#so goodbye 95% of the audience

[sweetdreamsjeff]

Jeff Buckley March 2, 1995 Wulfrun

Set List:

Dream Brother

So Real

Last Goodbye

Grace

Eternal Life

Kick Out the Jams

What Will You Say

Lilac Wine

All That I Ask

Mojo Pin

Lover, You Should've Come Over

Hallelujah

Vancouver

Kanga Roo

Venue History:

1990s

During the decade an incredible 1,271 performances were given:

On November 6 1991, just 756 people were in the Wulfrun Hall to see Nirvana play what was to be one of their last gigs in the UK.

The Wulfrun Hall was host to the first of Blur's many visits to Wolverhampton. The band played to 483 fans in the October of 1993.

756 Oasis fans came along for the Manchester band in August '94.

There were very few Britpop bands that didn't play in Wolverhampton – just some of the other nineties names included Pulp, The Charlatans, Cast, Shed Seven, Elastica, Space, Dodgy, The Boo Radleys, Kenickie and Sleeper.

Female musicians were also taking centre stage during the decade with acts including Bjork, Hole, Suzanne Vega, Garbage, Sleeper, Tori Amos, Skunk Anansie, Elastica, Echobelly and Babes in Toyland rocking the halls.

American rock acts also travelled to the halls during the nineties, with performances from Nine Inch Nails, Marilyn Manson, Smashing Pumpkins, Soundgarden and Green Day. Former Nirvana drummer Dave Grohl returned to Wolverhampton in '95 and '97 when his band Foo Fighters played to sell-out crowds.

More pop acts including Robbie Williams, Boyzone and Backstreet Boys made sure audiences were bopping while artists such as Salt-N-Pepa, Public Enemy, Naughty by Nature, Cypress Hill and Ice-T and Body Count brought rap and hip-hop to The Halls.

---

From: @darrenashton957 On YouTube

769 views? I was at this gig and Jeff and the band were incredible. It is impossible to do it justice with words, he just blew us all away. I knew we were witnessing something very special. Obviously his voice is like no other, but he had an amazing presence on stage and total commitment.

@chrisseventeen Just one of the greatest gigs I ever saw - a treacherous solo drive to Wolverhampton through ridiculous snow made more than worthwhile by the tightest rockingest band i’d Seen in years. Thanks for posting this gem of a show. Snowball fights with Beastie Boys fans after the show......

@frankdonnelly5475 I made this recording. Takes me right back there to that snowy night in Wolverhampton every time I hear it. Jeff in a half full Wulfrun Hall while a sold out Civic Hall next door hosted the Beastie Boys. People who witnessed Jeff's magic surely had the more unforgettable experience. Thanks Jeff - 21 years gone.

[asgardian--angels]

I've been seeing a lot of mixed emotions and frustration surrounding what we heard today from Samba on Wee John Wondays, regarding the immense amount of deleted scenes, cut material, original episode concepts etc, from season 2. And I just wanted to give my two cents here.

Look, it is absolutely valid to be pissed at HBO Max right now. They slashed OFMD's budget, cut their runtime on a per episode and a season basis. This resulted in plotlines having to be reworked, character & relationship development compressed, and some minutiae & connective scenes omitted. The thought of that sucks! It would have been nice to see the polycule shown more directly onscreen, and to see Ed & Stede dance, have a longer goodbye to Izzy, and maybe work through Ed and Stede's relationship rollercoaster a little more gradually. I'm sure this hurt no one more than David himself, who's had a clear vision of all three seasons from the start - who's now had to deal with not only a truncated s2 but a cancellation soon after to boot.

But I think it does a great disservice to the entire cast and crew who worked immensely hard on season 2 to dwell overlong on what we could or 'should' have gotten. They worked their asses off to bring us something phenomenal! Season 2 was incredible - and your mileage may vary, but all analytics indicate season 2 was even more popular and well-received than season 1 by audiences and critics alike. There was a whole team of writers who worked deftly and skillfully to crunch ten episodes into eight without compromising the core elements, themes, and plotlines they wanted to include to tell this story, plus a talented cast who brought their own improvisation to set every day and gave us some of the season's most iconic moments. Everyone on the OFMD crew is proud of what they made, as they rightly should be. It was beautiful television.

Expressing dissatisfaction with what was cut is fine to an extent, but let's not let it take away from our enjoyment and appreciation of the final product we did get, or give the crew the impression that what they worked so hard to give us wasn't good enough. They want more than anyone to have had those extra scenes in there to show off the hard work of the whole team! I'm seeing this a lot especially with the talk about the early draft of Calypso's birthday (and this info is not new, Samba spoke at length about it during his baking class back in November). Regardless of your opinion on whether you think that would have been a 'better' version of the episode, it was just that - an early draft, that never came close to being filmed. David and the writers revised this concept because, apart from time constraints on the season, ultimately they felt that the concept they ended up going with best served the narrative. Even Samba agreed that he preferred the final version. There's no secret footage of this other version, we didn't 'lose' anything - this is one of the dangers of scripts getting released for any piece of media, because the mind runs astray dreaming of the possibilities of what may have been, when the reality is all shows go through moderate to sometimes heavy editing before the final version, and the audience probably doesn't need to see that process!

The fact that season 2 turned out so beautifully, with some of the most moving and iconic sequences television's seen in quite a while, and a love story that has touched so many, is truly a testament to the passion, dedication, and skill of the entire cast and crew. They have achieved the status of cultural phenomenon, season 2 was the 5th most watched series in the entire world on streaming services, outperforming shows like Loki. They've got several dozen articles with glowing praise from major media outlets, a 95% on Rotten Tomatoes, multiple award nominations, and more than anything a loyal fanbase who's in it for the long haul to fight for a season 3. They have succeeded to this level despite all the stumbling blocks HBO Max has thrown in their path. If season 2 was OFMD held back from its full potential, then I think they should be damn fucking proud of what they've made.

Samba pitched an official bts documentary for both season 1 and season 2 and was turned down. This show deserved better than HBO Max was ever going to give them. He's going to try and post deleted scenes and a blooper reel if he can (not all heroes wear capes, folks). And it's very likely none of these things will ever be officially released (though, we can make a stink about it!). Be angry about it, absolutely. But we need to channel that energy into the fight for renewal. Double down on efforts to get the attention of Netflix, Prime, Apple TV, and FX, get more signatures on the petition (87k as of this writing!), and just keep talking positively about the show on Twitter, Instagram, Facebook with our hashtags. We need to show the crew that we're upset for them, but so grateful for the beautiful season we got too.

So let's not bicker and wallow about what was 'stolen' from us - the final canon product is ultimately the final canon product, and any other tidbits are fun but neither owed nor necessary. They trusted that we could put the pieces together, that we'd be able to read between the lines when scenes that would have made things more explicit, or developed them further, had to be shortened or cut. And that trust was well placed! We sussed it out. Celebrate the ofmd fandom for all the excellent meta, art, fic, we've gotten, and celebrate season 2 for its joy, its profoundness, its nuance, its enduring hope and how much it's given to so many. Air your grievances respectfully, and then get back to fighting to give OFMD the well-funded third season it deserves!

[ifeveristoday]

Buffy Summers’s Diary (III)

[insert Dawn’s lament here]

My silly little thing has gotten a bit less sillier in this part. Carry on.

1 Lyft carpool with Anya

3 missing pens

1 maybe date

7 outfit options, all terrible

100 years of rain

 When I was little and it rained, my mom would bring me to the living room and watch the rain splash against our bay windows. Sometimes she would get out her box of cassettes and we’d listen to “It Never Rains in Southern California.” Of course, I would point out that the singer was wrong, because what was happening outside then?

She would just laugh, and shake her head. ‘Baby, it’s not that it doesn’t rain, it’s the feeling that LA is always sunny even when it rains.’

I didn’t understand back then.

Watching the sun stream into the street and shine on perfect rectangles of manicured lawns while I peeked through blinds – I understood a little better. LA carries on even when darkness surrounds you, is in you.

 Anyway, it rained today, a deluge even. Kendra arranged for Lyft carpools for the employees and I shared mine with Anya. She lives only twenty minutes away from my apartment, but she drives while I take the bus. I like Anya, but it’s impossible to make small talk with her. She doesn’t understand the concept and launches into whatever she’s thinking with no segues whatsoever. I need a mental crash helmet whenever I talk to her.

She asked me if I used her gift certificate – ‘It expires soon, Buffy. There’s a special sale going on this weekend, I really think you would find some helpful aids there.’

Before I can even respond, she’s off talking about the new vibrator line that’s come in, and the importance of using essential oils in the bedroom.

The backseat of a car never collapses into a black hole when you want it to.

She managed to ask a question about Xander among all the updates from the Magic Box and I guess my expression tipped her off. Her mouth thinned out and she crossed her arms across her chest.

‘What? I can’t ask about Xander?’

I’m just surprised that she wants to. Their romance was pretty volatile at the end.

‘No, you can. He’s fine – sent me a postcard from Cape Town. He seems happy.’

She slumped a little. ‘Oh. That’s nice.’

I’m going to regret this – like in five minutes, I’m sure of it – but I ask her anyway.

‘How are you doing?’

‘I’m fine. I’m the one who broke it off. I’m very happy, I’m busy, my jobs are going great, I found a decent hairstylist in this town – I’m fantastic,’ she babbled.

She straightened up again and looked out the window.

‘I’m happy that he’s happy,’ she said. ‘We’re almost there.’

The driver pulled up to our building five minutes later. He smirked at us as we got out.

 Anya works in a different part of the building than I do and our goodbyes were awkward as I got out of the elevator. ‘Remember the sale, Buffy,’ she said as the doors slid shut.

I’m just not in the mood for that kind of self-care.

 There is an office supply thief on this floor and they are stealing my purple pens. I had four and now I have one. This is ridiculous, we are all adults and surely we can use the office supply cabinet instead of just lifting pens from other people’s desks like thieves in the night.

Why would they even take my pens? Everyone in the office knows I use purple to revise my notes – I know everything is digital but there’s something comforting about the way a pen can glide over the paper. I like the weight of the pen against my palm and it seems more permanent than a blinking cursor on a screen.

  I moved a PR box and found my pens wedged underneath my monitor stand.

Good thing I didn’t write that email to HR complaining about pen theft and being known as the most uptight person on this floor.

I need a cup of coffee but I’m going to make tea instead.

William is lounging in the break room when I come in. He has a rapt audience, the temps and Harmony are there, hanging onto his every word.

I roll my eyes and head for the tea station. Just because a man has good bone structure, an accent, and a leather jacket doesn’t mean he’s the most interesting person in the room.

Okay, maybe in the top five.

 I sit at the lone unoccupied table and hear snatches of the conversation. William is doing research for his next novel. He reached out to several publications and my CEO accepted his request along with the offer of a guest column in the magazine. He’s going to be writing about his travels and whatever else interests him.

It sounds like a dream assignment but I remember my blog is important too. Kendra told me not to read the comments though.

 One by one the admirers flutter out of the break room as editors appear in the doorway, meaningfully clearing their throats. I’m still sipping my tea when William walks over to me and sits down.

 ‘So, Summers. I have a gift for you.’

‘Yeah?’ I say, playing it cool. I am a cool glacial woman of substance.

‘I do,’ he smiles and then reaches into his messenger bag. ‘Freshly autographed.’

He slides Saturday and The Chosen across the table to me. His fingers skim the covers carefully as if he’s touching something precious.

Saturday’s cover shows a picture of a black woman, her gaze defiant and steely. The Chosen has a more generic cover, its title picked out in shades of gold and bronze.

‘Thanks,’ I say as I turn The Chosen over and read the blurb on its dust jacket. ‘Oh. Fantasy’s never really been my thing.’

Except for the period Dawn and I would read Harry Potter to each other under the covers with a flashlight, but he doesn’t need to know that.

He lifts one eyebrow and I notice the thin white scar cutting it into two imperfect halves. ‘Try it, you never know. Or maybe Saturday is more your type.’

‘This the one with your lone female character?’ I lean back and gaze at him over my cup.

He laughs and rubs his chest. ‘Ouch. But fair – I’m going to be writing more female leads in my novels. Nikki won’t be the last.’

‘That’s her name?’ I nod at Saturday’s cover.

‘Yeah. Nikki Danger.’

I choke on my tea. ‘Her name is Nikki Danger? Are you writing the next Bond novel?’

His smile has a hint of teeth. ‘Says the girl named Buffy Summers.’

‘My mom gave me that name, and it’s after a famous singer, you Philistine.’

I heard Will use that once, during debate class in high school. It sounded cool then even though I didn’t know exactly what it meant.

‘I know. And love, I’m in the arts, not exactly a Philistine. Do you want to borrow a dictionary for next time?’

This asshole.

Then I realize what he said. ‘What do you mean next time?’

Full on smile, and is that dimple? ‘How about dinner after work – does tonight sound good?’

He stands up and leaves before I can complete my thought.

I open Saturday. He’s scrawled his phone number on the front page.

  So it’s not a date. It’s a friendly dinner. I’ve done that before. It’ll be like riding a bike.

I have an uncomfortable vision of William riding a motorcycle and I decide that I need some advice.

Willow’s answering machine picks up when I call, so I just tell her I’m looking forward to our weekend brunch.

Andrew screeches when I call him. Literally, I had to hold my phone away from my ears.

‘You’re going on a date with the Spike Pratt?’

‘It’s just dinner,’ I say, fumbling for my apartment keys. ‘I’m going to meet him at some bistro after work.’

‘Are you going home to change?’ Andrew demands.

‘Well, of course.’

‘Then it’s a date,’ Andrew says triumphantly. ‘If you didn’t care, you’d just wear your work clothes.’

‘My hair got wet this morning and it’s sort of frizzy,’ I say. ‘It’s not that big of a deal. And his name is William.’

‘Eh, Spike sounds sexier,’ Andrew says. ‘William sounds like an accountant.’

‘It’s a maybe date,’ I say. ‘I don’t know. I made fun of him this morning, maybe he’s just returning the favor.’

Andrew sighs.

‘Girl, how long has it been since you’ve been on a date?’

‘Not that long,’ I scan my desk to make sure I haven’t left anything important behind. ‘There was Owen and Parker…’ I trail off.

‘Ew, ew and ew,’ Andrew says dismissively. ‘A poet and a day trader? Buffy, Parker was gross, and Owen writes gay erotica on the internet. He hasn’t written a poem since leaving college.’

‘You’ve read some of it,’ I say. ‘And you’ve dated some highly questionable people yourself.’

‘Yes, both the poems and the erotica were terrible. And you can’t hold Warren over my head all the time.’

‘I’m sorry. That wasn’t cool of me. But he really was the worst.’

‘He really was,’ Andrew agrees. ‘Just go on the date. You never know until you try, right? You told me that once.’

‘Okay. Maybe it won’t be completely terrible.’

  It was completely terrible.

All of my clothes weren’t right. I have exactly three types of clothes – athleisure, work clothes, and clothes that are too big for me. I haven’t had the chance to donate them yet or buy clothes that fit properly.

It took me seven tries until I settled on something that wasn’t too much or too little for a casual dinner with a handsome man.

Okay, I admit it. He’s a good looking man.

 I called him on the way to the bistro. He didn’t answer until the third ring. He sounded strange as if he forgot that he asked me out to dinner in the first place.

‘I’m glad you called actually – I was about to call. I’m sorry, Buffy. Something came up and I can’t make it to dinner after all. Can I have a raincheck?’

‘What?’

‘You have every right to be angry at me, but I just can’t get out of this commitment. I’ll call you, love. All right?’

The dial tone rings in my ear.

 I ended up getting takeout from the bistro – it seemed stupid to go all the way there and not get dinner. The ride back to my apartment gave me time to sort out what exactly I was feeling.

It was a tornado of emotions. First, sheer relief. Then, a flush of anger prickling against my skin. Who does he think he is, I muttered to myself. Then seething resentment followed by an aching emptiness. He must have googled me.

 I don’t do that anymore. The last time I checked for myself was right when I got out of the clinic. All the headlines were some variations of ‘Fallen Olympian completes rehab’ or ‘Buffy Summers – where is she now?’

Even the Sunnydale Post had something about me and I only trained there for three summers. ‘Ex-Olympic Gold Medalist in Recovery for Eating Disorder.’

Simple and to the point – though skipping all the reasons why I got there. The byline was a familiar name – Freddie Iverson. He was one of the first people to interview me when I won my medal.

 ‘How does it feel being a champion?’

It feels wonderful. It feels like flying and your feet don’t touch the ground. It feels like nothing can hurt you.

 How does it feel to be washed up at nineteen?

Ten years later and I’m still trying to answer that question.

It starts raining as I clean up the rest of the takeout. I made myself eat every last bite.

