cocksuki2 · 2 years ago
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Hey I finished reading part one of chainsaw man and like I don’t understand why people call it a masterpiece. Like the first half was great and the revelation of makima was great but afterwards it became messy and the plot just disappeared.
Like really? Makima reasoning of fucking everything up is bc she’s a fan of OG chainsaw man? There’s zero background information about the OG chainsaw man other than what makima said in the manga. Characters with the exception of aki,power, angle, denji aren’t even fleshed out and they just died like that. There were no hints that denji power erased devils existence like NOTHING was fleshed out or informative. The ending was so bland ig, like I was expecting some explanation but no, I received nothing. Chainsaw man is only great when it comes to fights, artsyle, and making people uncomfortable, but the plot wasn’t going anywhere and completely erased itself from existence.
Like people was hyping up the manga so much and I agree the hype was worth it until after makima revelation. I’m the type of person who likes good written plots like attack on titan or cliche shouen plots but not boring like jujutsu kaisen. Of all shouen manga I read I feel like chainsaw man is the only one I don’t feel like continuing. I’m in part 2 now and I don’t feel like forcing myself reading it, waiting for something great to happen or waiting for the PLOT to come back.
Anyways I’m just wondering if you can convince me to continue it.
hmmmmmmmmm while i can see what you're saying, i kinda disagree.
chainsaw man part 1 is exactly that... part 1. im under the assumption that the things we're going to learn about denji and the og chainsaw man will continue to develop as the series goes on, but i can see what you're saying about it not feeling fleshed out. but it's also not over yet.
as for csm being a masterpiece, i personally think that that part comes in with the visual storytelling. fujimoto's art is fantastic at indicating tone and power through the positioning of his characters, as well as putting symbolism within the art itself. i think fujimoto's skill shines through in the way he demonstrates denji being manipulated by the people around him, as well as how he goes about telling denji's perception of love, sex, and human connection. it's a manga about manipulation, set in an alternate universe.
imo, chainsaw man really shines when you read between the lines of what's being presented to you at face value. if you're reading the manga at face value... then you're only seeing one aspect of it. it's really clear that fujimoto put a lot of thought into the interactions his characters have in the manga, as well as how he positions them in the frames themselves. i think this is actually ESPECIALLY true for makima and the way she's portrayed.
also, when it comes to fleshing out characters, i agree that some weren’t fully fleshed out but i also kind of look at it as like... some characters are present to push the narrative forward. sometimes they aren’t fleshed out and that’s totally fine. like while i love the violence fiend, i don’t feel like the plot suffered because we didn’t get his backstory or like... a full character arc for him. he’s a side character, sometimes they aren’t fleshed out. i wanted to see more about kobeni, but i think she’ll come back later and we’ll learn more. the story isn’t over yet, so more information about characters is going to keep coming. it makes sense to me that they haven’t laid everything out already... bc that’s the continuation of the plot lol
fact is though, if you didn't like it, then it's probably just not the manga for you and that's totally fine. you don't have to like the story the way i do or even agree with me that it's a masterpiece. it's media, everyone is going to read into it differently. i just happen to think it's worth looking at further than face value because when i read it that way, it completely changed the way i see the manga.
though i am going to say... if you don't like jujutsu kaisen... you probably will not like chainsaw man. they're very similar series and fall into a super similar genre. jjk functions the same way, with its characters and stories having more depth (imo) than just what's being presented at face value. i happen to find jjk to be very interesting and well-written (aside from the way it treats its female characters on occasion) and that's probably why i like chainsaw man as much as i do. i enjoy media analysis and those two series happen to be ones that benefit GREATLY from it and have a lot to unpack.
i think you and i just happen to have differing opinions about the series we enjoy bc while i love aot, i think both jjk and chainsaw man have more coherent plots (though neither of them are finished yet). that's not to say i don't like aot and think it's good, i just think that csm and jjk are better.
anyway, i don't think i can convince you to like or continue csm if you don't already like it 😭😭😭 especially if you don't like jjk (since they're p much the same genre)
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binarybitex · 6 months ago
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OC development spotlight: Mr. Andrei Wright
with the release of Boss Babysitter, I thought it'd be fun to show Andrei's progression as a character!!
below, i share some notes and old drawings of him and his creation that are spoiler free... enjoy!
some fun facts about Andrei through the ages:
i don't recall if Andrei was the owner of the Resort when I first started coming up with the series. he has always been the General Manager, as far as I know.
originally he was going to be Russian! i dropped that pretty early on though, however his name would remain as "Andrei"
his last name is a play on the popular phrase "Mr. Right" (similarly to how most of the other characters have some sort of "love core" or similar name.)
for a brief time, a mutual and I had written in a sister for Andrei. she played as a very strict and hard-headed head chef at the Hotel. that character and the active kitchen are now both scrapped.
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the earliest written mention i have of Andrei within the story is from the very first arc list. there's no specific date, but my best guess is late 2018 to early 2019. I had originally made him a pretty hardcore drug addict, but later opted for hard liquors and the occasional muscle relaxer.
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the earliest art of Andrei I have - actually, he is one of the earliest characters I created for the series! again, this is probably around late 2018-early 2019. there's a lot of things that have stayed the exact same about his appearance.... his gold chain is a homage to one of my favorite gravity falls bits
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i fell into a pretty severe art slump mid 2019, finally finding my way back to creating in mid 2021. i did all these turn arounds for the characters while i was learning to draw again. (lol, since when was kara 5'6? oh how times have changed)
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here are some iterations of him from 2022, when i first started the comic. can you tell i absolutely hated drawing him? most of these are the same pose traced over.
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an old "meet the character" sheet for Andrei. this was the art i used the longest to reference him. also, side note, he is actually in his early 60s. I noticed he loses his gold watch here.... he just doesn't care that much to wear a watch these days.
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Andrei's presence within "Monster Sized Mystery" from the comic. actually, this may be the first time I ever actually doodled him. also shown is a bit of dialogue as the core four decide who this mystery item belongs to. lew's comment at the bottom made me giggle
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an early drawing of Andrei in his 20s. there's some notes on his character back before he was hardened into the man he is today. the way I directly draw Martin Mertens as an inspiration to his younger self is very interesting. now that I've fleshed out his backstory, i'm not sure if he'd actively be bad talking the Hotel in his younger years.
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more art of younger Andrei. here he is with Hana Yang, his previous general manager during the Hotel & Resort's swing back in the 80s.
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aside from the core four, I think I've drawn the most adult content of Andrei. if you're interested in viewing the two colored ones, they're currently up on my twitter. links to: left & right. enjoy! i haven't posted the middle one.... sowwy
anyways! that is about it for Andrei Wright's development :-) I think I've really solidified his character while writing Book One. in the comics and before, I don't think I had a very concrete idea for him.
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palbabor-writes · 4 years ago
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I know you said you only might accept pregnancy requests depending on what it is so I wanted to try 😅 how about shigaraki and reader break up while she’s unknowingly pregnant with his child and he bumps into said child years later and connects the dots that it’s his? If you don’t like it feel free to ignore this request 😊
I liked this nonnie.
I am terrified that by saying that I’m going to be inundated with pregnancy HC’s, lol. But, this request I really leaned into. Plus, it’s more about a kid than a pregnancy. 
So, thank you for asking and letting me slip out of my comfort zone. It’s always good to do that every once in awhile and this ask was a great reminder of that.
It’s a bit melancholic, but I think it fits with Tomura, at least, in my mind.
Now, this is not in canon. This is not like, pre-war arc, or post-war arc. If anything, it’s more of an AU. I’d put Tomura in his late 20s to early 30s.  
warnings: none really, just some sweet, sweet interactions and mild angst 
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Hestia Hestia, in Greek religion, is the goddess of the hearth, a daughter of Cronus and Rhea, and one of the 12 Olympian deities. When the gods Apollo and Poseidon became suitors for her hand, she swore to remain a maiden forever, and Zeus, the king of the gods, bestowed upon her the honor of presiding over all sacrifices. 
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The shouting noise of children set his teeth on edge.
Toga had insisted that the bus stop by the school was the best place for the information exchange.
They won’t look for you there, she’d assured him. It’s like hiding in plain sight. Yeah, it’s patrolled, but it’s only an old security guard who does the rounds. Besides, he’s retired from the police force, she qualified, and was more like a lazy cat than an attentive scent hound.  
It’s the best place, really.
So, Shigaraki had made the long trek across Tokyo.
He kept to the shadows as he weaved his way through back alleys and streets. Although the dominance of the League had waned some over the years, he was still a wanted criminal, responsible for countless death and threats on hero society.
He was still the King of his slice of the underworld.
Besides, he reassured himself as he loitered by the bench under the bus stop, he could trust Toga.
She had improved in leaps and bounds as she came of age; deadlier, sleeker, more attuned to the ebbs and flows of the world around her. She wasn’t that girl who chattered about blood anymore.
Oh, she still held a strange fascination with the fluid. But she had more control over those impulses that drove her. If she said it was the best place, well, who was he to argue? Toga had been with him from the beginning, a vital ally. Hell, at this point she was close to being a friend.
Shigaraki is still musing when the ball taps its way to his feet.
It clatters against the pavement; the rubber shuttling it along the loose rocks and leaves. Unthinkingly, Shigaraki lifts his shoe to balance against its unbound movement, stilling its lulling bounces.
Must be from that schoolyard, he thinks, his red eyes flashing up at the low chain-link fence that separates the school grounds from the busy street.
There’s no child dashing their way to retrieve it, so he lets his gaze slip from the teeming masses of giggling youngsters. It’s a pretty blue. The ball looks new. Hardly a scuffed and battered thing.
He keeps it under his sole, toying with it, rolling it meditatively as he slips back into his thoughts.
“Hey! That’s mine!”
It’s a small voice that calls to him and he turns his head back to the fence, looking for the source.
It’s a girl.
She’s leaning against the metal, her hands clutching into the links, cocking her head inquisitively at him.
Her nose wrinkles at his silence, and she shouts another demand.
“Mister, that’s my ball. Toss it back.”
“Aren’t you supposed to say please?” Shigaraki taunts, his lips lifting in a quick grin. He’s not sure why he’s bothering to engage with this kid, but something about her plucky attitude resonates with him.
She leans away from the fence, that scowl deepening on her soft features.
“Aren’t grown ups not supposed to steal things?”
He laughs at her snark. He can’t help it. Oh, this kid’s fun.
Carefully slipping the ball into his hands, he moves closer to the fence. He can see her a little better now.
She’s still got that deep frown on her face and her dark hair is gleaming in the afternoon sun, some strands catching the light, reflecting a deep, auburn, hue. He’s just about to chuck the ball to her when he catches sight of her eyes.
They’re red.
Not that red eyes are unusual. There are plenty of people milling around Tokyo with them. But hers are different.
No, these eyes are like looking into a mirror for Shigaraki. They flint and glare with the same sheen as his own. It’s a prefect reflection.
His feet suddenly feel heavy, leaden, and he can’t lift his arms. Who is this child? Why does she-
“Ok, ok, mister. Can I please have my ball back? You’re still stealing it if you don’t, so I’m not apologizing for that. I might... if you give it back to me, cuz’ it’s my ball, not yours. And, stealing makes you a thief.”
She’s rolling those uncanny irises at his stiff form, and a huffing sigh escapes her small mouth.
“What’s your name?” Shigaraki asks, hands trembling over the rubber of the ball.
“Not supposed to tell that to strangers, mister.”
He smiles again, bemused. Well, he thinks begrudgingly, she’s a clever little thing. Whoever she is.
A sharp bell echoes across the yard and she turns her head at the sound, her dark hair tumbling around her shoulders.
“Here,” Shigaraki relents, gently flipping the ball over the fence, bouncing it to her feet.
“Thanks,” she murmurs, quickly snatching up her prize. Those red eyes of hers meet his own, and he can feel a low shiver echo up his spine. What’s up with this reaction? It almost feels visceral, like some sort of otherworldly pull on him.
“Sorry I called you a thief,” she apologizes, quickly bowing her head, ducking those eerie eyes from view.
He’s not sure what to say, so he continues to watch her. She doesn’t seem perturbed by this, opting to giggle at him as her little head lifts.
“You’re weird,” she assess, a smile finally spreading over her lips, her cheeks rounding and softening. 
Tch, she’s rude, but she’s also cute, Shigaraki thinks, snorting at her frankness.
She turns, dashing away from him, her dark hair flowing around her back as she goes.
Shigaraki shakes his head, trying to dislodge those lingering questions that keep floating to the back of his mind.
He’ll never see her again, he reasons, wandering back to the bus stop. Trying to tamp down the urge to look for her again, to pinpoint her from the other giggling and shouting children on the playground.
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But he did see her again.
He comes back to the stop a few weeks later.
There’s no information pickup this time. There’s no real reason for him to even be on this side of town.
He just can’t get her out of his mind.
This little kid had shaken something within his psyche. He kept dreaming about her. Well, not her, really. No, there was someone else haunting his dreams.
He hasn’t thought about you in years.
But now? Now, he can’t get you out of his head. He even feels like he can feel you some nights, warm against his side. He sulks in the memories of the familiar touches that the two of you shared, the love that you’d pressed into him, so, so long ago.
He saw the girl in those moments. Resting in your arms as you looked up, your eyes bright against her dark head. The girl would laugh and run to him, those reflective red eyes shining with mirth. 
It was fucking strange.
He both hated, and loved, the repetitive nature of these illusions. They made him feel safe and warm, but they also chilled him to his very bones. It was unsettling.
Unsure what else to do, he’d back come to the bus stop.
It’s early afternoon. Close to the time he’d visited it before. He waits on the lonely bench, his hands pressed together and that strange tremble races through his veins.
This is stupid, he thinks, his eyes lowering from the sea of kids, all twisting and turning in a heap as they play. It’s an impossibility, really. The chances of that girl losing her ball again is minuscule. There’s no way he can call to her either. It’s a waste. He shouldn’t even be here.
He’s standing to leave, when that small voice reaches him.
“Oh! You’re back.”
His head whips around, his long white hair glowing against the sunlight.
There she is.
She’s gripping the fence again, and she’s staring right at him.
Shigaraki smiles. It’s a gentle lift and he can feel his heart tapping a rough tattoo against his ribs. He steps toward her, kneeling when he gets close, careful to not overstep his bounds.
He’s not wanting to startle her.
No, he’s wanting to talk with her. Maybe she’ll drop some kinda clue why he’s so drawn to her. Or maybe she’ll morph into any other child again. Plain, uninteresting. Slipping from that odd ghost that she’s become to his subconscious. 
He hopes it’s the latter. But part of him also longs for it to be the former.
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She’ll hop to the fence around 3:15.
She looks for him now, used to the routine of his presence.
He told her to call him Tomura, and the name falling from her lips made his heart ache.
Tomura stopped by on Fridays. Careful to not stay too long, to not draw too much attention to himself.
At first, he’d sneak her little trinkets. 
A little plastic toy of his, one that he had since he was a kid. She’d squealed with delight and clutched it to her. He’d grinned at that, remembering how he’d once held onto the thick plastic himself. 
Once, he’d just plucked a nearby flower as he walked to the school, presenting it to her outreached grasp. He’d watched proudly as she tucked it behind her ear, the color glossy beside her hair.
She’s still a sassy little thing. But she’s softened a little, too. Her voice losing that early, untrusting, edge.
He didn’t ask her much. Sometimes they both just sat in silence as she sketched designs into the dirt. Sometimes he would listen to her chatter about her day. Her classmates, her teacher. Once, she’d even pressed something over the fence to him.
It was a drawing.
He’s not sure if it really was all that well done, or if it’s just his heavy bias toward her. But he loves the mix of color and lines. He’d asked who the people were.
One was her friend, Kenji. One was her teacher. One was him.
He’d pinned it to the wall in his room. Displaying it, flaunting the gift. He looked at it every morning, admiring her work.
He’s late one day, and she scolds him, her small arms draping over the fence.
“I didn’t think you were going to come,” she chatters, her red eyes lingering against his, the two colors casting back the same hue.
“Was running behind,” Tomura replies, leaning against the low concrete barrier, resting his back against the fence.
Her little hands reach for his hair, playing with the pearlescent tendrils, weaving some into knots and braids. 
He doesn’t mind.
“Hey, Tomura,” she says, working a tiny hairband into her creation, her voice curious.
“Hmm,” he hums, careful to not shift his head, not wanting to disrupt her hard work.
“You didn’t ask my name again. At least… not after that one day.”
“Do you want me to ask?” He queries, his pulse lifting.
He’d wanted to ask her again, but he didn’t want to startle her, to shatter these innocences that they shared.
“It’s Beryl,” she answers. She says it confidently, and he turns to face her.
She grins at him, wiggling one loose tooth playfully at his serious expression, trying to tug a laugh from him.
“Beryl?” he repeats, unable to keep that awed hush from his raspy tones. It’s a pretty name. It suits her, really. But it’s strange. It’s not Japanese. 
You hadn’t been Japanese. 
“That’s a good name,” he assures her. “But, it’s not… you don’t hear that name very often.”
“Yeah,” Beryl concedes, her vermillion eyes roving over his face. “My mom’s not from here.”
His nostrils flare at that.
He hasn’t asked her about her mother. He’s unsure if it’s a general disinterest on his part, or trepidation. He fears it’s the latter.
Gulping, he tilts his head at her, feeling that soft braid she’s plaited into his hair shifting.
“Who’s your mother?”
“Who is she? She’s my mom, silly.”
“No,” he pauses, ignoring that creeping tremor that’s working its way to the top of his skull, his skin prickling and cooling. “I mean…what’s her name?”
“Oh! Her name is-”
“Beryl! Beryl, it’s time to come inside.” A teacher is calling for her. 
Tomura startles away, drifting to his feet and pacing quickly back to the bus stop. He can’t help the snarl that etches its way across his lips. He’d been so close. So fucking close…
He chances a glance back at the fence and catches sight of Beryl. She’s dashing across the playground, her dark hair waving in the sun.
