#that i kept as an archive of my old posts. and i shed a tear | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

candy-floss-consumer · 3 months ago

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Hello every-sprout! My most recent event!fic was supposed to be my last one of the year, but when @zelda-the-sacred-realm announced an artist/writer event for their wonderful comic, I really couldn’t resist!

My event piece is based largely on the presently available chapters of the comic. I saw the weeping goddess statue in Chapter 2, Part 7 and the writing creature in my brain immediately began frothing at the mouth. This short story takes place shortly before the beginning of the main comic, with a lot of foreshadowing toward certain parts of said comic.

I know there is a lot of available information, but I wrote most of this before remembering that the archive existed, haha. (I did take a peak at the post of how ToTK may affect the story, though, given that I chose dondons as their ranch animal of choice.)

*As a note, as there are sentient Lizalfos seen in Chapter 2, Part 5, I played with the idea of different, kinder Lizalfolk who have no desire to be manipulated by the cycle of darkness.

I sincerely hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Looking forward to how the rest of the Sacred Realm legend plays out! Much love 💕

SUMMARY:

Goddess Hylia has shed her tears for many of her children. The Goddess statues dotting Hyrule’s vast landscape and the statuettes held in many hands bring those tears into the mortal realm in order to heal wounds. According to legend, only the pleas of the righteous can bring them forth. But unknown to all, now that her powers have waned, only a Spirit of the Hero can reach her.

Still, the Goddess has other ways to help her people.

[Submission under the cut:]

a bit of warmth to you

a Zelda: The Sacred Realm Event!fic

The tears of the Goddess had always been known to heal. Brought into the mortal realm by the statues made in her image, the myths surrounding the miraculous substance were nigh infinite. Fables that—in ancient times—ensured that any traveller with a shred of faith kept a statuette on their person. For safety. For assurance. For the day that they were brought to their knees.

Or worse.

Pala’s great-grandma still kept one in her pocket on rainy days. On the desolate nights that her mother, Great-Great Grandma Cala, had marked the old cycle of the Blood Moon. Even now Pala could understand why she did it. On nights like those, every kind of ghost story felt real.

She remembered snuggling up to Grams’ side in the old, creaky sofa still kept here in the summer house, a shiver barely touching the tip of her spine. The blinds to the window the sofa was placed adjacent to were cracked open just enough to see a sliver of the moon. Haunting as it was beautiful. Back then, her knees, young and knobby, would knock against her great-grandma’s with every fearful jolt. But Grams never said a word. Her gaze would flicker only from the statuette next to the old, weathered journal on the table to the silent vision of the moon above.

The sight of the eternally weeping goddess still stuck to the back of her mind, despite the many years that had passed since then.

She had gifted one to Pala at the end of her fifteenth summer. And despite Pala herself holding little belief in its power, she could not deny the comfort that the sight of the little statuette brought.

Unlike her great-grandma’s personal carving, this one was made of ivory. Likely sourced from a horn shedding one of their bucks had shucked off two winters before. Dondons were easy like that. Once their horn was detached, the shedding was no more important to them than a mildly interesting rock. Grandpa Dan had always claimed that was why their family had picked up ranching them. The horns were valuable. Easy to obtain if someone did it right. And dondons themselves were amicable animals.

The carving of the statuette was not shoddy by any means. It was actually quite beautiful. Made with more detail and skill than she had expected from her great-grandmother, given her arthritis. But Pala could tell there was a slight difference between hers and the one made of old kokiri wood Grams always carried.

Namely, the lack of tear tracks scorched into its face.

Even now she can picture the strangely perfect markings burnt into aged kokiri wood. Symmetrical. Down to the stray tear on either cheek. An impossible feat for human hands. The ivory statuette tucked away in the pouch at her hip had no such detail.

But she knew better than to ask.

Pala rolled her shoulders, warding off the stiffness she could feel threatening to seep in. She needed to get moving anyhow. Heaven knows what Grams would say if she saw her still loitering around the front door at this hour. The sun was already tipping past the horizon line as it was.

She finished adjusting her breeches, tapping the heels of her boots a few times to get them fitting just right. Once everything was snug, she pushed the door open and stepped out into the cool morning air. It wouldn’t last for long, given the natural humidity in this region, but it was the best way to start the day. It made the gradual increase in heat more bearable. To Pala, at least.

She marched off the porch, grabbing a sputter lantern as she did so. Even with the sun pulling the sky into hues of purple and pink, the old stallhouse in the paddock hardly had an open ‘window’ for it to show through.

Their field in Upper Faron was quite a bit of land. It was less open than the one down near Lurelin, but it still had plenty of room. Most of the crowding came from the native flora. Crawling thickets and towering durian trees made it feel as if someone had built a low roof over the whole place. Not that the dondons cared any. They were short, heavyset animals with plenty of food to eat at their eye level. As far as they were concerned, the local thickets were an all-you-can-eat buffet. Another point of ease in their care, really.

Pala grunted as Lunal, the heifer in the stall closest to her, bumped into her keg with an unhappy snort.

“Fine, fine,” she placated, smoothing her hand over the beast’s blunt snout, “I get it. It’s scrub time.”

Lunal gave her the best estimation of a droll look that a dondon could perform. It was quite impressive actually. Pala shook her head with a laugh, lifting her scrub brush up to the beast’s back and getting to work.

══════════════════

Pala looked down the field toward the river at the sound of a familiar shout. It was now about midday, and the sunlight easily permeated through the surrounding flora, allowing her to see. There, on the other side, was a quickly approaching Lizalfolk woman. As she grew closer, the clearer her features became.

It was Talon. A Lizalfolk fisherwoman who had been a friend of the family for decades. Since around the time Great-Great Grandma Cala was girl, if she remembered right. Pala often thought of her as a sort of maternal figure. She was a mature woman. Confident and sturdy.

Pala watched as she climbed up the small incline in a few short leaps. Almost as if she was in a rush. Pala had never seen her move so quick outside of fishing.

“Get Erta,” Talon grunted as she came to a stop in front of her. The panic that reflected in her eyes was unusual. Pala’s stomach twisted at the sight of it. When she hesitated, Talon frowned. “Now, Palais.”

The intensity of her voice was alarming. But Pala nodded anyway and turned on her heel, rushing to the house.

It felt like an omen. Like a warning. Briefly, she wondered about the town. About Hyrule itself. Hopefully, the royal family had received a warning as well. They were kind, as far as Pala knew. And they ruled well. It didn’t sit right with her that only she and her family would know.

Though she wasn’t sure how they would be told about whatever was happening, but she was sure they could find out somehow. There was no way a bunch of dondon ranchers would be the only ones in Hyrule to be warned.

Besides, didn’t heroes show up in times like this? It certainly felt like they should. Pala had never felt so nervous in her life.

She felt out of breath by the time she made it to the house. The door was already open, the muffled sound of Gram’s low voice easily heard. She sped inside.

Grams turned at the sound of her footsteps. She took one look at Pala’s face and frowned, sighing as she retrieved her cane.

“Talon—” She started. Grams waved her off, already limping toward the door. She glanced back for a moment. She gestured toward the outdoors with her chin.

“Let’s go, Palais.”

Pala nodded. She trotted forward, gently helping Grams walk as she guided her back to the lower hill. Talon remained where she had left her. The frown on her face must have remained the entire duration Pala was gone.

“Talon,” Erta leaned heavily on her cane as she approached the woman.

“Erta,” she returned quickly. She glanced behind herself, her eyes flickering across the empty plain. “You should move the herd early this season.”

Pala blinked in surprise. They had never changed fields so early. Not when the weather was so pleasant. At least, not to her memory.

Her great-grandma gave the fisherwoman a long, hard look.

“Dan won’t like it.”

“He doesn’t have to.” Talon glanced backwards again. “The thought of an adventure will win him over.”

Pala looked too, though she didn’t see anything. It was unlike Talon to be so jumpy. Yet she was. Pala returned her gaze to the fisherwoman as she spoke again.

“Besides,” Her gaze flickered toward the field Granddan was likely in, “The fresh Lurelin air would do him some good, too.”

Talon wasn’t wrong. Every trip back to Lurelin was always an adventure. It was never a guarantee just who someone could meet on the road. Nor could someone really predict the weather or how the terrain had changed in the past six months. Pala distinctly remembered a time when the river had moved, blindsiding the three of them.

The conversation continued, pulling her from her thoughts.

“What about you?” Grams asked. The natural follow up in a situation such as this. Pala glanced at Talon from her place at her great-grandma’s side. She wanted to know the answer, too. The fisherwoman shook her head. Pala frowned.

“Rivers are in my blood. You know that.”

Grams sighed. Her shoulders sunk, her mouth opening as she looked down, “Take care of yourself.”

“I always do.” Talon assured. Then, she turned her eyes to Pala. Her gaze flickers to the hilt of the throwing dagger at Pala’s hip. “Don’t forget what I taught you, Palais.”

A stone sunk into her stomach. Talon’s words felt less like a brief farewell and more like she might never see her again.

“I don’t think I could even if I tried,” she tried to smile, but she was sure it appeared more like a grimace. It was the best she could do. When Talon returned it, Pala didn’t say anything about how sad it looked.

The fisherwoman gave her an approving nod. Then, she looked back to Pala’s great-grandma. Despite the sincerity of her words, they sounded brittle.

“May we meet again, my friend.”

When Pala glanced at her, Grams smile had stiffened. She made the impossible promise anyway.

“Until then.”

══════════════════

Grams had been right. Granddan was not happy about moving the herd. No matter how her great-grandmother had played it off as an adventure like Talon had suggested. Pala had always known that Granddan had been an adventurer when he was young. Peddling dondon ivory and the like as he went searching for anything that piqued his interest. He even claimed that a boy he’d met would one day grow up to be the Hero talked about in the old legends. Grandma Malta had called that particular claim hogwash all the way up to her deathbed, but for the first time in nearly a decade, Pala hoped it was true.

Hyrule might just need a hero right now.

She stayed quiet as she shuffled around the kitchenette, listening in as predictably, Granddan disagreed with the spontaneity of the plan. He didn’t like changing things so abruptly. And to be perfectly honest, neither did Grams. Which was probably what actually bothered him. Something about this entire situation had forced Grams’ hand. She would have never agreed to Talon’s suggestion otherwise.

“You understand this doesn’t make a lick of sense, don’t you?” Granddan asked, the question nearly rhetorical. Pala glanced at the pair just in time to see Grams raise a single, thick brow.

“And since when has ‘sense’ meant so much to you?” She rolled her shoulders, continuing her work and packing things away. “Don’t forget who raised you, boy.”

Granddan grumbled a bit under his breath.

“Guess I’ll have to head into town to send a courier down to Lachlan,” he spoke up, already turning toward the front door. Pala quickly looked back at the counter, hoping she wasn’t caught listening in. Granddan’s snort told her otherwise. She lifted her gaze. There weren’t that many private conversations in their little house, anyway.

“Don’t.” Grams called out before he took more than two steps. Granddan whipped black around, his brows drawn together in consternation.

“Whaddya mean, ‘don’t?’ He’s gotta know we’re coming.” Her grandfather made to turn back toward the door again. Grams wasn’t having any of it.

“I said, don’t.”

“You gotta start making sense sometime, Ma!” Granddan hissed. He gave up, marching over to one of the dining chairs and dropping into it with a heavy thud.

“Don’t you take that tone with me, Danel.” Grams pointed the knitting needle in her hand at him as she spoke. Wisely, Pala continued to stay quiet as the two ‘argued.’ Grams continued, “And it’ll make sense when it makes sense. It isn’t as if Lachlan puts anyone up in our old hut anyhow.”

Pala peered at Granddan, waiting to see what he would say. In the short silence that followed, Grams put her knitting away. When Pala glanced back at her, she saw that she had pulled the old calendar book from Great-Great Grandma Cala. Granddan had clearly caught sight of it. He didn’t say anything, but the frown on his face deepened. He looked to Pala just as she returned her gaze to him.

“C’mon Pala-girl,” Granddan said instead of what he so clearly wanted to, “Ol’ Kilo won’t listen to anybody ‘cept you.”

“Yessir,” Pala said as she, too, turned fully toward the front door. “Though, I think s’just ‘cause he don’t like you all that much, Granddan.”

Granddan sniffed.

“Maybe he would if he made better choices.”

“Don’t put him up in the stall next to the hutch, then.” Grams called out from behind them. Granddan couldn’t deny that she had a point. Pala figured he would refute it despite that. After all, dondons weren’t meant to eat cuccoo eggs. Kilo did it anyway.

“He should know better!” Granddan called back.

Pala thought to herself that Kilo did, in fact, know better. He just liked getting a rise out of Granddan. Just like his sire once did. She briefly wondered if her grandpa actually did know about Kilo’s tricks before quickly discarding the idea. If Granddan knew, he wasn’t letting on.

“C’mon Granddan,” Pala tugged on his arm, “I’ll even let you have Helt’s pasture.” She watched her offer work like a treat, the irritated look in Granddan’s eyes disappearing almost immediately. He patted her on the head.

“You’re a blessing straight from the goddesses, Pala-girl.”

“Course I am. I had you to raise me, didn’t I?”

Granddan laughed.

“That y’did, Pala-girl, that y’did.”

══════════════════

Talon wasn’t there to see them off a few days later. Something about it seemed wrong to Pala, though the fisherwoman wasn’t always around to say goodbye most times anyhow. But a lot of things were different this time around. The way they felt watched when she came to them, her suggestion early move, Grams allowing the early move—nothing added up. Not really. It made Pala worry.

But Grams had been strict in their preparations. There was no time to go searching for her. Worse yet, a storm seemed to be approaching from the west. If they left now, they could probably outrun it. And mauve that had been Talon’s plam all along. Even if it felt like there was something more to it. But leaving now gave Pala no time to do anything else. No time to say goodbye. Not to the townspeople or the other Lizalfolk Pala knew. There just wasn’t enough.

That was what rattled her most.

Pala sighed, checking over the doors and windows in the house one last time. Granddan was out securing the last of the tarps, and the cuccoos were already caged up in the back wagon with Grams. She was the last one left. And terribly, she had the strangest feeling it would be the last time she was. The summer house wouldn’t be here when they got back.

At least not the way it looked now.

She shook her head. Stepping out into the late morning sun, she reached back to pull the door closed. It slotted almost perfectly into the frame. Each half of the latch mechanism lined up, clinking together as she moved the latchbolt into place. Her hand lingered for a moment. The other reached into the pocket with her ivory statuette of Hylia, holding tightly around the well-carved object.

Pala closed her eyes.

The prayer was short. But it didn’t need to be long. All Pala needed was safe passage and the promise of reunion. So that was what she asked for. The statuette sat warm in her hand, though she couldn’t tell for sure if it was the warmth of summer or an answer. She chose to believe the latter.

Her eyes opened.

“C’mon Pala-girl!” Granddan called from the driver’s seat of the front cart. She glanced over at the caravan. The entire herd was present, ready to follow Kilo and Lunal, the dame and darrow. Squinting, she could see that the two were already harnessed up. “Sun’ll only get hotter!”

Well, he wasn’t wrong.

Pala jogged up to the front cart, climbing into the seat next to her grandfather. Looking at the well-trodden path ahead of her, she could easily imagine they were going out on an adventure. Out to save the world, though it really only felt like they were saving the herd. Still, the thought made her feel a bit better about leaving.

Two clicks and a familiar whistle later, they were off.

As the wagon rumbled over the ancient, weathered road, Pala felt the statuette in her pocket pulse once more with warmth. It was of little comfort, though it did soothe her nerves a bit. The distant clouds were suddenly just a bit lighter.

As if everything would somehow be alright.

#zelda the sacred realm #sacred realm #writing challenge #the legend of zelda au #event!fic #submission

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hobicomeholla29 · 4 years ago

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Shatter - Part 1 - JHS

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Angst/ Romance/ Fluff in the future

Word Count:3.9k

Warnings: Mentions of death/Mentions of wars/Mentions(hints) of depression/Mourning

Rating: PG13

A/N: Hey! Hey! Before I get into anything else I first have to that all the beautiful who helped me with checkin, beta reading and giving me fantastic feedback in general! @sugaa-sugaaa @spicykoreantatertots @nottodayjjk Thank you so so much for your words of support and for pushing me through to deliver a good piece for everyone!

That being said, This is a 2 shot! Please look forward to part 2!

THIS IS A REPOST. Cuz it wasn’t showing up in the tags.

Summary: In a post-apocalyptic world, where humankind’s greed has lead planet earth to turn into a ball of dust, all Hoseok wants is a better and bright future, yet strong feelings and a positive mind doesn’t always cut it.

Masterlist

The early morning sky was filled with an eerie fog that threatened to smother anyone who didn’t wear the appropriate attire for being outdoors.

You stood straight; hands balled in tight fists. A mixture of emotions running through your body. Sadness, anger, helplessness, fear…

You were the only ones standing in the middle of the empty field, no one else daring to stand still and be surrounded by the suffocating drafts of air that carried large amounts of toxins –a consequence of humankind utilizing nuclear weapons in the past.

You remember stories being told about your ancestors taking long walks through lucious fields without sporting gas masks on their faces, just imagine enjoying the air in the atmosphere instead of fearing it.

Most parts of the beautiful earth that once existed were now wastelands, all thanks to what was called The Colossal War.

Civilization was anything but civilized after that, creating division and animosity between groups of people with different ideals.

Clans were created and with them the claiming of lands. Lands that provided resources for sustenance, yet the quick dwindling of resources and supplies made some clans selfish, refusing to barter with others and instead attempting to conquer their lands as well.

With bigger and stronger clans taking over the smaller and weaker ones, eventually only four major clans remained, the only exception being small factions that settled between the abandoned areas near the borders of each clan.

Some factions were harmless, only looking for a peaceful place to live, making them nomads, since they had to constantly move to avoid being forced to pledge to one of the four major clans. Others were rioters, ready to go against anything and anyone who posed a threat to their beliefs and wants.

During the long solars that came and went after The Colossal War, much had changed.

Technology, communication, transportation, settlements.

It had all changed, but you really couldn’t say it was all for good.

Technology had turned obsolete at a steady pace, leaving only a few gadgets that were still able to function without being saturated or losing signal without proper cell towers.

Most of them had been vandalized or burned to ashes, mostly to steal copper from the area.

The only remaining signal towers were those of glass recorders.

A glass recorder was the device that kept track of a person’s life.

Since The Colossal War in 3010, civil wars had been blowing up everywhere. Causing inconvenience in simple tasks like having troops return to a fallen soldier’s clan to inform their family about their passing.

A simple duty as this one might have worked back in 2020 but not in 3011.

If troops were sent back, they were at risk of running into an enemy faction and breaking into another battle.

Hence, in 3015, glass recorders were created.

A glass recorder was a device made out of bulletproof glass. Its interior was filled with cables and microchips that contained a person’s personal information, tracking and broadcasting an individual’s vital signs at all times. Constant long-ranged waves went from the glass recorder - to the signal towers around the globe - to the chip installed in the individual’s neck and back.

You could say its data sharing function was similar to the behaviour of olden times bluetooth connections, except that the only information it could send and receive was vital signs and identification details.

Many tried hacking them, attempting to rob information from the device and using it for ulterior motives, however they are designed with an auto destruction mode in case of hacking or death and their towers were heavily protected by troops from each clan.

Usually their sizes were similar to that of an old cellphone.

On one side there’s a knob, remarkably similar to what DJs back in the day used on their mixing boards. It acted as a switch between the different modes the glass recorder could be set on, them being Vitals, Information and Hologram. And on the other side there was a touchscreen, where vitals could be read and holograms could be activated.

There was also an XBS dock entrance on one side of the device. It was mostly used by the law enforcers by transferring any new information about an individual from their archives to the glass recorder, whether it was good or bad.

All of that information, including marital status, first degree relatives, occupation, date of birth and allergies could be found on information mode.

On vitals, details were given about their current health status and the sound of their heartbeat could be played.

And finally on hologram mode, you could see a three-dimensional scale of the owner’s body, making it easier to check for injuries or if any internal damage had been taken.

Besides glass recorders, communication had jumped back to messaging via written letters or oral messages sent via a messenger.

Any vehicles that had existed on the face of earth, had been overhauled.

Updated to cater to the usage it now provided to the arid ground.

Motorcycles, cars, buses, trucks and ships, all modified.

Additional exhaust pipes, thicker tires, dust shields, dredging machinery, artillery and artillery holders, were examples of things you had seen being mounted on different transports, including aircrafts.

As for yourself, you lived in a colony that had been forced to be part of one of the major 4 clans, The Jeon Clan.

The Jeon clan was strong, the Jeon clan was powerful, the Jeon clan was feared, the Jeon clan was blinded by its greed, the Jeon clan stood above everyone and if you refused their ways, then you refused living.

