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penny00dreadful · 9 months

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Okay, okay, okay listen.

Remember when we were all obsessed with Steddie Legally Blonde a while back? Yes, I’m still thinking about it, leave me alone. And I adore everything I’ve read. It’s all so fantastic.

But I had a thought because what if we switched it up a little? I’m going mainly off of the musical here, so bear with.

So what if instead of having Steddie as Elle and Emmett, we instead have them as Paulette and UPS Guy/Kyle??? Like??? It fits, right???

But then, but THEN who do we have as Elle/Emmett?

Buckingham.

No, but just think of it!

Or I guess you don’t really need to because I’ve thought of it enough for all of us and it goes like this:

(OMG you guys I blacked out and when I woke up this thing was 3.1k long written over a few hours. I haven't edited this at all so please be gentle about typos/tense changes etc. The fever just took me.)

Chrissy is your quintessential girly girl. She is Elle Woods. She’s blonde, pretty, cheerleader, very feminine and happy where she is in life, President of her Sorority with her besties by her side and her guy who is… well he’s as good as any guy could be, right?

Jason is handsome, rich, well connected, he treats her with affection and he humours her when she has some pretty wild, out there ideas.

But then it happens and they break up because apparently having a girly girl for a wife just wouldn’t look good if he’s gonna live his life the way he wants to. Lawyer, his own practice, running for office.

Apparently her blonde hair and boobs would hold him back which, what the fuck???

What does that have to do with anything?

They love each other, right? That surface stuff isn’t supposed to matter. At all! They’re supposed to be together no matter what because they… they love each other?

Well fuck that noise, no one tells Chrissy Cunningham she’s too fucking blonde to do anything which is a hypocritical ass thing to say because has Jason looked in the fucking mirror recently?

Different fucking rules, apaprently.

Well, no more.

She’s gonna fuck up law school right along side him and she’s gonna wear fucking pink while doing it too!

And like, everything is going fine.

Chrissy’s not stupid, she knows how she’s perceived by people before they get to know her.

Vapid, bimbo, perky, blonde.

Like that’s an insult.

It’s just harder now that she’s away from her girls, gays and theys back home. And everyone here seems to think that the best way to live their lives is to look boring as shit while doing it along with tearing each other down.

She fucking hates it, but she’s determined to see it through.

It helps that she seems to have found the one person on the whole of the fucking east coast who actually listens to what’s coming out of her mouth rather than just paying attention to the hair on her head or staring at her tits.

Robin is so strange.

She’s different in such a refreshing way, it’s like being able to breathe clean air for the first time in years.

And she’s fucking sharp. And sweet. And so, so comforting.

Chrissy would have never managed to survive the depression of those first few weeks without her.

And like, she’s not ignorant to the fact that Robin sometimes does look at her boobs but at the same time it just feels different coming from a woman than it does a man. It doesn’t feel so objectifying.

Instead of putting Chrissy on edge it makes her feel a little smug. A little proud of herself, it makes her feel attractive and desired in a way she hasn’t felt in a very long time.

Is that sexist? To prefer the attentions of a woman over a man when both do it just fine for her?

Chrissy’s not exactly sure, but she knows she enjoys it when it’s coming from Robin.

So maybe it’s a Robin thing.

Chrissy honestly thinks things are looking up for her.

Until Jason introduces Nicole.

His fucking fiancee???

It’s been, like, four months since they broke up.

Nicole hates her guts, she can tell. She thinks she’s some two braincelled idiot who got into Harvard on daddy’s dime and needs to be babied through the simplest of tasks while not understanding how condescending everyone’s been the whole time.

Chrissy fucking understands. She’s been through it all before, but back then she had people by her side. It’s all so fucking childish. The world already hates women enough, Chrissy desperately doesn’t want to be at another womans throat, over a man no less, but Nicole doesn’t seem to feel the same way.

She’s ambitious and cut-throat and dedicated and a little bit terrifying.

Apart from Robin, she’s on her fucking own out here.

And she needs something.

Something of home to bring some light back into her life.

So she gets in her car and just drives around the streets hoping something will catch her eye.

And it does.

Some tiny little hole in the wall salon with a pride flag out the front that she’s immediately drawn to because god damn it she misses her friends. The girls, the gays, the theys.

As soon as she pulls over she feels both simultaneously like she’s come home and she definitely won’t fit in here, but she’s so emotionally raw at this stage it all kinda ends up converging on her and now she’s standing in front of a mostly empty salon and there’s a guy looking at her and she’s just fucking crying.

Through her blurry vision she can see the guy approaching and she really fucking hopes this isn’t gonna turn into a thing because she just does not have any spoons left to deal with some creep right now.

But he seems to sense how he’s coming off because he becomes a little more effeminate from one step to the next.

“You okay, honey?” He asks, big brown eyes wide with concern and a hand covered in rings hovering over her shoulder, not touching. He has a cigarette in the other hand, held away to keep the smoke from reaching her, his arms covered in ink but Chrissy wants nothing more than a cigarette right now.

Or, that’s kind of a lie, but she’d love one in all honesty. She hasn’t smoked in so long.

The guy spots her eyeing it, sticking the cigarette back between his plush lips and needing to use both hands to pull his carton from his pants considering they’re so tight.

“Bad day?” He hands her one and Chrissy ends up breaking down all over again.

She tells him that it hasn’t just been a bad day, but a bad half a year, really. She tells him all about Harvard and Jason and her professors and Robin and by the end of her ranting they’re sitting back in the breakroom of the salon. They guy’s name is Eddie, she learns and despite his mean and scary exterior Chrissy thinks he might be the gentles person she’s met in this whole god forsaken city.

He holds her hands between his and listens to her. Actually hears her talk and pays attention and is concerned and attentive and she loves him for it.

He helps her find her confidence again, at least for the rest of the day. They commiserate about how they both stick out like sore thumbs in their communities and how people need to just kinda get over it.

He encourages her not to let the normies win, do go hang out with Robin, to go kick ass and she’s just wondering how on earth she can ever repay the favour when they hear

“Knock, knock.”

Coming from the front of the salon.

Eddie’s whole face drains of colour before immediately turning red and he bolts up from his chair, stumbling out of the staffroom and moving back behind the receptionists desk.

Chrissy gets to watch in real time as all of Eddie’s incredible confidence and easy lightheartedness disappears into a vat of nerves mostly hidden by cheeky flirtation as he twirls a lock of hair around his finger and bats his eyelashes at the Hot UPS Guy who looks equally as charmed.

When the guy, Steve, has to get back to his route, Eddie practically melts against the desk as soon as he’s out of sight.

“Looks like I’m not the only one who needs help.”

Eddie rolls his eyes at her but smiles anyway. “I had that handled just fine.”

Over the next few months, she and Eddie get closer, Eddie and Steve stay exactly where they were that first day and she and Robin are quickly approaching best friends level.

But Chrissy is starting to come to terms with the fact that maybe she wants a little more than to be best girly-girl friends with Robin and maybe she wants to stick her tongue down her throat about it.

The two of them are practically attached at the hip, spending all day at classes together, alternating between their respective rooms to study late into the night, ending up in the same bed together and waking up together in the morning.

Chrissy is almost, completely, entirely sure that this is all very not platonic but it’s so difficult to tell.

She’d be constantly sleeping over with her friends back home, hugging, kisses on cheeks, cuddling in bed or when watching movies, just girly things.

But this feels different. Is it different?? Or is this just how Robin is with all her female friends, the same way it’s always been how Chrissy was with her friends back home. How can she tell if it’s going from platonic to romantic??

And all of that needs to go on the backburner anyway because they’re being put on a real life, for realsies you guys case. And if they fuck up this case they could be at fault for someone spending the rest of their fucking life in prison for something they didn’t do??

Unacceptable.

And after Chrissy finds out their client used to be on the same cheer team as her? It was all over. No way was she gonna let her go to prison just because everyone thinks a pretty young woman couldn’t possibly love someone a little older than her.

Not on Chrissy’s watch.

But first she has to deal with Robin’s wardrobe because they professor is insistent that all the women wear skirts and tights and Robin is not having it.

Neither is Chrissy to be fair, so she takes Robin out to the most lavish place she can, decks them both out in the fiercest looking pantsuits they can get their hands on, refusing to back down.

It comes as a surprise to both of them when Nicole stands with them in solidarity as well and now their professor is both outnumbered and losing his arguments with only Jason on his side about this and they fucking win.

It’s only a small win but it still feels fantastic.

Riding her high of winning that small fight, she bursts into the salon and informs Eddie that he is going to either kiss or ask out Steve the next time he sees him and when Eddie reacts like she just said she was going to shave all of his hair off she refuses to hear it.

Because the thing is Eddie is pretty, really pretty and she knows that Steve knows it, but she doesn’t think that Eddie himself is really aware of it. And despite his prettiness, he’s all awkward elbows and knees.

So she gives him some tips and shows him how to highlight certain things about himself, the long legs, the tattooed arms, the hip bones. Even his cute little bum. She teaches him how to subtly pull at his clothes in conversation so some skin is exposed or his tiny little waist is highlighted. She teaches him how to use his eyes to go in for the kill.

He doesn’t seem to think it’ll work but she is almost certain it will.

And it’s confirmed for her when she gets a call later that night from Eddie who sounds fucking over the moon and completely bewildered by the fact that Steve likes him back??? Has done for months?? And they had some incredible dirty nasty sex in the salon after it closed for the night and how they’re going to the movies tomorrow??

Eddie swears he’s gonna send her the biggest fuck off fruit basket he can find.

Everything is looking up for her, especially after she has such a major win in court, figuring out one of the prosecutors witnesses had perjured himself on the stand (without outing him to the whole damn court, thankfully).

Or at least everything was looking up for her until she found herself alone in a room with her professor and she felt the energy in the room shift before it happened.

His hands were on her before she could do anything about it and she cracked him across the face for it before she could even think about what this could do to her legal career going forward.

Because that was the reality of it, wasn’t it?

Either allow herself to get assaulted or destroy her career before it even started.

She didn’t know when her priority had shifted from getting Jason back to actually pursuing this as a future career. But she had found to her own surprise she loved it. She adored it actually.

And now…

Now it would all be gone.

Jason had seen, of course he had and he was less than kind about it because apparently it made more sense that she had fucked her way into Harvard than had actually been smart enough to get there on her own.

She couldn’t stomach anything Nicole could possibly have to say to her but if the way she was glaring at Jason with barely concealed rage after that comment was anything to go by, Chrissy didn’t need to worry too much about that.

She just wanted to go. To get out. She needed to get out. And she would have gotten away scott free if Robin hadn’t been hanging around waiting for her.

Robin’s face broke into a bright smile but that quickly slipped away when she saw the state Chrissy was in. She was all sweet concern and care and affection but Chrissy couldn’t fucking deal with it at that moment, she couldn’t face her.

She couldn’t face Robin who would find out what a fool of herself she’d made believing in Chrissy, when Chrissy had thrown all of their hard work away.

Because no one would ever fucking see her as a person. She was just a piece of ass.

So she ran.

She didn’t even realise where she was running to until she was standing outside the salon doors again.

It was late, they were closed, of course they were, why was she here?

She was standing outside the door crying again like she had been the first time and it was all just so fucking stupid-

“Chrissycakes?”

She was enveloped in Eddie’s arms before she could even blink, being ushered inside and steered back to the staffroom, same as that first time.

There were beer bottles and take out containers over the table and Steve sitting at the table and oh, she’d interrupted something hadn’t she?

What a fucking way to officially meet one of her best friends new boyfriend right?

But they were so sweet.

They sat and listened while she spilled the whole thing, offering at different points to hunt down her professor for her or slash his tires or lose all of his mail or whatever and she was forced to giggle through the tears.

But she shook her head in the end. She was tired. She was sick of having to defend herself constantly.

She needed… she needed to go back to where she belonged.

And she was about to.

She was about to leave the salon, swear to keep in contact with Eddie because god damn it she loved him now and she was ready to run.

But then there was a hammering at the door and Chrissy poked her head out to see Nicole standing there looking like she was on a fucking crusade.

And… was that…?

Robin was standing behind her, looking like she was just trying not to get in Nicole’s way.

Eddie grumbled to himself about changing the damn salons opening hours if this was to continue but he unlocked the door anyway.

Nicole burst in all fire and determination, shoving her finger directly in Chrissy’s face.

“I hated you. But god fucking damn it if you didn’t prove to me that this is the career you belong in. And I refuse to stand by and see an admirable woman of your smarts and calibre get run over by some small dicked professor with a receding hairline. You’re so much more than that. So c’mon. We’re breaking through that fucking glass ceiling if it kills us.”

Holy shit.

Robin pulled her into a tight hug, warm and comforting and a little too long to be platonic, running a hand through her hair.

“We’ll do whatever you’re comfortable with Chris, but… you deserve to be in that courtroom.” She muttered into her ear and Chrissy could do nothing but nod into Robin’s neck.

She heard Eddie sigh behind her. “Okay if we’re doing this then… I need to make a few calls.”

A few days later Chrissy made her triumphant return to the courtroom. Everyone was there to support her. Eddie, Steve, her besties from back home that Eddie had called, telling them it was a friend emergency and so of course they all came right away along with Robin and Nicole bracketing her on each side.

And while she could tell the court wasn’t taking her rants on hair care very seriously, when she finally came out with the verbal crackdown, proving the witness was actually the murderer, the gasps from the gallery were enough to feed her for years to come.

When all was said and done at the celebration later that night, she found herself being approached by Jason.

He told her it was a mistake to let her go, to discard her the way he had and she agreed that yes it was. But his mistakes weren’t her problem anymore. And from the look of it they weren’t Nicole’s problem either.

Jason surprisingly took it well enough, mentioning that he never really felt the same passion for law that she so clearly possessed.

She wished him luck with finding what he wanted to do.

But now.

Now she needed to find Robin.

Chrissy couldn’t take it anymore.

So weaving through the people around her, she grabbed at Robin’s hand, dragging her away from Steve who she had become inseparable with and pushing her into the hallway.

Robin didn’t even have a chance to ask what was happening before Chrissy was on her, pressing her into a wall, holding her close with her hands on either side of her face, kissing her with so much longing and elation and joy and happiness that when she pulled away Robin looked completely dazed.

Robin blinked slowly a few times before her face broke into a wide grin.

“Me too.”

#buckingham #robin buckley #chrissy cunningham #robin x chrissy #buckingham fic #legally blonde au #buckingham legally blonde au #chrissy x robin #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #penny00dreadful #i dont know what happened #it just appeared #wild huh?

