#pre double life boat boys i love you

[ethosiab]

Me thinks a RED joel pretty please?

i know his lack of recklessness lately is like, important character development and all but i do miss 3rd life joel. he just went for it and died. rip

(vote boat boys and ill draw something for you)

[oneatlatime]

Journey to Ba Sing Se, Part 1: The Serpent's Pass

Alternate title: Gimme Appa Back, Take Two.

Bit of a mouthful for a title. I will definitely be watching this apparent two parter as two single episodes. There's commentary too, but that'll wait for a rewatch.

The previously on segment seems to point to Suki making an appearance. I didn't like her in her original episode, so this bodes ill.

That was incredibly ominous title card music.

Explain this to someone who's never seen the show. Also, air mattress made of ice is a very efficient way to get hypothermia.

Sokka saying "no more distractions' actually summoned a distraction. He should look into harnessing that power.

This brings up a point I've been thinking about. So the Earth Kingdom are smart enough to house refugee transportation underground, presumably because they've figured out that fire can't dig. So why didn't the entire population of the Earth Kingdom just become mole people at the first sign of fire nation attack?

Get yourself Iroh's brand of chill. It's dearly bought in his case, but he has such a good way of looking at life. Also, half of Zuko's face is like an inch higher than the other half, and that haircut is not doing him any favours.

Oh god it's fuckboy. I'd take a million Sukis over fuckboy. Nice to see that the majority of his posse seems to have come to their senses and deserted him though.

CABBAGE GUY!!! HI CABBAGE GUY!!! I MISSED YOU!!!

She's got a point about destruction of the ecosystem, but unless there was woodworm in that cart, that platypus bear is guilty of needless destruction of cabbage guy's possessions.

I loved this. The double punch of getting stymied by bureaucracy and undermined by cosplayers. There are some wacky ideas in this episode.

Aang! You may have lost Appa but you still have your glider! You don't need a passport or a ticket! Just fly to Ba Sing Se and make puppy dog eyes at the Earth King to make him send a boat to collect your friends!

You know that part in Harry Potter where Ron and Harry miss the train and decide the only logical course of action is to steal a flying car rather than, I don't know, wait for a responsible adult? I have a feeling this show is going to do the same type of thing with the whole Serpent's Pass. And I have to say, it's a brilliantly accurate way to do a plot that involves pre-teens, because they will often reach for the most out-there, illogical course of action no matter their intelligence. Curse those still-developing neural pathways. It also makes perfect sense in a kids' show, where the audience mostly wouldn't be caught dead turning down an adventure in favour of asking a responsible party (or a bureaucracy) for help.

"It is your pleasure" Get wrecked bitch!

I love seeing Toph weaponise that which previously kept her caged. I love to see Toph winning at life. Actually, I love to see Toph.

Get yourself some friends who'll commit to the bit no questions asked like these guys.

Get yourself a man who says your name the way Sokka says SUKI!!!:D Get yourself a girl who's so into you, she'll flirt with you in front of your entire found family.

Momo knows what's up. He's a good judge of character.

It's rare for me to advocate for criminal behaviour on this show, but after that bureaucracy lady denied them any sort of solution for the refugees who got their tickets stolen, I was kind of hoping that Katara would just say 'fuck it' and steal one of those ferries. Or even smuggle people on to them. They've got two waterbenders; they could make ice boats to take them out to the ferry, or even across the whole lake presumably. Plot dictates they go face this serpent thing, because this appears to be a monster of the week episode, but boy did that ferry lady need smacking.

Sokka's acting funky.

Is corniness one of the side effects of pregnancy?

No one in their right minds thinks that a pass called "the SERPENT'S Pass" in a universe like this one is named for its aesthetic qualities. Nice try at misdirection, but there will be a Sneky Boy in that water.

Aang's kind of right about the whole 'hope is a distraction' thing. Hope can too easily go from fuel to crutch.

It didn't occur to anyone to hide from the Fire Nation ship until it passed?

Toph's just saving everyone's bacon today huh?

Am I sensing some post-Yue trauma?

I would love to know the context behind Zuko knowing this very niche skill.

Jet has this fascinating ability to do objectively good deeds in such a sleezy way that you end up siding with the greedy oppressors. Weird.

This makes so much sense. Aang zipped into the Avatar State so hard and fast in the desert that he probably scared himself, so now he's keeping a lid on things so hard that he's scaring everyone else with his newfound apathy. He's 12, and this episode he feels 12. This is probably the first time he's met emotions this big; of course he doesn't quite know what to do with them.

You know, Katara doesn't get paid enough to put up with this.

Suki. Honey. I'm pretty sure there's a girl code about not flirting with a guy in front of his ex.

Has Suki been filled in on the whole moon thing? Or is she just really confused right now?

You know, Smellerbee is just as unusual a name for a girl.

Jet talks the talk, but I don't believe he'll be able to walk the walk, despite second chances being one of the big themes of this show. Something about him still feels off.

Hope you guys can swim!

Katara to the rescue again. I'm liking this new level-headed action-oriented Katara that appeared in The Desert, and I'm glad she wasn't just a one-episode character.

Momo here fulfilling one of my childhood dreams. There was an aquarium room at my local zoo that had a tunnel you could walk through. Seven year old me would have sold my soul to be able to glorp through the glass and swim with the fishes like this.

Once again, Toph saves the day. She's doing a lot of heavy lifting this episode.

Big Sneky Boy has the colour palette of an exercise video from the 80s aerobics phase. Kind of detracts from the terror when he's wearing a leotard.

Number one sign of irresponsible pet ownership: sacrificing your lemur to Cthulhu.

Aang just bitchslapped Big Sneky Boy.

Why didn't they go with a big ice bridge in the first place?

Yeah that's a problem. Could she make rock skate blades and attach them to her feet maybe? Would that help her see?

Guys. Just. Send someone out there for her. The ice doesn't have handrails. Come on.

Suki can swim in like half a tonne of armour. I bet they have swimming with armour on drills on Kyoshi Island.

"You can go ahead and let me drown now." That is EXACTLY my sense of humour.

Unlike goldfish, Big Sneky Boys can be flushed down the toilet.

"Now it's nothing but smooth sailing to Ba Sing Se." *Something immediately goes wrong* Has Sokka thought about harnessing his ability to speak things into existence?

Tragically, it makes perfect sense that Katara knows exactly how to deliver real human things.

"You know, as soon as I saw your scar I knew exactly who you were." Jet's little speech here got the biggest laugh out of me yet. I had to pause so I wouldn't miss dialogue. He's so deliciously wrong.

This episode's Beat Up Sokka quota is fulfilled by a baby that has yet to be born.

"I want our daughter's name to be unique" TAKE COVER FOLKS! UNNECESSARY VOWELS INCOMING!

Didn't you guys just nearly get killled by a pass that told you to abandon Hope? Are you sure about that name?

Ok it isn't pregnancy that makes you corny. It's being a character in this episode. While I'm glad to see the back of Stoic Aang, this is getting to be a bit on the cheesy side.

Hell yeah Katara deserves that cry. And that hug.

I'm watching this at my mom's house and I need to report that when Sokka said "You came along, to protect me?" my mom audibly went "awww!"

On a more serious note, this is exactly what Sokka needs after the Yue situation. A badass girlfriend who not only can and does take care of herself, but who also can and does take care of Sokka. Boy needs some pampering.

That is one hell of a wall.

That is one hell of a Big Sneky Boy.

"Appa's gonna have to wait" hit like a tonne of bricks. Another step in the journey to turn Aang from carefree monk to repsonsible Avatar. Appa having to wait is a genius story beat, but I want Appa NOW.

Final Thoughts

I had to check out my window for flying pigs before I started typing this section, because Zuko was consistently the most reasonable character in the B plot, perhaps in the whole episode. Apparently the 'make Zuko decent' project is finally seeing results. Have we turned over a new leaf? Dare I hope? It helps that he was juxtaposed with one of the single most batshit crazy characters from season one, but still.

I also need to issue a formal apology to Suki and all of her fans. I didn't like her in The Warriors of Kyoshi, and while I'm still not overly fond of that episode, I love what they've done with her character here. A good standalone character with her own strengths, goals, and responsibilities, and a good match for Sokka. I'd go so far as to say she's a better match for Sokka than Yue was, for all that both ladies have a startling amount in common: a position of responsibility, devotion to those who regard them as a leader, good taste in water tribe ass, etc.

I'm also going to hypothesise that Sokka is, in universe, the hottest member of the Gang. He's now had four girls expressing their interest: Suki, then Yue, then Azula's pokey pink friend whose name currently escapes me, and now Toph too! And she can't even see him, so his hotness is more than skin deep.

This episode was another stealth character episode in the style of The Blue Spirit. You think it's an action episode but it's actually character work with some fights for spice. It's got: -payoff for Katara's new-found levelheadedness -the other side of the coin on Aang's desert freakout -Toph doing just ALL the heavy lifting in the absence of Appa (seriously, teach her to fly and you won't need Appa as anything but a friendly couch) -Toph also getting an incredibly logical weakness that she learns she can rely on her friends to surmount -Sokka getting some Yue resolution from a frankly ironic source -Zuko getting what I'm sure is going to turn into a dark mirror

Speaking of fuckboy, there was nothing in this episode that hinted that Jet's turn to good was anything but genuine, but something about him still really makes my teeth itch. So I'm calling it now: based not on any evidence, but entirely on my own feelings, Jet's turn to good isn't going to stick.

There was some corny stuff in this episode, but it's a kids' show. It gets way more allowance for corny than an adult show does. I'll let it slide, so long as it doesn't become a habit.

This was part one of a two part episode, but it certainly didn't feel that way. There was the Big Metal Sneky Boy plot hook at the very end, but other than that it was a self-contained story.

I had predicted last episode that the rest of season two would be spent getting to Ba Sing Se, and they did it in one episode. So I'd like to announce my retirement from predicting the future because I am not good at it. I have no idea where we're going beyond next episode. I guess I'll have fun finding out!

[tomtenadia]

Island Dreams - Chapter 19

Good evening, afternoon, morning to everyone and welcome to chapter 19.

I have a few notes before letting you to the chapter. Rowan and Aelin finally attend Heb Celt. Heb Celt is this wonderful festival held in Stornoway each year (non covid years) and it's all about Scottish and Celtic music. It's big and it's amazing. That's where they are. I mentioned some groups. Peat and Diesel have been mentioned before in the fic. The new ones are Skerryvore and Skipinnish. they do some amazing music and I highly recommend it if you want to try some Scottish bands. They also sing in Gaelic. The song from Skerryvore that Aelin sing is called You and I. Awesome stuff.

Half way through you will notice Elide and Lorcan appearing in the fic. I tried to keep Lorcan IC as much as i could. not an easy task. I had to give them modern world jobs so Lorcan in my head is perfect for a rugby player. He is the Captain of the Glasgow warriors. They are a real team in Glasgow. The boys also mention the Six Nations. This is a wonderful competition that if you are in Europe you might have heard of. It happens every year and it has 6 teams competing: Scotland (YAY), Italy (YAY - I am Italian... imagine my pain on a Sco vs Ita game), Wales, Ireland and France. I love this competition and it's going to start this weekend. Rowan and Lorcan joke about England and Scotland. Although England wins most of the times (grrrrr) a few years back Scotland actually won and it almost became a new national day after St Andrews. I am not joking. Rugby is a big thing in Scotland.

Two Gaelic phrases: -Tha Gàidhlig agam cuideachd: I speak Gaelic too -Tha beagan Gàidhlig agam. I speak little Gaelic.

Quick update as well about the fic. Most of the chapters have some big chunks written. But there are two important chapters: 22 - something big happens. I wrote the main important part 5 times already and probably re write another five before i publish it. It involves something I don't usually write and I am really nervous. So finger crossed.

26: this will be the last chapter (there's an epilogue as well) and again I have written the main event. There is so much fluff that it's probably not healthy :)

So, after this massive introduction I can let you go and enjoy (hopefully) the chapter.

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Aelin had woken up before Rowan that morning. It was finally mid July and it was Heb Celt day and she was super excited. The festival would run for three days but they had chosen the one with the most of their favourite artists. Plus Rowan had tickets for Peat and Diesel and they could not miss them. She rolled out of bed and went to the kitchen. That morning it was her turn for once to prepare breakfast. Rowan had taught her enough for her to make breakfast safely without burning the house down. It was a special day and she was going to make eggs and bacon, the only concession Rowan would make in his perfect diet. Once a week they could treat themselves to a non healthy breakfast. She prepared the coffee, sliced some bread for the toaster and started frying the bacon in one pan and getting the eggs ready as well. She felt good, she could make breakfast for Rowan for once. She was almost done when she felt his arms around her waist and a soft kiss behind her ear. “It smells lovely.”

