#[ and no john will not be visible because i'm forcing you to see what anyone outside the elevator would ]

[redstringraven]

oh, we're doing all 72 seconds of this exchange, lads. but for now have some extremely rough key frames because i haven't animated in like a decade and ya girl's trying to relearn and trust the process. also i still haven't actually drawn arthur yet, because i'm impatient/giddy and wanted to jump right into key framing, but we're here to have fun we're here to giggle, what we're not here to do is stress out and fall down the elevator shaft.

[mrsparrasblog]

I wont pay for your therapy after this🥲

Mrs. MacTavish

Scotland—Johnny's birthplace and the place where he would be laid down permanently. The three men closest to him, the men who saw him die, stood together with his ashes in their hands. It felt surreal for them; of course, they knew something like this could happen. They had all lost a great deal of friends, but this was different. This task force should have been invincible, they should have been better—too good to be killed. But here they were, only three of them.

"Who dares wins. Sleep easy, soldier."

"See you down range, brother. We take it from here."

"Rest in peace, Johnny."

The men spread his ashes; he was finally where he felt at home, at least that's what his friends, his brothers in duty, thought.

They sat together in a rundown pub, unsure how to grieve or how to throw a worthy wake. Price said he didn't have any family left, so they were all he had, and they still failed him.

An order of his favorite whiskey stood on the table they usually occupied.

"He'd love that, he loved this place," Gaz said, trying to reassure his brothers. He now needed to be the glue of the group, the job Soap had before.

"One time, he hit an officer when he was still a rookie. The officer touched a female civilian, and Soap knocked him out. He almost got kicked out of the military, but he didn't press charges—too embarrassing," Price said, earning a slight chuckle from Gaz. Ghost stayed still; he was frozen since the death of his best friend.

"He almost beat my record at the SAS. Made me proud when I saw him in the recruitment," Gaz told them.

"He was the best," Ghost said. His voice sounded monotone; if he didn't have this thick British accent, he would have sounded like a robot.

"He tried to enlist in the SAS several times at 16, lying about his age each time," Price chuckled at the thought of his best trainee.

"He was more than his accomplishments." The other two men looked confused at Ghost; they weren't as close, he knew him better than them.

"Of course, he was, son."

"He had a journal, always drawing each of us, calling us his family. But now, he is dead. We failed him," Ghost said, bringing Gaz and Price down from their attempts to cheer him up and to appreciate Soap's life accomplishments. But he was dead, and nothing would ever change that.

After a while of drinking without speaking a word, Laswell came in, looking at the group of guys sitting down next to them. "Holding a wake for him?" she asked, nipping at the shared whiskey.

"Spread his ashes," Ghost replied shortly.

"You did what?" Her voice was loud; they could see the look of panic on her face.

"What's wrong, Kate? He would love resting in the Highlands."

"Please tell me, John, you didn't spread the whole ash."

"Kate, what's wrong?" Price asked, and she only sighed.

"I'm torn between granting the wishes of a deceased person and betraying his wishes at the same time," Laswell said. The inner conflict was visible in the wrinkles around her eyes.

"Laswell, spit it out!" Ghost shouted at her, the normally calm soldier completely losing control of his emotions.

"His last wish was that someone specific get his body in case of his early demise."

"Bullshit, he had no family left," Gaz replied, confused. His brother wouldn't lie to him about his family.

"Who is this person?" Ghost asked, his expression full of hurt. He wasn't mad like Kyle about the possibility that Johnny lied to them; Johnny was always smarter than the rest of them. He couldn't entertain the possibility that one of his brothers or whoever this person was would die because of his enemies.

"Mrs. MacTavish," Kate muttered under her breath. She promised him before joining the task force that she wouldn't, under any circumstances, tell anyone about her.

"Like his mother?" Kyle asked, and Kate only shook her head.

"He was married?"

"For ten years," Kate sighed.

"I will personally tell her and apologize," Price said. He knew this was the least he could do for him.

"I will tell her," Ghost thought. He needed to do this for his best friend, especially making sure that whoever she was, she would never be found by Makarov and could live a safe civilian life.

"Count me in, Captain," Gaz said, determined to apologize to Soap's wife. Maybe if he had been better, faster, Makarov wouldn't have gotten Soap.

These three men were as different as they could have been; the only thing about them that all of them shared was the guilt.

A few days later

The last days were harder than usual for you; the pregnancy took a toll on you. The worst part was not hearing anything from your beloved Johnny for a long time. You were used to not hearing from him; you knew what you were getting into when you decided to marry him. But you never even thought about making him retire. You loved him since high school. How couldn't you? He was a charmer. He had been in love with you since you both were 6, starting elementary school.

He asked you at least every week if you wanted to marry him when you grew older. You always declined his advances. You were sure that you even hit him once for staring too long at you. He looked like an arrogant ass who could have anyone he wanted, but somehow, he never, not even for a second in his life, thought about another woman. So after some years, you decided to give him a chance, and you never regretted this decision once in your life.

The bell rang, and you were sure it must have been one of the neighbors asking if they could have milk or eggs from the farm. But before you could gather your pregnant body up, your six-year-old son ran up, opening the door. "Maybe it's Dad, Mommy!"

"James William MacTavish, how often did I tell you not to open the door?"

Your son was a spitting image of your Johnny. It got worse when he decided that he needed to cut himself a mohawk to look like his dad. You were so happy to see Johnny's reaction to the mohawk when he came back.

At the door stood three muscular, tall guys looking down at the little boy. As Kyle saw the spitting image of Johnny, he walked to the nearest trash can and threw up. It was too much for him. The thought of a wife was bad enough, but a son too.

You walked down and gathered your son who hugged your thigh. You looked at the men; one of them was a bit older with a funny beard, and the other one was blonde with a scared face.

When Price saw the visible baby bump, his heart broke. The thought of you not only having a son but also being pregnant gave him the rest; his guilt was eating him out.

"Mrs. MacTavish?"

"Yes?" you asked in confusion. They didn't seem like the villagers who wanted to buy something from the farm, nor the parents of your students.

"We need to talk about your husband."

"No," you knew what this meant; you knew it in your gut.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. MacTavish, but your husband died while protecting his country."

You always thought these films were dramatic, but it was nothing compared to what you felt right now. The pain was indescribable; you felt like someone pulled your ground from you, and you fell, completely in shock. Your tears slowly started to roll down, and you saw how the older man held the blonde one back from reaching out to you.

"No, my Johnny, he said he would always come back. He will come back, he will come back to us, he always will," you sobbed uncontrollably.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am."

From behind, Aiofe and Maeve ran down, our oldest, the twins. "Mom, are you okay?" All your three children sat down next to you, afraid that something happened to their mom.

That was the final straw as Ghost saw even more children, his best friend left behind a wife, three children, and a little one on the way. It should have been him.

You sobbed as you spoke to your children, "It's okay, Simon is just kicking hard in my belly, nothing is wrong with Mommy. I love you."

"We love you too, Mommy."

[plus-i-miss-you]

Hello, Lina!! I wish you luck and hope you can have lots of fun with your new blog!! How about a request to help you kick off? 👀 Headcanons for t2!Mikoto and Orekoto with a guard gn!reader that tries to keep Mikoto from getting too stressed when interrogating him? Basically, they don't want to push him too hard. After the end of trial 1, I was thinking about how I would have preferred Mikoto and Orekoto over Kotoko as allies if I was a guard, haha.

▷ listening to:

"i won't hurt you, i promise" (gn!reader)

⇆ㅤ ㅤ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤㅤ↻ ılıılıılıılıılıılıㅤㅤ

♪ note: thank you sm aurora! i hope you like this one! (again. probably came out too cute ahshajaj)

♪ summary: okay, maybe voting a guy with undiagnosed did (and an alter who is extremely protective of him) guilty wasn't a good idea. wishing to make amends and get to know these two better, you try to help these two feel at least a bit safer in this hellhole known as milgram prison.

♪ warnings: mostly none, except there's a description of john trying to make the reader believe that he's the "evil" alter in an attempt to protect mikoto. the reader doesn't believe him though and it's mostly lighthearted. also the reader is kinda supposed to be a "replacement" of es, since they're the reason why mikoto's been voted guilty and there's a mention of.. well, what happened in mikoto's first vd.

mikoto kayano.

♪ "y/n, d-don't get me wrong, i don't mind the attention, but seriously, i'm fine! my head hurts a little bit, but other than that-"

oh, but you know well that this man is not fine at all. you're glad to see that mikoto is doing better after.. well, everything that happened with kotoko and all, but you refuse to leave him alone even for a minute. yes, you're worried about him. why wouldn't you be? voting him guilty was your decision and you're not sure it was the correct one (well, you certainly were shocked after watching his video, haha..) and you're ready to take responsibility for it. you just hope kotoko really won't try to attack him (or anyone, really) again..

♪ you make sure to do everything in your power to help mikoto when he's feeling stressed or anxious and you know that this guy really doesn't like to show how he really feels. but you recognize the signs pretty easily, so no matter how hard he tries, you're already there, asking if he's okay. yes, he's still a prisoner, but that doesn't mean you're just gonna interrogate him until he loses consciousness because of how tired he is. so you try your best to check up on him as often as you possibly can. and no, you have no idea why the other prisoners are saying you have your favorites. 

♪ when you're interrogating him, you tell him that it's okay if he doesn't remember something and he doesn't have to force himself to remember it, especially if it's something that can be traumatic for him. of course, you still try to learn at least some new information, that's your job after all, but you try not to push him too hard. you don't mind if john appears again, but you also want to make sure mikoto himself feels safe. whenever he gets distracted, you gently get him back on track and remind him why he's here and if you notice that he's starting to get visibly anxious, you ask if he needs anything and change the topic and try to go back to the question you had once he calms down.

♪ yes, you feel bad about voting him guilty. maybe it really wasn't the right choice. and when mikoto gives you that lost and confused look, asking why you voted him guilty and feeling like he did something wrong.. yeah, you don't feel so good about it. he looks like a sad puppy when he does it and you refuse to look him in the eyes when it happens. so, uh.. you just try to make it up to him by still letting him do things that make him at least a little bit happy. he can sit in his cell and draw stuff if he wants. you can even take a look if he's okay with that. you can also try to help him start hanging out with the other prisoners again-

"h-hey, y/n.. do you know why everyone's kind of.. i don't wanna sound like i'm blaming them or anything, but is it just me or they're avoiding me for some reason?"

.. ah, about that.

john kayano.

♪ o-okay, now you have to try to get along with this guy. and to your surprise, it wasn't.. that hard? he still doesn't fully trust you, that's for sure. but even though your first meeting didn't go that well (him beating you up and almost killing you in the process, romantic, isn't it?), when you've finally managed to make john trust you and believe that you're not dangerous and you're not planning to hurt mikoto (it took.. a lot of time), he started to act a little bit calmer around you. he's still mad at you, for obvious reasons. he has no idea what you saw in that video, but you still voted mikoto guilty. and he won't forgive you so easily.

♪ whenever you try to learn more about mikoto (or john's?..) crime, john tries really hard to make it seem like he's the one at fault. he's the one to blame, not mikoto. just forgive mikoto already, is that so hard? you really think that guy is capable of murdering someone? and you really don't want to suspect these two, but again, that's your job. and you know well that all prisoners are murderers at least in some way. so when john says that he murdered someone to help mikoto relieve his stress.. it just.. doesn't make any sense. you don't say it out loud though and just say that you're not going to try and figure out which one is innocent and which one is guilty. you're going to judge both of them and you will try your best to be fair, but you're not going to point a finger at one of them and go "you're the bad guy here". not at least before you really do get a confirmation that one of them is the murderer.

♪ john tries to play it cool, doing the whole "tch.. do what you want" thing, but on the inside?? he's LOSING IT. hey. hey. he's the murderer. he's the bad one. he's the evil one. just leave mikoto alone already. however, that's not the only reason why he's kinda going insane. he's just.. not used to being treated like this. what do you mean you see him and mikoto as two different people and treat them as such. why are you so nice to both of them. he's not surprised that mikoto feels safe around you, this guy is way too naive (yes, he means it in an affectionate way), but why does he also feel kind of.. whatever. just remember to forgive mikoto and everything will be fine.

♪ when you hear the infamous "weird noises coming from mikoto's cell", you know well that it's john's doing, so you go pay him a visit. you try to talk to him about whatever that's bothering him, and when he asks just why are you "acting like this" (he's talking about being nice.), you simply say that it's also a part of your job. yes, you're supposed to judge the prisoners, but you don't want anything to happen to them before all three trials are over. he looks at you for a moment, processing your words and says that it sounds like a lie, though you can't hear any anger in his voice, he actually sounds a little confused. you sigh and try to fix his hair that's been messy since the second trial started.

"well, you're not exactly being honest with me either."

[quonka]

The Art of Putting on Horror Ambiance in Order to Emulate Getting Hunted for Sport, in Hopes that the Adrenaline Produced Forces You to Lock In

Not to brag, but my attention span is pretty miserable. Even things I genuinely enjoy doing are shoved to the side and neglected in the favor of doing actually, literally nothing.

Knowing this fact about me then, it may come as no surprise that getting myself to do schoolwork is an actual herculean task that I either have to trick myself into doing somehow; or as it ends up being in most cases, have to be forced into doing by my own debilitating fear of the due date, now only one night's sleep away, and its consequences on my GPA.

Maybe this sense of fear, this sense of myself in direct opposition to an impending aftermath, is why having horror game OST's playing in my ears when I'm writing is so effective. Misery loves company.

"Anyone else hiding in the comments right now?"

I don't actually have an extensive history of playing horror games-- instead, my knowledge comes from watching them at probably too young an age on YouTube.

My main sources of horror game content came from Markiplier-- of course-- and a much smaller youtuber that at the time when I first watched him eleven years ago, went by Harshly Critical, but now goes by John Wolfe. Both men have played an extensive amount of indie horror games-- some good, and some really, really bad, and some just completely mediocre and forgettable-- and I watched them all. Or at least my fair share of them.

Baby's First Horror Game

The first horror game that I ever personally played, and actually beat instead of turning it off at the first sign of terror, was a game called Darkwood, officially released in 2017 by Acid Wizard Studio.

I didn't even play it off one of their recommendations either-- I had no idea this game existed in any capacity until one day in 2020 when I was scrolling through the Play Station Store, specifically looking for interesting horror games to try.

The first thing about the game that grabbed me was the horrific (in the best way) cover art, but what got me to actually buy the game and play it was its insistence on the minimal presence of jump scares--

At the time, and after the commercial success of Five Nights at Freddy's and its multiple sequels, a series whose staple was the jump scare; many horror game consumers became soured to that convention of the genre-- often calling them out as "cheap" and "out of nowhere lazy bullshit". This sentiment among the community was evidently common enough to be able to market one's game off of. I do remember thinking it was a bit pretentious-- giving off a major "I'm different from other horror games" feel-- but I guess it worked. because I did in fact purchase the game.

And they were absolutely in their right to claim their game as "an atmospheric horror experience that creates a feeling of tension without cheap horror tricks."

Dull of One Sense Sharpens Another

Despite the art on the cover, the actual game itself is pixelated-- for the most part. In fact, the only times when you aren't in immediate danger is when you're sat across from characters that look like this:

That is exactly what makes the sound and music design so genius though; it's that importance of it, that necessity. When the gameplay looks like this--

-- that is to say in a Top-Down perspective with generally dark and muddy, muffled colors; You have to listen for the threats, instead of just normally being able to see them in HD.

That's another thing too, as seen in the photo, there is a specific, defined area that is lit up where enemies can be seen. However, in the game, anything outside of that sliver of light-- anything behind you-- will not be visible until you turn around and shine your light on it. This leads to a lot of enemies inevitably sneaking up on you, and in this game's case where you have extremely limited health and stamina reserves (the red and silver bars in the top left corner), you have to learn to listen for them or else they will easily kill you.

I think then that the intense amount of focus I put into listening for sticks around me breaking, or for sounds of shuffling and growling, all on top of the general game's ambiance and soundtrack, conditioned my brain into focusing whenever the game's music plays.

The Buzzword

Darkwood, authored by Artur Kordas who had a large part in the development of the entire game, has a fantastic assortment of songs that all flow smoothly into each other-- and just they are designed to in the game, they fade into the background, providing a consistent atmosphere so that you can focus on the task at hand-- or at least so that I can.

There are also one or two songs that refuse to wash away into mood music. My favorite song on the album, "Underground", is a perfect example of this. It comes in with this slow and consistent, almost pulsating type of ragged noise, one that makes me picture an ugly, broken and dented, rusted, barely working trumpet, with an underneath layer that sounds like dragging stone against stone. Then around halfway through the song, an aggressive and exciting drum beat with hints of a metallic sound crescendos and crescendos, chasing the original set of sounds until it's all that's left-- completely overriding the grinding stone and leaving a thicker horn blare in replacement of the old one. This of course eventually fades into one of the common buzzing motifs found in many placing of the game's soundtrack, that's meant to signify safety, or hope.

This hasty, thrilling song provides a really nice break up and into the rest of the album, that is an even nicer subconscious reminder to my brain that there is danger if I do not promptly "pick up the pace" of my writing-- and further that there is safety on the "other side" of finishing my work.

Recommendations?

I have played many video games; some that have required a lot of my focus that aren't necessarily horror, but whose soundtracks really help me to concentrate; and I've played other horror games where the soundtracks end up more distracting than helpful. I've also played some games that are my favorites of all time, and I've put many, many hours into, where their soundtracks do absolutely nothing because they're just a little boring.

Darkwood is special in that way, where it lies in a neat, cohesive little combination that ends up perfectly suiting my need for background music when I write.

And I thought it was pretentious.

Does anyone else have specific videogame OST's that work like this for them? I'm always looking to discover new music, especially music that's ideal for studying and schoolwork-- and it definitely doesn't have to be horror; like I've said, I use multiple different genres of OST's to help me out.

Also, I feel like this goes without saying, but if you are looking for a horror game to play, I do recommend trying out Darkwood.

Or if you'd rather just listen to the soundtrack, I understand.

[creepy-crowleys]

[[ sorry for dropping this many BUT a10, a13, a20, b10, b14, c4, d2, e6, f8, f11, g6, h7

Big Ol’ Honkin’ OC Question List

((Heh! It's no problem!

It is fairly long, so I'm putting most of it under cut.

Also some heavier stuff mentioned for A13 - I put some warnings for it before the answer.))

A10. Does your OC compromise easily? Too easily?

((She compromises fairly easily? I wanna say that she's open to acknowledging that she doesn't always know best and there are a lot of places she's willing to surrender ground on for the sake of better relations. She just doesn't have the interest or energy for prolonged conflict.

There are definitely some places she has harder lines on, but she's willing to settle on a lot. Maybe too much? But being agreeable and not pressing issues has kept her from generally pissing off the wrong people and let's her keep her options open.))

A13. Does your OC have any phobias? If so, where did they come from?

Mentions of: Horror, Gore, Torture, Suicide, Child death

((Dogs and red lights are the big ones. She and her family were attacked by a pair of Black Dogs when she was young - the monstrous kind, not... ordinary dogs. She was the only survivor of the attack. Dogs scare her, especially large and/or dark-colored ones, or if teeth ever become visible. Skulls are mostly fine, werewolves - particularly ones like hers that aren't overly wolf-like - are fine. The junkyard owner's dobermans are not.

She's seen those dogs eat human flesh from a zombie. She does not like them.

The red lights are more recent, within the last few years, and they kind of tie together a few different experiences: the red emergency lighting in a bunker where she was tortured and in a youth clubhouse where she discovered the mass suicide and murder of their members, the taillights flashing in a haunted parking garage where staring ghosts wearing children's faces forced her to play with them, the red-red bed and John violating her memories...

Sheer (@asmallredlight and @atinyredlight) are exceptions. They're safe and comforting, and assurance that someone beloved is watching her back.))

A20. Are they harsh on themselves?

((She can be. She's very strong, and people on a large scale can live or die by her actions, successes and failures. To some degree she (thinks she) has to be, because if she lets herself get sloppy, it's other people that are going to be paying the price.

She also comes from a very strict upbringing. As much progress as she's made in recovering from that, some of it still sticks to her.))

B10. Does your OC find any “bad” or “mean” humor funny? Do they wish they didn’t?

((Sometimes! :'D She's in a pretty crappy world surrounded by pretty awful people, there's plenty of dark and gallows humor to go around. And she's awful at being someone who anxious laughs and jokes too.

She is usually very well-behaved and doesn't go out of her way to be mean to people, but she is also holding on to her fair share of bitterness and sometimes your best friend makes a mean joke that just manages to kill you.))

B14. Do they have people they are genuinely honest with about themselves?

((She tries to be, with several people. She's very uncomfortable with the idea of people seeing her as more than she is or feeling misled when they realize there are other facets to her than the ones they've seen.))

C4. Do they consider themselves superior or more important than anyone else? Lesser?

