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maroucia · 4 years ago

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SanSan Russian Roulette | Summer 2021

Here they are! The results!😄 But first, here’s a reminder of the game’s rules:

-Your prompt fill should be at least 500 words (one-shot or multi-chapter fic). You can post to the platform of your choice (AO3, FF.net, Tumblr, Twitter, etc.).

-Please tag "SanSan Russian Roulette 2021" on AO3, Tumblr, or Twitter so we can track all the wonderful fics!

-Post by 31 July—For multi-chapter fics, you’ll only need to have posted the first chapter by 31 July. You can post sooner than this. If real life crops up and your fill will be delayed, just post as soon as you can. If you’re unable to fill your prompt, please reach out to maroucia or sansanwritersguild on tumblr or @Mod or @...Maroucia… on Discord.

Now here are the prompts:

1. To Fleurdeplume: “Dusk. Secret meetings. Stolen kiss. Sansa looks like a little bird but deep down, she's a wolf.” (From Lysae).

2. To TheImmaculateBastard: “Inspired by a tweet, "I don't know what just happened, but I was at an animal shelter before work and a toddler walked in, pointed to me, and said “I want that one”. His mother looked at me and said “you can’t have that, that’s a grown man”” (From Lorel).

3. To Jadedelcinismo: “Sansa is in love with Sandor and is jealous of someone in his life. Canon/AU, your choice.” (From Missy-1978).

4. To Vermilion_Sunrise: “Sandor tucks Sansa in bed after her first day as Queen in the North.” (From Prettybadmagic).

5. To Meganfence: “Fight, argument or other disagreement. Open to interpretation, minor or major.” (From Redbirdblackdog).

6. To Sharkaria: “Sandor discovers he's got a good eye for photography. He fills his time taking pictures of his urban landscape, until he spies a Little Bird Muse...” (From Glamgrowl).

7. To Missy-1978: “Kinda stole this from the Discord, but I love a forced marriage trope! Maybe Sansa got left at the altar and Sandor steps in last minute. Or a role reversal where she has to marry him to save his honor. Something fun and unexpected, can be modern or set in GOT world.” (From Atomic-bomb-shell).

8. To TailBobSquid: “Jumanji AU - either a game that they are playing comes to life or they get sucked into a game that they are playing.” (From ReadyReaderOne).

9. To Prettybadmagic: “Sandor is going to do it. He's going to do the kiss your best friend challenge. The friend he just happens to have been in love with since day one.” (From Islandida).

10. To Glamgrowl: “Feel good and funny modern au where all Starks are alive and well. Sansa makes the first move on Sandor even though she's not sure she's his type as he is much older and works a blue collar job. (Please no Joffrey bashing) Cameos from other Starks would be awesome but not necessary.” (From Rayne).

11. To Glitterswitch: “Bakery/coffee shop AU Stranger is Sandor’s service animal.” (From OrangeTabby).

12. To LittleWolfBird: “Sandor joins the Stark family traveling circus when he sees a casting call for "freaks." Bonus points for Sansa on trapeze or tightrope.” (From GlitterGoth114).

13. To Diverse.lorde: “Sansa playing her high harp (or other instrument) and singing a song that she wrote about/for Sandor.” (From Neleam).

14. To Lysae : “Sandor finds out Sansa made him TikTok famous after a video of him goes viral: Sansa: hey can I have x/can we go to y? Sandor: no. Sansa, in a sweet voice: pretty please? Sandor, huffing: fine (Daddy on the end of pretty please would be lovely, but if Daddy Sandor isn’t your thing, no problem).” (From TailBobSquid).

15. To OrangeTabby: “Mafia AU, fancy party. Dominant Sandor, thirsty Sansa Sandor in a suit, hand tattoos, creeping neck tattoo, whiskey - Sansa thirsting.” (From Meganfence).

16. To Neleam: “Sanson Stark has always been the dutiful yet idealist second son of House Stark. Sandra Clegane is a Silent sister who has been disappointed by the very songs she once admired. A knight of the Seven and a handmaiden of the Stranger unexpectedly find comfort in each other.” (From Jadedelcinismo).

17. To Redbirdblackdog: “Sansa gets her first tattoo by none other than the famous tattoo artist "The Hound". When she's in pain, she exhales slowly and Sandor says, "Good girl". Sexual tension ensues. (This prompt was inspired by a meme.)” (From Thequeen--in--thenorth).

18. To Thequeen--in--thenorth: “Following a tumultuous few years, Sansa has spent every penny she's ever earned on a quiet cottage, surrounded by forest and wildlife. Not long after moving, a strange man appears in the pond near her home, half-alive and unable to remember anything about himself except his name: Sandor.” (From Suzi).

19. To Atomic-bomb-shell: “Crust punk modern AU. Sandor is a crustie squatting in the backyard of an abandoned house. Sansa is a friendly neighbor who offers him a warm meal and access to her laundry room.” (From Diverse.lorde).

20. To Lorel: “Sansa manages a gallery in King’s Landing. After storming out of a fight with her boyfriend, she drives off into the countryside. That’s when she sees the most amazing art behind some dusty glass in a car repair shop. Now all she has to do is convince the artist, Sandor, to do a show at her gallery.” (From Vermilion_Sunrise).

21. To GlitterGoth114: “Walked in on. Caught in the act. "Can opened, worms everywhere." (From TheImmaculateBastard).

22. To Islandida: “Robb comes home from war with a big loyal man behind him. Sansa never thought she'd see her brother again let alone *him*. Modern au or canon.’’ (From LittleWolfBird).

23. To Rayne: “Modern AU: After finally getting out of an unhappy/controlling relationship with Joffrey that desecrated her self-worth, Sansa enrolls for self-defence classes with martial arts Master Clegane, who proceeds to build up her self esteem and fighting skills while the two fight their mutual attraction.” (From Fleurdeplume).

24. To Suzi: “Prompt submission -- passionate time travel.” (From Sharkaria).

25. To ReadyReaderOne: “Sansa leaves with the Hound that night. Their journey thru Westeros is loosely similar - Arya, Twins, etc. They find Elder Brother to help Sandor. After healing, all 3 head for Braavos, and the Dragon Queen. Lots of friendship/bonding b/t all 3; both defend Sandor from Dany. Devoted sansan, HEA!’’ (From Glitterswitch).

#Sansan Russian Roulette #sansan #sansan writers guild #Sansa Stark #Sandor Clegane

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owl-with-a-pen · 4 years ago

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Didn't anyone notice that poor Brainy was about to fall over during all of 6x01? I was like a mother with my heart in my hand. I feel like Brainia's last interaction, when they promised each other no more secrets, made all this waiting worth it. And his face when she laid her head down, as if he had been waiting for it for ages.. T-T. Could you write about that?

- I felt 100% the same, anon! Brainy didn’t get a second to rest through all of that drama and I simply will not stand for it! So, I added a little extra to Nia and Brainy’s scene, just for you. ;) x

Brainy didn’t want to let her go.

If he could have had it his way, this moment would have gone uninterrupted for lifetimes.

Since giving her his ring, he’d been trying to come to terms with the fact that Nia might not have been able to forgive what he’d done. Even after calculating the odds a thousand times over, it had done nothing to aid the hurt in his chest knowing she might never be able to look at him the same way again, that he may have ruined everything by doing this.

And yet, despite those odds, despite every intrusive, insistent voice that hammered at the back of his mind, Nia had told him that she still cared for him, that she still loved him. That, if he was willing, she wanted to fix what was broken, rekindle and reinforce their relationship. No more lies, no more secrets. She was asking for his complete transparency, so that she could trust him just as freely as Brainy had entrusted his own Legion ring to Nia not hours ago.

If there was one thing Brainy knew for certain, it was that he never wanted to lie to Nia ever again.

Their fingers were still locked together, neither one of them willing to break from each other’s hold quite yet. Brainy could feel the steady thrill of Nia’s pulse against his hand, and yet even with the warmth of her body right at his side, he just couldn’t understand how she could still be there, after all he had put her through…

The heart isn’t logical.

The longer that Brainy had to process his uninhibited state, the truer he was beginning to find those words.

He closed his eyes, allowing a small breath to pass through his teeth as he lowered his head.

Even in the peaceful lull of this small, uninterrupted moment, Brainy couldn’t help but run through every move he had made that had brought him here. There had been no correct choice, that was true, but had his decisions in the end been worth the sacrifice? He may have defeated Leviathan, but Lex had only grown stronger for it. If he had never obtained their bottled power in the first place, Kara might still have been…

Then, he felt Nia shift against his shoulder, the tickle of her eyelashes as they fluttered against his throat, and suddenly nothing else mattered. Brainy pushed that tumultuous thought track aside, focusing instead on the warmth of Nia’s breath against his neck, squeezing her leg tighter still.

The moment felt unreal and yet undeniably grounding all at once.

Ultimately, he wanted to be worthy of her forgiveness, and he knew it would start here. With honesty. Communication. The kind that they had been working on long before Lex had put a nearly irreversible divide through their relationship.

But, his mind was beginning to fog. The steady exhaustion that had been building up all day from ignoring his body’s baser needs was finally reaching its peak. He’d been putting it off for far too long already.

His head felt heavy, suddenly, and he pressed his face into Nia’s hair, sighing softly.

He was on the very edge of unconsciousness when he heard Nia speak.

“Brainy,” Nia murmured, her voice a gentle buzz along his jaw. “You’re really warm.” She lifted her head, squeezing his hand a little tighter. “Are you okay?”

Brainy blinked his eyes open, finding that it took longer than anticipated to refocus on his surroundings.

In all honesty, he wasn’t okay. He’d put all his energy into maintaining his focus throughout the day, ignoring the uncomfortable sensations of his internal enhancements as they’d worked tirelessly to fix the damage caused by Leviathan’s ship. Alex had been right, the support of the nanites was most certainly not fun. They had played their part, but he was in no way restored to an adequate level of functionality. His head was beginning to swim the longer he kept his eyes open, and his bones still ached from the chill left behind by the Fortress’s icy floors.

That was strange in itself. He felt cold, although Nia had been right, he was definitely running warmer than normal. It appeared his implants working on overdrive to heal his body as quickly as possible had resulted in a rather nasty fever.

“I’m still healing,” Brainy said slowly, disquieted by the lethargic slur in his voice. He swallowed in an effort to cover it. “It’ll take some time before I’m fully recovered.”

“Would sleeping help?” Nia prompted.

Brainy stiffened immediately. “I should be helping in the search for Kara-”

“M’gann’s chasing her lead,” Nia said smoothly, “and Lena’s still studying the projector.” Her brow creased with concern. “Look, Brainy, I know you feel responsible, but this wasn’t your fault, and forcing yourself to keep going when you’re not feeling well isn’t going to help anyone.”

Brainy’s jaw clenched instinctively, preparing himself for a rebuttal…

But, then he saw Nia’s face, the clear worry in her expression as she waited patiently for his answer. Silently, she reached out with her free hand, squeezing his wrist.

Communication, he reminded himself strictly. Nia deserved the truth from him. And, the truth was...

“You’re right,” Brainy admitted softly, ducking his head. “I- I am tired.”

“Alright,” Nia said gently, bumping her shoulder against his. “Let’s get you to the couch.”

Brainy blinked up at that. “Can we—” he began, before pausing, lowering his voice. “I mean- can we stay here, for just a moment longer? Please?”

Maybe Nia could hear the tremble in his voice, further alluding to how weak he suddenly felt. At the very least, he was confident that trying to stand right now would not end well. He needed the time to draw energy from a few background processes, to support him enough that he might make the short journey to somewhere vastly more accommodating to allow for proper rest.

Nia nodded her understanding, resting her head back against Brainy’s shoulder, allowing him to balance a little more of his weight against her as she snuggled in close.