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heroes-trash · 4 years

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personality + powers (theory)

far as i know / have heard, there are 4 possible explanations as to why a person has the power that they have.

the first two are almost the same, really: random chance and genetic inheritance. why they’re the same? because the chance of inheriting (not to mention, expressing!) the exact same traits one of your parents had is pretty low irl as well. much higher is the chance to have something similar, but not rarely are children rather different from both of their parents.

the other two are the ones the show propagates, and while they’re not at all alike, they’re still intertwined: convenience and personality.

the convenience theory is brought up by Daphne in the scene where she, Matt and Ando debate what’ll happen if Ando receives the serum - Daphne is convinced it’ll give him something he needs, citing it’s what happened to her and claiming it also describes Matt’s situation. but the way she says it... it could also make a rather good case for a personality-based theory, and that’s also the one i see most often in fandom.

which is why under the cut, i will go through every single powered character on the show (who we know a reasonable much about) and do a quick analysis of how well each of the latter theories fits them ^^

credited-as main characters:

Peter: personality-based seems more likely, as he is a very giving/empathetic person, and he wants to be extraordinary

Claire: if her ability had activated in Meredith’s burning home, i’d have argued for convenience, but a simple cut in her palm (however deep).... nah. neither seems to apply much here in fact

Hiro: personality-based maybe, because of all his heroic dreams

Matt: Daphne claimed he’d ‘always’ worried was others thought of him, so you can kind of argue personality... but mostly i suppose convenience, in his job as well as possibly generally because of his dyslexia (although he was adamant about not using it to his advantage that way)

Mohinder: one could argue convenience if you consider the fact that some guys tried to rob him when he was still dozing after the injection, and the first thing he did was defend himself against them... but you can defend yourself with many abilities. i once read that his ability amplified him because he’d always ‘had more in him’, and while cheesy, maybe that’s true? so personality-based for him i’d wager

Nathan: his ‘high ambitions’ are basically a running gag at this point, and the comics never fail to overstate how much he’d always loved flying - hell, even the show hints at it. so personality-based for him for sure

Sylar: while we can’t be certain when exactly he activated (at the latest eclipse, or even in his early childhood?), it’s undeniable he is fascinated with complex things. personality-based again

Angela: her powers have often been convenient, but also pretty hit-and-miss; especially at the start, fatally so. and unless you make the stretch to her taking responsibility (= being farsighted) young, i don’t really see personality-based either, so neither seems to really apply

Micah: we first see him use his power to help his family, but he surely had it before - he seemed confident with it already at that point. he’s smart, and very interested in electronics; though we can’t know for sure which came first (see Sylar), personality-based is likely here too

D.L.: arguably a good example for convenience, as he (according to some deleted scenes, anyway) first manifested when he was desperate to get out of prison

Isaac: as apparently you don’t need to be able to paint to be a precog painter (see Peter’s stick figures), i don’t see how either much applies here...

Elle: again neither looks very likely, unless you stretch personality-based to electrifying-slash-prickly (and she activated at nine so ,,,)

Monica: she’s ambitious and wants to be more successful than her family before her, and support them and herself - so is that convenience or personality, now? i’d argue convenience, because nothing in her suggests she specifically wants to copy other people

Samuel: frankly we don’t know enough of him to argue for either, but it’s definitely not convenience-based because he literally activated before he was born (much like Nathan and Malina), sooo

Ando: funnily enough, although Daphne argued so hard for convenience, i’d say it’s a personality-based case for him - he is the devoted friend, the designated sidekick in the best way. or is that convenience again after all... bit of both maybe

Niki: i’m not quite sure about convenience here honestly, as we don’t really see her first first time of using her ability (Jessica threatening her (their?) father was an early one, but the first?? no, how would she even know?) - and it’s even kinda implied in the comics that the triplets all started expressing theirs as teenagers or even younger - but the strength of an abuse survivor....... yeah i’d go with personality-based

Maya: she’s a bit whiny and occasionally bitter sure, but there’s nothing in her personality to suggest she wants to commit mass murder every time she’s upset. it’s not even convenient, really [well it was in Exodus but ,,,] so [for the timeline we wound up getting] i’d argue neither

Adam: what i couldn’t claim for Claire, absolutely applies to him - his ability literally saved his life upon first manifesting, so convenience here for sure. (although he’s pretty persevering, in a very weasle-y way...)

Tracy: again with the comics implying the triplets activated as teens / even kids!!! but discounting that.... personality-based, i guess? what with her ice-cold career-orientated attitude... sure there’s some convenience in the mix, but there are a lot more convenient ways of getting rid of a journalist than killing him, so :’D

other relevant characters, introduced in S1:

René: convenience is straight out of the window here, considering his primary ability activating got his people killed/abused, and his secondary ability activating killed those oppressors (which only on first glance sounds good) - but personality-based? i’m not sure either... he’s an unsuspecting little fellow, but that’s not quite enough... and he uses his ability to fight against ability abuse he experienced as a kid, but i’m still not sure. thoughts? i’ll tentatively say neither...

Molly: neither really fits, far as we know

Charlie: she has a strong interest in learning and we can at least assume that didn’t just start when she discovered she was good at it - so i’d say personality-based

Claude: i’d tentatively argue for convenience, as he isn’t exactly the most subtle fellow... and has been obscuring his identity even before he started working for the Company (!!), so he’s likely running from smth, for which his ability is definitely very useful

Sanjog: we absolutely don’t know enough about him to argue for either, although he does seem to embrace his ability, so maybe he wanted something like this....?? really all speculation though

Charles: he seems like an empathetic, kind man - so telepathy isn’t the biggest stretch for personality-based. it is however some stretch, so how about convenience? well; we do see him using it to stop (well...pause) racist regulations and police brutality......

Linderman: very classic case of convenience-based, as the first time he activated, he healed his dying mother

Ted: neither in my opinion - his ability isn’t even slightly convenient for him, and he is stubborn not unstable far as we at all know

Hana: possibly neither, possibly a bit of both, as she is a descendant of fighters and a spy herself - but then that’s too wide a field, a lot of abilities could help with that... i say neither

Eden: convenience, as she first used it to escape her oppressive home

Paulette: we don’t really know enough about her to argue for either

Meredith: neither seems quite likely - her ability hasn’t exactly brought her much luck, and she has a strong character but not exactly fiery enough to quite play into that cliché, either

Kaito: very likely personality-based, as his ability plays right into his career ambitions (in fact pretty much was what made him so successful so fast)

Candice: something both, something in-between, maybe? she dreamed herself away, and dreamt of punishing her bullies, and she could do both with this ability

other relevant characters, introduced in later seasons:

West: he enjoys being special, but apart from that, there is no real evidence that can be used to argue for either

Alejandro: [if you even assume he has an ability, i personally have some Doubts] probably personality-based, as he is Maya’s other half one way or another

Bob: his ability is objectively convenient, but i’m still not sure an argument can be made for either, as too little (= nothing) is known about his childhood, and neither about his character except ambitious/controlling and kind of a loser when it comes to relationships (divorced and often the fifth (or seventh) wheel when younger)

Maury: another case of too little information for either - he seems to submit to strength/authority rather easily, and only ever committed petty crime, so one can’t argue for criminal mastermind either

Doyle: i don’t think there’s been any information on how he activated (correct me if i’m wrong), and while he does use his ability to compensate for being unsuccessful in forming,, Any kinds of relationships, i still wouldn’t say it’s necessarily personality-based (and something this broad definitely doesn’t qualify as convenience)

Alice: her ability isn’t exactly what you’d call convenient :’D and personality-based would probably be something more fairytale-esque for her, so that’s out as well

Alex: he’s a swimmer, so a bit in-between i suppose (we once more don’t know enough to argue semantics)

Samson: we definitely don’t know enough about him or what he was like before activating (is this ‘putting animals/people to sleep’ thing even part of his primary ability, or does is that just his preferred hunting tool like telekinesis is for his son?)

Luke: we don’t know how he first activated, but maybe personality-based works if you stretch it to ‘destructive teen’...?

'Baron Samedi’: both seem plausible if he’s always dreamed of ‘making it big’ (in his way), which i think we can safely assume, but once more we don’t know nearly enough about his childhood, and technically there’s a lot of ability that are good for demonstrating strenght... maybe he first activated in a firefight (with the Tonton Macoute?).........?? but that’s pure speculation

Arthur: he has always been ruthless and controlling, and never for a minute believed that people with abilities should stick together by default - being able to take them away from others to strengthen himself fully plays into his personality imo

Ishi: apart from apparently being a nurturing, sweet mother, we know little of her... i’d tentatively argue for personality-based, but who knows how she activated?? too little information, again

Daphne: convenience for sure, there’s a reasons she made a case for that

Knox: general question - is ‘circumstances X grew up in’ still convenience or personality already?

Jesse: same as Knox pretty much, we can’t know

Flint: i’d carefully say unstable temperament -> personality

Scott: again a bit of a what-came-first question: he wanted to be ‘’better’’, but did he always want that or did that only come from past failures and the resulting fear for the future? we don’t know because we barely know him

James Martin: i’ll stick my neck out for personality-based, that he’d longed to be somebody else, somebody significant for a while even before activating (i mean - why else impersonate others instead of just improving himself?)

Emma: mostly convenience-based, but as she has a general affinity for music and soft things... in-between, maybe?

Edgar: IF he was indeed the commitment-averse guy Lydia described, i’d say personality-based, but i’m honestly torn about that and don’t have any other significant things, so i won’t speak a final verdict

Rebecca: convenience for sure, for hiding and revenge

Lydia: assuming here she indeed activated young, this is another difficult one - maybe she was always empathetic, maybe not??

Joseph: his ability sure is convenient, but it’s absolutely unclear whether other people perceived him as pleasant/trustworthy because he made them feel that way (literally) or whether that links back to his true character. he seems like a responsible guy overall, but that doesn’t get you to either side of the coin, only an in-between

now i left out some of the most obviously inherited ones / ones that at least have a heritable component. those are, in short: Peter(-Arthur), Matt(-Maury), Sylar(-Samson), (Maya-Alejandro?), Ted(-Mindy), Meredith(-Flint), and the Bowman family

and i also left out Reborn, which works a lot more with heritable abilities, but this post is really long enough already :’D

so, final summary (regarding convenience vs personality):

convenience-based: 11

personality-based: 15

both/in-between: 4

neither: 12

too little information: 14

which makes for a pretty even split that lets one argue for whatever they prefer, honestly XD still hope this was enlightening/interesting to read, and looking forward to all of your opinions!!

#nbc heroes #primatech #heroes theories #do you disagree with any of my verdicts? (or do you have any questions? i know i referenced the comics a lot)#(i had to otherwise 'too little information' would've been like;; half ?? lmao)

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mermaidmafia-official · 5 years

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{ PART I: THE BLOODMOTHER }

written by: @bebemoon

outfit ref: for the party .

tag list: @ayzrules @interluxetumbra @vampirkaninchen & @blubbingbeautifully

The Bloodmother of Bilitis House was preoccupied with the floors.

As evening was settling in and the house was beginning to stir and creep with her sisters and daughters, she discovered that the petals still needed to be strewn in the foyer, over the newly-refurbished wood flooring, and there was nary a helpful cherub in sight.

The Bloodmother- called "Ysabelle" familiarly- stood on the bottom step of the wide foyer stairs pondering the naked floors. The house held the aroma of blood almost romantically, and the rose petals were necessary to somewhat hide it from the historical society mortals who would be arriving soon- along with (and utterly unbeknownst to them) some...prominent underworld figures.

Ysabelle clutched the banister with one hand, her bony hip with the other. A disaster was inevitable, but she still wanted those roses strewn.

"Vavassour." A velvety voice from above.

Ysabelle tipped her face up to see a ghostly figure in a curtain of inky hair leaning on the staircase banister overhead- someone spying with a scarlet eye.

"Zhang," Ysa said in lieu of a fitting evening greeting, and dropped her gaze once again to the foyer. "Have you seen either of the cherubs? Tonight of all nights, they decide to shirk duties when I gave them the strictest order to-"

She paused her tirade, feeling something light touch the top of her head.

Looking up, she could see Zhang was now holding a fistful of rose petals, as if her palm was slit and bleeding. "Chatham passed his rose chore off to me," she said languidly, and dropped a few more petals from her hand directly onto Ysabelle's dark head. She rested the side of her lovely, clear face against her free hand. "He said he did not have the time."

Ysabelle swiped the petals from her hair and turned to head back up the steps, trailing loose hair and billows of dark blue velvet robes and sleeves. "Did he say what was so pressing that he could not obey his mistress?" she asked.

The most Chatham would ever get from Ysabelle was sucked teeth or perhaps a drawn-out sigh if he was being particularly vexing. He, like his brother, was too childlike in mien, as most cherubs were, for Ysa to ever muster any sort of genuine dislike towards him.

Yinmei Zhang listlessly lifted herself from the banister as Ysabelle approached. A basket of rose petals sat on the landing at her feet.

"I did ask," said Zhang, "but he told me I ought to mind my own business." She then gestured at the basket as if there was nothing for it. “It’s really not a bother. They smell lovely.”

Ysabelle reached out to lightly flick her old friend's bare collarbone- a ridge of ice beneath pristine snow. "You shouldn't allow him to boss you," Ysa said as she began to move away. "After all, frail and aged as you are, you're hardly suited to labour- your bones could turn to dust at any moment. Do let one of the younger girls handle it."

"Yes, why not have your new little friend do it?" said Zhang, her tone less playful than Ysabelle's had been. She turned her head just enough to sharply eye the other woman. "It seems the least she could do after keeping the entire house up all day long."

Ysa paused, and after a beat, turned back to Yinmei. She wanted to ask...but thought better of it.

They weren't usually at odds. However, since Amaelia had come into the house, there had been the occasional bite to Zhang's retorts. Her feelings were not unshared by others in the Coven, but she was the only one who ever dared to openly second-guess Ysabelle's actions. Yinmei's disapproval was already well-noted, and Ysabelle was resolute in her decision to take Amaelia into the Coven.

And so, the two old friends were at an impasse, making their usual shared preoccupations...strained.

Ysabelle stood for a moment, wondering. Then, finally: "I hate to think Lia is disturbing your peace, my dear. I will see what I can do."

With that, the Bloodmother turned back into the corridor, leaving Yinmei to her rose petal chore.

[AN INTERLUDE WITH A CHERUB]

Ysabelle did not have to wonder where Chatham had gone for much longer than it took her to return to her room.

She stepped into the private parlour, golden-lit by firelight, to find him planted on a tasseled foot pillow on the floor, looking very like a horrific dog show contestant with his small gargoylish figure, gnarled digits, and fleshy little wings. Not to mention the rancid rat he was enjoying. Ysabelle understood immediately that the cherub must've hidden it from his brother, forgotten where he stowed it for a few days, and only just remembered it-

Hence the shirking of his rose petal chore.

"Here you are," said Ysabelle, closing the black bedroom door behind her. She pointed at the cherub seated and merrily devouring his foul treat. "What do you mean giving your chore to Grandmother Zhang? Her bones are older than yours and mine."

Chatham swallowed and adopted the expression of a distressed demonic toddler. "Mistress," he complained, clutching the half-eaten rat to his chest. "Well, I hate the Granny, and you know I do. Besides. Besides, I found my rat and I was hungry, and I hate chores like I hate Granny."

Ysabelle hummed. "I should've punished you more when you first came to me," she remarked. "You'd behave better. What have you against Yinmei?"

The cherub bounced his goblin feet, thinking. "She said I'm rotten. And I think she's ugly," he replied, pulling a face. "The ugliest woman I've ever, ever seen, I think."

"She's right, though," said Ysabelle, folding her arms. "You are unforgivably rotten. You and your brother. In any other house you'd be beaten with a fire poker for being a layabout."

Chatham appeared scandalised. "Mistress!" he wailed.

Ysabelle waved the creature off. He went into hysterics at any criticism, no matter how small or harmless- and since positively no one in the house found him the least bit pleasant, he was hysterical most of the time.

"Be silent, Chatham," Ysa chided, turning away. She flicked aside the heavy drape dividing her private parlour from the bedroom. "Amaelia still sleeps."

[OVERHEARD AT THE HOUSE WARMING]

"A truly skilled Blood-Weaver can portal through a living being."

"I don't follow."

"It's just as I said. Crack a chest, step in, and come through another warm body-"

"In...spirit?"

"No, in flesh."

"Sounds messy."

"Oh, it's ghastly."

It was much later, well into the house-warming, before Ysabelle laid eyes Yinmei again.

