#I didn’t mean for this to sound so negative actually. journaling is good

[nanowrimo]

How to Write Through Second Book Syndrome

Second Book Syndrome is a unique experience that can affect any writer. Today, author Uju Asika talks about what she learned while tackling Second Book Syndrome and gives advice on navigating it.  There’s something immensely powerful about completing your first book. For a brief moment, you feel invincible. After all, pretty much everyone you meet thinks they have a book in them, but not many people actually sit down to write it.

I wrote my first book, Bringing Up Race, in the midst of a global pandemic. Writing my next book, a picture book for younger readers, was a much less stressful experience. So it was actually with my third book, aimed at grownups again, that Second Book Syndrome kicked in.

You’ve probably heard of sophomore album syndrome (see Lauryn Hill, The Stone Roses) aka the sophomore slump that, apparently, can happen to anyone from athletes to second year college students.

Second Book Syndrome isn’t talked about as much and yet it affects almost every author on some level. Whether you’re a million-copy seller, a mid-list author or a relative newbie, you grapple with the same insecurities and nightmare scenarios. How do I write something as good as or better than my last book? If my first book did well, was it just a fluke? If my first book sold poorly, is this book my last shot? Will it meet my readers’ expectations or am I going to get troll-bombed on Goodreads? Am I establishing an author brand or have I niched myself into a corner? Can I experiment with voice or will I get laughed at by critics? Do I even have it in me to write a WHOLE OTHER BOOK?

Now that you’ve finished at least one book, you might feel like you’ve got this shit nailed. But the tricky thing about writing is that every time you open a blank page, you are starting from scratch. And every time you face a blank page, you are forced to meet yourself there, again and again. No matter whether you’re writing fiction or nonfiction. There’s no escaping yourself and that’s what makes it so hard, so vulnerable and potentially, so transformative.

My latest book, Raising Boys Who Do Better: A Hopeful Guide for a New Generation, came out last month. Foolishly, I had it in the back of my mind that writing this book would be a relative breeze. In some ways, it was harder. I had so much Resistance — the negative force that pushes back when you try to do something that matters, as Steve Pressfield talks about in The War of Art.

I also had to deal with the impostor syndrome (a close cousin of Second Book Syndrome) that whispered in my ear that I didn’t have another book in me. That I had used up all my smart ideas and pretty words. That I should stick to short form content and leave the real writing to the professionals.

So how did I get over this? What can you do when you’re in the throes of Second Book Syndrome and feeling like you’ll never write another sentence again? Here are a few things that helped me:

Make a Plan

If you identify as a ‘pantser’ rather than a ‘plotter’, you’re probably shaking your head at this. But it doesn’t have to be a full proposal or outline. Your plan can be as simple as a journal entry, a short mission statement, a sentence describing your premise, or a note to self about what you’d like your reader to learn, feel and experience. Making a plan and reviewing it from time to time can help keep your project alive when you’re suffering from self-doubt, comparisonitis and other symptoms of Second Book Syndrome.

Give Yourself Permission

The only way to release yourself from the pressure of writing your next book is to liberate yourself. Give yourself permission to write badly. I mean, really really badly. Permission to write something that sounds nothing like what you wrote before. Permission to play, to dream, to procrastinate. Permission to research until your head is bursting. For every project, I always keep a notebook so I can write by hand and make a mess and scribble pages of absolute drivel. I can spend hours writing around the edges of what I’m actually trying to explore. I encourage you to start every new project by writing yourself a permission slip. When you give yourself permission, the words might stick and splutter for a while but eventually, they flow. After that, the magic is in the edit.

Drown Out the Noise

We’re surrounded by noise all day, from social media traffic to our own mental chatter to those Amazon reviews (gulp). It’s hugely distracting and can be a drain on your creativity and confidence. Look for ways to drown this out, whether that’s through meditation, writing retreats, long nature walks or journalling. My simplest trick is to put on some noise-cancelling headphones and turn the music up. This might sound counterintuitive but listening to music puts me in a headspace for writing without any filters. Also, as a mother who writes around her family life (the kitchen table is my office), I’ve used headphones for years to signal that I’m at work and to keep the cacophony of my kids at bay.

Get Drunk

When you have another book to write, it’s easy to feel lost at the beginning. What to write and how to say it? When this happens, I immerse myself in storytelling. The poet Charles Baudelaire famously said one should ‘Always Be Drunk’ and it’s a quote that I live by. I don’t mean Hemingway-style binges, I mean being drunk on stories. I consume books, podcasts, films, TV shows, songs, art shows, conversations, eavesdropping, everyday life. I feed my habit and my habit feeds my writing.

Focus on What You Can Control

Creativity is mostly trial and error. Art is subjective and you can’t control how your work will be received by an audience or by critics. Often, success hinges on an indefinable mix of luck, talent, hard work, timing, money, network, reputation and… did I mention luck? Through all this, the only thing you can control is how you show up. I do my best to show up for my readers in a way that’s engaging, impactful and entertaining — both on the page and in real life. Other than that, the rest is not up to me. All I can do is keep showing up.

Track Changes

When you’re editing a piece of work, it can be helpful to track changes on a document. But this isn’t what I’m talking about here. What I mean is keeping track of the changes that happen because you had the courage to put your work into the world. I screenshot comments from readers on social media who tell me my books have changed the way they think about race and identity. I save a file of testimonials from parents who say I’ve shaped how they talk to their children about these tricky topics. I also keep notes on what I’ve learned and how I’ve grown while writing a book. All this is a reminder that so much of writing (and reading) isn’t just about the product or the story but about who we are becoming through the process.

Lean On Your People

Probably the most useful thing you can do as a writer is to find your people and lean on them. Obviously your closest friend/partner/family member who enjoys your writing or offers great advice can be invaluable. But as a writer, your people are other writers and it’s essential that you seek them out. Follow #writercommunity hashtags on social media, join a writers’ group or membership, befriend other newbie authors when your book comes out. You need to be in community with other writers who get it. Especially when Third Book Syndrome comes knocking…

NaNoWriMo Writers Board member Uju Asika is a multi-award nominated blogger, former journalist and TV screenwriter. She is the author of Bringing Up Race: How to Raise a Kind Child in a Prejudiced World and the picture book A World for Me and You (Where Everyone Is Welcome). Her new book Raising Boys Who Do Better: A Hopeful Guide for a New Generation came out on June 1. You can order the book for free worldwide delivery on Wordery: https://wordery.com/raising-boys-who-do-better-uju-asika-9780241608418

Uju is launching a creative writing service for developing and aspiring writers, learn more here!

#nanowrimo #writing #writing advice #second book syndrome #inspiration #writer's life #by nano guest #uju asika

[the-phantom-author]

it’ll take me a while to fully digest TTPD because it’s a LOT (probably my favorite album of hers, besting reputation which says a lot because that’s always been my number one) but just a few things about popstar!gf right now.

this was an excruciatingly honest look into her brain and it seems like a lot of people can’t handle it. they think it’s too much and the general public isn’t going to really look into what her lyrics mean. it was really brave of her to put this out into the world while being at some of her lowest times and now at her highest with hasan. this album is for people who want to understand her. her true fans and a good chunk of hasanabi heads are with her and supportive.

she’s feeling really vulnerable. she had let hasan hear a few songs before it’s official release but she wanted him to experience it altogether. so when it’s officially out, they’re laying on his couch alone in the house. just the album on, for two hours they lay together and listen. hasan is immediately overwhelmed because 1. he’s proud to be with someone who is so intelligent and turns her own life and struggles into something beautiful and poetic 2. he knew a lot about the bad times she was having and continued to have while they were just friends but he didn’t really understand. listening took his understanding of her to a whole new level. 3. he’s heartbroken that any person would treat her the way she’s been treated but also has to appreciate how strong she is and she’s on the other side of that now. he assures her he hopes to never ever treat her like that. he is careful with his words, avoids saying “i’ll never” or “i’ll always” because that might feel a bit scary and like an empty promise but he’s there for her.

she’s really in her own head the next few days, just writing a lot in her journal. she’s also been on twitter which is NEVER a good thing. she knows how great the album is going, her team has been keeping her in the loop, she’s breaking records. but actual people? her seeing their own opinions and people’s think pieces, a lot of it being negative, hits her in a certain way. she tries to not focus on the negative but it’s like a little nagging feeling she can’t shake off. it’s starting to eat at her. her journal entries are going to become a bit sadder and also more idgaf what anyone thinks, i’m damn proud of this album. if people think im on the news so much, if im doing too much, fine. you won’t see me.

but the positive right now is that all of her friends and family and all of hasan’s are super proud of her and think she’s done something truly incredible. although hasan tries to get her to go on fear& she won’t, but she’s appreciative of hearing from will and qt and austin and more that they think she’s an insanely talented artist.

she’s just kind of in a weird place. she has a tour planned but of the public opinion of her is going down quickly… she’s afraid she might just cancel the whole thing. she cancels interviews and appearances. she just needs some time to be with herself and hasan, friends and family. away from the public eye. maybe she will return soon. but maybe the public will continue to come crashing down on her and force her into living completely out of view.

The way it'll take me like a month to listen through the album. But I definitely say that it's going to up in my favorites, folklore is one hell of an album.

Not only does the general public think it's too much, it's too honest, it's too intimate, it's too long, it's simply too much. They also don't like how big of a change it it from what they know of her. She is a pop princess, Red and Guts have firmly put her in that position. However TTPD, is such a departure from her previous albums that a lot of people who aren't her fans don't like. Heaven forbid a female singer have a diverse sound. And some of her "fans" only like the pop music she makes and then not getting any of it, makes them very upset.

But as you where saying, it's a very vulnerable album, and she knows it. I can see them on the couch, or even the bed, she's resting her head on his shoulder, his arm over her, as she fiddles with his rings. While they listen to it together.

This is the start of Hasan's adventures into figuring out the delicate balance of giving her all the reassurance that she needs (which is a lot), but not saying the wrong things (which is basically anything to do with the words "forever, never, and I promise).

Hasan is always on a process of gaining respect for her. He has always had a great deal of it, but the more he knows about her the more his respect grows. Like yours so talented and smart, and capable, but no one should be treated the way.

I can imagine after getting done listening to it neither really know what to say, she wants to make sure that Hasan gets the chance to take it on without her influencing his opinion in any way. And he was to make sure she knows how much he's not going to pick up their relationship, but can't quite get the wording right. He just holds her tighter.

#hasanabi x reader #hasan x reader #hasanabi #popstar!gf #bohogothic

[outofcontexturi]

Mon 7th feb 2023 journal 7:11am

The sky is a nice light blue this morning. I’m thinking about life right now. I keep thinking about whether I’m good enough for things. I’ve lost a lot of self esteem recently and I just can’t seem to find it or a reason to be doing the things I’m doing. It’s like I make myself cringe whenever I do things. Apparently this is a habit that can be changed and I want to change it cause it’s ruining my livelihood and I can’t live like this. It’s far too volatile and more time depressing like this. I’m being mean to myself. I don’t really know why I’m struggling to love myself the way I want to. But it’s to do with the fact that I think too much about what others think. I can’t help it. I put a massive spotlight on myself all the time. It’s like I’m super conscious of myself and my movements in the world. I sometimes listen to people and how they get things done and have achieved the things they want and I think to myself “am I even doing this thing right?” cause I feel wrong and I feel like I’m doing the wrong thing. It’s like I’m a prisoner trapped in my own golden cage of negative self thoughts where every thought is negative but the mind of this cage looks well presented. Life is going whether I like it or not. I can’t stop it. This is actually what I wanted to talk about actually : control. I need control and I need to not need control. I want to control the outcome of things into my favour cause I believe that’s how you live a good life. I just caught myself in the act of internalising something and how subconscious it is. I finally know what subconscious is. I’m deeping how much I think about myself. It’s like 98% of the time I’m just focused on me. Because i care about what I think but too much. It’s 7:29am. I’m on the toilet just thinking will I ever make it? It’s been a wild ride and don’t get it twisted I’m good but am I good enough. I’ve managed to change the font of their text. I’ve been trying to be the perfect person for 10+ years now and it’s not working. But idk if I know myself enough to be myself or if I am myself but just can’t accept myself. I just thought about the height of my human consciousness is someone else praising me for my work. I know more people alive than I know dead and I’d like to keep it that way. I thought that sounded cool. I think the reason I’m awkward is because I think too much. I’m listening to Beyoncé’s Renaissance album. I wanna see how this makes me feel. It’s 7:59am. I went outside to feel something and look at the sun. I questioned why I didn’t feel good about myself I just have low self esteem and want control. I need to believe in myself again. I feel like I’m ugly. But I know I’m not ugly. Like I can’t be ugly but you know when you just feel it so you can’t fake confidence man. You can feel when you’re confident and when you’re trying too hard. Cuff it is such a feel good song. What a beautiful funky song. This is an amazing album. The production on this is crazy! I’m looking for something that lives inside me word to B! But I feel like my soul is broken. Going back to the drawing board. I feel like this is a constant feeling I feel though. I feel like I’m always failing at things and it’s making me self conscious of the fact that I may not be as good as people say I am or I think I am at times and it’s ruined my love for performance and creating. I can’t control these things. I can’t control these things I can’t control these things they are not in my control. How can I be honest with you when I’m lying to myself? Oh my god im just deeping that I’m lying to myself or am I convincing myself I’m lying to myself? questions plague me everyday. Every single day I’m here a question about myself plagues me. It’s 8:24am. I’m in bed. The room is a nice temperature. I think my conditions are nice but I’m not happy with myself. I’m not accepting this though cause fuck not being happy for yourself. You need to happy yourself nigga. Feel the fear and do it anyways. I need to get that shit tatted on me somewhere cause that should be the way I live. I spoke to Reba yesterday. SOT: 8:28am.

#journal

[rezzyromance]

hihi may i request a heisenburg x reader comfort fic? reader is feeling deppressed or something and karl and reader just cuddle or something

I need this right now. Where's MY big, crusty, greasy, metal hobo man?

(CW: mentions and descriptions of depression based on my own personal experiences.)

The bed felt like it was consuming you at this point. You barely left it all week, and hadn't left it at all today. Your heavy body only had a slight feeling of piece when you lay curled up in the bed no matter the time of day. All of the lights were off and you were left alone with your thoughts. A feeling of numbness consumed you, yet you ached at the same time. How could someone feel so numb but so in pain at the same time? The question had been taunting you recently as every day made you feel more and more useless.

The self isolation you had put yourself through was only making things worse. You live in the factory with Karl but you haven't seen him since you've started staying in your room more often. He's so occupied with work that he hasn't really noticed your absence.

Well, it was bugging him in the back of his head. Something didn't feel right and he knew it, he just couldn't put a finger on what. It was actually a bit distracting. He didn't realize what was wrong until he was journaling. When he writes in his journal, it's one of the few moments he has where his emotions become somewhat known to him. He barely knows what he's writing until he rereads it. He just lets his mind take over as he writes. He was rereading his most recent journal and the last sentence made him pause.

'I haven't seen (Y/N) in a bit. I wonder where they're at."

"Damn.... I'm stupid...", he mumbled to himself. "How could I have been so oblivious?", he groaned and rubbed his forehead before setting his journal down. He expected the worst as he roamed the living areas of the factory in hopes to find you. "I bet they're pissed. I bet they hate me now.", his mind was clouded with negative thoughts.

He twisted the doorknob to your room, hoping you'll be there with a smile on your face. That smile that warms his heart so much and makes him feel like he's worth something. Instead, he was greeted with you laying on the bed with your back facing him. "Yep. Pissed.", he thought.

"Hey.. you awake?", he asked in an almost-whisper. He wasn't aware of what time it currently is, but the fact that you were in the bed with the lights off made him assume it's probably late. "Yeah.", you respond. "I'm awake." There was no emotions behind your words. You sounded so tired, but not a normal, groggy and sleepy type of tired. Like an exhausted and pained type of tired.

"Were you sleeping?", he asks. "No."

He inhales deeply through his nose as he tries to asses what's wrong. "I know you're mad at me. And you have every right to be.", he starts off. His words confuse you. You weren't mad. You've felt this way for a long time, but having Karl around helped you keep your chin up and tuck the bad feelings away. It wasn't until he became super occupied with his work that the feelings came rushing back. You were left with nothing to help distract you from the negativity that had been brewing inside of you for so long.