That’s how your small clan ended up under their command.

It was common to hear stories as an infant about how the Jeon clan conquered. They always portrayed the glorious stories of how leader -Jeon the 1st- had tirelessly battled large creatures and evil men to save small clans from their miserable lives, however in each capsule each family shared the story with their offspring as they remembered it best.

Meaning some stories were wonderful, while others were resentful memories and stories of how their clans had been forced to change their ways or how they had lost loved ones to the Jeon reign.

You were only 7 when it all happened.

You remember it so clearly, it felt like you were reliving it each time.

You stood in the middle of the large hangar, eyes searching left and right for your father.

Men and women ran all around, either towards shelter or towards the battle zone.

A military truck’s engine roared in the background, yet you couldn’t figure out which of the twenty something trucks near you had been brought to life.

You frantically ran in the opposite direction. You needed to find him, you needed to convince him not to go.

Running as fast as your short legs could take you, you tightly held on to the glass recorder in your hand.

Tears started prickling your eyes the longer it went without you being able to find him.

Two NSTV vehicles sped past you, swiftly followed by a caravan of men on choppers, armed to the teeth.

Luckily none of them seemed to be your father.

You were getting desperate.

All he had done was left a note on your bed with his glass recorder.

“My beautiful cyberflower, I love you so much. And because I love you, I must defend you. Papa might not be back for a while, but he will make sure that if he doesn’t come back at all, it is because he was able to create a better place for you to live in."

He promised he would never go, that he would stay no matter what.

That he wouldn’t do the same thing your mom did.

Leaving you behind was never the solution. You preferred having them both and figuring everything else out later than having none of them and still being lost.

Why was it so easy for them to leave you behind…?

You didn’t notice you had dropped to your knees, you didn’t notice the tears that cascaded from your face and you certainly didn’t notice how your mourning wail had halted all activities under the hangar.

All frozen in place, no one in the building could figure out why. How could the desperate cry of a child send shivers down their spine? How could it express without mistake, their inner thoughts and feelings.

They felt the grief and pain of having to put their lives on the line to give their loved ones a better future.

A future that should have been granted to them, but the Jeons thought differently.

Yet, your clearest memory from that day was the tight embrace that pulled you out of your dazed state.

The embrace that told you that even if everything didn’t turn out as you wanted, he would be there to walk you through it.

He would be there with that bright smile of his that cleared away all of your cloudy days.

A rundown metallic shed stood at a distance, it was probably used in the past by troops as a hideout, yet for several solars it had been a place you used for solace.

The location gave you a quiet place to think, a quiet place to run away to when everything got too hectic at the colony, a place to yell out of frustration. It was your place -even if it was on enemy’s territory.

However, today said shed felt smaller, its tall walls choking you, suppressing your lungs, no calm remained in it as the words that dropped from your lover’s mouth bounced from wall to wall. The echo made you feel like the words were mocking you by constantly repeating what he said.

"I must go, and you must stay.”

You knew you had heard word of people in the colony joining forces with others near you, to topple the Jeon clan.

Nonetheless, you figured it was just tittle-tattle.

Yet here you are standing in the middle of the building, right in front of your lover, who is spewing the same nonsense your father did so many solara ago.

"Is this a joke? ‘Cause I’m not laughing…"

You saw his hands clenched into fists in annoyance, he tried holding in his feelings, yet the frustrated sigh that left his lips sold him out quickly.

Deep down he knew you wouldn’t take the news lightly, that you would want to accompany him on this journey as well or avoid the whole thing in general. But if he let you, if you came along, his departure would have no meaning. He was leaving for you. He thought you would be more rational.That the conversation would last less than a fraction of a solar, but he stood corrected.

"I can’t stay here on my own. You can’t leave me just like that.” You were distraught. Your eyes searched for his, yet his gaze remained on the door you had used moments ago to enter the shed.

You needed to bring his mind back to you, to the present where you both still remained, you needed to keep him away from thoughts of the unknown future and the doom that could be.

Why was he trying to be person number three on your mourning list?

Your eyes remained on his, yet your fingers occupied themselves trying to find his glove-covered ones, the action making him look down at your entwined fingers.

His eyes seemed to soften at your actions and that alone helped you breathe easier. Deep down you knew that you had to stay back and wait for him, it would be the safest place for you, the colony was your home, but the news he dropped on you like a bucket of cold water had your common senses frozen.Why would he want to leave you so suddenly?

Maybe he no longer wanted this, maybe you were too much, maybe that promise he made solars ago about walking the path with you was too heavy and too much of a burden…

“You must stay, for me,” He said, “and for them.” His eyes dropped to your stomach, his free hand caressing the bump that had started forming not long ago.

“Hoseok…please…” You had to try at least one more time. If he still was that warrior at heart that you had once met, then he was certain to leave even with you crying rivers.

“I must go, my love. I have to be a part of this fight that will give our family the freedom that they deserve. The freedom that WE deserve.” His eyes glossed over, yet not one tear abandoned his eye. He was sure of his decision and nothing could stop him now.

“You don’t have to… A lot of men are already there."

"And I am sure they also have families and other reasons to be there. I will lend them a hand and they shall lend me one. We will fight for a better life and world, a better place to raise our offspring, a better place to grow old.” At this point in conversation, his eyes are boring into yours, yet there is no anger towards you. Only love, strong, heated, unwavering, caring and passionate love. There was certainly no way for you to fight against that.

For a split second, his eyes left yours, and you followed the movements of his left hand. Carefully, he pushed his hand into his pocket, retrieving a device that you were very familiar with.

His glass recorder.

“I- I can’t."

"It’s the only way for you to know my status… and if it ever comes to worse, you’ll know not to wait for me any longer.” He said as he placed it in your hand.

“Please stop talking like you are a dead man already!"

"Y/n-” You interrupted him mid-sentence. You were blabbing now. All your thoughts and fears spilling out at once.

“No! I don’t want to hear it! I don’t want you to go! I want you here with me, with our babies. If you tell the Chief he will let you stay. We are expecting! I can’t lose you; you are walking to your grav-"

"Y/N!” His sudden yell made you flinch, but nonetheless, you looked him in the eyes, only to find them filled with tears. Filled with fear but determination as well.

He was always like this, a young man with a mission. Fire in his eyes, determined to make this world a better place, even if it scared him to the core. He always said…

“There is no better way to deal with fear than to walk right over it…” Those stupid words he repeated everyday since you were 7. “This is me walking all over it. This is me putting you -putting them over my fear of what may be."

"I love you."

"And I love you, my beautiful cyberflower.” His hand grabbed yours, slowly bringing each one of them to his face and kissing your knuckles and palms softly.

“I’ll always return to you."

And so, you watched him ride his chopper towards the horizon.

His silhouette quickly disappeared in the darkness of the night.

Even though the light of the moon shone brightly, it felt dark around you, as if your clouds had returned with the sole departure of his bright smile.

Your hand squeezed the device he left behind, your grip getting stronger the further he drove and now you really wondered, "How is it so easy for everyone to leave me behind?"

150 solars and 149 lunars went by, yet nothing had changed.

Since the day Hoseok had left, your days consisted of nothing but worrying, eating, and visiting the shed.

An old steel bench was set outside of the old metallic building and just like any other day you’d visited, you sat on the edge of it, contemplating life and hoping today was the day Hoseok would return to you as he had promised.

As time flew by, you added this day to the list of other ones where your lover didn’t return and although you tried to remain as positive as possible, you couldn’t stop thinking about why life was so cruel? Why did any of you have to live through this? It certainly wasn’t fair. No one deserved to be forced to choose death if they didn’t choose what someone else wanted.

Since your great-grandparents’ days, the future was supposed to be glorious, beautiful, and bright. Technology was supposed to make everything better. But somehow it all turned to worse.

Pride, arrogance, and selfishness had created the horrible world that you now lived in.

People lost their lives as an exchange for a promise they never received.

They fought battles to free people who were slaves to their own fears and now this was the consequence of all that was done. What a sad life to live. What a horrible life to live.

You rubbed your stomach feeling your bump as it continued to grow. Time doesn’t stop for anyone, is what they say and your clear example is how close you are to being due.

The walk back to your clan’s colony was an easy 10-minute walk that could turn mortal if taken while distracted, hence you carried a machete in your boot.

Once you set foot on your colony’s official territory, you swiftly made your way to your family home capsule, ready to wash off the sorrow and go to bed as you would wait for the next solar to come.

Sadly for you, that hope disappeared the second you made eye contact with someone you didn’t wish to see at the moment.

His eyes caught yours and you saw a mix of emotions: sorrow, understanding, relief and worry, all conveyed to you in a single glance.

You knew what was to come, it was always the same dialogue, but you didn’t want to do this today.

Today you felt drowned, disappointed, you could feel that dark cloud that loomed over your head enlarging day by day.

"You know it’s not s—”

“Save it, Namjoon. I’m not a chil—"

“—But you are a carrying woman, who is walking carelessly to a place where no one can or will follow you.”

“I am not carele—”

“Y/N, shut up for once and put this through your thick skull!! Hendra is enemy territory!!”

And with that he left to his own family capsule, stomping all the way to the door and slamming it closed.

For the first time, you felt different and maybe it had something to do with the fact that Namjoon and your argument didn’t end in the usual monotonous sermon he always gave you, where he remained calm all the way and you rolled your eyes in annoyance.

The funny part about the entire thing was that you were cousins, and your family capsules were right beside each other, so you were sure you’d have to see his sour expression the following day.

Finally in your own capsule - the one you used to share with Hoseok, you took that shower that you daydreamed about and headed to your room.

Just like every night, you muted your room to the outside world, opting to listen to the broadcast of your beloved’s heartbeat.

It was the only thing that helped you sleep at night and somehow you felt as if it pacified the two progenies in you.

You didn’t know when or how it happened, but eventually 365 solars had gone by.

365 solars since the day of his departure and you weren’t getting any better at being without him.

You were now a mother of two. A dawn and a dusk. One born in the early morning and one almost 12 hours later.

So, you gave them names that matched their arrivals to this world, Dawn and Dusk.

All times prior to that day, you felt that once they arrived, there would be this large turning point in your life. That once you had someone who depended on you, your days would start to shift into something brighter, yet somehow, even after the arrival of your children, you felt almost no difference, bordering on saying that you might even felt worse.

Their faces were the perfect mix of your deoxyribonucleic acid and his. Two different beings creating harmony in the body of two newer ones.

Their father had left to give them a better future but, in the process, he had left a broken family behind. It felt incomplete and hollow and somehow you envied the blissful ignorance that your infants currently lived in. Not able to understand the sorrowful life that currently surrounded them.

Another 365 solars went by.

You still listened to Hoseok’s heartbeats every night. The glass recorder remaining as your sole companion in addition to your —now— toddlers.

The night remained quiet. You could barely hear the murmur of voices from the capsule near yours. If you were right, you were sure it was Namjoon and his wife, discussing the plan for retrieving meals for the clan the following morning.

You shifted on the foam mattress that only reminded you more of him. A very faint and almost gone notion of his scent wafting up from what used to be his pillow.

From afar you watched the two small bodies –lying on the second mattress in your room— inhale and exhale deep in their slumber.

They had —just like you— fallen asleep to the beat of the heart of a stranger you placed in front of them and made them call him father.

You loved them, every bit of them. Would do anything for them not to suffer, and maybe just then, in that moment, you understood a bit of Hoseok’s reasoning.

You toss and turn all of a sudden jerking awake from your slumber. You could not recall when you had fallen asleep, so your mind remained disoriented for a short minute, trying to grasp your surroundings. Your heavy eyes roamed around the room, picking up on every detail, the babies were still asleep, the clock read 3AM and the glass recorder wasn’t beating…

THE GLASS RECORDER WASN’T BEATING!

Violently, you pulled the sheets off your body, grabbing the device as soon as your hands were close enough to grab it.

“Why are you not beating? Why are you not broadcasting? What the fu—”

And it hit you like a train… but you didn’t believe it, you couldn’t believe it.

You shook it and twisted the knob and switched it to hologram mode, but it wasn’t working and you didn’t know what to do, your hands were shaking, your thoughts were jumbled…

“This can’t be happening.”

And when a fake solar illuminated your mind, you quickly turned around to plug it in to your old computer, however, the universe had other plans for you and without announcement the device cracked.

You watched it crack little by little, extending all around the recorder, slowly marking the beautiful device with horrible lines that marked its ending, it didn’t stop until it was no longer graspable and all that was left behind was crystal dust in your cupped hands.

You didn’t hear when Namjoon and his wife entered your room or when your kids were taken out of there. Your sobs alerting 3 capsules nearby of the sorrowful occurrence of the night.

It was the worst type of Deja Vu, because just like your mother and father, you’d never see him again…

“Hoseok…”

Thank you so much for reading part one of this 2 shot! Hopefully it didn’t scare you off for part 2!

#btsnoonanet #btsghostie #bangtanscenery #castlebangtan #hobi x reader #hoseok x reader #bts x reader #hoseok x poc #hobi x woc #bts x woc

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codename-number3 · 5 years ago

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Stay, a KuroTsuki fanfic

(I posted this before I posted the story on my ao3 account so if you want to read more click the link for the story https://archiveofourown.org/works/24498505/chapters/59136202)

Chapter 1

A mess. Those were the only two words that were able to wholeheartedly explain the situation. The yelling, the screaming, the tears, the heartbreak. Everything was just a mess. Tsukishima Kei never wanted this, but he knew for weeks that it was coming. He knew what he would see on the other end of the door. He knew of the fight that had brewing for months, and he's known of the cause for much too long. The blond haired middle blocker thought that he was prepared for what he was about to see. But nothing could prepare the nineteen year old boy for the sight of the love of his life, sweaty and panting on top of someone that wasn't him. They didn't notice him at first, well at least, one of them didn't. Kei made eye contact with the brunette with the boobs that were too lopsided to even be remotely real, otherwise known as his boss. And then she gave him a look, a look that conveyed one simple emotion. Pride.

She was proud. She was proud that her own worker caught her underneath his boyfriend. She was proud of what she had been doing with the raven haired boy for months now. There was not an ounce of shame in the older woman. In fact she thought, what was there to be ashamed of? She did no luring, she didn't even try to seduce the man that was pumping into her at this very moment. She only comforted. He arrived at her doorstep late one night, drunk off his ass and mumbling on about how Tsukishima was always at work. To tell the truth, she kept piling work onto the young boy in hopes that his senpai's patience would finally run dry. And one night it did, and she made sure to pick up the pieces. The first time, she was told it would be the last. Then the second, was a "mistake". Soon enough, he stopped giving excuses. Accepting that he found pleasure in his sins. Immediately after they fucked, he got out of bed, put his clothes on, and left without another word. There was an unsaid rule that the brunette was forced to follow, no kissing. None on the neck, chest, cheek, and especially not the lips. She never questioned his reasoning, there was no need to. As long as she still got her pleasure out of it all, it didn't matter.

When she made eye contact with the lanky figure she smirked, licked her lips, and whispered something just loud enough for both boys to hear, "Tetsu, I love you."

The golden orbs widened in shock, his once bright eyes filled with so much hurt and pain, that they overfilled; with fresh tears running down his face the athlete ran. Ignoring the shouts to stop, the pleas to wait, and the guilt ridden apologies, he ran. He wouldn't give Testurou the satisfaction of seeing him cry. So that night, with a trail of tears and broken promises following, Kei ran to Nekoma. It was stupid, he thought. Finding comfort in the place where he had met the person responsible for his broken heart. Kei still remembered the training camp like it was yesterday. He still remembered the hushed whispers, the heated kisses, the late night movies, and most importantly, his laugh. That god forsaken laugh. At first, Kei couldn't stand it. He found it irritating and far too obnoxious. But as time went on, it grew to be the most beautiful melody that tugged at all the right heart strings.

~Flashback~

"Hey, hey, hey!" The voiced roared through Gym 3 as Akaashi followed quietly behind. The two were met with silence as the setter sighed.

"Where the hell are those two this time?"

Little did they know, they were right there. Well, in the storage closet. Kei lightly pushes Tetsurou away to try and meet with their fellow peers but the raven haired boy takes that as a sign to suck harder on the light-toned skin.

"Tetsu, we have to go," Kei quietly moans out, trying to sound stern but not being able to deny himself the pleasure of being claimed by his senpai.

The golden-eyed boy is met with a pair of lustful eyes and in that moment, ignoring all better judgement, he pulls the dominating figure closer and wraps his legs around his waist. The two had been make-out buddies ever since the first night of camp. Both boys with a case of insomnia wandered around the school until their fates collided. And ever since then they've been intoxicated by the simple presence of one another.

Tetsu tugged a bit on the plain white t-shirt, asking for permission from his kohai. This was the first time the pair had ever ventured this far. Everything inside of him was telling him to say no, to reject the middle blocker's advances; but his eyes showed nothing but concern, his touch laced with care and his stance ready to back off if given any sign of discomfort from his partner.

Before Kei was able to give him an answer Tetsurou removed his hand and leaned in. At first the blond thought he was going in for a kiss and was confused on why he stopped when their foreheads met. They stayed like that for a while, neither knowing what to say.

Tetsurou opened his mouth to apologize for his actions but before he could say anything Bokuto kicks open the door, shedding light into the confided space.

"Aha! I knew it, they were fraternizing again," Bokuto exclaims, running away soon after with Tetsurou chasing after him. Leaving Kei leaning against a cart of volleyballs, still trying to comprehend what happened only moments before. After catching his breath he walks onto the volleyball court to see Bokuto on the floor with a cackling raven-haired captain standing over him.

The second that their eyes meet, the older boy turns away. Ashamed of his actions and disappointed in himself for pushing when Kei clearly wasn't ready. It was a simple misunderstanding between the two. The shorter of the pair believing that Tetsurou was frustrated with him for not wanting more. That's how the rest of the day went. Whenever there was the slightest bit of interaction between the two middle blockers, one or the other would find a way to quickly escape the situation.

During the practice matches, neither did well with their thoughts clouded by what happened this morning. The fear of losing one another sinking in and making its roots. The blond reasoned with himself that he wasn't afraid of losing Testurou, just scared of not having anyone to let his frustrations out on. He wasn't gay, he told himself. He couldn't be. The only reason that he felt any form of attraction towards his senpai was because of his annoyance with every one else at the camp. Their sessions were only a venting mechanism that was bound to fail sometime. But then Kei looked at him, his concentration on the match and the grin on his face, and his heart skipped a beat. His mind went blank and he just stared in awe of how captivating the Nekoma captain looked with that glint of excitement in his eyes and his tongue dangling slightly out of his mouth as he analyzed everything that was happening on the court.

Tetsurou catches the younger boy's gaze and holds it, unfamiliar with the look in his eyes. It was; different. Sure he's seen Kei blush out of pleasure and embarrassment, but he just couldn't figure out what was different this time. Before he could put any more thought into it, the rooster-haired boy turns in response to the shouts of his teammates and is met with a face full of volleyball. Kei couldn't help but laugh at the sight. And in that moment, Kuroo Tetsurou decided that he would do anything to hear that laugh again. He didn't care if he got hit with ten more volleyballs and had to sprint up that stupid hill, it was the most imperfectly perfect sound he'd ever heard.

He was escorted to the nurse by the team manager and Kei had no other choice but to pay attention to the match. Every block felt good, relieving him of his stress but no matter what he couldn't stop himself from worrying about Tetsurou. In the back of his mind he knew that he was going to be okay, it was only a nosebleed; but, there was that looming thought of him getting hurt that stuck with him the rest of the afternoon. Kei thought about this morning, and wondered if Tetsurou was starting to get bored of the same old makeouts. And if soon, he would start getting bored with him.

After all the practice games were over, Kei ended up on his porch. He was gladly welcomed in by the boy's parents and made his way up the stairs. He walked into his room with a heavy heart, and pushed the standing figure onto his bed. The blond was now moving quick. Taking both their shirts off before Tetsurou could even bat an eye. His mouth traveled quickly down from his neck to his tan v-line. This wasn't right, something wasn't right. The raven-haired teenager couldn't even process what was happening before feeling a tug at his belt buckle. Before he could say anything to stop the fast-paced undressing, Kei crashed his lips against his. The kiss being different than others, desperate and messy, giving Tetsurou no time to kiss back. It wasn't slow, it wasn't passionate, it wasn't right. It was rushed and needy. The feeling of something wet made the narrow-eyed boy pull back, to the sight of a crying blond hovering over him.

"I-I'm sorry," Kei muttered, head hanging in shame.

Tetsurou gave him a light smile and carefully lifted his chin up, "I never want you to be sorry for something that you're not ready for. Promise me something," he paused, waiting for confirmation from the younger boy. When given a short nod he continues on, "Promise me that you won't do something that you're not sure of just because you think I expect it from you."