 It never rains in California, but girl, don't they warn ya? It pours, man, it pours

 the lyrics are from “It Never Rains in Southern California” by Albert Hammond

and I’m working from the fancanon (in exalted circles) that Buffy is named after Buffy Sainte Marie who would have been very popular during Joyce’s time because you just know Joyce was a hippie.

previous entry | next entry 

[frogtanii]

“hi everyone,” you gave your webcam a half hearted wave, noting the flood of inquisitive comments at your demeanor.

ynismymommy: omg queen r u ok??????

emilia.95: Have you been sleeping?

atsumus-leftballsack: bestie imma need you to invest in some concealer

a giggle pried it’s way up your throat, despite your attempts to stop it as you read the comments. yes, you were fully aware that you looked like shit however, you just weren’t expecting the viewers of your stream to be so... observant.

“holy shit guys, i’m okay,” you attempted to placate your vicious audience by giving them a (forced) smile and a small chuckle. “let’s just play, okay?”

you loaded up your game of choice (call of duty — you had a lot of aggression to work off) while making idle chatter with your fanbase. they seemed to have dropped conversation about your heavy eye bags and low enthusiasm in favor of more lighthearted topics.

just as you were starting to get into it, a knock sounded at your door. at first, you were tempted to ignore it but after a few moments of silence, the knocking started up again, more incessantly. your comments started to go wild, wondering who exactly was banging on your door at like 11p.

bokutos.bahamamommamilkers: tell whoever is @ the door to fuck off

shartyba3_420: damn slam me yn like [redacted] is slamming on that door

Greg_72: Hey, you can go answer that! We’ll wait <3

you apologize quickly before removing your headphones and scurrying over to the door. swinging it wide open, you’re met with bokuto.

and what a sight he is.

once bright, golden eyes were now dull and void, accompanied by dark circles that rivaled your own while his usually sunny visage was dampened by this metaphorical dark cloud that was hanging above him.

in other words, he looked like shit.

the both of you must look like quite a pair — you in your ratty, oversized hoodie and red sweats and him in his white t shirt and flannel pajama pants. after giving him another glance over, you repressed the urge to pull him into your room and into a hug, instead choosing to wrap your arms around yourself tightly.

“um, hey bo,” you started, unable to keep your eyes on his face. “i’m really sorry but i’m streaming right now. maybe we can hang out later?”

bokuto shook his head no, and your heart began to sink. you were just so tired and you didn’t have the energy to entertain or comfort the man at the moment without letting another piece of yourself crumble but you knew you didn’t have the heart to turn him away.

resigning yourself to your fate, you stepped to the side to let him into your room, making a mental note to shield him from your webcam while you brought him to lie on your bed.

to your complete and utter surprise, bokuto did not move, shaking his head no again before moving to grab something just out of your sight behind your doorway.

you were now thoroughly intrigued, shuffling closer to peek into the hallway, only to be stopped by a box being thrusted into your hands. you looked over the colorfully painted cardboard but it gave you no indication as to what was on the inside and glancing at kotarou gave you no help whatsoever.

“what’s this?” you voiced your confusion while weighing the box in your hands, the confusion only amplifying when you discover the box is suspiciously light. you’re shaken from your investigation when bokuto throws another object in your hands, this one significantly heavier.

looking up at him, you’re taken aback by the emotion swirling in his irises, his mouth finally parting to speak. “i’m so sorry,” kotarou’s voice, while gravelly from disuse, was sincere, a slight quiver being found underlying his words. “i- i know i never said it but i just want you to know that i-i care about you and that i am so sorry for ever hurting you and making you feel like you were less than. y-you’ve helped me become myself again a-and i can never thank you enough.”

a shuddering breath left his chest as he trained his eyes on the ceiling before looking back at you with watery eyes. “you don’t have to forgive me. i-i’d understand.” you opened your mouth to respond, to rebut, but you were cut off by his strong arms, wrapping you up in a tight hug.

you couldn’t keep yourself from melting into his hold, a small ounce of stress leaving your body at his words but the bulk of it remaining. he’s just apologizing because you’re the only girl who’s shown him an ounce of kindness, the voice in the back of your head whispered.

as bokuto pulled you in tighter, you stiffened, the voice getting louder and more constant. the man holding you didn’t miss the way you tensed and hesitantly removed himself from you, his hurt written plain all over his face.

kotarou gave you a weak smile and another gentle apology before turning and leaving for his room. you already felt guilt creeping up your spine for not holding him the way you thought you should but you quickly pushed the feeling down, knowing that you wouldn’t have gotten the rest you deserved if you’d done so.

letting out a deep sigh, you shut your door and moved back to continue your stream, not before gently setting down the 2 colorfully decorated boxes on the bed, a small smile creeping across your face at the sight of the gifts.

your stream ended pretty shortly after, your mind unable to focus on the game — it was getting borderline embarrassing how often you were dying to the point you were worried your sponsors would pull out of supporting you.

with a soft smile and goodbye, you collapsed on your bed, mindful not to crush the boxes. while you were extremely exhausted, you knew you wouldn’t be able to go to sleep without examining your gifts’ contents.

you decided to open the heavier box first which yielded bag after bag of your favorite chips, candies, and drinks. you knew your mouth was gaping unattractively but you couldn’t help it. this was... way too much.

at the bottom of the box was a small note, written in bokuto’s somehow endearing chicken scratch. it read, “hi yn!!!! this is for when you get hungry :) i know i didn’t let you eat any of my snacks for a long time so i thought it would be nice if i bought some for you!!!!! i hope i got these all right :( i asked atsumu for help!!!”

a choked chuckle escaped your lips and it only amplified as you continued to the end of the note. “p.s. don’t worry about not finishing it all!!! i can always help you ;) p.p.s. also you’re so pretty!!!! don’t not eat it because you don’t think so too <3”

wiping your eyes that had become suspiciously misty, you set down the slip of paper and reached for the second box.

you couldn’t keep the gasp from coming from you as the cardboard overflowed with tiny slips of paper. with shaky hands, you unfolded the first paper, the tears overflowing over your lashline before you could stop them.

you are loved :) - akaashi

“fuck,” you whispered, swiping at your face before clumsily reaching for another, and then another, each note making you cry harder than the last.

you are beautiful!!!!! never change!! - bokuto!!!

you’re really cool - kenma

you are so kind and i owe you the world - sugawara :)

you’re sympathetic, observant, and intelligent. - sakusa.

you are patient (even when we don’t deserve it) - kuroo

yer my angel <3 - tsum tsum

there were a ton more but you promised yourself you’d read them all later, your emotions getting the better of you. you’d rather not wake up with puffy, swollen eyes and a headache so you decided it would be best to close the box and finish it all later.

laying back on your bed, you expelled a deep breath of air, not realizing just how tense you were. you’d been living on edge with the guys for at least a month now and it was really starting to wear on you.

without being able to fully trust them, you knew it wouldn’t be long until you crumbled under the pressure.

you glanced at your phone before sighing again (it really was that kind of day, wasn’t it). maybe it was about time to give dr yamada a long awaited call.

℗ poker face

you are loved :)

series masterlist

(●’◡’●)ﾉ

an - ooweee first single apology down, 4 more to go!!! also the box of papers came from everyone (obv) but they still gotta give their individual apologies hehe which shall come in the future <33 sorry this took so long KSJD i hope u enjoy!!! don’t forget to feed me <333

taglist - if your name is in bold, i cannot tag you

@boosyboo9206 • @geektastic84 • @elianetsantana • @trashy-simp • @infinitebells • @6mattsun9 • @suhkusa • @sazunari • @kotarosbabygirl • @fucktheworlddude • @insomniacwreck • @calumsfringe • @saltylettuce • @chai-blu • @al3x1ss • @hawksyoongi • @syndellwins • @jooleuuh • @amberalisa • @kissungjae • @liberhoe • @tetsurocore • @animeoverdosee • @duhsies • @saikishairclip • @afire24 • @premiyagi • @kit-kat428 • @doctorspencereid • @daphnxy • @kyomihann • @maer-333 • @sinoflust19 • @peteunderoos • @peachiikichu • @iidanotlida • @yongboxerrr • @kac-chowsballs • @tanakaslastbraincell • @memorableminds • @risjime • @starry-magicshop • @sugavwara • @smuttyanimeslut • @kiwibirbs-library • @haijkk • @airybnb • @crybabygumi • @iwaisa • @decaffinatedtealover • @notameera • @kawaii-angelanne • @rintarovibes • @urlocalsimp

the rest of the tags will be in the replies!!

[blackmaylovesfries]

Hyung line - “Training” with the Strike Team

Words: 1141

Sinopse: Seventeen Hybrid AU - Some of your hybrids were super curious about the Team. Although they didn’t really want real action, they were down for some training.

Notices: Not so good English. Injuries? Fights? The word <<ass>>. A great thanks to the great @woohoney​, who gave me this idea!

Solo stories’ destiny // Buy me a Coffee

Masterpost

Previous / Next

You didn’t know what to expect when you had said goodbye to all your hybrids to go to your training and more than half of them stayed. After giving some steps in the direction of the gyms, you noticed the many footsteps behind you. That made you stop and question the unusual group that were just standing there, staring at you.

“What?” They looked at each other before Seungcheol gave a step front.

“Hm… Y/n… We…” He hesitated. You just smiled and waited for him, like you always do to make him feel comfortable. The bear hybrid let out a deep sigh. “So… We were wondering if we could see your training today…” His eyes shined, which was copied by the younger ones behind you. “We were curious about that part of your job.”

You almost couldn’t keep the laugh in. The group was a little weird but they were so cute looking at you like that, with shy and almost reluctant hopes. The hybrids from ‘95 were almost ever focused on the younger hybrids, while the ‘96 ones liked to keep to themselves or a few companies at each time. Seeing them together to see you kick Jackson’s ass was too cute for you.

“Sure! You guys can learn some moves while you’re at it, what do you think?” You tilted your head, laughing out loud when the seven heads nodded with vigor. Even the usually lethargic Jeonghan and the clumsy Wonwoo seemed to be all excited to work out a little with your team. Without more delays, you guided them to the center’s gym.

The Strike team were all already there when you guys arrived, even Youngjae, since his time on the field was rare but it existed. Used to your hybrid's presence, the team greeted them before returning to the usual stretching exercises. You looked around before calling the two groups of boys to get all their attention.

“Lend them some gym clothes, please?” You asked your team. “They have some of their own but they are all at home… And they wanted to try and train with us today. Do you guys mind?” Although it was obvious they were surprised, the humans just laughed it off before dragging your poor hybrids to the small locker room there was. Shaking your head, you also went to change your clothes.

When everyone was ready, you were called out by JayB, who smiled like a devil to you. The rest of the team tried to distract the hybrids, knowing what would happen in just a few moments. You two went to the center of the mat, where you circled around, watching one another. The sounds around you died and you could only focus on JayB’s body, his movements, his breathing.

Your legs tensed for a second as you launched yourself in his direction, trying to strike him while keeping watch for possible counterattacks. He was able to block your first punch just to receive your high kick right after. You grinned after hitting him but your happiness was brief, because at the moment JayB fell, he turned your arm that was still on his hands. Conclusion… You were on the floor, with a smug Jaebum smirking above you.

“Y/n!” Junhui’s scream, Jihoon, Hoshi, S. Coups and Joshua’s growls made you remember that you had an audience. You and the other human turned your heads, just to see the hybrids quite anxious being held back by the rest of the team and by Jeonghan and Wonwoo. They were preventing the five hybrids from going to where you were at the floor.

“Calm down, we’re training, remember?!” Wonwoo grabbed Jun’s face as his cat friend tried to escape his and Mark’s grip.

“Yeah, and between us, I think she deserves to have her ass beated a little.” Jeonghan jokes, earning a surprised and indignant look from his fellow twin. You rolled your eyes while the other from the Strike team laughed and agreed with the cat hybrid. JayB finally let you get up.

“Okay, now that I asserted my dominance, we can start the session. Jackson and Mark show the newbies a few moves and how to properly hold the wooden sticks. Youngjae should get his level checked, Jinyoung. I’ll spare a little with Bambam and Yugyeom will do it with you, Y/n.” The boy delegated around. The team members were quick in action while your boys were still a little stunned, most of them at least.

“I’m fine, guys, don’t worry much.” You threw a cheeky kiss in their direction. “We’re just starting.” They relaxed after your words and after seeing that you really were okay. There was no sign of pain in the way you smiled to the youngest in the team. Woozi and Joshua, who had seen you in action and the effect you had on enemies, trembled when you launched yourself against Yugyeom’s body.

Jun, Hoshi and Jeonghan had just seen your work attire but never had seen you really in conflict in any way. Seungcheol and Wonwoo had their first meeting with you in relatively peaceful situations. Most of them were ready to sprint to you when they saw the giant ‘97 line reacting to your attack. Mark and Jackson had to move the sticks on their hand to create a barrier between your fight and the boys.

“Relax, boys, Y/n can be weaker than Jaebum but she is stronger than anybody else in the team.” Jackson snorted. “Even me.” He was sounding almost bored, not that the sweet worried hybrids noticed. Well, those who had seen your damage capacity weren’t *that* worried. That was the moment you stopped dancing and finally started to really exchange hits.

As his huge fist came in the direction of your face, you dodged and grabbed his arm, trying to throw him across your shoulder. It didn’t work, as he pulled and your balance shaked. Feeling his chest on your back just for a second, you used his strength to jump and spin your legs to involve his back. Before he could process, you pulled the arm that was still in your hands, making him lose his balance this time and falling, with you straddling his back with a huge grin.

“Not fair, Y/n!” The young boys complained. “You’re just showing off to the boys! How is this going to help me in any way?! No one does these crazy and unlogical moves like you!” He struggled against your weight but your arms had already secured him. You laughed.

“Of course I’m showing off! I need to show them I am perfectly capable of protecting them like I promised.” The Strike team made vomiting noises as Seungcheol, Junhui and Hoshi ran to you and hugged you and the other hybrids made moved expressions and also approached.

Hello everyone! How are you?? I hope everyone is okay and healthy!

See you guys on Thursday ^^

Tags: @mimisxs ; @moonmin-miya ; @naminalati ; @woohoney ; @notpatriciararw ; @amber-thumbs ; @skylions-den ; @snowballbear ; @restless-nights-thoughts​ ; @haoareu ; @killcomet​ ; @un-ravellyn ; @honeyylin​ ; @blizzardfluffykpop​ - If you want to be tagged, answer the first link at the beggining of this post.

[creativeashproductions]

Lost Time // Luke Patterson

Summary: Things changed since Sunset Curve fell apart literally as three out of four members died before a gig. Leaving a sad girl behind Luke by chance runs into the reader with someone else. Death tore the couple apart, and time can’t fix this.

Warning: Talk of death, depression, angst and fluff

Words: 2.2k

Might as well join the Julie and the Phantoms fan club!

*For the sake of the story the time frame has been altered, it takes place in the mid-2000s. Also! I tried to make the reader as generalized as I could to make sure that everyone can relate. The reader is Alex’s sister, for inclusion that can be biological, adopted, half or stepsiblings. I want to make sure all people can be the reader.

Masterlist

THIS IS FROM MY SECONDARY BLOG! REPOST!!

The 1990s was definitely some of the best years of your life watching your brother grow more comfortable in his identity. Alex had kept his sexuality secret, taking the frustration of the secret by learning how to play the drums. You would often be found curled on the chair listening to his growing talent; Alex was a great brother.

Alex found friends in three local boys Reggie, Bobby and Luke, even a little more than friends with Luke briefly. By 1991 the boys had formed a band Sunset Curve with each other and a loyal fan in you. By mid-1994 the band had a fanbase and some gigs, but playing The Orpheum was the goal.

Luke had admitted to Alex, he had feelings for you, and with a lot of encouragement from Alex, he approached you. Luke had been focused on music since his parents gave him his first guitar, so relationships weren’t even on the backburner.

“Hey.” Luke spoke, pressing a kiss to your cheek backstage, “Missed you.”

His hair tickled your skin, bringing a bright smile from the teenage boy and a deep blush from you, private time wasn’t as often as it once had been. After Luke’s fallout with his parents a few months back, he had couch surfed between Reggie and Alex’s rooms; he wasn’t allowed in yours.

“You saw me last night.”

“A monumental time.” Luke bent his bend to place a lingering kiss on your bare shoulder, his jacket having fallen down, “Three years together and a bright future ahead.”

Last night had been the third anniversary of your relationship and hopefully the previous night worrying on parents walking in, cheap dates Luke often felt guilty about. Luke knew in his bones playing The Orpheum tonight would open the door to a legendary future. A future where money wasn’t tight and he could you on dates he deemed acceptable for the love of his life.