Brainy smiled, burying his face into the comfort of his girlfriend’s hair.

“Just let me know when you’re ready,” Nia murmured. “I’m right here, okay?”

Yes, Brainy thought as he closed his eyes, feeling the soft pinch of her finger still tightly wound around his own.

Despite all odds, she was.

#supergirl #brainia #nia nal #brainiac 5 #supergirl season 6 #supergirl fanfiction #my writing #anon #my prompts #dreamdox #hurt/comfort is my jam and we deserved more of it goddamnit #and so. i will write it myself.#you're welcome.

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barbaramatthews14 · 4 years ago

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Life is a paradox and so is family

I don’t think it’s possible for anyone to experience joy without sadness, connection without disconnection, healing without pain ... and I find it quite interesting that the people who are able to cause us the most pain are more often than not those that we are closest to, the biggest most influential people in our lives, can also have us feeling the most lost, alone, diminished in some way.

I read a book once (yes I have read lots and lots of books) but again sadly can’t remember the title. The one thing though, that this book taught me and that I have never forgotten was the message that we will never have the power to change another person but that we do have the power change ourselves and to change the relationship, that invisible intangible thing, that exists between us.

I bought this book at THE most perfect time in my life - in fact the timing couldn’t have been more perfect. I was about to get married for the second time and was having serious doubts and reservations about whether or not this was the right thing to do. We had been living together for a few years, he was a single dad with four (yes count them, four!) boys and I was a single mother with one girl ... to say the least (and I really am saying the least here!) our lives became chaotic, explosive, tumultuous ... and not in a good way. But I loved this man (still do) and the thing that kept me there was that I kept reminding myself that there was a light at the end of the tunnel - it was a long way off and quite dim, a pinprick really, but it was there. So there was my first dilemma.

My second dilemma was about the notion of commitment ... I take this seriously because I understand so well the capacity for people to hurt each other ... and we can never know what is around the next corner in life, it’s all so unpredictable and uncertain, yet here I was about to say ‘til death do us part’ ... to another person, who might get hurt‼️... and I just didn’t know if I could do that to someone that I cared about so much, so I was very very worried, very uncertain and a little scared - UNTIL I read this book that I don’t remember the name of. (I know, best not end sentences in a preposition but I’m doing it anyway).

SO this book talked about commitment and that when making such a big marriage commitment, we are really making a commitment to the relationship, that invisible intangible relationship, that thing that exists between us - rather than to the human standing on the other side of that invisible thing. AND if we are about to make such a big commitment then the real question is NOT can I commit to this person? The real questions are ... Can I commit to this relationship? Is this relationship important enough and valuable enough for me to commit to? The answer to these questions was a resounding “yes”. Firstly because I had learned by reading this book that I always have the power to improve the relationship by changing myself and secondly because this was without a doubt the best man I had ever met in my life.

We’ve been married now for 20 years - years that have not been without problems and drama and angst, and over the years I have found it necessary to ask myself those questions again ... asking myself whether this relationship continues to be important enough for me to keep, to work on. And overall the answer continues to be ‘yes’ ... mind you it has come supremely close to ‘no’ on a couple of occasions, but I think that my husband and I have finally gotten to a place where we can discuss what’s happening between us, discuss whether our relationship is important enough for both of us to keep and work on fixing it when it’s necessary ... and that this is an ongoing process. We have grown together and we have changed together, and it hasn’t been easy because at times, we are still at a loss as to what to do when things between us seem to be going so wrong, and making us so unhappy for one reason or another. At those times there is some shaping and redefining of our relationship that needs to happen.

I am a grandmother now - which has added another level of joy and connection and belonging as well as added complexity, uncertainty and even at times disconnection.

The absolute hardest thing for me to do as a parent was to watch as my daughter started to make her way in the world without me, it was gut wrenching for me and so terribly hard for her because I didn’t always handle the situation very well, in fact I was pretty crap with it all. Then one day (and this was before I read the book, and I have no idea where this realisation came from but ...) I realised that the only way to get through this was to redefine our relationship. My daughter is 34 now and I have done this twice so far ... once when she was a teenager and then again just a few weeks ago. On both occasions I had a conversation with her about how much I love her and told her how hard it was for me to take a step back from her life but that it seemed like it was time for me to do so.

When she was a teenager we talked about how worried I was about not knowing all of the people in her life and what she was doing when she was out - and that I felt like a stranger in her life. I explained that the reason I felt so worried was that until this point it had always been my job to look after her and to keep her safe, but I also had to acknowledge her need to go out there and start to experience her life separate from me. I told her that part of the reason that I was so worried (I was terrified really) was because the foundations on which my fears were based were my own teenage years, which I wouldn’t wish on anybody! When I realised that my terror was based on pure projection, I knew I needed to trust that as her mother, I had laid a good enough foundation for her to make good choices that would keep her safe while she was out being a teenager, and to trust with absolute certainty that she would keep me informed if she was going to be later than she had planned or if her plans changed, in other words simply to keep me generally informed at all times ... so these ideas formed the basis of our redefined relationship and our responsibility to that relationship with each other.

Now that she has a family too, I find myself having to take a step back - again. We had an incident which sparked another redefining conversation for me ... a conversation about how her husband and family now simply have to be the priorities in her life, and that’s as it should be. Her boundaries and my boundaries shift and change and it’s really hard and painful and awkward to find mutually calm and respectful ways to talk about these things.

Mostly it’s hard because we are both strong assertive women. It’s painful because I don’t want to step back again, even though I know it’s absolutely necessary. It’s awkward because it’s so hard for me to express that degree of vulnerability because I know how unreasonable that is and how important it is for her to have her own priorities and boundaries now. More than anything though, I know how much we love each other and how important our relationship is to both of us ... and I also know that at any given moment we are all doing the absolute best that we can.

So here we are back at the beginning, the journey of paradox ... the connection and disconnection, the joy and the sadness, the pain and the healing, the closeness and the separateness and the bloody hard work that is required when relationships are so worth keeping.

Following quote by Terri St. Cloud

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secretlystephaniebrown · 7 years ago

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Time’s Running Out: Romeo

... whoops? Has it really been since March? OH WELL, MY COMPUTER'S FIXED, I'VE GOT FREE TIME AGAIN, AND I'M READY TO KICK THIS FIC'S ASS, ENJOY SOME FEELINGS.

Summary: The Reds and Blues; and their respective Freelancers, find themselves stranded on a strange planet named Chorus. Secrets, lies, and the unexpected seem to lie around every corner, and there might be even larger threats looming over the horizon.

They’re possibly even less ready for Chorus than Chorus is for them.

Pairings: Lots of friendships, Suckington, Yorkalina, Chex, eventual Yorkimbalina, possible others.

Start

Ao3

There was a moment of heavy breathing, with York staring up at her. There was blood everywhere, and for a second, she thought she saw fear in his body language.

It was only a second, but it was quite possibly one of the most terrible seconds of Tex’s life.

She stepped over the corpse and offered him a hand up.

York reached up and accepted, taking it and then using the momentum to collapse against her. Relief coursed through her. If he was able to trick her into a hug, he was going to be fine.

“Is he…” York said, staring at the body behind her.

“Yes.” She said. She offered no explanations or apologies. She knew that Locus had been his friend once. The thought was strange in her mind, sharp like jealousy and bitter like rage.

York’s shoulders stiffened for a moment, then he exhaled sharply.

“That is excellent news, Agent Texas,” Delta said, appearing on York’s shoulder, as if attempting to reassure himself that York was, in fact, still alive. It was as close to physical contact that an A.I. and host could get.

“Dee, when did you get so bloodthirsty?” York asked, but there was relief in his voice too. One more ghost gone.

Tex bent over Locus’s dead body, and pried the healing unit out of his fingers, already stiff. Carefully, she pressed it back into place on York’s chest plate, watching as his body language slowly relax as painkillers did their job.

“They’re gone,” Tex said, and there should have been satisfaction in that, but there wasn’t. It had been too close.

She’d watched York die before, and it had been a long, long time ago now. She had stopped that world, she had punched a hole through reality itself to save him, but…

She had watched him die once.

She had come this close to seeing it happen again.

Tex reached out and pressed a hand against his shoulder. “York,” she said, struggling to find words. “I—you know you’re—you’re my—” the words felt like they were strangling her, which shouldn’t even be possible.

Church, in her brain, remained shockingly silent.

“I know,” York said. “Me too.”

She scowled and clenched her hands into fists. “No,” she said. “Don’t let me off like that.”

“Tex,” York laughed, his voice unsteady, his breathing labored. He took a step forward and stumbled. Tex leapt forward to catch him. “I know, okay?”

“I love you,” Tex spat out.

She wasn’t programmed to. It was an aberration.

She was programed to love Church. She was built for it. She was built to love Carolina. She was built for the strange affection for Delta, even.

She was a shadow, an artifice, a series of ones and zeroes all strung together, forming the very core of herself. Pieced together, placed in a body of a robot, built up and pulled apart and put back together again. Put back together by Reds and Blues and Church and Carolina…and the idiot in front of her.

She had not been built for this. This strange, tumultuous, bizarre course, which no one could have seen coming.

There was no romance in the sentence, there was barely even affection. It was brusque and harsh, somehow a declaration and a question at the same time.

She loved her idiot best friend, and she had nearly seen him die a second time.

She couldn’t see his expression.

“I love you too, Tex,” he said. He leaned against her. “Now, uh, not to rush you or anything, but I think I need to submit myself to Dr. Grey’s terrifying medical expertise.”

“Right,” Tex said, putting an arm around his shoulder and starting to lead him away.

The tightness in her throat, the one that should be impossible because she had no muscles to lock up or lungs to draw air with, didn’t go away.

“Let’s go back to Armonia,” she said. York’s blood dripped onto the cavern floor and Locus cooled next to her feet.

She was not built to be this way.

Teleport cubes and the knowledge that they might all be dead soon made the journey back to Armonia fast.

Kimball wished she could just have time to think.

Carolina had made the report over the radio—Felix with a key that could kill everyone on the planet, Locus dead, Church’s body destroyed, York injured but not in critical state. The last one was said grimly, through gritted teeth, taking any potential satisfaction from Locus—one of Kimball’s longest living nightmares—being dead.

The Reds and Blues and Freelancers moved back into the war room. They looked the worse for wear for their journey, and there’s no sign of Church in physical form, although Kimball would guess that he was implanted into one of their implants, like Delta or Epsilon.

Agent York’s armor was in the worst state—it had never been great, old fashioned, a patchwork of repairs and replacements—but now there was also a horrific looking puncture on his shoulder. Locus’s work, if Kimball had to venture a guess. She’d seen wounds like that before, just usually on the dead.

York was forced into one of the chairs by Carolina, who was unmoving, cold, and solid. Her concern for him might not have been visible to many, Kimball realized as she watched York insist over and over again that he was fine. But Carolina was solid, and insisted on him sitting the fuck down, York. Kimball found herself trying not to smile as York acquised, reluctantly.

“I’m fine,” he insisted, one last time.

“That’s not what Doctor Grey said,” Kimball said. “She said you lost a lot of blood.”

“I’ve got a healing unit! I’m fine!” York said, throwing his hands into the air.

Carolina tilted her head at Kimball, a silent gesture of appreciation for her support. Kimball felt her cheeks warming, and she ducked her head, even though no one could see it.

She saw York tilt his head, curiously.

Dread filled her, a different kind of dread than the kind she’d lived with every day since the war began, that had doubled and tripled since Felix had betrayed her, that had multiplied infinitely since the last few hours, when Felix had gotten his hands on a weapon to end all weapons.

This was different. Smaller. Stranger.

Dread might not even be the right word, she realized, unable to stop turning it over in her head. Apprehension? Anxiety?

York took off his helmet, revealing the now-familiar face. Was there more grey in his hair than there had been? Kimball forced herself to look away, as Carolina placed a hand on the shoulder that had not been shot.

