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marleyrose17 · 4 years ago

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Almost Paradise ( Owen Patrick Joyner Fic )

Hey everyone! This story is gonna be a Owen Patrick Joyner story and I will be pairing the reader with Owen, so I’ll put Y/N anytime the main character is mentioned or is talking. This is my first story since high school so please bear with me as the writing will slowly become better the more I write. I hope all you fellow Owen simps like myself like this story. FYI this story takes place if COVID 19 never existed. Please check out my best friend Sydney ( @imsydneywalker) for cute Charlie Fics. Love Yall.

Summary: Y/N just turned 22 and decided to make a spontaneous trip to L.A California USA from Dieppe,New Brunswick, Canada to visit her best friend Charlie Gillespie for her 22nd birthday present to herself. He doesn’t know she’s coming, hence the surprise. But little does she know would she get a little surprise of her own on her way to America.

Chapter 1: Someday

House outfit: https://urstyle.fashion/styles/2814065

*Week before Reader’s birthday* 2021

Y/N’s thoughts: It has been forever since I’ve last seen my best friend Charles Jeffrey Gillespie or how I like to call him Arlo *as I hold onto the necklace he gave me for my 15th birthday*. Weird nickname I know, but I’ve been calling him that since kindergarten and I’m not changing it. It’s almost my 22nd birthday so I felt like I should treat myself to a present of seeing my best friend for a little while. Momma bear doesn’t know yet but I don’t think she’ll care as much since she loves Charlie as one of her own kids, so just taking a trip cross country shouldn’t be too hard to tell her. Right? Let’s find out.

*Y/N walks down to the kitchen from her bedroom*

“Hey mami,” Y/N says as she sits on one of the barstools, popping a green grape and dipping it into nutella into her mouth.

“Yes Y/N nickname?” Y/N’s mom says in a what do you want tone, while finishing cleaning up the kitchen after dinner.

“What?” Y/N asks.

“I already know you want something. You never come back downstairs after dinner unless you’re getting a snack or you want something. I’m your mother, remember.”

“Damn, that predictable huh? Anyways, yes I wanted to ask you something or more like tell you something. So I was thinking for my 22nd birthday I could possibly fly down to America and see your adopted son for a couple weeks. You know I’ve been wanting to move down to L.A so why not go for my birthday. I’d obviously stay at Arlo’s, money shouldn’t be an issue since I’ve been saving plus birthday money from past years. Sooo?�� Y/N finishes saying while looking at her mom with puppy eyes.

“You already bought your plane ticket didn’t you?” your mom says while staring at you with one eyebrow raised.

“.... maybe…. no actually, I wanted to see what you’d say first before splurging.” Y/N says while looking down at the bowl of grapes and looks up again to smile cheeky at her mom.

Your mom rolls her eyes and laughs. “ Sure, why not. Do you want me to call Maman J so she can tell Charlie?” your mom asks.

“No no, I want it to be a surprise. It’s kind of a birthday present to myself since Arlo decided to be like “ I wanna be an actor and blah blah blah”. You say mimicking him.

“Alright, well as an early birthday present, I’ll buy your ticket. Should I make it a round trip or a one way?”

“Ummm make it a one way trip, I’ll let you know when I want to come home. You know Arlo, he always has some random hiking trip he wants to take, and knowing him he might drag me to one of those trips” you say rolling your eyes.

“No problem. You better go upstairs and start packing.” your mom says.

*You dip one last green grape into nutella and pop it into your mouth before you hop off the bar stool to give your mom a kiss* “You’re the best mami!”

*You run back to your room and start planning the whole trip*

*5:30pm One day before reader’s birthday and your flight*

*you're sitting on your bed finishing up some last minute packing, when you hear a knock at your door.*

“Come in.” Y/N says without turning around.

“Hey hun.” your mom says.

*you turn around to face your mom* “Hey mami, whats up?” *you say while sitting on top of your luggage trying to close it*

Your mom chuckles, “Here is your plane ticket for your flight, it's at 5:55am, you have a connecting flight to Oklahoma City, Oklahoma which will have a connecting flight to L.A.X.”, your mom says handing you the tickets. “So you better finish packing and get some rest.”

*You reach for the tickets while trying not to fall of your luggage* “Awesome, thanks mami.”

“No problem, just get some rest ok. I will drive you to the airport.” your mom says while walking out of your room.

“Ok!” you yell through the door. *You finally got the luggage to close* “YES!” you say standing up on the edge of your bed but then proceed to fall off your bed in the process which leads to a loud thud hitting the floor. “I’M OK!” you yell before your mom asks.

You place your luggages and carry ons by your door and start getting ready for bed. You look into the mirror one last time and stare at the picture of you and Charlie at the waterfront, ( https://www.instagram.com/p/B-suC_WF8Cu/) ( just pretend its yall, I know its like his cousin or friend)

“L.A.X I’ll see you tomorrow.” you say to yourself before walking to bed.

*Reader’s birthday* 3:00am

Airport Outfit: https://urstyle.fashion/styles/2813992 (girl on the left is what your hair looks like)

*your phone goes off at 3:00 am with the song I See Fire by Ed Sheeran playing from your phone softly.*

*You groan annoyingly wondering why you’re up so early, when you realize it is your 22nd birthday and you have a flight to catch in two hours. You spring out of bed, pop your airpods in and blair The OtherSide from The Greatest Showman and begin getting ready for your long day of flying*

*Dancing towards your bathroom, you turn on your shower to warm up and start brushing your teeth. You lay out the outfit you will be wearing to the airport on your bed, take out your headphones and head into the shower.*

*20 mins later. You hear a knock on your bathroom door*

“Almost done sweetie?” your mom asks.

“Yes, I’m just finishing up, I’ll be down soon.” you say through the door.

*Because you’re going to the airport you didn’t put too much makeup on, just enough to make yourself look kind of awake on the flights. You put your hair in a messy bun, put on your jean jacket, take one last look in the mirror before you shut off the light and head out.*

*You look around your room to make sure you grab any last minute items for your carry on. Especially making sure you have your Beats, charger, spare hair elastics and gum. You go to grab your luggage when you realize your mom already did and placed them in the car. Best mom ever. You grab your guitar case and your bag and head out.*

*Skip the car ride, you’re already at the airport*

“You’re sure you have everything right?” your mom asks while taking the stuff out of the car.

“Yes, I promise, I have everything I need. If I forgot anything important I will call you and have it shipped to Arlo’s.” you say while closing the trunk of the car.

“Alright, have a safe trip hun, please be safe and try not to get Charlie in too much trouble ok?” your mom says while hugging you goodbye.

*GASP* “ HEY! I’m a good noodle, Arlo’s the one who dared me to jump in the fountain at the mall. You know me I could never pass up a good dare.” you say while breaking the hug.

“Haha, yes I know which leads you to getting sick. Remember, it was winter.” your mom retorts back.

“ Yeah yeah I know, I’m still a good noodle though.” You chuckle while grabbing your stuff again.

Your mom shakes her head, “Go before you miss your flight silly.” She says while turning you around.

“Ok, ok I get it you want me gone.” You say laughing while walking towards the automatic doors.

“OH SWEETIE!” your mom calls out.

You turn around. “Yes?” you ask

“Happy Birthday!” your mom yells in front of everybody.

You stare at her like really. “Thanks mami. I love you too”

*You walk inside the airport and walk towards the check in line to check in all your luggages.*

*Skip to you’re already on the plane before take off.*

*You check your phone for the time, plug in your Beats, place them on and hit shuffle before. You look out the window watching the sun just barely starting to rise before you close it and begin to read your book, for the next 4 hours.*

*4 hours later*

*You finish up one of your books, you pull off your headphones just in time to hear the pilot announce that you guys are about to land. You place your book and headphones back into your bag and prepare to land.*

* You get off the plane and check the time on your phone to notice that your connecting flight is almost here and you begin to panic. You check your ticket and realize that of course your flight is on the other end of the terminal, so you begin to run and book it to the other end, hoping you’ll make it on time.*

“Excuse me! Sorry! Sorry! Excuse me!” you say as you weave through airport traffic.

*Half way through your running spree you look down at your phone again to make sure you didn’t miss your flight when you feel your arm get tugged from behind you. You notice one of yours and someone else’s luggage clipped each other by the wheels and they both go flying. “Sorry, my bad.” you say as you grab a luggage, not even looking up to see who you collided with and go back to your sprinting.*

“Yes!” you say to yourself as you make it to your gate. The flight hasn’t boarded yet so you take a seat and wait for your row to be called. You get to your gate, hand the lady your ticket and proceed to board your flight.

*You place your carry-on luggage into the overhead bin and take your seat, when you notice a very sweaty guy just barely making it onto the flight. You chuckle to yourself.*

*3 hours later*

“Alright passengers, we will be landing very shortly. The weather today is 89 degrees, partly cloudy, and 40% of humidity. Welcome to Los Angeles, California passengers.” the pilot announces over the intercom.

*You place your headphones back on, and calmly this time walk off the plane and head towards baggage claim*

*As you’re waiting your favorite song Someday by Max Schneider starts to play. You begin to sway back and forth, humming to the tune when you then feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn around to see who it was and begin to stare at him weirdly wondering why you can’t hear the guy talk*

“Oh shit, my bad. Forgot.” you say as you take off your headphones to actually hear what the guy was saying.

“It's cool, all I was saying was that I was sorry for colliding with you back in Oklahoma. I wasn’t paying attention, I was in a rush and didn’t see you. It wasn’t until after that I noticed that the gate was in the opposite direction.” A dirty blonde guy explains to me.

“Oh no, it was totally my fault, I should have been looking up instead of on my phone. I guess we were both in a rush. But hey, I like your jean jacket. Pretty dope.” I say to him.

“Right back atcha.” he retorts.

*Awkwardly stands next to each other waiting for your luggage to arrive*

“Welp, that's my luggage. Have fun in L.A.” The guy says as he grabs his other luggage and heads towards the exit.

“Thanks, you too crash buddy.” you say back.

*you grab your luggages from the conveyor belt and pull to the side so you’re not in the way of people. You go to open one of your luggages to make sure nothing spilled on the flights/crash over, when you notice that the things in one of the luggages isn’t yours.*

“Shit, I must have accidentally switched luggages with that guy back in Oklahoma.” you say to yourself as you look around to hopefully see if he is still around.

*You close up the luggage, and begin to gather your things and head towards the exit, hoping the guy hasn’t left the airport yet. You get to the exit, head outside and don’t see the guy you bumped into.*

“Damn it!” you say defeated, “How will I ever get my stuff back? What a way to start off my birthday.”

*You get an uber and head towards Arlo’s place*

#Owen Patrick Joyner #OPJ #julie and the phantoms #JATP #owen joyner x reader #oklahoma #fanfiction #julie and the phantoms fanfic #owen joyner's hats #bindi

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carllisle · 4 years ago

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Ma'am may I ask for some vampire Esme and human Carlisle headcanons or another fic if you prefer💖Can't stop thinking about your last nsfw vampire esme and human carlisle fanfic It's amazing.🥺

Thank you my darling! I hope you don’t mind some headcanons rather than a mini fic right now!

Rosalie is a doctor at the local hospital working in pediatric care. She’s a newly qualified doctor and it’s a small hospital, though, and she learns as much on the job as she can. Because of this, she is the first of the family to meet Carlisle who is new to town and a surgeon. She likes him for his human touch, and he lacks the arrogance that a lot of surgeons have

Esme is a teacher at the local elementary school and she and Rosalie are posing as sisters, taking Rosalie’s surname for now, with Jasper being their younger brother attending a local college. Alice and Edward are Esme’s adopted kids who are in their final year of high school, and Emmett just about passes as a college graduate married to Rosalie

Esme and Carlisle first meet in the grocery store when she is shopping with Rosalie. It’s a small town where a lot of kids are underprivileged, their community on the fringes of a major city that hasn’t managed to sweep the suburbs up in its cosmopolitan wealth yet, so a lot of Esme’s teaching supplies come out of her own pocket. They’re still unbelievably wealthy thanks to Alice, though, so it’s not a problem and Esme enjoys being able to spend money on her schoolkids. They’re starting cooking lessons at school so she’s buying supplies for that, and Rosalie is helping her.

Carlisle is in his early 40s and is from the UK and found himself in the USA after following a woman ten years ago. The relationship broke down but he stayed in the USA and worked in community hospitals. Coming from the UK and valuing the ethos of the NHS (that everyone deserves access to good healthcare) he vowed not to work at the inaccessible metropolitan centres that brought wealth and fame, but to always do his best in communities that needed it the most. That’s how he ended up in the small, rainy town as Esme and her family.

Carlisle wasn’t Esme’s singer but he did smell especially good to her - even seeing him made her thirsty, she wanted him so bad. Rosalie introduced them in the pasta aisle and Esme smiled politely and she instantly loved his smile. While her throat burned, there were butterflies in her stomach. If he noticed her cold touch when they shook hands, he didn’t mention it. He smiled, tired though he was, and asked after their twenty kilograms of penne and Rosalie noticed how brightly Esme smiled when she told her

Rosalie told her to be careful in the car after. Esme was very quiet after the encounter, moreso than usual, and Rosalie could see how affected she was already. Esme denied anything odd was going on but she couldn’t stop thinking about Carlisle’s handsome, warm, face and how he looked at her longer than he looked at Rosalie

A few weeks later there was a lice outbreak at school and the nurse was out sick, and Carlisle agreed to come to the school to help out on his day off. Esme brought him coffee and thanked him for coming. He asked if he could buy her a real coffee but she evaded his question. He thought it was because of his age - he had no idea she was a hundred years older than he

Esme usually avoided the hospital because her control was still not anywhere near as good as Rosalie’s but she ended up dropping by to see Rosalie a few times in the following month, of course with the intention of running into Dr Cullen. It worked; it was a small hospital after all, and run-ins were inevitable. Esme bit her lip when she saw him in his scrubs and white coat and she lived to hear his voice. Everything about him invited her in, from his face to his scent to his kind words. It didn’t help that he lit up completely when he saw her

During the science fair a few months into this loose flirtation, Esme asked him to come and help judge the entries. She wasn’t sure what compelled her to, but they had run into each other at the grocery store again and she had just blurted it out. He had happily agreed. He liked being around the enthusiastic minds of the kids and there was something about seeing their devotion to their favourite teacher Miss Esme (she liked them to call her that rather than Miss Hale, it felt more personal, more equal) that made him ask to see her properly. In the coriddor, he caught her by the wrist and smiled and asked her “let me take you out on a real date. Please? I just want to know you better.”

Rosalie was furious that Esme had accepted. “He’s a human!” she told her. “A nice one!” Esme protested, but she knew Rosalie was right. She visited Carlisle’s small home that night to cancel. Carlisle was wrapped up against the cool November air in a thick jumper and scarf and he was surprised to see her. “How did you know where I live?” he asked in surprise. “I... people talk,” she replied weakly. “I didn’t have your number. But I don’t think we should see each other.” Carlisle looked hurt. “I don’t understand,” he said quietly. “I’m not good,” Esme tried to explain. He had the confidence of a handsome man, but the kind touch of a good one. He touched her cheek and gently pulled her inside his home and closed the door. Vampire though she was, she was powerless to him in that moment. “You are,” he told her quietly. “I can see it in everything that you do. No one who is bad is as loved as you. Let me know you.”

She wanted to tell him everything then. She’d never felt a connection to someone so quickly, like they were somehow meant to meet and find each other in the chaos of time and space. “I have secrets,” she whispered. “I want to know them,” he answered. “They sound crazy,” she protested, but her fingers began tracing the knit of his jumper and his arms came around her. “You’re so cold,” he remarked. “That’s part of my secret,” Esme confessed. “Are you anemic? That’s not so bad.” Esme laughed at his guess. “Sort of.”

They had their first date that night. They settled on the sofa in front of the fire he lit in the hearth and they were both wrapped in blankets and they talked for hours like they had known each other their whole lives. She told him as much of their public story as she felt was fair and he told her of his wonderful life and she thought her head was spinning from falling in love so quickly. It wasn’t love, she reminded herself, but it was something. It was the start of something.

He moved to kiss her but she couldn’t let him. She didn’t know if she could bear to have him so close and feel the rush of his blood under his skin, not when she wanted him in so many different ways. But she had enough control to kiss his hand and his fingers and she held his hand to her cheek and felt his pulse. It made her throat burn like it hadn’t in years and it knocked her back.

It was after midnight that she cane home and her family were concerned. Well, Alice wasn’t. Alice was excited - she told Esme that the future looked bright, for the most part, but that there would be some tense moments. Esme was horrified at her daughter’s estimation and hid away. Emmett tried to comfort her and told her that if she needed to feed on this doctor, that’s okay, it was only in their nature. She hugged him tight and thanked him for his understanding but confirmed she didn’t want to do that. He nodded then and told her he would help her, then. Alice came up to her room and apologised for overwhelming her.

Rosalie was still angry. Furious, really, that Esme was risking the secrecy of their family for some human. Edward told her to ease up, that Esme had always put the family first and had never once asked for anything, and that she had been alone for longer than the rest of them put together, didn’t she deserve a chance at love? Rosalie said yes, if she intended to change this man before things got more complicated. Esme looked at them, wide-eyed as she tried to understand what they meant. She and Carlisle had barely spent any time together and already her children were talking as if it were a done deal? That she could condemn him to an eternity of this life?

“It’s what you condemned me to,” Rosalie pointed out. An old wound that existed between them and came up now and again, it hurt both of them. It felt like a cheap blow sometimes, but it was something Rosalie was burdened with in the deepest parts of her heart. “Because I thought I was saving you,” Esme said weakly. “He’s not dying. How could I take away his life? I barely know him.”

“The future isn’t certain, but it’s on the cards,” Alice piped up gleefully. Jasper rested a hand on her shoulder to hold back her enthusiasm. He could feel Esme’s misery.

Carlisle thought he was going mad when more hints of Esme’s nature were revealed to him. He was a man of science, after all, and a man of God! How was this possible? But every question he had, Esme answered honestly, albeit shyly. He thought about running a few times. What woman could possibly be worth this? But she was. She so easily was worth it. He loved her quickly, everything about her. Within months he asked her to change him. He begged her to change him. He soon wanted her above everything else, he wept because he wanted eternity with her so desperately.

Eventually he was granted immortality, but not for a good few years yet.

#human!carlisle #needahugfromesme #darling!!! thank you so much for asking!!#it was so fun to write like this #carlesme #ellie writes

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buckysbitch107 · 4 years ago

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I don’t know if requests are open, but if they are can I request a Steve Rogers x Reader where at the end of end game he goes back to his lover from the 40s but instead of Peggy it’s the reader(include any backstory that you want)? Like even his compass contains the picture of the reader and not Peggy. I love your wring so far btw, keep up the good work!!!

Home Isn’t Just A Place | Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: When Colonel Phillips himself delivered the letter stating the love of your life (and best friend since 5 years old) was dead, you were more than devastated. You were still mourning the loss of your fiancé, mindlessly fiddling with the ring on your finger, when a much harsher knock rang at your door. You expected it to be perhaps your sister or a delivery boy. What you certainly didn’t expect was for your fiancé, who you were told was dead, to be standing at your doorstep.

Warnings: Swearing, Angst, Crying

Word Count: 2.38K

A/N: Hope this meets your standards! I tried my best with this one and i hope you enjoy it! Just a reminder that I will always be accepting requests! I will be writing a Part 2 to this, so stay tuned!

“It’s fine guys! I can cook something in the apartment!” You speak, the men on either side of you giving you a small glare.

“It’s our last night, (Y/N/N). We wanna make it special before you’re alone in the apartment.” Steve mentions, wrapping his arm around your waist. You’re still taller than him, but it’s the thought that counts, right?

“That restaurant isn’t that good anyway.” You whisper, trying so hard to hide the disappointment in your voice. You’d been looking forward to sitting in that restaurant since it opened, and when Bucky and Steve said they were taking you, that meant you could finally get a chance. That is, until you got there, and they didn’t have your reservation.

“Doll-” Bucky starts, soon being cut off by your voice.

“Guys. It’s fine, really.”

“No, it’s not (Y/N)! We wanted to treat you to something special, and now it looks like we’re having cabbage fuckin’ stew for dinner… again.”

“Or,” You pause, lifting your arm to point at the sign hanging off of the corner store at the end of the street. “We could get some food from Stan’s. It’s still open and we have enough money for some hot dogs.” The two men agree shortly after and the three of you quicken your pace, eager to get some food in your stomach. The small bell above the door rings through the air as the three of you walk in, the owner walking out from the back.

“Steve, Bucky, (Y/N)! Nice to see ya! What can I get for you?” Stan asks, his smile always bringing comfort to you three.

“Three hot dogs and three cokes please!” You respond, offering him a small smile yourself. He nods and taps some button on the register, pulling the crank before turning his head back up to you.

“Thirty cents please.” You start digging in your wallet when a hand stops you, and your head snaps to meet Steve’s eyes before he starts digging in his own wallet. He hands the man 30 cents before discreetly grabbing your hand, a small chuckle leaving your lips. Stan walks to the back and returns with three hot dogs in hand. He sets them down on the counter before reaching in the fridge and pulling out the drinks. You take them and thank him before walking out the door, Steve and Bucky following you out with their own.

“Let’s go to the docks! Watch the lights in the city!” You propose, turning back to face the two men. They agree and you all walk down to the docks, finishing your food and drinks shortly after getting there.

“Sorry, it had to end like this, (Y/N/N).”

“Meh, I liked this ending better. At least this way I can say fuck.” You giggle, turning back to look at your boyfriend. A soft melody fills your ears and you search for the source of the music. You soon find it as a band plays at an oceanside restaurant, where people are probably dining on the finest steaks and champagne, but you’re happy right where you are. Steve’s hand grabs yours and he smiles, both of his hands wrapping around your waist.

