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devastator1775 · 4 months

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Hope, Love and V - Chapter 1: What the hell happened while I was offline?

Summary: Weeks after the events of Cabin Fever Labs, V finally wakes up from her coma. Things have changed, in more ways than one and V finds it hard not to think she deserves this. Luckily, she can count on the love and support of her friends to get her through these hard times. (Nix Doorman AU)

Darkness. All she could see, was Darkness. Alone in the dark, while surrounded by creatures out to destroy her.

Her eyes closed; she could hear everything. Bullets roaring. Sentinels screeching and flashing of their boot-loop-inducing lights. Her blades swishing through the air. Her own frightened gasps. The lingering echoes of a loud impact at the bottom of the elevator shaft. The faint sound of someone calling out her name. Faint explosions.

Pain. She felt pain. No …agony. Another chunk bitten out of her arm. Out of her leg. Her gun ripped out of its socket. Claws tearing at her metal skin. Metal teeth sinking into her wings as she tries to get some distance between them. Tearing one out. More damage than her nanite healing can keep up with and eventually …even that stops.

She feels her body give out. Her thirst is unbearable. Her body craves oil and is unable to get it.

Then, more sounds. First, the Sentinels closing in on her, the scraping of their claws on metal floor, encircling her. Then, shouting, chaos, Sentinels screeching in pain.

Silence.

She’s low on power. Everything is shutting down. She can’t even open her eyes. She can only faintly hear someone speaking to her.

She’s being dragged. She feels her back falling against something, maybe a wall.

More words. Sad words? She can almost understand some. ‘Forgive’… Something shuts close. She’s alone.

Silence again. For the longest time, just silence. She falls in and out of consciousness. Her healing nanites still haven’t kicked in.

The world rumbles. Something deep down is roaring. A desperate, frustrated roar.

Then, a jolt, deep inside her. Her core aches. Then…

Pain? An excruciating pain? Her insides are twisting and burning? She’s so low on power, she can hardly perceive anything around her.

Then it stops. A blissful feeling.

Silence, once again. Minutes? Hours? Days? She doesn’t know. Until finally….

Voices. Searching?

“I found her!”

“Seems the same thing happened to her as with the other one.”

“She’s in bad shape.”

“She needs med-technical attention immediately.”

“You grab her there. I’ll hold her here. On three. One, two, …three!”

PAIN!

V’s eyes jolted open with a loud gasp. She bolted upright, but something pulled at her, making her fall backwards again. Something around her wrists. Restraints of some kind. Around her chest as well. She frantically looked around. She was in a room, in a bed. Looks like …an infirmary or a hospital-like room, or something? How long had she been here? While she was pondering on that, it was then that she noticed something …missing.

The thirst. The hunger. That unsatiable craving for oil …gone? That wasn’t possible. While she had made sure she’d ‘topped up’ before entering the labs, that battle had taken so much out of her. She should be starving. She should have gone in Auto-Hunt mode. The only feelings she now felt were …sleepy. And confusion.

She heard a door open, quickly followed by someone gasping and something falling to the floor. Her eyes fell on a Worker Drone in a hospital outfit, a nurse by the look of it. Judging by the clipboard on the ground, V’s sudden awakening hadn’t been something she expected. She looked frightened. Wait, no …surprised?

“Oh my gosh…” The nurse – V could read the name Ratched on her nametag – quickly ran to the door, sticking her head out. “I need a doctor here, STAT! She’s awake!”

A doctor? For what? Experiments? Torture? Taking advantage of an injured enemy? V pulled on her restrains, her anger growing. Why was she here? What had happened? What of N and Uzi? Tessa? The Absolute Solver?

Why wasn’t she dead?

A Drone in a doctor’s outfit ran in. “Miss V, I need you to calm down.” “Please, don’t try to exert yourself. The state of your injuries are- “

“Release me!” V yelled, pulling on her restraints as hard as she could. Suddenly, without any sort of warning, she felt pain surge throughout her entire body as she completely cramped up. It felt like every single joint in her body tried to pull itself inwards. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t even open her mouth to scream in pain. On her visor flashed the [ENERGY SURGE] warning.

The doctor and the nurse rushed to V’s side as the former pulled a drive out of his pockets. “Quickly, undo her bindings.”

The nurse hesitated for a second, but after a stern look from the doctor she undid the bindings around V’s chest. They both lifted her up a bit as the doctor plugged the drive into a data port on V’s nape. She felt the pain gradually subside and her body relaxed again. She let herself fall on her pillow again, panting heavily. That had taken much more out of her than she realized.

“Wh-what happened to me?” V asked after a few moments of collecting herself. She slowly sat up. “What did you do? How did I get here?”

The doctor gestured the nurse to bring him the fallen clipboard, giving it a look as he walked over to the foot of V’s bed and dismissed the nurse with a wave of his hand. “I am doctor Steen. You may call me Francis. You’ve been under my care since you were brought in.”

“Didn’t ask that and I’m not doing that.”

“Fair enough.” The doctor adjusted his glasses. Heh, she used to have a pair just like those. “This might come to a shock to you, but you have been here for several weeks. Almost over 6 weeks, to be less than precise.”

“6 weeks?” V repeated softly. Had she been offline so long? She should’ve overheated and died by now, but …she didn’t feel any thirst at all. Questions for later.

“What you just experienced, Miss V, was a seizure brought on by a disruptive energy surge, triggered by excessive motion.” The doctor explained. “Simply put: if you don’t stay calm – in any every way possible – you unquestionably will trigger another attack. Do you understand what I’m saying, Miss?”

V bit back a sarcastic insult, the thought of going through that pain again the only thing being from doing so. She nodded slowly.

“As for what I gave you…” Steen held out the drive. “This patch tricks your system to ‘divert excess energy toward auxiliary components’, temporarily pacifying the damaged circuitry causing the surges. It’s – at the moment - the only thing we found that can bring you some relief.”

“Damaged circuitry?”

“Putting it …mildly.” Steen frowned, flipping over a page. “You were brought in with …well, you were on the brink of deactivation. Chewed up, as those in the rescue unit that brought you told me.”

Chewed up. The sentinels. V flinched as a vision of those beasts flashed before her eyes – and on her visor. She had tried to buy the others as much time as she could, held out as long as she could – as long as her healing allowed her. At one point …she just couldn’t anymore. She got boot-looped, unable to move …but still able to feel as those things started to feast on her.

“Miss V, still with us?”

Startled back to the here-and-now, V shook her head and turned back to the Doctor, who – to her dismay – looked upon her with concern. She scowled at him and judging by the shrug, got the message.

“Anyway …” Steen continued, unperturbed by the scowling murder drone under his care. He had dealt with more vicious patients in the past – most often Miss Doorman. “We tried to repair what we could, but ….there wasn’t much we were able too. Whatever you did that caused your damage, you exerted your systems beyond their advised parameters. I’ll spare you the tech-medical jargon, but in short: 45% your circuits are fused together, your wiring has melted and corrupted software is wreaking havoc on other systems and those are just a few on that list.”

“So why aren’t I repaired yet?” V asked.

“We are, but these repairs need be done in intervals. The extent your injuries require – “

“Not what I meant!” V almost yelled. She took a deep breath. She felt her patience was running low, but figured she wouldn’t get answers by yelling and being a nuisance. That was more Uzi’s style. “You know I’m a Disassembly Drone?”

“I’m aware.”

“You know I can heal myself? Head blown off, arms ripped off, things like that are nothing to me.”

“I know. I was chaperoning my son during prom.”

“So …why aren’t I regenerating?” V asked.

“If I had to take a guess, because of the same thing what happened to Miss doorman and her …companions.”

“They’re alive? Uzi? N? Tessa, I guess?” V asked, more surprised than relieved – even if that sensation was there as well.

“Heavily damaged, in shock and both in very critical condition, but …yes, alive.” Doctor Steen took a chair and sat down next to V. “Maybe I should start from the beginning. I guess, it all started when it felt that the planet was going to die.”

V listened as Doc Steen told what had transpired in the weeks before she had woken up. How the planet seemed to be turning against itself. Gravity got weird, there were tremors and storms. Real ‘End Times’ stuff. Everyone in the bunker was naturally terrified, thinking they would – along with the planet – would die. This went on for several hours, until …it stopped. No storms, no tremors, no danger.

It wasn’t long after that that Khan returned to the bunker, bringing the injured Uzi, N – and to anyone’s surprise – J and a human named Tessa with him. So, they had managed to make it out as well. Uzi and N were heavily damaged, and in dire need of repairs. Tessa also was wounded, but it seemed J refused to let anyone but herself get close to her. Maybe for the best, since no Worker Drone doctor has any knowledge about how to treat human wounds anyway.

But V started to notice something weird about his story after that. It was something about what he said about the explanation that Khan had given the colony. He had told a story about ‘a rogue AI’, who – to her surprise – was also responsible for the destruction of Earth. This ‘rogue AI’ was also responsible for the creation of the Disassembly Drones, which was true.

But there were things in things in that story that just didn’t make sense. So, after Uzi and N had helped Tessa destroy the AI, the nanites in their bodies were deactivated and thus that ‘freed them from its control’? V had done many questionable things – both necessary and unnecessary – during her time on Copper-9, but she had always been in control of her own action – whether or not she liked doing them.

V wasn’t dumb. She figured that Uzi and N had withheld the whole story, but for whatever reason she’d need to ask them. V was so lost in her thoughts; she didn’t notice that the doc had finished his story until he snapped his fingers in front of her visor. She hissed at him in return.

“Back with us, Miss V?”

“Bite me.”

“Yes, you are indeed friends with Miss Doorman.” Doc said dryly, standing up. “But she’ll be pleased to hear that you have woken up. Your friends have been visiting you pretty much daily.”

“Oh, you allow your prisoners to have visiting hours?” V asked coldly. It was an unnecessary remark, but she was absolutely fed up with this man. Normally, she’d pop off his head and have his oil for supper, but without the constant thirst plaguing her and threatening her with overheating, the vey thought made her feel …queasy.

Steen chuckled. “Miss V, you are not a prisoner. You are my patient.”

“IF I’m not a prisoner …why these?” V gestured to the undone restraints. “Why bind me to my bed when I was out cold most of the time?”

“Those were for your own safety.” The doctor explained. “You were having extreme night terrors the first few days, and you were triggering your seizures by thrashing around. It was the only way make sure your system wouldn’t overload while we weren’t here to supervise. “

“Well, I’m awake now. Take the rest off.”

“The rest?” Steen seemed confused.

V was seriously on her last bit of patience. “My legs are still bound! I’m done sitting in this bed. I want to stretch my legs! If you’re scared I’m gonna bolt, I promise I-!”

The look in Steen’s eyes made her halt. Something was wrong.

“I …I’m sorry. I should have mentioned this could happen, but with this whole situation it completely slipped my mind.” Steen said softly.

An icy feeling formed in V’s chest. “Wh-what are you talking about?”

“You must understand, the damage you sustained was severe and despite our initial repairs there was always a change that-“

V’s eyes hollowed as she realized what Steen was talking about. She tore her sheet from her body …and her entire body went numb at the sight. It was clear that her legs had undergone numerous repairs. There were welding seams, pieces of plating, nuts and bolts holding things in place.