Bobby voiced brought Sunset Curve’s lead singer back to that moment, you dropped from the stage to settle in the empty audience to watch the soundcheck. With a wink from Alex, he started making the beat to Now or Never, you beamed as they poured their souls into the song. The four were talented and made to be in a band together even if you didn’t really like Bobby.

Cringing at the awkward wink Bobby sent you turned on your converse to head to the bar for a glass of water. Thanking the bartender, you tuned out the conversation with the waitress and the band only jumping when arms wrapped around your waist.

“We’re getting street dogs.” Luke spoke, bringing your body to rest on his chest, “Do you want one?”

The thought of those street dogs honestly horrifying given they were cooked in some random guys car. The one time you tried, it had permanently tattooed the taste in your memories forever, and just remembering was vomit-inducing.

 “I’ll pass.” You wrinkled your nose, turning to wrap your arms around his neck, “I don’t know how you guys like those.”

“Tradition.” Luke shrugged caressing your cheekbone with the pad of this thumb. Gazing at features he wanted to wake up to for the rest of his life, “Still down with the plan?”

“The minute I’m eighteen, we go to the nearest chapel.” You grinned playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, “I’ll be waiting Rockstar.”

Luke pressed a long passionate kiss on your lips, pulling away to jog over to Alex and Reggie waiting at the door. Bobby having declined the street dog invitation to flirt with the waitress Rose. Alex waved before the door closed. Little did you know that would be the last time you saw them alive.

1995 was the worst year of your life. 1996 was the hardest, especially with the forever reminder of your love. You wouldn’t trade 1996 for the world however, only wishing for one change.

Los Angeles, 2004

Alex, Reggie and Luke had learnt a mere few days away from that life had drastically changed forever. Firstly, the three boys had died from eating the street dogs mere hours before performing on the stage of The Orpheum. Secondly, it was no longer 1995 but instead nearly ten years had past bringing the three ghosts into 2004.

The most jarring wasn’t being able to be heard playing music with a random girl named Julie but that the most constant part of the band no longer was there. You hadn’t died that night, and Alex was pretty sure you were still alive. Luke felt lost waking up without you beside him and the deep regret of not reconciling with his parents.

It would be a week before Luke would swallow his pride enough to orb himself into his unchanged childhood home. Emily, Luke’s mom, was in the well-worn chair knitting a scarf Luke recognized as his favourite colours. Mitch was in the kitchen, putting the groceries away. It was heartbreaking being invisible to his aged parents.

“Hey, Mom.” Luke sniffled sitting on the couch nearby staring at his silent mother, “Sorry for not visiting sooner.”

Tears welled up in the boy’s eyes feeling hopeless, not being able to ease his parents’ pain, the regret and guilt bubbling to the surface.

“How is Y/N? I bet she’s living in New York of London now. We promised to travel the world together. Part of me is guilty of wishing she had eaten a street dog that night so we could be together.” Luke sobbed, wrapping his arms around his midsection reminiscing on the beautiful girl he had unwillingly left.

“Hey.” Mitch spoke, kissing his wife’s forehead. Her eyes closing in contentment.

“I wonder if you know where Reg and Alex’s parents are. Reggie’s neighbourhood was torn down who knows when. It makes me scared to see if Alex and Y/N’s parents still have their place. I don’t think so. They lost their son.”

“Hey Luke.”

Luke glanced over his shoulder to see Alex at the door, reluctant to impose of Luke’s privacy.

“Yeah.”

“We’re rehearsing.” Alex spoke, smiling as the other teenager took one more wistful look at his parents before orbing out of his house to the Molina family’s garage. Minutes later, the front door opening and feet thudding brought the noise to the Patterson home.

“Grandma!”

A four-foot blue of green and black blur covered the room in seconds nearly sprawling Mitch to the floor. Why was that 1996 year difficult? Well, ’95 was when Sunset Curve tragically died, and a stick changed your life. ’96 was spent going through the last five months of pregnancy without Luke.

October 1995

You kept your lips pressed tightly together, unable to look at the smooth, shiny mahogany rectangle surrounded by flowers. Looking up meant the reality kicking in. Funerals sucked. Especially the third funeral in the last handful of days. It was surreal thinking that one week ago you had kissed your boyfriend and hugged your brother and now they were dead. Gone. Not even a goodbye.

“Are you okay?” The broke voice asked, gaining your attention. Swollen red eyes matching yours held unimaginable pain. While the last few months had been icy with your parents, it didn’t mean losing one of their kids didn’t sting.

“I will be.” You whispered clasping your hands over the scratchy black velvet dress, one you had worn three times too many.

The sobs broke out seeing the best picture Alex had taken in his life, it encapsulated his best features; his beaming smile and kind, caring eyes. Alex was gone. Your brother was gone because he ate a bad hot dog with his friends. You would never see your boys again. Never feel Luke’s skin or share a laugh with Alex or complain about things with Reggie. You wouldn’t get to meet in the chapel with Luke wearing second hand ‘fancy’ clothing. In one night, your life changed.

It changed further seeing the two lines on the test later that night. The heartache growing. The baby you carried would never meet his uncles and his Dad. Would never hear them play or learn to play. ’95 and ’96 sucked ass.

You sighed, closing the door to follow the rambunctious ball of energy into the living room where he entertained Mitch and Emily. Some days it was difficult to stare into the green eyes he inherited from his father.

“Benjamin Lucas.” You spoke crossing your arms, meeting the gaze of the eight-year-old boy, “What did I say?”

“To not runoff.” Ben quietly replied, playing with his hands. His messy brown hair, in need of a trim, falling into his eyes, “Sorry Mom.”

“Please don’t do it again.” You gently told the little boy elated as he quickly found the toy box in the corner of the room.

Ben was loved deeply by Mitch and Emily, who had stepped up when your parents made the decision to sell your childhood home. Wanting Ben to know his paternal grandparents, you had struggled to find an apartment and job to say in the neighbourhood. Since the baby was the last part of their son, the Patterson parents’ had welcomed you into the home where you stayed until Ben was two.

“Do you want us to come around for Luke’s birthday?” You questioned sitting on the love seat, the same love seat you had made out on with Luke many times during movies.

The room turned sad at the question and reminded that for the ninth year, you would celebrate Luke’s birthday without him. A day where Ben wouldn’t fully understand. Emily simply nodded her head.

 “Have you met anyone?” Mitch asked, leaning over to clasp his hands together. For the last few years, they had been pushing you to date. They wanted your happiness and for Ben to have a father even if Luke couldn’t be it.

“Mama can we stay here tonight?” Ben’s innocent voice cut the tension, saving you from answering the question again. Mitch and Emily each nodded their heads at the question, unable to tell the young boy no.

“Have you ate?” Emily asked, turning to look at you in concern. The chuckle left your mouth at the question she frequently requested, she missed cooking for more than two.

“We had pasta before we came.” You replied, turning to gaze out the window to the dark sky, “I should put Ben to bed.”

The soft whine from your son and denial was a nightly routine and very much a mirror image to Luke’s character as well. With a smile, Emily held out her hand to her grandchild, she was notoriously the only one able to get Ben to sleep fast.

 “Come on Bug.”

It seemed the universe was keeping Luke from seeing you and discovering Ben, but when that night came, he was shocked. Emily was curled up on the patio couch, watching Ben in the newly bought sandbox. The patio doors opened. Inside, Mitch had invited a stranger who knew his son into the house.

 “I think I heard the doorbell. I’ll be right back.” Emily called out to you. You had found shade under the tree reading a new book.

The soft cry had you up and running to Ben before you even realized, on his knee was a bleeding wound. You had already scooped the boy into your arms to quickly get into the kitchen. The moment your foot stepped into the home, the sound of a familiar voice and song filled the house.

Gently placing Ben on his feet, you followed the sound to the living room. Across the room behind a young girl stood a boy.

“Luke.” You breathed floored at the sight of the teenager who looked exactly like he did back in ’95. The ghost singing widened his eyes at yours, taking in the mature features and change of fashion.

He continued to sing the song Unsaid Emily he had written as an apology to his mom following the last big fight. The song he never got to show her. His voice faded as the ending of the song came around.

“Mama!” Your attention broke from Luke’s when a tiny hand reached for yours. The pain in his voice bringing you back to the most important part of your life, “It hurts Mama.”

Despite being sad, Mitch was the one to cross the room to lift the little boy into his arms. Placing the little boy on the counter, the man gently wet a paper towel to wash the area.

“I think he needs stitches.” Mitch sighed, furrowing his brows.

“Who is that?” Luke asked the Molina girl. The girl shrugged taking in the features she could recognize. Julie asked Emily.

“That’s Ben.” Emily beamed, looking over her shoulder at the little boy that filled the void of Luke’s death. It didn’t fix the wound or erase the pain, but Ben’s existence helped with the loss as he was a precious gift, “When Luke passed away his girlfriend Y/N found out she was pregnant with Luke’s baby.”

The choked sob fell from Luke’s mouth echoed by the thud of his knees, hitting the floor in the pure shock. The heartbreak painted so clear Julie was sure she could feel Luke’s agony.

God, why did Luke have to eat that fucking street dog. Fuck his band dreams. Nothing hurt as bad as finding out about Ben and Y/N having to be a single parent.

“I have a son?” Luke cried, orbing himself as far as he could from the Patterson home and his most tremendous loss.

Part Two

ASK TO BE TAGGED!

SEND IN REQUESTS!

[bourbon-ontherocks]

Heyyyy, it’s been fucking ages! I just realised I totally forgot to check in and see what you thought about the ending of izombie! 

Oh hiiiiiiiii Jade!!! It has been ages, thank you for checking in, how are you, love?

So, fun fact, while I watched 95% of iZombie about a year ago, I only watched the final ~3 episodes or so fairly recently, I think partly because I wasn't ready to say goodbye to the show and characters, but also because by the end of season 5 I found that the plotlines tended to be a bit repetitive and everyone had been turned back and into a zombie so many times it was getting tiresome.

Anyway, the short answer is that I kinda hated the ending. Details under the cut for spoilers and also because it got a bit long lol.

So the thing is, I didn't expect the show to go for anything else than a happy ending, obviously. It has always been a fun, quirky show, and even though it got a bit plagued with heavier, heartwrenching drama in later seasons (Isobel... 💔), it was still greatly balanced with comedy. But my problem with the ending is that I found it overly simplistic, to the point of dumbness and naivety to be honest, and way too cheesy. This whole "everything and everyone is fine, the good ones were rewarded and the bad ones died" felt artificial, especially given the moral complexity that the show had managed to explore over the seasons.

Like, this is a show that started as a weird crime show, developed a whole universe of its own based on extremely believable premises (people starting a business by scratching people and them brain-food blackmailing them, etc), and switched its genre mid-show to explore a socio-political dystopia that while not necessarily avoiding all the clichés of the genre managed to be brilliant and disturbingly accurate in the way it portrayed the variety of human (and zombie lol) reactions to the publicity of the zombie outbreak.

Obviously, the parallels and metaphors with past and present real events were sometimes a bit too on-the-nose, with references to nazism, civil war(s), military dictatorships, predicators, racism (the parodic bit about the whiteface and zombies’ cultural appropriation was perfect in its delightful absurdity) etc, but for the most part it was handled pretty cleverly and entertainingly in my opinion.

All this long introduction to say that the show explored a certain kind of complexity that forced it to introduce some nuances. While the goods and the bads were clearly identified in early seasons, the characters started becoming more morally grey as the story progressed, the most spectacular example being the evolution of Major through the show. Not to mention the bigger picture of a humans vs. zombies society with extremists and idealists on both sides.

So for me, the simplistic conclusion of the ending felt like an insult to the show’s brilliance at delving into more nuanced statements. Some stuff also didn’t really add up (like, I read the interview of Rose McIver where she explains that zombi-ism had become a metaphor for minorities which is the reason why Liv decided to remain that way even in a post-cure world, but this feels like a character alteration mid-show since early Liv was begging for a cure and frankly eating brains didn’t sound so fun), and oh boy, must they be bored to hell on their island!

I also felt deeply betrayed by the fate of Blaine and Don E. Obviously, they were the villains of the story, but they were also audience-favourites, especially Blaine (just look at the fanfic section lol), and they both had quite interesting redemption/humanity arcs. So to just have them ending up in that well for eternity, after we’ve been extensively shown what happens to unfed zombies after a while, this was just a tragedy to me. Especially when Blaine’s last action was showing a bit of redemption by saving Peyton’s life, you know? I would have enjoyed SO MUCH to learn in the finale scene that Blaine was Liv and Major’s neighbour on zombies island and that they all spent their eternity time pranking against each other for instance.

Speaking of, the whole Zombie Island was so DUMB! Who would want to spend eternity isolated from all humanity with kindred brain-eaters? And to think that this would magically solve the problem of humans vs. zombies is borderline stupid. I expected a smarter statement from a show that indeed built this world where there is so much anger, resentment, disgust, predation, and fascination between both factions.

And pardon me but if zombi-ism was some kind of metaphor for minorities struggles, as the show claimed, then the segregation as ultimate solution is ironically the saddest ending that anyone could have come up with. I would have preferred a more realistic conclusion where both populations try to coexist more or less pacifically and a little teasing on the tensions/challenges/difficulties still at play. The ending as it is felt rushed and definitive, and wildly unrealistic.

tl;dr. There was absolutely no surprise to this ending, but I would have liked something more open and bittersweet and in one word, complex than this.

[skzsauce01]

Ruin My Life

Synopsis: Six times you and Minho “ruin” each other’s lives, and the one time you almost actually did ruin his. 

Warning: none

Word Count: 3.9k

Pairing: fem!reader x Lee Minho; friends to lovers

one

Minho always looks like trouble, but he especially looks the part when he dresses as a greaser for Halloween. The entire hallway looks his way when he enters the building even though the low 7:30 AM sunlight blinds their eyes when he opens the door. He has a lollipop in his mouth in place of a cigarette, and when he gives a curt “Good morning” nod in your direction, the girl beside you pretends to swoon.

“Hello, Danny,” she mutters to herself, mimicking an Australian twang. She’s conveniently dressed like Sandy in a poodle skirt and cardigan. “I’d let you ruin my life.”

When you tell Minho about what you heard after school, he laughs so hard he almost falls off the wall he’s sitting on. “Seriously?”

You take a bag of pretzels from the shared pile of treats between you two and rip it open. “Yes! I can give you her name if you’re interested,” you say, half-hoping that he doesn’t actually want it. “What a weird thing to say though.”

He shakes his head and holds his hand out for a pretzel. “No thanks to the name. I think Chan’s supposed to be Danny, so I’m not her summer fling that don’t mean a thing.” He waits for you to drop three in his open palm and, with complete mockery, says, “But I’d let you ruin my life.”

You shoot him a disgusted look, and he laughs.

“Aren’t you glad I made you watch Grease?” you transition. “So who are you? A T-bird? Someone from The Outsiders? Just a generic greaser?”

“Generic greaser, I guess. What are you?”

You point at the pointy, black hat perched on your head and say in disbelief, “I’m a witch!”

The corner of his mouth quirks up, and you know you have just walked into a trap. “No, I meant your Halloween costume.”

“Get bent, you jerk,” you roll your eyes.

However, the pretzel you throw at him doesn’t stop him from chortling at his own joke.

two

You agree to feed Minho’s three cats the following weekend while he and his family have a last-minute emergency out of town. You show up to his doorstep on a late Thursday afternoon to say your regards, but everyone in the Lee household is in pandemonium. You slink past his mother to Minho’s room where Soonie and Dori are lying on his bed. Minho himself is packing a duffel bag.

You knock on his already open door to alert him of your presence. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he replies, looking up. “Sorry about this. I would have asked someone who lived closer, but my mom doesn’t trust anyone else with the house key.”

“It’s okay. I like playing with Dori.” You’re still standing at the threshold, feeling too shy to enter now that you’re both older, and you crane your neck to see farther inside. “Where’s Doongie?”

“Under the desk. You can come in.”

“Right.”

You settle into his desk chair and pick up Doongie to pet. There’s nothing else to do, and you scan his walls for something to look at. Your eyes land on his calendar where there are reminders for the biology exam next week and the dance competition at the end of the month. You want to ask if everything’s alright, but it feels insensitive to pry.

“My mom made you dinner,” he says. “To thank you. It’s on the dining table.”

You smile as you remember all the times you stayed over for dinner at Minho’s when you were younger. His mom made the best japchae. “Tell her thanks for me.”

“Will do.”

“Minho!” you hear his mom shout. “We’re leaving!”

Minho heaves his bag over his shoulder and gives you a small smile. “Thanks for doing this. My offer of letting you ruin my life still stands, by the way.”

You snort at the comment, which makes Doongie jump off your lap, which makes you and Minho burst into laughter. “Yeah, well, what are best friends for? I’ll see you Monday?”

“Yeah. Key’s on the coffee table, by the way. And you know where the cat food is right?”