They were supposed to be posturing as wives for the benefit of the mortals from the Halacre Historical Society. A Vampire undetected is well-fed, after all- and the very last thing she wanted was to alarm the entire town. These days, people employed the Wolves to take care of their Vampire problems-

They couldn't be too careful, as far as Ysabelle was concerned.

Yinmei was being interrogated in the drawing room by the Historical Society's head- a squat woman clutching a black bag beneath her tweedy arm. She was quite out-of-place among the other attendees. Yinmei rather looked like a tall, benevolent alien in contrast with the woman.

"Ah, there you are!" said Zhang over the little woman's head. She had spotted Ysabelle passing through the foyer. Zhang raised her dark brows pointedly, an S.O.S., and beckoned delicately with her fingers for Ysa to come join her.

Ysa slipped her free hand into the pocket of her tailored trousers and stepped across the drawing room threshold, thumping her walking cane on the refurbished wood floors as she went.

"Dear," Zhang began with false cheer, "this Paulette Maminot, the head of the Halacre Historical Society." She introduced the small, be-wigged woman before her. She continued, "Paulette, this is my wife Ysabelle."

Paulette offered her hand to Ysa, palm down, like a duchess. "How do you do?" she said sourly. Her face somehow became even more lined while regarding the women together. "You two are married, then? My, my. How modern."

Only the mannerless insulted their host right away- she didn't even wait until the end of the night. Ysabelle leaned on her cane and grinned. "Oh, yes," she said, "for several, blissful years now. Have you met the children? They should be-"

"Actually, we were hoping for a tour of the house," the old woman interposed. "My father used to own this property- it's been in my family for ages. I was disappointed to know that my brother sold it. I see you've...taken the liberty of changing a few things. Thank goodness you kept the original flooring."

"Oh, what a shame," Zhang said, her tone light but her posture rigid. "The floors are the last thing to be dealt with. We just cannot agree on what to cover that old wood with. I say grey cork or perhaps vinyl."

"But I just adore shag carpet," Ysa put in. "It speaks of luxury."

Zhang lifted a shoulder covered in white lace. "You are right about that."

Maminot's face crumpled with displeasure and her colourless lips became a thin line. Eventually, she cleared her throat of bile and readjusted her pocketbook under her arm. "Well," she sighed, the notion of Bilitis House covered in shag having cost her both mental and spiritual strength, "burn it down for all I care. Shall I gather the others for the tour?"

Ysabelle held her free hand out, indicating the foyer filled with milling guests in black with leering eyes. A pulse, a warm perfume, would never go unnoticed in that crowd. One only hoped the other elders had not been lured away somewhere.

Maminot stalked out of the drawing room without another word, but /not without giving her disapproving gaze to Egon Schiele's "Two women embracing" as she went.

"Paper, scissors, stone," Ysabelle said once the old woman had gone. "The loser plays tour-guide."

Zhang pulled a face but nonetheless held her right fist out.

An hour past midnight, the house was filled with the voices of the damned and fiddle-cry from the dimly-lit ballroom- sounding like a shadowy thing hidden in fog, just out of view.

Zhang was still leading her tour (having lost the best two out of three) while Ysa continued holding court in the drawing room, but Maminot's griping was still audible to the ears of the undead.

(She did not care for the overly-ornate moulding in the corridors, nor was she happy with the "funerary" black doors. Even more incensing was the fact that Zhang was barring her from entering most of the rooms. The fact was, it was for her own good. Poppy ["The Devourer"] was locked in her rooms to avoid staining the walls red. Amaelia, in the throes of fledgling bloodlust, was under lock and key for the same reason. What the little fool didn't know was that some of those black doors kept a nasty end at bay.)

"I think I would have eaten her by now," ["A Collar of Spikes"] commented. She was leaning against the drawing room wall in head-to-toe black leather with a chalice of Rosenblut in one hand. Her dark eyes were rolled upwards, listening to the conversation taking place two stories above them.

Angelika ["ЛЕДЯНАЯ ЖЕНЩИНА"], seated on the arm of the dark velvet sofa, took a sip of her own chalice and came away catching her bottom lip in her bloody teeth. (Ysa wondered if Rosenblut gave her memories of her life as a human- or if it was only human blood that caused the flashbacks?) "Truthfully," she said in her small, tinkling-bell voice, "I don't like the black doors either. Makes me think of...decay, rot. Nasty things."

"You're drinking animal blood, 'Lika," ["A Collar of Spikes"] reminded her on a smirk. "You are a nasty thing. What difference does it make, anyway, what colour the damn doors are? We should all be out flying, driving- not stuck here with these stodgy, old elites and mortals."

[”A Collar of Spikes”] was at her best when leaned over a dimly-lit pool table, pool-stick against her ribcage.

Ysa slowly released the tension in her spine and let herself sit back in her chair, expelling the ineffable pressure of the evening. Lately, she had been experiencing small spells of fatigue that she couldn’t recall ever feeling before. It felt like being wrung out, pain included. And she suddenly wanted to be alone.

She dismissed [ACoS] with a flick of her hand. “I release you, dear. Go enjoy the night- someone ought to.”

[ACoS] didn’t tary. She drew away from the wall, put her chalice down and righted her black leather jacket. “Thank you, Mother, dear,” she said, and about-faced to the window, which she threw open and promptly jumped out of- taking wing on the night air. Gone.

Only a moment later, the sounds of discord resounded through the house, coming from upstairs. At once, Ysabelle drew to her feet.

[THE SCENE]

Zhang was shouting over someone else’s distraught shrieking. And the smell was unmistakable, luring throngs of party-goers to pack the stairs-

When Ysabelle arrived on the steps leading to the third storey corridor, it was as horrific as the over-powering smell led her to believe it would be.

“I tried to stop her, Ysabelle!” Zhang was frantically saying over the screaming. Her cheeks were speckled red- like gory, little freckles. “It happened so quickly!”

Her arms were full of a red-headed girl with thrilled eyes bright as pomegranate jewels. Her emerald velvet dress was soaked in dark fluid from neck to belly. The white lace collar was turned crimson. A pair of matching coral hair combs hung loosely in her hair, having come loose in all the tumult.

Poppy. She was screaming and raking at Zhang’s pretty white gown, catching at the lace and tearing the beads away. Her fangs were extended to needles and there was hardly a speck of pale skin to be seen- it was slick with blood.

And it wasn’t one or two or even three, but all of the Halacre Historical Society strewn in the corridor. Poppy still had a hold of Maminot’s wrist, clutched in a death grip.

Ysabelle wanted to know how this had come about. She had put Poppy away in her rooms, knowing something like this would happen if she was permitted to roam. Ysa had even struck the door with a Blood-Bind to keep her safely within- not even another Blood-Weaver could have undone the Bind.

The scene was confusing, but Ysa didn’t have time to ask questions or feel her bones brim with dread-

They would have to hide this.

She and Angelika flew to Zhang’s side, helping her wrest the girl back into her rooms for the time being.

Ysabelle slit her palm, left to right, using her thumb nail and raised her hand to the black door as Poppy threw herself against the wood on the other side, jolting it. Ysa struck the wood at the same time and felt a heavy energy, like thick chains snaking about her arms and into the very wood of the door, locking it fast against the girl within. Instantly, the violent banging from inside ceased.

Finally, the corridor fell silent...save the murmuring crowd of on-lookers packing the staircase.

Ysa felt weak, light. She went to her knees at Poppy’s door and placed her forehead in her hands. Something wasn’t right.

“Mother?” Angelika said softly.

“Send for Chatham and Weep-not,” Ysabelle sighed as she lifted her face. “Have them clean this up.”

“And the bodies?” Zhang inquired.

Ysa rose to her feet slowly and pressed her healed hand over her stomach. “Burn them.”

#aaaa this is sooo~ long. and thank you so so much to ally for helping me with yinmei’s dialogue !#C O M P L E T E #this took FOREVER #and i took out so much too :/#i hope everyone enjoys #btr #btr: story #written by fanfan #btr: the bloodmother #btr: ysabelle

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empirex1020 · 5 years

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So I started writing this Reylo Historical AU...

...Actually THREE historical AUs... after writing nothing in forever. I dont know why I do this to myself. 😳

Here's a snippet of the one I'm furthest along on, set during the American Civil War and based on the novel by Paulette Jiles.

I made two mood boards, one symbolizing Rey's world:

And one symbolizing Ben's:

Rey is accused of spying and imprisoned. Ben is the Union major in charge of the women's prison. (My apologies for the lack of a cut on this long-ass post. I don't know how to do that on mobile. Let me know if you know how.) Feedback is appreciated!

_________________________________________

“Mireya Kenobi!” The private bellowed, his great ring of keys jangling violently.

A sergeant stepped forward, handing a paper to the private. He was a man of average height, dark hair slicked back, and a pale, nervous face. “Here are the orders,” he said to the private.

Rey gathered her skirts and stepped out of the cell. The private slammed the barred door behind her and it rang like a church bell. She went down the hall, the sergeant’s hand wrapped around her arm. She would comport herself like the lady she was, refusing to be hurried, forcing him to either drag her by both arms or slow down as well. They slowed down.

They reached their destination within a minute, but it felt much longer to Rey. Her mouth was dry as an old bone. The sergeant rapped at the door and a muffled, “Enter,” replied from the other side.

“Go on in,” The sergeant bid her, then closed the door behind her.

A man in Federal uniform was standing beside an oak desk. Rey looked up to glance at his face and her eyes travelled upward for a good while. He was a giant of a man, with broad shoulders and a trim waist. His uniform was impeccably tailored to fit him, the brass buttons on his coat were polished to a shine, as were his black boots. He wore the gold oak leaf insignia of a major on his shoulders.

The face that looked back at her was long and pale with a thick brow and dark, hooded eyes set above a long, aquiline nose. His black hair was thick and there was some wave to it. There was the beginning of a beard on the bottom his chin, but the rest of his face was clean-shaven. His full mouth was fixed in a rather imperious moue, as though trying to appear very stern despite his young age. He may have been twenty five or thirty five –Rey could not tell. There was a youthfulness about him in the smoothness of his face, but there was a distance in his black eyes; and the violet smudges under them gave the impression of a man worn down. She would not call him handsome, for there was nothing refined about his features. Everything about him was too large- nose, cheekbones, mouth, shoulders – but it was an arresting face, one she found herself wanting to study more.

The major softly cleared his throat and Rey remembered where she was. He gestured toward the chair before his desk, inviting her to take a seat. She saw his insignia was that of the regular Federal army. He was not Militia, thank heavens.

Rey raised her chin and straightened her spine in what she hoped was a lady-like posture.

“Well,” she said blithely as he also took his seat. “Fine day, isn’t it? How’s the war going?”

“Miss Kenobi,” he said, and Rey was struck by a warm baritone that seemed almost contrary to his countenance.

“I am Major Benjamin Solo, of the judge advocate general’s department.” His eyes moved over her, studying her as if she were an interesting specimen of some kind. His eyes travelled from her face and hair, down to her dress, shabby as it was. “I am in charge of your case.”

His accent was neither northern or southern. It was an American accent, but it was impossible for her to tell from where he haled. Major Solo took up the papers on his desk and Rey felt her hands begin to tremble. She hid them in her skirt.

“Miss Kenobi, you are suspected of three things.” Major Solo’s face was now carefully blank. “First, with cutting telegraph lines. I am sure you are aware that since December of 1861 all those caught cutting Union telegraph lines are to be shot, women included.”

Had Rey been standing, she thought her knees would surely have buckled. She felt all the blood leave her head and her heart began to pound.

“Secondly,” he continued, “you have been accused of harboring and feeding guerillas, and harboring can mean anything we want it to mean, including keeping guerilla money in a bank account under your name. This means we may confiscate your family’s bank account on nothing more than suspicion. Thirdly, your are accused of spying.”

He put the papers down. It seemed a long time before he looked up at her.

“Gracious,” she managed to croak. “I’ve been a busy girl.”

“The spying part was supposed to be when you were brought here on the train.”

Rey blinked. “It was pitch black. It was the dead of night.”

Anger, then disbelief began to replace her fear. A sort of giddiness took over. All of these accusations were made up. One of them so ridiculous it could be easily thrown aside and what a relief that would be! She would confess to one thing, but not another. They would become friends, she would tell him things he wanted to hear, whatever would please him, and he would let her go. Yes, that is what would happen.

Just as her mind had taken hold of this comforting tthought, simultaneously a frantic surge of panic welled up in her. There was no way out of this. She had been shut up in a dark hole. Rey took a shuddering breath, twisting and twisting the fabric of her skirt in her hands.

“Miss Kenobi.” Major Solo was carefully watching her now, like a bird of prey. “You have thought of something.”

“I thought…” She paused. “I was thinking of my grandfather.”

“And where is he?”

“Captain Armitage Hux and some militiamen took him away. They beat him very badly and then I don’t know.”

Rey felt like a small creature, thrashing silently in the snare she found herself in. Her grandfather might even now be dying of his injuries or a fever. Poor Falcon might be hitched to an artillery caisson and sprayed with flying metal. Beebee might be dead. And Finn… where was he? Was he safe? Had he followed her?

“Do I have your attention?” Major Solo asked softly.

Rey nodded. “Yes,” she croaked, surprised she could even speak.

Rey couldn’t allow herself to continue that line of thinking. If she continued, she would give in. Her eyes roamed around the room, lighting on his shelf of books: The Flora and Fauna of Texas, A Lexicon of the Navajo Language, Little Dorrit, Studies of St. Petersburg.

“Miss Kenobi, I can decide to turn any one of these accusations into actual, legal charges.”

Rey huffed, trying hard to keep her composure and not burst into tears. “Well, don’t wait for me to make up your mind for you.”

The major’s eyebrows raised and fell in mild surprise and his full lips drew into a pout as though he were chewing the inside of his cheek. “You are quite brave.”

Rey was taken aback at his seeming sincerity. “Am I?

“Yes.” He came around from behind his desk and sat down in the chair placed next to hers, his big hands clasped together between his thighs. He leaned forward to her, his shoulders hunched so their eyes were level.

“Miss Kenobi, the provost marshal’s department seems bent on extracting confessions from women. I am one of the unlucky fellows charged with obtaining them. I don’t like this any more than you do.”

He leaned a little closer and Rey could smell the scent of his aftershave and tobacco, feel the warmth of his breath across her cheek.

“You must help me. You must plead guilty to one or the other. You must write a confession.”

#reylo #ben solo #reylo fanfic #rey of jakku #fan edit #manip #reylo au #reylo fanwork #historical au #civil war au

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theregoesjodariel · 5 years

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Supergem: Writer’s Notes, Chapters 1-10

Hey gang! It’s a long time coming, but I finally got off my ass and finished the full notes for chapters 1-10 of Supergem, my big huge SU fic. I’m just about to finally get to work on the next batch of chapters, so I figured now would be a great time to look back on what I’ve done so far and provide some hopefully interesting commentary. Read on for that stuff!

Chapters 1-5

Right off the bat, chapter 1's title is a reference to the now-famous single-page retelling of Superman's origin story from All-Star Superman #1. There, "kindly couple" was used to summarize Clark Kent's crashlanding on Earth and discovery by the Kents.

Chapter 2 features what I feel would be the natural result of trying to fire bullets at a Gem: absolutely nothing. While Gems are obviously made of hard light and have been shown to be capable of being hurt by conventional means-- see Peridot getting Wile E. Coyote'd by the corrupted Gem in Beta-- I like to imagine that bullets are simply so small and so high-velocity that they'd pass through Gem bodies harmlessly. The science is probably wrong, but let me have my Rule of Cool.