Kei is shocked once again by the third year's careful consideration for him. He leans in slowly and connects their lips. There was less nerves compared to the previous kiss, and much more care. Kei cupped Tetsurou's face with his hands and deepened the kiss, skillfully capturing the third year's bottom lip in his and playfully biting down on the soft flesh. Tetsurou wrapped his arms around the thin figure and pulled him onto his lap, reciprocating with the same amount of passion. Kei opened his mouth ever so slightly, giving Tetsurou's tongue just enough room to deepen the kiss even more. It felt as if Kei didn't have any oxygen left in his lungs, but was unwilling to stop in order to catch his breath. Their lips molded perfectly into one another as their senses were spiraling out of control. They kept on closing the distance that separated them with an urge to be a close as possible before there was little to no distance between the two. Skin against skin as their kisses became more heated. Despite all that was going on, neither had any intention of going further.

They finally broke apart moments after, gasping for breath with a string of saliva connecting the two swollen lips. While Kei was still trying to catch his breath, Tetsurou began planting light kisses down his neck. He stopped at his collarbone and began moving back up to his ear. When reaching the final destination he takes Kei's earlobe and softly bites on the boy's sensitive spot. Kei couldn't help but moan and dug his nails into Tetsurou's shoulder.

He continued placing delicate kisses all over Kei's face and whispered something ever so softly that it almost went unheard, "I love you."

#haikyuu!!#kurotsuki #kuroo tetsurō #tsukkishima kei #fanfic #anime #boyfriend #lgbtq #gay

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glassvines · 4 years ago

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Thoughts on 2020 Favorites

Thoughts on all my favorites from 2020! Sadly, I witnessed what is most likely the demise of one of my favorite hobbies: going to the movies. I hope all my local theaters don’t close up for good this year, and I start going more regularly again in 2021 but. I don’t know if it’s ever going to be the same again. TV Shows 1. Battlestar Galactica (2004) - Getting into this one rather late, but I just discovered I can watch it for free on Peacock haha. Absolutely loving it. Been meaning to finish it ever since I watched the 2003 mini series a few years ago. Stylistically brilliant, and I love that the theological-laden dialogue appears to have a plot-driven point to it. 2. Evil (CBS) - I love this show! Hope it gets another season. It manages to pull off that fine line between silly and creepy most of the time, and all the actors come off as sincere. Also Michael Emerson is there which makes everything even better. Also, also a plus: I'm used to the media portraying Catholics in two different ways: lapsed or bigoted. Muslims? Devout and spiritual or terrorists. It's nice to see a series centered around a devot Catholic, a lapsed Catholic and an ex-Muslim who are all the good guys. Fantastic central characters dynamic. Animation 1. Hilda, season 2 - One of Netflix's best imo. The new season was gorgeous, and even got me to shed a tear at one point. I want to read the comic it's based on. 2. Infinity Train, seasons 2 + 3 - Excellent follow-ups to a great first season. Both were good seasons, but I really enjoyed s2 for Jesse and MT's instant chemistry. 3. Castlevania, season 3 - This show is going to end up breaking my heart but damn if it isn't a really fun watch. Fight scenes continued being top-notch in s3. 4. Bee and Puppycat, season 2 - Yeah, this isn't getting an offical Netflix release until 2022 (what the fuck), but I watched the leaked episodes and enjoyed them a lot. The show feels un-polished and the plot is surrealist nonsense, but those aspects of the show also make it creative and original. I'd like more seasons in the future, but given how disorganized to the point of incompetence the s2 release is, I'm not counting on getting anymore. I don't like seeing the popularity of this show squandered so it's a huge shame. 5. Amphibia, season 2 - Best Disney show airing right now. Characterizations and animation continued being great and I'm looking forward to s3. 6. Wolfwalkers - We all needed a beautiful Cartoon Saloon movie in 2020. It did not disappoint! Hope it has a bluray release soon so I can rewatch it somewhere other than Apple TV+ :/. 7. The Willoughbys - More Kris Pearn directed films please. This movie's character design style was so charming and cute. Loved the Ricky Gervais Cat Narrator. I watched this one with my family after having been separated from them for some time due to the lockdown. It was probably one of the happiest evenings of this year for me. 8. Soul - I enjoyed Onward quite a bit, but Soul hit me in that old-school Pixar feels way. A film about inspiration and finding purpose, so it had a message very similar to Ratatouille. Only Soul ponders on one's worth if they are "not doing what they're meant to do". This movie really knocked that message out of the park.

Video Games 1. Animal Crossing: New Horizons - I played this rather religiously. Definitely kept me from moping during those times when my work hours were cut. 2. Creaks - Amanita Design is offically one of my favorite indie game studios at this point. I adore the atmosphere and music in this game; it's one of the most chill puzzle games I've ever played. 3. Hylics - This game is so bizarre. I've never seen anything like it. Really want to play the sequel.

Films 1. Emma - May officially be my new favorite Emma adaptation. I loved everything about it. The stylized look to the cinematography, the costumes, the music, the actors. Everything. 2. Doctor Sleep - Was surprised at how much I enjoyed this one, as I completely missed it in the theaters. An excellent sequel to a classic, and a well-done good vs. evil story. 3. The Vast of Night - Fun little sci-fi/indie/1950s period piece. I hope streaming services start distributing more films like it. 4. Prospect - My dad recommended this one to me and we watched it together. I was blown away by the dedication to detail; how everything worked in this future setting. Pedro Pascal's character was constantly surprising me too. (Also see: very handsome.)

Podcasts This is only here so I can mention that my favorite new thing was 100% The Magnus Archives. I listened to a lot of new stuff in 2020, but it all paled in comparison to TMA. Good spooky times, great characters and character dynamics, interesting plot direction. The lore is so, so good; I'm impressed with how thorough it is with explaining the seemingly unexplainable, without fully taking away the air of mystery.

Honorable Mentions 1. The Mandalorian, season 2

Things I'm Looking Forward to in 2021 1. Hopefully we'll finally be getting that PacRim series?? 2. The French Dispatch 3. I just want to go the movies again sighhh

Some Creative & General Goals for 2021 I actually managed to do a proper job this year with the journaling and taking more photography! I've started serveral journals, as well as a digital one. So, at least I managed to keep up with one of my creative goals. Managed to have a fairly successful deck garden this year too. My sugar peas didn't die on me haha. Hope to expand on it more this spring/summer. Moving forward this year: 1. Continue to keep up with journaling: drawings, gardening, travel (fingers crossed) and tv/film commentary. 2. Seriously organize my photography this year, as well as post online more often. 3. Help my brother this year with some of his own creative projects! He's always asking for art and I'm usually too busy, but this year I want to get more serious and contribute to his projects. 4. Maybe get back to an old goal of learning how to play the guitar. I want to drop some cash on one this month so I can practice at home.

#New Year's #some comments #glassvines gets irl #animation

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alwaysonthemend · 5 years ago

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Destiel Rec List

NOTE - This is an old version of this post. A newer and more organized version can be found easily on my blog. I will no longer be updating this particular post.

- Works marked with (*) denote my absolute favorites.

-This rec list is mostly Destiel (I'm a clown 🤡, sue me.) Though there are a few that aren't.

-Some are full AUs, some only partially, while others are canon!verse. (I'll appreciate anything as long as it's well written.)

-Yes, some of these works have smut in them, but they can easily be skipped without losing important plot info. (Make fun of me all you want, but I don't like reading smut.)

-This list will be updated whenever I find a good fic, though probably not regularly if I'm honest. (Life happens...)

-I DO NOT own any of the work found on this list, nor do I claim it to be my own; I am simply making this so that others can enjoy these fics as well.

-Please do not hate on anyone or anything. If you don't like Destiel, then don't read the fics. If you hate the author, don't tell me because I don't care about that drama. (Walk AwaaAYyaYAaa)

1. Twist and Shout****** by @gabriel and @standbyme Archive Of Our Own.

Thoughts- I'm sure that there is nothing I can say that you haven't already heard. Just read it. Suffer along with the rest of us. There's fluff, smut, angst (the holy trinity.) This is truly the best fan fic ever written. Period. 20/10.

2. 300 Things by @cautionzombies. (I can't find the original source so you'll have to try and find it on your own...)

Thoughts- What's a Supernatural rec list without 300 Things? This really is an amazing fic and it is written so well!

3. How A Righteous Man Raises A Rose by @swordofmymouth- Live Journal.

Thoughts- This fic really took me by surprise. It's tagged as an AU, but I think you'll find that it's not at all what you think. The author effortlessly sets a mood of loss and regret, yet still gives the light a chance to shine through. I went into this fic thinking it to be an AU, and it was at first. But I soon realized that there was much more to this fic than what at first meets the eye. I shed a few tears over this one.

4. Cleanse the Mirror* by @takadainmate -Live Journal.

Thoughts- Man, this one hurts, but in the best way. I read this fic a long time ago but lost it and couldn't find it for a long time. I am so glad that I found it and was able to re read. Just as enjoyable (if not more so) the second time. Dean gets a better understanding of what it's like being an angel. (And Cas is written so well in this fic! He's just like he is in the show. It's incredible!)

5. A Hole in the World by @bauble - Live Journal.

Thoughts- This one just hurts and hurts and hurts. This is one that you'll just have to read and see for yourself. No happy ending. (You've been warned.)

6. In the Shadow of Your Wings by @EnochianThings - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- This is a really well written fic. There were several times that I almost forgot that I was reading a fan fic because the characters and story are just so well though out. It's a bit of a long one and is set in a (sort of) canon!verse.

7. My Throat is An Open Grave* by @inkandpaperqwerty - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- This was one of the first fan fics that I ever read for Supernatural. This one is just so heartwarming, but not before plenty of angst and hurt/comfort. The author seamlessly puts Sam and Dean into a heartbreaking AU and it's all about the love that Sam and Dean have for each other. (NOT Wincest.)

8. Thursday's Child* by @strangeandcharm - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- All I can say is... Ow. Slow burn to end all slow burns, but so worth it in the end. This one is set in the End!verse (which I'm a total sucker for.) Dean and Cas are just so sad and I just want to hug them and make it all better. Imagine, Future!Dean's plan to kill Lucifer!Sam works and now he has to live with the fact that he killed his own brother, devil or not. And Cas has to come to terms with the fact that he survived the epic showdown, despite his belief that he wouldn't, and now has an addiction that he has to get under control. I love this fic and it really is a painfully slow read, but more than worth it in the end.

9. Après by @imogenbynight - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- Dean and Cas go to Paris... Need I say more? I love this fic because it addresses the crappy way that Dean always has Cas coming to him and how Dean needs to step up and realize the sacrifices Cas has made for him (shameless bias opinion... Sorry) All us Cas stans will really appreciate this one. Written well, characterization flawless... What else can you ask for?

10. Dean's Days Off* by @MittenWraith - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- This is just the sweetest, fluffiest fic you could ever ask for. Reading it made me want to fall in love so badly it hurt. Cas and Dean just get some well deserved rest and quiet. I am absolutely in love with this fic and I'll read it over and over again. (Especially if I've had a bad day and need some happiness)

11. Unlit, Unmarked, and Forgotten by @awed_frog -

Archive Of Our Own.

Thoughts- This is a beautiful coda for 11x17. There's some Destiel if you squint. It's very sad but somehow manages a happy ending that renews your hope and brings a soft smile to your face.

12. Down Like Water by @museaway - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- I really like this fic a lot. It is very sad with a lot of Hurt!Castiel but it does actually have a happy ending. Just grit your teeth and bare through the angst and sadness to make it to the beautifully sappy ending.

13. Till Kingdom Come* by @freckles_n_feathers - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts - This is a season 11 AU that was written before season 11 aired (the author actually somehow predicted things that were going to happen before they aired!!) This fic gave me really high hopes for season 11 that weren't quite fulfilled. I loved season 11, don't get me wrong (it's actually one of my favorite seasons) this fic was just so perfect and I wanted it to be canon so badly. (I re wrote this review like four times because I kept saying "actually" lol)

14. 12x19 Destiel Ficlet by @Samanstiel - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts - This was written before 12x19 aired, and if you were upset with how things went down then this is the fic for you. The characters are written so well and it really feels like an actual episode.

15. Contrapasso*** by @takadainmate - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- This might be the best fic ever (trumped only by Twist and Shout...) Inspired by Dantes Inferno and so beautifully written! I just... There aren't words. It's very dark, and the ending was not at all what I wanted (but after much thought, I realized that there couldn't have been a better ending.) I really got lost in this fic. I could see exactly what the author described, I could feel what the characters felt. This is true art... This is the fic we've all been looking for.

16. Put Up Your Dukes by @takadainmate - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- This fic is by one of my favorite authors (who has featured on this rec list before...) Hilariously dirty. Dean and Cas are bone heads who can't make up there minds. Human!Cas is also a little sh*t and I'm living for it. There's some smutty times in this one... (which can easily be skipped if you're not comfortable without losing any important points of the story. {at least I didn't feel like I missed anything})

17. Then I Defy You Stars* by @speary - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts - So many tears were shed while I read this. The plot is just so amazing and a plot twist to end all plot twists at the end. It's full of sacrifice and love and angst and bittersweet moments. I love this fic (and I promise you will too.)

18. All the Nights by @NorthernSparrow - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- This takes place after 15x03 episode "Golden Time". A bit of a fix it fic, but canon compliant to a point. I really love this fic (I love anything written by NorthernSparrow). Also a case!fic, which I'm always a softie for. Some big questions that I have since season 15 are addressed in this fic, and I absolutely love the way they are answered.

19. A Winter's Tale* by @NorthernSparrow - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- Oh my gosh. So much Hurt!Castiel. There isn't outright Destiel but there is heavy DeanCas relations. This is a season 9 re write and it just hurts so much. If you can make it through all the pain, the happy ending makes it all worth it. Human!Cas just deserves so much better... Ahh! It's just so sad and perfect and awesome.

20. Give All My Secrets Away by @morganoconner - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts - This is a sweet little fic. Not particularly long, but oh so meaningful. Dean gets cursed and his soul is pushed from his body, leaving him vulnerable and scared (the author portrays the human soul in a very interesting way). Cas looks after him and it's just so fluffy.

21. Plot Holes* by @saltyfeathers - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts - Holy crap! This fic took me a whole week to finish and I enjoyed every minute of it! Every chance I got I would pull my phone out and read. I was rudely interrupted many many times so I just decided to finish it at night and stayed up until 2AM on a school night. (oops?) It's soooo well written and feels like an actual season of Supernatural. 12/10 all the way.

22. Someone Who's Feeling For Me by @ellispark - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts: Here's a fic to kick you right in the feels. I actually really genuinely enjoyed reading this fic because of how well the characters are written! Dean, Sam, and Cas run into Lisa Braeden post her mind wipe in season 6 and it brings up a whole bunch of drama for our boys. (While also helping Dean realize that she was never really the person he wanted to be with 😉) A bit of light smut and a bit of angst but definitely worth a read.

23. Chalk and Chainmail by @angelwingsandthings - Wattpad.

Thoughts : Oh this one is so good... It's very angsty at times and Dean is a lovable dork who can't win no matter what he does and Cas is just a confused little assbutt who doesn't know what to do with himself. (So he's himself if we're being perfectly honest here 😂) There's some light smut but nothing too graphic. This one is a Highschool!AU, so prepare yourself for the delightful drama that comes along with teenage hormones. (And Charlie is a total QUEEN and I'm living for it. I love her so much.)

24. Remember When * by @VioletHaze - Archive of Our Own

Thoughts: Sooo... I've been on a bit of a School!fic kick recently. (Not a little bit. Like a lot a bit thb) This one is just so god da*n perfect (scuse my French) Dean and Cas have been best friends since fifth grade; they do everything together. Then some crap happens and they get in a huge fight junior year. Years later, they finally make it back to each other. (*Cries in fangirl*) Warning, it's sad, it hurts like heck. But there's also so many perfect moments. I promise you won't regret reading it. (And once again Charlie is a total queen and I would give my life for her. She deserves so much better... {SPN writers I'm looking at you.})

25. Everytown, USA by @aileenrose - Archive Of Our Own.

Thoughts : I've seen this fic on tons of recs but never really thought much of it. But I kept seeing it so I decided to give it a read and boy was it worth it! This is just a great fic that has plenty of fluff (And angst... Because what's a Destiel fic without sadness and pain?) Cas is a lot different from his character in the show but somehow the exact same? He's Cas, but it's like he's what Cas would have been like if he had grown up human. I just love him so much in this fic (and I want to give him a hug too... 😢)

26. I Through My Window by @dehavilland - Live Journal.

Thoughts: I've seen this fic on several recs and I finally got around to reading it myself. Some ample Destiel angst to hit you right in the feels. But I love this fic because it is incredibly motivating! Post season 5 canon-divergent and Castiel is permanently rendered human. Dean is a ginormous penis head and leaves Cas to fend for himself. Cas pines after him for a while before realizing that he doesn't need Dean to live his life. Cas stans will love this one. I just gotta include a quote because it's just beautiful. "No, I don't need you. But I want you."

27. A Light for My Path* by @domesticadventures - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts : Oh my goodness. This fic is just... *chefs kiss* Told from the perspective of Cas' Continental. (A.K.A "Connie") Dean and Cas are having a difficult time figuring out who they want to be after the end of the last The-End-Of-Times-We're-All-Gonna-Die, but they figure it out together. There are plenty of Impala!pov fics (and even an actual episode), but I don't think I've ever come across one from Connie's perspective. Definitely worth a read.

28. Named* by @RC_McLachlan - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts : Hooo boy. This fic.... This is a complete season five re write and I LOVE IT. It's pretty angsty, but it also has some funny times thrown in. Dean is a sassy girl the whole time and I love him so much. And the plot twist at the end literally blew my mind. (brains splattered on the ceiling and everything.) 12/10.

29. And Even In The Quiet Night by @KelpietheThundergod - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts: Okay, this one is pretty sad. Not full on angst, but more fluffy sad. (If that makes sense...) Dean wants to celebrate Christmas but no one else seems interested. I just want to wrap Dean in a blanket and sing Hey Jude until he feels better! But don't worry, an absolute beautifully written cliche and sappy ending will make up for it.

30. Just More of the Same (*??) by @outpastthemoat - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts : There really aren't words to describe this series. It's just so fricken bleak but beautiful at the same time. I really don't know how to describe it. Read it, the only regret is that it ends. I honestly hated how it ended, so unfullfilling. But, that's life sometimes, and I think that's the whole point of the series. I don't know if I love it or hate it but there's no denying that it is absolutely beautifully written. 12/10

31. the cost of a thing**by @quiettewandering - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts: Hooo boy! This is a great fic! Fake marriage? Check. Slow burn? Check. Case!fic? Check. Fluff and angst? Check. This fic has it all. This fic kicked me right in the feels. My gosh, beautifully written and the characterization is FLAWLESS. But trust me, bring tissues as you watch Dean and Cas, slowly, painfully, but surely heal the trust that was shattered between them. This is an AU for season 8 in which Dean was the one who undertook the trials, not Sam. Dean is dying and there's nothing Sam and Cas can do to stop him, especially since Dean is insistent on just giving up and accepting his fate. Cas can save Dean's life, but at what cost? Surely a terrible one... Angst insues. 10/10.

32. I'll Dig a Hole and Pull You Through by @JoCarthage - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts: If yall hated the DeanCas interaction in season six (didn't we all...?) then this is the fixit!fic for you. In this fic, Dean helps Cas defeat Raphael. And boy, there's some flangst. (Also Dom!Cas is a thing 😏)

33. Stitches by @Askance - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts: I wouldn't exactly call this a fixit!fic, buuut it is a sort of fixit for season 7. (Except Cas gets hurt, which I hate. {So does Dean...}) Cas survives the Laviathan taking over his vessal but is rendered blind. Sam and Dean have to take care of him. Loads of whump and hurt/comfort. Definitely shed a tear or two (or twenty.)

34. The Way Out* by @awed_frog - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts: *fangirl noises*. I hate to say this, but OMG! This fic blew my frickin mind! The time line is very confusing and the author gives you a way to read it in chronological order, but it's worth it to read the way it was published. Everything starts making sense around the third to last chapter and it is glorious (-ly sad and angsty.) But there is a happy ending and it's soooo worth it. First timetravel!fic I've ever read and it did not disappoint.

35. What is Hidden, What is Seen* by @ExpatGirl.

Thoughts : Wow! This is a pretty long fic but so worth it. The author joked several times about the fact that the fic is longer than her Masters thesis. This is a complete season 11 re write and I LOVE it. It's got some beautifully written OCs, Crowley, Rowena, and a certain someone who needs to come back canonically. (Again, looking at you Spn writers...) This is just written so well and the author was able to put in small Easter eggs the whole way through just like any real season would. Some light smut but nothing too graphic, angst (Hello, my name is angst but you can call me Destiel.) There's even some humour in here too! All in all, an absolutely beautifully written fic.

