Because even at the worst possible moment, Tony couldn’t help that cat’s curiosity about him, that need to know, followed up by the need to fix.

Doom stood stiffly, hands clasped behind his back. “The arc-reactor core is melting down, constantly recycling, as more and more heat builds up. It is self-sustaining. Each moment, the force of it grows exponentially. Yesterday, it would have wiped out most of the city and surrounding countryside. Today it will flatten Latveria all the way to its borders and somewhat beyond. By tomorrow, half of Eastern Europe. In a week’s time, it’ll crack the planet down to the core.”

“Holy hell,” Tony choked out.

“Indeed.” Doom might have glanced at Tony; it was hard to tell with the mask that hid Doom’s face from the world. His voice, like Tony’s when he was in the armor, was modulated, emotionless. “Surrounding nations have closed their borders. Doom’s people cannot evacuate to a safe distance.”

“How long can the shield hold?” Tony shuddered. The shield was magical, something Tony rather abhorred, but at the moment he was willing to overlook it in the face of not being liquified immediately. All that Rabun had spoken of, earlier, was a lie. Doom had never intended for Tony to live. Or perhaps Rabun had not known.

“Doom does not have enough data to be certain,” Doom said, “but Doom believes that the force will be too great to withstand within ten days. But Doom is planning to release it this day. The fate of Latveria is trivial, compared to the world. It will be remembered as a great disaster.” He tipped his head in Tony’s direction and said with a certain deadpan humor that Tony didn’t know Doom was capable of, “Perhaps they will even call it Doom’s Day, in the history books.”

Tony couldn’t help but choke out a laugh.

“You let me escape,” he said.

“Yes,” Doom said. “All of Doom’s citizens are as far from here as they can get, with orders to storm the borders, if they must. You will join them. Doom will have no more deaths.”

“And you?”

“Doom will remain here,” Doom said. “Perhaps Doom can shunt the force of the blast. If not, Doom will still not abandon his home.”

Tony stared at the orb, calculating furiously. “What day is it?”

Doom gave him the date and Tony added the moon’s current location to his calculations.

“You have a plan,” Doom observed.

“Yeah. As it happens, I’m not in favor of large holes in the planet,” Tony said. “Conditionally.”

“Name it.”

Tony waited until Doom turned and gave Tony his full attention. “I want Rabun Alil. Let him go. Whatever hold you have on him, whatever he means to you, whatever he does for you. I want him to be free.”

“Doom wishes he could do that,” Doom said, and even with the voice modulator, he sounded sincere. “It is not possible.”

“Why not? He’s one man,” Tony demanded. “We’re talking about your entire nation, millions of people in the surrounding countries. What is he to you that you can’t let him live his own life?”

Doom raised his hands to his mask. He touched two studs at the neck and lifted the iron faceplate free. He turned to face Tony, familiar silver hair spilling into his face, the amber eyes sad. “Because he’s me,” Rabun -- no, Victor fucking Von Doom -- said. “And if I ever meant anything to you at all, Tony, please… help me save my people.”

#tony stark x victor von doom #IronDoom #fic #crackship #the author has regrets #but this is not one of them

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the-radio-star · 8 years ago

Text

I rewatched Season 1 of Star Wars Rebels with some Nice Live Reactions

take a look below the cut so that I don’t muck up everyone’s dash. I can promise some good memes if nothing else.

Episode 1: Spark of Rebellion

Ezra's hair wow

Ezra's imperial accent never really improved did it

"who is that kid?" "who are these guys?"

EZRA SENSES KANAN

Tbt to when Kanan only used his blaster

Kanan has so much style as a cowboy Jedi. So cocky. So much swagger. Honestly they were all so much cockier.

Did Sabine just call Kanan "the big guy?". omg.

wow the spectres were so much a ragtag vigilante crew. I forgot this vibe.

THEY SAVED EZRA FROM THE TIE. "YOU WANT A RIDE??" FUCK YEAH YOU DO. THAT RIDE IS GONNA CHANGE YOUR LIFE.

Ah yes. The scene where my OTP took form. The Kanera is strong with this one.

Kinda funny when Zeb says "I'll give you your own room". Yeah, he kinda did in the end. His own.

WHEN KALLUS TAKES OFF HIS HELMET AND HIS FACIAL HAIR IS IN THE SAME SHAPE.

Kallus: "It could signify the spark of rebellion".

OH RIGHT KANAN DIDN'T EVEN CARRY HIS LIGHTSABER BACK THEN. HE HAD IT HIDDEN IN HIS DRAWER IN HIS ROOM

I didn't realize until now that Kanan planted the holocron for Ezra to find. How did I fucking miss that?