Aside from sporting the amalgamated personalities of Lapis and Peridot, the two superheroes Turquoise takes the most inspiration from are Superman and Spider-Man. She shows at least some compassion for all people, even bad guys, like Superman, and she throws plenty of quips, especially when getting it handed to her, like Spidey.

As stated in the notes, I do not have a set design in mind for Turquoise, but I DID end up canonizing elements of a couple of designs I really like within the story. She sports the unique five-pointed hairstyle and orange suspenders of ahhween's design, as well as the cool cyan color scheme and water cape of cheerkitty1410's. Those two are just fantastic.

Axinite is a Gem OC of mine, a gladiatrix who fights in arenas on Homeworld, which function as the world's equivalent of recreational sports. A lot of the lore I have for her is regurgitated in the narration.

There are, of course, a couple of lines from "Stronger Than You" in chapter 4. There's the title, plus Turquoise correcting Val that the fight is one-on-two.

When I created the character, I actually completely failed to notice Val's considerable resemblance to Jasper, both in appearance (big, bulky and orange) and personality (haughty, judgmental). Naturally, when it hit me, I wrote in a nod to it in chapter 4.

Chapter 4 sees Turquoise and Val's fight spill into a mall, the very same one from Pearls' Night Out, currently my only other multi-chapter work. Rhiannon and Diane, both OCs from there, also make cameos (Rhiannon is the employee who points Turquoise in Val's direction, Diane is the journalist who interviews her on the street).

Pearl and Jasper handle city planning like military tacticians, because, well, they are military tacticians. They're also very overdramatic about it, natch.

Amazonite is a close friend of mine's gemsona, a former Crystal Gem who retired to become a seamstress after the corrupted Gems were all cured.

A couple of things involving Jasper take inspiration from the excellent Back to Beta. Pearl acts as Jasper's parole officer of sorts, rewarding her with Pearl Points for doing a good job and Jasper has an attachment to Earth music for its ability to say what cannot be said through simple speech, just like in there. Go read Back to Beta if you haven't, it's outstanding (it's also Jaspearl-- look at me go).

In one of many instances of Jodi Doing Too Much Research Into Things That Don't Matter, I actually broke out my copy of SU: Art & Origins to study its map of Beach City to determine just how nitpicky Pearl and Jasper were being.

Why do the Nephrites want to talk to Pearl? Maybe we'll find out....

Garnet "borrowed" Andy's plane to go to Empire City. That's a step up from "finding" a phone, don't you think?

I like to imagine that Bismuth has been rooting for Lapis and Peri to get together since the moment she met them. Her gaydar is just that good.

Believe it or not, I genuinely considered having Turquoise adopt a secret identity at one point during planning. I call myself out on it through Steven in chapter 5.

I knew I just couldn't do this story without Jasper since she is, in a way, the villain (or at least a villain) in Turquoise's origin story. As an abuse survivor, showing the ramifications of her and Lapis' time as Malachite as best I could was tantamount to the main storyline.

Chapters 6-10

The foreshadowing in chapter 6's identity should make Ms. Knight's identity a no-brainer for seasoned SU fans. No one spoil it if you figure it out, though!

Ronaldo is absolutely, positively, 100%, one of the guys who doesn't shower before the convention. That's so him it hurts.

The generally meta premise of chapters 6-9 were the result of me drafting them right after I got home from my city's local big convention, which I had a wonderful time at. I did my first ever cosplay (I was Pearl!) there and managed to hold decent conversations with Zach Callison, Deedee Magno Hall, Michaela Dietz, and Estelle. The layout of DelmarvaCon is even copied from the layout of that convention center.

In one of many moments of narrative intersecting with reality, I did some sleuthing and found that Paulette was, in her very brief on-screen appearance, voiced by Deedee Magno Hall, Pearl's voice actress. As said above, I met Deedee at the con I went to. You know how everyone on and off set never stops talking about how nice she is? They're not exaggerating, she's a fantastic person. Kim Tan is fully based on her, taking her name from a couple of Hall's other roles (Kim in Miss Saigon and a bit character named Lori Tan from an episode of Third Watch) and Lapis and Peridot's encounter with her is based on my own; while she didn't usher us ahead of the line to meet her, she did take pictures of my friend and I's cosplays for free when she was supposed to be charging for them. Seriously, nicest celebrity I've ever met.

Chapter 7 has Peridot riff that she can "observe 800 moving objects and compute their direction of travel," a phrase long used to describe Prowl in the Transformers franchise. It has no character significance here, I was on a Transformers kick at the time of writing.

The uncomfortable pulling sensation mentioned in chapter 7 is called an "itch," a callback to The Itch, the oneshot serving as prelude to this fic. There, "the itch" is used to refer to the deeply unsettling feeling a Gem gets when fitted with limb enhancers-- think the feeling you have or would have felt from a dentist fitting you with those awful rubber bands to help with the braces process, it's that kind of feeling. The feeling being given off by Ronaldo's control device is similar, "adding" to a Gem when nothing need be added.

The long opening narration in chapters 8 and 9 were inspired by the writing style of comic book writer Scott Snyder, who has a tendency to start, end, or intersperse his comics with long, expositional comparative musings on seemingly simple or mundane things (seriously, count the number of times one of his Batman comics opens with narration explaining the philosophical meaning behind the rocks used to make buildings in Gotham City).

The cost of Connie's sword is, as stated in the story proper, a rough estimate borne from around half an hour of research. While there are other pink stones that could've been used, I picked pezzotaite because of its extreme rarity, just to drive home how absurdly all-out Bismuth went on it.

Give Jasper a metal-style song in Season 6, Crewniverse!

I like to think Jasper and Greg would be good friends. Think about it: you've just found out your former moral enemies were not only led by, but had close relationships with, the person you spent your whole life idolizing. Who do you talk to about it? Why not the person who knew her more intimately than anyone else?

At the end of the Turquoise and Steven segment in chapter 10, the two sit down to watch Crying Breakfast Friends' extra-length season finale, in which a number of characters get new outfits. Now what could that be referencing?

The narration of Jasper's thoughts makes reference to the exiled Hessonite, antagonist of Steven Universe: Save the Light and a criminally underrated character.

I'd like to preface this point with a content warning for abuse, as I'll be discussing that a bit here.

So, as I mentioned briefly in the 1-5 notes, I'm an abuse survivor; I broke up with my abuser, who I had been with for just about 3 months, in February of this year. An acquaintance of mine has since drafted a document exhaustively detailing all of the bad shit they did for which receipts could be found, and my abuser has reacted with avoidance, victim blaming, and a refusal to apologize. I wasn't yet aware of just how in denial of her own mistakes they were when I wrote chapter 10, so I tried to write Pearl and Jasper's conversation as how I wished the conversation my abuser had with themselves would go, in a perfect world.

To get reflective for a moment, writing that has taught me, in a way I hadn't seen before, how Steven Universe's real, heartfelt redemption arcs, as fantastically-written and just generally good as they are, don't always apply in real-world scenarios. My shitty ex is not Jasper and they never will be.

#imadethis #intel files #su #lapidot

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imjustthemechanic · 6 years

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The French Mistake

Part 1/? - A Visitor Part 2/? - The Kulturhistorisk Museum Heist Part 3/? - Cutscene Part 4/? - The Marvel Cinematic Universe Part 5/? - Breathless

Saving the world will have to wait a few hours - there are pick-ups to film.

The most obvious solution, of course, was to do exactly the opposite of whatever it was Loki had done to get them here. The obvious problem with that solution was that they had no idea how to do that.

“We’ll need the rune stone and the tesseract,” Steve observed. “The rune stone will be in the museum, probably, but if the Avengers are just a movie in this universe, then where’s the tesseract?”

“Maybe in storage with SHIELD,” Nat suggested. “Maybe in Asgard. Maybe at the bottom of the ocean, there’s no way to tell from here.”

None of those were comforting possibilities. “Once we have them, we’ll have to figure out how to program the rune stone,” Steve went on, remembering how Loki had worked with the gold pieces he’d inserted in it.

“Loki obviously knew how to do that, and Thor might, too,” Nat said. “I don’t think even Loki is foolish enough to do something like universe-hopping without a fallback plan, so we can probably assume he can get us back even if Thor can’t. We just have to find him.”

“And make him,” said Steve, who suspected they’d have a hard time making Loki do anything.

“But if they’ve ended up where their actors were, like we did,” Nat held up the notes she’d made, “then we have their names. That’s a good start.”

“Then let’s not waste any more time,” said Steve.

He closed the laptop and stood, but just then, Dodger began to bark. A moment later, somebody knocked on the trailer door. Steve glanced at Natasha, who shrugged, so he got up and went to answer it.

The caller was as tall, thin man with a mustache, who immediately leaned down to give the dog a head rub. “Hey, Dodger!” he said with a smile, then straightened up to talk to Steve. “Thought I’d let you know, it’s almost two. Ridley needs you two back in makeup.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Steve. “Tell him we’ll be right there.”

He shut the door again and went to the closet to grab something more weather-appropriate than his track suit – but when he happened to look out the bedroom window, he saw that the stranger had not left. He was standing at the door, waiting for them. The trailer had only one door, and the windows didn’t open far enough for Steve to climb out. He momentarily considered just knocking the guy out and fleeing, but as Natasha had said, these people really weren’t a threat. They were just trying to make a movie, and had no idea that their stars were no longer their stars…

… and, Steve realized, he still couldn’t tell them. In their own universe, Steve and Natasha would have been arrested if they’d told anyone their real names. In this one, they would probably be considered insane.

“You got any ideas?” he asked Nat.

“Bide our time and wait for an opportunity,” she replied. “When we get a chance to leave without having to make a big production out of it, we’ll leave.”

“So we just go on set? And do what?” asked Steve. “We don’t even know what movie we’re making.”

“It’s called Breathless,” Nat replied authoritatively. “Ridley Scott is directing. It’s loosely based on an incident on the Space Station Mir in 1997, when there was a fire and explosion. I read the script pages they gave me,” she added.

Of course she had. Nat never missed an opportunity to learn something. “You’re taking this very well,” Steve observed.

“Believe it or not, this isn’t my first alternate universe,” said Nat. “Last time, though, we had an open portal home whenever we needed it.”

The man with the mustache, who said his name was Henry, led them into another trailer parked just outside the building. This one was much more utilitarian, boxy and windowless, and inside was a row of mirrors and makeup tables, separated by cubicle partitions. Henry got Steve and Natasha settled at two of these, and the woman named Maddy returned with cups of coffee to pass out.

“Okay,” she said, handing one to Steve. “Since the Russian doesn’t meet ScarJo’s high standards, instead we’re gonna grab some extra close-ups. Chris, we’ll get you into a pre-fire EVA helmet on greenscreen two, for the first cargo bay sequence.” She gave him a couple of pages, and then moved on. “Scarlett, you’ll be in a post-fire B jumpsuit for Olga’s message to her brother. Tabitha!” she called out.

“Already on it!” a voice replied from just outside.

Henry got to work, wiping old makeup off Steve’s face and dabbing a new layer on. Meanwhile, a woman with dark hair in a pixie cut, who turned out to be the previously unseen Tabitha, brought in the costumes. Steve’s was a big cumbersome thing that he recognized as the upper half of a spacesuit. She hung it on a hook on the wall, and went on to deliver costumes to the rest of the cast.

Steve looked down at the pages he’d been given. These ones had bent corners and multiple corrections in blue pen, as if they’d been used before. His eye caught the highlighted words Rankin gazes in awe at the blue vista of Earth, and he felt his stomach turn inside-out all over again.

This was no good. Steve could do a lot of things, but acting wasn’t one of them. He couldn’t even tell little white lies, much less simulate gazing in awe at anything. If he couldn’t make I don’t know sound convincing, what the hell was he supposed to do with it’s like you could reach out and touch it?

Maddy came back to look over Steve’s shoulder while Henry worked on his face. “Any questions?” she asked.

The first one that sprang to mind was can I be excused?, but Steve suspected he already knew what the answer would be. “Where’s Dodger?” he asked. Who looked after the dog while the owner was filming?

“Relax,” Henry assured him. “Paulette will take him for his walk, on schedule.”

Through the partition, Steve could hear Natasha laughing at something one of her own assistants had said. “Oh, that sounds just like Mark!” she said delightedly.

Steve wondered who Mark was. Then he wondered if Natasha knew.

The makeup took an awfully long time. Steve had seen both Natasha and Peggy do their faces up inside of ten minutes and come out looking fabulous, but this took nearly forty-five, and as far as Steve could tell from his reflection he looked no different at the end of it than he had at the beginning. Next, Tabitha and Henry helped Steve into his half-a-spacesuit, which weighed far more than it looked like it did, and led him back into the studio building.

The long process had at least given him time to look at the lines he was expected to say, and it looked as if all that was happening in the scene was Matt Rankin looking at the earth and talking about how cool it was. Steve was starting to tell himself that he could do that. When he’d done the Captain America movies in the 40’s, he’d been playing himself – it hadn’t been very good, but when filming a scene he’d been able to look back at the real events it was based on, and try to imitate what he’d said or felt at the time. He’d never actually seen the earth from space, of course, but he could remember the awe of watching the Chi’Tauri vessels come through the wormhole or something like that. If he just got himself into the right headspace, it couldn’t be that hard…

Henry and Tabitha showed him into a room where there was a green wall, and positioned him in front of it. A camera rig rolled right up to his face, making him lean away involuntarily.

“Okay,” said a woman standing next to the camera. “Let’s start with the wordless ones. Awe at the blue vista, please.”

Steve blinked and looked around. “Where is it?” he asked.

“Where’s what?” said the woman.

“The blue vista,” he clarified. “What am I supposed to look at?”

“Same as last time,” she said, as if this were reassuring or even comprehensible. “Right there.”

She pointed at the ceiling. There was another green panel up there.

Steve felt his moment of confidence drain away. How was he supposed to express awe at the blue vista when all he was looking at was a green panel? “It’s not even blue!” he protested.

“You’re an actor,” the woman replied. “Use your imagination. “Lights!”

The ambient light in the room went out, and a huge cluster of blue-white bulbs came on overhead. In the heavy spacesuit costume, Steve immediately felt like he was overheating.

He tried, though. The best thing he could come up with to imagine was the opening sequence from the Planet Earth documentary series, which definitely featured a blue vista rolling by. He could sort of imagine actually being in space with that looming over him. Before he could really get into it, though, the camera moved even closer, and he couldn’t stop himself from looking directly into the lens.

“Cut!” said the woman. “Try it again.”

It was no good, though. The camera was right there. He couldn’t not look at it – if he tried, he became paranoid that it would run right over him. Then there was the inescapable knowledge that he was being watched. That was what Steve had always hated most about the War Bonds ads, or any television appearance, the constant presence of the staring audience. He’d had to take Peggy’s advice and pretend there was a one-way mirror between them. The whole thing just made him feel so silly.

Eventually the second-unit director got fed up and decided to try something else. One of the grips read out what was supposed to be dialogue from mission control, while Steve, in the role of Mission Specialist Matt Rankin, replied.

“How’s the view, Rankin?” the script-reader asked.

Steve took a deep breath. “Spectacular. It’s like I could reach out and touch it.”

“Can you see your house from up there?”

“I can see everybody’s house from up here,” said Steve.

“Cut,” sighed the second-unit director. “Try it again. A little passion, Chris? This isn’t Captain America’s Fitness Challenge.”

Steve wanted to retract his head into the spacesuit costume like a turtle into its shell. Why couldn’t he have landed in an alternate universe where people didn’t remember Captain America’s Fitness Challenge?