((Beyond the fact that she does have actual superpowers and The Powers That Be have actually interceded on her behalf, she thinks of herself as being pretty on par with everyone else really. As far as she knows, there was nothing particularly exceptional about her that got her chosen - and she's just trying to make the best with what she's got and be responsible about.

She did grow up thinking and being told that she was lesser/broken/wrong/etc... But she's been working on it. She's at a point where most days she's alright with herself now, though spirals definitely still happen.))

D2. Do they believe in an afterlife?

((She knows for a fact one exists! She's been to the other side of the living world - where ghosts haunt - on many occasions. And she's aware of a Sea of Souls and successfully pulled actual Romanian prince Vlad Dracula back from it for a time. She's also weighed hearts against the feather of Ma'at and offered the impure to Ammit the Devourer.

So. Afterlife is definitely a thing that applies to most people, though some are eaten by a crocodile-hippo-demon. Hers specifically is a little broken though.))

E6. Do they enjoy learning? Do they actively seek out sources of self-education?

((She does! She is absolutely an overgrown nerd and her job often involves extensive research. Having access to both the Illuminati's extensive records and the Buzzing as an essentially living database were among the biggest perks of getting dragged into this whole mess.

There's also the matter of her 'twin' over at @creepy-crowlies who she's encouraged to pursue her own education with Crowley offering to help cover any costs in exchange for Other Meredith sharing what she's learned.))

F8. How often are they home?

((It varies. When she's off-assignment, she technically works from home as the archive she's in charge of is connected to the house via a passageway in the basement. Mostly she just pulls any materials she's working on upstairs and handles a lot office duties in her living room.

When she isn't in the house itself, she still typically keeps to the island it's on - gardening, exercising, helping out with the community, etc.

She's usually out most of the day on Tuesdays, leaving her home universe completely to talk to her therapist and then running any outside errands she has.

On-assignment, she'll typically stay in the field for days to maybe a couple weeks at a time. Teleporting home is an option, but she often feels guilty about leaving when other people involved generally can't or she just can't pull herself away from whatever she's working on.

She also takes a yearly vacation the week around March 15, when she and her family were attacked, to visit their grave, a good friend that took care of her for a time after they passed, and usually somewhere else. She went to Australia this year.))

F11. What are some of their favorite things to do for recreation? How did they get into it? What part of it do they like the most?

((She likes gardening and cooking, things she picked up from the woman who helped raise her mentioned above! Just quiet and peaceful activities to keep her hands busy, cultivating growth and life and giving her a way to take care of others. She enjoys playing music - piano mostly at the moment - and solving puzzles for similar 'hands busy, mind moderately engaged' reasons.

She's taken to doing more physically engaging activities as well, like running, climbing, and sparring. Mostly because she noticed she felt better when she was more active on the job, and was restless when she stayed in. :p Even just going out to smash up junk cars helped bring down her nervous energy when she's been upset, so beyond keeping her fit, it helps her better manage her anxiety.))

G6. Do they have any favorite childhood memories?

((She has a few vague memories of her family that are very precious to her, like playing teacher to her younger brother in her dad's office or her mom rescuing her from slipping on the kitchen floor by sitting her on the counter to help do dishes. And there are the memories of the time spent with Marlene, the woman who helped raise her, in the kitchen and in the gardens, or sitting with her when she wasn't feeling well.

She may kind of, sort of remember calling Marlene mom when she was very sick once, how tight Marlene hugged her for it, and how safe she felt at the time.

And more recently, some magical shenanigans might have left her with an altered set of memories of a very kind skeleton who watched movies with taught her how to do origami. :>))

H7. What do they look for in partners? (Emotionally, mentally, physically..)

((At one time, the answer would have been 'woman willing to have sex with her (and hopefully fuck her up in the process),' eheh... :'D She's in a different place now.

Right now, she's finding herself drawn more to comfort, stability, and security. She hopeful for the long-term and domesticity, someone she can be affectionate and laugh with and feel safe around, who will tolerate if not engage with her bouts of silliness. And... hopefully someone who can be patient with her being nervous and worrying too much at times, and her also having a dangerous, high-risk job.

...She may also still have a thing for monster women and finds claws very attractive.

She's quite happily spoken for at the moment. :>))

[writer-monster]

11 reasons why cap 4 should reintroduce Bucky Barnes as the love interest, an essay

to start this off, i am not writing this essay from a shipping place nor do i believe that this would have any influence at all over the upcoming movie. i expect nothing. this is simply something that i would personally like to see. (of course no hate to anybody who thinks differently)

here are 11 reasons why i think making Bucky into Sam Wilson's love interest in Cap 4 would be a good move for Disney.

-

1. on the Chinese film market - and why it's an irrelevant argument against the inclusion of homosexual themes in Cap 4

the Chinese film market is something that has been blamed for a lack of diversity in Hollywood films a lot lately. many people claim that this market with a lot of buying power has been responsible for the lack of gay and black representation in particular within Hollywood films.

and we have certainly seen Hollywood treating it as such, going so far as to cut gay scenes from movies for their Chinese releases, and vastly minimising John Boyega's (a black actor's) presence in the Chinese poster of Star Wars The Force Awakens.

[image ID: on the left is an image of the American poster for Star Wars The Force Awakens, featuring John Boyega prominently on the right-hand side. And on the right is the Chinese poster for the same movie, in which John Boyega is barely visible.]

so we know at the very least that Disney believes this through their own actions and efforts to self-censor for the different markets.

but Captain America 4 is a black-led movie, don't you forget. and Disney can't minimise Sam Wilson/Anthony Mackie in the movie or the poster because it's his movie and his poster. and no amount of creativity in the editing room can change that (thank God!).

so if by their own argument the film is already going to be either banned, panned or slammed in China... then what do they have to fear from making it a gay movie too?

-

2. oh, the queerbaiting

queerbaiting is an unusual cultural idea. and sometimes i find myself thinking that the term is far too easily used, but then all of a sudden i will stumble upon a movie or show that is so quintessentially cruel and overt in it's... well... queerbaiting that i will start to wonder what the hell kind of a bizarre relationship all these straight people seem to have with their friends. take Troy and Abed from Community or John and Sherlock from Sherlock as the perfect examples of this. (in which my reaction to the show's creators saying the show wasn't gay was to ask so then why did you make it so gay?!)

i felt that Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes in tfatws were getting quite close to this level of queerbaiting.

there was the field scene, the couple's counselling scene, the boat scene, the couple's counselling scene, Bucky going with Sam to face Karli when she told Sam to come alone, the couple's counselling scene, ALL the staring scenes, Sam checking out Bucky's ass here as they said goodbye, the "i would move in with him but" hidden scene, "Uncle Bucky" showing up at the cookout scene, the romantic walking off together into the sunset together ending scene, and the couple's counselling scene. did i forget anything? but i mean seriously, the couple's counselling scene!!! that thing they did with their legs and their crotches while staring deep into each other's eyes, would any straight guy willingly do that? do straight guys crotch-snuggle now?

[image ID: an image of Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes during the therapy scene with the quote, "Isn't anybody going to drag me into impromptu couple's therapy and slot my legs firmly between theirs before staring deeply into my eyes?"]

(yeah i stole this image from a buzzfeed article on the fan reactions to the couple's therapy scene. but given that they stole 80% of the content of that article from fandom tumblr, i think it's pretty even-steven.)

there's also the fact that people started talking about bisexual Bucky Barnes a lot after the tiger pictures line, and the lead writer Malcom Spellman responded to the talk of Bucky's bisexuality with "just keep watching". well we watched, Malcolm. but it's beginning to feel like you were just jerking us around.

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3. the writing

seriously though, what else is Bucky Barnes doing right now in the MCU? his only remaining connection to anything going on right now is through Sam. there is literally nothing else established that's left for him to do that doesn't involve Sam. he moved to Louisiana to be closer to Sam (canonically), he hangs out with Sam's family (canonically), and Steve is presumably gone and is definitely not coming back for more adventures.

he has no villains or loose ends left. he has no other superheroes that he appears to be in contact with. he has no girlfriend or potential love interest, or even other friends or family. he is living in a tent that he has secretly set up in Sam's backyard and is mysteriously appearing from the bushes when it's time for dinner like a stray cat.

in my opinion there is no other meaningful and pre-established progression for Bucky's character that wouldn't just feel cheap.

plus, i don't think the general audience would be all that surprised if they kissed. i think a LOT of people picked up on all that tension. i think a lot of straight people picked up on all that tension too.

-

4. the chemistry between the actors & the chemistry between the characters

the original pitch for tfatws was essentially just this, it was the chemistry between Sebastian Stan and Anthony Mackie and their respective MCU characters of Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson.

now obviously Anthony and Sebastian are simply friends, and i wouldn't mean to imply anything more. but they are also not their characters.

Sam and Bucky's scenes together before tfatws were both limited and short, and yet audiences still fell in love with the dynamic between the two characters.

in interviews, these two actors are constantly slipping into character and flirting with each other and frankly it's adorable. plus it's really entertaining. i'd love to see that dynamic, unfiltered, in a movie.

because believe it or not the flirting is actually even more open in their interviews than it was in tfatws. and i'm leaving some links as proof.

this here is known as the "married" compilation

and here's a "lucky dip" selection of interviews - 1, 2, 3, 4, 5,

and here's Anthony trying to get Seb to take his jacket off.

i'm just saying, why not let their chemistry shine? these two are so talented and so entertaining, especially when you put them in a room together. and can you imagine how absolutely hilarious and brilliant it would be to watch them navigate being a couple?

(and for those who bring up the "friends would be uncomfortable pretending to be dating" argument, i'm not here asking for a sex scene or anything. i don't think anyone would expect them to show any more intimacy (physical or emotional) while playing a couple than what they've already shown together in say... tfatws or in their own interviews. not that i actually expect anything regardless.)

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5. if they were a man and a woman they would've gotten together in tfatws

i have no more to add here. just that... yeah, they would've.

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6. and i'm not talking about the comics here, i'm talking about the MCU.

i understand fully that none of what i'm saying here falls in line with these characters from the comics. but the mcu itself doesn't fall much in line with the comics either, and these two characters especially are very different from their comics counterparts.

i'm not asking for these two to get together in the comics. tbh i don't think that it would work.

but the mcu Sam and Bucky are different and closer than their comics counterparts. they've got different histories, different backstories, and a very different dynamic. please rest assured that i am only talking about them in the mcu.

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7. Bucky Barnes is believably bisexual. and Sam Wilson has never been proven to be straight in the mcu, nor has he had a love interest.

(now please continue to keep in mind that these points only stand for the mcu versions of Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson, and not at all for their comics counterparts.)

Sam Wilson has never had a love interest, which is crazy because have you seen that man! he has had two blink and you'll miss it moments of verbal expression of attraction to women, both in TWS. and that's the extent of it, through his entire history in the mcu.

Bucky Barnes has had a number of surface-level female love interests, but none of them even came close to the level of connection and chemistry that Bucky shares with Sam.

and i'm sorry SarahBucky fans, but i just don't think there's very much to their relationship either. i love Sarah, i really do. but it's Sam who shares all the meaningful moments and history and chemistry with Bucky. and i don't see what making her into a love interest would do for Sarah's character either, what would that add to her story?

[Picture ID: Bucky at the cookout with Sam, Sarah, Cass and AJ. Bucky and Sam are looking at each other and smiling.]

and also there is the whole tiger pictures thing... again. which does strongly suggest that Bucky is bisexual whether this was intentional on behalf of the writers or not.

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8. it's representation... AND it feels natural

marvel hasn't had a lot of queer representation that's been noticeably present in the MCU at the time of writing this.

there have been a lot of failures so far, from the bisexual erasure of Valkyrie in Thor Ragnarok to the wlw erasure in Black Panther.

there was queerbaiting almost identical to the bisexual Bucky baiting for Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 2. when asked if he had considered featuring a gay hero in gotg2, director James Gunn stated that "We might have already done that. I say, watch the movie." after the movie's release audiences were understandably confused about the lack of queer representation. To which the director followed up his comments with, "But we don't really know who's gay and who's not. It could be any of them."

there is also Loki, considered by most fans after the airing of his six episode series on Disney+ to be both a poor attempt at both genderfluid representation and bisexual representation. with both attempts being summed up fairly well by the term "blink-and-you'll-miss-it". (also it's just terribly written and Loki doesn't wear any interesting clothes! fanficcers are a Goddamn blessing in this hard time!)

and let us not forget that Andrew Garfield was apparently FIRED for pushing for a bisexual spiderman. a bisexual spiderman within an interracial mlm relationship no less.

so for all these failures, marvel, why not allow us queer fans this? two brilliant and heroic men in a loving interracial relationship. two heroes that we can look up to.

now, one of the biggest detractions from the argument for representation is the idea of "forced diversity". and some poorly written characters certainly do end up feeling forced into the narrative. take Iceman in the comics for example, with Jean Grey just straight up suddenly telling him he's gay. like, marvel, sweetie, that's not how this works! and i don't know a lot of queer people who thought much of that "representation".

but the crux of the "forced diversity" argument is almost always that it feels unnatural within the story, right? and i don't think that anyone could say that about MCU Sam and Bucky ending up together, given these characters' existing chemistry and their history. they've both played characters in gay relationships before so we know that it's not outside of either actor's wheelhouse. and y'all know that Anthony and Seb can act, people. if it's in the script i believe that they'll make it seem like the most natural thing on earth.

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9. it'd be a nice change

there's been an ongoing meme lately about "Disney's first gay character", the joke being that they continually announce gay characters without really ever including gay characters in their films.

this is to the point where Disney has formed a reputation amongst queer audiences of being homophobic.

if Sam and Bucky were to become a couple, then Disney could have its first actual gay character within a gay relationship. AND have him be in the lead of his own movie, no less.

it's also worth keeping in mind that there's likely an overlap between the people who were outraged by a Sam Wilson Captain America, and the people who'd be outraged by a gay Captain America. and if they were already not seeing the film, then i don't think much is gonna change that.

queer audiences would definitely love it, and the media attention would be guaranteed to be huge. i mean, simply look at the amount of media attention mere rumours of a character's queerness gets you and multiply that by a canon confirmation of said rumours.

but i'm pretty sure that Disney already knows this.

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10. and yet, in truth, it's not about the representation

in truth i've never felt that i had any trouble relating to characters of any sexual orientation, race, gender, sex, body type, etc. (although that is not to throw any shade at all on people who do wish to see themselves represented) but for me, i think it's more about the story than the packaging.

and yet, a love story is still just a story. straight or queer, monoethnic or interracial. when two characters have chemistry and history and have sacrificed for each other time and time again, and they also can't keep their hands or their eyes off each other, then i'm pretty sure that that's a love story.

straight or queer, monoethnic or interracial, it shouldn't be about these simple labels. it should be about how well written the relationship is. it should be about chemistry, and history, and sacrifice.

because i'm fucking sick of all the hollow, forced romances in media no matter the genders of the participants. i'm sick of lazily written, shallow relationships where any two people sharing the same space for any extended period of time will simply fall in love. it's boring, it's repetitive, and as a writer myself it drives me up the wall!

romance stories suck! and everyone knows that romance stories suck. between twilight, and most of the entire YA genre, and love triangles (so boring), and romance used as poorly-written throwaway subplots in Hollywood movies, the world is in agreement that the romance in western media is simply dreadful. and yet we still want love stories. it's an entire genre that sits at the heart of the human experience (<3), and yet one which so few of today's best known writers seem truly able to capture.

i don't think that i'm the only one who feels this way, either. i suspect it's actually a large part of why fandom is so romance-centred in the first place, that we're all just starving for a good love story.

(btw i think fandom has a reputation for being something that as a whole that it is not. it has this reputation for straight up demanding things and harassing people until they get their way. while unfortunately there are a few people who do this, they're fucking annoying and i swear that they're far from the majority.

in my experience fandom is mostly about writing a five thousand word story at three am while drunk off your ass because it might make someone whom you've never met smile, editing it in the cold light of day, and then posting it. expecting nothing. sometimes getting nothing. and sometimes getting someone send you kudos or a comment so heartbreakingly wonderful that it makes you smile in return.)

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11. so once again, it is all about the writing.

i want to see Sam and Bucky get together in the mcu, not because they would be a gay couple but because i genuinely believe that their story has potential to be an amazing love story.

and i know the mcu isn't about the romance. it's why in my personal opinion we haven't gotten a lot of good canon romances besides Peter Quill and Gamora. and i don't think that the mcu should be all about the romance either. i fucking love the action and the fighting scenes. i love the comedy. Captain America: The Winter Soldier had no romance and it was a fucking treasure, it was an amazing spy-action-thriller and it made my little gay heart dance. Thor Ragnarok had no romance, and it was an utterly brilliant comedic spectacle action film. not every movie needs romance.

but mcu Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes were doing couple's therapy and fixing a boat and walking off into the sunset together in tfatws. they were inseparable on the battlefield. they've got a dynamic. it's beautiful, it's romantic, and it's gold.

a budding relationship between them in the next movie would be a good way to explore both characters more without the narrative feeling too stilted and separate. at the end of tfatws, both Sam and Bucky fans found that their respective fave felt somewhat underutilised and that their characters were underexplored.

now, that problem would be even more difficult to remedy in a movie, because the plotline of a movie needs to be really tight to work (giggity). and we know that the central conflict of the movie is gonna be action-based (which is good), but we still need each character's personal journey and growth to tie into the main conflict. (which is another issue that some fans found with tfatws, that these characters didn't really feel connected to the action-based plot on a more personal level.)

if Sam and Bucky are already in a relationship, however, this whole dynamic changes. first, their relationship has already been set up for nicely since TWS and through tfatws and they would officially be the best-fleshed-out couple in the mcu. but most importantly, a relationship gives them a perfect vehicle to explore both of their pasts comparatively and connect them personally to the action-based plot.

do you want to establish that Sam is a little too trusting and naïve? then establish this through his relationship with Bucky, and through showing his placing his trust in Bucky. (rather than through having him sympathise with a villain who threatened to murder his sister and his nephews).

perhaps you want to show Bucky recovering from his trauma? show us how comfortable he is with Sam. they get along, they're enjoying each other's presence, we see more of Sam's life and of his family, and then let Bucky tell Sam something that's raw and dark and honest about his life as The Winter Soldier. something about a memory, one that he only just recalled. he's opening up. and maybe what he tells Sam is even something that sets up the future action-based conflict, to ground that in something real.

you want to explore that Sam has trauma too? do this through Bucky. he tells Bucky a story about his time in the military. in the form of a flashback, he shares his own story of loss to evoke before the audience the shared theme of feeling at fault even when you're simply a helpless bystander to an act of pure destruction.

then, action sequence! and it's directly connected to Bucky's time as the Winter Soldier. explore the grief of someone whose life the Winter Soldier tore apart manifesting into a villain perpetuating the cycle of pain. establish your villain.

Later, Sam is dragged into battle against this villain for protecting Bucky. But Bucky doesn't want Sam to protect him. He feels guilt for what he can't control and he doesn't want Sam getting hurt because of him. Bucky reminds Sam that he has a family, one who needs him and who loves him. He tells him to go home.

Sam reminds Bucky that he's a part of that family. And that sure Sam's a hero and his job is to protect anyone and everyone, but that he's doing it because he wants to. It's not simply to prove that he can, or to prove that he's not a bystander (this connects to Sam's trauma here), but that he's doing it to help people.

and this gets Bucky thinking about who he is and what he's doing here. is he a hero who stands by Sam's side? or is he an ordinary man who stands aside? or perhaps, does he stand alone? what does he stand for? Maybe Sam knows. But does Bucky?

Sam and Bucky fight off the villain again, and for the first time Bucky meets this adversary face to face. And Bucky recognises this villain, and has a flashback to the genuine pain that he inflicted upon them in the form of the Winter Soldier. Bucky freezes mid-fight, he almost dies, and Sam has to save him.

Sam chews Bucky out for almost getting killed because he was afraid for him. but Bucky takes this the wrong way and goes off to fight the villain alone, or perhaps to die alone, he's not quite sure.

He puts up a half-hearted fight. He apologises for what the Winter Soldier has done, and he waits for the killing blow, when Sam swoops down and he saves him. He asks Sam why he saved him and Sam calls him a moron. And then, Sam asks him what sacrificing himself would solve. He tells him that you can't choose your past but you can choose your future (connecting to his own experience of loss and guilt and grief). And that no matter what Bucky Barnes still has a future, whether that's as the Winter Soldier or the White Wolf or just some dork with a day job. And that he has a future as a part of Sam's family too.

Sam fights the villain, and it's toe to toe. He delivers a few good blows, but receives a fair few himself. And then the villain tears off his wings, first one and then the other, in a manner reminiscent of what the Winter Soldier did to him in TWS. Through Bucky's eyes there's a flashback to highlight the parallels. Sam gets back on his feet and he fights his best fight, but is now losing.

And then the heavily injured Bucky steps up and fights by Sam's side, and only together do they take down the villain.