“It’s a special day today so we are having our special breakfast.” She told him while finishing ti prepare the eggs. She was very proud of her job. “I’ll set the table.” He added and moved away and she missed his arms. “So, the main event is tonight at seven.” She said passing him the plates with food “I had a look at some events and it seems there is enough for us to fill up the entire day.” “You have done a good job,” he commented taking a bite of the food she had prepared for him. She tasted it as well and found it edible. Well, at least she was not going to poison them and he seemed satisfied. “Look at you.” He pulled her to him, and Aelin sat on his lap. She grabbed her plate and finished her breakfast with one of his arms around her. She was really loving it living with him. It had taken her a little while to adjust to his way of life but she had realised that living with him was quite easy. They had their little fights but he seemed to hate to hold grudges for too long so every time they had fixed their issues quite quickly. The two of them ate in silence for a moment “This is good, Fireheart.” And he polished off his plate. “I had a good teacher.” She stood and Rowan noticed that she was only wearing a large t-shirt, his t-shirt, and under it he could very barely notice her underwear. He grabbed her and pulled her back on his lap and she straddled him. His hands landed on her butt and she kissed him. “You really love teasing me, don’t you?” “It’s fun.” He looked at her in a weird way “Sure, torturing a poor man like that.” She got up again and took all the plates to the sink and she walked swaying her hips on purpose. Rowan almost howled at the sight. She started washing the dishes and at the same time she began dancing and singing and that’s the way we do it, the way we do it in the Western Isles. Rowan laughed and helped her. She washed and he dried them. She kept singing and bumped her hips into his and the two started dancing together. Once they were done Aelin went to her old room to get changed. She wore a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. Then she braided her hair and tied a colourful bandana to her head. She prepared her backpack and she was ready to go. Once out, Rowan was waiting for her. He had blue shorts a grey t-shirt and on top of it a blue shirt with short sleeves and his sunglasses on top of his head. Aelin took a photo of him “so sexy.” He raised an eyebrow at her comment “I am not—“ “Shh…” she said placing a finger on his lips “I am your girlfriend and I am the one to judge.” He bit her finger in reply. “Fine, fine.” He grabbed her hand “Come on, I have a surprise for you.” Her face lit up and he could spend an entire day staring at her smiling at him. It was such a beautiful sight. They left the house and began their walk all the way to the harbour and Aelin was getting curious about their destination. They reached a small house down at the pier and Rowan pulled her toward the small group of people gathered. Aelin noticed another couple and a woman on her own. She was quite intent in studying the couple. The woman was quite petite with black hair and black eyes as well and she had a very bright smile. The man was almost the opposite. He was tall, Aelin suspected even taller than Rowan, something she could not believe it was possible. He had a thick muscular build with long dark hair and same for his eyes. But where she exuded a friendly attitude, he seemed to scowl even at the stones. “Is this part of the festival?” Wondering about his plan. “In a manner.” He explained quite vaguely “It’s just a pre festival fun.” Sure, now it was clear, thought Aelin, none the wiser. Rowan left her side for a moment and she noticed him talking with a man who, from the way he was dressed seemed to be a crew member on a boat. Rowan looked relaxed and Aelin suspected the two were friends. And with sadness she realised she had never met any of Rowan’s friend and he did not seem to mention any of them. “Ready for an adventure?” He told her once he came back, carrying two lifejackets. Aelin stared at him and then he pointed at the small rib boat and he gave her a huge grin. “I know one of crew members, Callum,” and he pointed at the man he was talking to. We used to dive together. I asked him if he could save us two seats for this morning. It’s a gorgeous day and a boat trip seems like the best way to spend the morning.” “You are a very resourceful man, Rowan Whitethorn.” She tiptoed on her feet and kissed his nose. One of the crew member walked around distributing lifejackets and explained the basic health and safety measures. Aelin wore her vest and Rowan double checked it was up to his standards. Once he was happy that the jacket was safely on he helped her to get on the rib. The brunette girl who was part of the couple sat beside her giving her a wide smile full of excitement that probably mirrored Aelin’s. “I am Elide.” The woman introduced herself and Aelin took her hand. “I am Aelin.” She smiled back “Are you here for the festival too?” She had a feeling they were tourists. “Yes,” she replied excited “Lorcan and I come every year. We love it.” Then she turned to the man at her side “This is Lorcan by the way. Don’t worry he does not bite. That is just his regular face” and the man grunted in reply. Aelin laughed. The man seemed to be mad at the world. She turned to introduce Rowan to the couple, but she noticed he was still on the pier chatting away with one of the crew members. “The tall guy on the pier with the blue shirt? My boyfriend, Rowan.” Elide’s gaze took in Rowan and Aelin smiled wickedly at the woman’s stare of understanding. “Did you come here for the festival too?” “Oh, Rowan and I live here. He is the local, I moved her a few months ago.” “Nice,” said the woman. Aelin liked her already, she had a very bubbly personality. “Lorcan and I live in Glasgow.” “I never been there but Rowan did uni there..” “You should come and visit. It’s quite a fantastic city. So alive.” Rowan finally returned and sat down beside Aelin “nice chat?” “Yeah, I haven’t seen him in ages. I knew he had opened a boat tours business but I never had the chance to come and say hi. We were just discussing some ideas for possible diving adventures.” She caressed his head and realised that there was still so much she did not know about him. Some days he still felt like a huge mystery, but still, she was madly in love with him and she was looking to find out more about him day by day. “I made a friend by the way,” and she pointed at the woman at her side “This is Elide. She and her boyfriend Lorcan are here for the festival too.” Rowan extended his hand and then he and Lorcan exchanged a manly nod and both women rolled their eyes. Rowan fussed over her again and double checked one more time that her lifejacket was fitted and tied properly, when the rib boat started to move. His hand reached behind her back and he leaned comfortably against the side of the boat and closed his eyes, letting the sun kiss his face. Aelin and Elide on the other hand, were taking photos and chatting away happily pointing at all the points of interest. The boat glided on the water and Aelin leaned back against Rowan, taking in the scenery in front of her. She had explored all of that during her adventures, but seeing it from the water was a completely different experience. “Thank you for this.” She said to him. “Hopefully we will see some wildlife.” He added “Callum said that yesterday they spotted Orcas.” Aelin’s eyes went wide in surprise “I saw whales at the Butt of Lewis, or what I think it was whales.” “Highly likely.” Then she turned to Elide “So, you guys are staying here for the whole festival?” The woman nodded “Yes, Lorcan and I always rent a cottage for a week and spend the whole weekend at the festival. I am looking forward the main event tonight: Peat and Diesel.” Aelin almost squealed “us too. Rowan introduced me to them very recently and I am dying to see them live.” “We have been to one of their concerts in Glasgow at the Barrowlands.” Said Lorcan almost grumbling. “Oh, he speaks,” joked Elide, patting his leg and giving him a smile. He did not reply and just placed a hand on her back. “What about we spend the day together?” Aelin turned all excited to Rowan who gave her a nod “Yes,” she shouted looking at Elide again. They sailed for a bit longer and reached Tiumpan Head and Rowan told her to keep and eye on the sea. Not a moment later she spotted a couple of fins and she and Elide almost jumped. “Dolphins,” Rowan said in her ear. She made a 360 and sat on her knees facing now the water. She felt Rowan’s arm tight around her waist. “Please, don’t fall in the water.” Her hand was in the water and a dolphin passed very close to her and she almost touched it. Rowan used his free hand to take pictures of her. His phone gallery had nothing but pictures of Aelin. Elide turned as well and Rowan noticed the panic in the other man’s eyes and they exchanged a glance of understanding. Aelin leaned a bit further but Rowan’s arm pulled her back “Please don’t. Lifeguard service is not in my plans for today.” “There’s dolphins around the boat.” Aelin squealed. “I know, Fireheart,” he pulled her back “but you need to calm down.” She sat back down to a safer position and Rowan felt like he could breath again. “Is that Tolsta?” She then asked when they continued north and she recognised the place in front of her. The closer they got to the beach the clearer the water got and Aelin was in awe “This reminds me of when Lys and I swam at Luskentyre.” Oh yeah, Rowan remembered the day and very quickly chased the memories away. They were in public. The boat made a turn and they began to make their way back to the town. Aelin snuggled to Rowan’s chest, with her arms around his waist. “Are you cold?” He demanded “I have your favourite hoodie with me.” “I am fine.” An hour later they were back at the harbour and Aelin was high on excitement. The trip had been amazing. Once off the boat she flung her arms around Rowan’s neck and kissed him “Thank you. I loved my surprise.” “You are most welcome.” He pulled back from her “Let me say bye to Callum.” And she was left alone with Elide and Lorcan. “That was a nice trip.” Said the woman, grabbing her boyfriend’s hand. “Totally. I had never seen dolphins before. It was so awesome.” “Really?” Elide was curious. Aelin nodded “Until a few months ago I lived in London. Born and bred there. Not much chance to see dolphins in the water. I doubt they would enjoy the Thames.” Elide gazed at Lorcan “We were planning a quick weekend in the capital next month.” “Ask me anything. I can tell you the best places to go and how to survive London without breaking the bank.” “That would be lovely,” was Lorcan’s reply “I feel like I need a mortgage for this trip.” He kissed the woman’s head and she noticed the first sign of affection “But it’s a belated birthday present, so…” he shrugged. “Ach, I can help you with that. I survived London on a budget when I was student.” Rowan finally came back and embraced her from behind “Sorry, Callum and I were just planning an excursion for next Sunday.” He kissed her ear. “Can I come too?” “Of course.” Then he lifted his head and looked at their two companions for the day “Aelin and I are going to grab lunch, fancy joining us?” Lorcan almost protested but Elide poked his shoulder “Stop being grumpy.” Then she turned to Aelin and Rowan “Of course we are coming.” Rowan smiled and took Aelin’s hand and started walking to Maeve’s. He laughed when he noticed that Aelin was almost skipping. Gods, the woman had never ending energy. While walking to Maeve’s Rowan and Lorcan ended up side by side and Aelin just noticed that her assumption was right and Lorcan really was taller that Rowan. The man must have been closer to two metres. She felt tiny all of a sudden and Elide seemed even more petite beside the huge man. She could put Aedion with them as well and they could form a sexy, tall wall of muscles. She grinned and was glad that Rowan was busy talk to Elide so he did not notice her savage blush. They reached the cafe and noticed that it was packed and Rowan sighed. He loved the festival but it also meant a savage invasion disrupting his day to day life. He entered first and went to his aunt and Aelin smiled when she noticed that Maeve had managed to find some space for them. “Privileges of being related to the owner,” he smiled, going back to them. “This is a lovely place,” commented Elide “why we never stopped here?” “So, will you be enjoying the entire festival as well?” Asked Elide, passing a menu to Lorcan. “No, Rowan and I will be doing today only. Tomorrow we have to reopen the bookshop.” The woman’s eyes lit up in surprise “do you run the bookshop down the road?” Rowan nodded “It’s my shop.” He took Aelin’s hand in his “she helps.” “Yeah, I fix his displays and I charm customer. Rowan scares them away by being a grump” She grinned back at him and he, in exchange, flicked her nose. “I am a primary school teacher,” continued Elide who was definitely the chattier of the pair “And Lorcan is the coach of the Glasgow Warriors. They are a rugby team.” And Aelin was grateful to the woman for the clarification. “No way.” Said Rowan amazed “That’s why you looked familiar. You were their captain until a few years back. Lorcan Salvaterre.” Lorcan nodded. “I studied at Glasgow university and the Warriors were, and still are, my favourite team. I went to see plenty of their games. You guys are awesome.” “You like rugby?” “Aye,” added Rowan and Aelin studied him for a moment. He was alive all of a sudden, his usual calm disappeared and he was one beautiful sight “Stornoway has a small club and I go and watch some of the games. But I miss the big league guys. I usually get tickets for the Six Nations as well.” Lorcan smiled “I can get you some tickets for one of Scotland’s home games. Perhaps for the one against England. Wonder if it will be finally the year we trash them as they deserve.” “Hey,” Aelin exclaimed almost hurt “English woman here.” And as a joke she pushed her London accent. “No one is perfect, Fireheart.” Rowan kissed her temple. She pinched his side and he barely reacted “Fine, I will support England this year, just to annoy you” She threatened and the two guys glared at her. “Fine.” She raised her hands “but you need to teach me Flower of Scotland.” “It would be my pleasure.” And he pulled her to him and in that instant Maeve came with their order “Sorry for the wait guys, we are quite busy today.” Rowan said something in Gaelic to his aunt and she walked away with a smile. Elide turned to him “Tha Gàidhlig agam cuideachd.” Rowan’s face lit up. “I teach at the Glasgow Gaelic School. I am not a native. I picked it up at uni and I fell in love with it. I spent some time on the islands to learn it and then I got a job as a teacher.” “Yeah if she starts to shout at me in Gaelic I know she is really mad at me.” The man joked taking her hand. “I only know a few sentences. Tha beagan Gàidhlig agam.” Aelin said proudly “Rowan has been teaching me.” They finished their lunch chatting away nicely and getting to know each other. Lorcan did manage to utter a few more sentences but he became quite talkative once he and Rowan started talking about rugby. Aelin ordered a trip to the ice cream parlour. And the boys followed. Aelin took Elide’s arm and let Rowan and Lorcan follow. They were super immersed in their conversation. Aelin wished Lysandra was there too. She had a feeling the three of them would get along greatly. Aelin and Elide got a triple cone and the two men just went for something more sober with just one flavour. “Look at them all perfect and healthy.” Aelin mocked them and Elide giggled at her side. Rowan, in front of her just met her gaze and then licked his ice cream in a very taunting way and took great pleasure in noticing her reaction. Aelin almost chocked and his eyes flashed in amusement. A wall, she just wanted a wall and twenty minutes alone with him to remove that smirk form his face. He knew he had rattled her and hated the way he casually went back talking to Lorcan. She would have her revenge. Eventually her mind started functioning again and went back talking to Elide, hoping the woman had not noticed their exchange. That would have been embarrassing. Slowly they reached the festival grounds. They made it till four and they still had three hours to fill in before the main event. They all collected their tickets and ventured inside the main arena. Aelin squeezed Rowan’s hand and once she turned to him she noticed he had the most amazing smile. “We got a concert coming up.” Said Elide, then grabbed a notebook and scribbled something down “this is my number. Text me later. We can meet again for the main event.” Aelin took the piece of paper and then the notebook and wrote her number for the woman “Looking forward to.” The two said their goodbyes and Rowan finally pulled Aelin to him and kissed her deeply “I had to restrain myself all afternoon.” “You are a wicked man,” a whisper against his lips “You will pay for the ice cream trick.” But in response his kiss deepened and his tongue repeated some of the motions he did early. “Unless you want me to drag you in a hidden corner and have sex at a festival, you’d better stop it.” He laughed “Yes, Fireheart.” And mirth flashed in his pine green eyes. “Come on, let’s go and have a look at the merchandise. See if we can get you a P&D hoodie.” And he dragged her to the area with all the stalls. “Uh, food stalls.” She pulled on one side. “Later. We just had a massive lunch and ice cream.” “You are no fun.” She complained while following him. He walked with her in tow for a little longer and they finally found all the stall with the merchandise for the bands and the festival in general. “Look,” he said to her pointing at the big stall of the band “Good thing we are here early, we can do all these things now. Later on it will be mobbed.” Aelin got closer to the stall and started having a look at the hoodies. She noticed a green one and gave it a try. She had decided that for some reason green reminded her of Rowan, perhaps for his eyes, but the colour now was a reminder of him. She tried on the hoodie and Rowan turned and stared at her in appreciation. “You look lovely.” “I’ll take it.” As Rowan turned again, apparently interested by what was going on on the big screen and she used the moment to buy a t-shirt for him. His birthday was coming up and this was the second part of her present. She paid for her stuff and quickly placed the t-shirt in her backpack before he would turn again. She embraced him from behind and leaned her head against his back, he turned, “I really, really like it.” And kissed her forehead. They wandered a bit longer until they finally reached one of the smaller stages where the first band they were waiting for was going to play soon. They did manage to squeeze to the front and Aelin felt bad for whoever ended up behind Rowan. He pulled her in front of him and his arms went around her neck “Are you ready to sing?” She nodded. The band was called Skipinnish and one was one of Rowan’s favourite and she agreed that they did some wonderful music. The group started with a slow song and Aelin danced on the spot in Rowan’s arms and she felt like the happiest woman alive. In his arms she was finally happy. As if the last year ceased to exist all of a sudden. That had been his magic. He had slowly taken away all the grief she had felt until only a few months ago. He had given her again the desire to dream. She squeezed his hand and tried to convey somehow all those feeling in that simple gesture. The music suddenly picked up in pace and Rowan turned her to him, one of her hand landed on his chest and the other one in his hand that he held high. He started dancing and she swayed with him, then he lifted her and turned on the spot and put her back. A quick kiss and they kept dancing. His eyes alive with happiness. She giggled and he smiled at that sound. All through their dance, Aelin sang, impressing him by her knowledge. She only refrained from singing the songs in Gaelic, that was still too much of a challenge. They danced for another few hours then they moved to the next stage where Skerryvore, the next band they wanted to see was going to play. This time they ended up at the back, but Rowan had Aelin climb on his back, piggyback style, and that allowed her to see the stage a little better. She could not dance but loved her position. Her chin leaned on his head and her arms went around his neck. She took a sniff of his wonderful scent of pine and snow and kissed the back of his head. One of Aelin’s favourite songs began playing and she sang out loud you and I, we held each other tight. Time will take its toll, but I will never let you go. Your love is like a high, you and I. Our love can never die, together as we grow. I’ll always let you know, you’re my reason why Rowan joined in and she hugged him tighter and her head leaned against his head. “I love you,” she whispered while he was busy singing the chorus. It was past six when the concert finished. Aelin looked at her phone and noticed a text from Elide telling her that she and Lorcan were already at the main stage and they had a spot at the very front. “Let’s go.” Aelin grabbed Rowan’s hand “Elide and Lorcan have spot fro us as well at the front of the stage.” Luckily the main stage area was not busy yet, and they found the couple quite quickly. Rowan had a look and noticed they had found a good spot. “This is perfect.” Rowan commented. “Not our first festival.” Lorcan grinned back. Aelin and Elide were huddled together talking and being all excited for the grand event. Aelin paraded her hoodie and Elide showed her the t-shirt and the hoodie she had bought as well. Rowan really thought he had created a monster. With the passing of time the area started to fill and Aelin could feel the excitement around them. Half an hour later the show started with a roar. Aelin climbed on Rowan’s shoulders again and she noticed that Lorcan offered the same to Elide. Aelin roared as well and shouted as soon as she recognised the notes of the first song Stornoway of course. She sang with all of her voice and waved her hands in the air. She and Elide grabbed their hands and sang and waved together. Then they moved to Western Isles and the crowd went wild. Rowan laughed at Aelin’s wild excitement and was impressed by the fact that Aelin really had learned all the lyrics. “And that’s the way we do it, the way we do it in the Western Isles” she was singing with a passion and his mind went to that morning when she was cooking breakfast in nothing but a baggy t-shirt while singing and dancing to that song. Rowan moved a bit dancing as much as possible with Aelin on his shoulder but he sang as well and with his hand he beat the rhythm on Aelin’s legs. The band was playing some of their hits and he was having the time of his life. He had never been able to convince Lyria to go to Heb Celt with him. Her music taste was different and she was never interested in that type of music so he had gone alone for a very long time. But now he had Aelin and she was basically perfect. The guys started playing My islands and Aelin let out a savage cheer and then started to sing. She slowly slid off his back and started dancing and jumping in front of him shaking her head at the rhythm of the music Elide at her side being just as wild. She took his hands and danced on the spot as much as the crowd allowed it. Aelin took some photos of her and Rowan and went back dancing. It was quite late when the concert finished. Aelin and Elide were now walking silently hand in hand with their respective men. “I think they finally ran out of fuel.” Joked Rowan, seeing the two women quiet. “It took them a while, but eventually it happened.” Joked Lorcan who had slowly opened up a bit more. “You are both so mean.” Said Elide leaning against Lorcan. “Yes, and you are going to fall asleep soon.” Lorcan crouched down and offered to carry Elide piggyback “Come on, time to get you to bed.” “Are you coming to the ceilidh at An Lanntair tomorrow?” Aelin and Rowan looked at each other “we might,” she said. “Let us know.” Said Lorcan settling Elide properly on his back “Thanks for the day and evening.” And the two slowly walked away. Rowan turned to Aelin and noticed she had a massive grin on her face. Alas, she seemed to have some energy left. “That was awesome.” She took both of his hands “And we need to go to the ceilidh tomorrow. It’s your birthday. We need to celebrate.” “Fine. We can go. But now we are going home. You have to rest and recharge the batteries for the ceilidh.” She leaned forward and kissed him “Thank you so much for this. It was unbelievable.” He pulled her to him and lifted her and pirouetted while kissing her. Finally they started making their way home and when Rowan noticed that Aelin was on the verge of falling asleep on her feet he offered a piggyback ride and she accepted. By the time they got back home she was fully asleep. At home he deposited her on the bed and he started to ponder how to get her out of her current clothes and into a pyjama. He went to get her Cookie Monster pyjama, removed her hoodie and placed it on the chair at the bottom of the room. Next it was the t-shirt and her shorts and he tried to look away. He was about to put the new clothes away when she groaned and woke up briefly. “I am just changing you into your pj.” He told her gently. Still half asleep she let him guide her body into her night clothes. Then he realised she liked to sleep without a bra and he had no idea how to solve that one. “Bra…” she muttered. “I am… you…” he tried to hide his embarrassment “you do that.” She muttered something unintelligible and removed her bra and threw it in his face. Then collapsed on the bed and went back to sleep. Rowan slowly tucked her in then changed in own night clothes and joined her. His arms went around her waist tucked her head in the crook of his neck. Not longer after he was asleep as well.

[dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram]

I was in the fandom pre-Danielle, and I was also horrified (although not shocked) at how hated she became and how cruel everyone was. My primary feeling about Danielle was “oh fuck, here we go again” since we had just gotten through the Eleanor breakup and party boy Louis phase, Danielle coming on the scene as a Girlfriend instead of a fling or a random girl taken home from a club felt like the start of another long term bearding set up, and I was not excited about that prospect, to say the least. But aside from that, Danielle didn’t really bother me. Like another anon of yours said, she seemed to be willing to step up and do her job, and was active and clearly visible without doing anything to incite drama (at least anything aside from her very existence, which plenty of people took as cue enough to be disgusting and cruel). That was big to me in a time that was already so tense and unpleasant. I remember feeling like she was mostly along for the ride and I appreciated that. There was also the fact that if any of their stunt relationships ever seemed like a double bearding set up, it was this one. Big lesbian energy from Danielle. And I know that softened me toward her too. But even now I look back and don’t understand the ardent hatred so many people have toward her. I’m never going to love a beard, but I truly didn’t mind her, she felt almost like a tiny ocean of calm in so much misery and drama and fear with the way she just sort of existed and went along with it and didn’t rock the boat more than necessary.

The cruelty did my head in - the way people were willing to endlessly mock her for just existing. 'Oh look she's holding a bag that is the worst thing that anyone has ever done'. It was totally unhinged.

And the stories people were telling were so bizzarre. I remember a widespread belief that she was sneaking into Louis' family house in Doncaster, without his knowledge. (This idea that beards are somehow acting on their own agenda, without the knowledge of the person they are bearding with and personally want to be seen to be in the person's life - rather than doing their job - wasn't limited to Danielle. And it's always completely disconnected from any reality).

I've said it before, but I am going to repeat it. When you think what Danielle signed up for, and what she ended up doing - I have huge respect and appreciation for her. Being in the Tomlinson's house in November 2016, and having light hearted fun with the twins - that can't have been easy and it was incredibly important.

Anyway I've got a lot of bitterness about how Danielle was treated, mostly because I didn't unfollow people who were saying hideous things fast enough. But I do think she's pretty solid evidence that it doesn't matter what beads do or don't do - they will be subject to unreleating hatred.

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Alright so: what historical figure would Benjamin Greene role play as and WHY

So first off I think he’d just be really excited that you’re okay with this level of nerdiness. In fact, if you had a suggestion I’m sure he’d be into it.

His research is largely on WWI, which wasn’t the sexiest of wars. It was pretty ugly in fact, what with all the pre-Geneva Convention mustard gas and other such horrific things. So that’s out.

I think he’d stick to someone important to British history, so here are my picks:

Alfred the Great. This dude walked on the wild side and laughed in the face of your doubts. They said the Saxons and the Celts would never be unified. Al said “watch me, bitch.” They said the Vikings would always rape and pillage. Al said “imma build a wall, then we’ll see how your boats work, blonde boys.” Basically, Alfred the Great overcame people’s expectations of him and went down in history as one of Britain’s OG Badasses.

William Shakespeare. Wordsmith responsible for so many sexy words, such as bedroom. 😏 He’s got the most beautiful pick up lines that also convey the most raunchy desires. He’s creative AF, and probably had lots of experience in the bedrooms of London and Stratford upon Avon. Basically, Billy Shakes went from son of a glove maker to one of the world’s most exhaulted writers. Imaginative, self-evolving Benjamin would love to channel Shakespeare for you.

Alan Turing. WWII code breaker. Nerdy Badass. Thrilling double life, cracked Nazi codes, professional liar and sleuth. If Benjamin doesn’t have a spy fantasy I’ll eat my hat.

This was such a fun ask.

[gingerwritess]

captain. james. conrad.

why did you just make me so thirsty for some pilot!reader x Captain James Conrad, anon??

don’t worry i’m still a loki slut i just wanted to try this baby out. i’d love to hear your thoughts?

also sorry no read more tag, i’m on mobile :(

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

You’ve helped him out before, but today seems different.

He stalks across your landing pad with his head held higher than usual and is in your chopper before you’ve even left the pre-flight office, waiting for you with an impatiently bouncing knee. Not that he’d ever actually express his impatience, he tends to stay polite—most of the time.

Brutally honest and possibly even cocky at times, but for the most part, it’s a rugged politeness.

“How we holdin’ up today, Captain?” You yell over the roar of the rudders, clapping a hand on the top of the pilots-side door.

He shouts something back to you, his normally gelled hair fluttering under the wind picked up by the rotors, but you can’t hear a word he’s saying. Holding up a finger, you toss him a clunky headset as you climb into your seat, tapping the microphone on your own with a pointed look to use it.

The headset cackles to life and Conrad’s smooth accent fills your ears: “Haven’t I told you to call me James?”

“Sorry, Cap’n Crunch, guess I forgot.” Your fingers tighten around the pitch-lever and you twist around in your seat to flash him a quick grin.

Those aviator sunglasses block his eyes from you but you like to think that behind those lenses, they’re twinkling with some kind of amusement at your attempt to make him smile.

“Can we just leave, please?” The static in the headset hurts your ears.

“You in some kind of hurry?”

“You could say that.” He raises an eyebrow above the gold rim of those damn glasses—you’re pretty certain he has beautiful eyes. But also pretty sure that you’ve only ever seen them maybe once or twice.

“Fine, fine,” you tighten your belt and flip a few switches, turning around for one last smile. “You might want to strap in, weather’s not looking too promising.”

The captain fakes a sigh and begrudgingly buckles the safety belt around his waist, spreading his arms with a small smile when he finishes. “Satisfied?”

“Alright, remind me not to care for your safety next time, sheesh.”

You feel a teasing flick on the edge of your shoulder from the seat behind you and the strange song of static and that accent cuts through your headset again; “just fly, little bird, I’m a busy man.”

He’s smiling, you can hear it.

“Aye aye, captain.” You reach behind you with a reassuring thumbs-up, and the copter lifts steadily into the air with a deafening roar.

Do something crazy. Flip upside down or something, your flight-fogged brain starts shouting at you once home is out of sight behind you—not a good idea, brain.

But the captain—James, I guess—does seem a little quieter today, a little more somber than usual. You glance down at the coordinates he had given you—huh. It’s just a little bit off the coast of the last island in the cluster on which you live, but it’s just open ocean right around there.

“Where is this, cap—James?” Your headset cracks and sputters as you speak, and you point to the tracker screen. “Isn’t that just water?”

His answer is clipped, but not exactly cold. Just...distant. “Yes.”

“Okaaaay...then why am I dropping you off there?”

You think he’s chuckling, can’t really tell through the speakers.

“Boat drop off, genius,” he explains, leaning forward to tap a finger on the screen. “There will be a ship right there if we timed it right. I’ll hop on and hope to god that it’s not navy, see where they can take me.”

“So you don’t really know where you’re going?” You manoeuvre the copter above a group of particularly tall palm trees.

“Well...not exactly.”

“That doesn’t worry you?”

“Quite the opposite, actually.” When you glance behind you, he’s leaning his head out the open side of the chopper, watching land get further and further away.

Boy, someone’s talkative today.

“You okay, captain?”

His laugh echoes through your headset and you wish you could see his face. “James. I’m fine, thank you.”

“Well, James, I’m...” you pause, already cringing. “I’m, uh, here for you—I mean, I’m here if you want—need! If you need me.”

He might be laughing again, you can’t tell.

“I appreciate that, thank you.”

A few more minutes pass and you get nearer to the drop off, where you’re just going to watch James jump out of your chopper into the ocean and turn right back around to your dreary life of back and forth. Seems wrong, really, to just let him jump into a free fall like this.

Oh well. He’s always been one to toy with death, even in the small amount of time you’ve been flying him around.

You try one more time for a conversation. “How long are you gonna be gone this time?”

He doesn’t respond for a moment and you wonder for a split second if he fell asleep to the lulling rock of the helicopter.

“I don’t know that either,” he finally answers, his voice staticky, disconnected.

“You don’t know where you’re going,” you clarify, worry starting to crease your brow. “And you don’t know for how long...this isn’t another one of your business trips, is it.”

White noise on the other end of the line. You start to think you went too far, got too personal too quickly, but then the headset shudders back to life.