But what scared her the most…

Was that she couldn’t feel her legs. She had been so distracted by her situation that she never realized she hadn’t moved them at all. She grunted, trying to her knees to her chest.

Nothing. Not a twitch.

“My …my legs.” V looked at her legs, stunned, confused, angry, sad, …a plethora of emotions was running through her processor. She wanted to yell, to curse, to make promises of violence untold and cause unbridled harm.

She could only stare.

“Miss V?”

V looked up slowly at her doctor.

“I know this is quite the shock, especially after all you’ve been through already.” He smiled softly at her. “But I promise you we’ll do anything in our power to help. There are several courses of action we can undertake and improve your mobility. We can-“

His voice faded away as V stared at her legs again, slowly reaching out the give them a soft squeeze, as if they would spring back to life. All she could hear was her own core beating in her chest, a ringing in her ears. Tears were starting to form in her visor as the hard truth was dawning on her.

“I can't move my legs ...I’m paralyzed….”

#murder Drones #fanfiction #serial designation v #uzi doorman #serial designation n #lizzy murder drones #vizzy #Nix doorman AU

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sobeautifullyobsessed · 2 years

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Victorian Sherlock is so delicious 😩 you're so right in saying he's the dilfiest sherlock because yes 😩🤌 wanna climb in his lap and mess those slicked back strands...

Babe- I awoke from my sleep and jumped on tumblr and saw your thirst and now I simply cannot resist sharing something from deep in the Draft of my one Victorianlock slow burn WIP Burn Bright, That Brief Candle. Because Benedict's Victorian Sherlock is the apex DILF, the one that other DILFs aspire to be.😏🥵

...it would be best for both of them to see Tessa safely tucked away in Ealing. She would rise tomorrow and get on with her life, secure in the knowledge that both Stonewell brothers no longer posed a threat. And Sherlock would get on with his, free of the delicious distraction she presented now, so very close at hand. He set his empty tumbler upon the matching cut glass tray, determined to bring his plan to swift fruition. “I think it’s time I see you to your rooms, Miss DeMauro. Surely you are worn and ready for rest after such a trying ordeal.” He stepped towards her, offering his hand to help her rise from Watson’s chair.

Tessa shook her head and gazed up at him, braving a surprising reply, “I’d rather stay here, if it’s all the same to you.” Sherlock remained silent, staying judgement for the moment, so that she continued, “It’s safer here…I feel…” she looked to the empty fireplace, hands demurely folded in her lap, then turned to him again, “I feel safer here…with you.”

How unwise, he thought, searching her face for any sign she actually understood that he was no hero, and wondering if he should tell her so; woefully unwise--for if she knew the thoughts that he was currently having, she would realize that some part of her safety was at hazard in his company after all.

As though in silent, damning testament, Sherlock found himself unwillingly training his eyes on the little scab at the edge of the hollow of her throat. That tiny scab which had formed from the scarlet drops of her blood where Stonewell had held the point of his knife in those crucial final moments before he’d been able to subdue the filthy cur. What would she think if she knew he was longing to press his lips upon it, not to kiss, but to suck hard enough on her tender flesh so as to leave his own mark there? Would she feel safe with him then?

Despite the heady feel of such blatant wanting, he strove to sound as detached as he normally did, “I assure you, Miss DeMauro, you are no safer here with me than you were an hour ago, a hostage to the fate Stonewall intended for you.” He paused, calculating the effect his words would have upon her. “Nor with any other brute who might seek to take advantage of you, at your most vulnerable; our sex is not so stalwart as to be trusted in the presence of so,” he paused again, considering how much of his own weakness he might reveal, “…alluring a temptation.”

Tessa raised her chin regally, taking up the gauntlet he had cast her way, “Temptation, Mr. Holmes?” She breathed deeply, seeking his true measure while asking him, “Do you really find me so?”

“I do, Madame.” If she would have the truth, then he would deliver it in full, “Much to my continuing consternation.”

She held his gaze, seeming to study him as he had just done to her, considering the weight of his words. A pretty blush had risen in her cheeks, pleasing Sherlock—for knew he was the cause. He let himself imagine how warm her flushed skin would be were he to cup his palm against her cheek—or better still, brush his lips there. Such a potent thought, born of potent desire…but could she read that on his face?

And surely she did, for the corners of her mouth quirked up into a small, satisfied smile, as she asserted, “Still—I prefer to stay.” Tessa reached for and removed her hatpins, laying them upon the side table, and followed swiftly with her hat, sighing her disclaimer, “That is, if you will have me.”

He allowed himself a momentary of ghost of a smile, his answer far more dispassionate than he actually felt, “Suit yourself then.” He resisted every inclination he had to move closer to her, waiting to see if she would act on the intent he read in her eyes.

Tessa rose smoothly from her place, laying her reticule behind her on the chair cushion, regarding him with knowing appraisal—and his stomach gave a little lurch. Anticipation. That’s what he was feeling. Anticipation as his cool brain tried to decipher the motive behind her movements—while his every manly instinct declared for certain her true reasons.

She stood before him, inches away, close enough now for him to see that those signs he’d taken earlier, as indicators of distress, were actually the clues to her own mounting desire. She laid one hand upon his lapel, voice grown husky and low, crossing the invisible line of propriety without hesitation, “My good master, William Shakespeare, once called our lives a brief candle. Compared us to ‘a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more.’ ” Sherlock remained motionless, focused on her lips and the timbre of her voice, controlling his breathing as best he could, mesmerized by the soft spell she was weaving. She slid her hand beneath his lapel, gliding it slowly up to nest her fingertips in his hairline, resting her palm on the nape of his neck. The sensation was…electric. “I never grasped how true that bit of poetry was until this evening, Mr. Holmes. Do you understand what I mean?”

Sherlock placed his hand on the back of hers, trapping it against his neck, then laced his fingers through hers. “I do, Miss DeMauro—of that human frailty, I am ever aware. My work makes such understanding inescapable.”

“Then surely you can understand the need I feel right now?”

“Need, Miss DeMauro?”

“Need, Mr. Holmes. An overwhelming need to…reaffirm…life, if you will. To drink its fullest, deepest, truest, with no regrets. Have you ever known such a need yourself?”

“Indeed, I have, Miss DeMauro.” He noted—as his purity of reason began to give way to more corporeal demands--that the pace of his breathing had fallen into sync with hers, “And no more so than at this very moment.”

“Then would you take have of me, good Sir, that which I so willingly offer?”

“If this is your true will, lady, then I will take all that you offer. But know as we begin: I do not promise poetry, or a settled hearth, or even some vague future for us sometime down the road. If I take you, your eyes must be fully open to these hard facts.” Reading her answer in her widened eyes and the measure of respiration, Sherlock knew she had already accepted his terms, no words needed. He dragged her hand around to press his mouth against the base of her thumb, hot breath dampening her skin, while teasing the plumpness of his lower lip upon it.

“Oh my,” she whispered, nearly breathless. Tessa appeared dazed, blinking slowly—but came back to herself soon enough. She took his other hand, her eyes still locked on his, “You have such elegant hands, Mr. Holmes; the hands of an artist. I can imagine the beauty of the music you must make.” She brought his hand close to her face, studying it intently, “But they’re strong, too. Protective. Even dangerous, when the need arises.” Slowly, she kissed the center of his palm, then looked up at him from half-lidded eyes, “I’ve wondered at times what it would be like to be touched by such hands. Your hands, Mr. Holmes. The hands that kept me from terrible harm, this very night.”

“Miss DeMauro…” he began, needing to issue one last caution, although she kept him from finishing his thought.

“It’s Tessa, please,” she whispered, tilting her head back while offering up her lips, fearless in revealing her desires, “I’ve been aching so to hear you say my name.

“Tessa,” he hummed back, his mouth grown dry, his every sense heightened by the need she had awakened in him. Sherlock grasped her shoulders brusquely, finally crushing her against him, to growl her name against her ear, inhaling the honey scent of her hair, while she twined her arms around his neck. “Tessa,” he rumbled against the softness of her cheek, seeking her mouth, and then capturing her sweet and all too willing lips, his own made rough and ravenous from years of denying the basic, human need for such intimate contact...

...and then...

…this soft, winsome woman sleeping in his arms--oh how he had taken her, giving her no quarter! Desperately at times--replaying certain moments in his mind now, he realized he should be ashamed; but no, for she had sought no quarter, allowing his hunger a latitude that was the exact answer to his need he’d taken her in a merciless fury, and each time, each way that he had, Tessa had opened to him, giving herself over without hesitation. Oh yes; for she had clung to him, mewling softly beneath him when he went a little rough, clinging hard as he rode her--even as her own desire waxed, meeting his mouth and skin with fierce and probing kisses of her own. She’d let her hands explore his flesh in ways that told him she knew the art of pleasing a lover; that insight had made him feel shockingly possessive, driving him to work her in a way that he hoped would erase any deep-rooted memories of such lovers from her mind, greedy to supplant them from the pantheon of her past, so to leave her full and wanting only him.

And when her passion rose, mixing, mingling, melding with his own--just as the slickness of their sweat-soaked skin combined when they moved in perfect, delicious rhythm--she gave him throaty, satisfied moans that spurred him further, harder, relentlessly seeking an unattainable depth. Each time he’d wrung from her those climaxes, she had gasped his name, cried out his name, shouted it elementally while she bucked beneath him, her body taut in those final throes--her fingers digging hard into his skin as she strove to pull him deeper, or entangled tightly in his hair and holding on as though it were the only anchor keeping her from combusting from their merged heat. And when he came? Hot white light filled his mind, blessedly blotting out all thought for that span of time, his biological urges completely in control of the machine he had trained his body to become; the resulting ecstasy so intense, it transmuted the baseness of such primal coupling to the level of divine.

Afterwards—each time afterwards—panting hotly from their shared release, stretching against him as those merciful hormones worked their will on her, she peppered his face, neck, torso, with sweet-breathed kisses, an easy and unasked for absolution for however rough and demanding his lovemaking had been. Sweet Tessa, delectable Tessa, fierce little Tessa—and dare he believe it, his Tessa. In his arms, in his bed, and in his blood now, coursing thoroughly through his veins—more providentially fulfilling than any seven percent solution he had ever concocted.

...and later...

…and so their affair continued, mostly hidden from the world. Sondra, Tessa’s sole confidant, their wise, industrious go-between. Tessa never questioned the secrecy that he insisted upon, instead taking from it an element of extra excitement—the danger of discovery a heady aphrodisiac. As if they actually needed that. And there was, after all, her reputation to consider.

Sherlock had her in numerous locations, and no hour of the day or night was sacrosanct. He took fucked her fast and furiously when their time was short, and public discovery was a hairsbreadth away; but he loved her long and luxuriously when their privacy was ensured. On those occasions his lovemaking was painstaking and solely dedicated to supplying Tessa with layer upon layer of pleasure, bringing her to heights he knew she’d never experienced before. In his heart of hearts, Sherlock recognized it was his way of marking her as his own for life—for he knew their ongoing liaison had no future beyond the here and now. Wherever her path would take her in the world, he desired no man fulfill and please Tessa as he had done, and that even with the width of an ocean or two between them, there would remain an invisible line of connection, making her his for life...