“I got it. I’ll be the best cat sitter ever.” You stand up and give him a hug. “Everything’s going to be okay, Minho.”

He holds you a little longer, and you can feel his heartbeat against your cheek. It’s surprisingly erratic, and yours begins to match in tempo.

“Thanks,” he repeats, finally pulling away.

You stand awkwardly at the foot of his bed and give him another smile as he starts to leave.

His foot has just stepped into the hallway when his mom yells again, “Lee Minho!”

“Coming!” he shouts back. He turns back to you, like he wants to say one more thing. “Don’t forget to eat or else she’ll think I didn’t tell you and get mad. And send me pictures of the cats!”

He disappears before you can even nod, and you hear the front door swing shut. You sit back down and idly spin in his chair, enjoying its cushiness. You’re not hungry yet, so you reach for Dori, who eagerly snuggles into your arms, and snap a picture to send to Minho.

Dori loves me more. Consider your life ruined.

three

The day before the biology exam you’re back at Minho’s house. Two open textbooks and an array of different colored pens decorate the dining table surface while two lazy cats lie on the floor beneath. You flip through your notes for the lesson from two days ago. In the meantime, Minho is frantically shuffling through your flashcards.

He abruptly groans after turning a card around and slumps back into his chair. “I’m so screwed. My test average is already bad, so this is just gonna make it worse. I barely remember what we covered today.”

Minho’s version of bad is everyone’s above average, but it’s unlike him to complain about his scores because he knows it. “Is everything alright?” you ask. “You don’t have to answer, but you seem off.”

“You remember that emergency last week?”

Your eyebrows shoot up, and you try to arrange your facial expression into something less obvious. “Yeah?”

“Well, it’s not about that.” He looks over to see you caught between relief and annoyance. He grins for a few seconds and then turns slightly more serious. “Dance team stuff. Someone got injured, so we have to fix the routine.”

You nod sagely. “That sucks.”

“Yeah, but my bio grade doesn’t have to.” With a newfound sense of energy, he straightens up and dives back into reading flashcards. “Thanks for letting me borrow your notes. I’d let you ruin my life.”

He says it with the same joking manner as last time, but you don’t answer in the same way. “I don’t think you need any help with that,” you say as you hold up his quiz from a few days ago. There’s a big, red 79% circled at the top and ugly slashes through the numbers of incorrectly answered questions.

He shrinks and makes a face at the low score. “In my defense, I was busy with dance, and it’s at least passing.”

“Well, your 90% test average is suffering.” You shut the textbooks and motion for him to put down the cards. “Tell me about lysosomes.”

“92, but alright. Lysosomes—”

When the tests are passed back another week later, you and Minho gather around your locker after school to compare scores.

He counts down, and you steadily lean in closer in anticipation. “Okay. 3… 2… 1!”

“95!” “95%!”

There’s a brief second where the two of you process each other’s grades before both of you burst into cheers about not only having matching scores but also good matching scores.

“Yogurt place or cafe?” you ask. It’s been a longstanding tradition between you and Minho to get celebratory desserts for receiving scores over 90. “I have a coupon for the new froyo place.”

Minho shakes his head dejectedly, and your heart sinks. You rarely have an excuse to hang out with him outside of school nowadays.

“I’ve got practice in” — he checks his phone — “in fifteen minutes. Raincheck or I’ll bring you coffee tomorrow morning?”

You brighten up at the prospect of Minho-delivered coffee. “Coffee. Definitely coffee.”

He nods and waves goodbye to you. “See you then.”

“Don’t be late tomorrow!”

four

Because you knew that you were getting coffee delivered to you, you didn’t have any before heading to school and are currently fighting the urge to fall asleep standing up. The bright sunlight that comes in whenever anyone walks into the building greatly helps.

“Morning,” Minho greets, a cardboard cup carrier in his hand.

You spot your drink and eagerly snatch out of its place. “I’d let you ruin my life,” you sigh, too happy to snap at Minho’s smirk at the use of the phrase. You notice the red and gold label wrapped around the cup. “You went to the expensive cafe too? Goodness, how much does this cost?”

“10,000 won.”

“There’s no way it was that expensive!” you argue.

“Delivery fee.” He sips on his own coffee while he waits for you to hand him his money.

You pull out your wallet and give him half of what he wants. “There’s no way it was more than 5,000.”

He smiles and pockets the money. “4,000 actually.” Before you can demand your change, he looks at an invisible watch around his wrist and says, “Can’t be late. See you.”

He takes off before you can protest, and you moodily drink your coffee instead. At least it’s good and full of caffeine.

Lia, the one who dressed as Sandy for Halloween and the person who just witnessed highway robbery, steps closer and asks, “Was that your boyfriend?”

At the word ‘boyfriend,’ you heat up. You snort and shake your head. “Boyfriends don’t overcharge their girlfriends for a drink. He’s my friend.”

“He seems sweet,” she says.

You’re about to correct her when your phone buzzes in your pocket. You fish it out and smile when you see the notification on your lockscreen.

Lee Minho paid you ₩1,000 - delivery fee has been revoked

“He’s sweet, I guess.”

Lee Minho requests ₩1,000 - jk

“Never mind.”

five

You can’t believe you let Minho talk you into attending one of his dance competitions. It’s not that you’re not supportive of him and his extracurriculars, but none of your friends are free this weekend, so you have to sit in the audience by yourself. You’re not exactly lonely, but you certainly feel out of place. It’s also not fun once you remember that you have a stack of homework waiting on your desk.

When they announce your school’s team to the stage, you join the applause and shout your friend’s name as loud as you can. Minho somehow manages to pick you out of the crowd and nods at you in acknowledgement. Even though you know he can’t clearly see it, you mouth, “Good luck,” to him.

When the spectacular performance is over, you clap and shout his name again. It’s the last performance, and you anxiously wait while the judges deliberate the winner. You text some votes of confidence to Minho in the meantime. Soon all the teams gather in the room. The feedback from the head judge’s microphone quickly silences the whispers.

They’re not third.

Or second.

Or first.

They’re fifth.

You look over at Minho, who is patting his team members on a job well done. He’s smiling goodnaturedly, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. You grab the bouquet of flowers you bought for him and head down to the ground floor like many others are doing.

Heart thumping, you tap him on the shoulder and hold the bouquet out to him. “Hey. Congrats on making top five,” you joke in an attempt to cheer him up.

“Thanks, I guess. It went better than we expected, but you know, first is ideal,” he shrugs. He points at the flowers in your hands, melancholy nearly gone. “Did you buy those from the supermarket?”

“Would it be better if I said I stole them from the neighbor’s garden?”

“Did you really?”

“No.”

“Lame.” He takes them anyway. “I didn’t think you would actually come.”

You again think back to the stack of homework you have and the amount of studying and procrastinating you had planned to do at home. “Me neither.”

“Thanks for coming though.” He pauses for a bit, and you already know what the next line he says will be. “I’d let you ruin my life.”

“You’re already ruining mine.”

Like you’re both in kindergarten again, he shoves you in retaliation — lightly though because he doesn’t actually want to hurt you — and knowing you can’t push him as easily, you stick your tongue at him. He is soon called away for a group photo, and he volunteers you to take it. You do so, and after, with the help of a team member, you and Minho get a picture together with the fifth place trophy. You both smile at the camera, but you’re gently elbowing each other in the ribs all the while.

A minute later, he shows you his phone screen, and you see his post of the recent picture.

being number five and ruining lives, reads the caption.

You like the post anyway and end up setting that photo as your lockscreen.

six

“I hate this,” Minho mumbles to you, his breath making clouds in the winter air. “Why do they do this to us?”

You walk alongside him, trudging at the same snail’s pace as he is. “I know,” you reply. “C’mon, let’s just get it over with so we can leave.”

You drag him by the arm to the front of the giant Christmas tree. He puts an arm around your shoulder and you an arm around his waist. The two of you plaster wide grins on each of your faces while your respective mothers snap photos of their children in matching outfits. The fathers have learned to disappear once they have arrived at the outdoor mall, and you wish you and Minho decided to slip away before the current situation.

“I hate this tradition,” you say through your teeth. You wince when someone’s flash goes off, the light blinding in the night.

“Me too. This vest looks so stupid.”

“The bow around my neck agrees.”

It happens every year, but you and Minho never grow tired of complaining. Your mothers, best friends themselves, insist on documenting the friendship of their children, so you and Minho are subjected to ridiculous Christmas Eve photos in front of the same tree every year. For whatever reason, neither of you have ever rebelled and refused. Darn people-pleasing personalities.

When your parents are satisfied with the results, you and Minho rush to partially get rid of your outfits. Minho unbuttons his vest, cursing at his cold fingers, and you fumble with the knotted ribbon around your frilly shirt collar. Of course you decide to cut your nails the day before.

“Y/N?” someone says. “Is that you?”

You look up from your ribbon and see it's one of your classmates. “Oh, hey, Lia,” you greet. You point at her bags. “Last minute shopping?”

She sheepishly nods. “I like your dress, by the way.” You don’t miss the way her eyes flicker back and forth from you to Minho. “Do you guys know you’re matching?”

“It’s a stupid tradition,” Minho interjects. His vest is draped over one arm and the other is busy loosening his tie. He looks at the limp bow around your neck. “Do you need help?”

“Yes.”

Lia shoots you a knowing smile and starts turning away. “I gotta go, but it was nice seeing you guys. I’ll see you after break. Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas,” you say back, more concerned with getting the cursed ribbon off than goodbyes. Minho echoes the sentiment.

You tilt your chin up and let Minho take a stab at the knot. Whenever his cold hands accidentally brush against your neck, you flinch and your pulse jumps. You hear him swearing under his breath over how tight the knot is, and you meekly apologize and feel yourself grow warm. Everyone’s staring at the spectacle, but you want the stupid thing so badly you don’t care.

“Why did tie it so tightly?” he mutters, finally managing to pull it apart. “I think my hands are cramping.”

“I’d let you ruin my life,” you mockingly say before dropping the act. “But thanks for real.”

“Only for you.” He smirks. “You have to get the dads though.”

You groan. He really does want to ruin your life. You and Minho’s dads are notoriously hard to convince to leave the mall once they’ve found a nice spot to eat and chat. “Anything else,” you plead.

He shakes his head. “No. I did it last year too.”

You take his hand and drag him with you, despite his protests. His fingers are still chilly, but his palms are surprisingly warm. He mutters about your own cold hands at the same time, but you’re too preoccupied with scanning the mall for your fathers to say something witty back. You accompanied him last year, and he would do the same to you this year.

As expected, Minho gives you dirty looks while you spend fifteen minutes begging and waiting for the dads to hurry up. You innocently smile back all the while.

seven

You spent a good portion of your winter break at Minho’s house, playing with his cats, eating his mom’s delicious japchae, and lamenting about school starting up again. School is in session now, and you wait for your first period teacher to open the door as you scroll through your phone outside in the hallway. Minho stops by to return the scarf you left at his house, and to your delight, there’s free coffee that comes with it. He puts the emphasis on ‘free.’

“I’d let you ruin my life,” you say, taking it from him. It’s from the expensive cafe again. “Wow, what’s the special occasion?”

“Just ‘cause,” he replies. “See you after school.”

“See you.”

What a weird way to begin the day. You wonder if Minho’s done anything to the drink; no way he would give you something for free. However, when you cautiously taste it, there’s nothing out of the ordinary. You swirl it to further check, but there’s still nothing.

Even though he said it was free, you still send him the money anyway.

A few minutes later, Lia shows up and says good morning. The two of you idly discuss winter break, and you both find out that neither of you did anything interesting.

“Are you going to go?” Lia asks. She points at the giant poster advertising winter formal tickets.

You shrug and sip on your Minho-delivered coffee. It still tastes normal, and you’re not sure what to make of it. “I don’t know. I don’t have anyone to go with.”

“Aren’t you dating that guy I saw you matching outfits with at Christmas? I don’t know if I already told you, but those were cute outfits.”

“Nope. He’s still my friend.”

“Is that disappointment I hear?” she teases. At your stuttering attempts to retort, she laughs. “I’m kidding. But he is cute.”

“Do you still want him to ruin your life?”

“You heard that?” she groans. “Oh my goodness, that’s embarrassing.”

When you tell Minho what happened after school, he doesn’t laugh. It’s not particularly funny anyway, but he usually smiles a little. Today he’s stony. “So is that your answer?”

“My answer to what?” you bewilderedly ask. You think back to morning and even when you were last back at his house only to come up blank with what he can be referring to. “What did you ask?”

Realization hits him. “You didn’t read the coffee label, did you?”

The cup has long been tossed into the trash by now. “Was I supposed to be? What did you ask?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” he quickly brushes off. He hops down off the wall. “I gotta go to practice.”

“Wait!” you call after him but he runs off.

A few minutes later, you find yourself digging through the trash can you threw your empty cup in earlier. Luckily, it’s mostly filled with paper cuttings and other coffee cups. However, the latex gloves you borrowed from your biology teacher don’t lessen your disgust, especially when leftover liquid drips out. Your teacher watches on in amusement as you scrutinize every one.

“This must be a very important piece of trash,” she remarks.

“It is. Oh! It’s this one!”

The label is stained with coffee, and you can just barely make out Minho’s handwriting in black ink. Why did he have to write it so small? No wonder why you didn’t notice it earlier. You hold up the cup higher to the light, and your eyes grow wide as you read the message.

want to ruin my life forever and be more than friends? will you go to winter formal with me?

You nearly drop it in your surprise. Oh goodness. You really, really messed up.

Your heart threatens to beat out of your ribcage, and every part of you is buzzing with adrenaline. Minho likes you in that special way, and you…

You…

You kind of feel the same?

Yes?

Wait, no?

No!

You definitely feel the same.

You hurriedly thank your teacher for her help and rush out of the classroom with Minho’s cup in your hand. You have to fix this now. You burst into the dance practice area, out of breath, and everyone looks at you in confusion.

“Yes! The answer is yes, Minho!” you shout and triumphantly hold out the cup.

The dance captain looks back and forth between your panting frame and Minho’s frozen figure. “Let’s take a five minute break?” he says, more of a suggestion than an order.

You walk over to Minho while everyone else disperses. He meets you halfway. His mouth is open, like he wants to say something, but no words come out.

You smile at him and thrust the cup into his hands. “Hi. The answer is yes to both questions.”

“But you said you told Lia we were just friends,” he breathlessly says, like he can’t believe this is happening.

“Well, we were just friends ten hours ago. I didn’t realize I wanted to be more than your best friend until I read your note.”

A hesitant smile creeps up onto his face. “I didn’t think you would actually take me up on my offer of ruining my life. I thought I screwed it all up by even asking.”

“No! I really like you,” you blurt out. “Like really, really. And I think I have for a long time now. It just… took awhile for me to find out.”

“I like you too, life ruiner.”

You try to playfully push him, but he wraps you in a hug before you can even touch him. You squirm in his grasp and giggle when he holds you even tighter.

“Life ruiner, life ruiner,” he chants in your ear. “And you’re all mine now.”

~ ad.gray

[blueskiesandstarrynights]

Whatever Happens I'ma Stand Tall- Jatp time loop au, Chapter 2: Loop 2, Didn't We Already Do This?

And here's chapter 2! I'm glad to get this one done, it's been bugging me for a bit.

Word Count: 2120

Tag list: @enby-chaos-fox @lagoonaaa

If anyone else wants to be added, just let me know!

Masterpost of chapters (x)

Looks like today is gonna be another sunny day, with temperatures in the low to mid eighties.

Julie awoke with a gasp and scrambled to shut off her alarm and wipe away her damp cheeks from her tears, trying to figure out what had just happened. She nearly knocked her phone off her nightstand trying to grab it, but once she got it she checked the date on her phone and nearly started crying with relief when she saw the date: Saturday, March 7, 2020.

It wasn’t real.

It wasn’t real.

Whatever she thought she had just experienced was just a dream. A nightmare created from her fears that today’s plan didn’t work. It was ok. They’re going to play the Orpheum and her band is going to crossover. She’d still lose them, but she had already accepted that.

But she had to be sure. Had to be sure it really was just a nightmare and her boys are still here. She quickly got dressed and dashed down to the studio only to find the guys a few seconds from poofing away.

Reggie noticed her first and called out, “Oh hey Julie! We were just about to-”

He cut himself off once he saw that Julie’s eyes had filled with tears and asked, “Whoa, Julie are you okay?”

She wiped her tears with a soft smile before saying, “Yeah, yeah I’m okay. I just had this really vivid dream that you guys were jolted out of existence and I couldn’t save you.”

“Well you don’t have to worry, it was just a nightmare, we’re right here and not going to go down without a fight.” Luke smiled at her.

Julie nodded and wiped the final tear tracks from her face before smirking and saying, “Don’t you guys have a gig to secure? You’re not crossing over without it.”