"We're a crew, a team. In some ways, a family." AHHHHH

"I'm all for sticking it to the Empire but there's no way I'd stick my neck out this far." Yeah... just wait hahaha. You'll be running to save them in like a scene or two.

a "rare hairless wookie" nice try buddy. also that wookie roar was just really sad lol

"It was a setup!" story of this show.

The introduction of "Jabba the Hutt" is so iconic

I never did understand that weird Kallus shoulder brush.

WAIT Chopper voted to go back for Ezra?!!?! HOW DID I MISS THAT

Ezra is so slick with that "bye guys"

They landed on a destroyer. They. Did. THAT.

"I don't have parents." WELL YOU DO NOW

ngl the wookie animation was a real low point

JEDI MAN IS HERE TO FUCK SHIT UP. YES. AN ICONIC MOMENT. TIME STOPPED. THE MUSIC SWELLED.

Are we gonna talk about the fact the Kallus kicks some guy to his death simply for being a sass master? I feel like that extremely extra moment is overlooked.

We haven't heard from the Wookies since this episode and they said they'd always stand by the rebellion. I wanna see this arc come full circle.

"Hello MTV Cribs! Welcome to my Comm Tower."

Kanan has some pretty kickass eyebrows.

This ending scene overlaid with Kenobi's speech is so telling

woah the grand inquisitor was more of a menace than I remembered. fuck.

Episode 2: Droids in Distress

throwback to when money was a real issue for them. like they had to do odd rebel jobs just to eat.

C3PO AND R2

Garel. I didn't realize they were on this planet before the rebel ships got hidden there in season 2

Minister Tua. RIP. You tried. At least Kallus is trying to finish what you started. Even if he took some pleasure in your destruction lol

Sabine really hams up this "Level 5 student" stuff and I love it

ZEB DOES A SLOW CLAP WHAT

There was an expression at my high school called "tossing bodies" (meaning using crazy sarcasm that simply annihilates your enemies) and I feel like that phrase describes Zeb's life really well. Literally and figuratively.

Kallus was such a force in season 1

C3PO YOU SNITCH

Vizago is such a scumbag but I like his style

This is actually the first time on-screen Hera is seen by Imperials as a confirmed member of the Ghost crew. Weird thought.

FUCK HIM UP ZEB

FUCK HIM UP EZRA

Bail Organa! This episode was full of cameos. Although tbh I thought he'd be much more of a big player later on in the show. Right now, it's mostly Sato and Mon Mothma doing the heavy lifting. IMHO.

Episode 3: Fighter Flight

yung Ezra used to not even be able to force lift a bowl. nerd.

I'm watching this right after I watched Twin Suns (which aired today) and I can't get over how smol Ezra looks after watching that episode

Hera's having none of their tomfoolery

MEILOORUNS I REMEMBER THOSE

Mr. Suma. RIP my dude

When Ezra realizes he got memed by Hera>>>>>>

I can't believe Zeb King Kong's the TIE

The facial expressions in this episode were honestly top-notch. Literally any gif of Zeb and Ezra's expressions while flying the TIE could be a reaction gif

HERA AND KANAN CALLED THEM "THE KIDS"

"Yeah...um... westoleaTIEfighter"

Commander Meiloorun's first appearance!

Stormtrooper: "You did all this, for FRUIT?" Ezra:

What would you do for a Klondike bar meiloorun?

AHH Zeb got a helmet for Ezra!

Can we compile a list of all the different insults they have for Chopper?

Lol when we thought this TIE was going to be just a filler

Episode 4: Rise of the Old Masters

this was the first "oh shit" episode. i clearly remember that

Why is there just a random box on the roof? Just curious. I'm confused. Never figured that out.

Don't trust Ezra with a lightsaber. "You'll put your eye out kid!"

This whole scene is like when my parents tried to teach me to play softball

GALL TRAYVIS. FUCK YOU.

"Base Delta Zero". Is that ever going to happen? It was hinted heavily in season 1. Remember when we thought Lothal was going to get murked?

Ezra you IDIOT

Lol I forgot what an ass Ezra used to be

God even from the start their plans never went...well... to plan

Lol @ the creatures who are trying to fuck with the Phantom. Pun intended.

Even after 3 seasons, I'd wager that this episode was one of the darkest ones we've had

NUT. IT'S MY BOY GRAND INquIZZY

Kanan really couldn't fight for shit with this guy

Ezra don't even play with that slingshot you fool. It's like trying to take a rhino down with pingpong balls.

Jeez this guy was real scary. Like damn. I forgot what a strain he was on Ezra and Kanan

tbt to when "the fleet" was just a bunch of horny alien bats

what a pure ending for such a murdersode.

Episode 5: Breaking Ranks

I kind of forgot that this happened the episode after the Inquisitor first met Kanan and Ezra. Now it makes sense why Kanan was so worried, besides the fact that Ezra was on a solo mission.