“Dance with me, doll.” You nod before placing your hands around his shoulders, the two of you slightly swaying to the music. Bucky lets out a short laugh before leaning against a lamppost. Steve grabs your hand and spins you around, the blue dress flying up around your waist as he twirls you in his arms. Your eyes drift closed as he continues to spin you, a laugh bubbling out of your mouth, and you finish turning and open your eyes to see Steve on one knee.

“Oh.” Your hands fly up to cover your mouth and you see Bucky smiling out of the corner of your eye as Steve pulls out a ring.

“I know, I know it isn’t much, but it’s what we could afford.”

“Wha-Whe-How?” You whisper.

“Well, we saved up for a bit.”

“I think you’re supposed to give a speech now, Stevie.” Bucky comments.

“I’m getting there!” Steve responds, making you let out a hoarse laugh before you start choking on your sobs. “Doll, you are the best thing to ever happen to me, Buck being a close second. You’ve always been there for me when I’m sick, which is a lot. I wanna be with you forever. I want to have kids with you, I want to give you the best white-picket-fence life I can. I swear to love you for the rest of our lives, if you’ll be mine. What do ya say doll?” By this time, your hands have migrated from your mouth to your chest, and you wipe your eyes while nodding your head, choking out a short “yes” before Steve slides the ring on your finger. As he stands up, you begin to cry harder as you pull him into a bear hug. He pulls away and you place both hands on his shoulders, looking at him sternly.

“You better come back to me, you hear me?”

“I promise I will, doll.”

“No, I need better than a promise.”

“I swear on my life, dollface. Besides, I wouldn’t leave my best girl behind.”

~~~

You’ve seen all the adverts and movies about the one and only Captain America. People see him as a hero, as the man who punches Nazis straight in the face and kisses babies, but you still see him as the little guy from Brooklyn who couldn’t run the mile from fourth grade on. Yes, you missed your fiance very much, but you had faith that he would keep his promise and come home after the war. A few months after Bucky and Steve left, you picked up a waitressing job in a mom-and-pop diner on the weekends and weeknights alongside your job as a science teacher. Bills aren’t going to pay themselves, and Bucky and Steve aren’t here to help you. You walk in the door, returning home from your morning shift at the diner, planning on quickly changing clothes before running out and volunteering at the animal shelter, something you always did on Saturdays. You throw on a simple dress, the pale yellow glowing in the sunlight streaming in from the window. Your plans suddenly change when a knock rings at your door.

“One second!” You yell, finishing pulling up the zipper on the back of your dress before walking over to the door, opening it to see Colonel Phillips himself. “Colonel Phillips.”

“Miss (Y/L/N). May I come in?” He asks, the solemn look on his face causing an uneasy feeling in your stomach.

“Of course, sir.” You open the door a little bit wider and he enters the apartment.

“You may want to sit.” You follow his instructions and sit yourself down at the kitchen table, now noticing the letter in his hands. “I wrote it all out on paper, but I also figured I should tell you in person.” He pauses, taking a deep breath. “Captain Rogers crashed a plane into the ice to save the lives of millions of people yesterday morning. I would have gotten here earlier but there were some complications with the plane.”

“No.” You mumble, standing up to directly face the colonel.

“He has been declared Killed in Action, along with James Barnes.” Your head snaps up at his comment, tears already pooling in your eyes.

“What-what do you mean they’ve both been killed in action? What-” A sob rising in the back of your throat cuts you off and you have to steady yourself against the table. Phillips places the letter on the table as you try to quiet your sobs. He quietly nods his head before turning to the door, about to step out when you choke out a short “wait”. Colonel Phillips turns around as you compose yourself, wiping the tears off your face.

“Yes ma’am?”

“Am I allowed to give you a hug?”

“Yes ma’am.” You wrap your arms around him and place your head on his shoulder, the colonel hugging you back shortly after. The two of you pull away and you whisper a small “thank you sir” before he nods and walks out the door. You turn around and grab the letter, ripping it open before focusing on the words carefully typed on the page:

Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N)

437 West Clermont Street

Brooklyn, New York, USA

11201

I regret to inform you that both Captain Steven Rogers and Sergeant James Barnes have been killed in action in service of their country. As you know, Captain Rogers freed over 200 men across enemy lines in Azzano, Italy. He then formed a squadron, the Howling Commandos. That squadron took down more enemy bases than any other in history. It is with deepest condolences that we regret to inform you than on Saturday, February 19th, Sergeant James Barnes fell out of a moving train while defending Captain Rogers. On Friday, February 25th, Captain Rogers crashed a plane into the Arctic in order to save over three million lives from nuclear bombings. Not only has America lost a soldier, America has also lost a hero.

Deepest regards,

Colonel Chester Phillips

A loud sob erupts from your mouth as you throw the letter on the table, your hands quickly covering your mouth.

“No. Nonononono, they can’t be dead. I can’t- I can’t do this alone.” You back up against the wall, slowly sliding down as your fingers thread through your hair. It’s only when you look back at the ring on your finger that your tears of pain turn to those of anger. “YOU PROMISED!” You scream, not giving a damn if the neighbors can hear you. Your head falls into your hands as you curl up into a ball, your sobs echoing through the now eerily empty house.

“You promised.

~~~

It was a nice funeral. A lot of people you knew were there. Dum-Dum, Gabe, Jim, and Monty came, while Jaques sent his condolences. It was small, but Steve would have liked it. Yeah, you sobbed, but so did everyone else. You sit numbly in your house, the walls no longer filled with laughter, the floors no longer covered in flour and paint, now only scuff marks from your pacing panic attacks. You’re mindlessly fiddling with your ring when a knock sounds at your door, this one sounding louder and overall harsher than the other ones you’d been experiencing for the past week. You stand up and walk over, not caring to check the peephole before opening it. And standing there, is the man you were told crashed a plane into the arctic.

“Wha-”

“Hi, doll.” You slowly start shaking your head before walking away from the door, simply leaving it open.

“No, no. Nonono. You crashed a plane into the arctic. Your signal went dead. You were presumed dead! I’m going mad, I’ve gone absolutely bonkers and now I’m imagining the love of my life is in my living room when he’s buried somewhere in the Arctic!” You rant to yourself, tears slowly gathering in your eyes. You stop when Steve puts both hands on your shoulders, stabilizing you and forcing you to make eye contact with him.

“God, is this what happened after I crashed?” He mumbles, looking up and down at your frantic form. Your clothes have become a little looser, your hair a little thinner, the bags under your eyes just a bit more noticeable. But that’s not the only thing that’s changed. You look at Steve and notice he looks… different. He looks older and more exhausted.

“You aren’t my Steve?”

“Sit down doll, I have a lot of explaining to do.”

~~~

“So you’re from-”

“Yeah.”

“But you still-”

“Mhm.”

“And I’m still-”

“Yep.”

“But wouldn’t this-”

“Nope.”

“Huh. And this Thanos dude he-”

“Eliminated 50% of all living beings. Yes.”

“And you’re back here because you’re delivering the stones back to their original places in time and wanted to see me?”

“Yeah pretty much.”

“Huh. Okay.”

“So, can I have this dance?” He stands up and reaches his hand out to you. You smile and take it, the man pulling you into him. You notice as the two of you start swaying that he’s suddenly more relaxed, and that he’s definitely gotten more muscular over the years. You dance for a little while longer before he tilts your chin up, meeting your lips for a gentle kiss. “God I missed you doll.”

“I missed you too.” The two of you stay silent a little longer before he pulls back slightly, a serious look on his face. Uh oh.

“Come back with me.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Come back with me. To 2023.”

“Stevie, I can’t. I have so many responsibilities, and it could mess up the timeline and-”

“Nope. Already checked with the Ancient One. Said it should be fine as long as no one knows about it.”

“Oh.”

“Plus, you can meet my friends, and we can finally get married, and Bucky will-”

“Wait what? Bucky’s alive?”

“Oh yeah, he was captured by HYDRA but we got him back.”

“You’re gonna need to catch me up on everything.”

“So that’s a yes?”

“Fine. I’ll come with you, but if I throw up it’s your fault.”

“Deal.”

~~~

“I’m trying to bring him back!” Banner yells, flicking switches and pressing buttons on the dash. Bucky bites at his cuticles, something he does when he’s nervous, also something you used to yell at him for. The launchpad starts whirring again and both Bucky and Sam’s heads shoot up at the noise, not familiar with it at all.

“Um, is that supposed to happen?” Sam asks.

“Only when there’s more than one body being transported.” Banner mumbles, pressing a few more buttons. “Okay. Bringing him back in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.”

“AH-oomph.” Bucky’s eyes widen as his brain registers the yellow dress, the sparkling eyes, the dazzling smile.

“(Y/N)?!” He yells, giving both you and Steve a confused look. You sit up on the launchpad and look around, not familiar with any of your surroundings.

“Hiya Buck! Oooh, love the hair! Nice to see it change from the ol’ buzzcut.”

Permanent Tags: @wintersoldierslut @breakmy-bedbarnes@stuckys-hot-dogs @andreasworlsboring101 @yaxamarvel @donutloverxo

Just a reminder that all requests are open! My masterlist is in my bio, so you guys know who I specialize in, but really I do anyone y’all request. As I’ve mentioned, nothing is too fluffy, angsty, smutty, or gorey for me. I mainly write Marvel and its characters/actors. I can also write some characters from other things, you just have to ask! Also please let me know if you want to be a part of the Permanent Tags! But please, for now,

Call me Emily

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kaesaaurelia · 4 years ago

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books and reading in 2021

Overall I’d like to read at least 65 books for 2021 and I’d like for most of those to be new-to-me and things I either already own or have listed as to-read on Goodreads.

So far I have read 11/65 books and 4 fanworks.

Themed reading challenge checklists and brief book reviews are under the cut. I may or may not finish any of these challenges; again, my goal is to cut down my to-be-read list and unread books I own, and themes and deadlines help me pick a book rather than hemming and hawing.

Book reviews answer the questions “Did I like it? Was it good? Would I recommend it?” (please note these are very different questions) and how many stars I rated it.

I may put fanfiction, webfiction, and other things that are very much not traditional books down on here as well, depending on how booklike I’ve decided they are.

The FFA reading challenge, 2021 (2/12 books)

JANUARY - The Pandemic Year - a medical thriller, or a book about medicine The Poisoner's Handbook: Murder and the Birth of Forensic Medicine in Jazz Age New York by Deborah Blum Did I like it? Yeah! Was it good? I think so. Sometimes the prose meandered in such a way that I felt the author was kind of saying dun dun dun! under her breath at me, and I was like “idk, is that significant?” but usually it was good. Would I recommend it? Do you have a strong stomach? Then sure. 4 stars

FEBRUARY - Macavity/Ratigan - a genre you wouldn't normally read Jane Doe by Victoria Helen Stone, book 1 in the Jane Doe series Did I like it? Yes! Very much! The power fantasy of being able to take vengeance against people who hurts your loved ones, without feeling bad about it, was really appealing to me, a person who feels guilt over a frankly ridiculous number of things. It was also genuinely funny. Was it good? I thought so. The narrator had a really strong voice that struck the right balance between creepy cold indifference and endearing little moments of self-discovery. Would I recommend it? Yes, but with the caveat that there’s some pretty serious emotional abuse of the protagonist’s false persona (which she encourages and privately gloats about), and she also gets close to committing serious violence, including fantasizing at length about it. 5 stars

MARCH – 100+ Comments of Terror - a book set in the arctic, or a book about an expedition In the Land of White Death: An Epic Story of Survival in the Siberian Arctic by Valerian Albanov (ordered)

APRIL - Sexy John Oliver Rat – a book about animals, or a book with a character called Oliver or Olivia A Libertarian Walks Into a Bear by Matthew Hongoltz-Hetling (hardcover)

MAY - A Feud in Wolf-Kink Erotica - a book involving wolves, the legal system, or ripped from the headlines Song of the Summer King by Jess Owen (ebook)

JUNE - Showerhead Wank - a comedy of manners, an etiquette manual, or a book where someone wanks or has sex

JULY – My Shithead Is What You Are! - a book with profanity in it, or a book about themes of censorship

AUGUST - Yep, Still Indoors - a book involving travel, or being stuck in one place

SEPTEMBER - Socktopus, Maybe? - a book where someone has a secret identity, or a book about aquatic animals

OCTOBER - Politics is Sequestered – a book involving politics or politicians Boss: Richard J. Daley of Chicago by Mike Royko (owned in DRM’d ebook)

NOVEMBER - It's Canon in Spanish - read a book originally written in Spanish, or set in Latin America

DECEMBER - Apple Is a One Syllable Word - a book about language/linguistics/etc., or a book with a two syllable title.

Around the Year in 52 Books (8/52 books)

A book related to “In the Beginning...”: (Using the subprompt a book set in the ancient world) The Odyssey by Homer, translated by Emily Wilson Did I like it? Yes; it was definitely a less comfortable read than prior translations I have read, but a more interesting one, I think. A lot of details leapt out at me that I had either forgotten or that had been overlooked in the 3ish literature classes I have read the Odyssey for. Was it good? Yes! Would I recommend it? Probably, with the caveat that if you are just in it for a cool mythology story you would probably prefer an adaptation rather than a translation. 5 stars

A book by an author whose name doesn't contain the letters A, T or Y The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis Did I like it? I really read this for the worldbuilding of Hell, so I liked that; to some extent I did also like some of the musings on how a lot of human foibles that people like to think of as virtues can actually be kind of shitty. On the other hand, Lewis and I disagree about a lot of things -- mostly that whole Christianity thing. So I liked it with caveats. Was it good? It was okay! Again, I was not really there for the Christianity stuff. I am never there for the Christianity stuff. I am either precisely the wrong audience for all of C.S. Lewis’ stuff, or, if you look at it a certain way, precisely the right audience, but even if you look at it that way, he is never going to convince me; I wrote furious postcanon fanfiction about the dwarfs when I reread the Narnia books as a teenager and realized they were meant to represent people like me. Would I recommend it? Probably not? Unless you frequently write demons or other evil creatures trying to figure out how humans work, which I guess I am. 4 stars but only because that reveal at the end is great

A book related to the lyrics for the song "My Favorite Things" from The Sound of Music (The cover depicts a rose with raindrops or dewdrops on it.) Ensnared by Rita Stradling Did I like it? In a sense. In a sense, I enjoyed this book. It was a Beauty and the Beast retelling, and I like Beauty and the Beast. There were robots, and I like robots. And it certainly gave me something fun to talk about. However, it also inspired me to try and figure out when and why I acquired this book, and while I still don’t know why I bought it, I was relieved to find that I only paid 99 cents for it. For a more thorough description of the plot, please see my Goodreads review. It was a weird book to start with, and then it really, really didn’t age well. Was it good? IT SURE WASN’T. Would I recommend it? No. However, if you decide to read it I’d love to hear what you think. Please. Please talk to me about this book. 2 stars

A book with a monochromatic cover The Devil in the White City: Murder, Magic, and Madness at the Fair That Changed America by Erik Larson Did I like it? Yes, very much! Also it accidentally became fic research. I genuinely was just thinking “where do I slip Leonard into this narrative so he can try and fail to sabotage the Ferris Wheel?” and then I began to think about how much Leonard would admire and envy H. H. Holmes’ ladykilling ways. But in general it was a really good read and had a lot of... Chicagoness, which I of course am fond of. Was it good? I thought so! Obviously a lot of the narratives of Holmes’ murders were mostly the author’s speculation, but there were a lot of great research tidbits in there, and the picture the author paints of the World’s Fair was vivid and wonderful. Would I recommend it? Yes, with the warning that this is true crime and there is vivid narration of several murders, including the murders of several children. 5 stars

A book by an author on USA Today's list of 100 Black Novelists You Should Read Wild Seed by Octavia Butler, book 1 of the Patternmaster series Did I like it? Yes, but it was intense. It takes a lot of skill to keep me reading and invested through so many horrors; the protagonist’s children and loved ones die on-page multiple times, in horrible accidents or senselessly murdered, and it hurts every time, but I kept reading. Admittedly I am (predictably) extremely here for immortal enemies-to-lovers-to-enemies angst, so that was probably part of it. Was it good? Yes! I am kind of sad that I’m not just moving on to the next in the series (there are 3 more books), but also, god, I’m not sure I could handle it. Would I recommend it? Yes, definitely, with the caveat that it is very dark and very sad. 5 stars

A love story Deal with the Devil by Kit Rocha, book 1 of the Mercenary Librarians series Did I like it? It was good! I gather both of the authors who are Kit Rocha were (are still?) in fandom, and it shows in the right ways; it doesn’t shy away from depicting sex pretty explicitly but there’s a lot of emotion in it, and the main couple is a m/f couple without the book being unpleasantly heteronormative. Like, yeah, it’s about a big butch macho dude who’s broken inside and a woman who’s very caring, but the big butch macho dude is genuinely kind and not like, violent for the hell of it or overprotectively jealous, and the woman doesn’t drop everything to Heal His Pain. (Also I think most of the characters, including the romantic leads, are established to have had same-gender lovers at one point or another without that being considered unusual or wrong in the setting, so that’s nice.) It’s also a cheerful and optimistic post-apocalyptic book about two found families coming together to make the world a better place, despite the very grim backstories of pretty much everyone in the story, which is really nice. Was it good? It was okay. It was good popcorny reading; it’s not winning any literature prizes, but it sets out to be fun and readable and exciting, and it is all of those things. Also, as noted above, the prose has a lot of the strengths of fanfic (not being afraid to mix genres, not being afraid of writing sex earnestly and emotionally but also explicitly, strong emotional focus) without the much-derided stereotypical weaknesses of fanfic. Would I recommend it? Probably? This isn’t a must-read; it’s happy to be idfic so if it sounds like it’d scratch your id I would recommend it, but it might not be Your Thing and that’s okay too. 4 stars

A book that fits a prompt suggestion that didn't make the final list (Using the subprompt a book related to a local industry or small business) The Gangs of Chicago: An Informal History of the Chicago Underworld by Herbert Asbury Did I like it? NO. NO I DID NOT. It made me genuinely angry. It was a useful read for fic research and unfortunately I’ve got it in my little fic-writing reference material corner in my office but I DID NOT LIKE THIS BOOK IT WAS VERY BAD. Many questionable or outright incorrect assertions and implications, and extremely racist and sexist. For details, see my review on Goodreads. Was it good? It was actively bad. Would I recommend it? Not unless you are interested in it historiographically, or on the off chance that you are trying to find some fiddly details about a particular bit of Chicago crime history, but also have no responsibility to make sure those fiddly details are correct when you use them in the project. 1 star

A book set in a state, province, or country you have never visited The Last Duel: A True Story of Crime, Scandal, and Trial by Combat in Medieval France by Eric Jager Did I like it? It was okay. It was definitely interesting but not amazingly life-changing. Was it good? It was fine! I did think the underlying rape case was handled surprisingly sensitively given that this was a male author writing about 20 years ago about a medieval rape accusation and trial, but there is a chapter that is basically just the victim’s account of her rape, and it’s very brutal. Would I recommend it? Do you want to understand more about trial by combat in the Middle Ages, and/or learn about how medieval people treated rape victims? You should definitely read this book. But if that doesn’t particularly interest you, probably not. 3 stars

A book you associate with a specific season or time of year Summers at Castle Auburn (ebook borrowed from CPL)

A book with a female villain or criminal Sin in the Second City: Madams, Ministers, Playboys, and the Battle for America's Soul by Karen Abbott (owned in paperback)

A book to celebrate The Grand Egyptian Museum The Oasis by Pauline Gedge (ebook)

A book eligible for the Warwick Prize for Women in Translation The Memory Police by Yōko Ogawa (on hold at CPL; est. 3 week wait)

A book written by an author of one of your best reads of 2020 The Once and Future Witches by Alix E. Harrow (on hold at CPL; est. 10 week wait???)

A book set in a made-up place Kushiel's Dart by Jacqueline Carey (paperback)

A book that features siblings as the main characters Sisters One, Two, Three by Nancy Star (ebook)

A book with a building in the title

A book with a Muslim character or author

3 books related to "Past, Present, Future" - Book 1

3 books related to "Past, Present, Future" - Book 2

3 books related to "Past, Present, Future" - Book 3

A book whose title and author both contain the letter "u"

A book posted in one of the ATY Best Book of the Month threads

A cross genre novel

A book about racism or race relations

A book set on an island

A short book (<210 pages) by a new-to-you author

A book with a character who can be found in a deck of cards

A book connected to ice

A book that you consider comfort reading

A long book

A book by an author whose career spanned more than 21 years

A book whose cover shows more than 2 people

A collection of short stories, essays, or poetry

A book with a travel theme

A book set in a country on or below the Tropic of Cancer

A book with six or more words in the title

A book from the Are You Well Read in World Literature list

A book related to a word given by a random word generator

A book involving an immigrant

A book with flowers or greenery on the cover

A book by a new-to-you BIPOC author

A mystery or thriller

A book with elements of magic

A book whose title contains a negative

A book related to a codeword from the NATO Phonetic Alphabet

A winner or nominee from the 2020 Goodreads Choice Awards

A non-fiction book other than biography, autobiography or memoir

A book that might cause someone to react “You read what?!?” Missing 411: Eastern United States by David Paulides (terrible pdf copy I’m not paying $100 for a book about extradimensional bigfoot)

A book with an ensemble cast

A book published in 2021

A book whose title refers to person(s) without giving their name

A book related to "the end"

There’s No Business Like Snow Business February Reading Challenge (8/8)

Snow is precipitation in the form of small white ice crystals formed directly from the water vapor of the air at a temperature of less than 0°C (32°F).