"So... I inspired you, huh?" Sam teases with a smile, utterly exhausted. "With my heroism and-"

"You inspired me." Bucky said, equally exhausted. "Let's leave it at that."

Together, Sam and Bucky go back to the safety and warmth of their family. Sam fixes his wings. Sam goes back to being Captain America. And Bucky... he's around, but it's unclear what he's doing.

That is, until the very end. When Sam is in a fight, and suddenly Bucky shows up and helps him out.

"What are you doing here?" Sam asks.

"I've made up my mind." Bucky says. "I'm the Winter Soldier. But now I'll save lives, Sam. Now, like you, I'll be a hero."

Sam smirks. "So does this make you my sidekick, then?"

Bucky smiles. "C'mon, at least make me a partner." He says.

"How about co-workers." Sam says (in flashback, he remembers back to the death of his last on-the-job partner).

"How about friends." Bucky says, with a wry look.

"Bucky... I don't want to see you put your dumbass self in danger." Sam says.

"Oh, and it's ok for you to go running off into danger on your own all the time?" Bucky asks.

"Yes." Sam says stubbornly. "Absolutely it is."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not a dumbass?!"

"Sam, if you think I'm not gonna be watching your back for the rest of time... then you're the biggest dumbass I know. And I don't care if you need me or not, I will be there for you."

"Because Sam, you're more than Captain America. You're more than a good soldier. You're a good man. And I think sometimes, the world forgets what the difference is."

-

...or something like that.

(i only spent like 15 minutes on that. you know if i were actually writing this movie i would come up with something much better. and if anyone from marvel is seeing this, yes i can come work for you. i will make the time, let's do this thing right!)

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finale

at the end of the day, whether or not the mcu chooses to make Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes a couple, it's their decision. and they don't owe me anything.

i'm just some random person on the internet. who thinks that Captain America 4 should #givecaptainamericaaboyfriend

[sly-merlin]

From - somebody who loves you!

Characters – johnny x reader( ft inni and me)

Genre – fluff.

Words - 1k

a/n – HAPPY BIRTHDAY RAI! Wishing you the bestest life. Please stay hot and sexy. And maybe open your Instagram to check a message or two? And I'm in a writing slump so excuzee my writing peeleeezeee @raibebe

a/n – I don’t drink so bear with the false info.. if taeyong can believe what yuta says, you all can surely read a few hundred words full of mistakes!ಥ‿ಥ

Johnny was a heavy man but drunk johnny was simply heavyweight. You felt like you've been continuously pulling him along with you for 10 days but in real time, only 10 minutes had passed and the elevator to the 10th floor could be counted as the most painful ride to your house till now with johnny leaning on you and on the every corner of the small elevator, just in the span of 12 seconds. You had been away for only a few minutes in the event and johnny had gotten mad drunk in that time, feeling dizzy and compelling you to leave before everyone else.

"can you please decide for once which side you wanna bend to?" you pleaded. Johnny’s giggle resounded,killing the silence of the midnight, making you wish instantly that noone on the floor was up at 12, which was sort of an impossible expectation from a Saturday night and your very young neighbours. Inhaling sharply, you grunted and tried to stand at your full height but were pushed more into the floor by the sudden shifting of your husband.

“Can you please help yourself for a few seconds, john!”

“noyeooop” he mumbled, crushing your cheek with his own. He was tripping closer with each passing second that you would’ve no problem with had it been a sober johnny but babysitting a husband wasn’t the moment you had wished to start your birthday with. Apart from being a very ignorant husband, he was adamant on breaking your back as well.

“nope my foot!”

And you shrugged him off, forcing him to squat on the marble floor with his head drooping and voice calling your name like an old broken tape recorder.

“I wish I had the heart to leave you here on the cold floor but that’s not something a kind goddess like me can ever do!” removing your glove from your right hand, you pressed it into the keypad, allowing yourself into your home. As you opened the door further making room for a now whining johnny, you, totally unintended, took a glance deep inside where something shiny caught your eye. Assuming that johnny could wait for a few more seconds and not that he had any sense of time right now, you made your way inside, without removing your shoes, readying yourself with your handbag for a possible burglar but the handbag and your jaw both dropped down as you stepped in your living room. The dark apartment was filled with not one but tens of neon pink balloons with the initial of your name glittering inside with another tens of small stars, stuck to the ceiling greeting you with awe. the details inside the balloons were immaculately visible and the only way you could react was with a pout. The whole area looked just too pretty to be real. You didn’t want to look away. You didn’t wish to look away. And it almost caused you to laugh that the man who, perhaps and most possibly, planned this was sleeping from his accidental drunk fiasco he had pulled at his company event, leaving you with the most beautiful birthday decorations sans anyone with whom you could scream about it.

“To turn the lights on or not!” you cried to yourself while stomping your foot down and cupped your cheeks in wonderment, dreading the ending of your dream.

(happy birthday sweetheart)

A whisper in your ear and you turned around to the silhouette similar to the man whom you had left crouching on the entrance of your house just a while ago.

“shall we turn on the lights?” you kept staring at him for obvious reasons as he took a few steps back. You couldn’t see him very definitely because of the blur that the neons had caused but his voice had automatically helped you to carve out his face even in the dark.

And just like that the lights were back and the dream was gone. As you pivoted to look at the lost beauty , you were met with a hundred sticky notes staring at you from every corner of the house and as you looked down, you saw tiny white balloons with smileys scattered in the different areas of the house. You took your time. first to scan the decorations then to walk through those balloons, picking them up and chuckling with surprise. It was simple and cute. Just like johnny and you.

The sticky notes on the wall attached to the kitchen were nothing short of warmth and love.

“remember when you got drunk with wine at 4p.m! that was on my birthday but today I forgive you for that! – the mighty john suh!”

You snickered at the memory and the irony of reading the possibly worst note as your first.

“Idk what I love more, you or our 2am baths! - john suh”

“wishing you a big wallet bcs my birthday is coming soon! Oh and happy birthday bitch!- inna”

You squealed as the writings weren’t of johnny only. Almost everyone you knew had written you something sugary sweet in their own way.

“wishing you a big heart on this birthday! Now, give me all your photocard collection bcs you have a handsome husband to cry over and I don’t! – simmi”

“I love you – john suh”

“open your heart and find me there – somebody who loves you!”

“somebody who loves me?” showing it to johnny who was holding a floating balloon, you winked at him.

“oh! I don’t know who wrote that. Do you have an admirer?” at his genuine puzzled voice, you almost kissed him but you wanted to settle other things first.

“You are supposed to be drunk, john suh. And puking. And crying.” Your frowned face demanded an answer.

“and you are supposed to be hugging me, y/n suh. And screaming. And kissing me. But here we are!” the tongue he stuck out at you indeed was very much johnny of him to do and enough to force you to break your facade.

So you laughed as you realised he was faking it all the time.

“how are you even standing straight after drinking so much?” you hurled a balloon at him.

“oh, you are mistaken, my lady. I just drank enough to smell. And I can surely take a few bottles easily. I don’t get knocked out with a half wine bottle. I thought you knew my habits well!.” He passed you the balloon back.

“I should’ve locked the door after you.”

“you are not that strong!”

“you almost crushed me!”

“I know your limits”

“where’s my birthday hug?”

And you were pulled by him right into his arms. He hugged you with less of a happy-birthday-hug but more of a i-don’t-wanna-let-you-go hug.

“for someone who sensationalises every little thing, you are awfully quiet.” He whispered, cheek lovingly caressing yours.

“maybe this is how people react when they are touched”

He laughed loudly, breaking the bear hug but not leaving you altogether.

“I’d rather you run amok!”

“can we start with a pin?”

“only if you’d let me join!” he winked and kissed you sweetly before you get started with the balloons, totally forgetting about being the considerate neighbours you like to claim to be!

[alirhi]

This is oddly fun lol

Let's see how many of these I can churn out before I get distracted or need a break! (pff. like I need an excuse to watch the show again. Despite its flaws, I really, really love TFATWS, guys)

Without further ado, let's get down to it!

Episode 2: The Star-Spangled Man

I'm pretty sure I'm on record when it comes to my undying hate for John Walker, yes? So obviously, Bucky's grumpiness 100% stays 😂

I'm not really a fan of how much emphasis they put on the shield. I can see it as a catalyst for Bucky to go confront Sam, yes, but he wouldn't keep going "shield shield shield" like a broken record. Bucky has consistently been shown to be an empathetic man. I can't believe for a second that he'd be barking at Sam about having no right to give up the shield; he'd ask why. Sam's got shit to do, so he'd get impatient and not answer.

"Why'd you give up so easily? If you were overwhelmed, I could've helped you-" "You've been ignoring me. Like now, how you're ignoring me walking away from you." "Well, you weren't texting me about this." "You think I needed your permission?!" "No, but I was right there with Steve while he was learning what it meant to be Cap. I wouldn't mind helping you get used to-" "Then go teach him." A vague gesture toward the "Cap is back" posters. Bucky makes a face. "Steve passed the mantle to you. You fought with him. You earned it. That little shit didn't." "What do you want me to do about it?" "Just tell me why, Sam. I mean it. I just wanna understand." "Not now, Buck. I've got shit to do. You see me heading for a plane right now, right?" "This is important!" "So is this." Sam tells him about the Flag Smashers, we get our silly Big Three/Gandalf conversation.

I'm sorry, but that whole jumping from the plane scene is funny as hell, and I love all the nods they added in to jokes from the press tours that brought us this show in the first place (like ripping the sleeve off his jacket lol). I don't think I'd change a single thing from the Big Three convo to Bucky joining Sam in the warehouse.

"You're doing the staring thing again." "You're staring at your watch," Bucky points out. He knows it's linked to Redwing, he's just pointing out how dumb that line is in that situation. They're there for recon lol. They're meant to be looking around.

I don't...particularly care about the other common gripe here? Meaning, "Bucky's a civilian, so why is he allowed to randomly jump in on a military mission?" Bucky's also known in this universe as an Avenger, just like Sam, so I don't think anyone would really bat an eye at him joining. Also, I have my own agenda related to Bucky's apparent freedom to walk in and out of military/government things.

What does bug me (as funny as it is) is Bucky's animosity toward Redwing. Again... Bucky is a certified nerd. Always has been. If anything, he'd be fascinated by Redwing and Sam would constantly have to slap him away because he's leaning in too close trying to see the tiny watch monitor. "I don't trust Redwing" is just old man griping "I don't trust your newfangled technology" and that... that's not Bucky.

And that "we're not assassins" dig, and then laughing when Bucky gets upset? That's not Sam. Both of these men have shown a remarkable amount of empathy, and Sam has a background in helping traumatized vets. If he cared enough about Bucky to be texting him after Steve left, he'd care enough not to make callous jokes about his time as The Winter Soldier, whether he knows the full story or not.

The fight on top of moving trucks looks cool, but makes no logical sense. I keep trying to think of a way to explain this from a story perspective, rather than a lazy "it looks cool!" filmmaking one, and I'm coming up blank. Anyone with half a brain would have pulled over, had the fight, and then taken off. It was a fun sequence, though... Eh. I'll leave it.

When Karli breaks Redwing, Bucky doesn't say "I always wanted to do that." Again, it's funny - I love the jabs about that stupid robo bird XD - but not Bucky. In my version, he smirks and says "You're so gonna regret that."

"You were kinda getting your asses kicked before we got there." Is immediately followed by Bucky staring him down and asking, "And... how did that fight end for you?" Sam adds, "I don't see them in custody. Are-are they following in a van?" He looks around, sarcastically searching for another vehicle. Walker and Hoskins grimace at each other, grudgingly conceding that point.

credit to @dailycelebs

Seeing Walker, and having to listen to his stupid pro-government rhetoric, makes Bucky think about Steve. When we cut from the Flag Smashers back to Bucky and Sam and the closeup of Bucky's pensive face, we hear 1940s Steve angrily telling 1940s Bucky about how the higher ups in the army had already written off the POWs and were going to leave them to die. "I love our country, Buck," he laments, "but what do I do when I'm not too sure anymore about the people who run it?"

"What you always do," is young Bucky's answer, "stand for what's right, not who's in power."

Perfect lead-in to the conversation about handling things themselves.

When Sam meets Isaiah, and hears his story, not only is he horrified and heartsick for him, but he also begins to see Bucky in a new light. He's seeing Bucky's face, the way he tries to hide his emotions and not make this conversation about him, and he's putting things together. He's still upset at being out of the loop, but he's seeing more of the situation than just "omg black super soldier". When Bucky says "he'd already been through enough," Sam asks quietly, "like you?"

The racist cop comes back before Bucky can answer, to arrest him for missing his appointment with Raynor.

ngl guys, I was so moved by the difference in how that cop treated Sam (before knowing he's Important) vs how he treated Bucky (knowing that the government views him as a violent, if pardoned, criminal). He approaches Sam with his hand on his gun, eager to defend Bucky; "is this guy bothering you?" Just because they're having a heated conversation. Then, when he sees that there's a warrant for Bucky, he approaches timidly, apologizes, treats him gently and politely. By "moved," btw, I don't mean "it was so sweet." I mean "this is fucking sick, and very, very realistic." White cops see a white guy and treat him with respect regardless of his actual criminal record, while being openly hostile towards an innocent black man without even knowing who he is, just because he's black. Moments like this made me applaud Spellman.

"You, too, Sam - That wasn't a request" is Sam's first sign that there's something off about Raynor.

Look, again... The couples therapy banter is funny because Sebastian and Anthony are funny, but that scene, from a storytelling and a mental health standpoint, is atrocious. Without some underlying reason behind her actions, Raynor is just a pointlessly terrible therapist.

Rather than insulting Bucky from the outset, Sam is angry with Raynor for violating Bucky's privacy by not only introducing herself as his therapist, but forcing a "couples" session without her patient's consent. With his background pre-Avenging, he knows this shit shouldn't fly. He immediately points out how unprofessional she's being.

Raynor doesn't bother listening - the fuck does she care, really? She shrugs and casually admits it's "slightly unprofessional" but proceeds anyway.

"Whatever's eating at him?" Sam scoffs. "Did you really just say that to a WWII veteran and the world's longest-serving POW with complex PTSD? Did I hear that right? I've had, maybe, like five conversations with this man since we met, and even I know he's been through some shit and-" "Sam," Bucky tries to interrupt, looking uncomfortable. With his crushing guilt, he has an easier time dealing with insults than someone coming to his defense. "No," Sam snaps. "If the HIPAA Slayer over here wants to drag me into this, she's damn well gonna hear what I have to say!" He turns back to Raynor and demands, "Is this how you've been treating him this whole time? Downplaying what he's been through and making a grown-ass man sound like a sulking teenager?" Raynor keeps her cool, but barely. Visibly frustrated and annoyed, she ignores Sam's tirade and tries to force the conversation back onto the track she wants it on. Bucky's embarrassed and doesn't know how to react to any of this, so he still makes that little "he would talk less" jab. Sam, seeing that he's not going to get anywhere with him until they're away from this bitch, glowers and plays along. We get our silly/angry banter.

After their argument with Walker, Sam finally confronts Bucky about what really happened to him.

"He meant HYDRA; HYDRA used to be my people." "Were they?" Sam asks, stopping him and looking him in the eye, not letting him look away or deflect. "Steve was under the impression that they were your captors. I was under the impression that the Wakandans spent two years deprogramming you so no one could use you the way HYDRA did ever again." "I-" Startled, not expecting that, Bucky stutters a little and admits, "Yeah, I... That's true, I guess." "You guess?" "Does it matter? Sam rolls his eyes. "I dunno, does it matter that you were a slave for most of the 20th century?" "I doubt it matters much to my victims." "HYDRA's victims," Sam corrects firmly. "Just like you." Bucky fidgets; he doesn't know what to do or say. No one since Steve has even so much as insinuated that Bucky wasn't 100% culpable for what he did while under HYDRA control. "Look," Sam sighs, "I don't particularly like you. I don't hate you, but I'm not your biggest fan." "...Thanks?" "I just need you to know where I stand-" "Yeah, got it-" "-So you know I'm not biased like Steve when I say you had no choice. I don't know your story, but I know no one flips on a dime from docile and plagued with guilt to an unstoppable killing machine and back without some serious psychological damage behind that. I'm not saying you're an innocent little bunny, but I don't think you're a monster." "Thanks," Bucky croaks, more sincerely this time, and a bit choked up. He clears his throat and looks distinctly uncomfortable as he grumbles, "but to catch these guys, we may need to talk to a monster." Sam cringes. "I was afraid you'd say that."

[burningcowboyhoagietaco]

A Way to Learn a Lesson

written by:

@burningcowboyhoagietaco

illustrated and edited by the amazing, the one and only:

@lenle-g

Before I publish the story id like to thank @lenle-g from the bottom of my heart for being patient with me, being nice to me the whole time, and for making my story even better and more exciting. Without her I would have stayed in my normal, not that good English story. so thank you for everything!!! <3<3

And here's my part at @tagminibang submission:)

☆☆☆☆☆

Scott, no!!! No way! I am not going to give any lectures to anyone." John's voice comes out tight. "Especially not in front of a crowd. No way."

"Why not?" Scott raises a brow, his voice honeyed with ‘big brother wants something’. "It's not like you're gonna get executed by some children just for talking space at them, right? You love talking about space. It's all I've heard since you were, like, seven."

"No, that's not it." There's a sharp shake of the ginger’s head, "Scott, come on!" John knows for a fact that his oldest brother knows he's the most socially awkward person to have ever lived on Tracy Island (and maybe the entire planet). "You’ve lived with me long enough to know how much I hate social.... anything." John complains. "Why would you ever think I'd want to do this?""

"Well, yes, I know that," Scott shrugs, "I've seen that look you get on your face when there's a lot of people around." He’s well aware that his brother is an introvert who hates socializing with anyone, so he quickly changes the subject to try and make his younger brother feel a little more at ease. "But hey... everyone knows how much you like it when anyone talks about space or anything about astronomy. You'd be amazing at it."

"That's a different thing." John says flatly. Flattery, it seems, wont get Scott very far. "It's like, whenever you guys ask me anything about space, I like to answer them for you, but from random people…? And in huge crowds? I just simply can't." Surely he doesn’t have to explain himself much more than that?

"Oh trust me, everything is going to be fine." Scott was a flippant hand around, talking without really thinking, because all he wants is for his brother to get out of Thunderbird 5, to visit Earth for a little bit, to mingle with people a little. It can't be that bad. "If anything happens, Gordon and Alan'll be in Thunderbird Five doing Space Monitor duty, me and Virgil are gonna keep an eye on everything, and you’re in safe hands with Lady Penelope and Parker. It's all set up, so please go have some fun for once and teach the children something cool."

"My answer is still no." John says persistently, without hesitation. He's pretty sure it'd be worse than being in the middle of a hurricane, or testing one of his Grandma's new cooking experiments. It’s lucky Scott misses his involuntary shudder.

Scott, though, is so done with him at this point, that he's pretty sure there's no choice but to use plan b and hope that that works instead on his unwilling, stubborn, red haired brother. They've got to get him down from orbit and to that lecture somehow. Scott's just not going to stand for anything else.

"Are you sure that's your last answer?" Scott asks, with a heavy sigh, already planning the best way to call in the big guns.

"Yes," John scowls, arms folded. "Yes, it is."

They'll see about that.

...

"Is everything ready?" John adjusts his sleeves, smoothing down his vest and putting the last touches on his collar. Neat, simple, formal. Can't go wrong. "My presentation papers, laptop, and my mini simple dimple?”

"Yes, all in the bag." Scott calls back, rapidly checking everything, "But do you really need that little fidget thing of yours?" He picks his younger brother's old toy up between forefinger and thumb to examine it, remembering the day John made their Mom buy it for when he gets stressed.

"What fidge- oh, yes I need it." The look on John's face leaves no doubt about that. "I've used it ever since Mom bought it for me."

"Hey… Mom would've been proud of you, you know?” Scott tells him, in a quick flash of brotherly pride. “For, you know, going out of your safe zone for a little while and teaching the children and all that."

"Yeah, I know…" John finds him a nervous smile, "But I'm not doing this voluntarily, you've forced me with that plan b of yours."

The second John says that Scott's cheeks dimple, the corners of his eyes crinkle, and he grins victoriously, his teeth a bright white in the earliest rays of morning sun.

“All I had to do was make a call." He shrugs, "Lady Penelope did all the talking and somehow convinced you to go." Scott got a little more excited. He took a couple of steps forward, slightly standing on his toes reaching John's level asking"How did she convince you?" Clearly waiting teasingly for an answer to come out of John's lips

"Huhhhh." John exhales loudly, a little despairing. "She promised me we'd go to the Pagasa Astronomical Observatory after I finish the lecture with the children." He shrugs, keeping his eyes down, embarrassed.

"The what now?" Scott stares at him, thoroughly confused.

"The Pagasa Astronomical Observatory in the Philippines.” John says, like that was obvious, “It's equipped with a 45-cm computer-based telescope. It's so powerful that astronomers and astronomy enthusiasts can now conduct effective observations of stellar bodies and other distant space objects! Scott, it’s been my dream to go since I was, like, 17."