36. And This, Your Living Kiss*** by @opal_bullets - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts: Okay, first off, insert fangirl screams here! I LOVED this fic. (And not just because I'm a clown {which I totally am} but for some personal reasons I'll elaborate on in a sec...) This is an amazingly written, thought-provoking, and heartwarming fic to read. I loved it especially as it featured poet!Dean which I don't find a lot of. Now, I particularly liked this fic because it really hit home for me. The author described exactly how I feel when it comes to poetry. They described how poets often write best in times of sadness and misery and how we often stop writing because we are destroying ourselves in our own heads and can find nothing to write about when we finally allow ourselves to be happy. The author puts it perfectly in this fic. Not only did the fic make me rethink some of the opinions that I've had on poetry writing for years, but it also inspired me to pick up my pen again after not writing for almost a year and a half. So, thank you to the author for getting me back into writing poetry. (I can't thank you enough! ❤️) Please read this fic yall!

37. What We Remember by @Tiro - Fanfic.net

Thoughts : (Not Destiel btw) Oh my Chuck. This is soooo sad. Some nice emotionallyscarred!Dean for ya. It starts out so unassuming too! Totally blindsided me with the angst. But also some brotherly love between Sam and Dean. Definitely worth a read. (P. S, I'm writing this from the floor of my room while I sob in fangirl.)

38. More or Less by @schmerzerling - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts - Oh my goodness this is such a great fic. Lots of emotional angst and trauma (Just the way I like it.) This fic is so amazing and I loved every minute of it. There are so few stutter!Dean fics out there. This fic is unfinished and hasn't been updated since 2016 but I think it is still worth a read. The point at which the fic is left off has no immediate cliff hangers so I think that the fic can still be appreciated as is. Definitely worth a read.

39. Every Part of the Animal (*?) by @Askance and @Komodobits - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts - I hate this fic. I hate how dam* near perfectly written it is. I hate it for the hours I spent crying. I hate it for the hope it gave me before ripping it away like it was a game. This fic was recommended to me on a group chat. I was warned. I was warned that it was a terrifying, horrific, and heartbreaking fic. What did I do?? I read it anyway. (Shocker, I know...) This fic is genuinely terrifying. It's horrific and I have to say, READ THE THE TAGS. Beautifully written, as to be expected by the authors. (Both of whom have featured on this list before.) This is a case fic gone horribly, horrifically, disgustingly wrong. 10/10 would recommend, but be warned: there is NOT a happy ending.

40. Hautley's Bend **** by @ColdInTheStudio - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts - Okay! So, first of, if you aren't into long fics this is absolutely NOT the fic for you. A whopping 42 chapters, all masterfully written without a flaw or typo in sight. I LOVE this fic with all my heart. I mean, I'm an absolute clown when it comes to Highschool!AUs, but this fic is just... *chef's kiss. * This is the Highschool!fic you have all been wanting. It's got angst, it's got fluff, emotional trauma, not to mention some fan favourite characters. (Gabriel, Charlie, and Kevin to name just a few.) But you should check out the tags before reading as there's some heavy stuff dealt with in this fic: Dean is not a very nice person at the beginning of this fic. There's also underage drinking and detailed substance abuse. Self harm is also pretty prominent in this fic as well as some A+ John Winchester parenting. But the pain is so, so worth it. Bring tissues!

41. Stay With Me, Sweetheart by @MandalaRose - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts - The fluff is too much! I mean, we got firefighter!Dean saving Cas' life! (For Chuck's sake...What more could you ask for?) Also some single father Cas caring for a baby Clair, so some cute daddy!Cas for your troubles. So sweet and heartwarming and a very happy ending. 10/10.

42. Season Z*** by @Castielslostwings, @CR Noble, @cutelittlekitty, @EllenOfOz, @fangirlingtodeath513, @heylittleangel, @jscribbles, @MalMuses, and @son_of_a_bitch_spn_family - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts - So you might notice that there are LOTS of authors listed above and they all came together to create something beautiful. They started publishing chapters right after the season 14 finale and published a chapter every week until the season 15 premier. This is, essentially, a complete season 15 re write. It is masterfully done! Team Free Will vs. a zombie apocalypse. Also, lots and lots of old faces all brought together to save the world one last time. There's some heartbreak, some love, some smut, some fluff. (Also some Samwena to make everything even better.) 22 long chapters, each feeling like an actual episode, made this fic seem like an actual season. (And I wish the writers would steal from this fic's finale and make some... stuff... finally canon.) Truly a timeless Destiel masterpiece.

43. Something about Pinneaples by @lizleenimbus - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts - This is an EXTREMELY adorable little DeanCas ficlet. No angst, no Big Sad ™, just sweet sweet, tooth rotting Destiel fluff.

44. Last Night on Earth by @the_communist_unicorn - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- Sooo, I'm sure we all remember that disastrous night out, when the first big ol Apocalypse was gearing up, and Dean found out that Cas was an eons-old virgin... And I'm sure we all remember the disaster that was Cas and a prostitute. Anyways, here's what might have happened if Dean had taken a bit more of a... hands on approach. 😏 The chapters are all episodes that took place after the season five episode "Free To Be You And Me" and how they would have unfolded had Destiel become canon. I will warn you, their is smut (easily skippable) and there is DEFINITELY some angst. The whole thing is capped off with a bittersweet alternate ending to season five finale "Swan Song." I can't say much else without spoiling the ending, but all in all it is a very good fic to read.

45. Painted Angels *** by @WinJennster - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- HOLY FRAHOLY. I love this fic. A beautiful take on the classic trope of "We Had Something Good But I Ruined It, Now I'm Gonna Show Up Twelve Years Later And Try To Fix It... Also You're Engaged To Someone Else. Oops?" But seriously, all joking aside, this is an awesome fic. Painter!Dean x Writer!Cas, a match made in Heaven. (Hehe, get it? Heaven? Sorry I'll leave.) HOWEVER, do please be mindful of the tags. There is mentions of suicide and a couple paragraphs describing a rather grizzly accident to one of the main characters. Also, some lovely A+ John Winchester Parenting ™ and several instances of homophobic language. Still, this is an amazingly written fic and I can't stress how much I enjoyed it.

46. Forgotten *** by @NorthernSparrow - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- So, first off, I have to talk about the author for a little bit. I have read every single fic by Northern Sparrow and EVERY SINGLE ONE is a friggin masterpiece. The amount of research and backstory that goes into these fics is truly awe-inspiring. Northern Sparrow leaves no plot holes, no mistakes, no typos, nada. Now, the actual fic in question is no exception. While not particularly a Destiel fic, it can be taken as pre slash. There is a sequel, a Destiel version and a non Destiel version, called Flight that I am currently reading as well. (The Destiel version of course 🤡) There is some serious whump and angst here, both physical and emotional. This fic is a canon divergent from around mid season 9, in which there is no Mark of Cain and is a continual re write of the season. Cas goes through a lot in this fic (my poor baby) and Dean and Sam go through some gnarly stuff as well. This is such a good fic, I really can't stress enough. I wish I was half as talented as Northern Sparrow is when it comes to writing stories. I promise, you will NOT be disappointed. 12/10

47. All is safely gathered in by @randomdestielfangirl - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- Here is a cute little coda for season 12 episode 6, “Celebrating the Life of Asa Fox.” It’s mostly Mary-centric and her understanding of the Dean/Cas relationship. I’ve always had a soft spot for season 12 codas where Mary sees that Dean and Sam have grown up. (Especially those that have DeanCas in them.)

48. Bring Up the Deep by @deathbanjo - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- Here is a pretty cool case!fic with eventual Destiel fluff at the end. The story line is a little heavy and dark, but nothing more than canon-typical violence. This involves Sam, Dean, and a human Cas traveling to the beach to investigate a “sea monster.” Fair warning, there are moments describing Cas’ depression and struggle with figuring out who he is and who he wants to be, but again, not as bad as season 9... (STILL not forgiving the writers for that fiasco.)

49. Hazy Shade of Winter by @GeekPrincess - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- Here is yet another case!fic. This one has Team Free Will and Mary teaming up to solve a case in rural Wyoming in the middle of winter. It takes place not too long after Mary’s resurrection and Sam being freed from the British Men of Letters. At first it seems to be just a normal case, but per Winchester fashion, someone ends up getting attacked. Definitely worth a read.

50. A Little Old Fashioned by @theheartchoice - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- Another coda, sorry... (I’ve been going through a faze) This one takes place in the aftermath of 14x13 episode “Lebanon.” I was disappointed that Cas didn’t play that big of a role in the 300th episode. I thought for sure he would considering he WASN’T EVEN IN THE 200TH EPISODE. *Clears throat* Umm, ya. Just some Destiel fluff of Cas taking care of Dean’s wounds the old fashioned way after John’s departure.

51. Same Deep Water by @braezenkitty - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- Team Free Will heads to California to investigate a string of mysterious deaths in a supposedly haunted hotel called the Brookdale Lodge, nestled in the redwoods of Santa Cruz. I particularly enjoyed this fic because it has a definite early SPN vibe. Very creepy and eerie and reminded me a lot of No Exit (2x06) and Playthings (2x11). Also a bit of flirty!Cas and jealous!Dean.

52. Looking for a Sign* by @emwebb17 - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- THIS FIC... is sooo adorable. Holy Chuck. Dean meets Cas on his bus ride to work and tries to talk with him. Not realizing that Cas is deaf, Dean just assumes he’s being ignored and goes out of his way to get Cas to interact with him. After weeks of no response he finally realizes that Cas can’t hear him and so Dean offers that they start over with their acquaintanceship. Dean meets all of Cas’ friends and they quickly grow closer and closer. They would be perfect for each other except Cas refuses to date hearing people. (Also, bonus points for the pun in the title.)

53. Peanut Butter-Pumpkin Wedding Cake by @Sparseparsley - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- I’ve seen this fic on so many rec lists and I’m so mad that it took me this long to finally read it. Bartender!Dean meets Cas at a bachelor party and they hit it off right away. Then, when Cas’ car breaks down, Dean offers to drive him around to make preparations for the upcoming wedding. Dean has a massive crush, but thanks to Dean’s remarkable ability to jump to conclusions, he thinks that Cas is the one getting married in 2 weeks. Read it just for the sake of watching two idiots dance around each other for weeks on end. They aren’t fooling anyone but themselves.

54. My Marble Guardian by @LadyDrace - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- Bring tissues cuz this one hurts like a season 12 finale. (Heh. I’m hilarious.) Dean is killing himself trying to support little Sam after their parents die. Dean is close to ending it all and takes to talking to the marble angel statue that sits by his mother’s grave. I can’t say much else without spoiling the ending so you’ll have to read it yourself to find out how it ends.

55. The Law of Equivalent Exchange** by @awed_frog - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- Holy crap! This fic is truly amazing. @awed-frog is one of my favourite authors of all time. (And has featured on this rec list before.) This fic follows Castiel caring for his ward, a man who will one day be called Dean Winchester. Follow Cas through Rome, Greece, Paris, Russia, Germany, and more as he guides the impossibly bright soul that Heaven claims will one day save them all. In other words, Cas is sent to earth to watch over Dan, son of Enoch and continues to do so until January 24th, 1979, the day Dean Winchester is finally born. The fic then becomes canon-compliant all the way until season 11, then stems into a canon-divergent for defeating Amara. All from Cas’ POV, we see how he went from being Castiel, Angel of Tears and Thursdays to Cas, Angel of Dean Winchester. 12/10.

56. A Way Back Home* by @thatpeculiarone - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- Another AU with deaf!Cas. Dean is a lonely bakery owner whose past is full of heartbreak and loss. He meets Clair Novak, a mute girl who has no one to talk to, after Jody suggests that they meet. Neither are too keen on the idea at first, but they soon discover a perfect remedy for their predicament. Dean loves to tell stories and Clair loves to hear them. Dean has a story for every pastry in his bakery, and Clair soon realizes that all of Dean’s stories seem to revolve around one person. After finally discovering why Dean always looks sad when no one is looking, hates Valentines Day with a passion, and only ever talks about his best friend in the past tense, Clair is determined to help Dean get the happily-ever-after that he never got to have.

57. Such Familiar Magic by @saltnhalo - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- This fic was inspired by the artwork of very talented @lizleeships here on Tumblr. This is the first witch AU I’ve ever read and it did not disappoint. Cas is a reclusive witch with unimaginable power and Dean is one of the most powerful familiars in North America. Both of our boys have some dark secrets and ghosts from their pasts threaten to separate the two for good.

58. I'm fine by @lizleenimbus - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts - Can I just say, WOW. This one is yet another small ficlet to go along with @lizleeships artwork. This fic, despite its short length, is so potent and amazing! The writer effortlessly blends the canon SPN with the world of Destiel and I am LIVING for it. The somber and quiet nature of this fic makes it an excellent read for a late at night fanfic session.

59. The Shadows on his Shoulders by @lizleenimbus (Yes, I know. Two in a row... I don't care.)- Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts - Okay, first off, @lizleenimbus has become one of my favourite fic writers EVER. This fic is canon compliant (sort of) for season 6, just when Dean is beginning to figure out that something is wrong with Sam. (In the soul department, that is.. .) This here is a wingfic to end all wingfics. I love the writing, the characterization, the plot, everything, just... *chefs kiss.*

60. The Care and Feeding of Castiel by @MalMuses - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts - Soooo, another wingfic!! (No, I don't have a problem. YOU have a problem...) I am a total sucker for wing!grooming DeanCas fics. I just, gosh! I love them so much! I love this fic more every time, no matter how many times I've read it before.

61. Asunder by @rageprufrock - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- Now, listen here lil clowns. Everyone loves a good "I need a plus one for my brother's wedding" trope and this here fic is the perfect one. And if you don't love it, this is absolutely NOT the fic for you. Sam is getting married and Dean doesn't want to go to it alone, so he enlists the company of his best friend Cas to go with him. Shenanigans and misunderstandings ensue, topped off with a healthy serving of meddling family members. A great rainy afternoon read.

62. Good Call by @sysrae - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts - First, please be mindful of the tags as Dean meets Cas by talking him off of a ledge. However, despite the horrible start, this series is still incredibly fluffy and sappy. It also has Therapist!Benny being exasperated by Dean and Cas' utter stupidity around each other. This is a very heartwarming fic that balances the angst with fluff perfectly.

63. 'Tis but a Crush by @Annie D - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts - Here is an awesome little meet cute modern AU fic! Cas notices that a man with startling green eyes stares at him whenever they are together. Cas is interested immediately but the green eyed man seems too shy to approach Cas. Fluff and awkward moments soon follow.

64. Where There's Smoke, Theres Fire** by @OsirisApollo - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts - So, first of, I am absolutely in LOVE with Firefighter!Dean. Cas is an ER doctor who meets Dean after the fire alarm in his apartment building goes off. Cas manages to make a fool of himself but is comforted by the fact that he'll never see the attractive firefighter again. Boy, was Cas wrong. The two men seem to run into each other practically everywhere, and no matter how hard Cas tries, he always seems to embarrass himself with every meeting. This fic was responsible for making me squeal aggressively at 2 AM. 10/10 Destiel fluff.

65. Forget - Me - Not -Blues*** by @noangelsinthegarrison - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- This is a fic that I go back and read over and over again. It’s got a perfect balance of fluff and angst, misunderstandings, and a healthy dose of clueless, meddling family and friends. Bottom line is, Sam is getting married and Dean is going to be the best man. He’s thrilled, until he finds out that Castiel Novak is Jess’ honorary Maid of Honour. Dean and Cas had a... something or other back in high school. Dean would ask to be friends again but Cas is intent on pretending that they never knew each other in the first place. Misunderstandings, awkward moments, and an obscene amount of embarrassment ensues, no thanks at all to the “tradition” surrounding the Maid of Honour and the Best Man. 10/10.

66. Ignore the Butterflies: Best Friend Advice from Dean Winchester by @impatient14 - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- Okay, this one has practically every romcom trope out there... AND I AM LIVING FOR IT. (*Clears throat) Ya, soooo. Doctor Cas and Firefighter Dean are friends. Best friends actually. Totally platonic bros. A bromance for the ages. The broist bros to ever bro. That’s it. No homosexual feelings to be found here. None at all... Or so Dean tries to convince himself.

67. Prosopagnosia by @misseditallagain - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- Man, this fic is really adorable and quite heartbreaking at times. Cas has a cognitive disorder that means he can’t ever remember faces. He’s given up on finding love until he meets one Dean Winchester, but he’s afraid to tell his hot date the truth about his condition. Assumptions are made and misunderstandings threaten to tear the two apart for good, but maybe there’s a chance for these two after all.

68. Midnight Blues AKA To Hell and Back (Courtesy of Sig Sauer) by @outofminutes - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- As we all know, I am a glutton for damaged!Dean being cared for by Cas. Dean is a war veteran. He’s been discharged for five years but he hasn’t dared to go back home until now. He’s not the same person he was all those years ago and the constant haunting of horrors past threaten to tear him apart. Thankfully, he’s got a loving family and a new friend (Hehe. Guess who. Sorry, I’ll leave) to help him pick up the pieces.

69. Scars by @lemonsorbae - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- Okay, first off: WOOOO 69! NOICE! OKay, I’m done... So, this fic stands out to me for the writers unique take on some popular tropes. Dean is a tattoo artist with green hair (Insert Priestly from Ten Inch Hero here.) and Cas is the stereotypical hipster. They don’t get along very well at the beginning of this fic. (Which is a HUGE understatement btw). Then, a drunken party leads to certain... unsavory actions, and both swear that it will never happen again. And that’s a total lie. Lots of smutty times in this one so be warned, also references to past trauma for both of our favourite boys so please mind the tags before reading.

70. The One Thing You Can’t Lose by @MajorEnglishEsquire - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- This is just a cuddly, tooth-rottingly fluffy little ficlet for some happy DeanCas feels. Warning: Do not read in public place for there WILL be squeals.

71. The Ugly Sweater Verse by @nerdylittledude - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- I know, I know. Everyone who’s ever read Destiel fanfiction has heard of the Ugly Sweater Verse. I don’t care! I’m reccing it anyway. A newly human Castiel wants to experience every holiday to its fullest, dragging Dean and Sam (But mostly Dean) along with him. This is an AU for after season 5 in which Sam is alive, Cas is human, and Dean finally gets his head out of his ass. (With a little... okay a lot of help from the rest of Team Free Will.) This is an awesome feel-good Verse that is always nice to read after a bad day. There is a prequel to this Verse that is stand-alone, but you don’t have to read it to get the rest of the Verse. (Also, if you’re only looking for fluffy times then I wouldn’t recommend reading the prequel. You have been warned.)

72. Cats and Tats by @cryptomoon - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- This here is the quintessential Coffee Shop AU that no one asked for. Cas owns a coffee shop that is right next door to a tattoo shop owned by our own Dean Winchester. Dean doesn’t like the pastel coffee shop because it totally ruins his badassery vibe, and Cas doesn’t need another distraction like Dean, and poor Sam never gets a moments peace.

73. Moving On by @BruisedCastiel - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- Castiel is a witch who reads fortunes for a living. One day he gets a customer named Dean whose reading has a shocking outcome. Not too much later, Dean’s ghost comes looking for Castiel seeking answers. This fic starts out pretty sad and things look hopeless for Dean and Cas but don’t worry! There IS a happy ending.

74. Into the Fire** by @NorthernSparrow- Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- I’ve mentioned on this list before that NorthernSparrow is my favourite fic writer of all time. And their work has been featured several times on this list before. Now, be warned. This fic gets VERY dark VERY quickly. Dean, shortly after the Mark of Cain is removed, is cursed and he kills Cas. The trauma of the Mark, the guilt he feels for killing Cas, and the looming threat of the Darkness sends Dean into a mental breakdown. Sam, mourning the loss of Cas himself, is left to try and put together what is left of Dean’s sanity AND to come up with a plan to defeat the Darkness. Sam and Dean, with the help of several allies, come together to save the universe once and for all. This is a full AU starting sometime in early season 11 and finishes all the way through the end of the season. There is a lot of sadness and guilt in this fic, so please be careful going into it. Bring tissues. I cried gratuitously throughout this fic. But don’t worry because THERE IS A HAPPY ENDING. Bonus points for TrueForm!Cas. 15/10.

75. There’d Be No Distance by @imogenbynight - Archive Of Our Own.

Thoughts- Just a short, feel-good, fluffy Christmas fic for ya. Cas is lonely on New Years because he assumes that he won’t be welcome to the family get-together. But don’t worry! Dean sets the record straight with his angel. (Well...Not straight but... you know what I mean.)