“We were just about to go and check on Wil- the gig,” Alex replied, looking anxious to leave and check on someone who she assumed to be Willie, Alex’s ghost friend who was going to be helping them get the gig for tonight. Julie wondered if he was more than just a “ghost friend” and filed that piece of information for later as Luke gave her a salute and a “See ya later boss,” before poofing away with Alex and Reggie in tow.

Julie took a deep breath to steady herself and push down the anxious thoughts and worries that had pushed their way to the front of her mind since the guys had left.

But every second that passed meant they were one second closer to being jolted out of existence. Every second that passed brought them closer and closer to their doom. Every second brought them closer and closer to that horrifying nightmare she had.

But it was just a nightmare, she tried to remind herself. It wasn’t real and she was going to help the guys peacefully cross over tonight. But then why was her dream so vivid and detailed? Was it-

No. She steadied her breathing and made her way back inside the studio, worrying about this wasn’t going to do anything, anything good at least. She decided to spend the morning in song writing in the studio, but when the guys came back with info about the Orpheum, the events of the day started unfolding in an eerily familiar pattern. A pattern suspiciously like her vivid nightmare from the night before. By the time she was at the Orpheum and the guys were once again running late, she brought up her concerns to Flynn.

“Have you ever had deja vu? Or had an oddly vivid dream that came true in real life?” Julie asked abruptly, causing Flynn to pause munching on the snacks that had been left in the room.

She gave Julie an odd look before replying, “Closest thing I can think of is a vague sense of deja vu when I was younger, but nothing vivid. Any particular reason you’re asking me this?”

Julie sighed. “Kinda. Last night I had this super vivid dream of today that ended with the guys being jolted out of existence. I failed and they experienced pain up until the moment they were just erased from all existence. And normally that wouldn’t scare me, because it was just a dream, but every single thing that happened in the dream has happened, and I’m terrified I’m going to have to watch them die all over again!”

Flynn placed the snacks on the table so she could move closer to Julie and give her a hug.

“C’mon that’s not going to happen. It’s not going to play out, it’s just a dream. And even if it did, they’re going to cross over, this is their unfinished business. My guess is the part in the dream where they die was simply your brain creating what you fear is going to happen. As for the rest of the day...well I can’t really comment on that, I’m neither a psychic nor a psychologist.”

There was a knock on the door followed by the stage manager calling out, “Hey Julie! It’s time!”

“Just a second!” she called back.

“Look, not to sound weird for using a dream of all things as a source of valid information, but what happened in the dream at this point? Did they come?” Flynn inquired.

Julie looked like she was holding back tears as she shook her head and said, “Yeah, they come in partway through the performance, that’s not even my main worry right now. I just-” she rests her forehead against Flynn’s. “I don’t know if I can-”

The stage manager once again knocks on the door and announces, “Hey Julie! You’re on!”

With too many emotions swirling around, Julie pushed her way out the door and into the alley at the side of the Orpheum, ignoring her best friend's shouts behind her. As she takes a breath of the stink of Hollywood Boulevard, she finally lets out the tears she had been holding in.

“I don’t know if you can hear me mom, but I don’t think I can do this. If I was supposed to help the guys, I don’t think I can. They’re not here, and I’m scared that even if they do come, it won’t matter. I’m worried they’re not going to come, but I’m terrified that I’ll have to watch them die; I don’t know if I can do that a second time. I just-” she gives a soft sniffle before saying, “I miss you so much. Every day. And it hurts every day that you’re not with us. The guys have helped, playing music with them makes me feel closer to you. Every time I look into the audience, I can see you smiling and cheering me on.

I miss you Mom. More than you can ever know. I miss being held in your arms and being told everything’s going to be okay, because even when all the odds say it’s not, you still made me believe it anyway.” She’s trying to wipe her tears from her eyes when she notices a woman next to her offering her a flower. It’s a dahlia. A red dahlia, like the ones Mom used to love. She hugs the flower to her chest and she feels like she can feel everything that made her mom who she was. She can hear her mothers laugh ringing in her ears, right next to the beautiful melody that is her voice, and she can feel the warmth of her hugs, can smell the flowery perfume she always used, and she can almost see her mom’s signature dark curls.

With the dahlia in hand, Julie barrels back through the Orpheum side door, heading straight for the stage, stopping only to show Flynn the dahlia and declare, “Signs,” before rushing onto the stage, not even thinking about what she was doing. Seeing the dahlia had reminded Julie of Flynn’s theory that her mom was behind everything, and took the flower as a sign to go up on stage. To keep going. To stand tall.

And she did. She performed the Orpheum, and her boys came and being up on that stage gave her a ridiculous amount of euphoria. After the guys disappeared and she was hounded by her family and Flynn backstage, the adrenaline from the night almost caused her to forget about the guys. Almost.

Once they get back home, Julie wants nothing more than to go to the studio, but is stopped when Carlos asks her, “Hey Julie, can I talk to you for a sec?”

“Uh, sure just give me a minute.”

“Ok, I’ll wait up. Don’t ghost me,” he responded, adding a completely unsubtle wink at the end, causing Julie’s eyes to grow wide in shock. Had he figured it out? If so, how? Or was this just another one of his theories that didn’t hold any merit?

She shook her head, deciding to deal with that later, before turning to her dad and saying, “Just a minute,” and headed for the studio.

She opened the doors and stared inside the darkened room, taking a large shuddery breath, scared of what she’d find if she turned on the light. Scared that the guys’ didn’t cross over, but instead are here, collapsed on the floor, moments away from dying a second time. Not wanting to prolong this any further, she reached over to the switch on the wall and turned the light on, and lo and behold, there they were piled on top of each other just as she feared, and seeing them like this caused her breathing to grow more ragged, which wasn’t helped by a jolt that simultaneously racked the boys bodies.

They coughed and moaned from the jolt but forced themselves up once they saw Julie and all tried to put on brave faces for her.

“Julie what are you doing here, why didn’t you just go straight to bed?” Reggie asked.

“I said she’d come out here, but nobody ever listens to me,” Alex complains.

Julie sniffled and pointlessly tried to wipe her eyes before saying, “I, uh, wanted to say goodbye and to thank you guys.”

Watching them now feels so much worse than the dream. She knew playing the Orpheum wasn’t going to work, yet she still performed there anyway. Now there was nothing she could do. They were being forced to relive the pain of dying over and over again, until they were wiped from existence entirely. There were so many things she wanted to do with them, and things they wanted to do. In fact, there was something they needed to do, considering they were ghosts in the first place and therefore had unfinished business. They had so much ahead of them, yet their time was being cut short too early, just like their lives in ‘95.

She collapses onto the floor and tries to get as close to them as she can without passing through them; doing so would just be another painful reminder of the separation between her and them, and how much they’re about to be separated permanently.

She numbly listens to them as they list off their final requests just as they did last time, before they’re finally killed and she is left in an empty studio, left with nothing but instruments that won’t be used again and her tears. Oddly enough, just like in her dream she finds the world being taken over by a blinding white light accompanied with still quiet before-

Looks like today is gonna be another sunny day, with temperatures in the low to mid eighties.

Julie’s eyes shoot open and quickly shuts off the alarm trying to make sense of what just happened. Why was she back in her room? What was that white light? Her theory about a dream turned out to be garbage since you can’t have a dream within a dream right? Confused, Julie reached over to her nightstand to grab her phone to check the date and what she saw nearly made her choke on air.

Saturday, March 7, 2020

Saturday, March 7, 2020

That was yesterday’s date. And now that she thought about it, it was the date for the day before as well. Panicking now, Julie goes straight for Flynn’s contact and texts her:

Julie: 911

Julie: Flynn

Julie: Get here asap

Julie: Somethings wrong

Flynn: What

Flynn: Jules whats wrong

Julie: Idk

Julie: Its weird

Julie: Just come here itll be easier to explain in person

Flynn: Alright be there in 5

Julie closed her phone, sighed, fell back into her pillows and groaned. This was going to be a long day. Again.

[breaniebree]

100 Fanfiction Writer Asks

Wanted to combine some of the great writer asks I've seen so I did! Thanks to @sweeethinny for these great questions! I added a few more myself to make it 100!!

Feel free to reblog!

1) How old were you when your first started writing fanfiction?

2) What fandoms do you write for and do you have a particular favourite if you write for more than one?

3) Do you prefer writing OC’s or reader inserts? Explain your answer.

4) What is your favourite genre to write for and why?

5) If you had to choose a favourite out of all of your multi chaptered stories, which would it be and why?

6) If you had to delete one of your stories and never speak of it again, which would it be and why?

7) When is your preferred time to write?

8) Where do you take your inspiration from?

9) In your XXX fic, what’s your favourite scene that you wrote?

10) In your XXX fic, why did you decide to end it like that? Did you have an alternative ending in mind?

11) Have you ever amended a story due to criticisms you’ve received after posting it?

12) Who is your favourite character to write for? Why?

13) Who is your least favourite character to write for? Why?

14) How did you come up with the title for the XXX? You can ask about multiple stories.

15) If you write OC’s, how do you decide on their names?

16) How did you come up with the idea for XXX?

17) Post a line from a WIP that you’re working on.

18) Do you have any abandoned WIP’s? What made you abandon them?

19) Are there any stories that you’ve written that you’d really love to do a sequel to?

20) Are there any stories that you wished you’d ended differently?

21) Tell me about another writer(s) who you admire? What is it about them that you admire?

22) Do you have a story that you look back on and cringe when you reread it?

23) Do you prefer listening to music when you’re writing or do you need silence?

24) How do you feel about writing smutty scenes?

25) Have you ever cried whilst writing a story?

26) Which part of your XXX fic was the hardest to write?

27) Do you make a general outline for your stories or do you just go with the flow?

28) What is something you wished you’d known before you started posting fanfiction?

29) Do you have a story that you feel doesn’t get as much love as you’d like?

30) In contrast to 29, is there a story which gets lots of love which you kinda eye roll at?

31) Send me a fic recommendation and I’ll post it for my followers to see! (The asker is to send the recommendation, not the answerer)

32) Are any of your characters based on real people?

33) What’s the biggest compliment you’ve gotten?

34) What’s the harshest criticism you’ve gotten?

35) Do you share your story ideas with anyone else or do you keep them close to your chest?

36) Can you give us a spoiler for one of your WIP’s?

37) What’s the funniest story you’ve written?

38) If you could collaborate with any other writer on here, who would it be? (Perhaps this question will inspire some collaborations!) If you’re shy, don’t tag the blog, just name it.

39) Do you prefer first, second or third person?

40) Do people know you write fanfiction?

41) What’s you favourite minor character you’ve written?

42) Song fic — What made you decide to use the song XXX for XXX?

43) Has anyone ever guessed the plot twist of one of your fics before you posted it?

44) What is the last line you wrote?

45) What spurs you on during the writing process?

46) I really loved your XXX fic. If you were ever to do a sequel, what do you think might happen in it?

47) Here’s a fic title (insert a made up title). What would this story be about?

48) What’s your favourite trope to write?

49) Can you remember the first fic you read? What was it about?

50) If you could write only angst, fluff or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why?

51) From one to five stars, how would you rate your writing? (No downplaying yourself!)

52) Why do you write fanfiction?

53) What do you think makes your writing stand out from other works?

54) Are there any writers that inspire you?

55) What’s the fic you’re most proud of?

56) What element of writing do you find comes easily?

57) What element of writing do you struggle with the most?

58) Which character(s) do you find easiest to write?

59) Which character(s) do you find the most difficult to write?

60) What’s your favourite genre to write for?

61) Who or what do you find yourself writing about most?

62) Tell us about a WIP you’re excited about.

63) First fandom you ever wrote for?

64) Have you ever written something that wasn’t fanfiction? If yes, what was it and have you ever published it?

65) What’s the weirdest fandom you’ve ever written for?

66) Any guilty pleasure trope(s)?

67) A trope you’ll never, ever write for.

68) Wildest fic you’ve ever written?

69) Do you prefer canon-compliant, AUs, or something in-between?

70) Gen fic or shippy stuff?

71) Favourite pairing to write for? (platonic or romantic!)

72) Do you listen to anything while you write?

73) Do you prefer prompts and challenges, or completely independent ideas?

74) One-shots or multi-chaptered works?

75) Have you ever daydreamed about side adventures/spin-offs from your fic? Tell us about them!

76) Is there anything you’ve wanted to write, but you’ve been too scared to try?

77) What’s the nicest comment you’ve ever received?

78) How well do you handle criticism when it comes to your writing?

79) Have you ever gone outside of your comfort zone for a fic? How did it turn out?

80) Tooth-rotting fluff or merciless angst?

81) Do you have any OCs? Tell us about them!

82) Summarize a random fic of yours in 10 words or less.

83) Is there anything you wish your audience knew about your writing or writing process?

84) Copy and paste an excerpt you’re particularly fond of.

85) Ramble about any fic-related thing you want!

86) Have you ever read a fanfic that made you cry? What was it?

87) What’s the most difficult thing about writing characters from the opposite sex?

88) If you could ask one other fanfic author three questions about their writing, writing process, or works, what would they be and who would you ask?

89) What do the words “writer’s block” mean to you?

90) How do you process and deal with negative reviews?

91) Are there therapeutic benefits to modeling a character after someone you know?

92) Have you ever killed off a character your readers loved? If yes, what made you do it?

93) Whom do you trust for objective and constructive criticism of your work?

94) What do you do to get inside your character’s heads?

95) What books and fics do you enjoy reading?

96) What's the strangest thing you had to do to create this story?

97) Does one of your stories have a soundtrack? A playlist that inspired you while writing it?

98) If you had to give up either snacks and drinks during writing sessions, or music, which would you find more difficult to say goodbye to and why?

99) Picture this: You feel uninspired and you’ve sat at the computer for an hour without conquering any words. How do you get your creativity flowing?

100) Do you love writing or hate it? Why do you write?

[jungshook69]

Comforting him

DISCLAIMER: This doesn’t represent the members’ actions or the army’s actions in any manner it’s pure fiction. This is an original work, do not copy.

WORD COUNT: 2.3K

PAIRING/S: Taehyung X female reader

GENRE: Idol x Staff au ; Best friends au

WARNINGS: None

SUMMARY: Being an idol brings an overwhelming pressure on one’s shoulders. And that pressure is heightened when there’s an audience in front of you and you’re in a very vulnerable emotional state. Taehyung needs your help. He needs your comfort. And that’s exactly what you give him.

A/N: This is not necessarily my first fanfiction, but it is the first one I’m ever gonna post on Tumblr! Well hope you guys like it and it does well:) Also I’m sorry in advance if there’s any spelling errors:(

Hi, my name is Min Y/N. I’ve been working as an editorial assistant under Big Hit for a group known as BTS for the last 5 years, ever since BTS had their debut.

I was sitting in my hotel room on my desk eyes fixed on my laptop screen as I watched some of the boys on their own Vlives. Yes this became a part of my job for the last 2 years. I was responsible for watching their Vlives and making sure nothing went wrong. By wrong I meant there were incidents when fans asked questions that were too personal or idols lost their cool on Vlive but Bang PD-nim trusts the boys and I was just assigned to do this as a precaution.

Today only Taehyung, Yoongi oppa and Jin oppa were doing Vlives. Jin oppa wrapped up pretty quickly with his EatJin Vlive segment and signed off. Now the only ones left were Yoongi oppa and Taehyung. Yoongi was bopping along to his own lyrics while Taehyung was just sitting and staring at the camera.

Even though it was just me watching his Vlive, I could almost feel his eyes bore through the screen staring straight into my soul. I suddenly saw Yoongi oppa’s screen go black. I didn’t hear him say anything it just stopped. I texted him asking him if he wanted any help with setting it back up but he said that he didn’t have any problem he actually ended it by saying goodbye and everything. Maybe I didn’t hear him because I was busy staring at Taehyung.

And yes I texted him. I know they don’t really text too many people and very rarely females, but me and Jungkook’s makeup artist Park Min-Young, were the only females from the staff that the boys were closest to and most comfortable with. Personally I am the closest to the ’95 liners Jimin and Taehyung, not just because of the same age but we just get along the best.

Soon I shifted my gaze back onto the only Vlive left, Taehyung. He was leaning over and reading the comments. He remained still for a long time with a blank look on his face.

Soon curiosity got the best of me and I wondered what he was reading and began reading the comments too.

Comments:

@army1: Oh my god your guys 3rd muster performance was amazing!!! I was there Taehyung oppa!!

@army2: Aww I’m broke I couldn’t go T-T

@army3: Taehyung oppa are you okay?        

@army4: What happened?

@army5: Didn’t you hear Taehyung cried during the concert?

@army6: Oh my god I cried too T-T

@army7: wHaT?! send me a link aSaP!! T-T

@army8: The concert was just yesterday it’s not up yet!!