Scott always knew how much of an astrophile his younger brother is; he never cared about his physical appearance, nor his poor eating habits and he always used to make excuses to read his books alone, yet no one has ever interfered in his personal life.

"Okay okay space lover boy,” Scott grins at him. He'd expected Penny to be persuasive, but resigning herself to hours stuck with John in full excited-about-space mode would hardly be in his top ten. Either he's gonna owe her one, or Penny's more resilient than him. “You can go, no one is holding you back."

The short silence between them was broken by a ringing sound from a nearby table, which John answers.

“...Mhm, yes? Oh, the lecture." It must be Penelope calling, "Yeah, I'm ready, I'll head out now." John grabs his bag, wandering toward where the FAB1 must already be idling on the Tracy runway. "Time to go."

"Mhm,” Scott makes an agreeable noise, watching him go. “Please stay safe and please don't make an idiot of yourself." He's teasing… mostly.

"Yeah yeah," John waves at him over his shoulder, not even looking back. "I won't."

…

"Are we there yet?" Despite the consistently amazing views out of FAB1’s windows during the flight, John’s found himself mostly looking down, fidgeting with his fingers. He’s worrying, just a little, about what awaits him in the Philippines - a whole different tropical island to his own, though still in the South of the Pacific Ocean.

"Just give Parker ten more minutes, darling,” Her Ladyship smiles at him, “We'll arrive in no time."

There’s a moment of silence before, unexpectedly, it’s broken by a call flashing up from, of all places, Thunderbird Five. There’s a prickly sense of discomfort as John realises that, of course, it’s not him calling. Gordon must be trying to reach them.

"Heeeeey Lady Penelope,” The kid greets, as Penny flicks it on, seemingly a lot less bothered by the change than he is. “Oh, and Mr. Tracy.” There’s a huge smirk on his face. “How's our newest teacher holding up?"

"Firstly, my name is John.” John points out, flatly, “Second, I'm not your teacher so please don’t call me Mr. Tracy ever again. Thirdly…” He concedes, quirking an eyebrow, “Yeah, I'm good for now, but fourth… How are you holding up, up there in my Thunderbird? She’s not much like Four, is she?"

"Ooooooooo that's a good question,” Gordon looks half like he’s considering it, half like he’s really missing his own ‘bird. “I'm holding up pretty well thanks to Alan. He’s taken all the Monitor duty stuff, so all I gotta do is keep an eye on you guys." He sounds a bit… sarcastic about that. “It’s pretty boring, honestly. How do you survive up here without a pool?”

"Young Master Gordon, are you quite done talking?" Parker glances, unimpressed, at the little floating hologram of John’s brother in his rearview mirror, "Because we're about to arrive at our destination."

"Huh… oh yeah,” Gordon doesn’t seem too bothered about that, but he waves merrily at them all the same, “Okay bye and John, please have fun, you too Lady Penelope, okay bye guys."

It’s only a few moments later that Parker opens his mouth to tell them that they’ve arrived at Chino Roque Theater, pulling up out front to let them both climb out.

John's eyes widen: it’s nothing like what he saw on the internet. It was more enormous, more luminous, more spectacular than anything he’d seen or read online. All he remembers reading is that it's a sphere shaped building located in the Philippines, in Anilao Hill, but the pictures on the webpage didn’t do it justice like being there in person does.

The building was smooth and round; the auditorium shaped like a massive egg nestled in amongst the other buildings. They were early enough that the sun was just cresting the horizon, colouring the sky with reds and oranges, visible through the geometric front of the building - where giant triangles of glass intersect together to give the people inside an amazing view of the sky at night.

"M'lady, you and John can go ahead. I'll park FAB 1." Parker said, before going to the parking lot - unaware just how tiring and long his journey to find a place to park is going to be.

They both head inside the building, admiring the sweeping glass fractals of the roof high above them. It’s incredibly beautiful, really a feat of engineering. So much so, that John almost forgets why he’s even there, until he spots a couple of buses arriving on the other side of the building, and the panic sets in. He was expecting to be a little bit anxious, but this feels like his heart is going to beat right out of his chest. He presses a hand hard against it, trying to calm his racing pulse and stop the sudden shake of his fingers, and Penny must notice, because a little hand settles, ever so lightly, on his shoulder, drawing his attention to her.

"Hey John," Lady Penelope looks him steadily in the eye, projecting warmth and reassurance. "They're just a small, mixed group of children and teens. They can’t possibly hurt you, now can they? They just came to have a small lecture because all of them like space and astronomy just like you. Imagine yourself at their age, meeting a real life astronaut.” John tries very hard not to remind her who, exactly, his Father was, as she goes on - trying to visualise being a kid that didn’t get ‘take your son to work days’ at NASA’. It’s a pretty horrifying concept. “Most importantly,” Penny adds, “it's only for an hour or so, so you don't need to worry so much." She had to smile just to reassure him. “You’ll have filled their heads with space facts and be out before you know it.”

"O-okay,” John takes a deep, steadying breath, “I don't know if I'm supposed to trust you on this, or whatever, but I really don't have any other choice." He also wants to add that they forced him to go, but at the last second he remembers that they never forced him - he agreed to go because Lady Penelope promised him a trip to the observatory.

It seems like a pretty weak reason, now that he’s outside the stage door, knees shaking.

"Mhm, I think it's time to go inside.” She nudges him callously in the right direction, and John’s palms meeting the solid metal of the double doors is the only thing that keeps him from following gravity’s call and landing on his face. “Again, if anything happens, I'll be at the back of the room and I have a plan b if things get too much." John, pretty shocked by just how many plan b's the Lady Penelope might have prepared for the day, can only shake his head, bemused. “So stop worrying and get out there!”

She vanishes off into the atrium, and John can’t help the loud exhale that escapes his mouth before he musters up all the courage he can, and enters the room.

Bright lights startle him for a moment, and he’s pretty sure he does an awful, awkward impression of a blind baby giraffe as he stumbles out onto the stage and freezes as he notices the first smatterings of audience are already taking their seats.

The moment he placed his foot on the smooth wooden floor, his heart had started to beat faster, his hands began to sweat, the more steps he took forward the more he felt anxious. It was, he’ll think later, one of the toughest moments of his life, and he’s been to space. Multiple times.

Come on John. He tries to straighten up, shake off his anxiety, This can’t go worse than your first EVA.

Taking another deep breath, John waits patiently for all the attendees to take a seat inside the room. Waiting doesn’t help his anxiety levels at all, and he can feel them increasing by the second, but, determined, John doesn’t let it stop him from starting his lecture.

"H-Hello everybody,” He starts, incredibly conscious of the hushed silence that falls across his audience. “I'm John Tracy, M.Sci, PgDip, B.Lang Hons,” he rattles off his credentials, his nerves almost blurring them together, “I worked with NASA as an astronaut for three years before going… uh… solo in my astronomical studies, and I'll be your guest lecturer for the day.” He swallows around the lump in his throat, as a ripple of hushed oohhhs and ahhhs goes through the crowd. John’s pretty sure his face has gone bright red. “Thank you for having me at the Chino Roque Theater,” He goes on, before his embarrassment can bet the better of him, “I hope everyone’s had an amazing day so far. We'll be spending the next hour or so talking about astronomy and space physics, so shall we get started?" John thought it was a good opening, and yet his back was really wet from all the people's eyes on him. Glancing offstage, Penelope throws him a thumbs up, and he feels a little better.

"Um,” He blinks. “So does anyone here know how old the universe is?" John ventures, only to be surprised as almost everyone answers at once;

"Almost 13.8 billion years!"

"Yes,” The edge of a smile works its way onto John’s face. Clearly this was going to be a shout out the answer kind of lecture. He can work with that. “That's correct, now does anyone know how the universe started?"

"The Big Bang!" Most of them answer, and John feels a surge of relief. These guys really are into space.

"Okay, okay, not bad at all." He nods affirmatively at them, and the screen behind him lights up with an artist’s rendition of the Big Bang happening. "Now if I were to go and search ‘how old is the universe’ in, say, Google, the answer would be 13,772 billion years. It’d be the same thing if we looked at NASA, or even Wikipedia - so how did people get to know the age of the universe? How do you even start calculating something that old? Well I'm going to explain it for you in two ways: the good, nice way, and the kinda not that good and not that scientific way." There’s a bit of an awkward pause as John wonders whether or not he’s explained that well. When only silence greets him, he very quickly realises he needs to press on.

"So, uh, the good way.” He folds his fingers together behind his back, trying to resist the urge to fidget. “Well, in the middle of the previous century, as telescopes developed, we noticed something strange. We found that stars in very distant galaxies tend to look red… Umm, which is something that’s not supposed to happen.” A chuckle escapes John and, to his relief, the audience laughs with him. Scott never gets his space jokes. “So why’s that?” He asks, “See, if a chemical element gains or loses energy it’ll emit light in certain frequencies, thereby creating certain colors.” A small movement of his hand signals the slide to change, and a picture of the visible section of the electromagnetic spectrum appears, colouring the room with rainbow light. “For example,” John goes on, bathed in blue and violet, “Consider something like… a desk lamp, as like an element. If you give a lamp electrical energy, it’ll release that energy in the form of heat and light, yeah?" There’s a murmur of uncertain understanding in the room. “Electricity goes in, the bulb gets hot, and it gives off light. Well, we know stars do pretty much the same thing - only powered by nuclear fusion rather than a nine volt plug.”

"From studies of the sun and stars that are near Earth, we know that they’re made of helium and hydrogen, yes?” There’s another murmur of agreement in John’s crowd, “Well, hydrogen and helium can create red light, but they don't have the ability to create these shades of red that we see in deep space." The slide behind John clicks to a comparison of the two shades, on two different stars - making the difference clear.

"So, if stars are made of helium and hydrogen then why do distant stars have different colours? Are their compositions different?uh, well It’s possible, but not likely. The strongest explanation is that the color difference is due to the movement of the stars." The room gives a soft gasp at this news, and John knows he’s onto something good.

"So there's something called the redshift and blueshift phenomenon that says that if an object radiates light and approaches you, the color of the light begins to turn blue, and if the object is moving away from you, the color will turn red. This happens because the wavelength of light contracts and expands with movement meaning that something stretching equals red and contraction equals blue."

"And the strange thing is,” John adds, his audience listening raptly, “That most, if not all, stars show the same behavior, so, if we think about it, if all stars are moving away from us, that means that they were close to us at some point, and if we follow their path, we find that everything in space meets at a point named ‘singularity’."

"It was believed, in the past, that everything in the universe, or at least in the visible part that we have observed, that is to say,” John flicks to a graphic on his next slide. “All the galaxies, planets and stars, were all gathered at one point - the singularity. The theory is that this point exploded in what we call the ‘Big Bang’, and from that time onward, the universe has been in constant expansion.”

"So it’s with data from this knowledge that we can calculate the age of the universe:” With a wave of his hand, John puts a series of bullet points up on the screen behind him, then reads them aloud.

“One, the universe began as a very small, single point.” He reaffirms, “Two, the universe is constantly expanding outward from that point, and three, from these we have the ability to calculate the expansion rate of the universe, by calculating the speed of the stars that are moving away from us. If we take the furthest accelerations and enter them into this equation,” John’s board merrily does it’s thing behind him, “Then, we get the age of the universe."

"And, so we don't forget, all this talking was about the good way. There is another way to calculate the age of the universe, the, uh, not as good way, or, more specifically, the less scientific way.” A ripple of laughter goes through John’s audience - and he relaxes a little more. Maybe Scott was right. Maybe these are his kind of people. Scott’s never laughed at a space joke for sure. “There's no problem with it,” He quietens them again with a gentle gesture, “and it does support our theory and calculations, so I guess we should talk about it."

"Since ancient times, humans have been looking at the sky, watching the stars, and giving them names like Cygnus, Canis Major, Orion.” All names any young astronomer in the Southern Hemisphere would recognise, and be able to enthusiastically point out in the night sky. “In those days, there wasn't the internet so they were looking up at the stars instead.” Much like John himself, when he’d been a boy.

“As a way of calculating the age of the universe, astronomers set out to search for the oldest celestial bodies in space.” He goes on to explain, “The idea was that if we find a star whose age equals X, then the age of the universe must be greater than the number X. So we pointed our telescopes up there and started trying to find out their ages from birth, to youth, to their old age until their end."

"Can anyone guess the age of the oldest star we've found?" A lot of answers were guessed, some of them were pretty close, but some, amusingly, were way too far. "Ok, ok…” John puts his hands up to pacify his excited crowd, “Umm I see there are a lot of answers, but the oldest star people discovered was actually estimated to be 13.5 billion years old. The HD-140283, or as you might know it, the Methuselah Star. That number is very close, you’ll notice, to our estimation of the age of the universe."

"But if we found a star that is 13.5 billion years old today, then we could find an even older star next week and that would ruin all of that,” He chuckles, mostly to himself, “We also should note that this method alone isn't suitable for determining the universe’s age, but as long as we have two methods with corroborative results, we can be reassured that the estimate is correct.” He pauses for a second, “So, does anyone have questions?" A couple of hands raised, and John found himself suddenly answering a lot of questions - but he managed all of them despite his fear of the huge crowd.

He’s starting to feel more than a little overwhelmed.

"Umm… W-well that was a lot of questions,” John tries to pull it back in, his allotted lecture time ticking away on the big clock at the back of the hall. He feels a little panicky from the bombardment, and his palms have gone sweaty. “We’d better move on.” To distract himself from the people, as much as anything, “Our next topic is the theory of relativity, so l-let's get started on that."

Lady Penelope, from her fold-out seat at the back of the room, frowns. It’s clear John’s terrified and she wants to use plan b, but as long as he’s still standing on his feet, and giving the lecture, he's probably fine for now. If anything, it’d cause more of a disruption to drag him away now.

"Umm,” John takes a breath, trying to centre himself in the science of it all. “Let's start with a supposition, a hypothesis if you like, and consider it together. Okay, you’ll have to bear with me on this one, but let us suppose that we were all asleep, and the universe suddenly inflated by a thousand times.” There’s a murmur in the crowd at how odd everything abruptly getting that much bigger sounds, “Your bed, your pillow, your desk,” John extrapolates, “even the meter we measure stuff with. If humans became a thousand times bigger, when we woke up would we feel something strange? Would we even notice anything had changed? You’d think so, but no.” John’s settling back into his rhythm now, “So why is that? Because the bed and everything became a thousand times more inflated and our bodies also inflated a thousand times, with everything scaling in parallel relation to each other so that this percentage, this scale, was preserved throughout the room. You’d never know the difference."

"Henri Poincaré, the well known mathematician and theoretical physicist, says that we will never be able to discover that something like this has happened, even if we use all the mathematics and calculations ever invented.” John drives the point home with another illustrated slide, “This hypothesis is called the Poincaré hypothesis, and simply, because the meter with which we measure things will have also expanded a thousand times, there’s never going to be any equation or calculation or any analysis possible that could lead us to the truth, because the ratio is preserved in all parts."

"Now, this is important, because the same thing also happens with time. If everything suddenly got a thousand times faster, we’d still never feel anything different. Why’s that?” He asks, rhetorically, “Because time is also a thousand times faster, your heartbeat is also a thousand times faster, your body would function a thousand times faster to keep up with it all. As long as everything is increased by the same amount, the ratio is preserved, and none of us will be able to detect any change."

"So Poincaré asked the scientific community; is there no way to know that time increased or that things inflated?" John tells the room, "Well, it was Albert Einstein who answered him, deciding that the one and only way to tell, would be to have someone observing what happened to the world from another galaxy, from another world, lightyears away. For someone to point a telescope in our direction, and look through it at us, and say what happened to the Earth? Why are humans walking a thousand times faster than in the past? But this person who realized the situation,” The astronaut waves a flippant hand, starting to feel much more confident again, “would have to be a person standing on a fixed external platform in a different world, so that what happened to us was not also happening to him."

"But, as Einstein commented, this hypothesis is impossible for a simple reason and it's that there is no fixed platform in the universe - the entirety of it is in constant, turbulent motion. For example, the Earth rotates at a speed of 460 meters per second, revolving around the sun at 30 kilometers per second, and at the same time, the sun and it’s planets and dwarf planets and moons and asteroids, all revolve around our galaxy, The Milky Way, at a speed of 300 kilometres per second, and so the whole universe revolves. That's,” John takes a deep breath, finding himself out of air after so much explaining, “why it's impossible for us humans to completely accurately judge the motion of any astral body."

"Because there is no fixed berth, we can only offer relativity. This is the first part of the theory that Einstein came up with, in summary; it cannot be said that the monotony of a body is absolute motion."

"Another thing he said was that, because of the vastness of the universe, it’s impossible to synchronize, what does that mean? Well, I will give you an example.” He flicks his slide, “Say I’m a person in the Philippines, and I'm talking to someone from the United States. We synchronize, and hear each other in real time, because we have a method of fast communication. I can hold my device and say; hello, how are you?” John holds up the slim, sliver slice of his phone to show the audience, “How’s the weather there? And they’d answer me with something like; I’m fine thank you, it's night here so it’s a bit hard to tell what the weather’s doing! What’s the weather like there? And I’d answer them; it's daytime, and maybe ask them something like, what are you eating? They’d answer me; a burger, and then I’d tell them that I'm eating kaldereta, and it’s much better than a burger."

In the audience Penny quietly hopes that Gordon, who's probably listening in with the rest of his brother’s, missed the fact John was making jokes on stage. The poor little bugger’ll never live it down otherwise.

"These two events, each person talking to the other, are compatible.”  John goes on, absolutely oblivious, “It’s possible because the two wireless devices, be they mobile phones or more sophisticated comms systems, are on the same globe, creating a fast means of communication.”

"But,” John postulates, “If I was talking to someone from another galaxy and I used the same means of communication to make a call, do you know how long it would take to get to them? It would be about five to six thousand years until my signal reaches the phone of our friend, and they’ll have married, had children and died, and their children would have married and had children and died, and so on, for thousands of years before then."

"And that's why it's impossible to synchronize between the ends of the universe,” John balances his palms like he’s weighing two invisible ends, “It rather puts a damper on our chances of finding and communicating with extraterrestrial life, for sure, but at least it’s possible to synchronize within one system, like the system of the Earth. "

"This is a thing that also applies to light, for example: any star you could look up and see now, the light emanating from it may be coming from thousands of years ago. This means that it’s possible that the star you see shining could have exploded and disappeared, and hasn't existed for a long time. Why? Because it takes a couple of thousand years for the light from that explosion to reach us."

"There isn’t any proof for the hypothesis that the universe is linked by time, but the thing that happens that we’re sure of is that the universe is made up of, sort of, separate islands of different times that have no connection between them. The connection between movement and time in space is something we all know about, for example, a day on Earth equals twenty-four hours, yes?” There’s a chorus of agreement from the audience, “But on Saturn, a day is ten hours because it rotates faster. Astonishingly, a day on Mercury is the same as fifty-eight whole Earth days, which, infact, is also a Mercurian year, because the planet revolves around the sun for the exact same period as it revolves around itself."

"Okay, so, to what extent is movement related to time?” John asks, well and truly into this whole teaching thing now, “Well, Einstein was the first person to discover the connection between them and suggested that; suppose you’re on board a very fast rocket, 100,000 miles per hour for example. The mechanical watch on your wrist would be delayed over the flight, but you wouldn’t feel like time is being delayed. Why’s that? It’s because the rhythm of your heart would slow down - all of the vital processes in your body that are inside the rocket will slow down."

"As you move more, something called the dilation of time will happen.” He steps to the side, as if to illustrate the point, only to find himself stumbling a little, like if the ground beneath his feet had moved. “T-Time slows down,” John tries to recover it smoothly, but everything’s starting to feel, weirdly, like it’s shaking, and he doesn’t think it’s the anxiety anymore, “and that's-"

John doesn’t get to finish his sentence because there’s an abrupt shift and a loud cracking from under him, and getting off the stage suddenly seems like a good idea. Someone screams outside, and the volume in the room skyrockets as the children start panicking. John’s one hundred percent sure this wasn't anything planned.

He knew he shouldn't have come.

Earthquake? He wonders first, then; Tsunami? Ground slip? Hurricane? Whichever it is, John has to prioritise calming the people and evacuating them out of the building. The giant glass panels above them are trembling with the force of the shaking, and, as a professional at this sort of thing, Thunderbird Five’s Space Monitor doesn’t like the look of it one bit.

"Everyone calm down,” He has to shout to make himself heard over the roar of people, even with the microphones pointed his way, “This is a normal thing. All we have to do is evacuate immediately, as calmly. as. possible. I don't want anyone crowding the exits, do you all understand what I just said?" The front rows, white faced with fear, nod encouragingly at him, and he watches as they begin to lead the way toward the glowing green signs that signal the emergency exits. Immediately after making sure the crowd is moving, John pulls up his comm to contact Gordon.