"I'm not mad.", you say, still without moving from your spot. "You're not?", he sounded genuinely shocked. "No." "I just haven't really checked on you or paid any attention to you recently. I know you must feel like I forgot about you completely." His words made you feel bad even though there was no reason for them to do so. "I'm sorry.", you say. He cocks his head to the side in confusion. "What? Why are you sorry?", he asks as he walks over to where you were laying.

Suddenly, you feel small. So small. You feel your eyes sting at the threat of tears. "I..", your voice shakes a little. "I don't know..", you can't help but sigh. Karl isn't the most empathetic person, but seeing you this way made him feel a type of way he has never felt before. He could tell you were upset, and he wanted nothing more than to be able to help, but he had no idea how. He had no past experience or even an example from his life where he figured out how to comfort someone that is sad.

"You look tired. You should rest.", is what he said. What his words really meant where "I recognize your emotions and I understand completely. Please, take care of yourself.",

He crawls into the bed and lays beside you. "Tell me..", he begins to talk and hesitates slightly, unsure of what to say. "What's got you so exhausted?", he says. He continues to use words like "tired" and "exhausted" as replacements for "depressed", but you both know what he really means. His words cause a sharp pain in your throat. You wanted to cry so badly but kept it in. "I don't know. I'm just....", you can't help but let a few tears fall. "I'm so tired." Even though there is an absence of light in the room, he can tell you're crying.

He swallows awkwardly, thinking of what to do next. He takes a deep breath and places his hand on your arm. He can feel you shaking beneath him as you quietly cry. Something in him feels like it breaks a little, but something else in him grows. A passion for protecting. A need to keep you safe. It fuels him in the moment as he pulls your body into his. He was still fully clothed with his work shirt, pants, and even boots, but he didn't want to waste a second removing his clothes when he could be holding you close. You're his number one priority.

You clutch the fabric of his shirt in your hands as you fight back the tears. "It's okay.", he says as he rubs your back in attempts to soothe you. "You're okay.", he kisses your forehead and lets you cry out what you've been holding back for so long.

Once you're done, you feel a little embarrassed and unsure of how he feels. But, he still holds you tightly to his body. He rubs circles in your back with his calloused thumb.

"It's okay to feel bad. That's probably a dumb thing to say.. but it's true. It's okay to be pissed off and sad. Just, try to remember that you're so much more than what you feel.", for a moment, his words actually sound wise and it surprises himself. "Promise you'll try and remember?", he asks. "I promise.", you sniffle. "Good. I'm gonna shut up before I say something stupid while trying to sound smart." His words make you giggle which lights up his face and heart. A wave of relief washes over him and he continues to hold you.

Now, you're no longer alone in the bed with you're thoughts. Sure, they're still there. But you're not alone. And as long as Karl's around he'll make sure you never go through them alone again.

#re8 #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #karl heisenberg x you #karl heisenberg headcanons #karl heisenberg headcanon #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg fanfic #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenburg x reader #karl heisenberg angst #karl hesienberg

[fatehbaz]

hi maybe you’ve written about this before but i’m working for someone who is part of the ecological landscape alliance and we’ve been having big talks about the concept of “invasive” species vs “native” plants and how the concept is rooted in xenophobia, and also talking about how maybe invasive plants aren’t that bad?? this goes against everything i’ve ever heard anyone talk about invasive species but i really don’t know all that much about it. sounds silly maybe coming from a farmer but i really don’t have a super firm ecological understanding, most of my plant knowledge is agricultural based and im really curious to learn more and was hoping you could point me in the right direction?

Yes, I definitely run into this disk horse all the time. Especially the “maybe invasive plants aren’t that bad” discussion. It seems the native/alien stuff is most often mentioned in disk horse about the Anthropocene. Basically, you’ll sometimes see statements like: “Is anything really natural in the Anthropocene?” I have also seen, and spent a lot of time contemplating, how belief in the categories of “natural” and “alien/invasive” in discussion of ecology might be rooted in or at least inadvertently support racism/xenophobia.

But I am still wary of the “native vs alien” and “no creature or landscape is really natural, not any more” disk horse, at least as explored by some white/settler-colonial academics, for exactly the same reasons: because it might be rooted in or support racism/xenophobia. Because the proposal that “nothing is native, nothing is invasive” itself can actually engage in a sort of “settler absolution” that obscures how there really is a contrast between imperial and Indigenous peoples, and the “nothing is natural, nothing is invasive” proposal could excuse the colonial/imperial introduction and expansion of monoculture by accepting the spread of industry/agriculture/non-native species as an inevitability. And these concepts can actually work to generalize conditions of ecological degradation and apocalypse, as if to say that “all humans now live in such a damaged world, we’re all victims” (even though many non-white, especially Indigenous, people actually bear most of the violence and burden of living in “post-apocalyptic” ecologies.)

But actually, I don’t think I can be too helpful here.

I still have a lot of contemplating to do, about how categories of natural/invasive in ecology might support the violence of categorizing people as natural/invasive. Don’t really know where I stand yet, y’know? So I don’t want to be too quick to come to a conclusion. I don’t even really want to offer opinions here. That said, I am very sensitive to language, and the language that I use. So I do appreciate that there is an effort to interrogate the negative consequences of describing things with words like “alien”. Also, the categorizing of lifeforms is and always has been a mess.

I don’t have many reading recommendations. The “native vs alien” and “nothing is really native, actually” proposals are concepts that I brush up against but don’t read too deeply into, even though this disk horse has been popular-ish in dark ecology and academic ecology/environmental studies circles for at least 10 years or more by now.

I guess, for my thoughts on native vs alien, what counts as “natural”, invasive species, and how the disk horse can excuse settler-colonial/imperial racism, I would point to this post I made about Pablo Escobar’s feral hippopotamuses in Colombia.

One introduction to the concept, which I think is an enjoyable read (though I don’t necessarily agree with all of his implications), is this essay by Hugo Reinert about the category of “natural” and the “purity” of a species: “Requiem for a Junk-Bird: Violence, Purity and the Wild.” Cultural Studies Review. 2019.

Anna Boswell’s very famous article about stoats and non-native species in Aotearoa kind of dances around this same issue of naturalness: “Settler Sanctuaries and the Stoat-Free State.” Animal Studies Journal. 2017.

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Generally, I agree with the implication that there is no “remote” or untouched corner of the planet where ecology has escaped human influence.

On that aspect, here’s a post I made about “planetary urbanization”.

But the native/alien disk horse can be extended to problematique degrees, with proposals that sometimes remind me of sci-fi goofiness, like fans of dark ecology or weird fiction or Mieville/Van der Meer got a little too excited about “the boundary between human and other-than-human has become so blurred that there may as well no longer be distinctions between native species and invasive species”, like they got a little too drunk on theory and just decided that “everything is in flux!”. Criticisms, then, of the “nothing is native” disk horse include how this oversimiplifies ecology and might enable/excuse settler-colonial invasion.

A lot of the “invasive plants are good, actually!” disk horse I’ve seen shows up in Australian literature written by settler scholars, which might be pretty telling.

Basically, it seems some scholars will take Alfred Crosby’s “neo-Europe” and “ecological imperialism” concepts, and then say something like “look, the damage is done, so much of Earth’s soils/landscapes are altered by introduced plants that we may as well accept it as the new baseline/normal ecology, and work from there.” As if to point at how North America has been entirely overrun by non-native earthworms and then to say “well, the worms are going to inevitably destroy hardwoods forests, soils of the Great Lakes region, the boreal-temperate transition zone, and maple trees which supply place-based maple syrup foodsheds, so we may as well accept that we live in a damaged world.”

I don’t know if I’m entirely satisfied with this.

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Other related concepts brought up in the same  discussion of “nothing is really native” might include “invasion biology” and “assisted migration.” I see these concepts brought up in academic writing from the University of California system, Australia, Aotearoa/New Zealand, and “environmental humanities” generally. Basically, these writers/scholars will point to the past ten thousand-ish years of the Holocene, and how humans have had such profound influence on global ecology that “introduction of non-native species” and “mass-scale anthropogenic climate/ecological change” are not just recent developments since Industrial Revolution or Indus/Yellow/Mesopotamian statecraft, but even older. For example, I’ve talked a lot about how, in the Late Pleistocene or early Holocene, the Asiatic steppes and parts of the Great Plains could have apparently been more like intermittent woodlands before humans engaged in deliberate fire-setting to better target megafauna herds, meaning that the human role in creation of vast “naturally-occurring” grassland regions may be underestimated. This dove-tails with the better-established fact that the forests of Central America and eastern North America in the early Holocene were/are actually more like cultivated food forests managed by Indigenous people.

The argument, then, may also point to yams, sweet potato, and coconut as examples of creatures with what now appear to be “old” and “established” widespread transoceanic distribution ranges which actually may have been introduced via assisted migration by humans.

The argument, basically, says: Well, let’s say hypothetically that humans didn’t play a role in spreading sweet potato or coconut. By chance, if ocean currents “naturally” introduced these species, if these plants “naturally” colonized whatever lands they were swept off towards, doesn’t this mean they could essentially be “natural” to anywhere they might arrive and successfully establish themselves? Therefore, does it really matter if humans helped them get there?

This seems to be related to the “no plants are actually invasive” proposal. As if to say: “If English pasture grasses have successfully reproduced themselves in Patagonia, Aotearoa, South Africa, the Canadian prairies, etc., what does it mean that their migration was assisted by humans?”

But this is where I have reservations: It wasn’t just any humans that “assisted the migration” of monoculture grasses from Europe to the prairies of Turtle Island. It was specific humans, with deliberate intent, upholding specific institutions, protecting their own well-being at the expense of other humans and lifeforms, enacting specific violence against specific victims.

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Another aspect of this which I see mentioned often is how early human/Polynesian settlement in Oceania and the South Pacific is an example of how mass anthropogenic ecological change doesn’t always involve statecraft, mass mono/agriculture, and imperialism. Aside from the famous decline of creatures like the moa, Polynesian islands were also home to relict species of large land turtles and ancient terrestrial/semi-arboreal crocodiles until human arrival in recent millennia. Writers will also point to human settlement in the Caribbean, where human arrival coincided with extinction of remnant populations of endemic Pleistocene ground sloths. (This also happened on Mediterranean islands, which hosted endemic species of hippopotamus and goats until recent millennia.)

Again, though, this is where white/settler-colonial academics advocating “nothing is natural” can kind of obscure settler-colonial violence, by pointing to history of anthropogenic environmental change and saying “see, all humans provoke extinction.”

Thus, you’ll see these scholars invoke Anna Tsing or Donna Harraway, referencing the “arts of living on a damaged planet” or “living in post-capitalist ruins.” Essentially, advocates of “nothing is native, any more” might say “we all live in a post-apocalyptic world now, so we should get used to it.”

This, coming from white/settler-colonial academics, sometimes rubs me the wrong way, as if it’s sort of like wish-fulfillment, or “an adventure” for comfortable white academics to engage in low-stakes thought experiments about extinction, naturalness, and apocalypse from which they’re actually largely insulated, at least compared to the poor, non-white, non-academic people who cope with the worst of environmental racism and ecological collapse.

This, again coming from white/settler-colonial academics, is also of course more than a little grating, since it kind of co-opts or culturally appropriates the “Indigenous/Native people actually live in a post-apocalyptic world” concept proposed by Indigenous scholars. It kind of takes from Indigenous/non-white people, and then generalizes the apocalypse as something that all humans now live with in seemingly equal measure, obscuring the fact that many people are actually forced to cope and/or live with more-serious-of-an-apocalypse than others.

-------

At the end of the day: Sure, kudzu or English pasture grasses or coconuts or European earthworms or domesticated cattle might be generalist species which can successfully inhabit landscapes across the planet. So whether humans introduce them via agriculture, or whether they "naturally" expand by some accident or by drifting across ocean currents, they might exist in this strange ontological space between "native" and "alien" which confounds human conceptions of what "belongs"? And this is worth considering! This is good to think about! But there are still, and always have been, those "small" landscapes, those isolated pockets, those relicts and remnants in shaded stream corridors, where small populations of endemic species teeter on the verge, with highly-specialized adaptations to highly-specific microhabitats. You're not going to "assist the migration" of or "accidentally introduce" a cave-obligate salamander from a limestone cavern or a temperate rainforest-dwelling land-slug to a desert biome.

But, again, I still think it is good to stop and ask ourselves whether categories of “natural” and “alien/invasive” in ecology make sense, are outdated, or if they reinforce racism/xenophobia. And, again, I haven’t read enough -- I haven’t grappled with these questions enough -- to have an opinion which I’m comfortable sharing, so I don’t want to discourage this disk horse too much.

Anyway, hope some of this is interesting. Sorry. Again, I don’t really have any good recommendations.

[stormbornbastard]

The Potential In Philoise

gif credit: @vakariaan​

tw/ sexual assault, abuse, depression, suicide, julia quinn’s writing 

AN: Okay, so I said awhile ago I would explain why Phillip and Eloise are my favorite couple in the series so get ready...it’s a bit of a long one. 

I read four Bridgerton books immediately after the show ended. Skipping over The Duke and I because I wasn’t comfortable with the assault scene between Simon and Daphne and also because I had already seen the romance play out onscreen. I fell in love with each romance I encountered, mainly because I didn’t read them as they were but as the show would make them out to be. I romanticized a romance series as weird as that sounds. Yet, none of the romances struck me the way To Sir Phillip, With Love did.

It’s not a perfect book. In fact, it's incredibly problematic. Phillip rapes his depressed wife, Marina (although given Julia’s history with crossing the lines of consent I doubt this is the way she wanted us to interpret the scene. Actually, the way it was written made it seem like we were meant to sympathize with Phillip and his loveless marriage. Hence the way he immediately grows ill afterward.) Marina attempts suicide and dies due to disease later on. Given her storyline in the show and the fact that a young biracial woman is playing her was disheartening, to say the least.

(AN: I don’t consider the character to be Black representation, she’s biracial. As a black woman who enjoyed her character and arc, no part of me felt seen and represented through her because she was half black. She's Biracial rep, not Black rep and that’s okay. Just putting that out there. )

Phillip seeks a woman to take care of his children, fuck and do the shit he doesn’t want to do. His mental illness is handled in such a shitty way. The independent nature Eloise once has is almost stifled by Phillip and what he wants for some reason. He’s neglectful, erratic and he does dismiss potential negative feelings Eloise could have in their relationship because of his past relationship.

It's fucked up. The entire book.

And yet, imagining how this problematic romance would play out on screen once properly adapted for modern audiences makes me fucking giddy. All because of one, simple thing that remains the reason I am so fucking excited to see this pairing onscreen.

The unrealized potential the pairing and Phillip as a character have in the novel.

Let me explain.

Their romance is unique. Phillip and Eloise are not strangers when they meet. They’ve been writing to each other for months, picking each other’s brains every week or so. Getting to know each other in a way that other couples in the series don’t at first. Intellectually. They’re able to keep such a steady, enthralling dialogue through letters, and it's a friendship that they both enjoy. Phillip stimulates Eloise’s mind, something the show has emphasized her wanting, for months. He’s her intellectual equal, or at least...he has the potential to be. Of course, he slaves over the letters (which is cute as fuck because he really just wants her to like him) but it's still his words. It’s his voice. It is Phillip, at his best.

I hope the show can play this up. Phillip is a botanist and a scholar before he inherits his family’s estate. Eloise has a desire to learn and further her knowledge of the world around her. Bonding over their shared love of education, fun banter based around teasing the other and their individual studies, taking an interest in what the other desires to learn.  Reading books together in the greenhouse, etc. The show could easily play up the fact that Phillip was not only a gardener but a literal man of science, something Julia neglects in their book despite it having the possibility of playing a major factor in their love story.

The possibilities of it just...makes me swoon.

Moving on, Eloise choosing to pursue a possible future with this man is a big fucking deal. Running away from home to go after a future for herself IS her displaying her OWN agency. Sure, Phillip poses the question of it but she’s the one who chooses it. Phillip doesn’t demand her to come to him, he simply suggests it and she’s the one who acts. The one who pursues. And if they hadn’t been bombarded by her brothers, it would’ve remained her choice of whether or she wanted to be a part of this man’s life permanently.