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bitofanattitudeproblemherondale · 1 year

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Make the Sparks Fly

Love is not a walk in the park. A phrase one has heard so many times. Love is the force that makes the stars shine, it is in the curve of a smile and the depth of a tear. It is in the determination when Edmund Herondale got his marks stripped for a mundane. It is in the letter Will wrote for Tessa asking her never to leave for if she did, he would be hopeless. It is in the confidence Izzy had that Simon /will/ love her again after forgetting every moment with her. It is in the way Jace tends to Clary’s wounds after a battle, it is in the screams that wake up James and the only name on his lips is Cordelia even when she is upset with him.

It is in the “Yes or no?” Andrew asks, everytime he even slightly touches Neil because he knows how much consent means to both of them after everything that happened. Love is the rain that follows after a dry week, making the flowers bloom. It is what satisfies our thirst for everything. It is the silent promise Annabeth and Percy made to each other that they’ll never be parted, It is the way Julian keeps trying to get the shade of Emma’s hair just right. It’s hard and it gets rough but it’s worth it all because the way you say my name, so softly, as if the new day starts with the sun peeking in through the window, slowly brightening the room after a long night, painting me golden.

#shadowhunters #cassandraclare #the last hours #the infernal devices #chain of gold #shadowhuntersedit #will herondale #taylor swift #clockwork angel #james herondale #all for the game #i am catastrophically in love with them #love

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bemtevis · 3 years

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One other issue of our lovely Clare is that she wants us to believe her fave characters are underdogs whilst simultaneously giving them more privilege and worship than any other character.

Like, she says the Herondales are shunned and looked down on because of Tessa’s demon blood and Will’s mundane mother. Ok. Then we have them controlling one of the most powerful institutes, being bffs with the most powerful political figure in shadow hunter society, throwing “magnificent” balls at tthe institute and in Paris that almost every shadowhunter attends, Will is said to be regarded as a leader who people naturally listen to and follow, more than three side characters mention that the herondales are “very influential”, etc.

Then there’s James. CC tried so hard to paint him as a tragic bullying victim who was an easy target because of his diabolical eyes and terrible, terrible powers. Yeah but that lasted 40 pages max, right? Putting ChoI aside, in that one side story where the carstairs attend Will and Tessa’s anniversary party in Paris, just a few months before the academy, Cordelia says that she can’t imagine James having no friends because he’s *again* so naturally charismatic, everyone listens to him and attracts so many people with his *beautiful* eyes. Huh. Let’s say this is Cordelia’s idealization clouding her fucking eyes and judgement, and give CC the benefit of the doubt.

Also, in Choi, which happens like max four years after the academy, we see like three girls fawning over him and betting on who he’d ask to dance first. Poor James! He’s charismatic AND attractive. Oh yeah and he can become a shadow.

Lmao the guy seriously went “my father was cursed, but I? I’m damned!” AHAHAHAHHA SHUT UP don’t let Alastair hear you buddy, because he’s the guy that’s actually struggling in this story.

Next we have Anna and Matthew. But thinking about them makes me wants to break my skull on a marble wall. I’m sure you already know about these darlings of the fandom.

THIS THO

They are extremely powerful and rich and influencial. So are the Lightwoods and the Fairchilds.

James was in the Academy for like, a month, before his parents came pick him up. Also I'll never get over how ChArIsMaTiC James is,,,, like, have you seen any of his official artworks? He's so fucking creepy

Apparently every single girl in London is thirsting over James, but poor him, he's so undesirable and rejected!

HE'S DAMNED AKJSJDJ PLS STOP 😭

Matthew and Anna are the popular, influencial, socially accepted outcasts lol

Has CC ever been excluded from anything? Is this her perceptive of what underdogs are? JFC, can this woman please go out more

#using a mask ofc #YOU HAVE A GREAT POINT #IT'S SO STUPID #ONE MORE EXAMPLE OF CLARE'S TELL NOT SHOW BULLSHIT #anti cc #anti james herondale #anon #answered #pro duck #negativity tag #tw caps

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anjanettexcordonia · 3 years

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Truth

A/N: I have been MIA for about 6 months or so, so I have decided to start over with tags, so if you would like to be tagged just let me know or shoot me a message.

Word Count: 991

Tags: @txemrn @jessiembruno @neotericthemis @gkittylove99 @yourmajesty09 @tessa-liam @kingliam2019 @busywoman @lovingchoices14 @twinkleallnight @amandablink

“Scotland? I thought you were from some island country?”

“Cordonia. And I am. But I need to show you something in Scotland. Something very important to me. To both of us.”

“What is it?”

“I can’t really explain, you have to see for yourself hence…” Liam spread his arms above his head, indicating their surroundings high above the clouds.

“I see.” Riley’s thoughts were firing in her mind like a meteor shower in the sky.

One second she’s working in the bar, the next she’s jet setting halfway around the globe with absolutely no idea what was about to happen, how her life as she knew it would be changed forever.

——

Fifteen hours later and an extremely awkward flight Riley stood at the stone steps of Edinburgh Castle in Scotland. The rain drizzled down hitting the umbrella Liam held over her head in sputters. “What is the place?” Riley stood in awe and something else, apprehension, fear, longing? She couldn’t pin a single emotion on it.

“One of the great British structures….” Liam paused, Riley interrupted, “No, not that.. I feel… like I’ve been here before.” Riley’s voice dropped into a whisper.

Liam slid his hand into hers. In that moment he felt drawn to her more than he ever had before as their skin touched, her small smooth hand felt like it belonged in his.

He led her rather reluctantly inside the imposing structure and directly to the gallery room. Her eyes were wide taking in all the strange sights of the castle. She had seen castles before in picture books and documentaries but never in person. Liam motioned for Bastien to wait outside as he guided her into the room with large canvas paintings of former and present British monarchs.

And there she was. “Liam, is this a joke?” Riley stared at the 10 foot tall painting of…. Herself. “It’s not, Miss Brooks.” He murmured. He noticed that chill he felt any other time he stood in the presence of Iseabel was no longer there. “Why the fuck is there a giant painting of me here?”

Her sense of dread of the unknown rose in her. Anger was coursing through her veins. “Why would you bring me here?” She felt the sting of tears well up in her eyes. “What kind of game are you playing? Is this some stalker situation?” Riley roared at Liam.

He didn’t say a word. He forcefully grabbed her and placed it on the frame of the painting.

“Feel that?” He shouted. “Feel what? I feel nothing.” She tried to pull her hand from the painting but Liam had his hand on top of hers keeping her hand still. He moved it to the actual painting.

The hair on Riley’s arms stood, the electricity flowed through her veins. Suddenly it all went black.

Liam let go of Riley and took a few steps back. Both of her hands were now on the painting and she was still. He heard the breath leave her body.

“Liam.” A small unrecognizable voice emerged from Riley. She slowly turned to face him. The iris of her emerald eyes had disappeared leaving only glowing white orbs where her eyes should have been.

“Save us. And we shall save them all. The true Monarchs shall rise and unite the great country in battle.”

The stone walls seem to spring to life around Liam vibrating and breathing. Riley rose from her feet above him. “Take your true place my King. Sire the heir that will rule over the kingdoms.” Bastien after hearing the commotion outside, now stood by Liam. Both of them stood in amazement and fear.

“How?” He screamed. Tears streamed down his face. Riley collapsed to the floor. Her body shook and convulsed. Iseabel was gone.

“Riley, Riley.” Liam knelt beside her wiping his tear stained face. He scooped her in his arms and he ran as fast as his legs would allow.

Riley woke on the jet. She woke as if she had been in a coma. Her eyes struggled to adjust to the cabin lights, her limbs felt heavy and weak.

“Liam.” She choked out. Her throat felt as dry as the Saharan desert.

“I’m here.” Liam sat beside her avoiding any physical contact with her.

“I remember.” She whispered as he handed her a liquid to quench her thirst.

“What do you remember?”

“Everything. I saw what happened to her. To us.” He listened as she paused to sip from her straw as she sat up slowly. “I don’t know how or why… but I saw us. You and me. Different of course, not how we are now but in the past. I found you.”

“Found me?”

“I remember dying. Over and over. The pain, the fear, all of it.” Riley’s words shook. “Blackness and then there wasn’t. I saw us again and again fighting.”

“I remember you Liam. I remember… the feeling.”

Riley stood from the small bed on the jet. Riley’s mind was no longer racing with confusion, she knew in that moment what she had to do.

“I need to..” she moved closer to Liam. His fear had him immediately take a step back. She reached for his hand. Her touch calmed him. She pulled him closer to her and cupped both of his cheeks in her hands and pulled him towards her. The feel of him beneath her palms, the prickle of his unshaven chin, the softness of exposed skin drew her to him.

She lightly brushed her lips to his. Their eyes fluttered closed as he deepened the kiss. His arms enveloped her waist as their tongues met for the first time in a heated full body kiss.

As the kiss slowed, Liam fought to catch his breath. Her kiss consumed him, his soul his very presence. He dropped to one knee and bowed his head.

“I pledge my life, my allegiance, my heart and my body to you my Queen.”

#fanfiction #theroyalromance #trr #choices #liamxmc #fanfic #liam #ff #2021 #choicesfanfic

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shirtlesssammy · 3 years

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4x17: It's a Terrible Life

How have we not recapped this yet? Man, this one holds a special place in Boris’s heart -- even if it’s a Cas-less episode. (Natasha: I LITERALLY said the same thing.)

Then:

This is just gratuitous

Now:

Okay, by this point we know the premise of this episode. I’m just going to list all the Well Respected Man things Dean Smith does.

He wakes up at 6:00am to an iPod.

He steams his rice milk.

He wears suspenders and cufflinks.

He drives a Prius.

He turns off the hard rock for NPR.

Dean Smith is the Director of Sales and Marketing at Sandover Bridge and Iron.

He types memos in Word.

He uses a headset to talk on the phone.

He plays office mini-golf while schmoozing on said headset.

He watches Project Runway (Ok, Dean Winchester totally watches that too, lbr.)

HE EATS SALAD.

He says the word ‘vis-a-vis’.

His boss Mr. Adler is very impressed with him. Good stuff!

He works late.

He is thinking of doing the Master Cleanse.

He leaves at 5:30 (or really a couple minutes before, rebel!)

On the elevator ride out of the building, another passenger asks if he knows Dean. Dean, focused on his Blackberry, does not recognize the dude. The other dude won’t let it go and Dean tells him to “save it for the health club” before leaving.

Sam Wesson works in the Tech Support section of Sandover. He mainly tells people to turn it off and back on again. Works every time! Sam and another buddy, Ian, head for coffee. They ask Paul, another worker, if he wants to join them. He’s busy working! Okay, okay, wait one moment. Paul got caught surfing porn on company computers and he still has a job!? WOW.

Ian grabs some office pencils in the break room. (And we get a nice little intro shot from within the microwave….very nice easter egg for us second (and beyond) viewers.) He then asks Sam about the dreams he’s been having. Sam tells Ian that he dreamed that he saved a grim reaper named Tessa from demons. Ian finds that HILARIOUS.

At his clown car sized cubicle later, Sam drifts off, only to have vivid visions of murder and monsters --and Dean’s in them. He bolts awake, and looks around disconcerted.

Sam takes a walk and ends up in the same elevator as Dean again. They eye each other warily. Sam asks Dean what he thinks of ghosts. TOTALLY NORMAL ELEVATOR TALK. Dean hasn’t really given them much thought. Vampires either. Sam decides now is a good time to corner a perfect stranger and tell him about his CRAZY dreams. That’s what a journal is for, Sam! Dean dismisses this crazy man and exits the elevator.