"Gordon, are you on the line?” John’s a little breathless and he climbs down from the precarious stage, into the throng of terrified bodies, “We have a situation in here."

"Let me guess, you caused it?" Gordon seems so excited to hear something other than his brother's boring lecture that humour has outweighed his professionalism.

"Gordon,” John grits his teeth, “I'm being serious right now, there was a huge movement in the ground beneath the Chino Roque Theater, and it's still ongoing. Tell Alan to do a check on what's happening beneath us using the Ground Penetrating Radar." He orders.

"F.A.B." Comes the far more serious response, before Gordon clicks off the line to do just that. Squashing down any fear he’d about the now swelling, shuffling crowd, John opens his arms wide and walks toward them, the motion sort of like he’s trying to herd sheep, as he tries to evacuate the people safely out of the building.

He’s not exactly an expert at being on the scene during rescues.

"John, there's a landslide going on right now,” Alan’s worried little voice comes ringing out of his comm speakers, “Right next to the theatre. You’d better get out of there. I’m monitoring the situation, but it’s looking like you’re going to need International Rescue to get you and the people out of there. The debris field is spreading fast." John would do almost anything to be up there instead, at his own screens. “I've contacted Virgil and Scott, I’m patching them through now.” Alan clicks Scott and Virgil, both clearly just finishing their suit up sequences, into the conversation. It seems important to keep them up to date with John's developing situation.

"Hey Mr. Tracy, how are you holding up?" Scott jokes over the roar of his launching Thunderbird, the sound filling the background of the call with white-noise, "Oh, and how was your lecture?" John thinks he sounds far too casual in contrast to the impending danger all around him.

"Oh my God, Scott, is now really the time?” John groans, and a kid with mousey blond hair not dissimilar to Alan’s looks up at him, very confused, before the astronaut waves him on, “You are an adult person,” He reminds his big brother, “Please don't be like Gordon right now. He’s practically still a child."

"Hey!” Gordon had clearly overheard the conversation between his brothers, and springs up to defend himself. “I'm only two or three years younger than you!" He complains, not about to do the math.

"Gordon, we don't have time for arguing about that now,” John frowns, “and Scott, I'm holding up alright at the moment. Please don't ask me anything about the lecture until I get back home." If his voice cracks a little on that last bit, he’ll never admit it.

"Okay, okay I won't ask anything about that,” Scott reassures him, his amused, big brother grin very much in place, “Keep on evacuating the people safely until we arrive John, you’re doing great. It won’t take us that long. ETA at 15,000 mph is sixteen minutes.” He reassures, “We’ll be there before you know it."

"F.A.B. Scott." He reluctantly signs off. Now that he’s finished talking with Scott, John’s pleased to see that a lot of people have already made their way out of the atrium’s three sets of double doors, evacuating the building to get as far away from the landslide as possible. His fingers itch to pull up the schematics from Thunderbird Five on his comm, no matter what the people around him might think. He quickly caves, and it feels worth it to be able to see the incoming tide of slipping land.

They don’t have much time.

“Let’s go!” He shouts, chivvying. He’s a little breathless with the tension, so he keeps things short. “Come on! Let’s move guys!”

From his vantage near the crumbling stage, John can make out Lady Penelope and Parker by the main doors, ushering people through, and the sight of them fills him instantly with immense relief.

“Okay, that's a good amount of people out.” John has to jog to catch up with them, skirting around a little old lady with a zimmer frame and taking a second to correct her course, “Lady Penelope, Parker, I think you should go and check on the people who’re out. They could have minor injuries from the stampede, and International Rescue are still ten minutes out. I'll make sure the last few stragglers exit safely."

Penelope just nods, pale and worried. Her blond brows are all pinched in together, nervous and Parker looks practically haggard as he claps a reassuring hand on John’s shoulder, her faithful old companion following her pink shape dutifully out the doors. Hopefully they’ll go make sure that no one was badly injured in any way.

Turning back to the slow cascade of cracking rubble behind him, John finds the stage area has been all but obliterated, and his heart aches for the patrons of the Chino Roque Theater who’ll have to rebuild from scratch when this is over. He imagines the Tracy fund can contribute a significant amount toward that though. They often do for worthy causes.

John pushes the damp curl of his slightly sweaty bangs out of his eyes and climbs over what looks like a twisted piece of ceiling girder toward the sound of people, possibly trapped stragglers, who are calling for help.

"I miss Thunderbird 5 so much,” John mutters, keeping it under his breath so that no one hears him, as his palms are scraped raw against the concrete he’s trying to clamber around. There’s a rippp of fabric on a jagged piece of metal and the knee of his previous pristine brown jeans meets much the same fate as his poor, scuffed hands. “Oh, come on!” He’s having no luck today, “I'd so rather be assisting the situation from space. I can’t believe I’m stuck here." John grumbles, to no one in particular. He’s just not built for this kind of thing. Heavy labour and getting sweaty pulling people out of scrap heaps is what his other brothers do. At least rescues in space don’t have all this… gravity to contend with.

"John?” The crackle of a comm cut’s across his complaints, “What’re you still doing in there?” Gordon’s voice breaks him from his thoughts, little brother’s tone heavy with concern. “The building could fall any moment! You're so lucky the landslide isn't moving very fast, but it’s not gonna stay that way forever." Gordon was really worried about the fact that his older brother was still inside. “It could engulf the building! You need to hurry it up, bro.”

"I'm evacuating the people as fast as I can,” John gets both hands under the armpits of a boy who couldn’t be older than seven, and swings him above a pile of rubble toward safety, “I'll be out in no ti- Ah!"

John’s voice gets cut off with a startled cry, and it takes Gordon a second or two, time John might not have, to remember how to breathe so that he can yell in any way coherently into his comm. His eyes are wide, his anxiety levels through the roof as he tries, and fails, to rouse his brother on the other end.

"SCOTT! You need to get there now.” Gordon’s aware that he’s totally losing his cool, panic creeping in over his weak layer of professionalism, “I just lost contact with John.” He gasps, “He was evacuating people and I heard him yell and now he’s not responding! And- and it's not just him. There were other people he was trying to get out."

"Hey Gordon,” Scott tries to keep his voice steady to inject some kind of stability into the conversation, “Don't lose your cool yet. I'm sure nothing that bad happened to John. Just stay your positive self, okay? I’m arriving right now and Virgil isn’t far behind me."

Thunderbird One is panning over the city, low enough to ruffle the hair of people looking up, but it’s not a problem until the usually so sure and steady pilot finds his hands nearly slipping off her controls as Scott catches his first, horrific glimpse of the building that he knows his younger brother is inside.

“What the…?”

The Chino Roque Theater is almost flat.

"Virgil,” Scott swallows hard to try and remove any of the tremor from his voice, “A-Are you seeing what I'm seeing right now?" He almost succeeds.

"Scott this isn't a joke, it looks like half of the building has come down with the landslide! John’s in there!" Virgil sounds more terrified than Scott thinks he’s ever heard him. What scares him the most is that the exit was on the side that has fallen in, which means that a lot of people are trapped under it, their John included. "Scott, we need to help them right now.

"Okay, here's the plan,” Scott’s hands tighten white-knuckled on the steering yoke, “You wear your exo-suit and go clear the debris out of the way so that we can save them, and I'll get rid of that roof with Thunderbird One and check for life signs. Remember that saving lives is our top priority, got it? No matter what’s happened to John."

"F.A.B." Virgil sounds incredibly tense. He lands Thunderbird Two as fast as he can in the crowded, limited space. Local people are beginning to make their way out of their houses to see what all the commotion is about, and the cramped city streets aren’t ideal for International Rescue’s four hundred and six ton workhorse.

Two’s pilot struggles into his exo-suit, rushing to get the Jaws of Life prepared despite Scott’s insistence that he focus and take things slow and sensible. It’s not long until he finds himself digging among the debris looking for buried people and, in the white rush of it all, Virgil’s not even sure how he got there.

"Scott,” he presses on his comm, “Please tell me you’ve got something?"

"Fortunately and thankfully yes,” It’s hard to find the hopefulness in big brother’s clipped Mobile Control voice, but it’s there to Virgil’s expert ear, drizzled in nervous relief. “I've got a whole cluster of life signs,” Scott reports, “BPM signalling in the green. "I think they’re just trapped under the debris." Alan’s echolocation report came back suggesting that there’s a big space under what could be folded sheet metal from the ceiling, that they’ve huddled in. I'm really sure there's nothing that bad, but still we have to continue otherwise it will take a bad turn for us and the people in there."

“I can use the grappling cables in Thunderbird One to take the strain off the roof,” Scott adds, “But I need you in there to get those people out.”

“Already on my way,” Virgil ducks under some rebar, skirting around the rubble and pulling away loose debris as he goes. His heart is loud in his own ears, and Virgil hopes the creak and groan of metal and concrete above him is Scott lifting the weight off the roof, keeping it from collapsing any further onto the people below, and not anything more sinister. Virgil gets peppered by a slide of small stones, but the roof holds steady.

He presses on until he catches sight of the cluster of around forty people, all huddled together around a tall, central figure with a shocking amount of rubble dust smeared over his face, and powdered through his ginger hair.

“John!” Two’s pilot makes a beeline for his brother, despite the fact three of the people are stuck under rubble. Clearly John’s in control of the situation here, and he’s never wanted a mission update from their Space Monitor so much in his life. He can’t help but hone in on the fact John's left arm is crudely wrapped in a piece of cloth from his sleeve, which he must’ve ripped off in order to tie it.

"You have to tell me exactly what happened,” Virgil drops the controls for the Jaws of Life, and grasps his brother’s biceps in both hands instead, resisting the very strong temptation to pull the spaceman in for a hug. “And what happened to your arm?!?" There’s a river of blood seeping from beneath the make-shift bandage, but John, it seems, isn’t bothered by it in the slightest.

"Not now Virgil.” His concerns get thoroughly dismissed, “We’ve got to get these people out of here, and then I'll tell you everything." Virgil didn't like the idea that something happened to his brother and he's silent about it, but after all John was right about saving the people first since his arm is under control for now.

John crouches by the nearest injured person; a pale, skinny teen with a sizable piece of rebar keeping him pinned.

“You’re gonna be out of there in just a second, Lito.” Virgil watches him reassuring the young man for a long moment, “Uh, Virgil?” John prompts. “Any time?”

“What?” He blinks, “Oh, yeah!” His brother is clearly waiting expectantly for him to use the Jaws of Life to get the poor kid out. "I’m on it, but you better tell me everything after we're done saving them." Virgil demands. “But, uh, Scott’s kind of holding the roof up right now, so you’re probably right.”

"Okay,” John literally rolls his eyes, busy stealing a pair of blue rubber gloves from the Med Kit Virgil brought with him, and snapping them on to protect his hands and the fine cuts he’d gotten from climbing over rubble. “I promise I'll tell you everything, but can we start actually rescuing them now?" Rolling his eyes right back, the bigger man uses his exosuit to heft the rubble off Lito, before John swoops in to apply pressure to his injuries.

“Give me the fold out stretcher from your sash.” He orders, hands bloodied “Then go get the next person out. Efifania, Sergio?” John beckons a pair of nearby dad’s in closer, clearly having singled them out as capable stretcher bearers. “Think you can manage Lito here for me?”

As Virgil starts removing the rubble from above the other two trapped people, a middle aged man and a younger woman, it becomes immediately obvious that both of them have more severe wounds than young Lito. They both need medical treatment immediately.

“I’ll carry one of them.” Without the three extra sets of hands he’d need, Virgil has to leave a couple of crowd members applying pressure to their wounds, as he moves back to where John is helping Lito unsteadily to his feet. “Think you can walk, young man? We’re gonna need that stretcher for the big guy.”

“I won’t let you fall.” John promises, and Virgil feels a real swell of pride at how well his brother is handling the situation whilst being outside of both his space station and his comfort zone. It looks like having a rescue and a job to do really gives him no time for anxiety. "I agree that that's our best plan.” He adds, nodding, short and sharp, to confirm it, then John turns, an arm around Lito’s waist and the kid’s arm slung over his shoulder, to address the crowd.

“Anyone not so severely hurt needs to help get the injured out of here.” John instructs, the small crowd listening raptly. The look on the faces of these scared people is one Virgil is all too familiar with, but he knows John has far less experience of in person. They’re really looking to him as their saviour. “Virgil here is going to lead us through the path he just made.” Which is news to Virgil, but does seem like the best plan. “International Rescue will then be able to take us all to the hospital to get checked out, and then I’m sure you’ll be released to go home to your families before you know it. Got it everyone?"

In that moment Virgil finds himself struck with amazement at how John seems to have become almost as fearless as Scott, as they started carrying the two injured people out to safety. It was really a new side to him that Virgil doesn’t think he’s ever seen before.

"Virgil… I need you to check on Lady Penelope and Parker.” John’s keeping pace at his side, helping the boy they’d dug out along as he goes, “I told them to check to see if anyone was hurt."

"Hmm, yeah you're right.” Virgil frowns. If Penny and Parker have any more injured party members, even minor ones that just need a check up, Thunderbird Two will need to evacuate them to the hospital as well. “Have you got any idea where they might be?"

"Well, I told them to get somewhere away from the landslide,” John frowns, as their limping, shocky party stumbles out into the bright light of day, to be greeted by the roar of Thunderbird One’s engines high above them. “They should be near here.” He yells over the sound of it.

As usual, it turns out that John is completely right. Penny and Parker are waiting for them, but neither John nor Virgil find the look on Lady Penelope's face all that reassuring.

"JOHN!” She rushes toward the battered, bloodied spaceman, her arms outstretched. Virgil very quickly and carefully finagles poor Lito out of the way as his brother gets ambushed. “Are you okay?!?” Penelope demands, frantic, “What happened to your arm?” She reaches for the bloodied bandage, and John winces, “I'm so sorry,” All of John’s carefully constructed rules around personal space are shattered as she cups his cheek, inspecting his face for injury. It’s lucky that John is by far the most patient of the Tracy boys. “I shouldn't have left you there.

"She’d been so terrified, perhaps more than anyone else here. The horrific view she’d seen with her own eyes is going to haunt her for a long time yet. One second she was getting out of the building to reassure and check up on the people, and the next she was watching half the structure collapse completely, with John under the side that fell. She still feels a little sick.

"I'm so, so, so sorry John,” She repeats, before he can get a word in edgeways to reassure her, “Please, you must tell me if there's any way I can make it up to you. Ask me anything and I'll do it."

"Okay guys,” Virgil chuckles, “while you talk things out I'll go to get the injured people aboard Thunderbird 2. Make it quick though, we’ve still got people who need immediate medical treatment, got it?"

"F.A.B. Virgil.” John nods, “We'll be quick. Penny, I..."

“I’m so sorry.” She repeats again, and pulls his good arm over her shoulder as if to steady him as they make their way at the back of the crowd toward the big green Thunderbird.

"No no no, Penny, please stop apologising.” John’s fingers tighten for a quick moment on her shoulder, in brief reassurance, “I'm not going to ask you for anything because it was never your fault.” He insists, “It was just some bad luck, that's all. Fortunately I, and most people, got out safe with no severe wounds. These things happen.”

“Your arm.” She points out softly, hoping that all that blood looks worse than it is, “John I can’t believe you stayed behind like that, it’s so...”

“Tracy?” He grins, amused but very weary.

“Scott Tracy.” She corrects, scowling a little as she holds on just that little bit tighter around his waist as his adrenaline from the rescue starts to flag. “I thought you had more common sense.”

“Hate to disappoint.” She feels the warmth of him chuckling, “I’m lucky it was nothing worse than his cut from some shattered glass that fell on my arm while I was helping one of the guys who got stuck. I don’t think any arteries or anything have been damaged, but it is... kinda deep." And he might be getting a little lightheaded from the blood loss. Still, he really wants to reassure her, just like she had reassured him before he’d gone in to give the lecture.

"Hate to interrupt your moment, but are you guys done?" Scott pops up from who-knows-where amongst the crowd to yell at them. He’s clearly joined the relief effort. "Virgil’s just finished getting everyone aboard Thunderbird 2, and he's ready to launch." He adds, squinting at the pale, wobbly mess of his brother. "And you really do need to check your arm. That looks nasty.”

"Yeah Scott,” John wipes a tired hand over his dirty face, dislodging dust, “We're done. Don’t let Thunderbird Two wait for me, I'll hitch a ride with Lady Penelope, uh,” He turns to her, bashful, to check, “If that’s okay?"

“Of course,” Her Ladyship concedes, “Scott?” She is mildly concerned that big brother might want to have the injured member of his flock under his wing so he can smother him.

"Yeah sure, ride whatever you want.” Scott flip flops a dismissive hand at them, “You can ride a pod, I won't care as long as your destination is the hospital."

"How about you, Gordon?” John knows his little brother is still on the line, probably sulking. “Is it okay if I take the ride with Lady P?"

"W-what do you mean by that?” Gordon sounds confused and maybe a little embarrassed, like he’s been caught out. “Scott already said you should go, why’re you asking me?"

"Well, she's your girlfriend.” John grins, teasing, as Penny helps him into the back of FAB1. “Of course I have to get permission from her boyfriend.

"Penny swats at him for that, amused, but careful not to hit his injured arm. She doesn’t need anyone’s permission to do anything, but it is fun to see Gordon squirm - especially as Scott and Virgil both crack up, and even Alan in space starts teasing him.

"What?!?” Gordon’s face, bless that darling young man, has gone bright red. “J-Just go already." He ducks off the comm screen to try and hide his embarrassment, but it’s far too late for that.

He’s lucky that Penelope finds it incredibly endearing.

"John,” She nudges him, as the Tracy’s all click off the line to go do their actual jobs. She’s a little concerned that he’s looking a bit spaced out, if you’ll excuse the pun, and it’s probably a good idea to keep him talking. “You know we're still going to The Pagasa Observatory, just like I promised you, right?"

"Wait really?” John’s head tilts, a little floppy, towards her from where it had been sinking into FAB1’s luxurious headrests. He’s looking a little grey, but it’s good to see his eyes open. “After all that happened?” A ginger eyebrow quirks, “Are you sure there's time for that?"

"Well, we’re on our way to the hospital now, but there’ll be plenty of time this afternoon.” As long as the medics give him a clean bill of health. “You can change your clothes after we're done checking your arm then there should be time for you to go see that big telescope you've been dreaming of visiting. After all, I did promise you we’d go there after we're done."

"Well, that sounds good to me!” John smiles like there’s a supanova fuling him, “Penny you’re the best."

They reach the hospital a little after International Rescue has dropped off the fourty or so injured people, and so there’s quite a wait for a Doctor to be free so that they can have a look at John’s poor, sliced arm. Penny seems to be doing a worried hover at his side, while he waits, shaky from blood loss, and though he’s not used to having so much company, John has to admit it’s nice to have a chance to catch up with his old friend with no rescue alarms blaring.

Alan reports in that the two worst injured in the landslide have been hospitalized as fast as possible, that they were stable - the doctors have said their prognosis looked good. He also tells him that Lito’s family had been asking after the redheaded lecturer who’d helped him out of the rubble, and that John Tracy, M.Sci, PgDip, B.Lang Hons, should probably expect a gift basket in the mail quite soon.

John gets quite flustered about that. He’d just been doing his job.

The spaceman's arm was eventually treated, and Scott calls in to ask what actually happened to his arm. It still hurts, a properly bandaged throb just under his elbow, but not like before. The painkilling injection and little bit of morphine they’d given him when they stitched it up had probably helped with that.

Alan’s reports dug up that the landslide had been caused by a water main leaking under the building, and destabilizing the soil. Over time, water can do a lot of damage, washing away vital infrastructure if it’s not been properly reinforced during construction.

As the Chino Roque Theater was a new build, there must have been a mistake in the installation of the pipes during construction.

Someone was getting a big lawsuit heading their way, and Tracy Enterprises will be more than happy to fund the lawyers for the theatre.

As Lady Penelope promised him, they found John a change of clothes and went to the Pagasa Observatory. Penny’s quite sure she’s never seen anything as wholesome as the moment John sees the telescope - his eyes went all shiny, and the smile on his face was massive.

"Lady Penelope, Parker come take a look at the stars!!!” He calls, over his shoulder, with the enthusiasm of a boy half his age, “They’re really beautiful from here!" With such a high-powered lens pointed up at the cosmos, it rivals even his view from Thunderbird Five.

"Indeed, they are." Lady Penelope and Parker both step up to take turns, but John was the one to look through the telescope the most. With all the stealth her years as a secret agent offered her, Lady Penelope took a picture of him.

"Parker, come take a look." She whispers, beckoning her old companion gleefully over. "He looks so happy and innocent in this picture. Wouldn’t it be lovely to see his face like this always?"

"We still have some time before they close,” Parker points out, a sly grin creeping onto his nosey old face. “How h’bout we leave him like this for a little longer?"

"That, Parker.” she smiles, “Is an excellent idea.”

