#finish a plotline? i could never

[aroaceleovaldez]

listen I know everybody makes Orpheus and Eurydice quest aus of Nico bringing Jason back BUT we already did Orpheus and Eurydice in canon like at least three times (Nico bringing Percy to the Styx, Nico bringing back Hazel, and Piper in general is Orpheus as an Argonaut) AND we are missing the much simpler canon-established method.

Remember the whole soul-trade thing Nico was doing in BoTL that got dropped completely? Even though it was like the entire subplot with Minos?

The requirement is a soul that has cheated death for a soul that has died. Now, quickly ignoring the convenient emperors running around who very much cheated death and the entire main conflict in TOA is Apollo trying to get rid of them. There are a ton of escaped souls from the whole Doors of Death/Thanatos getting captured thing. They're just kind of around. A lot of them were in the Giant Army but not all of them and a good number of them are random mortals and they're just. Somewhere.

So that's two loose plot threads: Nico is 100% fully aware of a completely Underworld-Legal method for bringing people back from the dead and there's an absolute ton of random souls-who-cheated-death running around who knows where completely unaddressed. Also, we know from BoO that Nico has changed his stance since BoTL and is now completely down for some murder.

Now, is there a very compelling plot within there about Nico and his sense of Underworld justice/Nico's morals and how he views the situation (insert the "That word ['please'] didn’t make sense to Nico. The Underworld had no mercy. It only had justice." quote from BoO of Nico killing Bryce while he's begging for mercy here.) vs Jason's own sense of justice/morals and the knowledge that Nico 100% actually murdered somebody to bring him back. THAT'S FASCINATING. It's a good conflict for a story and it ties up loose threads! We don't need to invent new mechanics the worldbuilding writes the plot all on it's own.

[skitskatdacat63]

Happy 5/14!!!!

Aaaaahh not sure if this is my best work 😭 I just really wanted to draw smth for vettonso day but my brain hasn't really been functioning well LOL so I kept dreading working on this, especially bcs its so important to me, y'know? I hope it's good????? I'm happy with the concept, but I was just so unsure on so many of the angles and it was killing me. I did the color thing bcs I thought it'd add something interesting to it :) since I didn't paint it as I usually would

Anyways! Process!

Now I will explain all of them:

Boy king au is where it all starts of course. I think their relationship is the most developed in this compared to the others, but at the same point, they just start from such a different point, especially affection-wise. All of these kinda have a power dynamic, except the last one, and this is the most imbalanced. Fernando is being subservient, the only part of Seb he may kiss(in public lol) is his hand.

Matador au next. They hurt themselves when they try to be affectionate, because they live in the culture of a sport of violence and death. The sword separates them, their love for the sport keeps them apart, in fear that they hurt each other. Seb, yet again, looks down upon Fernando. Seb haunts Fernando's whole career, the constant overhanging presence. Also aside from that, shame that you can't see his three musketeers look bcs of the black background 😔

2012 core!!! I think this one is pretty easy to understand. Both of them often kiss their trophies, more so than any driver. So they're both trying to claim the wdc trophy by kissing it. Maybe you guys should just get rid of the trophy altogether and claim each other! But yes, just like the sword in the matador au one, the trophy and their ambitions divides, keeps them from ever bridging the vast gap between them, at least at that point in time.

The conclusion! Aka what I wish we will get at Imola 2024- kidding kidding. But it is 2024. Finally there is no conflict between them, there's no big thing keeping them in conflict, they can finally come together. Finally they can touch, there is no gap to bridge, they can appreciate each other, and appreciate what they failed to in years past.

The thesis is basically that they always have their aspirations between them, and their aspirations happen to be basically the same thing. Until those are resolved, the gap between them is too vast for them to recognize and/or find any commonality. How do you get along with someone when you're both fighting for the same thing? How do you get along when it feels like one of you is winning more? How do you get along when there's such a vast gap?

In boy king au, it's going to take a while before they both feel settled about the issue of the throne. That's what makes that au interesting, they're trapped in this state of non-closure and they have to actually solve their issues without the matter of one of them simply removing themselves from the equation. They have to find a way to get over themselves and their aspirations, because like it or not they're stuck with each other. I think with the hand kissing, it represents how Fernando, at that point, is only willing to play along with the game if it's tradition, and he often won't budge in other ways. Yes, I will show subservience, but only in this detached, formal way that I don't connect personally to. He's still holding his own bitterness over meaningfully appreciating Seb. Though it's not like Seb isn't at fault. It takes a while for him to not hold things over Fernando, and constantly humiliate him. One day they will meaningfully show affection, and it won't be some sort of power play.

I think matador au is pretty similar to real life, and the 2010s era(it's basically just their actual plot line but in the context of bullfighting.) They're forever going to have this big elephant in the room, and it only really gets resolved when one of them leaves the sport. Once they're not fighting directly against each other, they realize what they've been missing out on and what they were not appreciating for so many years beforehand. They finally come together because they can't just rely anymore on the sport keeping them together. They actually have to make that step to be in each other's lives, rather than just taking their presence for granted.

Also the text on the comic. "We keep missing, and missing, and missing, and finally kissing." It's basically: we keep missing the point of it all, we keep failing to appreciate each other presence in our lives and in our own individual grand stories. But when we're not forced together anymore, we have to make the choice to come together again ourselves. We keep missing what we actually need to do. Missing each other in favor of our aspirations. Etc etc. One day we will finally embrace and there will be nothing keeping us apart.

[kezcore]

ein drives me crazy he had so much potential and it was written a bit . weirdly ("it was just a red herring" idc, why was it needed 😭) but i'm still like. insane over his character. he's the worst fucker alive . he has the evil OP villain laugh. maybe it's just nostalgia but idk something about him. scratches at my brain. i think he's a really interesting character. and honestly im scared to admit that because i know the aphmau fandom runs.....Young and if you ever try to analyze a villain you will be yelled at but idk i like villain analysis. this bitch is fucked up and i love to learn about why. i hate him but something about completely overpowered characters does something to me. same with aaron . it's probably just the nostalgia talking though lmao

[tendebill]

[oc]

defrosting them just for this

smh it's been so long since I've refreshed/thought about them and their story :/ maybe i should fix that

[cowboysmp3]

i have a deep determination to get through Trigun 98 BUT LORD ITS SO HARD im at a lull,, ill get through it though i simply must

[matoitech]

i may be wrong since i watched this yrs ago but to me this is still the funniest promare video essay for 1 reason and its that he titled it taste the rainbow but this is the one that said galo and aina not getting together was a plothole

[reiderwriter]

🔐 Password Protected 🔐

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge 2024

Requested: "Hii Kacie, may I put in a request of a NSFW prompt? Any plotline or back story is fine I trust your talent :"> Reader's boobs/asscheeks recoill during sex turning Spencer on even more "I wish you could have my view right now" he grabs the phone to open the camera app."

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, DubCon Hidden camera, dry humping, free use, soft to hard Dom!Spencer, sub! Reader, creampie, unprotected sex, slight breeding kink, implied oral sex, implied bondage, implied somno, pictures/ photos, degradation (slut, whore etc,) and pet names (Princess, sir, angel etc,), nipple play/torture, multiple orgasms.

A/N: Here's my second fic for the CM Kink Bingo 2024~♡ I'm definitely all over the board now, so who knows if I'I hit bingo this year, Imao? Anyways, I hope you enjoy~ And to my dear friend :"^ anon - thank you for your inspiring request.

Masterlist || Bingo Board

With a glorious lull in cases to close over the summer, the biggest mystery in the BAU was “What's in the locked folder on Spencer's phone?” 

The man had made the (technologically inept) mistake of leaving his new phone unlocked on his desk in a bullpen full of criminal profilers. To say you'd all descended like vultures to a fresh carcass was putting it extremely lightly.

“What apps does he have? Five dollars says there's a dictionary app,” Emily joked, leaning over Morgan's shoulder to try and catch a glimpse of the screen. You were similarly perched at his other shoulder. 

“He can probably recite the dictionary himself, and I don't think he'd know how to download apps,” you scoffed, scrolling up in the phone yourself to the app page. 

“There's got to be something good in the camera roll, right?” Morgan said, clicking into it to find some dirt on the much too innocent Spencer Reid. Which is where you'd found quaint pictures of the sky, some pages from a book and the folder. 

The one with a little lock on it signalling the boundary. Spencer had figured out how to use a locked folder - you'd be impressed if you weren't so curious about what was inside. 

“Placing bets, people? My money is on work documents,” Morgan chuckled, losing interest swiftly in the phone and pressing it into your hands. “It's not like the kid has a lot going on romantically, right?”

You kept your mouth shut as the others nodded in agreement. While Spencer Reid may not have anything romantic going on officially, he definitely had something sexual going on. You'd been in his bed five of the last six days, losing count on the amount of times he'd fucked you into oblivion, using your body as freely as he wished, cumming inside of you to finish before washing off all traces of your coupling and cuddling upto you as you slept. 

It wasn't quite a relationship, but dear god, did you never want it to end. You hadn't been so satisfied, so fulfilled (emphasis on the filled) in a long time. 

“What are you doing with my phone?” You heard Spencer question from behind you, and you turned, trying to mask your embarrassment. You really didn't want him to think you were some obsessive not-girlfriend going through his messages, and almost dropped the phone like it was a bomb when your eyes met his. 

“We were just debating what you could possibly have to hide in your gallery’s locked folder,” Emily laughed, clapping the man on the back and smiling up at him. “Help me win $20 and tell Morgan here that you made it accidentally and don't know the password.” 

“Hey, I didn't agree to any bet yet,” Morgan laughed, kicking his feet up on his desk. 

“Only because you know you're wrong.” 

They bickered just long enough to let Spencer take a step closer to you, slipping the phone easily out of your hand and back into his pocket. His voice was low, his mouth close to his ear when he finally sated your curiosity. 

“I think you may want to distract them from this topic, Y/N. I don't think you'll like it if they demand to see what kind of pictures and…videos I have in that folder.” 

His tone wasn't suggestive, but it still lit a fire in your belly with the implication alone. You'd warmed his bed for long enough to know that you were the only one sharing it, but you didn't remember him taking any pictures or videos of you. Shit, had you been so desperate that you'd completely blanked him capturing a folders worth of images of you servicing his cock? 

You took the hunt and stepped away from him, picking up a file quickly and glancing over it before turning to Emily. Distracting them with work was the only way to keep them off the scent and distract you must.

Even if it did mean you were inconvenienced with curiosity and lust for the rest of the day. 

When you finally finished work, you practically hammered down Spencer's door, trying to get answers to questions he'd left hung in the air earlier. You were a visual learner, so you dearly hoped he'd answer by simply just showing you what you'd missed. 

“Y/N,” he said, opening the door with a sweet smile, drawing you into the apartment with a slow, honeyed kiss. You felt him smile into you, his touch chaste enough around your arms to still your beating heart. You languished in the kiss as he pulled you on closer, shutting the door behind you as he opened you up to him, pulling you further under his spell than usual. 

“I'm so happy to see you,” he said once he'd pulled away, feathering his touch across your waist, settling his hands in the crook just under your breasts, stroking the bottom of them with his thumbs. You were suddenly glad the man's hands were so large, sure that this one interaction was heaven on earth. 

He almost distracted you from your purpose for coming here. 

Pulling you to the sofa in his living room, Spencer pushed back a strand of hair, hooking it behind your ear as he let you straddle him  wrapping your arms around his neck, your head falling comfortably onto his shoulder as you inhaled his scent. 

“I'm not complaining that you're here, or anything, Y/N,” he said, hands roaming your body and stroking your ass as he spoke. “But did you have something to say? You didn't message before coming.” 

You lifted your head to look him in the eyes before looking away out of embarrassment. 