Sam starts researching (AW BABY) the monsters he’s been dreaming about. Ian interrupts him and tells him that he got an email telling him to report to HR. He’s not too worried as he heads off to his fate. Sam then hears Paul freaking out because he just lost a whole day’s work.

Paul stays way past closing time trying to find his lost files to no avail. His breath puffs. They must turn the temp down after hours at Sandover. He heads to the breakroom, sticks a plastic fork in the door of the microwave and sticks his head in the microwave, and hits cook. GOOD STUFF.

The next day, as Paul’s body gets carted away, the entire office looks on, including Sam Wesson and Dean Smith. Dean thinks there’s something weird going on. He looks up Paul’s personnel file (um, like whoa, how did he get access to that?) and learns that he was set to retire in two weeks. Curious.

Sam is curious as well, but Ian is too busy working to engage. Dean calls Ian up to his office. Dean points out that there were just a few errors in a form he filled out yesterday. Ian is very remorseful. Dean doesn’t think it’s that big of a deal. He just wants him to fix the errors. Very un-Ian-like, Ian starts freaking out over his mistakes. Ian runs to the bathroom and Dean follows. He finds Ian staring at himself in the mirror. His breath frosts just before all the water and soap turn on. He insists Ian leave with him. Ian turns to look at Dean, and stabs himself with a pencil. GUH. Dean sees the reflection of an old man in the bathroom stall door as Ian dies. Dean calls for help.

Dean is relaying the events to the authorities when he sees Sam looking on. Later, he calls Sam to his office.

For Thirst Science:

Sam and Dean learn that they both started working at Sandover three weeks prior. (Dean! You picked a hell of a week to start the Master Cleanse!) Sam asks Dean if he saw something when Ian died. Dean doesn’t quite admit it but he saw a ghost! Sam wonders about the suicides. “What if these suicides aren't suicides? I mean, what if they're something not natural?”

Sam brings up his dreams again. “So you're telling me that your dreams are special visions and you're some kind of psychic?” Lololololol. No, OF COURSE NOT. Sam shows Dean emails that Ian and Paul got that sent them to HR on the 14th floor --the HR office is on the 7th floor. Hmm. They decide to head to the 14th floor and room 1444.

Mr. Blandface McBlanderson heads there first. It’s an old storage room. The air gets frosty, electronics buzz on. Sam and Dean rush down the hallway after hearing the man’s cries. The door is locked but Sam Fucking Wesson just busts it open. Dean is duly impressed. Sam is too.

The ghost old man attacks Sam and Dean but Dean smashes him away with a wrench (an IRON wrench).

Decompressing back at Dean’s place, Sam longs for beer. “I’m on a cleanse,” Dean explains as he gets him a water. “I got rid of all the carbs in the house.” Oh DEAN.

At the end of this cleanse you chalk a pentagram on the floor, light a black candle, and barter your soul to get rid of those last five pounds

They compliment each other on their ghost fighting prowess. Sam “Boy Wonder” Wesson briefly tells Dean about how he feels out of place in his life. That’s SO MUCH oversharing, Sam! They decide to hit the research track. Dean finds………..the GHOSTFACERS.

We montage our way through Smith & Wesson’s research, interspersed with Ghostfacer tips. A guy named Sandover turns out to be the ghost - a workaholic who lived for his company. Turns out he’ll kill for it too. They trace a number of historical deaths to Sandover employees. It turns out that the room with the ghost attack was Sandover’s office.

The Ghostfacers continue to educate Sam and Dean on the finer points of ghost hunting: SALT. IRON. GUN.

Dean absorbs this, then wonders where one might even purchase a gun. Isn’t there a waiting period? Oh, sweet summer child. This here is the United States of America and it’s far too easy to get a gun. The Ghostfacers lesson continues...

Ed: The aforementioned super-annoying Winchester douchenozzles also taught us this one other thing. You have to burn the remains.

Harry: Okay, this next part gets a little gross. Sometimes you might have to dig up the body. Sorry.

Ed: It's illegal in some states.

Harry: All states.

Ed: Possibly all states.

Smith and Wesson return to the office to search for pieces of non-cremated Sandover. Sam gets cornered by a baby-faced security guard, leaving Dean alone to continue the hunt. In Sam’s elevator, electronics start to glitch. It’s probably nothing! The guard pries open the elevator door and crawls out onto the next floor.

The elevator slips and the guard falls victim to the blood cannon. Sam adds this incident to his list of Terrible Things That Happen in Elevators.

Sam and Dean reconnect by a historical display which includes Sandover’s gloves. Those gloves seem like likely candidates for remnant DNA...and in short order the ghost proves them right. Old Man Sandover zaps in as they break the glass. They fight!

Sandover looks like he’s got the upper hand, lowering his brain-zapping fingers to Dean, when Sam lights the gloves on fire. Sandover goes up like a torch.

Smith and Wesson are amped up after the fight! Sam wants to hunt ghosts full time. Dean scoffs at this. “How would we get by? Stolen credit cards, eating diner food drenched in saturated fats, sharing a crap motel room every night...You don’t want to go fighting ghosts without any health insurance!” Wise words.

For Look at this Well-Prepared Sunshine Science:

Sam confesses that his hunting dreams featured Dean as well. “What if that’s who we really are?” Sam wonders.

Dean defends the reality of his life. HE WENT TO STANFORD. His father’s name is Bob, his mother’s name is Ellen, and his sister is Jo. Excuse me. I’m just going to….stand outside my door and HOWL MOURNFULLY about this with the local coyotes.

“We’re supposed to be someone else.” Sam tells Dean that he started at Sandover because he broke up with Madison - but now her number leads to an animal hospital. (I swear to god, I’m gonna chew off my own arm at this show.) Sam says that Dean’s more than just a corporate suit. Dean shoos Sam from his office.

The next morning, Sam’s back at the daily grind. He steps back from his phone and then swings a crowbar at it, Office Space style.

Upstairs, Zachariah smarms his way into Dean’s office and clucks that he looks tired. He’s heard good things about Dean and offers him a generous bonus.

Zachariah hints that a big promotion could happen in 8-10 short years of constant work and sacrifice. The joy in Dean’s eyes fades. Dean turns it down and tells Zachariah that he plans to quit. “I have some other work I have to do,” Dean tells him. “This - it’s not who I’m supposed to be.” Zachariah smiles and zaps Dean’s brain. The camera desaturates.

“My god am I hungry,” a confused Dean observes as Zachariah chuckles. (Stop reading Goop, Dean! Get off that cleanse!) Zachariah explains that he’s Castiel’s boss, and he’s on Earth to ensure that the Winchesters fulfill their destiny - as hunters!

“You’re a hunter,” Zachariah explains. It’s in Dean’s blood. (I hiss at this.) And if Dean works hard enough, he’ll do everything he’s “destined to do. All of it.” GUH. Zachariah urges Dean to embrace his life. It could be worse, after all!

Semi-quote Kinda Life, Baby:

Good stuff

Did you try turning it off and then on?

Look, man, I don't know you, okay? But I'm gonna do a public service and let you know that you overshare

How the hell did you know that ghosts are scared of wrenches?

I don’t believe in destiny. I believe in dealing with what’s right in front of us

Most folks live and die without moving anything more than the dirt it takes to bury them. You get to change things

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

#spn recap #dean winchester #sam winchester #spn 4x17 #It's A Terrible Life #zachariah #supernatural season 4

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welllpthisishappening · 3 years

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Welllp These Are Books: the April 2021 Edition

I did not read Romeo and Juliet this month. I read a bunch of other books. Like, a bunch. More than one series. Because Big Bang burnout is real and grown adults missing their deadlines is a real good way to stress me out. So, I read a bunch. Good books, very bad books, books that caused limbs to flail. For positive and not-so-positive reasons. Naturally, all those reasons must be shared. Under the cut with occasionally long and rant-prone reviews, as well as spoilers. Beware of spoilers under the cut. Please keep telling me what to read, internet. My library wish list is almost comically long now.

GIVE ME ALL THE WORLD BUILDING AND SNARK AND FIGHTING! WITH MAGIC! AND SWORDS! IT’S MY FAVORITE THING IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD!

Shades of Magic Series by V.E. Schwab

Kell is one of the last Antari—magicians with a rare, coveted ability to travel between parallel Londons; Red, Grey, White, and, once upon a time, Black. After an exchange goes awry, Kell escapes to Grey London and runs into Delilah Bard, a cut-purse with lofty aspirations. Now perilous magic is afoot, and treachery lurks at every turn. To save all of the worlds, they'll first need to stay alive.

— Picture it, approximately twelve forty-seven am. My husband is asleep. I am reading. The second book in this series ends. And I say, right out loud, at what might now be twelve forty-eight am, HOLY SHIT IT JUST ENDED. Justin thought we were under attack. No man has ever snapped awake quicker. He was not pleased. At least not in the same way that I was about these books. Which I goddamn LOVED. Loved. The world building. The magic. The banter. Rhy and Kell’s relationship. Once more. RHY AND KELL’S RELATIONSHIP. Which I might have cared about more than the romance??? Maybe??? I cannot get over how good this world building was. I know people have quips with it, and that’s fair. I saw the “twist” coming in the first book, and I think trying to preserve that left some plot holes that are understandably frustrating. Because Lilah definitely needed depth perception to fight as well as she did. Also did Schwab really refer to her as a cross dresser in her author’s note? Yikes. She wore a dude’s jacket, like—c’mon V.E. Other than that though. I loved it. Also shout out to @peglegsjones for suggesting this one in my 2020 post and call out to me for taking so long to read it.

Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo

Ketterdam: a bustling hub of international trade where anything can be had for the right price—and no one knows that better than criminal prodigy Kaz Brekker. Kaz is offered a chance at a deadly heist that could make him rich beyond his wildest dreams. But he can't pull it off alone. . . . A convict with a thirst for revenge. A sharpshooter who can't walk away from a wager. A runaway with a privileged past. A spy known as the Wraith. A Heartrender using her magic to survive the slums. A thief with a gift for unlikely escapes. Six dangerous outcasts. One impossible heist. Kaz's crew is the only thing that might stand between the world and destruction—if they don't kill each other first.

— I’ve talked about how little I cared about anything that happened in Shadow and Bone before, but I kept seeing gifs of the Crows in the Netflix show and my brain was like: huh, I could like them. So, after some help from the very helpful internet, I’m happy to report I do in fact like them. At one point, I slunk into the couch. Like that’s how overcome with emotion I was. Kaz ripped a dude’s eye out! For Inej! Matthias loved Nina’s laugh! I would like to hug Jesper. Seriously, this hit all my high points and world building and banter and I lol’ed at “scheming face.” I would like my hold to come through faster on the sequel.