Phillip wouldn’t have forced her, he could’ve easily tried to. By going to the Bridgerton house and discussing with Anthony the possibility of marrying her but no, he asks her. HE ASKS HER AND SHE CHOOSES. I fucking love that. It's like the bare minimum but given the time period and the number of couples where the man has the final say on the marriage, this just makes me giddy. The show could change this and give Eloise more time with Phillip to the point where she chooses him and isn’t forced into the marriage which I hope they do.

Also, their first meeting where neither one of them is what the other expects sounds amazing ngl. The initial confusion, shock, unease, and undeniable attraction, it's gonna serve why lie?

Despite how much it affects him, the subject of Phillip’s abuse is handled so...wrong. As someone who shares an experience with abusive parents, I understand the fear of becoming like them. Of hurting the ones you love and being angry and feeling guilty. Yet, Phillip never confronts these fears. Not really. Sure, we get the scene in the nursery but thinking of how the show could handle it and his relationship with his children makes me excited. Having him being neglectful of his children was the wrong move, especially if his fear is hurting them in an attempt to discipline them. It's clear he loves them and ultimately wants the best for them which is why he’s searching for someone to better take care of them despite the shitty bitch he already has hired. I hope the show capitalizes on that.

Have Phillip be involved but not a disciplinary figure. Yeah, I get that he’s the man or whatever but it's clear that Phillip finds no enjoyment in the act or even pondering it. But he does love his kids. Have him be overwhelmed but still involved. It just felt weird that Phillip didn’t want anything to do with his kids despite one of his main reasons to look for a wife was so that they could be properly taken care of. Have him try but struggle. A lot.

It’d be funny to see Oliver and Amanda running the house and Phillip struggling to keep up. They’re supposed to be mischievous, they should play that up in the show. Having the kids be little gremlins but instead of him ignoring them completely, he could just give in to their whims. And when his anger does get the best of him, then he could run. Be distant, wrestle with his internal struggle with abuse but also knowing he can’t let his kids run his household like this and go about as reckless as they do.

Speaking of abuse, I hope they scrap the nursery lady altogether. I know it’s supposed to show him stepping into dad mode but it just felt like unnecessary and triggering of his own child abuse. He could easily step into this role by learning to deal with his anger, learning to control it. Eloise could suggest journaling the way she does (another bonding moment that could be less cute and more intimate if done right.) Having him put his anger into gardening, I interpreted it as it being a safe place and coping mechanism for him in the book and that would be nice to see.

Having to finally put an end to his kids' tirade once he learns to trust himself and realize that he’s nothing like his father. Actual healing from childhood trauma and Eloise helping him do so. She could also suggest boxing with her brothers like...it just makes sense. As someone with a temper, boxing helped me sort through that and the opportunity to see Phillip and Simon bonding, while boxing, over their shitty dads, sounds pretty fucking cathartic (and hot).

I would just like the show to truly show that just because you’ve dealt with abuse doesn’t mean you have to be defined and like your abuser. Phillip is a pretty great candidate for it because the guy is...scarred, to say the least.

I love the physical side of Phillip and Eloise’s relationship. Like really love, it's said that they try different things and are comfortable in that regard with each other and it just...yeah, that makes me happy. Besides that, I hope they play up the intellectual side of their relationship. Two nerds in love are adorable and imagining Phillip ranting about plants and Eloise just being completely enthralled at this man and his passion sounds like the cutest fucking shit.

Speaking of intellectual, it's implied Phillip cares little about high society. Meaning, wouldn’t he care even less about societal expectations and norms? Meaning Eloise would literally find freedom with this man to just...do her. Despite the book showing how Phillip wants a wife, it never really says that he cares exactly how that wife maintains herself or their household. Eloise wants to fuck around and wear trousers? He doesn’t care. Eloise wants a private tutor and a study for herself? Cool. Eloise wants to take Amanda riding in the forest and then teach her how to shoot? All good. The man was literally proud to watch her beat her brothers in a traditionally masculine sport. He wants his wife to run his house and his entire life how she sees fit.

Julia really neglected how much agency and power that could give Eloise. She could be his equal, like really be his equal. Of course, Phillip becoming more involved in his and his children’s lives is a part of his arc but nothing leads me to believe he would want to control Eloise. The two of them being more than just lovers, but partners who allow the other their freedoms when needed sounds epic as shit.

Now some things that could easily be left out, the rape scene. It’s there to showcase that Phillip has lost his wife and there is no chance of reigniting whatever they may have had in the past. Yet, there are so many other ways to show that. Phillip could try and speak with her with no response. Hold her hand and she pulls away? He’s a smart man, it doesn’t take much to get the hint so that could’ve easily been written out and replaced with something else.

Second of all, I like the possibility of Marina and Phillip finding happiness at first. Of them trying to love each other after George and succeeding. The way Marina is written in the show, I doubt she’s quick to give up. So to see the two of them having an agreeable marriage and getting along would be nice. They could showcase her mental illness in a different form, it's clear she suffers from postpartum depression. She withdraws into herself, distances herself from her children. She’s depressed but it's not as stereotypical and easily spotted as Julia makes it out to be. Marina just gives up on her children and life without any fight? Absolutely not.

As someone who suffers from depression, the way Julia wrote it is so...??? The truth is, I would like Phillip and their family to not even realize she’s suicidal. To not see it coming when she jumps in the lake and attempts to end her own life because that's exactly how suicide impacts so many people and their loved ones. They don’t see it coming. Phillip struggling with the guilt of that rather than the anger of being trapped in a loveless marriage sounds...a lot more interesting to me. Me, personally. Considering how much buzz the show has, it would spark up a dialogue and a good one if handled properly. I’ve thought a lot about Marina but this is just how I would prefer to see it handled if they go through with her canon death (which I am not actively rooting for by the way.)

Another reason I like the potential of Philloise is Oliver and Amanda, they just add some extra spice. If fully realized characters, watching them grow closer to their dad and form a relationship with Eloise would be so rewarding for two kids who have lost a lot. Also, the amount of comedic gold in their pranks with Eloise and dynamic with each other would give the season even more humor on top of Eloise herself.

And as much as I love the line, “this-us-is heaven.” They could easily modify the love speech. Like very easily.

My point is, I think their potential outweighs the problematic factors in their story and I doubt the show will fail on realizing it and ridding itself of the problematic aspects. One could even say they already started, I mean look at the way the show made a point to show Eloise’s disgust with fathers and husbands who abandon their family, and then comes Phillip, doing the absolute most to protect his remaining family. I mean, Bridgerton did turn the weakest romance in the series into a whole pop culture phenomenon. My hopes are high. Okay, that’s all.

#this is long as hell #my bad #eloise x phillip #phillip crane #eloise bridgerton #philoise #philloise #my babies #i love them #i cant wait for their season #to sir phillip with love

[myglogic]

Priceless | Bang Chan | 01

Chapter 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

Pairing: Bang Chan (Stray Kids) x female reader

Genre: Crime, enemies to friends to lovers, angst, fluff

Short summary: Y/N is a journalist who dreams of writing a frontpage article at the Seoul Times. She gets the chance to attend the Bang Charity Gala through her work where she plans exposing Kevin Bang, father of Chan and one of the richest men in Seoul. How is she planning to do that? The Gala is a masquarade ball where no one will recognize her. Y/N just wants justice for herself and everyone Kevin Bang hurt.

DISCLAIMER: Everything in this fanfic is fiction - that includes Chan’s fictional father who of course does not represent Chan’s real father! ♥

The event was full of people. Full of filthy rich people, you might add. It was the event of the year for Seoul’s richest and most famous people. The Bang Gala. What is the Bang Gala, you might ask? It was a charity gala where tons of money was gathered for a good cause every year. The cause is always kept a secret until the gala. Last year the money went to an organization that helps orphans who didn’t get adopted to adjust to society. Sounds like a beautiful event, right? In one year, the money went to survivors of natural catastrophes, another year it went to the homeless. Each year millions of dollars were donated. You couldn’t even imagine how big the sums must be.

Bullshit. That was what you thought. Because the people behind this charity gala were the Bang family. Kevin Bang, the owner of Seoul’s biggest real estate agency, no, you could even say the owner of South Korea’s biggest real estate agency hosted the gala. In the media, he was known for being a generous businessman, always leaving huge tips at the restaurants he was eating at. He was not only known for being generous, but also being down to earth too.

All of it was an act. Because you knew who the real Kevin Bang was. You knew how the real, evil, Kevin Bang was like and how he treated the people around him too. He was the reason why your father lost everything.

You were just a kid when all of that happened. You didn’t like to dwell on the past but you were a girl who hated unfair treatment. The past was the past but it wasn’t easy to forget. In the past two years you have been working for a pretty big newspaper – the Seoul Times. Okay, working would be an overstatement. You were basically there to proofread the articles written by the real authors and bring coffee. But you were still happy to be there because it was a start. You studied journalism but had no experience yet so it was even a miracle that you got a job at such a renowned company. Sometimes you did write small articles but mostly it was about boring stuff, for example, how the private school next door opened their new library which was – what a coincidence – sponsored by none other than Kevin Bang.

Your parents were proud of you because you worked your ass off at university for this degree. It was very underwhelming to get such an underpaid job, but you had to work hard to become the head editor one day. Right now, you worked at the “celebrity” department, where they basically gathered all kind of news about any kind of celebrity. Like for example how BTS got another win for their latest album. It wasn’t what you envisioned. Sometimes you switched departments too and just work wherever you were needed. That is why you needed an incredible story to write, a story that you have discovered. You didn’t only write articles but sometimes you had to investigate too, like doing interviews outside the office if the writer himself was too lazy to do it. But this story was your personal story. No help from Seoul Times or any other editor. You knew that this story, your story, would secure you a job on the top. That story was exposing Kevin Bang.

Exposing the real Kevin Bang. Not the beloved charitable, kind person that everyone looked up to, but the asshole, getting-anything-he-wants Kevin Bang. Why was your hatred for him so deep when everyone seemed to love that guy? The answer was simple. If something didn’t fit into Mr. Bang’s plans then he just bought everything with his money and influence. He was one of the reasons why an orphanage was demolished because he wanted to free some space for his clients, so he built a 5-star hotel on that area. According to your research he made some hefty payments to make sure that this does not reach the media. It hurt you a lot because you volunteered a lot at that specific orphanage. The kids there were not prepared to leave at all. It was a shitty move of him and you hated him more for that.

But that was just one of his many wrongdoings. You hated reading anything about that guy and his family.

♥.

Chaos. The office was very chaotic because of the on-going charity gala. A lot of newspapers used the gala to get interviews with big names, because anyone who had influence attended that gala. But this year’s theme was not optimal to get a lot of interviews: Masquerade. Everyone had to wear masks so no one knew who you were.

It was interesting since all of the people there already had two faces. The theme made a lot of interviewers back out because if you can’t see the celebrity, interviewing them would be difficult.

You were sitting at your desk, trying to find more dirt on the Bang family when you heard a stack of papers landing next to you, making you flinch a little. It was your supervisor, Hana, who looked at you, annoyed. “Proofread these, okay?”, she sighed, rubbing her temples.

“Okay.”, you said, not wanting to annoy her more.

“I need these by tomorrow by the way.”, she added arrogantly.

“Excuse me, what?!”, you said, standing up in shock. “I can’t even get half of those done in a day!”

She stared you down with an angry expression. “Okay, then why don’t you go and try to interview some masked celebrities at that stupid gala, huh? Our top interviewers don’t want to go because they think it’s a waste of their time!”

You sighed. “Just because you have problems, doesn’t mean that you can put all the workload onto me.”

“I am sick of you complaining, Y/N. This gala is stressing me enough already. It’s not like anything happens at these galas anyway, I don’t even know why we have to send so many employees there. The big boss is crazy. Taejoon doesn’t want to go and we have to send someone from our department.”, Hana said angrily, clearly angry at Taejoon who usually does the interviews for your department.

Then an idea popped into your mind. “Wait… So technically if Taejoon goes to that gala thing, doesn’t he get a free pass?”

“Yeah, we cannot identify the celebs there anyway. But we still have to send ten of our people so that they can write down how much money was donated, where the money goes to, blah blah. Also, if anyone decides to show up without a mask, interview them. Stuff like that.”

This was the idea! You gathered information on Kevin Bang for a while now and if you could find a way to get in there, you might be able to turn everyone against him. You just needed to get the attention of the guests and the media. You knew that you wouldn’t get the recognition you wanted but it would be a start to dig the dirt on him.

Maybe, if you tell the boss that it was you who exposed him, he will let you write the big front-page article about him. Nobody knew more shit about Kevin Bang than you.

“You know, if you let someone else proofread these articles, I would go to that gala instead of Taejoon.”, you offered her.

She gave you a tempting look. “You never went, right? Of course, you would be excited to enter such an exclusive event. But please don’t fall asleep, it gets boring pretty quickly.”, Hana warned you. “Also, you can’t wear a mask as someone from the media. You need to stay in the background, especially since you are still a rookie. Got it?”

Yeah, of course, it was because it was an exclusive event. It’s not like you had a huge ass plan to destroy Kevin Bang or something. “Yeah, got it. Can I go?”, you asked innocently.

She sighed. “Okay. But don’t do anything stupid!”

“I won’t!”

‘At least not when you are around.’, you thought.

Now that you got your free pass to the Bang charity gala, you needed to make up a plan. A really good one. Because your operation was big and you couldn’t risk making any mistakes. The gala was in two days and you quickly needed to figure out what to do and how to do it.

♥.

With all the information you had on Kevin Bang, you knew you had to somehow get the attention of the audience that would attend the gala. Through some insider information you found out that there will be a huge projector. It’s projecting at the main stage. So, you somehow needed to get to the tech room to show the audience your evidence.

You found out that a friend of yours, Felix, will be working there on the night of the gala as a waiter for drinks. You were sure that he would be a huge help and approached him but at first, he thought you were crazy. You were basically trying to ruin a charity event. But after explaining why you wanted to do it, he agreed to help you with your plan. There was a designated area for the press, so you needed to get inside and change first to mix with the actual guests.

This was your plan:

1.    Get inside the actual building as someone from the press

2.    Bring a sexy dress and a mask

3.    With the help of Felix get in the employee area to change

4.    Act as if you’re a guest and talk negatively about Kevin Bang

5.    Get in the computer room to “hack” the projector

6.    Expose Kevin Bang

Sometimes you felt like one of those drama Youtube channels. But this was more than just telling everyone about a horrible person. You did this for your family, especially for your dad. Your family was ruined because of him. Your parents worked their hardest just so you could go to university. Of course, you also did this to write an article about him and get a better position at work. But there was more of a personal agenda behind this.

After a long day of work, you finally came home, clearly exhausted. The gala was tomorrow and you were really nervous about everything. Your roommate Jisung walked out of the kitchen and looked at you. Jisung and you met on your first day of university and became friends quickly. He was your closest friend and you knew you could trust him with your life. “Hey, I got a huge ass dress delivery for you today? What are you going to do with such a fancy dress?”, he asked you curiously.

You smiled at him, determined. “I will attend the Bang charity gala tomorrow.”

Jisung’s eyes widened. “What? For real? Because of your job or what?”

You smirked. “Just wait. After tomorrow, I will finally get the recognition I deserve. And yeah, I will get in thanks to my job.”

Jisung looked at you suspiciously as he sat down with a bowl of chips in front of you. “You're planning something, aren’t you?”

You put on a confident smile as you laid down on the couch. “Yeah. Look, I will tell you everything after the gala. It’s a huge thing so…”

“Don’t get arrested or something, dude.”, Jisung sighed. “Well, since you won’t tell me now, why don’t we watch a movie on Netflix then?”

“Sure.”

♥.

The day of the gala arrived quickly and you found yourself with a camera hanging onto your neck in front of the huge ass gala building. You gave your dress to Felix before so he could hide it in the employee changing rooms. Your hands were sweaty as you took some pictures.

“So, we will be at different locations throughout the building. Try to get some good pictures and if you recognize someone, try to get an interview, okay?”, one of the interviewers told the Seoul Times journalists.