“Earlier, you…” you started, tongue going dry as he tightened his grip on your ass. He shifted slightly under you and you realized he was grinding his leg up into your clothed pussy as you spoke. 

“Yes?” 

“Your phone…the locked folder, I want to see what's inside.” 

You were sure that he knew already what you wanted before you'd even arrived, but he just smiled at you again, almost too kindly. 

“That's my private business, Y/N. Why should I let you see it?” He asked, looking good a finger under your jaw to make you look him in the eye once more. 

“I th-think… I think there are videos. Of me. I'd like to see them.” 

“Where are your manners?” 

“Please, sir,” you whispered, tipping your head forward, begging him for a kiss. “Please show me the videos.” 

He huffed out a quick laugh and gave you one last peck on the lips before he pushed you off. You sat on the floor between his legs, a position you were so used to being in by now that you wouldn't be surprised to find multiple shots of you sat like this, lips wrapped around his cock, pussy grinding on his shoes. Even the thought of such pictures had you wanting to recreate those memories, you weren't sure what a folder worth is going to do. 

Stretching over to his coffee table, Spencer picked up the discarded phone and unlocked it, flipping through some pages before looking down at you again. 

Stroking your hair, Spencer neatly arranged it before wrapping the same hand he'd been using g around your neck and pulling you gently upwards. You landed back in his lap, but he'd turned you around this time. Instead of straddling him, your back was pressed to his chest, your legs on either side of one of his. He released your neck, instead pushing his hands between your thighs so you couldn't push them together for relief - he already knew your body so well. 

“Is this what you're curious about, Y/N?” He said, finally flashing you the phone screen. The first picture was obviously taken post-sex, and you recognised his bed sheets quickly. Your face hung off the end of his bed, eyes shut as his cum painted your lips, cheeks and eyes, lips parted in a lusty moan. From the angle it was taken at, you could see your breasts swell and your hand disappear between your legs as well, stroking yourself to release.

“Shit,” you moaned, pussy clenching on nothing as it begged for relief. With a hand on your hip, Spencer started encouraging you to rock back and forward, humping his leg as he whispered in your ear. 

“You didn't know about that one because your eyes were covered in my cum. It turned me on more knowing you had no clue I was going to jack off to it later as well.” 

He scrolled to the next image, and in this one too, you seemed unaware of the camera. Your hands were tied to the headboard, and he was fucking you from behind, the shot capturing his creamy dick pulling out of you and the discarded condom on the bed beside you. 

“That was the day we learned how much more you enjoyed being filled with cum than you enjoyed condoms,” he said, scrolling to the next picture. 

“And here's your first creampie,” he said, his spare hand pushing under your shirt, fingers clamping down on one nipple as you shuddered. 

Your pace was faster now, desperately thrusting up and down his thigh. Even through your skirt and panties, you felt your wetness against his pants, knowing you'd be punished later for such unladylike behaviour. 

As if Spencer had ever wanted you to act like a lady. He knew you were a slut and he enjoyed it. 

“The next one is a video,” he said, moving his hand to your other breast and slapping it as you moaned above him. “Do you think you can handle it?” 

“Y-Yes, Sir. Please let me see it, sir.” 

“Okay, but not a fucking noise out of you. I want to hear your screams from the video.” 

You could only silently groan in reply, nodding quickly as he scrolled and pressed play. 

This one was recent, maybe one or two nights ago. You recognised the outfit you'd partially discarded, the shirt that had been ripped open. 

How had you possibly not seen the camera pointed straight at you? 

In the video, his cock was pressed into you, fucking you at a pace most would call violent  but you called heavenly. The focus wasn't on your pussy taking his cock, though, but on your boobs, recoiling and jumping with every thrust. His other hand pressed to your stomach, feeling himself sheathed there, as you moaned desperately. 

“Spen…Spen-sher,” you tripped over your tongue, slurring the words as if you'd been drugged. Your eyelids were heavy, eyes practically rolling back in your head as his hand on your stomach tightened. 

“I think I fucked your brain out, baby,” he laughed deeply, cock not relenting even one second. 

“Your tits looked so perfect,” the Spencer of the present said, pressing the phone into your hand as he grabbed each nipple and tugged them forward, leaving you gasping. 

“And you didn't even realize I was filming it all. I could've done anything to you, anything at all, and you wouldn't have cared. You'd have enjoyed it, and I'd have had the proof.” 

You were soaked now, humping deliriously against his thigh, like a puppy experiencing their first heat, desperate for this feeling to go away and for it to stay and intensify all the same. 

“You were acting so stupid. At one point, I even got you to say hello to the camera, and you didn't remember a thing an hour later.” 

Releasing one breast, he swiped one more time to the left, and you saw the beginning of another video. 

Hitting the play button, his hands returned to your chest, this time pushing up your top and bra and freely clamping down on the nipples as hard as he could. 

What intrigued you the most about this last video was the start. Unlike the pictures and the videos, you weren't in the middle of sex at the beginning of this video at all. 

You were instead laid with your back to the camera - to Spencer - a leg thrown over some unfamiliar sheets. This wasn't his bed. This wasn't yours either. 

Another minute of grinding against his leg, and you recognised the motel room from your last case. 

“Spencer, wh-” 

“Watch and see, princess.” 

The bed creaked under his weight as he climbed in behind you, removing the duvet covers from your body, replacing it with his hands. He made similarly swift work of your pajamas, only bothering to push them down to your knees before pulling out his cock and slowly pushing into you. 

If you weren't so close to another orgasm, you'd probably be shocked that Spencer had invaded your personal space and started fucking you as you slept. But that's what it meant to be his little free use slut. You allowed him access to you anywhere, anytime (including the motel room you'd given him the spare key for) and in return he dropped as many loads of his cum into your pussy as would fit there. 

Watching yourself get violated in your sleep was the last of what you needed to push over the edge. 

You grabbed Spencer's arm, gasping, and you felt him trail kisses along your neck and shoulders. 

“That's it, baby, just hold on a second while I…” he pulled the phone out of your grasp, opening yet another familiar looking app. 

You looked at the screen and found your own bare chest heaving staring back at you. He clicked the red button and forced it back into your hands as he began abusing your tits again. 

“Show the camera, Y/N. Show them how you get yourself off on my leg.” 

You complied, lifting the phone slightly to get the best view of your chest, heaving up and down as you humped his thigh into oblivion. 

Your cunt twitched and you felt fluids rushing out of you, even as your arms trembled. But you didn't let them falter  holding g up the phone to capture every second of your climax, knowing its exactly what he would want. 

“You're perfect, you know that Y/N,” he said, finally kissing the top of your head and pulling the phone out of your grasp as he saved the video into the file you'd been browsing. 

His gentleness was short-lived, though, as he pushed you off his lap and back to the floor. As you caught your breath, ass up on the floor, he took the opportunity to slip his dick out of his pants, and began stroking it up and down, inspecting your pussy with his free fingers. 

“I'll give you five seconds to get ready for the next round,” he said, and you panicked, lifting your legs off the floor. You weren't strong enough, though, or maybe you just didn't want to move. He kept counting down. 

“4….3….2…1,” you heard the predatory grin in his voice as he pushed his foot onto your head, holding your cheek to the floor with one leg. 

“As you wish then, my little slut.” He moved his foot away quickly and pushed inside of you, and your last coherent thought was of the folder again, and how long he'd make you wait to see the video you were about to shoot. 

[genericpuff]

The excessively passive voice when talking about Minthe being intended to have BPD is hilarious. "It was thought to have her written with BPD"? So weird

Honestly, once you start noticing this passive voice in how Rachel writes and talks, it's kind of hard to unsee.

Like, for starters, the BPD example. It's very non-committal, almost as if to sound like she never actually wrote her with BPD, it was just an 'idea' that she could neither confirm or deny as canon. But then you read the episode with the slap and-

It's- it's literally called "Splitting". It's about as subtle as a brick to the face. This entire episode showcases Minthe having an actual literal episode of splitting and it's plain as day to anyone who can read the title card and put two and two together. So for the wording to be so passive around her characterization... it wasn't "thought" to have her written with BPD, she was written with BPD.

Another example that sticks out in my mind of Rachel's passive writing is far later in Season 3, when Demeter reunites with Persephone and naturally expects her to come back home with her.

This line still fucking bothers me to this day. Besides the fact that it's just really poorly written dialogue, Persephone describes her being in love with Hades as if it's just some coincidental thing that happened to her that she can't avoid and not a deliberate choice she's making. "It would seem" my ass, Persephone is a coward for not being upfront and just talking to her mother like an adult by saying, "Mother, I love you, and I understand why you want me to come home, but I'm in love with Hades and want to stay in the Underworld with him." Instead the way it's worded is almost designed to absolve Persephone of any and all agency in her own decisions and active participation in her relationship with Hades by instead making it out to be just some circumstance that she can't get herself out of.

Again, this isn't quite as egregious as the aforementioned BPD scene, but it's still irritating because Rachel writes like this a lot throughout LO. And it's not just the dialogue either, entire decisions throughout the comic are flip-flopped and kept vague by Rachel so she can give herself plausible deniability over the narrative. I could come up with some of my own examples, but I think she managed to speak for herself just fine in the end-of-series Q&A that left both critics and fans of the series massively confused and disappointed:

LO is full of half-committed plotlines because Rachel herself can't commit to her own decisions. So the decisions she does make are left vague enough that hardcore fans are willing enough to fill in the blanks themselves, but anyone who asks her genuinely what her plan was, she just gives the same wordy "IDK it's up to your interpretation!" response. It's like she thinks people are asking her as just another reader who can only speculate, but she's literally the author, so why is she acting like her guess is as good as theirs?

Well, because that's how she wrote LO. That's how she's always written comics, with vague half-finished thoughts and just enough for readers to do the mental gymnastics of making sense of it all just to give her the credit for "smart writing" that she never actually did because she stopped paying attention after the first sentence. And that method of being vague for the sake of audience interpretation is fine for illustrations or anything that isn't trying to be a concise narrative, but LO did try to be that and it really shows how hard it failed in doing so when its own creator can't even come up with something slightly plausible to explain all the questions people had in the end. "There is some backstory there" but proceeds to not actually expand on said backstory. "I like to imply things without outright telling people", so do I, but the difference is that Rachel is using that as a crutch to not answer the questions she setup for her readers and then didn't resolve after five years. There's not wanting to spoon feed people the plot, and then there's literally refusing to explain your decisions when writing said plot, almost because you don't know any more than they do.

The entirety of LO is rooted in Rachel's passiveness, from her inability to answer questions concisely to every little plot point that was established and dropped throughout the comic's run. Writing a story is a series of decisions, deciding what to keep, deciding what not to keep, deciding what has to be changed, etc. and Rachel just... doesn't seem like someone who's ever been capable of making those decisions, especially when she's writing an actual long form story to the end and doesn't have the luxury of dropping it whenever it feels convenient for her like she did several times with The Doctor Pepper Show. Once she was actually held to a standard, once she was actually signed into a contract that expected her to make those decisions, she failed to and it culminated in one of the messiest conclusions to a story I've seen since Game of Thrones.

LO is kind of like Schrodinger's Cat - a plot point can be or not be whatever it needs to be so that Rachel can be either praised for smart writing she never did or absolved of bad writing that she did do. It's equally parts interesting and vague enough that whatever her readers give her credit for writing, she can give them a thumbs-up and go "you're totally right, champ!" and proceed to take all the credit of being a "good writer" from the efforts of her own audience who had to jump through a million hoops to make sense of her own messy writing.

But when she's put on the spot by those very same readers to answer for her own decisions, she can't.

Because she never made them.