The End

[venhedish]

hey loving your spn metas! Especially that Dean-as-Jocasta take! I was wondering, if you feel inclined, if you could explain some more about your Dean and BPD theory (I'm intrigued and inclined to agree but it sounds like you've given it a good deal of thought!)

Okay, yes! I have thought about this a lot, and I’ve been pecking away at an answer to this ask all day, but I ended up deleting it because, yeah. ~Mental health discourse.~ It’s a lot and I don’t want to misrepresent a disorder that actual real human beings live with. Let’s try again.

Super quick preface: I am not a mental health professional and I do not have BPD. There are people in my life that do, and I am familiar with the way some of these symptoms manifest in everyday life.

Before, I was basically writing a thesis about every last one of these and how Dean Winchester struggles visibly with all of them, but I actually think it’d be hard for a fan of the show who engages with the narrative at all to look at this list and not automatically go, “Yup. that’s Dean.” So I don’t think it was the best use of my time or energy to go into citing examples.

Instead, I just want to ramble a bit about how I see Dean when I examine him through the lens of a BPD diagnosis.

First, BPD (and CPTSD, which are very regularly co-morbid, and something I think both Sam and Dean at least dance at the edges of) is a psychological self-defense mechanism that arises from (often repeated) childhood trauma. The brain can only handle so much, especially when it’s still developing. Instead of being allowed to flourish as a kid with “normal” kid experiences and boundaries, Dean was forced to grow up, face shit even adults in the world he lives in couldn’t handle, and protect another child from the threat of death from horrific external forces.

That doesn’t leave much room for developing an identity in the way most kids are allowed: by experimentation, play, and social connection. So ... Dean just became John. He became his dad because his dad was the only example of survival in such a monstrous world that he had. What does Dean have that’s his own in the show? The Car, the music, the jacket, they’re all John. Even the Samulet was originally a gift for John. When Dean isn’t with his brother, filling the protector role that has been thrust upon him since he was barely old enough to form memories, who is he? He is so defined by his relationships with other people that he doesn’t have a meaningful relationship with himself. “There ain’t no me if there ain’t no you?” COME ON, argh. It hurts.

We’re shown again and again how hopeless and powerless Dean feels, how terrified of being alone he is, but at the same time, how loathe he is to form connections with anyone, how quick he is to push others away. How often he throws himself bodily into danger, how little meaning he derives from his life. It’s tragic and it hurts, but that’s just his reality. These are the things he has to do to survive.

And it must be so alienating, to be virtually alone in a world full of monsters, and be misunderstood by the very, very few people who might actually maybe get it, even the brother who gives you literally your entire reason for existing. (To be clear, I’m a big believer that Sam loves Dean just as much as Dean loves Sam, but it’s different. Not less, just ... different.). You can’t make any sense of the mess in your head and how scared you are all the time of how translucent you feel, like a ghost floating through someone else’s life, but so desperate to be real.

For the record, I know this isn’t the only valid interpretation of Dean’s response to trauma, but I do think it’s an especially compelling one because Dean is undeniably a big damn hero, and so often BPD is ... not portrayed kindly in the media. Unfortunately, I doubt it was the intention of the writers to ever comment on BPD at all, and lbr—if it was, they probably would have not handled it very gracefully. So, I’ll take what I can get and continue to laud Dean Winchester as the BPD icon that he is.

Okay! That’s it. As an ending thought, I just want to plug this creator I follow on youtube who has an excellent video on BPD representation in media that I highly recommend anyone interested in this kinda thing check out:

Seeing Yourself (BPD in the media) | Curio v2e8

Thanks for the ask! <3

[im-the-punk-who]

Hi, I dont know if you read or know anything about Macchiavelli's "Il principe", but I am studying it in school and I cant help but compare it's fundamentals to how Flint leads. I'm just curious about what you think

Eekekekekekekekekekekkek okay so first off Anon, you are absolutely, 100% right to be getting those vibes. If it’s not actually textual it is at the least meta-textual that Flint ascribes to a very Machiavellian type of leadership. His whole ‘never was there a Caesar who couldn't sing the tune’ speech is...licherally a direct reference to Machiavelli's philosophy that leaders cannot retain their leadership without sacrificing some level of ethical behavior in order to manipulate and deceive their subjects into following them.

And, Flint owns at least two books from thinkers who drew directly on Machiavellian thinking in their texts: De Jure Belli Ac Pacis by Hugo Grotus and The Leviathan by Thomas Hobbes are both visible in Flint’s cabin, and both drew heavily on the type of leadership principles established in books like Il Principe. 

(Also, my eternal quest for the book that sits *under* The Leviathan in that scene remains. Y’all I will literally pay someone for this knowledge. My best guess is Plato’s De Republica.)

In fact, the whole system that Flint’s world was operating under at this time was very machiavellian in influence. 

Henry VIII, who converted to Protestantism and who would eventually lead England in the conversion from Catholicism to Protestantism that would then in turn eventually lead the country into the War of Spanish Succession(the war being fought during the London 1705 flashbacks), was a student of Machiavellian thinking. He took the teachings of Il Principe to heart and used them to transform his country. Over the next hundred and fifty years, England would change from an entirely Catholic country to a Protestant one. Of note, Catholic scholars generally disagreed with Machiavelli’s principles on the grounds that it did not support the Divine Right of Kings.

As well, the Enlightenment thinkers that influenced Thomas Hamilton(and Flint himself) were starting to argue more for personal liberty and choice of the governed, both concepts presented in Machiavelli’s writings. (For those following along, this approach was also being used to justify slavery, as what was ‘good for the state is good for the man’ was used as justification for everything from impressment to colonization and slavery. Men were willing to set aside their morals for what they justified as good for the state. Shrug emoji.)

As James says of England when he and Thomas view the hanging in London:

“You think Whitehall wants piracy to flourish in the Bahamas?”

“No I don’t think they want it but I think they’re aware of the cost associated with trying to fight it. And I think that that sound travels.”

Here we see that Flint knows what Thomas doesn’t or does not want to accept: that England is willing to sacrifice some morality and some amount of lives(both of pirate-prisoners and the ships they take) in order to save themselves the financial burden of rooting out the causes of piracy. The justification for piracy was that it is too costly to fight, and that the nation ultimately benefits from a bit of strife as it drives prices up and allows England to place within the sights of its citizenry an identifiable enemy. (Note that Blackbeard also argues the same of Nassau, that prosperity ‘made it soft’.)

Even as he is changed by Thomas’ line of thinking, this lesson will stick with Flint and we’ll see it over and over again as he deals with the men’s hatred of himself by redirecting them towards other avenues(Vane, Hornigold, England, etc.)

And in actuality, this is what sets Thomas very much apart from his political brethren - he was *not* willing to sacrifice his morals in order to achieve a ‘more effective’ victory. Once he realizes that moral deficit shown by England, he creates the pardon plan to argue directly for a more moral and just way of governance. His whole premise for the pardons was to show England that an approach that considered the needs and wants of the governed was ultimately more effective, both in cost and in gaining the genuine good will of the people. And again, this is another likely reason why Thomas was then targeted by Peter Ashe and his father. Railing against the entire system of government was dangerous. Particularly if one was railing against the government in a way that could be seen as support of an opposing system of religion and political rule(remember how I said before that Catholics were generally against the Machiavellian systems?) Put plainly, Thomas’ rejection of Machiavelli’s leadership tactics would have been yet another argument for his treason against the crown.

Interestingly also, Marcus Aurelius - Thomas Hamilton’s homeboy - is said to be one of Machiavelli’s five “good” emperors, of whom Machiavelli wrote,

“[they] had no need of praetorian cohorts, or of countless legions to guard them, but were defended by their own good lives, the good-will of their subjects, and the attachment of the Senate.”

How we tryna be.

And so we see that Flint has - not so much fallen back into England’s line of thinking but perhaps that he never really fell out of it. And that this is actually a rift in his potential ability to conform to Thomas’ line of thinking, assuming we see that line as more morally correct. We do see Flint, gradually, throughout the course of the show, move more away from this Machiavellian line of thinking, especially once he meets Madi and the Maroons.  And to me at least it’s one of the most important character shifts we see - in contrast to the trajectory of John Silver becoming Long John Silver  - throughout the series. Just as Flint is finally starting to really value the lives of those around him, Silver has learned how effective those tactics can be in achieving his goals. As Hands says - ‘I wonder if he knows how much you learned from him.’

And in fact, Silver almost directly quotes Machiavelli at one point when he talks to Flint about their different leadership styles.

“I once thought that to lead men in this world, to be liked was just as good as being feared, and that may very well be true. But to be both liked and feared all at once, is an entirely different state of being in which, I believe, at this moment, I exist alone.” 

Whereas Machiavelli in his chapters addressing cruelty and mercy writes

"Here a question arises: whether it is better to be loved than feared, or the reverse. The answer is, of course, that it would be best to be both loved and feared. But since the two rarely come together, anyone compelled to choose will find greater security in being feared than in being loved." 

This is clearly the approach Flint has taken - he is the most feared captain on the seas. Certainly in the colonial world and on Nassau, too, his name brings a certain amount of fear with it. Because of this he has been safe from rebellion for quite a long time - however he is also not unaware that his power comes from the people. In the very first episode he talks of his plan with Gates to “position people in all the right places so the crew would never turn.” He has, for an unknown amount of time but I would suspect from the very beginning, been manipulating the crew’s opinion of him to keep them happy. Gates himself, and Silver later, are prime examples. 

Both of them; Gates for the first ten years or so and Silver in seasons 2+3 act as a go between - being the ‘liked’ to Flint’s ‘feared’. They convince the crew - the ‘people’ in this case - that Flint’s plans are in their best interest and not truly the act of a tyrant. It is only when Flint forgets - or neglects to respect - that the will of his crew is how he keeps his power, that he really starts to fail. And, later also, that now he has a rival - Silver. 

Now, I do want to point out that personally I don’t think Flint is a needlessly cruel ‘ruler’ in the sense the crew sometimes thinks he is, nor is he trying to be as a king is to english subjects. He has power, of course, and he does manipulate, lie, and kill if necessary to maintain his power in accordance with Machiavelli’s principles, but he does not do so ruthlessly or to a degree that is unnecessarily violent, nor with only his own advancement in mind. His goals genuinely are in service of the people he leads, even if the tactics he uses sometimes put them in danger for it. Moreso, I would argue that Flint is a prince who created his own princedom. He took an existing power structure(the pirate council in Blackbeard, Hornigold etc) and took most of the power for himself, either through luck, violence, or political maneuvering. And then he kept it through skill and tactical advantage.

Silver, in contrast to Flint’s new princedom, is truly a ‘prince of the people’. He comes to power through convincing the other pirates that he has their interests at heart - even when he doesn’t. But Silver soon learns that being a well-loved leader is difficult. It isn’t until Silver kills Dufresne and Billy uses that fear to build a legend that ‘Long John Silver’ the pirate king comes into being. Silver learns, just as Flint knew, that in a world or corruption, often leaders need to make sacrifices of things they would have once deemed important. 

(I think it’s also important to note for Silver that his main goal is actually one Machiavelli writes of as being ‘a will of the people’. Silver’s main wish is not to rule, not really. His biggest motivator is ‘to be free’. To not have to make choices based on the will or subjugations of others. And so, he attempts to make the leadership forced upon him into something that frees him - unfortunately for him, Madi is right when she says that the ‘Crown is always a burden’ and it would be truly impossible for him to find the kind of freedom he wishes for while wearing it. Which, honestly, is part of why he ultimately fails in that regard as leader of the revolution.)

In the later seasons we see Flint go through this change in philosophy after he meets Madi and the Maroons. He begins to actually value the lives of the people he leads. When put to the choice of going through with the raid on the Underhill estate despite the risk it poses to the slaves on other plantations, Flint resists the idea. As he tells Madi - it would have cost them far more to ignore the ‘will’ of those people he hoped to lead - the slaves - than it would gain them to go through with the plan. And later, even though he can’t be blind to Max’s sway with Eleanor and the others, unlike Billy (and oh how the mighty have fallen, Mr. Bones!) he doesn’t even seem to consider keeping her rather than trading her for the lives of his other men. He no longer wants to trade a potential political victory for the suffering of those he leads. So, too, when he attempts to trade the cache for the fort, he is doing so with the goal being to not have to put those under his power in danger if there is another option. It is, at least to me, an incredibly moving character arc and one that is so very understated. 

And honestly, I think it’s what *needed* to happen before he could move on from his rage-hate bender and begin to find the sort of peace that one might argue those ‘good’ rulers had. Machiavelli’s principles tend to get in the way of your ability to connect with other people: when you see them just as pawns in a game, friends and foes lose their intrinsic value of just being important on an emotional level. It is only through learning to truly value his partners that Flint can learn how to be a better and more just leader.

Also, this passage in chapter 15 absolutely KILLS me in regards to both Flint, and Thomas Hamilton:

“Men have imagined republics and principalities that never really existed at all. Yet the way men live is so far removed from the way they ought to live that anyone who abandons what is for what should be pursues his downfall rather than his preservation; for a man who strives after goodness in all his acts is sure to come to ruin, since there are so many men who are not good.”

Like bitch!! We get it!! Too much sanity!!! Shut up!!!!!

Anyway, all this to say that you’re absolutely right in seeing parallels between Flint’s style of leadership and a Machiavellian prince - he is absolutely written as a prince-like leader. As are Silver, Rogers, even the Maroon Queen(and Scott and Madi as extensions of her) can be compared to certain rulers in Machiavelli’s archetypes. Even Thomas, who models himself after one of those ‘good emperors’ engenders a type of political leader Machiavelli writes about.

(Also lastly, i want to very quickly point out this guy, Cesare Borgia:

Who was a prince of ‘fortune’ who lost his princedom to trusting the wrong person. What a beard, amirite? What a face. He’s even got the rings! I’m sure this means nothing.)

So basically yeah, Flint is absolutely a Machiavelli bitch. 

[roswelldetails]

Episode 203:  Good Mother

Sorry so late this week!! I had a deadline for work that kept me away from this early in the week, and Tumblr has been mean tonight. Kudos to @tasyfa for helping me with some of the transcripts while I was stuck working!!

EPISODE SUMMARY:

Determined to regain control of her life in the aftermath of Noah’s death, Isobel (Lily Cowles) makes a risky choice despite its potential consequences.  Meanwhile, Alex (Tyler Blackburn) and Michael (Michael Vlamis) work together to unravel the mystery surrounding the night Nora’s (guest star Kayla Ewell) spaceship crashed in 1947. Elsewhere, Liz (Jeanine Mason) makes a surprising confession when Cameron (guest star Riley Voelkel) shows up looking for answers about Max (Nathan Dean).  Heather Hemmens, Amber Midthunder and Trevor St. John also star. Jeffrey Hunt directed the episode written by Deirdre Mangan & Carina Adly MacKenzie (#203.) Original airdate 3/30/2020.

DETAILS:

Aliens in the crash are always portrayed as wearing all white.  

There's also a silvery gleam on the faces of Nora and Louise following the crash.

Harlan Manes (first introduced in the alien autopsy scene in 1x07) and Hector Valenti (first mentioned in the pilot by Jesse Manes, but visually introduced here) are shown as having both a partnership and a difference in perspective, with Hector being more sympathetic to the aliens from the start - it mirrors what we know about Jim and Jesse's relationship.

Mysterious alien figure in white hood (probably played by Nathan Parsons, but unlikely to actually be Max (see @latessitrice meta) touches Nora's shoulder and she looks pained, then attacks and burns Hector alive, before disappearing into thin air.

Nora is shot in her shoulder.

Liz sent Alex to find Michael at the cave. 

The pods "regenerate cells at the same rate as they degrade" keeping them in stasis.  The theory of the electrical current is that it will speed up the regeneration so instead of stasis, Max might improve.

Searching for info about Nora led Alex to a sophisticated firewall, which meant that someone was trying to hide information about her.

Jenna's fake energy drinks are called "Speed Demon"

Mimi DeLuca says she was "nowhere" (and then she looks up at the stars). She was wearing the same nightgown and robe as when she disappeared (white...like the aliens in 1947), but instead of bare feet, she had on a pair of elaborate blue and white cowboy boots 

Jenna told Sheriff Valenti that Mimi recited the plot from the film Starship Troopers during the car ride into town "like she lived it", with all the voices, but did not provide any information about where she’d been.  Sheriff Valenti implies that this is typical behavior from Mimi.

Michael says he's been parked at the pony for a few weeks.  Maria says that Mimi was gone for a month. That means that another 2 weeks have passed. (I.e., Max has been dead for 6 weeks now.)

Maria says that they found her mom on I-40 (by the Roswell sign).  Also in 2x01 Rosa indicated that she and Liz were on I-40 when they saw Flint - Rosa put together that it was the most direct route to Area 51...however, I-40 does not go through Roswell.  In fact, it is over 100 miles from Roswell to I-40 (north on 285).  However, it is the most direct route to Area 51 from Roswell.

Isobel points out that Mimi DeLuca waking up in the desert with no memory is similar to what happened to her when Noah took over her body.  Michael doesn't believe that they are the same situation though.

Rosa is about to drink spiked coffee when Liz brings her the art supplies.  After Liz leaves, she pours it out without drinking it.

Isobel is packing up all of the photos of her and Noah (most look like vacation photos).  She hesitates on the photo of them with Max at the wedding that we previously saw in 2x01 at Noah's funeral.

Isobel's baby is now 7 weeks (consistent with the other time frames) and is now the size of a blueberry.

Isobel drinks the rest of the alien death serum and immediately gets cramps/pain in her womb.  And then Max's hallucination appears.

Isobel tells not!Max that she has been microdosing with the serum for weeks (2 weeks, based on the timeline) and it hasn't worked.

Not!Max does tell her to call Kyle (i.e, her subconscious knows she should, but she's not listening).

Michael tells Jenna that Max is in Mexico (at first).

Mimi is "hydrated and healthy" and she never felt unsafe.

She thinks she was only gone for a night, coming to see Maria when Jenna found her.

Maria asked Mimi whether Jenna lent the boots to her and Mimi declared they were hers

Liz is surrounded by monitors with alienesque symbols on them (or maybe just The Science!) See photo:

When the alarm sounds Liz looks at her computer screen and reacts - likely a security camera.

When Alex arrives at the Bunker and sees the binder left for him, the computers are on and there is a map showing.  See photo: 

I tried to figure out what city it is on his computer screen, but no luck. If anyone figures it out, send me an ask & let me know & I'll blast it out!

The 3-ring binder left for Alex, which looked approx. ¾ full with paper documents, was marked on the front:

CAULFIELD * A4N

352-6553 NMG

The text was white on a dark green background that appeared to be a printed label that had been affixed to the front of the binder. The body of the binder was light grey, with a partially shaded circular diagram in the lower center of the front that appeared to be part of the binder itself rather than a later addition like the label.

The Post-It note left on the binder for Alex said, "What side of history do you want to be on?"

There was also a marking on the spine of the binder: CF-143-3453-C78. This is probably a file or record reference, with CF standing for Caulfield. The reference would be visible when the binder was housed on a shelf, allowing easy identification.

When Alex flipped open the binder, the visible portion of the top page read as follows:

HEADQUARTERS

509th BOMB GP (NH)

ROSWELL ARMY AIR FIELD

ROSWELL, NEW MEXICO

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Forwarded.

A07-06 (95)                                8 JULY 1947

AFTER ACTION REPORT

Serial

[blacked out text with underscoring] [TOP SECRET stamp]

From:        Lt. Colonel Payne Jennings, Roswell Army Air Field

Subject:    Engagement with enemy combatants, recovery of unidentified craft, night of 14-15 June, 1947, twelve casualties.

[offscreen] is a fine that concerns the events and

[offscreen] following the discovery of a flying saucer,

To:        Chief of Staff, U.S. Air Force

[offscreen] dentified rancher notified

[offscreen] [blacked out text] that he found the instrument on

[offscreen] operations were coordinated with

[offscreen] with the intent of detaining or

[offscreen] while assisting in the inves-

[offscreen] reached the crash site

[offscreen] ing object’s entan-

[offscreen] balloon. Ship

[offscreen] of foreign

[offscreen] place

Liz explains The Science to Jenna:

"3 years ago I hypothesized that if I introduced a rare protein to destroyed stem cells they'd regenerate.  And I was right. My team in Denver brought dead cells back to life. Rat cells, but, I mean, still, the applications are immeasurable… until our study got shut down.  They said it's for ethics reasons, but I think it's because it threatened big pharma. Then a few weeks ago, Kyle found that the pods contain a sort of alien cousin to my regenerative protein.  When Max healed Rosa, his electric charge amplified the process. If we can replicate that, then, we can accelerate his recovery, so, I am testing out pig hearts to see…" discussion about pig hearts/human hearts/different kinds of smart…

Liz says she has a few hours before she has to "record the electromagnetic charge interval"

Jenna says that Liz reminds her of Charlie.

Charlie used to rant about gene therapy

Jesse says he requested no visitors until "his brain starts to follow his orders".