“I’m...looking for something.” He pauses. “Somewhere, I suppose.”

“I hope you find it,” you offer, unsure of what that’s supposed to mean.

“...would you mind if I told you something a bit—a bit personal? Just, you know, before I leave.”

“I’m all ears, captain.”

“I tend to move around a lot. In life, I mean.”

You laugh and try to hold the copter steady as a light rain begins to fall. “That’s pretty obvious.”

“Most of the time, I enjoy my nomadic life,” he sighs, and you can tell he’s struggling to find the right words. “But lately...lately it feels hollow. I feel lost.”

Your grip tightens around the pitch-lever between your knees—you weren’t expecting something so, uh, deep.

Life advice has never been your forte.

The captain’s crisp laugh fills your surprised silence. “I’m sorry. That’s quite personal, isn’t it?”

“N-no, I’m just—”

“Don’t worry about it.” He chuckles and out of the corner of your eye you see him turn to the open door again. “We hardly know each other, I shouldn’t come to you with my problems.”

It’s true. He’s only been on your island for what, a little over a month? And you should’ve known he wouldn’t stay, the reputation of the captain held true. He loses himself, finds himself, and moves on to the next thrill.

You say “your island” like it belongs to you.

Or like you belong to it.

“Well, I’m here to help in any way I can,” you chirp, turning around to give him a reassuring smile. “Maybe it’s better that we have this, uh, ‘strictly professional’ relationship? ‘Cause you don’t exactly stick around much.”

“That’s true.” He goes silent for a moment. “I’m going to miss this place, to be honest with you.”

Miss this place? This lame little island in the middle of nowhere, this tiny little port town where nothing happens, with only one starbucks and about a million taco joints?

“Consider yourself lucky,” you chuckle, starting to even out the copter as you near the drop-off. “You get to leave, go new places. Meet new people.”

“It’s not always as enjoyable as everyone makes it sound.”

For some reason, you flirt with the idea of just turning around and taking both of you back home before he can throw himself out of the chopper for good.

His daunting accent cuts through the static once again. “You’re an idiot, you know that?”

“Excuse me??”

The copter hovers in place and James unbuckles his safety belt, grabbing his bag and slinging a parachute over one shoulder. An amused smile playing at his lips, he leans over your shoulder to peck a quick, almost nonexistent kiss on your cheek.

The nerve of this ridiculous man.

“You are a pilot.” He laughs at the surprise still on your face from that very out-of-place kiss. “The world is yours, you can leave whenever you want. Why won’t you leave the nest, birdie?”

Keeping the chopper level over the cargo ship he had so correctly predicted would be there, you snap your head over to stare at him—this is more of a conversation than how most of your distracted “where to?” normally goes.

Of course, when he’s about to jump out of your helicopter and never come back.

Great.

“That’s...personal.” You hope the uneasiness isn’t too obvious in your voice.

“Shame, really.” The captain straps the parachute over his chest, tapping a quick finger against your forehead. “I’d have liked to get a little more personal with whatever goes on in that strange head of yours.”

“You’re such a charmer, Conrad.”

“James.”

“Whatever.” You roll your eyes with a teasing laugh. “Maybe if you ever lose your way back around my dumb island, we can go back to that bar I found you in?”

“Fairly certain I found you,” he counters.

“You were too busy schmoozing the bartender for a free shot. One shot, captain, was it worth it?”

Now he rolls his eyes, making his way to the open side of the chopper and bracing himself against the top with both hands to the metal, looking over his shoulder at you. “Says the one who was flirting with every guy in the bar for free drinks. Then you thought I could be swayed.”

“You almost offered...”

“I just needed a pilot.”

“Sure.” You wink at him and flash him a sarcastic thumbs up.

He shakes his head with a small grin and turns around to face you, double checking his chute and tapping a two-fingered salute to his forehead. His smile falters for half a second and you almost miss it...he’s about to jump.

“You could stay,” you blurt when he reaches up to remove the headset, cringing as soon as the words leave your mouth. “We could go get that drink right now, I’m—I’m buying!”

The captain laughs. “You sound like you’re going to miss me, sweetheart.”

“Pshh, no, don’t flatter yourself.”

Uh...hell yes I am??

“Mhm. I’ll miss you too, if that makes you feel better,” he teases, hands playing with the band of his jeans, retucking-in the periwinkle shirt stretched taut over his chest.

“Oh really? Why’s that, oh captain my captain?”

He bares his teeth in a teasing scowl at your little nudge, then crouches near the open side of the chopper, holding on to the side to keep from falling right out. “You’ve been one of the best pilots I’ve worked with.”

The captain smiles at you and takes off his headset, just holding the mic up to his mouth.

“And you always seemed to know how to get me where I need to be.”

Then he tosses the headset back to you, lets go of the chopper, and plummets through the air with the open sea rushing up to meet him.

**not tagging anyone cause it’s not Loki and idk if y’all are gonna like this heh :))**

[hyunllx]

                                                         Heathers & Gargoyles                A complete rewrite of Riverdale Season 3

A game, a cult, a murder. Sounds like a stereotypical october for the town of Riverdale. Yet when Betty, Jughead, Veronica, and newly freed-from-juvie Archie are recruited to join the increasingly dangerous game of Griffins and Gargoyles, they find themselves dodging assassinations and deadly traps designed to keep them on a pre-determined story path. Left without the help of their brainwashed allies, the core four must work in the shadows to stop the rising body count and unmask the King of Gargoyles before their story is finished.

                                                                   Prologue                                                                             Previous Chapter[none] | Read it on AO3

The summer leading up to junior year was like so many others in Riverdale; days spent by Sweetwater River were long and hot. Fireflies doubled the stars in the sky and the scent of wood smoke hung on the midnight air. Pink-grey dawns, filled with the song of birds and dewy treks through the forest while dusks of deep golds and purples painted the skies above countless barbeques and fireworks. The town, for once, seemed happy. Normal, if they could ever grasp the concept of ‘normal’ again. At least… most of the town.

Only in private spaces and shadowy corners was the dark cloud hanging over the community mentioned, as if the town itself wanted to forget, wanted to push away the very thought another tragedy could happen to a child everyone knew, grew up with, and loved. Though the town believed his innocence whole heartedly, they forgot about him the way one forgets a traumatic memory; slow, reluctant, and silent.

In the spaces where his cloud loomed darkest, Betty worked as an intern for Mary Andrews, putting her legal and investigative prowess to test in a more lawful setting than she was used to. She spent her days reading through old case files, police reports, and transcripts of similar court cases, analyzing and decoding the vast arrays of information into easily digestible chunks. Shorthand and stenotypy became her new language and, though she interacted daily with her friends, the codes of court ruled her consciousness until the August hearing. 

On the other side of town, Jughead put the Serpents to work collecting the not-so-legally obtained evidence and testimonies they were used to. Vigilantism was almost a comfort in the wake of Archie’s hanging shadow, a line of work Jughead threw himself into fully. There was a normalcy to it, a sense of nostalgia that ate away the trauma and suffering they had endured in the years since entering high school. 

Hyperfixation eating the peripherals of his awareness, it wasn’t until the final weeks that Serpent King Jughead Jones realized the absence of many of his members. He expected Toni and Cheryl; they spent more time together these days than the rest of the gang, though Jughead didn’t mind. He’d be hypocritical if he did given the time he and Betty and spent alone. However, as August grew from summer gold to deep early autumn red, the absence of Sweet Pea and Fangs caught his attention first.

Jughead would visit their homes in the afternoons and evenings and most of the time, there was no one home. They were often missing from the Serpent gatherings and communal activities, and their reports were brief when he asked favors or gave them a task. By the final weekend of summer vacation, Sweet Pea and Fangs had garnered a following of a dozen young Serpents, high schoolers or younger. All missing when Jughead needed them, all caught returning home or showing up to community meetings late and covered in dirt and various forest remnants. 

Though Jughead wouldn’t have known, it wasn’t just the Serpents undergoing this odd shift in youth attention-span. Veronica witnessed it too as her speakeasy, La Bonne Nuit, came to life under the floors of Pops’. Summer jobs, like most small all-American towns, were the pinnacle of high school vacation culture, and Veronica graciously contributed by hiring many of her classmates to help work on the place. This was, after all, a place for all of them to recover from the tragedies befallen the youth of the town.

Yet, as with the Serpents, many of them started skipping shifts, missing work hours, seemingly uncaring about their work or their pay as August bloomed to life. Though Veronica was not an aggressive person by nature, when she confronted their lack of vigor, she often left frustrated with no answers and a short staff. With her own attention torn between her project and her unjustly imprisoned boyfriend, the progress of La Bonne Nuit slowed to a crawl. 

Veronica was not the only person frustrated by this; her father had taken an interest in the speakeasy's construction and was growing worse at hiding his impatience as the month progressed toward the looming trial. His heed had not gone unchecked, but Veronica ignored it for the time being, not wanting to confront the man who probably put her boyfriend behind bars. It wasn’t difficult to avoid him these days; after school concluded the previous year, he’d also vanished for periods of time. 

“Business stuff,” he always said, a strange answer as he’d usually explain what the business was to her. The mystery and curtness was unusual, making his curiosity in her own projects even more grating. She finally stopped him the day before the trial, his judgement entering the speakeasy after 24 hours or longer missing from home.

“Daddy.” She greeted him with a mirror of his increasingly formal demeanor. 

“Good morning, Mija.” He forced informality as he approached the counter where she stood, rubbing dark stain into the wooden top. The smile on his didn’t reach his eyes, the wrinkles in his crow's feet and heavy brow ridge remaining flat and expressionless, “How is everything going today?”

She didn’t answer him, side-eying his suit as she focused more on the counter. Though he wore suits often, he was more dressed up than usual, and Veronica could already feel the judgement at seeing her helping with the work. Instead she asked, trying to keep the malice from her voice,

“Where have you been? I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I had to have an emergency meeting with a business partner.” He was lying, Veronica knew, though she couldn’t prove it. She just could tell from the way his back straightened and his hands clenched and the vein in his neck pulsed against skin as he swallowed. 

“The same business partner that’s been dragging you away all summer, I presume?”

Her father let out a tense sigh, his eyes leaving her face. His shoulders slumped slightly and for the first time that summer he looked as tired as she felt. A manipulation tactic, yet Veronica couldn’t help feel that twinge of pity deep in her chest for her dear old father. She put down the stain rag and wiped her hands on the apron around her waist, the deep mahogany brown leaving streaks on the off-white canvas.

“We’re having a bit of… a setback,” He met her gaze again, his eyes sharp as he thought about his partner with clear scorn, “Their facility is not being built properly and they’re refusing to send their employees elsewhere. It’s wasting a lot of time and money. I thought you might be able to relate.”

Veronica physically shrunk inward, the passive-aggressive swing pulling the pity straight from her torso and her self-esteem with it. She wrung the rag through her fingers again, looking down at the counter. Angry fire smoldered in the pit of her stomach in the sting of his words and she shook her head,

“No, I’m sorry. Things have been progressing just fine here.”

“Hmm…” Hiram looked skeptically at the unfinished furniture and the sparse employees laying wooden planks on the raised stage, the centerpiece for the room. His scrutiny turned back to her stained hands and the dark, unfinished splotches of the bar counter, “Well, for your sake I hope so.”

“Why are you really here? To judge how quickly we’re getting this set up and running?” Hiram looked taken aback by her sudden bite but those smolders of anger were bursting to life now.

“Two days ago the facility that is being built outside of Greendale was broken into. I figured you should know, since you’re in the same boat.”

Veronica rolled her eyes at the guilting; she had already heard about the break-in. That’s why she was working and not preparing for tomorrow’s trial like she should’ve been.

“Thank you for your concern, but I think we’ll be fine.”

Their conversation dragged on with as few words as possible, filled with vitriol and disdain. Even the boys laying the woodwork into the stage glanced over at the tension every so often felt it. Hiram finally decided his chiding was over and left with tense shoulders and a silent goodbye, and Veronica wouldn’t see him until the next day in the trial.

The entire town appeared to crowd around the courthouse that morning, as many bodies as possible squeezing into the seats and the hallway to hear the case of their beloved golden boy. Betty sat with Archie, anxiety overwhelming her relief to see him as they brought him into the room, his mother on his other side clutching his hand as tightly as possible. Jughead and Ronnie sat directly behind him, happy to see him but as anxious as Betty to his left. This could be worse, he thought.

All summer he was back and forth between holding cells, interrogation and visitation rooms, and court. Whatever the sentencing was, Archie was glad this would be over with. He knew he was innocent. His loved ones knew, and from the supportive looks around the room, everyone else did too.

For six grueling hours, Archie, Betty, Veronica, Jughead, and the rest of the town of Riverdale sat through recounts of their recent tragedies. The death of Jason Blossom, Archie’s vigilantism, the Black Hood murders, and their apparent involvement in major crimes over the past two years.

The word ‘guilty’ stung the hearts of everyone in the room when the jury announced the verdict late that afternoon. Though the weight of reality was still a shock, Veronica knew as soon as the jury entered the room after deliberation. They made up their minds long before that…. Or had someone make it up for them. 

At Archie’s request, the four had one more day together, then he left, hauled away to juvie the day before the start of their junior year. That looming cloud returned, and the halls of Riverdale High felt empty, heavy, and dark. 

In that darkness, something new and dangerous grew; a monster with stone horns and skull mask. A game where everyone was a player, whether or not they knew it. It started as groups of nerds huddled around an upright-standing folder at lunch tables. Here and there a faint, excited whisper of demons and puzzles.

Jughead and Veronica often found their missing bodies among these secretive spaces. They’d started skipping their Serpent jackets and sports-branded sweaters for odd, costume-like clothing and black hood.

“We’re playing Griffins and Gargoyles.” Sweet Pea told Jughead one day when he’d tried to pry his way into the group.

“What’s that… like Dungeons and Dragons?” Jughead frowned, regarding the map spread out between the ‘players’. They exchanged nervous glances as he asked.

“Um… kind of. But you have to be initiated to play.”

“How do I get initiated?” Not that he wanted to be… the question was more out of curiosity about his former family.

“You wait.” The unfamiliar girl behind the erected folder wall cut in before Sweet Pea could think to respond. Her blue eyes sliced through him under her shadowy black hood. “You wait for the Gargoyle King to call you.”

Veronica had a similarly chilling encounter when players brought the game to work. The Acolytes, so called for their worship of this mysterious Gargoyle King, multiplied like cockroaches over the first week of school. As a virus spreads, so did the game throughout Riverdale High, recruiting more and more players and attracting the “Deathknights” who watched the school grounds with stone masks and tattered black clothes. 

At the surface, it appeared to be just another fun roleplaying game. Underneath, though, lay a labyrinth of danger, destruction, and crime the town’s youth grew entangled in, unable to escape. It was not a game; it was anarchy.

The school became ground-zero for the cult-like following of the game, and Betty, Jughead, Veronica tried their best to navigate their first weeks of school together, away from the rest of their friends who quickly got sucked into the Gargoyle King’s clutches. Cheryl was among the loudest recruiters after being chosen for initiation early in the game. To their surprise, Ethel was as loud as the school’s resident HBIC.

Halls and classrooms became littered, eventually decorated, with iconography, various memorabilia, and art of the ‘game’. By the second Friday of September, kids were finding satchels and cards in hidden books and cracks in the walls.

That second Friday, a large cluster of kids gathered around the outside of Veronica’s home room, their whispers excited as they discussed their latest find. She tried not to pay too much attention to the conversation as she forced her small form through the throng, but anxious whispers of ‘kill’ and ‘plan’ and ‘escape’ assaulted her ears. She pushed it out of her mind. No, they’re talking about a game. This isn’t real.

Like usual, Veronica was early as she forced her way into the classroom, and there were few bodies in the room save for herself and the quiet outcast types that sat by themselves. She attempted a smile in their direction but, as expected, they didn’t return it. Instead, she took a seat at the front of the classroom, placing her books on the desk and sliding her bag under the chair. As she leaned over to do so, she caught sight of a small envelope on the floor, trapped partially under a front desk leg. The back where she expected to see a name or address was face up and blank, but she could tell there was something inside when she yanked it out from under the leg.

The envelope was small enough to fit in her hand, yet a smooth wax of a black seal still pressed into the back enclosure, already open by the rail of paper tear stuck to it. The embossing on the seal was a figure squatting on its hands and knees. Two thin, tined antlers rose from its head, and large, stretching bat wings protruded from its shoulders, the span larger than the size of its body.

Though she knew this was someone else’s, Veronica’s morbid curiosity seized her hands and pulled the flap up. There was only one object inside; cardstock nearly the size of the envelope give or take a few centimeters. Pulling it out carefully, she immediately recognized the pattern on the back of the card as being from the game. It was the same pattern as those people found for quests. This was definitely not for her. As she turned it over, her breath caught in her throat.

The word “QUEST” scrawled in medieval-reminiscent script at the top in bold black letters. Underneath stood a painting of a knight or a soldier; a very young man in shining silver-steel armour encrusted with rubies. She did not recognize the symbol emblazoned in red across his breastplate and intricately depressed into the shield he held at his side. His eyes were a warm brown, his hair an intimately familiar shade of red-orange, and an even familiar still innocent softness to his features. 

He looked just like Archie.

Yet, that was not what shocked Veronica most about the card. At the bottom of the image, a cream-grey box held tet that, mixed with the boy looking so much like her beloved, sent shivers up her spine.

Kill the Red Paladin. 

The trill of the class bell rang through the room and more bodies shuffled in through the door. Fingers trembling, Veronica stuffed the card back into the envelope and that into the back of the textbook on her desk. She’d have to show Betty and Jughead later. For now, she pushed it out of her mind along with the other stresses of her life and pretended to be a normal teen for the day.

September swelled into autumn and left as dangerously as it began, whispers of “Kill the Red Paladin” cards popping up all over school. Betty often inquired parties she caught talking about it, the Acolytes running the games, the Deathknights that now warded the woods and public areas about it, but she met with the same answer each time.

They could not participate until they were initiated. 

Instead of forcing her way in, Betty took the route she knew best and snuck her way through, learning the patterns of the Deathknights and following them long into the nights. They lead her through the forest more often than not, winding trails snaking through trees and long back yards, always ending in the same place, an abandoned recreation center on the outskirts of Riverdale, near the detention center. The grounds swarmed with Deathknights like cockroaches. Betty was certain the Gargoyle King resided inside the building, but she never got close enough to see inside.

While she was busy tracking her way around the cult, Jughead and Veronica focused on Archie. As September wound down, he abruptly became unavailable for phone privileges, and each time they’d travel to visit in person, he had a new scar or bruise somewhere on his once boyish face. He wasn’t the only one, however, as the Serpents stuck in juvie also started appearing with mysterious black eyes and broken noses, even ones released at the ends of their sentences throughout September. 

Jughead and a group of older Serpents visited the detention center on the first day of October, waiting for their most recent member to get released back into their care. When he exited the building with the guards, his face looked the worst out of anyone, including Archie. His nose had broken and started healing out of place and he walked with a significant limp, hunched over his belongings. His lips were twice their normal size with scarred over cuts and untreated swelling.

They drove him home in silence and set him up in a group house watched over by Tom Topaz. The boys that lived there set to work helping tend to their brother’s wounds, some of them recovering from their own horrors from that detention center.

“What happened in there?” Jughead asked when the boy, Slash, started to relax into the environment. He was quiet at first, his eyes trained on the floor and his head shaking as if he were refusing to tell him, just as the others had. Jughead waited a few minutes in silence, but broke just as he made to stand up and leave.

“Fighting pits.” Slash muttered, still looking down. “They put is in fighting pits.”

“Dude-” One boy who’d been in detention previously tried to reprimand him but Jughead snapped to shut him up. If Slash wanted to speak, Jughead needed to hear,

“Like an underground wrestling ring?”

“No. MMA. Bare-knuckle. Whatever you can do to take down the other guy.”

“Why? Just for fun?”

“Lotta rich people come to watch. Place bets. Give us special names. It’s a game or something to them.”

Veronica had given Jughead the Kill the Red Paladin card for safekeeping and it was burning a hole in his pocket listening to Slash, “You’re all forced to fight? What about the other inmates, non-Serpents?”

“You’re asking about Andrews.” It wasn’t a question; Slash’s face grew dark at the memory of Archie in the pits, “Yeah… he’s their main man. The Paladin.” He spat the title with a small stream of bloody spittle. He motioned toward his nose as he continued “I couldn’t take him down like they asked. He knocked me unconscious.”

Slash shook his head. “No, they take us somewhere else. Somewhere old with a big pool.”

Jughead stood up immediately and scrambled for his phone to call Betty and Veronica, recalling the abandoned building Betty found the Deathknights operating out of. He joined her on her near-nightly trek through the trees after that, studying the building, occasionally finding the parking lot filled with shiny and out-of-place cars. The rich folk that played with the lives of the inmates. On those nights, Veronica came to meet them as quickly as she could, using her name and money to barter her way into the games.

She became a witness to the horrible treatment of the kids in the pit, scrawny, bruised, and still forced to fight until one went down in the blood-stained pool. She had yet to see Archie, though every night she went she heard whisperings about him, excitement to see him return. Three weeks from now… two weeks from now… next time... 

Finally, it came to Archie’s fight day. It surprised him to see his friends come together with such an urgency that morning, especially given it was a Friday and they should have been at school. He was even more surprised at their questions about how the guards brought him in to the pits, that he never told them about, and their plan to break him out. 