Because there was never anything "deeper" going on, that's just what her style of "distraction writing" made you believe. The plot never lets you stop to think about what you just read long enough before zipping away to the next thing and distracting you with a new twist or a new character or a new plot point, and before you know it, you've gone weeks without reading about the last thing that was established you probably haven't even realized that those questions never got answered. Sometimes Rachel remembers to get back to those things and resolves them within a handful of panels, other times she forgets them entirely and just leaves them to rot in the hopes that no one ever calls her out on it. And when they do... she can just pull the get-out-of-jail-free "Welp, it's up to your interpretation!" card and get that credit all over again for being deep and insightful, meanwhile those who are rightfully dissatisfied with that answer are blanket-accused of "getting mad at Rachel for not writing the story they wanted".

To close out this ask that, per tradition, turned into an essay, I'd like to recall the famous words of fictional detective Benoit Blanc: "Look into the clear center of this glass onion... Miles Bron is an idiot!"

[em-dash-press]

Tips for Writing Interrupted Scenes

Scenes don’t always happen from start to finish. When you need to write interruptions, use these tips to get more confident about breaking up plot points and stitching them back together.

Pick an Emotional Cliffhanger

When your character gets the phone call about the job that could change their life, they hesitate to answer it. 

A new chapter begins on the next page from another point of view. 

But what happened with the phone call??

Your readers will keep going through the next chapter because they were left on an emotional cliffhanger with a character they love. The break won’t seem as natural as others, like ending a chapter when your character goes to bed or leaves a venue.

Plot Your Scene Breaks

Write a rough plot line, even if you don’t normally plan any outlines. It helps to know where your story is going so you can insert the rest of the scene more effectively.

Picture your character—they’re running a marathon and they’re starting the final mile. Their focus gets interrupted by something in the treeline to their left. It’s the childhood version of themselves, hanging upside down from a branch and waving. They have to go find out what that is, so the protagonist interrupts their race by sprinting into the woods.

Although the rest of the story may involve spooky moments and weeks or months of drama, the race never gets finished. Maybe the protagonist runs the same last mile after the event is over, when it’s back to being a regular street. They conquer the mile after completing the lesson or purpose of the plot.

That’s much easier to keep track of if there's a rough plotline to follow. Using bullet points can help or try writing a one-sentence description of each big plot moment on a sticky note.

Add More While Editing

If you have multiple moments that get interrupted, like broken dialogue or plot points, you may not remember to tie them together or make the break essential to the plot. That’s okay!

That’s what editing is for.

While you’re re-reading, make a list of every moment when something gets interrupted and another of when those moments get completed or resolved. You’ll easily tell what’s left unsaid that would otherwise feel like a plot hole.

-----

You may not always have interrupted scenes in every story. When you feel like they’re necessary, I hope these tips help you feel more confident about writing and editing them. 💛

[warpcoreweirdness]

just finished season 2 of Lower Decks and i'm SO glad i tried this show again

i actually started the show a while ago, but the constant easter eggs put me off.

(i still don't know how non-Trekkie viewers are meant to get the jokes where the punchline is "reference!! 😂", but lots of people enjoy it so ymmv).

i stopped a few minutes into episode 2 after Rutherford agrees to quit his job as an engineer so he can watch the Trivoli pulsar with Tendi.

i honestly thought it was going to be a storyline about a guy giving up a job he loves and making his boss angry so that he can spend time with a female friend he has a crush on, because that's the plotline i've been conditioned to expect from tv. i wasn't feeling excited about the show, so i put it on pause.

but if i'd watched for about two more seconds before noping out for a few months, i would've seen this:

when i started watching again, i realised that the episodes never bog themselves down in drawn-out, uncomfortable storyline or character staples - they're actually incredibly well-written, tightly paced, and tell their stories in just the right amount of time. Rutherford wants to be Tendi's friend (at least for now), his boss Billups is really supportive, and Tendi brings a PADD into the Jefferies tube so they can both do what they enjoy, separately but together.

another great part about that scene with Rutherford and his boss is something that Lower Decks does a lot, which is make jokes that actually rely on subverting audience expectations. a big example - and a way of referencing other parts of the Star Trek franchise that does work for me - is when the creators gently poke fun at or subvert common story beats, emotional arcs, or dramatic moments from other parts of Trek.

like when Rutherford loses his memory and Tendi is excited to get to know him again, rather than devastated that he doesn't remember her.

or when they save themselves from being smooshed by Dooplers by dramatically ejecting the warp core of their tiny model starship.

or when Tendi goes on an arc of significant personal development over the course of one (1) whole episode.

they're general enough that even people who haven't seen other Star Trek shows (or movies) can still recognise and appreciate them.

beyond this, the show also has great moments where they (lovingly) cast a light on some of the flaws and foibles in the franchise, often in subtle or comedic ways.

like showing people in beep chairs living their best lives (in contrast to TOS and SNW's view of the beep chair as a tragic, doomsday fate for Pike).

or using Tendi to comment on Trek's depiction of Orions specifically as all pirates and slavers, and alien cultures more generally as monocultures.

or even just acknowledging that Trek shows mostly focus on the bridge crew doing heroic first contact-esque adventures, when that can't be all there is to Starfleet.

heck, they even have Rutherford go on a journey of acceptance and self-discovery after a permanent memory wipe (in contrast to Uhura in TOS, where it's never mentioned again).

another reason i really appreciate the show is that the creators have taken the time to think through what a more inclusive future could look like, in ways that are noticeably lacking or absent in many other Trek shows:

beyond exploring diversity through explicit identity representation (which is still very important), it does this through its world building as well.

i love this communal sonic shower scene for what it says about gender and body politics in Trek. in the future, why would we still separate bathrooms and changing rooms by gender? and why would we have the same views and expectations around bodies that we (by "we" i mean Western countries) do now?

this short scene dismantles the idea that nudity is inherently sexual, that gender is binary and biological, that some genders can't be trusted around other genders while naked, and that heterosexuality is the default (and when you bring dozens of alien species into the mix, why wouldn't we have more and newer ways of thinking about gender?). it even has a little mention that Boimler prefers not to shower with others, leaving space for people to act however feels most comfortable for them.

it's such a little thing, but after years spent (lovingly) yelling at the screen during TNG, TOS, DS9, etc saying, "why are they assuming everyone is straight? WHY would people be this sexist?", i noticed it immediately and appreciated it immensely.

(this isn't related to the storytelling, but i also have to say - the animation in Lower Decks is so pretty???):

this isn't a perfect show, but it's funny, has fantastic storytelling, and it loves the source material without worshipping it. (which is not something i expected to say, given how it started).

plus i love these characters SO MUCH.

so far, so very good 🤞.

(image descriptions in alt text)

[luveline]

hi!! i was wondering if you would write more ab spencer, r, and baby amanda from your single dad au? :o they’re so precious <3

Thank you for your request! ♥︎ fem!reader 1.6k

"How come you aren't hungover?" Spencer asks. 

You can barely hear him over the cacophony of the crowd. You're waiting for Hotch to finish his decathlon, the girls in their sunglasses, Jack and Morgan holding a homemade sign aloft. 

Amanda's sitting on the barrier with her weight against Spencer's chest, her soft brown hair splayed out against his collar like a wave. 

"I know the meaning of moderation," you say with a sweet smile. 

You might be imagining the pinking of his cheeks. "Not moderate enough, clearly," he jokes. 

JJ hadn't picked Henry up until three in the morning. Which is fine, Spencer will take Henry whenever he needs to, as per his self-ordained godfathering duties, but when JJ hadn't appeared at 11 like she'd promised, Spencer had obviously been worried. 

"Things got a little… out of control." You dip your face to his ear. "I've never seen Emily dance like that. It was crazy." 

"I wish I could've been there, but we had a date with Edward Tulane, didn't we, Amy?" 

Amanda tips her head back at her father's affectionate tone. "Daddy, I can't feel my butt." 

"Not your butt!" he says, taking her seriously but chuckling at the same time as he pulls her up and off of the barrier. With some careful manoeuvring, he's tucked Amanda into his chest, one hand held protectively over the bottom of her back. The other hooks behind her knees. 

"Is that better?" 

He speaks to her with the same fatherly fondness as always and every time you find yourself melty like butter in the summer sun. In Spencer's eyes, Amanda is the smartest, most interesting girl alive. You're tempted to agree. 

"I was worried it might be depressing for her," he says, tucking her hair behind her ear. "It's sad for a children's story, you know? But she's really interested, and it's important for kids to hear sad stories. Children who read stories with unhappy plotlines are more empathetic, and have a stronger sense of justice." He smiles at her. "Plus, I think it's her favourite so far. She asked if we could read it again, all in one go. It's gonna take hours." 

"That doesn't surprise me. I mean, she's yours. I thought you'd be reading her Tolstoy by now." 

"I'm saving Tolstoy for first grade." 

He's serious. 

Hotch runs through the finish line and the members of the BAU that are assembled cheer loudly. He doesn't seem embarrassed at all, only proud, ducking down to give Jack a sweaty hug. Then he, Jack, and his new girlfriend move away from the group. The remaining members of your team start to break away, too.

The girls all want to go home and die in their own beds. Rossi and Morgan have separate dates. You're thinking you'll go home and shoot the breeze until a more reasonable bedtime when Spencer turns to you with his usual genial smile.

"Do you want to come over? We're gonna make pasta and watch Fraggle Rock." 

Spencer's changed a lot since he became Amanda's primary caregiver, but some things stay the same. He loves doing things with other people and he'll always extend an invite if he thinks the other party might enjoy themselves. Going over for dinner feels a lot more intimate than his having an extra ticket for a foreign film festival, or late night takeout, though. 

"I don't want to impose," you say awkwardly. 

"Do you think you're an imposition?" Spencer asks in concern. 

"No, just, you know, I don't…" 

"Amy doesn't mind. Do you, sweetheart?" 

"What?" says Amanda's little voice. 

"Can Y/N come for dinner?" he asks. 

Amanda smiles, pearly white teeth and cheeks chubby with baby fat. "Yes! We're gonna make pasta and watch Fraggle Rock!" 

You laugh in delight. 

"We decided in the car," Spencer explains. 

"Here I thought you were telepathic." You direct your smile at Amanda's doe eyes. "I'd love to come for dinner. Thanks, baby." 

Spencer has the cleanest car any parent has ever had. You know he spent days choosing the safest one he could find in his budget, and even more days on a car seat. His apartment is just as clean but way more crowded, stuffed to bursting with Amanda's toys and his books. 

"I'm gonna change, do you mind?" he asks, leading you down the hall into the kitchen. Amanda had tipped half a juice box down his front, and the stickiness is clearly making him uncomfortable.

"No, by all means."

He smiles. "Stay here," he says with a feigned sternness, pointing one of his pretty fingers at Amanda. His daughter only giggles. 

You follow Spencer with your eyes as he leaves. 

"Will you take off my shoes, please?"

You look down. Amanda stares up at you, her round eyes pleading, one foot held a half inch off of the ground. 

You leap to action, and say, "Oh! Yeah, baby, no problem," as you get down on your knees. 

They're simple buckles and take all of ten seconds. Amanda holds onto your arm and lifts her feet one at a time so you can pull them off. Her small toes wiggle in her socks when she puts them back on the floor.

"Feel better?" you ask knowingly. 

"Daddy says shoes are a con-d-struct," she tells you. 

"They are!" you say, though whether you really agree might take some thought. "They're silly, huh?" 

"Yeah. If we walked with no shoes, we would have tough skin like trees!" 

"Like trees," you repeat. You love listening to little kids speak because they're so full of joy to share what they know, and Spencer Reid's kid? She is a walking book of facts. "That's so cool, did daddy tell you that?" 

"Daddy tells me everything." 

Spencer appears in a graphic t-shirt. You've only seen him dressed down through barely open hotel room doors or in photographs with Amanda. It takes a second for your brain to recognise what you're seeing. 

He's a genius, so he understands what you're doing immediately. 