At last the second-unit director gave up in disgust and told everybody to take a break. Henry and Tabitha helped Steve out of the heavy spacesuit costume and gave him a bottle of water to re-hydrate after standing under the hot studio lights. As he stood there chugging it, wiggling uncomfortably in a shirt practically pasted to him by sweat, Ridley Scott entered the room.

“How’s it going?”

“We’re having an Off Day,” the second-unit director said, looking at Steve out of the sides of her eyes.

“I’m… just not feeling it,” said Steve. “I need to go look at some space pictures or something.”

“Apparently we used up all our good work in that stunt this morning,” Scott grumbled. “Scarlett’s suddenly having trouble deciding what a Russian accent sounds like.”

From out in the hall came Natasha’s voice. “Russia has the surface area of the moon,” she said. “If you want a ‘Russian accent’, you need to be more specific.”

Steve finished his water and wiped his forehead. “Could I get another one of these?” he asked hopefully.

There was a cooler in the makeup trailer with water and sodas in it. Steve dug a second bottle out, and downed it while Natasha lounged in one of the chairs examining her fingernails, seemingly having a great time playing the spoiled starlet.

“How’d you do?” she asked Steve with a smirk.

“I’m not sure I’m speaking to you,” said Steve. He mopped his forehead with the edge of his t-shirt. “I don’t think I need to, anyway, you were probably watching the whole thing.”

“Actually, no,” said Nat, “but I’m hoping we can see the dailies! Anyway.” She sat up and held out her phone. “I didn’t learn anything about the tesseract, but that’s not surprising. I did manage to learn, though, that Chris Hemsworth, who plays Thor, is currently on sabbatical with his family in Australia.”

The picture she’d found was of a smiling man in a jacket and tie, with short blond hair and beard stubble. He did look like Thor, although it was strange to see him with his hair cut. “I thought I was Chris,” said Steve.

“Apparently there’s a lot of Chris around here,” said Nat.

“Any sign of a chance to escape yet?” Steve asked. It couldn’t come fast enough.

“A little more bad acting from you ought to do the trick,” Natasha said. “Sooner or later they’ll just give up.”

“I’m glad I’m good for something,” said Steve.

There was a knock on the door, and without waiting for an answer, another studio employee leaned into the makeup trailer. This was a thin young woman with long, limp blonde hair under a pink knitted hat. “Excuse me, Scarlett?” she said to Nat. “Your husband’s here.”

#fanfic #steve rogers #natasha romanov

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ginnyweatherby · 7 years

Text

Never Too Old to be Young

Just a silly little story about how Lefou might spend a milestone birthday.

Happy birthday, Josh Gad! I hope your day is absolutely splendid, and here’s to many, many more. I’m glad you were born.

The morning started like any other day.

Stanley woke up with the sun, and he abandoned his snoring lover to allow him a few more precious moments of slumber.

He sneaked out of the bedroom into the kitchen to start the coffee pot. He rarely drank much more than half a cup, but Lefou could finish off the entire pot. After pressing the on button, he busied himself calling their respective bosses over the phone, informing them neither Stanley nor Lefou would be making it into work that day. If anyone asked, Lefou had contracted food poisoning, and Stanley’s car refused to start in the brisk February weather. It was a rare occasion that Stanley played hooky, but it wasn’t every day your beloved husband turned forty years old, was it?

Ending his calls, he made his way to the stove and began to make Lefou’s favorite fruit crepes. Strawberries were pricey this time of year, but Stanley didn’t mind splurging. His man deserved the best on his birthday.

He hummed to himself as he cooked, and was in a generally cheery mood. He was going to make sure that Lefou had the best day possible. Lefou often liked to be the center of attention, but for some reason on his birthday he liked to keep things more low-key.

Stanley supposed after having forty of them, the thrill may have begun to wear off, but as he fondly remembered his fourth 25th birthday – the one where all of their friends had gone to play laser tag together – he couldn’t imagine spending his birthday lounging around the house in his pajamas all day.

He could hear Lefou beginning to stir from the bedroom (he had never heard someone make so much noise waking up before he met Lefou), and quickly filled a tray with their breakfast, taking extra care as he balanced the coffee in their matching “I love you”, “I know” mugs.

He pushed the door to their bedroom open with his shoulder as he wandered in.

“Happy birt-”

“If you start singing this early in the morning, I want a divorce.” Lefou said as Stanley carefully placed the tray over his lap.

“Hmph,” Stanley pouted, leaning over to kiss his husband’s cheek. “Later then.”

Lefou groped around the nightstand in search of his glasses before plucking them on his nose. He wore them more often now, saving his contacts for truly special occasions.

“You know I didn’t want to make a big deal out of today, right?” Lefou said, stabbing his fork into a strawberry.

“I know,” Stanley shrugged, nestling in the bed next to him. “But we have to do something. This is a milestone birthday, my love.”

Lefou embraced aging with a certain grace that Stanley could only admire. In addition to his glasses, he now sported a full beard, his hair was beginning to gray around his ears, and he didn’t worry about the few extra pounds he’d acquired over the last couple of years.

Stanley couldn’t say the same thing about himself… the day he found his first gray hair had been traumatic, as he raced to the nearest store to stock up on hair dye.

“Well, what’ll it be, then?” Lefou cut off a piece of his crepe and stuck it in his mouth. “Hopefully nothing as crazy as Gaston’s 40th.”

Stanley chuckled at the memory. Gaston had turned the dreaded four-oh only a few months prior, and while Stanley admittedly didn’t remember much of the evening, he knew it involved Gaston going through the most stereotypical mid-life crisis he had ever witnessed and bought a motorcycle in a fit of angst; and Dick coming to their door early the next morning asking if he or Lefou had any idea where his pants might have disappeared to.

“No, nothing like that,” Stanley assured him. “I’m not sure Dick can afford to lose another pair of trousers.”

“Good,” Lefou said, sticking a strawberry between his teeth, offering Stanley the other half with a suggestive quirk of his eyebrow.

It was nearly lunchtime by the time Stanley and Lefou made it out of bed.

Just when Stanley was about to get ready, Lefou lured him back with the offer to binge a few episodes of Keeping Up with the Kardashians.

Lefou wasn’t a fan, and Stanley knew he was using his passion for trashy reality TV against him… but he never could say no to a few (too many) episodes of the Kardashians.

Which is why they were nearly late to their lunch date with their sisters.

“Happy birthday, Lefou!” Laurette, Paulette and Claudette chorused as they walked through the entrance to their favorite family diner.

“Thank you,” Lefou said, picking up his menu.

“The senior menu is on the last page,” Stanley said, peering over the top of his own with a cheeky smirk.

“My, my, forty years old,” Lefou’s sister, Jacqueline tutted from across their round table.

“Your time is coming,” Lefou said, bringing his glass of water to his lips. “… unless you’re Stan, of course.”

“I can’t wait until I get my twelfth consecutive 25th birthday invitation,” Laurette teased.

“I plan on taking my precious time getting old,” Jacqueline informed them.

“I think Lefou was born thirty,” Paulette said. “I can’t see you ever acting truly eighteen.”

Lefou snorted into his glass, and muttered something about asking Gaston about that.

A little over an hour later, just as Lefou suggested heading out, Claudette sneaked away to the “ladies’ room”.

Stanley knew her well enough to know that she never used a public restroom without the company of her sisters – and that she walked in the opposite direction of the restrooms.

Lefou was looking down at his phone, when a plate of something warm and chocolate was pushed in front of him.

“Oh, no…”

Without much warning at all, four of the wait staff appeared at their table and began to sing a birthday song that made Lefou’s face flush a lovely shade of fuchsia.

By the time they had finished, he looked ready to crawl underneath the table, his face hidden in his hands, only the tomato red color of his forehead visible. He politely thanked them – and the now applauding restaurant patrons as their serenaders made their way back to the kitchen.

“Oh, man,” Jacqueline hooted. “I am so glad I got that on video!”

“Usually you like singing in public places,” Stanley nudged Lefou with his shoulder as his husband’s face began to return to its normal color. “Remember that time Gaston was getting over that bad breakup and you improvised an entire song about him?”

“This was just… unexpected I guess,” Lefou shrugged, before digging his fork into the gooey dessert.

“Okay, I’m stuffed,” Lefou groaned as he settled into the passenger’s seat of the car.

“It was that cake,” Stanley said, despite the fact he was also on the full side.

“Where are you dragging me off to now?” Lefou asked, as Stanley drove out of the parking lot. He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.

“Why, does my old man need a nap?”

“Yes, but it’s not because I’m old.”

Stanley flicked on the radio and they rode the rest of the trip in silence, and he was almost certain Lefou really did drift off.

“Rise and shine, darling!” Stanley said cheerily, as he put the car into park.

Lefou opened his eyes and looked around. “… We’re going shopping?”

“No… well, we can, but not right now.” Stanley said.

“Then care to explain to me while we’re at a mall?”

“Look in the glove compartment,” Stanley said, with a mischievous smile.

Lefou frowned and opened the little door in front of him. Stanley knew he’d found his treasure when he let out a little gasp. “How did you get these?”

In Lefou’s hands were two tickets to a movie he had been itching to see ever since the first trailer dropped, but was sold out at all their local theaters.

“I have my connections,” Stanley said, mysteriously.

“You know what? I don’t even care.” Lefou leaned over to kiss Stanley before he threw open the car door and nearly bolted inside the building.

Stanley blinked as his eyes adjusted to the fluorescent lighting of the mall after spending hours in a darkened theater.

“That was so good!” Lefou gushed. While their tastes in TV shows differed, their taste in movies tended to be more in sync, so Stanley had to agree. Some of the special effects were on the cheesy side, but the story was impeccable.

It reminded him of when they had first begun dating, when they would sit near the back of the theater, sharing their bucket of overpriced popcorn and sneaking glances at each other during intense or emotional scenes.

“We still have a few hours to kill before the next phase of your birthday,” Stanley said. “Do you want to wander the stores a bit?”

“I’m really hoping this ‘next phase’ isn’t some sort of crazy party,” Lefou said.

“I can’t confirm nor deny,” Stanley said with a wink.

Lefou rolled his eyes as he took Stanley’s hand in his and dragged him into the nearest store.

After they’d walked off their heavy lunch and theater popcorn, they headed home.

“Go get changed, love,” Stanley said, as he dropped their bags of unnecessary mall purchases on the floor.

Lefou looked down to himself. A pair of dark jeans and one of his many, many Star Wars t-shirts. “Is what I’m wearing not suitable for this ‘next phase’?”

“It’s up to you,” Stanley shrugged, “but I’m going to put on a real shirt.”

“A real shirt?”

“One with buttons.”

“Ooh, sounds fancy,” Lefou said. “Should I be wearing a tie?”

Stanley shrugged. “It is a special occasion, after all.”

Lefou wandered back into their room to change, just as Stanley’s phone buzzed. A text alert from Gaston.

G: Did you blab?

S: Such faith you have in me

G: That wasn’t a no

S: He’s getting dressed now

S: He thinks it’s something fancy

S: I think he’s putting on a tie

G: Good

G: I bet it’s the pink one

Gaston’s intuitions proved to be correct, as Lefou walked back into the living area, still sporting his denim, but now wearing a collared shirt and his favorite pink bowtie. Stanley had never met anyone else with such an expansive collection of bowties, much less someone who managed to fit them into casual wear as often as Lefou.

“Does this look suitable?”

“You look wonderful, as always,” Stanley promised. “Now allow me to go find something to go with it.”

As he made his way back down the hall, he heard Lefou fall onto the couch with a muffled thud, and the TV flick on. Lefou had long since learned that Stanley wasn’t quick to get ready.

“Okay, babe, open your eyes,” Stanley instructed, as he shifted the car into park. About a mile ago, he’d informed Lefou he had to keep them shut, not wanting to spoil his surprise. Their true destination was actually only a few blocks away from their front door, so Stanley drove them up and down side-streets and back again in order to lengthen their trip and to disorient Lefou.

Stanley watched as Lefou blinked behind his glasses, his face falling into a frown.

“… Tom’s house?”

“Happy birthday, love!” Stanley said, with what must have been a ridiculous smile on his face.

“I don’t know what you’re planning,” Lefou said, suspiciously, as he unsnapped his seatbelt, “but I suppose it’s better than a club or something.”

“Have you ever gone clubbing?” Stanley asked, incredulously.

“You didn’t know me in University,” Lefou said, with a wink. With that, he made his way to their friend’s door.

Gaston opened it, a beer in hand, a wide grin on his face. “About time!”

“It isn’t my fault that Stan decided to take forty five minutes to drive three blocks,” Lefou said.

“I think you’ll find it was forty minutes even,” Stanley chimed in. “… see what I did there?”

Lefou rolled his eyes. “Is that why you sat a stop sign for three times longer than usual?”

Stanley didn’t have a chance to reply, as Tom appeared behind Gaston, handing each of them a drink. “Well, come on, I didn’t vacuum the carpet just to hold this party in my entryway.”

As they walked properly into the house, Stanley could practically see Lefou brace himself for whatever surprise was on the other side of their friend’s two-bedroom.

Instead of the noise and chaos of the parties of his youth, the only people inside were Tom, Dick, Gaston, Jacqueline, and the triplets. The house was modestly decorated – which consisted of a little “Happy 40th Birthday, Lefou!” sign, some balloons in the corners, and a cake with a few too many candles on it.

Lefou’s hesitant grimace faded away, and Stanley watched his face break into a wide smile as his eyes lit up.

Stanley walked up behind him and hugged him. “I knew you didn’t want a big party,” he explained.

“You’re a bad man,” Lefou shook his head. “I’ve been dreading some crazy party all day!”

“You don’t trust me very much,” Stanley slapped a noisy kiss on the side of Lefou’s scruffy face, before releasing him.

“I shouldn’t have doubted you,” Lefou admitted, glancing over to a table with a few small packages on it. “Are those for me?”

“Lefou, you’ve had forty birthdays, and you still don’t know what a present looks like?” Dick asked, pulling one of the boxes from the table and handing it to them. “Don’t worry, by the time you get to be my age, you should have it figured out.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Lefou said, nodding his head. “You’re turning fifty this year!”

Gaston snorted. “I think I’ll get you one of those automated scooters so you can still get around.”

Dick reached over to slap Gaston’s head, but he ducked out of the way just in time.

“Well, open it!” Jacqueline nodded towards the present in Lefou’s hand.

Lefou tore open the small package and frowned. “Rubber bands?”

“That’s from me,” Paulette explained. “There’s forty of them!”

Lefou laughed, as their friends each gave Lefou their presents in turn. Paper clips from Claudette, tissues from Laurette, safety pins from Jacqueline, a pack of crayons from Tom, some ear swabs from Dick, a baggie of cereal from Gaston. Each one of them with an exact count of forty.

Lefou turned his head to Stanley after he’d politely thanked their friends for their presents – even if they were gag gifts. “No present from you, babe? You’ve been making fun of me for being old all day.”

“Which I wish he wouldn’t,” Tom said, with a scowl. “Lord knows when Stan here turns forty, we’ll really take it out on him.”

“Lucky for me, I’m only turning twenty five this year,” Stanley said, smugly.

“Stanley!”

Stanley turned his attention back to Lefou. “I was going to give you forty kisses, but I think I’ll have to save that until we get home. I’m not sure these people could stomach something so sweet.”

“We do have to save room for cake,” Jacqueline quipped.

“So, until then,” Stanley reached into his trusty backpack and pulled out a little package. “You can have this.”

Lefou opened the pretty blue paper to reveal a little photo album.

“Forty pictures of our life together,” Stanley said, as he watched Lefou flip through some of the photos, a small smile coming over his face.

