#the amount of world building they added is sometimes so overlooked

[soapy-soartp]

Day 4 of @whumperless-whump-event

Day: 4 - IT'S EVERY DAY BRO

Prompt: Chronic pain / Massage / "I'm used to it." - Lan Zhan’s old injuries acting up, his husband offers him a message

Fandom: MDZS

Characters: Wie Ying/Lan Zhan

Sometimes, when he thinks back he remembers. How much he wanted it all to stop, to end.

The pain was too much and if he just… let go it, it would all end too. It would've been all too easy to let go, to let himself fester and rot. He regrets so much… he failed him.

But…

He is still here and he can't just do nothing while the world continues to be a place that hunted and killed his zhiji. And he’ll have to care for A-yuan, and the rest of Gusu Lan’s junior disciples; they're struggling enough as is because of the war.

So here Hanguang Jun sits, as the chief cultivator sitting at his writing desk. Posture perfect and movements elegant as he reads, signs, and writes all kinds of important documents and letters.

Overlooking a complaint here, approving a proposal there, asking for a suitable setting for an event… and much much more work.

Lan Wangji may like his peace and quiet but the piled up paperwork has gotten so bad that he’s had to spend days trying to clear everything. It’s gotten him extremely restless, annoyed, and just tired of reading and writing and signing.

He’d like to go join his husband and the juniors on one of the many night hunts they've been embarking on. Besides Wei Ying has been gone for half a week and all this sitting up with little to no movement is making his body ache.

Though the mundanity of paper work and the pain in his body is momentarily forgotten when a pair of arms wrap around him from behind.

“Lan Er Gege! Your A-Ying is back!” Was said in lieu of a proper greeting yet the voice of the other was enough to make him smile and put down his brush.

The hold his Wei Ying has on him is comforting and grounding, so really who can blame him if he decided to shift ever so closer and let himself slump just slightly, letting go of his perfect posture, against the one holding him.

Lan Wangji lets out a soft sigh of relief feeling the solid body againsts him and holding the arms that wrap around his torso is very relaxing after all those hours of sitting and paperwork. Still despite the relaxed atmosphere he vaguely hears Wei Ying make a discontented noise while nuzzling at the back of his neck.

“Lan Zhaaann~” His husband whines into his ear, “I thought we agreed that you’d take breaks when you were doing paperwork like this. Sitting still for so long isn't good for you!”

“Used to it…”

“Hmph, well that's why I’m here! To help remind my husband to take breaks!”

“Mn.” He looks away, only the tiniest bit embarrassed and guilt.

He didn’t want to just do nothing while Wei Ying was away but he’s been feeling the pain of his body much more than usual. So he wasn't able to accompany them on their night hunt, adding to that the growing amount of paperwork and well what he had to do seemed clear.

“Well I think Hanguang Jun is required to take a break now, for the rest of the day! It's the rules, remember?” Wei Ying says cheekily while pressing soft kisses into his husband's neck.

Said husband hums, content to allow Wei Ying rattle on about taking care of himself while being led to their bedroom, while they both slowly lose more layers until they are left sitting on their bed in just their inner robes.

Wei Ying is still sitting behind him like a warm, solid wall to lean on and he finds himself leaning into that wall more as his husband combs through his hair. He carefully removes the intricate styling and pins that held it together, easing the pressure Lan Zhan didn't even realize was building.

Then runs his hand through it all, after he places a kiss right in between Lan Zhan’s shoulder blades and asks him, “Do you want me to run you a hot bath?”

A slow shake of his head and a soft exhale, that almost sounded like a wince.

“Later, just want Wie Ying now.”

“Ah Lan Zhaann! Alright, how could I refuse such a request” Wei Ying replies cheerful but still mindful of his volume, “buuttt I still want to do something for my Lan Er Gege so… come here, lay on your stomach for me?”

He wordlessly obeys his husband's request. Wei Ying reaches over to one of their bedside tables to grab some oil and the bed dips as he shifts around to remove his own and Lan Zhan’s inner robes.

Once they're both bare he feels himself tense for a moment as he hears his husband’s quiet sad sigh and feel the featherlight touch glide over his scarred back.

“Wei Ying, not your fault.” He reassures quickly.

But his husband remains silent and the only noise heard within the room is a sigh and the opening of the oil container, then Wei Ying is carefully spreading the oil on his back and legs.

Then finally, “I know, A-Zhan, but it doesn't make me feel less bad about it…”

“Mn. Wei Ying’s here now, making it better.” He replied honestly.

“Aiya! Lan Zhan! Warn a man before you say such earnest and sweet things, this one cant take it!” Though still cheerfully said, the undercurrent of somber regret and hurt surrounding their past will always get through the cracks in these moments.

Then before he or his husband could get lost in the memories of the past, Wei Ying’s hands are on him and he can’t help the noise he makes. It makes his ears burn but it made his Wei Ying chuckle lightly so it was worth it.

Methodically his husband begins to knead into Lan Zhan’s sore and stiff muscles and soon enough he’s melting into the bed. His Wei Ying’s hands on him and his voice in his ear is enough for Lan Zhan to surrender completely to the calming and comforting presence of his zhiji.

When Wei Ying finishes kneading through and unknotting his husband’s sore muscles he finds his love peacefully asleep. He can't help but stare in awe, Lan Zhan’s always looked pretty but he’s prettier at this very moment; soft and relaxed and happy. The sight makes his heart swell.

Wei Ying yawns and pulls his husband close, spooning him as they sleep blissfully in eachother hold.

[honkhonkrichard]

Theory: Stanley Uris was Murdered.

Tagging @vvanini I hope you can follow this okay it’s very word vomity lol

Okay So TW because this post will touch on Stan's death ad the methods behind it

I propose that Stan Uris was murdered. by IT. In his home on that fateful night. I think that Stan posed the biggest threat to IT and therefore IT felt the need to take him out before the battle even started.

Allow me to explain.

Okay, so, I need to lay out some basic "rules" or "facts" before I make my case. They are as follows.

- IT planted it's roots in Derry, and finds it difficult to leave, but still can at it’s own wil.  If you read the book (I honestly don't blame you if you haven't) You'd know that once the Losers kill IT for the final time, Derry (the Physical town) is obliterated. Buildings explode, sinkholes appear, things are flooded. The town is in ruins by the time that the Losers leave the sewers. The movies don't adapt this so If this is news to you thats fine. the bottom line is that destroying IT destroys Derry, like ripping a tree out of the ground with all it's roots. Because of this, we can make the claim that while it can Leave Derry (as it does every 27 years) it probably takes tremandous amount of power to do so, which is why IT only goes when the cycle is over. Why does this matter? Well, what if IT left Derry to get to Stan? The murders had stopped for about a week when they're all in the Jade of the Orient. Plenty of time for IT to cross from Maine to Georgia. Side Note: We KNOW IT leaevs Maine to elsewhere in the world because of King's extended universe all interconnecting. it's not far off at all to make the claim that IT is the same evil that haunts, say The Shining's Overlook Hotel, which is in Colarado.

- IT is omnipresent This is also a given, IT lives everywhere, and can fuck with time and space in godlike (or maybe eldritch like) ways. in IT: Chapter Two, when Mike claims "IT Doesn't know I know what I know" he's unfortunately wrong, because we know that IT can be in A) Multiple places at once, B) can manipulate anything on the drop of a hat (See: Stan being teleported away from everyone else in Chapter One, Everything about Neibolt, etc) and C) Knows everyone's deep fears. This is further proven by IT Saying things like "Beep Beep Richie" (although this is Horribly Horribly executed in the films, ugh.) and so on and so forth. On top of all of this, We can make the claim that IT can exist outside of Time as well, given that IT is immortal. SO, what's stopping IT from Knowing Mike was going to call them all back (Espically considering that IT TOLD Mike to do this?). Even if we keep IT's omnipresence to the location that IT inhabits (in this case Derry) IT would still have knowledge of where the losers are through Mike. And if you take the Lucky Seven/Chosen Seven route (oh my god I got theories on that too) you could argue IT knows where they are inherently due to their cosmic status.

- Stan is the "most Powerful" loser So, obviously all the Loser's are powerful, espically considering they're the ones who Defeat IT (Again going on to the Lucky/Chosen Seven theory). This next claim is going to be less focused on what the 2019/2017 Movies do because they are Bad Movies and that's a whole other rant. However, in the book, Stan is (to my knowledge feel free to correct me on any of this) the only loser to Actively ward off and 'defeat' IT on his own without running away. He uses his belief in this what is Real (birds) to ward off what is "not real" (IT). The other losers do manage to take down IT in their own Right, but Stan is ultimately the one to Really get IT. This is because Stan's character revolves around Belief and Willpower. These are, in some form or another, the ways to Defeat IT. the ritual of Chud is a battle of Wills. in the book, Bill takes IT down and Eddie does the final blow. In the Remake (ugh) the losers can defeat it Technically using the belief that IT isn't as powerful as it claims because IT's "just a clown" (Ihatethatfuckingendingsomuchugh). Stan being much more skeptical than the rest of the group in his ability to understand Reality vs IT's illusions is a powermove, and IT knows that ability doesn't go away as Stan grows up, but rather he gets more powerful. Stan is the Only loser out of the 6 who left that has any sort of knowledge about IT, where the other losers have nothing. Bev has nightmares, yes, but she still forgets them. We're told in his chapter (Chapter 3, Six Phone Calls (1985), Part One: Stanley Uris Takes a Bath) that he has some hazy knowledge of his place in the Lucky Seven, and even goes so far as to MENTION it sometimes, even if he doesn't quite remember or understand any of it, his knowledge of IT and Derry is worlds more prominent than that of the rest of the losers.

(page 52 of IT:  "Stanley, nothing's wrong with your life!"  "I don't mean from inside." he said. "From inside is fine. I'm talking about outside. Something that should be over and isn't. I wake up frmo these dreams and think, 'My whole pleasent life has been nothing but the eye of some storm I don't understand.' I'm afraid. But then it just... fades. The way dreams do." OR  page 45: He had been smiling a little. Now the smile faltered, and for a moment he seemed puzzled. His eyes had darkened, as if he looked inward, consulting some interior device which ticked and whirred correctly but which, ultimately he understood no more than the average man understands the workings of the watch on his wrist. "The turtle couldn't help us," he said suddenly. he said that quite clearly.)

So, Stan has some cosmic knowledge of IT and Maturin and his role in the battle against It. What does any of this have to do with his death? Well, let me point out some other things about Stan's death that always stuck out to me. - His death chapter is narrated by his wife, Patty, rather than himself. The other chapters - almost all the other chapters - are narrated by their respective Loser (the caviot for this is Ben, but Ben is also wasted out of his damn mind so its understandable.) - Stan's personality is few and far between in the book, but we know he has a weird little sense of humour and that he's incredibly logical. I think that this logical part of him would be able to understand that Suicide is Never Ever the answer, and that it would cause FAR more problems than it would solve. (the 2019 movie tries to reexplain his death and it's crap and i hate the letters i hate the letters so much im gonna explode) The other losers try to rationalize his death by saying "He would rather Die Clean than Live Dirty (Page 506, Chapter 10, The Reunion, part 3, 'Ben Hanscom Gets Skinny') but he had already BEEN Dirty when he defeated IT the first time, and I think he would've recognized that. - upon finding him, Patty (in her narration) notes that Stan's head is bent back over the edge of the bathtub, so from his sight she would have been upside down. If Stan DID kill himself, why would he be positioned like that? It's unnatural, like someone Posed him. - the cuts on his arms are two length wise cuts. I'm no expert but.. that's suspicious. That's weird. - IT is written in blood on the wall. Why? Why would Stan right THAT of all things? You know who DOES like to paint with blood? IT.

Alright, returning to my thesis statement, Stanley Uris was murdered. Do I think Stan genuinely was going to take a bath at 7pm (which we're told is weird for him)? Yes. I think that's absolutely a thing he could have done or planned to do. Do I think he slit his wrists and commited suicide so he wouldn't go back to Derry? No. Not even remotely.

Let me paint a New Picture.

It's May 28th, 2016, or 1985. Stanley Uris gets a call from Mike Hanlon. Stan is incredibly hesitant to go to, and says he needs time to think about it. Or tht he'll try. He can feel the starts of a Panic attack, and as he's remembering the circles of Hell he went through as a child, he tries to hold himself together. He doesn't want his darling wife to see his break, so he says "I think I'll take a bath" and nothing else before going upstairs. he hides in the bathroom. He closes and locks the door, because, well, he's panicking. Locking doors is one of The Small things he does. Is it usually the bathroom door? no, but still (OCD is a bitch, and even with medication, but this is a special case). He looks in the mirror and tries to breathe. This is fine. He can do this. They killed IT once before and they can do it again. He thinks about his younger self, the promises made, and how he could explain all of this Patty in time to catch a flight to Maine. It's terrifying, but if his friends are going to bite the dust, he wants to be there with them, wedding vows be Damned. Then he looks at his reflection again. A younger, rotted version of himself stares back at him. IT crawls through the mirror. Stan freaks out, obviously. This isn't real. This Can't be real. But IT utilizes this notion against him. It digs it's claws into his arms, and forces him to bleed out in the bathtub. IT then sets the scene nicely. Razorblades on the counter, a bloody signature on the wall, a horrible posture of Stan's neck. So on and So forth. and then IT returns to Derry. IT's a little weak, yeah, but Stan is dead. That's what matters. the Lucky Seven has now Officially broken, and the balance shifts in favour of the clown.

So that's the theory. feel free to correct me on anything or engage I have plenty of theories on this story and I like discussing this stuff :).

[creativeashproductions]

Welcome to Our Hell // Charlie Gillespie

IN WHICH: Charlie asks the reader a simple question that leads the man to fall down a rabbit hole of reading. Despite the panic you felt along with your fellow writers you still introduced and helped him navigate the pool of fanfiction.

Warnings: None (it’s actually possible with me??)

Words: 1k

A/N: I couldn’t resist making a tiny blurb about the revelation that Charlie has read fanfiction, that he enjoyed reading it. I actually talked about how Owen and Charlie would react to jatp fanfiction so sorry for manifesting 😬

ALL FICS MENTIONED ARE TAGGED.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!

Masterlist

Your eyes slightly glanced up from your computer to where a certain someone was humming along to an Eagles song. His hips swayed as he slipped the egg in the pan, unaware of your eyes following him. He was entirely in his own world while he left you to finish up what he was led to believe was just school work.

The innate cheerful aura the male gave off regardless of the landscape had always been one of your favourite things about him. He saw the joy and good in things most people tended to overlook. It didn’t matter if he had his guitar in his hands or a cooking tool; he’d shoot that smile that melted your heart.

“Whatcha doin’?” Charlie questioned, peering over the island in the apartment you had rented in the city.

“Just doing some work.” You replied, beginning to type once more with a sudden burst of inspiration. You barely noticed he had slid the egg onto the plate before he was at your side.

“Are you writing for Tumblr?”

That one sentence froze you. Fingers stiffened above the well-loved keyboard of your computer you’d invested a fair amount of money on. Goosebumps swarmed every inch of your skin that suddenly lost a few shades.

Your skittish gaze found purchase in the warm ocean of hazel that bore no judgment, “Did you just say Tumblr? H-how do you know Tumblr Charlie?”

The Canadian hummed in response with a thoughtful expression, “I saw this really cool artwork, and it had a link. I followed it to Tumblr. It’s such a cool site.”

“It’s a hell site.” You deadpanned at the young actor who held no contempt for the different creativity methods unleashed in the fandom. Your e/c irises stayed stuck in a battle of colour with his own eyes.

“If it’s a hell site, why do you go on it?”

“It’s like a car crash or a burning building. It’s horrifying, but you stay to see which outcome ends up winning.” You had to carefully find the words to eloquently describe why you kept returning to a site that was frustrating at times.

“There’s so much diversity from songs, traditional art, poems, dances, covers and now writing. It’s insane.” Charlie chucked as he nudged the plate of breakfast he’d cooked for you, “I’m really digging the ‘90s Lalex books-”

“Fanfics. Fics for short.” You offered the man who held a slight expression of confusion that quickly cleared up, “And the writing has been going on since the series dropped. I’d be rich for every fic that referenced Luke’s aversion to sleeves.”

The boisterous laugh filled the room as Charlie hunched over. His arms wrapped around his midsection.

“Don’t you find it weird that there are fics about you?”

“Weird?” Charlie spoke, scrunching up his nose adorably. His hazel eyes lightened further, “Y/N, I’m not weirded out. I’m honoured that I made enough impact to have people writing about me.”

A small smile broke across your face, “You totally have a secret account, don’t you?”

“No. NO.” The whisper come in the dark of the bedroom where both sides of the couple should be sleeping. You had been before Charlie whined with his phone attached to his hand.

“Baby?” You groaned, turning to find him still invested in the world of fanfiction. His hazel eyes, tear-filled, raised to meet yours, “What are you doing up at-3am?”

“I just finished reading this adorable fic about Willex. The euphoria had me reading the next fic without reading the summary.” Charlie cried to the bedside light you’d turned when his sniffles woke you up. The near distraught man didn’t fight as you gently took his face out of his hand.

“Oh, Char.” You hummed, bringing the brunette into your arms as he mourned whatever was in the fic.

“Luke died with his girlfriend waiting in the Orpheum. She lived and began a life with Bobby..er Trevor.” Charlie whispered against the soft comforter you’d only recently bought, “They never got to say goodbye. As Luke’s portrayer, I just know the double betrayal took him to his knees.”

“Ah, you found @losttinwritings​ ‘See you Again’. That one is a doozy.” You winced, remembering the heartbreaker, “You, however, need sleep.”

Charlie’s eyes quickly met the phone sitting in between you two, “But-”

“Here.” You handed over your own phone after clicking your secondary account, “It’s one of my all-time comfort fics when I’m feeling sad. @dream-a-little-bigger-x​ always nails it out of the park but ‘Love Shack’? Immaculate.”

Charlie’s eyes flickered between the phone in his hand to your eyes twinkling in the albeit shitty lighting the cheap lamp offered. The vulnerability in your eyes at offering your blog took his breath away. This was a place where you were safe in your thoughts with no judgment.

“Oh! And @cherrymaybank​ created ‘A Romantic’. A beautiful story in the eyes of a hopeless romantic Luke and the stoic, independent reader.” You offered with a grin and sigh of happiness, “I’ll have to start tagging you in the ones I adore. Definitely gonna introduce you to @merceret​’s work; it’s always amazing regardless of how long the fic is or the distance between work. I’d wait a thousand years for her.”

Charlie’s lips spread to reveal that smile that always had you falling back in love over and over again. It even eased the panic you felt viewing Charlie’s rather honest confession he put on his Insta story. He’d caused panic within the writing community as he boldly announced his pride, awe, joy and love for all the fandom provided creatively. 

Next thing you knew, you’d started sending each other fics you’d think the other would enjoy; it often ended up with the same fic being sent. Charlie didn’t address the topic publicly to allow the buzz of panic to die down. He also never discovered your personal writing blog either, well, that you knew about.

Sometimes you’d find him sniffling over a story where Luke discovers his girlfriend was unknowingly pregnant and never got to see him child grow up. That one also tore your heart apart and you’d been the one to write it. Just a secret you’d be taking to your grave.

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[kessielrg]

[Kingdom Hearts] Old Habits, New Reasons

Summary: Three times in which Namine shies away from social functions just to draw, and the one time someone joined her. [oneshot][character study][NamiXi if you really wanna squint][also Namiku if you squint a little less]

Rating: K

Word Count: 3,469 words

If you liked this story, please reblog!

---

Their question had thrown Namine off slightly. She sheepishly looked down at her small sketchbook as if it could answer the question for her. The white page stared back at her in silence.

A part of Namine knew this would happen eventually. There was always that fear that someone would follow her, ask her what she was doing, and then tell her to rejoin the others. But that wasn't what they were asking, was it? They wanted to know why she was drawing. It was a simple question, and it was a bit odd that someone would have lugged a caboodle of art supplies with them to a banquet.

"Well?" the other girl asked. "Is there someone who would get mad you're drawing, even if you did it around your friends?"

"I don't think so." Namine decided, slowly. "But sometimes... it's just easier to draw without other people around you. And sometimes, when people find out that you're good at something, they make you do that something for them. It's not very fun."

"Do you always leave to draw, though?"

At first, Namine wanted to disagree with all her heart. But in introspection, it was more of a vice than she cared to admit. She loved drawing, but didn't like others watching her as she did it. When did that happen, she wondered. That didn't used to be the case...

"Sometimes." Namine finally said. She held her sketchbook a bit tighter before adding, "But only on certain occasions."

"Like?"

Namine looked over at the other girl with curiosity. She was greeted with a look just as inquisitive as her own. Maybe even more so. There was a genuine interest; that much was certain. Maybe there was a budding artist in their midst?

"Well..." she carefully said, moving her sketchbook a bit to flip through the earlier pages, "There was this one time..."

. . .

It was a small comfort that, while she wasn't a Keyblade wielder herself, the others considered her when they all got together. She still made sure that her presence didn't disturb anyone. Being quiet and observant was Namine's most reliable vice. That, and drawing. There wasn't much else she knew how to do. Her time as a Nobody barely ranged a year, and after that she was placed safely inside Kairi's heart until recently. Being a Somebody was... confusing, to say the least.

Being asked to join in on a slumber party with Kairi and Xion had been a surprise- perhaps even more so because Master Aqua herself gave her the invitation. Namine certainly didn't expect it to take place in the Land of Departure either. The world seemed far too grand to her -far too important in the history of Keyblade wielders- that it could be used for anything beyond a training arena. She was proven wrong after entering the Great Hall with Kairi. Aqua had given them a spot in front of the thrones, already decorated with sleeping bags for all four of them and a small assortment of snacks.

"I've never got to have a proper slumber party before, since it was me and Terra for most of our childhoods." Aqua admitted at some point. "Feels weird having one with you guys now. I feel like a mom."

It was Xion who, without skipping a beat, cheerfully declared, "And you're the best one I'll never have!"

"Xion!" both Aqua and Kairi declared, each with their own level of bewilderment. Namine only offered a stifled laugh. So proud at their reactions, Xion gave them all a smile so big, it almost rivaled Sora's.

After that, they started to talk about various things since they all met together. Apparently everyone's training was going rather well. Kairi was beginning to get a handle of second tier elemental magic, while Xion was working on personal techniques on and off for the past week. It was around this time that Namine politely excused herself from the others. They had been so caught up in their conversation that they didn't even notice.

Namine went to where she and Kairi had placed their personal things to find her caboodle. The caboodle was a neat little box with drawers that opened the same time she opened the lid. She was able to put all her art supplies in it. Most of them, anyway- her normal sketchbook was too large to fit. Instead, she used a smaller pad that was placed where the mirror in the caboodle was. Once Namine made sure she had everything, she carefully found a spot far enough away from the others so she could draw them. It honestly wasn't very far, but it was still far enough away that the other three didn't really notice her. That was fine. If anything, it was perfect.