"Oh no," he coos, bending down to take Amanda's shoulders into his hands. "I'm so sorry," —he kisses the top of her head— "I forgot all about your shoes. How will you ever get tree bark feet?" 

It's sweet to see how she responds to his affection. Her eyes squint closed and she smiles softly, giggling when he scratches her shoulders through her dress. 

"Thanks for releasing her, she can't stand wearing shoes when she doesn't have to," he says to you, nudging her out of the way to offer you his hand. 

You take it, letting him pull you up. He doesn't let go of you straight away, instead brushing his thumb over your fingernails, one after another. 

"I've been meaning to ask you to dinner for a while. I– I've never been any good at this part, I thought it would be harder, because Amanda's the only girl in the world I understand no matter how many books I read, and that's not going to last forever, but I…" Spencer's voice steadily quietens, until the tone he's using is dulcet, and his brows have pulled together. He's just as pretty frowning as smiling. "It feels easy, with you," he finishes. 

"Are we having macaroni?" Amanda asks. 

Spencer looks torn. "I was thinking rigatoni," he says. 

"Gross, dad." 

"Farfalle?"

"Bowties?" she questions suspiciously. 

"Is that better than rigatoni?" he asks. 

Amanda dwells on this, leaning her weight into your leg. It's an unthinking gesture that fills you with light. 

"We can't have macaroni?" 

You know from Spencer's bemused sigh alone that she's about to get her way. 

"Do you mind?" he asks you. 

Amanda pins you with a pout, raising her hands into a praying triangle. Her puppy dog eyes are killer and unnecessary. 

"Whatever you want, babe," you say hurriedly. 

She bursts off to her toys with an excited cheer. You're sorry to see her go, petrified of embracing yourself, and still majorly caught off guard by what Spencer said. He's wanted to ask you over for dinner for a long time, does that mean he likes you? And the way he'd held your hand — that's not an ambiguous affection. 

You like Spencer. All the small things that make him him, and the huge things too. His daughter, his books, his genius mind and his clumsy heart. If he likes you too, you might just combust. 

Spencer nips into the living room to put Fraggle Rock on TV. Amanda's sweet voice chases his heels, her singing a mixture of melodic gibberish and passionate recitation. 

You linger as he starts to gather what he needs for dinner. He's either not worried about what you think of his confession or trying to hide that he is, knee deep in a recount of the invention of boxed mac and cheese when you touch his elbow. 

"I know what you mean, about what you said before, I feel the same. It feels easy with you." 

You don't know what it is. But Spencer knows everything, so you aren't worried. 

He beams. His smile warps each word he says as he turns back to the saucepan he's filling with pasta. "Maybe we should get dinner without Fraggle Rock, sometime." 

"I don't know, I don't think it gets any better than this." You nod your head toward the living room, Amanda's singing an adorable echo. 

His smile grows impossibly bigger. 

"Me neither," he says. 

[smilingformoney]

Icebreaker | Alexander Dane/Reader

I. Never Meet Your Heroes

Summary: As a budding actress and a big fan of Alexander Dane, all your dreams are coming true when you land a role in Galaxy Quest opposite your favourite actor. To your disappointment, Alexander doesn't seem to like you very much - but unbeknownst to you, he's trying desperately to ignore his attraction to you.

Read now on Ao3 or below the cut:

You were almost vibrating with excitement on your first day on set.

You hadn’t taken part in the table read, as your casting was so last minute, so this was your first time meeting the cast and your first time playing the scene would be when the cameras were rolling. You were nervous, but you didn’t mind - you’d spent plenty of time as a theatre understudy, so you were used to playing a scene against someone you hadn’t rehearsed with. What you weren’t used to, however, was playing against such famous names.

If that weren’t enough, your main scene partner was to be none other than Alexander Dane, who just so happened to be your favourite actor in the world.

You wouldn’t quite say you were obsessed with him, but you had seen all his films, and you’d even managed to see him perform Shakespeare in London once, though you’d missed out on seeing him at the stage door. You also had a poster from his performance as Richard III on your wall, and hidden away in notebooks you’d never shared with anyone were fanfictions you’d written about his Galaxy Quest character, mostly involving romances between Dr Lazarus and characters you’d made up that totally weren’t stand-ins for yourself.

And now… you were actually going to play a love interest to Lazarus!

All your dreams were coming true. Your first TV role, in Galaxy Quest, with Alexander Dane, playing Lazarus’ love interest!

You absolutely, resolutely, could not fuck this up.

Your character’s name was Bethany, a fellow member of the Mak’Tar race, who, like Lazarus, believed herself to be the last of the race until she and Lazarus meet by chance and the two are faced with the question of whether they should procreate to repopulate their species.

On your arrival, you met with the production assistant, who led you to hair and make-up to be fitted with a cap similar to the one Alexander wore to make yourself look like an alien.

You were almost done, your hair now completely hidden by the cap and the last of your make-up being applied, when the door was thrown open and none other than Alexander Dane stepped through and sat himself down in the chair next to yours, completely ignoring you, which was fortunate because it gave you an opportunity to close your mouth when you gaped at him.

“Let’s get this blasted thing on quickly, Lena, I want to get today over with,” Alexander grumbled.

Lena, the make-up artist, rolled her eyes and continued working on you with hardly a flinch at Alexander’s abrasive attitude.

“I’m nearly done here, Alexander, then I’ll be with you.”

Alexander looked over and seemed to finally notice you. He frowned, then saw the matching cap on your head, and rolled his eyes.

“They’re going ahead with this bloody plotline, then,” he grumbled, then immediately grabbed a magazine from the dresser and stuck his nose in it.

You hadn’t said a word, and yet somehow you felt like you’d managed to fuck up your meeting with him.

“Don’t mind him, [Y/n],” said Lena, apparently completely unaffected by Alexander’s grumpiness. “He’s always like this. I must be his least favourite person on set because I’m the one who puts his cap on.”

“Third least,” Alexander replied from behind his magazine. “After Jason and Frank.”

“Jason Nesmith, he plays Taggart,” Lena explained to you. “And —”

“Frank Ross, the creator, I assume,” you finished.

Lena smiled. “You’ve done your homework!”

“I watch the show, I know who created it.”

Alexander groaned and lowered his magazine to finally look at you, albeit via the mirror. “Great, they hired another fan. When did this show stop hiring actors?”

“I can be both!” you said defensively. “Besides, what’s wrong with hiring fans? There’s no point in creating art if you don’t love it.”

“Pfft. I’d hardly call this show art. It’s nothing but meaningless drivel, and this episode’s no different, so don’t flatter yourself into thinking you’re creating something great just because you’re on TV.”

“All done!” Lena announced, ignoring Alexander, and she stepped aside to let you examine yourself in the mirror. “What do you think?”

“Wow, that is weird,” you laughed, turning your head to the side to examine your new alien look. “You can’t even tell I’ve got hair underneath! I look pretty good, actually, maybe I’ll shave my head after this.”

Alexander scoffed. “Take the cap with you, make it a new fashion trend.”

“Right, Alexander, it’s your turn!” Lena announced, and the actor just sighed.

“Fine, let’s get it over with.”

Lena gave you directions to the costume department and you left feeling even more anxious than before about your scenes with Alexander Dane.

---

Although your background was in theatre, you knew from industry knowledge that in film and TV, scenes were never filmed in order. So it was a surprise to you that your first scene of the day was actually your first scene of the episode. Your character Bethany was locked in a futuristic alien zoo, gaped at daily by an alien species that marvelled at “the last Mak’Tar.” That was, until the crew of the Protector came by to rescue another alien from their zoo habitat, and Lazarus found Bethany in her cage.

You ran through the scene with the director a few times before Alexander’s arrival. Once he did arrive, he only talked quickly with the director before getting into position, and suddenly you were moments away from your first scene.

The director raised her megaphone. “ACTION!”

Lazarus approached the invisible barrier that surrounded the habitat, staring in disbelief at the figure curled up on the floor. The floor itself was wet sand with small pools of seawater, just like the environment of his home planet of Tev’Meck. Without the rest of the zoo in his periphery, he might even have believed he was back on Tev’Meck.

He glanced down at the information screen. It was all written in an alien language he couldn’t speak, but he recognised two words: Mak’Tar and Tev’Meck.

Lazarus walked around the enclosure slowly, trying not to wake the figure on the floor, until he was able to get a good look at them. Sure enough, they shared his physiology. Could it really be that another one of his kind was here, in this zoo?

A crash in the distance caused Lazarus to look up suddenly. Taggart, no doubt, causing chaos as he attempted to escape with the alien he’d come to recover.

He had to get out of there. And if there was a chance this sleeping figure really was another Mak’Tar, he had to get them out of there too.

Lazarus circled back around to the information panel and hacked the operational code he’d learnt earlier before coming to save their target. A few beeps later, the forcefield was down, and Lazarus stepped into the habitat, crouching down by the figure to wake them.

“Hello?” he whispered. “Can you hear me?”

He grabbed the figure’s shoulder, rolled them onto their back, and recoiled slightly in shock. It was a female Mak’Tar!

The woman opened her eyes slowly, blinking away the sleep, frowning in confusion at seeing a figure looming over her.

Lazarus composed himself and knelt down again.

“It’s alright, I’m here to help. My name is Lazarus, I’m a Mak’Tar too. What’s your name?”

“…Bethany,” replied the woman, pausing as if it took her a moment to remember.

“Well, Bethany, how would you like to escape?”

“I… I think I’d like that very much.”

Lazarus smiled and nodded. “Excellent. Take my hand.”

He stood, and Bethany took his outstretched hand. Wow, his hands are soft , you thought as Lazarus pulled Bethany to her feet. She took a step, but stumbled. Lazarus glanced down and saw that she was favouring her left foot, her right being bandaged. Without hesitation, Lazarus threw her arm around his shoulder and helped her stumble out into the corridor.

“Cut!”

For your first take, you thought it had gone pretty well. You hadn’t messed up once! Whether or not Alexander agreed, you weren’t sure, because he simply released your arm from his grip and immediately walked back to his original mark for the second take.

You ran through the scene three more times, filming from different angles each time, until the director concluded the scene finished.

What amazed you about Alexander was the way he switched between Lazarus and Alexander with ease. Action - he was a hero, a lone survivor who had to contain himself at the possibility of finding another survivor in favour of concentrating on a quick exit. He was smiling as he pulled Bethany to her feet, his eyes warm and kind, and just a little excited. Cut - he was an actor, a grumpy thespian stuck in a job he hated, just getting through the day until he could throw the cap back in Lena’s face and stomp off home. He let go of you as soon as he could, not looking at you or even acknowledging your existence outside of the scene.

Ever heard the saying never meet your heroes? Well, you were discovering now why that was true. Alexander Dane was your favourite actor, your idol, your celebrity crush and the reason you’d pursued acting in the first place. And, it turned out, he was a massive jackass.

You weren’t naïve; you hadn’t gone into this expecting your crush to fall in love with you and whisk you off on some romance. You hadn’t even expected to make friends with him. But you had hoped to at least have a good working relationship with him for the week you were there and to come away with some fun stories about the week you spent on the set of Galaxy Quest.

Apparently, that wasn’t to be. So you resolved yourself to give the best performance you could and hope the fans liked your character when the episode aired.

Your next scene took place on the viewing deck, Bethany having successfully escaped the alien zoo and finding herself on board the Protector. You stood in front of the glass that separated you from the green screen that would be replaced in post-production with the vast expanse of the cosmos, gazing thoughtfully through the window as the director took some establishing shots of you standing alone.

When she was happy with the solo shots, the director called action for Alexander to make his entrance.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Lazarus said as he stepped up beside Bethany, looking out at the cosmos and remembering what it was like for him when he first looked out into space from the safety of the ship.

“It’s terrifying,” Bethany replied quietly, and Lazarus frowned at her.

“Terrifying?”