As you went to your designated areas you looked around for Felix to get out of here. At the same time, you admired the huge building with a rich history. Literally, rich. The guests were coming in slowly and everyone looked glamorous and fancy. Their dresses probably cost more than you earn in a month. The location was beautifully decorated, the main stage was huge. While looking around you saw the tech people going upstairs. The tech room must have been upstairs. You couldn’t find a good floor plan on the internet and security was high alert. There had to be a way to get up there. Dressing up as someone from the tech crew would be too obvious but no one would suspect a masked woman in a dress. Especially since you were masked, you were even safer.

As everyone was seated Kevin Bang entered the main stage shortly after. His crisp suit looked expensive, his hair was slicked back. His face was half covered by a black mask. Behind him was his wife, probably number 6 by now, and his son Chan. They also wore masks that didn’t do a good job with covering their faces. Your gaze wandered more towards to his son than Kevin himself. He looked handsome, you couldn’t deny that, with his black hair and dark blue, perfectly sitting suit. You also noticed that he didn’t look too excited to stand there. Interesting.

“Welcome to the annual Bang charity gala! I am happy to see so many faces – well, technically I can’t see you but I appreciate every single one of you!”, Kevin said enthusiastically which earned him hearty laughs from the audience. You rolled your eyes. “You for sure have been wondering where the money goes to this year! This year, we are donating the money of this beautiful gala to a brand-new hospital! With the money you donate every year we can build a completely new hospital where everyone can be treated! The best thing about the hospital?”, he started and showed a picture of the future hospital that was projected behind him. “We will get the best doctors! Anything for our residents of Seoul!”

The crowd cheered and clapped politely. The rich were delighted. “Let’s see how much money we can gather tonight!”

You scoffed at his stupid smirk. “What a freaking liar, the money doesn’t even arrive there.”, you whispered angrily.

The event kicked off, classical music was playing in the background. Since the theme was “masquerade” the guests started waltzing in pairs. It did look very appealing but it felt like this wasn’t your world. In fact, this was not your world. You sometimes wished it was. Not worrying about anything, especially money. You knew you could never fit in.

You then got up looking around. Security was everywhere. Then you spotted Felix who walked up to you. “Hey, sorry, I’m late. These rich people never stop drinking.”, he sighed, clearly exhausted as he pushed his blonde hair back.

“It’s fine the event just started. How can I get out of here without security noticing?”, you asked him, feeling the fear inside you coming up.

“Just walk next to me. As long as you don’t act suspiciously nothing will happen.”, he assured you and walked you to the employee changing rooms. You noticed a few glances from some security guards but nobody stopped you.

As you were getting dressed, Felix spoke up. He was hiding behind some lockers so you could dress in peace. “But Y/N… what if you get caught? How do you plan on getting out of here after doing that stunt?”

You sighed, “I need to do everything step by step, Felix. First, I need to get to the tech room and make sure that everyone out there can here hear me. Then I will decide what to do. But I won’t get caught.”, you told Felix while putting on your red dress that had lace details on the top part. It wasn’t tight but still looked really nice. It was a rather flowy dress and you could breathe in that dress. It looked expensive enough for the elite of Seoul. Good thing that you can rent dresses. You then put on some red lipstick and put your mask on that covered nearly your entire face except for your lips. You were unrecognizable, especially since you looked like a zombie normally.

As you turned the corner to meet Felix his eyes widened for a moment. “Wow, you look nice! I bet you will fit in without any problems!”

You smiled at him and then squeezed his cheek. “Aww! Thank you, Felix. I’m really nervous… but I have to do this.”

He looked at you with a worried expression, “Please, be careful, alright?”

You nodded and quietly exited the dressing room. Some people sat at their assigned seats, others were talking about the event. The music was loud but the atmosphere was alright. For now.

You decided to join a group who were talking. They were two women who were gushing about how extravagant this gala was. They were wearing expensive designer dresses.

“I love the gold details in the decoration.”, one of the women, the one who wore a black mask, said.

“I wish they would serve some more seafood. The buffet is horrible.”, the other one said, sighing. Wow.

“But no matter what Mr. Bang does, his galas are still the best!”, black mask spoke up again.

“I don’t get why everyone likes him so much…”, you spoke up, taking a glass of champagne from a waiter that was walking by.

The women looked at you, a look of confusion in their eyes. “Why would you say that? Everyone loves him.”, black mask said, defending the man.

You sighed. “I heard that he's a real asshole in reality. Ever heard of when he bulldozed an orphanage for his new hotel?”, you told them.

They gasped in shock. “He would never do something like that, would he?”

“Well he paid the media so word couldn’t get out.”, you told them.

Then they started discussing if this was real or not. That was what you did for the first hour. While there was some show on the stage, you trash talked Kevin Bang. While some people didn’t even listen to you, others were saying that they had assumptions about him. Kevin Bang was a smart man. He wouldn’t show his real face to anyone.

As you were looking around the room, you felt something or rather someone staring at you. Now that you think of it, you felt that even earlier. Then you saw that in fact someone was staring at you. That suit and mask… He looked really familiar. He walked up to you and held out his hand. “Would you like to dance with me?”

You were surprised and didn’t know what to do. “Uh, I’m not really a dancer.”

“Just follow my lead, you will be fine.”, his butter smooth voice assured you. Damn it.

You then took his hand and followed him to the dance floor. He put one hand on your waist and his other hand held yours. You wondered why he asked you out of all people. You carefully followed his steps, trying not to embarrass yourself.

“So, what’s your deal? Who are you?”, he grumbled, his eyes dark.

“This is a masquerade, isn’t it? Why would you ask me that?”, you told him, slightly surprised by his sudden change of attitude. What was he trying to do?

“I heard you talk shit about my father. What the hell are you even doing here if you hate him that much, huh?”

Your eyes widened. Of course, he was Kevin Bang’s son! You recognized him from earlier. “Why do you act like everyone in this room loves him? As if I am the only person who dislikes him.”

He tightly squeezed your hand and waist to symbolize his seriousness. “Oh, really? You don’t know him. He is a businessman, sometimes he has to make sacrifices like relocating an orphanage.”

So, he was listening to you. Interesting. “You call that relocating? You don’t know shit.”, you said in an annoyed tone.

“And you know that better than his own son?”

It was your turn to give him a tight squeeze on his shoulder. “Yeah, I actually have my sources.”

You were dancing in circles and his gaze bore into yours. You would find it cute that he tried to defend his father if he wasn’t Kevin’s son. “I will find out who the hell you are. I bet you are one of the Lee’s. You guys are always jealous of us.”

You sighed. “I am so jealous of you and your life. Oh, fuck off. You know, I don’t have to like you or your father. And here I thought I would dance with a gentleman.”, you said, trying to sound disinterested.

The music finally came to an end and you looked at the man in front of you. “It was not nice to dance with you. Let’s not do that again.”, you said and turned your back, walking away from him.

“Wait! Who the hell are you?”, Chan shouted, gaining a few looks from the crowd. But before he could follow you, you were lost in the crowd.

You tried to go through busy crowds and then tried to find a way to go to the computer/tech room. You decided that it would be best if you pretended to search for a bathroom or something, so you sneaked upstairs without anyone noticing you for now.

It was time. Time to get revenge. Time to show the world who the real Kevin Bang was. Time to shine.

A/N: Hello guys, this is my first (consistent) series on this blog! This is also the first time I am writing for Chan and I hope I do him justice. Buckle up because this story has a lot of twists and turns. I appreciate every form of feedback and maybe even theories! What do you think will happen next? Thanks for reading! ♥

#Chan #Chan Stray Kids #Bang Chan #Stray Kids #Skz #skz x reader #skz x you #Chan x y/n #Bang Chan x reader #christopher bang #Chris Bang #Chris x reader #Christoper x reader #Chris Bang x Reader #Chan x you #Chris x you #Chris Bang x you #Chan x reader #Bang Chan x you #Minho #Lee Know #Lee Know x you #Minho x you #Lee know x reader #Felix #Lee Felix #Hyunjin #Jeongin #I.N #Seungmin

[misssophiachase]

You Make My Heart Smile

So, happy (belated) birthday, Tina @tnapki Your edits make me smile (pardon the pun) and I wanted to thank you for that and everything you bring to the fandom.

I based it on your GORGEOUS EDIT

I also made it about food cause it’s SO you. On AO3 HERE

Also thanks to the gorgeous Kait @an-awesome-wavve for being amazing and my part brainstorm, part beta, part researcher and part undercover partner in crime. 

Renowned Chef Klaus Mikaelson has a bad reputation until he meets food blogger Caroline Forbes and has no idea how to handle her or the unfamiliar feelings she evokes, especially that annoying ability to make him smile. 

3 May - Alinea - 1723 N. Halsted St, Chicago IL - 3pm

“I’m not going to do some stupid interview, you know I have other, more important things to do, right?”

Klaus Mikaelson didn’t do interviews. He didn’t need to because his accomplishments spoke for themselves. He hadn’t slogged away in kitchens since he was twelve and worked his way through culinary school and some of the best restaurants to waste his time. 

Being a world-renowned chef owning not one, but four, three-Michelin-starred restaurants across the globe meant he could do whatever the hell he wanted. 

But yet here she was running his life. 

Still. 

“Like yell at me? I mean, you’ve been doing that since we were little so I guess it’s nothing I haven’t experienced before. ”

“I knew I should have never mixed business and family,” he snapped. “You always throw our childhood back in my face as an excuse to insult my life choices.”

“Because it’s too easy not to,” she pouted, flicking a stray, blonde lock over her shoulder.  “And, while I am unfortunately related to your sorry ass, I am also your publicist and this interview is good for your career.”

“I don’t need publicity.”

“Correction, you do need publicity,” she argued, her fork now attacking the very veal he’d cooked with more fervour than needed. 

“Easy on the product, little sister,” Klaus growled, his protectiveness for his art on full display. 

“Oh, silly me I thought it was already dead,” she shot back, tartly. “And before you interrupted, I was going to say that, yes maybe you shouldn’t need publicity given your career achievements, but that was before you dropped an entree on the food critic’s lap from the Chicago Tribune, fired your sous chef in front of the entire restaurant and insulted Gordon Ramsey on national television.”

“Ramsey is a sell out, I stand by my comments,” he muttered. “The critic had it coming and, now you mention it, so too did that sorry excuse for a sous chef.”

“You realise people call you the angry chef, right?”

“Better than the naked chef I suppose.” He shrugged his shoulders indifferently. Klaus wasn’t in the business for gimmicks or to secure his own cooking program. He took his food seriously and there was nothing wrong with that. 

“At least people like Jamie Oliver,” she replied, arching her eyebrows knowingly. “Anyway, there’s no point in arguing because she’ll be here in five minutes.”

“Please tell me you didn’t just schedule an interview without my permission?”

1717 N. Halsted St, 3:10pm

“What’s with the expression of impending doom, Care Bear?” He asked, lugging his camera equipment as they walked up the block toward Alinea. 

“What have I told you about calling me that?”

“Not to do it but it’s too fun not to, Care Bear.” Given his general maturity level, Caroline decided it was a losing battle and she had more important things on her mind. 

“Anyway, it’s not doom,” she muttered. “It’s just the overwhelming desire not to do this interview but given I don’t want to get fired and also pay my rent, there’s no other option.”

“Is someone afraid of the angry chef?”

“Oh, puh-lease, I’m not afraid. Although, I might not be able to bite my tongue if he decides to insult me like he did Gordon Ramsey.”

Caroline wasn’t one to judge but his indiscretions were well-known and well-documented. Although, chefs with egos weren’t an entirely new phenomenon to the industry or to Caroline given interviewing them was her job.

“You and I both know Ramsey deserved that dressing down, if anything Mikaelson earned my respect that day.” Caroline couldn’t argue with that. 

Although this one was another kind of beast. 

The effortlessly attractive kind. 

For Caroline, this was an unsettling prospect. Until she reminded herself why she was here in the first place. 

Caroline loved food. Sometimes, she thought, more than life itself. 

So, when she became a food blogger after graduating with a journalism degree from Northwestern, it wasn’t a surprise. She was currently the senior blogger at popular food blog Delicious. 

“You love food and writing about it,” Was Enzo reading her mind? “How about instead of focusing on the negative, remember that this will be your biggest interview yet. Think about all of the exposure this will garner.”

The upper echelons of Delicious had decided that an interview with Klaus Mikaelson would be a big scoop. Caroline was all for interviewing chefs about their food and the passion behind it but she knew her editor wanted something less about his craft and more about his bad boy reputation.  

“Yes, but I want to write about food, not produce tabloid fodder.”

“Just think, once you do this then maybe you’ll have enough of a following to start your own blog and write what you want and not what someone tells you to do.”

“Mmmm, you do have a point.”

“Of course I do because Enzo knows everything. Also, take me with you because you’d be lost without me, sweetcheeks.”

“Third person, huh? That ego of yours knows no bounds, Lorenzo.”

“You know it, Care Bear,” he joked, flashing his most dazzling smile. “Well, looks like we’re here.”

“Looks like it,” she murmured, noting the intimidating sign overhead and wondering what she’d gotten herself into. “Here goes nothing.”

3:15pm

“Caroline Forbes?” 

“You must be Rebekah and this is my photographer Lorenzo St John.”

Klaus, who’d been throwing a temper tantrum not one minute ago, found himself looking up into the blue eyes of one Caroline Forbes. Suddenly, all of the white noise of the moment fell away and it was just the two of them in the room together and the blonde in question was looking at him expectantly. 

It was paralysing. 

But good paralysing he decided. 

“Nik?” Rebekah questioned. Now they were both looking at him. Had he zoned out and not realised it?  Well, if so, this was all kinds of embarrassing. “Caroline is the senior blogger for Delicious and she’s here for that interview, you know the one we talked about earlier?”

Yeah, ten minutes earlier, he thought to himself doing everything he could not to bite back in front of the new arrival.   

“It’s nice to meet you Mr Mikaelson, I have to say I’m a big fan of your…”  

“Look, it’s not going to be possible, I have to prep for dinner service,” he lied, although regretted it immediately when he noticed her expression. Klaus wasn’t used to being nice, it wasn’t in his DNA and usually it didn’t bother him. 

Until now. 

Klaus decided to blame it on the foreign feelings she was causing. As soon as he got some distance between them it would be fine, especially that vanilla scent he couldn’t ignore given it was infiltrating his first line of defence.

Klaus liked women, in fact he slept with many when his busy schedule permitted, but that was sex and nothing else. Just the way he liked it, easy and unemotional. 

“Why don’t we multitask then? I’m happy to help. ” Her voice was light and melodic. Klaus was hoping it wasn’t going to sound so enticing. He also wasn’t expecting that response. “I worked in a restaurant kitchen for years, I can do dishes, polish cutlery and peel a mean potato and an onion, well almost without crying.”

Why was he buoyed by that ridiculous statement and increasingly trying not to flash her a goofy smile? 

Klaus didn’t smile. He just didn’t. Ever. 

This wasn’t how he saw his day going at all. He was going to kill Rebekah. Before he could reply, the current subject of his ire spoke. 

“That sounds like a fantastic idea,” she grinned. “How about Lorenzo and I make ourselves scarce then?” 

“It’s actually Enzo, darling, you sound a bit too much like my mother and my oppressive boss Care Bear here.” 

Klaus hadn’t even realised there was someone else in the room up until this point but it was clear Caroline wasn’t too impressed by his nickname or the oppressive part. Maybe they had more in common than he thought? 

Care Bear.  Klaus thought it was adorable. Then he could feel it, that idiotic urge to smile again. 

Before he could object again, Rebekah had made a quick exit with the photographer and she was just standing there. Klaus could feel the awkward tension between them and knowing he’d caused it wasn’t helping matters. But he didn’t know any other way to act. 

Then the words he’d struggled with just tumbled out. 

“How do you feel about fish?”

Not the most suave topic or question but this was his ‘uncomfort’ zone. 

“Depends on the context.”

“The context?”

“I mean, if you think I can clean, fillet and debone a fish, you’ve obviously overestimated my cooking talents.”

Klaus had to practically eat the smile that was threatening to appear.  Again. 