Kimball had not intended for this to happen. They were at war. There was no time for her to fall for two idiot Freelancers, with noble intentions and mistakes and blood on their hands and—

She needed to focus.

“Felix will be heading for the Temple,” Kimball said, drawing her mind away from a gloved hand on an armored shoulder. “He might take backup.”

“Siris is the likely candidate,” York said. “He’ll be the only one who can…” He hesitated.

“What?” Carolina asked.

“Uh, look, I’m not one to really throw stones about co-dependency when Delta lives in my head, but, uh. Felix and Locus, uh… well, let’s just say my glass house has a few holes in it.”

“So Felix will be off his game?” Tex smelled blood in the water.

York shrugged. “Maybe? Or maybe he’ll be redoubling his efforts in order to avenge Locus. Hard to say. Felix is… again, not to damage the glass house, but he’s not… stable.”

“No shit,” Tucker said.

“He’s kind of unpredictable,” York said apologetically. “He takes pride on that. But I do think he’ll want to keep Siris close to him after this.”

“Then we’ll want a small group to head them off there while the rest of us make a run for the Communication Tower,” Kimball said grimly.

“That… sounds like a surprisingly solid plan,” Doyle said, and Kimball tried not to be annoyed that he sounded surprised.

“Carolina and I will go,” Tex said.

“I’m coming too,” York and Washington said in unison.

“Hey Wash,” Tucker said, sounding overly cheerful, with Kai on his side. “Can we talk to you for a minute?”

“Um…”

Before Wash had time to formulate a response to that, Kaikaina and Tucker had swept forward, and propelled him out into the hallway, each of them grabbing one of his arms in a show of shocking precision and coordination.

“So I guess it’ll be the three of us then,” York said cheerfully, and Kimball really wanted to strangle him in that moment. How could one man manage to be so infuriating? If she’d been a younger woman with more free time, this might have been worth a spreadsheet, or at least a list. As it was, she allowed herself to audibly sigh.

“You’re injured, York,” she said, and she couldn’t help how gentle the words came out.

“Hey, I’m fine!” York protested.

“She’s right,” Carolina said, and Kimball couldn’t tell, but she imagined Carolina’s fingers were digging into his uninjured shoulder. She tried not to focus on that, or the strange surge of pleasure that Carolina agreed with her, even if it was about something as objectively true as the fact that York had been shot recently, again.

Kimball was starting to realize why it was, exactly, that Agent York, despite being an infiltration specialist, might have needed a healing unit. He seemed to have the most atrocious luck when it came to obtaining injuries.

He did, however, have a pretty good streak going when it came to surviving them.

“I’m fine!” York said. “I’ve survived worse—”

“Not encouraging,” Tex said dryly.

“Dr. Grey said I was okay—”

“Emphasis on okay, sweetie—”

“Felix might bring additional backup—”

“We have plenty of reds to spare!”

“What? No we don’t! I don’t want to fight Felix!”

“What Simmons said!”

“Traitors! Cowards! Leaving the Freelancers to hog all the glory, even if one of them is a Red? Why you blue-livered—”

“Kimball,” York said, changing tactics. “Please. I’ll be okay.”

She looked at him and felt herself go still.

York’s face was pleading and desperate. His good eye was focused right on her, as if he could see her expression, beneath her own helmet, and she swallowed, because she knew why he was appealing to her.

She was the only one who knew about him and Siris.

“Fine,” she whispered. She shook her head, and then spoke louder. “Very well. But be careful. All three of you. We can’t afford to lose you.”

“Can’t afford to lose the planet either,” Grif muttered. She shot a glare at him.

Tucker, Wash, and Kaikaina re-emerged a moment later.

“Hey,” Tucker said, grinning. “I’ve got an idea.”

“Aaaaand now I’m terrified,” Carolina said, her voice drier than a desert.

Kimball should not find that as attractive as she did.

Tucker took his sword out and turned it on. “Why don’t we even the odds?”

Doyle and Kimball exchanged a look.

Something like hope began to stir inside of Kimball’s chest.

“Okay, so a quick detour first.”

Most of the others went off to arm up, but Carolina stayed behind.

“You shouldn’t let him go,” she said, grabbing Kimball’s arm.

“Agent York is a professional.” Epsilon made a noise that sounded a bit like an incredulous snort. “I give him the courtesy of assuming he knows his limits.”

Carolina shook her head. “This is the second time he’s been injured this week. The healing unit is effective, but even it has limitations.”

“He needs to do this, Carolina.” Kimball says, and winces. She forgot to add the “Agent.” “You should ask him why.”

“… You… already know?”

“He told me,” Kimball said, wincing as she realized she’d probably overstepped somehow. “I asked him, after he got shot by Siris last time.”

“I… see.”

“You really care for him, don’t you?” Kimball asked, unable to stop herself. She pressed a hand against her visor. “I’m sorry, that was inappropriate.”

“You care as well,” Carolina said, and she sounded half-resigned, half-surprised.

“What can I say?” York said, sticking his head into the room. “I have a type. Anyways, we should probably get going Carolina.”

Kimball felt as if she was suddenly, horrifically, rooted to the floor. Did he just… did he just… what did he just say? And if he… he didn’t mean it like… like that? He couldn’t. There was no way he had just implied what she thought he had implied…what she wanted him to be implying…

She shoved that thought to the side to deal with much later and turned to face York instead. “Remember what I said,” she said. “Don’t give him the chance.”

He saluted, jaunty and confident, using his just-injured arm to boot.

“Yes ma’am,” he said.

“I’ll bring him back,” Carolina said quietly.

“Just be sure to bring yourself back too,” Kimball said, and then blushed again. She had never been so grateful for her helmet in a non-life-threatening situation.

How were those two possible?

Tucker and Kai’s grip on Wash’s arms were like steel as they propelled him into the hallway.

“You’re not going,” Tucker said.

“Not without us,” Kai added, looking stubborn as hell.

“I—”

“We’re not being separated again!” Tucker said, and Wash flinched. Tucker’s voice echoed in the hallway.

They hadn’t had time to reunite properly, with everything. They hadn’t been alone, hadn’t had time to talk, hadn’t had time…

For anything.

And now things were ending, spiraling out of control, and Wash had been about to go off on another mission without them…

Time was running out for him to say everything he had to say.

He took off his helmet.

“You’re right,” he said. “We stick together. No matter what.”

Kai immediately tried to kiss him, but she was still wearing her helmet, so Wash had to duck out of the way to avoid a bruise.

“Ha!” Tucker said, pulling off his own helmet, which meant he got to kiss Wash first.

Something soft and giddy unfurled in Wash.

A moment of quiet peace, stolen, in the hallway, as Tucker kissed him, Kai making loud protesting noises as she struggled to get her helmet off.

The world might be ending, but he still had this.

He’d always have this.

As long as they were all alive—and that sounded almost too close to a wedding vow, so Wash shied away from that train of thought, and settled for whispering, “I love you,” against the shadow of Tucker’s jaw.

“We love you too, dumbass,” Tucker said. “Which is why we’re going to kick ass at the Temple of Communication, together.”

“That’s great,” Kai said, “Now let me kiss our boyfriend.”

Tucker laughed, and pulled away, and Kai was pressing in before Wash could so much as think about missing him.

#Steph Writes #The BFF Verse #Time's Running Out #Yorkimbalina #Suckington #Agent Texas #Vanessa Kimball #Agent Washington

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auggie-hunter · 3 years ago

Text

connected;

B (train)

the train rumbles quietly beneath them, sounding more like background noise than anything else despite the silence of the train. they’ve been on it for just over two hours, their ride still having two more to go before they made it to their destination. taking the train for this had been her idea.

(“think of the scenery,” she’d said brightly as she booked their tickets without another word. “we wouldn’t even have to pay attention to the road, we could just enjoy the view and each other’s company.”

“i love how you’re trying to sell it to me after you’ve put in your credit card number,” he’d teased, bending down to press a kiss at the crook between her neck and shoulder, before disappearing out into the hallway. “when do we leave?”

“tomorrow! so go pack.”

“tomor--teddy?”

“go. i love you.” she grinned.)

“morning, sleepyhead,” teddy says from the seat across, as auggie sits up better in his seat. he gives her a sleepy grin, rubbing her leg still tucked between him and the wall beside him.

“i didn’t realize how tired i was,” he tells her, giving her calf a light squeeze, lip quirking when she flinches. ticklish.

“if we’d driven, you wouldn’t have been able to nap like that,” she says. “and don’t say i’d be driving because i just made huge progress on my baby blanket,” she tells him, holding up the soft purple blanket she’d been working on.

he parts his lips, as if to speak, but they snap shut, and he has to snort, shaking his head. “i don’t like you.”

“liar. i’m having your baby now, you like me twice as much.” she winks, rubbing the tiny baby bump that seemingly had shown up over night. she sighs and smiles to herself. “my mom is gonna be so excited,” she says softly. “i can’t wait.”

auggie nods, squeezing her ankle this time. “me too.”

incorporate: a tough decision

“if it comes down to it, you save him,” teddy says, hands resting protectively over her belly.

“what?” auggie’s eyes go wide like saucers. “no! i’m not--no!”

“auggie.” she reaches out to grab his hand from her place on the hospital bed, lacing their fingers. “auggie, listen to me.”

“ted. teddy. you can’t honestly expect me to make that decision, you can’t…”

if she doesn’t get him to breathe, he might hyperventilate on her. “baby,” she says, eyes welling as she squeezes his hand. “listen to me, please.”

his expression is begging her not to ask this of him, and she understands. it’s an impossible choice for him. for her, however, it’s the obvious one.

“we almost lost him once,” she says softly, eyes meeting his. “we almost…” she brings their joined hands to her belly, finding a bare spot around all of the wires and pads to monitor the tiny life growing inside her.

“he’s just a baby. he’s a little boy, and none of this is his fault, and--” she sniffles and swallows hard. “if it comes down to him or me--” teddy watches as auggie swallows back a sob, and she has to squeeze his hand again, leaning forward to press a kiss to his forehead.

auggie raises his head, pressing his lips to hers then. “please don’t make me do this,” he begs.

“you have to save lip,” she whispers, pressing her forehead to his. “please.”

with no space left between us

it’s actually insanely fucked up that they’ve been in the hospital this long for this. he doesn’t understand what kind of cruel joke this is, and who has the nerve to think this would ever be funny.

of course, if this were a joke, then at least it’d be fake, and if it were fake, then the sob that teddy lets out when he helps her out of the shower wouldn’t have cut him so deeply. hell, she wouldn’t be crying at all.

but it isn’t a joke. and it isn’t fake. and she’s crying out in a way he doesn’t think he’s heard from her in almost fifteen years. maybe ever. and he would carry teddy graham through a fire and back, and follow her to the ends of the earth, but he never, ever wanted to hear her cry like this again.

“ted,” he sniffles, wrapping both arms around her. “please, baby, just a little longer.”

“auggie,” she cries. ”i don’t think i can do this,”

he kisses her head, pecking everywhere he can reach.

“i…” teddy pulls back and her hand rests on her bare belly, “he’s not moving anymore.”

auggie rests his hand over hers, just a smidge over from her belly button. it’s the same spot he rests it every day. In the morning when they wake up, at night when they’re going to sleep, in the kitchen at 3 in the morning when she couldn’t sleep because she needed chocolate chip ice cream or else she’d “die a certain death, aug.”

and their baby would kick away, seemingly pleased at the attention from both his parents.

except this time, he really isn’t moving

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to her forehead and pulls her close again, leaving no distance between them. “i’m so, so sorry.”