Japan is about to slip into summer. School will come to a close, moving into a long break. He won’t see her again for almost a month.
His heart sinks at that realization and he grits his teeth. Slipping his hands into his dark trench coat, he steps across the street, away from the bus stop, away from the little girl that’s feeling more and more like his own.
Edit: oh hey. so, i couldn’t stfu about this and created a sequel: Materfamilias 
hahaha & part iii
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deannaroxannewrites · 3 years ago
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Tropetember Day 2: Coffee Shop / Tattoo Parlor / Flower Shop / Other Retail AU
Coffee and other ways to heal the soul.
Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Rating: General Audiences
TW: Valhalla arc (mentioned), coffee, NCIS cameo
AN: Day 2 of @tropetember. I was really struggling with the coffee shop AU but once I got going, really got way too into it and could probably pad this out into a short series. Is that something people would be interested in?
Also, not really sure if I managed to capture Spencer but remember this is an AU and that's my excuse!
Enjoy!
Find this story on Ao3 here.
Word Count: 2.4k
One of the biggest advantages of owning one of the few coffee shops in Quantico that wasn't part of a massive chain, was the constant stream of senior FBI and Navy personnel desperate for high quality, well made coffee. It had become such a lucrative venture in fact that you could afford to hire enough staff to rarely even have to be behind the counter at all.
The surge in popularity has even allowed you to convert one of the spare upstairs rooms into a meeting room. In hindsight, you should have converted more because once your regulars found out about it, there had been outright war between the Navy and FBI to try and get meetings booked in. A couple of your regulars had even managed to get both institutions to hardwire connections so they could host even more briefings and meetings in the friendly, comfortable space.
Today's winners were a Unit from the FBI, who had booked it out for a whole day. Aaron Hotchner, the BAU chief, came in most mornings and was a real sweetheart. You'd been trying to get him to drink something other than his normal americano since his return from Afghanistan a few months ago, but had not been successful so far. You were excited to meet the rest of the legendary team. He always spoke fondly of them when he bought extra coffees to boost morale.
With that in mind, you quickly throw together the pastries and beverages he'd preordered for the start of their session and head in to do a quick check that everything was ready.
Like any meeting room, there was a large table in the center but you'd made sure to surround it with comfy and artfully mismatched chairs. The floor was a deep walnut colour and matched the numerous floating shelves which were covered in plants and books. The place was homey and extended the cosy chic look you had been trying to achieve throughout the shop.
After a little bit of organising, including making sure the FBI cables were accessible and tidying any of the Navy’s equipment, you head downstairs to the main space.
Charlotte and Jessica were behind the tills this morning, making quick work of the line and exuding friendly helpfulness out of every pore. They were both grad students and you were already dreading them graduating. Their natural effervescence would be impossible to replace.
To pass the time until your booking arrives, you catch up with NCIS Agent McGee who is on the coffee run, trying not to hold him up too long in case he ends up getting in more trouble with his big bad boss. Apparently Agent DiNozzo had knocked over Gibbs coffee but McGee had then slipped in it and done some minor damage to some of the equipment. He told you he much preferred coffee run to door knocking duty round a 6 block radius like DiNozzo.
As you wrap it up, a group of people enter the shop, led by a woman in colourful clothes and a sunshine demeanour. It's not until you see Agent Hotchner's suited and booted presence bringing up the rear that you realise this is the infamous BAU.
Donning your friendliest persona, you politely excuse yourself from McGee and head to greet them, calling Aaron's name across the way.
The profilers seem surprised by your use of their bosses name but quickly shake it off as introductions are made. You receive hand shakes off most of them with the exception of Penelope, who gives you a hug because of course she does, and Dr Spencer Reid who gives you a shy wave and looks like he'd rather be anywhere else.
It didn't take a profiler to see the physical distance between the genius and the rest of the group. He was always a step away from the nearest person and automatically avoided any physical contact from them.
How strange.
Brushing it off you lead them upstairs and get them settled, letting them know that they're welcome to come and go in the shop as need and that all their drinks would be added to the discounted tab and left them too it, all the while trying not to puzzle over the handsome loner and his cute sweater vest.
-----
If there was one thing Spencer Reid hated more than anything, it was team building.
Normally, back before everything happened, he would just grit his teeth and bear it. That's been a lot harder after finding out that Emily was alive.
Processing the joy at her being alive and the rage at being led to believe she was dead in the first place, particularly by the people he trusted the most, was not easy. He was trying to forgive them. He was trying to let it go, to accept the damage but move forward.
It was still a work in progress.
That's why, when Hotch announced a team building/meeting day, he had momentarily considered resigning. Though there was no longer outright hostility between himself and Jennifer, things weren’t exactly comfortable between himself and half of the team. The only bright side to this whole endeavour was the location. No coffee shop lasted long in Quantico unless the coffee was actually good. It was a small mercy.
He followed the rest of the team into the coffee shop, eyeing the surroundings and taking note of the other visitors. As the rest of the team joked about, he stayed back, simply waving at the nice owner of the shop when Hotch introduced them.
They appeared to be about his age which was very impressive considering the success of the café. And there were a couple of sci-fi references hidden in the décor that he would have loved to ask about, but he doubted they’d appreciate him going off about Star Trek this early in the morning. Instead he just gave a tight-lipped smile and followed the team upstairs.
Spencer tried his best to concentrate throughout the morning but to say he was relieved when they were left to their own devices for lunch would be an understatement.
-----
After a productive morning in the office, you wander back out to the main part of the shop to check on things. The lunch rush can be unforgiving but the girls seem to have it in hand. Nothing out of the ordinary for a Tuesday lunchtime.
What you didn’t expect to see was Spencer Reid hidden away at one of the back tables with a ginormous book in front of him, a small scowl on his face and the rest of his team nowhere in sight.
You agonise silently with yourself for a few moments before you decide to head over. You figure if he doesn’t want company he’ll let you know but you feel drawn to him. It was strange. Maybe it was just your instinctive need to collect strays.
You smile gently at him when you reach his table, indicating the seat opposite him in question. He gives a quick nod but doesn’t fully look at you.
“Everything ok?” you ask.
He takes a moment and seems to be considering his options. He looks at you with a little tilt of his head, likely questioning your motives.
Finally, he seems to decide you have no sinister intention and quietly replies “I just wish things could go back to how they were”.
You had heard about the events involving the BAU in the last year or so. It had been a hot topic of gossip in the shop numerous times. Aaron also occasionally talked about his guilt at what he put his team through when he stopped by, needing a friend to talk to. It’s the first time, however, that you think in depth about how faking a close friend's death likely affected the team members who were unaware.
This isn’t to say you didn’t care or didn’t think that it must have been terrible for them. You did, but had agreed with the justification that it was for Agent Prentiss’ safety, that finding out she was alive would make up for it. It’s apparent in the sadness of Dr Reid’s expression that that isn’t the case.
“Can I touch you?”
His eyes shoot up in surprise and he hesitantly nods. You gently grasp his hands, wrapping your fingers around his.
“I can’t even imagine,” you begin slowly, “how difficult this must be. But if you ever need to talk to someone, you’re always welcome here”
He gives a short, sharp nod and squeezes your fingers which you take to mean thank you.
“Also, this is totally not my place but, a therapist, one outside the Bureau? Might not be such a bad idea?” You give a sardonic grin and admit ” It worked for me”
After you give his hands another quick squeeze, you leave him to ponder your statement and head back to your office. Paperwork doesn’t do it self after all.
You hope Spencer manages to find some support though and decide that if he wants it, you’d be more than willing to help him.
---------------
It was a few weeks before Spencer Reid showed up in the coffee shop again.
It was early evening and you only had a few people in. You’d opted to close up tonight to ensure Jessica, who had been on the afternoon shift, had time to work on her assignment for class. She’d been complaining about it for the last few days.
The sound of the front door opening distracts you from your thoughts and you glance up to see who has entered. When you realise who it is you can’t help but smile.
“Fancy seeing you here Dr Reid” you say in greeting. He gives you a small smile in return.
“Well, it’s good coffee and, erm, the company’s good?”
You understand the question implicit in that comment and glance around at the few remaining patrons. They all have a beverage and it’s a quiet night so you can afford to take a step out behind the counter between orders.
“Sure, let me make us both a drink and then I’m all yours.”
You take his order (how much sugar?!?!) and get you both sorted out and settled into a small booth. You look at him, taking in the nervous expression on his face and let him settle in and start the conversation.
“I, erm, I took your advice”.
“That’s good. Are you finding it’s helping? Having someone outside of work to talk things through with?”
He nods his head.
“One of the things she pointed out was that so much of my life is wrapped up in work, that when things go wrong I don't have an external support system. Not that I didn't know that already but, someone else pointing it out made me realise how much if an impact it has.”
You bob your head thoughtfully, acknowledging his comment but not forcing him to say more.
“She suggested I try to find people outside of work to talk to. I was... I was wondering if you could be one?”
His nerves seem to have failed him slightly as he can’t look you in the eye, but you give him a big grin. Of course you want to spend time with this lovely man.
“I’d love to” you say, which gets him to look up and give you a smile in response.
You spend nearly an hour, with occasional breaks to serve customers, chatting to him before it becomes necessary to close up. He starts gathering his things but you’ve been enjoying his company so much you can’t bear to let him go. Instead, you check if he’s in a rush and, after confirming he has nothing else planned, invite him to hang around and grab something to eat from the diner down the street.
By the end of the night, you’re glad the diner is 24hr. You completely lose track of time, fascinated by the sheer amount of information he can provide and the passion with which he infodumps. It’s extremely endearing.
“I had a lovely time tonight” you tell him as you walk towards your apartment. You don’t live too far from the coffee shop and he had very gallantly offered to walk you home. “I’d love to do it again some time?”
He smiles and nods in agreement before asking for your phone number.
“I don't really like technology that much so I don’t have a smartphone and I don’t really check it that much and prefer speaking to texting…”
“Spence” you say, a little laugh in your voice as you interrupt. “Whatever works best for you. I’m not going to suddenly vanish on you, promise.”
You seem to have hit his worries a little too closely as he sways a little awkwardly, gaze wandering down to his feet.
“Can I hug you?” you check. His answer is to wrap his arms around you and you gently sway the both of you side to side.
He lets go and turns to head back out into the night as you call out “If you’re ever missing me, I know a place you can get great coffee. I can get you a good discount.” A laugh stutters from his lips and he wishes you a good night.
Leaning against your door you sigh happily to yourself. It’s always a good feeling making a new friend.
--------------
It had been over a year since the last time the BAU had booked (and managed to attend the booking). In that time, you’d converted another room upstairs into a meeting room, as well as setting up a shared work/study space in a room out the back.
You grin as you see them all enter, fascinated by the way this family of agents interact with each other. There’s even a tall, handsome genius who stands within the group, laughing and joking along with the rest.
Spencer greets you with a gentle kiss to your lips and it causes uproar from his colleagues. You don’t react much, you just turn to them and shrug.
“Do you know how many germs are passed in a handshake? It’s much safer to kiss.”
Your genius just laughs and wraps an arm around you, guiding the whole group upstairs, his friends playfully demanding details the whole way.
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scapegrace74-blog · 4 years ago
Text
Dopamine
A/N  We’re going back in Metric Universe time to when Claire and Jamie were only flatmates with the unrequited hots for one another!  Set around the same time as Halo, so early October 2017.
With special thanks to @gotham-ruaidh for the prompt!
All other parts of the Metric Universe are available on my AO3 page.
Friday, October 13, 2017
Spittalfields, London, England
“Argh!”
Jamie heard Claire’s frustrated cry through his wireless headphones, even over the thrum of MotoGP.  He faced away from where she sat at her desk, ostensibly studying for a biochemistry mid-term, but it was hard to miss the tickertape explosion that skittered across the hardwood beneath his feet.
When he turned, Claire was leaning far back, staring up at the ceiling with hands tangling through her unbound curls.  A stack of cue cards, each containing a neatly drawn organic compound on one side and its name on the reverse, now lay strewn across the floor in an arc of momentary outrage.
“Somethin’ the matter, Claire?” he ventured tentatively after pausing his game.  He generally tried to ignore his flatmate while she was studying, leaving her to mutter arcane medical terminology under her breath and brew endless cups of tea in peace.  This latest event seemed outside the norm, however.
“Nothing an extra twelve hours in the day wouldn’t fix,” she replied tartly, looking his way.  The usual amber warmth of her gaze was dim and lined with strain.  “I apologize for disturbing you with my outburst,” she added.
He bent down and started to collect the dozen or so cards that had slid as far as his perch on the sofa.
“Dinna fash.  I was only killin’ time until my shift.  I gather yer studies arenna goin’ well, then?”
“I can’t seem to wrestle my brain into focusing.  Every nucleic acid looks exactly the same, and don’t even get me started with amino acid chains, with their bloody polypeptides and...   Jesus, I’m sorry, Jamie.  You aren’t interested in hearing about my biochem headaches.”
He approached the window, collecting cue cards from the floor as he walked.
“Nah, tis interesting.  I barely recall Sixth Year Chemistry, save fer the fact that my lab partner was a budding arsonist.  I canna imagine all the compounds and such ye’re expected tae ken.  The exam’s Monday, aye?  Why don’t ye take a wee break, tae recharge yer mind?”
Even as he said it, he knew it was a lost cause.  Claire’s will was indominable, and conceding defeat, if only by way of a temporary reprieve, was out of the question.  It was the warrior’s spirit he’d recognized in her from the start, far too cherished to wish away.
“What’s this do, then?” he asked, holding up a card where she could see the molecular structure.
“That’s dopamine.”
“Aye, I ken that fine.  It says it right here on yer wee note.  I asked what it does,” he goaded.
Claire huffed and rolled her eyes, but he knew she couldn’t resist the urge to put him in his place.
“It’s a neuro-transmitter associated with certain executive functions like motor control, reward motivation, lactation and sexual arousal.  Often referred to as the love chemical,” she recited drily, eyebrow lifted in provocation.
“Ah,” he replied, shuffling the cards in his hands to avoid further eye contact.  “And this one?” he asked, leaning back against the surface of the desk.
They carried on in this way for another fifteen minutes until it was time for him to leave for the fire station.  As he donned his boots and jacket he could hear Claire humming along to a phantom tune while she drew on the back of a fresh cue card, a spare pen stuck into the crow’s nest of her newly upswept hair.
“Have a good night, Jamie!” she called out as he opened the door.
“And you,” he replied, waiting until he was safely in the hallway to quietly add, “mo nighean donn.”
***
Claire woke late the next morning, grateful for twenty-four hours without work or classes to really knuckle down and finish studying.  After her brief tantrum the day before, she managed to complete a full preliminary review before finally succumbing to sleep.  Even after Jamie left for work, she found herself reciting the characteristics of each compound aloud, finding the detail made the names and corresponding structures easier to remember.
You see, Jamie, carbon, hydrogen and oxygen form the core bonds of every carbohydrate, from simple sucrose all the way up to complex polysaccharides...
The door to her flatmate’s bedroom was shut tight, and she knew from experience that he’d sleep until noon after working a graveyard shift.  Making herself some toast and fruit, she set the coffee on to brew, knowing Jamie would want it later.
Rather than sit at their tiny table, Claire stood beside the wall-to-wall windows while she ate, and watched the improvisational theatre of the street life below.  She enjoyed these quiet mornings, watching the city come to life, in solitude but not solitary.
Once she was fully awake and fortified, she settled into her chair and prepared to do battle with her biochemistry notes.  Next to her stack of textbooks, a small piece of paper with Jamie’s distinctive cursive caught her eye.
Spotify Playlist, Dopamine by JAMMF
Intrigued, she opened the app on her phone and typed in the search bar.  As she read down the list of songs, she couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry, so she ended up splitting the difference with a watery giggle.  The ridiculous, precious man had made her a mixtape, and its theme wasn’t subtle.  She plugged in her headphones and began to study.
Several hours later, the door to Jamie’s room cracked open and he emerged blinking like a bemused russet owl.  He shuffled towards the kitchen, where she knew he’d drink a mug of black coffee in long, bracing draughts before truly waking up for the day.  Her eyes sheered away from watching his progress as  he lifted the torn hem of his favourite Mogwai concert t-shirt and absently scratched the line of hair that bisected his taut belly.
By the time he returned, she was engrossed in a chapter about protein sequencing.  A fresh cup of tea was deposited near her left elbow.
“Thank you,” she smiled up at him.
“Ye’re welcome.  How is yer studying comin’ along?”
“Really well, actually.  This playlist is amazing!  It must have taken you forever to pull together.  Was it a slow night, then?”
“Aye, more or less,” he demurred.  
“Well, it worked a charm.  I may actually survive this mid-term.  It was incredibly thoughtful of you, Jamie.”  Bashful under praise, he raised his free hand to rub through his sleep-mussed curls, doing nothing to diminish their resemblance to a rooster’s comb.
“Weel, I’ll let ye get tae it, then,” he muttered, turning back towards his bedroom.
“Wait!” Claire startled.  “I... uhhh...  I could use a little break, actually.  Did you want to watch the Australia Fiji match for a bit?”
“Aye.  Aye, that would be excellent.”
***
Jamie’s Playlist for Claire
And for those without Spotify, here are the songs:
The Scientist - Coldplay
Chemistry - U.N.K.L.E.
Neutron Dance - The Pointer Sisters
The Light Behind Your Eyes - My Chemical Romance
Weird Science - OINGO BOINGO
Let Forever Be - The Chemical Brothers
She Blinded Me With Science - Thomas Dolby
Better Living Through Chemistry - Queens of the Stone Age
D.N.A. - The Kills
Radioactive - Imagine Dragons
Natural Science - Rush
Sounds of Science - Beastie Boys
Novocaine - Beck
Synthetica - Metric
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go-ldy · 4 years ago
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Oh man, your tags have me wondering: if you had complete creative control, how would you run Riverdale season 5?
Ooh, such a good question! “Complete creative control” is a lot of responsibility in this show. As a first step, I would probably outline the character journeys and arcs first and then try and figure out how to use the plot to serve those arcs. Riverdale is such a plot heavy show that often its biggest failing is that its character arcs tend to suffer or get pushed to the sidelines.