The rest of the day came in a haze, and as the sun went down, Archie felt detached when the guards retrieved him for the fight. The energy of the pit was different as they paraded Archie through the crowd, the stench of expensive booze and cigar smoke making his growling, empty stomach turn. His eyes scanned the people as they gathered to watch him descend into the pool, many of them hungering with a deadly greed he’d grown accustomed to over the past month.

As he looked over the spectators, he caught the familiar gaze of Veronica, worried yet warm with the mischievous twinkle that told him to trust whatever she was plotting. And he did, wholeheartedly. 

The guards removed the shackles around his wrists as he reached the edge of the abandoned pool. They shoved him between the shoulder blades and he stumbled over the drop, landing sloppily in a 3-point stance. The impact left his sore, bruised muscles straining, but he stood up and faced the opposite end of the makeshift arena.

As expected, the boy was just as young as him, wrapped in a near head-to-toe black cloak with a hood. He’d never faced The Rogue before, but he’d seen plenty of his victims laid up in the infirmary during his recovery time. They allowed him to jump into the pit instead of being pushed, though Archie could see the pain in his form as he landed, all the weight leaning on one leg. Had this been a real fight, he’d know to use that to his advantage.

Excited cheers burst from the crowd as they faced each other, but the sound droned to a dull hum as The Rogue drew his hood back, revealing the familiar face of Joaquin DeSantos. Scars and bruising crossed his face just like all the other boys Archie fought, but he wouldn’t forget the face of a Serpent.

The sound of a bell echoed through the empty pool, shaking Archie straight through the bone and out of his trance with the reverberation. Joaquin stepped onto his off-foot and feigned a jab at Archie’s chest, which he backpedaled away from with ease. It was more playful than serious, mirroring the smile on Joaquin’s lips.

“Hey, Andrews.”

“Follow me.” Archie whispered, side-stepping his opponent into a flanking position. Joaquin frowned at him, confused by his nervousness.

“What?”

Archie scanned the crowd again to make sure no one heard, but the patrons focused on the swing he launched toward his opponent, missing intentionally, “When you see the smoke, follow me.” He repeated, slower, more seriously to get his point across. With a heavy step, he launched forward onto the drain grate, causing the steel to clatter under his feet as it wobbled in its place. With the momentum, Archie slammed his chest into Joaquin’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around his waist and throwing his opponent down next to their escape route.

There was an echoing pop, a clatter of tin against tile, and a wayward shout as smoke began to creep along the bottom of the pool, filling the pit with obscuring whites and greys from all corners. Joaquin scrambled to his feet at the sight, looking to Archie for instruction as the smoke enveloped them like thick autumn fog.

As soon as his visibility of the audience completely vanished, Archie hopped off the grate and dug his fingers into the drainage holes, pulling up with all his weakened might. The steel was heavy, but Joaquin quickly rushed over a pulled on the edge that Archie lifted out of the hole. Struggling for a moment, they pulled it over the side of the hole, nearly taking Archie’s fingers with it. The steel grate banged loudly against the tile, but it didn’t alert the crowd as they rushed toward the exits above them, ushered by Veronica. 

“Come on, this leads outside!” Archie called to Joaquin, beckoning him to jump down first. He wheezed, and a cough wracked his body as the smoke clogged his mouth and nose. Joaquin hesitated, though, so Archie impatiently grabbed his arm and threw him into the drain pipe below. He landed with a loud thud, and Archie took a deep, wheezing breath as left the smoke swirling above.

The pipe was wide enough for them to walk in single-file, but they had to duck and brace their arms against the walls to get out quickly. It felt like hours while they made their way over spalling concrete and lichen growing through cracks in the old pipe. When Archie’s shoulders and thighs began to shake with the effort of holding himself upright, the hot, damp air, thick with the fetor of moss and fungus, suddenly caught the breeze of the outside forest. Rustling of dried leaves and grasses echoed around the mouth of the pipe when they rounded the turn into the dark forest.

“Archie!” Betty called out as soon as she saw the flash of brilliant red hair emerge into the night. She and Jughead waited next to an old pickup on an old, dusty path, the Serpent logo emblazoned on the truck’s rusting black doors. No time for relieved greetings, they packed Archie and Joaquin into the cramped space and sped off along the back roads of the Southside. 

By sunrise, news of the escape spread throughout the town, along with the alleged suicides of the warden and several guards involved in the fights. Governor Dooley issued temporary pardons by noon at the request of Mayor Hermione Lodge. Though not wholly removed from the system, Archie was finally free. 

That was, until late that night, when most of Riverdale was asleep, each of the four awoke to tapping on their window. A mirror of each other, they all grabbed the closest weapon and slowly got out of bed. In unison, the tapping ceased. There, wedged under each of their window sills, sat identical parchment envelopes, the black gargoyle wax seal too thick to slip under all the way.

Upon opening the envelopes, each found a letter summoning them in two night’s time to the Southside junkyard, where the Gargoyle King awaited their arrival. Through their subterfuge and prison escape, he had noticed them, and it was finally time for initiation. 

[bumblebeeskies]

𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧!

𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘯𝘦

𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙩 𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: in which a boy who has a metal arm and a girl with bad lungs fall in love, even though they shouldn’t.

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: patient! bucky barnes x patient! fem oc

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: mentions of blood. 

𝙖/𝙣: this took me so long to write and i’m very happy with the results so pls give ya girl some support :) i’m actually super excited to write this one, so buckle up partners, this is going to be a roller coaster. this will be like the movie “five feet apart” but with my own little twist! hope you enjoy and feedback is always welcomed! also thank you @go-romanoff, @eh-applejuice, @marvelmorvel for supporting me, y’all are the best.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 1,240

___

The iodoform smell of the hospital room is strong, burning her nose as she sits on the rather uncomfortable mattress they had provided for her. It’s distinctive, overpowering as its chemical aroma hovers about. She should be used to it, really. The familiar phenolic and sterile scent is something she’s used to.

Ellie fiddles with a small photograph; over and over she flips it, staring at the faces upon it. Her fingertips graze against the photo softly, tracing the outlines. A sudden wave of homesickness rushes over her.

It was taken a long, long time ago - pre-diagnosis. There she stood, ten-year-old Ellie next to her older brother, Jamie, who had just turned twelve that day. He had begged their mother to take them to the beach - how could she refuse when it was his birthday? Oh, what a happy day that was. If Ellie thought hard enough, she could hear the humming of the ocean’s waves, or the smell the salty breeze that fanned against her cheek. Feel the golden hues of sand between her toes every time she walked. Those memories brought a sad smile upon her lips.

Ellie ponders, often way too much, what it would be like to have healthy functioning lungs. Because if she had such a lovely thing, she wouldn’t be stuck in a patients room all alone on a Friday night. She could be with friends or family, or just enjoying life, not from such an insensate room that felt suffocating.

There is a knock on the door and Ellie abruptly shoves the photograph under her pillow for it not to be seen. Claire - one of the few nurses that take care of her - burst in, a beaming expression setting on her face. Ellie wishes, oh so desperately, that she could be as ecstatic as the middle-aged woman.

“Hey dear, got a couple things for you.” She holds a pudding cup in one hand and two pills in the other. She gestures for Ellie to take them, and she does. Ellie puts the blue pills into the pudding, mixing them around; it was easier this way.

Claire eyes her solely, crossing her arms. “Where is your nose cannula and why isn’t it on?” Ellie takes a mouthful of the pudding, shrugging. Claire sighs. “how many times do I have to tell you to put that on? It’s serious!”

“Look, I’ll put it in right now.” Grabbing the all too familiar oxygen tube, Ellie adjusts it comfortably behind her ears, setting the tubes in. Claire hums in approvable.

“Keep that in for the rest of the night, young lady. I’ll be back to check on that iv drip later.” With a stern look, Claire is about to leave the room, but she stops without warning, glancing back.

“Oh, and one more thing, Remy told me to tell you to text him back. He’s having a crisis, again.” With that, she leaves. Ellie laughs to herself and takes one more bite of pudding.

Remy - a best friend ever since Ellie was a child - knew what it was like to feel imprisoned inside a hospital room all day. And if Ellie could, she would burst into his room and sit besides him, but she knew she couldn’t. Because if she did, both Remy and she would be exposed and that wouldn’t be good.

Cf was a thief and it took everything.

As if on cue, Ellie’s phone dings, and it doesn’t take her a moment to guess who it is.

remy:)🌸: hey you didn’t text me back! guess who has bronchitis again? this bitch!

Ellie giggles at that and instantly responds;

ellie🧚‍♀️: im sorry :( want me to stop by and bring snacks? i need to get out anyways

another ding, signaling that he has replied;

remy:)🌸: nah b im good, imma crash. you should still get out though, being stuck inside the hospital room isn’t good for your health bby!! nighty night!

He was right, though. If Ellie stayed cooped up in the dull patient's room any further, she would lose her mind.

Truth be told, she was nervous about staying here for a month. Yes, she had known about her lungs not working normally as others but when she found out that her lung function decreased, well, that scared the shit out of her. Waiting years for a new set of lungs was tiring, and unless some miracle happens where her cf magically disappeared, then she wouldn’t have to worry about whether she was going to wake up the next day.

But with Remy alongside her, and on the same boat, she gets through it, somehow.

Ellie decides to get out, and it’s not long before she’s up and moving. Picking up the portable oxygen tank at her bedside, she pulls the strap over her shoulder comfortably. Next, she grabs her medical mask, it is light pink, and she pulls it over her nose. One last thing; a pair of light blue gloves to cover her hands. A precaution.

Walking out into the large hallway, she grins as she noticed a teeny drawing of a rose taped to the outside of a half-opened door, an overturned hydro flask keeping it open slightly. She draws a heart on the dry erase board Remy has hung outside the door, to let him know she had stopped by, before taking off down the hall toward the doors that’ll lead to the main part of the hospital.

She’ll have to take the elevator, down to the b wing, across the bridge into building 1, and straight down to the nicu.

Ellie knew the hospital as well as the house she grew up in. After spending days, months, and years staying in emergency rooms, she was ought to discover her new home from home. every winding corridor, hidden staircase, or secret shortcut, explored over and over again.

Before Ellie can open another set of double doors, it opens by itself - a group of nurses and doctors wheeling in a man who is covered in large amounts of blood. Immediately, she pushes herself against the wall to avoid bumping into them. She can’t help but watch as they all scramble to get him inside a room - most likely the operation room - yelling inaudible sentences to each other.

Ellie’s breath hitches at the sight of the blood.

Not much she can catch, but the one thing she spots the most is the where his left arm should be intact, but there is simply nothing but thick, gushing blood seeping out the wound. A nurse did his best to put pressure, but it didn’t stop the red substance from oozing out.

Ellie races back to her room, shutting the door with haste. She pulls her mask down, doing her best to slow down her rapid breathing. She had to control it because if she didn’t, her lungs wouldn’t know how to cope.

Taking one last deep breath, she peels her gloves off, setting them onto her metal tray, then the mask next. She crawls into bed, pulling her covers over her body, trying her best to get comfortable.

She wants to sleep. She wants to be able to close her eyes without seeing the previous events that just had occurred only five minutes ago. Every time her eyelids shut, the same scene of flowing blood appears and she shifts on the bed in discomfort.

That night, Ellie didn’t sleep, a one-armed stranger stuck on her mind.

[chiseler]

The Sound of Fury

“America, as a social and political organization, is committed to a cheerful view of life,” Robert Warshow wrote in his seminal 1948 essay “The Gangster as Tragic Hero.” Democracies depend on the conviction that they are making life better and happier for their citizens; only feudal and monarchical societies can enjoy the luxury of fatalism or a fundamentally pessimistic view of life. Praising the gangster genre as a form of modern tragedy, Warshow also accounts for film noir in his statement that, “There always exists a current of opposition, seeking to express by whatever means are available to it that sense of desperation and inevitable failure which optimism itself helps to create.” The gangster’s demise is the purest American tragedy because it is driven by his mania to climb the ladder of success. The end of his saga is inevitable, so in chasing success he is really chasing failure; his self-destructiveness expresses defiance at the inevitability of defeat, but also confirms it.

This underground river of pessimism and disillusionment unites the pre-Code films of the early thirties and postwar film noir; they share a tone of bitter gallows humor; a satisfaction in being wised-up, knowing the score; they flaunt the scars and calluses of lost innocence. Pre-Code movies reflected the free-fall of the Depression, the farce of Prohibition and the dizziness of a society edging towards anarchy. Noir exposed the suppressed anguish of WWII, the anxiety of the Cold War, the stresses of conformity and materialism.

Films like Cry Danger (1951)—recently restored to full glory by the Film Noir Foundation—depict a battered, abraded country that has turned cynicism into a running gag. A man just out of prison after serving five years for something he didn’t do trades sour wisecracks with a one-legged, alcoholic ex-Marine. They make their home in a dilapidated trailer in a scruffy park perched on Bunker Hill, where the proprietor sits around strumming a ukulele and ignoring the busted showers. The vet (Richard Erdman) falls for a pickpocket who steals his wallet whenever he gets drunk. The ex-con (Dick Powell) idealistically tries to vindicate his best friend, who’s still in jail, only to find out he’s a double-crossing liar. The film achieves an extraordinary blend of the glum and the snappy, a deadpan insolence that saturates the air like smog. “What’s five years?” Powell says of his stretch. “You could do that just waiting around.”

While pre-Code movies gleefully portrayed an “age of chiselry,” a country where everyone was looking for an angle, they never plumbed the depths of alienation, fatalism and misanthropy that noir opened up. For all their knowing skepticism, Depression-era films evoke a sense of camaraderie, a shared body heat from people huddled and jostling together—maybe cheating each other, but still sharing jokes and boxcars, Murphy beds and stolen hot-dogs. Noir, by contrast, purveys a chilling sense of isolation and social atomization; not only institutions but individual relationships are corrupt and predatory. There’s no longer a hard-times sense of being all in the same boat. As Kirk Douglas nastily smirks at his colleagues in Ace in the Hole: “I’m in the boat. You’re in the water.”

Noir used unpretentious, low-budget crime thrillers to smuggle this caustic vision into movie theaters during a time when, on the surface, America was at the height of prosperity and social cohesion. Unlike the early-thirties gangster cycle, which reflected a real wave of lawlessness, the crime movies of the fifties were made during a time when the murder rate was lower than in previous or succeeding decades, perhaps as a channel for other, submerged anxieties. Noir’s prophetic vision of disintegrating communities has become only more compelling with time, a development that may explain the passionate revival of interest in film noir in the last decades of the twentieth century.

Healthy, functioning groups don’t exist in noir; even gangs and criminal “organizations” fall apart because their members are out for themselves, ready to betray each other for a payoff or a bigger share of the take. Institutions like politics and business appear only in stories revealing their corruption. The police are the only representatives of government commonly seen, and they are often bullying and crooked, hounding innocent suspects with sadistic relish. Even films that take the side of law enforcement underline hostility between cops and the people they protect. Apart from the justice system, the public sphere does not exist: the town meetings and popular movements that crowd the screen in thirties films, with indignant and excitable citizens marching, rioting or celebrating, are unimaginable in film noir. People seem to exist in a vacuum.

In part, this vision reflects the privatization of life that accelerated in the postwar era, as cars replaced trains; television replaced movie theaters; appliances eliminated the need for servants, milkmen and ice men; suburban back yards took the place of parks, all part of the glorification of the detached home for the “nuclear” family. The homogeneity of the suburbs and the intrusiveness of media and advertising paradoxically diminished any sense of place or community. Meanwhile, Cold War paranoia meant that expressions of communitarian spirit or calls for collective action could rouse suspicions of communist sympathies.

Many of the writers, directors and actors associated with film noir were liberals, often former Communist Party members who had seen the left-wing idealism of the thirties buried by World War II and then vilified during the Cold War. Disillusioned, they used crime movies to indict a culture of rampant greed and cut-throat competition. Thieves’ Highway(1949), the last film directed by Jules Dassin before he left the country to escape the blacklist, slices open the produce business to reveal the rotten heart of capitalism. Even something as pure and nourishing as an apple becomes a poisoned agent of strife when it’s equated with money. A Polish farmer, enraged at being paid less than he was promised for his apples, flings boxes of them off a truck, screaming, “Seventy-five cents! Seventy-five cents!” The apples roll wastefully across the ground, an image foreshadowing the film’s most famous shot, when after the same truck has careened off the road and exploded, apples roll silently down the hillside toward the flaming wreck. When the dead trucker’s partner finds out that money-grubbers have gone out to collect the scattered load to sell, he begins kicking over crates of apples, fuming, “Four bits a box! Four bits a box!” Everyone in the movie is “just trying to make a buck,” and cash haunts the film, dirty crumpled bills changing hands in a series of soiled, coercive transactions.

It is easy to see why the House Un-American Activities Committee wanted to drive people like Dassin out of Hollywood. Films such as Joseph Losey’s The Prowler (another Film Noir Foundation restoration) and Cy Endfield’s The Sound of Fury, (a.k.a Try and Get Me! 1950, the FNF’s next project) are scathing attacks on a materialistic society, unmasking the American dream as a shallow and shabby illusion that breeds crime and shreds the social fabric. (Both directors fled to England in the early fifties to avoid persecution by HUAC.)

Endfield’s stark anti-lynching drama opens with a down-on-his-luck family man hitch-hiking on a dark highway; he tells the trucker who picks him up that he’s been looking in vain for a job. Howard Tyler (Frank Lovejoy) moved his wife and son out to the postwar California suburb of Santa Sierra, hoping for a better life; “I can’t help it if a million other guys had the same idea,” he complains bitterly. They live in a shabby little bungalow behind a wire fence that makes the place look like a miniature P.O.W. camp. Howard’s pregnant wife hates the idea of using a charity clinic, and frets over money owed for groceries, while his whiny little boy begs for money to go the baseball game (“All the other kids are goin’!”) A bartender at a bowling alley sneers at his cheap customer: “You take a beer drinker, you got a jerk.” If Howard weren’t so dejected and humiliated, he would never fall under the spell of Jerry (Lloyd Bridges), the vain braggart he meets at the bowling alley.

Primping and preening, flexing his muscles and showing off his fancy aftershave (“Smells expensive!”), the manic Jerry boasts about his sexual conquests and the big money he makes, and he treats the modest, submissive Howard like his valet. He offers to put him onto something good—“nothing risky”—just driving the car for his hold-ups. When Howard hesitates, Jerry snorts, “You guys kill me! The more you get kicked in the teeth the better you like it.” Their first job is knocking over the grocery store at a cheap motel (“The Rambler’s Rest”), where Jerry easily intimidates an elderly couple and pistol-whips their son. Intoxicated with the easy money—and a few stiff drinks—Howard bursts in on his family with armfuls of groceries. His wife gasps at the extravagance of baked ham and canned peaches, and he brags that now they can get their own TV, and won’t have to go over and watch their neighbors’. “And we’ll throw this piece of junk away!” he crows, pointing to the family’s radio. Soon Howard is buying his wife new shoes and dresses with hot money, telling her he has a night job at a cannery. His little boy sports a cowboy outfit and ambushes his jumpy father with toy guns.

Unsatisfied with these penny-ante crimes, Jerry comes up with a scheme to kidnap a wealthy young man and hold him for ransom. He’s overcome by envy as he fingers the victim’s suit, tailor-made in New York, and after they’ve taken him out to a gravel pit in a disused army base, Jerry panics and kills him. When Howard gets home, dazed with horror and guilt, his wife wakes and tells him about the lovely dream she was having: she had the baby and this time there was no pain at all; “I got right up out of the hospital and took her shopping. I was buying her a pinafore.” Even in her dreams she’s a consumer, subconsciously linking commercial goods with the fantasy of a painless life.

As Howard mentally unravels, the shoddy vulgarity of the culture around him takes on a sinister cast. Jerry shows him the ransom note he’s written in a diner while ordering a steak sandwich (“Cow on a slab!” the waitress yells.) For cover, they go out of town to mail the letter, taking along Jerry’s girlfriend, a glossy blonde, and a lonely manicurist she has dug up for Howard. In a nightclub, he’s subjected to a string of dumb jokes and parlor magic tricks from a burlesque comedian. “Blame my psychiatrist,” the comic quips, “I didn’t pay my bill last month and he’s letting me go crazy.”

From its opening moments, the film depicts the crowd as a mindless and malevolent force, which will eventually be stirred to frenzy by sensationalizing newspaper articles. Crowds in noir are always bloodthirsty mobs, surrounding and destroying strangers in their midst; the communal desire for security is tainted by bigotry and ignorance. This is a dark inversion of Capra’s rallying citizens, or even the all-for-one armies of bums who fight for their squatters’ rights in Wild Boys of the Road. Movies of the Depression era never saw anything wrong with wanting money, good food, a pair of shoes, or even fur coats and diamond bracelets. They are tolerant of people—especially women—who do whatever they have to do get ahead. By contrast, The Sound of Fury shows materialism—the desire to keep up with the neighbors, to make a better life for your family—as a force that corrodes souls and breaks down social decency. The deepest well of pessimism in noir is a distrust of change, desire and ambition. “I just want to be somebody,” people are always saying, but the urge to squeeze more out of life, to grab a chance at happiness, is brutally punished.