76. Imperfect Proposals by @Fallen_Angel_Meg - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- Okay, so, Cas is a total jerk at the beginning of this fic. He’s demanding, arrogant, cruel, and just rude to practically everyone who works at his firm. Dean is his new assistant and needs this job if he’s ever going to make it as an architect, but Castiel isn’t making it easy for him. Things get more complicated when Cas is threatened with being deported so he says that Dean is his fiance. Dean isn’t on board until Cas threatens to fire him if he doesn’t play along. Now they just have to make it through Sam and Jess’ wedding. Easy... Right? (There IS a happy ending it just takes these two idiots a while to get there.)

77. The Novak Hickey Mystery by @FagurFiskur - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- This is just a short ficlet involving Professor Novak’s mysterious relationship and some VERY nosy students. Nice and quick happy-go-lucky fic with no angst and plenty of tooth rotting fluff.

78. Come Back* by @lizleenimbus - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- This is yet another short, canon-verse ficlet for you guys. (I know these last couple fics have been pretty short but I have been reading so many long fics recently that I’ve needed a bit of a mental break from the stress of a slow burn lol) Anyways, this is one of my favourite authors. Literally, every single thing by this author is a freaking gold mine of Destiel goodness. This particular ficlet chronicles Dean and Cas sharing an intimate conversation after a particularly nasty hunt. I love these types of fics in which Dean and Cas actually Use There Words™ and talk like Grown Ups™. (Never happens canonically so I’ll take what I can get. Looking at you SPN writers.) ALSO, this fic is inspired by artwork by everyone’s favourite go to Destiel artist @lizleeships! 10/10!

79. And then there were Six* by @lizleenimbus - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- I know, I know. Two in a row by the same author... This author rocks okay! (Seriously, go check them out) This right here is a wing fic my friends. But not the type we are used to. It involves a bashful Cas, flustered Dean (And I know we ALL love a flustered Dean), and a very amused little brother. I love this ficlet especially as it is a beautiful take on the fact that Seraphim are supposed to have six wings.

80. Autrement, Danger - or, The Account of an Exceedingly Long Day by @awed_frog - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- Here’s another fic from a “rec list favourite” author of mine. This is a pretty cool case fic with an awesome monster of the week. (Japanese folklore at its finest.) A creature manifests itself as a person’s true love. Sam sees Jess, Cas sees Dean, Dean sees Cas (And has a freakout along the way.)

81. Memories Bring Back Memories (Bring Back You) by @sobsicles - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- Hoooo Boy! Talk about an angst fest. Set sometime in early season 15, Dean and Cas get their memories wiped and Dean is convinced that they are serial killers on the run from some tall guy named Sam. Things get awkward when they get their memories back, as they also remember what the two of them did when they were on the run together. Dean talks out of his a*s, Cas gets angry (rightfully so), Sam and Eileen just want a moments peace, and LOTS of bad blood gets let out out into the open for the first time in years. This fic was hard to read because, true to Winchester fashion, Dean and Cas’ communication during this fic is TERRIBLE. Just when you think the two of them are about to hash things out, one of them goes and says something stupid and they have to start all over again. I definitely recommend this fic, but be prepared to brave some hardcore angst before Dean and Cas get their happy ending.

82. Lost in Words, Hand in Hand* by @hallowgirl - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- This is the fluffiest fluffy fic to ever fluff! (Try saying that 10 times fast.) Dean tells Cas that he never got read to as a child, so Cas takes it upon himself to read to Dean. It was supposed to be a one time thing, but the two enjoy the time together more than they thought they would. Plus, there’s so many books to read, and laying in the same bed is just practical. That’s it. Just guys being dudes. And if Dean happens to fall asleep on Cas’ shoulder? Well, that’s not his fault at all. (Also, bonus points for Sam being the typical smug little bro who lets Dean know that he and Cas aren’t as subtle as they think they are.

83. La Hantise** by @quiettewandering - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- Okay so, I have been waiting to read this fic for FOREVER. I read the first couple chapters a long time ago (back when it was still a WIP) and I immediately fell in love. I decided, rather painfully, to stop reading and save it to my Marked For Later until it was finished. I have a hard time when it comes to WIPs because I forget what I read during the previous update and I often times lose interest until I can read it all in one go. I couldn’t wait to read it and I was not disappointed! This fic is BEAUTIFULLY written and the story seems to come to life before your eyes. This is the Destiel we all fell in love with; Two damaged and broken beings finding peace within each other. Warning: these two are complete idiots and there’s a lot of pining and some pretty hefty angst. Castiel’s backstory is truly, completely and utterly, tragic. Dean’s isn’t a picnic either I suppose, but it’s Cas past that comes back to haunt Dean and Cas in this fic. The author seamlessly interweaves the reality with the make believe and it sucks the reader into the story effortlessly. 14/10. A Destiel classic.

84. Cheers, Angel Eyes by @wannaliveindeansdimples - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- As I’m sure you all know by now, I am in love with bartender! and barista!Dean. This fic has a healthy dose of bartender!Dean for you. In this fic, Castiel, known to Dean only as Angel Eyes, is a regular at the bar that Dean owns. The two hit it off during the few conversations that they have and decide to give themselves a chance. Very minimal angst and only just a small bit of pining from Dean’s POV. A very good, quick, none painful read.

85. best friends without benefits by @lizbobjones - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- This fic is set between the end of season 11 and the beginning of season 12 and is canon divergent for the most part. This one is pretty funny and enjoyable to read, if only for the sake of poor Sam and Mary dealing with two complete idiots. Dean lets slip to Cas that he finds Cas driving Baby “hot” and Cas admits that he has known of Dean’s attraction for years. Cas proposes he and Dean enter a Friends With Benefits relationship and Dean just can’t say no. But Dean just digs himself deeper and deeper into trouble after he mistakes Cas’ preposition as a rejection of deeper feelings. Misunderstandings happen, Dean is a big baby, Cas is clueless, and Sam is stuck in the middle.

87. Shifter by @@LadyLini - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- There are tons and tons of fics out there where Dean and Cas are the bumbling idiots of the story (Yes, just like in the show) and Sam is the one who has everything figured out. But this fic looks at the idea of Sam being the one out of the loop and Dean and Cas being the ones who actually know what the heck is going on. This is a cool AU in which Sam went to Stanford, John Winchester is still an ass hole, and Destiel is canon. This was a cool take on how the events of the show would have taken place if Sam wasn’t there and Cas had been the one to save Dean from Azazel.

89. diamond star halo by @jad - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- This is a wonderfully light-hearted little fic in which Cas possesses Dean while his vessel recovers from the attack dog spell. We also get some great brotherly banter, Cas and Dean bickering like an old married couple, and other Team Free Will shenanigans. Also, poor Sam.

90. like moses and batman and james dean by @saltyfeathers - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- Oooohh boy. This fic is quite the can of worms for me. Here, the author gives us a more detailed account of Dean’s past of turning tricks in order to raise liittle Sammy, and how this past is affecting his current relationship with our Wayward Angel. This is a heavier fic and please be mindful of the tags (Yes, John Winchester’s A+ parenting is one of them...) But it DOES have a happy ending.

91. any port in the storm by @mishcollin - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- If you are looking for a case!fic with Dean and Cas pretending to be dating on a couple’s cruise then you have come to the right place. I love this fic specifically for the care and detail of the case. Even more, there are lots and lots of OCs in this fic and every single one of them has their own personality and backstory. Be warned; there are lots of arguments between the elder Winchester and newly human Castiel. (Most of them because Dean is a big ol idiot in this fic and keeps the possible location of Cas’ fallen grace from him because of his Winchester Fear Of Abandonment ™)

92. Sunset Plaza by @LoveIsNotAVictoryMarch - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- Dang! This is a great fic. Cas is practically married to his work and never goes on vacations, so his loving brother Gabriel decides to book him a weekend at a resort. Cas ends up having to share his room with one Dean Winchester the first night due to a problem with the server at the hotel. But they manage to make the best of it (if ya know what I mean...) Everything is great until its time to go home. They could make it work, but our lovable idiots can’t let anything be that easy. (Extra points for a little dash of Sabriel and meddling Gabriel.)

93. Longing by @whelvenwings - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- This is a really fluffy fic set in canonverse. Dean and Cas finally have a discussion that has been long in the making, ending years of mutual pining. The tone of this fic is very sweet and is a great, feel-good, nightime read. Give me Destiel and Impala confessions and I’m one happy clown.

94. Hallelujah! Noel! Be it Heaven or Hell by @EnochianThings - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- Enochian Things is one of my favourite fic writers of all time! I can’t believe its taken me this long to rec this fic. This is an angsty holiday fic in which Cas confesses his feelings first and Dean is a total assbutt about it. Dean is at a loss after he realizes that he might of just driven away the one thing that could have made him the happiest: Cas. (Oh, don’t get me started on a rejected Cas... My heart can’t bear his sultry saraphim sadness.)

95. I’ll Cross the Sky for You by @superhoney - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- I am going to start this off by saying that I wasn’t really into this fic at first. I had found it through tags alone and it sat in my Marked for Later for months. I liked the tags, but I wasn’t sure about the premise of the fic. I could NOT have been more wrong. This fic was absolutey adorable. Barista!Dean meets Captain!Castiel... but in space! (With space ships and everything!) Anyways, very adorable, very cute. Definately worth checking out.

96. Nepeta Cataria* by @thepopeisdope - Archive of Our Own.

Thoughts- I would literally give anything for there to be more Witch!Cas x Familiar!Dean fics out there. This is one of my top five favourite AUs and I feel like it is so lacking compared to many of the others. In this fic, Cas is a lonesome witch who plants catnip to prevent mosquitoes from being in his garden. Little did he know that it would aslo attract Dean, a powerful familiar, who just so happens to be the love of Cas’ life. (Familiar!Dean is almost always a dog in the fics I find so it was great to get to see him as a cat. Honestly, Cat Familar!Dean might be my favourite.)

#supernatural #dean winchester #spn spoilers #sam winchester #castiel #destiel #fanfic #emotional whump #wingfic #dean winchester fanfiction #castiel fanfiction #im a clown #spn s15 #spn meta #fic rec #ficrec

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maewestside · 5 years ago

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KEEP YA HEAD UP: Legends Never Die, They Just Multiply

by Heidi Siegmund Cuda aka Maewestside

Every time you hear a 2Pac song, he’s reborn again. Each time another street-fighting hopeful enters the ring, Muhammad Ali lifts the rope.

We are the City of Angels, and angels are everywhere, sending indirect signs, helping us to keep our head up even in moments of great despair.

That love you feel for Kobe Bryant, that’s something special, something to carry in your heart. As long as he’s in your heart, he lives on forever.

Legends never die, they just multiply—schoolyard poets, writing licks on scraps of paper at recess; middle school athletes blessed with talent working as if they had none, because that’s what Kobe did.

The lessons they left behind, schooling us, a piece lives on in every heart that beats.

TO LIVE AND DIE IN LA

The impromptu weeklong memorial for Kobe and his daughter Gianna brought out the angels en masse. A courteousness and a grace permeated the crowd of mourners, decked out in that incongruous pairing of gold and plum, forgiven by aesthetes because the colors have come to embody greatness.

Anyone who saw Kobe play knows he’s legend. I got to see a 65-point game on March 16, 2007, where the Lakers were down by seven points in the last minute and a half, and with grace and ease, Kobe just kept nailing those three-pointers, leading the Lakers to victory over Portland. I remember thinking that he was the most graceful court dancer I’d ever seen, only learning this week just how hard he worked for those moves.

SHED SO MANY TEARS

Kobe once said, “I was blessed with talent though I worked as if I had none.”

That right there. Legends work hard. We only see the results. Fred Astaire glided across the dance floor as if on clouds of air, but the perfection was the result of endless practice.

Muhammad Ali danced like a butterfly and stung like a bee because he trained six days a week, shadow boxing, pounding the bag, sparring—not because he liked it but because he knew if he didn’t quit, he’d live the rest of his life as a champion. Word.

In the last year of his life, 2Pac would tell his driver to pull over so he could jump out and grab a spiral bound notebook, lyrics flooding out of him that he had to capture, instinctively knowing his time on earth might be short. His poetry, forever etched into our consciousness.

MAN OF THE PEOPLE

On night number five in downtown, the Kobe vigil was in full swing. Family units, travelers from Nicaragua and Tallahassee, women in stilettos, cuz, you never know. Vendors selling Kobe scarves, churros, handmade key chains, bacon wrapped hot dogs, his image etched on wood carvings, tshirts with the wings that were tattooed on his bicep now adorning his back.

I stopped for a pair of street tacos, asking the women preparing them what Kobe meant to her. She told me, “He spent time with us, the people, you know. He wasn’t above anyone.”

She said he stopped by her restaurant and refused to jump the line, telling her to treat him just like another customer. She wiped away a tear with her gloved hand, as I put four bucks in her fanny pack. There’s little doubt in my mind Kobe would have appreciated the entrepreneurism his tragedy inspired in the locals.

I walked through the streets admiring the freshly inked arms, reflecting how we mourn in L.A., with tattoos and paint, body canvas and abandoned buildings. Even if you didn’t hear the news that Sunday morning, all you had to do was drive through the streets, the handiwork of taggers already paying tribute. “RIP Kobe,” in Olde English, covering aged bricks.

HOW TO BE A MAN

“Dear Kobe, thank you for teaching me how to be a man, on and off the court,” wrote a fan on the canvas outside Staples Center. On a scrap of binder paper next to a flickering candle with “Long Live Kobe” written in sharpie, a mourner wrote a four stanza poem, the third stanza reading: “Oh what it means, to be a dad, Oh what it means, to rise from bad.”

At their best, legends make us better people. They make us work harder, strive for more and teach us to overcome adversity.

L.A. is an imperfect place, beautiful and flawed. The legends that spring from here are brilliant, beautiful and flawed. But it’s the brilliance and beauty that stay with us.

CALIFORNIA LOVE

The world is mourning the loss of a legend, but L.A. is mourning the loss of family. The kindness of strangers that permeates the downtown vigil is a moment for L.A. and one I cherish.

Kobe murals are popping up throughout the city, a sea of post-its creating a rainbow of love. So much raw beauty in this City of Angels.

As long as there’s a can of paint, the whirring of needles and archival footage, Kobe Bryant, like Pac and Ali, will flame eternal.

***

Author Heidi Siegmund Cuda wrote the first book of rap, “The Ice Opinion” with Ice T; and “Got Your Back”, with the bodyguard of 2Pac. She also authored “Crazy Fool: Portrait of a Punk” about Sublime’s Bradley Nowell, and “Definition of Down” with Darlene Ortiz, an original b-girl and Ice T’s first wife.

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ravengrangergirl · 7 years ago

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Coco Fanfiction Oneshot: Until You’re In My Arms Again

My first Coco fanfic! I’m planning on posting this on Archive and Fanfiction.net later.

If there are cultural or language errors, please let me know so I can correct it! I’m using English punctuation overall, except for the accents.

@calimori @allorana @quietdeerfan

Héctor

“Héctor,” Imelda scolded. “We need to get back, it’s almost sunrise!”

“Just a few more minutes, mi amor.” Héctor said, shouldering his guitar-offering, and heading towards Miguel’s room. He heard Imelda sigh behind him, but it was the sigh she gave when she was only pretending to be annoyed. He passed through Miguel’s bedroom door (Ay, he still wasn’t used to passing though things), Imelda and Coco following close behind. They all stood in the rather messy bedroom, the floor littered with scribbled out song lyrics, sheet music, and candy wrappers. Miguel’s guitar and his sombrero leaned against the bed, and the boy lay fast asleep. Imelda shook her head in exasperation at the mess, but her lips quirked up in a smile. Héctor looked fondly at Miguel. His little chamaco had grown a couple of inches in this last year. And his musical skills had developed wonderfully. Héctor chuckled to himself as he remembered the dying kitten noise that the boy had tried to pass for a grito. It was so good to see him again.

Miguel’s peaceful sleeping face suddenly changed, becoming more tense and worried. A little groan escaped him.

Héctor became worried. “Miguel?” He reached out and tried to touch his shoulder, but of course it passed right through him. Héctor scowled. He kept forgetting that the dead couldn’t touch the living. He had tried to hug Miguel at least twenty times that night, had tried to call out his name, only to be gently reminded by Imelda that Miguel couldn’t hear him.

Miguel tossed a bit from side to side, murmuring “No, no.” His murmurs became louder and a bit more distressed sounding.

A nightmare, then. Héctor groaned. Heaven knows that Miguel had enough cause for nightmares, after nearly being murdered at the hands of Ernesto last year.

Miguel

“MI PROUD CORAZON!!!” He sang, with the widest smile he ever had stretching across his face. The rest of his family clapped and even let out a few gritos. Socorro squealed with happiness from her mother’s arms. Miguel grinned at her. Socorro absolutely loved music. A lullaby could get her to stop crying, a fast mariachi song got her laughing, and “Remember Me” was used to put her to sleep at night. Miguel was planning to teach her how to play the guitar the second she was old enough.

“Miguel!”

That voice sounded familiar. Miguel turned around. “Héctor!” He cried out. The skeletal form of his great-great grandfather stood near the house that held the family ofrenda, leaning against the door.

“Hey, chamaco.” Héctor greeted him.

Miguel ran to grab his Papá Héctor in a hug…

And fell into a bridge of yellow flowers.

“Qué?” Miguel gasped. He struggled to push himself up, but his hands wouldn’t cooperate. He looked down, and almost shrieked when he found that they were bones.

Not again, not again…

He shrieked for real as his right arm fell off—an entirely skeletal arm lying amongst the marigold petals.

“Miguel!” Papa Héctor’s shout sounded farther away now.

“Héctor!” yelled Miguel. “Héctor! ¿Dónde estás?” He tried to pick up his arm with his other hand, but before he could, the arm on the ground suddenly changed into a guitar—one that was entirely made out of bones.

Miguel darted backwards, away from the guitar. What was happening? Where was Héctor? He managed to stand up.

“Miguel!”

Miguel whirled around to see Héctor standing behind him. “Héctor!”

Before Miguel could ask him what was going on, Héctor’s body began glowing. He fell into the petals, writhing in pain, the yellow light shining through his bones.

“No! Papa Héctor!”

Miguel bent down. Not again, no, he couldn’t lose him...But Héctor should be remembered now, shouldn’t he?

“We’re both out of time…” Héctor whispered.

“NO!” Miguel yelled.

Héctor’s legs began dissolving, but instead of changing into golden particles like the forgotten man had back in the Land of the Dead, the bones dissolved into a sort of gray dust that settled over the flowers. Héctor smiled. “Ashes to ashes…”

“NOOOOO!!!!” Miguel reached for Héctor, for some way to stop it, to stop his great-great grandfather from disintegrating before his eyes.

Before long, only Héctor’s head was left. Miguel could feel the tears sliding down his face.

“Lo siento, lo siento, Héctor.”

Héctor answered him, but his voice sounded gravellier, almost like a hiss. “Seize your moment…”

“Qué?” Miguel gasped.

He screamed again as Héctor’s face began morphing into the skeletal version of the face that he’d seen for years in his attic ofrenda. The man who had been his guitar teacher, who had inspired his great love for music, his idol.

The man who had murdered his great-great grandfather.

The man who had tried to murder him.

Ernesto de la Cruz’s head lay in a bed of marigold petals.

“Seize your moment…” Ernesto hissed again.

Then the head began to rise into the air as if the petals were pushing it up. The petals formed a humanoid shape under Ernesto, leaving him as a skeleton head with a body made of marigold petals. Ernesto made a grab for Miguel, easily lifting him up by his shirt collar.

Miguel kicked, trying desperately to get away. “Héctor! Imelda! Mamá! Papá! Ayúdame, ayúdame!!!”

Ernesto grinned. “I would move heaven and earth for you, Miguel…”

“NO!!!”

Ernesto walked to the edge of the bridge, carrying Miguel with him. “I hope you die very soon…”

“Please, please.” Miguel sobbed.

“Adiós.” Ernesto said…

Then threw Miguel off the bridge.

Miguel fell.

He fell, twisting and turning and seeing nothing but emptiness and blackness beneath his feet, and then a stone floor rushing up to meet him…

He gasped, his eyes flying open. He sat bolt upright, then stared around him in confusion. He was in his bedroom…Miguel’s eyes flew down to his hands. He almost cried out in relief when he saw two hands, both covered in skin. He was alive.

His hands were shaking, however, and he felt something wet on his face. He angrily wiped the tears away. Just another nightmare…

He’d gotten a few nightmares over the year he’d been home from the Land of the Dead, but he hadn’t had one this bad in a while. He looked fearfully towards the door, but he didn’t hear any footsteps. Good. He hadn’t actually been screaming. But he couldn’t help feeling disappointed when no one came.

“You’re thirteen,” Miguel told himself angrily. “You’re too old to be running to Mamá and Papá for a nightmare.”