6. empty kiss - when one of you doesn't kiss back, just the stoic feeling of their lips on yours, it’s empty, like no one even cares anymore.

they’d lost their way since losing lip. it’d destroyed them to lose their son so suddenly, and so painfully. teddy was never the same. not really. and auggie had taken upon the role of care taker to not have to deal with his feelings.

they haven’t had a proper conversation in months. two people who used to stay up into the wee hours of the morning just talking have barely said a word to one another.

he’s her best friend, and she can barely look at him.

“we can’t keep doing this aug,” she whispers one day, sitting on the floor of the living room in front of the fireplace. she’s been so cold ever since, but she thinks she’s cold from the inside out. like it’ll be impossible for her to feel warm ever again.

but the fire had felt nice. and he’d quietly joined her a few moments later without a word. he’d do that now. hover. linger. so close, but farther away from her than he’s been probably ever.

auggie turns his head to look at her, brow furrowed. “hm?”

teddy swallows hard, bowing her head before exhaling. “we can’t keep... walking on eggshells around each other like this, i-” she pauses, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “i think we need space.”

“what?”

she breathes a shaky breath, and her eyes immediately well. they did that often and without much effort lately. “one thing was perfectly clear to me from the moment i met you. i knew i never wanted to be away from you again, no matter what.”

“yeah. i know that,” he says, though he knows there’s more to what she’s saying. “i... me too.”

she nods and finally turns to look at him, blinking away the tears in her eyes. “i know.” he remains quiet, giving her a second to collect her thoughts so she can get out what she needs to say. “but i think we need space right now.”

“why? i don’t... why?”

“every time we look at each other, every time we... all i can see in your eyes is him. all i can feel is all the pain we’ve felt since the day we knew we weren’t going to get to bring him home, and--” she squeezes her legs against her chest. “the house is too quiet. and it’s a shell of the home we used to know and i can’t... i can’t keep doing this like this auggie.”

his jaw drops, at a loss for words. she drops her hands and scoots over, kneeling up to press her lips to his for the first time since that awful day. he’s clearly too floored to move because he doesn’t kiss her back, and she almost understands. “i need to breathe, and so do you, and we can’t figure out how to do that in the same place we fell apart.”

“teddy, what are you...”

“i’m going to stay with daily for a little while. i just... i can’t breathe here,” she sniffles.

“but i can’t breathe here without you,” he says, his own eyes welling. “i can’t lose you, too.”

“you’re not,” she chokes back a sob. “you’re not going to lose me, but we just... we’re not doing the best for one another right now. neither of us are breathing here.”

“teddy...”

“auggie.” her tone is soft, but final, trying to get him to understand what she means. “i love you.”

water

the lake is more beautiful than she’s ever realized, and maybe it’s the sunset, or maybe just how peaceful it feels to be here. whatever it is, she isn’t complaining. teddy has needed this, to get away, breathe fresh air, and not be caught up in the bubble of pain back home. she’s needed to just stop for a while.

eliza smiles beside her, and slides an arm around her shoulder, giving her a squeeze. “i’m so glad you came,” she says, pressing her cheek into teddy’s.

“me too,” teddy nods. “this place is just so beautiful… you and thayer are living such an amazing life.”

her best friend’s grin turns bashful, and she glances down at the ring on her finger, before looking back at the lakehouse she’s called home for the better part of the last year. “he’s been good for me,” eliza says softly, and teddy’s heart squeezes.

“you deserve that so much, eli.”

“and so do you, teddy.” eliza squeezes her again. “i never thought i’d come back from… well, everything,” she pauses, remembering how tumultuous her journey had been. “but i did. and i found him at the end of the tunnel. and i know he didn’t save me, i know that, but he helped hold me together while the tape and glue dried. i just… had to give him the chance.”

teddy thinks of auggie, and how despite his reluctance, he was willing to give her space. he let her go so she could heal. she loved him so much for it, especially after all of this, when she felt like she didn’t deserve that grace

“and you and oli… well, i don’t even have to say a word about you.” eliza rubs her back. “i wouldn’t be here if not for you. and now it’s your turn. oli will be here tomorrow, and we’ve got you.”

teddy sniffles, tears spilling down her cheek as she nods. “okay. okay.”

everything is different.

“there’s a part of my brain that blocks out what the skyline used to look like before the day mom and dad died,” allie says. “like, yeah we were little when they used to take us there, and we’ve seen it in photos, the news and the internet loves showing the fucking towers on fire, but i don’t remember the view from before.”

she presses her lips together. “i never thought that’d hurt. but it did. and when i realized i didn’t remember what mom sounded like when she used to me.”

“but this is my son, al,” auggie twists his wedding ring, glancing down at the band before the next words left his lips. “i can’t remember lip.” he says guiltily, and he sobs.

“i can’t remember what he looked like for those two hours before he… and i. i can’t tell her that, you know?” he sniffles, wiping at his eye before trying to regain his composure. “everything is different now, and i… i can’t break her heart like that.”

5.) communication through small gestures.

the jar of nutella ends up on her doormat, the soft pastel one that’s way too nice to be a doormat, but suits her so perfectly that he can’t judge too harshly. after all, he used to look at it every morning before leaving the apartment and every night when he came back.

she’d asked for space. they’d been having a hard time meeting in the middle, and they’d spent more time bickering and getting frustrated with one another than enjoying each other until one final blow out sent their heads spinning.

he’d been staying at ravi and byrdie’s for the last three months since.

but he misses her. and he can’t keep this up much longer without talking to her. except he doesn’t want to overwhelm her.

hence the nutella. look, he never said he made sense.

but it’s like when they used to squeeze into one another on the couch, eating nutella out of the jar while they chatted on the couch.

last ditch effort. or something. he just can’t lose her. it’ll kill him. of course he’d never tell her that.

(but when a crocheted lion ends up on ravi’s doorstep a week later, his heart swells in his chest. lions are his favorite)

Incorporate: autumn leaves

the stray leaves crunch and crack under their feet as they walk along the park path. auggie was kind of relieved when she suggested they talk and walked outside for it, because at least here he could manage fresh air. inside, he doesn’t think he would’ve handled it.

seeing his fiancée for the first time in three of the longest weeks of his entire existence, had sent his heart racing. he’d almost forgotten his own name.

the decision to take a break hadnt come from him, but he also understood it hadn’t come lightly.

he’d known teddy’s heart had been breaking from the moment her doctor had told them they couldn’t find a heartbeat. from the day she’d had to deliver their son, born sleeping on that uncharacteristically chilly morning in july.

surviving had been agony for him, and outright misery for her; they cried for weeks. they cried over broken dreams, over their tiny son, over the silence of the apartment, for and because of each other.

until one day, lying on the floor of the living room on opposite end of the area rug, she told him she was leaving.

not forever, just to her sister’s. she was desperate to heal. he couldn’t stop her.

his agony continued, just alone in an empty apartment.

and then she called one night, sang him a song she’d written, and asked to meet. which brings them here, november.

“so um,” she starts, drawing him out from his reverie. her arms are still crossed as she hugs herself.

he mourns the times they’d walk this holding hands or liking arms or one drunken night after his sister fiona’s wedding, with her over his shoulder like a sack of rice.

auggie watches her fingers press into her arms, covered by a cozy cardigan. it was his, teddy had stolen it two autumns earlier when her dress had certainly not been for the weather.

she’s still wearing her ring.

he nods for her to continue. “remember the other night?”

that stings. “haven’t forgotten; you left again,” he says, unable to bite back the bitterness in his tone. he feels guilty when he spots the brief hurt on her face.

she clears her throat, stopping to face him. “i’m sorry.”

“no, don’t— i’m sorry. that was a dick move. i didn’t mean it i just. why’d you go?”

“aug.” her eyes well as the name leaves her lips. “we weren’t healing like that, i couldn’t breathe, and you couldn’t… we needed space, you know that.”

teddy sniffles and exhales trying to catch her breath. “listen, i promise we will talk about all of it, i—“ she wipes at her eyes. “it’s just. that night was the first time we had sex since…” she trails off and he knows before she even says it.. “the baby…” his heart squeezes. “and i didn’t feel like myself, so i went to get checked out.”

his eyes are wide, concern written all over his face. “did i hurt you?” he hadn’t been patient then, neither of them had. anger and resentment won out that time

“no! no. i’m fine i swear.” she exhaled again. “look, it’s really early, and i’m even shocked it could’ve tested positive this early, but.” she presses her lips together and auggie’s chest squeezes again and somehow feels like it’s pushing into the back of his rib cage. she can’t be—“…pregnant.”

“ted,” he’s breathless, floored in his place, and unable to comprehend the words leaving his friend’s mouth.

“yeah, aug.”

Song: That’s When by Taylor Swift

pregnant. the news had hit him like a ton of bricks, but about a ton of times. it’d outright knocked the wind out of him. but shock and confusion had given way to nervous joy and bone deep fear.

they had so much to talk about. the list just kept getting longer and longer. but the baby conversation came first, and for a few weeks it was while they navigated this brave new world.

until she stopped and turned around from her place on the floor, where her prenatal yoga session had taken place. her bump is tiny, but present, and they’re both healthy and safe as can be.

they’re living together again, though they still haven’t found their footing in each other. preoccupied elsewhere.

“i’m sorry,” she’d said.

auggie looked up from his place at the table where he’d been working on some editing. “sorry? for what.”

teddy hugs her knees to her chest, a position slowly becoming more uncomfortable as time goes on. “for leaving… after lip.” they can say his name now.

“ted, no,” he shakes his head. “i’m sorry i ever made you feel like you had to apologize for that.”

she presses her lips together, crying at the drop of a hat these days. but she looks grateful for that. like she’d been hoping he didn’t resent her. it breaks his heart.

“i get it now,” he continues. “and it was selfish of me to hold it against you. for as much as i hurt, i know for you it’s on a level i’ll never understand.

“i thought of you every day,” she tells him. “from the moment i woke up til when i went to bed… in everything i did.”

“me too.”

the moment it hit me that i loved you

she’s wearing a grey henley of his, baggy and big, flowing over her hands, and she’s buried in the couch, laughing loudly at the john mulaney special on his tv. her hair is picked up in a messy ponytail, and she looks the most relaxed he thinks he’s ever seen her.

she looks… free. like herself. and like she can breathe for the first time in months, every facetime session in the last few months making him more and more worried.

and his heart squeezes in his chest, and fuck he’d been trying to avoid this, but he hasn’t seen her like this in months, and she looks like everything he’s been missing. but he can’t ruin them. not with this. not like this.

and yet here he is. loving her.

kissing scars

his lips trace a line from below her belly button to just the hem of her underwear, and his lip quirks when she shivers from it. and he knows from very different circumstances what happens if he follows that shiver’s lead. but they’re not there yet. not now.

she lifts up a bit, coming to rest on her elbows. “i know it’s not…” she trails off, and her hand comes to lower her shirt. “the baby’s made the scar get bigger.” the scar. lip. when they’d lost their son, all she’d been left with was a broken heart and a two inch line where he’d been ripped away from her. from both of them.

he raises a hand resting it over hers. “i don’t care. i’ve never cared. i’ll never care.” his eyes meet hers and he shifts their hands, raising her shirt again, kissing the raised skin once more. their new baby kicks back in response and he smiles. “that’s lip, and she wants us to know that.”

they’d fallen apart when they lost lip. and the baby growing in her belly was created from the night they’d been the angriest they’d ever been. and seven months in is the first time they start to reconnect. and this right here? this is coming home.

“you’re the best thing to have ever happened to me.”

teddy’s nose and cheeks are flushed red thanks to the wind chill, but she looks absolutely thrilled to be eating her blizzard from dairy queen, and it’s clear she’s talking to the ice cream in her hands and not her very sleepy boyfriend beside her in the car.