Below the surface, the force driving noir stories is the urge to escape: from the past, from the law, from the ordinary, from poverty, from constricting relationships, from the limitations of the self. Noir found its fullest expression in America because the American psyche harbors a passion for independence, an impulse to be, in the words of Walt Whitman, “loosed of limits, and imaginary lines, / Going where I list, my own master, total and absolute.” With this desire for autonomy comes a corresponding fear of loneliness and exile. The more we crave success, the more we dread failure; the more we crave freedom, the more we dread confinement. This is the shadow that spawns all of noir’s shadows: the anxiety imposed by living in a country that elevates opportunity above security; one that instills a compulsion to “make it big,” but offers little sympathy to those who fall short. Film noir is about people who break the rules, pursuing their own interests outside the boundaries of decent society, and about how they are destroyed by society—or by themselves.

The gangster, Robert Warshow wrote, is driven by the need to separate himself from the crowd, but in doing so he isolates and dooms himself. White Heat (1949), which brought James Cagney back to the gangster persona that made him a star, came out one year after the publication of “The Gangster as Tragic Hero.” It took the “man of the city” (as Warshow defined the gangster) out of the city, but Cagney’s explosive death atop an industrial gas tank is the supreme illustration of Warshow’s observation that the gangster’s pursuit of success—“Made it, Ma! Top of the world!”—is a pursuit of death.

White Heat is also a perfect example of what Edward Dimendberg (in Film Noir and the Spaces of Modernity) called “centrifugal” noir: it’s a film without a center, about a world flying apart like the cooling fragments of an exploded star. Cagney’s gang, decaying under the strains of resentment, betrayal and madness, moves between equally bleak urban and rural hideouts. After robbing a train in a rocky no-man’s-land, they hole up in a frigid, creaky old farmhouse “a hundred miles from nowhere,” as Cagney’s wife gripes. Cooped up together in this gloomy Gothic house, surrounded by split-rail fences and naked, rolling hills, they snipe at each other and grumble about their leader. Cody Jarrett (James Cagney) suffers debilitating migraine headaches and huddles in the lap of his gaunt, fiercely loyal Ma. The realization that came to Cagney in Public Enemy as he stumbled into the gutter in the rain—“I ain’t so tough”—is here amplified into an infantile weakness, perpetually on the verge of breakdown. Cody’s frailty only makes him more vicious. At his orders the gang leaves a wounded member behind, bandaged and in pain, to freeze to death once they make their move to a motor court in LA. The motel is typical of the “non-places” (in Marc Augé’s term) where noir flourishes: marginal, transient spaces where “people are always, and never, at home.”

The banality of the modern west makes room for Cagney’s majestically psychotic performance, fine-tuned and sensitive as a landmine. Cody Jarrett crumples inward under the crushing pain and then erupts, and White Heat similarly closes in and then shatters people are either cramped in suffocating enclosures (Cody shoots a man while he’s locked in the trunk of a car, cruelly offering to “give him some air”), or stranded in vacant, inhospitable spaces. At the rural hideout, the wind is always blowing bitterly around the house, tossing the trees; Cody walks alone at night, talking to his dead mother, who was shot in the back by his wife while he was in jail. He tells a friend—really a police plant who will betray him—how lonesome he is, because “all I ever had was Ma,” and how hard his mother’s life was, “always on the run, always on the move.” White Heat brings together the ultra-modern—radio tracking devices; drive-in movie theaters—with the pre-modern, even the primitive. It proves not just that film noir can thrive in the country as well as the city, but that noir was not merely a response to the new—industrialization, the bomb, etc.—but drew on deep veins in the American psyche and the American landscape: the desire to stand alone on top of the hill, even if there’s nowhere to go from there but death; and an accompanying fear of being buried “on the lone prairie,” having no one to talk to but the night wind.

by Imogen Sara Smith

[glamrus-puta]

Help I Start School Tomorrow: A Check List

Do you need some sweet ass advice from somebody who’s spent no less than 18 years struggling through the muck of academia? Of course you do! Here’s a handy-ass dandy-ass guide to wtf should be going on in your pre-school prep!

Let’s get started~

1) What should I do with my day before I go back to the hell hole that is school?

I’m glad you asked! Do things that make the start of the semester feel like a fun and luxurious adventure awaits you! Especially for college and university people, the start of the semester loses pizzazz with age (and time).

Hype yourself up with some simple self care, these things don’t have to be expensive or cost anything at all if you can utilize what’s lying around in your kitchen, bathroom, neighbour’s house or wherever.

Wash your damn hair! Shower and take all the time you need, shave if you want to while you’re in there. The goal is to feel fresh and a lil less greasy the next morning.

Are you a lazy ass that doesn’t have time to moisturize? Me too! Get some Nivea in-shower lotion if you can, and before you towel dry douse yourself with baby oil gel (or literally just some olive oil or coconut oil- whatever you got lying around). Show yourself some love!!

Now is a great time to style your hair for tomorrow and protect it with a low pony or a night cap, btw

Do a face mask! Do a hair mask! Do a foot mask! Do whatever tf kind of mask you got handy! Use foods from your kitchen, or try Freeman masks they’re around 4$ each. Dollar store prices, department store quality.

Take an hour to fix your nails, toe nails, wax the stache or do any body maintenance you usually do. Pretend you’re going to a sick ass party and you’re grooming your meat vessel to perfection.

Lay out your sick outfit for tomorrow- pro tip: you want to be comfy and functional on buses/trains/on foot or however you commute. Think hard about the kind of weather you’ll be up against, and the general state of the terrain on your commute. Put your outfit on a hanger so it’s ready for tomorrow, even if you can’t do this every night during the school year it’ll get you in the right mental state to have your first day

Prep your meds! A big part of feeling good is taking our medications on time to reap their maximum benefits. Put them out on your kitchen counter if you think you’ll forget, go through your medicine cabinet: is there anything you need to remember to take with you to have during the day? Set alarms on your phone if (like me) you’ve got pills to take at different times of day- label them something that you’ll understand. (I use the names of the doctors that prescribed them so I know which pills are physical health and which are mental health).

Pack your lunch for tomorrow. Fruits and veggies bitch none of this “I’ll buy it when I get there” nonesense. Remember to stay hydrated! Bring some kind of receptacle to hold water/tea/coffee whatever. This is a solid habit to have year round, but remember the first couple school days can frazzle you pretty good and it’s good to have snacks on hand.

CLEAN YOUR GODDAMN ROOM. You’re gonna be shooketh in a bad way if you wake up on the first day of classes with a messy bathroom and shit strewn all over your sleeping space. Take all the time you need to put things lovingly away, if you’re feeling ambitious update your calendar and spray a little room spray or light a scented candle. Ooh la la

Do something fun. Do something distracting. Go out with a friend, read a book, take a couple hours of ‘me time’. You’ll be ready to die for it during the semester.

Feeling nervous? Call literally anybody you can stand to talk to for more than five minutes. Talk about dogs, talk about boats, ask them to guess how many jelly beans you’re holding right this second (sike b the answer is 0)- take a couple steps away from the whole school thing.

2) What the hell do I put in my backpack??

So this is where I fly into an unGodly rage. I’m so tired of seeing Instagram posts telling people their make up, perfume and breath mints are the most important of their school arsenal. What’s gonna save you when you bleed through your pants at school cause Aunt Flo decides to come chill on campus? Your perfume? Unlikely.

Here’s the real tea on what you should have in your bag, based on years of oopses, dire situations, and general mishap management.

A pencil case. Preferably full of writing implements. I can’t believe I have to tell people this but like......I do.....y’all childish

MEDICAL BAG: A small pouch is all you need! Tuck this away in your bag’s inside pocket, or in your purse, it could save not only your life but somebody else’s too. Get your prescriptions you need throughout the day like inhalers, anti anxiety meds, lactose intolerance pills, Imodium, symethicone etc.

Pack some ginger gravol (or regular drowsy gravol) for motion sickness or for when the flu season hits

Benadryl pills (and your epipen if you have one!) this is one of those things you should always have lying around at home and in your car

Alcohol swabs and band aids of your choice. Most pharmacies will sell 100 swabs for around 3$, look in dollar stores for discreet 1st aids packs and band aids. Stash them in your little pouch, it might not be you who falls down a flight of stairs and needs to bandage up their elbow- but at least you can help. (Based on a true story!!!!)

Panty liners/ tampons/ pads- this is another one of those things that others may benefit from

Get yourself a mini deodorant (3$ at Walmart) and wrap your hair ties around it. Double trouble, double storage capacity!

Tylenol/Advil, hunt around for little plastic pill holders like Pill Pals, they’re not usually more than 2 or 3 bucks and they hold A TON of pills

Vagina Bonus Round: do you take birth control? Have a tube of Canesten/Monistat/Vagisil or whatever for when the yeast season is upon us

Remember to carry your hospital card and/or medical insurance card on you at all times

Pharmacies will give face wipes individually wrapped for free. Usually brands like Cetaphil will dump them off as testers for customers- ask your local pharmacy cashier for stuff like mini hand creams, spf lip balms and face wipes. We’re happy to give them to you and you’ll get some real use out of them!

ASS WIPES. GET SOME. You can wipe down your bag with them, wipe down tables with them, flush them, and do all kinds of damage control. Trust.

Emergency money- the medical bag is a great place to hide emergency money (think bus fare, or 5$ for emergency food) because people are unlikely to rob what looks like a 1st aid kit

3. Friends come and go but portable chargers are forever- you can find cheap key chain ones at dollar stores. If you’re going to spring for one that lasts a few days on one charge I suggest the OKZU from Amazon. It’s HELLA SLIM and I can hold a charge for about 3 days before it reaches even 75% battery capacity. (It’s also the most budget friendly I’ve found to date about 14$ after shipping).

4. Remember make up, gum, little travel items and perfume can have a place in your bag but I would suggest transferring as much as you can into smaller and smaller containers. A whole bottle of perfume is a lot to carry around, imagine a water bottle bouncing around your bag- that’s the kind of space you’re using up. Be mindful of just how many books/ copy books/ textbooks you’ll be toting around and if it gets to be too much- get an actual tote!

5. A little clip on hand sanitizer never hurt anybody...also Kleenex I promise you’ll use it. (And if you don’t I’ll be there to borrow it lmao) ALLERGY SEASON BONUS ROUND: a small bottle of off brand artificial tears are great to stow in your glasses case for all those shitty October mornings where your eyes refuse to act like eyes and not the Sahara Desert 🐫 off brand artificial tears run for between 2-4$ at most Walmarts!

3) I’ve used my last 24 hours to get my shit together- but I have a horrible impending sense of doom! What should I do?

Ah anozzer day in bikini bottom, which means another day of crippling anxiety for 25% of adult Canadian students! (Wow that’s a lot of students!) Boy do I know how tough it is to be thrown back into the pressure cooker of life that we call school. Here are some tips from me to you that I hope help a little bit:

I believe in you! It’s not a tip, but I want you to know that I do. If you’re feeling unsure/ silly/ out of your element/ etc think about me wandering around just as confused as you are! And have a good laugh at my expense! Shoot me a DM, scroll around my nonesense blog- wow check me out I’m a real living person and I made this post for you- because why? I care about your well being! Sometimes it just helps to know that there’s somebody out there thinking about you and wishing for your safe return home at the end of the day~ for the start of your semester I’ll be that person. *smooch*

Arrive early! My therapist once told me that rolling out of bed five minutes before I have to be somewhere limits my chances of having a calm and meaningful experience where I’m going. I hate to admit it but she makes a good point. Wake up early and do something nice for you: have breakfast, just sit on your balcony and breathe some fresh air, pet your cat and gaze upon their stupid face. Take the time.

Arrive early BONUS TIP: get to where you’re going an hour early and just wander! Window shop, roam the building, learn where the fire exit is, sit outside on a bench and watch the students come in and out. The longer you chill at school the homier it’ll feel, and the more you feel at home somewhere the more you feel at ease. Strike up random convos with strangers if you’re feeling brave, or text an understanding friend to meet you there and roam alongside you.

Plan your day! Get an agenda if it’s in your means, or just scribble on some scrap paper. Make your grocery list, write your tasks of the day, your goals of the day, or even just a positive affirmation. Sometimes even when I know exactly what I’m doing that day, or have something trivial to do (like laundry) I’ll write down “do laundry” to feel like I have a clear path to follow.

Embrace your local accessibility Center and school councellor. Don’t live in fear of the resources your school provides. It seems scary/embarrassing/weird to have to have special accommodations to deal with your anxiety or depression but GIRL once you’re all set with the appropriate tools there’s truely nothing that can stop you. This was my experience anyway, but I strongly urge everybody I meet to take advantage of school services and wring them for all they’ve got. They’re there for you boo!

HOT TIP: feeling dizzy and overwhelmed on the bus? Look at the wall or something that isn’t moving. DONT LOOK OUT THE WINDOWS AS THIS MAKES DIZZINESS WORSE. Breathe in 2 beats and out 3 beats- this cuts your fight or flight. If you’re going to drink take small sips out of a straw or without moving your head. My GP gave me this advice and it’s saved my whole ass quite a few times.

Download free apps that are anti anxiety in the form of fun games. I’ve had positive results with Viridii (where you grow a little succulent garden) Tap Tap Fish (basically you’re a sentient coral that decorates the sea floor) and Polytap (you basically count the vertices of spinning polygons). A cursory google search will reveal more fun games for emergency anxiety relief! I also like to go on YouTube and search for positive affirmation anxiety videos, or storm/white noise/ ocean anti anxiety sounds the night before to get me in the right headspace to sleep!

So this has been your lightning round/ crash course for what to do the 24 hours before school! I hope you feel a little more prepared to take on the start of the semester!

A dios hoes!!

[bakubros]

Tagged by @artsytodoroki, @minaaashido, @pilotpig! This was so much fun to fill out, guys! Thanks for tagging me. 💞

Rules: Answer 11 questions, Create 11 of your own, and Tag 11 people!

I’ll tag: @pinkcupofcherrytea, @dekudorks, @lupizora, @enonmia,  @shulksfeels, @mysonisthesun, @a-erith, anddddd.... just about anyone else who’s interested in doing this c; (i’m a lazy tagger, rip.) amy, shy, piggie, i’d love to see your answers as well if you have some free time! 

(questions are at the veryyyyyy bottom of this read more, lol)

Amy’s Questions:

If you were a character in the BNHA universe, what quirk would you want to have? *nervous sweating* I actually have a really detailed OC I made for Hero Aca and now that I have the opportunity to show her off to the world, I’m getting nervous? LOL. I’ll just say that the quirk’s name is tentatively “flying fish” and then leave it at that for now... Until I find the courage to brag about it in depth... (I am actually in love with the idea and character I came up with, I’m just ??? Suddenly nervous for no reason?? LMAO)

Do you know your MBTI? If you do, what is it? INFP!

Are you somebody who thinks before you act or do you act before you think? It honestly depends on the context of the situation. When I’m with friends or people I’m comfortable with or when I’m tired, I act before I think. When I’m skeptical of others or anxious about how I’m being perceived, I think before I act.

What’s your current obsession? Mmm, tough! I’ve been really into watching movies recently, particularly the Oscar-nominated films. I’m sad because I side with the New Academy on a lot of their picks but know that the Old Academy still dominates so rip ;;;

If you ever wanted to change your name, what would it be? I used to hate my name and thought about changing it to “Willow Kathryn” instead of “Jessica Kathryn.” I don’t know what I was thinking when I was younger; I just know that, now that I’m older, I would never go through with such a change. LMAO

Least and favorite subjects in school? Favorite was literature, least favorite was (and will always be) math.

Describe yourself in one or two words. Passionate, Empathetic

How tall are you? 157 cm (though I like to think I’ve grown a bit ;;;;)

Do you have a phobia? I don’t think that any of my fears are strong enough to constitute a phobia? Though I will admit to an awful abhorrence of bugs.

Would you prefer to go where there’s less people or more people? I’m assuming you mean live? And if that’s the case, then less people. If it’s late at night or something though (like now!), I prefer to be around more people.

Do you believe that the world is divided into good and bad people or is everybody the same? if so, why? To assume that the world is Manichean feels like an antiquated, small-minded notion; to assume that everyone in the world is the same feels ignorant and dehumanizing. I believe that all “divisions” within our culture (I’m throwing morality into this category for the purpose of this question) are man-made constructs--in that sense, there’s no right or wrong answer. In my case, it’s just fundamental disagreement with the notion, lol. On the question of morality, however, I will say that I believe that all individuals exist on a spectrum and cannot be definitively good nor definitively bad; to label someone in a single category like that limits future perception of them and implies an inability for human change/growth.

Shy’s Questions:

[pre-school teacher voice] What do you want to be when you grow up? I wanted to be a teacher, and then a pediatrician, and then a writer, and then a professor. And now I’m back to teacher. We’ve come full circle. LOL.

What did you do today? GOT SOME OF MY SHIT TOGETHER!! Double-checked my degree audit with my advisers, met with the dean of my college to ensure that I’m on-track to meet the criteria for graduating summa cum laude with the dean’s medal in December, and discussed scholarship funding with some of my current sponsors. I thought that I was going to owe my school money after the summer, but it’s looking like they’re going to be paying me instead. 😎

What’s the last really good fanfic or meta you’ve read? I’ve... honestly been slacking really hard in the reading department for the fandom. I’ve been reading a lot of wips recently (which obviously haven’t been posted), but the last one that comes to mind is cherry chapstick on the tip of your tongue by oliviyay on ao3! 

Do you prefer saying “y’all” or “you guys?” You guys!

What is the last thing you watched? A video of Die Mannschaft’s coach talking about how proud he is of His Boys™️.

How are you feeling? I just really want the semester to be over because I’m tired of the workload? But at the same time I’m really antsy about that because it means graduation is just that much closer?? And idk if I’m fully ready for that?? Like, I know that I am but like... I still don’t feel like an adult lekrjwlekrri

Favorite sitcom? Parks and Recreation, hands down. I binged the entire series when I was going through a bad breakup, and whenever I can’t sleep or need a pick-me-up, the show always has my back. I’m p sure that if Netflix ever removes it I will die.

Anime or manga or neither? I’ve always been partial to manga!

Favorite kind of smoothie? The Beach Bum at the Tropical Smoothie Cafe! I like it because I’m a sucker for chocolate, but the ingredients in the smoothie still make me feel like I’m healthy.

Got any allergies? I’m mildly allergic to dust and pollen. For some reason I’m severely allergic to a certain species of grass. (And, because I have the best of luck, it’s the species of grass that is native to Florida. It’s everywhere I go and I just want to be able to sit in the park without breaking out into hives. ;;;)

What’s the most expensive thing you’ve ever purchased? I just recently paid $800+ for VIP tickets for my parents and I to go see Elton John in concert. But, like, I know it’ll be worth it so I’m not even mad LMFAO

Piggie’s Questions:

What is your favorite soap scent? Ooooh, this is a really tough one! I can’t think of anything specific, but I’m a fan of scents with floral undertones!

What is the talent of yours that you are most proud of? Please go on and on and on about it!! (and don’t say you have no talents because I know all of you well enough to know that’s not true >:’D) Mmmmm, this is tough! This is more of a personality trait, I suppose, but I’m really stubborn when it comes to getting what I want; if I have a goal in mind, I do absolutely everything that I can to achieve it. So far, this has worked out really for  me, which is why I’m considering it a talent? I’m sure that a lot of it is just good luck though. LMAO. I think that I also have really good memory! I remember seemingly insignificant details really well, which makes for fun writing. c:

What is your favorite book and why? Or TV show/anime/movie if you don’t like books? The Things They Carried by Tim O’Brien--this book is honestly what inspired me to become a writer and holds a very special place in my heart. Second favorite would be The Mill on the Floss by George, and every time I’m reminded that it’s considered one of the worst books in classic lit I cry a little harder.

Which fictional character do you relate to the most? (And why, if you want?) Bakugou Katsuki, in terms of backstory (being praised when young and letting it go to my head), passion/ambition, and tendency for cursing. I’ve never been outspoken or antagonistic though, so that’s where our biggest difference is, lol. (He is still my Child though and I Would still die for him)

Do you have any collections? If so, what do you collect? Books and video games, I suppose! Though right now I’m also starting a magazine habit that I know I’ll regret in the future...

What are your top three best personality traits, and what is one thing about your personality that you want to work on? In no particular order: passion, empathy, and friendliness. I’d like to be more consistent outgoing when it comes to meeting new people and making new friends. I’ve been given many opportunities to form bonds with really awesome people, but I always get shy/awkward or just fudge it up. I’d really like to change that, haha.

Do you have any pets? If so, what is/are their personality/personalities like? I have a dog named Snowie! When she was younger, she was super rambunctious and liked playing in the dirt--wasn’t much of a cuddler. Now that she’s older, she’s a lot calmer. And she really likes cuddling which I really appreciate.

What is your preferred study method? Depends on what I’m doing specifically! If I’m reading lit or crit theory, I need an empty room, some good music, and soft lighting. If I’m preparing for a test or writing something up though, I need to be around other people. When it’s something that I don’t really want to do, constant supervision is necessary to make sure that I actually do it. LMAO.

What is the most adventurous thing you’ve ever done? Impromptu island hopping and cliff diving on my cousin’s boat during my last trip to the Philippines!