But based on the little we know from season 5 so far, here is what I would do:
Keep the time jump, but make it five years rather than seven. Seven is  such a long time for these characters to be separated. Is it plausible that they are still drawn to each other after seven years apart? I mean, maybe, but more believable after five years.
I would have Betty and Archie be done and over with before the time jump. Make it clear that they will always have a special place for each other because of their past and shared history, but whatever romance they thought they had is not there. I would not keep it alive post time-jump other than the fact that they are both regretful as to the damage it did to Jughead and Veronica.
I have no problems with most of the characters being in dark or difficult places after the time jump. In fact, it makes sense. If life is not going well outside of Riverdale, that could explain what draws them home to the people they parted ways with after high school. Plus, it gives all of them a journey and a reason to reconnect with each other. Like, why would they ever come back to Riverdale if life was going well? Stay away lol. 
I like the idea of Jughead struggling with writer’s block and how to make it as a writer. LBR, “making it” as a successful writer is difficult, and even more so in this day and age. I don’t mind him being in a failing relationship either. I am 10000% against him becoming an alcoholic though, would ditch immediately. Jughead has seen the ravishes of alcoholism on his father, and I have always interpreted him being as rabidly anti-drug as he is as a reaction against his parents. Against FP for his alcoholism, and against his mother for her drug dealing. Really hard for me to imagine him then succumbing to an alcohol addiction - especially if the development as to why and how occurs entirely offscreen. And I don’t think it is necessary, at all. Jughead can be in a dark place without the alcohol addiction.
I am so here for badass FBI!Betty. I see her struggling to stay within the confines of the rules of something like the FBI. Betty Cooper loves to do her own thing. She will break into cars/houses/filing cabinets when she is on the trail. I don’t see her stopping for things like “warrants” or “the chain of command.” I would have there be real consequences to her for not following the rules. Does she get put on probation at the FBI for failing to follow the rules? Maybe have to attend a disciplinary hearing or two.
Ultimately I would have Betty have to choose - follow the FBI’s rules and potentially let a lead slip away or follow the lead knowing it will probably mean the end of her career? U know Betty would recklessly follow a lead at the expense of her career, and I would be here for it.
Betty and Jughead would get drawn in together almost immediately over what the big season mystery is - whether it is the mothman or Polly being missing or whatever. Who cares as long as they do the investigating together. The investigating would be fraught with overwhelming sexual tension. Lots of longing looks when they think the other person is not watching. I would have them conduct surveillance in a lot of tight and cramped spaces where they try desperately not to touch each other because every time they do, it is a jolt to the system. It would also make them cranky and snap at each other - again, because of all the overwhelming tension lol.
It is hard to be fair to Jessica, but I think it would be important to do so as much as possible. I could see Betty and Jughead reconnecting really quickly, and Betty even thinking that there is a ~moment between them before, bam, Jughead comes clean about his live-in girlfriend (who is back wherever he lives, but not in Riverdale). I think if the purpose is for Jessica to just be an obstacle, I would not keep the relationship going for long. That would not be fair to her. I would have it break down within a few episode - two or three? And for long-standing reasons other than Betty. Betty is maybe the final straw, but this is a relationship that was not going to last.
For Veronica, I am not opposed to her strolling back into town with a husband. But I hope the husband is not a complete tool. Like, maybe he could be good looking and they could have a lot of chemistry? Doesn’t mean he can’t be up to shady stuff or there is a reason for their relationship to break down, but I would like to see Archie have to fight for Veronica rather than get the benefit of looking better by comparison. I am okay with Archie hating Veronica’s new beau as soon as he lays eyes on him though lol.
I would probably end Choni and get Toni a less toxic relationship but that’s never gonna happen so....
I would love more screentime and storylines for Reggie. I think Charles Melton is so great and so funny. It would be cool to see him form a relationship with someone other than Archie. Perhaps he and Jughead could be buds. It would be fun to see him get sucked into the mothman mystery with Bughead. An odd ball dynamic, but one that would be fun! 
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ohnotoomanyfandoms · 4 years ago
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I like the way you analyze, so I'd like to ask you a more general question: what do you think will happen to Matthew's character? (in general, not only in relation to Cordelia, it seems that people can't think of anything else, and the THOUGHT OF THE RELATIONSHIP WITH JAMES RUINED FOR A GIRL makes me terribly angry and saddened) I don’t see it well, I find credible the theory about the marks stripped, and I fear we may not even see him in the continuation of the saga. Excuse my bad English
Thank you for the kind words and the question! Your English isn’t bad at all <3 Here are my thoughts on Matthew’s future. 
I think he will hit rock bottom in Chain of Iron, because of a multitude of reasons. The last straw might be that something terrible happens because Matthew is drunk: someone might be injured (which is heavily foreshadowed by Lucie in chapter 12 of Chain of Gold), they might lose an important object, forfeit an important mission, or worse. I hope James will finally see fit to intervene and ask Matthew to straight-up tell him what’s wrong. He tried in ChOG, but he wasn’t persistent enough, and Math definitely wasn’t ready to talk just yet. 
But I think once Mathew confesses his “original sin” to Cordelia (I am 100% sure he will tell her first), his heart will be lighter and he will be able to confess it to other people too: his parabatai, hopefully even his parents. I hope Charlotte reassures him they will always love him instead of being mad for something he inadvertently caused years ago. Matthew always thought his act was unforgivable. If his mother and father show him forgiveness, love and devotion instead, it might be enough for him to finally start moving on. I hope this - and not some lady’s kisses, whoever she might be - sets Matthew on a path of self-love and amelioration. 
Things will not be okay for a while yet, and Matthew will always have to live with what he did. He might always hate a part of himself, but hopefully he stops with the self-destructive behavior. He can keep up the bohemien attitude that we all love and keep having fun with Anna and Magnus and the Hell Ruelle. He just needs to stop putting himself at risk and he needs to take himself seriously. 
Ship-wise, you all know what I think, so I’m not going to really break it down here. I don’t think he and Cordelia will happen romantically. I joke on Twitter that he will have a fling with Filomena, but that’s mostly a jape because many of us Italian Shadowhunters are totally self-inserting. I hope that in the future maybe Matthew and Lucie could have a chance once they’re more mature. Apart from all this, he will have at least one more (brief?) love interest before the end of TLH. We know that Kellington is the one who broke his heart a while back. We may see that passion rekindle, or Math could meet someone gentler, which I sincerely hope is the case. 
However, I do think Matthew’s future is not with the Nephilim. Time and time again he has commented on how he hates violence and their people’s ways. He only really stayed so far because he grew up in a loving (and prominent) family and because of his friends, because he clings to them. In COI, he will begin distancing himself: this starts with him going to live on his own (thus physically walking away from his family) without telling his friends until he’s all moved out (as we’ve seen in a snippet), getting a car... he is looking for some concrete, tangible sense of independence. But this also means he will spend more time alone, and loneliness does not do him good.  
Matthew has said on multiple occasions he would prefer to be a mundane, to live of art rather than war. I do think he will either choose self-exile in the end, or even - more drastically - be stripped of his marks (even though I sincerely hope this doesn’t come to pass, and he would need to commit a BIG crime for the Consul’s son to receive this treatment). Maybe that’s the only way for him to truly find peace: to walk away from all the violence and destruction and never look back. I am aware that right now it seems absurd that he would ever willingly part from James, but we don’t know what’s in store for them. We do also have to take into account the hypothesis that Matthew may die young. 
On the other hand, I’ve heard there are brilliant theories of how Matthew might become a Downworlder too - also fitting since he’s so close with so many of them, and unusually so considering the times. Some say he might become a werewolf, some say a vampire, which would be so ironic considering his quote about wanting Dorian Gray’s immortality and staying young and beautiful forever. If that is the case, however fitting it may sound, we have to realize that since we haven’t met Matthew in books that are set in the future, he may have perished anyway. Or maybe, if that ends up being the case, Cassie just came up with this ending recently so there are no mentions or easter eggs of it anywhere else. 
This is all speculation. This is what I think/hope will happen. I’m in no way saying it should or it will, it’s my personal opinion drawn after attentive analysis. Whatever happens, I hope my baby Matthew gets the love and peace he deserves. I hope he lives a long life of his choosing. 
At the end of the day, whatever happens, keep this in mind: his arc and his development need to be about himself before they can be about anything or anyone else. External events may shake him, but Matthew’s biggest enemy at this point in the trilogy is himself. He needs to win an internal struggle before he can truly be a participant in the game. It won’t happen in the span of three chapters. It will be a gradual process, but I have faith. He can overcome his inner demons so he can join his friends in fighting the literal ones out there in the world.
“We do not get to choose when in our lives we feel pain. It comes when it comes, and we try to remember, even though we cannot imagine a day when it will release its hold on us, that all pain fades. All misery passes. Humanity is drawn to light, not darkness.”
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remythologise · 4 years ago
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I don't even watch SPN but all the rants got me super intrigued, is it possible to get a layman's summary of what's going on? I think I understand why the Destiel canon confession thing got everyone mad but what happened after? What's the meta narrative everyone's talking about? Was there an expectation of something and they didn't deliver? Just super curious feel free to ignore if you don't have the time x
Hey anon! Sorry for flooding your dash haha. Layman’s summary is as follows:
Of the people watching SPN and shipping Destiel in season 15, most don’t expect it to be canon. A small group of people are providing meta being like it’s DEFINITELY going canon, but 500 times bitten 600 times shy, most don’t believe them. Now I wanna say, this meta - on the most part - makes sense. It does. It just assumes a smarter show than I think Supernatural is.
Season 12-15, from when Dabb takes over as showrunner, is emotionally about building a family around ‘Jack’ a nephilim child who considers Sam, Dean and Cas his ‘three dads’. They love him as a son, textually this is stated many times. 
Season 15 is a meta narrative in which the characters face off against God, ‘the Author’. The Author also represents the SPN writers. Many people believed that this meant the end of the show would be Sam and Dean being ‘free’ of the narrative that had chained them, which is, to SPN’s credit, exactly what happened (if executed extremely fucking poorly.) The defeat of God is the one plot point in 15.19 I liked, even if I don’t like how it was done.
During this season and to be honest, many previous seasons, there’s a really subtle Dean/Cas narrative being drawn, and when I say ‘subtle’, I mean like, it’s loud for an intelligent show, but quiet for a CW show where nothing is written subtly. And this season, there’s a beautiful line being strung through about free will, about how Castiel had free will, how he fell for Dean, outside the narrative. Outside of the author’s intention. It matches up with the meta arc.
15.18 airs, Destiel goes canon with Cas’ confession, suddenly everything is on the table. The show REALLY IS intelligent enough to understand that amazing meta narrative; the characters falling in love outside the author’s plan. They really bring it into canon. Suddenly, all the bi flag lighting and weird tap dance scenes in this season make SENSE. And I mean that sincerely; it was like the arc of the season was completely locked into place with this. Everything had a place to fall into. Everyone is very excited for the end, because surely, surely, this being a grand epic narrative where one main character confesses to another, Castiel would not stay dead. The narrative had showed us that Dean loved him, through mixtapes given and unmatched grief for his death and choked off prayers. And tap dancing with lamps, if you read into that.
I think the problem is that the Dean/Cas arc was written subtly by the talented writers who love it, and for that reason it’s far better than anything else in season 15. And I think people wrongly assumed that Dean would be allowed to love a man in return, despite the narrative imperative he return Cas’ love (Cas being a character who has never really been treated the way he deserved, and a happy ending being the antithesis to Chuck/The Author’s desired tragic ending) Which brings us to
15.19 airs, and it’s a complete clusterfuck. The episode itself is the worst I’ve seen, hands down. The writing is terrible, the ending is anti-climatic, they have montages that are supposed to be emotional but just seem like random clips of random characters to completely incorrect music choices. Not only that, but the characters end the episode emotionally OOC in a way I’ve never seen before. At the start of the episode, Dean begs God/Chuck to bring Cas back to life. Chuck has the power to do this; we see this when he resurrects Lucifer from the same place Cas is. At the end of the episode, Jack, despite having acquired God’s powers, resurrects EVERYONE IN THE WORLD, but not Castiel. Castiel is not mentioned, by Jack - the son who adored him, and who he adored - and not by Dean - who had just received a love confession from him, and had not twenty minutes earlier begged God to kill him and Sam and bring back everyone especially Cas. Hello?
There are so many plotholes and canon continuity errors and dropped plot points with 15.19 but let me say the most glaring wrt Cas; in s15, Ruby asks Cas to free her from the Empty. She says it’s eternal suffering for demons and angels there. We know the Empty hates Cas. Lucifer, in this ep, mentions the Empty being a fucking nightmare. And yet DESPITE ALL OF THIS, Castiel is left there to suffer. And the writers it seems are pretending that the Empty is meant to be ‘peaceful’, despite this being mentioned nowhere in text. 
At the end of the episode, Sam and Dean toast to Jack and Castiel, to the ‘ones they lost’ and then just seem to be happy and fine with everything. Sam doesn’t even mention his love interest, Eileen, who he had been panicking over being dead. And full smile coming from the man, Dean Winchester, who was textually suicidal last time he thought Castiel was dead. What??? But it really does seem like the family was just broken up without any emotional catharsis and Castiel’s confession won’t be addressed.
As far as we are aware, Misha Collins is not returning and the next ep is a Monster of the Week brother-centred ‘classic’ episode finale.
So basically; everything intelligent we thought was happening in the story was mostly a lie, Dean/Castiel was no-homo’d out of being a beautiful never before seen meta narrative love story (well, a reciprocated one), the family dynamic of Team Free Will was horribly broken up with no emotional coherence or catharsis, and most of this seems to be a poorly written excuse to have the two brothers alone again. Oh, and also, Castiel is an incredibly tragic queer figure who spent the whole show suffering, dying, and serving the man he loved, and got sent to super-turbo-hell for it. And NONE of the dropped plot threads or emotional threads are gonna be picked back up, barring a miracle surprise appearance from Misha Collins in 15.20 - but even then, how do you excuse Jack walking out, and forgetting to bring Cas back to life? How do you excuse Dean suddenly giving up on Cas as soon as it’s possible to revive him again... what, because he’s gay for Dean now? How do you excuse any of it? 
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docholligay · 4 years ago
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For the rewrite: You get to rewrite D-Point/S1 finale but in a way that it could still fit into where the rest of the series goes and R could start as normal. How would you do it?
UGH. So basically I have to keep the weird false divide between inners and outers. FURI YOU LOATHE ME. This is obviously only part of it, as, uh, I am long-winded and love a bit of drama, but 1800 words. please enjoy
The wind whirled grey across that empty arctic plain. Well, not quite empty. If rei had been turned another direction, she would have seen Ami’s body, perched on a mound of ice, there in the far background from where Mina had dragged them both away from the scene, as if her own element were constructing a tomb to her. She knew without seeing that Ami would be dressed in that loose grey sweater and awkward green skirt that came down to her calves, a pair of loafers on her feet. It was what she had been wearing last time they’d transformed. The uniform leaves, when a senshi dies. 
She’d found that out with Mako. 
Rei hadn’t seen Ami die. She hadn’t needed to. It had, like she’d said, afforded Rei and Mina the time to move forward along that plain, trying to find the place where they could enter the lair where Beryl was said to sit, on this desolate patch of earth that might have been beautiful, thousands of years ago, when it was the seat of power for the earth, but now was as lifeless as everything else behind them. 
Mina’s nose was in the air, as if she could smell anything but the bright cold of the wind. As if she could hear anything but that howling which might have been the same wind, but just as likely might have been Usagi. It could have been Rei’s own soul, too, she supposed. 
She wanted to melt all of it. She wanted to take her arms off from around Usagi, put her hands together, and bring it all to dirt. How foolish they would be, bringing a fire maiden to the ice, not knowing what sort of powers she contained. She was the ace in the hole, she knew. She was the strongest one, here, if her pride did not allow her to remember that might not be true everywhere. 
MIna stepped back from her lookout and glanced over to Rei and Usagi. “Sailor Moon. Princess.” Usagi looked up at her, tears half-frozen on her cheeks, “We have to keep going. If we stay here, they’ll find us straightaway.” 
Rei wanted to protest, but only in the way that she wanted the girl before her to be Mina and not Venus. She had never mastered that in the same way Mina had, to be two people in one body. She was always Rei, and Mars was only ever Rei with the fire at her fingertips instead of her heart. Mina was warm and bright, if a bit annoying--a neon light, flashing in the cool darkness--but Venus was sheer steel, cold and unrelenting. 
Usagi began wailing. 
“But, but--” she took a deep breath, and coughed against the cold, “Am--” 
“Sailor Mercury did her duty. It would be worst disrespect to her death not to do ours.” She looped the chain at her waist, tightening it as she went to move forward. “It’s getting closer to the surface, over that way.” 
Rei hadn’t known Mina very long, as a practical matter. It was only recently that Rei had come to see her as anything other than a usurper, strolling into the group and declaring herself the military commander of the entire operation. Luna had said nothing to disagree, simply called her Commander Venus as Rei glared. 
“I am the commander,” Mina had sipped at her tea, eyes sparking in the way they often did when she and Rei were alone, something that tugged onto Rei and made her keep looking. She blamed the moon. “But you are the personal bodyguard. You are the last one standing, because that’s your job.” 
“Who decided that anyway?” Rei had scowled across the table, Mina leaning toward her, those clever eyes searching her too deeply, “You? You just think you can show up and--” 
She’d laughed. “Oh, I don’t decide anything.” She looked up out the window to the sky. “This is so far beyond you and me.” 
Rei went to protest that it didn’t have to be that way, that nothing was beyond her exactly, but Mina never gave her the opportunity. 
“Don’t you want to protect Usagi?” MIna had come just a little closer to her, and she could smell that near-syrup sweetness, like peaches in a can, “Can’t you feel that you should? Why do you think that is.” 
“That’s different.” Rei said, both then and now, Mina and Usagi both looking at her suddenly. 