THEY DID NOT CALL INTERMISSION HALFTIME AND MY COLLEGE EXPERIENCE WAS WAY DIFFERENT THAN THESE KIDS

The Off Campus Series by Elle Kennedy

Hannah Wells has finally found someone who turns her on. But while she might be confident in every other area of her life, she’s carting around a full set of baggage when it comes to sex and seduction. If she wants to get her crush’s attention, she’ll have to step out of her comfort zone and make him take notice…even if it means tutoring the annoying, childish, cocky captain of the hockey team in exchange for a pretend date. All Garrett Graham has ever wanted is to play professional hockey after graduation, but his plummeting GPA is threatening everything he’s worked so hard for. If helping a sarcastic brunette make another guy jealous will help him secure his position on the team, he’s all for it. But when one unexpected kiss leads to the wildest sex of both their lives, it doesn’t take long for Garrett to realize that pretend isn’t going to cut it. Now he just has to convince Hannah that the man she wants looks a lot like him.

— The first book in this series was free on Amazon. So, I read it. And really liked it??? It was so chock full of cliches and badly written tropes and Garrett probably should have accepted that Hannah didn’t want to go out at the start, but like—he was cute? And as we all know I am TRASH™ for stories set in the same verse, so, like, I just kept reading these trashy college hockey books. Trashy is a compliment here. God, these kids had so much sex. So much. An incredible amount, really. I once had a guy tell me he was physically attracted to me, but not emotionally attracted to me in college. Like, that was my college experience. The first and second books were the best, I think. I didn’t really like Dean that much.

MAYBE IT WAS BECAUSE HE WAS A RABBI???

The Intimacy Experiement by Rosie Danan

Naomi Grant has built her life around going against the grain. After the sex-positive start-up she cofounded becomes an international sensation, she wants to extend her educational platform to live lecturing. Unfortunately, despite her long list of qualifications, higher ed won't hire her. Ethan Cohen has recently received two honors: LA Mag nominated him as one of the city's hottest bachelors and he became rabbi of his own synagogue. Low on both funds and congregants, the executive board of Ethan's new shul hired him with the hopes that his nontraditional background will attract more millennials to the faith. They've given him three months to turn things around or else they'll close the doors of his synagogue for good. Naomi and Ethan join forces to host a buzzy seminar series on Modern Intimacy, the perfect solution to their problems--until they discover a new one--their growing attraction to each other. They've built the syllabus for love's latest experiment, but neither of them expected they'd be the ones putting it to the test.

— Ok, I know that sounds bad. Again, I’m a creature of predictable habit and this was the sequel to The Roommate, which I absolutely LOVED last year. But where as the relationship in that one was kind of swoony, this one was...I don’t know, really. Everyone was a well-rounded character and the plot was good, but there was this semi-invisible something that made it difficult for me to get fully on board with the whole story. Honestly, it might be because he was a religious figure?? Also, they got together real quick. Like zero to sixty in twenty-six seconds flat.

I KNOW IT’S BAD, IT WAS BAD AND YET—I CANNOT STOP READING IT???

Too Wild to Tame by Tessa Bailey

Sometimes you just can't resist playing with fire . . . By day, Aaron Clarkson suits up, shakes hands, and acts the perfect gentleman. But at night, behind bedroom doors, the tie comes off and the real Aaron comes out to play. Mixing business with pleasure got him fired, so Aaron knows that if he wants to work for the country's most powerful senator, he'll have to keep his eye on the prize. That's easier said than done when he meets the senator's daughter, who's wild, gorgeous, and 100 percent trouble. Grace Pendleton is the black sheep of her conservative family. Yet while Aaron's presence reminds her of a past she'd rather forget, something in his eyes keeps drawing her in. Maybe it's the way his voice turns her molten. Or maybe it's because deep down inside, the ultra-smooth, polished Aaron Clarkson might be more than even Grace can handle . . .

— Last month I read the first book in this series and it was absolutely ridiculous. This one even more so. The Clarksons are still on the road trip (sans one sibling because she fell in love in a week in the first book) and Aaron was, like, not a root’able character? Very Edward Cullen I’M A BAD GUY, BELLA vibes and his relationship with Grace was so strange. Super rushed again, obvs. Meeting in the woods is weird enough. Professing love forty-eight hours later is decidedly unbelievable. Also there was a kidnapping involved? I totally put a hold on the next book in the series.

COME UP WITH DIFFERENT TRAUMA, I DARE YOU! OR NO TRAUMA. WHAT A CONCEPT!!

The Trouble With Hating You by Sajni Patel

Liya Thakkar is a successful biochemical engineer, takeout enthusiast, and happily single woman. The moment she realizes her parents' latest dinner party is a setup with the man they want her to marry, she's out the back door in a flash. Imagine her surprise when the same guy shows up at her office a week later -- the new lawyer hired to save her struggling company. What's not surprising: he's not too thrilled to see her either after that humiliating fiasco.

Jay Shah looks good on paper...and off. Especially if you like that whole gorgeous, charming lawyer-in-a-good-suit thing. He's also infuriating. As their witty office banter turns into late-night chats, Liya starts to think he might be the one man who truly accepts her. But falling for each other means exposing their painful pasts. Will Liya keep running, or will she finally give love a real chance?

— I had such high hopes for this one. Which is on me, I guess. Because I didn’t hate this one, but it was...not great. Maybe I’m just getting old and crotchety but I am BEGGING romance writers to come up with different trauma for their female protagonists. Not every woman has to have been assaulted to rationalize their current personality. Doesn’t have to happen. Like, ok, yes it does happen. Far more than it should. But that’s an entirely different story, and I am so tired of female characters getting absolutely destroyed by their past only to have that be their defining characteristic for so much of the book. Until a nice man they were initially mean to shows up and he’s UNDERSTANDING and he CARES and it’s just, bleh. It’s bleh. Tired and predictable and I’m over it.

IN WHICH I SHOULD HAVE LOOKED AT THE COVER

Much Ado About You by Samantha Young

At thirty-three-years old Evangeline Starling’s life in Chicago is missing that special something. And when she’s passed over for promotion at work, Evie realizes she needs to make a change. Some time away to regain perspective might be just the thing. In a burst of impulsivity, she plans a holiday in a quaint English village. The holiday package comes with a temporary position at Much Ado About Books, the bookstore located beneath her rental apartment. There’s no better dream vacation for the bookish Evie, a life-long Shakespeare lover. Not only is Evie swept up in running the delightful store as soon as she arrives, she’s drawn into the lives, loves and drama of the friendly villagers. Including Roane Robson, the charismatic and sexy farmer who tempts Evie every day with his friendly flirtations. Evie is determined to keep him at bay because a holiday romance can only end in heartbreak, right? But Evie can’t deny their connection and longs to trust in her handsome farmer that their whirlwind romance could turn in to the forever kind of love.

— Ok, so I had had this book on hold for so long that I genuinely forgot about it and forgot who it was written by. Samantha Young wrote that one book that I called the worst book I had ever read. Only I did not realize that when I started reading this one. So, you see how this sets us up for disaster. Because this book was a disaster. Everyone was goddamn annoying. And whiny. Shit, everyone whined. About everything. Also, the actual writing was atrocious. I am not usually one to be like “men can’t write,” but at one point I told both @shireness-says and @optomisticgirl that this book must have been secretly written by a man because no woman writing it would be so obsessed with pointing out where her cellulite was. Like, what??? Also the first sex scene? Oh my God, I laughed. Guffawed. The so-called love interest literally asked: “Are we going to have sex now?” And then they just did. It was so bad. Also there was a dog? Who went everywhere with the so-called love interest. And they just never explained that? I thought it was going to be part of some crushing and depressing backstory. Nah, he was just there.

HOLY SHIT THIS WAS SO DUMB I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS WAS A BOOK! A BOOK MEANT FOR YOUNG ADULTS! WHAT IS YOUNG ADULT???

The Queen’s Secret by Melissa de la Cruz

Lilac's birthright makes her the Queen of Renovia, and a forced marriage made her the Queen of Montrice. But being a ruler does not mean making the rules. For Lilac, taking the throne means giving up the opportunity to be with love of her life, the kingdom's assassin, Caledon Holt. Worse, Cale is forced to leave the castle when a horrific set of magical attacks threatens Lilac's sovereignty. Now Cal eand Lilac will have to battle dark forces separately, even though being together is the only thing that's ever saved them.

— Remember last month when I was like: can’t wait for my hold to come through on this sequel so I know what happens? What an idiot. THIS BOOK WAS SO DUMB I CANNOT BELIEVE IT WAS A BOOK. As always in my rage-induced rants, no apologies for spoilers because seriously do NOT read this, but Lilac (legit, that was her name) married some other dude but just kept fucking Cale??? Like she had a secret door? So he could come in and they could fuck?? I just—oh my God. So, all these things kept happening. Magic and bad stuff and horses were killed. Lilac’s mother was the absolute WORST. Honestly the most worthless character who at one point was like “well, my story is over, guess it’s time to leave,” and then just left?? Forced Lilac into a marriage of alliance and no love and then everything evil was defeated in point two four seconds. It happened so fast I wasn’t even sure it happened. So, then I’m like, ok, how are Lilac and Cale going to end up together? Because this is YA and that’s how it’s supposed to work. Only her being married and that marriage requiring an heir is something of a rather large hurdle. Don’t worry! Remember when Lilac and Cale were fucking? Everyone totally knew. Including the king Lilac is married to. Who is somehow like...ok with this? And tells Cale that Lilac is pregnant. ISN’T THAT WONDERFUL! Sure, because now they can lie and claim its the king’s heir. ONLY IT’S CALE’S KID! AND CALE IS COOL WITH THIS! His entire internal monologue during this is about how he realizes he might not ever be able to tell his kid he’s their father, but he’ll be around and that’s good. Wait, what??? But there’s more! Not only is Lilac having Cale’s kid, but the king she’s married to is in love with one of Cale’s spy associates. So the king and the spy are going to go hang out (and presumably have their own kids) at one castle and Lilac and Cale are going to go to another. Lilac and the king never get divorced or annulled or whatever. Everyone stays as is and married as is and—they all live happily ever after? This was presented as a good ending, I swear. What the shit, guys, seriously.