I was going through the comments when I heard Taehyung speak up. He looked up at the screen with a serious face. I knew exactly what was gonna happen. He was gonna tell everyone the same thing he told people on the day of the concert. About his grandma.

I was surprised at how calm he was because everyone knew how sensitive he was when it came to his grandmother. He kept a straight face and told everyone about his grandmother. I suddenly heard his breath hitch and looked at him concerned. I knew that face. He wanted to cry but he was holding himself back. I watched as he suddenly picked up his phone and began doing something on there. As soon as he kept his phone back down my phone lit up with a little ‘ding’. I opened it and saw what he had written.

I was surprised he texted me and not Jimin. Without overthinking it too much I quickly put on my hoodie and my white sneakers and put my phone in my pocket and stepped out of my hotel room.

I was on the 2nd floor and got into the elevator to ride to the 4th floor. I reached his door and stopped in front of it. I took a deep breath and knocked on the door. I heard a bit of shuffling on the inside and about 5 seconds later the door opened and my eyes met with his.

“Come in…” he said.

“Yeah…”

I said as I proceeded to take of my shoes.

*A/N: don’t come at me with the whole stinky feet thing y’all where I live its normal to be barefoot in the house*

“Soooo….” I started.

“Here take a seat”.

I sat down on his bed and he pulled up his chair in front of me.

“I want you to know that you can tell me anything okay. Whatever you feel whatever’s been on your mind just pour it out don’t hold anything back. I’m listening okay?” I said trying to comfort him.

With that he burst into tears in front of me.

“Heyy heyy its okay just let it all out its okay” I said softly.

“You must be thinking I’m such a baby right?” he said sniffling.

“No no no no who said showing emotions is being a baby?”

“T-t-thanks.”

I raised my hand to touch his arm to comfort him. As I touched his arm he looked up at me. I thought he felt uncomfortable so I quickly jerked my hand away from his arm.

“I’m sorry.”

“No no no just—“

With that he engulfed me in a warm embrace. And its not like we haven’t hugged before. We have plenty of times. But this was different. He seemed more vulnerable now. He buried his face in my neck and sobbed onto my hoodie. I could feel his tears soak my hoodie but I didn’t mind it at all. My hand instinctively flew up to his back and started rubbing it.

After a while of enjoying each other’s comfortable silence and warm embrace I felt him stir under me. He pulled away desperately trying to wipe away his tears. I pulled my hoodie over my palm and grabbed his face with one hand. Using the other hand I wiped away his tears slowly. We looked into each other’s eyes for a few seconds till I broke the eye contact.

Smiling I said to him, “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah…”

“Ok good. Lemme get u a bottle of water.”

I stood up and walked over to his side table and picked up his water bottle. I walked over to the bed and sat back down. I handed him the water bottle and he took a sip as I waited for him to finish.

“Don’t look at me I’m a total mess right now.” He said.

“Personally I think you guys look better without makeup.”

He stared at me and the corner of his mouth lifted a tiny bit.

“Yaaahhh there’s that smile.” I said.        

“Thank you so much Y/N.”

“Anytime Tae Tae.”

I giggled. I checked my phone. It showed the time 11.00pm. I didn’t realize I had been here for an hour.

“Well are you sure your feeling okay?”

“Yeah much better” he said smiling.

“Ok cool. Its not like I wanna escape or anything but it’s 11 so maybe I should let you sleep and I should be heading back to my room.” I blurt out. Truth being I wanted to stay with him. But I didn’t want to seem too clingy.

“Oh yeah right.” He said with a disappointed look on his face.

I grabbed my phone from beside me and put it in my pocket.

“I’m sorry I soaked your hoodie.” He said.

“Heyy don’t worry about it.”

“Ummm Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“If you don’t mind me asking how’s your life going? I mean I feel like all we’ve been talking about is me…”

“Yaahh I’m…” I sighed. “…fine.”

“What’s wrong? Is it about the guy your crushing on?” he asked his tone slightly off.

Yes I told Taehyung and Jimin that I’m crushing on a guy but I refused to reveal his name. Well if I would reveal his name to anyone all hell would break loose.

*A/N: I think you know what I mean ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)*

“N-no… I mean m-maybe” I said stuttering, scared to accidently reveal the truth.

“Tell me what’s wrong?” he pressed further.

“Don’t you have to sleep or something?”

“No talk to me.”

“Well I haven’t told him that I like him.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t!”

“Why not?”

“Because—because I just can’t. Let’s just say it’s forbidden or it’s against the rules or something.”

“You’re still not gonna tell me his name huh?”

How can I tell you that the man I’m in love with is you.

“You’re still not gonna tell me his name huh?” he pouted.

“Nope.” I said popping the ‘p’.

“Are you afraid?”

“Yeah, that he won’t like me back, cuz I’m me and he’s…” I sighed. “It won’t work out.”

“What do you mean you’re you? You’re literally one of the smartest and prettiest girls I know. Your kind, forgiving, humble and caring towards everyone around you.” He said practically ranting.

“Aaaaww thank you Tae but correction I’m not pretty… look at me c’mon?!”

“I am looking.” He says in a deep voice.

He stares into my eyes and his hands reached out to my face as he took of my glasses.

“I think you have beautiful eyes it’s a pity I can’t see them well because of your glasses”

“Yaahh that was Jimin’s line!!” I smile.

“But I meant it.”

He said putting on my glasses.

“Oh god it’s so blurry”

He said pinching the bridge of his nose and rubbing his eyes. His gaze didn’t falter once from my eyes. I looked down at my lap trying to avoid his gaze. I could feel my cheeks heating up. I froze when I felt a finger gently lifting my chin up.

And there he was the man that I couldn’t have, the man that I was too afraid to confess too, about to steal my first kiss. He stared at my lips while licking his own. He slowly leaned forward and I closed my eyes waiting for the impact. And then I felt it.

Soft plump warm lips gently brushing against mine. He pulled away to see my reaction and I sat right there with my eyes closed and lips still puckered waiting for his warmth to come back again. He clearly saw me wanting more and leaned in again. This time his hand went to the back of my neck as he pulled me closer to deepen the kiss. He got up from his chair and leaned over me. He began to push me back gently as I felt my back touch the bed and felt him hovering over me. We remained in that position for like barely 10 seconds until the loud doorbell rang.

Me being me, I panicked at the loud sound of the bell and and jerked my head up to sit up and accidently banged my head with Taehyung’s who was hovering over me. I immediately apologized and touched his forehead.

“I’m okay, are you?” he says brushing my forehead.

“I’m fine”

He begins chuckling as he made his way to the door.

“Wait! What if someone sees me here at this time?” I freak out.

“It’s probably just one of the guys relax.”

He opened the door to reveal Jimin look up from his phone.

“Taehyung-ah I saw your Vlive and I cam— oh hi Y/N what’re you doing here so late?

“Taehyung texted me to come over so I did.”

“Oh Taehyung-ah are you okay? Cuz I saw the Vlive…”

“Yeah I’m fine now thanks to Y/N.”

He said biting his lip and smirking at me.

I blushed looking away.

“Anyways it’s pretty late. I just came to check up on you and now that I know you’re okay I’m gonna have to get going. I have practice early tomorrow morning with hobi hyung. I’ll leave you two alone now! Byee!!” he spoke in a blur and left immediately.

As soon as Jimin left I got up from the bed and checked the time, it read 11.20pm.

“I should really get going Taehyung.” I said looking down at my feet unable to meet his gaze.

I started walking towards the door. Suddenly a hand flew from beside me and pushed the door close. I turned around to see Taehyung looking down at me, trapping me between the door and him.

“So your still not gonna tell me his name?” he said, his voice extremely gruff.

“W-who?”

“Aaaww look who’s all flustered.”

“I-I’m… n-not…”

“You know exactly who I’m talking about.”

“Well whoever he is, I think you should tell him that you love him no matter what the rules are. He deserves to know. And if he says anything to hurt you I swear to god I’m going to break his spine in half!”

I think he was trying to be threatening but I found it rather cute. I giggled. Oh Taehyung-ah if only you knew…

“You really think I should tell him?’

“No, be mine…” He mumbled.

“What?” Did I hear him right?

“Y-yes.”

“Ok then I will.”

“Great.” He sighed.

He moved away from me and started walking away towards his bed.

“I love you Taehyung.”

He stopped in his tracks and turned around slowly his gaze fixed on me. I looked down at my feet feeling the heat crawl up to my cheeks. I jerked my head up in shock when I heard what he said next.

“I love you too Y/N.”

With that he walked towards me grabbing my face with his hands as he smashed his lips onto mine as we stood there against his door, not wanting to escape each other’s warm embrace. That’s when I knew that something called true love does exist.

*A/N: I hope you guys liked it:) Smile for me:)*

Don’t forget to follow @jungshook69​ for more content:) You can check out more works of mine here. Have a great day:)

[omegangrins]

A Rant on the End of Tremors 7: Shrieker Island

As the main man said,

Throwing caution to the wind because this blew up elsewhere.

If you can do it with Justice League, fuck it, let's do it for every shitty movie we've got.

While we're at it, can we change the ending of the 7th Tremors movie so *MAJOR FUCKING SPOILERS* Burt Gummer doesn't die or at least bring Jamie Kennedy back, or Marvel style recast Jon Heder, so he dies saving his son instead of a random-ass person who could have easily saved themselves. Or cut the forced montage of Burt clips at the end so his death is at least ambiguous. Seriously beyond pissed about that one. THAT is no way for him to go.

I would also like to point out that the next Tremors *HAS* to be titled Tremors 8: Ouroboros and bring everyone back for Burt's funeral . Otherwise, what's the fucking point?

I have feelings about it, people. *FEELINGS!!!*

One of my favourite childhood memories is picking out Tremors 2 from the local gas station's movie rentals and forcing my parents to watch it. I was probably 5-6 at the time.

Let's say that it's been a lifelong love affair ever since. It took me another 10 years before I even watched the 1st. Probably why I hold good sequels in such high regard.

I didn't even know about the 1st until it played as a trailer in front of 2 and never thought to watch until years later. That's a testament to its filmmaking if I ever knew one.

So seriously, that's how they chose to kill off one of the most well known and prolific characters in a movie/TV series known around the globe? With an unnecessaryily needed death and a montage of clips from all the other movies that are obviously better than this one.

And I'm saying that as someone who defends Chibnall/13th Doctor...

...and I'm fucking fuming because THIS is how you *actually* destroy something people love and hold dear to their hearts. It's like the ending of Game of Thrones. His shitty ass death has made it a loooooot harder to rewatch. And they are one of my favourite series!!! Not flawless but fun. But I will defend every other movie and all the episodes except this. Honestly I'll still defend 7/8ths of this one as well.

Like I said, it's easily fixed too. Fucking vice versa swap out Jon Heder for Jamie Kennedy, who the movies have been building up for the last two, and have Burt save his son in front of his old flame. Boom, you won't even need the montage of clips cause you can just have Travis and his mom reminisce about Burt instead. Show not tell. I don't even care he died by Graboid (although in all honesty, I've allways wanted El Blanco to take him down or Burt kills himself from the PTSD. It would have AT LEAST MADE SENSE. Hell, the best would be a heart attack to callback Val's "Yeah, Burt, the way you worry, you're gonna have a heart attack before you get a chance to survive World War Three.". But none of us ever get the best death.). And it's not even about Burt sacrificing himself to save a nobody. Cause that could work too. BUT YOU NEED TO BUILD THAT SHIT UP. Not just fucking drop it like it's hot.

Like I said too, the first 7/8ths ain't bad but it's an entirely different story than a swansong for a hero.

It's all about some billionaire scientist/cowboy hunter dude who likes to get his jollies off hunting the biggest and the baddest who ends up inviting people to this island so they can hunt down Super-Graboids he designed for shits and giggles. But then some Shrieker-fy....

And the pretentious douches come and die one by beautiful one while Burt tries to save them anyway and it's all spectacularly dumb fun until it comes crashing down in the final 10 minutes. Fuck, they should just cut the last 10 minutes. Then it's a perfect little Tremors ditty.

#RELEASETHE7THTREMORSWITH10MINUTESFROMTHEENDCUT

This isn't even about Jon Heder either. He's just doing his job. Hell, do what /u/VoiceofRonHoward pointed out.

"It is clear that Jon's character was just pasted in over Jamie's, the artifacts of the father-son relationship are all over it. They should have gone full Marvel and just replaced Jamie with Jon and acted like nothing happened."

CAUSE FUCK YES!! The only time a story sucks is when they don't commit. Commitment makes all the difference. Now, I'm pissed double-pissed they didn't do that instead since Heder and Kennedy are similar in terms of white-boy-ness.

Even Michael Gross agrees:

"Yes, yes. Now I can't presume to speak for Jamie [Kennedy]. My understanding was they asked him and he said no. And so that's why they went with somebody else. So I had nothing to do with that decision. I just heard the stories. I missed him for that reason. You begin a relationship with the character, and you want to continue it....

...As you build a relationship with this son, we had two, it would've been nice to have three, but that was the hand I was dealt."

One of my favourite bits of Tremors lore comes from the 5th too so it's not like I hate sequel changes out of hand:

"This is a warrior dance. Our ancestors hunting the lnkanyamba and the Impundulu.

"What's that?

"Impundulu. It's what you call the Ass Blaster.

"Ass Blaster.

"Yes.

"Yes.

"Hey, you know, you make Ass Blaster sound good.

Primitive cultures fighting Graboids, Shriekers and Assblasters. I just love that thought.

Hilariously, my meta opening to the 8th movie would be a flashback to 10,000 years ago and a Neanderthal-like Burt Gummer teaching others how to drive Graboids off cliffs like they did with mammoths.

Thank you for giving me the space to rant. Cause fuuuuuuhhhhhhhhuuccck!!!

Here's Michael Gross' own words from his AMA that prove the people making Shrieker Island didn't know their shit.

"The Tremors series is one very close to my heart and I want you to know how appreciated your continued effort is for your core fan base.

My only question would be were there ever any studio decisions made for Burt that you refused to comply with? Or was everybody pretty much always on the same page on what to do with the character?

Thanks again for your dedication.

- Josh"

"Thanks for the kind words, Josh. As regards the first four films, with Wilson and Maddock as the writers, we were very much on the same page. 5,6, and 7 were a bit different, because there was a 13-year hiatus between 4 and 5, and we had to refresh our memories while "reinventing" the franchise for a new audience. I will give you one example: in an early draft of Shrieker Island, a new writer wrote a draft where Burt threatened to shoot one of the bad dudes, and I had to tell him—this is true—"Burt never intentionally points his gun at another human being."

And his own thoughts on Burt's "death" and how to bring it all back together again.

Universal and the director [came] to me with this idea, and they said, 'This could be emotionally very powerful, if we have to say goodbye to this man after 30 years. And I hemmed and hawed, and I thought about it a little bit. And I said, 'You're absolutely right about the emotional gut punch this can be.' And I said, 'You're going to hurt a lot of people's feelings.' And I said, 'But I thought this franchise was over after four. So I could certainly live with it being over after seven.'

"What we negotiated -- well, it wasn't really a negotiation, we all agreed on this -- is that we kind of left the door open. >!Because although Burt is gone, we never see a corpse. We never see his remains. Everybody assumes he's gone. Is he buried somewhere? Is he unconscious somewhere? We never see Burt dead. We see Burt gone. We see Burt not returning. What does that mean? Has he been knocked out? Does he have amnesia somewhere? Does he wander off? Is he in a kind of coma? So yes, the way it ends is pretty profound."

"As regards to the end of Tremors 7, let me just say that while people ASSUME Burt is gone, we never see his remains, do we? Just sayin.'

"The only reason he has become the main character is that everyone else in the original cast moved on to other things. I NEVER thought of him as the central figure, but it just worked out that Michael Gross, like Burt Gummer, was a "survivor." :0) "

"No one would like to see it more than I!!! One of my greatest regrets is that so many other cast members fell away over time. Reba was on to other things, Kevin said no to a second, Fred said no to a third. I would LOVE one last go with all of them, but it is not up to me. :0( "

"There are no guarantees, but for those who wonder aloud if this is the final film, I will say what I have said before: SALES drive sequels, Show biz is 5% show and 95% business, so if this latest addition to the Tremors franchise, sells well, [Universal] will follow the money, and Universal Pictures Home Entertainment may will be back for more."

/u/ActorMichaelGross, the bell has been rung and the song sung. Get the producers on this ASAP!!

I was also the first person to discover the symbolic foreshadowing of Stumpy's end with Earl's sleeping bag in the original movie.

Let's just say, I really *really* love these movies. So if anyone knows anyone, hook me up to the producers of this series and I'll Justin Lin in the Fast and Furious out of this shit.

Since I don't think it's good to critique without proposing either, I say we can make up for this fuck up with the next movie. We'll call it Tremors 8: Ouroboros. After the snake which eats its own tail.