I remember when I first saw the preview for this I thought Ezra was going to be a traitor.

Damn that's a kinda shitty paint job on Chopper. Glad they got better over time.

"Oh ya, you'd make quite a cadet."

Throwback to when going into Kallus' office was a huge operation. And in season 3 Ezra is in Thrawn's like it's another Tuesday.

Get fucked Jai

"Podracer parts" nice try

HOOOO BOY IT'S THE INQUISATA

Jai just listen to them goshdamn "If there is an Inquisitor" my ass

Chopper and Ezra y'all ain't slick

Damn that slide across the back of the landspeeder was slick though

HOLY SHIT THE INQUISITOR KNOWS/REMEMBERS EZRA LOL

"Let's take a walk, shall we?"

Episode 6: Out of Darkness

Sabine does have a point. She does deserve to know where this "intel" is coming from.

Fulcrum Fulcrum Fulcrum. GEE WHIZ I WONDER WHO THAT IS. AHSOKA? IT CAN'T POSSIBLY BE! I BET IT'S BAIL. OR DARTH VADAR. OR OBI-WAN.

The Ezra vs Zeb vs Chopper wars were iconic

THERE's A SYMBOL ON THE BOX. I BET IT'S JAR JAR. IT LOOKS LIKE HIS LEGS. AHHHHHHHH

The squad is in town lol

Zeb's just trying to enjoy is space music and waffles! Let him be!

Oh heck those are some nice explosions

Oh heck here comes the Ghost waddup

Once again Ezra almost dies because he doesn't know when to get back to the damn ship

"There's a lot you don't know about my ship." ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

It's easy to forget how alone they really were in the first season. No fleet to fall back on and hardly any allies.

Episode 7: Empire Day

That Loth Cat used to be my icon on theforce.net forums

Oh shit wait it's Ezra's birthday hahaha what sucky timing. Happy birthday, your parents are missing, it's Empire Day, and you're going to fight some Inquisitor later and nearly die in a cave.

Ugh throwback to when the squad could just go places without anyone recognizing them.

Tseebo! My boi

Tbh the real hero of this episode was the bartender who sassed the imperials

FUCK YOU GALL TRAYVIS

When the Empire Day imperial march comes on

WHEN EZRA PRETENDS KANAN IS HIS DRUNK DAD

Oh fuck it's the Inquisitoriaiaia

Damn the Bridger's were cool people. I wish Disney published a book or something.

What was the 5 year plan? Did we miss that? Cause 5 years is coming up fast.

Fast And Furious: Lothal Drift

After watching Kallus in season 1 it's amazing to think of the path that leads him to help the rebels

Episode 8: Gathering Forces

Tseebo spill the beans already like "You're parents are dead get fucked Bridger"

The Inquisitor's face is so chiseled like damn

"The Imperials can't follow us through hyperspace" yeah just wait til season 2 when they PULL YOU OUT OF hyperspace

My friends are currently playing "Never Gonna Hit Those Notes" in the background and so I'm cackling through what's suppose to be a serious scene. Try it. It's an amazing combo.

I feel like pulling out of hyperspace looks like what it's like to be on acid

Below is actual footage of this scene

Both Kanan and Vader have called Ezra "braver than most"

I've heard that clip of Fulcrum so many times when we were trying to analyze it. It's like ingrained in me now.

Hera never did tell Ezra about his parents though. Just saying.

The Inquisibabe really knows how to make an entrance. Also his chuckles make me feel uncomfy.

Kanan's come a damn long way in terms of fighting

Inquisitor talks about everyone dying or leaving and everything he hoped for will be lost and that's how the story will end for Ezra. I mean, that could still happen. Just saying. How yikes if this baddie from season 1 was right.

Another pure ending to a mudersode.

Episode 9: Path of the Jedi

Ok so this version of the episode has that intro with Ezra from the first season the "you passed the first test!" bit. I completely forgot that was a thing.

Said it before and I'll say it again: I miss Lothal. Never thought that would happen.

"Dead guys are distracting." Same.

This episode was so fucking trippy holy shit I remember now

"Nothing personal kid" fuck hahaha

When Kanan heard Yoda's voice

My friend is watching over my shoulder and she pointed out Ezra's blue hair lol

"I know what's in there... the past" u drama queen u

no to be that guy but throwforward to when Vader trashes the saber hahaha

Episode 10: Idiot’s Array

WAIT THIS IS THE PUFFERPIG EPISODE

IT IS IT IS

fuck it's Azmorigan what a twat

oh god all of this “trading Hera” stuff was so awkward

FUCK HIM UP

When Hera slams Lando where the sun don't shine

Damn Chopper really does come through on the regular. Good droid

Hahaha they both played each other`

This was a very chill episode before things got bad.