The sounds of the others almost masked the sound of her pencil against paper. Spending most of her life locked away with nothing but drawing to distract her gave Namine a slight skill in speed drawing. However, she took her time when she started to work on her friends. She wanted as much detail as she could.

But she didn't bother to sketch her own sleeping bag. She tried to tell herself that it was because it ruined the composition. But deep down she knew it was because she didn't fit with the others, and so it didn't need to be included.

Namine finished her drawing without the others ever knowing she was gone. She placed everything back in her caboodle, then went back as Kairi went into a long story about Tidus and Wakka back on the islands. It was nice; the sounds of friendship. Namine had been the first to go to sleep that night.

. . .

At first, the only response she got was a quiet, "Oh..."

"It was a really fun time!" Namine quickly insisted. "And it really was a treat to be included."

"But you drew yourself out."

Namine flinched slightly. "It worked out better that way. From the angle I was at, it would have looked weird because I had the really light sleeping bag, and everything was so dark anyway..."

The other girl only looked more guilty.

"Do you still have the picture?" she wondered.

"I think so." Namine agreed. She adjusted herself so she could better go through her sketchbook before flipping through the earlier pages. "Here," she then offered as she handed it over.

There was a small hum as the other ran her fingers over the drawing. Namine had made deliberate choices in lighting around the three Keyblade wielders- light coming off of them as if they were lighting up the whole room. If you looked ever closer, you could see the detail of the castle's floor, and even make out the silhouettes of the three thrones in the background.

"Does anyone know that you go somewhere away from everyone to draw?" the other girl asked, handing the sketchbook back to Namine.

Namine gave a fond, almost bashful smile.

"There is someone..."

. . .

"There's a lot of people here." Namine noted as she tried to look over the crowd. Riku wasn't making the same amount of effort. Instead, he just casually looked on with a hand at his hip. Curse him being a full head taller than she was.

"Aqua said that Disney Town holds the Dream Festival every year." Riku agreed with a small nod. "Can't be that easy since Queen Minnie has almost been reigning the kingdom alone for the past few years. The effort is definitely amazing though."

Namine agreed with a nod and a small noise of affirmation. Disney Town looked absolutely splendid for the festival. All the colors, and the smells, and the energy was enough to put anyone in a good mood. The grip Namine had on her caboodle tightened slightly. A frown crossed her lips as she considered that there might have been too much commotion. There wasn't a good place to just sit and zone out without some kind of noise maker going off.

Riku must have noticed this. He looked over at her, and quickly saw her firm grip on the caboodle's handle.

"Are you sure you don't want to leave that in the Gummi Ship?" he asked. He even made a mild gesture to the box, which only made Namine hold it closer to her.

"No. I'm going to use it." Namine insisted. "I just... I just need someplace a bit more quiet..."

Riku nodded. He looked up again to see that Queen Minnie had taken the stage. The queen looked as beautiful as always in her formal pink and red ballgown. The jewels on her crown glittered under the multicolored overhead lights. Everyone cheered at seeing her- the love and admiration they had for their leader was enough to be felt from miles away. Minnie was a good queen, there was no contest about that.

As Minnie tried to settle the crowd down so she could speak, Riku bent down a bit to quietly tell Namine something.

"There's a sewage grate somewhere behind us. If you take it, there's a gizmo that will lead you up to one of the buildings overlooking the racetrack. Don't know about you, but a good aerial shot might be something to capture for later."

Namine grinned. "Thank you Riku." she said before giving him a small peck on his cheek. The young Keyblade master's face gleamed with a humble blush as he stood tall again, almost as if he had never moved at all. Namine laughed a bit at it before leaving.

Finding, and getting into, the grate had not been an issue. It did take her awhile to navigate the gizmo, though. But it was all worth it once she got to the top of a particular building. Namine let out a soft 'Oh...' of wonder as she sat down near the edge facing the racetrack. Riku was right- this was a good place to work. If only she was able to use larger sketch paper in her travelling kit.

When she was finished, Namine very quickly tried to find Riku again. She shouted his name after spotting him. He barely had time to turn around before she proudly displayed her new drawing to him.

"Do you think Queen Minnie will like it?" she asked, rather breathlessly.

Riku looked at her before looking down at the drawing. He put on a wide smile before telling her, "She's going to love it. It's perfect."

. . .

That story had brought about a rather brighter mood in the other girl.

"Did Queen Minnie like the drawing?" she asked. "You did give it to her after the festival, right?"

A sense of pride welled in Namine's heart, leading her to sit a bit straighter. "She loved it." she grinned. "She immediately had the brooms take it to the gallery to be expanded and mounted. You should have seen the look on Riku's face. He was as proud as I was, and probably more surprised!"

"I could only imagine." the other girl laughed. "Oh!" she then said, "Have you ever gone someplace with a view so nice that you just couldn't replicate it no matter how hard you tried? It's hard to recreate any atmosphere, in my opinion. I wanna know if you ever tried to as well."

Namine let out a soft hum as she thought about it. She let out a small noise of realization when it came to her.

"I did once before, yes." she agreed. "Since Kairi's parents don't mind me staying with them, I was able to join her, Riku, Wakka, Tidus, and Selphie to a beach party they had. It was still summer vacation, if I remember correctly. And Tidus really wanted to have a girls versus boys match..."

. . .

"Head's up!" Tidus shouted before serving the volleyball over the net.

"Cheater!" Selphie shouted back as Kairi managed to spike the ball back. Tidus only gave a rather sinister cackle back. However, at that point, no one was able to break their concentration just to smack talk each other.

Namine watched as Kairi and Selphie worked against Tidus and Riku in a rather well matched volleyball tourney. Wakka wasn't too far away- he had lost a bet earlier and had to make food for everyone. The smell of pineapples and fish hung in the air. It was the warmth of the midday sun that Namine loved the most. The feeling enveloped its way around her like a comforting hug. She let out a soft sigh as she got a bit more comfortable.

The sudden urge to draw made her fingers twitch.

This wasn't a good spot for it, though. She was too close to the others for anything but sand to get onto the paper than color. As much as she loved watching the volleyball match, it was still a bit too distracting. Namine started to get up and casually looked around for a better spot to draw. It didn't take long for her eyes to train to a crow's nest not far from the shore. It was part of a large treehouse that seemed to encompass the island. She looked back at her friends for a moment before quietly leaving them. If anyone noticed she was going, they certainly didn't question her about it.

After getting herself situated at the higher point, Namine found herself gaping at the scene below her. Her friends happily playing on the beach, the light reflections off the water, and even the island holding the paopu tree providing a view so beautiful, so rich, that she wasn't even aware that she was opening her caboodle at first. Seeing the Destiny Islands through Sora's heart was nothing compared to the real thing. Was it possible just to freeze time here and let everything else wash away? She smiled a bit to herself. She did have a way to freeze time, in a way.

The only unfortunate thing was that she wouldn't be able to capture it all. She couldn't encapsulate the smell of the sea, or the sounds of Tidus demanding the girls had leverage over him for some reason. She gave a small smile as she continued to work. Most of her effort was spent trying to reflect the sea around them. A certain impatience came over her as she carefully did each detail. You always had to start with the big stuff, then go down smaller. She was just so eager to capture this moment, anyway she could, that she was always picturing this drawing when it was done.

Namine had to force herself to stop after an hour. Her hands were starting to hurt, and her stomach was growling for food. She cracked her knuckles, barely relieving the tension in them, before putting her stuff away. There would always be time to clean the picture up later. For now, she needed to rejoin her friends.

. . .

And so, we were brought back to our initial setting- the banquet in Radiant Garden.

Namine had thought at first that this would be the perfect opportunity to work on drawing food. But the actual banquet itself had a lot more activity than she was anticipating. There were too many people at the tables to have space to stand at for a few minutes, and she had tried to get a plate for herself to take elsewhere- the allure of delectable aromas wouldn't let her go far without wolfing everything down. So she decided to get a higher view.

To her luck, there was a balcony overlooking the main area. It wasn't blocked off or anything, so Namine quietly crept her way to the top. She found a place to carefully overlook the area and found herself at awe. Even if she was aware that someone was behind her, she probably wouldn't have known it at first.

"Namine!" a voice suddenly said in surprise. Namine jumped a good foot before turning her attention to the newcomer. She relaxed a little when she found it was just Xion.

"Xion..." the blonde girl sighed. "It's just you."

"Am I interrupting you? I'm sorry. I'm not interested in food, and the boys are really going at it, so I really wanted to do this writing exercise where you describe an atmosphere, and..."

"No, no, no. You're fine." Namine insisted. She moved her stuff a bit before gesturing for Xion to sit down next to her. "Here," she offered, "Sit next to me. The view is nice from this area."

Xion smiled in thanks before carefully sitting down. She looked out over the balcony and gasped.

"You're right, this is a good view!" Xion marveled. Her eyes expanding in wonder. "This is the perfect place for Ebba to plant a listening device onto an enemy!"

"Ebba?" Namine wondered. "Who's Ebba?"

At Namine's confusion, Xion's face lit up in a deep scarlet.

"She's my... I think Pence called it 'self-insert.' It's a character that's based on me, but sometimes has a few differences. I've based most of the stories I write on stuff I did in the Organization. It's helped a lot with trying to cope with it. You know?"

Namine shrunk a little. "Yeah..." she agreed in a tiny voice.

"But it's real fun too!" Xion told her, trying to divert the heavy topic a bit. "I base everyone in story with someone in real life! You should see the guy I based on Xemnas... I do a lot of mean things to him."

Namine let out a small chuckle. But then a thought occurred to her.

"You based the characters in your story on us?"

"Of course I did!" she happily declared, her blush growing a bit, besides. "Roxas is Lucas, Master Aqua is head knight Meikai, I even have Pluto as the brave pup Mercury!"

"Do... Do you have someone based on me?"

Xion paused for a moment. Her face going still. However, just as quickly, her smile came back as wide as ever.

"Not yet, but I can!" she decided. She hummed a bit as she thought it over some more. "But I don't have to if you don't want to. I think I'll call her... Syrena."

"Syrena..." Namine hummed in thought. She then gave a bright smile in appreciation. "I like it."

"Great!" Xion beamed. She let out a rather contented sigh before asking, "What about you? Why did you come here?" She looked down at Namine's sketchpad and art supplies for a moment then added, "Did you come all this way just to draw?"

After some hesitation, Namine told her. Carefully, and in her own time. Xion listened intently- only asking questions when Namine was done relating a certain day. When the subject came back around to where they were, Xion seemed to understand much better.

"I get it now." she said.

"You do?" Namine wondered.

Xion gave a thoughtful little nod before explaining, "It's easier for you to draw when it's more quiet. That was how it was before. I think it's great that you're still drawing, even though you started because you were held hostage by the Organization. But the Organization didn't give you the skill you have, Namine. That’s all your own. Kinda like how writing is my special thing. We have ways to just... be ourselves, you know? It's comforting. It's like knowing that, even though we didn't start out in this world with our own goals or ideals, we can make them on our own now. We're free now, Namine. Free to do whatever we want."

Namine absently hugged her sketchbook. "I like that thought." she admitted. "I never really saw it that way before, either. Drawing is something that I know I can do. Something that won't harm others. But you are right- it's what makes me... me. Thank you."

Xion grinned. A wide, bright grin that could have lit up a room. It gave Namine an idea.

"What does Ebba look like?" she questioned, at the same time she pulled out one of her sketching pencils. "Does she look just like you, or are there a lot of differences?"

There was a moment of confusion on Xion's face, then a bright flicker of joy. Not a second after, she burst into a long babble about her character. She even used her arms to illustrate certain concepts and mannerisms. Namine laughed, and did her best to keep up. Xion was so passionate about her characters- it almost made Namine jealous. For the next few hours, Namine did a blend of Xion's idea for Ebba, while Xion herself got to writing about how Ebba got to meet a new acquaintance; a mysterious girl named Syrena, who -while mostly shy- was very well loved.

[kevkesblog]

Translation: Julian Brandt Interview for “11 Freunde” (June 18, 2020)

Attention: long post! Julian talks about overblown salaries in football, why he even stays at two-star hotels, why he thinks football should not be dramaticly reformed and why you won’t see him in Gucci clothing & more.

Julian Brandt, what do you miss the most at the moment?

Ju:     Just going outside and sitting in a café with some friends. Enjoying a bit more freedom. But I think many people have the same wishes right now.

Yet, the break because of the Corona pandemic seem to have lifted you. You were involved in all four goals during the 4-0 win against Schalke.

Ju:     I would still have preferred it, without the break. I mean it’s like this: sometimes you need just a few days to arrive at a place, sometimes it takes months. Feeling well in a city, a club and with my teammates is important. I’m a football player that needs a comfortable environment.

How was it for you at BVB in the beginning?

Ju:     There were definitely no fireworks at the beginning. But honestly, I kind of expected to need more time. I think thats normal after five and a half years at Bayer Leverkusen. It was a great time there, but in the end it was a comfort zone for me. I switched to BVB because I wanted to do something new.

And because Marco Reus asked you.

Ju:     Many people were in favour of me going to Dortmund. Even my mother wore yellow pullovers astonishingly often, during the time before my transfer happend. And Marco asked me at the national team, that’s true. I felt honored, but I saw a chance playing for a team which plays competitively for the title until the end of the season and is represented in the Champions League regularly, those were the main reasons for my transfer.

What else is different in Dortmund than in Leverkusen?

Ju:     Dortmund is bigger in almost every regard. Even the stadium is enormous and it becomes even more imposing with people in it. Building such a stadium somewhere is one thing. Brining it to live however like in Dortmund – that’s an art in and of itself. You don’t get that very often in Europe. Leverkusen – and I have to be honest here – has never been on my radar for me as a boy. But it’s the perfect club if you want to develop as a young player. I already suspected this after I talked to Rudi Völler for the first time.

I was told, you said „Rudi Völler has honest eyes“ to your father afterwards.

Ju:     He has a sincere attitude. I would have believed everything he said. And his promises became reality. We were playing attractive and successful football. And you don’t get so much pressure as a young player from the outside. The media landscape for example is much smaller in Leverkusen than elsewhere.

Do you miss the fans in the stadium in Dortmund?

Ju:     I was never that guy who was aware of stuff that happend on the stands. But after the game against Inter Mailand, where we were behind 0-2 before the break and won 3-2 in the end – I recognized how important football is for the people here and how much they were willing to support us. It was so honest, authentic and direct. One of the best games thus far.

Before that Michael Rummenigge critized you as „C-youth player“. That was after the Inter game where you scored as well. Was that a key moment?

Ju:     Everybody can voice their opinions that’s totally fine for me. I’m not a person who jumps on it.  And I wasn’t really satisfied with my game as well. Perhaps the 2-1 win against Gladbach a few days before was a turning point. Not only, because I scored twice, but rather because I was able to play on the ten for the first time. After that my game became better.

You said in the beginning of your time at BVB „Peter Bosz liked the risk. We don’t really have that here in Dortmund“. Did the way you play now changed?

Ju:     We play nice football under Lucien Favre. He likes an offensive tactic. Adding that, we score alot of goals. But Peter Bosz was a special coach in that regard because we played a modern version of football with a high amount of ball possesion – often over 80 percent. And we not only wanted to keep the ball all the time, while playing until our opponent gets tired like it’s the case with tiki-taka football. We were always on the attack. At BVB we put more emphasis on the defensive at the beginning. It was a change for me, since I wanted to have the ball and not running behind him all the time.

Is football an elegant game?

Ju:     My room as child was full of „Bravo“-magazine posters with offensive players. Nedved, Robinho, Del Piero and the best among the best: Ronaldinho. I liked it whenever players carry their street football skills to the pitch. Whenever somebody is looking for something spectacular. I want to gamble and not just act in a rigid system.

Doesn’t modern tactics prevent something like this?

Ju:     You are basically being funneled at youth football academies with: receive the ball, passing, receiving, passing. There a strict requirements you have to follow. But I think good teams need self-confident players, saying „No, I won’t fit in, but I rather go into a one-on-one situation“. We have such guys in our national team. Leroy Sané or Timo Werner. Kai Havertz is a player who has a street football mentality too. Often it looks very easy, but it’s not. It just passed over into blood.

You are wearing the jersey number 10 at the national team. Like you also wore at Leverkusen. Does that do something with you?

Ju:     I feel lighter in some sense. Perhaps because I know that you have to earn the number ten. Not like in the past, but I do think it has a certain meaning yes.

We heard you don’t like to talk about your strengths. Why?

Ju:     I think, it looks like I’m a show off. I have enough self-confidence already.

Yet you do know that you can shoot really good. Who taught you?

Ju:     Many things happened because I just tried. I even knew as a ten-year old boy: if I want to become a great football player I have to be able to shoot well with both feet. So, for weeks I shoot with my left foot on our lawn. Shot, flank, pass. It helped a lot. I met Federico Palacios during my youth time in Wolfsburg. He taught me insane techniques. I had a phase were I was obsessively training my first contact: not trying to stop the ball between the lines, but rather take the ball without defender nor midfielder getting the ball instead.

What are your weaknesses?

Ju:     My headers. But I’m currently working on it and I often score. At least without opponent (laughs). Some people say I can work more on my defensive work. And yes, there is some truth to it, even after I already worked on it for quite some time. The thing is: I’m not an aggressive person, its not who I am. But of course, I understand whenever coaches say I need to have a certain minimum amount of aggressive behavior on the pitch.

Do you have a career plan?

Ju:     No, everything I do, I do spontaneously.

But everything you do looks so reasonable: youth football for your home club. Training at a football academy in Wolfsburg. Professional debut at Bayer Leverkusen, your transfer to BVB a year ago…

Ju:     Honestly: I could not have imagined going to VfL Wolfsburg as well at the beginning. Why should a boy do this, when he basically grew up just a 20 minute bike ride away from the Weser stadium in Bremen and was standing in the fan curve in his youth?

Because Werder [Bremen] overlooked you?

Ju:     That’s not true. I even got invited to a try-out training. But then I looked at some other academies. I wasn’t only looking at VfL Wolfsburg. For example I looked at FC St. Pauli as well. Yet, I had the best feeling with Wolfsburg.

Why?

Especially during the ages 15 to 18 a lot is happening: you grow, your muscle mass is increasing, you slowly get to play with the professionals. On the other hand, many doors are opening. Your friends go partying for example. I liked being on a football academy for two and a half years. You couldn’t leave the campus after 11 o’clock in the evening. Apart from that we were very successful and won the German a-youth championship. But I can still remember how perplexed my parents were at the breakfast table, back when I told them about my decision to join Wolfsburg.

You are being called the “Anti-Star” of the business quite often. Does that do something with you?

Ju:     Many people seem to think it’s probably because I have no tattoos and my father is my agent. But to be honest: there are some football player clichées I fit in. I like fast cars. I like playing playstation and I have 40 pairs of shoes in my closet. I just try not to pretend to be someone else. I wouldn’t look good in a Gucci-pullover.

Others like to call you “premature”. You were allowed to train with the professionals at the age of 15 in Wolfsburg. How did you do that?

Ju:     That was insane and unreal. I was riding my bike to the training ground one day and the assistant coach Bernd Hollerbach took me to his side and said: “Introduce yourself to the coach”. So, I went into his office. “Hello Mr. Magath, I’m Julian from the under-17 team.” Of course, I was suspecting he already knew me otherwise I wouldn’t have gotten an invitation. But he was just staring at the television. After a while – it felt like an eternity – he looked at me, didn’t say a word, total silence and then he turned away. And then I was sneaking out of the room.

Magath wanted to test you?

Ju:     I was unsettled a bit, but I wasn’t thinking about it anymore on the pitch. It doesn’t matter who is on your side, or whether your opponent is twenty years older than you and who your father is.

Did you nutmeg someone?

Ju:     I would have been beaten for that. On the other hand: the pain fades away, the nutmeg stays (laughs). I remember I unintentionally shoot a ball into Marvin Hitz’s face.

How many agents were lining up at your doorstep at the time?

Ju:     I stopped counting it after a while. I don’t think all agents are bad but I don’t need one at the moment. I have my father. He may not be Mino Raiola with thousands of contacts all over the world. But he doesn’t need them.

Nevertheless: this son-father-constellation also has it’s potential conflicts…

Ju:     Our family sticks together – we are very harmonic and strong. I can’t remember a time where we were had an argument. I lived together with my brother in Cologne. I also have a connection with my father because of football. He used to play for the first team at SC Borgfeld – which was also my first club. I still remember: we went into the clubhouse whenever the Champions League was on. It was the best day of the week.

Now it’s about big business. Do you know your own worth?

Ju:     It was downgraded since the outbreak of the pandemic. I read that on so some sites.

But it’s still 40 million euros. What does such a number do with you?

Ju:     I can handle that because I can manage those numbers quite well. There is a lot money floating around in football. And I know its not easy to comprehend it with normal standards anymore. We live in our own bubble in that regard. The salaries in football are in no relation to what normal people earn – even with football being the greatest sport on earth. But why is that the case? Because sponsors are flushing so unbelievable high amounts of money into football. I think it’s important not to make the sport a luxury item. It has to stay affordable. In the stadium as well as in front of the TV.

Explain to us: why does a professional football player negotiate whether he should get 10 or 11 million euros per year?

Ju:     It shows how greedy people can be sometimes. But that’s not football specific. It’s as unfair as the richest one percent of the world’s population owning more than half of the world’s wealth, right?

Could this crisis perhaps be a chance in order for football to calm down?

Ju:     Perhaps in the short term. For the next one or two years. If any. I can’t imagine a player like Mbappé being sold next year for 80 million euros. Someone will always pay those insane sums of money.

How do you ground yourself?

Ju:     Through my family and friends. Many are studying or doing an apprenticeship. It’s never about money when we talk, I just like having a great time with them. We don’t need a luxury vacation. But one time: we went to Mallorca for four or five days just as we qualified for the Champions League with Bayer Leverkusen. We stayed at a normal two-star-hotel, one room with a bed and a bathroom – that was it. We went to the beach and relaxed.

Has there never been a situation where a friend or family member had to take you back to the ground?

Ju:     No. I can’t remember that I ever reacted arrogant or snooty. Or a situation where I thought: “Wow. That’s not who you are”. I’m fully aware of my very privileged life. In short: my greatest worry is whether we will win or loose on the weekends. It’s important to be thankful and to remind yourself what you got every once in a while.

Why do you have to remind yourself stuff like that all the time?

Ju:     In order for it never to become normal. I know cheese costs about 69 cents at the grocery store and a different one costs 1,29 euros. But if a tool or device breaks down I sometimes just buy myself a new one. Whereas in the past I would have repaired it by myself.

But is football still the same game you fell in love with as a kid?

Ju:     Absolutely. The game itself hasn’t really changed much. Okay, we have the goal line technology – which I support. And we got the video assistant referee, were people can argue. I abstain in that question. Once in a while, new ideas are being floated: like reducing the playtime to 60 minutes, new tournaments, elite leagues – I think it’s all bullshit. Keep football like it is. The way we learned it. With all its faults and tricky aspects. Even if something goes wrong.