“That’s so sweet,” Stanley’s sisters chorused.

“It’s beautiful, Stanley, thank you.” Lefou said.

“Enough of this sap,” Gaston said, waving them off. “Who wants cake?”

The group moved to stand around the cake, admiring Claudette’s handiwork. She’d always been so talented at baking.

“It was a challenge to fit forty candles on such a small cake,” Claudette said, as Lefou seated himself in front of it. “But I was determined to fit them all.”

“You did wonderfully,” Stanley said, “but next year, you may just need to get those number candles. I’m not sure a man so old will be able to blow out so many at one time.”

Lefou narrowed his eyes at him, before leaning over to blow out all forty candles, without a hitch.

“What did’ja wish for?” Stanley teased, as Paulette began to cut the cake and hand out slices.

Lefou dug his fork into the soft cake, and stuck it in Stanley’s mouth. “I wished for forty more birthdays as good as this one.”

#i can't say this is the most fantastic thing i've ever written #but i hope it's cute enough to make up for the lack of good writing #disney #beauty and the beast #stafou fan fiction #lefou #stanley #stanfou #stafou #gaston #tom dick and stanley #bimbettes #random ramblings #weatherby writes

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rauliskafan · 7 years

Text

The Doctor and His Doll: Fractured Fairy Tale

Author’s Note: Happy Thursday, one and all!!! Following the big Halloween bash, Dr. Chilton brings his Doll home. And there, some secrets are revealed. Read on for more, and be sure to check out the previous parts of the story below!!!

The Doctor and His Doll

The Doctor and His Doll: Story Hour

The Doctor and His Doll: Date Night

The Doctor and His Doll: All Hallows’ Eve

Tagging @vintagemichelle91, @yourtropegirl, @mrschiltoncat

“Getting kind of late.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Would... care to join me for a nightcap, Doll?”

“I don’t know,” you said, quick to speak when his face fell. “I mean… Paulette probably has company, and our dorm is so small.”

Raising your eyebrows, you delighted in the sound of his laughter and didn’t utter another word while he played with beads dangling about your neck.

“Might I suggest my place?” he asked. “If you think that Paulette can get by without our assistance.”

“She’ll be fine,” you said. “The night is ours.”

You let him lead you to the town car and kicked off your heels once the vehicle moved.

“Are you alright?” he asked, placing a hand on your arm, his fingers falling down your skin so he could squeeze your palm.

“Just dandy, Doc,” you said. “Just that I haven’t danced that much since… well ever I guess.”

“Never?” he asked, letting one long finger curl around your wrist. His touch causing your flesh to tingle, and you lowered your eyelids, feeling your cheeks flush.

“Not with someone as fancy as you, Frederick,” you whispered, smiling when his lips grazed your cheek.

“I do not believe that,” he replied. “Not when you dance so divinely.”

“I… well…”

There was a story. From a soiree so long ago. A night much like this that you had looked forward to with baited breath… only for the evening to morph from a dream into something definitively different.

“Doll?”

His voice lifted an octave when you were silent, and you simply shrugged your shoulders. Willing the bad memories away, you slid closer to his side, the space that felt safest as the tires rolled across the pavement.

“Nothing,” you said. “No night compares to this.” The faint blush coating his cheeks seemed scarlet resting over the white suit, and his brow came to rest against yours.

“Agreed,” he started. “I did not even want to go to this party.”

“I know,” you said, leaning closer to continue the contact. “Any regrets?”

“Not a one.”

His lips drifted to your mouth in a deep kiss, and you stayed in his arms until the town car came to a halt.

“Here we are,” Frederick said. You heard the tapping of his cane and his voice thanking the driver before he opened your door, and you stepped back into your shoes before hitting the sidewalk.

“Oh!” you gasped.

“Is there a problem?” he asked.

“No!” you insisted. “Guess I just sort of pictured you like living on the outskirts of… everything.”

Saying nothing, Frederick and his cane guided you up a small set of steps. He reached in his pocket for a silver key that looked as if it was forged in the moments while you attended the masquerade ball.

“I used to live quite far away from… everything.”

Together you stepped into a darkened foyer. Frederick closed the door behind him, his heavy sigh hitting the air.

“After everything that… now I abhor a certain kind of solitude. Not that the neighbors invite me over for dinner or stop by to borrow sugar.”

“Should they?” you asked. “Do you have some hidden baking talents?”

“Maybe I will surprise you one of these days,” he teased. Reaching past you for an unseen switch, the house began to glow. Out of the corner your eye, you spied a slanted staircase. Below that were boxes pouring down a dark hallway. No question that they must lead to other rooms, still unpacked, and you bit back a tear. If he truly wanted to live like this, then why was he not making the house into a home, a place where he could feel as if he belonged? You swallowed the question as Frederick discarded his cane and turned you to his chest.

“A confession?” he asked.

“Please,” you answered. “You don’t have to feel ill at ease or anything.”

“No,” he said “I…” His voice stalled, his hand surrounding yours once again. Leaving his gaze, you looked to the two sets of fingers laced together, and a shiver ran up your arm before it seemed to shift to the left… to settle so close to your heart

“I took this place because it is close to you,” he admitted. “I do not know every time I will see you. Whether or not you will always want to see me.”

“Frederick, I---”

“But when those prized moments are near,” he continued, “I want to make my way to your side quickly... faster if such a thing is possible.”

You felt a fresh quiver when he extended his free hand to wipe a fresh tear from your cheek. His hand drifted down your face so he could trace the line of your lips… so he could see… so he could feel your smile.

“Do you write this way, too?” you asked. “I might need to pick up a copy of your book after all.”

“No,” he said softly. “Please. I prefer you untouched by… by that part of my life.”

Again, the questions surrounding the scars and the sadness in his stare swirled about your brain. But as desperate as you were to understand his secrets, you held your tongue and glanced over his shoulder.

“So… that nightcap?” you asked.

“Yes,” he started. “Unless…”

You watched as his one eye, the one that always seemed to sparkle most, shifted towards the staircase. He took a small step forward before stopping in his tracks.

“My apologies,” he said, hanging his head. You were quick to cradle his face in one palm, to return his gaze to yours.

“For what?” you asked.

“I… that was forward of me,” he said. “I did not mean to presume after one party… it was horribly disrespectful on my part.”

“No,” you assured him, shaking your head. “Come on! Give me the grand tour.”

“It might disappoint you,” he said.

“Not going to happen.”

His chest expanded slightly as he sucked in a deep breath, and he held your hand tighter. Together, you began the assent. He muttered another set of apologies when the fourth step from the bottom creaked.

“I really must have someone look at that,” he said.

“It’s all good,” you assured him. “Kind of gives the place that lived in feel. Don’t you like that?”

“Lived in makes me feel like a guest. In this home... in my own life…”

Saying nothing else, you helped him continue the climb. Another creak, and you waited until you were solidly standing on the second floor to press your palms to his chest.

“You’re not a stranger to me, Frederick Chilton,” you said. “You’re sweet. And seriously... I never danced that way before.”

Failing to wait for his reply, you removed the cap and let the beads spill to the ground.

“Shit,” you muttered.

“Is there a problem?” he worriedly asked.

“I… that was supposed to be so much smoother,” you admitted. “I wanted my hair to… but the pins.”

Frederick chuckled and removed one bobby pin, sending a single lock of hair spilling across your cheek.

“You know, the costume was… is stunning,” he said. “But you did not have to hide your hair. I… was rather looking forward to seeing it loose…”

“That can be arranged.”

Pulling at the other pins, your hair came cascading down. Frederick trembled slightly as he reached for you again, his fingers twirling the strands before he tensed and looked to a closed door.

“The grand tour… there really is the only room... halfway decorated,” he said.

“Oh?” you asked. “Why is that?”

Your touched his collar, wanting to bring his lips back to yours. Suddenly, he was an immovable object, but you still joined him in an icy space.

“I… so I can sleep,” he said. “I try to do that much.”

His tone told you that the mission was failing, and you opened the door.

“Come on, Doc,” you said. “Bet you want to kick your shoes off, too.”

“Well…”

“Follow me.”

His breath stayed sharp as you entered. Once inside, you saw a room sparsely furnished save for three pieces of furniture. A king-size bed fitted with pristine white sheets, an end table… and a large television mounted on the wall to rival the same surface. Grinning, you bounced on the edge of the bed.

“Comfy,” you said. “I get why you’re lonely though.”

“You do?” he asked.

“Doc, it’s such a big bed! You can’t like sleeping here all alone.”

You almost winked when he turned away from you, and you saw the tension suddenly writ large across his back.

“Hey, Doc, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by---”

“My pins won’t lead to such a pretty picture,” he said.

“What?” you asked.

“Come now, Doll,” he said. “It is not as if you haven’t kissed me. You must have tasted… it.”

“I… sure,” you admitted. Rising again to touch his face, you felt him trying to pull away. But his want to run and whatever lurked beneath his skin was no match for your hand.

“Is it uncomfortable?” you carefully asked.

“Is it---?”

“Don’t tell me how or why,” you quickly said to reassure him. “Forget the past. I’m asking about right now.”

He said nothing else, his eyes trained on yours, his flickering stare showing his mind racing in a million directions as he searched for a way to answer… or to deflect the question…

“Yes,” he eventually said. “It… it is bearable in the morning. But as the hours tick by…”

Nodding your head, you let your hand fall. Relieved when he did not race away, you bestowed a quick kiss on his cheek and helped his hand to his chin.

“It’s okay, Doc,” you whispered. “The party’s over. You can drop the mask.”

For a second, he still hesitated. Then, with a deep breath, he brought his hand to his lips. You watched as he pulled a cage from his mouth, and his left cheek sagged. Without giving you a chance to say anything, his hand kept moving, and he removed a lens from the eye that so often had given you pause. Unveiled, he stood before you and but still started to look away.

“Don’t,” you said. “Wait.”

Reaching for him, you smoothed the single patch of what you’d always known was makeup from his cheek leaving him scarred, exposed…

“Doc, thank you.”

“For… for what?” he sputtered.

“For trusting me with this,” you said.

“After seeing so many monsters tonight, what is one more?”

“Stop that,” you said while winding your arms around his neck. “You silly, sweet man. Don’t you know that you’re Beauty and not the Beast?”

His freed lip began to shudder, and he offered no resistance as you brought him to the bed. Sitting softly, you eased him to your side. Your hands started to undo the buttons on his shirt when---

“There is something else,” he said. “It is not as ghastly. The story behind it is. But…”

“But we’re not telling each other those stories tonight, Doc,” you reminded him. “We’re here. It’s not yesterday. Hell, it’s almost tomorrow.”

He let you unbutton his shirt, and you saw an angry red line running down his tummy. Looking like a bi-product of surgery, realizing that it had to be something far more sinister, you traced the mark and lovingly kissed the spot, moving upwards until your mouth was close to his heart. Pecking the rapid beat until it calmed ever so slightly, you met his eyes and saw his lids shut. Frederick pulled you into his embrace and together you slipped to the pillows.

“Thank you,” he murmured into your hair. “You are the first… I did not think I would ever be able to show myself to…”

Suddenly he was sobbing, and you gathered him closer. Trying to keep your voice light, you peppered his damp face with kisses. Stroking his hair and his rubbing his back, you shushed him until he quieted and stared at the sight of him finally fast asleep.

“Oh, Doc,” you whispered. “How long as it been since you had a proper night’s sleep? Since you felt like you were home?”

The warm breath passing through his lips made you smile. You left him for one moment to remove his shoes, and after kicking off your heels again, you settled into his side.

How long since you felt this way and believed in a good dream?

Waking at first light, it took you a moment to remember where you were, who you were with…

…seeing Frederick, you recalled the party, the way that your dreams seemed sweeter as your body rose and fell with his chest. Seeing him this way made you want more.

But now that it was tomorrow, you only needed today.

Slowly, his eyelids fluttered.

“Morning,” your murmured, stroking his cheek.

“Good morning,” he said after blinking fast and seemingly assured of the fact that you were real and not destined to disappear if he made any kind of sudden move.

“Sleep well?” you asked, cuddling back into him and sighing at the feel of his arm falling around your waist.

“Better than I have in years,” he admitted.

“Perfect!” you said. Starting to kiss his lips, you stopped when he slid one long finger under your chin.

“That word should only apply to you.”

“Doc,” you teased, playfully punching his shoulder. “Better be careful or I’ll start asking every mirror if I’m the fairest of them all.”

“You have no need to ask,” he said, his fingers threading through your hair. “If you will do me the honor, I will be your mirror. And when you ask the question, my answer will always be yes.”

You felt your smile grow broader, and you kissed him again, liking the feel of his face so soft, free of its trappings. No need to hide it from the rest of the world; but a part of you liked that this was just for you.

“It’s a deal, Doc. And such a lovely looking glass.”

Your head slid down to his chest, and you listened to the contented rhythm of his heartbeat until he spoke again.

“I… I am sorry if you… if you wanted something else last night.”

Propped up on one elbow, you gazed down at him and shook your head.

“I didn’t want to leave you,” you said. “That hasn’t changed.”

He looked like a parched beach refreshed by a rolling wave, and he turned to his side to hold you again, to kiss your temple before parting his lips.

“There is nowhere you need to be?” he asked.

“Nowhere else,” you told him. “What shall we do with this big, bright beautiful day?”

Frederick started to smile when he suddenly bolted upright and began buttoning his shirt.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“I... I have nothing for our breakfast,” he said. “I want to give you something---”

“Calm down, Doc,” you said. “I’m not hungry.”

“But the fact of the matter is I have absolutely nothing.”

“Then let’s order in,” you told him, sitting closer and taking his face in your hands. “I can do Italian or Chinese or anything that’s close.”

“At 7 o’clock in the morning?” he asked with one look at the clock on the bedside table.

“In a little while,” you whispered. “Come back to bed now, Frederick.”

It took him a few moments to acquiesce and lie in your arms. Kissing the scar surrounding his middle once and then turning your attention to his face, you savored the sight of his varied eyes, each one a glimpse into distinct parts of his soul, and you sighed into his neck.

“Are you always up this early?” Frederick asked.

“Oh yeah,” you said. “Even when I don’t have class. Paulette always whines when I…”

You said nothing else, but Frederick sank deeper into the bed and traced your profile while wearing a tender smirk.

“What do you do?” he asked.

“Nothing bad,” you said kissing his nose. “Just… you wouldn’t be interested.”

“Oh really?” he challenged “Now my curiosity is piqued. Are you going to let me in on the secret?”

After he had discarded his mask and shown you his true face in all its splendor, you felt foolish hiding this one thing. Glancing at his clock, you grabbed his remote control.

“You got Hulu on this thing?” you asked.

“Naturally,” Frederick replied. With a few clicks you found the main screen and raised one hand to cover his eyes.

“What are you hiding from me, Doll?”

“You’ll see… you’ll hear in a second.”

And you pressed one final button as the voice of Cynthia Fee filled the room.

“The Golden Girls,” he stated plainly.

“My morning cup of coffee,” you told him. “Hope you don’t mind.”

He said nothing else as the episode began, as a palm tree appeared after the opening credits.

“This is the one where the con artist pretends to have known Rose’s husband in the war,” he said.

Hitting pause, you dropped the remote and peered into his marvelously mismatched eyes.

“You know that?” you asked. “How---?”

“I used to watch with my Nana… my grandmother,” he said, correcting himself.

“Frederick, I had a Nana, too. She always used to say that only the best little boys and girls had Nanas.”

Smiling, he pressed play and kissed your temple as you settled in to watch.

“I am partial to Sophia,” he admitted. “To be that bold.”