But when he thought about Héctor dissolving into ashes, and Ernesto…

Miguel curled up, trying to think of something, anything else to keep the terrible images away.

Héctor

“M’ijo…” Héctor murmured brokenly. “M’ijo…”

Miguel was curled up on the bed, looking like he was trying not to sob.

Imelda and Coco gave Héctor anguished expressions, both feeling as trapped as he was. Their great-great grandson (or great-grandson, in Coco’s case) was in pain, was scared and sad, and they had no way to help him.

Héctor clenched his teeth. Ernesto, that dirty, filthy, terrible, murdering RAT . He had done this, had stripped away Miguel’s assurance of safety and innocence at the age of twelve, and it was only with Pepita’s help that Ernesto hadn’t actually managed to kill Miguel.

Miguel seemed to be losing the battle against tears. Héctor heard a sob.

He couldn’t stand it anymore. He walked through the bed (passing through it yet again, AY that was annoying) and reached out to Miguel. “Oh, chamaco…”

His arms, as predicted, passed right through Miguel, but Héctor didn’t let go. He held on to what felt like empty air, praying desperately for some way for Miguel to get some form of comfort from it.

He waited for Imelda to tell him how ridiculous he was being, that Miguel couldn’t actually feel him or see him. He started when a pair of skeletal arms was wrapped around himself and Miguel. He looked up to see Imelda holding on to him and the empty air that was Miguel. Then Coco’s arms joined theirs.

They hugged, trying to be there for their little boy, and gulped away the choking feeling of tears they could no longer shed.

Miguel

Miguel shook with sobs, wishing desperately to go to someone but not allowing himself to do so. “Stop being dumb, stop being dumb…”

A weird feeling tickled his arms and back. Miguel looked down, wondering if there was some sort of fly or mosquito that had landed on his arm. No.

The feeling got stronger and a bit warmer. It was strange, but it wasn’t unpleasant. It was actually sort of…nice.

Although he couldn’t figure out why, Miguel found himself uncurling slightly, relaxing a bit.

The sobs began to slow down, and Miguel’s breathing became a bit more regular.

As he curled into the warm feeling, something tickled his mind as well. There was something familiar, a hint of a name that he couldn’t catch. His senses tingled slightly.

He buried himself in the feeling, and the hint of something became an itch, so familiar…so familiar…

Snippets of scenes started to dance across his mind, all disconnected and jumbled.

Guitar…

Dancing on…a stage…

“Un Poco Loco!”

“Chamaco.”

Chamaco? Poco Loco?

“Papá…Héctor?” Miguel said, hesitantly, trying out the name as if it was a key he was sliding hesitantly into a lock. Apparently, it fit, because the warm feeling got even warmer as the tingling spread over his entire body, as if every side of him was been pricked with the pins and needles feeling that his feet sometimes got if he sat in one place for too long.

“Héctor…” Miguel breathed. Somehow, his Papa Héctor was here, in his room, so close to him it was like he was sitting right next to him. Or perhaps he was right next to him, and Miguel just couldn’t see him. More tears came to Miguel’s eyes, only this time they sprang from a different source than the fear.

“Papá Héctor, estás aquí!”

Other strands of memory tickled his mind, but these were not ones he shared with Papa Héctor. These ones carried a different sense about them. Héctor’s sense, or presence, had felt lighthearted, comical even, but strong and…determined. Sí. Just as he remembered his Papa Héctor being when he had met him in the Land of the Dead. This one felt harder, rather like his Abuelita. Strong down to the core, and…Miguel searched again for the word…and almost laughed as he came across it. Stubborn. Sí.

“I thought you hated music!”

“I loved it…”

“Llorona, llorona…”

“Never forget how much your family loves you…”

“Mamá Imelda?” Miguel whispered. She was here too? That meant she was with Papá Héctor! They were together again!

Wait, did that mean…was…

More memories danced across Miguel’s mind, but these carried the sense of a will much gentler than Imelda’s, yet not as lighthearted as Héctor’s.

“Remember me, each time you hear a sad guitar…”

An orange slice tucked into a wrinkled hand.

“Papá was a musician. When I was a little girl, he and Mamá would sing such beautiful songs…”

His own sweet Mamá Coco, passed away only a few months ago.

They were all here. Together.

“Papá Héctor! Mamá Imelda! Mamá Coco!”

Impulsively, Miguel threw his arms out wide, trying to surround the feeling with his arms, wishing so desperately that he could hug them, that he could see them, hear them, hold them. But they were here, they were with him, they were together, and he could feel them. Any fear or sadness left over from the nightmare seemed to fade away at that moment, forgotten.

Héctor

Héctor held his eyes closed as he and his wife and daughter hugged—or tried to hug—Miguel. He wished so badly he could hold his great-great-grandson, that he could comfort him…help him.

He heard Miguel’s breathing begin to even a little, and the sobs slow. That was good. Miguel was calming down.

He opened his eyes to see that Miguel had snuggled up closer to the group hug, as if he could feel…

Stop it, Héctor!

Miguel’s tearstained face was currently crinkled into confusion, as if he had been called on in class and was desperately trying to remember the answer for the teacher. Héctor had known the feeling well when he had gone to school, usually because he had been too busy scribbling song ideas or staring out the window.

“Papá…Héctor…”

Héctor jumped, having an old Living impulse to choke in surprise. “Miguel?” he asked. Could he actually, finally see—

No. Miguel wasn’t looking at him, and he had shown no reaction to Héctor saying his name. Perhaps Miguel was simply thinking about Héctor, and had just happened to say his name out loud. But perhaps he could…maybe he could sense…

Miguel’s face broke into a smile as his face turned to Héctor’s direction. Miguel looked past him, but he was still facing him. “Papa Héctor, estás aquí!”

Héctor let out a spontaneous grito as he heard Imelda and Coco gasp in surprise. Miguel could feel them!

“Sí, sí, Miguel, estoy aquí, estoy aquí, m’ijo!”

His arms still failed to catch any sense of holding a living being, but he squeezed anyway. His boy, his chamaco, his great-great grandson, knew he was there!

Miguel’s smile faded into another look of concentration, as if he was reaching for a word of the tip of his tongue. “Mamá Imelda…” he finally whispered.

Héctor didn’t look up, but he could see Imelda’s shocked face with her gasp of surprise. Ah, Miguel sensed her, as well!

“Papá Héctor! Mamá Imelda! Mamá Coco!”

Imelda and Coco matched twin cries of joy with Héctor’s own.

Somehow, despite being solidly in the Living world and Héctor and Imelda and Coco being little better than shadows tiptoeing from the Land of the Dead, Miguel could feel them being there for him, holding him, loving him for all they were worth.

Miguel threw his arms open, and now he was the one trying to embrace them, trying to bridge the gap between worlds. Miguel’s left arm passed through Héctor’s shoulder, and his right arm through Imelda’s side, but it was close enough.

All of them held on a group hug, the one they never got together in the Land of the Dead, the one that was forbidden in the Land of the Living. But they all knew that each other was there, they were together, and that was enough.

They hugged like that for a long time, no one speaking.

Then Imelda broke the hug.

When Héctor looked up in surprise, her face was twisted with regret. “It is too close to sunrise. We’ll have to run as it is. Lo siento, mi amor, but we have to go.”

Héctor sighed. She was right, of course. As always. But he hated to leave Miguel. He wished he could stay here, in the living world, holding his boy, his chamaco.

But as Coco stood with her mother, Héctor knew he had to go.

Slowly, regretfully, he drew away from Miguel, away from the bed, and towards his wife and daughter.

Miguel seemed to sense this, since his arms fell back to his sides. The smile on his face faded, growing serious.

“I know,” he said, his face turning slightly away from them, towards the door. “You have to go. It’s probably close to sunrise.”

Even though Héctor knew it was pointless, he nodded. “Sí, chamaco. We have to go.”

“I hoped you liked the offerings. And the music. And you hoped you guys met mi hermanita. Her name is Socorro, you know.”

Héctor knew. He had heard the name at the celebration earlier, and had thought it perfect.

“Say hola to Julio and everyone for me, por favor?”

“We will.” Imelda answered.

As if he had heard her, Miguel smiled again, although a few tears were sliding down his cheeks again. He wiped them away. “I’ll see—you’ll be here next year, then.”

“Absolutely,” said Coco, smiling fondly at her great-grandson.

“I love you.”

Coco bent down and kissed his forehead several times. “Te quiero, Miguel.’

“Te quiero,” Imelda and Héctor echoed, giving one last empty-air hug to their great-great-grandson.

Miguel gave a shuddering sigh, then fell back against the pillows.

“Te quiero,” he whispered, his eyes fluttering.

Imelda passed through the door, grasping hands with Coco in preparation of the dash back to the bridge.

“Te quiero,” Miguel whispered one last time, his closing eyes missing the glimpse of yellow light that flashed near the door as Héctor stepped through, joining his wife and daughter on their journey back to the Land of the Dead.

#coco #coco fanfic #my fic #my writing #coco spoilers #miguel rivera #hector #imelda #mama coco #hector x imelda #ernesto de la cruz #nightmare scene #do skeletons cry?#HUGS #hugs are important #FAMILY HUG

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zenonaa · 7 years ago

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‘Normally, Byakuya could outrun her, but the rain set them on wet, slippery, even ground, and in any case, he would have been a lousy date if he left her at his heels, someone who worked their way through his defences and breathed a new strength into his core.’

Pairings: TogaFuka (Byakuya Togami x Touko Fukawa) Word Count: 5505 Comments: A Valentine’s Day fic. :3 There are some others on my AO3, but I posted them already on my personal.

💖Please like/reblog and leave kudos if you can! 💖

***

Grey clouds splattered tears onto the bedroom window and howled relentlessly. Dressed in a lilac nightdress, Touko stood still, a silent spectator, protected from the storm’s outburst by a shield of glass.

The rain drowned out her sigh.

Touko turned away and padded over to her bed, which she clambered across in order to reach her phone, sat on her bedside table. Her bed creaked gently beneath her hands and knees, and it gave a final groan as she settled herself on one spot. She swiped her finger across the screen of her phone a few times until it started ringing, and then she held her phone to her ear.

A few seconds later, the ringing stopped with a click, and a voice emerged, quickly shedding itself of static.

“Let me guess, this is about the rain,” Byakuya’s voice said into her ear.

She hummed and sat back, crossing her legs.

“It won’t be an issue,” she assured him. “I planned several different dates, depending on different variables such as the weather.”

Not just weather, but public transport delays, natural disasters and zombie attacks. Her alter, Genocider Syo, had also promised in a conference done on post-it notes that she would not lash out for missing this day, never someone who was big on romance anyhow, with the assurance that she could have a day with Byakuya in the future where they would do ‘nothing too naughty’, and Byakuya had clarified that there would be ‘nothing naughty’ or else he would end their time prematurely. It was this sort of arrangement that had been set up when Touko and Byakuya became a couple, and one everyone agreed on. Even if Byakuya and Syo weren’t dating, they had to learn to get along.

Nothing would stop them from celebrating their first Valentine’s Day together. Nothing.

“I knew you would have contingency plans in hand,” he said, his tone teasing a smile. “So where, and when, will we be meeting up today?”

Her mind went blank for a moment.

“Lunch,” she blurted. She winced. “I mean... we’ll meet at lunch. And where I’m taking us, we’ll be inside, for both places, but bring a coat for the journey.”

“Do I get a hint on where we’re going?”

“Nope,” she chirped, and she wiggled her shoulders. “Both places are a surprise.”

“Oh?” he purred. Maybe it wasn’t a purr, but she gave it a pass. Whatever it was, he sounded interested. “Well, I’ll be the judge of that.”

“You won’t be disappointed,” she assured him.

The storm beat away silence.

“So I’ll come to your place a bit before noon,” she said. “Is that enough time for you to get ready?”

“Yes,” he said. “That will be fine. Very well. I shall see you then. Goodbye, Fukawa.”

“Bye, Darling. I love you.”

“I know.”

He hung up.

She stretched her arms upward and reclined onto her back.

The rain kept her company, for now, but that wasn’t to say she was lonely. Far from it, in fact. Their last conversation wrapped around her in a warm embrace. For a long time, she could barely string more than a couple of coherent sentences directed toward him, but now she found it easy. Very easy. Touko managed a few mouthfuls of cereal and a glass of orange juice, her stomach too full of butterflies to contain anything more.

After she had eaten, she sped through a shower and bound her hair into a single braid before approaching her wardrobe. Though she had spent several hours the previous day deciding on a final outfit, depending on which date they were going on, she probed her options again and ended up instead wearing a black dress with white lace covering the upper half, and a brown belt with a bow for aesthetics at the front that divided the lower part of her outfit from that above. She inspected her reflection in her bedroom from different angles. The longer she looked, the more her skin crawled, with anxiety or excitement or something, and she forced herself away to finish getting ready.

Nothing would go wrong. Nothing.

Just before Touko left her apartment, she checked her satchel to confirm that she had packed everything. Satisfied with the contents, she slipped on her coat, slung the strap of her satchel over one shoulder and hurried out.

Touko only had to cross the landing, and then she was outside of Byakuya’s apartment. She pressed the doorbell. When the door opened, she beamed like the Sun after a storm had tired itself out, but she couldn’t compare herself to how bright, how radiant he was, even without a smile.

“Good morning, Darling,” she gushed, bouncing her heels and keeping her hands clumped together over her chest.

“Good morning,” he greeted, looking snug in his dark green pea coat. “Let’s get this engagement started. Come, I will follow you. You’ll be leading us today.”

She saluted. “I won’t disappoint you!”

His lips quivered but he regained control of them within seconds, and he gave a short nod.

They took the elevator to the ground floor and through the doors, saw the downpour still going strong. Byakuya grimaced. Beside him, Touko hugged herself. The pair stepped out and as they passed through the doorway, he opened his plain black umbrella.

“Stay close,” he said.

Touko jerked her head up, arms still around herself. “Hm?”

“We’re going to have to run,” he said. “Where are we going?”

Her features hardened to an appropriate level for the severity of the situation, as grim as the weather. “The subway.”

Byakuya positioned the umbrella over their heads. Touko’s cheeks grew hotter but she maintained her composure. She trained her eyes forward and moments later, Byakuya darted out, and she chased after him, catching up and sticking to his side. Her heart set aflame as she battled against the gale opposing them. Normally, Byakuya could outrun her, but the rain set them on wet, slippery, even ground, and in any case, he would have been a lousy date if he left her at his heels, someone who worked their way through his defences and breathed a new strength into his core.

They definitely wouldn’t be able to have a picnic in the park, but at least Touko got to take shelter under the umbrella with him, and anyway, the picnic wasn’t out of the picture. Rain pounded against their umbrella and wind screamed to their faces, impairing their vision, and Byakuya’s umbrella began to strain. So it didn’t get blown inside out, Byakuya retracted it, and he grabbed Touko’s wrist. Her heart skipped and her feet tripped, but she regained her footing before she could fall, and she sprinted alongside him.

His hand slid down to her hand and her heart nearly broke out of her chest. Not so much because they were holding hands, as she had held his hand before, in private moments, and she had held the hands of some of her other friends, but more so because she was nearly out of breath. He only let go of her when confronted by the barriers in the subway.

Though the carriage that they hopped onto wasn’t cramped, they didn’t have much of a choice where to sit, ending up opposite each other. Touko collapsed onto her seat and panted, barely soothed by a soft fragrance of freshly washed linen.

According to the map on Byakuya’s side, they only had four stops, and she waited until one stop remained before she spoke again.

“We’re the next stop,” she told him quietly as the carriage resumed motion. He nodded, blond hair flattened by the rain.

Outside, grey sky greeted them but it had worn itself out and needed to recuperate, so for the time being, the pair were spared from its torrential rain. However, it remained just as cold, so by the time they arrived at their first destination, the air had given their faces a thorough nipping.

They escaped its clutches and once inside, Touko scraped hair from her eyes and rubbed her hands together. She had brought them to a café that she had only been to once prior to now, visiting a week ago to compare the location to the images on the website, and she had not been disappointed. Circular tables around the main area each had three chairs stationed at them, but the tables could fit another if desired. Pale green shelving units stood with their backs against white walls, carrying books with washed out covers, stacked horizontally behind front-facing books that were equally as dull.

Touko inhaled the café’s fusty odour, with its aging paper and whiff like stale cigarettes, and felt at ease. At home.

“What do you think?” asked Touko.

Byakuya’s head turned slowly as he absorbed his surroundings. He approached one of the shelves, still without saying anything, and plucked one of the books at the front from its place.

She raised her hand to bite on a nail but decided against it at the last moment. Her hand started to fall, but then she changed her mind again and lifted it so it hovered close to her chin, where she formed it into a loose fist.

“This is old,” he said, mostly to himself.

“They’re all second-hand,” she said behind him. Byakuya clicked his tongue.

“If anything catches my eye, I will have to flip through it to see if it’s in an acceptable condition.” He shut the book with a quiet thud but didn’t put it down. “I wouldn’t want to buy a book that has been smeared with hand sweat.”

Touko ground a foot against the varnishing flooring.

“Someone like you must never have had to choose to buy books second-hand,” she said.

He looked over his shoulder at her, his eyebrows raised. “As an author - a highly successful one at that - surely something inside of you must wither at the thought of owning a book that strangers have pawed at and mistreated.”

His statement stabbed and twisted in her gut. Her face screwed up a little and she hunched her shoulders. Byakuya stared for a while longer, frowning.

“I said something inappropriate,” he deduced. She averted her gaze.

“It’s fine,” she said.

“You know, you’ve never been good at hiding your emotions around me.” Byakuya didn’t bother replacing the book and walked over to a nearby table. He set the book in front of him, giving Touko strong eye contact, and folded his arms over his chest. “Tell me about what draws you to these sorts of places, so I can understand.”

She didn’t want to do that, or say anything, but then he said,

“Please.”

Byakuya gestured to the table by him. Touko sidled onto one of the chairs and pulled out a laminated menu from its slot in a wooden holder, not with the intention to use it to order food yet, but to fidget with. Give her hands something to do. He sat opposite her and rested his chin on the back of his hand, waiting for her to speak.

So she spoke.

“Places like this feel homely to me. Modern bookstores don’t feel like a bookstore but just an imitation, selling toys and trinkets too. And new books don’t really have a smell. Well, they do, but when they do, it’s plastic. Old books have a different scent,” she said. The menu in her hands listed different foods and drinks, but she didn’t read any of them. She just looked at them. “They’re musty and a first instinct for many people is to retract, but there’s something enticing about the scent. To me, at least, they smell soft and sweet... like chocolate.”

A small smile developed on her face that could have flaked off.

“Sometimes, I find books that are out of print or are obscure, and wouldn’t be stocked in most places,” she added. Her eyes flitted up to his blue pair. “People can leave things inside of them too, like love letters and notes that are secrets to everyone but whoever wrote them. It’s like treasure.”

Byakuya didn’t move, his mouth slightly ajar as he studied her. She shivered and he seemed to ease into a faint smile that she returned ten times stronger. All they needed was a candle between them and some violin music, and the scene would be perfect. No. It was fine as it was. Already perfect. He lifted his chin off his hand and closed his mouth only to open it again, perhaps to say something. His pause drew her in, and she didn’t dare breathe and miss what he said.

Then a waitress intruded on their intimate moment.

“Excuse me, are you ready to order?” asked the waitress, dressed in a black t-shirt and trousers.

Touko scowled.

“We were talking,” grumbled Touko.

The waitress squirmed a little.

“Oh, I am so sorry. I’ll come back in a few minutes,” said the waitress, and she started to turn.

“No.” Byakuya flung up a hand. The waitress froze. “We’ll order now. Fukawa, you first.”

Touko adjusted her hold on the menu and read it properly.

“A cream cheese and cucumber sandwich, a croissant and hot chocolate,” she decided. She passed the menu to Byakuya, whose eyes flickered as he skimmed through his options.

“I’ll have a prawn tempura box and a coffee,” he said, and he returned the menu to its slot in the holder.

The waitress nodded and bowed politely. “I’ll have your order with you soon.”

Neither Byakuya nor Touko spoke until the waitress had left.

“I will compare this book to your hot chocolate,” he told Touko and he picked up the book that he had placed in front of him. “But are you really telling me that you don’t mind if a book has been mistreated?”

Touko furrowed her brow.

“It bothers me when people don’t respect books. You were right about that.” She glanced away. Her heart felt like it had grown, threatening to bloat in her chest and tear through it. “However... sometimes... it’s not like that. A leftover bookmark, a small tear in someone’s favourite page, fingerprints and a bent spine... they can indicate how much someone pored over a book. But sometimes...”

What she wanted to say next weighed too much to leave her lips.

“... sometimes not,” he prompted.

“Yeah,” she said. Her posture stooped. “But even so, that doesn’t mean they can’t be loved by someone else. Someone who can appreciate them.”