#book rec #book reccs #fantasy recommendations #rom com recs #laura reads books #i am still waiting for people to respond to my emails #and only vaguely stressed out about it #welllp these are books

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seaweedinthebrain · 3 years

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Hi so I just saw your ask to rua and

a) thank you so much for sharing this, because I feel that way about james and Cordelia’s arc too? Like, there’s so much miscommunication and just general chaos when in other scenes they are level-headed, rational teenagers capable of using their brains? Honestly, all the drama is just getting to me (just like with clary and jace with everything that’s going on). At one point i know it‘s necessary but it’s just… tiring, you know? I used to like writing about James and Cordelia when chog was the only drama that occurred but now... I just feel like Cordelia ‘escaping’ with Matthew is so uncalled for and very out of character. We see Cordelia be a badass warrior woman that loves her parabatai and her family (specifically Alastair and Sona) very dearly and she runs off to Paris with a man she‘s only known for like four months? Five? That doesn’t make any sense! (And I’m sorry for making this about myself but I just needed to say that people are just waiting for updates on my jordelia fic and I don’t like them as much now but at the same time I don’t want to disappoint people because of that? Does that make sense?)

b) yes. The thing about cc neglecting platonic (or even familial relationships, any type of relationship that’s not romantic to be honest) relationships? Yes. I just have difficulty seeing the main cast as a tight-knit group when most of the time there’s only developments with romantic interests shown… at this point everyone is just ‘hanging out because you are my friend’s partner’ and not ‘I genuinely want to talk to you and do things with you because you are a very good person that I’d like to know more about’. (And the fact that blackstairs happened was just urggggggggggh she ruined the good and healthy friendship shown in tmi and is, supposedly, develop in tda by romanticising it! It’s like you can’t have a best friend that you’ve known all your life without falling in love with them! This makes ace and/or aro people very discouraged because it seems like the only relationship worth pursuing is romantic relationships!)

hey you! yes to all of this, thank you!!! i'm gonna try and answer this in a sort of organised way

a) exactly. i get the use of the miscommunication trope, specially in YA content, to create conflict and drama and make sure the plot doesn't get flat. but that only works if it's used to a certain extent. the way cc is writing jordelia is just annoying to read because not only is it becoming out of character for them (as you said, they're both supposed to be smart and level-headed people), it is also nearly agonising to read, at least for me as someone who cannot stand feeling second hand embarrassment. miscommunication to create drama is a good trope if the author knows when it's time to stop. which cc clearly doesn't. reading choi i was just waiting for the moment when james and cordelia would finally solve that and when i started breathing easier after the bracelet broke, there comes the miscommunication again. just. no. it's been going for too long and at this point it's annoying. as for your fic, don't apologise for talking about yourself! the best advice i can give about that is: don't worry about disappointing your readers, because you won't. in my (frankly limited) experience as a fic writer of rare pairs with close to no fanbase, recognition and feedback is nice but it's not everything. at the end of day, your fic should be something you enjoy writing about a shipp you enjoy thinking about. if you've lost interest in writing about jordelia than find another pairing that inspires you! it's okay to lose interest in a shipp and abandoning a fic, every writer does it and no one has been burned at the stake for it yet, don't worry.

b) exactly². like, putting romance above friendship or family is a common enough thing in media and cc does not need to contribute to it. it's something that always bothers me and the fact that it's SO present in a saga that is so important to me is terrible. the thing you said about how the characters seem to be only "hanging out because you are my friend's partner" yes!!!! that's exactly the idea i was trying to pass when i used that quote from magnus!!! how am i supposed to believe this people are a close ride-or-die group of friends who save the world together when on page it always seems like they're just hanging out with each other out of "you're friends with my partner so i guess we're vaguely in the same social circle"? as for the blackstairs thing you said? yes. definitely. as much as i rooted for them while reading tda, i feel like cc usually seems to step into that stereotype that a boy and a girl can't be friends without one or both having a thing for the other? and that's in all of her series? like, clary immediately assumes jace and isabelle have a thing before she finds out they're siblings, simon spent years in love with clary and they dated even if they broke up later, simon and maia dated even if they broke up later, luke spent years in love with jocelyn, emma and julian with their whole drama, kit kissing livvy out of nowhere, dru having kind of a little crush on jaime, matthew being in love with lucie and then all of a sudden falling in love with cordelia, etc. i mean???? emma and julian are the best example of this, of course, but there are so many other romantic innuendos that had no need to be there and it would change nothing in the main plot. cc could have much more page time to develop platonic and familial relationships properly if she didn't disregard those in favour of giving more unnecessary scenes and credit to the straight and unrealistically sexualized romance between the protagonists (and i say "unrealistically sexualized" cause, honestly, who takes a condom to a rescue mission in an infernal dimension and has their first time on the floor of a demonic cave, like clary and jace? who has sex, weirdly also on a cave, while being held captive and immediately after finding out your parabatai, who also happens to be the fiancé of the woman you're about to sleep with, is dead, like will and tessa? and how come a 17 year old who had never even kissed someone before, much less gone further than that, is suddenly a "sex god", in cc's own words, like julian with emma?). anyways, cc needs to learn how to develop actual human relationships that don't involve people suffering for a "forbidden" love that isn't actually as complicated as they're making it to be or thirsting over each other in unusual places in her books, because i need close platonic relationships to feed my soul and, as an author with that many characters and such a big universe, she has millions of available opportunities to stop making stories centered around progressively weaker plots that by now mostly just make everything and everyone else the background for the overly dramatic main paring.

#anti cc

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facelessoldgargoyle · 4 years

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Transition Videos: Genre and Subgenre

The idea of a transition video is a little hard to explain. The essential component is the creative use of video cuts. If the purpose of a video is to showcase a cut between shots, then it’s in the transition genre. There are lots of ways to do it, and lots subgenres within the transition genre.

Here’s how to do the classic transition: place the camera on steady location so it doesn’t move between shots. Record the first part of the video in one outfit. On the beat drop of the song, stop recording (with the help of a timer) while you’re in the middle of a fast movement, like waving your hand over your face, or spinning, or falling into a chair. Change clothes, do your makeup, spike your hair. Start recording again while you complete the end of the fast movement, and when the video is played over again, it looks like you magically transformed. The Willy Wonka shirt pull is a transition video, because he didn’t rip his shirt off, he had the shit on, paused the camera, took his shirt off, and while filming in fast forward so he’s moving very quickly, rips the shirt down in front of him as if it was never attached to him. The closer aligned the before and after shot are, the faster you’re moving, the better it looks.

History

Tessa Violet (yes, the singer) brough the single cut, steady camera transition video to general renown with her song Wishful Drinking. It follows the formula above. The motion is crossing your arms and raising them above your head and then bring them down on beat. The transition occurs when your arms are over your face. This contributed to the illusion, because your eye is drawn to the face, and since your hands remain the same between shots, the before and after look identical for a longer period of time, making transition looks smoother. It’s easy to do, the song is very catchy, and it looks cool, so E V E R Y O N E did it. There are currently a quarter million videos under Wishful Drinking. Tessa Violet was not the first to do it, but a lot of people used her song for their first transition video.

Of course, once everyone does a very simple transition, the people who want to get famous need to do it smoother, better, and more creatively.

The Proliferation of Subgenres

Ok, so if subgenre is defined by who (sides) does what (trends), the subgenres of transitions are distinguished by who is doing them and why.

1. The Über-Transitions

Accounts that only do transition have gotten really creative. They do shot, shot, shot, shot, switching prescriptive, pretending to lift their head off their shoulders, zooming into a mirror cutting to the porch reflected behind it. They’re fast paced and the ultimate of what a transition video can be. This is difficult and time intensive, so there’s not a ton of accounts like this.

2. Thirst Trapsitions

Accounts that are built around being hot will do transitions focused around starting out normally and then cutting to a shot where they’re more naked, or more done up, or domming/subbing for the camera. Don’t ask me about this, Kinktok is getting its own post.

3. Fashion/Makeup transitions

Two communities blend into this subgenre: goths and makeup artists. They do a similar sort of video, starting out barefaced and cutting to a shot where they’re heavily made up and dressed up. The difference is how much color and leather is used, basically.

4. Cosplay transitions

This is covers a couple kinds of transitions, but again, they’re all done by the same group of people. There’s a transition from your normal face into your cosplay, there’s a transition from the innocent version of the character to the corrupted/damaged/bloodied version of the character, there’s the transition from cosplay to cosplay to cosplay to show off your range.

5. Transition Transitions

Of course, people use this to show off their transgender transitions. There are a lot of “This is my voice 1 month on T, 2 months on T, 3, 4, 6, 12 months on T.” There are a lot of showing old pre-transition pictures and then cutting to them now. A lot of these don’t qualify as transition (genre) videos because they don’t involve focusing on a smooth cut between shots, but I feel obliged to bring them up.

This of course edges into the genre of progression videos, which is most popular for showing off arts and crafts, but is also used to show hair growth, increasing skill levels, and more. It’s a less interesting genre to me, and won’t be getting its own post.

These are what spring to mind, and I’m sure there are dozens more, but this gives you a taste of what’s up with transitions.

#cataloguetok #long post

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thatnerdnextdoor24 · 5 years

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If your face is the last I ever see, I’ll be happy with that

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Ao3 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ When Kit was little, he had had a strange dream. In it was a man with blue eyes and dark hair. The man had laughed when he saw Kit. Told him that he never imagined for him to be so small. Kit had replied that being small made him good for stealing. The man had smiled and told him perhaps.

He had all but forgotten the dream since. But now, he remembered. Because that man stood in front of him again. Only, now he recognized him from the photographs that hung off the walls of his home. And from Mina’s birth. Because he had been there, too, and Kit couldn’t quite find the right time to introduce himself. "Will." He said. Will Herondale smiled. "Hello there, Christopher. It's a pleasure to see you again."

Kit looked around where he sat. He was in the infirmary in the Los Angeles Institute. He didn't remember getting there. He looked down to find that someone had intertwined their fingers with his. He would have recognized those fingers anywhere. Ty sat, asleep, in an armchair beside Kit's bed. "What happened?" He asked. "You pulled a Herondale." Will said simply. Kit internally sighed. “Did you just use our last name as a verb?” Will shrugged his ghostly shoulders. “You protected someone you loved at the expense of your own safety and well being. Yeah, that’s a Herondale. I bet it’s in the dictionary somewhere.”

A part of Kit wanted to snark back with a witty remark but, the other, was tired. His limbs felt heavy, his joints sore. A pounding rhythm was beginning in his head, his chest hurt everytime he moved. His eyes drifted back to Ty. They tended to do that alot. "And why are you here?" Kit asked instead. Will drifted closer, his watchful gaze taking in the features of Ty's face. "You know how ghosts sometimes stop by when a family member dies?"

A memory of Micheal Wayland and Robert Lightwood came to Kit's mind. "Yeah?" He met Will's eyes. Even now, they were startlingly blue. "Well, I'll be honest. I didn't think you were going to make it through the night." He smiled sadly. Kit's breath hitched, "Oh," was all he could manage. He squeezed Ty's hand. "Oh indeed." Will grimaced. The clock on the wall ticked and toked, echoing through the mostly empty Infirmary.

Just then, Will's head snapped up. "I have to go." He said. His voice sounding far away. Kit had spent enough time around ghosts to know that he didn't have much time. "Thank you." He said. Will tilted his head. "Why? I didn't do anything."

"But if I had died. You would have been there. Thank you." Kit said simply. It eased his heart somehow, to know that one day, when his body could carry him no longer, Will would be there to take him home. So the ghost smiled, he looked back to where Ty slept and said, "You should wake him. For he loves you, in a way I can hardly remember." His voice had the gravely tone of someone who had seen far to much, and lived far too long.

When Kit did look back at Ty's soft and sleeping face. He smiled, he could remember. Early mornings with Ty in his arms. Late nights walking the roads of the Shadow Market. Afternoons in the library. And he knew, that of course Will could remember these, because he had lived them too. He was going to say as much when-

He was gone.

One moment standing there, the next, cold and empty air. Nothing but a whisper on a still breeze.

"....goodbye, Christopher."

Kit started at the empty space where will had been, and wondered, if he had ever really been there at all. He stared at it for a long time. Until, there was a stirring from his side. The hand he was holding onto tightened its grip, and Ty yawned. Kit smoothed back his hair. "Good morning, baby." He whispered.

Ty smiled sleepily at the sound of his voice, and then violently, jolted awake. "You're awake!" He exclaimed. Frantically looking Kit up and down, checking the pulse on his wrist, the bandage around his head. Kit felt a laugh bubble up inside him. It was cute how worried Ty was.

"I'm fine Ty." He assured, Ty didnt look convinced. Kit held Ty's hands to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to his fingertips. "Really." His voice low and gentle. "I'm okay." He pressed their foreheads together, felt Ty sigh.