“What is?” Mina had her hands on her hips. 
Rei shook her head, but did not remove her arms from Usagi’s side. “Let’s go.” 
The terrain was not so flat as it looked, and Usagi stumbled as she cried, protesting that Rei and Mina didn’t care about their friends, neither of them rising to the occasion. Even now, Usagi did not seem to realize that this was it. This was the grand battle for which they had been reborn, this was the one they had to win. Every battle leading up to this had only ever been dress rehearsal. 
It was not Ami and Mako at risk, but the world entire. 
Mina stopped, putting her hand on Rei’s chest to pause her, but flashing her a grin that was beyond Venus as she did so. There was a glow in the earth, here, just barely, if you looked beyond the snow. Anyone else might have walked past it, might have stepped over it, but Mina put her hand down onto it, and it pulsed beneath her hand. 
There was a rumble, and a crack, and Mina pushed them both back, grabbing to the chain at her side and beginning to swing. Usagi whimpered, again, and Mina turned back to the two of them, chain still gliding in golden figure eight over her head, as if it were a crown all her own. 
“You have to go.” Mina’s eyes looked greyer, somehow, in this light, “Take her and head for the point on the far horizon. You have to get her there, Mars.” 
Usagi tried to pull away from Rei’s heat, to no avail. 
“Venus! We can’t leave you!” She began to cry again, her whimpering cry mixing with that same cold wind and drilling into Rei’s ears. “You can’t die too!”
“No,” she shook her head, “you can’t die, Princess. You’re the key. You’ve always been the key.” 
Rei saw, in that moment, that it was never going to be otherwise. This was always how it ended. It was always Mars, bow on her back, taking the princess where she needed to be. Even if they won. Even if they failed. She was always the last one standing, always the final line of defense, and it was always her fire that protected the princess. The fire hadn’t shown her that before. It had never been close enough to see by its light. 
Before Usagi could say otherwise, the ground burst open, and two of the youma guards popped out, mouths wide with delight and fury as they careened toward the three. MIna’s chain curved in a broad arc in the air, and came down, wrapping around a youma’s arm, twisting it back as she drew the chain in. But the other youma was fast approaching, and Mina was forced to step back, hurtling one youma into the other with a fierce swing of the chain. 
She turned her head. 
“Go!” 
Rei stammered for a moment, unsure in a way that felt wrong and less stable than the crust of snow beneath her feet. But what about you? She wanted to say. If we leave you, you’ll die, and she saw Mina leaning over the table again, and she felt her body close in, and she could barely draw a breath at this moment, everything that might have been burning in the fire of what was to be. 
Mina whipped the chain over her, moving deftly as she looped in around her neck and rerouted it, sparking one and then the other with its tip, blood beginning to tear from the two of them. Her violence was poetry, Rei thought, the chain her pen. She was nothing like the rest of them, stronger than Ami, more elegant than Mako, and, though she would only ever allow this in though, perhaps more clever than Rei herself. She was a creature created for this moment, a valkyrie of the long odds. 
They staggered back, weapons drawn, unsure of how to handle this unusual weapon. 
Mina looked back, blonde hair whipping in the wind, eyes narrowed. 
“Go or I will kill you myself.” 
Rei nodded, in that, the first command from Mina for which she had no moment to question or balk, and for which she felt no drive to do so. She took Usagi by the shoulders, her cries fading into the background against the shoosh of Mina’s chain. 
As Rei started to move away, the youmas rushed at Mina, trying to flank her from the sides, but Mina was too quick and too studied, whipping the chain around her and knelling to the ground, catching them both with the end of it, howls as they furiously took another blow before they could turn to run, but un they did, escaping back down the hole in the ice. 
“Have to go after them, unsettle the place.” MIna grinned back to Rei, and blew a kiss. “Think of me, fireball.” 
Rei hated the nickname instantly. Rei hoped she would say it again. But she became Venus again. 
“Princess. Your duty to the world is at hand. Do it.” 
She did not wait for a reply, simply whipped the chain above her and disappeared down the hole. As Rei dragged Usagi away, still crying and screaming, Rei fought back tears of her own, hearing the fighting below them, hearing the thunderous roar of the troops coming to aid, knowing that Mina would die down there, bloody and bruised, her body broken in a horrible, dark, cold cave at the end of nowhere. 
There was the entrance up ahead. Mina was right, they were scattered, they assumed the senshi had all entered together, they had not thought of it as Mina had, as Venus always would, and now was their moment. 
“CRESCENT!!! BEAM!!!!” She heard echoing on the tundra behind her, and then there was a grand explosion, the tearing and rending of the earth behind them, and Rei and Usagi looked back to see a golden crest in the sky, rocks and dirt and snow flying from where she had blown apart the tunnel she was in, a sudden still silence filling the air, a fine red mist settling into perfect ruby snowflakes into that same wind, and whispering out toward she and Usagi. 
Usagi screamed. It might have been Mina’s name, or Venus’, but it was a tuneless thing and might have been neither of them at all. 
Onward. Make it worth it. 
She grabbed Usagi’s arm, and pulled.
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morganas-pendragons · 4 years ago
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take us back | obi-wan
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as soon as i got this ask, i couldn’t pass it up. i also woke up in a mood to write obi-wan because i actually wrote this exact prompt into a oneshot for my oc last night while listening to this song and yeah.. this happened. have fun! 
requested by: @kaminobiwan​ + connecting to his fake death in the rako hardeen arc 
the song used is the night we met by lord huron and the reader is the jedi!reader from the other obi fics i’ve written, so this is for a female reader :) screw canon 
tag: @dressed-up-heartbreak​ // @obiorbenkenobi​ // @anakinsahsoka​ 
obi-wan tag is open! if this angst sucks, blame (SPOILER) jesse for dying because i haven’t been able to angst well since tcw finale 
*** 
You only have one thought in your mind whenever you watch - in indescribably slow motion - the body fall from the rooftop in which Obi-Wan had chased the owner of the rogue bullet that had broken your quiet camaraderie with Anakin and Ahsoka. You’re almost naive and oblivious enough to miss the flash of auburn hair. 
I’m not fast enough, I’m not- 
  “Master!” Your grandpadawan cries your name from the shadows as you sharply turn the corner and come to an abrupt stop at the sight in front of you. Ahsoka Tano - your grandpadawan who is so close to your heart - has collapsed in the alleyway with Obi-Wan Kenobi cradled in her arms. He’s not moving. Not breathing. 
Your heart stops in your chest and you lose all ability to breathe. This isn’t the first time you’ve lost Obi-Wan Kenobi, oh no. Jabiim left a scar on both you and Anakin.
 “No, no.. you cannot leave. Not yet! Not yet! She-She needs you.” 
I am not the only traveler 
who has not repaid his debt 
This isn’t the first time you’ve felt helpless around him either. You’d long surrendered to the idea of loving him despite The Jedi Code years ago. That was why the wedding band hanging on the chain around your neck feels like it now carries the weight of the world. 
Your shoulders sag in defeat. 
i’ve been searching for a trail to follow again 
  “I need you.” 
You do need him, but you don’t have that luxury now. You lost him. He’s gone. 
Take me back to the night we met
***
You and Obi-Wan Kenobi met at the tender age of ten and twelve. Even though you’d grown up in the same créche as him and Aayla Secura, somehow The Force had kept the two of you apart until the most convenient moment where he’d been in the midst of fighting Bruck of all people, and you’d been the one who’d pulled him out of it. The calm to his storm. 
He had stuck close to you ever since. Your Force - the very essence of your soul that exuded light - was the thing that kept him grounded in the midst of all the suffering he’d endured since he was a child. Even after Siri and Xanatos and Naboo and all the death he faced.. Obi-Wan always came back to you.
And years later, you were always waiting. 
***
You weren’t waiting anymore. 
The funeral is as all Jedi funerals are. There is no mourning, no grieving, only expressionless masks of Jedi Masters and Knights as you and Anakin watch your husband and brother be put into the ground. You hate it. Despise it. Just the sight alone is enough to make her leave The Order and never look back.
But then Anakin would be alone, and Ahsoka would be helpless to look after him. You couldn’t do that.
He died and you weren’t there to save him.
Not to them.
His Padawan braid weighs heavily in your hand. One of the bands that had been attached to your own had been for kriffing force healing, for Makers sake, and you could’ve saved him from this had you just been faster. He’s dead. He’s dead, and you can’t mourn him because you have to focus on Anakin and Ahsoka, and Maker- Satine will not stop sobbing-
And then it hits you full force just as his body is lowered into the ground. Cody and the 212th are not aware that their father has just been buried. That their jettise is dead.
Your son will never forgive himself for it. Cody is just that type. Loyal to a fault, and guilty beyond comprehension when he feels as if he hasn’t performed his duty.
And his duty is always going to be to his jetti-buir.
 “Where are you going?” Anakin has the audacity to yell after the funeral is over, unaware of how closely he’s being watched, as his Former Master flees the room and moves towards the hangar where their speeder is waiting for you. “We need you here!”
A monster, born of repressed grief and rage over the circumstances in which you and Obi-Wan were in when he was lost to you again, flashes in your eyes and it’s enough to make Anakin wince and slowly back in the opposite direction.
 “i have a company of clones-“ You meanssons, and he knows that. “Who need my attention more then you do right now, Anakin. Go home.”
The Hero With No Fear has one fear in that moment as he watches his former Master walk away: It’s that he will lose you too.
***
“Why didn’t you save me? You were right there, we were together and happy and you were just.. useless.” 
I had all and then most of you 
Something that I never knew 
Your dreams are haunted by him. He’s everywhere. And the cruel thing is? He looks exactly the same as he has since you were both knighted. He looks like Obi-Wan - the very soul that yours was drawn to - and that stings because there’s nothing you want more in this world at the moment then the ability to just... hold him. Kiss him. Have him. 
Take me back to the night we met 
If you dwell on him any more then you already have, you will succumb to your desire to just slip away and be with him in the peace of eternity forever. The Cosmic Force sounds like bliss compared to the hell you endure every time you open your eyes and find yourself met with a cold bed and an even colder home. 
That doesn’t even begin to cover the broken force bond. Your skull thrums with the ache of the emptiness inside your mind - the spot where Obi-Wan used to occupy - and there comes a point where you’re in so much pain that you cannot move from your bed. 
He hovers over you while you sleep. Your dreams are not kind to you. They’re taunting. All the what-could’ve-beens that the two of you had not had the time to experience together. 
I don’t know what I’m supposed to do
Haunted by the ghost of you 
  “Take me back to the night we met.” You whisper. To who, no one knows, but you like to imagine that even in death, he’s waiting for you the way you spent so many years waiting for him. 
Your grief turns into an irrevocable numbness. You go for so long without social contact from anybody for fear they’ll unravel you. So long without feeling the love of your family in the Order that you start hallucinating him. He looks real, he feels real-
  “Kark you, Obi-Wan Kenobi! For dying and for leaving me alone and for not telling me you love me before you go!” You yell in the dead of night until your voice is hoarse and your fingers are clenched so tightly that they’ve begun going white, and part of you wonders if you stopped living and started existing when you watched his body fall from that rooftop. “Stop haunting me!” 
when the night was full of terror 
and your eyes were filled with tears 
You almost wish you hadn’t said it because as soon as you do, the apparition dissipates and you are alone. 
when you had not touched me yet 
The sound of your heart breaking in your hands is what lulls you to sleep. 
oh take me back to the night we met 
*** 
When you meet Rako Hardeen and he has Obi-Wan Kenobi’s eyes, you’re not sure if you want to kill him or kiss him. 
So while Anakin Skywalker goes supernova in his anger against his former Master for lying about his whereabouts and his mission for the Council, you bask in your silence by the cruiser that transported you and the clones to Naboo’s surface. You’re not sure what to say, if anything. You just want to look at him. 
It’s not until you’re safely ensconced in your quarters that you can act on touching him. 
  “Darling, I-” 
You hesitantly approach him, hand outstretched and eyes shining because you are so close to breaking - and then your fingers graze the skin of his collarbone and his knees buckle. 
  “You’re-” You swallow the knot in your throat as he winds his arm around your waist and presses your back to his front so he can bury your face in his hair. “You’re real.” 
You waited for him. 
  “I’m real.” He whispers in your ear. “And I’m never leaving you. Never again.” 
And he’d come back to you. 
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pvremichigan · 3 years ago
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Trust My Gut. [Hell Arc Drabble 4]
‘I can’t feel my face.
The redhead ran through the streets, blood being coughed up far too often. She had not yet found her soul and this replacement was slowly killing her. She has no time left, really. Day by day she grew weaker.
‘I don’t know where the fuck it could be. Where would my soul even reside in this nearly endless pit of agony...’
It’s been empty, but cries of the beasts within the realm shrieked out everywhere around her. They’re hiding, and every waking second she dreads the day they all come out. Mich fears it’s the moment she gains her soul...
‘I’ve searched every fucking building, every alley way... Every corner, every street I can find.’
The sounds of her shoes hitting the pavement echoed along the alleyways. The gray hue they radiate from the shadows. No one can truly be sure if the shadows are the alley’s own... There’s just too many of them.
‘A couple days ago, I saw my family. Penny wouldn’t talk to me... She just dragged along weeping into her hands. I couldn’t see her face. Every time I tried to get closer to her, she just ended up turning another corner. As soon as I turn that corner... She’s turning another. She was never running, but no matter how much I ran, I couldn’t catch up to her. I couldn’t reach her. No matter if I ran at her, as soon as my vision was taken off of her, she would be across the street turning another corner. I tried to keep my eyes on her but it never worked. It’s like she was meant to repel and stay away.’
The streets seemed familiar, but yet so uncanny. Some things she just could not recognize, like waking up in a daze where nothing you knew made any sense anymore.
‘Around the same time... I heard screaming in the buildings. I’d look up... And David would be screaming in terror, tears in his eyes as he banged on the windows like he was crying for help. Seemed to be another trick... When I would enter those buildings and reach the floor and exact room I saw him in, he was no where to be found. This place loves to toy with me... Because I’d look out the window and see him in another building, doing the same thing. I should’ve learned my lesson... But I still tried over and over to get him. Sometimes when I’d look out the window, I’d look down to the street... And see myself doing exactly what I had done before I ran into the building.’
‘Terrifying really... Because she’d run into the building... And I could hear the aggressive stomping up the stairs. The more I listened, the more I realized it didn’t sound like me. Sometimes, out of panic... I’d jump out the window after hearing the feral growling ascending the stairs with the pace of a hungry beast stomping as it ran.’
There was a feeling in the air... As if it was calling to Mich without a word spoken. Nothing in this realm was easy to trust, but her gut was clawing at her to follow. Seeing how much time she has left, how little there is, the woman had no choice. Maybe she was getting closer.
Or maybe she was being lured into a trap.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
‘I’ve been mauled for the first time. Killed. Torn to shreds. I couldn’t fight back and I couldn’t even see what was tearing me apart. The pain was unimaginable. It felt amplified from pain in the realm of the living. I felt weak, I felt like I stood no chance here. I screamed.’
The air began to grow colder. The endless buildings that had polluted the streets had grown farther into the background as Mich continued forward. Had she finally escaped that maze of a city? No... No she wouldn’t count on it.
‘I screamed like I’ve never screamed before. The only thing I could compare it to was being restrained by Jack. Even then, that was nothing compared to how I tore my vocal chords apart before the attacker even could. I don’t know why I bothered, I knew even if I could be heard... I wouldn’t be reached. In that moment, I sincerely thought I was done for. Like I failed or something. Like all this was a waste of time, like I lost my final chance. As soon as I let my body give out, I was unconscious. Seemed like only for a couple hours.’
Mich didn’t look too good. She was beginning to rot away from the destruction of her physical being from Xephrel’s soul. It was supposed to protect her... If this was protection, she didn’t want to imagine what this place would be like without the help of his soul. No doubt there’d be no winning for her.
‘I woke up in one of those buildings. I think it was the same building that beast chased me out of. I only say that because once I woke up, I heard the same exact feral noises it made before the attack. Thank god I recognized it in time, I jumped out that window again and ran.’
Her knees almost gave out, she was merely dragging herself along. Despite her weakness, there was no intent of giving up through this suffering. She was planning to keep going even when there’s nothing of her left.
‘I ran. I kept running. I didn’t fucking stop. I kept going until the growling was gone and kept going even in silence.’
The atmosphere grew darker and darker still, the more she traversed the uncanny concrete path forward that resembled the outskirts she lived around. At least there was more familiarity in this area... To recall some of these buildings was a relief, a weight lifted off her shoulders. The more she paused in her steps to remember the neighbors and street signs, the less uncanny it became.
So remembering was the key to piecing the unrecognizable together...
The memories are slowly fading back.
She must be getting close...
‘I don’t trust this place. I don’t trust anyone I come across. Hell, sometimes I don’t trust myself.’
This street... Was there a force of some kind giving her back her strength? What was going on... The sidewalk morphed from a dull gray to the more vibrant tan cement that she was most familiar with. This street... It was too familiar. But the reason for it was the hardest to recall.
‘But even then...’
Looking up and around, there was a light post hovering above the sidewalk. The light shined down on the area. The chain fence to the right side of the fence. Tears pricked the sides of her eyes, the weight on her heart and the tightness of her throat grew stronger and stronger after coming out of no where. It was all so sudden, like drowning in a wave of realization. It hurt, it was torture. The overwhelming flood was too much for her to handle. Her body hunched over as she experienced the same disgusting action as she did before she left. Vomiting up only blood. Nothing else but blood... She took a second to catch her breath, a look of terror on her face as the confusion grew worse and worse until she finally looked up. There... A bright glowing essence hovered over the sidewalk. An essence that Mich felt drawn to. Warm, familiar, like something she had lost long ago.
Her soul.
Behind it stood a familiar face... Green hair, golden eyes, a brown jacket... The tall figure stood and looked down at Mich. The gaze on the mans face was warm and cold all at the same time.
“Ry...”
‘I can still trust my gut.’