Read a book that has snow on the cover or snow in the title. Killing Dragons: The Conquest of the Alps by Fergus Fleming Did I like it? It was okay. There was more about the personalities involved in early mountaineering than I did about actual mountain-climbing, which was fine, but didn’t get really exciting until those personalities got really dysfunctional. Was it good? Again, it was okay. The prose wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t gripping, and there was some odd (lack of) translation on occasion. The research seemed thorough and solid, though. Would I recommend it? Not really, unless you are specifically looking to research the Alps or early European mountain-climbing enthusiasts for a writing project or something, in which case, of course. 3 stars

Precipitation: Read a book that has any weather related term in the title. Trail of Lightning, book 1 of The Sixth World, by Rebecca Roanhorse Did I like it? Yes! This took me back to my first forays into urban fantasy as a preteen/young teen. I loved the Diana Tregarde books and also Harry Turtledove’s The Case of the Toxic Spell Dump, and whenever I want urban fantasy that’s kind of the pattern I’m looking for? An unfriendly world full of myths that are real and living and breathing and otherworldly but also they are probably trying to bum a cigarette off you. I haven’t reread my favorite childhood urban fantasy because I think it probably won’t hold up, and later urban fantasy has mostly been not quite what I wanted, but this book was like being that kid all over again. I’m not super familiar with Dine folklore/mythology so it was neat to learn a little bit about that, too, although obviously to learn those stories maybe don’t go to an urban fantasy novel. Was it good? It was pretty good! The prose wasn’t like, stylistically exciting, but it conveyed the plot well, and I did like the narrative voice, and the characterization was good, I thought. Would I recommend it? Absolutely. Content warning for violence (as per urban fantasy) and a child dies violently early on in the book, but if you were the kind of kid I was but you’re not really into paranormal romance or Harry Dresden, give it a try. 4 stars

Small: Read a book that has less than 200 pages. A Butt in the Mist: Stirred to the Core of My Bodice by the Duchess Triceratops of Helena by Chuck Tingle Did I like it? I mostly did, but it wasn’t super exciting. I liked the free book afterwards better. It was funny, but Chuck’s been funnier. Was it good? This 4,000 word book was written with all the quality and attention to detail that I have come to expect from beloved author Chuck Tingle. Would I recommend it? Not really? It was funny, but I think I like his more metafictional stuff better, and I think he gets a lot weirder with his m/m stuff; if I’m reading Chuck Tingle, I want it to be weird. 3 stars

Snow is formed of crystals and is a slang term for diamonds. Read a book in which a gem or other mineral can be found in the plot, title, or cover art. Ombria in Shadow by Patricia A. McKillip Did I like it? Mostly! I love the lush visuals of McKillip’s prose; they more than live up to the also gorgeous covers. Dreamy fairytale stuff but with solid emotions and a good sense of place. Was it good? I think so, although the dreamlike quality of the prose does mean you’re liable to miss something if your attention drifts. Would I recommend it? Yes, I think so. 5 stars

Snow is a dessert made of stiffly beaten whites of eggs, sugar, and fruit pulp. Read a book with a dessert on the cover, or read a book in which a dessert is made. Chocolate Chip Cookie Murder by Joanne Fluke, book 1 of the Hannah Swensen series Did I like it? I enjoyed parts of it, but I thought it really suffered at the beginning, when our introduction to the detective was “not like other girls, not interested in DATING and MEN” and our introduction to her older sister is “she was a DITZY CHEERLEADER and now she’s married with a kid but she’s a HORRIBLE CAREER HARPY who WORKS ALL DAY and puts her child in DAYCARE and CAN’T COOK” and that was all just very tiresome. The sister does turn out to have redeeming qualities and useful interests, but the way these two and their mother interact is all like, if you were asking yourself whether there’s such a thing as toxic femininity and what that would look like, it’s these women. Aside from that, it was fine; it was a cozy mystery novel about a bakery specializing in cookies. I will say, I did appreciate the Midwesternness of the small town Midwest setting. Was it good? Not really. I did kind of have to handwave a lot to let the detective get away with all the HIPAA violations and crime scene disturbing that she does, but it is a cozy mystery. Would I recommend it? Probably not; I’ve heard this series gets better so if you’re interested in the series and/or like the idea of cookie-themed cozies, maybe start with a different book, unless you’re a completist like I am. 3 stars

Snow is slang for cocaine. Read a book about drugs or drug addiction. The Man With the Golden Arm by Nelson Algren Did I like it? It was not a fun read, by any means, but Algren’s prose is fantastic and it was such a novelty to see such a familiar accent represented by eye dialect. (Which I know has fallen out of fashion and is considered the mark of a bad writer, but I really don’t mind it if it’s done well.) It’s one of those books where nobody has a fair shake and everybody is doomed, but it doesn’t feel gratuitous. All the characters are horrible to each other, but in fairness they are also horrible to themselves; it’s all they’ve ever known. Was it good? Yes. It was extremely good and I’m considering buying a physical copy so I can write things in the margins. This is actually really weird for me to do; in high school we occasionally had to turn our books in so our teacher could be sure we were writing in them Correctly, and I found it a little painful, but I did want to do it with this book. Would I recommend it? Yes, if you’re up for a really depressing story about heroin addiction and poverty. 5 stars

White is the color of snow. Read a book that contains white in the cover. The Lathe of Heaven by Ursula K. Le Guin Did I like it? I definitely did. I haven’t read much Le Guin yet for some reason, and while this did initially start off feeling exactly like just another ‘70s SF story where in the future we’ve solved all of psychology and it’s super mechanistic, it was really fascinating and surprisingly, unpleasantly prescient. Was it good? I thought so! There were some parts of it that were pretty awkward about race, from a 2021 perspective, but it does actually deal with race in a way that made me think “yes, that’s exactly what would happen as a consequence of this plot, and it would be horrible, oh no, oh shit,” and it is horrible. Would I recommend it? I am not sure I would! I would recommend it in like five years, assuming those five years are not much like the last five years. Hoping and praying that those five years are not much like the last five, really. The premise of the book -- which I haven’t explained, I realize -- is that in this near-future environmental dystopia, the main character can change things in real life by dreaming about them, and he would like to not do that, only he is put under the care of a psychiatric researcher who tries to play God. So this poor man literally wakes up every day to a brand new dystopia and it felt... familiar. 4 stars

To snow someone is to deceive, persuade, or charm glibly. Read a book about a con artist, or read a book about deception. Empire of Deception: The Incredible Story of a Master Swindler Who Seduced a City and Captivated the Nation by Dean Jobb Did I like it? I did. I have joked that my own personal reading challenge this year is to fill up the Chicago shelf/tag on my Goodreads account, and this book was recommended to me in that spirit, and I always like hearing about a. Chicago; b. the 1920s; and c. con men conning people. Was it good? The prose was fine; it was fun but I think the thing I appreciated most was all the punny newspaper headlines. Would I recommend it? If you are someone who perks up at the sound of at least 2 out of 3 of the themes of “Chicago,” “1920s,” and “con men,” yes. 4 stars

2021 Q1 challenge: Changes (3/20)

Read a book that features:

The word "change" (Changes, Changing, or other variations) in its title. Weeds: How Vagabond Plants Gatecrashed Civilisation and Changed the Way We Think About Nature by Richard Mabey Did I like it? It was all right. I like hearing about plant history, and the chapter on plants unexpectedly surviving/thriving on battlefields and bombing sites was particularly interesting to me. Was it good? It was okay, but kind of poorly-organized; there were chapter themes but it felt awfully stream-of-consciousness sometimes. Would I recommend it? Maybe not unless you’re really into botany and Western anthropology. (As in, the study of Western cultures; this book does not do much with other cultures.) 3 stars

The theme of money or money on its cover (loose change). Spinning Silver by Naomi Novik Did I like it? I really, really liked it to the point that I feel kind of silly about it, gotta say. I’m really, really hit or miss on the author’s work (both fanfic and profic) but the themes of this were perfect for me; Russian fairytales, a cynical but earnest sort of Judaism, creepy fairy abductions, interesting worldbuilding, and women coming together to help each other. (Also some interesting enemies-to-lovers stuff that wasn’t really developed on the “lovers” side, which I would have dug. Like its precursor, this book has a lot of f/f friends-to-lovers subtext and hostile canon het.) Was it good? I don’t know? I liked it enough that I genuinely don’t know if it was well-written. Would I recommend it? I would, but I’m not sure you should trust me on this??? Again, this book really, really hit me in the id. 5 stars

An adaptation of its original format (book-to-manga, translation, etc.) Murder on the Rockport Limited! by Clint McElroy et al Did I like it? It was okay, but not nearly as good as the original podcast’s murder train arc. The art was good and all, but, eh. Was it good? It was fine. I’m not sure how into the DM/character conversations I am, and I found myself having to pause and reimagine the dialogue in the various McElroys’ voices, which wasn’t good because it meant I wasn’t automatically reading them in those voices in my head, which is a major litmus test I use when I’m deciding whether I want to keep reading a fanfic. Would I recommend it? Definitely not as a standalone thing. 3 stars

The author's initials found in the word "change" Helen of Sparta by Amalia Carosella (in progress)

Separate book sections or part of a series of three or more books (make change) The Seduction of the Crimson Rose by Lauren Willig (in progress)

An author or character writing under a pseudonym The Maker’s Mask by Ankaret Wells (in progress)

A topic or character about which you feel differently now than in the past. La Belle Sauvage by Phillip Pullman

Changing one's mind about a life decision. A Tapestry of Magics by Brian Daley

Switching careers/jobs. The Goblin Emperor by Katherine Addison

Relocating to a different city, state/province, or country. Fire Season: Field Notes from a Wilderness Lookout by Philip Connors

Cultivating new daily habits. How to Be Fine by Jolenta Greenberg and Kristen Meinzer

A character who shifts shapes or identities. The Lie: A Memoir of Two Marriages, Catfishing & Coming Out by William Dameron

Life changes due to age Two Old Women: An Alaskan Legend of Betrayal, Courage, and Survival by Velma Wallis

A medical transformation Specials by Westerfield, Scott

A life-changing experience. Going Clear: Scientology, Hollywood, & the Prison of Belief by Lawrence Wright

A changing household The Girl from the Other Side: Siúil, A Rún, Volume 1 by Nagabe

An action or phenomenon that transforms society or the world. Hard Times: An Oral History of the Great Depression by Studs Terkel

Replacing one thing with another (change out) In Vino Duplicitas: The Rise and Fall of a Wine Forger Extraordinaire by Peter Hellman & Charles Constant

Technological innovation Tubes: A Journey to the Center of the Internet by Andrew Blum

A game-changer. The Sleepwalkers: How Europe Went to War in 1914 by Christopher Clark

Fanfic Reading Challenge recs (1)

I have a private checklist with the fanfic reading challenge data, but will not be sharing all of the fics; fanfiction is generally an amateur endeavor, and many people do not enjoy receiving (or stumbling across) criticism of their work. Bad reviews are normal and accepted as part of commercial publishing, and professional authors (hopefully!) get paid for their work, so I’m comfortable criticizing published novels. I would prefer not to publicly criticize someone’s writing when they are just writing for the joy of it, especially since some of the tasks require me to read first-time authors’ fics, fics with relatively low kudos counts, fics for ships I don’t like, etc. So I’m only putting the recs here.

Romancing the Tome by Anti_kate Good Omens; Aziraphale/Crowley; ~40k words; rated Explicit Romance novelist Aziraphale Wilder is pulled from his carefully ordered life when his sister is kidnapped and held to ransom. With the help of antiquities forger Anthony J Crowley, he braves the wilds of Scotland to rescue her and keep a priceless book from falling into the hands of dangerous book thieves. Did I like it? Yes! It was cheesy and cute and basically what I want out of this kind of romcom AU fic. I’m not normally into human AUs and this one wasn’t like, super deep or anything, but it was very fun. Was it good? I thought so! The dialogue was great, I enjoyed the characterization, the sex was good. I do think the Crowley in this fic is pretty self-loathing in a way that I don’t see canon Crowley being at all, but I have a weakness for that and I also think self-loathing works for a human version of Crowley. One thing it doesn’t shy away from is Crowley doing genuinely awful stuff (instead of being a misunderstood woobie) and yet the resolution is sweet and lovely anyway. Would I rec it? Yes! Go read this fic. It’s fast-paced but long enough to be worth settling in to read, it’s funny, and it’s sweet. 5 stars

In Holy Matrimony by Myracuulous Good Omens; Aziraphale/Crowley; ~6.7k words; rated General From the private journal of Alisha Jones, wedding planner, concerning the nuptials of Anthony J Crowley and Aziraphale and the planning process thereof, containing an account of chosen decor, guest list construction, and the holy war against the Antichrist that nearly ruined six months of professional organization and a very nice dinner. Did I like it? Yes! It was extremely cute, and I always really like outsider POV. I did appreciate the fact that poor Alisha definitely knew something was definitely weird, but kept telling herself not to question it because a gorgeous wedding with an unlimited budget and zero issues with scheduling, catering, guest limits, etc. is a great problem to have. Was it good? It was pretty good! The climax and wrap-up felt a bit rushed, mostly due to the limits of outsider POV, but I did enjoy Aziraphale unexpectedly embracing his inner groomzilla while also being unfailingly sweet about it. Would I rec it? Yup, especially if you want wedding comedy/fluff and outsider POV

Wrong Turn by anticyclone Good Omens; Aziraphale/Crowley; ~38k words; rated Teen And Up Lots and lots of somethings are wrong. First, Crowley's nearly hit by a car. Then he almost brains himself tripping over new and excessive piles of books at the bookshop. To add insult to near-injury, Aziraphale starts throwing knives at him. Safe to say his day could be going better.

The thing that's the most wrong of all is the universe, of course. In this one there was never an Arrangement. Aziraphale and Anthony (they can't both be 'Crowley') aren't friends and they certainly never agreed to prep for Armageddon. Unfortunately, the end of the world is two days away.

So that's something Crowley really has to fix before they can figure out how to get him home. Did I like it? Oh yes. I had read bits of this on ffa previously, and also anticyclone is a good writer (and a friend) so like, I was expecting it to be good; I was not disappointed. Was it good? Yes! I was particularly impressed at how much alternate backstory is set up in little hints here and there, and then explained more thoroughly in ways that take the AU Aziraphale and Crowley by surprise when they do finally get to talking. Would I rec it? Yes! Especially if you like a nice dose of enemies-to-lovers along with your friends-to-lovers, and also the awkwardness of meeting your alternate universe self.

Finished in January, not for reading challenges (3 books):

The Way of Kings, book 1 of The Stormlight Archive, by Brandon Sanderson Did I like it? It was fine. Was it good? I think so. I am maybe not the best audience for epic fantasy at this point, partly because I’ve read a lot of it and partly because I habitually read 3-7 books at once at any given time. Would I recommend it? Maybe, but I feel like most of the people who would enjoy it have probably heard of it already. 3 stars

Get a Wiggle On, a Good Omens fanzine Did I like it? Yup! Was it good? Mostly, although as usual with zines and anthologies, quality varies piece by piece. Of the fics I particularly liked “A Head Above Water,” “The Grapes of Mild Irritation,” and “Concerning the Great Serpent Glykon and the Angel Clothed With the Sun,” all of which are now available on AO3. Would I recommend it? If you like snakey Crowley, yes. 4 stars

20,000 Leagues Under the Sea by Jules Verne Did I like it? Yes, very much! A very silly thing I particularly liked (which unfortunately you cannot really replicate) is that the edition I have is an illustrated hardcover book from 1926 which I picked up cheap at a used bookstore, knowing I would like it because Jules Verne. I didn’t think much about that specific date when I bought it, but I am now writing a fic set in 1926, with a character who has a habit of reading adventure novels and who I have specifically mentioned enjoyed Jules Verne in his childhood, so when I discovered the date the coincidence made me very happy. The book itself smells very nice, it’s nice to hold, and as I was reading it I kept thinking about what Danny would think of the book, and whether he would try reading it aloud to Crowley, and wondering if the book smelled as nice in 1926 as it does now. Maybe I will have Aziraphale give this book to him as a very small thank-you for all he has done to keep Crowley alive and well. Was it good? For the most part. Jules Verne is prone to wandering off on tangents where he shows you his research, but I’m sympathetic to that, and there’s some really cool and atmospheric scenes in this book. My favorite character was definitely Captain Nemo, who we don’t really learn much about. Could have done without Conseil, the bland servant character who could be a naturalist in his own right, if he had any opinions of his own, or the period racism/imperialism, which unfortunately is so built into this kind of adventure novel. But the environmentalism was a nice surprise, and you can definitely read some critiques of certain aspects of (Western?) culture at the time into Captain Nemo’s behavior; I have not yet read The Mysterious Island where Captain Nemo also appears, but I do get the impression a lot of people read him as being disgusted with imperialism. Would I recommend it? Probably! With the caveats above. It was a good adventure story with some awesome visuals, and I kept thinking about what a pretty movie it would make with modern SFX, and how sad I would be that they would inevitably not spend just 3 solid hours on cool fish and interiors of the Nautilus and scenes of the lost city of Atlantis and Captain Nemo being very mysterious and dreamy scary, because they’d probably shoehorn an awkward romance into it. 4 stars

Finished in February, not for reading challenges (2 books):

The Deception of the Emerald Ring by Lauren Willig, book 3 of the Pink Carnation series Did I like it? I did. It was a silly Regency romance novel with espionage elements, it is the third of a series I have enjoyed, and it contained an accidental/forced marriage to preserve a lady’s honor despite neither party to the marriage particularly liking or wanting to have anything to do with each other, and some misunderstandings about that. Also spies. Was it good? Not really. It was fun and I liked the characters, but I don’t think the writing was of particularly high quality. The handling of certain elements of English imperialism was not great, and bothered me enough to note it in my review on Goodreads. Would I recommend it? I’d recommend the series if it sounds like something you’d like; I might not recommend this specific book. 3 stars

The Light Brigade by Kameron Hurley Did I like it? No. It was very dark, and I did not enjoy most of the book. A lot of it was because it was very gritty and grim, and because I frequently don’t enjoy military fiction; a lot of it was because many of the dystopian aspects of our present reality that came to a head in 2020 were magnified in the book. Part of it was also that the protagonist’s entire reality and memory was being denied for much of the book, and I think it reminded me of being gaslit. (This is not a criticism of the book, or some kind of weird accusation that the book or its author was somehow abusing me, I just have this personal history. In fact, it turns out the main character is being gaslit to some extent, and the author writes it very well.) It was a minor relief when she finally decided the stuff she was going through was real, and a huge relief when she was able to talk to someone who believed her. Was it good? Yes, I think so. Would I recommend it? Not right now, but I think this would be a good book to read at a time when the world feels more stable. I don’t say this because I want you to wait until everything’s fine to read it; I say this because it feels like a good anti-complacency read. 4 stars (3 for not being an enjoyable read, 5 for the actual plot; it averages out.)

In progress, not for reading challenges (1 book):

Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation by 墨香铜臭

#kaesa op

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selfindulgentpoorlywritten · 5 years ago

Text

Golden (Sidney Crosby Imagine)

I’ve been working on this for weeks, and I wouldn’t have made it through without @staviastar who helped me write and beta’d! There’s an optional smut scene at the end, that’s marked off with a warning.

Rating: T (main) / E (optional end scene)

Pairing: Sidney Crosby/fem!Reader

Words: 4388 (w/o optional scene) / 7543 (full piece)

Warnings: minor language, somewhat unsafe sex

Requested: yes/no

Summary: “ hey so I found out recently that last week was the 10th anniversary of the Golden Goal (Crosby winning gold in overtime back in the 2010 Olympics) and I was thinking, maybe a fluffy (perhaps smutty?) imagine from that moment? “

It’s been a hard-fought game, excellent playing on both teams, though you’re tempted to say Canada has been playing just that much better. Your best friend being on that team has absolutely nothing to do with it, obviously, because that kind of bias wouldn’t stand in measured debate. Except the fact that you’re friends with most of Team Canada, and Sid being their star player might maybe- maybe, have something to do with why you’re on the edge of your seat five minutes into overtime, watching your friends from either side flit around the ice in a careful, frenzied dance. It’s not quite Miracle stakes, of course, but Canada vs. the United States is always an intense game to watch.

You could say something sappy, like that Sid is a poet on the ice, in a delicate ballet spanning all 200 feet, but you’d be lying. He’s plenty elegant, but more in the way of an engraved wrecking ball; pretty but too sturdy to be kept from getting where he wants to go. Maybe that’s poetic too, in its own way. Whether others would agree or not, it’s beautiful to you, the way he plays. The surety of his movements, the precision of the angle of his blade, the awareness of where anyone on the ice is at any given time. It’s a joy to watch him play, and that joy doesn’t fade no matter how many times you get to see it.

Six minutes into overtime, and it’s a constant roar of the crowd. The puck moves back and forth between teams, no hesitation where there isn’t room for it, the crowd cheering and booing in turns. Nash takes a solid shot, but it’s blocked just as solidly. Kessler starts taking it back down toward Canada’s side, and as they fly around with just enough control over the puck, you’re beginning to think this might go beyond overtime. But Canada takes the puck, skates it around in circles just long enough that you don’t notice what American player it is that Staal jukes expertly, taking just enough of a pause that they can regroup. Then there are passes and a steal and a blocked shot, and the USA has control again, barreling toward your net and almost scoring on a shit block, but the goalie comes through.

Then your breath is caught in your chest as Sid approaches the net, nearly barreling through a Team USA player to get close enough to pop off a shot, though it’s blocked. You make the mistake of taking a breath upon hearing his scream of “Iggy!”, and Sid doesn’t give you - or anyone for that matter - the time to fully exhale before the puck is in the net.

The arena explodes. Erupts. Goes absolutely, unstoppably, wild. You’ve never heard so much concentrated noise, and you’d cover your ears if you weren’t so busy sucking in a breath so you can scream along with them. Canada v. USA and your best friend just scored the game-winning goal. In overtime. The Golden Goal, though no one in hockey really called it that yet.