What are your life goals? Oh boy. Although I mentioned that I’m a very goal-oriented person, I’m really bad at designing long-term goals? I think that I’ve only ever gotten as far as five or so years in the future. I guess I’ll say that I want to work in a job that I enjoy, surround myself with people I care about, and do something that makes me feel like I’ve left a mark. (Ahhh, this was such a bad answer! Sorry! ;3;)

What is your favorite part of being on Tumblr? Probably the people I’ve met. The nice ones, ofc!

My Questions

What was your first big fandom? How did you get started in it and how did it inspire you?

Was there ever a fandom that you were a part of that you now regret? (catch me in middle school skipping class to watch the early premieres of the twilight movies and getting into intense debates over team edward v team jacob LMFAO)

If you had to pick an artist to create the OST of your life, who would it be? Why?

Tell me three things a person could say/do/believe to instantly taint your friendship/relationship with them.

I suck at cooking. Do you? If you don’t, what’s your favorite thing to make? (hmu with a recipe and i’ll love you for life lmfao)

If you had to name a daughter right now, what would you name them? What if you had a son? (Alternatively, if you have no interest in children, what name would you like to give a female/male character that you create?)

Let’s say you were to die right here, right now. What would be your biggest regret?

Think of one really, really good teacher you had. What made them so great?

What’s your “origin story”? If you had to explain why you are the way you are by only pointing at one event in your life, which one would you choose?

Tumblr is an actual hellhole. But what do you like about it?

How are you? (I’m stealing Shy’s question because I really like it lmao)

[inopinion]

Date at the Docks

The Virals Series by Brenden Riechs and Kathy Reichs --- > needs more fanfiction, so I’m here to help.

Thanks to a tuna fish sandwich, I did not have to face down an entire evening of wedding planning. Kit had a simplistic desire to be married in a place of natural beauty, and so he proposed we drive out to Cape Romaine Wildlife Refuge. Whitney, of course, wanted something more traditional with a modern flair and thought Boone Hall Plantation and Gardens would be exactly the southern charm she needed. She’d made an appointment with their event planner, had planned a picnic, and packed the bug spray. Diner was to be al fresco at the end of a self-guided walk of the refuge. I was still in mildly hot water over my attendance record being mailed to his office rather than where I could intercept it. My grades hadn’t dipped more than a couple percent and so he was holding me hostage on principle. Plus he thought wedding planning as a family would be the exact start we needed in this new life of togetherness. Blargh.

But, like I said, thanks to a tuna fish sandwich and Hiram’s impossibly sensitive stomach, Mr. Blue had to wait at the dock for an additional twenty minutes. It was exactly the time I needed, as the text came just when Hiram staggered to the docks.

Can’t miss the appointment at the plantation. Feed yourself. No going out.

I texted back: Hiram should be here any minute, maybe five more?

He replied: Can’t. Late as it is.

Kit accepted most of my excuses on face value, it was one of the better aspects of our relationship, but showing some interest in the activities of Whitney’s designs got me bonus points, so the small white lie really hurt no one.

“Never again,” Hi groaned. We hadn’t even cleared the dock before he was over the edge.

Shelton and I shadowed the two middle-school kids that also lived on Morris to the front of the boat.

“So, what’s the plans for the weekend? Bank heist?” Shelton adjusted his glasses and kept one eye on Hiram’s folded form.

“Calculus. I haven’t started the assignment yet.”

“Oh, tisk tisk. It’s a killer. Took me all night last night to get through half. I’m gonna be hitting up the Call of Duty tonight though, little treat for keeping my nose clean for two weeks.”

“Have fun.”

“Yeah. But we’re going out tomorrow, right?” Shelton alluded to the pre-planned boating expedition to our favorite beach on loggerhead.

Even without my abilities, I felt like I needed to see Whisper and her pack. Like watching them would help me remember that connection. There was a good chance I’d come away upset or crying, but still, I needed to see them. “I assume so. I haven’t heard otherwise,” I shrugged.

Shelton raised an eyebrow. Ben was our ride, always, but he’d only managed to slip a few texts to Shelton on a friend’s phone in the last two weeks. His resilience through the class skipping wasn’t quite as high as mine and an emergency conference with his parents rendered him without a phone, without a car, and without a social life. It’s been a bit of a hard start for our relationship, as in a non-starter. It still stung a bit that every message seemed to go to Shelton, all three of them. I shouldn’t mope about it, but still, I was feeling more than uncertain about what exactly I should be expecting now that we’d assigned the labels of boyfriend and girlfriend to each other.

Another volley of overly loud vomit kept me in the here and now. I’d be at the docks in the morning, waiting to see what had changed from our last group ride out to Loggerhead. At least if it got weird, I’d have Coop and the wolf pack to keep me distracted.

Unfortunately, Friday nights had little in the way of televised entertainment. So while I attempted to procrastinate and put off the complexities of nested integrals, I made plenty of headway, enough to question if I had the right assignment. I even sent a confiramtion text to Shelton and got a positive response. But by seven o’clock, all my problems were done and what remained of my weekend assignments was seventy pages of reading for AP English. I turned my attention to The Age of Innocence and let the TV play in the background.

An hour, eight o’clock and I could imagine Kit and Whitney taking in the beauty of the refuge and I sort of wished I was there. Sort of, not really, okay I would love to see the refuge and I wouldn’t mind a little more time with Kit. Besides, the wedding was important to him and he was undeniably important to me. As my stomach growled, I could even admit I wished I had a little bit of Whitney’s picnic basket.

Lazily, I palmed my phone up off the table and gasped. It was still on silent from school which had meant I’d missed a message from Ben.

At my dad’s tonight, you around?

What did that mean? More importantly, in two weeks of radio silence, did I even want to come clamoring to his sudden beck and call? Shouldn’t I at least feign being angry? A glance at the time stamp - 7:12 - and at least I wouldn’t look desperate replying.

I wrote: Just finished some homework. What’s up?

What’s up? Yeah, that’s how you hook ‘em. I waited. Two minutes. Three. I turned on the notifications so I’d at least hear it and went to address my hunger in the kitchen. I made a sandwich, tossed a couple slices of meat to Coop and eyed the baking show on the TV with little interest. Still, no reply. What a start, maybe an ending. It hurt, not that I’d dare let it show, because what was there to hurt over?

Three fast raps on the door and butterflies swarmed my stomach and floated up into my throat. Was he skipping the electronic communications? Ben had cut off shorts and a trim, black t-shirt that looked slightly too small for his frame. It might have fit him in the spring or at Christmas, but he’d grown both taller and stronger in the time I’d known him. His hair was tucked back behind his ears and a slight pink coated his cheeks. Those long lashes saved him sweeping away those prickly thoughts I’d just been fostering.

“So, you wanna come out with me?” He fought the smile that threatened to crack his face.

“Yeah, sure. Where?”

“Just the dock,” he shrugged, then added, “Is that okay?”

Ben looked legitimately worried, like I wasn’t known to hang out on docks with moody boys and would be offend to partake. Coop rushed the door.

“Lead the way.”

His hand slipped out of his pocket and extended for mine. Would I ever get used to it? His elbow bent and pulled me into his side, which seemed like an expert move, had he used it on other girls? How many other girls? Why was I having dumb, over analyzing thoughts in the first place. I turned by attention to the feel of him: warm and solid; the smell of him: men’s sport deodorant and docks; and his body language: stiff, but not anxious. I took a deep breath of the salt air and shrugged my shoulders a few times to relax. It was Ben, just Ben. Just Ben-the-boyfriend doing the first boyfriend things… no sweat.

On the dock, he had one pole already cast into the water, another, presumably for me, sitting on the dock. Three buckets and a cooler. An already opened bottle of fancy root-beer was next to one bucket (his seat).

“So, what I miss? Felonies? Misdemeanors?” he asked, dropping my hand to take his seat and open the cooler.

He pulled out another bottle and dug his keys out of his pocket, digging deeper for his pocket knife. He used the bottle opener even though it was probably a twist off. But, sure, cool points, I guess.

“I’ve been on psuedo-house arrest, so not much. Wedding crap, homework, mostly. All-in-all, quiet. You?”

“Well, grounded. Redefining nothing.”

“How bad were the grades?”

“Three B’s. Nothing major. I’ve done worse at Bolton, but apparently the standards are different now that I’m at Wando.”

Ben lifted the second pole and offered it to me. I examine it and confirm it’s the same one from the last time we went fishing. The lure is the same shiny disk and feather combination. I lean over and look at his bucket. Nothing in it but water.

“We can toss them back. But I was hoping for dinner,” he smirks. “You remember how to cast?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Setting the feed, holding it with my finger I pulled the pole back and launched the line out beyond the dock into the deeper water. Ben’s lips were tight and his smirk never slipped. “What?”

“Nothing. You fish how ever you wanna.”

“What I do?” I insisted.

“Nothing. Just… I mean, fish like cover. Under the dock, by the boats, but you try the open water,” he waved his hand at his own line that dipped below his father’s ferry boat.

“Fine, I’ll reset it,” I started reeling it in. “Call it practice.”

“Sure, practice,” he sipped his soda and then got quiet. “Not the best first date, eh?”

I watched the lure under the gentle waves then pop through the surface. Was this a date? A first date? Did this count? It was after school, almost dark, no parents, no friends, he even brought refreshments. His hand curled into a fist on his knee, those Blue-moods coming to the surface. “It’s a very Ben first date.” I offered, kindly and with a smile. For good measure I pulled the pole back and released it, landing off the end of the dock.

“What’s a Tory-date? You know, for next time?”

“You have to ask?” I raise an eyebrow and glance at Sewee parked in it’s slip down the dock.

“Always wolves with you.”

“Use my predictability to your advantage,” a small nudge from my knee and he slid his bucket closer to me.

“How’s this supposed to go?” Ben asked, looking at the water, watching his line. We’re shoulder to shoulder like we have been on countless occasions, but I can’t recall ever having quite the same queasy feeling.

“I dunno. New to me.”

“I sorta didn’t think much past this.”

“Well, this is nice,” I declared, sipping from the soda in my hand. I see his on his knee, palm up, offering. His fingers are slightly chilled from the glass.

“So, why’d you text Shelton?”

His hand flinches in mine. “Only number I have memorized. Two-zero-zero-seven. Double-oh-seven. I had to borrow a phone from a friend. Only let me the once because he almost got it confiscated.”

“Oh. Okay.” More silence, the lapping waves, the bugs coming out for the night. Coop dashed through the grass and onto the dock, sticking his head into the space between Ben and I.

“Chaperons,” Ben groaned, pushing Coop away and getting licked for his effort.

“Oh, yeah, did you get rules?” I asked.

“Rules? About?”

“Me.”

“Oh, no, not specifically about you, just about girlfriends, but I don’t even know if my mom remembers it.”

“You’ve dated before?”

“Like middle-school, before Bolton. You?”

“Nope, not really, well, about the same, I guess,” I blushed at the memory of those make-out sessions behind Dunkin Donuts.

“So, rules?”

“Oh, Kit made sure we had the talk and everything. Apparently, seventeen-year-old boys are single minded. I think my existence sort of freaked him out.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Kit was seventeen when—you know—I happened.”

“Oh. Right. Well, I mean, that’s not gonna happen like right away or anything.” Instant awkwardness. I created instant awkwardness.

“Look, it better to be upfront about things, right? Talk about them? Anyways, Kit says we can’t hang out alone at each other’s houses, curfew—strictly enforced—and he wants to know if we go places where we’re going and when we’ll be back.”

“Okay. Sure,” Ben nodded. “But this is okay, right?”

“Yep.”

Then Ben’s arm moved around my shoulder, a smooth movement that tickled my stomach back into butterflies. “And this is okay?”

“Mmm-hmm.” My breathing stepped up and the sweat kicked on. His face next to mine, his arm pulling on my knees, rotating me on the bucket so we faced each other, his right knee between mine. “This is okay?”

Dear God, Ben had moves. Good moves. Moves that melted me and made my skin pimple into goose bumps. I nodded. Leaning forward our lips touched just slightly, enough for his breath to puff onto my chin. Then the line jerked and his pole fell off it’s prop. Stretching low and fast like a cat, Ben gripped the pole before it fell off the deck. I laughed at his sprawl, his bucket rolling into the ocean and riding on the waves four feet below. He cursed and reeled, keeping the fish on the line and eying the bucket for drift. I reeled in my own pole and while he fought his fish into the dock, I used mine to hook the handle on the bucket and drag it over to the ladder.

“It can’t be that small,” Ben groaned, the silver fish coming up in a leap. “It fought like a monster.”

“Making fish stories?” Kit approached. Coop trotted up the dock to great him.

“Hey, Tory, it’s nine-thirty. You got until ten.”

“Yep, sure thing,” I chirped wondering exactly how much he’d seen. Thankfully, it was getting darker by the moment and maybe my flush would fade before Ben had the fish unhooked and back in the water. Kit lingered, like he wanted to burn my scarlet permanently into my skin.

Coop circled around me, watching Ben’s fish come up over the edge of the dock. It flipped and kicked it’s tail wildly, still fighting in the air. Ben grabbed it and balanced his pole against his side. He grinned while he examined his catch.

“What is it?” I asked more to pull me away from Kit who just wouldn’t disappear.

“Croaker,” he held it up, holding it by it’s mouth.

“Cute.”

“People usually say, ‘a beauty’ but I don’t think ‘cute’ is really a term for fish.”

“Maybe I wasn’t talking about the fish,” I grinned. Ben rolled his eyes and tucked his hair behind his ear. Definitely cute. “Well, mercy or no?”

Ben glanced at the bucket and then back to the fish. “It’s not my favorite,” he lied and tossed it back into the oceans.

He wiped his hands on his pants, glanced at the path up to the condos and found it vacant. “Before anything else gets in the way—” he took the two steps he needed and crushed his lips into mine. His lips were tight with an exhilarated smile and his hands firm in how they held me still. Maybe it would be an awkward transition, but having that first real kiss out of the way was a big start.

[sly-punk1712]

Night Moves

AN: For this most part this is harmless just a cute little fluff. It does mention panic attacks and touches indirectly on body issues (Steve’s) so if that’s not something your interested in skip Steve’s dreams

If anyone had asked Tony, which for the official Pepper report, no one did, He’d say this was all Darcy’s fault. If the intern had just submitted to his inquisition then he wouldn’t have had to invade everyone’s privacy and he wouldn’t be trying to stem the blood flow from his broken nose. As soon as this blew over he was going to write it down somewhere official they were no longer hiring pesky tag along interns, certified geniues only. But Lewis was already here so he probably couldn’t kick her out. 

She had been sleeping in his lab almost a month now. She was just as restless as the other scientists and would meander from lab to lab until she tired. So Tony let her sleep on his cot. Just polite. It was on such a night that he tinkered over improved repulser links when he heard the murmur of gentle laughter. Tony looked up from his work and glanced around. Darcy was sprawled on her back one arm covering her eyes from the harsh light of the lab. Her mouth was curved into a small smile and she was chuckling softly. Tony smiled she looked peaceful, young. A swell of affection rushed over him. She was alright. 

It was nice to see someone who slept without worry in his tower. This thought was interrupted by a fuller laugh as the intern started to wakefulness the ghost of her dream still pulling her lips up at the corners. She blinked slowly still chuckling. 

“Dreaming of me again, Double D?” Tony smiled as innocently as he could manage trying not to let on how curious he actually was. Darcy rubbed her face and stretched ignoring the man who so generously let her nap in his lab. 

“Don’t ask. If I say it out loud I lose” Darcy said this as if it made perfect sense. and to a person pre-coffee it probably did. To Tony it was just the tip of the iceberg. He raised a brow but the young brunette simply waved him off still chuckling. 

Little did she realize the absolute shit show she had begun in his life.

******************************

“This is a terrible idea. I would literally rather build Ultron again.” Bruce said rubbing his temples to combat the headache Tony was giving him. Tony scoffs.

“First of all, That wasn’t a bad idea just a poor execution. Second off, how could this go wrong?” Tony pushed the glasses up onto his head and peered at his tablet once more. Bruce just made a noise and headed for an exit.

“You are 100% on your own.”

“You’re gonna miss it!”

“I’m leaving!!” and he did. It was almost like he thought his disapproval would stop him. No he was committed. It had been three weeks of her giggling laughter and refusal to tell the joke. He had even recalibrated his memory projection glasses just to sneak a peek. Tonight he thinks, tonight it will go flawlessly. 

No sooner had he thought it than the giggle sounded softly from the feed Jarvis had playing on his tablet. 

“No time to waste!” He beamed and slid the glasses down to rest on the bridge of his nose. one last breath and he slide the gear to on. 

This was one of the most nauseating experiences of his life. and he wasn’t sure if it was the glasses or the scene before his eyes. Steve was dressed in some sort of toga? Tony tilted his head and wondered closer looking for Darcy. Surely if this was her dream she’d be in it right? There was no one in the garden that he could see so instead he scooted closer to Toga Steve.

Toga Steve sighed heavily and pouted dropping his chin to his hand. 

“If there’s a prize for rotten judgement, I guess I’ve already won that” Tony’s head snapped to look at the soldier in abject horror. Toga Steve was singing. 

“No man is worth the aggravation.” 

What sort of hell was this? Tony looked around for Darcy as Toga Steve continued. Suddenly as T.S. lamented his love life Darcy appeared legs crossed, also wearing a Toga on a bench near Toga Steve. but she wasn’t alone.

Beside her, also in togas, were SHIELDs deadliest assassins. Barton with his usual reflective sunglasses and purple hearing aids, Natasha with the widow bites and pom-poms?

“Who you think you kidding? He’s the earth and heaven to ya!” All three new arrivals to the dream began to sing in time to T.Steve’s tune.

“Try to keep it hidden, honey, we can see right through you.”  This line brought movement from the trio as they followed Steve and began some sort of synchronized dance. It was one tenth terrifying and nine tenths hilarious. It’s no wonder she woke up laughing. Tony felt himself swell with laughter despite the fear he initially felt. That laughter wasn’t his. A side effect from being in Darcy’s psych? Honestly he wasn’t sure these glasses would even work much less work so well.

“Steve you can’t Conceal it, we know how your feeling and who your thinking of!”

“No chance no way! I won’t say no NO!” Toga Steve flounced away dramatically spinning the hem of his toga up a little.

“You swoon you sigh why deny it uh oh!” The assassins swayed in perfect time faces stone but seemingly earnest. 

“It’s too cliche I wont’ say I’m in loovv” 

Before Toga Steve could finish his line Tony was ripped away. Thankfully, Lewis had a twisted sense of humor.

*****************

And the other room Darcy awoke with a sharp laugh and a smile still splitting her face. 

****************

Instead of waking up Tony found himself standing in a familiar room. Jane’s lab? His suspicion was confirmed by Thor walking in?

“THOR?!?!” He hadn’t mean to shout but this was an odd time for the asgardian to come waltzing in. His heart raced behind his reactor and he felt a surge of relief and tinges of longing. Not really his feelings but still strong. The beefy blond paused in surprise. “What are you doing here buddy?”

“I’m here to collect my Lady Jane for our date. Why are you here Anthony?” He tilted his head curiously like a oversized labrador. Date? The awnser appeared before he could even verbalize his confusion. The lab doors opened again and Jane came crashing through looking nothing like the Jane he had seen half an hour ago. For one thing, this Jane was showered and looked well rested. and in a sparkly dress. Tony made to push the glasses up and rub his eyes. 

When he reached his face he found no cool glass and metal. No glasses. So this was a dream. Jane’s dream if he had to guess. He had thought Thor looked extra ripped. 

“Hey Sorry I’m... Tony?” Jane asked in confusion. He waved sheepishly in greeting. 

“Sorry I think I’m lost.” He gestured over his shoulder feeling odd for intruding. If this was Jane’s dream he didn’t want to intrude on her time with Thor, imagined or not. He felt the longing she did and knew he needed to evacuate quickly before the tears or the sex. This dream was likely to go either way at the moment.

 He opened the door that normally would have lead to his lab and hastened threw.

******************* 

In Jane’s actual lab she awoke face drool glued to a paper. She peeled her cheek free and groaned. No Thor. but why would Tony be there?

*********************

When he closed the steel door behind him his gaze lighted on a room that was most certainly not his lab. It was a dimly lit, rather drafty bedroom. In the bed before him was a woman. Pale, skinny, blond and unmoving. His heart sank slightly. His own feeling.  Beside her to the left stood a young Bucky Barnes hat in hand eyes rimmed red with tears. To her right holding her hand... well Tony wished he could leave this right now. Bruce was right. This was the worst idea he’d ever had.

Steve knelt, not small and sickly, like a 1930s him should have been. Instead he was in his uniform, strong and handsome, huge hands swallowing her slender one, face soaked in tears and snot. 

“No Ma, please, Look at me, I’m here, It’s me Stevie” He babbled not letting her hand go. “Ma look! I did it! I’m so much better now Ma, healthy and tall. I can take care of us both now Ma. Please just look at me.” Tony had never heard Steve talk like this. Like he was from fresh off the boat. An Irish accent cut threw the Brooklyn accent he sometimes spoke with. not a trace of the midwestern show horse the USO tour made him.

“Ma!” He cried and for being the biggest one in the room he sounded like a little boy to Tony’s ears. Bucky moved forward and Tony left out a soft sigh, Barnes would handle this, make Steve stop hurting.

Barnes rested his hand on Steve shoulder calling, Steve’s gaze to meet his. The young man gave a crooked smile, Tony had seen a thousand times. 