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shy-magpie · 4 years ago
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RQG 156
live blog under the cut
Heads up about half way through I realized I go a bit further into analysis on where Zolf & the Kobolds are mentally than some people might be comfortable with. Just as they trust us to back off if the episode gets to real, I am trusting you to close the tab if my little live blog is hitting you wrong. If it makes a difference I have years between me and the reason I relate to this stuff.
"In Memorium" they are trying to kill us Ah they lampshaded the speed intros Yes Alex it is rather Paris Right to Azu & Zolf. Oh he's jumping right in. And there's my first pause of the episode. No “better” isn't a magic finish line you pass then never find yourself in that place again. No, knowing that doesn't mean you don't wonder if your back at square one every time you realize You Are In A Bad Place and Not Handling it Well. Gosh Azu is good at this. Yeah learning to walk away is hard. Learning to ignore the part of yourself that says "and never come back for their sake" is harder. Symbolic much Alex (Zolf is too small for the room, Azu is too large) Yeah it would be easier to not blame Zolf for last episode if I related to him a bit less. Okay they are talking about Hamid and their concerns for him directly. Yeah Hamid's relationship with power & privilege is an arc; and without the Doylist level of trusting Bryn & Alex, I can see where even if you trust/like him you'd be worried about it. With the best of intentions people misuse power. Azu quoted Grizzop at Zolf. Didn't name him, wonder if Zolf is ever going ask directly about his replacement in canon or if its best left to fic. Its easy to dismiss one's own successes. Okay fair and OW, Zolf isn't up to talking about Sasha; which is the part of this I was most prepared for. Hell yeah! He is coming down but not going to be attempting to lead so as to relieve pressure on himself. Maybe if he can let Hamid step up without making a Kew Garden thing he'll see how much he's grown. Hopefully without that setting off a "Hamid does better without me" thing. Yeah intellectual knowledge and it feeling real on an emotional level are very different things. Alex, why does it matter what order they are in? ALEX? The necklace? The Heart of Aphrodite shaped necklace? Azu got a Sign from Aphrodite approving of her reaching out to Zolf as an act of love. Yes! Blue Black no take backs! Yeah those two (players) know exactly what they are doing: breaking my heart in the best ways and not skipping over the actual work those two (characters) need to put into their relationship with OOC "its all fine now"s. Ok that settles the timeline, Azu went up same night, the device isn't made yet. Yeah Zolf wouldn't, probably best to back off while things are tender while being present enough to assure he isn't planning on leaving. Seriously bless Azu, this has to be at least as hard on her as Helen but she is letting the boys have room to work it out for themselves instead of "trying to help". The last thing either of them need right now is pressure especially on this point. Aw the Kobolds teach Cel draconic. Oh smart kid, not only is it just logical for the Kobolds to work with Cel directly, it might help them get over the "looking to see if the boss approves of how you breathe" stage. Especially if he is clear about not being threatened by them having advantage over him in this area. Heck of a relief this isn't hitting my rank issues. Ooh all the Kobolds are amazing engineers, wonder if its a Kobold thing or if Skraak recruited people with similar interests. Nice rework of the "Kobolds build traps" thing from pathfinder. I genuinely love how instead of pitching the original description of Kobolds out the window, Alex has backwards engineered it. Reputation for traps isn't a dishonorable approach to fighting, its a sign of their skill. They aren't minions, their trauma is interacting with a cultural attitude about rank in weird ways. Oh Cel! Cel is amazing. Under Shoin's orders they: made Magic Steroids, did maintenance (more towards the end as Shoin wasn't taking care of things), built the place initially, sourced ingredients, other Kobolds built the Mechkraken. Damn Shoin, they can't even be proud of all they were able to do in adverse circumstances because he tainted it. If they weren't forced to do it and have it used for ill ends, building the kraken would be impressive. A lot of that sounds like difficult work. Hamid stuff: yeah it is from a place of fear; and they would be hypersensitive and need to try to "defend him" so he doesn't react. Terrified of his anger? Handle anything that even annoys him to cut it off at the pass. And being a good person who doesn't like scaring them, Hamid is going to over do the very "Mary Sunshine" routine that makes Zolf think he doesn't appreciate the gravity of the situation. You'd think Mr "do a grief later" would get that Hamid doesn't have to walk the halls wailing to be aware of the end of the world. Not that the kid can win, if he cried and threw up it would be proof he hasn't grown from season one. Hopefully by taking a back seat Zolf will have a chance to see Hamid's actions and realize being chipper & wholesome doesn't mean stupid. Oh Alex has thought this through, one of these days I'll quit being surprised he actually gets this stuff. Not being able to read the person whose emotions feel like life & death is a Bad Thing. Thank Alex for Skraak. Weird seeing this stuff from this side, of course learning to focus on my end instead of being preoccupied with what was going on in the heads of people who were on Hamid's end of it was rather the point. Perfect balance, Hamid gives them enough space to realize he isn’t going to explode, Skraak "translates" into something clear enough not to stress them out. Like when Zolf snapped at Skraak when he pledged to Hamid; might not be pretty but not knowing what The Powers That Be want? Very bad place. Rank and clear orders are very important when appeasing those who outrank you is everything. Cel has dealt with a lot of young and unsure apprentices!?! Yeah well Cel isn't in their chain of command and gears don't get offended if you have an opinion on the right way to configure them. Cel is great Azu & Hamid talking about Zolf! Helen is wonderful! I thought this was going to be drawn out and indirect, instead they are actually facing things head on and dealing with them. Aw these two are so good for each other. Azu would set aside her own emotions. Hot damn Azu, getting right to it! Hamid can be amazingly open about his self awareness and it surprises me every time. It fits him and is a very good thing, but going from answering "how are you?" with "the Kobolds are doing well" to "I never knew how to help him" without it being jarring made me do quite the double take. Guess I was expecting more deflection. Yeah well you two are redefining your boundaries, entire relationship, and rank in specific, while being the perhaps the only people with enough of the picture to figure out how to save the world. Working out the balance between conflicting views on that, when neither of you knows what the end will look like was never going to be smooth. Oh yes and none of you have directly addressed that half of Zolf's rank & dick measuring stuff is because he doesn't know if he even has a role if he isn't The Boss or The Healer.* Oh the grin in Alex's voice as he tells them there is something else before the brorb interview. Whisky tumblers for each? Quite a sigh there Ben News? Big news? While they were in the institute? They ought to sit down. Wilde get to it. Ah Azu & Hamid are holding hands. Poor kid with his prop. Letter? Ancient Rome? Sasha? Are all the fics coming true? Their founder "Askingus"!?! Oh Sasha, oh Zolf! Lydia! Oh the kids! She named the kids after the party. She even found her faith. A break? How the hell are we only half way through the episode. Also hell yeah Lydia deserves all the awards, that was an amazing letter. XD Ben! Oh Hamid, we reacted that way to the epilogue that way too. It really is okay, it was a good end. Yeah he could use a drink. Poor Zolf. Hamid gives Wilde a hug. "technically I think that makes Sasha my boss". XP be cryptic Alex, The RSB will have it figured out by Friday. Ok Zolf got to read the letter on his own. Azu lit 3 candles, because Helen wants me to cry. Hamid is at Zolf's door with a bottle and two glasses. Lydia this is a compliment to your skill. More direct than I expected from Hamid. Oh these two! Okay he is drunk enough to go there (angry at Zolf for leaving but he gets it). About time someone told Zolf directly he's grown. Aw Zolf puts him to bed. Thank you Alex! Ben! (okay fair, if any of Hamid was left he'd cuddle). Sorry Cel! Lydia wanted to break/heal our hearts more than she wanted the plot to move forward ;) Good plan: take the orb to the anti magic field, only those who have already talked to it can talk directly. Info control. Hive mind/telepathy directly addressed. Finally what Shoin eats is addressed. Ok Cel has some teeth on them. Hasn't fed it, is using the vibration to threaten to explode his brain, (no English doesn't have enough pronouns we are working on it)... Oh good point better feed it. Aw Zolf is possessive of the kitchen. Shoin is still Shoin. Cel is not happy about not being recognized. Nice to hear the boys working together. The Infection might block him from being directly aware of  being infected. Bullsh$% he backed himself up. Good point Zolf even if he does, they are separate lives, this instance can still fear death. Oh all the party have teeth, nice they don't have the "good guys have to be sweet & gentle with the baddies" thing Yeah Cel isn't stupid, the brorbs arm isn't a threat. Oh auto painting that will make the people theorizing on the bio side of how the Brorb works happy. A circulatory diagram, and am ocean of faces. Paints like a printer. A creepy charcoal sketch of London staring at the artist. *I swear on Rusty Tower if they let him hurt himself any worse because he thinks his new role is "a brick wall on wheels" I am joining the line to fight Ben in a Whetherspoons parking lot. Yes it would be in character but so would healing. There are other hills. Although seriously its been great having a character that shows so many of the aspects of depression that usually get left out. That Zolf is also a three dimensional character with a full personality beyond just "the one with mental health issues" while not making it look like those issues are tacked on or easy to handle? Stunning work.  
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ash-etherwood · 4 years ago
Note
Top 5: writing memories, songs, characters that are not blank rune, runes, food
Linda I love you but are you trying to kill me … that’s so many Top 5’s! But alright, I’ll do my best! (Answers will probably switch between German and English RIP to every non-German-speaker who follows me and wants to read this for some reason I swear I’m normal)
WRITING MEMORIES
5.) The entire time I spent finishing my first (second?) longer writing project It was the year 2012 and it was a cyberpunk story about my friends’ and my edgy self inserts riding dinosaurs, fighting aliens and being badass. The plot twist in the end was that my character was secretly evil and wanted to kill everyone. (Things to show your therapist) The final boss fight made zero sense and also everything was incredibly weird and stupid. But sometimes I still think about those times when I sat in my grandma’s living room at night, eating chips and listening to Vocaloid covers while thinking this story was the coolest shit ever. Truly simpler times.
4.) Researching something about universities in Texas for OvF on a rainy Saturday afternoon I have no idea why this memory is still sticking with me to this day (I think it was around 2016 or something?), but I remember that it was just a really nice day and I felt really at peace at that moment?
3.) The entire writing process of Bathroom Blues It was such a spontaneous project and I still have no idea how I managed to power though it in just a little under two months! Also it was just incredibly fun seeing you getting excited over new drafts and I loved coming up with new plot points and Halloween costumes for everyone with you. :-D Truly a summer worth remembering.
2.) FINALLY uploading the prologue and intro chapter of WWBL Not really a writing memory, but that moment was … so sexy and magical. Seriously, you have no idea how long I had been waiting to finally start that story, waiting for the Steckbriefe to roll in and see people react to the prologue and generally the idea … I even made one of those countdown graphic thingies for the designated upload date! 8D At that point I had planned that story for about six months and just … yeah, that felt powerful to me.
1.) Writing the prologue for WWBL When I first started the draft for that prologue I was sitting at the window in my favourite hotel in Winterberg, Sauerland, wore my dark green flannel, had the window wide open breathing in the cool mountain air and allowed myself to listen to my WWBL playlist for the very first time. God, that felt so amazing. I even have a photo of it (which somehow makes it look like I have the biggest football shoulders in the universe) my sister took that night. God I miss Sauerland. )’:
- - - - -
SONGS
My apologies to every favourite song of mine that I forgot about, I have a whole playlist of them, but I think these are some of my oldest faves … (Honorable mentions for Don’t Mess With Me and Not That Big by Temposhark, Goodbye by Apparat, Me And The Devil by Soap&Skin, Heart Heart Head by Meg Myers, Pain and Animal I Have Become by Three Days Grace, Beautiful Crime by Tamer, Gravity Of Love by Enigma, In Flames by Digital Daggers [thanks Phi u_u] and Murder Cries by Snow Ghosts AHHH FUCK IT I could’ve just made a playlist,,,)
5.) Vater Unser by E Nomine Starting off with some weird shit, won’t we? I’ve been in love with this song since fifth or sixth grade, when I was just starting to develop an actual music taste and although I have many favourite songs by E Nomine, this one has to be my absolute fave. Every time I can relate it to a character it makes me love said character even more. (Also I think about it every time my mom forces me to go to church for Christmas so … yay? I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t even be able to remember the Vater Unser if it wasn’t for this song. 8D)
4.) Wires by The Neighbourhood I think this is the newest all-time fave on this list, I found it in … 2015? Thank you, Youtube AMVs. Yeah man, this one is just … on so many playlists it’s not even funny anymore.
3.) Heathens by Twenty One Pilots An edgelord classic but like … it’s on EVERY playlist of mine. Every single one. It’s just so good. The first time I heard it was on the radio tho, when I was having breakfast with Jessie and I forced her to shazam it because it immediately stuck with me,,,
2.) Imaginary by Evanescence My first Evanescence song ever and the first step towards becoming who I am today I think. This song has like … such a big history for me, man. It single-handedly turned me goth in 2008 and I have never really thanked it for that.
1.) Eternal by Evanescence Might be my favourite song of all time. The number of dramatic RP scenes I have written with this in the background … man. Oh, also this song is the reason for one of my oldest internet nicknames, ‘eternala’, which subsequently shortened into Etschuh and then Tschuh, my main nickname until 2017, when I came out as trans and finally found an actual name for myself I was comfortable with!
- - - - -
NON BLANK RUNE CHARACTERS
I know this was probably supposed to be about fandom characters but I can literally not come up with a single character right now that I love with a special burning passion and that is not my or one of my friends’ OCs so you’re getting OCs now. u_u And boy do I have a lot of those.
5.) Jackson Tracey from atroCITY (mine) This little piece of shit kept me company for a pretty long time and is still very close to my heart for some reason, although I haven’t drawn him or really thought about him in detail for a while now. My favourite thing is how I only realized what a horrible person he was after I stopped regularly working with him but honestly good for me. 8D His storyline and personality is kinda convoluted and tbh I’m not really sure how much of it is canon anyway (atrc was always a little weird about canon rip) but yeah. He’s an obsessive stalker piece of shit who pities himself way too much and he is also a semi-immortal demigod who likes knives. I hate him but he also helped me a lot with some gender and sexuality stuff so thanks I guess.
4.) Mayoko Imai from Century Riders DXPrototype (Maus’ and mine) Mayoko is a magical girl protagonist with a cool cyborg arm prosthetic and her main character trait was that she was basically a reverse weeaboo, a Japanese girl who was obsessed with American media, culture and comic book heroes! I actually love her concept a lot and she also had a pretty cool character arc in her story (which Maus and I wrote together and actually finished btw!), although it could use a lot more … polishing from today’s point of view. But I love her anyway. She always wanted to do the right thing and be a hero and got broken pretty cruelly and her ending is kinda bittersweet I guess? Ahh there’s just so much nuance to it … anyways, CR3 also stuck with me for a very long time and I enjoyed the time with her a lot. :3 (Her name had a cameo in Another Incident btw heehee)
3.) Tessa *insert extremely long chain of unnecessary first names here* von Lean from Nobody Is Perfect and Infernal Temptation (belongs to one of my old school friends) Tessa is just … a hand full. I love to hate her. She is badly written and developed and just OOZES mentally ill teenage girl’s idealized self-insert power fantasy, but she just … man, she was a big part of one of my most drama-filled high school friendships which I love looking back at so much. Tessa has fucked so many of my characters … good for her tbh! There are actually two versions of her, one is just a ‘normal’ teenage girl and one can shapeshift into a cheetah, but both of them are very close to my heart. I should really adopt and redesign her some day.
2.) Judy Khayat from Original vs. Final (mine) Look, I love all my OvF-characters and every single one of them is special to me in their own way, but Judy is just … the most complex of them all I think? Man, she went through so much … she is actually one of my oldest (semi)-active characters (I created her in 2009) and her latest version is from 2016 but I should really, REALLY revise her again tbh. She has a very complicated backstory that I didn’t handle as carefully as I should have, and anger issues and religious conflict and depression and PTSD and then Vance of all people becomes obsessed with her for no reason and decides to traumatize her even more … yeah. God I really love her but I seriously need to work on her. A LOT. I should also finally rename her tbh … let’s just see where she takes me next.
1.) Okami (I don’t even remember if she has a proper last name rn lol) from Split Realm (mine) Yeah, that bitch is just my favourite OC. She’s also very old, probably from around 2009, and initially was a magical girl with fire powers who I played in an RP with my friend Flauch but boy did she grow up! Holy fuck. Okami is a horrible person but I love her so much. She is so violent and full of anger and pain and sadness and treats everyone around her like shit and she is in love and she is a demon but also apparently the personification of the concept of Chaos but she just wants to be a teenager again and run away with the love of her life and ahhh it’s all so hopeless for her … also she turned out gnc af with time passing and pretty much went through a gender/sexuality crisis in real time with me, her creator, which is always fun. :^D I haven’t drawn her in a while tbh. Should really do that.
- - - - -
RUNES IN BLANK RUNE
I’m just gonna go with the arcs here, okay? Also this entire answer might look completely different if you asked me again tomorrow, you know how indecisive I am with Blank Rune shit ahha,,,
5.) Jera Look. I know I’m boring and stupid. But I just love Tave and Liam having their disgusting little foreshadowing talk, okay? I can read it over and over. I just love my horrible little shit crime boys. Also Rhy and Phillip are there. (’:
4.) Isa This one is here because it was the first arc I witnessed in real time which gives it a very special place in my heart and it also … hit pretty hard at the time. But having read Fehu it’s become even better now! It’s just such a wonderful, tragic romance between two horrible, ruthless boys and I … I’m not immune to Rhy, sadly. :-/ Just like Phillip.
3.) Wunjo We still haven’t seen everything that leads up to Wunjo yet, but we DO know more than we did initially (wow shocker) and it’s just always a fucking blast. Also, it has the first mention of Ash’s real name … the first Rhy POV (which what the fuck!! I always feel like we had one before but we didn’t!! Wild) and it has crazy blood-soaked murder Tave, my beloved. :///3
2.) Eiwaz You guys have heard me fanboy about Eiwaz so many times already. Eiwaz-OT3 (and Kain) my beloved!!! It’s just SUCH an amazing starting point and there are so, so many things that tie back to it and every time we find out about a new one my heart makes a little jump … und es beginnt von Neuem indeed.