You’re not terribly close to the ice, though not far, and virtually no one you know is seated near you, but everyone is hugging and kissing and twirling each other around, and you’re no exception. You hug the person to your right, and when you turn to the one on your left, he spins you around as your matching Team Canada jerseys smash together. The guy in front of you, unfortunately in blue, shakes your hand solemnly before sitting back down. At least he’s a good sport. You’re not keen on seeing what chaos is going on in the upper decks right now, honestly.

But beyond the revelry and camaraderie, your main goal is to get the hell out of here. Because there, somewhere under your seats, is the place where you’ll meet Sid and your other friends. Where you’ll get to see their faces for the first time in a long time, and hug them, and congratulate them to the best of your ability. But there’s still all the pomp and circumstance to get through, for the players at least, so you have a bit of time. Time enough to get rows down to the wives and girlfriends, so at least one of them can vouch for you to come back outside the locker room. The girls are already gathering their things by the time you get to them, because you’ve spent enough time watching the spectacle that it’s almost over. Sid just looks so happy, and you couldn’t bear to look away.

As you make your way over to the WAG’s section, you spot Ryan Whitney- one of Sid’s teammates on the Penguins- and you’re not sure what he’s expecting from you. The officials award Team USA with the silver medals, and he looks, for the most part, downcast. But as soon as he makes eye contact with you, you see the recognition, the fondness, the mischief. You know Whitney is one of the worst about chirping Sid (and you) about your “relationship”, so you don’t return the expression, only allowing a delighted smile in support of your boys. You can already predict the amount of chirping that he’ll give Sid once they reunite as teammates, him and the rest of the Penguins always being one to harmlessly tease you both in your relationship.

Once you’re sufficiently close, one of the wives notices you and beckons you closer, pulling you in once you’re within arm’s reach. You get along well enough with most of them, Sid having invited you to enough of various team events to at least meet the majority of Canada’s WAGs. At least, this Team Canada’s WAGs. You’re not really one of them, but they’ve welcomed you heartily, always cooing over Sid and you as if you were some oscar-winning love story for the ages just because you’d been friends for years.

They vouch for you with security, and they’re kind enough to let you go, despite not having any special identification like the others. You probably would have had something, if Sid had known you were coming. But as far as he knew, you were still on the east coast, working on your post-grad. But the majority of the team (and their better halves) had insisted you come, and, well, you weren’t exactly opposed. But they thought it would be nice if you were a surprise, so you hadn’t been able to tell him where you were, despite being in the same city. Everyone figured if Canada lost, you’d be there to soothe the sore loser Sid inevitably was, and, hey, if they won, you could celebrate together. Luckily, it turned out to be the latter. Sid always turned to you first when he was overwhelmed; proof validated when he saw you outside of the locker room after the 2008 Stanley Cup Finals, practically breaking down into tears as he collapsed into your arms. Now, anyone with a mature sense of mind would see this as an emotional, iconic, heartbreaking moment for Sid the Kid - and it was - but they clearly didn’t witness the bitchier, grumpier side of him when you returned to Mario’s house, criticizing himself and the (debatably) dirty tactics of the Red Wings during the game. For your part, you just sat there on that couch with him, letting him lie down as if it were a therapy session, his head in your lap, and vent; occasionally agreeing and reassuring and doing your best to put his criticisms to rest, until the sun came up and he finally gave in to exhaustion. You didn’t want to openly admit it (and neither did anyone else), but your presence during that difficult time had done wonders for him.

You chat with the gals as you all wait for the guys to talk to the media and get changed, discussing the oncoming celebrations as the guys, no doubt, have an initial celebration on their own. As much as you love talking to the girls, you can’t help but think about how happy Sid had looked, how overwhelmed with accomplishment and satisfaction. Knowing his penchant for never being content with himself, it’s all you’ve ever wanted for him.

Finally, the players start emerging from the locker room. They each go to their support in turn, wives and girlfriends and family. You’re waiting, waiting, waiting, until Sid eventually wanders out, backpack slung over his shoulders. He greets a few of his teammates’ family members, before his eyes finally catch yours. You feel your face break into a broad smile, whether you gave it permission to or not, and watch his own do the same. His smile is blinding, all-encompassing, seemingly more stunning than it had been even on the ice after his goal.

“Hey Sid,” you greet, easy as anything despite the way your heart is threatening to beat out of your chest. Sid is everything to you, always has been. Even since you were kids shooting at an old washing machine, since you were teenagers too anxious about being bad at it to kiss anyone, since you’ve reached adulthood and both of you were too unsure to make a move, he’s always been everything to you. And he always will be. Because he’s Sid, and you’re you, and that’s just the way of the world.

“Hey,” he greets in return, unable to make his face behave, though you can see him trying. It seems he gives up on that, because instead, he decides to close the gap between you as quickly as possible, sweeping you up in his arms and spinning you around. Where you would normally just giggle, you laugh out loud, taking part in the unrestrained elation of the group. And that which you feel growing in your chest with every second you spend near Sid.

“I thought you were working on your research,” he says after he puts you back on your feet, keeping you held close enough to his chest that you can feel the vibrations of the words.

“Never said I couldn’t work on it from Vancouver,” you reply, cheeky in a way he’s come to expect from you, but that hasn’t ceased to make him smile even wider. There’s nothing to say then, except everything. I’m so proud of you. You did an amazing job. You are amazing. I’m so in love with you. I have been for so long I think I was born loving you. But you don’t say any of that, because you’re not an idiot. You just hold him close until some of his teammates start whistling and egging you on to kiss. You plant an overdramatic kiss on his cheek to satisfy them, finally pulling away as much as you’re willing.

You know he’s socially obligated to spend some time with the team out at the bars, but you’re not particularly in the mood for even more noise. But it’s Sid, and he’s holding your hand as he leads you along, so you can’t imagine not agreeing to go. It’s just a blur of noise and congratulations and dancing and far less drinking than you’d imagined. At least on yours and Sid’s parts. Everyone else seems to be getting properly wasted, but Sid only has as many drinks as you do, and you intend to remember tonight, so you don’t have that many.

Eventually, Sid takes your hand again-- or maybe he’d never stopped holding it-- and tugs you toward the door, giving an uncharacteristic middle finger to his team when they cheer (and chirp) at the two of you leaving. You follow him outside without resistance, knowing anywhere Sid takes you is somewhere you want to go. That place ends up being the Olympic village, a place you never could’ve dreamed you’d see. But here you are, with Sid leading you back to his room like it’s nothing, like his team clearly wasn’t expecting something you hadn’t dared think was a possibility.

Once he pulls you into the room, he holds you close, just squeezing you tight and breathing into your hair for long moments. You let it be, savoring the moment of closeness, appreciating the fact that you get to have this. If nothing else, if you spend the rest of your life pining after him as you have for years, you get to have this.

“I’m glad you came,” Sid says, after an indeterminate amount of time.

“I am too,” you reply, meaning it more than you’ve meant much anything else in your life. You’d assumed you would actually be back home now, working on your project, until seemingly everyone you knew insisted you had to be here. You’re sure they hadn’t meant here, in Sid’s hotel room, in his arms, but they’d meant here nonetheless. And where else could you have possibly ended up? Alone at your own hotel room, sure, if Sid wasn’t Sid, and you weren’t you, and the two of you weren’t who you are, together.

“I scored that goal and all I could think is how much I wished you were there to see it,” he continues, nosing under your ear, “And then you were.” You chuckle gently like you always do when he gets like this, all sentimental and soft. Such a tough, emotionless boy to the world, but they didn’t know him like you did. No one knew him like you did.

“I’m always gonna be there, Sid,” you say, and you mean it. You’ve both been through enough over the years for you to be able to say that for certain, and even if you hadn’t, you still feel it deep in your soul that it’s true. You’d cross oceans for him, climb mountains, take a ten hour flight alone across a continent. For him. Always for him.

“I know,” he replies, like it’s that easy. Like following someone across half the world is easy, like loving the most loved (and most hated) man in the world is easy.

“I appreciate it, y’know,” he continues, interrupting your slightly bitter thoughts, “Everything you do for me. All of it. I see it. And I’m so grateful.” Okay, that’s a little better. Or a lot better. Or enough better that your heart is starting to melt again, as if it’s ever been solid around Sid to begin with. You just bury your nose in his hair and try not to gasp when he places a soft kiss against your neck. The two of you have done many things together; playing, studying, sharing a seat, sharing a bed. But that’s just how friends are, especially in hockey. Maybe it means something to you, maybe his lips soft and wet against your skin send a message, but surely not one he means to send. He’s Sid, and Sid’s never been good at communicating with people, or socializing, or whatever. You’re used to it.

“You smell,” you say, perhaps a bit desperate to break whatever this moment is. He doesn’t actually smell that badly, clearly having taken at least a cursory rinse in the locker room showers earlier, but it’s as good an excuse as any. May as well get another shower at this point, with the slight crowded-bar-smell hanging on him. He just laughs into your skin, which doesn’t help much, and sways the two of you back-and-forth.

“Can’t get rid of me that easy,” he says, before pulling away to look you in the eye, “Unless you want to.” Which, like, what? Who would want to get rid of him?

“ ‘Cause if you don’t feel the same, I get it,” he continues, babbling in that way he does when he’s nervous, “But I feel like you do, and I do, and you flew across a continent to be here, and you’re the only one I care about being here, and I just--” He won’t stop unless you stop him, and you’re still too scatter-brained to parse what he’s trying to say, so you just put a finger to his lips to silence him. He shuts his mouth immediately, looking into your eyes like he’s waiting for direction. Like you’re the only one who could give him direction.

“Shower first,” you say, not quite sure where else to go with this. Luckily, he nods mutely, following easily when you lead him into the bathroom by your linked hands. He’s obviously not going to start, and you’re still trying to remember how to think, so you’re the first to begin stripping. After your shirt is on the floor and your shoes and socks are on their way to join, he finally snaps into action. He tears off his own clothes and shoes with an urgency you don’t feel quite yet. It’s almost like when you were little kids, and getting showers together after mud fights didn’t have any kind of connotation or expectations.

But then he’s naked, and you’re naked, and you’re not kids anymore. He’s a grown man, carefully built for his career in a way that’s just a touch too appealing, and you’re a random post-grad who happened to be lucky enough to know him before he was him. But again, you’re not who you used to be. Does he find who you are now attractive? Are you worth his time? Or are you still just a friend? Not that that would be a bad thing; no, being Sid’s friend was one of the greatest honors of your life, it’s just. That’s not the extent of what you want him to see you as. You don’t want to be eternally nine years old, shooting pucks and shooting the shit in his driveway. You want to be someone he admires, someone worth talking to, someone worth knowing, someone worth spending time with after he scores the game winning goal in overtime at the goddamn Olympics. Which, it seems, you may be.

But he doesn’t say anything, so neither do you. You just take his hand yet again and lead him into the spray of the now (by far) warm water. For long moments, you just look at each other, letting the spray douse you. But his eyes are dark, and you’re caught between knowing what that look means and not believing it, so you grab the standard issue shampoo and force his head down enough that you can lather his just-long-enough curls. You have to pull him close to rinse, but then put him back into place to get a second lather going, knowing how greasy his hair can get, and how much he appreciates you massaging his scalp. After the second rinse, you take the bar soap in your hand and halt, not sure you can still wash him down without a feeling that wasn’t there when you’d first faced this task. You stand there with soapy hands and helplessly open eyes, simultaneously praying he doesn’t recognize what you’re conveying, and wishing he would finally see through you. You stare and stare, and he stares back, before placing a hand on your hip and the other on your jaw.

“You know why I was so happy you’re here?” he asks, and you’re not sure you want to answer. Because you’re his friend. Because you’re the only thing he has from back home. Because you make him feel safe.

“Because I love you,” he says, his voice hushed and eyes half-lidded, when you refuse to answer. You can feel your mouth drop open just the slightest, and your eyes get a bit too wide and watery for your own comfort. It’s-- no. Sid is. He’s just being Sid, appreciating a friend, letting you know he cares and your trip wasn’t for naught. Just. Anything but what you hadn’t dared to hope.

“Like,” he continues when you don’t respond, “Love you, love you.” That’s not-- you aren’t-- you and Sid aren’t like that, except he continues, “Like more than a friend.” And that’s-- that’s everything you’ve wanted to hear from him for years, but everything you can’t believe. Because even though you knew him when he was still gangly and painfully awkward, he was always still the Next One, in your mind, at least. You always knew he was going to be something special, something amazing, and you were just. Just you. Just some random post-grad who still wasn’t quite sure where she was going with her life. Except, maybe, that it would follow wherever Sid led.

“I’ve loved you for a long time,” he says, just keeps going, like he’s not rewriting every fact you have in your head about the two of you, about how you’re the one who loves him and not the other way around, “Pretty much as long as I’ve known you.” For a moment you think this is all a joke, but you can’t imagine Sid doing something that cruel to you. Leading you on for his own amusement.

“You’re everything to me, Y/N,” he brushes his thumb across your cheekbone and you still can’t breathe, can’t imagine how this is real, how this is your life.

“All I’ve ever wanted was to give you a reason to love me,” he continues, like that’s not absolutely ridiculous, like he hasn’t given you every reason to love him every second of the day for the last fifteen years. Like he didn’t call you during Juniors to ask how school was, even though he was doing something more important. Well, maybe not more important, but more prestigious at the time. He had been there for you when you needed extra practice, when you needed someone to hold up flash cards, when you needed someone to make you laugh when no one else could. That’s not really what Sid was known for, honestly, but that’s how you knew him. The one person who could walk into a situation and make you laugh like none of your problems even existed.

The point is, it’s you who should be confessing your unconditional love for Sid, not the other way around. And yet here he is, as he’s always been, one step ahead of the curve. Telling you he loves you as you debate whether you can wash him off without giving yourself away. Doesn’t matter much now, does it?

“Really?” you ask, just to be sure, to make sure this isn’t some cruel joke, to protect yourself one last time. Sid’s eyes go from determined to unbearably soft, running both hands down the line of your neck.

“Of course,” he says, without hesitation, “Of course. Who else could I possibly love?” Your breath, your words, your entire being, gets stuck in your throat. Who else? Who else? Anyone! Anyone else! Your eyes are beading with tears and you’re glad there’s water running over the both of you, because otherwise it might get embarrassing pretty quickly. He could love anyone else, because anyone else wasn’t you. And isn’t that how love always goes? The one you love is always, in some way, better than you, and they always fall for someone better. Because you sit there and believe that as much as you love them, as much as you care for them and protect them and adore them, that there’s someone else better suited for them. And you give up the fight. But.

It’s Sid.

It’s Sid and he’s your best friend, and you haven’t been able to give him up until now, and you still can’t even give him up as he makes the biggest mistake of his life. But maybe loving you isn’t a mistake, because who knows him better than you? Who knows that he likes balsamic vinaigrette with a touch of whole grain mustard on his salads? Who knows that he walks an incredibly specific route around the Penguins arena to get to the room, and who is willing to take that route with him every time? Who knows that he’s so terribly afraid of not being enough that he puts everything he is into being the best, just to be worth something, that they work out with him during the summers, no matter how badly it hurts? Who better for him than you?

You laugh. It’s all you can do. You laugh and laugh and gasp for air and cling to him like he’s the last tangible thing on this planet until you can control yourself enough to look him in the eye. It takes many long moments of resting your head on his chest to get there, but his skin is warm and soft and yields against the careful presses of your lips.

“God, Sid,” you gasp, finally looking up into his dark, dark, scared, eyes, “Fuck.” His lips are soft when they meet yours, and you don’t see the look on his face, because you can’t keep your own eyelids open to watch. Because you’re finally kissing him, and he’s kissing you back, and he’s clinging onto you like his life depends on it, and his dark lashes flutter open just a second behind your own, like you’re still in sync after all these years, like your souls could never be parted by anything so simple as time or distance.

“Took you long enough,” you say, laughing, despite the thoughts racing through your own head. I love you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. I’d travel the world over to see you. I’d do anything for you. I love you.

Suddenly you’re both laughing. Maybe it’s not the time or place to do so, maybe it should’ve “ruined the mood” or something like that, but it’s the way you’ve always been and the way you hope you’ll always be. At first it starts out quiet and breathless as you part for air and look at each other in a newfound light, only to turn to bashful giggling and beautiful characteristic giggle-honks as you lean into each other, foreheads gently pressing together in an all-too-familiar way, eyes squeezed shut. Soon enough, your laughs echo off the walls as you hold each other under the warm spray of water cascading down your bodies and you’re both so terribly vulnerable, so open and bare to each other in this moment, but you can’t make yourself wish that this would ever end.

Optional Smut Scene Written Below (So we can possibly incorporate it into the main fic somehow if we plan on writing one):

Now that you’ve finally gotten to do it, you can’t quite help yourself from kissing him again, and again and again. His lips are slightly chapped from incessant cold, yet somehow still soft against yours. Both of your bodies are warm from the spray of the water, and you think you might die of heat stroke if you stay in the shower much longer. Besides, you’re not really trying to injure the hockey world’s sweetheart in a bizarre shower sex incident, so you don’t intend to stay in for much longer. Two minutes ago you might have questioned that thought, that you were about to have sex, but there’s no use in denying it now. Sid loves you. He loves you, and you love him, and nothing in this world or the next could stop you from getting him off.

But you can’t quite get yourself to stop kissing him long enough that you can bring up a venue change, because you’ve been thinking about this as long as you’ve known what kissing was for, and now you finally have it. So you hold him close and kiss him hopefully as senseless as he’s leaving you, only kind-of ignoring the press of his growing erection against your hip. You can’t fully ignore it, because it’s, like, there, and it’s Sid, and it’s for you.

Eventually he must have the same thought of the perils of shower sex, becuase he gasps out “bed” against your mouth and you’re helpless but to nod. You reach behind you to shut off the water, and he leads you out of the stall with deep kisses and wandering hands. It’s only when the backs of your still-damp knees hit the bed that it sets in, yeah, you’re going to do this. You’re going to fuck your best friend, and you’re going to do it because you’re in love.

He uses a hand on your back to lower you onto the mattress, like you’re something precious he doesn’t want to break. You can only laugh, making him bend over for a kiss before you scoot to straighten yourself out on the bed, and he follows like he couldn’t imagine an alternative. There’s more kissing, enough that you’d be sick of it with anyone else, and he’s working your breasts like your body is his thesis, rolling and flicking your nipples until you moan into his mouth. You can feel his smile at that accomplishment, and don’t resist giving him the satisfaction again and again.

It could be minutes, could be days, before he moves to your jaw, your neck, your shoulders, kissing and sucking and biting like he wants to leave marks, wants everyone to know you’re off limits. You’re not exactly opposed to the idea, but it is a bit tacky to show up with hickeys everywhere. Still, you’re not complaining. It would be kind of funny to see him all flustered when the guys chirp him half to death about it, anyway. It’s only when he reaches the base of your ribcage that he stops, pulls back enough for you to whine. What the fuck.

“I don’t have a condom,” he says without prompting, and okay, that’s kind of a good reason to pause. Fuck, why doesn’t he have one? Who doesn’t carry around a fucking condom?

“I uh,” he continues, cheeks flaming red from their previous pink flush, “I haven’t really wanted to sleep with anyone else, so.” Oh. That’s pretty sweet, honestly, and just enough to soothe the part of you that wants him inside you, like, now. You force him to meet eyes and smile.

“That’s pretty cheesy, Sidney,” you tease, running a hand through his curls. He buries his face in your stomach and mutters a “shut up”. Maybe you should’ve told him you were coming, so he could be prepared. No matter what you could’ve done, you can still work with this.

“Well,” you sigh overdramatically, “I guess I have a mouth.” You can feel his cocktwitch against your leg as he whispers a heartfelt “Fuck...” under his breath. There’s always tomorrow, you suppose, and it’s not like going down on him is going to be a hardship. Or maybe it will? You’ve never really done… all that, so maybe it’s harder than it looks? Shit, Sid is probably well seasoned in sexual aspects, and you’re gonna look like a fool. Except-

“I uh,” Sid starts, pauses, continues, “I haven’t really… with anyone.” Which is like, mind-blowing, cause he’s Sid and he’s hot and lovely and if you’re understanding him correctly, how has no one jumped on that?

“Haven’t what?” you ask, just for clarification. Good to know exactly what you’re dealing with.

“I’ve never, uh,” Sid seems hesitant to say it out loud, like he’s talking to his teammates and not you, who has known he’s a dork since you met him, “I’ve never had sex.” That’s, um. That’s certainly, something. Like, to be fair, neither have you, so you don’t have much room to speak, but you’re not a world famous athlete with women of all ages banging down your door to fuck.

“Why, though?” you ask, because your brain to mouth filter has been shot since he first kissed you. That’s a pretty personal question to ask, and you kind of feel bad. Until he responds with more ease and grace than you’d ever have expected.

“I always kind of hoped it would be you,” he says, and if he were anyone else, you’d probably try to act smooth about it - but you give him a blushing, broad smile instead, one that you’re sure shows a hint of feeling humbled and a bit over-complimented. Call it sappy all you want, but it’s true. He’s had all the opportunity in the world to have sex and he hasn’t, simply because he wanted it to be with you. You’re much less afraid of being bad at sex now, knowing that you’re on the same level, and it makes you even more eager to get down to it. And if he feels the same way you do- that there’s not much short of serious bodily injury that could make this any less perfect- you don’t have much to be worried about.

“I, uh, I haven’t either,” you respond, ignoring his wide eyes staring up at you, “I was kind of hoping it would be you, too.” In any other situation, it would be humiliating to admit, but, for the millionth time, it’s Sid, and that makes it okay. Sid makes everything okay. He looks hungry, suddenly, in a way he hasn’t yet, and you can only hope you live up to what he’s been imagining. Because he’s been imagining, Jesus Christ.