Like during the World Cup 2018. Did you know that you could be the first DFB-team leaving the tournament after the group stage?

Ju:     At some point he heard of it. It doesn’t really look good on your vita but it happened. Perhaps we needed this in order for something new to emerge. You have to remember: other great football nations also failed in similar ways. Italy, Spain or France all crashed out of the group stage after they won the World Cup.

Did the photo with Mesut Özil and Erdogan brought some unrest into the team?

Ju:     The fact that almost all reporting was revolving around that topic was irritating sometimes. Don’t get me wrong: I think its important for the media to cover political topics extensively and with background stories. But I remember after the game against Sweden – after we barely won because of Toni Kroos free kick: shortly after the game you get asked whether the poor performance during the first 75 minutes were due to the photo – and you thinking: why don’t we talk about the game? Mesut became the poster boy for the disappointing World Cup. That’s nonsense. We all played shitty.

During the Confed-Cup the year before, many young players were in the team. At the World Cup the established players came back. Did Löw put his trust into the wrong players in Russia?

Ju:     You can come to that conclusion afterwards, but you don’t know it in advance. I could fully understand Low though. He was loyal and in some cases he felt some gratitude. He couldn’t and he didn’t want to replace a World Cup winner from 2014 with a young player. The way we were defeated at the World Cup was not foreseeable. Because we also played great football between 2014 and 2018.

The team made it to the semifinals at the EURO 2016 and you became second with the Olympic football team in Rio.

Ju:     A great experience with a team that was just thrown together. A contribution of Horst Hrubesch.

What makes him special?

Ju:     He is just great, the guy! He’s from a different generation which you can tell with a lot of things around him. Once he wanted to show me how to shot from the side. I almost tore my muscle fiber doing it. But he manages it very well forming a team with young players. He’s a very free coach and very direct. He always called me lazy (laughs). And he has a very nice and dry sense of humor.

An example?

Ju:     Me and the Bender-twins were sitting together shortly before the semifinal against Nigeria. He came up and said: “Guys, losing today doesn’t make any sense anymore.” A funny sentence, but also true if you think about it.

Julian Brandt, you made over 200 Bundesliga games, played Champions League and participated in one World Cup. You just turned 24. Do you even still have time to suck it all in and enjoy it?

Ju:     Football is quick. I can still remember coming to Leverkusen – as if it was yesterday: my first game for the under 23 team against Essen. My Bundesliga debut against Schalke a week later. That was a little more than six years ago already. Crazy. Veteran players always say: “Enjoy it, because quickly your career will be over.” But how should you enjoy it? A game every four or five days. New photos, new events. You don’t have an awful lot of time to let everything sink in for a moment. I usually do that on new years eve. On a friend’s balcony. I even get sentimental then.

[littledreamybeth]

Our little secret

A/N: Happy new year, everyone! Let's make the first post of 2020 a fluffy one! I hope you like it! I haven't properly proof read everything, so I apologize for mistakes beforehand. Comments are highly, I stress highly appreciated.

Picture does not belong to me. Credits to the owner!

“Are you ready?” It was not impossible to overlook how nervous the young couple was. Trembling fingers interlocked, they looked at each other’s faces, searching for confirmation, or even doubt. Harry couldn’t recall being this nervous. An uneasy feeling had settled in his gut since he was sitting in front of the camera. If it were up to him, he wouldn’t really do what they were about to do, however, he also knew keeping this secret forever wouldn’t help either, because at the end somebody was going to find out anyway- as usual. He had promised Y/N he would do this, and they had talked everything out. They had taken drastic precautions, doubling their security guards and placing cameras almost everywhere in their home, so he wouldn’t be worried anymore.

“Only if you are, love,” His raspy, deep voice filled the room.  

The young woman, his partner, soulmate, wife- his love, nodded.

“Alright, here we go…” She gave her sister-in-law, Gemma, who was standing behind the camera, permission to start the recording.  The brunette woman held her thumbs up, smiling assuringly and encouragingly at the couple. Harry squeezed Y/N’s hand in comfort before he let go of her. He knew she was going to articulate with gestures. Besides, he needed to calm down himself. He was sitting there, his body in a tensed form. He had to relax. Breathing deeply in and out, the British man and his wife stared into the camera.

Here goes nothing...

“Hello everyone!” It was Y/N who spoke first. She was going to speak more since it was mostly about her. “Welcome back to my channel! I know it has been a very long while since I’ve posted anything, and I’m aware that many of you guys were concerned for me. I just vanished out of nowhere after all.” Not that anything bad had happened, no- she had a reason for all of that. But one thing after another, right?

“I highly appreciate your worry, guys. I know I owe you an explanation, and here I am, finally giving you one.” Harry’s wife had started a YouTube channel after they got together, uploading videos so that his fans could get to know her better. She was the person who rather spoke through actions than words. The amount of love she received was mind-blowing. She had never expected the support. Her videos always reached millions of views. Some of them were even with Harry and her doing couple stuff or challenges. If it wasn’t for his love, Harry would never agree to things like this. He’s private as we all know.

“First things first, I’ve seen many people speculating that Harry and I allegedly divorced, but as you can see, Mr. Styles is sitting right next to me and I’m still wearing my ring.” She pointed at the diamond ring on her finger. “I’d like to happily confirm that your assumptions about us were wrong.” She leaned over to give a kiss on his cheek, sensing how tense he was. She whispered “It’s gonna be fine” into his ear, running her hands through his brown locks before she focused on what was in front of her.  

“I want to get to the point quickly,” She stressed. “The reason why I disappeared, why I never have accompanied Harry to any special event for the past year, why I wasn’t active on social media, is because something has happened that changed our lives forever. Today, we want to share it with you.”

It was Harry’s cue to stand up, walking behind the camera to have Gemma handing him over something, or even better, someone. When he came back and sat down, he had a bundle of joy in his arms, wrapped up in a pink blanket. The tiny human being underneath, who was sleeping before her father came to get her, let out a little whimper of protest for interrupting her sleep. Harry weighed her back and forth, shushing her softly. “It’s okay, angel.”

Harry’s eyes were full of love for this little miracle. Everybody could see it. He basically had her name written in them. Whenever, their baby girl was mentioned, his eyes lit up and a large smile covered his lips. What could he say? He was a proud daddy.

Y/N blended out the camera for a second and reached out to play with her daughters tiny fingers, then directed her attention back to it. Flustered, she said, “World, meet Olivia Rose Styles. Our daughter…”

She could imagine the amount of confusion and shock their announcement would create. People for sure wouldn’t stop talking about this for weeks. (Online) Magazines and newspapers would report about them. And Twitter? Twitter was going to freak out. She chuckled at the thought.

“It’s true, people,” Harry confirmed, his attention tightly fixed on baby Styles. “We’ve become mummy and daddy.”

“Yeah, we’re parents.” Y/N nodded her head. “That’s why I disappeared. Because I was pregnant. We wanted to keep it a secret.”

It was pretty easy to hide her baby bump in the first couple of months due to the fact that she wore and always loved to wear oversized clothing. Her entire wardrobe consisted mostly of oversized shirts and pullovers, and a few of Harry’s belongings. But the bigger her belly became, the harder it was to cover up the evidence. So, she decided to step out of the spotlight and enjoy her pregnancy to the fullest without any factors that stressed her out. Y/N belonged to the category of people who were easily stressed over the tiniest things; reading negative articles or tweets about her alone was enough to drive her insane, and because she knew that everything stressing her out would also affect the baby, Harry and her had agreed that she lived somewhere else with a better environment; a place where people wouldn’t chase after her and follow every step she did. Not that they would ever admit it, but Harry had bought an island for his Y/N as a wedding gift before they got married (he even ordered to build a house there), and that’s where she had retreated to for the rest of her pregnancy.  She really loved nature. Lying at the beach whenever she pleased felt so refreshing. Knowing that no one was going to snap pictures of her made her feel at ease. Being out of civilization, far away from negative influence, was very therapeutic for her. She attempted to use less social media, or media in general, only requiring it if she wanted to watch a certain event that Harry attended. Of course, she wasn’t all alone. Her husband would never let her. Instead, Harry had bodyguards around her that kept watching her and made sure she was safe when he wasn’t around. Anne and Gemma also kept her company. Harry, on the other side, couldn’t spend much time with her as he hoped, because of tons of work. He at least tried to leave the weekends unoccupied so that he could be with his wife. When it came to the control checks and appointments, Y/N was flown back to the city, with strict measures taken in order to keep her hidden. Or sometimes, her doctor would pay her a visit.

“This was my first pregnancy, and I wanted it to be a memorable experience. I wanted to be at peace, and vanishing seemed the only solution for me.”

Gemma’s voice behind the camera rang. “Explain why you’ve never been seen at a hospital.”

“Oh yes! I almost forgot about that. I gave birth at home!”

Harry, diverting his attention to the camera lens, added, “And it was truly an amazing experience.”

The day, Y/N delivered her baby, both of their mums, Gemma and a midwife were present. Their fathers were waiting outside the room, because Y/N found it embarrassing to give birth in front of her father, or in front of Des. It was painful and exhausting, robbing all strength in Y/N’s body. Harry couldn’t bear to see his poor wife in pain; he felt completely powerless over the situation, only holding his love, encouraging her and eventually, crying with her. He even blamed himself for putting her through so much ache. But, the moment they heard the shriek they were desperately waiting for, the young man completely broke down. When he held her for the first time, his heart felt so full and complete.  She looked like a copy of him, a baby version of himself. And her eyes… a shade of bluish- green.

“For the last three weeks, Harry and I have argued back and forth whether we make a wise decision,” She explained. “We discussed the advantages and disadvantages, and to be completely honest with you; even though the cons overweighed, we still decided to share out little secret with you before some strangers have the chance to release unpermitted information.”

Now that Y/N returned back from the island to their home, the chances of being discovered with a stroller was high. Besides, they didn’t plan on keeping Olivia in between four walls; they planned nice family trips for the future, so addressing their secret was the best.

Harry added, “We are in constant worry about her. You cannot really expect what people can do with an infant, especially if it’s my child. I hope you can understand that we don’t want anyone, except for family and friends, around her.” His expression became hard, his eyes transforming into an intense shade of green and his voice deeper than ever. “I may be kind, and don’t address certain things, but even I know how to destroy people’s lives, so be warned. If you come any closer to my daughter, I’ll end you.”

His statement startled Y/N. She had never experienced him like this before. Overprotective.  She looked at Gemma, who shared the same emotion as her. Y/N pulled herself together and continued talking. There was another point she aimed to address.

 “Please, don’t expect me to pull out the Kylie Jenner card and release a pregnancy journey video after all of this, because it’s not gonna happen,” Y/N informed, shrugging her shoulders. “Sorry, not sorry guys. The past couple of months have been the most joyous and adventurous period of my life, something very special and intimate, and I don’t want to share it with the world expect for the people involved- our family and friends. That’s why I ask for acceptance and understanding.”

Indeed, Y/N had every moment recorded. Sometimes, she would even send a video to Harry while he was at work, mocking him for how much he was missing out. One day, she had sent him footage in which baby Styles had kicked for the very first time, and it had Harry almost jumping out of his socks. It had been in the middle of a meeting with his band when he had received the message. He had gasped loudly, covering his mouth in shock which had attracted everyone’s attention and having them stare at him confusedly. Harry, on the contrary, had tears pooling his eyes. And being the little show-off he is, he went around and proudly showed everybody what his unborn daughter was capable of doing now- not forgetting the occasional ‘That’s daddy’s girl!’ leaving from his pink lips.

“We don’t want anyone to expect too much from us. We are against the idea of sharing pictures online until she has reached a certain age, and we insist that this should be okay for everyone.”

The baby in Harry’s arms slowly became restless, a cry escaping her throat. Everyone took this as a signal to end the video. “Thank you guys for watching this short announcement video. Take care of yourselves, and please don’t overreact too much, okay? Bye!” Everyone winked at the camera, and the recording was done.

After the video was cut and properly edited, Y/N posted it on her channel. Not a even a minute had passed before it had scored thousands of views. Scrolling through the comment section, Y/N chuckled at the fans’ reactions.

Instagram, Twitter, Tumblr… every social platform was a mess. She received lots of comments on her accounts. Famous artists and influencers reached out to her, congratulating them for the new addition to the family.

It was just as Y/N expected; the world was going crazy…

[aceandart]

Hey! I read your recent post and it read differently to a lot of posts under the destiel tag as of now. Personally, I’ve seen the first 5 seasons (watched it about 5 yrs ago), but haven’t been caught up to date on any of the recent stuff other than the Destiel apocalypse that’s happening right now. Could you explain the following?

“...mostly being this show is a misogynistic racist homophobic consent issue-ridden pile of bad writing “.

I was contemplating returning to the show and tuning in for the missing seasons, but what you said about it has now placed me on the fence. Could you elaborate and advise?

Thank you so much! I appreciate seeing an honest post that doesn’t sugar-coat or overlook bad writing/negative characteristics of a show!! :)

[re this]

Hi!

Well, I feel like the finale probably took care of any fence-sitting you were doing (and sorry I couldn't reply sooner), but actually my answer wasn't going to change even if the finale was okay (good, imo, was always a stretch): No, I personally would not recommend watching this show. and while my answer is mostly because of the things I am going to list to answer the rest of this question, I was also going to say - you dropped the show in s5 and that was five years ago? Whatever caused you to drop it in the first place, it probably got a lot worse. (It literally doesn't even matter what your major grievance was, they have since doubled, tripled down in terms of how bad it was.) Trying to marathon through ten seasons (20-23 episodes long each) is hard; trying to marathon through all of that to get something without a satisfactory ending is a lot of emotional labor for no payout. It's not just that this is a bad show (though it really, really is, on every level); it's that you have already tried it, you tried arguably the better seasons of it, and you still didn't want to stick to it. By the nature of how tumblr works, it can make anything look so much better than it is, just because in general the people you see hyping it up *like* the product, have decided to devote their fandom time to it, are highlighting the choicest parts of it. spn was always about the potential around the edges, the story fans made of it; the actual product was always secondary to the could have, should have beens, and this gets truer the later into the show you get. I'm not saying there weren't some great episodes, some great scenes, and even some great mini-arcs, but it was a drop in the bucket to everything else. and I'm positing this answer on the idea that you are asking because you want to watch the show, and not because you want to use the show as a supplemental for your fandom experience, but if it is the latter, I'll just say I'm currently heavily involved in reading fanfic for a fandom I've never actually watched a whole episode for, and while I'm probably missing some context I'm still highly enjoying it. fandom, honestly, so often becomes so much more than the bones we build it on. and if you want a little more, catch some "greatest hits" videos or catch up on just some of the “must-see” episodes and save yourself from having to watch all the moments in-between, because there are a lot more of them than the good parts. very few shows improve as they age out, and before the nov 5th resurgence if you weren't already following spn blogs, likely the main spn meme you were coming across was the annual 'salt and burn this dead horse' that went out after each season renewal. the tl;dr answer is really, it's not worth it. (to be honest, at the end of the day, despite the sheer amount of time, energy, and words I've put into this fandom over the years, and I put in a lot, I didn't actually like the majority of the show. so, you know, grain of salt on my opinion. then again, you left it seasons before I did.) That said, buckle up, cause now I'm gonna tell you why:

Literally, The Shitty Writing

I feel like the finale speaks for this point by itself, but before I get into all the "problematic" bad writing spn does, I want to talk about the fact that the writers are also just fundamentally bad at the craft of writing.

continuity errors. they’d change their lore/creature ability to fit their plot. (the reapers esp got the end of that bad stick.)  the characters will often forget (monster-slaying) solutions that worked before (holy wood, yarrow, christo, creative approaches like exorcisms on recording, spells to remove angels from their vessels, bullet with a devil’s trap, etc).  the writers forgot their own timeline more than once. the random retcons they'd do. sometimes it would also lead to plot holes.

which, speaking of, they had plenty of

there's also things that don't count as plot holes but are very large missed opportunities (ex: Dean spends a year in Purgatory and no one recognizes him? he doesn't bring up his daughter?)

I don't even know what this one would fall under, but if a character wasn't right in front of them, they would forget that character's existence. not just Adam (though that was a big one), but there were so many secondary characters that even in places it would make sense to mention them, much less bring them around, they didn't. or because they would not expand their main character list, characters who should have been around a lot more than they were (*cough* Cas, but that's an easy one, I'm also talking about characters like Kevin) would have these huge gaps between episodes that didn't make sense

they don't really have character development. this isn't to say the brothers don't change, they do, but at the same time the characters face the exact same (internal) arguments over and over again, never resolving or growing from them; they just have more examples when they think about them and it gets worse and more unhealthy because of the new weight added to it. the problem with their brothers only format, and the problem with their biphobia but more on that later, is that Dean wasn't actually allowed to grow out of his John Winchester's son role, to let himself be comfortable (and dare to be happy) with himself because that meant changing the story into something they didn't like and/or didn't know how to do. at the same time, allowing Sam to grow meant breaking the Brothers Only format, because as the show stated multiple times, Sam's happy ending did not involve hunting.

and with that, they sometimes flattened the characters so badly they became caricatures more than anything else.  hell there's a whole season where Dean goes evil, and people had a hard time realizing it, which was not because it was a subtle slow descent but because shitty pacing, uneven (and contradictory) episodes, previous actions that weren't written as being evil but were the the exact same thing as when he was evil that were supposed to be "signs", and how they chose to represent that evil meant it was really hard to figure out that was what they were doing and not just writing Dean as more of an asshole than they previously were.  (he's not evil, he's just a prick.) and I don't mean I had trouble telling, I mean fandom as a whole had major arguments about it, much less the general viewing public.

the series finale put a definite end to the idea they would follow through on even one of their main series themes (family don't end in blood, free will vs destiny, always keep fighting, etc), but this was something they would build up to addressing and then just anti-climatically let fizzle out in multiple seasons. character and relationship themes (not just destiel but the brothers co/counter-dependency, the importance of found family, Dean's growth from Daddy's Blunt Little Instrument and Sam's acceptance that he deserves better/agency in his own life, etc) would be built and broken down in an effort to drag the question out into another season. it wasn't two steps forward, one step back, it was a reboot.

their filler vs arc episode ratios: there's nothing wrong with the Monster of the Week format as a stylistic choice, but this show

a) would kill its own plot momentum to focus on MotW episodes. [part of this is the general spn problem they created of constantly trying to one-up their season's Big Bad, which I understand but also means one episode they are going against The Most Powerful Being in Existence (for the Fifth Time) and then rather than focus on that world-ending threat, they hunt vampires for like six episodes straight. they had a very bad balance where rather than continuously weave the larger arc into the season, or at least build characters and relationships, they'd jam it all around the season premiere, finale, and mid-season finale/premiere episodes, and then all the rest was just, bullshit cases where nothing got resolved or had a lesson stick around for the next episode, making them very skippable. also more on this under the homophobia section]

b) the filler episodes contradicted themselves and the main plot all the time.

c) sometimes they focused so much on making the b-plot a mirror they forgot to write a coherent a-plot. also: sometimes they focused so much on making the b-plot a mirror they forgot to write a coherent b-plot. 

I cringed my way through more than one episode of dialogue

the recycled plots

more on this in the next sections, but either they didn't notice, actively didn't care, or purposefully chose to overtly and subtly imply or state a bunch of really fucked up things, and then never address them at all

speaking of never addressing anything, I realize this is a fandom vs canon battle in general, but so many things get swept under the rug as they move on to the next issue (ex: Dean put an angel in Sam's body to "heal him", violating his consent and exasperating his issue with telling what reality is - a huge issue from previous season - and once the Mark of Cain story really took over the subject gets dropped.) 

death is so cheap on this show. and I don't just mean that the revolving doorway of resurrections means it's hard to get worked up about a death because (as long as the character was a white man and especially the brothers) there was a high chance they'd be back, and I don't just mean that their Murder Is the First, Last, and Best Solution to Any Issue, Ever means the faceless and not so faceless hoards of villains, monsters, and humans who get caught up in it are just hand waved as one of those things (they have ways of saving vessels and the later into the show the less likely they are to even try), but that there was no point in investing in (esp non-white, male) secondary characters because chances were they'd be dead pretty fast.  I'm honestly shocked characters like Jody (who actually at one point was in the middle of being killed off on-screen and then we didn't see her for eight episodes, so we assumed she was dead) made it until the end.

(speaking of dead characters though, what was with the habit of bringing them back constantly? just don't kill them in the first place! create new ones and let those ones stick around instead!)

when they can't use death as their solution, the other answer the writers fall back on is Deus Ex Machina

buckleming were a writing duo who had their own bingo cards that included things like shitty pacing, OOC-ness, flat one-liners, etc, and the question wasn't if you'd get bingo, it was a question of how often you got it during their episodes. at some point throughout the show, it became hard to tell what was a buckleming episode and what was just another episode in the season.  aka the writing quality went WAY DOWN as a whole

you know the tv trope Idiot Ball? or Idiot Plot?  spn should have it's own page for both. 

they constantly break viewer's trust, which is the basic tenet of what not to do when it comes to telling a story. (again, not just destiel, though the queerbaiting is a major part of it because it happened all the time to avoid actually answering that question.) when a writer violates their character's or story's core identity for a 'twist', it needs to have been carefully built so that it's a surprise to the viewer, not a betrayal. (you may not have seen it coming, but when you look back you can see the groundwork.) these writers, every time, chose the "shocking" choice regardless of how much they need to break canon or character to do so. their twists are either obvious, and/or they don't make sense with the rest of their story/lore of the show, and the viewer is left feeling stupid for believing they have more respect for the audience/characters than they do.

I realize this is pretty subjective, but huge swaths of it are just boring. fandom made the experience of watching it interesting, not the show itself.

and yet, for all of that, the quality of writing (while painful to have to sit through) was not the worst thing about it.

(note for the following: I stopped watching after s11, but I'm sure some if not all of these are still relevant until the very end)

Misogyny and Consent Issues: Is There a Limit? Signs Point to No

there is honestly so much under this topic I don't even know where to start. i'm going to focus on patterns rather than specific incidences, because otherwise I'll be writing this for a week, but just know I can easily provide examples of all of these because this is literally what I spent years writing meta on.

female characters were more likely to die quicker/earlier (esp vs other other male characters with similar reoccurring roles/characterizations), stay dead, and die often at the hands of their loved ones and/or in Stranger Danger situations. they died for man!pain. they died for fodder. they died as a sacrifice. they were turned into love interests (whether that was their original role or not) and then killed. they were put in mortal danger and then not given resolution for several episodes (Schrödinger's death.) they died in ways we've seen male characters survive. their deaths - the violence enacted on them - was constantly, consistently sexualized, and the camera lingered.

when it came to villains the show would go out of its way to kill the female one first, or act like she's the more pressing issue so that the male character could hang around longer (and honestly by male character I often mean specifically Crowley and the season's female villain. not only that but they'd often break canon to kill off a female character, and break canon to save Crowley/a male character)

when you compare the treatment of reoccurring female characters vs male characters who occupied either similar roles or characterizations, female characters were often punished and/or treated poorly for the same attitude and/or actions of their compared male character, who often got not just a (free) pass, but more screen time, dialogue, and development

they have more than once used the story line of underage girl seducing a grown man. (it was a whole season arc even.) this is esp galling when you find out about crew member Jim Michaels, who sexually harassed and assaulted (minor) fans

(btw, not the only crew/cast member to do so! and still be invited to cons!)