“the ice cream right?” she doesn’t even look sheepish when auggie asks. “yeah, yeah, i know,” he says, tilting his head onto the car window and closing his eyes.

she grins. “the baby says thank you for driving.” she reaches for his hand and pulls it inside her open coat, resting it over the more firm part of her belly. their baby’s back is there, and the minute his hand touches her, the baby moves.

“oh, you’re welcome, kiddo.” he says with a yawn. “but don’t tell me that like you don’t know you both have me wrapped around your fingers.”

“don’t be a grump.” teddy pokes him and auggie’s lip quirks, but he doesn’t say another word, instead rubbing her belly as they look out at the view. portland has cliffs unlike anywhere he’s been, and the view of the stars from here is everything.

and so is she.

#a link over the course of the last year

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theimaginesyouneveraskedfor · 8 years ago

Text

Unattached

Imagine Thorin accidentally calling you his wife.

You watched as Thorin unrolled the map across the long stone table, every one of his advisers shared the same look of exasperation and boredom. For hours, you had been sat in the council chambers, listening to him droning on about the elf king and their imminent meeting. It had taken months and cajoling from every single member of his council, but he had finally agreed to the affair.

Looking across the ink which traced every tree and twist of the Mirkwood forest, you nearly guffawed at the king as he stabbed an oblivious finger into the parchment, trying to lay out his path on the aged map. You looked around at the other dwarves, hiding their obvious amusement as the king went cluelessly on. You knew that no other would have the gull to speak up.

“Um, your majesty,” You chimed in the dulled silence, every head pricking up in anticipation, “You may want to turn the map right side up.”

“Huh,” He looked back to the parchment and realization paled his face. He slowly reversed the map and cleared his throat as his nephews stifled a set of guilty chuckles, “It’s been a long day.” He excused himself as he plotted his new trail, “Now, last time we were in Mirkwood, we were not so fortunate, but…”

You looked to table with a grin, Balin nudging your arm with approval. “Only you, Y/N,” He whispered as he leaned against the arm of his chair, “You’re the only one he wouldn’t have thrown out of the Mountain.”

“Nonsense,” You waved away his words, having met with Thorin’s wrath more than once during your acquaintance, “He just has bigger worries on his mind.”

Balin gave a knowing smile but brooked no further argument as the sound of the king’s voice had died and you looked over to find him staring at the pair of you. With an apologetic bow of your head, you returned your attention to his geographical endeavour and poked the elder dwarf in remonstrance.

Finally, Thorin decided on route and folded the map up with a grimace. Many knew he had poor direction and as it was, it would likely be Dwalin leading their path. The king would travel further back in the party, guarded by loyal men against any danger which lurked on the roads. You hoped there was nothing further to be discussed as the cushion of your straight-backed chair did little for your comfort and after sitting for so long, your muscles ached with disuse.

“Your majesty?” Balin prompted as Thorin lowered himself into his chair with a grunt, “Is there anything else to attend to?”

“I don’t believe so,” He grumbled, “You may leave. There are many preparations to be made for our trip.”

The king’s words marked your dismissal and all rose from the table, chairs scraping the floor loudly and footsteps trudging heavily towards the door. At the end of the torrent of dwarves, you followed behind but you were halted as your name was called from behind. You turned and the king was looking at you expectantly, leaning forward in his chair with an air of determination about him.

“Your majesty?” You were not even sure he had called your name.

“A moment,” He waved towards the chair to his right and you slowly broke away from the departing train, dreading whatever business you had left behind with the grim-faced king. You lowered yourself silently onto the stone seat and waited for Thorin to speak, “What do you think?”

“Pardon?” You near choked at the question, “What do I think about what?”

“Mirkwood,” His eyes darkened at the mere mention of the elvish city, “Should I be wary of Thranduil?”

“Thranduil always has his machinations and you will never be without your distrust of the elf,” You shrugged, withholding a yawn with all your strength, “I think, though,” You tapped your fingers on the table top, “That this is the right decision. We can’t lose this Mountain again and allying ourselves with those closest to us, regardless of race, will help us do that.”

“Mmm,” Thorin leaned back and rubbed his chin, “It didn’t work so well the last time. You know how Thranduil turned away at the descent of Smaug.”

“Be that as it may, now we know we cannot depend on him for defense,” You surrendered, “But the elves have rich harvests and we are barren after the reign of the dragon. We need to feed our numbers, especially as more arrive every day and--” You paused as Thorin lightly touched his torso with a pained wince, “Are you alright? Your wounds?”

“Nothing,” He assured you, “It is mostly healed but still causes discomfort. These chairs do not help in that.” He lowered his hand, grabbing the arms of his chair staunchly and pushing himself to his feet, “Thank you for your advice, I shall take it to heart. For now, I’ll set you free. Go. Sleep. You’ll need it,” He stepped around the table and yawned loudly, “You’ll be included among the advisers I take to the elvish city. As I recall, the last time you faced Thranduil, you left him in a state.”

The king grinned, the memory of your venomous insults and the colour they had set in the cheeks of the elven king amusing him as he reminisced. You shook your head, half-ashamed of your vulgarity but regretting not a word. You stood and bowed slightly, “Good night, your majesty.”

“Good night…” He paused after the last word as if forgetting your name, “Y/N.”

He blanched and turned away from you. You wondered at his sudden awkwardness but were too tired to dwell on it. You lumbered to the door, your muscles achy and your head heavy. The road to Mirkwood would be tumultuous and with a king like Thorin, the visit would be just as chaotic.

Throughout the journey to Mirkwood, under the delirium-inducing trees and along the bramble-lined trails, Thorin had been entirely miserable. All those around him had sensed his dissatisfaction and he had made plain his distaste for your destination.

His nephews had sworn off all contact with him after a rather sharp lecture aimed towards them after they had pretended to have witnessed the approach of the same oversized spiders which had seized the company before. Even Balin sighed his exasperation as the king demanded that the party move faster even though the mules which carried luggage, pulled cart, and seated dwarves were already foaming at the mouth with exhaustion. Dwalin had gone unseen for an entire day after an inane argument with his stubborn king and you seemed the only to be able to appease him, though you found your patience waning.

“If we are so close, can we not continue on to the palace?” Thorin accosted Balin as he directed those who had begun to set up camp for the night, “Another hour or two would be nothing.”

“Thorin I said three hours…and that’s with well-rested mules,” Balin turned his tired eyes to his king, “If we press on further, we shall surely lose at least one of our wearisome steeds, as it is.”

“He’s right, Thorin,” You agreed evenly, “We’re all in need of a rest. Even you, despite your reluctance to admit it.”

“Hmmp,” The king looked you up and down before returning his attention to his closest adviser, “I guess you’re right.” Thorin waved away Balin with curt dismissal and you frowned at him; he had become intolerable during the days of travel, “Y/N, I should like to speak with you,” He was focused once more on you and you had not noticed for your resentful thoughts, “In private.”

Turning, he did not wait for you to follow and marched forward towards the canvas tent which had been raised for his comfort. You trudged behind him, your boots dusting up clouds of dirt and he pushed back the flap of the tent letting it fall between you as you tarried after him. You pushed through the canvas and as you entered, he turned to you with a fiery determination.

“Y/N,” His voice was stony, “I have always appreciated your advice but I dare say you presume to take liberties as of late. To contradict me in front of my men.”

“Even though I’m right,” You countered swiftly, “You may be my king but you cannot rule logic. Besides, it was Balin who first protested, so why is he not in this tent receiving the same reprimand?”

Thorin kept his lips sealed as he considered you, his brow lowering in defeat as he mulled your argument. You could always tell when he knew you were right but was to proud to admit it. “Be that as it may,” He turned away from your, folding his hands behind his back in a regal manner, “I cannot have you opposing my every move once we arrive in Mirkwood. It would be detrimental to our negotiations.”

“Trust me, Thorin, I am the least of your worries in your dealings with Thranduil,” You avowed, “We both know he is the one who you are so concerned for. He is difficult, we know that well, and you best stop directing your worries towards those who follow you loyally and start focusing on the elf who awaits you.”

A silence pervaded the small space of the tent as Thorin turned his back to you, his dark waves doing little to hide the thoughts swirling around in his mind. “You are much too wise for your own good,” He sighed as he dropped his shoulders, “Go on, rest. We’ve a long day tomorrow…” He made no move to look back at you, “And I should expect you to attend the negotiations. I need someone there who can keep Thranduil off-kilter.”

You bowed your head with a dull “Your majesty” and spun around, leaving the king to his sulking as you sought out your own tent. You hoped the night would see you soundly asleep on your bedroll and not tossing and turning in dread over the next day. The last you had been face to face with Thranduil, he had been less than amiable and you doubted that he had forgotten that event.

The façade of Mirkwood palace loomed above as your mule carried you across the threshold, the train of dwarves following behind. At Thorin’s insistence, you had ridden at the head of the procession at his side. You could see a smirk brewing below his lips and you were already agitated by his ploy. You knew that he expected you to be a great weapon in his collision with the Elvenking.

The doors of the palace shifted open at your approach and Thorin pulled forward, dismounting easily from his mule as Thranduil appeared at the top of the marble staircase. The elf’s silver eyes grazed across the king with derision but flared when they espied you at his rear. You saw the subtle clench of his slender fingers into a fist and you slid off the back of your steed with a grunt. You had thought the King Under the Mountain a greater source of elvish spite, but it seemed your reputation had lingered.

“King Thorin of Erebor,” Thranduil greeted with exaggerated formality, “We’ve been awaiting your arrival.”

“King Thranduil of Mirkwood,” Thorin mimicked mockingly, “We would apologize for our delay but dwarves do not abide by the timekeeping of elves.”

“No, they wouldn’t,” Thranduil sighed and the kings faced each other mutual defiance, contempt filling the silence.

“We’re here to make peace, are we not?” You shattered the brittle tension in the air, “Staring at each other like a couple of bulls will do quite the opposite.”

“Oh?” The elvenking’s gaze slithered towards you, “And you, of all, would lecture us on peace?”

“We have gathered to leave the past where it belongs,” You countered, “Now, we share the same tally of sins. For every offense that I’ve committed, you’ve as many. And the lot of us did not travel all this way,” You waved your arm between Thranduil and Thorin, “To watch two arrogant bastards seethe at each other and accomplish nothing.”

“There’s that eloquence,” Thranduil trilled, “How blessed I am to welcome you once more to my home, Y/N.”

“Mahal,” You looked to Thorin who was rather amused by your outburst and you darkened your sneer at him, drawing a frightened wince, “Thorin, you’re an utter lout.” You turned back to Thranduil with a deep breath, “Well, I should like the matter settled. Are we to remain standing out here like orphans or is there any hope that either of you have developed common sense?”

“Mirkwood opens its doors to the dwarves of Mirkwood,” Thranduil outstretched his arms graciously, “Let us hope that we may rekindle the trust that burned between our kingdoms once more and prosper in the alliance of our two kingdoms.”

“Yes, let’s hope,” You sent another glare towards Thorin who deflated in his disappointment at your lack of show, “My king?”

“Oh yes,” Thorin mumbled as he turned his attention back to Thranduil. “We are thankful for your hospitality and I look forward to our…negotiations.”

The acceptance was begrudging but the most you could hope for. Both kings would be resistant until the very end and you were starting to expect that you would be the only one able to move them forward. With a desperate glance at Balin, you were disheartened by the doubt in his eyes, and you hid the rising unease in your stomach. It had to be a hopeless endeavour.

Thorin sat between you and Balin as Thranduil stared back from across the table. He had dismissed his attendants from the chamber but your own king had requested you remained. It was all the better as you knew that the pair should not be left alone in any situation. It had been empty silence for ten minutes and neither king had chanced to even twitch a lip.

“Alright, this is unbearable,” You declared, not expecting stalemate over something as tedious as grain, “If we can’t even agree on trading wheat, I doubt we’ll ever get past the point of passive aggression…and that can only lead to one end between our races.”