“Do you, uh, want to… go first, or?” you ask, not quite caring what he decides. But you’re on your back and he’s halfway down your body, so it seems pretty clear what should transpire next. Unless he’s into getting his own first, which is definitely valid, but you’re kind of hoping he wants you to get off first, just so you can focus on giving him the first time that he deserves.

“Fuck yeah,” he breathes, which isn’t much of an answer, because it could easily mean getting or giving, but any doubt you had about his answer is quickly answered by the way he continues to trail down your abdomen. So okay, yeah, he’s definitely going to eat you out, and that’s like, the subject matter of almost every dream you’ve had for the past five years, but it’s cool. It’s totally cool, and you’re cool, and not short of breath at all.

He spends almost too much time at your pelvis, sucking marks into the delicate skin of your hips and inner thighs, making you squirm with nothing but the heat and pressure of his mouth. It would be embarrassing, probably, with anyone else, but Sid has always had this air of earnest, unabashed passion that makes you feel like you’re allowed to want. And he seems happy enough about it, proud that he’s apparently as good at this as anything else he tries, if the noises you’re making are any indication. The faintest voice at the back of your mind hopes that you can hold up to scrutiny when it’s your turn, but mostly you’re just desperate for him to get on with it already.

“Let me know if it’s good?” he requests, the first outright sign of insecurity he’s shown since getting you into bed. You’re not sure it’s possible for him to mess this up, honestly, because it’s like. It can’t be that hard, right? And at first, he confirms these assumptions, running his tongue over your labia, just enough pressure and slickness to make it work. He uses his hands to spread your thighs more, baring more of you to him. And it’s... Okay, it’s good. It’s like, really good. But it’s not enough. He’s running his tongue through your folds and sucking and you’re making noises that surely couldn’t be attractive in any other context, but it’s not enough. If he wanted to keep you here for the next year, eating you out, this would be perfect, but you’re kind of looking to come, and this just isn’t gonna get you there.

“C’mon, Sid,” you plead, “More.” At that, he works his way higher, like he’s searching for- oh. Okay. Yeah, that’s your clit and he probably only knows it because he read about it somewhere, because he’s a nerd and you love him for it. Except the single-minded attention is just a bit too much at this point, and you have to push him away when he tries to suck hard at you, too much too soon, despite feeling like you’ve been ready forever.

“Just, fuck,” you curse, not sure how to direct him. But he seems to get the message, going back to alternating wide stripes up your folds and directionless swiping with a pointed tongue. Eventually, he gets up the nerve to dip into you with his tongue, and it’s just enough that you buck into his face. He takes this as encouragement, as he should, so he continues interspersing his licks with deep strokes of his tongue. You can feel your orgasm building in the curve of your hips, the back of your neck, the ends of your teeth, when he meets your eyes once again. You just nod, and he seems to get the message, going for your clit again. He licks and sucks and whereas it was too much before, it’s just enough now. You can’t help the way your hips move incessantly toward his mouth, desperate for anything he’ll give you, and let your orgasm wash through you in cresting waves that mimic the rolling of your hips. You wish you’d been looking him in the eye, something romantic like that, but it is what it is. And what it is, is the best orgasm you’ve had in your short life. You could probably die riding his face, fingers clenched tight in his dark curls.

Eventually, you have to push him away, too sensitive for him to keep going. You’re not exactly ready to jump back into action, too wrung out by all of it to immediately spring up and suck him off. Which is definitely something in the future, because he’s pressing the heel of his hand to himself, and you’re pretty sure he’d come at any moment if you could just manage to get down to it. After long moments catching your breath, you’re finally back to earth enough to move. It seems as though that’s not really a problem, though, because Sid has been watching you intensely since you separated, like your pleasure was his own. He kisses you deeply, and you can’t decide if the taste of yourself on his tongue is sexy or weird. Probably sexy. Kind of hot. Definitely hot.

It’s easy enough to sit up and push Sid back, laying him flat to switch the dynamic enough that you can kiss him breathless. You mimic his movements, drawing long lines along his neck and collarbones and chest with your mouth, like you’re trying to make a topographical map. God, he’d probably love that, huh? That shouldn’t be hot, but it kind of is, like everything about Sid, so you let it slide. Thinking of maps isn’t the way you thought this would go, but knowing Sid, you probably should have expected it. If he’s a nerd, you are too.

Almost as soon as you’d started, you’re at his hips, teasing him with sucking kisses and light bites as much as he had you. He doesn’t get the reference, or at least doesn’t make it a competition, as you’d almost assumed it would be, rolling his hips toward you far more smoothly than you’d anticipated.

“Been practicing?” you ask, sucking a mark at the base of his dick. You kind of hope he hasn’t, because you haven’t, but you wouldn’t fault him for the experience.

“Might have watched some videos,” he grunts, throwing his head back at the suction to the crease of his hip, “Thought about it.” You’re over being surprised that he’d thought of you, because he’s said it enough, but the statement still shoots straight to your own groin. It’s all you need to duck down and take the head of his dick into your mouth. You huff out a laugh at the sound he makes in response to your lips, and you hope he knows it’s not mean-spirited. You’d laughed at each other plenty over the years, and you hope you don’t have to stop now that this is a… thing. You run your tongue down his length and back up, trying to the best of your ability to be sexy, but you’re not sure if it’s working. He groans and closes his eyes as he throws his head back, though, so you take that as a good sign. After lavishing the base with as much attention as you’re willing with how badly you want him in your mouth, you finally take him down as far as you dare. It’s not necessarily impressive, but it’s enough to make him take hold of your head. You don’t expect him to force you down, and he doesn’t, though you kind of want him to. Logically, you know you don’t have the experience to resist gagging if he did, but the possibility is definitely something to work on.

You try it yourself after a while, curious as to how much you can take. You’d gladly take whatever he gave you, but you’re pretty sure your gag reflex would disagree. But it ends up that he just twists his hips in smooth arcs, more interested in the fact that it’s you getting him off than anything else. It’s kind of heady, to know that he’s turned on by your presence more than what you’re doing, but also a challenge to your over-competitive soul. If he’s going to come for you, he’s going to feel it.

So you pull out all the tricks you’ve heard about, teasing the head and the base with your tongue and fingers, twisting your wrist, making as much eye contact as you can manage. Sid has waited his whole life to have his first time with you, and you’re going to make it as good as you can. Not just out of competitiveness, but out of adoration.

He digs his fingers into your scalp when he’s close, mumbling something incoherent, and you don’t bother even trying to pull off. He comes into the back of your mouth and down your throat, and you’re glad you’d stayed on, just to see the look on his face when you do. He’s beautiful like this. Like anything, really. Put together or torn apart, he’s perfect in your eyes. Maybe it’s sappy, but it’s true.

You gently slide his cock out of your mouth, your tongue sliding against the still-hard erection as you finally release him. Licking your lips, you hummed to yourself, surprised at how tolerable he tasted. You’d been under the impression that it would be gross, but it honestly wasn’t that bad; a little salty, a tad bitter, but overall fine. Possibly just because it’s Sid, but fine either way. ‘Yeah,’ you thought. ‘I’m doing this way more often.’ Suddenly the realization hits you: this may very well be the first of many times you’ll get to do this. Your cheeks burn a little bit hotter than they do already as you try to hide your giddy smile.

Your thoughts are suddenly halted once Sid tugs you up towards him, connecting your lips once again. You’re a bit surprised at how deeply he kisses you-- as much as you’d enjoyed the taste of him, you hadn’t expected him to be interested in even the possibility of the same. Nonetheless, he kisses you just as he had before, like he’s still amazed he gets to have this, and he’s trying to make the most of it in case it’s taken away. After you pull away for breath, he moves to plant kisses on your cheeks, your forehead, your nose. You giggle and lightly smack his chest, burying your face in his neck to hide your smile. No part of tonight has been anything you’d imagined, from his goal to where you are now, together, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Hey Y/N?” he says, once your giggles have calmed and you’re left breathing against his skin. You hum, not quite up to the task of speaking yet. He nudges you until you lift your head, so he can look you in the eye in that way that makes you feel like he’s seeing straight into your soul.

“I love you,” he says. You don’t even have to think about it.

“I love you too,” you reply, easy as breathing. Broad smiles break over both of your faces. You know you both mean it, more than you’ve meant anything in your lives. He kisses you again, just lazy movement of lips against lips, so warm and comfortable you don’t bother wondering how long it goes on for.

“Sleep time,” you demand, eventually. He grins and tosses you around until he’s spooned up against your back, arms wrapped securely around you. You take deep, steady breaths until you’re just on the edge of consciousness. He says “I love you” again, whispered into the back of your neck like he thinks you’re already asleep. You mumble it back, before allowing the darkness to take you. You’ll have every moment of the rest of your lives to prove it to him, if you have any say in the matter.

#sidney crosby imagine #nhl imagines #RI #andis coping mechanism #scrosby

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summerpogue · 5 years ago

Text

‘Paradise on Earth’ // Part Two

part two!! next part will be around the pilot, so we’ll be gettin’ into the action! I just wanted to build a lil backstory for reader first. I hope you enjoy! let me know if you want to be added to the taglist for this! Posting late, this hasn’t been edited yet!

Word Count: 2k+

Warnings: smoking, drinking, I can’t remember for sure but there’s prob cursing

part one

Gif Credit: @rudypankows

Music flowed through the Chateau as Y/N sauntered out of the spare room, aka JJ’s room, towel drying her hair and subtly dancing along to the melodies of Hozier. She was currently decked out in JJ’s hoodie and board shorts as she stood in the living room and admired what she’d done. Having snuck over just past the asscrack of dawn after JJ and John B headed their separate ways for work, she got to work herself giving the Chateau a major facelift that included a deep cleaning, some new throw pillows, and a freshly stocked kitchen. She’d managed to finish with enough time to give herself a shower, washing away all the sweat and grime she’d accumulated over the course of revamping the disgusting bachelor pad. Her phone chimed with a text from John B just as she opened the front door for the pizza guy.

‘Leaving figure 8 want me to get u?’

‘I’m actually out right now, meet you there?’

‘Sounds good 👍🏼’

She set the pizza boxes on the counter and gave the place a final look over as she sat on the edge of the couch to wait, but she began to grow impatient. Her left knee bounced erratically as she checked her watch every two minutes. She stood with a huff, walking to the kitchen and grabbing a slice, deciding not to wait for them anymore, and just as she took the first bite John B threw the front door open.

“Damn, how did you beat me?” He asked, head down as he came through the door and he let out a soft gasp when his eyes lifted from the doorknob, “oh my god, you did not.” He said, eyes scanning the room in amazement as he saw the place the cleanest it had ever been.

“I did! Welcome to your clean home!” She said in between bites, and she set her slice down as John B crossed the room and wrapped her in a bear hug. Pope and Kie were only seconds behind, muttering ‘holy shit’ in unison. John B kept an arm around her waist as he pulled away.

“I can’t even believe you did this, this is so nice.” He said and a grin overtook her features.

“I wanted to John B, I want you and JJ to be taken care of.” She leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek and stepped past him to open the cabinet under the sink, “but you see this? These are all the new cleaning supplies I bought you, there are sticky notes on everything telling you how to use it, what to use it on, and how often. Please for the love of god utilize it because I saw some shit in here that will haunt my nightmares for the foreseeable future.”

He chuckled and put a hand on the back of his neck, “yeah, it was pretty bad wasn’t it?”

“What was pretty bad?” JJ asked, walking through the front door, “holy shit.”

“That’s what I said,” Pope replied.

“Who did this, Y/N?” Everyone nodded and he crossed the room to give her a high five, “what the fuck, you’re so nice.” She let out a loud laugh.

“That’s the JJ version of ‘thank you’, I’m pretty sure,�� Kie said, and as everyone laughed Y/N encouraged them to grab a slice. They migrated to the front porch food in hand, and before long they were down in the yard huddled around the fire-pit as the crickets sounded in the distance. Hues of red and orange illuminated each of their faces and their laughter echoed through the yard as Y/N effortlessly plucked the strings of her guitar delicately in the background. She smiled at JJ who was rolling a joint and he looked up at her, cheeks flushing when he noticed her gaze was already on him.

“What?” He asked, tongue flicking over the seam of the joint.

“Just checking your progress on that joint.” She smirked, and he chuckled before sticking it between his lips and lighting it.

“Just when I thought JJ smoked a lot of weed you came along and proved me wrong.” Pope said, eliciting a giggle from Y/N as she put her guitar down and accepted the joint from JJ, “and you’re so much more productive than him it doesn’t make sense.” She really laughed now, smoke puffing out of her nose at the unexpected jab at JJ.

“It’s the LA lifestyle, man.” She said, taking another hit, throwing on a cheesy grin and as Kie pointed a camera at her. This was life in the Outer Banks, and she loved it way more than she thought she would. Having come from such a vibrant and flowing city it was hard to adjust to the laid back pace of OBX, the friendly vibe throughout town where everyone knew everyone. She’d always secretly looked down on small-town life. When her dad moved she couldn’t even begin to wrap her mind around why he’d left but in the short six weeks she’d been here, she now knew all too well. The joint was gone as quick as it had been procured, having been shared between her, JJ and Kie and as Y/N laid against the cool ground she couldn’t help but smile as JJ followed. The two of them laid shoulder to shoulder looking up at the crystal clear sky, occasionally pitching into the conversation between their friends.

“Hey… I know I didn’t properly say it earlier but, thank you for what you did today.” He said softly, tilting his head towards her slightly.

“What did I- oh! That,” the day had been so long that mixed with the beer and weed she’d honestly forgotten what her morning had entailed, “seriously it’s no big, I’m happy to do it.” She laid a hand on top of his, which were folded on his chest.

“I know, it’s just… you don’t have to take care of us, but I’m kind of glad you are, despite how damaging it is to my ego.”

“If it helps you can think of it as benefiting from the Kook lifestyle that’s shit on you for so many years?” She asked and everyone laughed out loud, she hadn’t realized the other three were tuned into their conversation.

“She makes a good point, JJ.” John B said, and they both sat up, “but that doesn’t mean we’ll ever stop being grateful.”

“You wanna know how you guys can thank me?” She asked, and they both nodded their heads, “can I crash here tonight? I’m too tired and buzzed to drive at the moment.”

“Oh, yeah. You can crash here whenever you want, you don’t have to ask.” John B said almost dismissively as if he was amused by her simple request. As if on cue she was wracked with a massive yawn that she tried to hide by burying her face in her sweater paws.

“I’m pretty sure that was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” Kie said, snapping another picture of her and somewhere in the back of her sleepy mind she thought about how grateful she was to have friends that photographed everything not for their Instagrams but for each other, so they would always remember these summer nights.

“Yeah, same.” Pope agreed, the two of them were looking at her like she was a puppy and she giggled as she hid her face again.

“Come on, sleepy one. I’ll help you to bed.” JJ said, standing and holding his hands out to her. She stood and waved her hand and the mess they’d left, making a mental note to deal with it in the morning and bid goodnight to everyone.

“He’s so whipped already,” Pope whispered and everyone started snickering. Y/N was too tired to have heard, and if she had she wouldn’t have been able to process it anyway, but JJ heard loud and clear and flipped them the bird over his shoulder. His hand guided her by the small of her back as they walked through the house and after sending her down the hallway he grabbed her a glass of water from the kitchen. Her footsteps were practically shuffles as she approached JJ’s bed and kicked her shoes off. She threw the blankets back and crawled in, tugging the blankets on as she tried to cocoon herself in comfort. JJ entered the room and chuckled as he saw her, and she sat right back up with a soft smile when she saw him.

“Thank you,” she said before taking a sip and as she set the glass on the nightstand she watched JJ fidget awkwardly through her heavy lids.

“Alright, well I’ll leave you-”

“Stay with me?” She interrupted, patting the mattress beside her.

“Oh, it’s okay… you don’t have to- I don’t mind sleeping on the couch.”

“JJ.” She said, looking at him deadpan as she lifted the covers, “it’s just two friends sharing a bed.” She said and she smiled as he slid in next to her, “plus, I really hate sleeping alone.” They settled in, and for the first time in a long time, JJ felt nervous. It wasn’t the first time he’d had a beautiful girl next to him in bed, but it was the first time he’d had Y/N in his bed and it felt… right.

“I’ll deny it if you say anything, but… me too.” He lifted his arm and she immediately snuggled into his chest, exhaling as she relaxed against him. “You’re pretty amazing, you know that?”

She sighed dramatically, “yeah, it’s about time you mention it.” She giggled, “don’t get all sappy on me now, JJ.”

“I’m not, I’m not.” He playfully swatted the arm that was draped across him, “so, check-in. How you likin’ Pogue Life?”

“I love it, I feel… I don’t know, free? I guess I’ve never really known what real friends feel like. I’ve only known you guys for a couple of weeks, but like... I’d definitely hide some bodies for you guys.” She joked, “every time I came to visit my dad I thought this place was Boringville, USA, but I guess I never really explored past Figure 8.”

“Most Kooks don’t, don’t feel bad for overlooking the splendors of the Cut.”

“I’m pretty sure this is the most comfortable I’ve ever been.” If she was a cat, she was certain she’d be purring and JJ looked down at her, taking in her lopsided smile and closed eyes.

“How stoned are you?”

“10.” He shook his head and laughed, “maybe 11.”

“Stoned enough to forget Pogue rules?” He asked, half-teasing as his fingers began tickling her sides and she squealed as she tried to turn away from him. Her laughter was filling the room and flowing out the open window into the humid night as she tried her hardest to fight off his attacks.

Outside the three shared a look and John B took a sip of his beer with raised eyebrows, “well, at least they’re not fucking?”

“At least I hope not,” Pope said with a grimace as another bought of laughter floated through the breeze, and Kie downed the rest of her beer before turning the music up a little to offset the sound coming from the back of the house.

JJ finally relented, giving her a chance to catch her breath as she wiped the tears that were streaming down her cheeks from laughing. She turned her body away from him, pretending to be upset and he chuckled as he pressed against her, laughing again when her body jerked feeling his arm move over her waist, bracing for another onslaught of torture.

“I come in peace.” He whispered and she relaxed against him.

“You’re evil.” She muttered, eyes drifting closed as sleep began to tug at her mind.

“You’re exhausted, get some sleep.” She took a deep breath, exhaling as she snuggled back against him, her hand finding his under the covers.

“You get some sleep.” She said, trying to be sharp and teasing but the words came out slurred and raspy as she fought for the last shreds of consciousness.

“I will, just as soon as you do, sweetheart.”

She hummed, “alright. Goodnight, JJ.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

#outer banks #obx #jj maybank #jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine

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clonerightsagenda · 4 years ago

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hey do you have any life advice? I've always looked up to you and I respect your opinion and didn't know if you had any strategies living in the usa with limited money and healthcare or just with getting a decent job that you don't hate. or honestly any advice at all about anything. the world is really stressful. and reading your blog always gives me hope for the future because you're just doing your best and existing i guess? sorry if that's weird

Hm. Well, first of all, I'm flattered. As you say, I'm doing my best and existing. I don't know whether that makes me a great source of wisdom, but I'll do my best.

I have been privileged enough to always have access to health care, either from my parents or my own job, so I don't have a lot of practical tips on that front. I hope our country gets it together soon and catches up with everyone who's already set up socialized medicine. The good news amidst all of our nightmare politics is that even though it feels like everyone's ignoring the obvious solutions, which they often are, there's stuff on the table being considered that would never have been mentioned not long ago (like free college, for example) so we have to stay hopeful. The one thing I'd say about this is if you're ever in a bad situation where you have to choose where to put your money, I would tend to make sure you get dental care, because teeth problems can haunt you for the rest of your life. My local dentist actually just set up a program that's kind of like dental insurance for people without it, so you can look for things like that from the health providers in your community.

As for limited money... again, I've been pretty lucky in this regard. I can support myself ok on my income, so I don’t have the same perspective as someone who’s really had to worry. Checking for stores that sell at a discount is always a good idea - places like Dollar General, Cash Saver, Aldis, etc. There are some things I prefer to buy name brand for, but a lot of the time store brand is fine. Cooking can save a lot of money, but it is a skill that has to be developed, and I acknowledge not everyone has the time or access to good equipment and ingredients. If your money is tight, developing a budget is probably a good idea to keep track of everything. And if you have a bulk store like Costco in your area - it might be worth finding a buddy to pool your money and split big purchases, because you will save by doing so. I also know more and more areas are developing mutual aid networks, and I know my city has a Food Not Bombs group and a free market. You may have to do some digging to see if any of those things are local to you, but they can help.

Jobs... check your local library if you have one; they often have databases for searching job openings and may have programs to review your resume and cover letter. If you're still in school, use your career center. In this country there's a lot of emphasis on your dream job, because capitalism wants us to identify with our roles as workers much. It's certainly nicer to go to jobs that you like, but it's also perfectly OK if you go to a job that's just something you do in the day, and then you go home and do things you want to do. This may vary from person to person, but I actually found that I have more free time working fulltime than I did when I was in college, which was a nice surprise. I felt more free to read and write and enjoy myself because my work time and me time were more compartmentalized. Our generation is also far less likely to stay in one job for our entire lives, so it's totally ok to take a job that you don't *love* for a while, just to get your bearings, and then move on. You don't need to feel trapped, or feel like because you "settled" once you'll never get where you want to go. So much is changing, I don't know that many of us know what our jobs might look like in a few decades. As much as I always hated people talking about networking, it is true that knowing people helps, even if it’s just hearing about a job opening you might have missed otherwise. Keep an ear to the ground, let people know you’re looking... I had a well-meaning grandparent send me a job opening in Hawaii once.

For some other advice about this stressful world...

I think it helps to make things occasionally. Now, I know a lot of people on here are artists and writers, which is good, but that kind of creation can be really frustrating and exhausting sometimes. It's nice to be able to make something a little less stressful and more substantial. For example, I bake. Some people knit. Some people paint, but not to polish their craft, just for fun. In a world where so much feels out of our control, it's nice to have something tangible you brought into being.