"I know." Ty whispered. "But you scared me." His fingers fiddled with Kit's. He pulled back to look seriously, into Kit's eyes. "You really, really scared me." He bit his lip.

Suddenly, Kit felt his throat dry up. "I'm sorry." He whispered. He remembered a promise. A promise made after a night he thought would never end. Where he had forced himself to spill out all the truths and feelings that had seemed to choke him. A promise made under the stars. 'I will be honest. With you, I will not hold my tongue l. I will not push my feelings aside.'

Kit had yet to break that promise. And he didn’t intend to start now. He cupped Ty’s cheek in his hand. “I should have paid more attention to myself. I was too worried about you. I was so focused on keeping you safe, that I forgot about myself.” It always hurt a little to be so honest with Ty. Always a voice in the back of Kit’s head, that told him that Ty didn’t care.

The voice was always wrong.

Ty pulled himself onto the bed with Kit, who laid his head on Ty’s shoulder. “You also look really hot when you fight.” Kit added. Ty let out a laugh. “That’s the poorest excuse you could have possibly come up with.”

“It’s not an excuse, its the truth.” “It’s still dumb.”

“No it’s not. You’re hot when you fight, deal with it.”

“Fine. Then you look pretty hot yourself.”

Kit looked up, a tired smile across his mouth. To find Ty, dark circles beneath his eyes and his hair a disheveled mess, with that beautiful smile on his face. That smile that lit up his entire face, that seemed to call all attention to itself and yet, was rarely seen. The smile that had started it all. Kit felt breathless, he yearned to pull Ty to him.

Oh ya… He thought. I can do that now. It still felt so new.

Kit cupped Ty’s cheek and pressed his mouth against his. He felt Ty sigh beneath him, he melted into the kiss, his hands going familiarly into Kit’s hair. His lips knew how to move like second nature. Kit tasted summer time, books, and apples. It was so, very, Ty. He moved closer, Ty wrapped his arm around him and sudden blinding pain ripped through him, coming from the deep gash on his chest. With a hiss, Kit pulled back. Ty frantically pulled back and off the bed. “I’m so sorry! Oh, are you okay? Maybe I should go get Jem. Are you alright, Kit?”

Kit wanted to throw himself out the window. He had just ruined a perfectly, lovely, moment. By the Angel, the demon didn’t kill him, but he was going to die of embarrassment. “It’s okay, Ty.” He said, his cheeks turning red. Ty didn’t seem very convinced, “I think I should still go get the others. They’ll want to know you’re awake anyway.” Ty gave Kit a quick kiss on the forehead before rushing out of the infirmary. Kit put his hand to his forehead, at least that was something.

The next time Ty returned to the room, he wasn’t alone. Not by a long shot. Behind him trailed, Brother Enoch, Catarina, Magnus, Tessa and Jem. Brother Enoch and Catarina pushed themselves forward, telling the others that Kit’s health was the top most priority. Catarina asked him questions ranging form ‘how are you feeling?’ to ‘does it hurt when I do this?’ While Brother Enoch unwrapped and rewrapped bandages, applied runes, and told Kit to drink a strange purple liquid. It tasted like cough syrup.

The second they had said he would be fine, with some rest, Tessa and Jem were upon him. Tessa smothered his face with kisses, while Jem ignored his pleas for help. He only held Kit’s hand, “Don’t ever scare me like that again.” Jem begged, his voice cracked, Kit’s heart shattered a little at the sound of it. “I won’t.” he promised. He intended to keep it.

Finally, Magnus took pity on Kit and told Tessa, “Maybe you shouldn’t smother the boy.” Tessa glared at him, but pulled back. Ty took that opportunity to take up his spot on the bed beside Kit. He rested his head on his shoulder“You gave us quite a scare there, Christopher.” Magnus continued. Kit smiled sheepishly, “That's what I’ve been told.”

Magnus smiled wearily back, “I think it runs in your family.” he complained. Kit couldn’t help but laugh. “You know? Someone else told me that earlier.” Magnus raised an eyebrow, but was cut off by a voice at the door. “Are you taking visitors yet?”

Kit smiled at the familiar voice. In the doorway was Dru and Ash. “Sure am.” He said, though his voice still sounded weak and hoarse to his own ears. And his entire body screamed at him to lay back down. Dru smiled and pulled Ash into the room, who grinned when he saw Kit’s condition. “Those are gonna be some wicked scars man.” He fistbumbped Kit. “I know, right? I just wish the story was cooler.”

Ty gave him a quizzical look. “I think it’s cool. You were protecting me.” Kit felt his face blush, out of the corner of his eye, Dru hid behind Ash. He could hear her giggling. “Even if you should have known better.” Ty added. “I’m sorry, does somebody want to fill me in? What happened, exactly?” Ash looked from Ty to Kit, and back again. “Kit was an idiot.” Ty said simply. “He said so himself.”

Kit was shocked. “I did not say that. Okay, I said it was a mistake, but that doesn’t mean I was an idiot.” Ty completely ignored him. He went on to tell Ash how idiotic Kit could be sometimes. And, about how if Kit hadn’t been thirsting over him, then he would be fine. Kit went red and tried to interfere, but Ash feigned shock, “Kit! Be quiet, your boyfriend is trying to tell me some very important information.” The worst was when he could hear Tessa and Jem try to conceal their laughs.

But Kit didn’t try too hard to fight back, he understood he deserved this. For worrying them so much. He loved them all, so very very much. Eventually, as people came and left the room, Kit felt his eyes grow heavy. Tessa noticed, and so, ushered everyone except Ty out of the room. Who, also seemed very worn out. Tessa didn’t look to hyper herself. She simply helped Kit lay back into the bed. Told Ty that he could stay with him if he wished. He did.

She got Kit a glass of water, (which was quickly devoured.) and kissed them each on the forehead. It surprised Kit sometimes, how much Tessa loved Ty as if he were her son too. And maybe (hopefully) one day he would be. Once Tessa shut the door behind her, Ty curled up against Kit’s side. “I love you.” He whispered, already drifting off to sleep. Kit smiled, “I love you.” He whispered back. But his love had already fallen asleep. So Christopher followed suit, closing his eyes to fall asleep in Tiberus’s arms.

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ultimavolatusrpg · 5 years

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ACCEPTED // SIERRA FLETCHER

34 years old, 78th Hunger Games, FC: Tessa Thompson

Intelligent, caring, observant, deceptive, skeptical

tw: execution, death

THE ARENA

The 78th Hunger Games was a memorable Arena, if not only for the setting. A large stone, gray castle loomed over a valley and was carved into a mountainside. The grounds of the castle were crawling with snarling wolves and under the moonlight they turned into even more terrifying monsters. Inside, the corridors were long, echoing and full of ghosts.

Several chambers held bedrooms, others chamber-pots, and one held a grand library. A great hall, a kitchen, and a dungeon were also present in the layout of the castle. This Arena had constant dangers and did not let the tributes rest for very long. Armour became animated at random moments and ghosts could turn hostile at any moment. Paintings that adorned every hall, could reach out from their frames and hold a tribute against the wall until they broke free.

Each day of the six-day Arena was painted with blood. The bloodbath was not as spectacular as years previous, leaving only 5 tributes dead and 19 children still alive in the halls of the castle. Only one tribute found the passageways that were hidden in the walls of the castle and she used them to her advantage, setting traps and killing her opponents to move to the finale. The finale wasn’t particularly grand as the last two tributes were moved to the great hall. In a confusing, second long confrontation, Sierra Fletcher was named Victor, her use of the secret passageways earning her a place among the sneakiest and smartest Victors of the last fifty years.

BIOGRAPHY

Sierra Fletcher was born to two dairy farmers in District Ten. She grew up in a small farmhouse where she got up at the crack of dawn to help take care of the cows that they were tasked to look after. Most families that lived around her were full of children to help do the daily chores. Siblings numbering from 5-7 was common around the fields where the Fletchers lived. However, her family only had her. It wasn’t from lack of trying. Both her father and her mother were distraught they couldn’t give their only daughter a sibling and to take some of the stress off of themselves and Sierra.

But, Sierra was okay with it. She worked hard, but never was able to go to school. She found quiet moments around the farm, where she would watch the world go by and figure out things on her own. Her constant curiosity and bright mind were her companions on the farm. Sierra’s mind expanded over the years as she learned how the plants grew and how the machines on the farm worked and how to saddle a horse just from observing.

The Fletchers loved Sierra and whenever they could they gifted her an old textbook or novel that another kid didn’t need anymore. So, she grew up loved and surrounded by books and knowledge and cows. It wasn’t a bad childhood, some would say it was good.

But, when she was 12, her father died. It was an accident, a misidentification by the Peacekeepers during the Quarter Quell. Her mom was compensated only a little bit when the Peacekeeper in question realized his mistake. It was only his generosity that helped them; the Capitol didn’t really care. Sierra and her mom struggled to make ends meet, but with the help of their neighbours, they were able to find a groove and hire some more help on the farm.

For the next three years, Sierra grew and learned and worked. It wasn’t quite as happy as before, but she found her best friend in her mom and cultivated a love for books that could not be matched. She watched people over the top of her current novel and dived deep into the worlds that she could find.

But, of course nothing could last for Sierra Fletcher and she was reaped in the 78th Hunger Games at the ripe old age of 15. She was one of the youngest tributes in her year, only the girl from 9 being younger. Sierra was like a fish out of water in this grand, new place and ended up staying mostly to herself, only opening up for her district partner, Trace.

The pair from District Ten were not noteworthy as they exited the Bloodbath with their lives and a knife between the two of them. They continued to run through the halls of the stone castle, trying to find somewhere to hide or somewhere with food or water. Together they survived the first day, but Sierra lost Trace when they had wandered into a courtyard during twilight. A bipedal wolf had attacked them, Trace losing his life in front of Sierra. She had escaped with deep claw marks in her left shin.

Distraught she wandered around the castle, scared and alone. Sierra wasn’t thinking clearly, only wanting to find a place to curl up and wait for whatever was going to come and get her. She folded into the corner of a bedroom, watching for something to come for her if her exhaustion and thirst didn’t get her first.

She watched and watched, tracing the bricks on the wall with her eyes when her mind grew bored waiting. It was as she noticed the details of the wall, that she found that the bricks looked slightly different. Pulling herself out of her ball, Sierra tested the wall and found that it opened to her touch. Rejuvenated with this possibility, Sierra moved into the passages behind the walls and began to explore.

Over the next few days she stole, set up traps, and strayed as far away from the mutts and dangers that the Arena was throwing at the remaining tributes. During her stint in the walls, she managed to kill four different tributes, crying herself to sleep after each kill she committed. As the tributes dwindled, the Capitol was sick of her shenanigans, only keeping her around for the entertainment value. They tried to flush her out with a fire shot through the wall passages, but Sierra had learned the passages over the past few days and she evaded their attempts to kill her until the last possible minute. It was only when the fire and a poisonous gas cloud that was also let loose in the castle walls collided, did she exit the wall into the Great Hall, an explosion following her.

Sierra stumbled into the other tribute that had been led to their final battleground. She collapsed on the tribute from District 4 and in a panic, stabbed her knife from the Bloodbath into the boy’s neck. Sierra had won, but at what cost?