Dean Winchester (who is narratively treated as the moral judgement for the show) has blamed more than one rape victim for their assault/trauma. they often get abused (or outright killed) for stopping their abuser. 

Dean is ok with flirting with/leering at barely legal teenage girls. already sketchy when he's 26, really gross when he's in his mid/late thirties 

speaking of Dean. based on past personal experience I'm going to say up front people do not like me saying this, but that doesn't mean what I'm saying is wrong or even based on interpretations: Dean has more than one relationship that if it isn't rape, falls under extreme dubious consent.

there's actually a lot of rape (or "extreme dubious consent") and assault/molestation, both shown and mentioned: Cas and April, the cases were men take away free will and then have sex with the women (Ben Edlund was one of the better writers of series and even he did this a couple of times), Crowley orgy (and demon sex in general), random women in some episodes, Sam and meta!Gen, Becky and Sam, Sam and Lucifer, Dean and Alastair, several monsters (like the siren) and their victims, male characters secretly watching female characters undress/be naked, and so on. Dean was often attacked sexually by men, Sam by women. most of this is never addressed, never treated like what it is, and/or is made into a joke

and there's even more rape jokes beyond that, sub-sections: prison, vessels/demons, angel possession, sex work, childhood abuse, monster of the week, sexuality, etc.  huge chunks if not whole episodes were devoted to making what amounted to a rape joke. 

often ignored non-sexual consent (esp Dean’s actions, including a lot of mind-wiping and violations of body autonomy)

everything about Sam and body autonomy - he is frequently violated (multiple characters have possessed him; he is fed demon blood); how he feels unclean, how he feels disconnected from his own body, how he often is forced to act outside of his control and then blamed for those decisions

actually, Cas goes through that a lot too; he is trained, brainwashed, and forced to do things without his consent, and goes through major depressive episodes because of it

this show has a pattern of girls who are kidnapped, (sexually abused), raised in isolation, and expected to develop some perfect moral compass of acceptable behavior and were then killed off when they didn't. meanwhile, male characters get fourth, fifth chances.

female characters (and I'm talking about ones with speaking roles, who play an actual part in the plot, who are sometimes in multiple episodes) are more likely to be unnamed or given no last name

are you a Mother on spn (as in, that's your role)? you're either fridged for man!pain or abusive or both

it rarely could pass the bechdel test (including in s9 don't believe those fandom lies), and that's including episodes that focused on female characters. if the test included that the characters have to be named, that (small) number probably gets cut in half. if that test included both women are alive at the end...  

female monsters prove they deserve to live by killing off their family to prove they're the "good kind"  (this is not necessary for male monster characters)

female characters are not allowed to get vengeance

they took the Virgin vs Whore dynamic (and that that's all women are), and devoted a whole episode to it, but in general it underlines of ton of interactions, esp with regards to Dean and women.  {I actually never got around to writing it, but women tended to fall into four main classifications on this show, though overlap definitely allowed: Victim [sub-categories: Fodder, (Dean) Mirror, Mother], Love Interest, Sex Object, and Villain/Obstacle. very few female characters were either allowed to outgrow their category or didn't start in one.} 

we see the male characters assault female characters but it's okay because [insert supernatural reason here], ignoring that whatever explanations for why it's being allowed, we are still visually being shown this violence against women, and often from our "heroes"  (the women are then tossed away from the narrative after the violence and again, their aftermath gets regulated to off-screen who cares)

female characters were only allowed to be "so badass"; female hunters often fought female monsters or they lost/got regulated to the sidelines in battles. this gets even more contrasted as a male character/hunter will often do a nod about how "badass" she is, even as she is very easily beaten.

 the whorepobia of this show

had a tendency to strip female characters down to their underwear/make them nude before torturing them, and then adding sexualized torture on top of that

outside of actor injuries affecting this (like one of them broke his arm so he had a sling for a few episodes), female characters are often more likely to visually carry the bruises/violence of violent incidences much longer than male characters

gratuitous filming shots of breasts, asses

the use of the words: bitch, skank, whore, slut; the play on words they do so they can say "pussy"  

taking female myths/figures and reducing them to a cheap, sexist storyline (Amazons, Artemis, Lilith, Eve, witches - who are only allowed to live/be "good" if they're men, and are otherwise in league with demons/are evil and lose)

they often kept a character but switched out her actress; helps with the disposable feeling

how they treat women's ages (ex: Jody is not allowed to be a love interest to Sam because she's older than him/calling Dean 'kiddo'. ex: Rowena is played by a woman fifteen years younger than Crowley's actor. ex: Amara being one of the oldest things in existence but still having to age her way up.)

their treatment of teenage girls, ranging from how they sexualized them to expecting them to save themselves to treating them like they are grown adults and not children to the way they kept killing the ones who posted selfies to the fact the pr more than once used the tag "teenage girls - the scariest thing ever" for Claire's episodes 

actions and lasting legacies by female characters often got erased or passed on to male characters instead

it's a time honored tradition to treat certain monsters as metaphors for things. specifically for spn, they often use werewolves and vampires for sexual assault. (not the first to do so, not the last to do so.) however, that part of it gets textually glossed over, or treated as a joke, more often than not

and for all the patterns I talk about above, there's plenty of other one-off examples of misogyny/sexism or consent issues/rape culture this show did. like that time a grown man sniffed the bra of a dead teenage girl. not for any reason, just because it was there and that's what dudes do, apparently.

Racism: All the Flavors(+ Bonus Sexism)

when you compare the treatment of reoccurring white characters vs characters of color who occupied either similar roles or characterizations, characters of color were often punished and/or treated poorly for the same attitude and/or actions of their compared white character, who often got not just a (free) pass, but more screen time, dialogue, and development. 

usually Black men but in general men of color: 

a) got humiliated (often using feminization or infantilization) before their death  

b) had a more violent death; had a death that visually echoed racism (lynching, shot in the back, etc)

c) often used (racialized) rhetoric that in the real world is used against them

d) often filmed in ways to highlight their physicality, to portray them animalistically, to dehumanize them

e) even when victims, will add context to make them partially responsible for their death

characters of color were the villains or antagonists, very rarely "good guys"

this was a very white show, and while I'm speaking about speaking roles, reoccurring characters, and characters who get their own arcs, I'm also talking about background characters

using lore from groups they should not have and/or turned creatures into racist caricatures

having white actors play characters they shouldn't have

heavily depended on stereotypes for their characters of color

the treatment (esp narrative empathy level) of white angels vs angels of color.  again, screen time and character development differences between the two

a summary of (East) Asian woman on this show: fetishized porn/sexualized, “tiger mom”, Yoko Ono/The Girlfriend, monster. they were often silent or had no dialogue. microaggressions (usually spoken by Dean) were leveled at them.

antisemitism (styne issue, erasure of the Judah Initiative, Lilith, the golem)

like the sexism, just had random racist lines or visuals throughout the show (and sometimes those came in the absence of who should be there); some groups literally did not have enough characters to make a pattern, which is why this section looks a lot shorter than it really is

like for ex, I'm trying to stick with patterns but seriously, they put a Black woman in a dog collar and said her white boyfriend was her master/that she belonged to him

the ignorance of how white privilege worked to make them palatable

the replacement and/or elevation of a white character over a character of color (Lisa over Cassie, Bobby over Missouri, Charlie over Kevin in terms of how they were treated under Found Family, etc) 

how they treated non-Christian Gods: easily killed, evil, weak. they often repackaged them into a Christian framework and made them lesser than.

Bi/Homophobia, Queerbaiting, and Using Fans

they butchered Charlie.  they killed her, they killed her in a way that involved leaving behind plot, characters, and logic to do so, they killed her and used the violence of it for "shock," they butchered her and stuck her in a bathtub.  the guy who wrote Charlie in every other episode (Robbie Thompson, one of the better writers of the show) didn't write her last episode (assumption: because he wouldn't) and then he arguably left the show over her death. at one of the cons (comic-con?) the cast literally turned their backs when a fan questioned Carver (the showrunner) about what he did because they wanted no part of it. there was a mass exodus of fandom after they killed her (and another portion actually hung around because they got destiel queerbaited to stick out the rest of the season, and then they left.) she was un-apologetically queer, she was found family, she was widely popular, and they killed her for no reason at all. they didn't just Bury The Gay (their only reoccurring one), they salted and burnt the ground

they spent over a decade queerbaiting Destiel. they built queerbaiting destiel into the structure of the show: season opening/first couple of episodes whetted the appetite, which they then backed away from (usually removing Cas from Dean's physical area) and around this time they'd usually have some kind of heterosexual love interest, then mid-season they'd have some room to be together and share feelings, Cas would again disappear but this time they'd have some bi!Dean thrown in to keep you going, a few episodes before the end they'd have a major connection moment (I need you, I love you), and then the season would end with something to keep destiel fans occupied with during summer. it was never a trajectory, it was a cycle; just enough for plausible deniability but more than enough for fans to believe in. they had whole seasons where the b-plot were mirrors for destiel. they tried to sell DVDs by promising destiel cut scenes. they'd remove Cas from huge chunks of episodes just because they didn't want destiel interacting in the same physical space. they filmed them (I'm talking camera angles, physical positioning, etc) romantically.  (and sometimes, someone on crew/the network would accidentally reveal how not-fucking-happening destiel would be, and then backtrack when they realized fandom’s uproar.) 

a) Dean was only allowed to care so much for Cas, the narrative would only give him so much room to mourn/miss him. (Sam too.) it's beyond my general complaint that the writers/bros lose all interest in a character if they are not right in front of them (if they even cared when they were), but specifically they will spend episodes talking about how Cas is family, how much they care, and then because Dean and Cas cannot share the screen they come up with asinine reasons to remove Cas, which means Dean/the bros do not help him on his issues, and he is cast adrift until they need him, a push/pull of show vs tell with contradictory answers but made a lot of Cas/Destiel fans argue Cas deserved better.  

b) they also devoted seasons to the (subtextual) love triangle of Dean/Cas/Crowley. (I wish I was fucking kidding)

c) "you construct intricate rituals which allow you to touch the skin of other men": the way they use violence to supplement affection (which is actually a larger pattern with Dean and his loved ones in general, but specifically the show is willing to show - multiple times - Dean and Cas being violent (often with an arguably sexualized filming to it) in conjunction with or as replacement for expressing their care.)  other side of this: hugging/physical affection outside of the shoulder/hand thing is reserved for escaping or coming back from death, if then (and it took seasons and a few deaths to even get that.) 

d) "buddy"  

that time Dean was allowed to be textually attracted to his mother and a literal dog (who was visually made to be very clearly a girl dog), but his attraction to men always stays subtextual and/or treated as a joke

they spent the whole show queerbaiting bi!Dean. aside comments, checking out other guys, getting flustered by men he finds attractive, metaphors, mirror characters, the heterosexual overcompensation [which is different from but comes from a similar place of the macho compensation to counteract how he gets sexualized/feminized], everything with Cas and how they play that relationship romantically and with sexual attraction, the character development that led to his relaxation of his macho compensation coinciding with increasing subtextual readings of his bisexuality (and domesticity), the inspiration for his name/character is bi, his relationship to Charlie and the pattern of fictive kinship, etc etc.  

why are angels straight???? why do they have gender???? (why are they interested in sex???)  minus the queerbaiting of destiel, they spent a lot of seasons pushing Cas into a heterosexual box. other angels were often pushed into heterosexual boxes too. (or left in subtext and then killed.) closest we got to playing with gender was Raphael and maybe Hannah, and at least with Raphael it was not without its issues. (also: both dead.)

random transphobic lines

homosexuality was often treated like a joke/punchline. queer characters/scenes were often treated like a joke/punchline.

outside of Charlie, queer characters were small, two-bit roles, extremely rare, and often killed

how they treated and showcased fandom space and esp queer fans in-show (much less how they treated them in real life), comes from a deeply sexist and homophobic place 

The Show Was 328 Episodes Long And the thing is, these are the four big categories, but it's not like this is it. The show flip-flops on calling John an abusive parent/that the bros are childhood abuse survivors. The show doesn't even really call out when Dean is being abusive to Sam, and the way they always, always go back to the Brothers Only format means they are often ignoring or straight-up forgetting the unhealthy aspects of their relationship. The show ignores how their trauma builds (and all the things that happen because of it), disconnecting the current issues with the ones that came before. The way they flip flop on monster morality and never address what the winchester bros do to people who happen to be monsters but aren't evil (or definitely aren't as evil as they are).  How violence is always the answer. How the "saving people'' part of hunting got dropped the later the show goes on, and red shirt vessels/hosts die in droves. Depending on how you view it, the way they treat alcoholism and addiction. The ableism. The line between the narrative's opinion on acceptable violence and not is inconsistent and dependent on how much they like the character doing the violence vs who the violence is being done to. Etc.

(The above lists are definitely missing stuff. I haven't done anything in this fandom in like four years, I've forgotten a lot.) I'm not saying people didn't enjoy this show. I'm not saying I didn't enjoy (parts of) this show. I'm saying whether you are basing it on things like writing craft or things like 'social justice issues', this show is bad. It is of poor quality. I really don't know how to explain the hold it has on people, how a show can be charismatic, how fandom was able to squeeze so much out of so little, but that's probably what's got you attracted into the idea of watching it again. If you're thinking of watching it because you want a coherent, well done story, look elsewhere. The finale was the literal last straw, not the only one. 

[kazbrkker]

Chapter 10: The Price of War

Chapter summary: The events of Highway of Death told from Alex's perspective. Alexis' real name is finally uncovered, and one of her captors' identity is also revealed. (3327 words)

Warnings: Hadir's betrayal, character death, flashbacks of almost death.

   "Come on, stay with me!" an unfamiliar voice bounced around her head.

Was Alexis dreaming again?

Alexis was definitely dreaming again. Which was how she knew this was reality. Because she knew when she balanced over the thin line between life and death, she would dream. Sometimes she dreamt of hungover mornings and coffee runs with Maddox and the crew, inhumane circuit laps with Mactavish and Price, or the countless times Alex talked her ears off with the desire for another tattoo.

The pain that ached all over her body, accompanied by the abnormal brush of coldness told her it was time. Time to meet your maker.

She heard this joke once, and this sure as hell was the punchline.

"...keep squeezing... hand–"

Hadir? Was... was she really dreaming? This couldn't be real.

Worse were the dreams conjured by fear. The ones that took her right back to St.Petersburg to stare down the shimmering flames. The feeling of raw flesh after endless interrogations. And the reminder of wearing her blood like a second skin. It was she never left that tiny jail cell.

Alexis remembered the crackling of the flames. It was all that filled her ears. Her captors were missing. She was in the middle of nowhere.

The fire blazed a slow path straight for her like she was the final goal to reach. It tore down wooden crates, engulfed the flimsy curtains and went straight for her. Like the fire had a mind of its own and knew it wanted her.

This was it, the end of her legacy. Her stories were etched in flesh, and her book would be the grey stone in Arlington.

The salty tears streaming down her bruised eyes should have hurt, but didn't. The roaring fire snuffed out most of the oxygen and thinned the air. Her head was growing heavier by the seconds, eventually resting it against the grimy walls.

There are worse ways to go, she tried convincing herself.

When she started to drift away, she summoned enough energy to raise a fingertip over the wall—finding her name carved into the stones. Her real name.

Maybe, hopefully, somebody would remember her.

Her dreams manifested into her sleep over time. When she dreamt of St.Petersburg, she'd wake up with her mouth gaped wipe, like she paused mid-scream. Her fingers would tremble and she'd force herself to give in to her shaking legs and remain seated. She'd whisper to herself that it was only a dream. It'll stop.

Until it didn't.

Today, with her back on the ground, eyes rolled back, Alexis dreamt again.

The worst wasn't knowing she was going to die—that was the price of war. She had long made peace with the Grim Reaper. It was knowing she finally had something to live for.

Maybe this time her dream wouldn't stop.

━━━━━━

FIVE HOURS EARLIER:

29 October 2019, 0730 "Alex" CIA with Urzik militia Darus, Urzikstan

Alex hopped off the truck, inwardly expressing gratitude that after hours, they'd finally arrived at their destination. Though the aura of a village filled with rubble and dust in its silence put him off.

Ribbons of the early sun had already splashed across cerulean blue canvas. Behind him, Alexis blew a low whistle. He turned around to discover her standing in the middle of the elevated road—looking heavenward.

"What a view. Exactly the one I pictured–" Alexis marvelled.

Alia stopped her, "You picture your death?"

"Of course. You'd be surprised how disappointing death can be."

Alex kept a blank face despite feeling his heart drop. Apparently his cold shoulder treatment was starting to draw attention—evident when Farah arched an inquisitive brow beside him.

He returned with a shrug, still nursing his anger. He was pissed to be kept in the dark about Alexis' mysterious call. Her standoffish behaviour was from an all too familiar playbook that Alexis always operated out of—the masterful art of dodging.

It was exactly what happened after St.Petersburg. Which was why Alex had to intervene before it took a turn for the worse.

"You're out of it. Anything I should know?"

"What should you know?"

Answer a question with a question.

"If you want to lie to my face, go ahead. But I won't stand here and pretend to believe you."

"For CIA, you have no idea how to deal with women." Farah nudged him up the flight of stairs.

Only then did Alex realised he was spacing out. Although that couldn't stop him from thinking about how the early sun practically bathed Alexis with a halo. "Or... I know exactly what I'm doing," he smirked, climbing two steps at a time.

Farah smacked his arm, "Ah, don't play the game, play the man. I believe that's what you Americans call it." In combat, Farah was all expressionless and cold, but when the commander was out of the field, sometimes she allowed a certain amount of lightness to grace her smiles. They bumped fists with a knowing grin.

"Zip it," behind them, Alexis knocked Alia's head loudly, "Don't even think about dying."

"They'll have their hands full with her up there," Farah mused.

He heard Alia's terrible attempt at whispering—asking Alexis what he pictured for his deathbed. The cunning young lady certainly deserved an ovation. In more ways than one, Alia really was the splitting image of a young Alexis. Another loud whisper came from the young girl. "What do you mean he's not angry! You must be blind."

Alex recalled that one particular vacation in Bali that birthed this conversation. Just the two of them laying on the beach, free of woes and war. Three years felt like a lifetime ago.

"Throw me out of a helicopter, shoot me out a canon. I want my corpse to rain from the sky."

"Go out with a bang?" Alexis sipped on her frozen margarita, laying on a beach chair unbothered by the world. "That is very you."

Surely that sounded like an exaggeration. But if Alex had it his way, he would. Unfortunately, there was already a plot in Arlington reserved for him.

"Something like a sky burial," Alexis answered for him. Flashes of her chocolate hair loose on her shoulders and sunburnt cheeks left his mind. Alex felt her eyes burn into his back. "He's... weird."

"I heard that."

Several wobbly ledges later, they reached the vantage point that overlooked the highway, Hadir passed them two custom made sniper rifles. A larger than usual smile appeared on Alexis as she geeked at the custom rifle. It was almost comical—her jumping around while donning a ridiculous head gauze. While Hadir's impressive rifle put her in a good mood, Alex suspected it was Hadir, Farah and Alia responsible for this lighter shell of Alex.

He missed this version of her—not haunted by demons of her past. Trust it to be Urzikstan to draw out this side of her again. He'd do anything to make this Alexis stay.

"I'd watch that recoil, Lexi."

Alexis flashed a smile, pushing past him, "And I'd worry about your shots, babe. Trajectory is a bastard in this wind."

He set into a prone position right beside her, getting into tune with the new rifle. Then, Alexis cleared her throat loudly, winking into her sniper scope.

"Say, this cold shoulder treatment is getting a little old..."

A second later, she fired a clean shot into a watermelon 600 yards away. Hadir rejoiced in his native language, "Your fruit killing skills are remarkable, Alexis!"

"Don't I know it," Alexis winked. He sensed her scheming face before she even wore it, "Alex, since we're out here swatting flies, what do you say to a friendly competition?"

That interested him, "What's the catch?"

"No catch," she shrugged. "One minute. Whoever shoots the most is the winner. And the loser..." There was a glint in her eyes, "Has to do anything the winner says."

His eyes landed briefly on her grinning lips before he agreed.

The playing field was set: plastic bottles, some rotten fruits and crates. His index finger rested snuggly on the trigger, head lowered to dial into the scope.

"Okay! One minute starts..." Farah paused, "Now!"

Pulling the trigger was an unconscious effort by now, a steady exhale later and in between heartbeats, he fired. Right off the bat, he shot through one plastic bottle nested across the highway. Beside him, Alexis missed her shot, mumbling about how the recoil was too strong.

"Is the prize not enticing enough?" he mused, aiming for his second trophy.

"Only if you lose," her airy laughter made it hard to suppress another smile.

Within fifty seconds, it was a tie. It came down to the final plastic bottle. It was difficult to line a shot with the sun glaring right at him. Still, Alex kept his shoulders levelled and spoke with confidence, "Any last words?"

"You first."

Exhale.

Shoot.

Heart hammering in his chest, they watched collectively as the single bullet tore through the plastic bottle, leaving a gaping hole in its wake.

"And that's how it's done!"

Alex tilted back to reach Hadir's high-fives. "My brother, your biggest fan," Farah smiled.

For someone who lost a bet, she didn't play the role. With a charming smile, Alexis' fingers snaked the curve of his wrist. Alex pretended she didn't just jolt him awake with a simple touch, "So. What am I supposed to do?"

"I know just the thing," a brash grin slipped back onto Alex's face, thinking how he had more luck than skills. Or maybe it was an added motivator.

━━━━━━

Everything went wrong quick and fast.

When Price radioed with news, they expected the Wolf to scramble their way. What they didn't expect was Barkov's company.

Alexis split from the group, taking main overwatch at the next building beside them. Her injuries worried him. But their promise to inexplicably trust each other in the field triumphed his concerns. An enemy sniper across the highway was picking Farah's army off one by one. And Alexis... "Dropped his ass!"

That's my girl.

Winking into his own scope, he burst the tires off a suicide truck with a single shot. The one upside about this shit show was that Barkov's army helped clean up the Wolf's men for them.

He dodged back into cover just in time when a bullet whizzed past him. Shit, they found him. Farah panicked, "We need help! Where is Captain Price?"

"Won't make it in time! We need a Hail Mary for these fuckers!" Alexis shouted over the crossfire.