“Let her go Stevie. Being big isn’t gonna fix this.” Tony’s gut clenched, this dream stank of something sinister. “Didn’t help me did it?” His face was still in the kind smile even as his words made Steve recoil. Tony’s heartbroke, a Steve feeling. 

“No Steve!” Tony couldn’t be silent anymore. The dream morphed around him and he was looking up at the sky. The light blinded him and he could barely make out Steve’s face against the bright sky. 

“Tony please!” Steve sank to his knees. “Damnit Jarvis let him go. Tony hang on.” Tony realized he couldn’t move. He was trapped. In his suit. Steve’s fingers clawed helplessly at the armor. “Tony!!” Steve’s voice was getting distant. Tony’s chest felt tight. was this a panic attack in a dream? Could he die here if he died in Steve’s dream? His heart began to race and fear pounded thicker than his blood. 

“I’m sorry” Steve sat back, bloody hands on clutching in his hair rocking slightly. He was giving up. Oh God Steve wake up!! He thought desperately.but  his vision began to shrink and go dark. As the darkness overtook the sky his panic faded to calm, fear settling into rest and Tony saw his mother and Steve’s holding out their hands.

***************************

Steve bites his tongue when he wakes up, startling violently upright sweat covering his body. After a few deep breaths he sighs. Just a dream. He can hear the sound of Bucky’s documentary playing in the living room and takes a fortifying breath. Everything is okay. He’s home.

***************************

His eyes opened once more to blinding light. He sat up in a slight panic hands flying to his chest. His hands moved so that was something. He sent up a silent prayer that Bruce would find him soon. or at least that there would be no more nightmares. He shuddered. Poor Steve. 

Panic settling he examined the terrain to find himself in a soft green field. An open empty place that looked a bit like late spring. A single tree broke up the landscape the only thing visible in this vast dreamscape. He trotted toward it. In dream time distances pass oddly and he found himself running up on the tree faster than he’d intended he screeched to a halt when he saw who was seated beneath the tree weapons drawn, eyes narrowed. 

Natasha, Clint and Agent were all in some weird killer puppy pile, sprawled across each other looking practically peaceful save the angry looks and sharp knives there were holding. He held his hands up in surrender not moving. They assessed him shrewley.

“I don’t want trouble.” He said honestly. Dying once in a dream was bad enough he’d rather not give them reasons to kill him again. 

“What do you want?” Asked Agent. 

“Just to rest” Tony answered after a moment. “Just to sit and be with you.” He shuddered at the acceptance that filled him. It was finality as he’d never felt it. Natasha nodded and even tho they went back to lounging no one put away their weapons. Tony didn’t dare move any closer instead keeping his hands visible he sank to the ground. Into what was probably the softest grass he could even imagine. Actually he couldn’t imagine it and that’s why it was someone else’s dream. but whos? No thought or feeling projected in a way that was helping him decipher. Clint or Natasha? Natasha or Clint?

The four of them sat contented for what felt like a long time. The spysassins gently combing fingers over Agent Agent. Tony enjoying the peace and also studying the pair. This wasn’t how he ever got to see them. So fucking happy. It tugged somewhere deeper than his heart. He closed his eyes to enjoy it.

Maybe it didn’t matter who’s dream this was. Maybe that was the point it was less a dream than a rest. maybe it was both of their dreams. Tony opened his eyes to look at him teammates and their handler. He said a prayer to whoever answered his prayers that this could be every dream for them. Tony was glad they decided to stay in his tower. That joy just made this dream invasion all the more terrible. Something else swelled in his heart. Something sour. Regret. He didn’t want to be here.

“I’m going to go now.” He said finally. His voice was soft but not hoarse like an unused voice should be. Three steely eyes rested upon him. Natasha nodded first. Clint closed his eyes with a small smile and Agent hummed in chest. 

Tony stood and made to walk away.

“Tony.” He couldn’t tell who spoke. He turned regardless. “We’re glad you’re here” None of the three’s mouths moved but he still heard it. If anyone could figure out telepathy just for the sake of being closer to someone it’d be these two. Tony smiled and began his trek into the openness of the field. 

******************

Natasha and Clint woke without moving. Her eyes opened and alert swept the room. He gave a soft groan at being woken from a good dream. Their eyes met briefly before  they settled deeper into their bed and each other’s arms. Unwilling to wake just yet. Contented.

*******************

Tony awoke to being sucker punched in the face. The greenness of the Agents’ dreams popped from view as the bridge of his glasses was violently propelled into his nose. 

“HOT FUCK!” He cried hands shooting to his face. Threw watery eyes he saw the small crowd standing in front of the chair he’d started this whole fasco in. Steve in a fresh tee shirt and sleep pants arms crossed frowning at him, Jane in her lab coat looking Pissed with a capital P. Bruce shaking his head slightly and lastly Darcy shaking her hand out indicating she’d been the one to break his nose.

“W’at was dat for?” He pouted pushing the glasses off his face and into his hair.

“Like you don’t know!” Jane snapped and left the room in a huff. 

“Otay I’m sobta sobby.” He shrugged. “But Da’cy woulbn’t tell me ‘er dream” He pouted tilting his head back. “T’at was a good d’eem do, Ah like ‘oga Steebe.” He grinned. Bruce and Steve gave Darcy a look.

She flushed. 

“That is nothing what it sounded like. Toga Steve is hot for Toga Bucky who  never makes it to my dream because I wake up laughing at the singing.” She babbles. Bruce once again pinches his nose and throws a towel in Tony’s direction. Steve blushes. 

“So Smooth Da’cy.” He smiles. She glares and stomps out too. Steve looks at Tony uncertainty. 

“Are you okay Tony?” Steve asks finally.

“Mah Nose Is bwoken but dat’s otay” He shrugs. “Are you?” Tony tilts his head so the bleeding stays minimal but he can eye Steve. Steve shrugs and runs a hand threw his hair. 

“Wasn’t a good night.” He rubs his neck. “Sorry my dream wasn’t funny.” Tony marvels at the man who’s apologizing to Tony when Tony was the one dream peaking. 

“Its otay Stebe, Ah’m sobby Ah made you sad” Steve’s eyes search his face closely and Tony turns to look at him properly most of the blood drying. Steve deserves to look at him properly.  There’s a long pause, it’s the stillest this room has ever been with him in it. Bruce watches puzzled.

Steve gives a crooked smile and nods once. 

“Goodnight Tony” Steve says softly making for the door.

“Night Stebe. Sweet Dreams” Tony grinned at Steve’s parting scoff. Bruce waits till the door is closed before clearing his throat expectantly. 

“W’at?” 

“Well?”

“Welp W’at?” 

“Aren’t you gonna tell me what her dream was?” Bruce for all his nay saying was just as curious as he was! Tony beamed and held a hand dramatically to his chest. 

“B’uce dat’s a hooge viola’ion of privacy!!”

“You literally violated everyone’s privacy tonight!!!” Bruce protested.

“Yea well this is mah learning from may mishakes” 

Bruce’s eye twitched dangerously but he merely snatches Tony’s dream hopping glasses and stomps back to his lab. 

“And you said it was a bad idea!” He shouts. Theirs the sound of glass smashing probably the 600 thousand dollar dream glasses.  It was not a bad idea. 

His nose throbs.

Okay maybe it was a dumb idea, but only maybe and he’s gonna right that in the Pepper report later. 12 percent of a dumb idea.

On his way toward his apartment he passes Darcy on his cot, soft smile starting on her face. He pauses thinking about the all dreams he visited. 

And maybe tag along interns weren’t so bad.

[thebestican]

Double-Feature: Karel Zeman's 1955 science fiction adventure "Journey to the Beginning of Time" and Francis Ford Coppola's 1979 horror story "Apocalypse Now." Both stories feature long journeys down the river by a group of boys who learn how badly things can turn when you get off the boat.

The journey of "Journey" takes them back in time, from the pre-human eras of the Ice Age to the Pre-Cambrian years, rowing to reach the Paleozoic point where they can catch a trilobite. The "Apocalypse" trip takes the crew through levels and representations of war's dehumanization, to catch (and kill) the renegade U.S. Colonel Kurtz.

If one goes by the story points (adapted from Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness), like the trilobite, Kurtz was the first of his kind to exhibit a sense of sight -- in his case able to see a truth behind the insanity of Vietnam in particular and war in general. Like the trilobite, Kurtz evolved into something else, something unexpected, by adapting to the horrible environment created and maintained in many ways by his own country's actions.

***

I'd waited over 50 years to see the end of "Journey." As noted here before, it was serialized for American television in the early 1960s, and I never got to see the end, to see how the boys got back from their trip in time.

There was never any scientific explanation in the original Czech version for how the crew could travel through time so simply, other than that it was similar to the Jules Verne experience described in his "Journey to the Center of the Earth."

SPOILER: In the American serialized form, included in the new Criterion collection of three Zeman films, it's dumbed-down quite a bit. The explanation for the time-travel in the U.S.A. is that the boys fall asleep in a history museum and find themselves in the boat, and then at the end -- after an insert of a booming voice predictably quoting passages from Genesis over stock footage of volcanoes -- they wake up. It was all just a dream. The end. In the original film they find the trilobite then look out over the ocean and marvel at the wonder of life. The -real- living end.

I prefer the original version. Could've maybe sold me on the American version if they went out merrily, merrily through the closing credits with a few rounds of "Row Row Row Your Boat."

***

I first saw "Apocalypse Now" on its first run in 1979 and some of the circumstances of that viewing caused me to avoid re-watching the film for quite a while after. It's since become one of my favorite movies and I still prefer the original version over Coppola's "Redux" and "Final Cut" tinkerings. His first, less-thought-out and more-instinctual-because-of-deadline-doom, decisions on the cuts were perfect. It moves so enticingly well. Like the director's other work of the time -- the first two Godfathers and "The Conversation" -- if I stumble across it already in progress on a television showing I inevitably get drawn in and stuck with it through to the finish.

Watching it now I'm struck by the obvious and true-to-life youth of the boat's crew. The fact that in 1979 they seemed -old- to me is notable given that we were not only actually the same age but that, chillingly, we were the age that, only six years before, would've meant eligibility to serve in Vietnam.

***

Around the time "Apocalypse" first appeared on the screen I got to interview a group of Vietnam vets for an article I was writing about student vets on-campus. They relayed to me a real wide-variety of reasons for serving, an assortment of good and bad feelings about what went on, and a general affirmation where they were headed after what they'd endured.

Many years later I got to know a family of Vietnamese who arrived here among the exodus of so-called "boat people" during the fall of Saigon, and came to appreciate the remarkable admirable way they built a new life -- despite their arriving with little understanding of English and possessing only what they were able to carry on such a long hard journey.

Like the immigrants and refugees of today, they endured the ugliness of being told "speak American!" or "go back to your own country." They eventually settled down and passed their citizenship tests -- a feat most-likely beyond the capability of most of the loud-mouths who tried to put them down, the ones who only became Americans by chance of birth. They also retained many aspects of their culture -- language, style of dress, religious beliefs -- because they naturally wanted their children to remember their roots. Because they are supposed to be able to do so in America is just another reason they love it and were proud to become American.

The strength and beauty of American culture is not made when immigrants give up their past, it's when -we- absorb and appreciate the varieties of life and lifestyles from around the world.

This nationalistic way so-called Americans can treat these other ways of life, can dehumanize other cultures, much moreso than the extreme violence of the combat sequences, is a large part of the horror of "Apocalypse Now." On the other hand, part of the joy and wonder of "Journey to the Beginning of Time" is when, at the end, they simply look over the ocean and marvel at the variety and complexity of life.

Yes, sometimes bad and unexpected things will happen when you get off the boat. But as so many of our veterans have demonstrated in their lives, as so many refugees from other countries have shown us: many more good things are possible, too. We no longer live in a pre-human era, so why act like animals? Life (can be) a dream. Merrily.

[shawwillsuffice]

Every album and song referenced in every book by Hanif Abdurraqib

I decided to put together this list after finishing Hanif’s latest full-length book, They Can’t Kill Us Until They Kill Us: Essays. For those not familiar with Hanif, he’s a poet and essayist who really loves to talk about music. He writes a lot about hip hop, punk, and emo, but I also once texted him out of the blue to ask his opinion of the largely forgotten 90′s boy band O-Town and he had a number of clearly well-thought-out observations ready to go immediately. He writes about music in ways that are simultaneously about other very big things in his life and the society and communities that shaped it. It’s something I deeply appreciate, as a person for whom narrative storytelling is often the only way for me to express the things I’m thinking and feeling, for which simpler words just won’t cut it. His books are about fear, or heartbreak, or gentrification, or religion, or death and mourning, or hope, but they’re also pretty much all about music.

With that in mind, I decided to make it my 2018 New Year’s Resolution to listen to every album and song referenced in his books, and since I had to make this list anyway, I figure I’ll share it in case anyone else wants to do the same, or just wants an exhaustive list of Hanif’s music references for some other reason. 

For clarity’s sake, this list includes songs and albums, but not instances where musical artists are named without reference to any of their actual material. I’ve omitted names of individual songs in cases where the albums they appear on are referenced in the same poem or essay. I’ve also tried to include indirect references that rely on context cues without identifying actual titles or song lyrics, though I’m sure I’ve missed some. 

Of course, if any of this sounds at all interesting, I’d recommend buying the books themselves. The chapbooks are quite hard to find, unfortunately. Vintage Sadness famously sold out in pre-sale, even after the publisher more than doubled the print run due to overwhelming demand, and if there are any copies of Three Crosses or To Ex-Girlfriends to be had anywhere besides my bookshelf, I sure as hell can’t find them. However, both of the full-length books, The Crown Ain’t Worth Much and They Can’t Kill Us Until They Kill Us are still very much available.

Three Crosses (2012)

- The Notorious B.I.G., Life After Death (”And it’s full. Been full. Stays full. Full since that ‘97 summer / When Biggie blared out of everything with windows. Everything that could breathe.”) - Johnny Cash, “Oh Bury Me Not” - Taylor Swift, “Last Kiss” - Michael Jackson, “P.Y.T. (Pretty Young Thing)” - Stevie Wonder, “Signed, Sealed, Delivered I’m Yours” (”Michelle Obama loves punk rock music. / Rolls her eyes backstage when Barack picks yet another Stevie Wonder standard to stroll out to during campaign stops.”) - The Clash, “I’m So Bored with the U.S.A.” - The Pogues, Red Roses for Me - Nirvana, In Utero

To Ex-Girlfriends (2014, I think?)

- The Who, “My Generation” - Johnny Cash, “John Henry’s Hammer” - Johnny Cash, “Cocaine Blues” (”In Folsom, they banged on metal tables / when you talked about that .44 you kept under your pillow”) - Jay-Z, Big Pimpin’ - The Notorious B.I.G., “Mo Money Mo Problems” - Diana Ross, “I’m Coming Out” - Johnny Cash, “I Never Picked Cotton” - Jay-Z and Kanye West, “No Church in the Wild” - Against Me!, “Thrash Unreal” - Van Morrison, “Sweet Thing” - Hall & Oates, “Sara Smile” - Hall & Oates, “Rich Girl”

The Crown Ain’t Worth Much (2016)

- Jay-Z, “Where I’m From” - Journey, “Don’t Stop Believin’” - Marvin Gaye, “What’s Going On” (”& he starts in on some marvin & the words ‘brother, brother, brother / there’s far too many of you dying’ crawl from his lips) - Fall Out Boy, “Saturday” - Jay-Z, “Izzo (H.O.V.A.)” (”& Jay-Z called himself Hova / twelve times in one song”) - The Notorious B.I.G., “Mo Money Mo Problems” - Taking Back Sunday, Tell All Your Friends - Nick Drake, “Pink Moon” - The Notorious B.I.G., “N****s Bleed” - Something Corporate, “Konstantine” - Fall Out Boy, “Sugar We’re Goin’ Down” (”We wrote ‘IGNORE YOUR GOD COMPLEX’ in every bathroom stall on campus one of those years even though we knew the right lyrics”) - Kendrick Lamar, good kid, m.A.A.d. city - Whitney Houston, “How Will I Know”  - Third Eye Blind, “Semi-Charmed Life”  - The Temptations, “I Wish It Would Rain” - Nina Simone, “Mississippi Goddamn” - Nina Simone, “Sinnerman” - Nirvana, “Lithium”

Vintage Sadness (2017)

- Blood Orange ft. Carly Rae Jepsen, “Better Than Me” - Kanye West, “Only One”  - Jay-Z and Kanye West, “No Church in the Wild” - Duran Duran, “Girls On Film” - Carly Rae Jepsen, “E*Mo*Tion” - Ginuwine, “Pony” - The Four Seasons, “December, 1963 (Oh What a Night)” - Jay-Z and Kanye West, “Illest Motherfucker Alive” - Aaliyah, “Rock the Boat”  - Soul Decision, “Faded” - Nirvana, “Smells Like Teen Spirit” - Guns N’ Roses, “Welcome to the Jungle” - Kelis, “Milkshake” - Jay-Z, “Izzo (H.O.V.A.)” - Bone Thugs N Harmony, “Crossroads” - Next, “Too Close” - Olivia Newton John, “Let’s Get Physical” - Cutting Crew, “(I Just) Died in Your Arms Tonight” - Soul II Soul, “However Do You Want Me”  - Jay-Z and Kanye West, “N****s in Paris”

They Can’t Kill Us Until They Kill Us (2017)

- The U.S. National Anthem - Bruce Springsteen, “Born in the U.S.A.” - Lil Uzi Vert, “XO TOUR Llif3″ - Fetty Wap, “Trap Queen” - Chance the Rapper, Coloring Book - The Social Experiment, “Sunday Candy” - Chance the Rapper, Acid Rap - Drake, Views - Bruce Springsteen, The River - Carly Rae Jepsen, E*Mo*Tion - Carly Rae Jepsen, “Call Me Maybe” - Semisonic, “Closing Time” - Marcy Playground, “Sex and Candy” - Prince, “Baby, I’m a Star” - Bob Dylan, “All Along the Watchtower” - Foo Fighters, “Best of You” - Prince, “Purple Rain” - ScHoolboy Q, Oxymoron - The Notorious B.I.G., “N****s Bleed” - The Weeknd, Kiss Land - The Weeknd, House of Balloons - The Weeknd, Thursday - The Weeknd, Echoes of Silence - Marvin Gaye, What’s Going On - NOFX, “Don’t Call Me White” - Brand New, “Sic Transit Gloria... Glory Fades” - The Wonder Years, Suburbia I’ve Given You All And Now I’m Nothing - The Wonder Years, The Greatest Generation - The Wonder Years, No Closer to Heaven - Constellations, Alpha - Twenty One Pilots, Regional At Best - Rihanna, “Work” - Cute Is What We Aim For, The Same Old Blood Rush with a New Touch - Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Blank Generation - My Chemical Romance, The Black Parade - My Chemical Romance, May Death Never Stop You - My Chemical Romance, Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - Defiance, Ohio, Share What Ya Got - Defiance, Ohio, The Great Depression - Fall Out Boy, Folie a Deux - Fall Out Boy, “Saturday” - Fall Out Boy, Infinity on High - Fall Out Boy, From Under the Cork Tree - Bobby Womack, “If You Think You’re Lonely Now” - Fall Out Boy, “Dead On Arrival” - Three 6 Mafia, “Star Fly” - Willie Hutch, “Tell Me Why Has Our Love Turned Cold” - Michael Jackson, Thriller - Ice Cube, AmeriKKKa’s Most Wanted - Kendrick Lamar, To Pimp a Butterfly - The Impressions, “People Get Ready” - “The Gospel Train” - “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” - Sam Cooke, “A Change Is Gonna Come” - “Wade in the Water” - Foxx, “Wipe Me Down” - Webbie, Savage Life 2 - Lil Boosie, Incarcerated - Boosie Badazz, Touch Down 2 Cause Hell - Fleetwood Mac, Fleetwood Mac - Fleetwood Mac, Rumours - Atmosphere, When Life Gives You Lemons, You Paint That Shit Gold - The Notorious B.I.G., Life After Death - Diana Ross, “I’m Coming Out” - Big Pun, “Still Not a Player” - Bertolt Brecht and Elisabeth Hauptmann, The Threepenny Opera - Nina Simone, Nina Simone In Concert - Nina Simone, “Baltimore” - Nina Simone, “Sinnerman” - Lupe Fiasco, Food and Liquor - Migos, Culture - Migos, Juug Season - Migos, “Versace” - “When the Saints Go Marching In” - Johnny Cash, “Folsom Prison Blues” - Johnny Cash, At Folsom Prison - Johnny Cash, “Hurt” - N.W.A., Straight Outta Compton - Ice Cube, “No Vaseline” - 3rd Bass, “Pop Goes the Weasel” - Bone Thugs N Harmony, “Thug Love” - Bubba Sparxxx, Deliverance - Asher Roth, RetroHash - Asher Roth, “I Love College” (”Saw him in 2015 at some festival and a drunk white woman kept yelling at him to play the college song.”) - Macklemore, The Heist - Kendrick Lamar, good kid, m.A.A.d. city - Macklemore, This Unruly Mess I’ve Made - Future, Honest - Future, Dirty Sprite 2 - Future and Drake, What a Time to Be Alive - Future, Evol - Future, Beast Mode - Future, 56 Nights - Future, Purple Reign - Future, Future - Future, HNDRXX

[royaltyjunk]

Never Could Have Loved [T, New Danganronpa V3]

Summary:

There's never been anything wrong with Harukawa Maki's life, at least in her eyes.