It also helps to do at least one good thing. You can burn yourself out trying to change the world, and in America we're raised on a lot of individualist stories where a single person is a hero and brings down a terrible regime. If you have the energy to throw yourself into being an organizer for a new group or running for local office, great! But if you don't, and you're feeling really helpless, even writing one e-mail to your senator or checking in on a neighbor or tossing $5 to someone’s gofundme can make you feel a little less trapped. I'm doing phone banking this weekend. I hate it, and I will be miserable the whole time, but I'll feel better afterward. Do what you can, and then give yourself permission to let go and not stress for a while.

I say this as an introvert, but some kind of community is good too. I don't have that many people in person, although I was trying to work on that before the pandemic started by going to more events hosted by my local library. This is actually a pretty good time to explore - a lot of groups that would normally meet in person are meeting online, so it's much easier to drop in and see if it's right for you. I've attended some meetings I never would've gone to when they were in person all the way downtown in the evenings. And there's always having a few people online that you check in regularly with - it's good to have someone, whatever form that takes. Even if it’s a Discord chat where you make jokes about podcasts.

I feel like that was all..... very vague, and I hope any of it was helpful? If you have any more questions I can try to be more specific, within the limits of my experience. I have been very fortunate in a lot of ways throughout my life, which may be preventing me from being super helpful, but I’ll try!

#Anonymous

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jasonsthunderthighs · 5 years ago

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Book Explanation Post

Ok, so the story will take place in four different parts of the world and distinct timelines for two of the characters. There are four characters:

Draven (Hybrid, in the UK)

Evelyn (Human Experiment in Oregon, USA)

Zevonia (Faerie Creature in Transylvania, Romania)

Baxter (Human in Munich, Germany).

It’s basically about how a different group of beings in the world (Humans, Human Experiments, Creatures and Hybrids) live and survive. Cause in this book, the Creature and Hybrids are basically illegal and are seem as dangerous and should be killed or sent to a facility if seen or caught. But even the Human Experiments get it worse as well.

But when it came to people being sold off to in the underground auctions or facilities, it doesn’t matter who you are, they don’t care and will do it for money, both Humans and Creatures.

And now this year in the year 2020. I had vowed to finish this book and get it published after 11 years of dicking around with this (started at the age of 12 with the small idea until it grew when I was 15, and life happened, and now I’ve been actually writing this since 2018 at the age of 20)

Also, this story begins in 2013 and has a five-year time stamp on what happens from them explaining how they’re living for the past five years to when the characters actually meet up and form their group. (Cept for Draven and Evelyn.)

**Side note: There are two countries in the world that are safe havens for Creatures and Human Experiments:

Sweden

And that’s where rescued Creatures and Human Experiments go-to for refuge and to live without getting killed for no reasons and sold out. But that doesn’t mean that it doesn't happen, though it’s illegal to and it’s being stopped. They also do kill the auctioneer and their followers or anybody apart of the auction wanting to buy a Creature or Human Experiment. And it’s run by Creatures as well. (Yes, the Queen is a CREATURE!)**

~~~

Draven is a Hybrid who is 1,000 (21) years old who's been owned, sold out to, tortured and all that for 334 years cause his older brother, Logan, hates him for being a Hybrid. He's also the second youngest of ten kids:

Logan

Victoria

Bucky

Steve

Coraline

Axl

Xion

Anastasia (his twin sister)

Draven

Riko.

In which Logan is the biggest arsehole ever, and everybody wants him dead (but I'm not going to kill him cause I like to piss off my friend and Tim with the fact that the bastard child won't be dead anytime soon). The night before Draven was sold, Logan killed their own mother, Draven's twin and lover in a house fire just to make Draven's life more miserable. Draven then goes on a killing spree in a white rage, killing 3 million people in a white rage for the loss of his twin sister and lover before Logan found and sold him off. (Logan also ended up kidnapping Xion and has hidden her in Russia somewhere) He was sold off to an underground auction for bout 450k£. He had been sold off to from "master" to "master" (He would also kill his "masters" and would get caught months later, cause he had no idea how to defend himself at the time until years later. He's killed 4 out of 7 "masters") before he landed in America and killed the last "master" he had.

This is where the real story begins to where the other characters will be involved. Draven then finds out bout the underground auctions and bout facilities (a place where Humans get turned into a Human Experiment via Creature Blood. They're kidnapped as babies and kept there to be experimented on. Creatures get sent there by authorities, so it's like a Creature prison as well.) and stumbles upon one where Evelyn is at, rescue Evelyn and the other prisoners before blowing up the facility to the ground.

I'm not going to tell you more on what happens cause it'll ruin the book.

Draven is very anti-technology and will NOT pick up a phone, computer, etc., in fear he’ll be tracked down and sold off again. He can kill them, but he wants to not do a lot of killing, so he can try to give Hybrids a good name.

He’s also got a safe house in a very secluded area and loves it there to relax and be away from the bullshit of the world. But, sadly, he doesn’t live there at all, cause he’s afraid that he’ll somehow be tracked there, despite hum making no technology to be tracked from and uses so many protection spells and techniques to keep that house safe from ever being tracked down by scent. And that nobody can even enter the premises cause of some Creature repellent that immediately kills anybody who tries to enter.

He’s got trust issues and barely trusts anybody, but sees good in Evelyn. He’s a messed up dude with a shit load of problems and can’t even trust his own shadow cause of the bullshit he went through. (I put him through.)

~~~

So a Hybrid is a mixture of ALL the Creatures in the world. It's almost like a birth defect. They're godlike and really powerful; unlike in Draven's case, he was suppressed from ever using or leaning his powers, so he didn't even know how powerful he was until he escaped the final time.

Evelyn is a 19-year-old Human Experiment who escapes with Draven and tries to live her life as a Human Experiment. She's a “Dream Waster”, technically she can manipulate thoughts and create fake memories and thoughts of oneself into anything she wants that person to believe what I want them to believe. She’s got the IQ of 174 and one of the only Human Experiments with a high IQ, so she got tortured and experimented on the worse.

She doesn’t know who her parents are, due to being kidnapped by one of the workers of the facility. So she doesn’t even know if she has any siblings (I’ll probably give her an older sibling.)

Oh, the government knows about this shit and were the ones who allowed it to happen in the first place.

I can’t tell you any more on what happens in her life, cause it’ll ruin the story.

But she’s a very sweet girl who’ll kick your arse if you fuck her over.

~~~

Baxter (Tim’s ( @nycterisarts) German husband. Haha) is a 22-year-old Human who’s a Creature Hunter that wants what's best for his younger siblings and his mother. He’s the eldest of 5:

Baxter

Zollar

Fredrick

Hugo

Shoshanna

His father got killed by a Werewolf Creature when he was 12 or 15 (I forgot the correct age and I can’t find my notebook filled with my information and small details, cause I just moved and everything is packed up.) in front of him and got scarred by it and vowed to protect his family and be the best older brother and the son.

He’s got scars from the Werewolf Creature attack on his face and upper body area and doesn’t care for his appearance as his family is already known to be the best Creature Hunters in Germany and everybody hires them to hunt the Creature for money in their village, cities and towns.

He’s a badass motherfucker who cares for his family and will kill you if you hurt them. He’s serious at what he does but is a loving and playful brother. Just not on a job. He’s asshole™ but can be a teddy bear.

~~~

Last but certainly not least, Zevonia. She just an 809 (17) Faerie Creature who just wants to not get killed by anyone and run the clothing shop she got after her parents left after Adrian was born.

She’s also the middle child of 3:

Sebastian

Zevonia

Adrian

She’s the only one who runs the clothing store and works with Mermaid Creatures who owns a jewellery store and they both help each other get the jewels and fabrics for their shops.

She’s pretty good at keeping the shop standing for the past 190 years but wants to design outfits for Creature models that are in some countries and in the UK and Sweden.

She’s a stubborn headed, thoughtful girl who is still growing and learning more of the horrible world. She is just a little shit wanting to fuck shit up and cause havoc for the Humans and the government.

~~~

I have yet to make a blog. But, if you’re all interested, then I’ll do it and cosplay the characters in this book:

Creatures:

Mains:

Draven Roché

Zenovia

Roché Family:

(In Hell) (The dad) Azrael

(Deceased) (The mum) Sylvia

(Missing) Logan

Victoria

Bucky

Steve

Coraline

Axl

(Missing; possibly deceased) Xion

(Decease) Anastasia

(Sent to America) Riko

Molino Family:

Constantine

Morticia

Sebastian

Adrian

Friends (Bucky’s friends that Riko was sent to America to, and these two are dating):

Reynard Way (Best friends with Sebastian and Souxie)

Natasha Johansson (Best friends with Souxie and Sebastian)

Partners:

(Bucky’s girlfriend) Lady Death

(Draven’s lover) Aurora

(Logan’s girlfriend) Scarlet

(Sebastian’s girlfriend) Souxie (Best friends with Natasha and Reynard)

Humans:

Evelyn Hurt

Baxter

Rawlings Family:

Oskar

Nadine

Fredrick

Hugo

Shosanna

~~~

I think that’s it! Feel free to ask questions! Sorry that it took forever, ADHD is a bitch.

I’m honestly going to be sad if nobody reads this, cause it took me forever to write this and I just wanna get this book out for people to read.

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weekendwarriorblog · 4 years ago

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The Weekend Warrior 10/16/20: SYNCHRONIC, FRENCH EXIT, TRIAL OF THE CHICAGO 7, LOVE AND MONSTERS, HONEST THIEF, THE KID DETECTIVE and More!

After the last couple weeks, I really need a break, which is why I’m writing most of this in transit to Columbus, Ohio to see my mother, sister and all (or some) of the friends that I made during my sabbatical to the city seven years ago for cancer treatment.

On, and look... Variety wrote about the movie theater chains and NATO lobbying Governor Cuomo to reopen movie theaters, showing that there’s been no proof of any cases leading back to movie theaters. (And more from The Hollywood Reporter…) New York leads and the world follows? More like ED leads and the world follows. Been saying this shit for months now and putting up with all sorts of needless abuse for it.

This week’s “Featured Flick” is actually a movie coming to theaters on October 23, but since I’m not sure I’m writing a column next week, I’m gonna review it this week! Cool? The movie is SYNCHRONIC (Well Go USA), and it’s the follow-up to Aaron Moorehead and Justin Benson’s amazing sci-fi film The Endless from a few years back. This ome stars Anthony Mackie and Jamie Dornan as parademics in New Orleans who have been coming across a series of bodies that have died in gruesome ways, all connected by a designer drug they were all taking.

I’ll just say right from the start that I loved almost everything about this movie from the amazing performances by Mackie and Dornan to the entire look and tone of the movie, which shows the duo taking huge steps forward as filmmakers, particularly Benson as a screenwriter. Unfortunately, I’m not sure what I can say about the movie and its plot without spoiling other’s enjoyment. I will say that it involves a designer drug and time travel and Mackie’s character has something odd about his brain that makes him better suited to figure out what is happening to the victims than others might be. Also, Dornan’s character Dennis has family issues, particularly with his daughter Brianna (Ally Ioannides), who disappears mysteriously, but it’s so nice seeing Katie Aselton as Dennis’ wife, as well as in another movie out this week.

I’ll also say that people who watch this movie will inevitably make comparisons to the work of Alex Garland and maybe even the more-versed ones might see a little of David Cronenberg’s Videodrome in the film’s trippy nature. The thing is that the movie is super-smart, and it’s obvious that Moorehead and Benson must have done a lot of research to make every aspect of it feel authentic. It’s just amazing what this duo can do with a small fraction of the money that Christopher Nolan had to make Tenet, and yet, they can create a complex and unique premise that’s actually easy to understand. Things like the camerawork, the music and sound design all add to the amazing tone and the mood that the duo have created.

I also think it’s Mackie’s best role and performance in many years, maybe even going back to The Hurt Locker, so as a long-time fan, I’m glad he connected with Moorehead/Benson to show that he’s more than capable of leading a movie like this.

Again, Synchronic will be in movie theaters and drive-ins NEXT Friday, October 23, but I want to give you an advance heads up, because Synchronic is likely to be the most original sci-fi or genre film you see this year. If you can’t get to the drive-in and don’t feel comfortable going to a movie theater, then I’m sure it will be on digital soon enough, but you definitely shouldn’t miss it!

Next up is Aaron Sorkin’s THE TRIAL OF THE CHICAGO SEVEN, streaming on Netflix starting Friday and the movie I was most looking forward to seeing this week. I was such a huge fan of Brett Morgen’s Chicago 10 documentary, which opened Sundance in 2007, especially with how he recreated the court trials using animation and a talented roster of voice actors including Hank Azaria, Mark Ruffalo and Geoffrey Wright. Sorkin has just as an impressive list of actors for his version, including Mark Rylance, Eddie Redmayne, Sacha Baron Cohen, Frank Langella, Joseph Gordon-Levitt and many more.

If you don’t know about the protests outside the 1968 Democratic National Convention in Chicago – you see, back in those days, the Democrats were the bad guys… how times have changed!! Those protests led to a number of arrests but a few years later, the federal government charged a number of individuals with inciting the riot. The accused include Black Panther leader Bobby Seale, played by Yahya Abdul-Mateen II from Aquaman and Watchmen, Abbie Hoffman (Cohen), FBI agent Tom Hayden (Eddie Redmayne), Jerry Rubin (Jeremy Strong), David Dellinger (John Carroll Lynch) and two more. The six white guys are defended by Mark Rylance’s William Kunstler, who faces the tough Judge Hoffman (Langella) who is not putting up with any guff from these young revolutionaries.

All of the characters are quickly introduced with a quick-cut opening montage with actual newsreel footage, but then we’re quickly moved to a meeting to the Attorney General (Keaton) with the trial’s prosecutor (Gordon-Levitt). From there, we’re right into the trial about 16 minutes into the movie, although Sorkin frequently cuts back to the actual day of the Chicago protest to recreate what happened as testimony is given. Probably the part that will have the most impact and resonance is the way Seale was mistreated compared to the others, getting so riled up at the judge that the judge orders him chained and gagged. The trial would end up taking place for almost 7 months even though the results were eventually overturned.

This really is perfect material for Sorkin, and maybe if I hadn’t seen Chicago 10 first, I would have been a lot more fascinated by the trial sequences, though Morgen did an equally great job working from the transcripts. Basically, what happened happened. Where Sorkin’s screenplay and film excels is showing what’s going on outside the courtroom, whether it’s the recreations or just conversations taking place between the plaintiffs. As might be expected from Sorkin, the screenplay is great with lots of fast talking, making for a movie that moves at a kinetic pace for its two hours.

If I had to pick a few of the best performances, I’d probably focus on Cohen’s Abbie Hoffman, which is more than just an accent, he and Strong’s Rubin bantering back and forth like a seasoned Vaudeville act; Rylance’s Kunstler is spot-on, and Langella is just great as the crusty judge, the film’s only true antagonist. I also appreciated John Carroll Lynch and in fact, all the performances, although I felt that with so many characters, Sorkin wasn’t able to give Bobby Seale the time his story truly needed. Still, I would be shocked if this isn’t considered a SAG Ensemble frontrunner.

Ultimately, The Trial of the Chicago 7 is a fine recreation of a certain moment in history that still feels relevant and timely fifty years later, even if it’s so heavy at times you either need to focus or, like me, watch it on Netflix in two sittings. I still liked Steve McQueen’s movie Mangrove that takes place in a similar era and also culminates in a trial just a little bit better.

Before we get to the rest of this week’s new movies, I have one last review from the New York Film Festival, and it’s the closing night film, FRENCH EXIT, from director Azazel Jacobs and writer Patrick Dewitt, who has adapted his own book. The film stars Michelle Pfeiffer as Frances Price, a Manhattan widow from wealth who discovers she has no more money, just as her son Malcolm (Lucas Hedges with longer hair than usual) has decided to marry his girlfriend Susan (Imogen Poots) though he hasn’t told his mother that yet. With no other options, Francis takes her son on a ship to live in Paris for a while at the home of one Mme. Renard (Valarie Mahaffey), an elderly woman who is a genuine fan of Francis and welcomes them as her guests.

This is one of those ensemble character dramedies that I wouldn’t even be able to begin to tell you why you should see it unless you miss seeing Pfeiffer in a semi-decent performance, but one that doesn’t do much as the film itself is so boring and insufferably pretentious most of the time I’m not sure I can even recommend it for that.

Jacobs and Dewitt previous made the movie Teri maybe ten years ago, and I was never really a fan, so I’m not sure why I thought that Dewitt adapting his own book would bear better results. Once Frances and Malcolm get to Paris, there’s just an influx of odd characters who show up, some who have more impact than others. I liked seeing Danielle Macdonald as a psychic medium the duo meet on the ship across the Atlantic who Malcolm bonks. She’s brought back when Frances wants her to conduct a séance to communicate with her late husband who she thinks is now inhabiting an omni-present cat. Like everything else, the relationship between Malcolm and Susan and how that’s affected by her meeting a new guy just never goes anywhere.

For the most part, the whole thing is just dull and uninteresting, and so pretentious it never really leads to anything even remotely memorable. I have no idea why the New York Film Festival would decide to close with this one. (Although the 58th NYFF is over, some of the movies will hit its Virtual Cinema soon, so keep an eye out! For instance, this Friday, FilmLinc begins a Pietro Marcello retrospective as well as showing his latest film Martin Eden in FilmLInc’s Virtual Cinema.)

Liam Neeson stars in Mark Williams’ HONEST THIEF (Open Road), a crime-thriller in which he plays Tom Carter, the uncaught robber behind 12 bank robberies who decides to settle down with Kate (Grey’s Anatomy) Walsh’s Annie Wilkins, who he meets while renting a storage space to hide all the money he’s stolen. After a year of things getting serious with Annie, Tom decides to retire so he calls the FBI and says he’s ready to give back the 9 million, but two crooked FBI agents (one played by Jai Courtenay, the other by Anthony Ramos) decide they’re going to take the money instead. Their plan to steal the money Tom’s trying to return leads to a number of deaths, including putting Annie in the hospital. When that happens, Tom has had enough, and honestly, there’s no one better at getting revenge than Neeson. (Did we mention that Carter is ex-Marine? I mean, of course he is!)

Many will go into Honest Thief expecting the typical Neeson action revenge flick ala Taken or maybe one of his high-concept thrillers, but Honest Thief isn’t nearly that exciting. It starts out fairly slow and dry with no real crime or action elements, although Williams does throw them in from time to time. The whole thing is pretty dry, and it’s a good 54 minutes before we get to the revenge aspect of the story and that’s after a lot of bad decisions being made across the board. Anyone who is still wondering how Jai Courtney has a career won’t be changing that decision by his turn as the villain, and it’s a lot odd when the movie tries to make a sympathetic character out of his partner, played by Ramos.

Regardless, any elements that make Honest Thief unique from other Neeson action movies are quickly tossed aside for the same usual cliches, and the action scenes aren’t even that great. While Honest Thief may not be an awful or unwatchable movie, it’s probably not the action movie you might be expecting from Neeson – more like a bargain basement The Fugitive with one plot decision that almost kills the whole movie.

Delayed a number of times and now dumped to PVOD (with minimal theatrical) is Paramount’s LOVE AND MONSTERS, which is written by the prolific Bryan Duffield (The Babysitter, Spontaneous), directed by Michael Matthews and produced by Shawn Levy’s 21 Laps Entertainment. In the movie, Dylan O’Brien plays Joel Dawson, a young man surviving the apocalypse with a small community after the government’s plot to blast a couple asteroids heading to earth backfires. Instead, it creates giant, carnivorous monsters out of the earth’s animals who eliminate 95% of the earth’s human population. (We learn all of this through a Zombieland-like animated prequel getting us up to speed.) Before the earth fell into disarray, Joel was in love with Jessica Henwick’s Aimee, but they were separated by the fateful events. Seven years later, they’re reconnected via radio and Joel has sworn to travel the 85 miles across the creature-covered wasteland to reunite with her. Hence, the title “Love and Monsters.” Get it?

I actually didn’t hate this movie, although it’s not really a family film or one meant for young kids, because it’s PG-13 for a reason, including mild violence i.e. people being chomped by monsters, and some sexuality. Dylan O’Brien does a decent job carrying it, but it relies just as much on the other people he meets, particularly Michael Rooker’s Clyde and his young ward Minnow, played by Ariana Greenblatt, the latter who is such a scene-stealer that it’s disappointing they’re only in the movie for a small chunk. They’re probably the funniest part of the movie.

I like giant monsters and these ones are certainly … interesting. They seem to have been toned down a bit maybe to be more kid-friendly, more like the kid-friend Godzilla than the terror we’ve seen in recent incarnations. There are also a number of great action set-pieces, and some good post-Apocalyptic ideas we haven’t seen, especially when Duffield’s dark sense of humor is able to come out and keep things fun.

Still, Love and Monsters is not a kids’ movie, and there’s something about it that might make people wish the filmmaker just went full-on R, because going further towards PG would have made even the best parts quite painful to get through. As it is, Love and Monsters is a suitably fine boy and his dog adventure – oh, did I mention the dog? – that would make a perfectly fine streaming movie.

We’ll get back to some of the other theatrical releases in a bit, but I wanted to get to two movies that were pleasant surprises, maybe because I went into them with absolutely zero expectations.

I wasn’t really sure what to think about Cooper Raiff’s SH#!%HOUSE (IFC Films) at first, maybe because it’s title is a little off-putting and not really particularly representative of what the movie is. Raiff himself plays Alex Malmquist, a fairly new arrival at his college but already missing home and his mother (Amy Landecker) and not really adjusting to the crazy college lifestyle as exemplified by his roommate Sam (Logan Miller). After a party at a frat called “Shithouse” (hence the title), Alex meets and connects with his dorm’s R.A. Maggie (Dylan Gelula) and the two spend the night bonding and hanging out.