He spared a quick glance to check on her. In the blinding sunlight, her hair turned into a colour that reminded him of bitter tea. Several stray pieces of hair stuck against her sweaty neck. Alexis was still holding her weight, but it was obvious she was growing weary.

But no amount of energy could change the fact that they'd be boxed in by the enemies soon. And Farah and Hadir had too much honour in their cause to retreat. Alexis was right, they needed an ultimatum.

"I've got more firepower in the truck! Alexis, cover us! And Alex, follow me!" Hadir nudged him. Alex left the rifle at his nest and dropped down the ladder to follow Hadir.

"Hadir! Please tell me you have a big enough stone!" Alexis yelled past the gunfires.

"The biggest, sister! They won't know what hit them!" He followed Hadir in and out of different houses.

Without warning, a spray of bullets burst through the battlefield. Alex didn't think much of it until Farah yelled Alexis' name in a state of manic. His first instinct was to charge back in their direction, but Hadir kept a death grip on his forearm, reminding him they only had a small window to make this work.

This better fucking work, Alex thought. Dying on the Highway of Death would be too prophetic.

"My truck is full of explosives, very powerful explosives, it's time to use them! Open the tailgate, quickly! I'll cover us! Open it, Alex!"

The truck held canisters of– "Russian gas?" The entire time Alexis and he spent looking for leads of the stolen gas...

Hadir stole them?

"Yes! And now we send it back to them!"

It was too late. The tremors of an explosion, the screamings. They were lucky not to be swept in the explosion radius, but from the green gas that now terrorised the air, that was the least of Alex's worries. Soldiers irregardless friend or foe, doubled over to cough their lungs out. Blood sprayed ruthlessly in the air before they collapsed.

"You said we needed a big enough stone. This is it, Alexis!"

"No... No no no! Not like this–" Her sentence cut off.

Alex was on autopilot at this point, blindly following Hadir back into a house. Only Farah yelled through the comms, but it was radio silence from Alexis.

Please be okay. Although the raw coughs outside the bunker made him feel foolish for harbouring hope.

The gas worked quick, already blurring his vision. His head spun wildly and his throat scratched. The deadweight of his combat vest alone was enough to make him flop like a raggedy doll. His weakness fed his panic. Alex held onto the bunker's walls with every bit of strength still inside him.

Alexis, he recited over and over again. Alexandra Ward.

Bring her home.

Find her. Find her. Find her.

If Alex hoped the incantation could hold power for him, he was greatly mistaken. One step forward, he crumpled down the floor like an abandoned puppet.

"Hadir–" Alex's vision floated in and out, unable to see Hadir. He briefly registered a new weight over his face. A gas mask. Alex slurred through his words, "Alexis... Find..."

He fought against losing consciousness, not knowing when Farah ended up in the bunker, but only knew she was alone. "Alexis!" he weakly tried their comms again.

Fuck, stay the fuck awake. Not like this.

He channelled all the remaining energy he had, however little. He didn't stop, not even when his breathing slowed, his vision now appearing in phases, or his urge to vomit his guts out. Frantic, he reached for anything he could get his hands on–

His fingers flexed, not even able to feel the texture of leather of his gloves. All he could do was that, and blink to keep himself awake. Hadir was mumbling incoherently about something, not wearing even an ounce of regret from the mere silvers of sight Alex peeked through.

Hadir ran out the door like a coward. Some part of him prayed for the shred of Hadir's humanity to find Alexis.

Alex swore he saw the sun outside melt away, turning his world blue in twilight. His last thoughts were about a certain Bali sky.

━━━━━━

The buzzing of a helicopter shocked him awake. Alex shot up immediately, realising they were still in the bunker. It was deadly quiet, too quiet. Then he realised it was just his blocked hearing.

His world still swirled on its own axis when Price and Kyle came running in. Staring blankly when Price shouted something he didn't understand.

Alexis. The fog in his brain cleared. He kneeled his way over to the unconscious women who laid beside him. Using all his might, he propped her into his lap, fear-stricken when blood stained his hands.

Where did that come from? He hurriedly wiped the molten blood off her head, finding the opened stitches to be the root source.

"Holy shit, captain," Kyle deadpanned, a face full of dread, "This is bad."

Price wasted no time before scooping Alexis up and away to the helicopter.

Alex was thankful for Price who supported the weight he most definitely couldn't: the weight of Alexis dying in his arms.

━━━━━━

It must have been only a few hours of solitude Alex had since they returned to base. Laswell sent all of them to medical immediately—and Alex answered with a clean bill of health. He might be out of the woods, but his hands wouldn't stop shaking.

An unmistakable voice roared outside his ward, followed by someone yelling. He cursed loudly when his eyes snapped open. Did everything have to be white and smell of ammonia?

When his door swung open, he immediately shoved his trembling hands into the sanctuary of the hospital gown's pockets. In his doorway, his glazy vision told him someone was propped up by two other figures. Once his vision finally registered who she was, he bolted over. Much like him, she had an IV drip in toll.

Alex caught her by the waist when she faltered. "Farah," he gave her a once-over, "They cleared you?"

The commander nodded, stepping into his room with feeble steps. Although Alex suspected Farah's ashen face wasn't the result of the toxic gas. He passed her the tray of hot porridge that sat idly on his table.

His hands dropped when Farah eyed it in concern. He cleared his throat, jerking his head to the tray. As expected, Farah rejected it too.

"I'm sorry, Farah," he started, tracing the IV needle embedded in his forearm. For strange reasons, it calmed him. "Hadir..."

"Is my brother," Farah said sharply, "I should have known..." Alex rushed to her defence, but Farah raised her voice in both sadness and anger, "No Alex, I should have known. It is my job as his sister. Hadir was losing faith in the militia, but I pretended not to see it."

Alex averted his sight away. Unsure what to say to comfort Farah. He couldn't begin to understand, nor did he want to pretend he could. Farah rubbed an exasperated hand over her face, "Hadir killed most of my men. And..." Her voice wavered, eyes shining brighter under the blinding fluorescent lights.

"Alia," he said on her behalf.

How did everything go sideways so fast? Five hours ago, all of them were squeezed in the back of a truck, wind in their hair and laughter in their words. Alexis had promised Alia to a hamburger after this shitty war passed, because the war-torn girl had never seen one, let alone tasted one.

"Hadir will pay." Again, Alex remained silent. What could be worse than hunting your own brother? "And if Alexis... doesn't make it..."

Alex sighed, still rubbing circles around his IV. Farah's words all but gutted him.

Alexis tried going back for Alia, which prolonged her exposure. Her open wounds sent her condition from dangerous to life-threatening. The ringing in Alex's ears was so loud but he managed to hear something about chlorine poisoning.

Alex tiredly pressed his palm against his eyes, trying to force the memory of Alexis' rigid body out of his mind but only received another vision of her intubated with an oxygen ventilator. "The Cipro and antitoxin are a wild shot. They're more worried about the fluid in her lungs."

To Alex's surprise, Farah picked up the bowl of porridge to eat. The smallest of smiles tugged across her lips and somehow it made Alex feel much better. "I have no doubt she'll wake in a few hours. She's a tough one."

Alex remained silent.

"Maybe we should try dangling that forsaken ration pack she loves," Farah tried to joke, but her tone felt otherwise. A few seconds later, she continued, "Alexis survived worse. She will pull through."

Was Farah talking about St.Petersburg? It almost slipped his mind that she was the reason for Alexis' safe return. Well, her and... Hadir.

Hadir's betrayal would break Alexis... If Alia's death wouldn't.

Maybe guilt encouraged Farah to supplement the gaps in Alex's understanding, but she explained everything. From the burning house, Alexis' threatening to leave, to how she delivered Alexis safely to St.Petersburg. Whatever Alex knew was from the mission report, the gruesome details blacked out for clearance. The way she described Alexis' injuries induced nausea in him again.

But something else Farah said intrigued him. "A few weeks after Alexis left, the mercenaries returned to Urzikstan. Demanding blood for the American, they said."

Alex leaned out of his chair upon hearing this. It was a piece of the puzzle the rescue task force was couldn't collect. Even the joint task force of JSOC, CIA and SAS ran up cold leads as to who was behind the kidnapping.

"One of the men mentioned a name, Gaia."

‧͙⁺˚*·༓

a/n: alexandra... ward!!!!!!! her name is strictly need-to-know so we gotta thank alex for his pov lmao. & i'm pretty sure her injury counter is through the roof rn. but cheers to me for beating up my characters lol.

alia though... i'm absolutely gutted over this.

taglist: @shigarakiluvbot​ @wanderlustgiant​ @captain-pikas-world​ (wanna be tagged? lmk!)

[hongsside]

BITTERSWEET : : WYG X MNG

pairing :: everyone ✘ everyone ateez ( mingi and wooyoung focus ) 

hidden pairs :: mingi ✘ wooyoung, hongjoong ✘ seonghwa, san ✘ yunho, jonho ✘ yeosang

wc :: 3.3k

genre :: unfinished slow burn • “world against us”  • romance

tags ::  college party, college! au, onenight stand, conflictions, classmates

tw :: drugs, smoking, alcohol.

authors note ::  I wrote this based of a song ‘right here’ by chase atlantic (hence the multiple lyric quotes and dialogue in here), i hope you guys enjoy this and take it as a treat for i will leaving on another hiatus because of school starting up and the stress build up is not gonna do well with the friendship problems, schoolwork etc that i already have. i hope you guys understand that this means ‘Finally Us’ will not be updated in a while, i’m very unhappy with this but it must be done, thank you for reading and for the support i got with the first chapter of FU, i couldn’t be more thankful! - misty <3

⇱ ORIGINALLY CALLED NUMB ⇲

-------

(o´ω`o)ﾉ⌒･*:.｡. .｡.:･゜ﾟ･ ❝ ˡᵉᵗ'ˢ ᵍᵒ~ᵎ ❞

-------

mingi and wooyoung were at the peak of their college lives: partying every night, mid-term flings, drugs, alcohol, and the careless habits that would be developed. of course, they never knew each other; sure, they shared a few classes together and might’ve met eyes a couple of times, but that meant nothing to them…or did it?

the two young men weren't considered friends, nor were they considered foes; they were nobodies to each other, strangers in a way.

simply, classmates.

there were countless ways to put it. all wooyoung knew was that the group wasn't very fond of mingi, yet he could never pinpoint why.

both of them were split into two different friend groups, to say the least, which consisted of 4 men ranging from different social statuses; although ultimately irrelevant to this account.

--✯★✯

finals had just come to a close, a wave of leisure washed over the scholars as they turned to their end-of-year celebration; no, it wasn’t the school’s dance. god knows how everyone boycotted those no matter the circumstances. it was the party at one of the deserted mansions near the road alongside the school-- the authorities never bothered filing it as trespassing due to the property’s legal owner who turned out to be one of the high-class seniors in the student council.

god, they were all filthy rich-- from the janitor to the highest class students, everyone always managed to pull a fortune seemingly out of their ass. there were exceptions, of course, those were students that no one ever knew how they slithered through the cracks of the school, but it wasn’t that they fretted about them regardless.

while packs of students hopped over the rusted edges of the wired fence separating the school from the small patch of pavement leading to the open courtyard of the grand house. Others were settled inside already, cutting corners and exploring the rooms as the purple hue of the party lights bounced off the glistening façade of the expensive furniture.

it felt relatively uncomfortably expensive.

as the tiny packets of white powder were passed around and people headed off to the rooms upstairs, the roar of the rn&b music grew more resonant than before, so much so, that surely the after-school study groups back at the school would be able to hear it no doubt.

“i don’t think hongjoong-hyung would appreciate you taking that, wooyoung.”, said an ivory-haired figure, as he snatched a small packet filled with the white powder as mentioned before, from the not-so-unknown man.

“just once? please yeo-hyung?”, the other man shook his head disapprovingly as he passed the packet to a stranger passing by, rolling his body to the beat of the song playing in the distance, the echo bouncing discreetly from the empty dull walls.

“go play with your other hyungs, won’t you woo-ya? keep yourself occupied.”,  yeosang instructed, careless of his surroundings as he danced along with a different crowd of students. 

wooyoung bit his lip, nodding in reply. he observed the crowd, tippy-toeing as he sought for a bright blue-haired man, eyes glistening when he ultimately found him.

“hyung!- hongjoong!”, he asserted, pushing and shoving through the endless amount of drunk scholars that filled the already lethally crowded room.

wooyoung’s only goal that night was to get laid--- or to at least to find a fling to last him the end of the year. his hyungs wouldn’t allow him to take in any of the substances being shared, although they single-handedly knew he had already consumed them; they just wanted to prevent another reckless addict among the bunch, it was already enough with san. not to mention how protective they were of him, wooyoung was aware of why and he understood that he was like their little brother but sometimes it just felt like too much for him.

hongjoong turned his head, smiling at the younger man; he was certainly wasted out of his mind but regardless, he kept his cheeky grin plastered on his face. the younger man panned around, analyzing the face of the tall chestnut-haired man beside hongjoong.

“who the fuck are you?”

“wooyo-”, hiccupped the short man, getting interrupted by the voice of the stranger.

“park seonghwa, pleasure.”, he said, nonchalantly running a hand through his hair.

wooyoung let out a soft gasp, his lips parted in a not-so-subtle ‘o’. he was taken aback-- his best friend was seeing the student council president. he mentally slapped himself, how could he not recognize the student council president, yet the bigger question was, how did he never realize the two were dating

“oh my go- i’m so sorry hyung-” he stuttered through his sentence, scarcely perceptible as he spoke.

the couple smiled as seonghwa shook his head and murmured things that wooyoung couldn’t seem to recall as he reminisced on that night. as the lights flashed, before they knew it they were being escorted to a room by seonghwa--- that was after climbing up a long flight of lavish stairs that surely they could never afford to walk on; well, maybe except seonghwa.

while they passed some girls making out on the second-floor banister, not making too big a deal about it, they were led into a room in which the obscure smell of alcohol and sex lingered faintly. the odd-colored hair duo studied the room, eyeing the crowd of men scattered around the room. their expressions were painted with uncertainty, as they noticed their friends were already situated in the room along with additional unfamiliar men.

first, they saw yeosang, the man was immersed with the music, straddled onto the lap of a much buffer man by the name of jongho. his raven-colored hair fell a little above his shoulders and his hands were gently settled on yeo’s waist, securing him from a possible fall due to his drunk state. next, they saw san, who was already getting busy with a remarkably tall blonde boy-- assuming by the cup in his hand his name was ‘yunho’ written in black sharpie that was professedly rubbing off already.

the group of men continued to carefully examine the reckless mess in the room, watching as a redhead slightly taller than yunho poured another cup of whiskey for himself. the tall man exchanged it for san's empty cup and advanced to the pair of perplexed men-- seonghwa already cutting corners to another room, motioning for hongjoong to follow him.

the unnamed redhead lit up a joint, smiling as the orange hues illuminated his face giving the younger male a chance to study his complexion. his lips were plump and adorned by a small silver lip ring, his nose was prominent, and his eyes were much too powerful for him to grasp-- he was unbelievably stunning, and no one could deny it. the taller man passed the joint to wooyoung, chuckling as he noticed that the room once filled with pairs of their friends was now desolate.

they shared a quick glance as they puffed out clouds of white smoke, the stench of the haze slowly filling the room.

“name?”

“song mingi.”, wooyoung slightly tensed at the name, remembering the words his friends had exchanged about the man in front of him.

“don't have to ask you, mister jang.”, the taller man breathed, not giving much of a fuck as he continued to smoke the last bit of the joint before eyeing the other man up and down with haste.

“how do yo-.”

“irrelevant.”, he said smugly as they sat in the loudest silence of their lives; the music reverberating throughout the house, and the sound of muffled moans overlapping, fusing mutually to form a sonata essentially created especially for the party.

the colors they saw were vivid and not only that but almost excruciatingly painful to look at but ironically it was, at the same time, so blissful to them--- except this time, the vibrant rays of flashing colors did not belong to the party lights but instead their own euphoric state. the pair was in the clouds, their blood-pleasure rising by the minute, unaware of the various consequences their careless decisions would have in store for them. although it's safe to say they couldn't care less. their minds were spinning-- and their hearts were pacing. The music continued to reverberate softly throughout the walls of the house as they grew oblivious of their morning headaches that could kill, although they didn't know that yet.

as the clock chimed, one a.m., the two men would still be admiring the fading colors allowing the incoherent drunk words spilling out of their swollen lips to be overlooked. at that moment, wooyoung noted how he'd never found another man so attractive till he saw mingi's chiseled body splayed across the couch in an effortlessly charming way, wooyoung watched intently as he let out soft giggles and mumbles ad the younger man studied him in awe.

"another one?", he sang lighting up another joint.

"what if i pass or i-"

"one more, you'll be fine"

wooyoung could've sworn he went to heaven and back with mingi as he admired the blue glow of the stars he saw slowly reappearing in his eyesight-- he remained dazed by the redhead's display, meeting eyes in the process. meanwhile, the music which once resounded through the widish halls had moved far away until seemingly, little by little, the distance was much too far away to hear it-- the silence was broken by the sound of his sonorous voice.

“so..we gonna fuck or nah?”

--✯★✯

the moon soon rose above all, painting the sky with a fine shimmer of silver as the clouds masked the excellence of the dark-blue midnight sky. it was an enchanting sight, truly it was, but there was something about the way the distant sounds of heavy panting mixed in with the scenery of the moment.

--✯★✯

the next morning came with a hurry, awakening those in its path, as the smell of sex hindered in the now silent atmosphere to an overbearing extent. recalling the events of the previous night, wooyoung woke up, eyes fluttering open in an instant. his eyes adjusted to the change in brightness and carefully slithered from under the sleeping man's silhouette. the raven-haired man frowned slightly at the lack of warmth; he hoped it would've lasted longer but i suppose this wasn't the case. wooyoung scanned the room casually, unable to remember how he ended up in this unknown bed. everything seemed like a blur to him as he sat in such an empty square room in utter confusion; while he pondered on how he ended up in this room, he shifted uncomfortably from under the covers as he looked down and noticed he was nothing but naked. shocked by his discovery, wooyoung panned around in search of his clothes humming in approval as he found a shirt just below the desk, uncaring that it very much did not belong to him.

the clock chimed, six a.m., and wooyoung was almost out the door until the sound of mingi's trembling voice stopped him in his tracks.

“wooyungie? where are you going?”, he almost croaked, voice hoarse from last night's events which perhaps he wasn't aware of yet. wooyoung only stared in response, watching as the beams of the sun's rays shined through the cracks of the curtains.

“just going to get water.”, he lied, stomach curling in regret.

“ahh, alright i thought you were leaving me for a second.”, the sleepy man chuckled as he sat up, revealing his upper torso unintentionally. wooyoung smiled in return, walking to the kitchen to “quench his thirst”-- that was until he heard mingi utter drowsy nonsense again causing him to freeze.

"i don't wanna leave this bed..stay right here instead, woo.", the younger man hesitated, unable to process what he was saying and even more reluctant to not do as asked.

"i could've sworn you were right there.", the red-head continued, as he pointed to the vacant side of the bed that wooyoung had slept on. wooyoung chuckled, nearly forgetting about his initial plan of leaving mingi alone.

"you know we uh fu- umm that! right?", wooyoung said delaying his words in embarrassment. mingi only laughed.

"its cause you were high!", he interjected his own sentence, his cheeks slowly brightening to 50 different shades of red.

"i wasn't that high, i swear.", mingi chimed in defending his behalf with a joking tone. 

minutes passed and an unexpected form of tension arose. mingi's had darkened, his expression was no longer the lively expression it once was but rather it was substituted with stern eyes. the pair were seated side by side from under the covers of the bed, perhaps unknowing of what the other truly was thinking about.

"why did you really leave, wooyoung?", mingi hummed through nearly pursed lips. the raven-haired man's eyes widened, beads of sweat slowly running down his temple as he stuttered on meaningless excuses.

"mingi- my friends..they don't like you..-"

"i don't give fuck about your friends! i'm right here and it doesn't change that you slept with me!" 

"..and not only that, i'm the only one that hasn't walked out! i mean- look at my friends! i'm here!", he continued, growing impatient by the minute. mingi rested his head on his hands, frustration seeping out of his words. it's happening again.

wooyoung sat there, perplexed and guilty of everything he'd done. whereas mingi sat there in sheer hurt, remembering the great times they shared the night before.

"ill get going...i'm sorry."

--✯★✯

it's been three nights since the party and ever since then, wooyoung couldn't sleep. it felt like a year's worth of guilt had washed over him and the urge to call mingi grew stronger by the hour. his bangs fell before his eyes as he stared at the ceiling, watching the lifelessness of the white cover spread across the dorm.

his hyungs had noticed wooyoung's shift in attitude and grew curious of why their youngest "brother" had changed so rapidly.

"woo we gotta talk.", purred the quiet voice of the blue-haired man from behind the couch.

"about?"

"you."

the room became silent almost instantly, a silence so strong there was a fear within the men in breaking it. the remainder of the group filled the room practically on cue, and so the achingly awkward talk commenced-- but not in the way any of the men expected.

"why do you guys hate mingi?", inquired the youngest to their surprise.

"we-"

"answer the question."

"woo-ya, we're just afraid he might be a bad influence on you.."

"bad influence my ass, have you met san?", their eyes all darted to the man with eyes red with addiction, and he chuckled nervously knowing exactly what they were hinting to.

"not the point, we just want to know what's up with you all of the sudden? im talking about you not sleeping for three days after the party, wooyoung. we're worried about you."

"don't be, i'm not a child."

"we know-"

"if you knew so well then quit treating me like one and hiding things from me, thank you very much."

wooyoung stepped out of the room walking to the parking lot of their dorms as he reached for his phone and called the number he was once so reluctant to dial.

the number you have tried to reach did not respond, call again af-

the man sighed, hopping onto the rood of his car and sitting there ready to lose all hope that was seemingly never there, to begin with. he glanced up and watched at the glow of the stars lit up the sky alongside the same moon that shone over them three days ago.

he clicked the call button again, it rang and rang until almost impatience got the best of him.

the number you have-

one more time? he asked himself, what if he's busy? maybe his phone is dead? 

"baby, just pick up your phone.", he practically cooed out loud in hopes to hear mingi's voice on the other side of the phone. 

the number you have-

there wasn't anything he could hate more than hearing the sound of that voice. no, not his. never his.

he looked up to see the stars twinkle once more, getting ready to go back inside and endure the questioning that awaited him from his friends. he wasn't ready for what he would see when he gazed down though.

there he was, song mingi. he wasn't going to lie, he looked just as rough as he looked. the frame of his glasses was pushed up to the bridge of his nose and he carried two small blankets with him, passing one to wooyoung and he ran a hand run his disheveled hair. the younger man stared at him, eyes fixed onto his in astonishment, why would he drive here when he could easily just answer his phone?

mingi hopped onto the top of the car, taking a seat next to the raven-haired silhouette without a single word. they observed the stars together, watching as they flickered from afar; occasionally humming in admiration.

"i'm sorry, mingi."