“She’s right,” Balin intoned gently, “The two of you need to start talking or this has all been for not. Can you not put your own pride aside for the sake of your people?”

Both kings sneered at the suggestion but a shadow of gilt glimmered in their eyes, both relenting as they mirrored each other in pushing back their shoulders and leaning their elbows on the table. It was as if their station linked them in some unspoken manner. The burden of their crowns weighed heavy on both and yet they would never admit to each other their shared troubles.

“Fine,” Thorin forced out through clenched jaw, “We’ll give him what he wants for the grain but our silver is the finest forged in the entirety of Middle Earth. We will not part from it for less than the prices given for Mirkwood ore.”

“The silver? Again?” Thranduil nearly scoffed, “Whatever you wish for your metal, we will give. Is that enough to placate our King Under the Mountain?”

“Mahal, would that this elf could see beyond his own nose.” Thorin slammed his fist on the table, turning to Balin angrily, “He wears on my patience with his sly words and you expect me to act civilly? When he makes it nigh impossible not to rent his head from his obnoxious neck?”

Thranduil laughed, the sound of it like crystal shattering amid silence and you leaned back in your chair with dismay. “Listen, Thorin, you,” You pointed to him before jabbing your finger towards the other king, “And him are both intolerable. I cannot say how to cure two such donkeys as the pair of you, but please, for Mahal’s sake, ignore his inane insults and get this over with.”

“Inane?” Thranduil ventured bemusedly.

“And you, don’t start with me,” You stood and shoved your chair out so violently that it toppled over, “I can’t stand either of you. You would have both Mirkwood and Erebor in ruins before either of you admitted fault. I’ve had enough of it. We have been here far too long already and I am starved from a long journey,” You crossed your arms belligerently, “I am to seek that feast you promised us and hopefully end this night without listening to another of your incessant quabbles.”

You pivoted and stormed towards the door, dropping your arms as you pulled it open and marched out into the hall. Something had snapped within you and another moment in that suffocating chamber would have driven you mad. You could smell the faint aromas of food and the corridor looked endless ahead of you. Mirkwood was a labyrinth but you would just have to follow your nose. And hopefully, they would serve wine with dinner.

The other dwarves had already been shown to the feast hall and were just tucking into the first course at your arrival. You tramped into the hall, the air stagnating as every elvish eye turned towards you. Looking around with a wary squint, you neared the table which had been reserved for your ilk and slowly lowered yourself onto the bench beside Dwalin who seemed as confounded as you by the sudden half of voice.

“What in Mahal is going on?” You smoothed your braids over your head, “Do I have something on my face?”

“No idea,” Dwalin reached for the ax which was absent from his back, recoiling at the disappointing grasp of air, “I’ve never understood elves.”

“Don’t think many of them have seen a dwarrowdam before,” Bofur leaned across with a smirk, “Though I dare say their first glimpse isn’t our best show.”

“Oi,” You seized a spoon and lobbed it his way, “Not funny.” You looked around at the staring eyes, “I wish they’d stop staring.”

“Don’t give them any bother,” Kili said with a mouthful of food, “Can barely tell their men from their women…up until a point, I’d thought them all women.”

“Sure, Kili,” Fili chortled, “Where’s that skinny redhead you were fawning over on our last visit, eh? Is she why your watching over your shoulder?”

“Oh, shut up,” Kili punched his brother’s arm and you turned away, tuning out their blooming argument.

“I need to eat,” You scooped a pile of lettuce onto your plate, “Even if it is leaves.” You stabbed a fork through the greenery and spoke as you chewed with a fervour, “Those damned kings. I tell you, we’re totally f--”

“Y/N,” Balin’s voice cut off your sloppy rambling, “Are you well? You left so quickly, I was worried.”

“Quite alright,” You shimmied over and patted the bench beside you, “Ravenous, but fine.”

“You can’t let them get to you,” Balin advised as he sat, “Trust me, it’ll age you before your time.”

“We can’t leave without a deal,” You swallowed and focused on pouring yourself a glass of deep red wine, “You know it as well as I.”

“And we won’t, both kingdoms depend on it,” He watched you gulp heavily but said nothing of his disapproval, “Thus, both kings will have to set aside their grudges and sort this out…we may just have to chance leaving them alone.”

“Yes, perhaps if they killed each other we could figure it out ourselves,” You kidded, refilling your empty glass as you saw movement further down the table mirroring your own. Thorin had settled at the head of the table so that he sat parallel to Thranduil who ruled over the next. “Mahal knows I could just wring his neck sometimes.”

“Which one?” Balin mused.

“Both,” You shrugged and drank further, “Or maybe I’ll just drown myself in drink.”

“Maybe you should take it easy,” Fili offered and you glared at him, causing him to wince in fear, “Or you know, do whatever you like.”

“I shall,” You toasted your cup to the table, “To forgetting!”

At that you turned up glass and drained it once more, searching for the ewer to fill another. You would not spend the night dwelling on what you could not change and instead, you would wash it away.

Thorin swore at his goblet of wine, swirling the acidic liquid around in his mouth as he wished for ale. The day had been miserable and he saw the morrow being little different. The night had turned out worse as Y/N had ignored him and opted to remain at the other end of the table and Thranduil sat unbearably near.

The time had passed like agony and Thorin was ready for bed. His eyelids drooped under the weight of both day and alcohol. Surely, once he slept he would wake refreshed; a new dwarf. And an apology to Y/N wouldn’t hurt either. He would need her if he was to survive Thranduil.

“Uncle,” Thorin caught himself from sagging in the chair as his nephew’s voice broke through his grogginess, “Are you well?”

“Fine,” He assured, his tongue thick in his mouth, “I was just--” He held in a hiccup between words, “Thinking.”

“Oh, alright,” Fili narrowed his eyes and looked to Kili as he appeared at his other side, “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” He declared and pulled himself up clumsily by the table edge, wavering on his feet as he stood, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, I would say the wine, perhaps?” Kili ventured with a giggle and elbowed his brother.

“I’m not *hiccup* drunk,” Thorin insisted defensively, “I’m just tired.”

“Mmmhmm,” The brothers smirked knowingly, “Please, uncle,” Fili reached out to take Thorin’s arm, “Let us help you.”

“I can do it myself,” Thorin tried to pull away and nearly toppled, using the chair to catch himself, “Ugh, I can, I swear.”

“Come on, uncle,” Kili chided and the princes took the arms of the king and guided him towards the door, thankful that the elvenking had been no where in sight to witness the scene, “Let us help you to bed and sleep it off.”

Thorin hung his head in defeat, knowing, even in his drunkenness, that his nephews were right. He had made a fool of himself and would only make it worse should he remain longer. He let them lead him down the halls as he tried to clear his vision of the clouds and focused on putting one foot in front of the other.

“Did Thranduil see?” Thorin muttered ashamedly.

“No, fortunately,” Fili answered, “You sure did work yourself into a state.”

“And, uh…” Thorin thought of Y/N but could not find her name in his mind, only her face, “Did my wife see?”

“Your wife? Thorin what on Middle Earth are you talking about?” Kili asked flummoxed. “Who would be mad enough to marry you?”

“My wife! She’s there!” Thorin stood straight as he spied Y/N just ahead, struggling to fit a key into a door, “Oh, my wife. I am so sorry!”

Thorin pulled away from his nephews and barrelled down the corridor, stopping to use the wall for balance as he neared Y/N who look up with confusion. “What do you want?” She said angrily, sounding as intoxicated as himself.

“My dear wife,” He took both her hands in his, “I did not mean to anger you…but the elf. He’s awful and I can’t stand him.”

“Wife?” She looked as though she had been slapped, “I’m not your wife.”

“You’re not?” Thorin shook his head, the thoughts coming clearer, “Oh yes, you’re right!” He laughed at his own foolishness, “Oops. You’re not my wife…not yet,” Thorin released Y/N’s hands and lowered himself to his knees, nearly falling onto his face in the process, “Y/N,” He inhaled and his nephews neared, watching with curiosity, “Will you marry me?”

“What are you talking about?” Y/N stammered, “You’re drunk!”

“And, so are you,” Thorin accused, “So? Will you?”

“Get up, you oaf,” She boxed him in the ear and he grunted, “Now.”

Kili rushed forward to help his uncle up but Thorin waved him away, climbing to his feet with an effort. He kept his eyes on Y/N and set his shoulders, clearing his throat dramatically. “Well, if you won’t marry me,” He pointed at Y/N sharply, “What will you do?”

“Mahal, you’re such a fool,” Y/N shoved his chest but he did not move, “I hate you.”

“I hate you, too,” Thorin growled back as he reached out to Y/N, his arms wrapping around her as his voice lowered, “I hate you so much.”

Suddenly his lips were on Y/N’s and to the shock of Fili and Kili, she did not pull away from him. The brothers watched as she embraced him in turn and the pair were suddenly intertwined in an unbreakable knot, sliding halfway down the wall in a sickening display.

“Ew, let’s just go,” Kili shuddered as he backed away.

“Yes, let’s,” Fili agreed as he nudged his brother away from the drunkard pair, looking over his shoulder as they walked away, “Better to let them clean up their own mess.”

#the hobbit #one shot #fic #the company #Thorin Oakenshield

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giancarlonicoli · 6 years ago

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Newsonomics: Inside the new L.A. Times, a 100-year vision that bets on tech and top-notch journalism

It’s a few years behind its East Coast brethren in New York and Washington. But tens of millions in new investment and ambitious digital plans are showing a path back to its former prominence — and beyond.By

KEN DOCTOR

@kdoctor

March 27, 2019, 2:05 p.m.

Look past the view of the 105. Beyond it is the unfolding of the 21st century, delayed but now in full force at the Los Angeles Times.

That’s my big takeaway from a visit to Patrick Soon-Shiong’s new temple to next-stage journalism. Last summer, he moved his just-purchased L.A. Times (whose lease was expiring) to one of the sprawling L.A.’s least glamorous addresses: 2300 E. Imperial Highway, El Segundo, CA 90245. (Google’s satellite view is revealing.) That move stirred some newsroom complaints early on, though the new address seems to have receded as an issue as Soon-Shiong and editor-in-chief Norm Pearlstine have laid out their fast-paced, if still incremental, visions of a new Times.

The visions are big enough, but they stand out even more dramatically in a newspaper business still cutting its way to the future, looking to mergers and acquisitions as a short-term lifeline in the cash-poor trade. Like The New York Times and The Washington Post, the new L.A. Times wants to tell a contrarian story: Investment in the daily press underlines a deep belief in the power of journalism, optimism that it can make both readers’ lives and their democracy run better amid the gobsmacking rate of political and technological change.

“So my concern was editorial, the newsroom. That was my very, very, very first concern,” Soon-Shiong told me in a two-hour interview. “I knew that that’s where I needed to go as my first and highest priority. My second priority now is the business model, but the business model, sadly — and I don’t mean this to sound in any way arrogant — has to be consistent with this next generation, not with the past generation,” says the 66-year-old Soon-Shiong. He’s put his money behind his ideas, taking a loss of about $50 million this year as he marches the Times forward.

Soon-Shiong has been a man of some mystery in the news trade, his entry having been midwifed clumsily by one-time Tronc chairman Michael Ferro. In our wide-ranging interview — to be published in full here tomorrow — the med-tech billionaire connects many of the missing dots that have characterized coverage of him over the last several years.

The Times’ turnaround from those bad old days (actually quite recent!) of the Tronc/Tribune/Ferro reign is nothing less than remarkable.

The Times’ newsroom had unionized as Tronc’s tragicomic handling of its properties reached a denouement, and Ferro made Soon-Shiong an offer he figured he shouldn’t refuse. Soon-Shiong believes that had Tronc/Tribune kept title to the Times, it would have cut as many as another 100 jobs in the newsroom in short order.