We find out Burt faked his death to get the Proudfoot Corporation to let down their guard and when everyone from the previous series comes back for Burt's fake funeral they give him ever loving shit for being such a paranoid whack-job that he would fake his death to fool a government agency. Why would he do this? He found an old photo of Hiram Gummer with a Graboid warning on the back and asks himself why this valley, why these things, why allways me? And we find out, it's not Burt. It's that lifestyles of extremes will end up in places of extremes. Burt and the Graboids are survivors of different species. Sure the Proudfoot Corporation IS using Mixmaster to combine Graboids, Shriekers, and Ass-Blasters into one super creature for the military but it pales in comparison to Burt looking at his life and wondering in shame how many ancient giants like himself he has killed. And with that, he actually dies, and we keep the ball rolling with the rest of the characters trying to stop what they allways thought was just another one of Burt's crazy conspiracies.

That's why it's Ouroboros. Everything comes back around. We could end/start the movie with Grady, Earl, and Jodi opening a Monster World in Perfection Valley a la Desert Jack's Graboid Adventure. I don't know. I'm fucking trying harder than the people they paid to do this already.

It ain't perfect but I'm building on sand here so changes are gonna get made.

Like if the makers of Tremors notice this,

Then DM me because fucking A you guys need some help.

[agentsofsupernaturalmarvel]

Lost Time // Luke Patterson

Summary: Things changed since Sunset Curve fell apart literally as three out of four members died before a gig. Leaving a sad girl behind Luke by chance runs into the reader with someone else. Death tore the couple apart, and time can’t fix this.

Warning: Talk of death, depression, angst and fluff

Words: 2.2k

Might as well join the Julie and the Phantoms fan club!

*For the sake of the story the time frame has been altered, it takes place in the mid-2000s. Also! I tried to make the reader as generalized as I could to make sure that everyone can relate. The reader is Alex’s sister, for inclusion that can be biological, adopted, half or stepsiblings. I want to make sure all people can be the reader.

Masterlist

The 1990s was definitely some of the best years of your life watching your brother grow more comfortable in his identity. Alex had kept his sexuality secret, taking the frustration of the secret by learning how to play the drums. You would often be found curled on the chair listening to his growing talent; Alex was a great brother.

Alex found friends in three local boys Reggie, Bobby and Luke, even a little more than friends with Luke briefly. By 1991 the boys had formed a band Sunset Curve with each other and a loyal fan in you. By mid-1994 the band had a fanbase and some gigs, but playing The Orpheum was the goal.

Luke had admitted to Alex, he had feelings for you, and with a lot of encouragement from Alex, he approached you. Luke had been focused on music since his parents gave him his first guitar, so relationships weren’t even on the backburner.

“Hey.” Luke spoke, pressing a kiss to your cheek backstage, “Missed you.”

His hair tickled your skin, bringing a bright smile from the teenage boy and a deep blush from you, private time wasn’t as often as it once had been. After Luke’s fallout with his parents a few months back, he had couch surfed between Reggie and Alex’s rooms; he wasn’t allowed in yours.

“You saw me last night.”

“A monumental time.” Luke bent his bend to place a lingering kiss on your bare shoulder, his jacket having fallen down, “Three years together and a bright future ahead.”

Last night had been the third anniversary of your relationship and hopefully the previous night worrying on parents walking in, cheap dates Luke often felt guilty about. Luke knew in his bones playing The Orpheum tonight would open the door to a legendary future. A future where money wasn’t tight and he could you on dates he deemed acceptable for the love of his life.

Bobby voiced brought Sunset Curve’s lead singer back to that moment, you dropped from the stage to settle in the empty audience to watch the soundcheck. With a wink from Alex, he started making the beat to Now or Never, you beamed as they poured their souls into the song. The four were talented and made to be in a band together even if you didn’t really like Bobby.

Cringing at the awkward wink Bobby sent you turned on your converse to head to the bar for a glass of water. Thanking the bartender, you tuned out the conversation with the waitress and the band only jumping when arms wrapped around your waist.

“We’re getting street dogs.” Luke spoke, bringing your body to rest on his chest, “Do you want one?”

The thought of those street dogs honestly horrifying given they were cooked in some random guys car. The one time you tried, it had permanently tattooed the taste in your memories forever, and just remembering was vomit-inducing.

 “I’ll pass.” You wrinkled your nose, turning to wrap your arms around his neck, “I don’t know how you guys like those.”

“Tradition.” Luke shrugged caressing your cheekbone with the pad of this thumb. Gazing at features he wanted to wake up to for the rest of his life, “Still down with the plan?”

“The minute I’m eighteen, we go to the nearest chapel.” You grinned playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, “I’ll be waiting Rockstar.”

Luke pressed a long passionate kiss on your lips, pulling away to jog over to Alex and Reggie waiting at the door. Bobby having declined the street dog invitation to flirt with the waitress Rose. Alex waved before the door closed. Little did you know that would be the last time you saw them alive.

1995 was the worst year of your life. 1996 was the hardest, especially with the forever reminder of your love. You wouldn’t trade 1996 for the world however, only wishing for one change.

Los Angeles, 2004

Alex, Reggie and Luke had learnt a mere few days away from that life had drastically changed forever. Firstly, the three boys had died from eating the street dogs mere hours before performing on the stage of The Orpheum. Secondly, it was no longer 1995 but instead nearly ten years had past bringing the three ghosts into 2004.

The most jarring wasn’t being able to be heard playing music with a random girl named Julie but that the most constant part of the band no longer was there. You hadn’t died that night, and Alex was pretty sure you were still alive. Luke felt lost waking up without you beside him and the deep regret of not reconciling with his parents.

It would be a week before Luke would swallow his pride enough to orb himself into his unchanged childhood home. Emily, Luke’s mom, was in the well-worn chair knitting a scarf Luke recognized as his favourite colours. Mitch was in the kitchen, putting the groceries away. It was heartbreaking being invisible to his aged parents.

“Hey, Mom.” Luke sniffled sitting on the couch nearby staring at his silent mother, “Sorry for not visiting sooner.”

Tears welled up in the boy’s eyes feeling hopeless, not being able to ease his parents’ pain, the regret and guilt bubbling to the surface.

“How is Y/N? I bet she’s living in New York of London now. We promised to travel the world together. Part of me is guilty of wishing she had eaten a street dog that night so we could be together.” Luke sobbed, wrapping his arms around his midsection reminiscing on the beautiful girl he had unwillingly left.

“Hey.” Mitch spoke, kissing his wife’s forehead. Her eyes closing in contentment.

“I wonder if you know where Reg and Alex’s parents are. Reggie’s neighbourhood was torn down who knows when. It makes me scared to see if Alex and Y/N’s parents still have their place. I don’t think so. They lost their son.”

“Hey Luke.”

Luke glanced over his shoulder to see Alex at the door, reluctant to impose of Luke’s privacy.

“Yeah.”

“We’re rehearsing.” Alex spoke, smiling as the other teenager took one more wistful look at his parents before orbing out of his house to the Molina family’s garage. Minutes later, the front door opening and feet thudding brought the noise to the Patterson home.

“Grandma!”

A four-foot blue of green and black blur covered the room in seconds nearly sprawling Mitch to the floor. Why was that 1996 year difficult? Well, ’95 was when Sunset Curve tragically died, and a stick changed your life. ’96 was spent going through the last five months of pregnancy without Luke.

October 1995

You kept your lips pressed tightly together, unable to look at the smooth, shiny mahogany rectangle surrounded by flowers. Looking up meant the reality kicking in. Funerals sucked. Especially the third funeral in the last handful of days. It was surreal thinking that one week ago you had kissed your boyfriend and hugged your brother and now they were dead. Gone. Not even a goodbye.

“Are you okay?” The broke voice asked, gaining your attention. Swollen red eyes matching yours held unimaginable pain. While the last few months had been icy with your parents, it didn’t mean losing one of their kids didn’t sting.

“I will be.” You whispered clasping your hands over the scratchy black velvet dress, one you had worn three times too many.

The sobs broke out seeing the best picture Alex had taken in his life, it encapsulated his best features; his beaming smile and kind, caring eyes. Alex was gone. Your brother was gone because he ate a bad hot dog with his friends. You would never see your boys again. Never feel Luke’s skin or share a laugh with Alex or complain about things with Reggie. You wouldn’t get to meet in the chapel with Luke wearing second hand ‘fancy’ clothing. In one night, your life changed.

It changed further seeing the two lines on the test later that night. The heartache growing. The baby you carried would never meet his uncles and his Dad. Would never hear them play or learn to play. ’95 and ’96 sucked ass.

You sighed, closing the door to follow the rambunctious ball of energy into the living room where he entertained Mitch and Emily. Some days it was difficult to stare into the green eyes he inherited from his father.

“Benjamin Lucas.” You spoke crossing your arms, meeting the gaze of the eight-year-old boy, “What did I say?”

“To not runoff.” Ben quietly replied, playing with his hands. His messy brown hair, in need of a trim, falling into his eyes, “Sorry Mom.”

“Please don’t do it again.” You gently told the little boy elated as he quickly found the toy box in the corner of the room.

Ben was loved deeply by Mitch and Emily, who had stepped up when your parents made the decision to sell your childhood home. Wanting Ben to know his paternal grandparents, you had struggled to find an apartment and job to say in the neighbourhood. Since the baby was the last part of their son, the Patterson parents’ had welcomed you into the home where you stayed until Ben was two.

“Do you want us to come around for Luke’s birthday?” You questioned sitting on the love seat, the same love seat you had made out on with Luke many times during movies.

The room turned sad at the question and reminded that for the ninth year, you would celebrate Luke’s birthday without him. A day where Ben wouldn’t fully understand. Emily simply nodded her head.

 “Have you met anyone?” Mitch asked, leaning over to clasp his hands together. For the last few years, they had been pushing you to date. They wanted your happiness and for Ben to have a father even if Luke couldn’t be it.

“Mama can we stay here tonight?” Ben’s innocent voice cut the tension, saving you from answering the question again. Mitch and Emily each nodded their heads at the question, unable to tell the young boy no.

“Have you ate?” Emily asked, turning to look at you in concern. The chuckle left your mouth at the question she frequently requested, she missed cooking for more than two.

“We had pasta before we came.” You replied, turning to gaze out the window to the dark sky, “I should put Ben to bed.”

The soft whine from your son and denial was a nightly routine and very much a mirror image to Luke’s character as well. With a smile, Emily held out her hand to her grandchild, she was notoriously the only one able to get Ben to sleep fast.

 “Come on Bug.”

It seemed the universe was keeping Luke from seeing you and discovering Ben, but when that night came, he was shocked. Emily was curled up on the patio couch, watching Ben in the newly bought sandbox. The patio doors opened. Inside, Mitch had invited a stranger who knew his son into the house.

 “I think I heard the doorbell. I’ll be right back.” Emily called out to you. You had found shade under the tree reading a new book.

The soft cry had you up and running to Ben before you even realized, on his knee was a bleeding wound. You had already scooped the boy into your arms to quickly get into the kitchen. The moment your foot stepped into the home, the sound of a familiar voice and song filled the house.

Gently placing Ben on his feet, you followed the sound to the living room. Across the room behind a young girl stood a boy.

“Luke.” You breathed floored at the sight of the teenager who looked exactly like he did back in ’95. The ghost singing widened his eyes at yours, taking in the mature features and change of fashion.

He continued to sing the song Unsaid Emily he had written as an apology to his mom following the last big fight. The song he never got to show her. His voice faded as the ending of the song came around.

“Mama!” Your attention broke from Luke’s when a tiny hand reached for yours. The pain in his voice bringing you back to the most important part of your life, “It hurts Mama.”

Despite being sad, Mitch was the one to cross the room to lift the little boy into his arms. Placing the little boy on the counter, the man gently wet a paper towel to wash the area.

“I think he needs stitches.” Mitch sighed, furrowing his brows.

“Who is that?” Luke asked the Molina girl. The girl shrugged taking in the features she could recognize. Julie asked Emily.

“That’s Ben.” Emily beamed, looking over her shoulder at the little boy that filled the void of Luke’s death. It didn’t fix the wound or erase the pain, but Ben’s existence helped with the loss as he was a precious gift, “When Luke passed away his girlfriend Y/N found out she was pregnant with Luke’s baby.”

The choked sob fell from Luke’s mouth echoed by the thud of his knees, hitting the floor in the pure shock. The heartbreak painted so clear Julie was sure she could feel Luke’s agony.

God, why did Luke have to eat that fucking street dog. Fuck his band dreams. Nothing hurt as bad as finding out about Ben and Y/N having to be a single parent.

“I have a son?” Luke cried, orbing himself as far as he could from the Patterson home and his most tremendous loss.

ASK TO BE TAGGED!

SEND IN REQUESTS!

[sometimesrosy]

Thanks for being one of the last blogs left to discuss the show to the end. I understand the hurt and betrayal people feel right now. I feel it too, but as a new fan who binged 1-6 back in March, I keep thinking about the crazy moments that were reversed or resolved at the end of seasons. If it hadn't been for Jason's word of God post or the anon accounts, I would have scoffed at this "death", b/c it seemed like a setup. I may not like JR, but I need to see how he ends this before I criticize.

Yeah. I know exactly what you’re talking about.

I think in fandom, we have a hard time adjusting to the immediate storyline, and we forget the long term one. And this DOES seem like the story is not done. Usually when they die, it’s confirmed that they die. A hole in the head. That blank eye. Blown out into space. They die in someone’s arms. We see their last breaths. A dead body or grave. The light goes out. In this, we don’t see that. We see Clarke ripped away from the scene, her last sight the result of what she did.

No conclusion, no resolution, no CONFIRMATION-- in narrative anyway.

On social media we got goodbyes. But I have NEVER used social media as confirmation for canon. I can ONLY accept canon.

And canon is up in the air. It looks bad, I’m not gonna lie. But it isn’t confirmed, resolved, or concluded.

It’s the rumors that give us a “reason” for the lack of conclusion. And I can’t say that the rumors don’t explain it, because they do make sense.

But they’re still not canon. 

Bellamy also died at the end of season 1. But he didn’t die. Clarke died at the end of season 4... we saw her, remember? Covered with radiation sores and falling to the floor, but she survived. Not that B knew. Speaking of season 4, Octavia also died in season 4. We saw her fall from the cliff, stabbed, and B collapsed on finding out. Season 6 Clarke died again. We saw the lights go out that time. No one believed it. Bellamy died at the beginning of season 7 too. No one believed it.  Seems like we stopped believing when they die.

Within the show, they have the capability to save him. Bardo has a high level of tech, including medical tech, a disciple has his hand on Bellamy’s chest in the last scene, and they have immediate access to the medical labs by going through the anomaly. 

The only thing that makes everyone take it for certain is the social media. Even if it looks terribly damning, I can’t take that as evidence. 

STICK TO THE TEXT.

Yes, I am going to watch the next three episodes. I didn’t commit to all this hell to back out now. 

The hardest thing to understand right now, for me, is not that B died. I expected him to die. I think I had him (and Clarke) at a 90% or 95% chance of dying this season. It’s the WAY it happened, with that lack of resolution. And the splitting up of Bellarke. That Clarke did it. 

It seems to ruin the long term narrative of Clarke being the hero, Bellarke saving the world together, Bellamy saving Clarke while Clarke saves humanity, Bellamy’s character development and learning to let those he love make his own choices, Bellamy being a leader, Clarke understanding that some things are not worth it. 

Like, there are TWO options that make sense with all this...

Bellamy isn’t really dead and this is a fake out to raise tension... which makes sense with the narrative and the way the story has been told for 7 years.

OR

Bellamy is dead and JR totally betrayed his narrative, Bellamy, Clarke, Bob, and the audience because he’s a mother fucking egotistical jackass. because even if bob quit for health reasons he didn’t need to tank the story to write him out.

Now, there’s been a fandom narrative of JR being a fucking egotistical jackass who is taking vengeance on fandom and various actors. So that slides very neatly into what the antis believe.

But that narrative never really fit the story on screen. I mean, I think yeah he’s probably an egotistical jackass, but he always put the story before anyone else. It was HIS story and he wasn’t going to let anyone tell him what to write. And he would kill off characters and doom ships and let story lines fade off into oblivion for ONE narrative, and that’s what he just killed, or appeared to kill in the last episode. So why would he now sink it? IDK. it’s weird and it makes no sense.

DID he just give up in the last season because he moved on to the other pilot-- which has no guarantee of being picked up, and seemes to be waiting on how THIS story does? Why would he do that when his name will be based on THIS show. And when we have a glaring example of showrunners who did that with GOT and ended up LOSING huge deals for new shows because of the mess they made. That seems remarkably stupid to not learn the lesson and to go down the exact same path, even to having one love interest kill the other, who was one of the main heroes.