“Everyone has to start somewhere and get their hands a bit dirty, otherwise what’s the point?” He advised. “But, if you don’t want to then…”

“Oh, I never back away from a challenge, chef,” she promised. 

Again, the pesky smile was hovering just beneath the surface. 

Leading her towards the kitchen, Klaus told himself that preparing a fish was definitely going to keep his emotions at bay and also block out that perfume which was throwing him off balance. 

4:45pm

“Why do I feel like this was a ploy to distract me from my interview?” Caroline asked, dipping the fish into egg wash and then flour as instructed by her cooking mentor for the day.. 

This was not how she saw her day going. It was surreal to say the least. This guy was supposed to be an ogre but Caroline was realising he was something else entirely. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shot back. “But you filleted that fish like a professional, maybe you’ve missed your true calling?”

“I suppose I had a semi-good teacher,” she admitted wryly. 

“Wow, tell me what you really think, Forbes.”

Caroline was trying not to to get too caught up in the moment but Klaus Mikaelson had challenged every judgment she’d ever harboured about the temperamental chef.  He’d been unusually kind and patient.

The one thing she’d noticed was that his overall demeanour didn’t match his expression. 

He didn’t smile.

Not once. 

A few times, Caroline could swear it was close or maybe she was just imagining it?

“So, why do you like food?” It was a question she wasn’t expecting. Especially seeing as she was the interviewer and him her subject. 

“Isn’t that what I’m supposed to be asking you?” He was silent for a moment, almost like he was contemplating it. “But I get the impression you don’t like that question much?”

“I’d much prefer to hear your story first, call it a warm-up.” Clearly he was nervous and Caroline was happy to oblige if it helped. 

“My grandmother,” she smiled knowingly, visions of her nana filling her head. “When I was younger I’d go to her house most weekends and we’d cook together. She could make anything and everything. She died last year and it’s been tough without her but at least I still have those memories.”

Caroline didn’t mean to get personal, especially with the so-called “angry chef” but for some reason she felt nothing but comfort in his presence, even if he didn’t smile. 

“What was her specialty?” 

“Banana cream cheesecake,” she smiled, the taste of it rushing back in all its delicious glory. 

“Hard to beat,” he murmured. “Have you ever eaten a Bananas Foster? My restaurant in New Orleans does a modern version over flame.  According to my maitre’d there’ve apparently been a few proposals over dessert.”

“Over your dessert?”

“Someone sounds dubious. Let’s just say it’s fireworks but without the danger. Well, unless the tablecloth is accidentally set on fire but the fire department down there are pretty good first responders I understand.”

“I just didn’t take you for the romantic dessert type.”

“I suppose there’s a lot of things you don’t know about me then.”

“So, why do you like food then?”

“Well, of course I like food, I wouldn’t be a chef otherwise,” he shared, moving swiftly in behind her and taking the fillets from her hand and placing them in the hot pan, Caroline was trying not to react to his touch or that welcoming and heady mixture of sandalwood, spices and soap . “But one interview isn’t going to even begin to answer that question.” 

He had a point and Caroline knew it. How could you sum up what food meant to you in one interview?  

“So, what exactly are you trying to say? I do have a deadline to meet.”

“How about we schedule a follow-up interview tomorrow morning? Dinner service is imminent and if you stay I’m going to have to ask you to do more than fillet a fish. My pastry chef Lucien is also very needy, requires constant gratification, and you don’t want to be on the receiving end of that.”

“Not gonna lie I’m intrigued and by that I’m talking about Lucien. Did you insult his choux pastry or something?”

 “Not if I want my patrons to eat dessert this century. But, if you insist on staying, there’s a whole pile of onions there with your name on it and we can call it even.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” He raised his left eyebrow by way of response. Caroline was trying to ignore just how good he looked, even if there was no smile forthcoming. 

“Fine,” she conceded. “Tomorrow morning but that’s it otherwise my editor might fire me.”

“Great, let’s make it 10:30, you can poach an egg, right? And I also expect extra crispy bacon.”

Caroline knew she was possibly in trouble and not because he was tasking her with cooking. Enzo would also parrot that particular concern but she couldn’t help herself. 

Today was probably the best day she’d had in a long time and she didn’t want it to end. She told herself that she’d return tomorrow and get her interview, that’s all she wanted from him, right?

4 May - Alinea - 1723 N. Halsted St, Chicago IL - 11am

Klaus Mikaelson was in uncharted territory. 

That’s what scared him the most. 

Caroline Forbes was seated across from him at his best, window table in jeans and a cream sweater, her plate empty and a very full but satisfied look on her face. Klaus decided to add that to his favourite expressions file. It was fast filling up and he’d only known her for 20 hours. 

He wasn’t this guy. 

At all. 

But she’d consumed his thoughts since their first meeting and all night through dinner service and beyond. He’d barely slept, but it wasn’t a bad thing. He’d been looking forward to seeing her as soon as she left. 

The only problem? Not smiling because it was that difficult when she was in his presence. He had his reasons of course. 

“So, why do you love food? And no arguments given I poached a mean egg and also let you have a reprieve yesterday.”

“The bacon could use some work, just saying.”

“Well, you’re more than welcome to cook itself yourself, Mikaelson. Are you always such a critic? Last time I checked that was my job. Also enough with the distractions. So?”

“My mum,” he admitted quietly, even if it took a minute or so to verbalise. For some reason her opening up about her grandmother had filled him with courage. He didn’t do feelings or talk about them for that matter. “She cooked with me practically from birth until she got too sick last year.” 

Those last words wobbled, it was unfortunate as it was expected. He’d struggled for a long time and losing his mother had been difficult.  

“What was her specialty?” Klaus recognised the question he’d asked himself yesterday, but the fact her hand squeezed his at the same time filled him with the confidence and warmth he needed. 

“Rosemary braised lamb shanks, it was her favourite protein. I’ve tried to pay homage on all my menus since.”

‘So, that explains the Saddle of Elysian Fields Farm Lamb with Babaganoush, Romano Beans and Harissa Jus on your menu then?”

“You’ve done your homework clearly?” 

“That and the fact it’s the first time I’ve seen you smile, and I have to say it’s really nice.” 

Klaus didn’t even realise he’d let it slip but suddenly it didn’t matter anymore. He didn’t want to hide it, not with her. 

“She used to tell me to smile all the time because I was too serious, you could say it’s something I’ve battled with ever since she passed.”

“All the more reason to smile, even just to introduce those dimples to the general public. Has anyone ever told you they should come with a warning?”

“No, but more than happy to discuss further.”

“If only, but I have to get going.” Klaus felt almost deflated that she was leaving as quickly as she’d arrived. Maybe he’d shared too much. “Deadlines and all that. But if you could just consult the email I sent confirming the details of our interview that would be great.”

Klaus felt disillusioned, he’d opened himself up to someone and she was running away.  She was out the door before he could even move from his seat. Checking his emails was the last thing he felt like doing, but his hand went to work on his cell checking it anyway and dreadfully waiting for its contents.

“As of three minutes ago, I no longer working for Delicious. It wanted a story I wasn’t prepared to write. I like your smile and dimples too much and I also want a Bananas Foster.”

His chest constricted as he read each word and his grin was unmistakable.  It didn’t take long for him to reply.

“You make my heart smile.”

Tabloids would report months later that famed food blogger Caroline Forbes married famed chef Klaus Mikaelson in rural England after proposing over a dessert of Bananas Foster in New Orleans. 

#you make my heart smile #happy birthday #tnapki #klaroline fanfiction #misssophiachase

[oh-ranpo]

‘tis the season.

pairing: reggie x reader

an: so, I had the idea for this, and while it isn’t very long, I hope you guys like it! I’m just going to tag @n0wornever and @mamakitty187 since they responded to my post about it encouraging it to happen, so here it is! I hope you enjoy!

word count: 1.9k+

If you took one look around the city of Los Angeles, you would have no idea that it was nearing Christmas time. Sure, the city had their decorations up, but when you looked to the people, there was not an ounce of festive spirit to be found. You had no idea why everyone else was so hesitant to start spreading Christmas cheer, but you had been looking forward to celebrating practically since Halloween was over. You had refrained and made yourself wait until the first day of December to break out your favorite Christmas sweater, though it had taken everything in you to stay so patient. You thought that maybe other people might be feeling the spirit now that it was officially December, however, the second you stepped onto the bus that first morning to head to the mall, you realized that you had severely overestimated just how much everyone else loved the December holiday.

A few people gave you strange looks as you walked up the steps in your bright green holiday sweater, the front of which was covered in colorful tinsel and fake ornaments. It was your favorite sweater that you owned, and you had been quite proud of it when you put it on that morning. Now, you weren’t so sure that it had been the right choice. Everyone else was dressed in their nice winter coats and muted colors, and here you were, sticking out like a sore thumb on a public bus where people would be able to judge you for the next thirty minutes of your ride.

You kept your head down as you moved down the aisle towards the back where you had seen an empty seat, but just as you passed the second to last row, you heard a voice that was unmistakably directed at you.

“Hey, I like your sweater!”

You were surprised to hear the compliment from anyone on this particular bus, but when you looked up to find the owner of the voice, you immediately realized why it shouldn’t have been a surprise at all. The boy that had just spoken to you was smiling brightly, and it only took a second for you to see that he was also wearing a rather festive looking outfit himself. Only, his sweater was red and green striped with a reindeer on the front of it. When he moved, you could hear the faint jingling from the small bells that decorated the cartoon deer’s antlers, and an involuntary smile immediately spread across your lips.

“Thanks. I really like yours too,” you replied, gesturing slightly at his chest. The boy’s eyes fell down to look at his sweater, even though he was well aware of what he was wearing, and then he lifted his head again to give you another bright smile.

“Thanks! Did you… did you want to sit?” It was a rather forward question you thought, but there was an empty seat right next to him, and you figured if you were going to make it through this bus ride without too much more embarrassment, you might as well sit with someone who clearly had a mind that worked like yours. So, you nodded, and slid into the seat next to the boy just as he lifted his hand up for you to shake. “I’m Reggie, by the way.”

You looked at his hand for a moment before happily accepting it and giving him your name as well. You felt yourself relax as you settled in next to him, and even though you had felt like everyone was staring at you before, when you took another quick glance around the bus, you were relieved to see that no one was looking in your direction at all. Maybe you had been overreacting just a bit.

“So, where are you heading too?” Reggie asked, as he attempted to keep the conversation going. You felt bad for being so quiet, and when you looked back over at him, you smiled again.

“To the mall. I was trying to get some of my Christmas shopping done early. You know, to beat the really bad crowds.” Reggie’s face lit up as his body turned towards you even more.

“That’s what I’m doing too! Well, to get some things for my friends, anyways. We’re doing our gift exchange a little early, so I want to make sure that I can get them something good.”

The excitement on Reggie’s face was one that directly mirrored yours, and you felt lucky that you had stumbled upon someone with the same enthusiasm for Christmas that you did. In fact, you spent the rest of the bus ride talking about your Christmas plans, and while Reggie constantly brought up his friends, you couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t mention much about his family. You knew better than to press, as he was still a stranger, but you became more and more intrigued as the conversation went on.

You were disappointed when you reached your stop, but when you went to stand up and Reggie did too, you looked at him curiously, and another bright smile formed on his lips.

“Is this your stop too?” you asked, even though you probably should have figured it was. He had said that he was going to the mall, and this was the closest one on your route. It didn’t really make sense for him to stay on to head to one farther away, especially since he had been on the bus longer than you had.

“Yep! It looks like we aren’t getting rid of each other quite yet,” he replied happily, and you felt a stirring in your chest as you stepped into the aisle and made your way towards the front of the bus. You didn’t look to see if people were staring as you walked because now, you weren’t quite as self-conscious about it. With Reggie right behind you, you barely noticed anyone else.

“So, these friends of yours,” you started, as the two of you walked across the parking lot of the mall side by side. “What kinds of things are they into?” You were hoping that his previous comment meant that you weren’t going to be parting just yet, as you had become quite fascinated by the Christmas sweater boy.

“Well, we’re in a band and I know Luke is always in need of journals to write songs in, so I thought I would get him one of those. Alex and Bobby are a little bit harder, but I’m sure I’ll find something. I’ll know it when I see it.”

The fact that he was in a band was something that Reggie hadn’t mentioned yet, and it was something that peaked your interest even more. You loved going to local shows and small venues to see bands perform.

“You’re in a band? Really?” you asked excitedly, and once again, Reggie’s face lit up at the question. You could tell immediately that it was a subject he loved to talk about.

“Yeah! We’re called Sunset Curve. Tell your friends.” He added the last part with a quick finger-guns motion and you couldn’t help but laugh. His band wasn’t one that you could recall seeing, but either way, you loved his enthusiasm, and you were sure that was something that translated into his music.

You talked about the band and his music while you walked around various stores, and you learned that he played bass and while his band wasn’t well known yet, they had several gigs lined up in the near future.

“You should come to one,” he added as color filled his cheeks. You had just stepped out of one of the record stores located near the food court when he said it, and your steps hesitated a bit as you felt the familiar tug in your chest that you had experienced earlier when getting off the bus. You slowly looked up at him, and his eyes fixed on you, his cheeks a light pink at his rather forward suggestion. Not that it was the first one he had proposed that day.

“I’d love to,” you grinned, and relief flooded his features as you then started walking once again.

You had to admit, you liked spending time with Reggie. You had only met him a couple of hours before, but the fact that you got along so well made it seem longer. From an outsider looking in, you might not have guessed that you had just met on a bus on the way to the mall, and instead, you might have looked more like longtime friends doing their holiday shopping together.

“Thank you again, by the way,” you spoke about an hour later as you sat across from each other at a table in the food court. You had both already finished your shopping, so now you were recharging with some greasy mall food. Reggie tilted his head slightly in confusion at your words, encouraging you to explain yourself. “For saying something to me on the bus. Today has been a lot of fun, and I’m glad that I’m not the only one that seems to enjoy Christmas around here.”

Reggie’s expression softened as he smiled.

“Of course! I mean, I always have to appreciate a good sweater. Especially when the person wearing it is so…” His voice trailed off, and his eyes fell away from you as his face went red once more. Your heart jumped in your chest at his words, even though you weren’t sure how he was intending on ending that sentence.

“So… what?” you pressed. “So lost? So embarrassed? So-“

“Beautiful.”

His word caught you off guard, and you were sure that you looked incredibly silly as your mouth fell open slightly. It wasn’t really what you had been expecting, but a warmth spread through you when his eyes hesitantly lifted to meet yours. You didn’t know how to respond, and in the silence, it seemed that Reggie had taken your lack of response negatively.

“I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t have said that. I just…when I first saw you, I thought ‘wow’, and I wanted to say something sooner, but I didn’t want to come off creepy. But, it seems like I did that anyways, and I am so, so, so, sorry-”

“Reggie,” you cut in, breaking up his panicked rambling. His mouth immediately clamped shut at the sound of your voice, and his wide eyes locked with yours as he waited for you to continue. “I don’t think it’s creepy at all. I think it’s sweet, actually. I just… as you can imagine, I don’t have a lot of strangers randomly compliment me.”

“I actually can’t imagine that,” Reggie piped in quickly, causing another flutter in your chest. “And I’m not really a stranger anymore either, if you think about it.” He was right, and you couldn’t deny it. You had spent most of the day together at this point, and you had shared quite a bit of your lives with one another, so ‘stranger’ didn’t really fit the description anymore.

You were sure that you looked like quite the pair, sitting together in your bright Christmas attire, chatting over overpriced pizza and smiling like fools. However, even though you had started the day caring what people were thinking about you, when you were in the presence of the boy sitting across from you, you found that it didn’t matter anymore. Reggie was special, and it took you no time at all to realize it. You were especially grateful for ugly Christmas sweaters that day.

#jatp Reggie #Reggie #jatp #jatp story #jatp imagine #jatp one shot #julie and the phantoms imagine #julie and the phantoms one shot #Julie and the phantoms story #jeremy shada

[kris-p-banana-bread]

Here DOAFP fandom, have some organic, locally-sourced, home-grown pain. This is basically just me, a scarred older sibling, projecting on Bobby, another scarred older sibling. I really reached into my post-loss psyche for this, so I hope you enjoy the headcanons and meta (AKA I hope you shed at least one tear).