“I see,” Byakuya replied quietly, seeming to realise that what she said didn’t just apply to books. “After we’ve eaten, we can see what else this store has to offer. Who knows, we might find something of value after all.”

A short time later, the waitress returned with their order. Touko picked up her sandwich.

“Wait,” he said, and she obeyed. He reached over and took the sandwich from her. “I wish to feed you.”

She twinkled at him and savoured every bite.

After their meal, they investigated the shelves around them, drifting apart as they searched for different genres. Her favourite was romance, but she didn’t seek out that section. The store stocked several detective novels and as one of their shared passions was for literature, she had a good idea of what he had already read, even if they didn’t have the same taste, and where his preferences lay. While Byakuya was distracted, browsing somewhere else, she examined an Agatha Christie novel called The Murder of Roger Ackroyd and thought back to an animated discussion they had one time about it.

Memories nurtured a smile and she tucked it under her arm. Touko rummaged some more and found And Then There Were None, but she decided against purchasing it, and opted for a slightly tatty copy of The ABC Murders instead. She hunted around, seeing what other authors’ works were available, and didn’t pay attention to any footsteps that must have crept up to her.

“I wonder what you’re doing here,” Byakuya mused, behind Touko all of a sudden.

Touko jumped and hugged the books to her chest, trying to cover them as much as she could with her arms.

He peered over her shoulder and though he couldn’t see what she had chosen, he could still look at the books in the shelving unit that she stood in front of.

“Hm? Detective fiction?” said Byakuya. “That’s rather different, isn’t it? I wonder...”

His breath smelled faintly of coffee and warmed her ear.

“... is it something for me?” he asked.

Touko shifted a bit. “Yes and no...”

Byakuya’s breathing hitched with interest, subtle, but she had always been good at picking up subtle movements. Telltale signs. She smirked.

“Are you going to tell me what you’re buying?” he asked, resting his hands on her shoulders. Touko’s skin tingled, but she didn’t relent.

“This doesn’t have anything to do with Valentine’s Day,” she said, puffing out her chest. “Like I said, I already had everything arranged prior to today. I wouldn’t buy you something so late on...”

He had already read the books in her arms, but they weren’t for him to read. They were for her to use for research, for when she wrote him a short mystery novel for his birthday in a few months.

“So why is part of your answer ‘no’?” he asked.

Touko twisted around, grinning.

“You’ll have to wait, Darling,” she said, and she tapped him on the nose.

Byakuya tried, and failed, to not pout. She restrained a giggle and noticed a book wedged under his armpit.

“What did you find?” she asked.

“If I was in a petty mood, I wouldn’t show you,” he said. He pulled it out and revealed a book that sucked her lips into a surprised ‘o’ shape.

“That’s...” She adjusted her glasses. “... So Lingers the Ocean.”

Her gaze bounced between his face and the book.

“I wrote that,” she said.

“I read many of your works years ago, and I don’t own any copies of them. With this, I’ll be able to refresh myself on your earlier writing,” he explained, giving the book a small shake.

Touko gave a low, pitiful mewl and held onto the sides of her head.

“What I can write now is far superior to that stilted, repetitive prose,” she whined, and she gripped her head tighter to help resist the urge to snatch it away. “If I was to read it again, I would rewrite all of it. Don’t trouble yourself with it...”

“It won’t trouble me. I look forward to being able to see the improvement,” he replied. “And remember, it’s possible to improve on what is already good.”

At the counter, they made their purchases separately, but they left the store together. The weather had become morose again and rain chased them to the subway station, where for half an hour, they found respite. After that, they reunited with the budding storm, and Byakuya hurried after Touko with his head tilted slightly downward.

On a clearer day, he would have seen where they had gone before they arrived at the flight of stone steps leading up to the location, but even as they ascended, him shielding his glasses with one hand while she did the same ahead of him, when she glanced back, she saw that his eyes were narrowed with uncertainty.

They passed through a set of double doors. In the dry warmth, he wiped his glasses and found his bearings, and looking around, worked out where he was.

“A space museum,” he announced, peering over at the wall behind the tickets counter, which was covered in space-related words printed in silver text, like ‘SHUTTLE’, ‘LEADERSHIP’ and ‘ASTRONOMY’.

“You’re right, Darling,” she said as they walked over to the counter, which was under a sign that said in loud, black font, ‘ADMISSION’. They ignored how the attendant wrinkled his nose at their damp attire. “You mentioned being interested in visiting this place, and as it’s indoors, I thought it would be ideal for a rainy day.”

“I did mention it once. You made a wise decision,” Byakuya remarked, and he couldn’t help but smile, though his couldn’t outshine hers.

Excitement bubbled in Touko’s chest as she bought their tickets, spending extra so they could go to the planetarium later and watch one of the shows. It was the planetarium that she looked forward to most, but for the next two hours, she nonetheless enjoyed herself by Byakuya’s side as they explored the different exhibits.

The first involved a circular screen built into the floor, on which they could watch the Big Bang. Touko gripped the rail around it, lightly touching her arm against Byakuya’s as the footage played.

Of course, while she had never been big on the sciences at school, she had been near the top of her classes for all subjects except physical education, and it didn’t take a genius to work out that this was only a reconstruction. Streaks of blue gathered into a cluster of white light that eventually exploded, sending flecks of cool tones everywhere while a calming voice narrated the event. She knew enough to follow along, and she glanced at Byakuya several times during the video. He observed the screen, listening with impenetrable features.

When the film restarted, Byakuya moved onto another exhibit. Touko tagged along beside him, her hands clasped together. They wound through different hallways, stopping and starting as Byakuya perused various information boards that she read alongside him. Neither said much, but she didn’t mind.

One of the rooms was dedicated to the Moon. She perked up and pointed at an exhibit that caught her eye.

“Byakuya-sama, they have an exhibit where you can walk on the Moon,” she said, vibrating, already imagining them floating around in zero gravity, where the only solid thing to hold onto was each other’s hands.

“I doubt it’ll be very authentic,” he said, eyeing the sign and what appeared to be two hopscotches drawn onto the ground, but he went over to investigate.

“Hello,” said a female attendant, dressed smartly. “Would you like to see what it’s like to walk on the Moon?”

“Yes, yes, we would,” said Touko impatiently, beside Byakuya.

The female attendant helped them into some harnesses that hung from the ceiling, dangling above the start of a different hopscotch. She received several glares from Touko while she fixed Byakuya’s straps, and when they were secured in, the attendant walked over to what appeared to be a control panel.

“All right, just go down the hopskotch and land by the flag at the end,” said the woman, motioning to the other side of the room. “On your marks... Get set... go!”

Until them, Touko hadn’t realised that they had been pitted together and she gasped, but Byakuya took it in his stride and bent his knees. He leaped forward and gradually sank back down, ready for his next jump.

To float, they needed to lift their legs, and to return to the ground, they were required to arrange themselves into a sitting position. Touko didn’t know if this was what astronauts really did in space to get around, but she couldn’t prove nor disprove it, so she sprung into the air to pursue Byakuya, abiding by the rules laid out by the attendant.

She yelped as she was levered up, and she shot an icy look at the attendant, who responded only with a toothy grin. The straps of the harness dug into Touko’s thighs and she flailed her legs, searching for something to land on, but the ground didn’t come any closer to her.

“Move into a sitting position,” said the attendant, pressing buttons and twitching joysticks.

“I know!” Touko snapped, and only when she complied did she lower to the ground. Every step that they placed left a visible footprint on the ground, which had been designed to resemble the Moon. She huffed and continued forward despite how futile victory was, because no matter how much she strained herself to try to reach Byakuya, she knew that the attendant was messing with her.

Byakuya soared over to the other end of his hopscotch first and waited for Touko to wriggle across to him. By the time she landed beside him, heat had blown up her face a brilliant pink, and she bit her tongue as the attendant freed them for their nylon bondage. Touko refused to give the attendant the satisfaction of knowing that she worked her way under Touko’s skin.

“That was... something,” said Byakuya. He pushed up his glasses. “How long is it until we are due at the planetarium?”

She retrieved her phone from her satchel. “A little over an hour.”

“We’re at a good pace then,” he said. “Come. Let us see what else this museum possesses.”

The attendant smiled at them with what, to certain people, or a certain person, could have been perceived as a smirk, and with a burst of confidence, Touko linked her arm with Byakuya’s. He didn’t shake her off and she beamed, twisting the shape of her lips into an indubitable smirk that she aimed at the woman, who soon busied herself with a family of four.

They progressed through the rest of the museum in this fashion. With her free arm, Touko checked her phone at intervals, keeping an eye on the time.

“Are you expecting a call?” asked Byakuya next to an exhibit of spacesuits, all contained behind glass, after she fumbled with her phone when there were forty minutes to spare.

Touko shook her head and switched the screen off. “I’m just making sure we don’t overrun, Darling.”

“So it’s not because I’m boring you?” he asked, and her reading of his lips wavered between a smirk and a frown.

“No!” Touko promised, cringing as her voice echoed through the vast hall. “I’m... I’m really enjoying myself.”

Her face was warm.

“I hope you are too,” she said, quieter.

He looked away and didn’t answer immediately. She kept staring and their eyes met again.

“I am,” he confirmed, and she relaxed.

Touko felt lighter than she had at the moonwalk exhibit. Every footstep bounced underneath her for the remainder of their visit until the show began. They arrived ten minutes early and were ushered into the theatre with a small crowd of people. At one end of the theatre were rows of formal blue chairs, but opposite them were rugs disguised as grass lawn with fake shrubs for cushions, as well as soft, white cloud sofas. Byakuya and Touko opted for one of the sofas and reclined, staring up at the domed ceiling.

The general lighting dimmed. Violin music sang out, and then the theatre’s lighting snuffed out completely. Touko felt a tug in her chest and grasped Byakuya’s hand, squeezing until she could see again. Fortunately, she wasn’t kept in suspense for long, and the ceiling soon sparkled with different colours. Purple, orange, pink and blue. They glittered, depicting galaxies and stars larger than she could comprehend, twinkling overhead. A calm voice introduced them to the show, titled ‘Life on Earth’, and led them through a journey around the world.

She let the narration wash over her and settle on her like a blanket. The scene changed from outer space to footage of London, shot in first person as if they were a pigeon flying through the city. To enhance the experience, the theatre released different scents, depending on the location shown. They swooped down to the shore, and Touko breathed its scent like she was there, its salty, briny scent.

After London, they flew across the sea to other locations, each with different aromas. France gave off an elegant, floral fragrance, mixed with a hint of baking, while Turkey wafted spices, but she discerned roses too. Pakistan greeted them with incense, dust and spices. The narrator made sure to describe all of the smells with words. Incense permeated in Japan, smokey and woody with a faint whiff of sakura.

Next, the Philippines, with rubbing alcohol, fish, durians and ash, a scent that grew on her. Australia brought bushfire smoke and grass. America, pine and barbeque, smelling like it just rained. Costa Rica, a rich rainforest, with fresh foliage and an unusual scent like syrup. Jamaica. Smoked fish. Incense. Jerk chicken. Nigeria. Coconut. Saltfish. A sweet, nutty background note.

Landscapes rolled into the next, and after Nigeria, they seemed to ascend, facing downward, until they entered outer space, confronted with an image of the Earth, small and large at the same time.

At first, Touko felt insignificant, but then the narrator said, “And yet, we are all connected, never alone. We’re all part of something big.”

She squeezed Byakuya’s hand, and he squeezed back.

“You can look now,” said Touko, and she reached up to remove his work tie from around his eyes.

No longer blindfolded, Byakuya had a full, unobscured view of their living room. Fairy lights snaked around the border of a blanket laid out on the floor. Wine had already been poured into two glasses, a deep purple with a red glow at the surface, and the rest of the wine was stored in a bottle lounging in a bucket of ice. A bowl of beef bourguignon beckoned at them with its aroma, placed close to a box of homemade chocolates.

Piano played from the stereo, one hand ringing out the same tune while the other drawled lower notes. It was an instrumental of an Elvis Presley song, and when the lyrics should have commenced, Touko mouthed the words to herself.

Byakuya strode over to the blanket. Touko stopped and held her breath, wringing two handfuls of the skirt of her checkered dress, which replaced the dress from earlier, now in the tumble dryer. He knelt down, paused, and then shifted, sitting with his legs crossed. She exhaled and joined him by his side. The room smelled of Turkey, thanks to the fragrance sold at the gift shop at the planetarium.

“Would you like some beef bourguignon, Darling?” she asked, already reaching for a fork.

“Yes,” he said.

Touko dug the prongs into a cube of meat and raised it to his lips. He opened his mouth, letting her slide the bit of food in. She withdrew the fork but kept the utensil airborne. Every chew kept her in suspense.

“Is it to your liking?” she asked once he had swallowed.

Byakuya smacked his lips together. Touko tried not to swoon.

“Hey, did you buy this or prepare it yourself?” he asked during a pause from licking his teeth.

“I bought the ingredients from a market, but I used a recipe,” she said. She leaned into him slightly. “You know... the recipe from last time?”

“I remember,” he said. He cupped his chin. “First, we forgot to turn the oven on, and then we somehow burned a hole through the oven.”

“This time, the oven is perfectly intact. I even cleaned it afterwards,” she told him as she sifted through the beef bourguignon, searching for a big chunk of meat. She pierced one and presented it to Byakuya.

He ate it without a word, his brow creased as he stared into space. Touko’s lips pressed together.

“You’re not mad, are you?” she dared ask, but she needn’t have been worried.

“No,” he said, and her shoulders sank a stage. “I was just thinking about how to outperform you by a scale factor of three next month.”

Byakuya regarded her with eyes that held no secrets. No punchline.

“You did well,” he said.

She squeaked and tucked her fists under her chin.

“R-Really?” she said.

“I wouldn’t say so otherwise,” he told her.

His gaze lingered. Colour crept into his face and he turned his head away. After some moments’ thought, however, he turned back, his cheeks a vulnerable shade of red. Byakuya took one of her slender hands in his while he grabbed a glass of wine in his other. Not for himself, though, as she found out when he held it toward her. She blinked before curling the fingers on her free hand around its stem. Her heart fluttered as their fingers brushed together, and the steady pressure of his hand around hers kept her heart energetic.

He picked up the last glass for himself and raised it between them.

“To us,” said Byakuya.

Touko nodded and brought her glass forward. They clinked together. She pressed the rim of her glass lightly against her lips but didn’t drink yet, watching Byakuya as he tasted the wine. After a few sips, he set down his glass. Wine sheened on his lips, which he puckered faintly, invitingly.

A smile rounded her cheeks and she wiggled closer. Byakuya released his hold on her hand and wrapped his arm around her as she leaned into him from the side, propped up by his body, and the next song rolled in.

She got to taste the wine without drinking it from a glass.

#touko fukawa #byakuya togami #danganronpa #togafuka #fanfiction #one shot

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patriciaselina · 8 years ago

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Step-up Talk for Nizista - Komatsu Shohei (1/2)

I thought that “if I want to take my voice seriously, I should decide on it properly and stop going about this half-baked.”

First half of a series of interviews Komatsu Shohei did for Nizista! This was a long-running project of mine already, but I decided to at least post this first half today - May 14 is the birthday of the character he made his debut with, Idolm@ster Side M’s Kizaki Ren. お疲れ様でした！

The rest of this interview is also cross-posted on Wordpress for archiving purposes, but can also be seen under the cut!

Komatsu Shohei interview (first half) “Occasionally I’d think ‘whatever is fine’, but even then, I’ll end up taking it ‘seriously’.”

This time we’ll be talking to Komatsu Shohei, who had first appeared on the currently-airing TV anime DAYS (as Sato Hideki) and in Idolm@ster Side M (as Kizaki Ren). Komatsu-san was also active in the group HIROZ, which used to do action performances.

The tears I shed when I lost made me realize how serious I was.

From doing activities with HIROZ, Komatsu-san entered Ken Production and started taking the path of a voice actor. First off, I asked him what he was aiming for by entering this world.

Komatsu-san, you were previously a part of HIROZ. Weren’t you originally an aspiring actor and not an aspiring voice actor?

Komatsu Shohei (Komatsu, for short): It was really vague, but all I thought was “I would like to feed [myself] through my acting”. In high school I was in the theatre club, and when I went to Tokyo, I went to a theatre company to audition, but I didn’t get accepted...and that’s when I got [the opening for HIROZ]. Actually, I’d only found out our main point was to be the action after I got accepted (lol)

So you didn’t intend to get into action-related things at the beginning, were you. Well then, what made you want to be part of plays?

Komatsu: I entered my high school’s theater club thinking “[doing] whatever is fine” (lol). Up until then, I was doing karate and kendo, but I thought that come high school, I wanted to do something different. I saw the theater club’s performance at the entrance ceremony’s welcoming party, got interested, and joined it. Also, I was a props man at first. And then I got told “there are few male actors, so we’ll let you be an actor”, so I somehow got to be an actor, and somehow it was fun so I kept on with that. Before I knew it, [the theatre club’s] actors began increasing (lol)

As part of the theatre club, I went to a prefectural convention as my last high school competition, and even though I’d thought I could finish second place in the Kyushu tournament, I lost by around third or fourth place... As I was going back home, I couldn’t stop crying. I was crying until morning came. That’s when I first started thinking “so I was taking this seriously, wasn’t I,” “So I wanted to be in plays, after all!” After that, it became impossible for me to think about them as *just* plays.

So this being said, you weren’t aiming to be an actor since you were little.

Komatsu: That’s right. I didn’t watch anime much, and while I found plays fun, I never really longed [to be in] them. But then, when I lost in that competition, I thought that I wanted to do more, so I thought of being in plays as a profession.

Plays aside, what kind of child were you?

Komatsu: In a word I’d guess I’d say I “didn’t like losing”. I’ll do stuff this way ‘cuz I knew I’d regret it if I lost. But I think it was only with plays when I ended up being seriously regretful. Because when I lost in karate or in kendo tournaments, I was never regretful enough about losing to end up crying.

What was your hobby as a kid?

Komatsu: If we’re talking about hobbies, I tried out lots of them. When I was little everyone was into Pokemon, and since elementary I had been doing nothing but karate. In middle school, somehow I started doing kendo, and there was a time when I was playing guitar as part of a band. I did various stuff, but there’s not really something I got hooked on.

And then in the middle of all that, you got hooked on the play you saw in high school.

Komatsu: I found something I could take seriously, so I thought “this is it!”

You said you were surprised that HIROZ’s main focus was action, didn’t you?

Komatsu: I was surprised. But I got to make use of the karate I used to do, and I took advantage of my history doing kendo to somehow wield swords.

What made you end up thinking you should quit?

Komatsu: For the first one, two months, I’d thought I should have quit. But in those months I got to be part of a play, and got to be the main MC of the new parade in Kagawa named “NEW LEOMA WORLD” pretty quickly. We got to be gourmet reporters for RSK (Sanyo Broadcasting), and step by step, it felt rewarding.

No matter who chose it, I was always chosen for my “voice”. In that group whose main point was action, I was the “one in charge of having a good voice”, the “one responsible for MC”. From then on, I felt that “if it’s regarding voices, I could hold my own in battle.” But because I thought “if I want to take my voice seriously, I should decide on it properly and stop going about this half-baked,” I ended up quitting HIROZ so that I could study to be a voice actor.

I didn’t think I’d be needing my experience with action that quickly.

Even though he quit HIROZ to do battle with his voice, he was not able to join the world of voice acting immediately after. What kind of study did he do in order to be part of his current company?

Since you quit HIROZ and made the big decision to be a voice actor, did you have any difficulties?

Komatsu: I didn’t have the foundation of studying at a vocational school, and since I was around 23 years old when I quit HIROZ, to be honest I didn’t have the time to start school just then. I thought that there had to be a way for me to get into the scene earlier somehow, so I went into auditions.

And that audition was?

Komatsu: The Seiyuu Awards’ “Newcomer Discovery Audition”. If I passed that annual audition, depending on the company [that took me] I’d be able to be part of the school immediately, going into the training center as a special student, so I thought I’d like to go through that kind of shortcut.

The applications for that were such that if you didn’t have a recommendation, you’d go through general entry, right?

Komatsu: In the first year I tried, I applied through general entry and failed. Looking it up I found out that vocational schools and stuff gave out recommendations, too. Very few people get chosen through general entry. So, because the site called Koebu’s Internet-based voice actor school “MANAVO!” also gave out recommendations, I participated in its workshop, and through my results I got a recommendation.

Using previous knowledge, huh. What was the results of your audition?

Komatsu: Thankfully, I’d gotten a lot of offers from offices, and, after thinking it over, I decided to join Ken Production.

Taking the shortest possible route by your own power.

Komatsu: That ‘shortest route’ took me two years, though (lol) But I’d already done action in front of the public [as part of HIROZ], so I have courage that I could not lose to anyone when it came to public performances.