“It’s so big… so easy to get lost.” She raised a hand and lightly placed her fingertip against the glass, covering an entire galaxy with just her fingertip. “How many species are out there?”

“Billions, I suppose. It’s impossible to count. Trillions of life forms… and none of them like us.”

Bethany looked up at him. Alexander’s profile was illuminated by the stage lights, emphasising the outline of his nose.

“How can you be sure? Maybe others survived. We did.”

Lazarus shook his head sadly. “I don’t think so. Even if there are… the chances of finding them are minuscule. It’s a miracle I ran into you.” He looked down at her and smiled, not a trace of Alexander’s regular irritation on his features. Lazarus was only kind, curious, and a little hesitant. “Perhaps it’s fortunate that I found you. So we can… keep the Mak’Tar species alive.”

“For now.” Bethany looked back out at the vast cosmos. “We’ll both die eventually, though. Then the Mak’Tar are done for.”

Lazarus hesitated. “Not necessarily. There would be more of us if we were to… make more.”

Bethany kept her gaze firmly fixed on the expansive view from the window.  She blushed slightly - you had never quite grasped forcing the blood to rush to your cheeks, but you could at least act as if it had - then shook her head.

“No, I… I think it’s best not.”

Lazarus was stunned. He collected himself and said, “And let our species die?”

Bethany turned back to Lazarus, and as much as you understood her motivations, you selfishly wished the scene were to end with a passionate make out session.

“It’s survival of the strongest, Lazarus,” Bethany said. You very suddenly realised you’d missed a line, but your theatre instincts kicked in, and you continued. “Our people were squashed like bugs when someone stronger came along. One day, our conquerors will be destroyed by someone or something stronger than them. And so the cycle continues - until there’s nothing left. Why delay the inevitable?”

“All our history, our culture - gone —”

Bethany shook her head. “It’s not gone. It’s just a story now.”

The script called for Lazarus to be speechless, so you gave Alexander a few moments to let the emotions play out on his face, then Bethany glanced out the window again.

“I think I’ll ask to be dropped off on Atera. It always looked very pretty in the books.”

She glanced uncertainly at Lazarus one last time, and when his stunned silence continued, she walked away, leaving him alone with the crushing disappointment that he wouldn’t save his species after all.

“Cut! Great first go, guys, but [Y/n], you missed a line. After Alexander says ‘and let our species die’ —”

“‘Nothing lasts forever.’ Yeah, I know, sorry. Got ahead of myself.”

“Well, at least you kept going,” Alexander said as he came up to where you were standing to take his starting position again. “Most TV actors would have broken character, swore loudly then insisted on trying the whole thing again. You held it together like a true thespian.”

You smiled coyly. He was complimenting you!

“Well, my career has been theatre so far. I’m used to having to improvise on the spot without breaking character.”

Alexander smirked at you conspiratorially. “Honestly, I enjoy it. Keeps me on my toes. On camera, you stop and start again when you make a mistake - everything has to be so perfect. And once the filming’s done, that’s it, no going back. In theatre, you do it a little differently every night. It’s so much more…”

He paused, looking for the right word.

“Organic?”

Alexander looked at you with surprise, as if it were a wonder you understood.

You wanted to talk to him more about theatre, something you both clearly loved, but you had to do the scene five more times to get the right camera angles, so you returned to your mark by the window and readied yourself to do the whole thing over again.

When the scene was finally declared finished, you were done for the day, so you returned to the make-up room to get your cap taken off. Alexander had one more scene to do on the brig, so once Lena had released your hair from its captivity and you were back in your regular Earth clothes, you snuck into the back of the set to watch the cast wrapping up. When else would you get an opportunity to see a classic Galaxy Quest brig room scene being filmed?

Jason Nesmith was giving one of his classic Taggart speeches, all the crew showing rapt attention except for Lazarus, who was seemingly distracted.

The speech concluded, the crew applauded and set to work, and Taggart swaggered up to Lazarus at his station.

“Lazarus! Something up, buddy? You didn’t applaud or nod once during my speech. Was it not inspiring enough for you?”

Lazarus looked up at his captain and smiled good-naturedly. “Very inspiring, Captain, thank you. My apologies, I was…”

He glanced forward thoughtfully, looking at the cosmos through the window and remembering his conversation with Bethany earlier. Alexander in fact looked behind the cameras, and straight at you.

“…distracted,” he finished.

“Ah, thinking of that new girl, are ya? Not surprised, she’s a pretty one. I presume. If she had hair instead of your head thing, I’d think she was pretty. Suppose she’s pretty to you, isn’t she?”

“Mhm…” Lazarus responded, Alexander’s eyes still fixed directly on you. He blinked, as if snapping himself out of a trance, then turned back towards Taggart. “Yes, I suppose she is. Excuse me, Captain.”

He stood and exited the scene by the doors at the back. Jason finished the scene with a conversation with Gwen DiMarco, then the director called cut.

“Great take, everyone! Alexander - your best one yet. You really sold us on how conflicted Lazarus is. Alright, that’s a wrap for today, we’ve got some sets to prepare over the weekend so we’ll see you all bright and early on Monday!”

The crew began shutting down and you slipped back out so as to not get in the way. You were at the cloakroom collecting your coat and bag when Alexander, still in his costume, came up to you, taking you by surprise.

“Jesus! Sorry, Alexander, you scared me.”

He smirked. “Sorry. I just wanted to say, you weren't awful today. Did you say you came from theatre?”

You blushed, and you could feel that this time your cheeks really had gone red. “Oh - wow, thanks. Erm, yeah, nothing major, I’ve just been understudying the last couple of years.”

“Nonsense, understudies are vital! Learning everyone’s roles and being ready to take any one of them on at any moment? No wonder you did so well today without rehearsal. Listen, the cast and I are heading out to a bar tonight. It’s not often we get a whole weekend off. Would you like to join us?”

Surprise and excitement sprung up inside your chest. Surprise that the man who’d been grumpy all day was suddenly being nice, and excitement at the chance to socialise with the Galaxy Quest cast.

“Sure, I’d love to! Where are we going?”

Alexander winced. “Paolo’s Karaoke Bar. I’d avoid that place like the plague myself, but there are private rooms so we won’t be disturbed by fans, and the beer is good.”

“How many beers do I have to buy you to convince you to sing?” you grinned.

“I’ll be blackout drunk getting my stomach pumped before you get a note out of me. Is that a yes?”

“Yes, I’d love to come!”

“Great - and no recording any of it,” Alexander added sternly as you slipped your coat off again and came back inside to wait for everyone to finish getting out of their costumes. “If even a single photo of this ends up on Twitter, I’m holding you personally accountable. We don’t usually invite fans to join us, but since technically you’re an actor…”

“No tweeting, got it. I do just need to let my roommate know where I’m going, though. In case of, you know, murder.”

Alexander frowned at you.

“It’s a girl thing. Go, get de-capped, I’ll wait here.”

Alexander sighed, muttered something about young people, and left you waiting in the hallway, wondering what the night had in store for you.

---

You didn’t remember much of the taxi ride to Alexander’s house. Apparently it took half an hour, but you hardly paid attention, as you were far too busy snogging him in the back seat to care how long you’d been in the car for.

You came up for air when the taxi pulled up to the house, and once you ungracefully clamoured out of the car, Alexander paid the driver while you stared up at the Beverly Hills mansion.

“You live here alone?!” you gasped.

“Welcome to the rich side of town,” Alexander replied, his feet as unsteady as yours as he approached you and wrapped an arm around your waist. “Wanna see the inside?”

“Hell yes.”

After some fumbling with his keys, Alexander managed to get the front door open and he ushered you inside. He switched on the lights, and you gasped at just how huge and open the space was. Half the walls were all window, and those that were actual wall were lined with posters from Alexander’s previous projects - mostly his theatre shows, with a few films here and there.

“That’s the one I have,” you laughed, pointing to the poster of him from Richard III.

Alexander wrapped his arms around you from behind, his erection pressing into your arse as he held you close. “Is that so? How many wanks did teen [Y/n] have staring at that poster?”

“Far too many to count.”

“Did you imagine your fingers were mine?” Alexander murmured softly in your ear, one hand travelling tauntingly slowly past the waistband of your trousers. “Did you slip them inside trying to emulate my cock? Because believe me, mere fingers couldn’t come even close to stretching you the way my cock can.”

“I - I have a vibrator named after you,” you admitted, anticipating building up inside you when Alexander cupped your cunt with his hand, savouring the warmth you were radiating against him.

“My, you really are a naughty thing, aren’t you? Let’s see if my fingers live up to your imagination.”

You gasped as he slipped his middle finger inside you, firm and thick, his skin slightly rough and absolutely nothing like your own.

Alexander kept one arm firmly around your chest, a hand cupping your breast through your top, and you had to lean back into him to stay upright. He buried his face in your neck, teeth and tongue exploring your skin, his hair tickling your face slightly. His thumb circled your lower lips, searching for that sweet spot, and when he found it, you moaned, which quickly turned into a hiccup.

Alexander smirked against your neck, but when you hiccupped again, he paused his sensual movements.

“Hic - sorry,” you mumbled, your head spinning slightly from the combination of alcohol and arousal.

“Sit down, I’ll get you some water,” Alexander said softly. He pulled his hand out of your pants, which you thoroughly disliked, but you did feel better when he deposited you on the couch and went into the kitchen to fetch you some water. The couch was warm and soft, and you felt like you could just sink into it and sleep as comfortably as on a bed…

The next thing you knew, you were lying on your front, your eyes blinking open, though you quickly squeezed them shut when you saw the sunlight pouring in from the window.

You buried your face in the pillow and let out a groan. Your head was pounding. Great, you’d woken up with a migraine.

No… it wasn’t a migraine. It was a hangover. You could feel the familiar ache in your stomach as it tried to digest the alcohol you’d consumed.

You’d been hungover enough in the past to know your routine. Toilet, coffee, a greasy breakfast and a shower, in that order.

You reluctantly sat up in the bed, your eyes adjusting to the light, and your heart skipped a beat in fear for a moment when you didn’t recognise your surroundings. Whose bed were you in if not your own?!

You looked around for a clue, and on a wall was a glaringly obvious one - a massive four-panel framed art piece featuring Alexander Dane’s brooding headshot.

Oh god, you were in Alexander Dane’s bed.

…Alone. Where was the man himself?

You rolled out of the superking-sized bed, which was difficult as you were slap bang in the middle. You reached the edge eventually, and when you threw the covers back and sat up, you noticed that your trousers and bra had been discarded, but you still had your top on.

You trudged into the en-suite bathroom, which was bigger than your own bedroom, and sat down on the toilet. You’d solve the mystery of how you ended up alone in Alexander Dane’s bed in a bit - you had to take care of business first.

When that was done, you were feeling a bit more awake, and managed to find your discarded trousers on the floor. You couldn’t find your bra, so you pushed that thought aside for later, and turned your attention to finding Alexander.

He was, you discovered, fast asleep on the sofa in the living room, mouth gaping most inelegantly as he snored, one leg bent and the other splayed on the floor, with one arm on his chest and the other behind his head.

You nudged him softly. When he didn’t respond, you tickled his exposed armpit.

“What the fuck!” Alexander grumped as he shot awake, his arm instinctively clamping down against his side to protect himself from any further tickle attacks. He blinked, delirious, then saw you standing over him and frowned. “[Y/n]? What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I was hoping you’d know the answer to that,” you replied. “Last I remember we were at the bar, next thing I know I’m waking up in your bed without you in it.”

Alexander sat up, looking just as affronted by the light as you were, and he rubbed his temple.

“I don’t remember anything after the bar either,” he mumbled. “Why am I on the couch?”

“Dunno. I’d suggest you were a gentleman and insisted I took the bed, but from what I’ve learnt of you in the last day, you probably just collapsed on the sofa and I took the bed for myself.”