The months following her victory, Sierra buried her nose in any book she could find. She did not want to face the world that lay outside the windows of her new abode in the Village, wanting to plunge her thoughts into the worlds that each of these books contained. She was not only grieving the people that she had killed in the Arena, but she was grieving her mother too. She had passed during her time in the Games, laid waste in Sierra’s childhood home while they stole every valuable thing in there - not that there was much.

It had nearly destroyed her being fifteen and utterly alone, but her mother had been a strong one and the words that she had told Sierra before she went into her Games echoed in her mind, ‘keep moving forward.’

So, Sierra began to heal and return to a place where she could be utterly herself. The hurt was still there, lingering, but it was never deep enough to incapacitate her when she was awake. When she was asleep though, just like any other Victor, the past came up and made her look back.

The years swam by and Sierra had blossomed into an intelligent, caring young woman. She had managed to date a little bit and find pockets of happiness. She even had started writing a novel, a new world she could pretend was real, rather than live in the one she was in. Whenever she stepped out of the Village, a mask fell onto her face and anything that she heard she didn’t believe. It was hard for her to find hope anymore. She just held on to the moments of happiness, knowing that they were fleeting. She grew close with Cambric of District 8 and formed some real bonds with some of the other people in the Village.

It was only when she was 28, did her life change drastically again. While in the Capitol she had met a young man who was charming and handsome and funny. He had swept her right off of her feet and Sierra thought she might have found someone worth living in the real world for. They began to date earnestly, but secretly, and Sierra found herself pregnant with her and Hawke’s child.

Her and Hawke were ecstatic, but he decided to let her in on a secret that he had been keeping for a long time: Hawke was a rebel. It was doubly dangerous for a Capitol citizen to be caught up in the Rebellion, but there he was, trying to help the Districts. Sierra found it hard to believe, but seeing how passionately he spoke about wanting to give the Districts equality with the Capitol, she gave into reason and the truth in front of her. Hawke was worried that Sierra and their new child would be in danger and Sierra dismissed it, wanting to join him in his crusade - together or not at all.

Together, they made some headway within the Capitol underbelly and Sierra kept it on the downlow with the Victors unsure of any of their feelings towards the people who housed them, watered them, and kept them safe.

When she was 8 months along, Sierra got the news: Hawke had been caught sending supplies to rebels in District Eleven. He was to be executed the next day publically in the Capitol. She felt distraught, like no one in the world was going to be able to stay in her life. She watched from the crowd as he was executed. One last wink from the stage as the punishment was brought down on him. Sierra didn’t look away, wanting to be with him until the end.

Fast forward five years and Sierra had been freed from the constant observation of the Capitol. They did not know that Hawke and her were romantically intertwined - not many had. The people in the Village save a handful she was close with only knew she had a baby with a Capitolite. But the Capitol did know that they had been friends and spoke with one another. The proximity to Hawke had made her popular with Peacekeepers and frequent questionings. She put on her mask when she went to these meetings, making sure to use her smarts and charm to her advantage. And no one was the wiser that Hawke had meant so much more to her.

Her daughter June was five now and was quite honestly the thing that was most dear to her. She was a mischievous little one, but charming to boot. Sierra knew that her daughter’s traits were closer to Hawke’s than hers. But, that was what was wonderful about June, not only was she her own person, but she was her father’s daughter. Sierra still preferred to spend her time weaving and living in new worlds than causing trouble in her old one. However, that was slowly changing as the news of more rebel activity reached her ears. Maybe she could continue Hawke’s legacy. But she had much more riding on the line this time.

PENNED BY: CASSIE

#accepted #character bio #sierra

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parallel5ths · 6 years

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The Man in the SUV

Bones rewatch! Season 1, Episode 2. Note: I know this episode has some post 9/11 commentary to it, especially airing in 2005. While not mentioned outright, if that is a sensitivity, maybe skip this one!

Why would Bones bring Angela to an explosion scene? Where is Zack? Poor Ang. There's Zacky boy! In the beginning, I like that they show more of the forensic side. Zack taking photos at a scene! Markers! Oh yes, Hodgins and his theories. The first time we get to see the beetles in action! I understand why Bones is offputting to people in the beginning, but her character is so complex. Everyone is! I love that Bones again says they are putting pieces of the victim together to the victims family. What is Gibson going to do with a bunch of scientific paperwork? Zack literally just said what it was. Haha, I love Angela thirsting after Booth while still being a good friend and telling Bones to hop his bones. Zacks first cranial reconstruction! He's so happy, so I’m happy for him. Booths lawyer gf Tessa! Doesn’t mind at all talking to Bones in a bra and Booth’s shirt. It wouldn’t bother me either, but Booth is known for being quite closed up about his sex life. I love Bones in this scene. She is honest about the fact that being middle eastern was a factor in the case. She also knows Muslim law and even though she isn’t religious, she wants to get what the wife needs. Oh man, the Asian restaurant! I forgot there was a place they hung out before the diner. I love how extra Angela is (but honestly is just a real woman haha) and is like I'm gonna check out this gf. Convos between Bones and Booth are so funny in the beginning. He doesn’t want to talk about anything but also wants her to talk about stuff. Angela talking to Tessa! She should do Sweets job honestly. She does read people well. I love that Zack gave the beetles names. He's so adorable. And sauteed beetles are probably really good. (Anyone had any fried bugs?) Brennan just flipping a dude and holding him down by his throat with her shoe. NBD. I’m glad Bones differentiates between the Koran(Q’uran, etc) and the way some people interpret the Koran. I love that Angela is the one who figures out where Farid is going and not the actual FBI. Ladies on the internet are way better sleuths than anyone else! Brennan VS Booth in assessing a target. Scream his name! Hey, it works. It’s good for Booth to have someone like Bones after a shooting. He needs someone to remind him of the good. We see Booth and Tessa share a super awkward dinner while Bones is back int the lab alone. You can tell Booth is thinking about something else. And as Bones leaves the lab, another set of remains identifies, she smiles.

Had a great time with this one, guys!

#bones #temperance brennan #seeley booth #angela Montenegro #jack hodgins #zack addy #forensics #TV #rewatch #boneheads

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bytheangell · 6 years

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Talk to me about Magnus Bane 🙌🏻💜

Alright then. Let’s talk about Magnus Bane.

Let’s talk about Magnus as a child. As if suddenly discovering something about him is strange, different from all of the other children he’s friends with, different from his mother and father, isn’t scary enough on it’s own; but then his mother rejects him now because of this one thing which is entirely out of his control, even though he’s still the same person. He’s still the same son who loves her so much, and blames himself for her death as much as his father does. Imagine this tiny child so full of fear when his father comes after him that a small part of him doesn’t wonder, even then, that he deserves to die in return for his role in her death. But instinct kicks in and he lashes out - and now he is directly responsible for taking a life, but it isn’t his mother’s: it’s his fathers. In self-defense, perhaps, but becoming the monster his father swore he was in the end.

Imagine this young, terrified Magnus, living life on the streets. Afraid of hurting the people around him. Afraid of everything he is right down to his very soul. Imagine him being taken in by Silent Brothers, raised in isolation, and taught to control the parts of him that he loathes. Taught to accept them, and maybe even start to like them. Let’s talk about a boy who’s found by his true father. Someone with abilities like him. Someone who looks like him, right down to the eyes that mark him down as different, as an abomination, as unworthy of a happy existence. Someone who not only embraces him as a warlock, but as family - the very thing taken from him at such a young age, the thing he never imagined himself deserving of. And what wouldn’t you do for the love and acceptance of your family? Especially when that father nurtures the darkest parts of you, encouraging the power you worked to hide for so long, fanning the flames of how good it feels to test the limits and push the boundaries of everything he’s capable of. Everything he could be. The surge of power. The thirst for more... until it’s too much.

Imagine Magnus, realizing that this isn’t the acceptance he needs, even if it was the acceptance he craved for so long. Trying to break away from someone with so much power and control, so much influence over entire realms, because it isn’t right. What he’s doing here isn’t right, even if parts of it feel good. Even if unleashing his uncapped potential onto the world around him feels so goddamn cathartic sometimes. Imagine walking away from power, and love, and the only person who has ever accepted him for everything he is.

Let’s talk about how he starts a new life almost from scratch. Alone, wandering the world, but with so many lessons behind him in those years which will feel like the blink of an eye compared to the expanse of what will become his immortal lifespan. He finds people along the way who care for him, people who despise him, and everyone in between. He learns to pick apart those who are only using him and those who truly appreciate the help he offers -- and he offers a lot of help, because he has a lot of pain and damage to make up for. He isn’t sure he could ever help enough to balance out the hurt he’s caused, and the hurt he knows he’ll cause again, because no one is perfect and hurting others is inevitable despite our best intentions.

Let’s talk about how he finds love. He finds it again, and again, and again, and each time ends in loss. Sometimes that loss is death. Sometimes it’s a mortal love who is unwilling to spend the rest of their aging days beside someone eternally youthful. Sometimes it’s the loss of a fellow immortal who simply grows bored of him after a time, because he doesn’t seem to be worth anyone’s ‘forever’, no matter how many years that may be. Sometimes that loss is of his own doing, ending things before they can grow too serious, conditioned to the idea that anyone he grows attached to will only leave him in the end. But it’s always love, and always loss, and every time he convinces himself it’s the last time there’s always another who changes that resolve.

Let’s talk about how, despite the comings and goings of romantic partners and mortal acquaintances, he manages to create a family for himself along the way. It isn’t a constant lover, not a father or a mother or a husband or wife, but it’s the unwavering love and support of Catarina Loss, and Ragnor Fell. It’s the frequent presence the last century of Tessa Gray, and even more recently of Raphael Santiago. It’s surrounding himself with people he loves, who will love him back in return, if not unconditionally then at least under the conditions which matter the most. He’s created the family he missed for so long without even realizing it until they’re just a constant presence in his life, and he’s eternally grateful for them every step of the way.

Let’s talk about how he becomes the kind, caring, guidance for the Downworlders around him that he wished he had from the very start in his life. How his willingness to lead and to support earns him the title of the High Warlock of Brooklyn. How he takes that role so seriously, protecting those under his charge (and so many of those who are not) with every last ounce of strength he has as his disposal. Literally. Even when he swears off helping those who are not of his kind, he falls right back into those habits the moment he’s needed, because that’s just who he is. Magnus Bane isn’t the sort of person who can turn away from someone he’s capable of helping, not when they truly need it. That’s just not who he is.

And finally, let’s talk about Magnus Bane, the man who swears off Shadowhunters and mortal attachments, only to fall for Alexander Gideon Lightwood. To allow someone so young and naive and lost and afraid to take up residence in the very depths of his heart from the moment he meets him. To overlook everything about him that screams “NO” from the lessons Magnus swears he learned, and give him a chance. A chance that will change his life forever. A chance that will earn him that love, that true, everlasting, unwavering love that he thinks he will never have. The sort of person who, after a few bumps in the road, will stick with him for however long their ‘forever’ together may be. Who will grace him with marriage, and children, and a family he never imagined himself capable of, or deserving of. The man who will give him everything he ever wanted but never dared to imagine possible.

Let’s talk about Magnus Bane.

#magnus bane #shadowhunters #tsc #tmi #tid #lakritzwolf #i hope y'all knew what you were asking for #timetomakeanewwish #ask rune

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