It won’t let me link it here so the post that inspired this is under the read more at the bottom ✨

- When I first watched doafp, I couldn't understand Elena's aversion to Sam becoming a prominent figure in her mom's and her life. Now I understand it almost too perfectly. There was never supposed to be someone after Robert. He and Gabi were deeply in love and happy. Robert was it; he was the first and true love of Gabi's life. Sam showing up probably felt like a huge and utterly disrespectful slap in the face of Robert's memory, because he wasn't even supposed to be there. I don't know if that's as eloquent as I wish it was, or if it makes sense, and it probably sounds really mean to Sam, but it's not even really about him. It was always supposed to be Robert; Sam hasn’t earned the right to be apart of or associated with her family

- After Robert dies, Gabi and Bobby make it a habit to find and keep photos and recordings/videos of Robert, even if the latter only has him saying one sentence. They won't make Elena join them for the search, but after they find some of those old audios of Robert, they'll sometimes play them back for little Elena

- Bobby put up the keep out sign (I credit this to a few other blogs for discussing this tho) because that's where he would cry sometimes. He actually used to be pretty close with Elena, but after he put up that sign and started distancing himself from them a bit so they wouldn't see the times he cracked, he got a little more short and jaded with her. It's that, plus just growing into a teenager and stuff. And I'm not saying that he and Elena have a bad relationship, but he's become more snappy and has more walls up than he used to

- Sometimes Elena feels bad because she doesn't always remember her dad's voice. She was pretty young when he died, so even though she recalls it a bit, and the recordings help, it's been a while since she's talked to him in person, so of course she doesn't quite remember what it's like to actually talk to Robert and she's forgotten some of his mannerisms. She likes to think she's all done (she marked the stages down in her grief journal after all) but grief isn't linear or all that rational, so it hits her hard sometimes

- I keep reading as an action close to my heart because that's a strong bond me and my mom shared. She would rec books to me, and we would joke and talk about them, or she would hint to some future event and then refuse to tell me until I caught up to that part. So Elena and Bobby do something similar in their grief. Elena has writing and words, because that's something Robert loved if I remember correctly (but if I’m not and that’s not canon, then I now declare it so) and Bobby has tennis. But besides tennis (I sent a couple anons to @freshlybakedfandoms about it but I'm not sure where she went) Bobby also was taught to play guitar by Robert (I liken it to Devi Vishwakumar and her harp) so when he misses his dad or is just sad, he'll take out his dad's old acoustic and strum

- (This next one is something I also think a lot about so this is pretty much 98% projection) Bobby thinks sometimes about the fact that he was never able to come out to his dad. He hadn't really started growing into that part of himself yet, and he never got to show it to his father. He wonders what he would have thought of him. Would he be angry? Would he dismiss him and say it was just a phase? Bobby didn't think so, but a little part of him insisted that you could never be too sure. After he comes out, Gabi and Cami assure him that Robert would've been so proud of him and would've loved him regardless (Since we know virtually nothing about him, I maintain that Robert was one of those dads who teases their kid relentlessly about their crushes and I think he would've done that with Bobby and eventually Elena)

- When Elena's quince rolls around (if she chooses to have one of course), Sam dances with her during the father-daughter dance. A part of her still hurts, still aches and wishes that Robert were dancing with her too; still knows on some fundamental level that he and Gabi had planned for this day, but he had simply never made it. But she's known Sam long enough that she feels comfortable here. Nobody can replace Robert, but Sam is her family, and it feels right like this.

- I might do some more research and deliberate, but for the moment I'm saying that Robert had cancer, I’m thinking along the lines of colon. My mom was terminal, but idk if I should make Robert terminal? Maybe towards the end. Or maybe he was diagnosed as incurable early on but Gabi kept it from the kids because, tbh, being told your parent is balancing on that kind of edge is traumatic for them. So anyways, I’m going on that assumption for this last point, and I’ll see if I can recover some of my old knowledge and talk about technical stuff later if anybody would like to hear it

- Elena and Bobby were both pretty young. Bobby understood about PET scans and tests somewhat, and knew generally what different answers from doctors meant. Elena mainly just understood what was happening by reading her parents' and brother's expressions when getting lab results in from the doctor. They both remember on some level what it was like when Gabi would leave the kids with Cami and take Robert out to the car (later she would have to help him) and they would all feel like they were holding their breath until they got back and confirmed that everything was ok (and later, the little shocks of fear when the answers were no longer as positive and there was more apprehension and risks. After all, cancer doesn’t deal in absolutes)

- Bobby can still remember Robert when he had to stop walking around a lot. He still remembers the phone call that Cami got from his mom, saying that something had gone wrong, and if this last treatment didn’t work, he wouldn’t have much time before he passed. Still remembers Cami rushing into a room when she got that call, and trying to hide what was happening until Gabi could get home and explain it; but Bobby was a sharp kid believe it or not. He heard about the treatment, heard Cami crying. He still had hope... but when Robert came home in a gurney, when he could barely stay awake sometimes, when his voice was quiet and his skin was a little jaundiced, Bobby felt incredibly empty. But Robert always had a smile for his wife and his beautiful kids, even if it was small and very tired, his eyes still crinkled the same. He always had a smile; right up until they had to say goodnight and get some sleep one night. And then... he passed.

- After he passed, the Cañero-Reeds needed help, and a lot of Gabi’s coworkers would bring food or materials if they were running low. Cami and Danielle would babysit and would distract the kids when Gabi needed a good cry.

- Like you’d imagine, and because of what is sort of implied in canon and in my own head, the kids dealt with it in different ways. Bobby put up that sign, and withdrew. He wasn’t awful, but his patience with certain people got a bit shorter and he was a bit quieter. And he was a really good helper when he had the energy and he cared deeply, but he would sometimes get physically and emotionally exhausted after helping Gabi/Elena/Cami/anybody else with something and would go into his room or mentally tap out to recharge. He took comfort in things that seemed natural and that he sometimes took for granted before, like video games and skateboarding (hehe bobby skateboards. Anybody second me on this?) and clothes etc... and other stuff. A lot of materialistic things or experiences that he would skip out on before. But they bring normalcy back to his life now so he loves them for that.

- Bobby doesn’t wanna think about big themes or anything anymore, which I can’t remember but I think it was Vi (freshlybakedfandoms, again, idk where she is and I hope she’s ok) who said he was a math and science person and I think that as much as that could transfer over to those subjects as well, it’s much harder to avoid existential and emotional themes in English and History class and Bobby doesn’t like it as much as Elena does for that reason. He had to live with the back and forth of his dad’s treatments and tests, so math and science is comforting because it’s more concrete (There could be a million arguments for why he would distrust math and science because of his dad’s passing though, I realize) Ultimately, though, it reminds him of Robert too much.

- On the other hand, after a period of shock and confusion, Elena threw herself into new things. First it was a grief journal, to make sure she was going through the motions. Then she read a lot, and when she felt too alone or like she wasn’t doing enough, like she was stagnant, she’d just find something to focus and persevere on again. That feels like her personality type to me; something is wrong so let’s fix it right away. But that could also transfer sort of negatively into “Something feels off or I’m very sad, let’s get this thing done and be productive so we can put off having to confront that but at least we get work out of it” but I could be entirely wrong (this is based off some of my family members and how they dealt with the loss.) And Elena throws herself into history and english because her dad loved it, and she wants to remember more of him. Because she believes words have power and history is a lesson and that’s incredibly interesting for her

#bear talks #doafp #robert cañero reed #bobby cañero reed #gabi cañero reed #elena cañero reed #camila doafp #sam faber #fun times #sorry? #I can write a cute fluffy fic to make up for it #i cri #also sorry if I made these a bit too much about bobby #I just relate to him as the older sibling #I added some more so if it got out of hand I’m sorry #tell me and I can make it neater #my meticulousness might just make myself do that on my own tho

[angstysebfan]

PR Stunt Gone Wrong - Chapter 24

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader

Summary: You are a fellow actress in the MCU, Bucky’s love interest. You met Seb during the CA: WS and you guys hit it off. Chemistry on and off the set, but never dated until after Infinity War. During filming of FATWS, the pandemic caused everything to shut down. Seb offered you to spend quarantine with him, but somewhere along the lines, things go wrong and Seb makes a PR decision.

A/N: I was going to to this in a Bucky story, but then I decided to keep it Seb. With everything going on with Seb over the last several months, I came up with this story in my head. Obviously a lot of this is made up, but it is using what we know Seb has been doing over the last several months.

Seb wakes up in his Tulum hotel room and looks over to see Ale sound asleep next to him. After wrapping up filming in Prague, his agent told him that he was to go to Mexico with Ale for a few weeks to vacation. They were to keep a low profile until the perfect moment.

They have been there for almost 2 weeks, and he has barely said a word to her. Ever since that day on set where she attacked you, he didn’t want to deal with Ale. He couldn’t wait until everything was done and over with. After that conversation with you on the phone, all he wanted was to go back to New York and hopefully see you. He knows that the chances of him winning you back are slim, but god if he wont at least try.

He feels Ale stir and quickly gets up and heads to the bathroom. He hated that he had to share a room with her, it’s bad enough what he has to do today. He remembers when his agent called and told him what the plan was.

“You have to do this Seb. It’s been too long with you guys out of the spot light.” his agent said. “Does the fact that I don’t like her mean anything to you guys? I mean I know she is paying you, but I’m over this. I’ll pay the damn fine, but end the contract,” Seb says annoyed. “Sebastian, we have a lot of things lined up for you with some A list directors and actors. That’s what you want, right? And remember what happens if you don’t do what we say,” he agent warned.

“Leave Y/N out of this. It’s bad enough you made me break her heart, but you are still holding her career over my head if I don’t do what you say?” Seb yells. “We are doing what is best your you and Ale. She wants to make it, and this is how it will happen. You agreed to the terms. ALL the terms,” his agent stresses.

Seb rolls his eyes, “Well I’m not sleeping with her anymore, so if you want to hurt me because of that, then go right on ahead. Just leave Y/N out of this,” Seb says. “I’ll do this last thing, but then that’s it. I’m done!” Seb yells before hanging up.

Seb changes into his bathing suit and heads out to the beach to write. He started writing every day since arriving to Mexico. Mostly letters to you, telling you how sorry he is, again. He laughs at himself knowing how much you don’t want to hear it again. So he writes it in letters, like a journal. Ale eventually makes her way out to him and sits by his side.

“There is a person over my right shoulder with a camera. Make it look like you actually want to be with me,” she says. Seb rolls his eyes at the statement, “And when do the other guys show up?” he asks putting his hand on her leg. “In an hour or so. You will make it look like you love me. You will hold me and kiss me,” she says as she scratches the back of his neck. After a few minutes he separates himself to continue writing his daily letter to you.

--

You wake up with Chase’s arms wrapped around you, and can’t help but snuggle into him. It was your last day in LA, as you decided it was finally time to head back to New York and get some separation from everything and everyone. You feel lips on your forehead causing a lazy smile. You look up into beautiful blue eyes, “Morning handsome,” you say. He smiles, “Morning beautiful. Are you sure you have to leave?” he asks.

Your smile slips slightly, as a part of you does want to stay here, but you know if you are going to make a real decision about Chase, you needed to think freely. “Yes, but who knows... maybe I will be back sooner than you think,” you say giving him a peck on the lips. He chuckles, “I hope so. I know this was only supposed to be physical, but I think we both know the feelings are real here,” he says.

“I know. This is what I was afraid of. I don’t want to hurt you,” you say looking down. “Hey,” he says bringing your eyes to his, “I will support whatever decision you make. I will be happy just being your friend, if that is what you truly want. I meant it when I said that you need to think,” he says. You crash your lips passionately into his. After several minutes you both pull away panting. “I should get going if I’m going to catch my flight,” you say.

--

You are sitting at the airport, waiting to board your flight when you decide to check out social media. There in all his glory is Seb kissing that bitch. The anger you feel is so real that if you could, you would reach into the picture and pull her off of him from her hair and enjoy you scream. You are pulled from your thoughts when Seb’s lawyer called you.

“Hello Y/N, how are you dear?” the kind man asks. “I’m doing ok, how is everything over there?” you ask. “I’m working hard to get this done for you. I really feel like we have a good case and no one would deny you what you are due.” he says. “Well that’s good to hear. I appreciate your hard work,” you say.

“Oh it’s nothing dear. Any friend of Sebastian’s is a friend of mine,” he says, which you roll your eyes to. “I was calling to see if you will be available to come into the office for a sworn statement sometime next week?” he asks. “Oh, well I am actually on my way back to New York now. So as long as my COVID tests are negative, which they should be since I was inside the whole time, then yes, I can do that,” you say.

“Oh good! Well let me know if there are any issues. Sebastian will also be coming in, so we can get both of your statements done at once. Call me in a few days, ok?” he asks. “Yea, sure. No problem,” you say before bidding him goodbye and hanging up. Of course Seb will have to be there at the same time. Maybe you can move your appointment to another time? Or just get it over with and then get your separation. 

You just can’t wait until this whole thing is done. CAA and Ale don’t know who they messed with.

--

Chapter 23 / Chapter 25

I had to! Lol! I had to use the Mexico pictures and talk about it. I had to! Feedback is appreciated.

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#Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x y/n #seb

[twvstedsouls]

Movie Review - The French Dispatch

Spoilers: Spoiler-free (mostly: mentions the order of things, but that’s it)

Title: The French Dispatch II Year: 2021 II Director: Wes Anderson

Notes: I’m not a fan of his previous movies so if a critical & negative though abstract view of them bothers you, don’t read. Rating system of 0 to 10 - though as I do more of these, the scores might change as I tend to compare them after a while (but positive/neutral/negative will stay the same).

Rating: Positive, 8

I’m generally not a fan of Wes Anderson’s movies. The issue I have with his movies lies with the characters. All of the characters are unique, diverse, and interesting when written down on paper, however, they almost always fall flat. Things happen to these characters, but when they do I can hardly find the emotion to care, any emotion. There’s no connection made or felt between the characters and the audience. There’s a sort of detachment to it. Which results in the end in a: ‘‘the movie is boring, why should I care?’’

Perhaps it’s also because I personally enjoy or prefer watching what goes on in a character’s head, their emotions, their downfalls, their growths and their journeys: how they experience things.

One must admit though that no matter the subject, his movies are always visually very colourful, imaginative, creative and stimulating to watch. Full of detail which other movies can only dream of.

Now, to the French Dispatch.

Surprisingly enough, I actually enjoyed it. Is it a masterpiece? No. Does it have to be? Not at all. 

Things I liked about it:

-The formatting/editing

I can’t think of the right term, but, while at first it seems like it would not work for a movie, to cut it up in segments, just like a magazine or newspaper would be is great, and it flows well due to the beginnings and endings of the story starting and ending with the present, the writers starting and editing.

-How Journalism & Writing is portrayed and talked about

One of the best, if not the best thing about this movie. Often Journalism and by extension Writing is portrayed as either boring, cold, sterile, like a grainy black and white photograph or it’s sensational, explosive, and in your face, like an action movie, colours, words and actions hurting your eyes and ears. The French Dispatch, delightfully, does neither of those things.

Which I know may sound bad at first, some sort of neutral, grey, forgetful, in between, but it’s not and let me tell you why it isn’t:

Unlike the boring cold and the sensational explosive, it is able to capture the heart of journalism and writing, you feel warmed by it’s ability to convey so. Especially the last story ‘The Private Dining Room of the Police Commissioner’. It makes you think of the skill, the art, and the ability to convey meaning and emotions in journalism and writing, which is the real heart of this movie and what makes it a good one. There’s an understanding of journalism and writing there, and like it’s been mentioned, it does indeed feel like a: ‘love letter to journalism and journalists.’

Ending note:

For once I don’t mind the omitted connection with the characters (deliberate or not), as this movie is about stories, journalism and writing, and does it so well that any usual flaws are erased from the mind.

Though maybe this all just boils down to feeling spoken to as a writer.

Things I didn’t like about it (sorry, I had to, I wanted to end it here but thought this should be pointed out):

-The speed

While this may be deliberate to motivate multiple viewings, often actions, words and scenes were going too fast, which is a shame as it causes the watcher to miss quite a few things. Though in part it may also be to illustrate the speed at which journalism and writing works, comes together into a final product. Still, a slight reduction in speed would have been better.