His June 2018 purchase stopped any new cuts in their tracks.

Norm Pearlstine, one of America’s top editors whose career had been built at The Wall Street Journal, Time Inc. and Bloomberg, inherited a newsroom of about 440, including part-timers and contractors. That still ranked among the largest in the country; The New York Times counts 1,550, The Washington Post about half that number.

Want a number that symbolizes the Soon-Shiong era? That 440 less than a year ago stands today at 535 newsroom employees.

Many in the business thought that Pearlstine, 76, would play something of a caretaker role — a short opening stint to help orient Soon-Shiong in this business and then stepping aside to pick a younger successor. But Soon-Shiong told me Monday that he’s signed Pearlstine to a new multi-year contract extending his term as executive editor.

“When Norm agreed to come out of retirement and become the executive editor of the Los Angeles Times, we were thrilled,” he said. “He has a long, impeccable track record as a journalist and as a media executive. He is truly enjoying the challenge of guiding the L.A. Times through the transition and positioning the company to succeed. As part of that, he is developing a diverse team of managers and possible successors. We are moving forward in a very positive direction and Norm and I have agreed to a multi-year extension of his term as executive editor. I could not be more pleased.”

How does Pearlstine now look at this almost unique turnaround opportunity? “I’m a little bit torn because I don’t think I’ve ever met an executive who did a turnaround who looked back and said, ‘I went too fast,'” he said. “So the pressure intention is to want to move quickly. But that said, I think we need a pause to just catch our breath and integrate…If you think about [Soon-Shiong’s] ambitions and what the brand lets you do, we need to do additional hiring as we roll out some of these products that we think will induce people to pay for content. What we’ve done over the last eight months has been to fill critical vacancies that had resulted from either layoff, buyouts, or attrition.”

Pearlstine described his Times journey so far in depth in two additional hours of conversations. (We’ll run a transcript of that interviews, like my one with Soon-Shiong, later this week here at Nieman Lab.)

It’s not just the number that matters — it’s also the kind of hires Pearlstine is making, near the top of the newsroom and throughout it. In leadership, he lured away from the East Coast both The New York Times’ Sewell Chan, who heads the news desk and is also responsible for audience engagement, and Slate’s top editor Julia Turner, who is creating the Times’ playbook for upping its arts and entertainment game. In this hiring binge, Pearlstine aims to do both the basic blocking and tackling required to heal an ailing news enterprise and to draw from the new world of digital journalism. His key hires of food critic Bill Addison from Eater and Peter Meehan from Lucky Peach signal an appreciation of journalism that comes from beyond old “newspaper” formulas.

But even that almost 25 percent headcount increase in less than a year marks just the beginning of the Times’ expansion ambitions.

Behold the fifth floor

Among the projects soon to get more attention is on the fifth floor. There, Soon-Shiong says, about 100 new staffers — about 80 of them still to be hired — will operate what he calls a new transmedia operation. The idea — in video, TV, audio, VR, games, and plain old-fashioned social management — is multiplication.

The strategy: Even as fundamental newsroom resources are being rebuilt, magnify their impact across all the means of distribution and audience engagement that technology now enables. Which will work and which will prove to be experiments to retire? Soon-Shiong is the first to say he’s not sure. (A previous transmedia company he backed, Fourth Wall Studios, closed in 2012.) But while his optimism about applying his Nant medical tech to journalism was sometimes lampooned when he first bought into Tronc three years ago, he’s undaunted in explaining tomorrow’s potential.

Take another number: 157,000. That’s the number of digital subscriptions the L.A. Times has today. It’s roughly doubled over the past two tumultuous Times years. The growth rate is significant, as is the fact that it’s more than any other “local” daily in the U.S. But Soon-Shiong sees it as just the first handhold on a towering mountain. He wants to get to 1 million quickly and has a stretch target of 4 million over the next four years.

That quest for fast scale helps explain the Times’ decision to become a major partner of Apple in this week’s launch of the Apple News Plus subscription package. It’s another step in increasing reader revenue. Both The New York Times and The Washington Post declined to join Apple’s service, it makes more sense for Soon-Shiong’s paper. The L.A. Times wants to do everything it can to get “discovered” by new readers, and it has much less to fear from the cannibalization of existing direct digital subscribers. Says Soon-Shiong of the deal: “Apple News editors will be able to curate current and recent coverage from all of our sections…We are delighted to be one of just two U.S. newspapers selected to participate at launch and to share in the revenue from the premium subscription service, which will help fund our journalism.” (Some content, such as the paper’s archives, won’t be accessible through Apple News Plus.)

As for Soon-Shiong’s stretch goal, New York Times CEO Mark Thompson’s recently setting of a 10 million subscriber total by 2025 is instructive. Thompson had laid out that seemingly impossible number two years ago, but back then, he didn’t put a date on it. Now, having reached 4.3 million total subscribers, no one laughs at the 10 million aspiration anymore. That tells us a lot about the digital news business and all the ground Soon-Shiong’s paper will have to make up quickly.

How far is his paper behind The Washington Post or that other Times? (“You mean The New York Times,” he notes several times in our conversation, as if to emphasize there is another Times back in the national media conversation.) Jeff Bezos faced a similar challenge when he bought the Post six years ago, and the paper’s ascent since then has surprised even the most skeptical about the chances of journalistic rebirth. (Amazingly, when Bezos bought the Post, its newsroom staff was smaller than the L.A. Times’.)

Figure the L.A. Times is 6 to 10 years behind its East Coast models, the “papers” it once called its brethren and would like to again.

As it retools, the L.A. Times faces new competition — including from that other Times. The New York Times is intently focused on California, home to 40 million people. It has more digital subscribers in California than in the state of New York. Its California Today newsletter is its Trojan Horse into the Golden State, competing with the L.A. Times’ “Essential California” newsletter. Even as the L.A. Times works to maintain its claim on food coverage, The New York Times went and hired its first-ever California restaurant critic.

Maybe the meaning of the geographic identifiers in these two “newspaper” brands will be something quite different in the years ahead.

Why the long turnaround?

Why might it take the L.A. Times a half decade or more — and continued reinvestment — to enjoy success similar that of The New York Times or The Washington Post?

While any keen Angeleno will tell you that the Times’ troubles began when the Chandler family sold it (and the rest of Times Mirror) to Tribune Company in 2000, it’s been the past decade that inflicted the most pain to what was once one of the most powerful and influential of American press institutions. Certainly, the Chicagoans who ran Tribune — and often tried to run the Times from Chicago — never quite got it right, but it was the seizure of Tribune by bottom-feeder financier Sam Zell in 2007 that sent it into a deepening tailspin.

Throughout it all — Zell’s reign, his five-year “bankruptcy from hell,”Tribune’s split into newspaper and broadcast companies, new management, and then the company’s second legal seizure by the arrivisteFerro in 2016 — the Times resisted. That resistance was both staunch and at times comical. The L.A. Times newsroom would come to be known, rightly or wrongly, as the toughest room in the country.

Amid the turmoil, the L.A. Times was more a punchline than a setter of the news agenda, even though its newsroom through the years (and still today) has produced among the highest-quality newspaper reporting and writing in the country.

There was the midnight firing of publisher Austin Beutner by then-CEO Jack Griffin — who himself was dispatched just five months later by Ferro. Who can forget the three-month tenure of Lewis D’Vorkin as editor-in-chief, after longtime Timesman Davan Maharaj was axed? Or Maharaj’s secret taping of Ferro, chronicled in David Folkenflik’s watchdog reporting on Tronc excess for NPR and giving us the wonderful headline: “Tribune, Tronc And Beyond: A Slur, A Secret Payout And A Looming Sale“? Or the cameo appearances of serial CEO Ross Levinsohn and his sidekick Mickie Rosen in the farce? It all makes the Times’ breakout true-crime podcast Dirty John seem fairly tame. (Anyone written the Times’ screenplay yet?) Keen industry observer Tom Rosenstiel calls the Times, at the time Soon-Shiong bought it, “the most degraded major metro in the country.”

That environment is just part of what Soon-Shiong inherited when he decided to buy. (Ferro had given him a weekend to decide whether he wanted his hometown paper so much that he’d pay a half a billion dollars for it — not allowing him to do much due diligence. In our interview, Soon-Shiong also tells the story of how he entered into a “partnership” after a first whirlwind weekend courtship.)

Soon-Shiong, Pearlstine, COO Chris Argentieri, and the emerging new order of management also inherited a broken technology stack. As Tribune/Tronc reeled for a decade, it had both centralized its operational systems and technologies — and failed to sufficiently invest in them to keep them up to date.

Argentieri describes what taking back the Times from Tronc/Tribune meant operationally: “Tribune operated with a number of functions shared across the company over the last couple of years — well beyond your typical shared services of finance, IT, HR. More than just the back office — so consumer marketing, circulation, national sales. Really, in Los Angeles at the end of Tribune’s ownership, we were essentially left with the newsroom and local advertising — and virtually everything else, including manufacturing, distribution, was all centralized.”

As Soon-Shiong told me, “With regard to the technology, I found it was non-existent. Not even…to fix. Just non-existent. I worried about the systems to the extent that I was worried: Could I run this paper with these systems that are so archaic?”

So even as the L.A. Times became “independent,” it remained — and still remains, roughly through the end of this year — stuck in part on aging, fatigued systems. Observers who wondered why Soon-Shiong signed a “standstill” agreement in January — allowing Tribune to commit to a merger or sale without his assent — have their answer. It was all that old tech that the Times still needs to publish (until its fast-paced plan to replace it all is complete) that was responsible. Soon-Shiong agreed to the standstill — which should make it possible for Tribune to merge with a McClatchy or otherwise sell itself — and in return got his “transition services agreement” extended until June 2020.

There are still many decisions to be made as the clock runs toward that date. Among them: Will the Times keep or replace Arc, The Washington Post’s fast-emerging new newspaper platform standard? Does it believe that Arc can rise to the occasion and help power Soon-Shiong’s expansive vision for the Times?

Overall, says Argentieri, the Times is “probably 40% there, I would say, through transitioning of services.” The big remaining piece, he says, “is to stand up our own traditional IT infrastructure — so our own HRISsystem, our own ERP system, our own infrastructure from a hosting standpoint. All are underway and will happen in 2019.”

Argentieri notes the unique perspective Soon-Shiong brings to the beleaguered newspaper industry. If Jeff Bezos brought the best consumer marketing chops, Soon-Shiong brings his own highly profitable experience.

“Nant [Soon-Shiong’s collection of tech enterprises] brings a pretty deep understanding from a technology standpoint. It’s a little different than how certainly we had looked at things…They look at things from fiber in the ground all the way up through the technology stats. Most, particularly legacy media companies have looked at IT as a major cost center, and put every bit of investment they could make into ‘digital business.’ We’re trying to look at it more holistically, because storage is cheaper, the infrastructure, there’s more things you can do today to have a site and app load faster, and all that leads to better user experience — where we just wouldn’t have focused on moving an infrastructure off servers in a data center in Chicago to somewhere else.”

After the buy and the building, $50 million

All of this transition — in hiring and in technology — comes at a hefty price. Which brings us to the third noteworthy number about the Times: $50 million. That’s the amount Soon-Shiong will have spent on the new Times in his first year of ownership.

How much more investment may be possible? Says Soon-Shiong: “I’m willing to continue to make an investment and collectively, as a collective, to work together” — mindful of the first contract with the News Guild, which unionized the place the week before he took title.

Like most other people of great wealth — Soon-Shiong’s fortune has been reported at over $7 billion — he’s not one to throw money around. Like Bezos, he’ll invest, but “he’s focused on where every dollar goes,” one insider says. As at The Washington Post, good ideas can get funded, but they’re approved by Soon-Shiong on an initiative-by-initiative basis.