Alexander grunted, then yawned. “Ugh. Want some coffee?”

“If you’re offering.”

“‘Course I am. More of a gentleman than you seem to think.”

Alexander pushed himself up off the couch and shuffled off towards the kitchen, then paused halfway to pick something up from the armchair.

“This yours?”

He turned and offered you your own bra, and you blushed.

“Oh… yeah, I was wondering where that was.”

Alexander passed it to you without much thought, then continued his half-asleep trek to the kitchen, leaving you to wonder why the fuck your bra had been discarded on the armchair.

You quickly pulled off your top and set about putting your bra back on, trying to be quick before Alexander saw you, but of course by hurrying you fumbled more with the catch and it took you longer than you’d have liked before you finally got the straps over your shoulders and pulled your top back over your head.

“How do you like it?” Alexander asked when you entered the kitchen.

“Strong and black.”

“A woman after my own heart.”

You blushed again and sat yourself on a stool, looking around the kitchen, trying to remember something, anything, from your journey between the bar and Alexander’s bed.

“I vaguely recall offering you to stay at mine rather than get a taxi to your place alone,” Alexander said after a few moments. He was staring at the coffee maker as it boiled, as if his memories from last night were in there. “But after that, nothing until you attacked my armpit.”

“I don’t even remember that much. I think my memory ran out of storage about 2am.”

“So you remember karaoke then?”

You grinned. “Yes, I remember karaoke.”

“Mmph. Unfortunately so do I.”

Alexander poured you a hot cup of coffee, and when the first sip of the bitter drink passed your lips, you felt as if your soul had been renewed.

“That is the best thing I have ever tasted in the history of anything,” you sighed happily. “Both because I desperately need caffeine and because that’s a damn good coffee.”

“Some fancy stuff Gwen got me for Christmas,” Alexander said, leaning against the counter as he cradled his own cup like it was his salvation. “I don’t usually share it, so you should be honoured.”

You smiled. “It’s the greatest of honours.”

You were silent for a few minutes as you savoured your drinks, you trying to recall the previous night and he remembering small slivers of moments as his memory slowly came back to him.

He remembered coming back from the kitchen with a glass of water only to find you’d passed out on the sofa. He had tried to wake you, but you were out cold, so instead he hoisted you up and carried you to his bed. Exhaustion hit him, and he didn’t want to share a bed with you without your permission, so he relegated himself to the sofa instead.

That was all he remembered. How your bra had ended up on the armchair, he had no idea, because he was certain he’d dumped you on the bed fully dressed.

Once he’d managed to send you on your way, Alexander sat down at his computer and logged on to boot up the security programme. He had installed security cameras around his house in case of a break-in, not in case of lost drunken memories, but he absolutely had to know why your bra had made its way to the armchair.

He loaded the living room camera from the previous night and scrubbed through the footage until he saw the two of you walk in through the front door, then he slowed down and watched.

You came in first, followed by him, and - oh, god. His hand was down your trousers almost instantly. You looked very pleased with his actions, but you were clearly wasted - almost as soon as he left to fetch you some water, you sat down on the sofa and passed out.

Alexander watched as he carried you into the bedroom, then returned shortly after to pass out on the sofa himself. The armchair was still braless so he sped up the footage, until about an hour later when you appeared at the doorway.

He’d apparently not fallen asleep yet or was sleeping lightly, because you had only to say something to have him sitting up. You perched yourself on the arm of the armchair, the two of you exchanged words with each other - Alexander cursed himself for not having audio recording on this thing - and, to his own surprise, he stood up from the sofa, crossed the room in a few long strides, and his lips were on yours.

He watched himself sit on the chair and pull you onto his lap, and from the camera’s angle he could mostly just see your back, but it was plain that the two of you were kissing passionately. His arms wrapped around you and held you close, then grabbed the bottom of your shirt and pulled the whole thing over your head. You reached behind to unclasp your bra and threw it over the back of the armchair, where he’d find it later that morning.

Alexander sighed. What on earth had he been thinking?

Well, that was no question at all. His stupid, primal, drunk man brain had thought, Woman wants to fuck me. Dick wants to fuck woman. Must obey dick.

Never mind how young you were, or how drunk, or the fact that you were a bloody fan, probably just eager to tell your friends that you’d scored with Dr Lazarus.

He watched the screen anxiously, waiting for something to happen that he’d regret. He watched as you pulled away from the kiss to say something, and his horny, drunk self grinned excitedly.

Had he really fucked you and forgotten all about it?

On the screen, you said something else, and his past self paused. He said something, you replied, and he shook his head.

You seemed to protest, but he insisted and pushed you off his lap. You were apparently irritated, by the way that you grabbed your top and stormed off, leaving him to drag himself back to the sofa and fall back asleep, both of you leaving the bra behind on the armchair.

Alexander scrubbed through the footage just to be sure, but nothing else happened until you appeared hours later to wake him up.

He closed the footage and leant back in his chair with a sigh. He was relieved he’d apparently changed his mind about your drunken fumble, but now he had a conundrum. Should he tell you what the footage showed? Surely you too were wondering how the bra got there. Or did you know? You’d seemed just as confused as he was, and in fact seemed to not remember anything at all about coming back to his house. Or maybe you were just covering it up by pretending not to remember anything at all.

What would be the point in telling you? “Hey, [Y/n], I checked my cameras and we almost hooked up but apparently I changed my mind and sent you to bed. Just letting you know.”

If you knew, you might think it meant you had a chance with him. Alexander didn’t have anything against dating other actors, but he did have a strict rule about fans. He couldn’t possibly be with someone, whether for one night or long term, who just saw him as Dr Lazarus. Besides, if you liked the show, that clearly meant you had straw for brains, and he had higher standards than that.

No, he decided, it was best you didn’t know about that little fumble. On your next filming day, he would be nothing but professional, and any idea you might have of having a chance with him would quickly disappear.

---

Alexander’s version of “being professional” was to be even ruder to you than usual. You had no idea why he was being so abrasive, but he hardly spoke to you in the make-up room, chatting exclusively to Lena and giving you short, one or two word answers if he had to speak to you at all.

With no memory of the events on Friday, you could only conclude that Alexander just didn’t like you, though he didn’t seem to like anyone, so you tried not to take it personally. Even so, being rejected by your favourite actor for no apparent reason was soul-crushing to say the least.

You knew trying to talk to him and getting rebuffed would just upset you, so you decided to follow his lead and keep conversation to a minimum. While the cameras were rolling, you had an intense, uncertain relationship between your characters, but as soon as the cameras stopped, Alexander was back to ignoring you.

Even with his cold attitude towards you, you still managed to make the most of the experience, choosing to focus instead on the thrill of being on the Galaxy Quest set. Your character was in three episodes, arriving towards the end of your first episode, spending your second episode travelling with the crew, and in the third episode they dropped her off on a planet to settle down after her years in captivity.

The second episode was the most fun to film, because you got to be part of the crew for a while, and interacting with the other actors helped you forget Alexander’s permanent cold shoulder.

Just as you’d filmed your first scene first, you filmed your last scene last, and you travelled out on location for the scene, which was set on the planet of Atera.

Bethany said her goodbyes to the crew as they climbed aboard the ship to set off again, waiting on board as Lazarus stayed behind to speak to her alone.

“You’re sure you won’t come with us?” he asked. “There’s so much more to see out there.”

Bethany smiled sadly and nodded. “I’m sure. I need to figure out who I am outside of a cage before I go looking for adventure. But…”

She took his hand, which was soft again - did Alexander Dane moisturise?

“I’m very glad I met you, Lazarus. I thought I was alone in the universe, but… now I know you’re out there, I won’t feel so alone anymore.”

He looked at her searchingly, almost imploringly, as if looking for a last-minute way to convince her to stay.

“I’ll miss you,” Lazarus admitted.

“I’ll miss you too. Will you visit?”

“I want to… but we don’t often return where we’ve been.”

“Oh,” Bethany said sadly, glancing away, and your heart skipped a beat when Lazarus gently put an arm around her shoulder and pointed up at a constellation in the sky.

“That’s where we’re going. Always forward. So if you do miss me… just look up. That’s where I’ll be.”

Just look up. That’s where I’ll be. Alexander had been trying fruitlessly to convince Frank to take out that cheesy line, but it had been a losing battle.

Bethany craned her neck to look into the sky, then turned to look at Alexander next to her.

“Thank you for saving me.”

Lazarus looked down at her.

“My dear, I think you may well have saved me.”

Bethany kissed his cheek and smiled sweetly. Lazarus hesitated, but he let her go and made his way to the ship.

She waved him off, and when cut was called, you thought it curious how familiar kissing Alexander on the cheek felt, as if it were something you were completely comfortable with.

Perhaps you were getting too into character.

---

You were admittedly disappointed with how unceremoniously you left the studio. You had your cap removed in the usual awkward silence with Alexander, who just grunted at you when you said goodbye.

In the theatre, you knew straight away how people felt about your performance. You’d sometimes hear reactions in the moment; otherwise, you’d receive (or not) applause at the end, and reviews were online and in the papers the very next day.

Television was different. You had signed an NDA banning you from sharing details of your character or the storyline you’d been involved in. And the episode wouldn’t air for months, so you had no way of knowing how your performance would be received.

The other strange thing was that you could watch your own performance on TV along with everyone else.

Over the months since your week on set, you’d found a role as an understudy in a production of Sweeney Todd, and in between rehearsing for three different roles and occasionally even getting to perform them, you’d made some good friends with cast and crew members, all of whom supported one another’s various attempts to make a career in LA.

So when the day came that your first episode would air, you had your friends over to watch your episode with you, many of them also fans of the show, or if not they came anyway simply to support you.

You didn’t appear until the very end of the episode, Bethany’s getaway into the Protector with Lazarus and the rest of the crew acting as cliffhanger, but it was still an incredible experience to watch yourself, in full prosthetics, acting in Galaxy Quest with Alexander Dane - who, despite being a complete jackass, was still your favourite actor.

“Oh my god, I so ship them!” your friend Stephanie, who played Johanna, crooned as soon as the credits rolled. “[Y/n], please tell me you and Lazarus get together!”

“I can’t tell you what happens, you know that!” you replied, throwing your hands up in innocence. “By pain of death. Or, well, by pain of a big payment if I was responsible for any leaks, and I can not afford that.”

“Eiw, did you have to kiss Alexander Dane though?” Stephanie gagged.

“What do you mean, eiw?”

“He’s ancient!”

“He’s not! He’s 53.”

“Don’t bother, Steph, [Y/n]'s in lurrrrve with Alexander Dane,” scoffed Mike from costume, who’d found out about your crush when you’d bonded over a shared love of Galaxy Quest while he fitted you for your Mrs Lovett costume.

“I am not! I’ll have you know he was really rude to me all week we worked together. Hardly said a word to me. He’ll always be my favourite actor, but as a person? Hard pass.”

Perhaps that pass would be hard, because as it turned out, the fans loved your character. So much so that you were invited as a late addition guest at the Galaxy Quest convention in LA two weeks after your third and final episode had aired.

You gladly accepted - you were going to go anyway as an attendee, but as a guest? That was a much better option. You gave your ticket to Mike, who almost cried with jealousy that you were being invited as a guest.

You’d never been to the convention yourself before, as it was always in LA and you’d always lived in London, but you’d always followed the posts about it online, and you knew that the actors always went in their costumes, including Alexander wearing his cap. Would you be expected to do the same? You didn’t even have your costume anymore.

You arrived at the hotel on the Friday night and checked into the room you’d been given. The guests all had rooms on one floor, separated from fans, and your room was right at the end of the corridor - no doubt the last room available as you were invited so last minute.

You’d hardly begun to unpack your suitcase when you heard a knock on the door.