For that sake, you had to take roles that could appeal to your strengths, didn’t you.

Komatsu: That’s true. Since I had been in the public eye for three years, I was pretty good at appealing to people with my action [stunts].

So from that alone we already know you’re good with action, but how about dancing?

Komatsu: I was doing dances since I entered HIROZ. In that group, the frequency with which we did stages was amazing. We were doing around five stage performances a day, for all days of the year. Everyday from morning ‘til night, including a hero show and other things, we got to move our bodies a lot, so our quality as an action group was surprisingly high, as far as public performances were concerned.

It was a pretty packed schedule, wasn’t it?

Komatsu: I know around two to three years is a relatively short period, but I think the number of stage performances I’d been in was tremendous, because I’d been on stage every day.

That’s also how your life is now, though.

Komatsu: That’s right. Honestly, I didn’t expect to dance and do action [stunts] again after being a voice actor (lol)

Recently, more people have been wanting to become voice actors, after seeing those kind of performances.

Komatsu: That’s right, too. I didn’t watch anime much when I was a kid, and I don’t know much about the world of voice actors. I used action [stunts] as my self-appeal point, but I didn’t think I would be able to use it on stage that quickly.

In the second half, I asked him about what he felt about being at the actual scene [of voice actor work], and about his senpais. Also, the gaps in his everyday life are also revealed!

Article: Chiba Kenichi Photographer: Takenaka Tomoya Hair/Makeup: Nagaki Mizuho

The second part of this interview could be found here!

my translation index

one single tiny note: every time he says “action”, he means doing stunts and the like! i put the word “stunts” in brackets sometimes but prolly missed the other times he said it so here’s your blanket disclaimer lol

please do not redistribute this translation anywhere without permission and credit!

thanks for reading!

#seiyuu #komatsu shohei #idolm@ster side m #side m #days #nizista #interview #my translations #THIS BROKE MY HEART #i KNOW he's not the first drawn-out success story in this industry and definitely isn't the last #BUT STILL #HE GREW UP WELL #I AM SO PROUD OF HIM

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char27martin · 7 years ago

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The Screenwriter’s Toolbox: Two Techniques Novelists Can Borrow from Film When Writing Opening Scenes

Get ready for a bigger, better writing community. Writers Digest and ScriptMag will be merging into a single, fully redesigned website in 2018!

image from Getty | CSA Images/Printstock Collection

By Kes Trester

When I made the switch from feature film development executive to novelist, I discovered how much the two mediums have in common. For instance, when people ask about my former job, I describe it in publishing terms: I was an editor for screenwriters.

It also got me thinking: what other similarities are there between screenplays and books, and more importantly, what could I borrow from film that I could use in my writing? I realized there were a number of screenwriting tricks I could employ, including writing cinematically inspired opening scenes. Here are two of my favorite techniques.

ACTION OPENINGS

There is no faster way to pull an audience into a film than via an action opening, which is exactly what it sounds like. With a few quick shots to develop empathy for the character we’ll be following (we see him saying goodnight to coworkers, calling his wife to say he’ll pick up dinner up the way home—hey, he’s just like us!), we plunge him into physical jeopardy. Maybe he realizes he’s being followed, which accelerates into a life-or-death struggle when his pursuers attempt to drive him off a bridge.

If his name is James Bond (the most famous and consistent example of all action openings), we already understand the stakes; whatever he’s doing is in service to Queen and country, and he must succeed/survive. If he’s a stranger to us, his worthiness or duplicity may be revealed in how he responds. Maybe Mr. Average suddenly reveals hidden skills—driving abilities that turn the tables on his aggressors, or sliding a high-grade weapon out from under the dashboard—that makes us realize he’s not simply an unwitting pawn in a high-stakes game.

The same technique can be used in the opening pages of a novel of almost any genre. Maybe it opens on a young man dangerously weaving his bike through Manhattan traffic, doors thrown open in his path, a near miss with a horn-blaring truck, a pursuit by a dog who’s snapped his leash, only to have it end at the steps to his school/job/band practice. No, he’s not the hero of a spy novel, but you’ve kept your reading turning pages at breakneck speed while we also discover your character is bold, maybe reckless, perhaps chronically late to everything (which might be a set up for the inciting incident), etc.

[The Difference Between Science Fiction and Fantasy: What Every Screenwriter Needs to Know]

I used an action opening in the young adult, espionage romance thriller, A Dangeroue Year. As in a James Bond film, the five-page scene is the inciting event that triggers the rest of the story. In this case, the first few paragraphs also establishes setting and the building of stakes:

“Please, don’t let them take me!”

I knew enough Urdu to understand the girl’s desperate plea. The scrawny little thing clutching my arm was like any other twelve-year-old in the crowded Karachi marketplace, her hair covered with the traditional hijab headscarf, and her soft brown eyes wide with fear.

“It’s okay,” I said, betting she’d understand the tone if not the actual English words. My eyes darted about, attempting to pinpoint who or what was about to destroy the peace of a sweltering September afternoon. I’d heard enough horror stories to know if a young girl turned to an ambassador’s daughter for help, it had to be a matter of life or death.

INTRIGUE OPENINGS

When the first few minutes of a film result in the viewer wondering, “How did we get here?” it is known as an intrigue opening. Two of the most popular techniques used to achieve this are by opening with the conclusion or in medias res.

Saving Private Ryan is a famous example of a film opening with the ending. We all know how world events played out during World War II, but the moments we stumble through a veterans’ cemetery in the company of an elderly man are powerful. His emotion causes him to falter as he threads his way past headstones, the names engraved in marble not anonymous to him. Obviously he survived the war, so that isn’t the mystery we want resolved, but how did he survive when so many others died, and at what cost? Is he shedding tears of grief, guilt, or regret? These questions will cause a viewer (or the reader of your book) to sign up for the ride.

The Latin translation of in medias res is, literally, “into the middle things.” Forrest Gump successfully used this device by introducing the main character on a bus bench recounting how the shoes he’d worn over the years had brought him to this point in his life. It can also be combined with an action opening, as Amy Giles did in the upcoming novel Now Is Everything:

Emergency first responders scramble up and down the hill around me like ants, trying to see what can be salvaged. We’re on different frequencies. Theirs is manic and frenzied, searching for life, while I watch without seeing. What I escaped below eclipses everything. Blank eyes. A blood-soaked Cornell sweatshirt. Necks bent unnaturally. Angry fists of heat pounding at my back as I crawled away from the wreckage.

But the sky is a perfect crisp blue, like someone forgot to tell it to wipe that smug smile off its face.

No one survives a plane crash. I shouldn’t be here.

Whatever method you choose to open your book, remember to always leave your reader asking, “…and then what happened??”

A native of Los Angeles, Kes Trester has worked in Hollywood as a feature film development executive, then later a producer and head of production. In an attempt to raise kids who could actually pick their mom out of a line up, Kes now writes fulltime. Her contemporary novels for young adults are cinematic, fast-paced, and above all, fun. Her debut novel, A Dangerous Year, follows 17-year-old Riley Collins, daughter of a U.S. Ambassador, as she takes on her toughest mission yet: high school. Connect with her at kestrester.com.

Writer’s Digest Digital Archive Collection: Heroes of Horror & Suspense

For nearly 100 years, Writer’s Digest magazine has been the leading authority for writers of all genres and career levels. And now, for the first time ever, we’ve digitized decades of issues from our prestigious archives to share with the world. In this archive collection, discover five full issues from our vault, each of which includes exclusive historic interviews and columns from Stephen King, Anne Rice, Mary Higgins Clark and more. Get it here.

The post The Screenwriter’s Toolbox: Two Techniques Novelists Can Borrow from Film When Writing Opening Scenes appeared first on WritersDigest.com.

from Writing Editor Blogs – WritersDigest.com http://www.writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/there-are-no-rules/craft-technique/screenwriting-toolbox-writing-techniques-writing-opening-scenes-books-film

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hobicomeholla29 · 4 years ago

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Shatter - Part 1 - JHS

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Angst/ Romance/ Fluff in the future

Word Count:3.9k

Warnings: Mentions of death/Mentions of wars/Mentions(hints) of depression/Mourning

Rating: PG13

That being said, This is a 2 shot! Please look forward to part 2!

Summary: In a post-apocalyptic world, where humankind’s greed has lead plannet earth to turn into a ball of duts, all Hoseok wants is a better and bright future, yet strong feelings and a positive mind doesn’t always cut it.

Masterlist

The early morning sky was filled with an eerie fog that threatened to smother anyone who didn’t wear the appropriate attire for being outdoors.

You stood straight; hands balled in tight fists. A mixture of emotions running through your body. Sadness, anger, helplessness, fear…

You were the only ones standing in the middle of the empty field, no one else daring to stand still and be surrounded by the suffocating drafts of air that carried large amounts of toxins --a consequence of humankind utilizing nuclear weapons in the past.

Most parts of the beautiful earth that once existed were now wastelands, all thanks to what was called The Colossal War.

Civilization was anything but civilized after that, creating division and animosity between groups of people with different ideals.

During the long solars that came and went after The Colossal War, much had changed.

Technology, communication, transportation, settlements.

It had all changed, but you really couldn't say it was all for good.

Technology had turned obsolete at a steady pace, leaving only a few gadgets that were still able to function without being saturated or losing signal without proper cell towers.

Most of them had been vandalized or burned to ashes, mostly to steal copper from the area.

The only remaining signal towers were those of glass recorders.

A glass recorder was the device that kept track of a person’s life.

Since The Colossal War in 3010, civil wars had been blowing up everywhere. Causing inconvenience in simple tasks like having troops return to a fallen soldier's clan to inform their family about their passing.

A simple duty as this one might have worked back in 2020 but not in 3011.

If troops were sent back, they were at risk of running into an enemy faction and breaking into another battle.

Hence, in 3015, glass recorders were created.

Usually their sizes were similar to that of an old cellphone.

All of that information, including marital status, first degree relatives, occupation, date of birth and allergies could be found on information mode.

On vitals, details were given about their current health status and the sound of their heartbeat could be played.

And finally on hologram mode, you could see a three-dimensional scale of the owner’s body, making it easier to check for injuries or if any internal damage had been taken.

Besides glass recorders, communication had jumped back to messaging via written letters or oral messages sent via a messenger.

Any vehicles that had existed on the face of earth, had been overhauled.

Updated to cater to the usage it now provided to the arid ground.

Motorcycles, cars, buses, trucks and ships, all modified.

As for yourself, you lived in a colony that had been forced to be part of one of the major 4 clans, The Jeon Clan.

That's how your small clan ended up under their command.

Meaning some stories were wonderful, while others were resentful memories and stories of how their clans had been forced to change their ways or how they had lost loved ones to the Jeon reign.

You were only 7 when it all happened.

You remember it so clearly, it felt like you were reliving it each time.

You stood in the middle of the large hangar, eyes searching left and right for your father.

Men and women ran all around, either towards shelter or towards the battle zone.

A military truck's engine roared in the background, yet you couldn't figure out which of the twenty something trucks near you had been brought to life.

You frantically ran in the opposite direction. You needed to find him, you needed to convince him not to go.

Running as fast as your short legs could take you, you tightly held on to the glass recorder in your hand.

Tears started prickling your eyes the longer it went without you being able to find him.

Two NSTV vehicles sped past you, swiftly followed by a caravan of men on choppers, armed to the teeth.

Luckily none of them seemed to be your father.

You were getting desperate.

All he had done was left a note on your bed with his glass recorder.

"My beautiful cyberflower, I love you so much. And because I love you, I must defend you. Papa might not be back for a while, but he will make sure that if he doesn't come back at all, it is because he was able to create a better place for you to live in."

He promised he would never go, that he would stay no matter what.

That he wouldn't do the same thing your mom did.

Leaving you behind was never the solution. You preferred having them both and figuring everything else out later than having none of them and still being lost.

Why was it so easy for them to leave you behind…?

You didn't notice you had dropped to your knees, you didn't notice the tears that cascaded from your face and you certainly didn't notice how your mourning wail had halted all activities under the hangar.

They felt the grief and pain of having to put their lives on the line to give their loved ones a better future.

A future that should have been granted to them, but the Jeons thought differently.

Yet, your clearest memory from that day was the tight embrace that pulled you out of your dazed state.

The embrace that told you that even if everything didn't turn out as you wanted, he would be there to walk you through it.

He would be there with that bright smile of his that cleared away all of your cloudy days.

A rundown metallic shed stood at a distance, it was probably used in the past by troops as a hideout, yet for several solars it had been a place you used for solace.

"I must go, and you must stay.”

You knew you had heard word of people in the colony joining forces with others near you, to topple the Jeon clan.

Nonetheless, you figured it was just tittle-tattle.

Yet here you are standing in the middle of the building, right in front of your lover, who is spewing the same nonsense your father did so many solara ago.

"Is this a joke? 'Cause I'm not laughing..."

You saw his hands clenched into fists in annoyance, he tried holding in his feelings, yet the frustrated sigh that left his lips sold him out quickly.

"I can't stay here on my own. You can’t leave me just like that." You were distraught. Your eyes searched for his, yet his gaze remained on the door you had used moments ago to enter the shed.

You needed to bring his mind back to you, to the present where you both still remained, you needed to keep him away from thoughts of the unknown future and the doom that could be.

Why was he trying to be person number three on your mourning list?

Your eyes remained on his, yet your fingers occupied themselves trying to find his glove-covered ones, the action making him look down at your entwined fingers.

Maybe he no longer wanted this, maybe you were too much, maybe that promise he made solars ago about walking the path with you was too heavy and too much of a burden...

"You must stay, for me,” He said, “and for them." His eyes dropped to your stomach, his free hand caressing the bump that had started forming not long ago.

"Hoseok...please..." You had to try at least one more time. If he still was that warrior at heart that you had once met, then he was certain to leave even with you crying rivers.

"I must go, my love. I have to be a part of this fight that will give our family the freedom that they deserve. The freedom that WE deserve." His eyes glossed over, yet not one tear abandoned his eye. He was sure of his decision and nothing could stop him now.

"You don't have to... A lot of men are already there."

"And I am sure they also have families and other reasons to be there. I will lend them a hand and they shall lend me one. We will fight for a better life and world, a better place to raise our offspring, a better place to grow old." At this point in conversation, his eyes are boring into yours, yet there is no anger towards you. Only love, strong, heated, unwavering, caring and passionate love. There was certainly no way for you to fight against that.

For a split second, his eyes left yours, and you followed the movements of his left hand. Carefully, he pushed his hand into his pocket, retrieving a device that you were very familiar with.

His glass recorder.

"I- I can’t."

"It's the only way for you to know my status... and if it ever comes to worse, you'll know not to wait for me any longer." He said as he placed it in your hand.

"Please stop talking like you are a dead man already!"

"Y/n-" You interrupted him mid-sentence. You were blabbing now. All your thoughts and fears spilling out at once.

"No! I don’t want to hear it! I don’t want you to go! I want you here with me, with our babies. If you tell the Chief he will let you stay. We are expecting! I can’t lose you; you are walking to your grav-"

"Y/N!" His sudden yell made you flinch, but nonetheless, you looked him in the eyes, only to find them filled with tears. Filled with fear but determination as well.

He was always like this, a young man with a mission. Fire in his eyes, determined to make this world a better place, even if it scared him to the core. He always said...

"There is no better way to deal with fear than to walk right over it..." Those stupid words he repeated everyday since you were 7. "This is me walking all over it. This is me putting you -putting them over my fear of what may be."

"I love you."

"And I love you, my beautiful cyberflower." His hand grabbed yours, slowly bringing each one of them to his face and kissing your knuckles and palms softly.

"I'll always return to you."

And so, you watched him ride his chopper towards the horizon.

His silhouette quickly disappeared in the darkness of the night.

Even though the light of the moon shone brightly, it felt dark around you, as if your clouds had returned with the sole departure of his bright smile.

Your hand squeezed the device he left behind, your grip getting stronger the further he drove and now you really wondered, "How is it so easy for everyone to leave me behind?"

150 solars and 149 lunars went by, yet nothing had changed.

Since the day Hoseok had left, your days consisted of nothing but worrying, eating, and visiting the shed.

An old steel bench was set outside of the old metallic building and just like any other day you'd visited, you sat on the edge of it, contemplating life and hoping today was the day Hoseok would return to you as he had promised.

As time flew by, you added this day to the list of other ones where your lover didn't return and although you tried to remain as positive as possible, you couldn't stop thinking about why life was so cruel? Why did any of you have to live through this? It certainly wasn't fair. No one deserved to be forced to choose death if they didn't choose what someone else wanted.

Since your great-grandparents' days, the future was supposed to be glorious, beautiful, and bright. Technology was supposed to make everything better. But somehow it all turned to worse.

Pride, arrogance, and selfishness had created the horrible world that you now lived in.

People lost their lives as an exchange for a promise they never received.

They fought battles to free people who were slaves to their own fears and now this was the consequence of all that was done. What a sad life to live. What a horrible life to live.

You rubbed your stomach feeling your bump as it continued to grow. Time doesn’t stop for anyone, is what they say and your clear example is how close you are to being due.

The walk back to your clan’s colony was an easy 10-minute walk that could turn mortal if taken while distracted, hence you carried a machete in your boot.

Once you set foot on your colony's official territory, you swiftly made your way to your family home capsule, ready to wash off the sorrow and go to bed as you would wait for the next solar to come.

Sadly for you, that hope disappeared the second you made eye contact with someone you didn't wish to see at the moment.

His eyes caught yours and you saw a mix of emotions: sorrow, understanding, relief and worry, all conveyed to you in a single glance.

You knew what was to come, it was always the same dialogue, but you didn't want to do this today.

Today you felt drowned, disappointed, you could feel that dark cloud that loomed over your head enlarging day by day.

"You know it’s not s—”

“Save it, Namjoon. I’m not a chil—"

“—But you are a carrying woman, who is walking carelessly to a place where no one can or will follow you.”

“I am not carele—"

“Y/N, shut up for once and put this through your thick skull!! Hendra is enemy territory!!”

And with that he left to his own family capsule, stomping all the way to the door and slamming it closed.

For the first time, you felt different and maybe it had something to do with the fact that Namjoon and your argument didn't end in the usual monotonous sermon he always gave you, where he remained calm all the way and you rolled your eyes in annoyance.

The funny part about the entire thing was that you were cousins, and your family capsules were right beside each other, so you were sure you'd have to see his sour expression the following day.

Finally in your own capsule - the one you used to share with Hoseok, you took that shower that you daydreamed about and headed to your room.

Just like every night, you muted your room to the outside world, opting to listen to the broadcast of your beloved’s heartbeat.

It was the only thing that helped you sleep at night and somehow you felt as if it pacified the two progenies in you.

You didn't know when or how it happened, but eventually 365 solars had gone by.

365 solars since the day of his departure and you weren't getting any better at being without him.

You were now a mother of two. A dawn and a dusk. One born in the early morning and one almost 12 hours later.

So, you gave them names that matched their arrivals to this world, Dawn and Dusk.

Their faces were the perfect mix of your deoxyribonucleic acid and his. Two different beings creating harmony in the body of two newer ones.

Another 365 solars went by.

You still listened to Hoseok’s heartbeats every night. The glass recorder remaining as your sole companion in addition to your —now— toddlers.

You shifted on the foam mattress that only reminded you more of him. A very faint and almost gone notion of his scent wafting up from what used to be his pillow.

From afar you watched the two small bodies –lying on the second mattress in your room— inhale and exhale deep in their slumber.

They had —just like you— fallen asleep to the beat of the heart of a stranger you placed in front of them and made them call him father.

You loved them, every bit of them. Would do anything for them not to suffer, and maybe just then, in that moment, you understood a bit of Hoseok’s reasoning.

THE GLASS RECORDER WASN’T BEATING!

Violently, you pulled the sheets off your body, grabbing the device as soon as your hands were close enough to grab it.

“Why are you not beating? Why are you not broadcasting? What the fu—”

And it hit you like a train… but you didn’t believe it, you couldn’t believe it.

You shook it and twisted the knob and switched it to hologram mode, but it wasn’t working and you didn’t know what to do, your hands were shaking, your thoughts were jumbled…

“This can’t be happening.”

And when a fake solar illuminated your mind, you quickly turned around to plug it in to your old computer, however, the universe had other plans for you and without announcement the device cracked.

You watched it crack little by little, extending all around the recorder, slowly marking the beautiful device with horrible lines that marked its ending, it didn't stop until it was no longer graspable and all that was left behind was crystal dust in your cupped hands.

You didn’t hear when Namjoon and his wife entered your room or when your kids were taken out of there. Your sobs alerting 3 capsules nearby of the sorrowful occurrence of the night.

It was the worst type of Deja Vu, because just like your mother and father, you’d never see him again…

“Hoseok…”

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