Isn’t that WEIRD? IS JR COMPLETELY STUPID? Despite years of evidence to the contrary where he seems pretty savvy? Could he possibly be using that fandom fear and belief to make everyone believe he killed off Bellamy for no reason? Would he USE a social media account to manipulate viewers into having emotional reactions to the story by lying??? WELL NO. He’s not lying. He says this was Bellamy’s death but he doesn’t say he stays dead, or that Bardo can’t bring him back. Remember season 2? Lincoln died and they brought him back. And when he thanks Bob for his 7 years, that also is not a lie. Bob gave him 7 years. We’ve seen Bellamy’s story for 7 years. Whether it ends here or continues for another three eps. It’s definitely implying that he’s not coming back, but it’s not lying if he does come back.

Well, I don’t know. Maybe JR is completely stupid. I’ll wait to see if he stick the landing, but my faith is low. It’s just all very weird and makes no sense in a story that has always made sense if you follow his storyline. And as a writer I just don’t know why you would tank your long term story three eps before you finish it up. And he DOES love to scare us and make us feel anguished and kill of our  mains and thinking ALL IS LOST before finding out that no indeed, all is not lost and our heroes can and do come back and reach victory.

THAT fits his story. But maybe he’s so desperate for us to believe it’s over that he’ll mislead us IRL to make us believe his plot twist in the narrative.

Can’t say I wouldnt prefer it to be a fake out, but if it is a fake out he’s still a HUGE fucking egotistical asshole. 

I just can’t believe it until I see the canon. I need to see the conclusion, because this seems like a total trashing of the story, and that just makes no sense for what we’ve seen for 7 years. Actually, when I think about all of this, it gives me a little faith in the story back. Not a lot, but a little. BECAUSE IT MAKES NO SENSE. It is PURELY the fandom narrative that JR is an egotistical jackass and doesn’t fit with the canon narrative. 

Listen, I don’t think I’ll ever get involved with a fandom again. it ruins the story. All this gossip and negativity and shipwars and harassment and I don’t even LIKE the behind the scenes tales of who did what to whom. I just want to watch the stories and enjoy what I enjoy. I wish we could talk about it all without creating this huge writhing mass of maggoty decay as so called fandom attempts to take apart everything good about a show we’re supposed to love.

[anothersievefistedfind]

“Today Like Yesterday Against Fascism with Every Means Necessary" 

Photo © Gary Freitas PhD

Fugazi, Centro Popolare Autogestito, Florence, ITALY 6/14/95 (FLS #0688)

This is pretty much the only Fugazi live recording I have been listening to these last couple of months. It documents events which played out more than twenty-five years ago in Firenze, Italy, yet it has not lost a shred of its relevance, importance and urgency since.

The year is 2020 right now, and as racism, fascism, authoritarianism and related -isms go full beast-mode, I find comfort, meaning, and hope in this recording, which, besides a great sounding and well-performed gig overall, features a very powerful and definitely uplifting rendering of Sweet and Low to close out this particular night in Firenze history. 

Imagine Guy and Ian hitting the opening notes on their guitars while Brendan plays a bit off the rim when all of a sudden the audience hijacks the instrumental, their voices growing louder and louder singing Bella Ciao in unison, a song that quite recently became popular (again) through the acclaimed Netflix series La Casa de Papel or The Money Heist, but dates back much further and particularly appears to have gained traction as an anthem of the anti-fascist partisans fighting the Nazi occupation during the Second World War (1939-1945).

In this context, Bella Ciao essentially tells the story of a partisan, saying goodbye to his beautiful woman or girlfriend in the morning and leaving to fight the invader, dying doing so and requesting his fellow combatants to bury him up in the mountains under the shadow of a beautiful flower, “the flower of the partisan who died for freedom.”

Once the Firenze audience concludes its lyrical voyage, Joe gently leads the band and listeners into the rest of Sweet and Low to end the set, after which Ian thanks everyone present “for the most beautiful thing all night”, as a token of the band’s profound appreciation. Some more words of praise are dedicated to the fabulous space itself (this show traces back to the first out of just two times Fugazi would play the city of Firenze with both shows taking place at the CPA), as well as to the state of the toilets (”toilets are our friends”).

Other things of note include the Red Medicine rarity Combination Lock as set opener here, which appears to have been played live just once in 1994 and merely 20 times in 1995 before being put on the shelf indefinitely (6 times on US soil, and 14 times in Europe), the debut EP consecutive quartet (Ian notably struggles with an out of tune guitar, but it does add to the authenticity of the moment) and a very strong encore altogether.

Presented are 22 songs total, taken off of Red Medicine (8), In on the Kill Taker (3), Steady Diet of Nothing (3), Repeater (3), the Margin Walker EP (1) and debut 7 Songs EP (4).

The set list:

1. Intro 2. Combination Lock 3. Reclamation 4. Sieve-Fisted Find 5. Interlude 1 6. Styrofoam 7. Target 8. Back To Base 9. Interlude 2 10. Blueprint 11. Interlude 3 12. Stacks 13. Exit Only 14. Interlude 4 15. Bed For The Scraping 16. Interlude 5 17. Fell, Destroyed 18. By You 19. Interlude 6 20. Bad Mouth 21. Interlude 7 22. Bulldog Front 23. Waiting Room 24. Give Me The Cure 25. Interlude 8 26. Returning The Screw 27. Smallpox Champion 28. Encore 29. Long Distance Runner 30. Forensic Scene 31. Promises 32. Sweet and Low 33. Outro

[imjustthemechanic]

The Price of a Soul

Part 1/? - Agent Russel Part 2/? - The Letter

Of course Agent Russel isn’t who she said she was... but who is she really?  And what is the significance of the letter she left in Peggy’s purse?

-

It wasn’t until she was packing up her things to head home at the end of the day that Peggy noticed the envelope.

Peggy was used to finding envelopes on her desk – it had taken her a while to find a proper apartment in Los Angeles, so she’d used the SSR office as her address and still got mail there.  Her colleagues also left things for her.  But this wasn’t on her desk or even in her desk, it was in her purse, which had been sitting next to her desk all day, except for when it had been sitting next to Daniel’s desk in his office while she spoke with Agent Russel.  Peggy didn’t recall anyone coming near it, but then, she hadn’t been paying that much attention.  What she was sure of was that there had been no envelope in it when she’d left home that morning.

She pulled it out.  There was nothing written on it and the flap was not sealed.  Inside was a single sheet of typing paper.  Peggy unfolded it, and found two typewritten lines of numbers:

74 47 35 95 25 03

Below them was a quickly scrawled drawing of a five-pointed star with two circles around it.

Peggy’s breath caught.  Her first instinct upon just seeing the numbers was, of course, that it represented some kind of code or cipher, but noticing the star… perhaps she was biased, but she was fairly sure that represented Captain America’s shield.  And if it did, maybe the numbers were far simpler than a code.  Maybe somebody knew where the Valkyrie had crashed.  Ninety-five degrees was a long way to the west, and seventy-four was further north than Howard had ever looked.

Who had left her this?  Her initial idea was that it must have been Russel, but why would Russel do that and where would she have gotten such information?  If she had it, wouldn’t she give it to Daniel or to Chief Thompson in New York, or even to the joint chiefs or the president, rather than to Peggy Carter?  Everybody thought of her in association with Captain America, yes, but she’d been a comparatively minor figure in his career.  Maybe it was some kind of trap or a distraction?  But why do that?  It seemed entirely incompatible with Russel’s goal.  But if not her, who?

She folded the page up again.  She was getting ahead of herself, wasn’t she?  She didn’t yet know what those numbers meant.  Possibly she was jumping to conclusions.  She needed a map or a globe.  Peggy did not own one personally.  There was a large map of North America on one wall of the SSR office, but she didn’t want anyone seeing her poring over that and asking why.  Perhaps a public library?  But what if she were followed?

Remaining calm, Peggy put the page back into the envelope and the envelope into her purse.  She gave Daniel a kiss and wished him good night, and said goodbye to Rose on the way out, as if she were simply going home at the end of a tiring day and nothing was wrong in the world.

She did not go home, however.  She went to Howard Stark’s house.

Howard himself wasn’t home, but Edwin Jarvis answered the door and looked delighted to see Peggy, as he always was.  The man never seemed to learn.

“Agent Carter,” he said with a smile.  “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I’m afraid it’s a business call,” said Peggy.  “I need to borrow a book.”

“Of course, come right in,” Jarvis said, standing aside.  “I’ll make tea.  Can I interest you in a slice of apple torte?  Anna has the dog outside, so there’s no need to fear an immediate assault upon entering the kitchen.”

Peggy smiled – the Jarvises had recently acquired a Bernese Mountain Dog puppy, which Anna had named Zoltan.  It was already twice the size it had been when they brought it home and showed no signs of slowing down, while having no idea that it was already much too big to fit in a human lap.  Anna adored the monster, and Edwin pretended to be annoyed with the amount of hair it shed, but could not bring himself to truly dislike an animal that made his wife so happy.

“Thank you, Mr. Jarvis, apple torte sounds lovely.”

In the library she quickly found what she was looking for – an enormous leather-bound Atlas of the World, the sort of book Howard bought because he was supposed to have one and then never looked at because he had the entire geography of the earth memorized already.  Mr. Jarvis brought her pie and tea while she flipped pages, until she found one showing the islands of Northern Canada.

She took the paper out again and spread it out.  Seventy-four and a half degrees north was… just about there, and ninety-five degrees west was… just off the coast of Cornwallis Island, a place choked by sea ice for nearly the entire year.  As she’d suspected, it was very far north of where they’d thought the Valkyrie might have gone down based on its last known trajectory.  Perhaps they’d underestimated the speed of the craft?

Could it really be?  Could somebody have simply handed her the location of Steve Rogers’ body?

The only way to find out would be to look… but looking would be a big undertaking, with people and ships and winter gear.  Peggy did not yet have nearly enough information to start something like that.  Before she could even begin she had to find out who had given her these coordinates, where that person had gotten them from, and how many other people might know about them.  For all she knew, this was some kind of trap.

“Agent Carter?” asked Mr. Jarvis, coming to collect her empty teacup.  “Have you found what you needed?”

“I believe I’ve made a start,” Peggy replied.  “May I use the telephone?”

“Of course,” he said.

She pulled out the card Agent Russel had given her, and asked the operator for the number.  The phone rang… and then rang again… and rang again.  Peggy waited with increasing impatience until it had rung twelve times, and then hung up.  Maybe Russel was still busy, or perhaps she’d gone out for dinner or something.  There were plenty of explanations that didn’t involve her deliberately avoiding Peggy, and Peggy would not improve the situation by becoming paranoid.

She put the envelope back in her purse, thanked Mr. Jarvis, and headed home again.

When she arrived, she rang Russel’s number again but still got no answer.  This was annoying for several reasons, not the least of which was that Russel would be the easiest suspect to eliminate.  Peggy could just ask Russel about it, while her colleagues were a different matter.  If she asked the wrong person and they weren’t the culprit, they might spread the news around and then there would be a big fuss over what might turn out to be nothing.  Peggy didn’t want that.

It did occur to her that this might just be a ploy to distract her from looking for Dottie so that somebody else could take the credit.  That would have been infuriating if Peggy hadn’t long ago let go of caring who got credit for saving the world just so long as it ended up saved.

Before she turned in that evening, Peggy did try one last time to telephone Russel and still got no response.  She told herself not to get cranky about it.  She’d only met this woman yesterday, and an FBI agent was doubtless busy… especially a woman, who would have to be twice as good as the men to get half the respect.  Peggy herself could be almost impossible to contact sometimes.  Howard, Mr. Jarvis, Angie, and even Daniel had all complained of it.  When it was time to panic, she told herself as she shut off the lights, she would know.

- 

As it turned out, the time for panic was around four o’clock the following morning, when Peggy was awakened from a sound sleep by her phone ringing.  She turned the light back on and picked up the receiver.

“Hello?” she asked.

“Peggy?” it was Daniel.  “Did I wake you up?”

“I should say you did – do you know what time it is?” she asked, having to turn her alarm clock in order to find out for herself.  Ten past four.  If Daniel were calling her now, it was something serious.  “What’s going on?”

“They found Agent Russel,” he said.

Peggy’s heart went into her throat.  “She’s dead?”  That had not been an expected outcome.

“No…” Daniel said.  “The woman who came to see you yesterday wasn’t Agent Russel.  Agent Nedrick Russel has been found tied up in the trunk of a car at the airport.”

Having only just leaped, Peggy’s heart now sank, all the way down to the floor and possibly through it into the apartment below.  “Bloody hell,” she said.

“Can you meet us at the police station?” asked Daniel.

“Absolutely.”  Peggy threw aside the covers and stood up.  “Give me a moment to get ready.”

She hung up without saying goodbye, because now was not a time for pleasantries.  In the washroom to give her hair a quick comb and put on makeup as best she could, Peggy caught her own eye in the mirror and scowled.

“Bloody bugger,” she declared.  “Bloody, bloody bugger.”

She might not know what was going on with the mysterious envelope, but she now knew in her gut exactly what had happened yesterday and it was not at all nice.  Peggy had always been as lenient as she could with Dottie Underwood, though that wasn’t very, because she knew Dottie had been brought up by cruel people who’d twisted her into a monster.  The same was doubtless true of this woman calling herself Nadine Russel… but Peggy was going to have a much more difficult time trying to be kind.

When Peggy arrived at the station near the airport, dressed and groomed but definitely not looking her best, a police officer escorted her into a room where three men from the SSR, including Daniel, and several more police were standing around watching a man devour a ham sandwich.  He was in his early fifties, with graying dark hair and a chisel-straight nose, wearing a white shirt with sweat stains under the arms, his tie and his blue plaid blazer draped over the back of his chair.  His audience didn’t seem to interest him at all.  He was entirely focused on his food.

“Agent Russel?” asked Peggy.

The man glanced up at her, then quickly swallowed his mouthful and washed it down with half a glass of water.  He’d clearly been imprisoned in the car trunk for some time, and it had left him both hungry and dehydrated.  “You must be Agent Carter,” he said.  “This isn’t how I pictured us meeting.”

“Nor I,” said Peggy.  She looked at the police.  “You questioned him?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” said the nearest man.  “He says he was having a drink at the Coconut Club when a pretty blonde came up and started flirting with him, and the next thing he remembers was coming to locked in the trunk of his car.  His wallet and his briefcase are both missing.”

Peggy had heard of the Coconut Club, though she’d never been there.  It was a fairly swanky pub not too far away from the airport.  “Do we have a description of the suspect?”

“We’ve got a sketch artist on his way,” the policeman promised.

“She was about so tall,” said Russel with his mouth full, holding his hand at the height of his shoulders to suggest a woman significantly shorter than he.  “Blonde hair, blue eyes, great skin, nails like a tiger.  Black dress with a little bolero, and a choker necklace with a great big rock on it.”  He pointed to his adam’s apple to suggest where that had sat.

“Did she give her name?” Peggy asked.

“She said it was Katherine.  Told me to call her Kay,” Russel said.  “You’re not going to tell Alice, are you?”

Peggy rolled her eyes, and Daniel looked like he badly wanted to.  “Agent Russel,” he said, “the SSR wants to know who this woman is and why she’s interested in finding Olga Barynova.  We don’t care where your wife thinks you were last night.”

Russel had been about to bite into his sandwich again.  Now he hesitated.  “You mean Underwood?  She’s got a real name now?”

“Was that not in the information your assailant took from you?” asked Peggy.

“No…” said Russel.  “No, we’ve got a list of her aliases but none of them were Russian.”

Peggy had already been fairly sure this mysterious Miss Kay must be from the same organization as Dottie herself… now she suspected she knew it for certain.  Had she assumed that the SSR already knew Dottie’s real name?  Or had she only called her that by mistake?  Either way, she’d covered for herself very quickly.

Had Kay gotten the coordinates from Russel?  Peggy would have to find a more private moment to ask him.  In the meantime, she took out the business card her visitor had given her yesterday, and showed him the number.

“Does this telephone number mean anything to you, Agent Russel?” she asked.

His mouth was once again full.  He shook his head.

“Then that’s where I’d like to start,” said Peggy.  Maybe Kay hadn’t thought they would find the real Russel so soon, and was expecting Peggy to try to contact her.  Or maybe it had only been a ruse, to keep Peggy from being suspicious.  She offered the card to one of the policemen.  “Would somebody mind tracing this for me, please?”

The man looked at Daniel, who nodded.  “Do it,” he said.

“And I’ll want to speak to the sketch artist, myself,” Peggy added.  At the moment it was technically only a suspicion that ‘Nadine’ and ‘Kay’ were the same person, but it would be nice to have it confirmed.  Then she could decide what she would try to do next.