You opened it, your anxiety telling you that someone was about to tell you there’d been a mix up and you weren’t invited at all, but to your relief you recognised Lena, the make-up artist.

“There she is! Thought I’d bring this over and make sure you still fit.”

She held up a coat bag, no doubt containing your costume.

“You do costume now too?” you joked as you stepped aside to let her in.

“I do at things like this - cheaper for them to send me out on my own. Have you gained or lost any weight since filming?”

“Uh - I guess I might have lost some,” you said. “I don’t really keep an eye on it. But I’ve been doing a show so that keeps me in shape.”

“Ooh, which show you in?” Lena asked, and you told her about your time understudying in Sweeney Todd while she got you out of your clothes and into your costume.

“Aw, I’d love to see you in it some time! But I suppose you never know when you’ll be on, do you? That must be so hard learning all three roles. Gosh, look at you, you have lost weight! If we were filming I’d take the waist in a bit, but since we’re just here for the con, we can get away with it.”

“Am I gonna have to wear the head thing? I know Alexander always wears his.”

Lena scoffed. “Yeah, only to lower the risk of Galaxy Quest fans recognising him outside of the show. I got it with me if you want, but you don’t have to.”

You bit your lip and thought about it. You really didn’t want to wear it, but if Alexander was wearing his, you kind of felt like you should, in solidarity.

Then again, he didn’t care about your feelings, so why should you care about his?

“May I make a suggestion?” Lena asked.

“Absolutely not, you lowly make-up artist,” you scoffed.

Lena laughed. “You should wear it. Everyone’s still buzzing about Bethany, and since you’re so new to the scene people won’t recognise you without it yet. And it’ll be super cute if you and Alexander both wear it for your photo session! Here, let’s get you out of the costume for now, I’ll come back tomorrow to put it on you proper.”

“What photo session?” you asked as you turned around to let Lena take the costume apart.

“Haven’t you seen your schedule yet?”

“I had literally been here for five seconds when you knocked on the door. I haven’t even had a piss yet, let alone looked at my timetable.”

“You and Alexander have a double photo session in the afternoon. People pay $30 each for photos with you individually, or $50 for a pic with both of you.”

“Oh, bloody hell,” you sighed.

“That’s what he said too.”

“I’m surprised he even agreed to do it. He hates sharing the spotlight - although I suppose he doesn’t feel threatened by me. Still, I’m surprised he’d agree to spend any more time in my presence than he has to.”

“He doesn’t hate you, you know,” Lena told you as you stepped out of the costume and gratefully began putting your far more comfortable, human clothes on. “He’s just a miserable bastard. He quite likes you, actually.”

You scoffed.

“He hardly spoke to me all week during filming.”

“Maybe, but after you went home each day, he’d tell me how well you did in your scenes that day. And Gwen tells me he spoke highly of your performance after your episodes aired.”

“I’m surprised he watches the show.”

“He loves to watch himself. Right, that’s me done with you for tonight. The intro panel’s at 9 and I’ve gotta get Alexander’s cap on too, so I can come by at 7.30 with some breakfast and coffee to wake you up while I get you fitted. Sound good?”

“So long as the coffee’s strong and black, you can do anything you want to me.”

“Flirt.”

Lena winked at you and left, and with the promise of a 7.30 alien head thing fitting, you decided to get an early night.

---

No amount of black coffee could have prepared you for the convention.

You were shuffled through back corridors to behind the main stage at 8.45, where you found most of the main cast were waiting, all dressed in their costumes.

“Hey, it’s [Y/n]!” Guy said cheerily when he saw you. “Man, am I glad you’re here. This is my first con too, and I’m bricking it. I’ve been to loads before as a fan, obviously, but never as a guest. I’m so nervous!”

“Oh, er, me too,” you replied, a little taken aback by Guy’s enthusiasm so early in the morning. You glanced over at the others, and noticed one body missing. “Hey, where’s Jason?”

“Running late, of course,” grunted Alexander from the chair he was slouched in, looking as miserable as ever. “He’ll show up ten minutes late on purpose, all to get that extra round of applause.”

He didn’t even look up at you to say hello.

You turned to Guy.

“Hey, when they introduce us, d’you think we could go on at the same time? Then we can power through that terrifying first entrance together. I’m terrified of walking on stage after everyone else and getting crickets chirping.”

“Oh my god, me too!” Guy said with relief. “I’m so glad you said it. Yes, let’s do it.”

Alexander snorted derisively. “What, are you scared of walking on a stage?”

”This is a little different from a theatre show,” you retorted. “In the theatre, they applaud at the end, and they applaud based on your performance. Here they’re applauding us as people, and none of them know me. Or has it been so long you forgot what theatre bows are like?”

Alexander did look at you then, his eyes narrowed, as the others chortled at your dig.

“Remind me why she’s here?” he grumbled to no one in particular.

“Because we got about 200 emails last week asking if she’d be here,” replied the convention host, who decided now was a convenient time to walk in. “Right, you guys ready to go?”

The convention passed in a whirlwind. You were hurried from panel to signing to meet and greet with hardly a chance to breathe. You met hundreds of fans, whose names you scribbled alongside your signature then promptly forgot, and you took every chance you had to remind the fans you were talking to that you were one of them.

In the afternoon came your photo session with Alexander, and finally you got a moment of peace when you entered the room ten minutes before the fans were to be let in - although, you suspected, they were already lining up outside.

While the crew got the backdrop ready, you collapsed into a chair with a sigh of relief.

“You still have a day and a half to go, you know,” said a familiar voice.

You looked up to see Alexander leaning up against the wall, looking at you with amusement.

“I didn’t think so many people would want to see me,” you said honestly. “Sure I didn’t have a line like you guys had, but mine still didn’t stop. I think I’ve met more people this morning than I have in my entire life.

Alexander scoffed. “Yep, and they’ll be back tomorrow, expecting you to remember them all individually.”

“How many have asked you to say that line?”

“Too fucking many. How many have asked if you’re coming back?”

“Pretty much everyone.”

“What have you been telling them?”

“That Alexander Dane’s a twat and will probably refuse to work with me again.”

He laughed, but he didn’t deny it. He sighed, then came to sit by you.

“Look, I know I’m a twat. I’ll try to make this tolerable for you.”

“Gee, thanks. No one’s forcing you to do this with me. Couldn’t you have just said you didn’t wanna do a double shoot?”

“Actually… it was my idea.”

Now that surprised you. You looked at him questioningly, and he sighed.

“Look, Gwen always hates these things, alright? Blokes are always trying to touch her. It happens less when a man is there, as stupid as that is, so Jason or I usually do a double shoot with her.”

“And you thought they might do the same with me?”

Alexander shrugged. “Sure, why not? These basement dwellers don’t know how to act around a woman - add the fact you’re gorgeous and all hope is lost. So let me know if you’re uncomfortable, alright?”

You nodded, hoping Lena had caked you in enough make-up to hide your blush at the fact he’d called you gorgeous.

As it turned out, Alexander was right - fans really did have wandering hands. After the third narrowly avoided grope, you pulled Alexander aside before the next fan stepped up.

“Alex, that’s three guys who’ve tried to grab my arse already,” you whispered. “What do I do?”

“What? Who?”

Alexander looked around as if the groping fans might still be lingering, but they’d long been ushered away by event staff.

“I told you, [Y/n], you need to tell me when it happens.”

“What am I supposed to do? Shout ‘hey, everybody, this guy’s grabbing my arse’? That’s so embarrassing.”

Alexander thought for a moment.

“Alright, when it happens, you poke me with two fingers. I’ll pretend I noticed it myself.”

“Oh, planning non-verbal cues already, are we?” you joked, the words out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.

He snorted and rolled his eyes.

“Trust me, [Y/n] - if we fucked, I’d make sure you were very vocal.”

Your cheeks burned for the second time in that hour, but you had to push your sudden explicit thought about Alexander to the side, because you had two more hours to go of this torture.

Most of it went by without any more unwanted groping, but you were nearly at the end of the queue when one ball of sweat dressed in a very poorly made copy of Alexander’s costume placed his hand firmly on your rear.

You froze for a moment, then remembered to poke Alexander with two fingers. His head immediately whipped around and he looked down to see the fan’s hand far lower than it should be.

Alexander may be grumpy all the time, but there was a difference between grump and anger. He was never really angry unless he was acting - but he certainly wasn’t acting now.

You were fairly certain you didn’t even know half the swear words that came out of his mouth as he yelled at the fan. A brave staff member tried to intervene, but Alexander simply turned his vitriol to them, yelling at them for not making the event safer for female guests.

He ended his rant by ushering you along with him as he stormed out, and you felt a mixture of emotions - relief to be out of there, guilt for the fans still in line, and a bit (okay, maybe a lot) of arousal at Alexander defending you.

“Prats,” he cursed bitterly as the door closed behind you, leaving the two of you alone in the corridor. He turned to you. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you replied awkwardly, not really sure if you were being honest. “Thanks for, um, rescuing me.”

Alexander pursed his lips, his nostrils flaring as he shot a dark look back at the door.

“You got anything else on this afternoon?” he asked you.

“No, that was my last thing.”

“Do you want to go back to my room and raid the minibar? I usually get pissed on the agency’s credit card alone, but I guess you wouldn’t be the worst company.”

“That almost sounded like a compliment.”

“Make the most of it. Come on, I know a way upstairs we can go to avoid being seen.”

Alexander led you up to the floor you were all staying on, and you were halfway down the corridor to his room when your path was suddenly intercepted by Jane Doe, one of the new cast members for the reboot.

“Hello!” she announced cheerily, grinning at you both.

“Lal - er, Jane, what are you doing here?” Alexander said with confusion. “I thought you couldn’t make it this weekend.”

“It is my birthing day! We are having a party. You are coming too.”

Alexander glanced at you. “Oh - er - we’ll miss this one, actually. But happy… birthing day.”

He tried to step around her, but she simply followed his path, still grinning.

Apparently she was as strange as her character.

“You are coming!” Jane insisted.

She held something up in her hand and pressed a button, and your world went black.

[katerinaaqu]

Heyyy! I adore your writting and all your analysis on greek mythology characters and fics. I was wondering what are your thoughts on the bastards of Odysseus myths? (Telegonus/ Nausinous & Nausithoos)

I am honored that you do! It means a lot!

That is an excellent question. Well if it was just their existence that we are discussing then absolutely I can imagine them existing. The problem with characters like Telegonus is that they are protagonists in Telegony which is contrasting the Odyssey in many parts! Likewise the twins as well! In both cases we do not have a hint in the Odyssey on their existence and remembering my random analysis on Odysseus and Penelope being childless for some time as well as the fact that even Odysseus himself was "much prayed for" could indicate that his family was not exactly the most fertile in the world. So I doubt that he would get his children with the goddesses while he was living with them. But let's see each individual thing. Sorry if this is long!