Obviously, someone at IFC Films loves these platonic indie two-handers about people meeting and hanging out over the course of a night, because Shithouse is the second such movie after Olympic Dreams earlier in the year. They also must know that I’m a sucker for these kinds of semi-rom-coms, because just like with that other movie, I totally ate up everything Raiff was trying to do and say with his movie. The chemistry between the two leads is undeniable, and maybe it won’t be a surprise that Gelula also appeared in Raiff’s previous movie.

As with any relationship, things do come to an end, and this one crashes and burns in a very sad way for Alex the very next day. Maggie starts to pretend she doesn’t even know him, and she ignores his incessant texts saying how much he enjoyed their night together. Boy, I have been there back in my reckless and romantic days of youth.

At first, I wasn’t that into Raiff as an actor – remember what I’ve said about filmmakers casting themselves? – but Alex definitely grew on me. Gelula is absolutely amazing, and frankly, I can see someone “discovering” her in ten years and becoming a new Parker Posey, Kate Lynn Sheil or other similar indie ingenue.

The combination of the two is what makes Shithouse such a special experience, since their situations are quite relatable and Raiff does a great job with the characterization in his writing to make this quite enjoyable to see how things will resolve themselves.

I also wasn’t quite prepared for how much I’d enjoy Steve Byrne’s THE OPENING ACT (RLJEfilms), maybe because I was unfamiliar with Byrne, and as usual, I didn’t read the description of the movie before sitting down to watch it. If I did, I would have known that Byrne is a stand-up comic and presumably this movie is somewhat based on situations that have happened to him. It stars Jimmy O. Yang from Crazy Rich Asians (a great comic in his own right) as Willy Chu, a young comic who has always dreamed of making it in stand-up but instead, has been stuck trying to get slots at an open mic night, while holding down a day job working at an insurance company. One day, his friend (Ken Jeong) sets him up for an MC gig in Pennsylvania at the Improv where his idol Billy G (Cedric the Entertainer) will be performing, so Willy quits his job to pursue his dream.

Much of Byrne’s movie deals with Billy’s “adventure” in Pennsylvania with the club’s womanizing featured act (played by SNL’s Alex Moffatt) and trying to face the struggles of stand-up in hopes of getting to the next level. There have been better movies about the subject, like Mike Birbiglia’s Sleepwalk with You, but Byrne’s film is a nice addition, particularly because Yang plays such a likeable, benevolent character you want to see him do well even after he crashes and bombs on a Saturday night and is at risk of losing the Improv gig.

It’s obvious that Byrne pulled in a lot of favors from friends to get such a great cast of comics – even getting Whitney Cumming to make a cameo – but the likes of Bill Burr actually take on key roles, like Willy’s boss in that case. Moffatt is particularly hilarious expanding on some of his outrageous SNL characters to play a stand-up who actually does help Willy, even as he puts him in pretty awful situations. Cedric also gives another fantastic performance as Willy’s idol who gives him the cold shoulder at first but eventually comes around and offers him the mentoring that Willy needs.

The Opening Act isn’t anything particularly revelatory, but it is thoroughly entertaining, and a nice little indie that I hope people will discover for themselves, especially those who like (or perform) stand-up.

Edward James Olmos directs THE DEVIL HAS A NAME (Momentum Releasing) starring the great Oscar-nominated David Strathairn as almond farmer Fred Stern, who has been running his orchard for three decades with trusty second Santiago, played by Olmos himself. Things are going well until they notice that some of the trees are rotting. It turns out they’re being poisoned by the water that’s been sullied by crude oil run-off from the nearby Shore Oil rigs. Around the same time, an opportunist named Alex Gardner, played by Haley Joel Osment, offers Fred a very low-ball offer to buy the farm, though Fred suspects something is up, and sure enough, Shore Oil is responsible.

Another movie I didn’t know what to expect other than a few cursory elements is this movie “based on a true story” movie about the little farmer taking on “The Man.” In this case, Shore Oil is represented by Kate Bosworth’s Gigi Cutler, a tough exec. at the corporation who thinks their lawyers (one of them played by Katie Aselton!) can crush this local troublemaker. When Stern’s lawyer (Martin Sheen) sues the oil company for 2 billion, they need to start taking things seriously, bringing in a tough “fixer” played by Pablo Schreiber.

I’m not sure where to begin with this movie that certainly has noble intentions in telling this story but suffers from quite a few issues, mostly coming from the script. I was a little concerned once I knew the premise, because I was not a huge fan of Todd Haynes’ Dark Water from last year, although I did enjoy the Krasinski-Damon-Van Sant ecological venture, Promised Land. This one falls somewhere in between, and probably its biggest issue is that it tries to create some humor out of the erratic behavior of the characters played by Bosworth and Schreiber; both performances are so off-the-rails at times it regularly takes you out of Fred’s story. (Osment is also pretty crazy but at least he fits better into his role.) Strathairn is great and well-cast, and Olmos is equally good, and I imagine that it’s partially because many of their scenes are together, allowing Olmos to direct with his acting. Aselton and Sheen are also decent, especially in the courtroom scenes.

Oh, and did I mention that Alfred Molina plays the Big Boss, who is interrogating Cutler as a needless framing device? Yeah, there’s a lot of characters, and when you hold this up against something like The Trial of Chicago 7, it’s just obvious that the film has too many elements for any filmmaker to be able to juggle at once.

Because of this, The Devil Has A Name is an erratic real-life dramedy that’s too all over the place in terms of tone, it ends up shooting itself in the foot by trying (and failing) to be funny despite the serious subject matter.

Next up is 2 HEARTS (Silver Lion Films/ Freestyle Releasing), another movie based on a true story from the Hool Brothers, who I really wasn’t very familiar with. I assumed this was going to be a faith-based movie, and maybe in some ways it is, but not really. It essentially tells two stories set in different time periods that you assume will somehow be connected. Ooh, boy.

First, there’s Jacob Elordi of Euphoria and The Kissing Booth – neither of which I’ve seen, mind you – who plays Chris Gregory, a college kid who connects in a meet-cute way with Tiera Skovbye’s Sam. Before we get too far into their story, we cut back to what looks like Cuba in the ‘50s and 60s, and meet Jorge Bolivar (Adan Canto), the son of an alcohol magnate, a soccer player who suffers a serious lung issue that puts him in the hospital. Years later, Jorge is travelling to Miami when he meets Radha Mitchell’s Leslie working as a flight attendant.

Both guys are pretty suave smooth-talking pick-up artists, and the movie spends almost an hour cutting between two very corny and cheesy romance stories that really don’t offer much in terms of story. Instead, it keeps following Chris and Sam’s life as they have kids, taking forever to get to the connection between the stories. I was getting pretty bored of the movie, but I felt like I had to stick it out to see what happens.

When you call a movie “2 Hearts,” you kind of expect it to be about a heart transplant of some kind, right? But no, it’s actually about a dual lung transplant that Jorge receives. Want to take a wild guess who the donor is? I certainly don’t want to spoil what happens, but for a movie that spends a good hour setting up the relationships between the two men and their pretty blondes with ups and downs that makes it seem like a Nicholas Sparks movie, it really throws a spanner into the fairy tale with all the melodrama that’s to come. It’s such a whiplash in terms of tone it pretty much destroys any chance of one enjoying the movie for what it is. It also loses a lot without Elordi, since the actors who play his family aren’t very good at all.

I had to actually look up the story to see how much if it was true, only to learn that Jorge was based on Jorge Bacardi who actually received a double lung transplant from one Christopher Gregory, inspiring him to create the Gabriel House of Care. The problem is that the time periods get so messed up by setting one story decades in the past. Using the same actors to play the people over that time with pretty shabby make-up just makes things that much more confusing. The big problem is that it spends so much time avoiding the actual plot and point of making the movie that by the time it gets to it, you just don’t care about the characters anymore.

The whole thing is very by the books and predictable, but ultimately, it’s hard to believe any of it, despite it being based on a true story. If you go into this movie expecting love and romance and all that kind of mushy stuff from the title, you’re likely to be disappointed when the movie finally gets to its point. (In other words, it could have used some giant monsters.)

Here’s another movie that I didn’t really know what to expect going in and that probably should have helped me enjoy it more… if it was anything resembling a good movie. Picked up at the Toronto Film Festival where it premiered last month, Evan Morgan’s THE KID DETECTIVE (Sony) stars Adam Brody as Abe Appelbaum, the “kid detective” of the titles, who as a child was one of those super-smart kids who have the deductive powers to help the people in his community, but as a 32-year-old, he just isn’t taken as seriously any more. When a high school girl named Caroline (Sophie Nélisse) comes to Abe to find out who murdered her boyfriend, Abe finally realizes that he has his first grown-up case, though he’s still obsessed with the disappearance of the mayor’s daughter (and his kid receptionist) Gracie many years earlier.

I’m sure there’s gonna be people out there who watch and appreciate The Kid Detective for what it is, a wry and slightly clever noir pastiche pseudo-comedy, but anyone who has seen Rian Johnson’s first film Brick or the underrated Mystery Team (starring Donald Glover very early in his career) might feel that this doesn’t live up to either. Besides the fact that Brody really hasn’t developed much personality as an actor, the film rolls along with a fairly flat, deadpan tone that just never gets remotely exciting. The humor is subdued and yet it feels like everyone is constantly trying too hard, particularly Morgan, while at the same time not really taking any chances. This is a movie that could have been edgier but instead, it milks its flimsy high-concept premise as long as possible before giving up.

Like Love and Monsters, Sony is releasing The Kid Detective into theaters on Friday, and hopefully parents will check that rating before assuming it’s a kid flick. Although there isn’t so much bad language or anything that wouldn’t warrant a PG… other than the fact that it’s not particularly funny or even entertaining and kids will be super-bored.

I can’t believe there’s still more! Amazon’s “Welcome to the Blumhouse” anthology series continues this week with two more movies in the series of eight, which you can now watch on Prime Video:

Easily my favorite of the four movies I’ve seen is Zu Quirke’s NOCTURNE (Amazon), which follows a pair of twins, Julie (Sidney Sweeney) and Vivian (Madison Iseman), who are both competitive concert pianists at the Lindberg Academy, although Vivian is clearly the better, as she’s heading off to Julliard while Julian is taking a gap year.

Before we meet them, we see a young violist jumping off the balcony to her death for some reason, and we learn that she was the finalist to play a concerto, so now that slot is open and both Julie and her sister desperately want it.

Nocturne is certainly more like the horror movies we expect from Blumhouse, which is both good and bad. The good is that it is indeed quite scary as Quirke’s team uses really eerie lighting effects and other things to create suspense. But there’s also an artiness to what Quirke does that elevates Nocturne above the normal high-concept horror-thriller.

Quirke, who also wrote the film, delivers all the characterization you expect from a good horror film so that you really care about the characters, and she’s put together such a fine cast, particularly Sweeney who has to run a gamut of emotions as Julie. I also like Rodney To as Julie’s tough instructor Wilkins

Again, I won’t say too much more about the actual plot, although if you can imagine a Faustian bargain and how that plays out for those around Julie, you can probably understand why a super-fan of The Omen might dig what Quirke did in this environment.

The fourth movie in the “Welcome to the Blumouse” series is EVIL EYE (Amazon), from Indo-American filmmakers Elan and Rajeev Dassani, a relatively innocuous thriller based around the relationship between Pallavi (Sunita Mani from last week’s Save Yourselves! and GLOW) and her mother Usha, played by Sarita Choudhury. Pallavi is in her late 20s and single and her mother keeps wanting to get her set-up with a nice man, as a good Indian mother is wont to do. When Pallavi meets Sandeep (Omar Maskati), things are going well since he has money and her mother thinks her daughter has hit the jackpot, until she realizes that Sandeep has a dark secret.

Here’s another thriller where it’s really tough to talk about the plot, because obviously the filmmakers want the story to unfold in the specific way it was written. Apparently, this one was once an Audible story, and the first thing I noticed was how amazing Sunita Mani looks from her fairly glammed down roles in other things. I think she’s just wearing make-up and has her styled different but I’m not sure I would have known it was the same actor in Save Yourselves! Because I had to do a double take.

The problem with Evil Eye, and it’s been a problem with some of the other “Welcome to the Blumhouse” movies, is that it isn’t necessarily what I’d consider horror. It really plays a lot more like a romantic drama, other than the fact that Pallavi’s mother has visions and believes in astrology enough to send her daughter trinkets to protect her from the “evil eye.” In fact, the movie just gets weirder and weirder, as it starts introducing supernatural elements, and without giving the big plot twist away, it does expect one to believe in reincarnation.

I wish I could have liked this more, but it really seems like it would be better suited for a show like “The Outer Limits” or “The Twilight Zone,” since the premise is stretched so think for about 30 minutes longer than necessary. I think the filmmakers did perfectly fine with what they had to work with – the two main actresses are just fab – but I think I’d need to see some of their other work to see if the issues I had were just cause the story isn’t that interesting or by their limitations in making it.

(And I promise that I do have a feature on all the filmmakers from the first four “Welcome to the Blumhouse” series coming over at Below the Line, but it’s been a pretty tough piece to write.)

I reviewed Alex Gibney’s new doc Totally Under Control (Neon/Participant), co-directed with Ophelia Harutyunyan and Suzanne Hillinger, in last week’s column but it’s now available to watch On Demand and then it will be on Hulu starting next Tuesday, October 20. Obviously, everyone wanted to get this out there and make sure people see it before they get too in-deep with the election.

I also reviewed David Byrne’s American Utopia (HBO), directed by Spike Lee, a few weeks back, but it will be on HBO and presumably HBO Max on Sunday night. Not as big an event as Disney+’s Hamilton but still worth watching, especially if you’re a fan of Byrne or his band the Talking Heads, because it actually acts as a nice counterpoint bookend to the late Jonathan Demme’s fantastic Stop Making Sense, one of the best concert documentaries ever made, or at least top 5. I’m bummed I missed Byrne’s show on Broadway, and it doesn’t sound like Broadway will be coming back anytime soon so I guess this HBO documentation is the best any of us can wish for.

Of the movies I didn’t have time to watch this week, the two that I’m hoping to still get to are two docs: Inna Blockhina’s SHE IS THE OCEAN (Blue Fox Entertainment) and Rick Korn’s HARRY CHAPIN: WHEN IN DOUBT, DO SOMETHING (Greenwich). She Is the Ocean explores the lives of nine women who all have a passion for the ocean. The Harry Chapin doc may be more self-explanatory, and I wish I was a bigger fan of Chapin, the famed singer/songwriter/activist, because maybe I would have watched this movie earlier. (But seriously, look at how many movies came out this week, when I was hoping it would be “slower”!) Also, I’m a little bit interested in the K-Pop doc #BlackPinkLightUpTheSky that will air on Netflix, just because, I dunno, I like adorable, young Asian women, so sue me?

Premiering on Disney+ this Friday is Justin Baldoni’s CLOUDS, starring Fin Argus as musician Zach Sobiech, who has only months to live when his cancer starts spreading, but he follows his dream to make an album and becomes a viral music phenomenon. I’m not sure if this is a true story but it certainly sounds a lot like a faith-based film called I Still Believe that hit theaters just before they all shut down due to the pandemic. Coincidence? I think not.

Also this week, the 32nd ANNUAL NEWFEST LGBTQ FILM FESTIVAL begins on Friday, running through October 27 with opening night being the well-regarded Ammonite, starring Kate Winslet and Saoirse Ronan, but it will be done as a drive-in, so I’m out. Over in Los Angeles, the AFI FEST starts on Thursday and runs through October 22, and that’s also showing a lot of cool festival/awards films that I haven’t had a chance to watch yet like The Father, I’m Your Woman and more. I missed my chance to get press accreditation, so yeah, I guess I’ll be waiting on that.

And then we get to all the movies that I didn’t have time to see or didn’t receive a screener, so here we go. This week’s unfortunate dumping ground:

Lupin III: The First (GKIDS) (This anime film is being released as a Fathom event on Oct. 18 – dubbed, and Oct. 21 – subtitled)

Belly of the Beast (I’ve actually heard good things about Erika Cohn’s doc about illegal sterilizations being conducted in a woman’s prison.)

Don’t Look Back (Gravitas Ventures)

Rom Boys: 40 Years of Rad (101 Films)

The Antidote (Cinetic/Brand New Story)

Monochrome: The Chromism (Tempest)

J.R “Bob” Dobbs and the Church of the Subgenius (Uncork’d)

Monster Force Zero (WildEye Releasing)

Ghabe (GVN Releasing)

The Accidental President (Intervention)

In Case of Emergency (Kino Lorber)

I’m not sure how much of a column I’m gonna write next week since I won’t have nearly as much time to watch movies or write about them in the coming week, while I’m in Colmbus. There are a couple high profile movies I hope to get to, so we’ll see what happens.

By the way, if you read this week’s column and have bothered to read this far down, feel free to drop me some thoughts at Edward dot Douglas at Gmail dot Com or drop me a note or tweet on Twitter. I love hearing from readers … honest!

#TheWeekendWarrior #Movies #Reviews #VOD #Streaming #Synchronic #TrialOfTheChicago7 #FrenchExit #LoveANdMonsters TheKidDetective #Nocturne #2Hearts #Shithout #THeDevilHasAName #TheOpeningAct

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xtruss · 4 years ago

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Statue of White Woman Holding Hatchet and Scalps Sparks Backlash in New England

Hannah Duston, subject of the first publicly funded US monument to a woman, is implicated in the deaths of 10 Native Americans

— Nick Fiorellini | Monday August 3, 2020 | Guardian USA

The Hannah Duston statue in Haverhill, Massachusetts. Another stands in Boscawen, New Hampshire. Photograph: North Wind Picture Archives/Alamy Stock Photo

The statue is the earliest publicly funded monument to a woman in the US.

It stands in the out-of-the-way town of Boscawen, New Hampshire. It shows a woman holding a hatchet in one hand and a fistful of scalps in the other. Her name is Hannah Duston.

As protests across the US topple statues of historical figures with connections to colonialism and slavery, Duston’s name has largely stayed out of the national conversation. But concerns about the New Hampshire statue, and another in Haverhill, Massachusetts, are now emerging.

This is because Duston is implicated in the deaths, and scalping, of 10 Native Americans.

“The statues were made to send a message to the indigenous community, that they are inferior, that their land would be seized, and they would be removed and put on reservations,” Judy Matthews, a Haverhill resident, told the Guardian.

The Duston statue vandalized in Boscawen, New Hampshire. Photograph: Denise Pouliot

She spoke during a 30 June city council meeting in Haverhill, asking officials to consider moving the statue to a less public place.

Those who support keeping the Duston statues claim their removal alone won’t benefit indigenous people, and that Duston was acting in self-defense.

Duston was born and raised in Haverhill, then a small farming town, amid disputes among English colonists, the French in Canada, and various Native American nations. She was a homemaker with nine children, and her cousin and uncle were tried at the Salem witch trials.

She was captured by the Abenaki nation during a military engagement in 1697 with her nurse-maid and newborn and was forced to trek a great distance to an encampment in present-day Boscawen, where she claimed the Abenaki killed her baby by bashing her head against a tree.

Duston, probably with the help of other captive colonists, killed the Native Americans – six of whom were children – before escaping and being generously rewarded for the scalps.

The two statues were erected in the mid-19th century to vilify Native Americans following the civil war and to promote the idea of westward expansion. Several other markers and memorials that do not bear Duston’s image were put up in Massachusetts and New Hampshire.

For decades, Abenaki, residents, scholars and local municipalities have debated what should be done with the two statues, and those concerns have come to a boil.

On 3 July, an online petition began to circulate among local social media groups calling for the removal of the Haverhill statue. A counter-petition shortly followed. Ten days after Matthews spoke at the city council meeting, the monument was vandalized with the words “Haverhill’s own monument to genocide” written in chalk.

Shortly after the vandalism, Haverhill’s mayor, James Fiorentini, appointed two Native Americans to the Haverhill Historical Commission (HHC), which protects the town’s historic structures, to make recommendations for the future of the monument.

“I want to tell the other side of the story – of the Native Americans who lived here, of the immigrants who built the shoe factories, of the African Americans who were freed from slavery, and of African Americans who lived here as slaves in Haverhill,” said Fiorentini.

Yet the historical commission has not met since the start of the coronavirus pandemic and does not have a plan for when it will do so again.

Descendants of Duston, such as Diane Dustin Itasaka, who works alongside other family members at the Dustin Garrison House, are glad these conversations are happening but believe people should delve more deeply into Duston’s history before declaring that the statue must go.

“I want people to know that Hannah or any of the other women, children, babies, and men who had gone through any raid like this, if she really did do the unthinkable, it wasn’t because they were natives but because they were her captors,” Itasaka said. “If the French had captured her, it would have been the French. It wasn’t because they were native.”

Itasaka hopes the saga will be included in the history curriculum at local schools because “if school kids or adults knew more of the history, they would understand more of how and where we are today”.

Similar conversations are happening in New Hampshire. Elizabeth Dubrelle, the head of education and public programs at the New Hampshire Historical Society, says the group made the conscious decision not to include Duston’s story in the revamped school curriculum.

That is “in part because we don’t think it’s appropriate for kids”, she said. “I think it’s way too violent. No matter whose side you take, or what you think about it, I just don’t think it’s a good story for kids.”

Unlike in Massachusetts, there is now a concrete plan to adapt the New Hampshire statue. Proposed by representatives of the Cowasuck band of the Pennacook Abenaki people and New Hampshire state officials, it was approved on 17 July.

The changes include renaming the site of the Duston statue from the Hannah Duston Memorial Site to Unity Park N’dakinna, which means “our land” in Abenaki, and adding additional signage and monuments around the statue discussing discrepancies within the story, allowing the visitor to come up with their own conclusions.