How has that tough (and “abused,” as Soon-Shiong puts it) newsroom responded? Conversations with several staffers suggest a wary optimism — about as good as it gets in any newsroom. When the first union contract is concluded, staffers will see raises that mark a clear departure from the experience of their brethren at other dailies, including those still residing within Tribune. Those raises should add up to at least a 10 percent increase over the next three years.

“For staff who are over scale, they would see a 5 percent raise in year 1, 2.5 percent in year 2, 2.5 percent in year 3 under the company’s offer,” says Matt Pearce, a News Guild leader at the Times. “So in other words, pretty much the worst you can do is a guaranteed 10 percent raise across three years. It’s not quite enough to get us to match the pay standards at our East Coast competitors, and doesn’t repair the 10 years the newsroom went without regular raises, but it’s a decent bite out of the apple.”

For those who had been “underpaid,” the impact will be greater. “The company’s last/best/final offer on pay creates a series of pay minimums that would lift up some underpaid staffers fairly dramatically — in some cases, we’re talking raises of 30 percent or more on ratification,” says Pearce.

In addition to wanting a piece of the intellectual property action involved in Soon-Shiong’s multimedia adventures (which Soon-Shiong discusses in our interview), the contract addresses the usual issues: severance, jurisdiction, and seniority. It could be a month or two away from completion.

The guild, representing a workforce still recovering from shellshock, wants to add another clause to the new contract, one on “successorship.” Pearce: “So the contract survives, in the hopefully remote scenario that Patrick decides to sell the paper sometime in the next three years.” Just. In. Case.

Not yet defining the new L.A. Times

If you are reading this hoping to hear the new Times’ leadership clearly outline its strategy for the years ahead — sorry to disappoint you. Ever since Soon-Shiong bought the Times and pledged to rebuild it, people have been wondering about the big strategic questions.

Will the new L.A. Times be more national, expanding still further a fairly robust and re-energized D.C. bureau? More global, seizing the opportunity of the “Asian century” and its spot on the Pacific Rim? More California-centric, seeing a “nation” of 40 million to serve? Or will it be happy to focus on dominating the large and wealthy southern California market?

In other words, what category does the Times fit in now — or will it fit in in a few years? Is it America’s largest local newspaper in the country or its smallest national one?

(In Monday’s keynote, Apple split the difference, calling it “the country’s largest metropolitan newspaper and a rising star.”)

It’s both and neither at the same time, and that makes classifying it tough. “It’s probably safe to say if we’re trying to get to a million digital subscribers over a number of years, we will start with local. But we’ll have to evolve into California stories that have a global relevance,” Argentieri told me. (Former publisher Austin Beutner hired Argentieri, a magazine veteran, back in 2014, and through all the Tronc turmoil, he somehow managed to keep his head down. He widely receives plaudits for his steady hand.) “I think we’ll reach a point of penetration with people that are, you know, ferociously into local content, and we’ll have to go beyond that in some areas that travel better.”

The reality is that the Times is creating the building blocks that could easily be used across multiple strategies and target audiences. For now at least, instead of worrying about classification, let’s watch what’s in at the new L.A. Times. Its ownership is only nine months old, but Soon-Shiong talks about a 100-year vision — there’ll be plenty of time to classify later.

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March 27, 2019, 2:05 p.m.

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aion-rsa · 8 years ago

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INTERVIEW: Ewing’s Royals Embark on an Inhuman, Intergalactic Quest

Marvel’s super-powered Inhumans were born on Earth, but the culture and means that created them were extraterrestrial in nature. So when things become untenable for them on Earth, it’s only natural they would seek answers off-planet; first at the fallen homeworld of the galactic empire that created them, the Kree, and then further out into this galaxy and adjacent ones.

RELATED: Ewing Readies the U.S.Avengers for Deployment in the Marvel Universe

That’s the basic set-up for writer Al Ewing and artist Jonboy Meyers April-launching “ResurrXion” title, “Royals,” which sends the Inhuman royal family out into the cosmos of the Marvel Universe on a mission of utmost importance. But just how far out into space will they have to go? Which non Inhuman former Avenger is accompanying them on their journey and why? What sort of vessel will ferry them out into space? And what initial antagonists will be waiting to oppose them? For the answers to these questions and more, we spoke with Ewing about “Royals.”

CBR: For the past few years, the Inhuman Royal family has been pursuing an Earth-based agenda to advance and protect their people, but in “Royals,” they head out into space. What can you tell us about their mission? How critical is it to the survival of their people?

“Royals” #1 cover art by Jonboy Meyers

Al Ewing: Well, there’s a limit to what I can tell you without spoiling the in-progress “IvX” books, so get ready for a lot of cryptic answers… but I will say that the mission is pretty critical. It’s a quest to find answers – some lost secrets vital to the Inhumans – and it’s going to take them out further than any Marvel space-farers have gone before, to my knowledge. Hala – the dead, ruined world that was once the centre of the Kree Empire – is the first stop, but it’s a long way from being the last.

At the forefront of the mission is former Inhuman king Black Bolt and current Inhuman queen Medusa, who have been working together in recent years, though they’ve been living separate lives. How will living and working together initially impact the formerly married couple’s dynamic? What does it mean for the rest of the cast to have Medusa and Black Bolt on this mission together?

Black Bolt and Medusa are closer than they were in some ways, but there are still things driving them apart. There’s a secret between them – as hinted in “Inhumans: Prime,” which I think is out the month before – that might end up putting more distance than ever between the two of them. Can the relationship be saved at this point? Should it be? Are Black Bolt and Medusa too far apart from each other now to reconcile? We’ll have to see, but I can tell you that when the truth comes out, the rest of the cast will definitely get involved.

Your other two cast members of the Inhuman Royal family are Crystal and Gorgon. What’s your sense of these characters?

Crystal is there as one of the key Royals, and she’s proven her credentials over the past couple of years as a leader. There’s an interesting dynamic somewhere in there, with her sister Medusa as the regal, mythical Queen figure, and Crystal as a more down-to-earth leader-type who gets her hands dirty with the day-to-day. And we’re going to be getting some romantic drama from her as well, as her great lost love, Ronan the Accuser, is out in space and very much in the Royals’ way.

Gorgon was recently healed from a spinal injury by the Inhuman healer Panacea, so he can walk again – but it wasn’t a magical reset button by any means. He has bad days and some serious pain issues. But the Inhumans need him, and Medusa needs him, and he’s not going to hesitate for a second before throwing himself back into the fight.

The two Nuhumans in “Royals,” Flint and Swain, had a pretty tumultuous journey with Crystal and Gorgon over in “All-New Inhumans.” Which of these characters’ traits do you find especially interesting? What kinds of roles will they play in the book?

“Royals” #2 cover art by Jonboy Meyers

Flint’s going out there because he owes the Royals and because he needs to prove something to himself, and he’s still working out what – sometimes people do things and work out the “why” of it later, and we’re not going to get into it for an issue or two. His foster family dying of Terrigen is an element of it, and what he feels he owes the Royals is part of it. I feel like there’s a lot of complexity in him that I’d like to explore, and it just made sense that out of all the best-known NuHumans, he’d be the one to feel the tug of the quest. He’s searching for something, and out there might be where he finds it.

Swain is more driven by duty. She’s the Captain – you can’t have a starship without a captain – and she’s got a responsibility to Crystal and the other Royals that she won’t abandon. And she’s fun, which I hope I can capture in all this space questing. There’s the tug of space there, but the tug of change, as well, the need to shake things up, for her and Flint both. I’m a big fan of the “call of the stars” idea, and there’s a little bit of that at work.

Rounding out the cast is your non Inhuman character, the extradimensional Kree and former Young Avenger known as Marvel Boy. What made you want to bring him into the book? What does he add to the overall dynamic?

We were interested in having a “non-Inhuman” on the crew, and when Wil Moss suggested Marvel Boy as a possibility, I was right on board. He’s got that connection to the Kree – the ruined world of Hala is one of the first places we’ll be going – but with his other-dimensional origins, he’s also got a different viewpoint to most characters in the Marvel Universe, which puts him in a prime spot to see things other people miss. The Kree on his world had knowledge the Kree on ours didn’t – is that just from standard deviation between universes, or has a great secret been buried… maybe literally?

I realize that’s about the third or fourth “secret” in this interview so far – all of which is in aid of keeping my secrets from the readers more than anything. Not to mention the secrets of “IvX,” still ongoing. I did say I was going to be cryptic…

[Laughs] Fair enough! What can you tell us about the vessel the cast of “Royals” will be traveling on? Will it have a support staff of reoccurring characters, “Star Trek”-style?

It’s called the Astarion – named for a hero of Inhuman legend who may or may not have been a distant ancestor of Gorgon, and the inspiration for the Minotaur. That story’s one for, “if we have time.” It’s probably closer to the Millennium Falcon – it’s big, big as a building, big enough to comfortably house seven, but it’s not the Enterprise. There’s most of everything you might need – a medbay, weapons systems, what-have-you – and there’s a bridge that we’ll probably end up spending some time on, but there isn’t a support staff. I felt the mythical nature of the journey was best served by having everyone on the ship be a central part of the cast.

In the aftermath of recent events like the “Black Vortex,” and with the Guardians of the Galaxy currently stranded on Earth, the cosmic corner of the Marvel Universe is a pretty crazy, wide-open place. What threats will your cast will run afoul of?

Series artist Jonboy Meyers’ Inhumans redesigns for “Royals”

First stop is the dead world of Hala, once the homeworld of the Kree -heading there, and finding the secret buried within it, is what takes us through the first arc. On the way, they’ll encounter a couple of other enemies, some new-ish – like the rampaging Chitauri horde – some considerably older and more personal. Funny you should mention the “Black Vortex” – we haven’t seen much of Crystal’s ex-husband Ronan The Accuser since that story, or how his cosmic powers have developed.

From there, we’re heading out – to the edges of the Marvel Universe, and into uncharted territory. We’ve only seen a small part of the myriad galaxies in Marvel Space, and one thing I’m planning to do with this series – something I try to do with every book I’m given – is push the boundaries out a little further, both in terms of space–and time.

Oh, one more thing – remember the Universal Inhumans [from Jonathan Hickman’s “Fantastic Four” run]? I do.

Jonboy Meyers, who’s recently worked on a number of DC books is your collaborator on “Royals.” I’m not super familiar with his work, but it looks like it has a fun almost animated quality to it. What do you enjoy most about his work?

“Animated” is a good word! It’s wild, energized stuff, leaping off the page. He’s good when it comes to the design element, too – his ideas for the ship, and for the Royals’ “space” outfits and variations on them for different planets and environments, have been fascinating, and they’ve given me a bunch of ideas. Seeing what he’s doing with some of the bigger, weirder ideas I’m throwing at him, I’m interested to see more in the line – I think it’ll have a lot of visual punch.

Finally, going back to what you said earlier, it sounds like “Royals” will allow you to play with a number of Marvel’s established intergalactic characters and concepts as well as create a number of new ones. Can you talk anymore about some of the new things you’ll be introducing?

If my plans come together, this is going to add one absolutely huge new thing to the Marvel Universe that at least has the potential to change the entire scope and history of the whole shebang. Fans of Marvel Space, as well as Inhumans fans, would be wise to give this a look. We’re going all the way out to the far side of everything, and we’re coming back with cosmic secrets that’ll hopefully blow everything wide open.

I’ll conclude with a “thank you” to everyone following my work, and everyone who’s asking their local comic shop to put a copy of “Royals,” and a copy of the big “state of the Inhumans” one-off “Inhumans: Prime,” aside when they come out. That helps retailers gauge demand. Aside from that – stay safe, be kind to each other, and good luck in everything you do.

The post INTERVIEW: Ewing’s Royals Embark on an Inhuman, Intergalactic Quest appeared first on CBR.com.

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