I have no issue entertaining the thought that Telegonus might as well exist, in fact I had made scenarios in my head on his existence. I just do not follow the plotline of Telegony (as you probably noticed from my fanfiction "The Death of Odysseus" ^_^). Odysseus stayed one year with Circe so I would imagine the existence of a son or even more children wouldn't be completely impossible but certainly if his son did exist then he probably would be born after his departure so Odysseus never knows his existence for there is no mention of children anywhere in the Odyssey. In fact I can imagine Circe totally hiding her pregnancy from Odysseus if Odysseus was still with her when she finds out. In one way she wouldn't want to put the burden to Odysseus's mind with such things after agreeing to let him go. Circe seemed much more honest on that and more independant. I doubt she would speak a word about any type of pregnancy to Odysseus for, one, she wouldn't want to force him to stay and two she is proud and strong. I an imagine her raising Telegonus by herself rather than mentioning anything to Odysseus. In my opinion if Telegonus exists, Odysseus never finds out about it. Could perhaps Telegonus travel in a similar way like Telemachus before to discover the roots of his father's side? Perhaps but in this case I would imagine this happening after Odysseus's death. Perhaps Telegonous and Telemachus somehow bond with each other (positively or negatively is anybody's guess)

Similarly I would treat the twins with Calypso Nausinous & Nausithoos. Again I do not like future writers, even Hesiod himself, mentioning how Odysseus "made sweet love" to Calypso and had children with her because we know that is not the case with the actual homeric story. However could the twins exist? Absolutely. If anything with Calypso it seems more probable given his misadventure being raped every night while staying with her for seven years. There is a very high possibility that Calypso got pregnant at some point, especially since the twins were born on Ogygia and do not play any other part in any mythological parallel that we know of. So as far as we are concerned the twins were born in Ogygia and stayed in Ogygia. Contrasting Circe I think that Calypso would absolutely try to take advantage of her pregnancy to hold Odysseus accountable and stay with her (I even imagined a scene to write on their departure in which Calypso changes her mind, tries to go after Odysseus and tries to tell him she is pregnant but Odysseus doesn't let her finish), which is why I do not think that once again Odysseus was aware of an existence of a child, Homer-wise. So I can imagine at some point after his departure, Calypso would give birth to her twins and keep them close. (and I have a VERY DARK headcanon about the kids themselves, if we do not take into account Calypso killing herself out of sorrow, solely based on her personality in the Odyssey thinking there was no problem for Odysseus to stay in even if he wished for death and cried every day. Also because I am a sucker for dark and dramatic stuff! XD)

To sum up I would have no problem into entertaining the thoughts of these children actually existing but I am convinced that at least Homer-wise, the kids were born after his departure and Odysseus was unaware of their existence. But that is just my opinion

I hope this helps! ^_^

[troius]

What we learned from the war

"Endings are hard" is a something of a truism, but it's borne out in Bleach, where every story arc besides after the first two stumbled at the finish (even the endings of the first two arcs don't really "end" so much as continue into a new story). In the Arrancar arc, the number of characters and plotlines got so overwhelming that an ending that had to be rushed if it was to arrive at all. In the Lost Agent arc, the characters were pared down, but the ending wound up thematically inconsistent with the story anyways, possibly due to real-life circumstances. And the Thousand-Year Blood War somehow managed to have both problems.

The change in direction from "tightly focused character drama" to "sprawling cast of soldiers" meant that it was unlikely to ever give us the development of our protagonist that we craved, and that lack of focus was only aggravated by the widely-reported health problems of the author. And yet, perhaps because we don't get that, because so little of this arc is filtered through Ichigo learning about himself, we get a much clearer statement of the values inherent in the work.

This is most evident in our antagonists for this Arc. Yhwach and the Wandenreich don't really have the relationship with Ichigo that previoius antagonists had. He never knew his Quincy heritage, never identified with their ideals, and so feels very little conflict about opposing them. He doesn't ever develop his Quincy powers, at least beyond integrating them with his already existing powerset. And he doesn't take much of a personal interest in Yhwach, who in turn, doesn't seem to think much of him when he's not directly in front of him.

But for all that Ichigo doesn't end up having much of a dynamic with them, the Wandenreich still manages to maintain a unique character. Every antagonist has a priority, something that they are willing to do great evil for. For Soul Society, it's its own existence, the continuation of the system they've built. For Aizen, it's his own self-aggrandizement. For the Fullbringers, it was simply living another day, screwing over others so that they can't screw you first. But the Wandenreich has no such priority. They simply want it all to end.

That's most obvious in Yhwach's ending monologue, but you can see it from the very beginning as he kills Yamamoto, the man who tried to move on from his bloody past being slaughtered by the man who would absolutely not let it go. Yhwach shows more emotion towards the skeletons of Argola and Huberdt, his dead soldiers from a war long lost, than he does towards any of his living subordinates. And his subordinates follow his lead in showing no love to one another, happily stabbing each other in the back without even the Arrancars' uneasy level of camaraderie. Their movement has no future, and neither do they, so nihilism is the only recourse.

Most of the time. I think it's important to note that every time a member of the Wandenreich expresses positive feelings towards one of their comrades, it's immediately followed by them turning on Yhwach. Liltotto, Bazz, Giselle, eventually, in her own twisted way…even Jugram, at the very end. Sure, Yhwach kills them for their impertinence (he is the bad guy), but he also massacres the Wandenreich faithful en masse. There's no salvation, only death, and he'll enforce that state on his followers rather than allow them to discover any alternative.

I imagine the lesson, and the general attitude of the Wandenreich, was not lost on Uryu Ishida. Even in his relative paucity of appearances, it's he who is at the moral center of the arc. His culture, which he had thought was nearly entirely dead, turns out to be alive, and out for vengeance against the people who exterminated them. It's something he probably fantasized about growing up, and I don't blame him for joining. How could he not?

But at the end, he makes the very easy choice. Calling it a matter of "life and death" is a little on the nose, but it's morally quite black and white. Yhwach has no hope for this world, or for his people within it, or even himself. He lost a war for the nature of existence to a monster a thousand years ago, and never got over it. But Uryu has the strength to look at the horrors of this world and yet hope for better. Because he has people he loves in life, and who love him in return, he can dream of a better tomorrow.

And that's what the ending is all about. Yhwach loses to Ichigo, and it is very much "good guy beats bad guy". But he also loses to Uryu, and to "I hope to have a family with my girlfriend who I love so much" Renji Abarai, and to "I have a tremendous amount of hope to eventually make myself king of everything" Sosuke Aizen, and eventually (in a way I'm still confused about mechanically) to the child Ichigo and Orihime will eventually have, the literal embodiment of the potential of the future.

The final villain of Bleach is not society's tendency to preserve itself at any human cost. It's not individual selfishness, or manipulativeness, or any of the many vices we saw embodied in the hollows throughout the series. It's despair, the idea that life might not be worth living even through all the struggles and horrors our protagonists have endured. Sure, it will always raise its head, sometimes at the most inconvenient, or ill-fitting times. But having its reincarnation be blown away by the supernaturally normal lives of our cast…well, that's as clear of a message as I can imagine.

[swan2swan]

Thinking about how all three times I've watched "Evasive Action", the Sammy's Indecision Subplot has weirded me out and failed to grab me...

And I think I figured it out.

I think there was supposed to be a "Hey. I just killed a man" plotline there. The episode prior, Sammy and Yaz both disabled the control chips in the raptors--who promptly tore Kash apart.

The guy who had blackmailed Sammy and her family.

They probably wanted a "Revenge makes you Feel Empty" plotline for Sammy in that episode, but Standards and Practices said "Oh, you can't do that in this children's show, actually, the kids aren't allowed to kill people, and certainly can't say they did."

Which, admittedly...yeah, that would have been a little heavy.

So they had to cut it, whilst still on a time crunch. Heck, it could have even gotten to boards before that plotline got nixed. Then they needed to fill in three minutes of time in this episode, and the only thing that could really mesh was "Um, Sammy is upset at the group dynamic."

This is why her plotline felt unfulfilled: because they had something, but then they weren't allowed to do it. And, given a choice between "Let Sammy Be a Murderer" and "Let the Girls Kiss", we know which one they chose.

Granted, I still need to finish the rewatch and see how her dynamic with Kon plays out (especially because he's the Bigger Bad), but I would first like to submit further evidence to the jury:

-Darius and Sammy spend the episode that she should be processing her guilt together. They've had a few episodes before, but their main--and first--bonding moment was in the kayak. Wherein Sammy dropped this line:

Imagine if they'd called back to that line here. Sammy just killed a man to protect her family--the man who was also threatening her own family. When Sammy says she'd do anything, she meant anything. Sammy could be guilty, and Darius could say something like "You once said you'd do anything to protect your family...and you protected us." Then she could call it back to Kenji. Or something. Look, I'm speculating now, let's move on to EXHBIT B:

-Yaz and Sammy are not shown stabbing the batteries into the heads to disable the chips. If the "No, Sammy can't kill!!!" mandate was brought down on them, that might have been a shot they cut to comply. There might have even been more tie-in reactions. Note that Sammy's not looking enthused here. She's very hesitant. Maybe there would be a moment where she looks over at Kash, then steels her face and frees the raptor before running. But: The Action That Sammy Takes That Leads To Kash's Death is never shown on-screen, and whether it was for the purpose of the Reveal or not, she is Innocent by Children's Show Standards.

FINALLY, EXHIBIT C:

The reactions to Kash's death, the man who blackmailed Sammy's family, is...Brooklynn and Darius. Again. Yasammy frees the raptors, but Dinostar gets the reaction. Why? Why would that be? Perhaps because Sammy's expression was something setting up the next episode's plot. Vindication. Guilt. Pleasure. Maybe Yaz hugs her to her. Hides her face. Realizes it. I'm giving art and fic prompts here at this point. Whatever the case: we don't see Sammy's reaction to Kash's death. Which suggests--to me--that there was something they wanted to show, but couldn't, and decided to let it be an offscreen still-canon reaction that we just don't get to bear witness to.

Ladies, gentlemen, and the rest: I urge you to consider that the lack of resolution to Sammy's arc with blackmail is not the result of negligence in writing, but overambition that was shot down by the censors. They gave Sammy a Revenge Arc that was ultimately deemed Too Dark, so they gave her a rushed "I Am Not Going To Have Feelings About Anything Right Now" plotline, instead.

[astrum-aetherium]

i’m rather fond of the idea of bunny walking into henry’s house , no warning just barging in like he does, only to find henry fucking y/n (loudly)

do you know what, anon? that (loudly) killed me. and this is not to say i wasn't intrigued by the idea in the first place — believe me when i say i was, and how strongly so, too — but that single addition, that seemingly harmless adverb in brackets... it finished me off. you double-tapped me. you knocked me unconscious and had to get a final punch in nevertheless. good god. i love this idea, i can't help doing so.

in order for this to work, however, henry's door would need to be unlocked. now, i cannot fathom a situation in which that would be the case, as he's about the most organized and secretive person on earth, but let's just block that out for a moment and assume the two of you had already been all over each other in the doorway and merely forgot to lock the front door in your haze of increasing passion. it happens to the best of us, right? so, by the time bunny will have barged in, you'd be getting your soul and your sanity rammed out of you, naked and coated in a gleamy film of sweat; clothes strewn about as another undeniable factor of your endeavors; the volume of your moans and the tone of his growls so emphasized it would be likewise impossible to deny the nature of your coalescence otherwise. not to mention the fleshy collisions of skin merely accentuated by the occasional spanks henry would land on you. hell, your activity would amount to being so loud that you wouldn't even hear bunny having strode in, all smiles (which would soon fade) and giddy to greet henry for whichever reason he had lodged in mind prior.

the worst part is: he wouldn't even announce his presence, which would excruciatingly leave you to discover him in the room with you on your own, not in any way initiated by the intruding party. henry would angle your hips in a different way and press your head into the bedsheets so that it'd loll to the side, conveniently in the general direction of the bedroom doorway — to notice the unwanted intruder.

you'd shriek, then — this time not out of pleasure — and propel henry to stop with a petrified exclamation of his name. he'd whip around in horror momentarily, and bunny would remain standing there, as though ossified; slack-jawed, wide-eyed, barely breathing. you will never have experienced a drop in libido that fast. the following few moments would be filled with spoken (and screamed) profanity and scrambling to cover yourselves, with henry fumbling about for his glasses so he could stand the hell up and irately shove a motionless bunny out of the room.

you'd both want bunny dead after that. in fact, let's alter the tsh plotline a little: what if henry's motive was enriched by one additional factor, one the rest of the greek class would be unaware about; unless, of course, bunny will have run his mouth about it at the next best time (if there even is a 'best' time for sharing something like that, that is)? this is both comical and alluring to me, i'm thrilled.