“I know,” you admitted as the little old lady informed her daughter that she would go shopping on her own so she could pee when she pleased.

“A dress not the Alamo,” you said, echoing Dorothy’s line. “I’d like to be that witty.”

“You are,” he said. “And like Dorothy you deserve the storybook finale.”

You kissed him softly as one episode bled into another. Laughing at old jokes, you saw his eyes grow wide when you confessed that you would totally dress like Dorothy if you were taller.

“I believe that you could pull it off,” he said. “If you make me this happy, your powers are myriad.”

Breakfast or lunch would wait. The rest of the world was on hold. And when he cleared his throat you looked away from one set of closing to credits to see him struggling to speak.

“Frederick?” you asked. “Are you alright?”

“Perfect, Doll,” he promised you. “I… can I just say…”

He kissed you quickly and caressed your face.

“Thank you for being my friend.”

Maybe it would lead to more. You wanted more. But in this moment, a man comfortable in his own skin, laughing at four lovely ladies and holding you in his arms was its own kind of happily ever after.

#raúl esparza #frederick chilton #chilton x reader #hannibal #hannibal fanfiction #the doctor and his doll

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bluenerdmaker · 5 years

Text

Commodore 64 (C64) C2N Datasette Belt Replacement

The gadget you care here again let's see a couple more of this article I waffle certainly one more are these honest on spectrum plus so belt as you could see I've got the dates a cord off see to dance a bit slip and this is sort of an accidental article in a sense really in that, I don't think is anything wrong with this I mean the belts a bit aloof so now you can see that there's a bit of play in it you know old Baltus probably original belts been on this since day one I've got ghosts and goblins I don't have a play on just to test it doesn't trust to train it yet and which I showed in one of my recent pickled article and by order for the plus two and he belt because of one or two of the tape drive I've gone there and they struggle halfway through you know the table gets off fifty percent the way through it sounds ok and then it sort of starts to slow down you can hear it audibly slowing so I did order a belt for plus two now the seller and inadvertently semi this belt which I measured up against the post so when I proposed to belt a future I sort of put it like that mamas mover so you can see it if I just put this belt there plus two belts if it stretched out the same way it comes to about when the finger is there so it's about water on them so it's three percent or three percent smaller so that is not posted bail and contact to the seller, you won't win checked let's have some photos to show him in a minute that's a Commodore 64 ballad on a half done it laughs and you see 64 Bell sides off it sends it in the back and is Lila no no you can keep it I was like wow someone's custard stump is like no no it's not worth the effort just keep it what's a couple of quid so I thought well you know used to lose our soul and I can use this offensively a good idea to replace this balm or c64 Cassell area so what I'm gonna do I've got fit in this now and if it works I'll send a guy a couple of quid just to cover it really because he is going to put me a plus two bow in the post is play already done nicely today and now immediately it this looks pretty straightforward because you could just you could pull the belt off at this the point here probably less our Civic and here you go and then you could pull it around that way pull it off there then you caught here now there is much really sure I'm going to do this I've got the feeling your popsicle probably got to take these two certainly, that's true there probably that's true there and then this should just lift off but it's hold with our spring and obviously this part the mechanism here so you've got to be a bit careful how we do this so I've got just I'll move the screws for that one first certainly and then that one and we'll just see where we go right so I've got the screws out there just see what that seed gets lies about for you and when you get this that's this one screw out here cuz that's all of them a certain the small and at the end the one out of here then this just lifts up really careful - hold on by that spring at that point, you'll freak the belts up so let's just compare these just to see if they are similar size yeah they're identical it makes them up there what's your switch let's just have a look I think this one's the new one so when yeah should be pretty straightforward to get back on and.

The main thing is you've got to get you to go through that little guide thing before you reattach the bracket so let's just do that and then put the bracket back in place and hopefully they serve going okay right so before you put the screw back in just make sure you get a little the washer on there and you can see it's like indented you know it's narrower there's a narrower piece if you like on the side that makes with the fitting of the case and it goes into the little grooves you know she's the same size that all has to slide up and down I would suggest you don't all the time not either otherwise, you might of course problem with this mechanism moving because it is designed to move okay I didn't film that because that was a little bit fiddly Woodson yeah it's just a case of life-size just getting it lined up to the little holding inside and you know tiny I'll but don't do it too tight because and I suspect that this has to move I might be wrong it just looks like that way it looks like it moves with the mechanism or something so in terms of getting it under there without taking this off the easiest way to do that just like better view their feet it's probably to feed this and that's lines a little bit that we always you can see probably slide this under there like that, I think perhaps you someone just to pull it away and they're trying to touch it that way so it might take a bit a trial and error here just to get it at some point where it's actually a baton sir yeah like they say you can see now for Paulette it's like a spike try and keep the tension and just pull it over the motor fed and then before doing anything else just keep the tension and just use that to keep the tension I said that I was just trying to rotate it a little bit can always rotate obeying Minhaj resistor yeah there we go that's okay it's worth just pulling around like I just pay attention to the way that they look the rubber is a start just to make sure it's all same way it's not like twisting as it goes a particular you know on one side that's fine goodbye so you can see this is actually, work that also sounds like the tractor I think the loading process started to work with differencing founders and goblins plus the Commodore cake and they killed the Nova loader serve give our sales to see the Athens officer and I take it back to base to work coming up losers so there we go that's work in there I'll just quickly show you what the noise was well I don't really know exactly what it was but I can show you what's causing it yet.

I think what's causing up noise that screws there you could unscrew it and then pull this mech it is just a little bit but that way so you're pulling away from that spring yeah and then as you're holding it than tying the stroke and then the noise stops the noise rustic Commons can be savory wellbore and sang at the camera why that sensor points of that spindle circle just point something and there so yeah the sense of point of that spend on these capacitors but the tip that you tip the screwdriver there since it's the sensor point the actual spindle inside it was something there was making that noise I don't know what it was that's exactly where it's coming from though like say just adjusting that bracket a little bit then you know pulling it forward so attention yeah so you get some tension on my spring then one goes away so that was a little while so I'll give it a try now at the game unload their you guys who found the game so Commodore Kate should get the Nova loader screen pops up so I'll just fast forward towards is finished on the final stages here now screens displays just gone off you know typically that's because it wants to free up but over memory for the remaining you know the UK code and there we go turn this up a bit Marcel just reassemble this now it's just the four screws put with the back on one of them and show you this Refurbished tape drive I just did it the other way around is ghosts and goblins you have so the original tape about the other day and it's just that when I tend to get these things first thing I'd do I suppose this is good advice for the front of these bits of these tapes and you know if you find the research let's get the power back it's you know fast forward it rewinds it completely to the end before you actually start to use it and it just frees the table because of a lot of these have been stored for you know 15 20 years or more and you can get problems like that if you don't you know soft tying it you know it retention it fetters goodbye fast-forward it right to the end of the rewind button to the side so that was well as on the other side but any well just to look back on down hold on well thanks for reading this article.

#xfurbish #tapedrive

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sweetrollcee-blog · 7 years

Text

A Progressive SU Fanfic, PT. 10: Tactical Significance

David ran out into the rain after Peridot, slipping off the second to last step and receiving a face full of sand for his haste. He pushed himself up, wiped his eyes and continued forward. "Peridot!", he shouted when he saw the triangular Gem walking away. He closed the gap reletively fast, making sure of his footing this time. "Look, I'm sorry! I know I said 'don't be weird', but be weird if you want to. I just, it's just, y'know... I know you like me.", she finally turned to meet his gaze as he continued, "But like... I like you too I think, and I'm scared of that. I don't want to fall in love with you only for you to find out that you actually hate me. I don't... Know if Lapis would hate me. I don't know how to do this right, but if you wanna, I dunno, try and like me, then I can try and like you back.", David gently placed his hand over Peridot's, bringing his other hand to her cheek. "Just like Paulette and Percy...", Peridot whispered, "Heh, sure. Whoever they are.", David said, not understanding her reference. As they leaned toward each other, "You guys, it's raining! You'll catch a cold!", chimed a concerned Steven from about 10 feet away and closing. Embarrassed, they both turned away from each other and scrambled to their feet. "What were you guys doing out here?", Steven asked. "Oh, just talking more about the plan, what Peri and I are gonna work at tomorrow", David answered, looking down at Peridot with a smile as she blushed hardcore. "Little Stevie's right though, let's get out of this rain before we come down with something." As they were walking, Peridot reached up for David's hand. She knew Lapis would be mad, but she also felt Lapis had little grounds to be. As they were a few feet from the step, David lightly ungrasped Peridot's hand so as to keep this new crush discreet, and she withdrew her hand with mutual discretion. As they entered the house, Pearl immediately screeched, "What were you 2 doing out in the rain!?", "I know what they were doing", Garnet said with a smug grin. "We were discussing tomorrow's plans more in depth, like, our role and how we can help. Like a tactical assessment.", David said. "Good, because that's what we were discussing too.", Pearl commented in a cutting tone, "And Peridot, we're having you pilot the dropship. David, you can stay here and do... Whatever you want really I don't care.", Pearl remarked indifferently. "WHAT!? Why am I the pilot all of a sudden!?", Peridot angrily inquired. "You're the most capable pilot here, you've operated a Diamond Authority flagship and no one else here has, exception being Pearl for a short time", Garnet reasoned, "Besides, this is a lot bigger than a baby step, and you just complained that you wanted to do more for the team." "You're right... I am a pretty capable pilot.", Peridot admitted, unable to evade the compliment. "I'll be going, as well as Pearl, Steven, our Amesthyst and a few others, and Peridot piloting. We should travel light and hit fast; we don't want to get stuck on Homeworld", Garnet detailed the manifest. Steven then brought it to everyone's attention, "Guys, there are 4 Off Colors, but Fluorite is a really big fusion of 6 Gems already, and that's not counting Lars yet. We need to make sure there's enough room for everyone! How many Gems can one of these dropships usually fit at one time?". Peridot answered, "The Amethysts were informing me they were equipped with not one, but 6 explosive payloads. With they're lack of soldiers to dedicate, Holly Blue assigned them additional ordinance. Mostly to have 8 ships deployed for the log book paperwork in the event Yellow Pearl were to look through them, but also in the event that one charge may not be enough. The dropships are a newer model to accomodate better for Quartzes, they seat 11 plus a pilot. So 5 Ge.. Individuals going, and 10 individuals returning: it looks like we won't have room for these spare Amethyst soldiers, if we even have room for this Fluorite fusion. Can she not at least divide for the sake of this exfiltration?". "I don't know, I suppose we could ask... But they seem like they've been fused a long time, it would feel impolite.", Steven said with remorse. "Well then I'll ask for you! Just as long as we can take off fine, and quickly!", Peridot snapped off, "If we're bothering to save them, maybe they could have the courtesy of dividing just long enough for them to get to Earth.", she ranted. Steven sighed, walked to his bed and plopped down. "Why is this still so hard, even when I have everything I need?", Steven asked seemingly the rest of the Universe (look I'm sorry for that one, really...) Greg walked over to Steven's bed, "Come on, Schtew-ball, let's go get a couple Donuts", he suggests gently. "Oh Murphy, Peridot! We forgot the Donuts! We still even have the key, Sadie trusted us with this! We gotta go!", said David with urgency and haste. Peridot, Greg, and Steven all followed suit and raced him out of the door and to the Big Donut, with David still taking the lead and winning. As they left, Pearl and Garnet stood out on the porch, watching they're beloved family frolick around the bend for donuts. "So what if we don't find this crashed Palanquin distress beacon? Or what if one of the Diamonds has already found it and they're planning an ambush?", Pearl inquired with reasonable concern and anxiety, "We should put a force through the portal first, get the Off Colors back through, and then proceed to the crashed Palanquin for extrapolation with Lars.", she presented as a hypothesis. "That would confront neither an ambush scenario, nor not being able to find the beacon. It would also put Gems that just started trusting us into harm's way. It's just not a good idea.", Garnet countered in detail. Pearl sighed, "I think you're putting too much trust into David's plan... Into David.". Garnet turned to stare at Pearl, "Seriously, Pearl, why? Why the suspicion? What has he done to you? What are you afraid of? This needs to stop...". "I just... I can tell he's related, he's just like Greg. I just didn't want another stranger to come along and take another one of our friends away from us forever, and then everyone just accepts it. It can't work like that, I can't be OK with it, Garnet! I CAN'T HANDLE THE LOSS OF ANOTHER FRIEND!", Pearl sobbed as she crumpled to the wooden patio floor, so deeply missing Rose in spite of all the love Steven had for her. Garnet stood over her, took her hand and pulled her gently to her feet. "Pearl, it's a shame that you still think of Rose's choice as a 'loss'. She made Steven, that's what she wanted. And if Earth is going to become a planet for refugee Gems, then Humans and Gems falling in love with one another will just have to be something you learn to live with. You said you can't handle anymore loss, but loss is part of joining a war, a part of starting one. And owing to David and Peridot's shrewd consolidation, our cause is stronger now than it has been in THOUSANDS of years! He's part of the team Pearl, please...", Garnet wiped away Pearl's tears, "You love Greg now, don't you? You of all Gems should know it's hard to love someone at first. Let him come around, and in the mean time, take it easy." David, Steven, Greg and Peridot were all scrambling to get Donuts and get to where they need to be. David, once again finding himself pouring Sadie's coffee said, "Peridot, get the Raspberry jelly one for Sadie, please! And also the Toasted Coconut Creme one for me, that looked really good!", while Greg scooped the floor donuts into the trash, Steven got his fill of donuts, and Peridot picked the specified ones out. After leaving and locking the Big Donut, Steven spoke up, "Garnet said I should get sleep, but I really wanted to let Sadie know that Lars is ok...", "And I agreed with Garnet, you should get some sleep, but I can convey the message for you buddy! You got ya Donut on, now get you some rest lad!", David said to Steven playfully. "I'll go with ya, Schtew-ball!", said Greg. As they ran back toward the house, they waved back to David, "I love you Davy!", "Yeah, love ya Dave guy!" Greg and Steven said as they ran "I'll catch up with you guys in a little bit!", He shouted and waved back. The rain had calmed to a drizzle as David and Peridot strolled back to the barn. Peridot looked down at the ground for a while, finally asking, "So, did you really mean it earlier? About you trying to like me?", she asked with ernest anxiety. "Well, the thing is that I already like you", David said, equally anxious. "Really!?", Peridot asked incredulous. "I never thought it all happened like this, this fast, all these feelings... This 'love' ordeal, happy and scared at the same time. It's like a...", "Rollercoaster!", David cut her off, "That's what it feels like! The fun, the anxiety, the feeling like there's nothing under you and that you're falling! That's how I feel now!", he exclaimed in a joyous wonderment. "So this is what a Rollercoaster feels like?", Peridot asked with a cute, genuine inquiry. "No", said David, "This is what liking someone feels like...", as he finished his statement he freed a hand to hold Peridot's while they walk the rest of the way to the barn. As they walked in holding hands, Both Lapis and Sadie were less than impressed. "Wow, it only took you... 3 and a half hours to get donuts and coffee. And you two got awfully friendly on the way, huh?", criticized Lapis, gesturing to the held hands of the 2. "So what happened that took you two so long?", she further inquired, with a clearly waning patience.

#steven universe #peridot su #lapis lazuli su #pearl su #garnet su #david demayo universe #greg universe #off colors su #i told you i ship trash

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rauliskafan · 7 years

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The Doctor and His Doll: All Hallows’ Eve

Author’s Note: Happy Halloween one and all!!! The time has come for the Doctor and his Doll to celebrate this special day in style. But will things go according to anyone’s plan??? Read on for more!!! Check out the previous parts below, and enjoy!!! :)

The Doctor and His Doll

The Doctor and His Doll: Story Hour

The Doctor and His Doll: Date Night

Tagging @vintagemichelle91, @yourtropegirl, @mrschiltoncat

Well… I suppose I am as ready as I will ever be.