1.) Gebo One of the most painful but also the most beautiful arcs yet in my opinion. It’s been hyped up for so long and boy did it deliver. God, my heart still hurts when I think about that last scene. Also all the dialogue … the golden lines we got … and it’s an arc without Rhy! Crazy!! :-D I just love the relationship between Ash, Astrid and Jakob so much. God fuck I want what they have. Just maybe without the murder suicide,,,
- - - - -
FOOD
5.) Diese Sonntagsbrötchen wo die Verpackung so plopp macht, wenn man die Folie abzieht Better than normale Brötchen for some reason. Most of the time. See 2.) Look man, I just really love a good breakfast …
4.) Chocolate cupcakes with cream cheese topping One of the first things from a certain baking book I tried when I was getting into baking back in 2019. God they are so tasty. I don’t make them often so I don’t get used to them too much and eating them still feels special but ahhhh I love them so much!
3.) Grünkohl mit Kartoffelbrei und Mettendchen One of my favourite things about autumn/winter and one of my biggest comfort foods. God I love this shit so much. I just put … mountains of Grünkohl and Kartoffelbrei on my plate every time and I will just warm it up for four days straight until there’s no more left. It turns me into a fucking caveman. I’m not even big on eating meat but … yeah. Everything is different when there’s Grünkohl.
2.) Normales Brötchen mit Butter und Scheibenkäse aber ich bin beim Frühstücksbuffet im Hotel Oddly specific but that’s just how it is. Sorry. Nichts geht über Brötchen mit Käse.
1.) Chilli-Knoblauch-Nudelauflauf My beloved. My comfort food. I eat it literally every second day. At least one hour in the kitchen every time. Fresh ingredients. My only vegetable intake. And I’ve been doing that for three years. I just love it so much, man. I cook it for everyone who visits me. Chilli-Knoblauch-Auflauf cured my depression.
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riseofthecommonwoodpile · 4 years ago
Text
Warehouse of Prayers by Laura Kasischke
1. 
It’s dark in here. Please, let me out.
2.
No, I hear him say. I want to show you. And to see it, you have to stay.
3.
And, O, I saw it then. So many prayers. Who could answer them all? And yet
what god would have the heart to toss them out?
4.
Yes, he says, I know. It terrifies. The silence, and the din. The tremendous weight of them. It defies
anything you might think or say
about sound about size.
But, yes, of course. Of course I’ve kept them all.
5.
“We had gone for a walk in the dark.
Of all things, I was deeply in love with my husband! Then
something silent I couldn’t see crept out of the darkness, and bit his hand.”
6. 
The beauty of it. The great
beauty. The true beauty of it. The beauty beyond—
It’s 
bitten me. I’m bleeding.
7.
In the dark one night you felt around for your blue scarf. Its blue diffusion. Its shameless would-be sky. But it was gone.
Gone, with your watch, and your wallet, and those cheap beads. How
strange to understand, so suddenly
that none of it was yours. Not
a snippet, not a glimpse, not a bit, not
even the dust that had gathered
Amishly on it for years.
8.
And the green lawn rolls, and the green lawn rolls to the foot of it all, to the foot of it all
telling the story of a world created by a god, who wanted to be loved but did not like to talk.
9.
“We predicted this. Something
strapped to the chest of a child. Light pouring up from holes in the ground. A fountain
run dry, and a mild-mannered man on a rampage in July.
Still, we were confused. We
thought we’d looked for this trouble everywhere, and
never found a thing. We
believed there’d be more warning, despite the many warnings. We
deeply believed a mistake had been made.”
10. 
Then, in the morning, a mannequin sitting in the rain on the neighbor’s porch. The rain on the mannequin, like so many kisses bestowed upon a corpse.
11.
No. (He takes my hand. He opens a door.)
12.
Wow, I say. So this is all—
and this is the vault in which they’ve hoarded it.
All:
What is, what was, what will be—
added to in increments. (A skyful, a pocketful, a teaspoonful, a pinch.)
13.
And still, mostly vault.
14.
The blood and the bed. The basement full of blankets. The 
freezer full of meat. We
all will rise again, and all be dignified.
The vein straight through the center
of the leaf. The woody stem of a rose. The dark suburban fruit of mulberries on the lawn.
We will rise over it all, and all of it will still be here when we are gone.
15.
Hello. It’s me, Eurydice. I want to tell you about his eyes: Stupid
hopeful windows. You
idiot, I said. All this resurrection business just to have your dumb love-glance sideswipe me dead.
16.
Her boy, in the war, the gate, left open, the field full of flowers, the day, so cloudless, she couldn’t help but see the mysterious sense and emptiness of it: As a child, he was so quiet, you could have drawn a circle
around it with a piece of chalk.
You could have taken a bus to the edge of that silence, and stepped off
onto a sidewalk, made of time, and walked
for years and years, all through his childhood and still kept walking.
17.
This is the illegible scroll
on which Orpheus’ reply was written.
This
is the book, thrown from the window.
A cough.
A broken telephone.
A few notes of a song.
18.
And a woman sobbing in a hospital gown, Not fair. Just this one body, and not even the body I wanted, and still it clings to me weeping when I have to leave. Not fair.
19.
“Eurydice? Eurydice? Are you there?”
20.
RSVP: She
will not be arriving by ship of by plane. No car door slamming. No
driver to be paid. She will not be walking. Neither shall she run. Thank you for asking, but she can’t come.
21.
Please, please, please, sweetheart,
pick up the fucking phone if you’re there
22.
“The Czar was killed on the spot, as
were the Empress and the Grand Duchess Olga, neither of whom could finish making the sign of the cross.
But the daughters
wore corsets
lined with jewels. For long moments the bullets, fired at their chests,
ricocheted around the room.”
23.
Please?
24.
One day I saw the divorcée take a letter from her ex-husband.           Briefly, his fingertips touched hers, and then she slipped the letter into her purse:
But, O, that purse, full of old pleasure, and that letter. Memory, like a dark hole full of feathers.
25.
“Lust, that goat in violets. Those violets like so much tenderness
scattered in the grass. Love,
that rusty chain dragging you home through your past.”
26.
A woman turns at church in her pew and tell me before the organ starts up, “I know a story about your house.”
27.
Oh? Yes?
28.
“In the forties, a farmer named Elmer Barow, in your kitchen, shot himself.”
29.
Oh, I thought, I know. I know. Time,
passing, all along— the hum of the cobwebs in the corners crocheting their intricate shrouds. The
dripping of the faucet. The blackened toast. Of
course, when we sat down at the table with our heads bowed, that
was him listening in on our prayers— Elmer
Barow with a rifle in his mouth.
30.
Always that
flash of desire, always
in the way (that
gray cat sleeping in the driveway, those
teenage girls bathing in a pond of bees)— that’s
what’s left of the freedom God had to make us, or remain free.
31.
Eurydice?
32.
In winter a woman I work with gets the idea that her hands are poisoned. She can’t touch anything anymore. She wears
gloves to bed, in case, in her sleep—
33.
No, E., of course, your hands aren’t poisoned. You cannot kill your children if you stroke their hair. You
know this, you know it.
34.
But, suddenly, gradually, myself—
everything I touch, there’s—
35.
There’s something wrong. (Not that. But something.) I
spend hours trying not to think about the something, but it’s
always there
in the shadowy tissue, in the silvery microscopic gloom, the lazy fluid slip of it, which,
released by love, billows loosely around the cerebral cortex—
a poisoned flume.
36.
Then—?
37.
“And then the day is over, and the—”
38.
And the day is over.
And in the dark I hear God say,
Laura, go ahead and pray.
39.
Okay.
40.
Okay. I— Okay. I—
Dear God, I—
offer up this prayer of dryer lint and hair.
41.
Orpheus here in a cellar made of glass. In it, with me, a blizzard of small black words. I
am sending this message to you from the world, but “This is a message from the world” is all it says.
42.
“Oh, to the teeth, sweetness is the medium, but the message is decay. Like
the soul, a hunch, wrapped in disintegration. Sweater
wool, skin cells, carpet fibers, ash, a gray
breeze: Virus,
and pollen, and ourselves
blown to breathing pieces.”
43.
And then at the petting zoo I knew
animal terror for the first time. Animal
despair: The trembling of the lamb under my trembling hand.
44.
Suddenly, God answers me!
I am made of the same thing you are, after all, and you
are made of me:
Some darkness, a supplication, a moral silence breezing
over the glassy stubble in a vacant field.
45.
“And let us not forget the petty prayers. The insatiable hunger of seagulls. The sunset
in the blood, and those
birds turning
in on themselves. Crying, reeling, happiest hungry. Let us be
you amphetamines! they scream. The market
full of fruit out of season. The locked
door of the embassy. The high
gate surrounding spring:
Please, God, I want all of it for me.”
46.
To: Orpheus Fr: Eurydice Re: Death
The babble. The cold, teeming, intangible hotel.
47.
God, do your hear that? That
bit of stitching in the wind? It unravels when you listen. Listen.
48.
The Debt Birds screeching, Insufficient! Someone shoveling snow onto a fire. A figure in a black suit swinging a lantern through the dark
in arcs, coming closer, and closer.
And my mother standing by the lilac
(the lilac, which is the suburb’s lyric poem
about death) talking
to a man she never met. I
overhear him say, Whatever
crazy sorrow saith.
49. 
“No one was crying, no one was bleeding, but the mail had been dumped in the street, and
someone’s husband a few blocks over was shouting loudly about accountability.
Shadows stuffed into envelopes— as when the forest creeps to the edge of the freeway, perfectly tamed, finally revealed,
and the wild illegal animals people keep as pets,
escape, are seen.”
50.
Jesus Christ, this stuff is everywhere!
51.
Excuse me.
I couldn’t help but overhear your prayer...
52.
“What the bloody hell is this? Someone must have written down every word ever said, then
shredded every word ever written.”
53. 
O, honey, O, lovely, O, please. It’s me,
Orpheaus, again, Eurydice.
54.
“Okay, now what we need here is a warehouse, or an abyss. Which one of you guys can get on this—
ASAP?”
55.
Like
trying to hold fire. Like
trying to hold perfume. Like
wearing fog to work. Like
stoppering a bottleful of light—
trying to talk to God.
56.
“Hello. Yeah. It’s me. Is he in? We’ve got a major mess on our           hands.”
57.
“Shit. Shit. Is he ever in?”
58.
Like stoppering a bottleful of light. Like wearing fog to work. Like trying to hold perfume. Like
trying to hold fire—
to make the simplest goddamned contact with—
59.
O, wait, look after all— that
warehouse, that
abyss, and
a beautiful naked stranger diligently trying
to ladle the oceans into it.
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cap-ironman · 5 years ago
Text
Captain America/Iron Man Remix 2020 Masterpost and Creator Reveal
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Here it is: the final masterlist and the creator reveals for Captain America/Iron Man Remix 2020! Below you'll find all 56 remixes created, with 13 written for Remix Exchange, 25 for Remix Relay, and 18 created for Remix Madness. If you haven't checked out the works during the reveal period, please take a look at all of the wonderful remixes and leave some love for all the creators!
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TREE CHAIN
1. what it takes to talk (a courthouse steps remix) by navaan (616, T, 3494 words)
Canon divergence sort of fix it for CW/Death of Captain America with hints of all the bad that went on around the two of them at the time.
2. For Now (A Remix Before the War) by sophinisba (MCU, G, 3299 words)
Tony isn't sure it's a good idea for the idea for the Avengers to return to Sokovia, but he's off the team now. It's not his decision to make.
3. upsetti spaghetti by starksnack (MCU, E, 3000 words)
“Is that a Foccacia loaf in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” Basically Steve tries to cook an Italian birthday dinner for Tony.
4. for the love of (spaghetti remix) by Lets_call_me_Lily (3490, T, 1281 words)
Natasha Stark: Iron Woman, genius, inventor, philanthropist, billionaire, married. And, though not commonly known, an accomplished cook.
5. Dinner Plans (Food is Love Remix) by Neverever (Avengers Assemble, T, 1335 words)
Steve has had a long hard day. It doesn't get better.
6. He Lit a Fire (and Now He's in My Every Thought) by EachPeachPearPlum (MCU, T, 1578 words)
It probably says a lot about his friendship with Natasha that the first words out of her mouth are, “What did you do this time?” "Nothing!” Clint argues. Tasha arches an eyebrow at him, sceptical in the extreme, which Clint is so not having. “Swear to god, I was playing that Lego game they made about us, no way I could have caused a fire.” “Uhuh,” Tasha ‘agrees’, then goes for their usual means of resolving arguments that take place in the tower. “JARVIS?” “On this occasion, Agent Barton is quite correct, Agent Romanov,” their resident ceiling-deity answers. “The fire began in Sir and Captain Rogers’ kitchen.”
7. A sweet Moment (Remix) by Caw_caw_MotherF (MCU, G, art)
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8. Stolen Moments by navaan (Noir, G, 860 words)
Tony seems a little off when the group is on the way back to camp. Like his mind is somewhere else — or on someone else.
FRUIT CHAIN
1. Ocean Cold by MiniRaven (616, G, 2384 words)
Tony Stark; billionaire, hero, merman, goes on a swim after a long day at sea. He finds something in the ice and, upon closer inspection, discovers not all is as it appears.
2. Fractured Moonlight on the Sea by EachPeachPearPlum (MCU, G, 1623 words)
As the mysterious object grows nearer, it becomes clearer but no more explicable. There’s flashes of red and gold, both washed out by the blueness of the light, moving with the light but not always in the same position in relation to it, and- It’s a man. The thing travelling in Steve’s direction from below the water is a man. Those are hands, cutting through the water, and a face, a bare torso, the light not attached to the man’s clothing (as Steve first assumed) but actually in his chest. It’s sort of a man, anyway, if Steve doesn’t look any lower than waist height. Below that, the flashes of red and gold are slowly resolving themselves into scales. Scales. The thing heading towards him is a mermaid. Man. Person?
3. The Rescue of Captain America (The Bedtime Story Remix) by navaan (616, G, 2972 words)
There's a lot of material you can adapt into bedtime stories when your lives are larger than life.. ...or Tony tells the story of Captain America's rescue with more mermen.
4. rewrite the past by avengersincamphalfbloodstardis (Marvel, G, 1021 words)
Steve can still feel the ice sometimes; his daughter chases it away.
5. Drawings from School (Hearts and Ice Remix) by Neverever (616, T, 1222 words)
Tony and Steve's daughter Sarah comes home with her drawings, which hits Steve a little hard.
6. Simple by hollyandvice (hiasobi_writes) (MCU, T, 3504 words)
From the moment Tony offers him the ring, Steve promises himself he'll never wish for more than this. Steve wants kids, but doesn't want to pressure his husband into something he doesn't want.
7.  Not a hard-knock life (the adoption remix) by Lets_call_me_Lily(MCU, Art)
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8. Drawn to be Something More by MiniRaven (MCU, G, 1272 words)
Morgan Stark shows off a picture to Steve Rogers, daddy's special friend. Tooth rotting adorableness ensues.
ART/FIC CHAIN
1. mine by starksnack (MCU, M, art)
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2. Worth by hollyandvice (hiasobi_writes) (MCU, E, 4838 words)
Steve returns from the benefit to a Tony just as naked as he'd left him hours ago, still sprawled out on their bed in that effortlessly beautiful way he has. The only difference is that now it's the pale blue light of the arc reactor that illuminates his form, not the afternoon light that had kissed his skin earlier that day. Feelsy smut. That's it. That's the fic.
3. Let Me Help You with That (the knock 'em dead remix) by Lets_call_me_Lily (616, T, art)
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4. Feeling blue (Remix) by masterlokisev159 (616, Not Rated, 6072 words)
When the Superhero Registration Act came into play, no one knew what the consequences would be, least of all Tony. And from what he's heard, he didn't deal with it well. Or at all. Following the events of the Civil War, the Skrulls and Tony's recovery after Osborn, Steve and Tony no longer speak to each other, having fallen out after Tony woke up from his self-induced coma. Now, at this party, all Tony can think about is Steve.
Silently he wonders if Steve even notices him anymore.
5. safe in your arms [REMIX] by wingheads (616, T, Art)
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6. Reunion Gone Bad (Don't Drink That Remix) by Neverever (Avengers Assemble, T, 1894 words)
Tony is surprised to see Steve at the fundraiser, and he sure is surprised with how the rest of the evening goes too.
7. Unexpected (Remix) by jayjayverse (Marvel, G, art)
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8. Thank Goodness for Shields & Husbands by avengersincamphalfbloodstardis (616, G, 1178 words)
After a rude politician hurts Steph's feelings, her husband comforts her when she needs him.
9. rub a dub dub by starksnack (MCU, M, art)
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REMIX EXCHANGE
★ A Moment of Peace (Steve is a Mystery Remix) by Neverever (AA, T, 1713 words)
Steve is in denial about having a migraine and the frenetic energy of the Tower isn't helping.
Remix of The Mysterious Case of the Migraine Helper by Sadisticsparkle
★ A Place for the Desperate (A Timely Remix) by navaan (1872, M, 1701 words)
Steve thinks Tony has escaped from his cell and won't be back, so he gives in to a little fantasy...
Remix of A Farm for the Horny and the Desperate by HogwartsToAlexandria
★ accidents never happen when a room is empty (remix) by (616, E, 4999 words)
Remix of navaan’s Love Me (Not) - Steve and Tony fall into a friends with benefits relationship and Tony is completely okay with that. Right? This is my take, with Steve's POV.
Remix of Love Me (Not) by navaan
★ Breaking Through (The Caving In Remix) by DepressingGreenie (616, T, 2108 words)
All he needed to do was move all the rocks out of their way and they will be fine. They can get out of here and go home. Everything will be okay. Right?
Remix of Caving In by Cathalinaheart
★ Equivalent Exchange (The Bottled Genius Remix) by Cathalinaheart (616, T, 2267 words)
A new master changes everything for Tony.