He keeps periodically hitting the morphine drip with Alex in the room, though he was ignoring it before Alex got there.

Jesse describes the opening scene of the episode. And then tells Alex "Tripp was never the same".

Rosa's art:

Among the quotes on her collage are:

Body drie up from ...

What did she say

You're no listening

Control her Take her power

I am the Mesa the mighty

Nothing but a muddy trickle

You can't hold us

Sandia

Between them... Damn... One day she'll…

East

Rosa hears Max call out to her (while awake) "Rosa! Help! You're the only one!"

Jenna says that her dad brought her and Charlie to Roswell when they were kids.  That they were obsessed with the crash and aliens and the X-Files and it was the perfect trip.  It's why she came to Roswell after leaving the military.   "It was like trying to go back in time, somehow."

"Time Travel really messed with you.  I am eight years older than my older sister.  She used to be my hero. She was kinetic, disruptive, cool.  Now that I'm an adult I'm pretty sure she's bipolar, and she needs help.  And if I try to save Max I'm letting Rosa twist in the wind, so, hence the wine ready in my drawer."

Maria is going through a box labeled "Mom's Stuff" in the Pony when she sees Rosa.

"I'm turning into my mom.  I lost time at the gala...Michael's hand...I'm seeing things!"

What Valenti says about Noah's death:

"The M.E., Dr. Holden, listed Noah's cause of death as cardiac arrest due to lightning strike. (note: cardiac arrest = heart attack.  Same way Max died.). No other abnormalities were listed. But that's not consistent with the crime scene photos. You see these ligature marks on his wrists and ankles. …. These marks are consistent with zip ties.  And these with struggling against police-issue handcuffs. Like Max's.".

Isobel blames it on their sex toys.

What Max said to the grocery clerk "¿Tienes carne sin preservativos?" (Meat without a condom).

About Max's nightmare:

"You remember when I used to come in and sleep on your floor?"

"You used to have a nightmare.  You were alone in a cold, dark room and there was something… You couldn't get up.  You were…"

"Chained to the floor.  I'd wake up all freaked out and run to your room."

Rosa's nightmare:

"I need your help, Rosa."

"Look, I'm not gonna help you die.  I have been drinking so that I don't dream."

"I know that."

"It's like you're getting stronger. I hear you now when I'm awake."

"You're right.  Something is making me stronger. I feel things. That's why I'm calling for you.  Something is wrong with Isobel. Even in the pod I sense it. She's dying. Please."

Liz thinks that Max was able to reach out to save Isobel because the electricity is making him stronger in the pod.

Maria confessed to her mother that she had thought she might be getting sick too, Mimi said Maria would not get lost because she was protected, and reached for the resin pendant with the anti-alien pollen flower that Maria was wearing as usual. When Mimi seemed to go to sleep, Maria removed the necklace and placed it on her mother. 

Flashing back to the night of the crash, Nora seems to be tying down the tarp on the back of the truck when Tripp approaches her.  He feigns an offer to assist her and then grabs her and orders his men to move in so that they can take her and the truck back to base.  Louise appears and black-canary-screams to push them away (sound waves, I presume). She is shot in the stomach/chest. Nora pulls her into the truck and drives them away.

The newspaper clip Michael found is dated October 12, 1948, two days before Nora was captured. 

Newspaper transcript:

Last scene - Nora is clearly driving the truck with her powers, as she has both her arms around Louise. They approach a cabin and we're introduced to Roy Bronson, who offers to help.

Roswell Town Fair Charms Locals and Tourists

Photo caption: Smiles abound demonstrate a good time had by all.

Saturday Festivities Drew Healthy Crowds

Second column under photo:

...well as celebrated hometown war heroes, and, of course, Mrs. Benjamin Booker (Carol) whose strawberry Chile pie has won the Roswell Pie Contest four seasons in a row.

Children delighted in activities such as sack races.......

Top of 3rd column:

...ice creams.

Meanwhile the annual pumpkin chunking contest was the main attraction as expected! Pumpkin chunkers arrived from far and wide with their pumpkins and their pumpkin-lurching apparatuses. The prize for best pumpkin chunked went to the Long Family. Their farm foreman Roy Bronson credited his friend and neighbor, a young woman who declined to be named, for the Long's pumpkin chunking victory.

When asked what he'd do with the prize money, Bronson declared that he would "purchase ingredients (for his lady friend) to cook up a nice pumpkin pie".

MUSIC:

Dame - Holy Moly

Tommee Profitt feat. Fleurie - Hurricane

[neoarchipelago]

Citrus, Cauldron and Gun Powder Chapter 2 (Witch!reader x John Wick)

A/N: Well, this is pretty dark, enjoy, don't hesitate to leave a feedback... Hum yeah.. idk

This is highly inspired by this song:

Word count : 3 024 

Warning: BLOOD, CURSING, CREEPY STUFF

---

You didn't move. You still held onto Neko without making a sound. You were trying to control your breathing and your wrecked brain. That feeling of blurriness as the dark magic floods through your veins was addictive. You simply looked away, not wanting to stare at him any longer. The whispers who had been so loud a few seconds ago were finally shutting up and you closed your eyes, feeling the usual burning in them that finally told you that your eyes had gotten back to normal. You heard John move but you decided to stay still. You knew he wouldn't try anything. 

His voice made you slightly jump. 

"Are you ok?" 

You looked at him wide eyed. The tears had flooded your cheeks. He was sitting down, his back against the wall of the hallway, looking at you. He wasn't… scared? You nodded slightly, confused. However none of you moved. The silence was deafening but it was always better than the voices. You stayed like this for a few minutes and when you were finally ready to speak to him, you looked up, only to find him sound asleep. He was still hurt and had probably passed out. 

"You should take care of him. He tried to save you (y/n)." Neko spoke. 

You sighed and looked around the room. The moonlight was lighting up the room just fine, the dying fire of the fireplace glowing. There was broken glass everywhere… dead bodies… everywhere. The sight almost made you hear those awful little whispers once more. You groaned at the mess you were in once more. 

"I'm a fucking idiot." You let out, your voice raspy from the silent cries. 

You stood up slowly, taking a deep breath. He knew. You couldn't turn back time. You had to face it. Taking another huge breath, you took back control of all of your senses and got to work. A spell to the broken window, another to the broken door. More wood in the fireplace and another levitation spell for John. His dog walked with you upstairs and laid down on the bed next to him. Letting Neko walk into the room as well, you walked out and closed the door yourself behind you. The soft sound of the lock echoing through the house. The silence was suffocating, almost too perfect for what you were about to do. You let yourself slide down the door and sat on the ground. The cracking noises of the house perfectly clear, the eyes in the shadows perfectly visible. You were too familiar with this environment. With the darkness and what lied in it. 

Taking a deep breath you finally spoke out the words you knew way too well. Singing the macabre lullaby in a soft whisper.

" Glowing eyes in the dark, little evil lights,

let me hear how they bark, show me their bites. 

Let them roam free in my kingdom, as it is filled with poor wisdom, 

let them eat what's forgotten,the bodies and soul of the rotten" 

The groaning sounds echoed and you stared at the dark hallway, with the stairs at the end of it. The sound of paws hitting the ground, bites, growls, barks. You knew it wouldn't take long for the hellhounds to take care of the bodies, and you knew how fresh human blood was tempting to them. Your one job was to make sure they ate the dead and let the living alone until you threw them back into their dark little garden.  Not every witch knew how to summon hellhounds, those deadly beasts didn't hesitate on attacking witches, and other poor souls who were stupid enough to call them. You however… you were familiar with hellhounds. You had long reached dark paths of magic that many witches wouldn't dream of. You had befriended the demons hiding underneath children's bed, the wraiths in the graveyards, the whispers in the darkness that you don't think twice about or that gush of wind that makes you shiver unknowingly of what's hovering above you. The stairs screeched. 

The shadow in the mirror that you are unaware of when you go to the bathroom at night. The paws walked up, stair by stair.

The thing you don't see staring at you when you're sleeping soundly. The growling intensified. You closed your eyes, feeling the familiar burn in your pupils. 

Or even… the glowing eyes in your closet at night. Or the ones of the evil little creatures who are just waiting for you to turn your back. You opened your now black eyes to stare into bright glowing red ones. The creature was hardly recognizable in the darkness. The dog like figure, with ripped skin, evil eyes, sharp claws stood watching you, halted by the darkness surrounding you. The soft black smoke escaped from you, your hair, your skin. It felt empowering. It did. That power rushing through you, the pure energy you had gotten perfectly used to. It was empowering to see a hellhound yelp at your sight, and run away. But it was also poisonous, for you and everything around you. The howling sounds grew more distant, until nothing was heard anymore. You stood up sighing. 

You walked down stairs looking around to check for any.. leftovers. There was still blood everywhere, but no bodies to see. You smirked and you knew you probably looked just as evil as those things hiding in the dark, with your pitch black eyes, that soft smoke rising around you and the devilish smirk on your lips. You couldn't exactly check that though, you had absolutely zero mirror in the house. Not that you were afraid of the things hiding inside of them. But out of fear of the darkness inside your own self reflecting into them. 

You had to clean up the splattered blood, and the pools of the red liquid on your beautiful dark wood floor. You could just throw a spell to clean it up, but you needed an occupation right now for many reasons. You walked into the kitchen, the sound of pan's hitting each other slightly heard. You wondered what creature had just escaped as you had stepped in but shrugged it off. Grabbing a sponge, something to scrub the floor and a bucket that you filled with water, you walked back into the Hallway. Kneeling down you started to scrub down the pools of blood on the ground. 

The little voices all around the house filled your ears. They laughed, and screamed just for you to hear and you scrubbed the floor harder. Your breathing quickening, you put more strength into your work, more than necessary. Tears filled your eyes, not out of fear or out of sadness but out of rage. Listening to the nonsense of the spirits and the villains that hid behind the darkness was truly maddening. Throwing away the bloodied sponge you exploded. 

"Enough! Shut up!" You half yelled in rage. 

Silence fell as you closed your eyes. You had long stopped to fear them, but you still remembered the first moments when you had fell deeply into darkness. You remember those nights awake, curled up in your bed, knowing they'd come for you. And they did. But they had not found a soft little girl curled up in fear. 

The floor creaked behind you and opened your eyes. Which creature was stupid enough to sneak up on you? 

"(y/n)?" 

Your breath caught in your throat. A stupid creature indeed, but with such a deep and soothing voice. You found yourself almost automatically losing your dark eyes as they were back into usual (e/c) ones. You turned around slowly, looking up at the towering figure. 

"Please… don't sneak up on me John." You let out.

He nodded, and none of you moved. 

"Who were you talking to?" His deep voice filled your ears once more. 

You looked at him frowning a bit, opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. As no answer seemed to reach him, he spoke once more. 

"Nevermind. I don't think I want to know yet." He let out in a low voice. 

You smiled weakly at him. Looking back down at your dirty floor you grabbed your sponge once more and dipped it into the water bucket. John moved, grabbing something as well and started to scrub the floor with you. 

"You should rest, you're still not fully healed." You said softly. 

"I'm much better than I should be. Thanks to someone" he finished eyeing you knowingly. 

You looked away and kept cleaning up the blood that splattered on the wall.  Silence fell once more.

"I didn't thank you for it." 

You looked at him, nodding at him. You didn't want to  be thanked. You were a witch, witch healed. It was a normal behavior. Even if you hadn't healed anyone in a while before John. Going back to your task you found the moment perfectly soothing. And in no time everything would be clean.

----

You looked around at the perfectly clean room as you sighed. John looked around as well before walking into the kitchen, you following him. He cleaned the sponges in the sink as you stood not too far. Glancing at the wall you noticed the bullet impact on the wall. The bullet that didn't meet its target. You sighed again and put your hand over it, as if hiding it. Whispering another spell, you took off you hand to a perfectly fixed wall. When you looked back at John he was staring at you. 'oh. Right. I forgot.' 

You eyed each other not moving. You knew he was going to ask it. You were waiting for that question. And you knew you couldn't lie. 

"What are you?"

You looked at him frowning once more and repeated your previous ritual. You opened your mouth to speak, without finding the right words. But you had to find something to say. So you went for the blunt truth, with no explanation. 

"A witch." 

No reaction. 'really??' you wanted to speak out but you prefered not to push it, you looked away. 

"And…" you looked up at him. " Do all witches talk so little? Or is it just you?" You gasped "because I've never been so forced to talk to someone in my entire life." 

You chuckled at his frown. 

"What do you want to know?" You finally let out. 

"Everything." His tone made you shiver but you nodded nevertheless. 

You walked into the living room, John following you. As you both sat on the couch, you sighed and looked at him. 

"You have to be more specific, or it'll take months. What do you wish to know?" You said. 

"How did you got to me?" 

You frowned at how the question sounded. 

"I didn't got to you. You ended up in my path trust me you cause me more trouble than anything else!" You let out coldly. 

It must have angered him because he rose from the couch and spoke just as coldly. 

"Ok, I don't have time to deal with a kid, even less a brat." He spoke just as coldly. 

You felt your own rage rise as you rose from the couch as well. 

"I beg your pardon? I'm probably fucking older than you and look who's talking Mister Sunshine." You let out, your voice dripping of sarcasm.

You both froze. Alright. This conversation had not started well. You sighed, but keeping a frown on your face you spoke out. 

"I was just passing by next to that hotel. The street had been entirely closed up and it was perfect for me to go home faster. I found your dog, who led me to you. I wasn't really going to… meddle in human affairs. But people were coming by and I heard they wanted to kill you. I have to be honest with you I didn't really think when I brought you home but it was already done so I helped you." You finished letting yourself fall back down on the couch, folding your arms on your chest. 

He mimicked you, and silence fell. Your eyes looked into the fire burning softly in the fireplace. 

"How are you probably older than me?" He asked, his tone tainted in confusion. 

You smirked. 

"Witches age differently compared to other living things. In some cases, they may never die unless killed. It depends on a variety of reasons and factors but we still live much longer than humans" you explained. 

"So. How old are you?" He asked looking at you. 

"Over 350 years old." You said in a smirk. 

"Definitely older than me, grandma." He mumbled. 

You glared at him, but his smirk made your anger vanish. He looked almost alright. It made your heart soften, and you mentally wondered why. 

"Are all witches like you? You look… powerful." He asked again. 

This time you felt yourself grow anxious. 

"No… they're not." You looked away. 

"So you guys have like? Meetings?" He kept asking away. 

"We do… but… I'm not part of it anymore." You let out, your eyes losing focus into the flames. 

"Why not?" 

You didn't answer. Memories flooding your mind. You curled up in the couch, your arms around your knees. Still not managing to actually look at him, you mumbled out something, hoping he'd let it go. 

"I got cast away." 

You could feel his stare burning into you. You were silently hoping it wasn't going to speak out that question. 

"Why?" 

And he did. You sighed. What were you losing on telling him? Perhaps he would do just the same right after, and you'd learn more about him. 

"I've always been… more or less cast away. I was born in a perfect little witch family, and I was the little girl my parents always wanted. But I was… different. I attracted darker energy, and I danced with darker spirits. I scared away the other kids when we played and practiced. I was… more prone to black magic we'd say. My parents quickly decided it wasn't good for the blood line so I lived with my grandma and she taught me everything. I learned to be good, to do good, and to cast aside anything dark. Around...1692…" John frowned, probably still not used to such old dates. "I fell in love…" your eyes were stuck in the flames that seemed to dance like a fire you once knew. 

"He was sweet, and I wanted to be his forever. Of course it was complicated. And things turned dark." Your eyes stung with tears. 

"What happened?" John softly asked, pushing you to keep going.

"The witch trials started. I don't exactly remember why or how, but many of us were being hunted down and killed. My grandma wanted to us run away, but I didn't want to leave. Because of him. I know I should have been more careful… I ended up being caught by his own father who sentenced me to burn at the stake. It's so cliché" You finished in a sour laugh. "I was kept in a cage, and he came to save me in the night… obviously we were caught. My grandma tried to save us both… but she was killed…" it was hard to speak in between your breath that hitched through the sobs you were containing. 

"And… his own father… killed him…"  rage filled you once more the memory so vivid. "I..I was… so... filled... with rage… that I forgot everything that I was taught … and I let the darkness take control…" you were angrily crying on your couch, now, the presence of John almost erased. 

"What did you do?" The question fell out of his lips and reached you without truly bringing you back to reality.

"I killed them… I killed them all… I burnt the village and the villagers… I let monsters ...roam free into the streets. I gave them what they wanted… an evil little monster…" tears fell slowly, as your eyes saw in the flames the same ones that burnt everything so long ago. 

"Did you love him?" John's voice sounded lower and angrier. 

"More than anything…" you spoke letting out another tear. "After that… the coven I was part of… that my… family was part of, decided I couldn't live any longer… my own parents were instructed to kill me… but unfortunately for them, I was lost in dark place, and I was the one that killed them. Seeing me as a threat for them, they stopped hunting me, the other witches and warlocks. But they cast me away. I am no longer allowed to contact them, or deal with them, any of them." You finished wiping away your tears. Trying to breathe calmly again. "I'm just… a monster for them… and they're probably right…you should be scared of me" you finished looking down.

"A monster is not afraid of another monster." 

His words made you look at him in confusion. You watched his lips, his movements, as he explained his own story. His job, his encounter with the woman who changed everything… the way she died and the puppy he was gifted with. Hearing the death of the poor thing made your own blood boil… you don't know what you'd do if someone killed Neko. You listened how he hunted down the awful boy and killed everyone in his way, but his past came crushing on him after that. You heard his troubles and the way he was so lost down that path that he crossed a sacred line, turning him excommunicado. You saw yourself in that story. You felt the same pain… 

"I'll help you. If you want me to of course … I'll help you John. You'll find peace." You told him, looking at him in the eyes. 

"Only if you allow me to help you find yours…" he spoke leaving you baffled. 

Help ...you? 

It has been a while since someone had wanted to help you. But you nodded, sealing a contract between you two that would intertwine both of your life in a way you never expected.

----

Tags: hope i don't forget anyone

@fanficsrusz @keanu-fics @celestiaelisia @glamorizedtrainwreck @baphometwolf666 @drunkonyellow @thatlibrachild @loohsouzar @idk-alli-it @keanuchillz @freshoutthebox @lustforfern @imblackmagicwoman @theolsdalova @thatbemyhouse @magdazwolska @shadowlyorphan @strangewhovian-blog @tnu-ree @oliviaistx @gypsydraig-thevetstudent @linwavez

[jacobseedvaas35]

A Love Like No Other

Jacob Seed X OC Ana Pearce

Warnings: Violence, Smut, Mention of abuse

Word Count: 1388

Tags: @dolphinitley

Chapter Six

Two weeks later, all of Ana's scars and bruises on her face, had finally disappeared. The belt marks on her back though, not so much. Some of the very bad marks remained on her skin and she didn't like it. She was embarrassed to wear tops or dresses that made the scars visible. No matter how many times Jacob complimented her and tried to make her feel good about it, Ana just wouldn't buy it. She started hiding herself in her cabin when people came to visit Joseph but she did make the effort of attending Joseph's sermon, at his church. She would wear jackets, jumpers or anything that hid the scars on her back.

Hannah and John had organised to throw a party in Holland Valley, near the lake side. Beers, food and music, it had everything. The dress code was to wear swimsuits, bikinis or whatever, because swimming in the Lake was a big must.

Ana thought the party was just between the two families, not knowing her sister and John had invited others to the party. Ana wore her bikinis but also wore a long shirt over it, so that he scars won't show.

"This is going to be an amazing time" Hannah said with excitement. "We will swim, dance, eat and drink, till midnight".

"Oh I don't know about midnight but yes, it will be a lot of fun" Joseph chuckled.

An hour later, slowly the guest started to arrive. Much to Ana's disappointment. She looked for Jacob and found him, starting a camp fire. "I thought this was just for our family? No one told me that other people were going to come".

"I thought you knew" Jacob said, standing up.

"No, I had no idea. Take me home Jacob".

"Ana, don't start. It's going to be a lot of fun and it will do you a lot of good".

"I don't want to be around other people. I feel insecure".

"Why? You're beautiful" Jacob approached her and put his arms around her waist. "There is nothing to be insecure about. Plus if anyone gives you a bad eye, they'll have me to deal with".

Ana sighed and gave him a small nod. Jacob pressed his lips on the top of her head, held her hand and walked her back to the small crowd, at the party.

She hated her father so much more now. He left these scars on her body, which now made her feel insecure and as if people were judging her. It was a terrible feeling but she had to fight all of it away. Ana knew she needed to get herself involved in big crowds. She had a protective brother and boyfriend. There was nothing she had to worry about.

-

As the afternoon reached, the party was already lit. People were swimming in the lake. Eating and drinking. Some were even dancing. Ana stayed by Jacob's side the whole time but found herself panicking again. People were forcing her to take her shirt off and get into the water and it was driving her crazy but she tried not to show it.

"Jacob I want to go home now" Ana whispered into his ear.

"Why? Aren't you having fun?" Jacob asked.