Episode 11: Vision of Hope

Ugh FUCK GALL TRAYVIS

Ezra is such a Gall Trayvis fanboy

If I was in Star Wars I'd like to have a pirate radio station. Like what a sweet gig

What happened to Zare after this? He's a good kid. I hope he's doing well.

Agent Kallus' office needs some more decoration. Like some Ikea sofas or something.

I just saw Logan in theaters before coming back and watching this episode and it took me a bit to remember that guns can actually do damage to someone

"Padawan Jabba"

Trayvis is real weaksauce

10/10 would fight him again

The ending of the episode is funny because it's so hopeful and uplifting and "things will get better" and instead next episode things get 10x worse lol

Episode 12: Call to Action

This episode actually made me hurt. I remember I watched it the day it dropped on the app and I was a snow day and it was six in the morning and I was SHOOK

Ugh Tarkin's contour game is so strong

My roommate saw Tarkin and said he looks like Christopher Walken

Ok so I had to pause this episode 2 minutes in because we went to a party and things got a little lit but I'm deterimened to finsh these episdoes. ONWARD. SAVE THE REBELLION SAVE THE DREAM.

FUCK GALL TRAYVIS

"Something the Empire never says: The Truth" lol alternative facts

When the Inquisitor steps behind those guys in the Tarkin meeting that's when you know they fucked

In memorium for those two imperails that got beheaded I forget their names but I miss there smiling faces already

My Roommate (on Ezra): I hate his hair! It' looks like it's alive.

"Let's be optmistic!" yeah ok good luck with that buddy

"You can have it fast or you can have it good." that's what... nevermidn

oh damn i din't realize they got the radio thing from Ezra's house

The sacrfice speech was some heavy handed foreshadowing like MAJOR AHHHHH

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

"I'll be RIGHT BEHIND YOU"

INQUISINUT is hHERE

THIS WHOLE SEQUENCE IS JUST AHHH

FUCK HE'S CAUGHT

yup this episode destroyed the fandom I remember this the whole morning after it aired it was like

Hera's faCE WHEN SHE LEAVES KANAN BEHIND FUCK

THIS SPEECH AHHH VIVA LA REVOLUCION

The ending title card with just the static and no music was so unsettling when I first watched this episode

#BringHimHome

Episode 13: Rebel Resolve

Why are we stealing this walker again?

Rogue Walker: A Star Wars Story

Oh right they needed to find where Kanan was

FULCRUM! I BET IT'S SNOKE

Ugh this was all such a sucky situation for them

Looks like the kids are at it again

Tarkin when Kanan is screaming in pain:

Oh gosh Ezra's bow is embarrassing

Ooop Hera is PISSEd

This is the first time Ezra started taking more charge with the Ghost crew and me gusta

Now THAT is a Chopper paint job to be proud of

Unrelated but my roommate and s/o are like cuddling and bein all cute and I'm just here in a corner watching Star Wars Rebels and I feel like that represents my life really well

I can't believe Chopper just pushed-- wait no I completely can

MUSTAFAR more like MUSTAFUCKED am I right??

Episode 14: Fire Across the Galaxy

Last one! I can't believe I managed to pull this off

What a lovely explosion

I just dabbed on the title sequence

RETURN OF THE DEAD-TIE

Mustafar is the same color of a particularly nasty shit I once had

This whole scene with the Inquisitor and Kanan was just y i k e s and o u c h

HERE COMES THE TEAM

They really managed to cram a lot into 22 minutes like nice job

OH FUCK IT'S THE INQUISHITOR

GET FUCKED EZRA BRIDGER.

Lol I actually thought he might be seriously injured the first time I saw this

The Inquisitor's smile with the teeth looks straight out of a Colgate commercial

Kanan's lightsaber game is SO ON TOP

Damn Ezra those scars

I DABBED LIKE SIX TIMES WHEN THE INquiSITOR DID THAT OH-SO-GRACEFUL FALL

HERE COMES THE REBEL SQUAD 2.0

MEGA NUT

THE HUG. OH THE HUG

I REMEMBER I WAS SO HYPED WHEN ALL THIS HAPPENED THE FIRST TIME. LIKE MY BROTHER'S STREAM IN THE OTHER ROOM WAS A FEW SECONDS BEHIND AND WHEN wait

"THE PROTOCAL HAS CHANGED!!!!!"

AHHHHHHHHHHh

Anyways his stream was a few seconds behind and so like our yelps of joy were like 4 seconds apart and it was great

I know Ezra's matured a lot but whenever I see him around important folks all I can think of is

oh shit here comes dat boi

#star wars rebels #season 1 #how do i even tag this #reactions #don't sue me fine bros #what novel ideas rebels reacts

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