Author's Ideas: SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS HOLY SHINTO DON'T READ THIS SHIT IF YOU HAVEN'T FINISHED V3

Okay look I love post-game fics about survivors as much as the next guy - I wrote two of them - but listen listen listen

PRE-GAME FICS? ABOUT HARUMOMO? I HADN'T EVEN THOUGHT ABOUT THOSE AND NOW I'M LIKE HI MOVE OVER POST-GAME FICS I'M GOING DEEP INTO THIS HELLHOLE

*cracks knuckles even though I can't do that* aight, let's do this

Also yeah I'm still going "last name, first name" because I'm a weeb yahahaha

AND this fic is highly speculative so be nice with me please thanks

As always, readable on FF.net and AO3.

Disclaimer: I wish Kodaka wasn't so evil but I don't own Danganronpa so yeah, nothing I can do about it

There's never been anything wrong with Harukawa Maki's life, at least in her eyes.

Sure, she might not love her parents, and her parents might not love her back. Sure, she may or may not have depression. Sure, she might have had to and continues to deal with more than any kid at her age will ever have to deal. But there's never been anything wrong with her life, in her eyes.

There's only been much more that she's wanted to change about her life, that she never can.

There is her mother, a distant figure in her life who abuses her. Badly. She remembers days in elementary school where she'd try to run away from home. She knows now that it is better to simply take it all. The little good that her mother does, and all the bad she gives Harukawa.

There is her step-father, a man who has never cared about his step-daughter. She knows he sees her as a nuisance, and he knows she sees him as a bother. They've never tried to get along, and frankly, they both know they'll never get along.

Then there's her real father, the man who might have made her, but cares less about her than anyone in the world. Her father could meet a stranger and care more about them than his own damn daughter.

So it's not a surprise that she's depressed, doesn't do well inside or outside of school, and gets abused in her free time.

The only solace she can find in her life is her fraternal half-twin. It's a messy situation that involves her mother sleeping around in the same week, and somehow ending up with her and her brother, but he's the only speck of good her mother has ever given her.

Unfortunately, he lives with her real father after he decided no, he didn't want his actual child, he wanted the other child, and she can hardly find an excuse to visit him. There's been many times where she's had to climb the walls outside the house and knock on her brother's window. Truthfully, she doesn't feel bad about it.

Her brother's name is Gokuhara Gonta, and he's a bit of a delinquent.

It's actually not easy to spot the resemblance between the two despite them being twins - pretty much all they share is their mother's brown hair and red eyes, and even then Gokuhara's hair has a tint of green that's not in hers. Hell, they don't even share the same last name, although now that she thinks about, she'd much rather be called Harukawa than Gokuhara, and he probably thinks the opposite.

Instead, their genetic bond is more obvious in the small things. Their hair grows out the same. Their hands are both rather small. Their feet are rather large. Their eye shape is the same. Both of them have thin lips.

Gokuhara's part of a gang, and not a good kind of gang. A gang that beats people up with no remorse kind of gang. He's constantly looking to pick fights, and has been suspended from school on multiple occasions. Thankfully, because of her father's job as the principal of the school, he hasn't expelled, but it makes Harukawa disgusted to think her brother's only in school because of nepotism.

So it's not a surprise the two of them end up auditioning for Danganronpa's 53rd season, just to get away from their lost and destroyed lives. It's not that either of them are die-hard fans - they just want to get away. Perhaps that's why so many people love Danganronpa - it's a show of escapism, a show that takes you away from everything you've been feeling and plunges you into the depths of those characters' minds.

Harukawa sighs, clenching her fists. The large television displays a glowing red number: 95. Gokuhara shifts nervously beside her, and she glances over at him.

"Nervous?"

"I guess," he mutters. "It's just - "

The number increases by one, and the door to the gymnasium opens up as the speakers spark to life, announcing, "Number 96."

Gokuhara stands, taking in a deep breath as he stands. Harukawa pats him on the forearm reassuringly, grinning.

"It's not like it matters if you get in or not."

"...Yeah. You're right, Mak. Thanks," he grins back, and disappears into the open doors of the gymnasium. A Team Danganronpa member escorts him in, and then closes the door behind her half-twin. She wishes him luck in her mind.

The hallway fills with even more obnoxious and loud teenagers, and Harukawa shifts deeper into the folding chair placed along the hallways, ignoring them the best she can. She doesn't even notice one of them walk right up to her before they tap her on the shoulder.

"Hey, can I take this seat?"

Harukawa looks up, seeing a teenager with sharp purple eyes and the most ridiculous hairstyle she's ever seen. She shrugs. Gokuhara probably wouldn't mind. Besides, they're leaving after she auditions anyways.

"Sure."

The teenager plops down beside her, grinning. "What number are you?"

"97," she responds.

"You're next?" he tilts his head. "I thought you'd be more nervous about the audition."

"It's not like it's a big deal for me anyways," she answers, fiddling with her gloves. It's been awhile since she's worn these silk gloves, since she's almost never gone out where strangers will see her hands. Today's an exception. She doesn't need anyone asking about the blooming and ugly purple bruises and numerous scars scratched across her palm and on the back of her hands and along her fingers.

"Seriously?"

"It's not like getting in will make my shitty life any better."

"Oh," the purple-haired male murmurs, blinking. "So you have a shitty life, huh?"

"More than shitty, sure."

"What's your name?"

She glances at him with a tinge of anger in her eyes. "Why do you care?"

"Am I not allowed to know a nice girl's name?"

"...Harukawa. Harukawa Maki."

"Nice. I'm Momota Kaito."

"So are you one of those crazy Danganronpa fans?"

"I wouldn't say that, but I definitely like it a lot, y'know?" he smiles widely. "It's fun to try and figure out who killed who, and how the people react to the killings and everything!"

"...Morbid," Harukawa comments under her breath, and Momota lets out a chuckle.

"I guess. But it's entertainment, so it's not anything worrying. I mean, pretty much everyone else here does the same."

The speakers buzz to life, and a deep voice calls, "Number 97."

She stands, and Momota stands with her. She glares at him.

"What are you doing?" she asks angrily.

"Just thought I'd see you off," he grins. She ignores him, and pushes through the crowds of people towards the double-doors leading to the gymnasium.

"Good luck," he mutters, and her hand clenches tight around the door handle.

"Sure."

She steps through those doors, and somehow feels like her life has changed because of one god forsaken boy.

~ / . / . / ~

"...What the hell is this," she deadpans, slamming the paper onto the table.

The man sitting in front of her looks up at her. "What's wrong, kiddo?"

"'Ultimate Assassin?' Why the hell am I under that talent? I told you, I wanted to be the unknown Ultimate. Why am I under Ultimate Assassin?"

The man sighs, glancing over her paper. "Listen, little miss. It's hard for us to make sure you get your preferred Ultimate. Besides, we already have an unknown Ultimate, and we think you'll fit nicely as an Ultimate Assassin if you're chosen."

"Are you serious?"

"Of course. Now go. I don't have all day to deal with your complaints. I got hundreds of other kiddos like you to deal with."

"Wait a minute - "

"Next!" the man calls before Harukawa can protest, and all she can do is give up, trudging out of the dining hall and through the hallways. She turns the corner, and almost runs into Momota, who's leaning against the wall along the hallway.

"Oh, hey. Harukawa, right? I didn't know you'd made it through the first cut."

"Yeah, it's Harukawa. I did. Surprisingly."

Momota laughs loudly. "I think you'd fit into a cast of Danganronpa. So, what talent did you get?"

Harukawa rolls her eyes. "It's not like my opinion matters," she responds. "So anything is fine."

Momota frowns. "Then what did you get?"

"...Ultimate Assassin," she responds. "Then again, lots of other people have gotten that talent. We'll just have to see who they pick as their Ultimate Assassin this year."

"Better than the Ultimate Astronaut," Momota sneers. "God, it's such a lame talent. I don't know anyone who would willingly choose that talent."

"So were you just shoved into that category because they felt you didn't fit any other?"

Momota rolls his eyes. "Yeah, I guess."

"Well, I guess we're in the same boat."

Momota offers her his hand, and she high-fives it tentatively. The scar on her finger tingles, and she ignores the stinging feeling of the bruises all over her - even the ones in her heart.

~ / . / . / ~

Harukawa rubs her cheek, and Gokuhara curls his fists.

"I'll hit them real good, I'll kill them, I swear - "

"Stop it, Gokuhara," she mutters, watching the retreating backs of the couple leaving the school. "Don't."

"But Mak, they - "

"Shh," she hisses. "How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that here?"

"Sorry, Harukawa… I - still! I don't understand why you still put up with her shit!"

"Gokuhara, there you are!" Momota appears behind Gokuhara as he turns the corner. Harukawa shrinks against the wall. "Some - oh. Hey, Harukawa. I thought your parents were… visiting you."

Harukawa shrugs. "They left. I'll be going now, Gok - "

"Harukawa, what's that on your cheek?"

Momota's words make her stop mid-sentence, and she clamps her teeth together. "It's nothing."

Momota grabs her by the wrist, turning her to face him. "Is that a bruise?" He frowns, and Harukawa rips her hand from his.

"It's nothing. Leave me alone."

"A bruise isn't nothing!" Momota hisses. "Who did it?" His head swivels to look at the other teenager. "Gokuhara, you - "

"Stop it!" Harukawa bellows angrily. "Gon didn't do anything, and it's none of your god damn business, Momota!"

The purple-haired teenager freezes, staring at her, and Harukawa cradles her cheek in her hands before realizing what she's said.

"...Shit."

"Mak…" Gokuhara murmurs, resting a hand on her shoulder. She looks away, her face scrunched into a look of shame and unhappiness.

"So…" Momota starts after an awkward silence, "you two are…?"

"Fraternal half-twins," Gokuhara grunts. "From the same disgusting she-devil."

Harukawa just sighs, letting her hands fall to her side. "Gon, I've told you not to call her names like that."

"Well I'm sorry that I'm the only person willing to stand up to her abuse!"

The biting words Gokuhara yells leave a cutting silence in their place, and Harukawa glares at him.

"I thought I told you not to bring that shit up," she grinds out coldly between clenched teeth and curled fists, a sense of rage and darkness swarming her. Gokuhara winces. Momota's eyes grow angry.

"So it was her…?"

"Stop it," Harukawa mutters, too tired to argue. "I'm used to it, okay? Stop."

Momota unclenches his fist, turning his head to the side. "Damn…"

Gokuhara doesn't say anything, and Harukawa pats her hand on his forearm. "You should go…"

"Oh yeah…" Momota looks at the brown-haired boy. "Some kid's looking for you. Black hair, looks like a whiner. Said he'd be by our dorm in five minutes."

"Oh!" Gokuhara starts, then cracks his knuckles. "Mak, if you need me…"

"I'll be fine, Gon," she responds tiredly. "Go."

He pulls Harukawa into a quick one-armed hug before hurrying away, casting a final look over his shoulder as he disappears behind the corner of the hallway. Harukawa leans against the wall, glancing up at Momota.

"So? What do you want with me?"

"Huh?" Momota tries to act surprised, but Harukawa can see a look of guilt crossing his face.

"If you really were looking for Gon, you'd have left with him. If you're here with me, I can only assume you're here because you have something to talk with me about. Whatever it may be."

"Man, and here I thought I was being subtle…"

"Not sure if you know this, but you're the exact opposite of subtle," Harukawa snaps back snarkily before sighing. "Come on. You can talk while we walk back to the dorms."

"Wait, Harukawa - "

"Hurry. Up," she hisses, turning and walking down the tiled path that leads through the large school that's actually a filming lot. Momota hurries after her, and the two of them walk away from the entrance hall.

"Harukawa, look. Why can't you just get along with everyone? Why do you have to act so… distant? I mean, I guess know now, but come on. At least don't go out of your way to ignore everyone who tries to talk to you."

"There are hundreds of people here, and you're asking me to get along with everyone? Seriously?"

"Not everyone! Do you think I'm insane? I just mean that… you know. Try not to death glare everyone who tries to talk to you. I mean… shit, can't you at least get along with me?"

She glares at him, and he frowns.

"Stop that. I just told you not to do that, didn't I?"

Harukawa pushes open the glass door to the dormitories wordlessly, and Momota follows her to her room, shared with several other girls. She knows they're inside - she can tell from all the giggling.

"You'll never change who I am," she retorts back, turning to look at him now that they're standing in front of her dorm. "Even if I try, I'll never change."

"Look, Harukawa. You're really freakin' pretty and you might come off as a bitch, but I like you a lot, alright? So even if - "

Her hands shoot up, grabbing the collar of his jacket and pulling him down towards her. In a rush of adrenaline, she's kissing him hard, her hands in his hair and lips hard against his.

He makes a noise of surprise against her lips, and she pulls away.

"What?" she inquires flatly. "Is that not what you were wishing for?"

"I… no, I just didn't think you'd…" he gestures vaguely between the two of them, and Harukawa rolls her eyes, exasperation slashing through the feeling of excitement and pounding nervousness.

"Would you rather I hadn't done it?"

"No," he replies immediately, "that was freakin' awesome. I - "

"Cool," she cuts off, pulling him back down for another kiss. This time he takes the lead, pulling her close and kissing her hard. Her lips are going to bruise, she knows it.

She brushes it off. Not like she's never been bruised before anyways.

"Hey," he mumbles when they pull apart, and he presses his lips against her cheek, his words muffled by her bruised and purple skin. "I really really like you. And I think you don't deserve everything you've gone through."

"I think I do," she replies softly, and Momota frowns, pulling away from her.

"Harukawa - "

She shakes her head, and slowly takes a step back, opening the door to her dorm and stepping backwards into it. "Good night," she whispers, her voice cracking and unable to retain its cold and harsh tone.

"...Night," Momota breathes, and she shuts the door in his face, her fingers trembling from the unknown feeling coursing through her veins.

~ / . / . / ~

The hundreds of teenagers that flock the filming grounds are all sent home.

"We will announce the results in three weeks," the Team Danganronpa executive tells them, and then sends them back to the dormitories and their chosen rooms to pack up and leave.

Harukawa sighs, jamming her clothes and everything she brought into her suitcase and leaving before her roommates even come back. She never really liked them - prissy little girls who'd gossip and giggle long into the night, to the point where Harukawa had to throw things at them to shut them up.

She steps outside, following the large crowd of teenagers swamping to the entrance of the school. Harukawa glances around, watching the slow construction of the large Wall being built. It will soon be finished, and sixteen poor souls will be trapped inside it.

Harukawa doesn't know how to feel about the fact that she might be one of those sixteen people.

Gokuhara stands beside her, his phone in his hand. "Kenji and Yuki are picking us up."

Harukawa frowns at the mention of her mother's name, but sighs. "Can't be helped. Not like I want any of them to come pick us up."

At that moment, Gokuhara's phone begins to vibrate, and he quickly picks up the call.

"Kenji? ...Yeah, we're here… Okay. See you." He hangs up and glances over at Harukawa. "They'll be here really soon."

Harukawa nods, squinting. In the distance, she can make out a trail of cars, rumbling along the road. "Is that them?"

"Should be," Gokuhara responds, taking Harukawa's suitcase. She lets him, rubbing her arms to rid herself of the wave of frostiness that swamps her for a reason she knows all too well.

The car pulls up in front of the two of them, and Gokuhara rounds the car towards the trunk, opening it to put away their suitcases. Harukawa pulls open the car door, taking a step in.

"Harukawa!"

A loud and familiar voice splinters the air, and Harukawa starts, looking over her shoulder. A sense of sorrow and guilt throbs her heart, and she can almost feel it splitting.

"Momota…"

"Get in," her mother hisses at her. "We don't have time for your shit. We're busy people, unlike you lazy teenagers."

Her mother's words open a feeling of anger and rebelliousness in her heart that's never been there. Confidently, she steps out of the car and turns towards Momota, who's running for her. She meets him halfway there, right beneath the large doorframe of the entrance to the Academy for Gifted Juveniles, amidst a crowd of people pushing against them.

"You're leaving now?" he asks softly.

"Yeah. Yuki's not going to wait for us… obviously." Momota bites his lip, and she looks at him. "Did you want to say something?"

"I… I'm gonna miss you a lot," he starts.

Gokuhara calls for her frantically from inside the car. Harukawa can feel her mother growing increasingly impatient and frustrated.

"I know," she responds.

"And I think I love you."

"I know."

"Harukawa!" her mother yells. Her voice is frigid and enraged.

"'I know'? That's all you have to say?" Momota asks angrily. "We might never see each other, and that's all you have to say?"

"...I'm sorry," she whispers. "I'm so… so sorry."

Momota's enraged eyes soften, and he glances away guiltily. "No… it's not your fault." He pauses, and then touches his fingers to her cheek. The ugly purple bruise has long faded, but the silent action brings Harukawa back to that night where they were so close. "I guess… this is goodbye, Harukawa."

"Yeah," she whispers, lowering her head. Momota brushes her bangs behind her ear and she pulls away and climbs into the car, staring out the window as they drive away and ignoring her mother, angrily yelling at her with a true rage and impassioned anger in her voice.

Her heart throbs. It's a bruise that's going to be there forever, she knows it, but what's one more bruise over the million others she's going to get?

~ / . / . / ~

She wakes up thrashing and kicking, and her foot slams against the door of a locker.

"Shit," she hisses, feeling pain throb through her toes, but pauses. A locker? Why the hell is she in a locker? The locker door pops open when she kicks it again, and she stumbles out, falling to her knees.

"Damn…"

She stands, dusting off her skirt and looking around. It's a classroom… and the windows are barred.

"A school?" she wonders aloud.

The locker beside hers begins to clatter and rattle loudly, and Harukawa pulls open the door, ready for any nasty surprise that could greet her.

Instead, a tall teenager with familiar purple hair tumbles out, and he groans. Her heart thuds, and her heartbeat pounds in her ears as he looks up at her.

"Haru...kawa?" he asks blearily. She squats in front of him.

"Momota," she smiles hesitantly. He scrambles up, but stands a little too quickly and accidentally knocks his forehead against her chin. She grunts in pain as she stands, feeling her jaw rattle and her cheek throb from recently healed bruises.

"Shit, sorry!" he exclaims, but she waves off his concerned questions and frantic actions.

"It's fine."

He pauses, gently touching his fingers to the back of her hand. "Are you… really okay?"

"No," she responds bluntly, and he doesn't press her anymore. He knows what that tone of voice means, and for once, she's grateful someone understands her. He just curls her hand into his, squeezing it reassuringly.

"...I thought so. But hey, at least you made it. At least your shitty life can be no more."

"So it's really happening, is it?"

"I think so. We'll have to see… but it definitely looks like the audition grounds."

"Filming lot."

"Well, the audition grounds were the filming lot…"

"I know. Let's go."

Momota hums in response, leading her out the room. He doesn't let go of her hand, and she notices. She couldn't care less.

They take one step outside of the classroom, and come face to face with a large angry green machine, screeching and stabbing at the ground close to them. Momota pulls Harukawa behind him.

"Shit! Harukawa, run!"

"You too!" she hisses, pulling him away from the machine. "You're not fighting that!'

They dash down the hallway, dodging every haphazard attack that could possibly take their heads off. They stumble down the stairs, skipping every other step to quicken their descent.

They turn to make a left at the foot of the stairs, but the machine jumps in their way, and Harukawa bites back a scream. Momota doesn't bother, and just yells for her to follow him, pulling her along before she can protest - not like she would.

"Where do they want us to go?" Harukawa pants heavily, and Momota points ahead.

"Through there!"

Sure enough, there are the familiar double doors of the gymnasium, and the two of them tumble in. Two teenagers turn around, one with green hair and one with blue hair.

"Hi," Harukawa breathes, "do you have any clue what we're doing here?"

"It depends…" the green-haired male mutters, but the blue-haired girl shakes her head.

"I've got nothing…"

The door explodes open behind them, and then people stream in - one after another until there are sixteen of them. It only confirms Harukawa's suspicions.

"It is, isn't it?" she whispers into Momota's ear, and he leans down, nodding.

"Definitely seems so. I mean - "

Five large mechanical robots fall into the gym and surround them. Momota pushes Harukawa behind him, narrowing his eyes.

"These bastards - "

Five stuffed bears hop out of the killing machines, and Harukawa blinks. Momota starts.

"What's going on?" A blonde girl asks. "Could it be - "

A pile of assorted clothes are flung into the air by the five bears, and Harukawa blinks as the clothes seem to magically pull themselves onto her and her old school uniform disappears miraculously. She supposes it's part of the "filming magic" that Team Danganronpa has in their arsenal.

He grabs her by the hand when they're not sparkling, when their clothes are different, and their everything is about to change. He feels the same, even under that ridiculous purple jacket with space patterns and white shirt stamped with red. She looks up at him.

"You never could have loved me," he states softly.

And he's not wrong. As much as she tried back then, there was something so tentative in her, so cold and frightened, that found it too scarring to try and love him.

"I wish I could have loved you," she replies, and her voice is guilty, her eyes are brimming with tears.

"...Yeah. I know."

And as they black out, in their new clothes, their new talents, their new identities, she feels him press a gentle and loving kiss on her lips, so unlike their previous kisses, and she kisses him back, feels a sting of bitter irony from the fact that she's finally experienced love, the real Harukawa Maki finally god damn loves someone and she's about disappear from the world.