Remix of Genius in a Bottle by Neverever
★ Even After All Those Years? (The We Keep Meeting Like This Remix) by Sadisticsparkle (Noir, Not Rated, 2500 words)
Steve Rogers and Tony Stark, from their first goodbye to their last nice to see you again.
Remix of Even After All Those Years? by DepressingGreenie
★ Fantasies by SweetFanfics (616, M, 1355 words)
When Steve asks Tony if he’s got any sexual fantasies he wants to explore with Steve, he’s mostly curious but he’s also got some expectations lined up behind the question. Tony’s the more experienced guy between them. As such, Steve expects Tony to share something kinky like, whips, chains, heat play, stuff like that. Intense things, you know? But what he doesn’t expect, is Tony to blush and look away mumbling, “Your suit.”
Remix of What Suits Your Fancy by wynnesome
★ Kinky suits (Remix) by masterlokisev159 (MCU, Not Rated, 7300 words)
Steve is so confused. He's never felt this way before. There's just something about the way Tony looks in the gloves... Something's wrong. Tony shouldn't look that good, not even in Steve's gear. There's only one solution. He has to find out more. A.k.a. Steve has a kink and Tony is on the receiving end of it. Sexy times ensue.
Remix of When We by firebrands
★ Mundane Bliss, Remix by HogwartsToAlexandria (MCU, G, 1043 words)
"What is perfect happiness? Steve Rogers could tell you."
Remix of mundane bliss by only_more_love
★ sorry about the blood in your mouth; i wish it was mine by only_more_love (MCU, E, 3500 words)
Afghanistan, never more than a handful of memories away, rears up, ugly and dissonant. His heart begins to race in anticipation of drowning. Muscle memory: it’s there, so easily accessed. Tony is kidnapped. It costs him and Steve. Dearly. Set in the nebulous period after Captain America: Civil War and before Avengers: Infinity War
Remix of Kidnapped by masterlokisev159
★ Soul Searching (The Hop, Skip, Jump Remix) by navaan (616, m, 5445 words)
Tony lives a peaceful live in Irondale and then Steve Rogers drifts into town. It's the beginning of a romance — and not all is what it seems.
Remix of a hop, skip, and a jump by SweetFanfics
★ Splintered by jellybeanforest (MCU, M, 9029 words)
Following the events of Endgame, Tony’s soul is in torment. Fractured across time and space as a result of the snap, he is doomed to relive his failures, his shortcomings and traumas, in a terrifying limbo, flitting unpredictably between different planes of existence. Natasha does her best to hold the pieces together as he crumbles, but only one thing can mend his tattered self and make Tony whole again: an undamaged template – the other half of his soul. Meanwhile, in the land of the living, Steve struggles with Tony’s death, plagued by missed opportunities, lingering what-if’s, and guilt. The Avengers send him on a final mission where he has one last chance to make it right.
Remix of This Terribly Tempered Soul by Padraigen
★ We'll Make Our Own Tradition (The Cap and Gown Remix) by wynnesome (616, E, 11,000 words)
It’s Steve’s and Tony’s anniversary. They have a date for dinner, but the workday comes first. Steve’s includes a very important business lunch. But the person who makes a beeline for him as he waits at the bar is not who he thought he'd be meeting...
Remix of A Traditional Type of Guy by jellybeanforest
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REMIX MADNESS
★ And All of Our Yesterdays Will Be Forgotten (a None of Our Tomorrows Can be Saved remix) by athletiger (616, M, 1335 words)
He’ll never know if Tony heard him confess his love. He’ll never know if Tony loved him back because he destroyed that. He destroyed everything.
Remix of None of Our Tomorrows Can be Saved by Ironlawyer
★ baby, please come home by only_more_love (MCU, T, 1484 words)
Months after Siberia, Tony reaches out to Steve in an unexpected way.
Remix of Sunshine by XtaticPearl
★ Bar is Open (The Last Barman Poet Remix) by DepressingGreenie (MCU, G, 641 words)
Steve finds himself attending the same wedding as his one night stand from the night before. He takes a chance, hopping to get to know Tony better.
Remix of The Last Barman Poet by nativemossy
★ Drawn to You by jellybeanforest (MCU, M, 15,989 words)
In a world where what one writes on one’s own skin appears on their soulmate’s body in exactly the same place until it’s washed off or fades, no one has ever responded to Steve’s questions written in pen. Who are you? Where are you? And once, out of sheer desperation: Wer bist du? He has tried writing up and down both arms then across his stomach in pictograms when he reckons that perhaps his soulmate is a double amputee and illiterate, but nothing. No response. He is uncertain why he is so surprised. Everything else about Steve is broken, so why not his soul? But when he points the Valkyrie downwards to crash into the deep, knowing he is about to die, he spares a few precious seconds to scribble one last message to his possibly-nonexistent, potentially-blind soulmate. Twenty-five years later, Tony Stark is born with a single phrase on his left forearm written in messy old-fashioned script. And as he grows up, the words never change: “I love you” It is both a blessing and a curse.
Remix of the words written on our skin by Cathalinaheart
★ For You I Will (A Thousand Times Remix) by ishipallthings (MCU, T, 3573 words)
During Hope and Scott’s wedding reception, Tony asks Steve for a dance. Steve turns him down, but not for the reason Tony thinks.
Remix of A Thousand Times, Once by sheron
★ Hold Hard, Then, Heart (the poetic declaration remix) by Lets_call_me_Lily (Noir, T, 2044 words)
Steve has learned to keep his feelings in check over the course of his friendship with Tony, and he thinks he's doing fine. Until he and Tony open up a curios shop together, and suddenly things become a little too much. This is much harder than that time they'd had to share a sleeping bag while adventuring out in the desert.
Remix of gripping the ledge of unreason by firebrands
★ Holding You Like Every Moment Shared (The Every Whisper That I Keep Remix) by DepressingGreenie (MCU, G, 700 words)
There couldn’t be a better time, he thinks, to give Steve the gift he brought him a few weeks ago
Remix of every whisper that i keep by Padraigen
★ i choose: me, you, us by only_more_love (MCU, T, 2753 words)
In which Tony and Steve marry, but Tony hasn't let Steve see the arc reactor—and the scars around it. Yet.
Remix of Ugly by Lacrimula_Falsa
★ Intrusive Thoughtsby jellybeanforest (MCU, M, 2471 words)
When Steve is hit with a spell that gives him temporary telepathy, Tony figures he can hide his mortifying crush on the good Captain by thinking dirty thoughts featuring each of the Avengers in turn. After all, if he’s objectifying everyone, Steve will never figure out Tony is in love with him. That’s the theory anyway.
Remix of Before you jump, Tell me what you find (When you read my mind) by Fluffypanda
★ James, Divided by jellybeanforest (MCU, G, 1390 words)
Steve and Tony are dating. Their best friends, Bucky and Rhodey, agree it’s a terrible idea, absolutely disastrous, and can only end in heartbreak. That’s about the only thing they agree on.
Remix of I'll be watching by DepressingGreenie
★ journey to the past (the things my heart used to know remix) by hollyandvice (hiasobi_writes) (MCU, T, 2316 words)
"You seek to forget the past," she whispers. "You will learn how important the past can be." In which Tony loses his memories and only a remnant of his past can restore them.
Remix of things my heart used to know, things it yearns to remember by Fluffypanda
★ Public (In)Decencyby jellybeanforest (MCU, T, 1391 words)
Steve is a big, big boy, and Tony is dickmatized.
Remix of Pool Day by Neverever
★ Seven Minutes by jellybeanforest (MCU, T, 1795 words)
When Bonnie refuses her turn in the closet with a shrimpy Steve Rogers during a game of Seven Minutes in Heaven, popular lothario-in-training/class whore Tony Stark gladly takes her turn.
Remix of Seven Minutes in Heaven by Politzania
★ Shining through the leaves of the old oak tree (the blank spaces remix) by Fluffypanda (616, Not Rated, 717 words)
Tony falls asleep during movie night
Remix of Blank Spaces by only_more_love
★ Stretch Out Your Hand and Strike All He Has by jellybeanforest (MCU, M, 6902 words)
In the aftermath of Civil War, the Avengers who sided with Tony Stark leave him one by one, until it’s just him and Rhodey ('and Honeybear is paralyzed, so it’s not like he can run,' Tony thinks, a touch hysterically). Peter is fourteen; he doesn’t count. So, when Tony calls Steve Rogers to warn him about an impending attack and realizes that Steve still holds a torch for him, can anyone really blame Tony for exacting a little payback?
Remix of The Ruins of Babel by WhenasInSilks
★ Survivor by jellybeanforest (MCU, G, 3606 words)
In 1918, Steve’s father, Joseph Rogers, dies of the Spanish flu while serving in WWI. In 1936, Steve’s mother, Sarah Rogers, dies of tuberculosis while confined to a sanatorium after contracting the disease from her job as a nurse in a TB ward. In 2014, Steve’s boyfriend, Tony Stark, contracts the flu and quarantines himself in their room, refusing to be seen until he’s presentable and not a contagious, feverish snot-monster. Steve is worried but understanding as he tries to allay his own fears about Tony’s condition. It’s the future, after all. Modern medicine has made many advances in disease management. But then on a video call with Cap, stuffed up and miserable, Tony rather dramatically declares he’s on death’s doorstep. Needless to say, Steve Rogers, the unflappable Captain America, loses his shit.
Remix of (rest assured, baby) you're adored by sheron
★ Take a Breather by jellybeanforest (616, T, 363 words)
Steve needs a break from Tony. Tony joins him.
Remix of Tokens of Appreciation by Ironlawyer
★ Trust me (“Pickle” remix) by masterlokisev159 (Ults, M, 6167 words)
Tony happens to like Steve. He likes him a lot. And sure, Steve doesn't feel the same right now, but maybe with a bit of luck and some successful sessions in the bedrooms, Tony can turn this thing around. Maybe Steve can give him a chance. Remix of "Pickle" where instead of Steve wanting bondage, he doesn't. But he wants Tony to understand and bondage is involved.
Remix of Pickle by jellybeanforest
Don't forget to leave kudos and comments on the works you've enjoyed! You can either browse through the individual links above, or go through the Remix collections on AO3: ★ 2020 Captain America/Iron Man Remix Exchange ★ 2020 Captain America/Iron Man Relay Remix ★ 2020 Captain America/Iron Man Remix Madness And with that, we've wrapped up Captain America/Iron Man Remix 2020! Thank you to all of our participants, and we hope everyone had fun! Participants, feel free to share and crosspost your work! If you're posting your work onto Tumblr, please use the #capimremix tag among the first five tags of your post so we can spot it and reblog it to the community Tumblr.
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until-we-fall-in-love · 5 years ago
Text
fire meet gasoline
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Pairings: Carol Danvers x Reader
Summary: You kiss her, twine yourself around her as the cosmos of magenta and blue, of burning stars and planets and moons hang around you. The universe turns on, and it’s just you two against the entirety of the galaxy.
(Snapshots of the way in which you and Carol went from despising each other to falling in love).
Warnings: Light violence, swearing, light smut
If you are under 18 you should not be reading this!
A/N: hello!! i usually write bucky or steve x reader fics and absolutely no one asked for this but im a disaster bisexual hopelessly in love with carol danvers so here, have this one shot i did! there will probably be more in the future, especially if people end up enjoying this one! please let me know what you think of this :D
Read on Ao3
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You meet Carol Danvers on a planet far, far from your own home. The sky is violet and bruised magenta, a streak of vermilion, until it settles into a deeply, rich blue. Most of the planet is covered in glittering, shallow water that reflects the colors of the sky. As above, so below. Pockets of dry land, dips in the earth where the water grows deeper and deeper and you can no longer stand on two legs. You know not what lurks below. 
And you don’t think you want to find out. 
You’d been residing here for a few years now, living a simple life in a metal and wooden bungalow that is raised above the shimmering water. You protect the locals from time to time. But for the most part, you wanted to disappear. And so you had. 
Of course, when a threat comes to this measly planet, proclaiming their doctrines of overtaking it and the people, you know you’ll have to fight. You haven’t fought in a few years; haven’t used your powers in their entirety for just as long. But you can’t just run away, you just can’t turn away from this fight and find another barren, simple planet to live peacefully on for the rest of your days. Not this time. 
So you surge up, drawing from the inferno within you until you glitter and glow silver and white. You streak the sky with it, a blazing star, a shimmering dash. You were born from the inside of a star, cradled by the cosmos, made too-strong, too-hot, too destructive. You didn’t want to fight; but you would if you had to.
No one is prepared for your strength, the sudden power surge, least of all the one that’d come to colonize the planet. It takes you little time to blaze through him; he can’t even touch you without blisters coming away on his large, ugly hands. He may be twice your size, but you fly and zip around him, blasting him with white hot, starbursts until he is nothing but ash in the swirling, troubled water. 
You breathe hard. Tired. You haven’t used your powers like that in years. Your feet return to shallow water, touching down on the earth. And then out of nowhere, there’s a burst in the atmosphere. A comet streaks across the sky, twirling orange, gold, so hot it shudders blue. And it hurtles straight for you.
You raise your arms, go silver and hot and trembling with energy to brace for the impact. And when it hits, there’s a pulse on the planet, before it shutters and breaks, shattering into spindly crevices with the force of the collision. Your head spins and you and this comet go careening away from each other with the force of your combined powers. 
When you can get back up, you see her. And she is all supernova and bursting energy and danger. Reckless grin, fluttering hair, and shockingly strong. She’s the comet? You’ve never met anyone who could withstand that sort of energy surge from you—
“Heard there was a threat on this planet.” She comments, darting back up into the sky, shooting towards you as if you both didn’t nearly cleave the planet in half just moments ago. You shoot up in silver, glowing light to protect yourself. Evidently, she thinks you’re the threat, because she comes at you with a flaming fist.
And when she slams into you, it sends you hurtling into the water, which sizzles and smokes on impact. You stand, wiping your cheek which comes away with a drop of your blood; silver and glistening, like mercury. No one’s ever drawn blood on you before. You narrow your eyes at her. 
“Little late.” You hiss out, charging back up. “I took care of him.” 
She narrows her eyes now, too. And once more, with a raised fist, she arcs towards you. But this time, you’re ready.
You catch her flaming fist with a silver-furious hand of your own. 
She looks startled for a moment. Your energies push and burn against one another in white-hot, pulsing neon, blue, and flaming gold. You grit your teeth, look her in the eyes. What the fuck is she that she can take all this heat? All this power? She hasn’t even bat an eye. 
Her other fists comes up and you grab her wrist to stop her. No blisters on her. Immovable, unflinching. “Who are you?” You half growl, “I’ve never met anyone who could take this—“
And this annoying, attractive, smirk touches her lips, “Then meet your match, baby.” She croons, lays heavier into you with all that fury and power. You give an inch and she takes it fast and hot and hungry. And she keeps shoving, hard and rough against you until one of your knees gives out and you’re bracing her as she bares down above you. 
You draw inward, reach for all that you have inside of you. Your eyes go shocking silver, and you release a sudden, high-powered burst that flashes white and sends her flying backwards. 
That gobbles up your energy, though, and you have a harder time standing. You’re out of shape, really. Your muscles and body ache something awful, your head pulsing. Black spots dance in your vision for a moment, until you can get a few, deep lungfuls of air in.
 “I’m not your enemy,” You say again, “I already decimated him.” 
She’s looking at you strangely now, curiously, apprehensively. She hasn’t powered down yet, despite the fact that your glow winks out, like a darkened star. She’s consumed by flame, glowing, vibrating with such an electrifying energy that you think you’re dizzy with it. She’s a goddess, you think, she has to be. She wavers in your failing vision. 
“Then who are you?” She demands. 
You sigh. Weary and tired. 
“They used to call me Nova.” You say, before you let the darkness sweep in and consume you.
----------------------
When you wake, you are no longer on that little, watery planet that you’d made a makeshift home out of. You’re in a darkened ship, laying on this small, uncomfortable sort of bed that is attached to the wall. You blink, hazy, whole body fatigued. A part of you wants to let your eyes fall shut again, let sleep claim you once more, but you know it’s wise to force them open. To look around. 
You groan as you sit up, body protesting. Your vision swims for a moment, before it steadies and you catch the outline of someone in a pilot’s chair, sitting in front of a wide window that reveals the vastness of deep space. 
“You’re awake,” Says a vaguely familiar voice. It takes a moment to place, but when you do—
“Why did you take me?” You demand suddenly, fear rising quick and sharp inside of you. You try to stand and thank every star in the universe that she hasn’t bound you in some way. But your body betrays you, your knees buckle. 
She’s up in an instant, flipping the ship into autopilot. The girl that had slammed into you on your planet, all-powerful and stunning, comes to your side. No powers now. No slick suit with the star across her chest. She’s just in a white t-shirt, tucked into baggy, tactile pants. 
“Uh, because I saved you.” She replies, moving to grab you. 
You try to twist away, burning with a twinkling, pretty sort of glow that is all you can muster in your weakened state. It does nothing to your captor. But she does give you space, holding up her hands as if to show she means no harm. And when she looks you over with a slow roaming of her eyes, you feel your cheeks suddenly warm. 
“I already took care of the threat.” You snap, feeling defensive and hot. She’s looking too closely and you can’t read the look in her eyes. “Why did you take me?” 
“Yeah, I figured that out.” She replies, still studying you, “But you were in rough shape when you passed out. You needed care and none of the locals could touch you without being burned so…” 
“So you took me?” 
She rolls her eyes, “Well, yeah. I don’t have time to stay on that planet and I have the care you need.” She finally turns away from you and heads back towards the captain’s chair, all tense shoulders and irritation, “Don’t act like I chained you up. You’re free to go when you feel better.” And now she glances over her shoulder with raised, arrogant eyebrows, “Which, you don’t yet.” 
“I’m fine.” You snap, even though you contradict yourself by wobbling backwards, back onto the bed. Your glow stutters, then disappears. 