Yay! How about a selfie, Doc?

Please.

Come on!

Perhaps I prefer to keep you in suspense.

No fun!

I mean to make tonight alter that assessment.

Swiftly sending Frederick a smiley face, you examined your reflection in the mirror. The beaded dress fit just right, accessorized with a long string of pearls. After debating between a feathered headband or a cloche hat, you ultimately opted for a sparkling skullcap dripping with strands of silver that looked better than your hair ever could. And there was no way that you were going to spend the night under a wig. Strapping on your heels, you couldn’t resist the urge to snap your own set of self-portraits before bouncing back to the bed. There you scrolled through the series of photos. Selecting your favorite, you sent it to Frederick, tapped your toes against the floor…

…and waited.

“What’s the hold up? Hope the doctor didn’t come down with something.”

Paulette emerged from the hallway dressed as a baby, complete with bonnet and bib.

“He’s on his way,” you said. “What do you think?”

Rising to your feet, you twirled in the dress and smiled when Paulette’s approving whistle filled the room.

“Nice,” she said. “Guess things are getting serious with the old man.”

“He’s not that old,” you quickly said.

“Hey, I’m not knocking it,” Paulette said. “Nothing wrong with a sugar daddy.”

“And he’s not that either,” you said.

“Come on, girl,” Paulette said, pulling on an oversized plastic bottle and washing you in a wave of cupcake vodka when she spoke again. At least the bib was bound to come in handy at some point during the night.

“Three dates,” she continued. “He always picks up the tab. And now he’s taking you to this high society shindig.”

“That was the plan from the start,” you reminded her. “But it’s not like… I mean he doesn’t expect anything.”

“Nothing?” Paulette asked, lifting one eyebrow and taking another drink.

“Nothing but… I mean it’s just that he’s lonely,” you said. “He likes to talk. Sometimes I think that no has ever listened to him in his entire life.”

Which was doubly tragic considering that the stories of his past often centered around running a hospital, writing a book that you could not see yourself reading but definitely had an audience. All that plus his wealth, his sense of his style, the way he listened when you spoke… it was triply, quadruply sad that he didn’t have a coterie of allies.

Also sad that you seemed to be inventing words as you readjusted your mascara and heard Paulette sucking in her bottle.

“And you really should be nicer after the way he helped you out,” you said.

“Hey, I never said I didn’t like the guy,” Paulette insisted. “He obviously likes you a lot. So what happens after the big party?”

To that you had no answer. Not that the possibilities hadn’t raced through your mind like a video you kept replaying until the effort to buffer the image was a battle better lost. But there was something to be said for a screenshot of his kisses tinged with the taste of metal, his hands roaming down your arms and up your skirt…

“Why are you laughing?” Paulette asked.

“Because I think he would be so clumsy… but sweet…”

Turning away from the mirror, you saw Paulette smirking, and you were about to tell her to mind her own business or at least change the subject to how many bottles she planned on chugging when your phone dinged.

“Is that him?” Paulette asked. Saying nothing, you swiped the message to life.

I am no angel. We will leave that to you. Where do I meet my lovely lady?

Weak in the knees at his words, you started to ask him where his car was when you shifted gears as you keyed in your response.

You know where I am, Doc. Come to my door?

It was a risk, and the time it took for him to respond made you fear that you’d stepped too close to the sun despite the light of the moon…

I am here, Doll. Waiting for you.

Stuffing your phone in your clutch and not caring to respond, you brushed past Paulette, clicking down the steps in your heels. The sunken lounge serving as a lobby already brimmed with Disney characters gone berserk. You ignored them all, the beads dangling from the back of your head touching the base of your neck as you opened the doors with both hands…

“Frederick.”

And there he was. All in ivory. Who said he wasn’t an angel? With his cane in hand and his hat slanted to the side, his smile brightened as you drew nearer.

“Even better up close,” he mused.

“What about you, Doc?” you asked, touching his arms, feeling the perfectly laundered fabric and letting one hand fall slowly into his. “You look sensational.”

“I have a secret weapon,” he whispered, leaning closer until his lips touched your ear. “The best and most beautiful Halloween stylist in town.”

Giggling, you glanced back to see Paulette smiling before tossing you a sweater.

“Don’t catch cold,” she said. “Hi, Dr. Chilton.”

“Paulette,” he began. “I would advise you to take it easy with the spirits tonight.”

“But it’s Halloween,” she whined.

“Doesn’t mean you have to join the dead,” Frederick argued. Paulette rolled her eyes, wishing you a good time, and drinking all the way.

“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” you said.

“I hope so,” he replied. “But you will forgive me if I’d prefer to focus my attention on you.”

He offered his arm and walked you across the campus. Never the homecoming queen, never the girl of anyone’s fantasy, you forgot those feelings. There was a sense of pride having when having him beside you, even if some of the looks you received were confused and curious above all else. Regardless, you soaked up the glances.

“Hey? You okay?”

Still several feet from his car, your realized that Frederick’s face was flushed, his one eye wide, and when you looked down you saw his grip too tight and tense around and about his cane.

“Of course,” he assured you. “I just… seeing your campus so… engaged. I almost hesitate to tell you, but…”

He fell silent, and you caught a few frat boys making faces and whispering cruel words under their beer-soaked breath.

“Don’t hesitate, Doc,” you prodded. “What’s up?”

“It is deeply buried in the past… my past... do you really want to spend All Hallows’ Eve with someone who would have done far worse than Paulette and just drink himself silly? Alone? Longing for a night like this to mercifully end?”

His confession shattered your heart, but you stretched to the tips of your toes, your heels leaving your shoes as you kissed him full on the mouth. His taste stayed unlike any other man’s. Yet it was a flavor you were quickly growing accustomed to, unable to imagine anything else.

“Well,” he whispered when you brought the kiss to an end, and somehow both of his eyes sparkled in the moonlight as you stroked his scarred cheek.

“Well,” you echoed. “I don’t want this night to end. I want to get it started. With you.”

Smiling, Frederick suddenly had a skip in his step as he held open the door to his town car, and you slid against the supple leather, waiting and watching until he sat at your side and signaled for the driver to depart.

“Then we shall get started,” he said. “Here we have Armand de Brignac Brut Gold.”

He revealed an ivory bottle that matched his suit adorned with an ace of spades, and he popped the cork.

“I won’t say no to champagne,” you said, hoping that skipping lunch wasn’t the worst of ideas. Trying to sip, hoping you looked something close to sophisticated, you crinkled your nose as the bubbles tickled your skin.

“A problem?” Frederick asked.

“It’s fine,” you said. “But I guess you can see that this is not really my thing.”

“I will tell you another secret,” he confessed while coming closer. “When I was… not much older than you. The girls in my circle came out at a debutante ball.”

“Bet they looked nice,” you said, watching the bubbles calm in your glass and trying not to sound too jealous.

“I would not know,” he said. “I shot the Dom Perignon right out of my nose. Spent the night in the men’s room trying to clean my tie with soap and paper towels that kept falling apart.”

One more moment to add to his tragic list? You started to tell him that you were sorry when he waggled his eyebrows.

“See? You have nothing to feel bad about, Doll,” he said. “You are far more graceful than I ever was… ever could be.”

You smiled, happy to see him back at ease, and you clinked your glass to his.

“To our big night, Doc,” you said by way of a toast before drinking deep and believing that anything and everything was possible.

His car pulled up to a brick building resting atop a wide white staircase. Frederick set your glasses aside and offered his arm again. Keeping him close, you climbed the steps and saw at least four witches, three cats, and clowns wearing mismatched floppy shoes. Safe and simple and not at all sensational. You held your date’s arm tighter, loving him for taking a risk, for taking you to the ball. Wondering, wishing that you wouldn’t become a roaring twenties version of Cinderella, his town car turning to a pumpkin once the clock struck twelve, you pushed those fears aside and stepped into a grand ballroom. The floor was an endless swath of black and white diagonal tiles A massive chandelier hung overhead while an orchestra played off to the side.

“What do you think?” Frederick asked, his voice dragging you from your reverie. He left your eyes for just a second to nod at a colleague before returning his entire focus to your stare.

“I… I think it’s fabulous,” you said. “And I think that you are by far the handsomest man in the joint.”

“The joint?” he echoed. “The costume’s era is going to your head, my dear.”

“And what about yours?” you asked. For a second he was silent, the fingers free of his cane reaching for one of the beads drizzling down your neck. He tenderly flicked it away, started to come in for a kiss…

…but he suddenly stopped short.

“You do look amazing,” he said, blushing as the band changed tones, and you saw the clowns and the cats flood the dance floor.

“Do we dare?” you asked.

He started to follow your suggestion, your lead when he halted and somberly shook his head.

“I… maybe not just yet,” he said.

Your heart hurt to see him sad, a little scared, and you patted his cheek just below his scar.

“Night’s still young,” you responded. “Maybe another drink?”

“Do not go all Paulette on me,” he gently chided, and you swatted his arm as he left you with the promise of a cranberry juice and vodka. Left alone, your gangster with a heart of gold still close by, you smiled at some of the other party goers. A few of the women and several men looked past you to where Frederick stood, their eyes full of questions that went unasked. For that you were grateful, not in the mood for an interrogation, counting the seconds until Frederick was back at your side…

“Care to dance?”

Glancing over your shoulder, you saw a baseball player. Or a carbon copy who hardly knew how to hold the bat. With a smirk, he doffed his cap.

“No thank you,” you said. “I’m waiting for my… date.”

“Dr. Chilton,” the young man said.

“You know him?”

“Used to be on his staff,” the faux ballplayer continued. “When he sort of kind of had the head to run a hospital. But make no mistake; even without the… troubles, he wouldn’t have lasted long.”

Knowing that the man’s cold words must be connected to Frederick’s injuries, wanting to hear more but not from this fool’s lips, you started to take your leave when the shortstop without a mitt grabbed your arm.

“Hey! What do you think you’re---?”

“Showing you a Happy Halloween,” he said. “Ditch the dull doctor. Dance with me.”

Struggling to break free from the stranger’s hold, you heard ice clinking in glasses and the tip of a cane tapping against the tiles. Sensing Frederick was close, you started to search for his eyes when the ballplayer brought his hand close to your breast. His fingers flexed, squeezing to lay claim to you like a trophy, unearned. Furiously, you pushed him back, and the movement knocked the cap from his head. Lifting your knee in your beaded gown, you couldn’t help but smile as you made contact with the barely there bulge in his pants.

“I said I wasn’t interested,” you stressed as he writhed in pain, his bat rolling away until a server dressed as Jason, hockey mask and all, snatched it up so that no one would trip. “Listen when a lady tells you that.”

Ignoring the crying ballplayer, his game lost, you smiled when Frederick caught your eye.

“I… are you al---?”

“Never better, Doc!” you chirped, taking your drink from his hand. “Bottoms up.” The sweet and the sting swirled down your throat, and you waited for Frederick to return your smile…

…when he turned on his heel, his cane tapping towards a quiet corner.

“Hey!”

Rushing after him, your drink still in hand, you tried to twist his face to yours. It hurt when he winced in the wake of your touch.

“What’s wrong?” you asked. “Frederick?”

“You knocked him down,” he said.

“Damn straight,” you agreed. “Don’t know who he is but---”

“Someone I worked with. A subordinate.”

“Who obviously still doesn’t know his place,” you continued. “But I put him in---”

“I was only going to be another moment.”

Clutching your glass and seeing his face fallen, your mind began to connect the dots, and you quickly reached for his hand.

“Doc, I’m sorry,” you spoke fast.

“I was on my way back to you,” he pressed. “Do you think that I would not… that I could not have protected you?”

“No,” you swore. “Of course I don’t think that. But I’m tough, too. I thought you kind of liked that about me.”

“I do,” he said, his voice thick. “But just for once. It would have been nice to save someone... instead of the other way around.”

You wanted to understand, to listen. But then Frederick brushed past you, leaving you alone with your drink. Watching him disappear into a sea of black pointy ears mingled with a few fluffy rainbows, you sank to the nearest windowsill.

What the hell had just happened? Everything was perfect. Kisses and champagne and chandeliers. Now you wanted to weep. And not simply because Frederick was suddenly so far from your side. You feared that you had lost him beyond this night and hated the idea of a world where you didn’t get to hear his voice and see his shy smile. Downing your drink, you started after him, desperate to find him, to make this right when you stopped atop a smaller staircase.

And saw a slim blonde praising his costume.

“It’s so cute, Dr. Chilton!” she chirped.

“Thank you, Sandra,” he said. “Now if you don’t mind, I---”

“And I felt horrible when I heard what happened to you,” Sandra droned on. “But you’re back and obviously better than ever. Maybe we could find a shady spot and get reacquainted?”

Frederick was slow to answer the question, just shaking his head. But the sight of another woman’s hand on his face caused you to charge forward and rip her fingers away.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Sandra demanded.

“Telling you to take your hands off him!” you said. “He’s spoken for.”

“He’s certainly not sticking close,” Sandra spat.

“But I am,” you said, grabbing Frederick’s arm once more. “Now buzz off, bitch.”

Sandra looked shocked, but when Frederick failed to leap to her defense she stomped off in the other direction, leaving you alone with…

“Frederick.”

“Doll? What are you doing?”

“Setting you straight.”

The liquor still swirled in your brain as you pushed him past a quartet dressed as Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. Not caring about a day in the life or who was leaving home, you took hold of his tie and spoke fast.

“Look, I like you. I don’t want the boys on the quad or that prick with the bat.”

“I---”

“I’ve had to take care of myself most of my life,” you continued. “I’ll keep doing that. It doesn’t mean that I don’t trust you. Or care about you so much that I think about you night and day.”

“You---”

“Or know that bad things happened and want to fight anyone that would ever try to hurt you again. Not happening. Not while I’m around.”

The feel of his hand on your cheek allowed you to relax some.

“Doll, not that I don’t appreciate… Sandra is harmless. A decent nurse but---”

“A gold digger,” you said without any proof but still feeling so certain. “And I won’t share you with her. I don’t want to share you with anyone.”

Was it too much? You didn’t care. At least he would know where you stood when he left your life.

“Doll.”

Here it came. The other shoe. You brushed some beads from your eyes and just gasped when you saw his smile.

“Dance with me now?”

Too stunned to do anything but nod, you savored the feel of his hand in yours and let him lead you back to the place under the chandelier. Despite some titters from the costumed crowd, he let his cane fall and circled an arm around your waist. You swayed to the music, the lights sparkling from above. As his feet traced tentative circles against the tiles, you matched his steps and realized that his eyes were not aiding any mission in pursuit of some marvelous minuet.

Because those eyes were only for you.

“Frederick?” you whispered.

“Yes.”

“I really wouldn’t want to be anywhere else tonight. I’m sorry if I showed you up or---”

“It’s forgotten.”

“But if I made a scene with that nurse, I’m sorry---”

“Never apologize for that,” he said, dancing you closer to the center of the room.

“Why?”

Staying silent, he dipped you, his kiss passionate, the taste of his tongue causing you to forget your name. And as he guided you back to his gaze you saw his smile brighter than every light in the room.

“Because I was wrong,” he said. “And I rather think that I like being rescued by you.”

#raúl esparza #frederick chilton #chilton x reader #hannibal #hannibal fanfiction #the doctor and his doll

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