For Denise Pouliot, who is Abenaki and involved in the project, one of the most important things to come out of it might simply be reminding others of her people’s long history in the region.

“If you go out on to anywhere on the other side of the Mississippi [River] and you ask about an indigenous tribe in New England, they’ll tell you there are none,” she said. “That’s a fundamental educational problem within this country, and how are we going to move forward as a nation if even our history is so broken?”

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ampharos-writes · 5 years ago

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Red Eye

Statement #0050204 Author’s Name: Hector Calderon Nature of Incident: Anomalous occurrences during an overnight flight Date and Location: February 4th, 2005, between Seattle, Washington, USA and Phoenix, Arizona, USA

Statement

I’ve never understood people who dislike traveling.

Well, no, I’m not sure that’s entirely true. I can understand disliking public transportation, perhaps. Trains and buses inevitably become messy despite the best efforts of poor overworked city employees, and societal convention seems to break down when you try to pack that many people in that tight a space. I can understand that.

What I [i]don’t[/i] understand is people who claim to dislike driving or flying. There’s something peaceful shared by the both of them, a quiet atmosphere, an isolation that, whether it be simulated on an airplane or very real in your car, can create a sort of inner peace. I’ve never done quite as much good thinking and introspection as I have on long flights, and there’s perhaps nothing quite as relaxing as a drive to nowhere in particular.

Of course, it’s always better to go at night. Daytime in a car runs into traffic, heat from the sunlight constantly bearing its gaze through the not-quite-tinted-enough windows, the smog of the city and the exhaust fumes from your roadmates slowly leaking in through the AC vents and making you gag. Daytime on an airplane is never as cool as you want it to be and ALWAYs more crowded. The false sense of privacy is shattered. There is always a crying baby, and it is always no more than two rows behind you.

It shouldn’t surprise you, then, that I always schedule red eyes when I travel for business. I find they make the actual traveling process much more bearable, and the necessary shifting of my daily schedule to accommodate them is a small price that I’m more than willing to pay (and it’s offset by the even smaller price of the tickets themselves). I’m able to fall asleep fairly easily on airplanes, so if the fatigue overweighs the relaxation, it’s just a short hop on over to dreamland with fairly few lasting effects the following morning.

My wife, of course, both disagrees with and is concerned by my traveling habits. She’s the type of person who can hardly keep her eyes open after 11 PM, and she has a tendency to assume this same quality in those she doesn’t know - this extending, of course, to any other late-night drivers I may encounter, or the pilot of an overnight flight I’m taking. While this does grow occasionally annoying, it’s hard to stay mad, given that I know she only protests out of love and concern. Of course, it doesn’t stop me from moving long distances after the sun goes down.

So really, then, there was nothing particularly unusual about this particular flight. Seattle to LAX, departing at 1 AM. I was off work the following day, being at the tail end of a business trip, so it would be no problem for me to catch up on any lost rest once I got back. I don’t recall there being anything particularly odd about the booking process, or the wait to board, or the plane itself, and for the first 30 minutes or so, things were… normal, I suppose. Quiet, but that was to be expected. A fairly standard late-night/early-morning flight. Having no reason to suspect that otherwise would be the case, I allowed myself to slip from relaxation to dozing, falling into what I assume was a brief nap. If I dreamed, I don’t remember it.

I didn’t notice anything unusual when I first woke up, either. I had never been slow to rise, exactly, but neither was I a particularly light sleeper, and the fact that I had the row to myself delayed the realization of what was happening. It was when I noticed how dehydrated I was and pressed the service button, in hopes of calling an attendant over for some water, that I made my… well, actually, I guess it wasn’t really a mistake, was it? I mean, I was gonna find out what was happening sooner or later. The attendant’s failure to show up after 10 more minutes of pseudo-dozing is what truly roused me from my slumber, and after checking that the seatbelt sign was still disengaged, I rose from my seat, intending to track down my forgotten beverage and perhaps report a broken service light.

What I discovered instead was that the cabin of the plane was completely empty. No attendants. No passengers. Just me. It took a second for the realization to sink in, but once it did it was just so hopelessly, obviously, disturbingly wrong.

Of course there had been people on board before I had fallen asleep.

...hadn’t there?

For a minute, I simply… stood there, looking around blankly, as if expecting someone to pop out from behind a seat at any moment. This had to be a prank, a practical joke, or maybe… a drill of some sort? One I had slept through the announcement for? They certainly hadn’t exited the plane in midair; I wasn’t sure how many parachutes were present on the plane, but I assumed it wasn’t enough for the entire flight, and furthermore I surely would have noticed if someone had opened the door in midair while I was asleep.

Perhaps they were simply… in the cockpit. It was the one place I didn’t have a direct sight line on. It was possible. The “why” wasn’t important to me in that moment, not as much as the “where”. Furthermore, we were still airborne, I could feel that much, so surely there was at least a pilot still on board. If nothing else, I should be able to march in there and get some answers, even if I wasn’t 100% sure of the questions.

Each step I took towards the front of the plane emitted a muffled “thump” that, while quiet, nevertheless reverberated through my skull in the deafening silence of the empty cabin. Everything seemed muted somehow - the AC vents pumping in pressurized air, the distant whine of the engines, the underlying white noise of the outside air whipping past at 500 miles per hour - as if I was listening to it from the other side of a plexiglass barrier. Every action I took felt magnified in its volume and intensity, and I was struck with the immensely powerful feeling that simply my being here was disturbing something, that breaking the perfect stillness of this barren and abandoned place was a crime of immense magnitude. I don’t know how long it took me to make it to the cockpit, but it undoubtedly felt much longer.

With a trembling hand, I opened the door.

Behind it was nothing. The cockpit was empty. No pilot, no copilot. Just the dim glow of the controls and the oppressive matte black of the night.

Numbly, I made my way over to the controls. I’m certainly not an expert on aviation, but the joystick was moving of its own accord, and the altimeter was holding steady, so I assumed some sort of autopilot was engaged, but there was definitely nobody manually running the show. Not knowing what else to do, I slumped into the pilot’s seat. I was alone.

...or was I? I pulled out my mobile phone. No signal. Makes sense. Plan B was still in play, though, as I frantically cast my gaze about the cockpit. After a moment, I spotted it: a small back radio transceiver, sitting calmly on its hook. I was sure that this was against air protocol or whatever, but I was EQUALLY sure that this was an emergency situation, and I wasn’t exactly super interested in the trappings of procedure. I grabbed the transmitter and called out into the night.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

A burst of static. Then silence.

“Does anyone copy? Hello?”

Nothing.

I wasn’t just the only person on the plane. I was the only person, period. There was no one else.

The transmitter fell from my hand, and for a long time I just… sat there. The plane continued to fly itself in the meantime, its destination at this point no longer important to me, as I was growing increasingly certain that it had no real intention of ever reaching one. The joystick gently drifted through the still air. The altimeter held steady. And I just… sat there.

My thoughts drifted to my wife, and I had the curious thought that perhaps this wouldn’t have happened if I had just listened to her. If I hadn’t been so keen on flying at night, maybe I wouldn’t have fallen asleep, or maybe I would have been able to see outside the plane. Maybe none of this would have happened. It was nonsense, of course, but the thought of her face comforted me. If I was never going to see her again in person, I might as well at least hold her in my mind. The resignation to my fate, to starving to death aboard this gently soaring metal tube, had my stomach dropping.

...or maybe it didn’t. Because as I continued to stare blankly at various different instruments throughout the cockpit, my eyes alighted once more upon the altimeter, and I noticed that ever so slowly, the plane was dropping, and furthermore I became aware for the first time of a slight canting forwards of the floor. It was the first time something had changed since this whole thing started, and I frankly wasn’t sure if I should be ecstatic or terrified.

The decision became much easier when the cant became more pronounced, and the speed with which the altimeter dropped began to increase, and the rushing of the outside air grew from a gentle hum to a deafening roar. Panic began to set in as I rushed to the control panel, looking for anything that might disengage the autopilot and allow me to TRY to slow my descent. It was hopeless, of course - all the controls were unmarked and unlabeled, and as terrified as I was, the thought of making my predicament WORSE tempered any rash action on my part.

Desperate then, I attempted to simply grab the joystick and pull. It didn’t budge - the autopilot, it seemed, was significantly stronger than I was, and our forward descent was locked in place.

I looked at the altimeter.10,000 feet and falling quickly.

NOW I allowed myself to be rash, flicking every switch, hitting every button, kicking the joystick in a frantic attempt to dislodge it. Nothing worked, nothing changed. The plane screamed downward into the night, quite set on its destination and quite unwilling to listen to its lone passenger’s arguments to the contrary. I was going to die, and I was going to do it alone.

5,000 feet now.

I remembered those old duck-and-cover videos from grade school. It seemed like lunacy, but lunacy was all I had left. I retreated to the back of the plane, furthest from the place of impact, and I ducked, and I covered, and I waited.

I thought of my wife again. If things went as poorly as I expected they would, I wanted her to be the last image in my mind.

I don’t remember hitting the ground.

I DO remember waking up in a hospital bed, apparently two days later. The doctors said I had collapsed on the flight and, while I was apparently physically fine, had been completely comatose. There were no injuries, and there was no mention of a plane crash or of any mysterious disappearances. They held me overnight for observation, and I was discharged the next day.

I have another business trip next month. I’ll be taking a 9 AM flight.

Supplementary Comments

Any statement in which the anomalous occurrences begin only after the author has fallen asleep should set off immediate red flags in the mind of any properly skeptical reader. You would be surprised at how many people struggle to distinguish from the waking world and the world of dreams. I note that at no point in his statement did Mr. Calderon ever make an attempt to verify whether or not what he was experiencing was in fact real, and the details would fit with him having been comatose.

Mr. Calderon did provide us with hospital records and a flight stub as corroboration, which is quite refreshing - usually we have to rely on Ara for those sorts of things, and she staunchly refuses to divulge her methods of acquiring them, which is always somewhat concerning. Regardless, Mr. Calderon’s documents both seem to corroborate the more verifiable details of his tale - he was in fact admitted to the hospital after falling comatose on Spirit Airlines flight 271. The cause of this is, according to the records, unknown.

Lissa did manage to spot something I missed that I suppose qualifies as unusual. The flight log for Flight 271 lists the pilot as being one Captain Lucas Janssen - a name that meant nothing to me until some cursory Googling revealed that a pilot by the same name disappeared along with his whole plane somewhere over the pacific in 1998.

-Amy A. Ampharos, Head Archivist April 17th, 2011

#the magnus archives #tma #fanfic #fiction #short story

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the-observant-frisbeetarian · 5 years ago

Text

Keep Smiling Through

By George deValier

One-shot sequel to We’ll Meet Again

Summer, 1948 Nebraska, USA

In the few months since the ocean liner RMS Queen Elizabeth steamed into New York City Harbour, carrying Mr. Arthur Kirkland and the recently promoted Captain Alfred Jones with it, Arthur could honestly say he had never been so confused, so surprised, or so completely and utterly bewildered in all his life.

If there was one word Arthur could use to describe America, it was big. It was also loud. And confusing. And oddly marvellous. In fact, it was very much like Alfred himself. The American seemed positively ecstatic to return to his country of birth. He had been back once before, just after the war, but that had been without Arthur, and neither had handled the separation very well. Being alone again in the Emerald Lion, with his fears and his worries and his memories, was almost more than Arthur could bear. When Alfred finally returned to London Arthur had been so overjoyed he'd jumped on him in the train station, causing quite a few raised eyebrows and stunned stares and outright cries of outrage. So this time, when Alfred had to return to America for military reasons, Arthur accepted immediately when asked if he wanted to accompany his lovely, charming, bloody frustrating Yank.

Of course the trip turned into more of a sightseeing adventure than anything else. They travelled through more states than Arthur could name in their shiny red Chevrolet, stopping at more diners and lookout points and roadside oddities than he ever wished to see again. Alfred simply bubbled with excitement at showing Arthur everything he possibly could of the great United States of America, all of which had been somewhat bearable so far – until Nebraska. More specifically, until this airfield in Nebraska. Even more specifically, until this tiny, metal, claustrophobic, inescapable plane cockpit sitting on this runway in the middle of this wide, flat, golden field in Nebraska.

It did not take long for Alfred to convince the airfield staff to let him take up one of their planes. Not once they realised who Alfred was; the young trainees gathering in awed respect, the pilots telling their own stories of service during the war, the older engineers shaking Alfred's hand and sharing their memories of Alfred's father when he was a delivery pilot in the twenties. Alfred seemed far more comfortable with these men than the decorated, uniformed, highly-ranked military personnel who usually clamoured to shake his hand.

And now, Arthur wondered how in the bloody hell he had allowed himself to be talked into this. He tried to breathe past the anxiety choking his throat, struggling to suppress the growing fear in his chest. He took another look out the small side window at the long shadow of the wing on the runway. The sound of the roaring engine was almost enough to drown out the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. "I can't…" Arthur squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep, shaking breath. "Alfred, I don't think I can do this…"

"Sure you can, Arthur!" Alfred spoke cheerfully over the clacking of the control keys. He slipped his free hand into Arthur's and gave it a soft squeeze. "Come on, look at me."

Arthur nodded, breathed out, and blinked open his eyes. He could really use a stiff drink right now - maybe he should have bought a few more of those jars of moonshine from that bloke in Ohio.

"You're okay." Alfred grinned at him from the pilot seat, his worn old bomber jacket slung over his shoulders, his bright blond hair poking through his flight cap and his radio speaker slung around his neck. "This baby's a breeze." Alfred patted the dashboard. "A good ol' Aeronca Chief - I used to fly one just like her before the war. Y'ain't got nothin' to worry about."

Arthur nodded again, tugged at his tight suit collar, and tried to remind himself that Alfred knew what he was doing. He'd been flying for years, of course he knew what he was doing. "I know, Alfred, I do, but…" But the rational part of Arthur's mind was completely overwhelmed by this instinctive, primal fear. How could he be sitting here in a plane, sitting here about to take off, about to fly into the air for the first time in his life… Arthur suddenly tugged on the belt strapping him into the seat. "I apologise for being a nuisance, but… but perhaps we could just wait…"

"Arthur, listen." Alfred spoke firmly this time, his blue, bespectacled eyes holding Arthur's gaze intently. "You're with the guy that once shot down seven planes, completely alone and with no radio contact, while running low on fuel and surrounded by an entire enemy squad. You're with the guy that's spent over three years training the best pilots the British military has to offer. And you're with the guy that loves you more than anything else in this whole damn world and would die before letting anything happen to you. Now, come on darlin.'" Alfred winked and Arthur's heart stuttered. "Let me take you to the clouds."

Arthur felt thrilled and giddy and frustrated and proud and bloody terrified all at once. He let out a low, groaning sigh. "That's utterly unfair."

Alfred beamed innocently as he pressed even more of the buttons and tapped the gauges and reached for the strange-looking little wheel. Arthur was rather amazed at how easily Alfred pressed and pushed and pulled what looked like a dozen controls at once with only his seven remaining fingers. "What's unfair?"

Those words, that wink, that blasted grin… "You know what, you bloody fool."

Alfred just laughed as the plane started moving along the runway. "All right, now, I'm getting her into takeoff position…"

Arthur's stomach twisted uncomfortably. "Don't tell me what you're doing, good God man, just do it!"

Alfred shrugged. "All-righty then, if you say so." The plane continued steadily for a few moments before Alfred shouted, "Here we go!" The roar of the engine filled the cockpit and Arthur very nearly dived for the door. Instead he forced himself to control his panic, to focus on Alfred's confident motions and his bright, cheerful smile. But as the plane reached impossible levels of speed and noise, the runway blurring beneath them, Arthur could not help but close his eyes. Alfred cheered as the plane tilted and lifted from the ground. "WOO HOO HOOO!"

An invisible force seemed to attack Arthur. His stomach sunk through his legs, his chest compressed, and his ears felt full as blood rushed to his head. He wanted to scream, but all he could do was grip onto the seat and grit his teeth and pray that this shaking, soaring plane would not fall from the sky. The aircraft seemed to drop slightly and Arthur almost choked as he gasped, his hand flying to his chest.

"That's normal, sweetheart. It's just the plane gaining height."

Arthur was too overwhelmed to even object to the nauseating term of endearment. He just kept his eyes squeezed shut, felt his knuckles turn white. This was the oddest feeling he had ever experienced: both heavy and weightless, his head tight with pressure and his stomach empty and unsettled. It felt wrong, it felt strange, it felt completely mad, and how could Alfred be laughing and cheering like he was having the time of his life? Didn't he realise Arthur couldn't breathe here?

"Isn't this amazing, Arthur?" Alfred shouted loudly.

Arthur tried to reply but all he could manage was, "Oh bugger oh bollocks oh Christ blast shit bloody hell STOP LAUGHING!"

"Aw come on now, takeoff's the best part! See how everything just falls away below… hey look, there's our Chevy! I tell ya, these old controls sure bring back memories. Sure is different from all those Spitfires and Hurricanes they've got me showing off these days. Hey, Arthur, in a few minutes, I'll be able to show you the farm I grew up on! Hang on a minute… Arthur, why are your eyes closed?"

"Because I'm bloody terrified! Please, just tell me when this is over!"

Alfred's laughter quieted and he sighed instead. "Oh. All right. I'll just get her level and do a quick fly-round."

The disappointment in Alfred's voice sent a painful stab of guilt through Arthur's chest. What was he saying – that he did not trust Alfred? Yes, this was new and different and scary – but this was important to Alfred. This was his home, his past, his life - and Arthur was letting fear get in the way of Alfred showing it to him. Alfred was not even able to fly for long these days, not with the strain it placed on his damaged eyes. Arthur breathed through the cloud of fear, and told himself he could do this. For Alfred. "No, I'm fine, I'm just... Blimey, this is very odd, isn't it?"

Once again, Arthur felt Alfred's hand slip into his. "It's also amazing. Just look at the view below us. Isn't it terrific?"

All right. Just look. Arthur could do this. He gripped Alfred's hand, forced himself to open his eyes, and immediately gasped in shock. "Blimey," he said again.

An infinite blue sky stretched out around them. Green and yellow striped fields spread out below, dotted with dark houses and streaked with criss-crossed dirt roads, like a labyrinthine maze. The high, brilliant sun blazed down and drenched the endless, flat, open expanse of land in unfiltered, golden light. Arthur shook his head as he took it all in; he couldn't imagine any place in the world more different from London. Alfred's home was sunny, bright, enormous; awe-inspiring. And it was beautiful. Arthur turned to see Alfred grinning wildly, ecstatically happy once again. That same grin that Arthur still loved, as always bringing the blue sky and driving away the dark clouds of Arthur's fear and doubt.

"It's beautiful."

Alfred laughed, overjoyed. "I knew you'd love it! I tell ya, Arthur, the times I've dreamed of soaring through the sky together - and here in my own home..." Alfred winked. "It's magic."

Arthur's heart sped up, and it wasn't from fear anymore. The three years since the war ended had been more than Arthur had ever dreamt of. Every day with Alfred was bright and new and fun, every moment an adventure, and Arthur didn't know how it was possible but it seemed he loved the mad American more with every passing hour. Loved him enough to cross the world; enough to fly into the bloody sky for him. Arthur gently nudged Alfred's arm. "It is, Alfred. Magic."

Alfred's eyes sparkled behind his glasses, bluer than the endless sky. "Now keep your eyes peeled for one of them flying saucers like what crashed in New Mexico last year!"

Arthur groaned in exasperation. "That was a weather balloon, Alfred."

"That's what they want you to think."

Arthur rolled his eyes and gritted his teeth. If he heard one more word about this blasted 'cover-up in Roswell...' "I am not having this conversation again."

"You'll see the truth one day, Arthur. Ooh, look, look!" The plane tilted slightly and Arthur gripped the seat as Alfred pointed past him. "Right down there - that wide dirt track, do you see it? That's the first runway I ever took off from! And I don't know if you can make it out, but there's my old house, on the edge of that little hill there, do you see?"

Arthur didn't, but he nodded anyway. "Yes, yes, it's lovely. Now put the plane back in that nice straight position, please."

Alfred giggled as he did so.

As the flight drew on, Arthur asked about the land they were flying over, and about the confusing plane controls, and he couldn't help but smile at Alfred's joyful enthusiasm as he answered. All anxiety was forgotten. Arthur was just sitting here with Alfred, a thousand miles in the sky, and it was as magical and strange as every other moment they had shared together; as all the beautiful madness these three years had brought.

"It's amazing you can remember it all," said Arthur when Alfred finished explaining the difference in turning speed between the Aeronca Chief and the Mustang.

"Nah, Arthur, it ain't that hard. I could teach you to do it easy, I reckon, what with how smart you are and all."

Arthur scoffed doubtfully. "You flatter me. Up here, you're the smart one, Alfred."

Alfred attempted a nonchalant shrug, but his expression was proudly delighted. He looked out again at the vast blue sky and the endless country below. "Let's take her higher. You trust me now, right?"

Of course Arthur trusted the blasted Yank. He always had; he always would. And that's why he was doing this. Why he was sitting in this winged metal box a thousand miles in the sky; why he was here in this strange, wild country a million miles from home. Because it made Alfred's face light up, made him laugh with joy. Because this was what Alfred loved, and who he was, and this was what had brought him to London and into Arthur's life almost five years earlier. Because it was still, and always would be, magic.

"Always, Alfred."

Alfred flashed Arthur a tiny, sideways grin. "Enough to let me put her into a spin?"

Arthur narrowed his eyes warningly. "Maybe next time. For now…" Arthur pushed himself up in his seat, leant towards Alfred, and followed his gaze into the sky. "Take me through the clouds."

Disclaimer: This story belongs to George deValier. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. I own nothing.

#veraverse #george devalier #we'll meet again #keep smiling through

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