"there's no need to apologize.", he murmured eyes still set on the sky gleaming with beauty above him.

"but-"

"no 'buts', just look at me. i'm the one who's sorry..but..do want an apology gift? you can't say no."

wooyoung let out a noise of puzzlement before nodding hesitantly. "close your eyes, silly.", mingi snickered slyly, and that's the last thing wooyoung saw before being given the gift that would be forever with him, in his mind, in his body, and that was more than enough for him.

"you ready?"

"this isn't a pregnancy announcement right?"

"no, you dummy.", he giggled softly, wooyoung couldn't see it but the way he imagined made it seem as if there was a work of art before him.

"yes, i'm rea-"

time stopped when mingi's lips met his, interrupting him slightly. his heart pounded in his chest as his body gradually got weaker. the younger man could only concentrate on how soft he felt against his lips, how addictively he kissed him in a way that wasn't filled with lust but rather love and affection. wooyoung couldn't get enough of the way the cold metal of his lip ring brushed along his lips, giving him a distinct sensation he'd never forget.

 he couldn't tell if he dreamed this moment to life, but there was raw passion in the way his hands cupped his cheeks fondly as if he didn't want to let go. mingi kept his half-opened gaze on wooyoung, sneaking adoring glimpses at him now that he wasn't looking, just to make sure this moment wouldn't be forgotten. 

he wanted to remember the way wooyoung's eyes fluttered open and sparkled in a way so similar to the stars they had been looking at, he wanted to see his face when he kissed him in his dreams.

and this time he wouldn't be high for that.

but there was a sense of bitter sweetness to it, they both knew their friends would never approve. They knew the stares they would get from their friends, they knew exactly what they would say to them when the interlaced fingers but, did that really matter to them?

perhaps it would matter to them then, but surely not know. it all felt like a false reality to them? maybe even a dream, a dream they'd dread waking up from. but it wasn't. they were there in the heat of the moment, together under the stars sharing an unforgettable kiss that spoke like a poem and could say things that not even 1,000 words could say.

surely, it was like that poem wooyoung once read...

"even if the world is against us, the love we share is enough to put the world beneath us."

they pulled away, catching their breaths as they rested their foreheads on each other. he couldn't help smile like an idiot hoping that the darkness of the night would mask his flustered condition. it's not like mingi wasn't doing something much different, except he was basking in the moment pulling away to cup wooyoung's cheeks one last time, loving the way his face was glazed with the divine mantle of light belonging to the moon.

"i love you, idiot."

"i love you more, silly."

end of story

all work by hongsside

[writeangstime]

Changing your destiny (Eskel x Reader)

Title: Changing your destiny Fandom: The Witcher (All media) Pairing: Eskel x Reader Genere: Angst (well, it’s supposed to be..) Word counts: 4007 Warnings: Blood

A story that I wrote for @lovermrjokerr​‘s challenge - go check it out because I think it is super fun to do something like that and it is so nice that a fanfic writer is doing something where others can try themselves!

It was read and checked by wonderful @mindowe​ that took some of her time and fixed all the mistakes for me (and apparently had the patience of the angel doing so)! She is also a wonderful artist - her drawing is amazing, check her tumblr and other social media for it!

The wind ruffled through your hair, bringing the tiny mites of sand to your face, forcing you to turn away and, spiting the dirt on the ground the mere seconds before the hove of your horse made its mark on the uneven path. Melitele must have overlooked this place when she was blessing the country because, as far as you could see, there was only a yellow plain of dry and broken grass that was being covered by sand with every stronger gust of wind. Yet, you could understand why it was a perfect hideout for any creature that would like to have some privacy -  or for basically anyone who would seek solitude for something mischievous.

Your mount seemed to agree with your unspoken words, shaking its chestnut mane with what could you say was some kind of concern – under your legs you could feel the horse muscles tensing from something more than a weight on his back as his uneasy breath joined the cracking of the straws and the hitting of the hooves on the trodden path. Swirling reins around your left hand, you reached the other one to pat the animal’s neck, trying to ensure him of the safety of both you and him, though you had to admit it got you a little worried. It was no surprise that domestic creatures were more prone of being influenced by the magic – both good and bad, both strong and weak. Both new and old.

But you could tell that you were getting closer to the place you have been looking for the past few years – at first it was only a distant shape on the horizon, being so thin that one would think it needed only a blink of an eye to disappear in the thin air. But as you were riding closer toward it, the shape began to grow, climbing towards the sky and shifting into the central point in the wasteland. After what seemed to be a long, stretched hours but in reality couldn’t be more than a few minutes, you reached your destination and had to admit, that being present in this place brought to you more uneasiness than actual joy.

If anyone called you a scavenger, hunter or a raider you couldn’t care less. And sometimes fixing them a stern glare, sometimes completely ignoring their person and from time to time even going with some kind of the mean comment in return, but you never got yourself into the discussion. It took some of your precious time that was always in short. Or at least you felt like it was. It felt tiring in certain moments, knowing that your destiny was forged for you long before you could even set the foot on this world. But you weren’t going to sit idly and wait for the curse to swarm you and entrap you in your own body like a prison.

Stopping your mount in front of the entrance you couldn’t help a smirk crawling on your lips as you noticed how small the door in front of you were, left in good condition - though the tower looked like it could collapse in any minute, with the stones almost turning into dust right in front of you. But it was still holding, supported by what you could only guess was the magic that lingered here long after the mage who waved it had long been gone. Well, you hoped he was – meeting undead wasn’t exactly the plan for today, tomorrow and till the end of your life. Sadly for you, whoever inhabited this place decided that windows were not in their taste. If there was anything awaiting you in the tower, it had a lot of the advantage.

Swiftly gliding off the horse, you reached to your saddlebags, cursing under the breath as you hardly tried to memorize where you put the very thing you needed right now. After a while, you managed (or rather struggled) to pull out the small lantern, gently straightening the paper walls and making sure that the candle inside didn’t break during the journey. After you decided that it won’t be any better, you reached to retrieve the flint and tinder from your pocket, bringing a small flame that soon warmed on the candle and glowed in the warm but timid light. Well it had to be enough, you didn’t plan to linger in this place anyway. Pulling out your sword with a small cling sound, you moved to the entrance, holding the light in front of you.

It turned out that the doors were in much worse condition that they looked and, after a moment of trying to force them to open with your body weight, you practically barraged yourself inside, coughing strongly as the clouds of dust were brought to the air with your entrance. The doors slowly moved back to their original position, shutting that small amount of light that you brought from the outside. You managed to calm your breath down, though you still had the feeling that your lungs wanted to escape and you decided to look around as it seemed that there was no unpleasant surprise waiting here especially for you.

The interior  of the tower looked less gloomy than you expected and to your surprise you could actually imagine yourself seating here in some kind of future when your bones are too old to move in proper way. You just could sit by the fire, not worried about anything that was happening outside. Though the area seemed small, mostly because being cramped by the horrendous amount of books and parchments, the unfitting furniture added some sort of cosiness. But it wasn’t the time to get some sightseeing and you had a job to do, so placing the lamp carefully on the table, you moved to search through the books for any information that you could use to your case.

You planned to start with the book on the wooden podium that seemed different from the others, but to your surprise the moment you touched the surface it vibrated under your hand, sending the wave of heat so warm it bordered on burning. Quickly retrieving your fingers, you furrowed your brows, deciding to leave it to the last in case you didn’t find anything in the other volumes.

The flame of the candle lowered, lantern brightened the room from a different angle and casted a longer shadow from your figure as the pile of the things you have searched through had grown bigger and bigger, the same as your frustration. What you by far stumbled upon was a very interesting research, some information about housework and even a bit of the poems, but yet nothing with your family surname or even the slightest mention of the magic. You were sure that this was the place, that there lived the person responsible for it all, and yet there was no a single clue that you could cling to. With every paper tossed aside, your doubts were rising and the feeling of anger creeping in your soul replaced the patience with bitterness of doing something in vain.

You reached for another book but stopped with the stretched hand as you heard scream so loud that it rang inside your thoughts, echoing unpleasantly. Whatever it was, there was no way a human being would sound like that. So that meant you definitely should find your way out before this thing plans to break inside, but as you reached to the door, the loud and agonizing scream of your mount froze you in place. With a beating heart you listened for any noise from outside and after what seemed to be only a mere second something started to push the wood, the crackling of the planks from the force causing the feeling of pure terror and panic.

Jumping away from the door, you hit the table and knocked over the lamp. It smashed on the ground and the scent of the wax burning the paper filled the air. Backing from the entrance in the complete darkness, you pulled out your sword once again, not at all feeling prepared for whatever insisted on getting inside but also not going to sell your soul for nothing. If you could put up the fight, you planned to do it for good. Hiding yourself in the element of the surprise, you stumbled once more upon the wooden podium. Deciding that now or never, you grabbed the strange volume, hoping that it would be at least some kind of weird defence.

But as soon as you raised it from its place, the cover opened, the pages going so fast in front of you that you didn’t even have a chance to read its contents. A blue light burst out and soon the darkness swallowed you, tossing you to what seemed as an endless fall.

***

The shivers were forcing your body to jolt, sometimes giving you the feeling that every inch of your skin is burning only to switch into paralyzing freeze of your veins – it was like every inch of you was torn apart to be once again build in the same way. From what you could say basing on the delusional state you were in, your body was laying on some kind of stone, but at the same time it felt like you were drowning in it, looped in endless falling that neither ground nor the very deepness of the earth could stop.

You weren’t alone though – from the bleakness of your surroundings you could catch the glimpse of the face. Though the scars covered most of it man’s yellow eyes were completely soft and caring, almost like nothing you ever saw in your life. Though the circumstances were more than unusual, you didn’t feel fear, maybe because you could find only a compassion in the way he kneeled beside you. Opening your mouth you searched for the words, but he gestured you not to speak, turning away to search for something you couldn’t see.

“Shh, it’s okay. I got you.”

***

You had no idea for how long you remained unconscious with your body still paying the price for a sudden teleportation, but for sure you realized after waking up that there is no more pain and you could get up as easily as if you just took a refreshing nap. The daylight didn’t shine in the cave but the small fire gave enough light for you to see the man sitting in front of it. He was the very same person that you remembered from your fever dreams and just as you moved up you noticed the cape sliding down on your lap – he must have covered you with it while you were sleeping. Your movement must have caught his attention, as he turned away from you, reaching for something to his right.

“I see you are feeling better now. Is everything well, do you feel you can sit up properly?” He asked with the hearable amount of concern in his voice. You could see him pouring something to the small wooden bowl before he moved closer, handing it carefully to you. Using your sleeves as a protection from warm surface, you nodded in a silence gesture of gratitude.

“Yes, I feel much better now. I assume it is thanks to you, mister…” you asked, rising your head from above the warm soup. It smelled delicious and you felt the clench in your stomach that reminded you that your last meal was probably a long time ago.

You could hear him laugh a bit at your last word, a pleasant, low vibrating sound that seemed friendly and yet strange at the same time coming from the man whose scars were for sure mark of some encountered hostility in his life.

“Eskel, just Eskel, without any mister. And you are?” The man now known to you as Eskel allowed himself to lean on the saddle. With small amount of shame you noticed that there was no other bed than the one you have been sleeping on, so it meant you had left him to sleep on the bare stones probably.

“I am [Your name]. I don’t know how can I repay you.” Well, you felt like you should. He could kill you or rob you. Or both. The list could go on but you got the idea. But as soon as you asked that question, the more urgent matter came into your mind. “Do you mind asking me how long I was blacked out and…well, where exactly I am? We are.” You corrected yourself almost immediately.

“No need to mention that, I was here anyway. And for the former, we are actually in the mountains near the Oxenfurt. We stayed here for a two days.”

You cursed loudly, causing him to give you a surprised look as you quickly shook your head in some sort of explanation.

“My apologies, I must admit you caught me here by surprise. My last position and the one I thought I would be is actually on the opposite side of the mountain.” You fell silent, wondering on the book that was a last object you’ve touched. The feeling of sadness woke inside you when you reminded yourself of a lost horse that you got used to and the saddlebags you will probably never retreat. Well, it didn’t leave you completely broke as you had your small savings in the bank but you still had some valuable knowledge in your personal things. At least, the sword survived with you as you glanced at it, resting by your side. You sipped the soup carefully, but overall the situation wasn’t bright at all.

“I can help you reach the town if you want, I will need to refill my supplies anyway” Eskel offered, breaking the silence between you two. Rising your lips in the smile that you weren’t sure he could see from his place, you nodded once again in thanking.

“I think I will accept the offer. And I insist, when we reach the town I want to somehow reward you for your help. You saved my life, and I don’t want to be in someone’s debt.” Placing down your bowl with a small knock, you stretched a bit, making sure that your muscles fully recovered. One more thing popped in your mind and you turned your face towards your saviour once again.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what exactly are you doing up here?” You didn’t take him for a lost traveller and his equipment showed he was more than a mere shepherd – such person would not take two swords with themselves just to lead sheep up the mountains. He didn’t seem to be offended by your question, taking up your empty bowl and putting it away together with his own.

“I was culling some harpies in the area. Nothing too extravagant for a witcher, I’m afraid.” He laughed once again, slowly putting away the fire. These words made you look at him at more interesting angle as you were thinking over what he’s just said. Coincidence or that damn volume you touched, maybe this was exactly what you have needed – if you could convince him to come with you, of course. Slowly standing up and handing him his coat, you were taking your sweet time to start the proper topic as you attached the sword to your waist.

“Say, aren’t you maybe in a need for a work right now?” Trying to sound as innocent and not as clingy you slowly started to make your case. “Because I might have one on the hand.”

“Well, for sure there is a vacant for me right now, though I am afraid I would need more details.” He answered carefully, raising the saddle to strap it on the black horse that was calmly standing there.

“Let’s say there are not many…?” You half asked half stated, fixing yourself rather quickly when he raised his eyebrows. “I mean, I know this thing is strong, can catch the horse by surprise and kill it in one swing and has a scream so loud that you want to plug something in your brain just not to hear it anymore. It is the only thing that I’ve noticed before that damn book decided to threw me far away. Please, I will pay you as much as you want, but this is really important for me.”

He went silent for a while, focusing more on preparation for the journey than the reply to you but you knew he had to process it. Standing there rather silently, you stared at the ground, not saying a word not to seem too insistent. Finally, you heard him sight quietly and he turned to you.

“It will be much faster if we skip a visit to the town.”

***

Much to your pleasant surprise, it turned out that Eskel was a great travel companion, not only allowing you to ride the Scorpion (that, even if he loved his owner, decided to switch for the person he was nagging for extra snacks) but sometimes even leading you on it as you travelled through the sides of the mountains. It took little for both of you to unwind and tell stories about your lives, sharing a funny on embarrassing moments. He told you a few things about his job and you’ve never pushed too much for the things he barely mentioned. In return, you briefly told him what you were doing though you have never explained to him the true nature of your curse. It was for your knowledge only.

The small camps you were making on the way seemed a lot easier than you had remembered from your previous journeys – or maybe having two pairs of hands was working miracles. Not that you have ever avoided the company of others, but it was always easier to pack and take care of only yourself and your horse. At least, that is what you thought until now, knowing that you are going to miss the moments of building the campfire as Eskel was shocking you with his sense of humor, sometimes being even cheeky.

But all good things must come to an end sooner or later and that was no different case. As you arrived in front of the tower, your mood drastically dropped to the point your own voice lowered like you expected something to jump right in front of you. To your quite visible surprise, there was no trace of the horse blood, any of your things or even scratches on the door, like the events from your last visit have never taken place. But you were sure that this was the exact spot, the same tower and there was no way you could take the wrong way, memorizing the map so well you could draw it in your mind even while in deadly battle.

You had the feeling that the witcher that kept you a company had doubts himself but even if he did, he didn’t share them with you. He helped you to get off the horse and led him right behind the building. You watched in awe as his hands moved to the certain position and the marks you didn’t know before shone on the ground, gently surrounding the animal. He caught your surprised face with a hint of smile and took one of the swords with him.

“This is for protection. After all, I like him quite well.” Giving you reply for the question you have never asked, he moved to the doors and you helped him to push the old oak. Inside, you could actually see the marks of your last visit – the burned lantern, the books tossed in the pile and that stupid volume that laid where you’ve must dropped it after teleportation. The door behind you slowly shut with a loud creak and you could almost feel your heart beating faster.

“I was there. Sitting and reading. It is hard to tell what was happening and I knocked over the light. I tried to hide, grabbed the book…” You stopped, realizing that in this darkness he has no way of telling what you meant. But before the man could say anything, loud scream rang in the air once again, making you flinch and Eskel reach for his sword.

“If anything happens and I tell you to run, do it.” His voice was stern and calm and you were wondering if he was feeling confident, or he could actually cover his feelings and push them to the side.

“Yes” was the only word you were able to say before the loud noise came from the horse. This time, there was also a loud grunt, something you didn’t catch the last time. Maybe the thing wasn’t happy that the additional meal wasn’t so easy to get. Once again the door started to creak and you moved back a bit as you heard the witcher shifting from his place. Both of you didn’t say anything while you were waiting for this thing to come in.

Eventually, the wood gave in and the creature burst inside. It was like nothing you have ever seen – a humanoid and yet a wild creature, casting the ghastly light but being made of the swirling shadows. It had no eyes and yet, when it moved its head, you could feel it was gazing right into your deepest part of soul. Monster did not waste time, jumping so quickly you barely raised the sword that you held – and even that didn’t help.

The steel shattered like the sword was made of glass, not standing even one blow. The tearing pain went through your whole body as the claws cut through your clothes and the blood poured with you falling on the ground. The beast raised its paw once again, but this time the other sword stopped it from taking your guts out – Eskel’s weapon withstood more power than yours. Such resistance was bestowed with un unhappy growl from the monster that now focused on the man.

You could only watch the battle in front your eyes with amazement as the witcher moved in the way you wouldn’t believe anyone could. He was like a water, shaping and shifting in the recognition of the another blow, so the angry creature was either grasping the air or clinging to his sword. But the monster was quickly adapting to the fight, following soon after and learning things while it was mercilessly beating its opponent. You would be dead for sure if you didn’t open that volume earlier…

The volume! Looking around you, your eyes found it lying close to you. You felt pain in every inch of your body, the air on your open wounds giving you shivers, but despite pain you moved, reaching your hand towards it. It felt like you were moving at disgracefully slow pace, especially when you heard the battle sounds becoming more and more aggressive. You finally managed to place a hand on the book and it shoot the wave of heat to your skin once again. Taking all the strength you could gather right now, you grabbed it and tossed it with a swing of your hand.

The pages shifted when the book flew towards ongoing battle and you could see Eskel jumped out of the way. Bright blue light burst in the room once again, blinding you for a while before it all disappeared, taking the whatever attacked you with itself as the volume hit the floor. The adrenaline burst you got seemed to slow down, as the blood pumping in you seemed to run outside in a scary tempo. You laid down your head, closing your eyes as the pain was becoming stronger with every passing second. There was no option you could move, even when the witcher called your name. At least, you heard him well before you passed out.

“Shh, I am here. It will be okay.”

[a-l-o-ra]

cozy warm crunchy happy

Nostalgia is a feeling I’ve grappled with most of my adult life, often met with varying degrees of resistance from people who think I’m latched onto the past too much. 

Nostalgia is, after all, purely emotion-based – there’s almost no objectivity to it. All those rosy memories of your past were of course actual events at one point, but over time, they’ve been slathered with the sweet honey that are feel-good chemicals and a hazy yearning for being able to return to those moments in your life.

For me, nostalgia has certain triggers. Smell is a big one – if I get a whiff of citronella, all of a sudden I’m mentally transported to toasty New England summers in the ‘90s, sitting on the back porch as the sun goes down, chomping on an ear of corn and a grilled hamburger. If I close my eyes, I can hear the crickets, the creak of the wood under my feet, the unpadded slapping of the screen door as people come in and out. That was an event at one point in my life that I thought nothing of. But now, it’s fantasy, a realm I go to in my head where time is immemorial, my childhood pup Zoe is alive, the world felt infinite, and nothing would ever change. Then I snap back, and it almost feels like I’m flashing forward through each step I’ve taken in my life, the long path that brought me to the current moment, somehow, as the person I am right that second, oddly begging me to fight the notion that we’re just a jigsaw puzzle of experiences added onto one after another until we form the person we are. I want to think it’s more complicated or meaningful than that, as if we’re meant for grandeur or we can decide one day to be someone new, but our lives are always just a collection of everything we’ve done.

In Massachusetts, those toasty summers eventually gave way to the crisp autumn months, also with their own load of tactile realities. Crinkly autumn leaves have a certain feel to them – if you’ve never experienced it, imagine a thinner tin foil that breaks apart in your hand. If you walked into a forest, or even just a thicket of trees, when the wind kicks up, you hear one of the most peaceful sounds on earth. The wind cuts through the trees, moving entire branches full of leaves through the air, stirring up a soothing white noise whoosh as orange and yellow and red and brown dances all around you, delicately floating to the loamy surface.

Unsurprisingly, sound is the other big trigger for me, and as a music critic, there’s no stronger marriage than songs and nostalgia. Certain songs, from the moment they start, take me back. The phenomenal thing with music is that it doesn’t have to be some far-away memory for a song to be nostalgic; even events as early as a couple months can feel nostalgic to me if I listen to a song I was listening to frequently during that period.

All that in mind, a convergence of nostalgic yearning, wanderlust spirit, and photographic curiosity led me from western New York state into Ontario during the peak fall foliage in 2019. During this trip, I dredged up long-faded memories and experiences I had locked away since I left Massachusetts for Florida as a child (Florida, for reference, doesn’t have seasons). As I ate apples bought from a family farm (best I’ve ever had, by the way), picked out a pumpkin, drove with the windows down as cool air rushed around me, stepped on crunchy leaves, drank hot cider, and lots more, Turnover’s “Cutting My Fingers Off” was on regular rotation.

Certain songs (all great songs, I’d probably argue) have mood inextricably linked to them. It’s what makes The Who’s “Baba O’Riley” so anthemic, it’s what gives “Can’t Help Falling In Love” that crushing romantic feel, etc. In that regard, “Cutting My Fingers Off” is intrinsically an autumn song. The reverb, the twinkly guitar leads, and the hollow vocal filter make you feel like you should be swaying on an old hammock in a forest in mid-afternoon. Or does it?

Music's most powerful effect on the mind is how it alters your perception of what's in front of you and guides your feelings depending on how it's written. Even simple instrumental composition can be narrative - it's the reason, in reviewing music, you often see phrases such as "summer soundtrack" or "windows-rolled-down music."

Even with music, in the past, especially when traveling, I've struggled with letting go, a side effect of years of anxiety. It used to be difficult to be "present" in a situation and not be pre-occupied with the future, or if I was content in that current situation, or if I had somewhere to be, or if I was running late to something, or any other endless amount of distractions. However, on this trip, while connecting with pieces of my past, letting go was noticeably easier, and a lot of my regular music rotation helped me stay present.