Favourite stories:

The Private Dining Room of the Police Commissioner, The Concrete Masterpiece.

#merelsreviews #merel's movie recommendations #the french dispatch #movie reviews #spoiler free review #wes anderson #apparently I do movie reviews now #movie review

[theonlygamergost]

Dream’s new friend -Dream SMP

I am an absolute sucker for Techno/Dream interactions, and them getting locked up together made me want to write about them, so here we are. 

English is not my first language so sorry for any grammatical error, I try my best. 

~~~~~~~~~~

They have a plan to escape, but it’s slow and very taxing on Dream’s frail body, so Techno tries his best to be a good friend and support him. Spoilers: he only knows how to be an amazing friend. 

~~~~~~~~~

Warning! Mention of torture, Swearing

Enjoy~

“Just so you know, I'm not breaking all of the blocks by myself, you're helping” he looked at the half-pig while his hands went in and out of the water, Techno grinned, “You really thought I'd let you do that all by yourself?” he let out a short laugh, “I just needed to exaggerate my inner anarchist and look lazy in front of chat, that's all. We can do a block per person” Dream smiled behind his cracked mask, returning his gaze in front of him. Meditating on thoughts while watching the water break every time he punched.

It had been a few days since Techno last streamed, they had just broken the second block, meaning that Dream was up for the third block. The bell hadn't been touched very much, Techno had ringed it twice to annoy the other man, but that was about it.

“Do you regret asking for the bell instead of freedom?” Dream was sitting not too far at a from Techno, just enough to have privacy while writing, “Not really” the pig-man was punching away the second block, “I mean, it would have been anticlimactic to get out of here in the first stream” Dream sighed, “Is the entertainment of the situation all you care about?” he looked at Techno, slightly annoyed. The men tilted his head, “Not completely, but you have to agree that getting out of here using DreamXD would have drawn even more attention on you, not only from Quackity” he noted, “But from all the server” the man with the dirty white mask looked up, resting his head on the wall behind him, “True…”. The pig-man took a quick glance at the other boy and returned his focus on punching, Dream had followed suit and went back to writing.

Dream had kneeled and started punching the third block approximately twenty minutes ago, Techno was relaxing his tired body by laying sprawled on the floor: he had underestimated how tiring the process was.

“I have been training constantly up until I came here and this has worn me out, so how are you holding up?” He turned his face to the man punching away, who laughed at the question, “I’m not, why do you think I slept so much right after?”.

Oh right, the sight of Dream huddled in a corner popped into his mind, the cellmate stayed dead still and silent for a long while after breaking the first block. Who could blame him though? He had been stuck in this prison for what- six, seven months? Techno doubted the first inmate of this cell trained daily, with the heat of the lava and the constant sweating, even he wouldn’t want to train.

“Well, it’s still admirable that you recovered from a day of punching just by sleeping it off” Dream nodded as a thank you. After a sigh, Techno went back to staring at the ceiling, this wasn’t the best idea he had ever come up with, but hey, it was the only subtle one since he couldn’t use withers and tnt to get out.

He closed his eyes and focused on the various sounds of the lava: boiling, bubbling, it seemed like a soup cooking, but the sound of the liquid flowing down wasn’t normal, he opened his eyes, “Dream, the lava is falling”. The other man stopped punching and got closer to the edge of the cell, as soon as pistons got into motion, he quickly leapt behind the netherite block line and almost got left out, as it raised from the ground. Techno scooted in front of the bell and Dream leaned on the barrier, curious to see who was coming.

Some dreadful minutes after, the lava finally revealed who was visiting: It was none other than Sam.

“Heyyy Sam!” Techno was quick to chirp a greeting, waving excessively. Dream simply gestured a salute, backing away from the netherite blocks and leaning on a wall. The man in armour hopped on the taxi platform and started making his way, still silent. “What brings you here Sam? Maybe you’ve decided to free me?” The pig-man got no reply, just a stare, “Are you here because I have called every book I signed ‘Sub to Techno’? Listen, I can’t really apologize about that-” Sam got closer, still no response. Dream eyed the bell behind his inmate and hoped that the guard wouldn’t get too close, what would even happen if he saw it? He feared nothing good.

The platform reached the cell and Sam stepped on the obsidian, Dream wanted to ask where was Quackity, why he wasn’t coming anymore, maybe Sam was here to torture him in his stead? But he stayed quiet, not wanting to wake up the sleeping lion.

“Oh I got it!” Techno snapped his finger, “You missed us so you came to see us!” Sam sighed as he started to fumble in his inventory, “Don’t be ridiculous Techno” the guard finally spoke, “I came to check if you weren’t trying to escape-” He plopped a bag on the netherite barrier, “And to bring you potatoes. I’ve heard you’re a big fan of them, Technoblade” A smirk slipped though, god was he tired of being teased with the whole ‘Potato lover’ joke.

Sam turned to  Dream and went back to rustle in his pocket, “I’ve also brought more journals and some ink for you, Dream.”. He also placed those on the barrier, the man with the white mask got off the wall and placed the bag of food on the floor while also grabbed the stationary, murmuring out a “Thank you”.

The guard looked at the two prisoners again, “You two better not be planning anything. Behave and nothing will happen to you” he said as he hopped back on the platform, and even when it started moving, he was still looking at those two. He only broke sight when he arrived on the other side, took down the netherite barrier and re-activated the lava.

Techno had been sweating throughout the entire meet-up, thankfully, the high temperature disguised his nervousness. Focusing on the slow dripping of the crying obsidian helped him avoid fidgeting or bouncing his leg. Dream was mostly focused on not looking in Techno’s direction too much, to avoid raising suspicion, he also restrained himself to tease or talk back to Sam, even though, thinking about it more clearly, in all the times Sam came to check up on him, he seemed lost in his thoughts, absent…

Both the inmates let out a sigh of relief when the lava-curtain dropped, Dream slid down the wall onto the floor, “I don’t know why he didn’t enter the cell like he usually does, but thank god he didn’t”, Techno let out a shaky breath, “That was pure stress… I thought hiding the bell was going to be easier”.

The two took a break from talking: Techno layed down again, placing an arm on his forehead, meanwhile Dream placed both books and food in their place. When he too sat down, Techno asked: “You should get some sleep before going back to punching” he tilted his head to look at the other man, who replied smiling at the friend’s concern, “Nah” he shook his head, “I don’t want to sleep, but I’ll post-pone punching for a little more” Techno nodded, closing his eyes for a little.

Silence fell again and the bubbling from the lava took over as the main noise, the elder guardian screech renewed their mining fatigue and Dream decided to close his eyes for a minute as well.

_________

The hard ground and the heat that wearing the mask had created were hard to ignore, his body ached a little and he was out of breath, “Oh wow that actually worked”, a faint voice made him realize that his mind was foggy: he had fallen asleep.

Slowly stretching his limbs, letting out a long whine and blinking a couple of times got him a bit more lucid, getting up to a sitting position. Scanning the room he realized his inmate was sitting at the edge of the lava cascade blocking the cell, fumbling with what, he couldn’t see.

“...Mh… Techno…” he mumbled with his morning voice, yawning right after. The friend looked over his shoulder to see a sleepy Dream rubbing his eyes, he smiled, “Good morning dear, I’m cooking you breakfast before you head for work”. The white-mask man smiled, “Very funny Techno…”, he stretched again. “Oh no I’m not kidding, I’m baking the potatoes” he turned to show the crispy tubers in his arms, Dream’s eyes widened. “Oh wow, you really did that” Techno nodded, getting up from his improvized ‘kitchen’, “I was surprised it worked as well honestly”.

The smell of food filled the cell, making the sleepy man’s stomach rumble, they both laughed at the sound: Dream had almost forgotten what hot food tasted like. “Here” Techno threw him a potato, almost dropping it on the ground because of Dream’s rusty reflexes.

He took off his broken mask out of excitement to taste the meal, not realizing his own action, but Techno didn’t stare at him nor asked questions about it, he simply sat down himself and didn’t speak a word, probably the easiest and more natural way he had ever shown someone his face, he silently thanked the other man for not judging him or reacting negatively.

Once he started eating it, a tear almost fell off his eye, the pig-man noticed, “Oh yeah… you’ve been eating them raw for a long time”. The potato expert looked over the hungry and content friend eating away, “I can always do more if you’d like, they taste better cooked either way” and he also took a bite. They ate in silence mostly, a couple of words were exchanged but nothing much.

When Techno (who wasn’t as hungry as Dream) finished his snack, he looked over at the ‘ex toilet’ and got up to sit down next to it, rolling his sleeves up. Dream noticed, “Umf...Whatf awe you doingf?” He asked with his mouth full, making the friend smile, “I’ll start punching so you can rest a little more, we can swap whenever you feel rested and full enough” and he did start punching, Dream nodded, looking at the potato in his hand.

Now he understood why Phil and Wilbur liked Techno so much: who he saw as friends were treated with the utmost respect and care. He glanced over at the pig-man once more. But if you never saw this side of him… how could you even try and trust him? That’s why Quackity was so traumatized…

He squinted, the view of Techno standing between him and Tommy flashed in his mind, Dream’s eyebrows knitted.

Then why did Tommy give away Techno’s kindness for a dying country and people that didn’t care for him?

A deep sigh came from the man in the corner, snapping Dream back to his obsidian cell.

As long as Dream was sincere with Techno. they would have been both down to help the other. He finished munching on his meal. Yes, Techno owed one to Dream, but now that he was alone, with no friends or allies, transforming that debt into a friendship seemed like a gift. A gift Dream would treat with respect and gratitude.

“Thank you Techno…” Techno smiled, allowing a content noise to slip out of him, “What, for cooking a potato?” Dream shook his head even if the pig-man couldn’t see him, “No… For being my friend” the man in question turned to look at the white mask- no, underneath the white mask. “I don’t have a lot of friends myself y’know, I guess you could say we are two lonely dudes keeping each other company”.

Dream giggled, they hadn’t interacted that much until now… but he was sure he was going to enjoy being around him.

#dreamsmp #dreamsmp fanfiction #technoblade #dreamwastaken #awesamdude #fanfiction #my fanfiction #writing #my writing #tw torture mention #dream fanfiction #technoblade fanfiction

[spooky-luvur]

Could y'all write an Arthur fic with the reader being a fan and got sucked into the game and kinda mouthed off to colm and gets himself captured :O

This was really fun lol

———

“Well,”

You turn in circles, putting your hands on your hips. “At least I don’t have to worry about taxes.”

The people in town stare, obviously, and whisper, but they don’t point and they don’t yell or do something else mean someone from modern day Detroit would do. You’re not exactly blending in with your current clothes.

But really...what the fuck? Last thing you remember is turning the gaming console off, taking a shower, then you think you hit your head when you stumbled but it definitely wasn’t hard enough to send you through time???

You reach the edge of the dusty town and pause, looking over the vast land. Nice fields. No factories in sight. You try to remember every little detail...sat on the left side of the couch...used the controller to turn the console on...picked the game-

...

Oh shit.

Of course.

You were playing the second Red Dead Redemption.

Balls, how in the-!

It’s fine, it’s fine. This is cool, actually.

You don’t bother to hide your grin and unbelieving laugh, raking your hands through your hair. This is cool as shit! You were so interested in the 19-20th century anyway and to be *living* in it?! Damn. But we’re you just in the century, or was I in the game too?

You turn back to the small town and take a good look around, eyes falling onto a large white parlor house. It’s Rhodes! Incredible. Excited like a little kid on Christmas, you hurriedly make your way back into town, taking everything in and spinning in circles like some lunatic.

The general store, the gun shop with that guy locked in the basement- wait a minute.

When in the game was it? If you were magically set in Rhodes wouldn’t that mean the gang was at the camp by the lake? What’s it called, Clemens Point? Clement? But you didn’t really know how to get there from here, and even if you did somehow manage to find it, you’d likely be shot on sight. But you’re inside your favorite game. It only makes sense you’d want to meet and bond with the main characters.

With a stomach full of butterflies, you set off onto the road leading out of town, hoping to stumble upon something- or someone.

———

God, it was hot. Why was it so hot? Damn sun, making me all sweaty and gross. Don’t you have better things to do?

Pulling at your collar, you stop to rest for a few minutes, surrounded by the tall trees. Okay, there’s the water, the stones, old dilapidated church or whatever that is, the sound of a gun cocking, the nice breeze- wait.

“Put your hands up, boy.”

Great. Great. Great. You put your hands up by your head, mentally cursing yourself and everyone who’s ever existed. You didn’t know that voice and that voice didn’t know you.

“You got any cash? Jewelry? Guns?”

“No, I don’t. I got nothing.”

“Bullshit, turn around!”

Slowly turning, you’re met with the barrel of a gun and a very rowdy-looking man. Two other men with guns also pointed at you are a few feet behind him.

“I know you got somethin, your clothes are reeeeeal fancy mister.”

“You can check, but I ain’t got nothin, mister.” Yeah. That’s right. You tried to make yourself sound more cowboy-y, and by the looks of it, he bought it. He did look kinda dumb. No offense, cowboy. Or whatever you were.

The dirty man scoffs. “You ain’t-“

“Come on now boy, it wouldn’t be smart to hide things from us now would it?”

Another guy? Damn, was he hot at least- ohhhhhh. Ohhhhh shit. Oh shit oh shit.

Colm O’Driscoll stares you right in the face, a small, evil smirk on his own. Ugly fucker.

“We’ll ask you again, friend. Do you got anything?”

“I said no damnit! God do your looks match your brain?? Horrible?? Well that wasn’t a very good insult but damn you fugly!!”

The men glance at each other white you babble on.

“My grandpa looks finer than you and he’s dust! Ha! Musty motherfucker- you look like my foot!”

“Enough outta you!”

Colm O’Dick grabs you by the front of your collar and yanks you forward, pushing you onto the dirt.

“Tie him up and bring him back. Maybe we’ll cut out that dirty little tongue of his.”

Damn.

———

Ugh, shit.

The throbbing in your head blurs your vision for several moments. When you finally blink it away, you whine and hang your head from the numerous spots of pain blooming all over your body. Hanging from your bloodied worth’s in just your underwear, feet barley brushing the dirt-covered floor. You remember what happened last night. They beat you, burned you, poked and prodded, nearly poisoned you if Colm hadn’t stopped them, saying something like “it would kill him too quick.”

Damn, if this was how it was always gonna be, you wanted to go back home.

You didn’t know what time it was. Or if it was any more than just a day. You were in some kind of cracked stone walled, rat shit covered basement. A single candle is lit on the blood stained table with a variety of things that make you go ‘ouch.’

Using nearly all your strength to lift your head, you try to find a door or something else you could crawl through. There’s a moldy door in front of you. Seemingly unlocked.

“God, I can’t get down,” you mumble, nearly out of hope. This was supposed to be your story! Your special adventure! Filled with love and drama and literally anything but you getting tortured by men who stink like piss!

The door suddenly starts clicking, and you squeeze your eyes shut the best you can. Was it the dirty men? Or your hero? Heroine? A crazy hermit? The door swings aside, making you cautiously crack your heavy eyes open. Oh please be hot please be hot please be-

“Hey! They got someone!”

Hot.

Your jaw nearly embarrassingly falls open as a man in a pretty blue shirt puts his gun down and pulls out a knife. Hot murder man? Yes please-

“You a prisoner?”

“Sure,” is all you manage.

The man comes closer to cut the ropes suspending you and yes, like in the movies, you can’t really hold yourself up therefore fall forward again the chest of the wow you’re buff.

“You alright, boy?”

Call me that again please.

“Fine, fine.”

Hands gripping the sleeves of the pretty blue shirt, your lift your head to see your hunk of a hero, only to come face-to-face the Arthur fucking Morgan.

Of course, that’s when you pass out.

———

“Is he dead?”

“What? No Jack, he ain’t dead.”

“But he’s all bloody.”

“Damn O’Driscoll’s. He’s just a boy. Lenny’s age.”

You’re like, 23 thank you very much.

“What’re we supposed to do with him?”