"No" Ana became impatient. "I'm ready to explode to the next person who tells me to take my shirt off".

Jacob looked at her and realised how annoyed she looked.

"All I want is to go home. You can stay and have your fun, don't let me poop on your parade but I want out of here. Right. Now" Ana said through her teeth.

"Fine. I'll get one of my men to take you home" Jacob stood up and escorted Ana out of the woods and to the car.

"Scott" Jacob called out to one of his men.

"Yes sir?"

"Take Ana home. If there is nobody there, keeping an eye on things, you stay with her. Understood?"

"Yes Jacob" Scott said.

"I'll see you tonight" Jacob turned to Ana.

Ana didn't say anything to him and followed Scott to the car.

Jacob returned back to the party, a little down after sending Ana home by herself but he had definitely understood how she was feeling, being around this big crowd and no one warned her about it.

"Where did Ana go?" Blake approached him.

"Home. She wasn't feeling really comfortable around the crowd. People were pushing her limits a little" Jacob informed Blake.

"I thought Hannah told her that all these people were going to come?"

"I thought she did too but apparently Ana didn't know. I feel bad" Jacob said.

"Hey, it's fine. Stay a bit more then you can go home whenever you want" Blake smiled and put his hand on Jacob's shoulder, before walking away.

-

The sun was now replaced by the moon and the stars were shining bright as well. The party had finally broken up and everyone was making their way home. Jacob was still feeling down and upset that, Ana wasn't there to have fun with him. As they pulled up into Joseph's compound, Ana was sitting on the small pier next to the church.

She stood up and walked over, greeting them with a smile. "How was the party?".

"Amazing. You should have stayed" Hannah said.

"Glad you all had fun" Ana responded back and walked over to Jacob, hugging him around the waist.

He hugged her back tightly, kissing her on the top of her head, then grabbed her hand and walked to their cabin.

-

The next morning, everyone was a little hung over but they all still managed to get out off bed and have a nice family breakfast, at Joseph's house.

"Yesterday was great and all but damn, I regret drinking so much" Blake said.

"Tell me about it" John responded to his comment.

"What did you do yesterday, Ana?" Haley asked her little sister.

"Watched movies and read some books. Had my little own party right here" Ana said with a smile on her face.

"You really need to stop hiding yourself, Ana" Hannah joined into the conversation.

"Sorry?" Ana asked.

"You just have to get over everything and get out there more often. The scars on your back are nothing to be dramatic about" Hannah said, not realising that her words were hurtful.

"Hannah" Blake called out, signalling to her to stop talking.

"What? I'm just saying. Stop being a drama queen and childish" Hannah said, pushing the limits.

Ana slammed her hands on the table and stood up with anger. "I'm sorry for being such a fucking drama queen Hannah".

"Ana. She didn't mean to say that" Blake tried to calm his little sister down.

"Bullshit, she didn't mean to say that" Ana turned to him. "What the hell do you expect me to do? Be of them?"

"Ana, I'm sorry..."

"I'm going to live the rest of my life with these scars and remembering the day that I got them. I can assure you Hannah, i didn't get them from falling or hitting my back on something. I got them from an abusive father. Now that's not something to be fucking proud of" Ana said in a lot of anger.

"Ana, she's apologised" Jacob finally stepped in.

"Get away from me" she pushed him away from her and ran out off Joseph's house.

"Well done Hannah. You just couldn't shut your big fucking mouth, could you?" Blake said and ran after Ana.

Haley and Joseph looked at each other, both in a lot of disappointment towards Hannah as well. Haley threw her fork onto the plate and walked out off the house as well.

"I'm usually a very calm person but I can't believe you said that to her Hannah" Faith said. "I'm disappointed in you".

"You were there the day your sister got those scars. Hungover or not, how could you even say something like that to the poor girl?" John asked. "She feels insecure about herself already, you didn't have any right to add onto it".

Hannah looked down at her lap, embarrassed and angry with herself too.

"I better go next to Ana" Jacob informed the remaining people.

"Jacob!" Blake came running into the house, panicking.

"What's wrong?" Joseph asked and stood up.

"It's Ana. We can't find her"

[rogertaylorskillerqueen]

Bohemian Rhapsody - Ben Hardy/ Roger Taylor fic [Chapter 2]

A/N: I did not go writing this referencing by the years but mostly the events that had happened in Queen and the movie, Bohemian Rhapsody not in a particular order. I hope you enjoy as much as I enjoyed writing it.

INTRODUCTION: Roger Taylor, the famous drummer of Queen won a lot of hearts as he performed several gigs along with his bandmates, Freddie, Brian and John. His playboy self slowly vanishing as he meets the girl of his dreams but what happens when their dreams after marriage takes a toll with fame and publicity?

________________________________________________________

Chapter Two:

“How long did you say you have been getting sick for?” Mary asks placing a glass of water at the coffee table. “Like for um, about a week.” I say. “And you went to the doctors today?” She asks. “Uh, I thought about it.” I say pausing. Not really wanting to tell her what happened. “So you are pregnant?” She asks. I sigh reaching towards the coffee table to grab the glass of water. “I’ll take that as a yes.” She says with a smile. Clearly excited. I had picked up the telephone to call to make an appointment in the morning but Roger’s sleepy voice calling to me made me change my mind. A pregnancy test was taken and it had shown as positive. Two tests to be exact.

“Are we talking about a baby here?” I hear Freddie’s voice come through as his whole body came into view. “Freddie?! What are you doing here. The boys are out.” I say with a frown. “I live here. They went to the pub. Who goes to the pub at 2 in the afternoon.” He says filling himself a glass of wine as me and Mary look at each other. “Promise me you won’t tell anyone about this.” I say. “Sure, darling but you really have to tell Rog.” He says. “I can’t. Not now.” I say with tears in my eyes. “Why not?” Mary asks. “This baby would be too much on him. The band. With the tours and everything and I can’t take care of a baby on my own.” I say crying. Mary hugs me to calm me down. Freddie nods his head understanding.

The sudden noise coming from the swing of the door turn our heads around to see the boys barge in. I quickly wipe away my tears with a tissue Freddie has passed quick enough for anyone to notice. “Oh, c’mon in. Make yourselves at home.” Freddie says placing his glass on the small tray. “Oh Y/n, you are here too. Good.” Roger says hovering down to my level leaving a soft kiss on my forehead before walking to the glasses. “Hello Mary. How’s your dad?” Brian asks taking a seat with John by the sofa near the window as he tries to open up a wine bottle. “What’s going on, Brian?” Freddie asks taking a seat next to me. “If you’d have answered your phone you’d have known already.” Brian says looking towards us. “This really isn’t a good time guys.” Freddie says as I lower my head to wipe away a tear. “Love, are you crying?” Roger asks. “No, something fell in my eye. It’s fine now.” I lie. “What were you saying, Brian?” I ask changing the topic. “John Reid called today. He has a little tour in his mind for us.” “It’s not little, Brian. He has booked us a tour of America. The album hit the charts in the US!” Roger says excited as he held several wine glasses in both hands.

“Oh yes!!” Freddie says getting up as they all jumped in a group hug.

I slowly sink down deeper into the sofa trying to hold back the tears. America? That’s so far away. I think. Freddie’s smile faded after seeing me. “Let’s go out to celebrate!” He says turning towards the boys. “We got a fine bottle of wine here.” Brian says pouring down to the glasses as Roger places them on the coffee table. “Uh, no. I actually had a glass earlier.” I lie as Brian held the glass towards me. “Actually we were just about to leave to go shopping.” Mary says looking at me. I nod my head looking towards the boys. “I was supposed to join them too.” Freddie says with the sound of his glass hitting the coffee table. The boys looking at him. “No you weren’t.” Mary and I both say closing the door behind us.

It’s been a month and a half since the boys left to America. “Let’s hope they don’t put that in the front page.” Mary says as we sat at a small cafe having lunch. She had accompanied me to the doctors as I was scared to go alone. “The wind had to blow away my hat.” I say with a frown. Mary chuckled. She has been there taking care of me and the baby. Constantly updating Freddie about me and him watching over Roger to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid.

“They are going to be back in three weeks. You are 3 months already and very noticeable. You have to tell Roger, dear.” Mary says. I bite my lip with the thought of it. “What if he gets mad and leaves?” I ask. “Stupid of you to think that. Freddie will be there to talk to him.” She says assuring me everything would be okay.

It's been two months since the boys went on their very first tour in America but now, that long wait is over and they are coming back home soon. Freddie had called me earlier saying they had to drop by the studio first before coming home and had asked if I could come over to join them for drinks. A mini celebration with the end of their tour. That's the life being married to a band member. Touring all year long and joining them on their celebrations until they leave again within the next few months. “That’s a terrible idea.” I said but he insisted that I go.

With much hesitation he had forced me to go but I had a good reason but knowing that I could never hide it scared me even more. What could be going on in his head. Like usual, Taylor did not send a text as he was coming back making me get negative thoughts.

Pacing around the living room panicking I tried to see if I can access to any social networks. Two days ago the press had taken pictures of me leaving the hospital and all thanks to the wind blowing off my disguised hat the press had to crowd around me. Before leaving for tour, Roger had blocked all social media access for me knowing how it could put me down terribly. Is he not calling me because he is mad and doesn't want to see me anymore after seeing the pictures maybe?

The sudden noise from my phone made me jump. "Hello?" I answer. "Y/n, um, could you come over now? I'll send Mary to get you." I hear Freddie say. "No. It's okay. I can go." I say. "Are you okay. You sound panicked." He says with worry. "Um, yeah. Freddie, could you maybe meet me on the hallway first?" I ask knowing that I have to tell Roger about his baby and my visible small baby bump of 3 months. "Yeah sure. I'll see you in an hour then?" He asks. "Yeah." I say hanging up.

Finding out about the unplanned pregnancy just a few days before their tour was not the plan. They all were really excited about the tour and this wasn't news that was to be said over a phone call over an ocean apart. I frown at all the clothes I had put on that showed up the baby bump forming. Deciding to go with a black dress with my messy hair in a bun accessorised with one of Roger's bandanas, I smile at the outfit I put on but it soon turned into a frown.

After about an hour I reach their studio and walk the quiet hallways to their hanging out room. I spot John walking towards the room in front of me. I whisper shout his name. "Freddie!!" With my soft voice echoing through he turned around with excitement in his eyes walking towards me but soon it got glued to my belly with his mouth open. "Y/n you- you-" he stutters. Not being able to cope with his reaction I begin to cry. "Hey hey. Why you crying? I didn't say it to scare you. What's the matter?" He asks wiping off the tears after a quick hug.

"Roger still doesn't know." I manage to say. "Why not?” He asks. "I didn't want to put any pressure on him or the band." I say feeling so disappointed in myself. "He won't be mad at you." Freddie says assuring me. A sudden loud bang from inside the room made us look towards the slightly open door. Another crash followed by a screaming Roger.

-Roger's P.O.V-

I get up from my seat furiously throwing away my drumsticks towards the door. "Roger. Calm down." John says. "What's going on?" Brian asks. "Have you seen these?" I ask handing the newspaper towards them with pictures of the press crowding around Y/n. "She looks different." Brian comments. "What do you mean different? She is all panicked." I say clenching my fists. "No. I mean, she looks pregnant." Brian says again making me take another look at the black and white pictures. He was right. Y/n do look pregnant. "I'm gonna go get some air." I say getting up.

-Y/n's P.O.V-

Freddie kept on trying to calm me down but the small hallway was making me all claustrophobic.

"Y/n?" I hear a familiar voice say my name. Looking up with my teary eyes and tear soaked face, I see Roger standing just a few feet from us. His eyes fell on my belly before he storms off in the other direction towards another exit. I burst out crying telling Freddie to send me home. "Just stay here with us till you calm down and settle things with Roger. It's going to be okay. Just breath." He says.

"What's going on out here?" We hear John say followed by Brian's voice, "See, she really is pregnant." He says. With everything happening so fast I begin to feel lightheaded and soft voices of my name being called as my vision turned black.

"Love?" I hear someone's voice as a wet cloth touched my forehead. Slowly opening my eyes I see Roger sitting next to me. The rest of the members were nowhere to be seen. "Where are the others?" I ask making myself sit on the sofa. "They all went for drinks." He says. "Why didn't you go?" I ask. "I wanted to stay." He says making me teary. "Hey, sshh. I'm sorry about earlier." He says hugging me. "I was just mad at the press for doing that to you and I got mad at myself for not being there to protect you." He says kissing my forehead. I left soft sobs over his shoulder as he caressed by back. "I thought you were mad at me. You didn't even call me to tell me you were coming home." I say in between sobs. "I thought of just appearing at the door step and surprising you. I'm sorry dear." He says kissing my forehead.

Chapter 3

[TAG LIST: @rogerbuttersmyeggroll @hayley8089 ]

[peantbutter-honeycombs]

Prologue

Title: Prologue

Word count: 1,586

Characters: John Watson and Matilda May

Warnings: Hints of abuse, unedited.

Notes: So here’s the prologue of my Sherlock story. It’s shorter compared to the next chapter I’m currently working on. If there are any triggers please tell me so I can add them to the tags. I haven’t edited it yet so take all typos and grammar mistakes with a grain of salt.

———

The waiting room was nothing like she'd imagined it being. It was small and crowded. Crowded with sick adults and sick children. It appeared each and every seat was filled by someone. Not everyone was sick but they were clearly afflicted with some sort of ailment or issue, very few appeared to only be in for a casual check up. Every now and then a nurse would come call out a name and off the patient in question went. They'd disappear behind the plain painted blue doors.

At least the waiting room had some form of entertainment for the young children. A small flat screen hanging from the wall about the children's area. She'd seen it on her way in, mutedly broadcasting Peppa Pig, that hadn't interested her in the slightest. Instead she focused her attention on the floor, head down trying to bring as little attention to herself as she possibly could.

She didn't dare touch the toys. Not only were they colourfully decorated breeding grounds for germs, they weren't hers. And she'd been rigorously taught, never touch what doesn't belong to you.

So she sat. Sat amongst the grownups in the room. Her neighbour seated to her right a complete stranger seated to her left.

A sharp acidic smell burned her nostrils. An unmistakable mixture of both cheap booze and classless cigarettes. She had a hunch the foul smelling stranger beside her engaged in the distasteful hobbies as her father.

She wanted to look, to just sneak a peek at the person beside her, but again that was something she knew better than to do. So she kept her eyes, those deep, earthy brown orbs, trained on her old trainers. They were so worn, her big toe was pushing its way through her right toe cap.

All she could do was sit and listen to the gentle repetitive tune of the wait rum music. It's soft rhythmic hum provided some comfort. It was enough to relax the poor girl's tense muscles. She didn't want to be there. She couldn't be there. But there she was and she felt utterly sick.

It was her well to do neighbour who'd made the appointment. The young woman claimed she wanted to ease some of the weight off the girl's busy father's shoulders. The child had had questions but thought it better not to ask them. She should have been more bold. Then perhaps she wouldn't be there.

Her neighbour, Cartia Hennigan, was a lovely young woman approaching her early thirties. She often meant well but had a tendency to overstep her bounds. Nonetheless, the little girl couldn't help but feel pity for the woman. Cartia, all her kindness and charity was nothing more than a façade, covering her great loneliness.

The little girl twiddles her thumbs, replaying the unfortunate event that landed her little butt in the stiff plastic chair. I have to be less of myself, she swore, this never would have happened if I had.

She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. Her forehead throbbed, as if her brain was protesting. Her rational analysis was fighting against her self blame. She massaged her temple with her left index and middle fingers, pressing her right arm tightly against her stomach. It didn't help.

She sat straight, mimicking the posture of a proud queen, eyes still shut, she placed her palms on her knees gripping the fabric of her pant leg. In times of great distress she often found it best to disappear. Unfortunately, unlike the deep sea pelagic octopod she couldn't actually become invisible. She could retreat to the quiet sanctity of her own mind.

Some people retreat to what they call a "happy place". Her? Well... At least she had some place all her own, where the world would slowly fade away.

"Matilda Hennigan.”

Her little head flew up, eyes snapping to the kindly nurse standing in the door separating the waiting room from the rest of the clinic.

Her eyes darted to Cartia who was already standing, walking toward the blue, aluminum trim door. Her eyes widened, pupils anxiously constricting, she quickly pushed herself out of her seat then hurriedly followed after her neighbor.

When she finally reached the door she cast one more nervous glance up at her neighbor. "Shall we?" the nurse smiles warmly and holds the door open wider for the two to enter.

JWJWJW

Matilda sat on at the practice table hands folded like so, neatly rested on her lap. She had to admit this wasn't going as terrible as she'd originally envisioned it going. From what her father had told her, the doctors clinic was an utterly awful place reserved for terrible, no good people. And Matilda was certain she wasn't a terrible person. Or at least she tried not to be.

Her dad mustn't have done his research or had to have been thinking of another clinic. This one was adequate.

The nurse was nice enough. Mary? Yes, that was her name.

She was kind, she made the tedious tests Matilda was forced to endure more bearable. She'd commented on how cute Matilda purple pink polka dotted leggings were. And even promised the little girl a lollipop before she left.

Mary did however seem suspicious when Cartia explained the reason for her bringing Matilda to the clinic in the first place. Matilda wasn't sure why, maybe the explanation sounded weird. It was rather silly. She shouldn't have been playing so close to the stairs.

Matilda tried not to vocalise her disappointment when Mary left to retrieve the doctor, but failed accidentally letting slip a small puppy like whimper. It was unintentional and it bothered her.

Now she sat in the room, not quite alone, with her neighbour. Matilda hated the dressing gown. It left her exposed, back half vulnerable and visible.

At the very least if she moved in front of the mirror she could count how many freckles dotted her skin back there. Maybe like her forehead, nose, and cheeks they formed shapes in a connect the dots kind of way.

Matilda pushes herself up and jumps to the floor. Pain sliced upward like a swift blade through her left ankle. This unbalanced her making her landing less than perfect she ignored the feeling knowing the pain would subside momentarily. Then under the critically watchful eyes of Cartia, she pressed forward across the room toward the only thing that interested her. At least now that Mary was gone.

It was like most things in the public clinic, cheap, only standing about two Tildas tall. Matilda, standing a little less than an arms length away from the mirror, extended an arm gently resting her hand on the smooth reflective glass. It felt cool, good against her skin.

She stared at her reflection, eyes narrowing. She angled her body to one side. She didn't get why both Cartia and Mary seemed worried. She thought she looked fine.

Two rich brown eyes sparkled back at her - the colour of the earth after long torrential rains. Freckles dotted her face, like a chaotic mess of chipped marble. Matilda loved her freckles. A tumble of stringy blonde hair, with dark brown roots, messily pulled back into a low lopsided pony-tail hung between her shoulder blades. Yeah she looked fine.

Hold on. Matilda rolled her tongue across her cheek. There was a jagged cut that'd scabbed over on the right side of her temple, giving her a Harry Potter esque mark.

Matilda frowned, noticing the somewhat sickening shade of blackish blue on her skin, creeping out from beneath the neck lining of her dressing gown. Matilda pulled her collar down revealing a dark purple bruise spreading from the lower half of her neck to her shoulder.

Matilda could feel a lump form in her throat. Still... nothing to worry about. Bruises fade. She shouldn't have played so close to the stairs.

JWJWJW

Matilda heard the door open and shut, it's swift creaking noise made her arms go rigid.

The Doctor entered in a cable crew neck sweater and dark almost black jeans, his pepper salted hair was closely cropped. He had a face like some guy that'd seen much pain, and suffered much loss.

"Hello." Greeting the two, he had the posture of a soldier but after shaking hands with Cartia he visibly relaxed. "What's your name?" His voice came out like he'd just pulled a double shift the day prior, only functioning because he was running on six cups of tea.

Whilst he exchanged casual pleasantries Cartia, Matilda mindfully walked around him back to her seat at the practice table.

She knew how to keep a poker face, even in uncomfortable situations. As she went she observed the doctor carefully, eyes critically analysing every last detail of the pale man. Matilda bit her inner cheek. She'd found it was always best to keep her final findings to herself. Kept her out of trouble.

Dr. Watson gave a brief look at his clipboard before turning to Matilda. Already still, she felt a tight knot form in her chest, under his gaze. He knelt in front of Matilda, allowing her to see the stethoscope draped round his neck. Her first thought, strangulation hazard.

She leaned back sitting further in your seat. "Hey there, you must be Matilda." Her breathing stopped momentarily as the man extended his hand out for her to shake. "What a lovely name." He gave her a smile that just seemed so genuinely sweet. "I'm your doctor, Doctor Watson."

——————

I actually really enjoyed writing this story and it might be the one I chose to continue. I’ve seen stories where Sherlock has a child but none with John and so I’m writing this. Her name is Matilda in honour of my favourite reading character as a child. I hope she lives up to her namesake. She doesn’t have a last name as far as anyone thus far is aware hence her name being Matilda May. Her first name and second middle name. I do enjoy this story but am considering another for front runner of the year.