The world mostly still feels infinite for me, even as I discover more and more pieces of it for myself. This trip in particular, though, felt like a journey into the unknown. For most of the trip, I was completely alone - alone watching the sunset on Lake Erie, alone on the trails near Buffalo, alone while hugging the Niagara river trails, even alone as I crossed into Canada and had to tell a perplexed border guard I was alone, going to Toronto alone. It's easy to think solitude like this is lonely, but I felt zen, finally taking things at my own pace.

As I drove the seaway along Lake Erie into Buffalo, as I journeyed around rural western New York, as I watched Ontario's scenery glide by going from park to park, as I let the cool crisp air soak in like I did when I was a child, Turnover set the mood. It kept me in the present, made me aware of the beauty and grandeur and simplicity of everything around me. The song has an atypical structure, with no real chorus, but it builds from a quiet little intro into an eventual emotional crescendo.

And every dream I've ever had's been of a better view and a ten month summer.

Losing you was like cutting my fingers off.

And even with that summer, without you I'd rather cut my fingers off.

It's a sad song of loss, unrelated to anything going on in my life at that point, but it triggers this rush of feeling that just relates to the environment. It's a little bit of magic, because how I'm describing it is subjective, but it's also indescribable. If you're a dedicated music fan, you probably know the effect I'm talking about, but in my five or so years of writing about music, I can't actually truly describe or explain this phenomenon.

"Songs feel like certain environments or seasons or moods." I mean, that's it, but it also isn't. "Cutting My Fingers Off": autumn leaves, quiet countryside drives, chilly evenings, fire pits at night with friends, reflecting on the year, preparing for winter, harvest festivals. It doesn't make any sense, yet for me, it feels right.

In Boyne Valley Provincial Park, about an hour and a half from Toronto, halfway through my lonely week in Canada, I parked on the side of the highway and ventured into the woods, through grassy plains, and up a hill overlooking the area. Rich red, orange, and yellow tree tops towered in clusters between the overgrown plains. The wind tossed my hair around and it was a little physically exhausting getting up there, but it was one of those moments where everything felt right, where all the pieces in your life that have converged to make you who you are make perfect sense. I yearned to capture this moment and put it in a bottle so maybe I could take it home and open it sometimes when I wanted to feel it again. The world once again felt infinite, and also beautiful. When I got back to my car, I could barely wait to throw on some music to set the mood, and before I knew it, there it was - losing you was like cutting my fingers off. It's a warm blanket.

[lordeasriel]

Let’s talk about The Book of Dust, The Secret Commonwealth and the challenges of The Book of Dust 3. Under the cut because it’s long and a bit ranty.

I’d like to state that I have the utmost respect for Philman’s work and his writing; I think he’s a great author and a great storyteller. That being said, I don’t think he’s beyond making mistakes, no one is and I think he made a big mistake by splitting the Book of Dust the way he did.

Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE La Belle Sauvage, it’s my second favourite book, surpassed only by Northern Lights. It has great lore and depth and incredible characters, that sadly, get lost after the 20-year gap we have between LBS and The Secret Commonwealth. That was expected, though, all things considered; Philman is used to creating characters that he end up leaving aside for the sake of the story. He actually abandons lots of things for the sake of the story; logistics, consistency, character development... I mean, there’s lots of debatable things he has done throughout the whole His Dark Materials for the sake of a good story. Whether that’s bad or not, I cannot really say, but he definitely still managed to sell lots of books, so on its own, that’s a good payout.

LBS is a great opener to what could have been an incredible prequel story. If he had decided to write a whole trilogy focused on that, he definitely would have done a good job with that book, except he chose to have it as the first book of a trilogy that actually surpasses the original story too. I’m not even touching the touchy subject of “He has absolutely no timeline” because, I mean, that’s practically an issue on its own. But the biggest problem is time, as in, the amount of time each book covers.

LBS serves to introduce us to lots of different concepts, characters and to go in-depth into the separation of daemons. It introduces Oakley Street, it establishes the Magisterium role in the world, it expands on what it means to have a bond with your daemon, plus the introduction of mythical things. It does all that very well, and on its own, it’s a great book. When we get to TSC, we already know about Oakley Street, about Lyra, about Malcolm, so we know these key concepts from our previous reading; yet TSC fails to do the same.

It has a poor ending, very anti-climatic, and while I get it’s supposed to be a cliffhanger to the next book, it’s not the feeling it leaves us with. Instead, it feels like the story was actually cut right in the middle, after 700 pages of a long and somewhat tedious journey, that expands on almost nothing but pointless trivia. There are a few moments that make the reading worth it, but as a second installment, this book did not deliver nowhere near enough to make up for the lack of a first one. I know this seems crazy, but when you lay down all the plots, and you analyse them all, you notice that there is a huge gap going on in some of them. And I say “a lack of a first book” because technically, Lyra’s story does not have a first book; TSC acts as both first and second volume and it is why it ends like that.

Some of the issues that I have come mostly from characters that shouldn’t need to be lacking all that much. As much as I love Marcel, I find him to be extremely predictable; while he retains some degree of fun, even though you can tell what he is going to do, it’s upsetting when you consider other villains such as Bonneville, Mrs. Coulter, MacPhail, Metatron. He is built to be as terrifying as any of those, and I don’t think being predictable it’s a bad thing on its own, but Marcel doesn’t have the time to live up to his potential, and that’s because, again, he’s written into a second book when all of his scenes from TSC are clearly from a starting POV. And he’s not the only one, this happens with pretty much every new character, from Glenys Godwin to Bonneville Jr.

Malcolm gets away with this because we’re familiar with his character from LBS; that whole book essentially covers his character, his personal Aurora, his daemon separation, how he relates to Lyra and all that. He has a whole book to develop himself, even though we don’t see him getting into adulthood, but from what our perspective of him as a child is, it’s easy to translate into the man he has become in TSC. He essentially stays the same; he’s more mature, but from a behaviour perspective, Malcolm is pretty much the same person he was in LBS. This isn’t bad, but it’s also a little disappointing to me, because I expect adults in this universe to be a little more complex.

With all that being said, I worry for TBOD 3, because Philman now has - technically, as he clearly sometimes doesn’t care about consistency lol - to write a lot to cover all the plots he has started. I’m not even considering smaller plots, but essentially he has 3 main plots going on (this is me saying this from a reader’s POV, so he could totally change this in the future or maybe he is aiming for something else and as a reader I might have overlooked it): Marcel and the Magisterium, Lyra and the Secret Commonwealth, Malcolm and the Rose Oil. These three plots have and will merge or collide, given that Malcolm has already been through Geneva and is currently after Lyra, while Marcel is also after Lyra, and now Malcolm too, and given the three of them are all drawn to the rose oil and the red building, for different reasons and probably with different outcomes.

Philman mentioned Book 3 is meant to continue right after TSC, not unlike TAS I suppose, so in my opinion it’s either gonna be very big or very direct book. I don’t think filler chapters are bad, but when you’re trying to set up new characters like Marcel, Godwin, and even Malcolm, he simply just didn’t give us enough, instead narrating Lyra’s journey even when nothing remotely interesting happened. I like some of these, like Lyra helping the refugees, I think it’s an interesting chapter for worldbuilding, but in essence, nothing there really affected the plot. She later finds out about the rose farmers anyway, so that chapter was really there for the social aspect, which I think it’s important, but it didn’t need a whole ass chapter for it, especially because nothing else happened (iirc, I’m still rereading it).

Another useless chapter is the train assult scene, that was fucking ridiculous and for such an educated man, Philman really did something stupid there. That chapter - and I’m not going into the female character aspect because I’ll get angry again - adds absolutely nothing to the plot. He could’ve used it to expand on Malcolm, to explain how Olivier catched up with Lyra, he could’ve added another scene to establish Marcel closer to the conflict, he could’ve explained what Oakley Street was doing, or give us an insight on Pan, I mean, I could go on forever here, that chapter is a waste of space that could’ve been used for something better and more useful.

My concern, besides Philman’s old age and his frail health, is that he ends up not writing a complete book again (as apparently happened with TAS, when he was rushed by his editors), and that we end up with no answers again. His big promise was to explore Dust in this trilogy, yet so far we’ve only have more questions, or at least I do, and I appreciate  the rose oil because I’m really interested in it, but all this fantasy talk it’s been putting aside what I like the most about this series and it’s the metaphysical stuff, the science and philosophy of it all. I think that, above all things, what I want the most is at the very least a good conclusion, not necessarily tight in all aspects, but something that at least helps us define what Dust is better, and that Lyra gets a proper ending, that isn’t bound to female character tropes.

[natashasbanner]

Welcome to Storybrooke

What if Bruce and Natasha lived in the Enchanted Forest before the Queen's curse and were brought to the Land Without Magic?

Bruce/Nat OUAT AU that no one asked for.

A/N: So I did a thing. This is kind of based on a Tumblr prompt and something I've wanted to play with for a long time. Someone asked if I'd ever write a Brucenat fairytale AU and this that, with a twist from one of my favorite shows. 

This will have three parts and you don't need any knowledge of Once Upon a Time to enjoy. 

Also on AO3 X

Bruce started his day like he did any other. His alarm clock sounded at four in the afternoon, but he was mostly awake by then. He got up, took a shower and made himself some breakfast before heading into town. He still had a while before he had to be at work, but he liked to enjoy a little bit of daylight before spending his entire night at Storybrooke’s hospital. 

The quiet town didn’t have a busy emergency room during the day and at night it was a ghost town, but Bruce didn’t mind the quiet. When he finished medical school, he always imagined his days would be spent elbow deep in trauma after trauma in the big city. As it turned out the occasional bumps and bruises that he dealt with suited him well enough, better for his nerves. 

Bruce’s apartment was only a few blocks from Main Street and it was a beautifully sunny day. He grabbed his bag from where he left it by the door every morning when he returned from the hospital and headed for Main Street. 

His first stop was always Granny’s. Her granddaughter was out front, like she always was, updating the sign and sent him a smile as he passed. He ordered two coffees and pastry for later before moving on down the sidewalk, toward the boarded up library. 

Only today was different. The library was still closed off and boarded up, but the clock on the tower that overlooked the street was actually working. For as long as Bruce remembered, the clock remained pointed to 8:15. He paused on the corner and watched the new anomaly with wonder. 

If Storybrooke was anything, it was consistent. The days ran together, each one nearly identical to the last. It was exhausting sometimes, the monotony of it, but most of the time he didn’t even notice. The clock working suddenly was cause for a moment of pause. He watched for a few more minutes, before moving on.

His next stop was the bookstore tucked between the hardware store and a small deli. Because the library was closed, Bruce spent a fair amount of time searching the shelves for something new to read from the old titles. He could spend hours among the books, but they weren’t the only reason he frequented the store as often as he did. 

Bruce pushed open the door and a bell sounded above his head. The owner and sole employee of the small store, Natasha, peeked her head around the shelves. She narrowed her eyes when she realized it was him and set down the books she’d been shelving. 

“You’re late,” she said accusingly as she walked toward him. 

He held out the second coffee in his hand as a peace offering. “I was distracted.” 

“What could possibly be so interesting in this town?” She frowned and wrinkled her nose in distaste. 

“The clock over the library’s working,” he said, taking a seat at one of the chairs by the front window of the store. 

Natasha followed his lead and sat opposite him, craning her neck to try and get a look for herself. She sank into the chair with an unamused shrug. 

“It hasn’t worked as long as I’ve lived here,” she said, taking a sip of her coffee. 

“And even before that,” he added. 

She smiled softly and tilted her head to the side. “What’s it say about us that the most interesting thing that’s happened to us is the stupid clock getting fixed?” 

“I think it’s a sign,” Bruce said, watching over the rim of his steaming cup. 

She raised her eyebrow at him. “A sign of what?” 

“Change.” 

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “This place will never change.” 

Bruce sighed, but didn’t say anything. He was well aware of her resentment of this place. She wanted to travel, see the world, but she was confined to this tiny town in the middle of nowhere. But that was life sometimes, her husband got a good job on a fishing boat and they’d packed up and moved to Storybrooke. He felt for her, he really did. 

“Nat?” He said softly, reaching out to pat her knee. 

She looked up reluctantly, but made eye contact. 

“Have you heard from him?” 

Natasha blew out a long breath and shook her head. “Not for a few weeks, but they’re scheduled back soon.” 

“That’s good,” Bruce said, struggling to keep his tone even. 

“Yeah,” she said and looked back out the window. 

Bruce sat back in his chair and watched her. Bruce didn’t find out that Natasha was married until he’d known her for almost a year. He couldn’t deny that he was attracted to her, she was beautiful inside and out and one of the funniest people he’d ever met. But he’d never come between her and her husband, despite the fact the he spent months at a time out in the Atlantic. He was happy with their friendship, no matter what. 

“Tell me about your book,” she said suddenly, meeting his eyes once again. 

Bruce chuckled and pulled it out of his bag. 

“You were right. It was amazing.” 

“Maybe you should listen to me more often,” she teased. “I’m kind of an expert.” 

“Lesson learned,” he conceded. “What do you recommend for this week?” 

“Follow me, Doc.” 

X

As much as Natasha hated to admit it, Bruce had been right. Storybrooke was changing. She could feel it in the air when she opened the store in the mornings, when she walked to Granny’s for coffee and breakfast. Every time she walked past that damned clock above the library. 

The town was going insane. A coma patient just walked out of the hospital, the sheriff died and was replaced by the woman the mayor seemed to want to run out of town more than anything. Her shop was the busiest it has ever been and a letter arrived from Alex saying he’d be home in two weeks’ time. 

When Bruce finally came back into her shop again, Natasha was relieved. She hated the feeling of living the same day over and over in a town she resented keeping her prisoner. But she’d give anything for a boring day with all the chaos going on around them.

“Where have you been?” she demanded, rounding on him before he was fully in the store. 

He held out the usual coffee he bought for her along with a pastry bag from Granny’s. 

“I brought a peace offering,” he said. “If that helps?” 

Natasha accepted the coffee and eyed the bag suspiciously. 

“I haven’t seen you in a month.” 

“The hospital’s been busy,” he defended. “A man in a coma just walked out.” 

“I’ve been busy here and lonely without my favorite customer.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

She took the pastry bag and peeked inside before looking back at him. 

“You’re forgiven.” 

They made their way over to their usual chairs and sat together quietly for a few minutes before Natasha decided to break the silence. 

“Alex is coming home,” she said softly. 

Bruce smiled and hesitated a moment before he spoke. 

“That’s awesome. Did he say when?” 

Natasha tilted her head to the side with a smile. “Two weeks.”

He tried to hide it, but reading Bruce was something she excelled at. She always knew that Bruce liked her and she couldn’t deny the stirring of feelings she felt for him, only growing as time went on. But she had Alex and he was finally coming home. Being drawn to Bruce romantically was not an option. 

“I’m happy for you, Nat,” he said and it was sincere. 

Natasha ducked her head. “Thank you, Bruce.” 

They lapsed into silence again, but this time Bruce was the one to break it. 

“What are you doing tomorrow night?” 

“Nothing,” she answered, shaking her head. 

Bruce smiled. “Come to the Miner’s Day festival with me.” 

“Alright, I’ve never been.”

“I think you’ll enjoy it.” 

X

The next evening, Bruce showed up after she’d closed the store for the night. Natasha thought he looked adorable in his winter coat and scarf. He had two cups from Granny’s in his gloved hands. 

“You’re spoiling me,” she teased, taking one of the cups. 

“It’s a perfect night for hot cocoa.” 

“Lead the way, Doc.” she said and nodded down Main Street. 

He offered her his arm and she slipped hers around his elbow. 

“I did not know you’d never been to a Miner’s Day festival.” 

“Alex and I were supposed to go last year, but he didn’t come back. I didn’t feel like going by myself.” 

“You’re in for a treat,” he promised and Natasha couldn’t help but smile. 

“Yeah?”

Bruce bumped his hip against hers and she laid her head against his shoulder. 

“Why haven’t we ever hung out outside the store?” she asked. 

He shrugged. “I never realized.” 

“We should get out more often,” she said and he chuckled. 

“I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.” 

Natasha lifted her head and smiled up at him. “We’ll figure it out. That’s what friends are for, right?” 

He bumped his shoulder against hers. “Absolutely.” 

She laid her head back on his shoulder with a smile. 

X 

Of course the first Miner’s Day festival Natasha got to experience some idiot knocks out the power. Bruce was convinced the town had lost its collective minds.This was only the latest in a string of strange events to happen in the town lately. 

The candles were a nice save, but Natasha didn’t want to hang around for long after the power went out. 

They walked back to her store together, arm in arm, a candle held between them. 

“Is it just me or did this place start getting interesting overnight?” she asked. 

��That’s putting it nicely,” he scoffed. 

She shrugged, her head on his shoulder. “You were right, things are changing.” 

“Is that a bad thing?” 

They stopped in front of her store, the door to the apartment above on the side of the building. She was staring at him, her gaze intense like she could see everything about him in just a look. 

“I don’t think so,” she said and leaned up to kiss his cheek. “Goodnight, Bruce.” 

“‘Night.” 

He waited on the sidewalk until he saw a light turn on on the second level. This was dangerous territory they were crossing into, but Bruce was certain he couldn’t go back if he tried. 

X

“The town’s been quiet.” Bruce commented as he sipped his coffee at Granny’s

Natasha sat across from him, her head resting in her hand as she looked at him. She raised an eyebrow at him. 

“I never thought I’d see the day where I looked forward to a dull evening.” 

Bruce chuckled and brought his hand up to rest over his heart. 

“I’ll try to be more entertaining next time.” 

“You know what I meant,” she said and nudged his shin with her toe. “All the excitement has made me appreciate the quiet days. As much as I hate to admit it.” 

Bruce smiled softly and bumped his knee against hers under the table. “I knew you’d come around, eventually.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Don’t sound so smug.” 

“You like it here,” he teased. 

“Like is a strong word,” she said. “But it’s alright, for now.” 

“I’ll take it,” he conceded. 

Natasha smiled and they lapsed into silence. Their food was brought out to their table and they ate in comfortable silence. 

A few minutes into their meal the bell over the door jingled. Bruce didn’t think anything of it, people came and went the entire time they were there. His back was to the door and he didn’t even bother turning around. He only paused when he realized Natasha dropped her fork. 

He looked up and saw that she was staring at whoever just walked in, her mouth open slightly. 

“Are you okay?” he asked. 

She blinked a few times, ignoring his question. 

“Alex?” she said and stood from the booth. 

Bruce turned around and watched her walk over to the man standing in the middle of the diner. He recognized him vaguely from the picture Natasha kept behind the counter of the store. He was tall and handsome with a rugged edge. Bruce watched as Alex and Natasha held onto each other awkwardly for a moment. 

He turned his back to them when they pulled back to look at each other. He could hear their quiet conversation.

“You weren’t supposed to back for two days,” Natasha accused. 

“I know. We got back early.” 

“You could have told me.” 

“I wanted to surprise you.” 

“Consider me surprised.” 

Bruce could hear the smile in Natasha’s voice and his heart sank into his stomach. He stood from the booth suddenly and tossed enough money to cover their meals on the table. He ducked his head and hurried past the couple, ignoring Natasha calling his name. 

The air outside was freezing and after a block of walking he realized he left his coat in the booth he all but ran from. It was stupid and a little immature to just up and leave the second Nat’s husband returned, but he couldn’t help it. He wasn’t sure when his quiet longing had turned into full blown feelings, but Bruce was certain he loved Natasha Romanoff. 

But she was married and seeing her with Alex hurt more than he cared to admit. Maybe the distance would do him some good. 

X

“What the hell was that, Banner?” Natasha demanded as she stormed into the emergency room. 

Bruce looked up from his book and glanced at the clock on the counter. It was after two in the morning and he stood from his chair, immediately concerned. 

“Nat? What are you doing here?” He rounded the counter and crossed the room to her. “Is everything okay?” 

He reached out for her, but she waved his hand away. 

“I don’t know, you tell me. Why did you run out like that?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. 

Bruce sighed and looked down at his feet. 

“I thought you and Alex would want some time to catch up. Alone.” 

“So you left without a word in the middle of dinner. That’s what you’re sticking with?” 

He nodded, but still didn’t look at her. Natasha sighed and reached out to touch his arm. 

“Bruce,” she said. “Please look at me.” 

Reluctantly, he lifted his head. 

“I know, okay.” 

“Know what?” 

She sighed and took a step closer. “I feel it too.” 

Bruce shook his head and backed up. “No, you don’t have to do this. Natasha, your husband just came home.” 

“Maybe I don’t care,” she said with a shrug. 

“You don’t mean that.” 

“Don’t tell me how I feel,” she snapped. 

Bruce deflated and remained quiet while she paced in front of him. 

“You were right, Bruce. I don’t know what it is, but something in this town is changing. I have these dreams and they feel so real and they’re always the same. You and I, together and happy. I know it sounds crazy, but I can’t help but feel drawn to you.” 

“I know what you mean,” he said. 

There were memories in his head that felt so vivid, so real. But they were impossible, a completely separate life he lived, one he lived with Natasha. They were happy and it wasn’t complicated and Bruce would give everything for them to be true. They weren’t though, and there was nothing he could do to change that. 

“But it’s not real.” 

She took the last step to close the distance between them and reached out to touch his cheek. 

“It could be,” she said softly. 

Bruce leaned in to her touch and let himself hope for a moment, just a moment before reaching up and grabbing her fingers. 

“You’re married, Nat.” 

“I don’t have to be.” 

Bruce chuckled and gave her fingers a soft squeeze. 

“We both know the second that happened you’d be on the next bus out of town.” 

“Come with me,” she said. 

“My whole life’s here.” 

“Then let’s start over. You and me, we could go anywhere.” 

Bruce ducked his head. “Natasha, go home. Get some sleep.” 

“It won’t change anything,” she said defiantly, pulling her hand from his grasp. 

Bruce looked up and saw the silent tears running down her face. 

He swallowed and smiled sadly. “I know.” 

She lingered in front of him for a few more seconds before turning on her heel and hurrying out of the hospital. 

Bruce watched her go and his heart broke more with every step. 

X

Bruce spent the next few days sulking alone in his apartment. He saw Natasha in passing a few times, but she ignored him. Alex was with her a few times and it hurt, but Bruce knew it was for the best. They wanted different things. He was content with his life in Storybrooke, but she wanted more, so much more than he could ever give her. She resented Alex, as much as she tried to hide it, and Bruce couldn’t live with himself if he ever did the same. 

On the third day he decided to get some fresh air. He avoided Main Street and headed for the docks. With a coffee from home, he found an empty bench and settled in to watch the water. 

His coffee was nearly finished when he heard footsteps approaching. He looked up to find Natasha standing beside him, hands in her coat pockets. She didn’t look angry anymore, just tired. 

“Can I sit down?”

“Of course.” Bruce moved over to give her room on the bench. 

She sat and looked out at the water, but didn’t say anything. Eventually, Bruce was the one to break the silence. 