She scoffs and it makes you bristle, but an uncomfortable, prickly sort of silence overcomes the ship. She resumes her place as captain, to flying the ship. She’s right. You know it. She knows it. You hate it. 
“Who are you, anyways?” You finally ask, quieter, a little resigned. 
For a moment, you think she’s going to ignore you. But then she glances over her shoulder again, “They call me Captain Marvel.” And she turns back to face the swirling cosmos right outside the ship. You can see her reflection in the glass, shimmering and distant, “But you can just call me Carol.” 
You worry your bottom lip between your teeth as you take her admittance in and then, you surprise yourself by offering up your own, human name, too. Not Nova, not the alias they gave you, but the one given to you by parents in a mundane sort of way. The one you have not given anyone since disappearing into space. 
“Human?” You ask and you catch the slight smirk on her lips. 
“Technically, I guess.” And then, “Are you?” 
“Technically.” 
And her smirk grows more into a slow, pretty smile.
------------------------
You fall asleep again, lulled by the hum of the ship, dragged down by your fatigue and weakness. When you wake again later, Carol is still sitting in the captain’s chair, but she’s dozing off now, too. You blink and realize she’s given up the only bed on board the ship to you. 
You sit up again and your head still pounds, but you don’t feel nearly as tired as you did earlier. But you could use food, water, anything to get some of your energy back. Shakily, you stand once more, in search of food. You dig through cupboards and drawers and manage to come up with a granola bar and a half eaten bag of trail mix. Earth food. Human food that you haven’t seen in years. 
She wakes to the sound of the crinkling wrapper. You expect her to snap something out, but instead, she seems almost pleased. In fact, she even adds, “We’re stopping for fuel and food soon.” 
You chew around the (stale) granola bar, swallowing down a chunk of it. “Okay,” You say, and then, “You can just leave me on this next planet.” 
She stands, moves to dig into the bag of trail mix that rests beside you on the bed once more. “You’re feelin’ better already?” Then she presses, “And you don’t even care what planet it is?”
You shrug slightly, “I’ll find somewhere to settle. I don’t need your help any longer.” 
She gives you a look, popping a few peanuts and chocolate chips into her mouth. “You don’t have to be so stubborn, ya know. You can stay. It’s nothing to me.” 
And for some reason, this irritates you. Perhaps it’s the insinuation that she believes you still need her help. You don’t. And quite frankly, you wouldn’t have needed her in the first place if she hadn’t crashed into you like a reckless meteorite pretending she was some righteous savior to the planet you’d been on. 
“I’m leaving on the next planet.” You declare and there is no room for argument in your tone. 
But Carol, nevertheless, argues you. Suddenly and seemingly out of nowhere, she snaps, “What are you running from?” 
Your eyebrows hitch upwards, “Excuse me?” 
“You heard me.” And her eyes glow in that ethereal way. She buzzes with energy and emotion. “You’re wicked strong and you’re just going to reside on some nowhere planet? Acting like you don’t know how to fight? Acting like you belong in all these mundane—“ 
“Oh you come hurtling out of the air like some savior and think you know anything about me?” You burst, rippling with your own energy now. You’re still weak but you’re getting stronger. 
“I know you’re wasting your powers on doing nothing.” She fires back, all heat and power and dominance. 
“Oh, spare me the righteous hero speech, Captain Marvel.” 
“Why? Does it make you feel guilty for being passive, Nova?” 
The sudden, sharp and hot burst of energy comes from you. Hits her directly in the chest. She doesn’t even move. But she gets all fired up around her hands, fists great balls of energy. 
“You wanna go again?” She taunts, too cocky for her own good. You know you wouldn’t win this one, not when you’re still exhausted. Not when you’re so out of shape. But fuck she makes you see red. 
“You want me to destroy your ship?” You shoot back, glowing bright and glittering again. 
“I’ll get a new ship.” 
And you surge suddenly, anger blinding you, seizing you. You go crashing through the side of the ship together, wall crumbling under the impact and the pressure of deep space. It sucks you both out, sharp and fast into the twirling, void of the universe. You shimmer into your abilities, try and right yourself, breathe deep with the protection of your powers. 
Carol glows orange and gold, flickers light blue and purple. Like too-hot flames. Gold to your silver. You both level each other with a look, fists glowing, eyes gleaming sharp and hungry and angry. You realize, faintly, that she’s the only person you’ve ever met that could fly off into deep space with you, in the stars, in the middle of the universe. 
Maybe she realizes it, too. 
But you surge with all that you have, humming, shooting towards her like a star. 
She blasts you with all that power and it slows you, but you use all that you have in you to get to her. And you go tumbling through the air, through magenta and blue and vastness. You fight with everything you have, until you’re both wrestling, streaking through space in a twirl of glowing colors and energy. There’s almost no art anymore, just fists and raw energy. 
A planet, looming and big rests not far from you both. The atmosphere threatens to tug you both into gravity as you fight. You glow bright and hot, realize you must be putting on some spectacular light show for the poor souls that reside on the planet beneath you. 
You don’t have much left in you. Too exhausted. She hits you a little too hard, slick silver blood dripping down your nose and curling into floating space. And you wink out, eyes fluttering, and drop like a stone into the planet’s atmosphere, into gravity. Air rushes in your ears as you fall, heart swooping low. You black out.
Carol shoots for you, fast, and with everything she has. She breaks the upper atmosphere too fast, a loud pop faintly echoing in your ears. But she catches you, swoops fast and quick until you’ve collided, reckless and hard. 
But she’s got you, she’s got you, she tells you. 
I’ve got you, I’ve got you, I shouldn’t have done that— But I’ve got you now.
Your eyes flutter against your cheeks, glancing up at her, watching her face; beautiful and strong, furrowed brows, concern tracing the edges. Your head lolls, tucking into her neck, against her collar bones. She holds you tighter, gliding through the air until she touches ground.
You let darkness sweep in again, feeling a little too safe in her arms.
-----------------------------
You end up at some random, dirty bar on some random, scrap planet that had sucked you into its orbit when you fell. You see that she has a split lip from you— she bleeds blue. Bright, like her attitude, and you come to find, her laugh. Just like you bleed silver. Technically human, you suppose. 
You both eat your weight’s worth in gross, greasy, intergalactic food. You don’t know why you haven’t left her yet. Maybe because she paid for your meal and your drinks. 
And because she’d said, around food, all obnoxious and unladylike, “I’d kill for a burger instead of this shit.” 
A surprised, hollow laugh rasps out of you. And for once you agree, “Yeah. Me too.” 
She smiles, real wide, lopsided and confident. 
Her lip splits open all over again and now you really laugh.
---------------------------
You stay with her for the next few days, regaining your strength. You get another ship. But you vow you’ll leave her soon. She still gives up the one bed to you every night. You bicker over the slightest issues. 
You’d learned that she traverses around the galaxy, searching to aid planets and people and anyone that needs her. She gives all she has to this galaxy and you swear that if you liked her more, it’d be something you’d really love about her. 
But as it stands, you hate each other. Though sometimes you think you just like seeing her angry. Sometimes you think she likes seeing you angry. You both crackle with tension, being pulled too taunt and wound too tight.
You can’t help but wonder what’s going to happen when you both snap—
Regardless, you learn more about her, too. 
Carol Danvers. She was a pilot on Earth. She has this pager— it’s real fucking important to her. The one time you’d touched it, she’d grown furious and had snarled out something about never touching that and mind your own business. 
But later, when she’d cooled off and curled up in her pilot seat, and you in the bed, she’d admitted it was from a close friend of hers; emergencies only. Only if the Earth was in shambles or something. He’s never used it since she left, she says to you, voice rough and drowsy. 
“And I kinda hope he never needs to.” She tells you soft, eyes heavy and hair mussed. 
“Do you want to go back?” You don’t know where the question comes from, but you murmur it to her. 
She hums in thought and your heart flutters because she looks so soft for once, like she’d be warm and gentle and sleepy if you curled up in her lap—
“One day. Not for that, though.” She decides, “But one day.” 
The question of when, when would you ever stop? Hangs in the air. How long can she give all of herself, her time, her energy to all of the galaxy? 
You can’t fix everything, you almost want to say, when will you rest? 
But you have an odd, prickly sort of feeling she wouldn’t rest until she was dead. A pang hits your heart, for some reason. You swallow. 
“Would you ever go back?” Carol asks, soft and hazy in the darkness.
You let out a slow breath; it’s never crossed your mind. But you answer, “I have nothing left there.” 
She doesn’t push you for once, just looks at you, until her eyes grow too heavy and her lashes flutter and you watch her fall asleep. Her hair falls into her face, golden and silk, and you have an urge to brush it away. 
But instead you turn over in your bed, notice the pager that sits across from you on a counter beside her uniform. It lays heavy there, burrows it’s way into your mind. You don’t know why, only that it brings a sense of dread to you. It’s inevitable, your drowsy, half-thoughts whisper as you drift off. 
As if you know, that one day, she’ll need it. And she’ll go back.
————————————————
Weeks go by and you find yourself still with Carol. You don’t know why you’ve stayed, don’t know why she hasn’t forced you to leave. 
You act like you both despise each other. More enemies than friends. And yet— and yet you both stay together.
You argue and scream and bicker as if you were both made for it; you’re both combustible, volatile. The tiniest things set you both off, snapping and sparking, crackling like lightning. And yet you don’t leave. And yet she doesn’t want you to leave. 
You also never fear hurting each other. There’s no power imbalance, even if Carol likes to act all tough and dominant. There is a semblance of balance to one another. Where Carol is reckless and lopsided smirks, you’re level-headed for her. Gold to your silver. 
And when she catches word of another planet that needs her help, you join her. For the first time since knowing her, you fight beside her and not against her. Working together, it takes you only an hour to wipe out an invading army and their leader. You both fought hard and have the wounds and dirt to show for it. 
But you look at her from across a battlefield and think you’ve never seen anyone so fucking remarkable. 
She smiles at you, bright and too-confident. Roguish. 
“I killed more than you.” She taunts, stalking towards you, because everything’s a fucking competition between you two. 
You stay rooted in place, “Don’t lie to yourself, Danvers.” You quip back, find your own smile coming to your lips. 
You expect her to stop in front of you, you expect another teasing remark about how she’s better or stronger or how hot she looked taking down all those aliens. She’s covered in their blood, eyes fever bright and shining in the darkness of the planet. But she keeps going, until she collides with you.
And her lips collide with yours. 
She kisses you hard and pressing, dominant and overwhelming. For once, you give in to her. And she half snarls against your lips when she feels you kiss back, when your arms tighten around her neck, pull her closer. 
You barely disconnect from her to get back to the ship, to slam the door behind you both and get back up into space. When it’s safely on autopilot, she just about pounces on you again, teeth clicking together with the force of her kiss. She starts shucking off your uniform, near tearing it in her eagerness. 
It’s overwhelming. It makes heat bloom low and hungry inside of you. She’s everything and she tastes like— 
She tastes like battle and sharp, bubbling energy. You bite her lip and she groans, attacks you in another kiss.
“Shower,” You gasp into her mouth as she fists a hand into your tangled hair, “We need showers.” 
She shoves you into the small shower without preamble. The rest of both your clothes come off, are tossed aside and forgotten about as you fiddle behind you for the shower handle. Water sputters to life, raining down from the nozzle above your heads. It turns your kisses slick and wet. And she doesn’t slow, doesn’t let up on you, fingers grasping you and making you gasp and whine. 
“Thought about this since I fucking met you,” She says, heated and soft against your neck. Her hand dips low, at the apex of your thighs. And she groans when her fingers find home. “And you’re so eager, baby.” She teases, fingers gliding through you, making your breath come in short and sharp. Her smirk becomes crooked against the line of your neck.
“Don’t get cocky--” You gasp, but she slides inside you, cutting you off; drags a whimper out of you, eyes fluttering, in a way that makes you embarrassed and blush hard. 
“What was that?” She coos all soft and a little mocking, knowing she has you in any way she wants. It’s infuriating and hot. You hate her and you love her all at once. 
“Carol,” You groan, half-beg, head knocking against the wall of the shower as you let it fall back. 
“Say please.” She sings, playing you, stroking you, making you see stars. 
“I’m not begging you,” You respond stubbornly, almost rolling your eyes, finger nails digging into her shoulders in retribution. 
She slows her movements to a far too languid and displeasing pace, makes you grit your teeth and try to pull her closer, try to urge her on. “Come on, baby— magic words, and I’ll do what you want.” She nearly purrs, too-smug, nipping at your ear, the line of your jaw. 
You swear Carol Danvers is going to be the death of you. You groan again, desperate. Your hips start rocking against her fingers and she reaches with her other hand to hold you in place against the wall. You squirm, try and buck her off but she’s strong. And you feel a little helpless, a little wild with her. 
“Please—“ You suddenly cry, “Please, fuck, Carol, this isn’t fair.” 
She gives you what you want, what you need. And you burst, shattering for her, feeling as if you’re being torn in two and forged together all in one. You cry out, gripping her too tight, too hard. But it doesn’t hurt her, you don’t burn her; it just makes her hum, low and appreciative of you.
 “That’s it,” She murmurs, all smug and proud, “Good girl.” She praises and you keen, not missing the smirk, the gleam in her eyes as she begins to figure out just how to unravel you.
---------------------------
Months fly past. Years. You and Carol are near inseparable. The occasional, notoriously bad or heated outbursts sends you off on your own for awhile, but you always return to her. And she to you. She’s your north star, your home, your everything. It’s you two against the entirety of the galaxy. Your equal in every way. You both burn too-hot, have always been too-much, never knew you just needed someone who could handle the inferno inside of you. 
And Carol’s always an eager lover, too teasing, too arrogant for her own good. She’s all stamina and dominance. She likes seeing you go soft and glowy against her. 
“I made you come more.” She says against your cheek, because everything is a fucking competition between you two. You make sure to challenge that, slide down her body to where she’s most sensitive until she’s twisting and pulling at your hair and falling apart against your mouth. Carol buzzes with photon energy, shimmering and warm against you. 
Carol likes to wake you in the middle of the night, too; touch with slow, rough hands and roll you onto your stomach. She twists a hand in your hair and coos praises in your ear. You glitter silver for her, like a star in the darkness, soft and dazzling. 
“So pretty,” She tells you, “So good, baby.” All awash with awe and tenderness for you. 
There’s never any need to hold back with her, no need to worry about burns or injuries. You can give all to her and she takes it, greedily, happily.
-------------------------------
Sometimes you dance in the stars, leave the ship and streak across the cosmos that swirl around you both. You twine and twirl, racing, and tackling each other in the air. She collides with you, laughter on her lips, energies pushing and molding, ebbing and flowing against one another. You can feel her. Not just her body, but the energy that consumers her. Soul deep, searing across your heart hard and reckless.
You kiss her, twine yourself around her as the cosmos of magenta and blue, of burning stars and planets and moons hang around you. The universe turns on, and it’s just you two against the entirety of the galaxy.
-----------------------------
You lay on her chest one night, head tucked into her neck. Her fingers run through your hair slow and tender, twirling the strands around a nimble finger. You push a hand up the plain t-shirt she has on, run a hand along the boxers she wears to bed. Your lips mouth at her collar bone—
A beeping begins to go off, resounding and echoing throughout the ship. Carol freezes. And then suddenly sits up, forcing you to move off of her. 
She mutters a curse and you can practically see her heart drop. Her face goes pail. 
“What is it?” You ask, suddenly worried. 
She rummages around for a moment, before picking up the pager that she’s always had. Since you met her. The one that had always rested in the back of your mind; somehow knowing, knowing this day would come. Your worst fear. But she looks at it now, worry crumpling her features.
“What is it?” You ask again anyways, voice going tight. Whatever bubble you’ve been living in with her seems to shatter to you, and perhaps you can hear the ringing of the glass breaking. 
“I need to get to Earth.” She says, decisive, quick. You knew this answer before she’d even said it. Dread had settled inside of you the moment she’d picked it up. It still makes your heart drop, though. 
“Do you want me to come?” You ask, suddenly nervous. You don’t want to be without her, nor do you want to go back to Earth. You haven’t been there in—
“No.” She shakes her head, already moving to put on her uniform. “No. Not yet.” 
For some reason, tears prick your eyes. You swallow hard to keep them down. Earth is so far, nowhere on your radar. And her denial of you, the no rings around in your chest. Why? You want to demand. Why not? 
It’s all happening so fast, like whiplash, and you shimmer with your own emotions suddenly. You want to argue, to push back against her. 
But the distress on Carol’s face forces you to hold your tongue. So you move, help her get ready quietly, delicately. You dress her with the same hands you have undressed her with for all of these years. You tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear, try and commit her to your memory now, as she stands before you; all Captain Marvel. 
“I’ll be in touch.” She promises, suddenly kisses you hard. It feels too much like a goodbye for some reason and a tear of yours slips out before you can stop it, chest aching as if it might cleave open like some black void and swallow you whole. 
You nod. Once. Try and get your emotions in check. Carol’s eyes go soft, she brushes the tear away with her thumb, delicate. 
As if you sense the kind of danger she’s barreling into you, you whisper, “Come back to me.” 
Her brows furrow but she kisses you again, deep and hard and promising. You don’t want to let her go. But you do, you do.
“I will.” She vows, grabbing the back of your neck, possessive, desperate, and pressing her forehead to yours for a heartbeat. She squeezes her eyes shut, as if she’s trying to be strong, too. And then she steps away.
She opens the hangar of the ship, flares into shimmering flame and energy. 
“Kick some ass, Danvers.” You say around the lump in your throat. Force a brave smile for her. 
She looks back at you, and smiles that smile you hate and love all at once; crooked and roguish and arrogant. You try and burn it to your memory. 
“Stay outta trouble while I’m gone.” She tells you, then adding, smile turning sad, “I’ll be back before you know it, baby.” 
“I love you,” You tell her, heart aching, shimmering silver to her gold. 
“I love you, too.” She says, eyes glistening. 
And you watch as she takes off into the cosmos, as she leaves you with the empty, humming ship. You press your hand to the window, watch as she streaks across the sky; all supernova and bursting energy.
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