“How have you been?” 

She sighed. “I’ve been better.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Alex and I are getting divorced.” 

Bruce wasn’t sure what to say to that and her expression gave nothing away. 

“It wasn’t you, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she added a few moments later. “We decided it was for the best. We weren’t happy anymore.” 

“I really am sorry, Nat.” He reached over and patted her knee. 

“I’m leaving, Bruce.” 

Bruce blew out a breath and looked out at the water. He figured as much, but it still felt like someone punched him in the gut. 

“Where will you go?” He asked. 

“New York,” she said with certainty. 

“When?” 

“By the end of the month.” 

He looked over at her again. “I’ll miss you, Nat.” 

“You can always come visit,” she said and looked back at him with a raised eyebrow. 

Bruce smiled at that. “You’ll get sick of me.”

Natasha looked at him seriously. “Never.” 

They lapsed back into silence, both staring out at the water. It was cold, but the sun was high in the sky, reflecting off the waves. 

“Do you think we’d ever have a chance?” she asked after a few minutes. 

“Maybe,” Bruce answered. “One day.” 

Natasha sighed and stood. “I need to start packing.” 

Bruce stood as well and in an instant Natasha was in his arms, holding him tightly against her. He hugged her close and rested his cheek against her head. 

“I wish things could have worked out differently,” she whispered against his chest. 

He leaned back and kissed her forehead. 

“Me too.” 

X

The mayor’s kid was brought into the hospital a few nights later and the entire place descended into chaos. The mayor and the sheriff were at each other’s throats and it was giving Bruce a massive headache. 

The sun had just come up when he was finally able to step outside for a much needed breather. His phone rang and he immediately recognized Natasha’s number and picked up.

“I heard you had an exciting night, Doc,” she said, teasing. 

“More like aggravating,” he corrected with a soft chuckle. “I’ve never seen two people fight as much as those two, I swear.” 

Natasha laughed. “How much longer do you have?” 

“Two hours,” he said with a sigh. 

“Meet me at Granny’s when you’re done, I’ll buy you breakfast,” she said. “If you’re up for it.” 

“I’d love that.” He smiled to himself. 

“I should go back inside.” 

She started to say something but her sentence was cut short but static on the line. A strange light pulsed away from the hospital and spread through the town. The air was pushed from his lungs and he gasped for breath. Suddenly the world felt more vibrant that it ever had. 

Memories rushed into his mind, the life he thought had been a dream was real. And the more he remembered, the more he felt like weeping. 

And then he remembered he’d been talking on the phone. It was still pressed to his ear but the line was dead silent. 

“Natalia?”

[sarcasticfina]

My 2019 Tumblr Top 10

1). 639 notes - 20 May 2019

look, i knew jaime was dead. i still choked up a little at actually seeing him. but i straight up strangle-sobbed when brienne added all of his good deeds to the book. because despite how utterly stupid their ending was with each other, she still saw him for who he really was (and who the writers mercilessly butchered), and she made sure history would reflect that. the only nod to all of the character build-up and redemption he earned is written there on those pages and it came from the only woman to love him for him, who he was at his core, whether he saw it or not. did she deserve better? a thousand fucking percent. and so did he.

2). 119 notes - 08 April 2019

Anonymous said: steve/darcy - "Am I your lockscreen?" "You weren't supposed to see that."

“There something wrong with your phone?” Steve wondered, watching Bucky fiddle around with his phone, tapping at the screen, brow furrowed.

“Huh?” Bucky glanced at him. “No. Just fixing something.”

Steve snorted. “Wasn’t aware there was something wrong with my phone. Care to share?”

“You remember last week, you dug a sketch pad out for the first time in months…”

3). 93 notes - 19 July 2019

Hiatus

Long story short, I broke my ankle and am in a rehab hospital with no wifi. I have limited data and am not sure when I will be back to regular posting/writing. At this point, I’m four weeks out of getting my cast removed but am unsure how much longer rehab will take before I go home, so you might not see me online for a while but I am okay! :)

4). 92 notes - 08 April 2019

Anonymous said: oh you're jealous! - bamon

Bonnie was on her second glass of totally overpriced champagne and it was doing nothing for her. She was the one that talked him into being her plus-one to this gala, which had taken no small amount of pitching, but now she was regretting it. Why? Because the whole point of having him come along was that she would have someone to mutually complain to about the other guests. Only here she was, standing by the buffet, picking at mini quiches and finger sandwiches, while he was over there, being the life of the party. Why was she even surprised? Damon thrived in the spotlight. And given the many middle-aged women currently fawning over him, he was in his element.

Rolling her eyes, Bonnie turned her back on the scene, and picked at a fruit plate.

5). 87 notes - 26 September 2019

medical expenses

so, facing down over $1000 to pay down my medical plan, i’m getting a little stressed. i’m on ei right now, which isn’t quite covering my monthly costs, and i’m about to be returning home from the rehab hospital to do outpatient physiotherapy for a few weeks, which means i’m going to be adding grocery costs to everything else.

anything you can share will help and i’ll be happy to fill fic prompts for my usual ships to anyone who does donate to my ko-fi! just drop them in my ask box and let me know you donated and i will get right on it!

https://ko-fi.com/A666AWP

6). 68 notes - 08 April 2019

Anonymous said: Ooh Starcy, “can you shut up for once in your life?” Thank youu!

“…better for you… keep you safe… don’t want you to be hurt… enemies… don’t know how long… the last thing I would want… don’t think I could forgive myself if… but I have to do what I think is right…”

This conversation had been going on for a while. Too long, really. And the longer it went, the more she could hear her heart pounding in her ears. She was hurt. Confused. But more than anything, she was angry. Which is what she would blame for the next words that came out of her mouth:

“Can you shut up for once in your life?” Her fisted hands sat clenched on her knees as she raised blurry eyes up to see Steve’s surprised face. “You’ve been talking at me for what feels like hours. I don’t need a Captain America speech on all the ways I’m a weakness and how it would be a favor for you to dump me before you run off on some world-saving superhero business.”

7). 61 notes - 09 April 2019

missmeggo929 said: I don’t know if you’ll write it (if not that’s okay), but a little Seth/Kate “Forget it, you’re a fucking asshole.”

He laughed.  

And Kate could’ve killed him for it. Immediately, all the excited butterflies that had filled up her stomach and the floaty feeling in her chest evaporated. She pushed up onto her feet, scowled at him, and stomped her way to the door of the hotel room.  

8). 52 notes - 03 June 2019

routine kisses - 1/1

It starts innocently enough. Brienne tells him to do something, in that no-nonsense voice of hers, a demand that he help Podrick with something or other. With Brienne, there is rarely a request, more often an order. Jaime finds he doesn’t hate it. He’s indulgent, if anything.

So, he says, rather snarkily, “As my lady commands.” Passing her by, he pops a daring kiss on her cheek, laughing lightly as he keeps walking, far out of reach of her irritable swipe at him. He knows her face is red, that her skin turns cherry against her will, and that warms him even more.

It becomes a game of sorts. When she sends him off with some new task, he finds a way to kiss her cheek before he goes. Sometimes he pretends he won’t or he’s forgotten, but that’s only so she’ll drop her guard long enough that he can sneak in.

9). 51 notes - 12 May 2019

lazy morning kisses - jaime/brienne - 1/1

Should she ask, his excuse is quite simple. He knows her well enough that when she wakes, she’ll startle, make excuses, return to her respectful use of ‘Ser Jaime,’ which is far from how he likes to hear his name spilt from her mouth, not after hearing her heartfelt cries last night. He’s not sure he ever wants to hear her say his name any other way. Rather than wait for her inevitable regret, followed by embarrassment and excuse-making, he chooses to forgo any initial questions about his intentions or desires.

There is no strain, no furrowed brow or frowning lips, when she sleeps. There is only peace. Her face is soft, pale skin and pinkened cheeks and ripe lips. Not pretty, not truly, but beauty is a strange thing. She is magnificent. She always has been. A sight to behold. All too often mocked or overlooked or underestimated. Even he made that folly in the beginning.

10). 45 notes - 08 June 2019

top of head kisses - jaime/brienne - 1/1

At five-and-ten, Duncan was their oldest. He loved books and sword-fighting in equal measure. He was warm and friendly and had his mother’s blue eyes and his father’s handsome face. He was tall, imposingly so, especially for his age. Lanky with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, he looked a far sight more intimidating than he was. For he was still just a boy. On the cusp of manhood, yes, but a boy all the same. He was Jaime’s little boy. The same that he had cradled and sung to and danced around the echoing stone halls of their home when he would not stop crying for anything. The same who proudly proclaimed he was a lion and would roar at people in greeting for the first five years of his life. The same who gripped his father’s stubbed wrist without complaint or revulsion and who agreed that a hook would be more practical than any fancy hand could be. Jaime’s little lion with his still round cheeks, kissed with freckles. 

Created by TumblrTop10

[sesamesaysme]

Sims 4 vs. Paralives

I want to do a rant about why I’m not treating Paralives like it’s the Holy Grail.

I am super excited about Paralives BUT at the same time I’m definitely not one of the many people who are commenting on youtube that Paralives is like the death toll for Sims and how they are ready to jump ship, never playing Sims again. 

First of all, no game will have everything every person wants. There are always trade-offs. Sims team have said that in Sims 3 when they did a lot of ambitious things in gameplay, it caused the game to lag and glitch after only a few packs had been added because many computers’ just couldn’t handle it. That’s why they did not add open world or CAS color wheel to Sims 4. Paralives has been smart in going after all the flaws in Sims 4 that players have long complained about, but it too will have its own compromises that it has to make, especially with its workforce being only one person. 

For Paralives, the obvious answer of what to sacrifice is the graphics. I don’t think it can give the kind of beauty we see in the Sims 4 worlds with the changing seasons and changing weather. Paralives might have seasons and weather but a lot more simplified. I doubt it will give anybody those moments that occasionally happen in Sims when you are playing and suddenly you forget about your sims because you’re just like, “Oh wow. Look at that sunset!” or “This snow scene is amazing!” 

From what we’ve seen, Paralives build mode has made some really really cool choices. I love that they are going gridless for build. I love that creating curves is so easy. Those are going to be so fun to create and experiment with. But I also know that many Simmers’ play style is primarily to build realistic builds or design lifelike aesthetically pleasing interiors, often just purely building, decorating, posting screencaps without really playing with families. I’ve seen absolutely gorgeous interiors posted on tumblr. Because Paralives has chosen to go with a simpler more cartoony style, will that really be enough to satisfy the avid build/buy mode Simmers? 

I also want to point out that so far we know almost nothing about Paralives’ character design, character animations, and character free will. I have my concerns about how much one person can do in this aspect of the game. As frustrated as we can be at times with our Sims, they can do a lot of actions including a fair amount of multitasking and the animations for sims are even charming at times (especially for toddlers and pets). I personally don’t think it is as easy to make an exact likeness of someone in Sims 4 as it was in Sims 3, but nevertheless we are able to customize our sims a great deal and see their genetics passed from one generation to the next. I wonder if Paralives may be problematic for the Simmers who like to do stories with their Sims. In particular I am thinking of players who like to play legacies. Will Paralives be able to do genetics believably? Will it have a family tree? Paralives is giving us more things to do within the game but will we like how the characters look while doing them? Will they move on their own when we’re not controlling them? How will they sound? Will they even have voices in the first place? If so, will they have their own language? Will they have personalities and aspirations?

There’s just so much we don’t know yet. Will there be a calendar system? What are careers like? Does it have anything magical like ghosts and vampires? It has been said that this is a pay one time game but does that mean whatever is in the base game is it or will there be updates? I think people who are saying Paralives is going to kill the Sims franchise are really jumping the gun because it kinda feels like there are a lot of assumptions made that Paralives will have just about everything Sims 4 has and more because of course Paralives is going to promote its strongest points and not draw attention to any flaws it might have. Many of us may be overlooking that some things we are accustomed to having may actually not be in Paralives or may be there in a weaker form. 

Having said all that, I still feel strongly that any form of competition is going to benefit players in the long run because the game creators will want to one up each other. 

I plan to play both games. If you think of the two games as foods, the “chefs” are using the same ingredients but using them in different amounts and cooking them differently. Sometimes you might want your bread/meat/veggies as a sandwich. Other times you might want the same items in the form of a hot soup and croutons. Why would you say you are giving up one for the other?

(Note* Sorry if some of the things I mentioned have already been addressed in Paralives’ Discord or Twitter. I wouldn’t know since I don’t have those.)

[pckarchives]

because going back and adding these to the previous q & a’s would be a pain ... beneath the cut , you’ll find all of brynn’s information !

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟎𝟎.     ›     brunnhilde brynn naoimh friar.

► species ➔ kelpie. ► biological age ➔ 1,803. ► weight ➔ 130 lbs. ► height ➔ 5′9″. ► build ➔ very thin with a bit of muscle! though, fun fact: if she is trying to lure in someone who prefers a bigger or smaller girl, that is what they will see! because kelpie aren’t actually human anyway, her human form only serves to draw others in, so they appear as the most appealing form, according to those around them. she looked a lot bigger when she lived in france and weight was in style, but she’s much thinner these days. she doesn’t understand humans, she doesn’t like this. ► disabilities ➔ none! ► weapon(s) of choice ➔ in an every day situation, her fists! she does not fight often (anymore), but she is very capable of solving those fights via human means. if a battle requires more than that, well... kelpies have no problem dragging someone down to the depths of the sea and eating them. ► skills ➔ see above. in addendum to the dragging someone to the depths of the sea thing, she can trap someone in her arms so they can’t escape her. works best when she’s in water, but she could make it work on land. also, she has a weather-sense! usually only matters when storms are coming, because she can feel when the waters get restless. she can summon a storm herself, but dear gods, the amount of effort that takes. she’s done it once in her near two thousand years of existence and has elected to never do it again. finally, she can actually turn into the horse spirit when she’s underwater. it looks... a little more mermaid-ish than one would think, but it’s a horse, okay. in her horse form, she’s ten times faster and stronger than a normal horse and... y’know, she can drag someone to the bottom of the sea and eat them. notably, if she is shifted on land, she appears like a regular black horse! maybe a little bigger than normal, slightly monstrous snout, but you’d have to look really closely to notice that. ► weaknesses ➔ her bridle. anyone gets their hands on it, they have control over her, which... is extremely terrifying, considering what she can do. so she keeps that thing hidden where no one has a chance of finding it or taking it from her. ► worst habits ➔ unfortunately, she falls in love very easily. after all of this time, she’s still a wide-eyed romantic. she also trusts entirely too easily. you would think she would know better, but? no? ► nervous tics ➔ she plays with seashells! talking to the sea is very much a mermaid thing, yes, but mermaids and kelpies are close relatives, and they all need a bit of water comfort. so when brynn’s feeling a little nervy, she’ll toy with a seashell or pearl, maybe have a quiet and awkward conversation with the nearest sea. ► sexuality ➔ what a silly concept. ► are they single? ➔ at the moment, yes. ► are they happy? ➔ literally always. ► are they angry? ➔ sometimes. really depends on the situation. ► are their parents still married? ➔ she doesn’t have parents! kelpies are independent spirits and they aren’t exactly born the way humans and other beings are. she simply came into existence, exactly the way she is. she’s been “adopted” many times, taken in by loving couples who hated to see such a young thing on her own in the world. but as far as biology goes, she has no parents to speak of. ► happiest memory? ➔ meeting iliana khepri! and, in addition, meeting her sons when they were turned! brynn doesn’t have many friends who’ve lasted throughout the years, as most people eventually die of old age, if nothing else. but having such beautifully-spirited friends who are as eternal as she is is a gift that she can never overlook. ► worst memory? ➔ the moment she, rohan and iliana found elliot the night of his wedding. certainly, there are worse things that she has lived through, long before this child was born, married and broken. but this horror is the freshest and it hurts the most. he had been so excited to tell them of his wedding and he simply wasn’t the same after it all. elliot may be nearly two hundred years old, but he’s still a baby, as far as she’s concerned? and he’s already been hurt in a way that even she’s managed to avoid so far. being there to witness it and being unable to stop it... yeah. she should have eaten that man. ► biggest regret? ➔ trusting a djinn with her bridle. she’d been friends with the woman and had been so certain that it would be the right move. wrong! anyway, brynn ate her. ► best thing they’ve ever done? ➔ saved quite a few travelers and tourists from storms and people with ill-intentions. ate a few dictators. ► worst thing they’ve ever done? ➔ in her “youth,” she ate people indiscriminately. she didn’t quite learn to control herself until she met iliana and had a reason to be kind. so she’s eaten quite a few children, her fair share of families, etc... she’s not proud of it. ► worst thing that’s ever been done to them? ➔ remember that djinn from earlier? yeah, she accused brynn of being a witch... during the witch trials. and given that brynn didn’t have her own bridle, she couldn’t even save herself. and she wasn’t one of the ones who had to drown to prove her innocence; no, that would have bene a mercy. she was burned. do you know what happens when you put a water spirit in flames? ► what scares them the most? ➔ the thought of someone getting their hands on her bridle again. she’s a full romantic, loves and trusts wholeheartedly, but she’s not sure she’ll ever trust that much ever again. ► who have they left behind? ➔ honestly, no one! though she’s been to many places and has met many people, she has rarely gotten attached to people, only to leave them behind. you could say she left iliana, rohan and elliot behind, but even then... not really? she’s kept in contact with them over the years, calling them ever so often to make sure they are doing well. elliot has recently taught her about facetime! ...she does not understand it. ► who would they kill for? ➔ anyone who needs it. this comes with the understanding that not every situation calls for death. some people just need a good curb-stomp and the problem is solved. but if someone truly needed her to kill, then she will do so. ► who has hurt them the most? ➔ the aforementioned djinn. that was a few hundred years ago, so you would think she would be over it? but no! absolutely the worst thing she’s ever experienced! ► who have they hurt the most? ➔ she would be hard pressed to say. she hasn’t hurt anyone she’s cared about. and when considering those that she’s eaten, no one person matters more than the others. ► who scares them the most? ➔ no one. ► if they could say one thing to their family right now, what would it be? ➔ “i have an ipad! ...what do i do with it?” SEVEN FACTS ► ‘birth’ place ➔ the north sea. ► hair color ➔ currently, blonde. it has been a number of colors over the years, due to beauty trends and hair dye. she was born with brown hair, a little lighter than her horse mane, but prefers the blonde. ► eye color ➔ blue. ► birthday ➔ september 30, 216. ► gender ➔ all kelpies are female. ► summer or winter ➔ summer. ► morning or afternoon ➔ morning. EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE ► are they in love? ➔ no. ► do they believe in love at first sight? ➔ absolutely! ► who ended their last relationship? ➔ she did. ► have they ever broken someone’s heart? ➔ yep. ► are they afraid of commitments? ➔ not at all! ► have they hugged someone within the last week? ➔ no, which is a shame. ► have they ever had a secret admirer? ➔ probably? ► have they ever broken their own heart? ➔ yes. SIX CHOICES ► love or lust ➔ love. ► lemonade or iced tea ➔ lemonade. ► cats or dogs ➔ dogs! ► a few best friends or many regular friends ➔ depends? with a life like hers, she needs both. ► wild night out or romantic night in ➔ romantic night in. ► day or night ➔ day. FOUR HAVE YOU EVERS ► been caught sneaking out? ➔ no. ► fallen down/up the stairs ➔ yes. ► wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ yes. ► wanted to disappear? ➔ no. FAMILY ► do they and their family get along?  ➔ she doesn’t have a family! ► would they say they have a “messed up life”? ➔ no. ► have they ever ran away from home? ➔ yes. ► have they ever gotten kicked out? ➔ no. FRIENDS ► do they secretly hate one of their friends? ➔ no! ► do they consider all of their friends good friends? ➔ yes! ► who is their best friend? ➔ iliana khepri. ► who knows everything about them? ➔ see above, plus rohan laghari and elliot aldridge. ► pack mate they’re closest to? ➔ prediction-wise, she’ll get close to theo, megan, alicia and nico, so as to help them not eat people, but especially theo and megan. (brynn shows up and adopts two cannibal kids on sight... as she should!) also kali, on account of her living with the vampires and being rohan’s baby sister. but of course, she will always be closest to iliana and her boys. ► pack mate they’ve fought the most? ➔ she is not a fighter! ► if forced to choose between their life and that of their closest pack mate, who would they save? ➔ martyrdom leaves no winners. she and iliana have always saved themselves and she doesn’t see why that would change.

► hobbies ➔ professionally, she’s a marine archeologist, but that started out as a hobby, as well! other than that, she likes taking dives and swimming with dolphins, whales and sharks. make no mistake, she is not the apex predator in that situation. but kelpies are repulsive to sea creatures, so as to prevent them from being eaten. so swimming with them is always safe, thankfully. and though she will not admit it under extreme torture, she does like roaming around in her horse form. she’s given quite a few horseback rides to children, because their happiness is all she could ever ask for. ► social media handles ➔ social what now? ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ conventional. it’s a good day if she can figure out how to put a number in her contacts as it is, no need to get creative. ► favorite color ➔ sea blue. ► favorite video game ➔ she has tried video games before and just cannot understand them. every time someone mentions a new one, it’s a different console? the controller has a new design? how does anyone keep up? ► favorite song ➔ modern love by david bowie. ► favorite scent ➔ incense! ► favorite band/artist ➔ julie d'aubigny was one of a kind. ► favorite place to be ➔ not to be cliché, but... the beach. the sand, the ocean, the rocks... she lives for that kinda vibe. ► favorite season ➔ summer! she can get into the water as much as she wants without people looking at her strange. ► favorite word ➔ alacrity. ► favorite meme ➔ i pretend i do not see it. (elliot taught her this one and he’s very proud of her for remembering it.) ► if they were an animal ➔ i... horse. ► if they were a color ➔ blue, in all of its forms. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ literally any of those tiktoks with the audio that goes: fuck, i.. i... i love you ! no, that’s too soon, you met this girl this afternoon ! okay, FUCK. she’s looking scared, maybe, like, should’ve came prepared with a poem, a haiku, maybe a hug, y’know ––– i could’ve killed you & hidden you with a rug, WHAT THE FUCK ? did you just say that, you fucking psychotic maniac –––– ?! ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ blank space. ► aesthetic ➔ blood-stained seashells, clam shells pried open with shaking hands, blonde hair tied back into a peppy ponytail, blonde then red then pink then ombre but never brown never again, the ocean lapping at pale feet, calling the lost souls back home. ► motto ➔ “this isn’t the first ending i’ve survived and it won’t be the last.” ► theme song ➔ in for the kill by la roux.

► medical issues ➔ none. ► knows far too much about ➔ worldwide theologies. she doesn’t subscribe to any particular religion herself, but she has always been fascinated by the existence of higher beings, so she chooses to believe in all of them! ► fears death via ➔ fire. ► chances of being “evil” ➔ eh, pretty slim. she’s malevolent by nature, but has no interest in going all dark side again. she’s been there and she’s not impressed!