“He’s nearly dead, we gotta keep him here for now. Now shoo! All you got chores! Get!”

Something warm and wet yet scratchy is dabbed onto your forehead and a few spots around your face, making you sigh lightly.

Your eyes felt like heavy weights, but you eventually got them open. You wanted to see what was going on really badly.

A Susan Grimshaw. In your face.

Your eyes widen only barely and a very unattractive noise sounding like a confused cat escaped your mouth. The old woman’s brow furrows.

“Hush, boy. I ain’t hurting you.”

Blinking, you look around without moving your head. You were in a tent, on a cot, in your underwear, a random shirt that went past your butt, I’m keeping this forever, and your body hurt very much.

“I’m alright, ma’am,” you look into Grimshaw’s pretty eyes.

She huffs. “Like hell. But fine, you can get up. Nothings broken.”

She leaves the tent, making you slowly swing your bare legs over the side and hoist yourself up, staggering out as well.

“Ugh,” shielding your eyes from the harsh sun, you take a deep breath that makes your chest ache. Welcome to the 19th century, (M/n).

“You’re awake, my boy. How are you feeling?”

It’s too early for this shi-

Never mind it’s never too early for Dutch Van der Linde.

You nod, blinking up at the raven-haired man.

“Just fine, sir. Thank you for saving me. I thought I was a goner.”

“No thanks needed, my boy. I got a sayin’: we shoot fellers as need shooting, save fellers as need saving, and feed ‘em as need feeding. I’m sure we all know, just what you need.”

You really just heard that.

“Oh, I have an idea.”

Dutch laughs, patting your shoulder. “Mr. Pearson! Get this fine boy some food! What’s your name, son?”

“(M/n). (M/n) (L/n).”

“Well Mr. (L/n), do you mind telling us what you were doing all bloody and bruised in Colm O’Driscoll’s basement?” He uses the hand on your shoulder to guide you further to the center of camp.

“I got captured once they realized I didn’t have any money. They beat me good.”

“Yes, well, let’s hope nothing of the sort ever happens again.”

Pearson comes over and places a hot bowl of stew in your shaky hands, nodding at you before heading off.

“Ladies! Would you please help (M/n) get some food in his belly, he’s not too good right now,”

Mary-Beth hurries over, cupping your hands around the bowl to keep it from falling. “Course, Dutch. Come along now...”

———

“Okay, you can do this, come on. You know everything about him! Everything...about...them...”

You shake your head to get rid of the negative thoughts, straightening your back. “Okay, let’s go.”

You keep your eyes locked on Arthur, your target, as you march over to where he’s sitting on his bed, nose buried in his journal. Wow this is really happening-

“Excuse me?”

Way to sound like a 14 year old girl (M/n). Your heart nearly stops once the burly man looks up, blue-green eyes meeting your own. He doesn’t say anything, only stares at you expectingly. You wrong to hands nervously.

“Um...I just wanted to say thank you. For helping me, you know.”

He nods. “You’re welcome.”

You panic, not wanting to lose his attention.

“Dutch said I could stay! With you...er, with the gang! Dutch said I could stay with the gang, they don’t really see me as a threat, so...” your voice trails off.

“Well, that’s great. They’re good people, don’t mess it up.”

“Of course! I’m very grateful, I just...was hoping I could see more of you...?”

No, you definitely weren’t asking him out. Yet.

Arthur looks at you weirdly, before quietly chuckling and turning back to his journal.

“Sure, kid.”

I’m in love.

———

That night, the gang is celebrating a new edition. You weren’t like Kieran. You weren’t nothing bad, neither. Most of them actually trust you already. Thankfully. Those who don’t, weren’t celebrating. Or it was all just an excuse to get blackout drunk

You believed it to be the latter when you left the log by the fire and no one noticed. Everyone kept singing and ‘celebrating.’ Pausing by one of the tents, you slightly duck back behind it. The radio in Dutch’s tent was quietly singing an opera song, and Dutch and Miss Molly O’Shea we’re gently dancing along, gazing into each other’s eyes with the look of the lovers. Good for them. They deserve it. It makes you smile sadly.

You retreat and continue looking around all the tents and everything. Where’s Arthur? He wasn’t at the fire. He’s not in his tent either. Or, wagon. Lean-to? Whatever, but you can’t find him. You circle around the edge of camp for a bit until you find him behind the big tree near the horses.

“Arthur?”

He looks away from the sky and at you.

“Hey, (M/n).”

“Hey Arthur,” you take a few steps closer. “Not a party person?”

He shrugs. “Not tonight, I guess.”

“That’s a shame. I was...hoping you’d might care to dance? With me?”

It takes him a few moments to realize just what you said but once he does, he open his mouth in surprise.

“What?”

You hold out a hand, giving him a mischievous grin.

He shakes his head, looking away for a moment before back at you, pushing himself off the tree.

“What the hell.”

When he takes your hand, it feels like it was meant to be. Where you were meant to be. When you were meant to be! Call you crazy, but with this? Dancing to nearly inaudible music with a fictional cowboy on the outskirts of the camp containing the people that saved you from other fictional outlaws? You never wanted anything more.

#rdr2 #rdr2 x male reader #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 x male reader #arthur morgan x male reader #arthur morgan x reader #anon request

[mhdiaries]

Wave 4 Journal of Jackson Jekyll

On September 9...

So it turns out I’m a monster. Well part-time monster actually, which leaves me pretty much full-time confused. It’s not like I didn’t know that mom and dad were both monsters. The first time I saw mom’s Hyde side come out was when I was 5 and we were visiting my dad’s side of the family. Some of the little neighborhood monsters decided that they were going to play “kick the can” only they were going to use me as the can. Every time I tried to run home they blocked my way and pushed me down. I started crying and then they really started making fun of me. Then all of a sudden I heard this roar and there was my mom. Even though it didn’t look like her I knew it was and honestly all I could think was, “Why mother, what big muscles you have.” Needless to say I never had any problem with the local monsters again. Dad’s a fire elemental of course and I grew up playing with Heath so I was never afraid of monsters. I just didn’t think any monster heritage had passed on to me. When I asked mom and dad if they knew me and Holt were the same person they said, “Of course we knew you and Holt were the same person - we’re your parents; now finish your breakfast or you’ll be late for school.” Well thanks for clearing that up for me mom and dad. Cause you know it’s not like having that little bit of information would have been helpful at all. Good thing I’m past those awkward teenage years where news like this could really have a negative impact on my psyche. (Ooh - sarcasm. I like it) HH

On September 12...

I had to go to the mad scientist, I mean mad pediatrician, today. Mom says that until I’m an adult I need to continue seeing him because he has the most experience dealing with growing monsters. I feel fine but mom and dad are worried because what triggers my transformation to Holt has changed. It used to happen when the sun went down but now it seems to be loud music, I think. The waiting room was almost empty except for a mother werewolf and two young cubs. While mom filled out paperwork I sat down and tried to find something to read that wasn’t chewed, gooed or covered in monster germs. Then I heard one of the werewolf cubs say, “Mommy! Is that a normie?” “Yes honey, don’t stare.” “Is he going to eat us?” I could tell that she was embarrassed so I said, “No way - I’m totally allergic to werewolf it makes me sneeze - ACHOO!” The cubs eyes got really wide and then she started laughing, “Aw that’s not true.” Then she held up her foot and said, “I can tie my shoe!” I said, “That’s amazing, can you show me how?” The werewolf mom relaxed too and it turns out she’s related to Clawd’s family. Pretty soon a lab assistant appeared, “Jackson Jekyll?” She led us back to a room and said, “The doctor will be with you shortly.” Then, “The wait.” Which means sitting on the crinkly paper covered exam table forever and wondering what would happen if I started playing with the instruments in the exam room and the doctor walked in. Anyway just about the time I woke up enough boredom and courage to start picking up some of the cooler looking instruments laying on the counter I hear the mad pediatrician pulling my chart and the door opens. He’s wearing a lab coat with purple vampire ducks and his stethoscope cover is a fuzzy yellow dragonhead. I’m sure it calms the younger monsters but it scares the normie out of me that the volatile nature of my elemental side + my hyde heritage + being a teenager = constant change. He said that the trigger would probably change again before I reach adulthood. Then he gave me a lollypop, scheduled me for another test and said he wanted to see me again in three months. Now I’m worried about what the trigger is going to change to next. What if it’s showers? Would it be worth giving them up for the rest of high school just so I can have my own life? (Not unless you want your new nickname to be “Stinky”) HH 

On September 21... 

It seems like I spent the first part of my life wishing I was a monster and now that I am maybe now I wish I wasn’t. (Well you’re stuck with it now.) HH When I was spending all that time trying to get Draculaura to bit me so I could become a vampire I never really thought about anything except wanting to fit in with all the other monsters. Now the part of me that fits in doesn’t even get to enjoy it.(Whine much?) HH It’s like the worst of both worlds and now I don’t fit in anywhere at all. We’re all supposed to meet with Mr. D’eath, the school guidance counselor, this week. Wonder if I’ll need to make two appointments (Lame - I already know what I’m going to be... FAMOUS!) HH

On September 23...

So I had my appointment with Mr. D’eath today it started out  about as terrible as I thought it was going to be. Turns out he’d never counseled a “normie” and it seemed like he didn’t know exactly what to say. In fact, he mostly just spent a lot of time squeezing one of those stress balls made to look like a cartoon character with eyes that bugged out when you squeezed it. It was pretty distracting especially when I realized it was a cartoon “normie”. The squeezing wasn’t nearly as distracting as his “throat clearing” which kind of sounded like a hand full of marbles being run through a garbage disposal. I kept trying to figure out how he made that noise because he doesn’t really even have a throat since as far as I can tell he’s pure skeleton. He must have flipped through my permanent record ten times before he finally said: So you see Hackson... I mean Jackson, the career opportunities for normies in the monster world are somewhat er... um... (sound of marbles being run through the disposal again) limited. There’s monster hunter, monster hunter’s assistant, mad scientist, ooh hunchback! You don’t happen to have a hump do you? No? Bad luck there then. Ah hah! How about Monster/Normie Relations Expert? (Figured it’d be something where the wardrobe is even less cool than what you wear now) HH Well that was something I certainly knew a little something about. I had an old coach in the normie world that used to always say, “Play to your strengths Jackson, play to your strengths.” So Mr. D’eath loaded me down with college brochures and rushed me out of his office. I think both of us were glad it was over. 

On October 8...

Finally took that test my mad pediatrician set up for me. It turned out to be a test to determine the type and volume of music that brings out Holt. So I sat in a soundproof booth wearing headphones while a technician played music at different volumes and with different time signatures. I made it through waltzes, marches, polka and chamber music but I don’t remember what he played next. (That’s when he started playing the good stuff.) HH Anyway the results of the test isolated the trigger; music with a 4/4 time signature played in excess of 90 decibels. You know what’s good about this? Me neither.

On November 2...

It seems now that every monster knows Holt and me are the “same” person/monster I don’t get hassled as much for being a “normie”. Not that it makes any difference to Manny Taur since he pretty much wants to bully down on any creature who’s smaller than he is. When he first started picking on me I stood up to him cause once a bully knows he can push you around he’ll never stop, but Deuce finally took me aside and said, “Listen bro - you’ve won a lot of respect standing up to Manny and don’t take this the wrong way but...” Apparently Manny was waiting for the right time to mash me like a slow matador. I kept waiting for it to happen but it never did. In fact it seemed like Manny was purposely avoiding me for some reason. It was almost like some monster had said something to him. (Yeah - wonder who that could have been?) HH

On November 15... 

Headless Headmistress Bloodgood asked for “volunteers” to help with the middle school carnival fundraiser so Deuce and I volunteered for set up and take down duty. It was cool and we didn’t have to dress up like clowns or sit in the dunk tank. We set up tents, carried boxes then hung out and waited for everything to be over. We checked out some of the other booths too cause we had plenty of time to kill. Venus and Draculaura were doing face painting; Rochelle was teaching monsters how to build sand castles, some of which would have looked pretty good if they hadn’t been built next to Rochelle’s sand cathedra with working bell tower and miniature gargoyles. The best though was the stunt Robecca performed. She flew over the carnival a couple of times to get every monster’s attention then flew straight up until it sounded like her rocket boots stalled and she came streaking back toward the ground like a falling star. A huge gasp went up from the crowd as it looked like she was going to crash then she fired her rockets back up and totally buzzed the crowd less than 20 feet off the ground! It was so awesome I actually gave Holt a chance to see her second performance. (Thanks dude - it was totally rockin’ and I would have been bummed if I didn’t get to see it) HH When the carnival was over we helped take everything down and all the volunteers went to hang out at the Coffin Bean. It was dark by then and I would have missed out on that part of the fun if things were the same as they used to be. Still hoping I won’t have to give up showers someday though. (That makes both of us “Stinky”) HH

#monster high #monster high diary #monster high journal #wave 4 #jackson jekyll

[spencersstrawberryjello]

Blankets (Spencer Reid x fem!MC)

Summary: After her first case, Aria struggles to keep a level head on the plane ride home. Spencer and the rest of the team comfort her, helping her realize she’s not alone (and also providing an adorable first meeting with our lovely Dr. Reid).

Content: Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Negative self-talk and talk of insecurities (weakness), borderline panic attack

MC’s name and pronouns: Aria (are-ee-ah), she/her

Word Count: 1317

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I stepped onto the jet, my hands already shaking. I just had to keep it together until I got home. When I got home, I could break down. I could not break down in front of the whole team after the first case. 

I sat down in a seat in the very corner of the plane, closest to the window so that I could hopefully stay out of view of everyone as I tried to calm myself down. My breathing was becoming more and more rapid, and I was going into full-blown panic mode. I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes to ward away tears, forcing myself to take deep, steady breaths. 

All I knew was that I could not lose it on this plane. 

I could not lose it on this plane.

I could not -

“Aria? Are you ok?” I whipped my head to the side, seeing Garcia standing in the aisle, concern coloring her usually chipper expression. 

“I’m fine,” I tried to make my voice sound normal, but it wavered. She immediately sat down in front of me, grabbing my hands. 

“Are you sure you’re fine?”

I couldn’t help it. 

I broke. 

Hot tears spilled out of my eyes before I could stop them, and I pressed a hand over my mouth to try and keep myself quiet. 

“No - I just - I just need to get home. I just need to get home,” I kept repeating it, moving my hand so I could suck in deep breaths. It wasn’t long before the rest of the team had heard what was happening, gathering around the section of seats we were in in an attempt to help, but really just doing exactly what I feared.

I didn’t want them to see me like this. Broken, after my first actual case.

I expected some kind of ridicule.

Anger.

To be fired.

Instead, I felt Emily slip into the seat next to me and put a hand on my shoulder. 

“Hey. Hey, you’re ok, just breathe. Deep breaths, ok? In through your nose, out through your mouth.” She started doing breathing exercises, and I tried my best to follow her, even over the erratic thoughts rapidly firing through my mind. 

“I’m sorry - I was trying to wait until we got off the plane, I’m sorry -” I apologized through my tears. Garcia just shook her head adamantly from the seat across from me. 

“No no you cannot apologize for this. This was your first time in the field, you’ve been through a lot today, it’s natural that you’re going to react the way you are.”

“But it’s the first case - I didn’t want to -”

“Aria, stop.”

“I’m not weak,” I didn’t know where it came from, it just slipped out. I don’t even think I’d realized that was why I didn’t want to cry in front of them. But it was out, and there was no taking it back.

“Oh,” Garcia’s expression was a mixture of surprise and sorrow as she pulled me into a hug, holding me even as I just sat there, desperately forcing myself to stop crying, “Nobody thinks that you’re weak. If you stop reacting to this kind of stuff, you lose a part of who you are. You’re not weak - you’re human.”

I sniffled, still trying to quiet my tears as the rest of the team dispersed, Emily and Penelope staying by my side. After a moment, though, a familiar face returned, holding a folded blanket in one hand. 

“Could I talk to her for a minute?” Spencer asked, and the girls nodded, leaving us alone as he took the seat across from mine. He observed me for a moment before seemingly remembering what he was doing, holding out the blanket to me. I shook my head in denial, pressing my hands against my eyes again to fight back whatever remaining tears were trying to sneak their way out. 

“I’m fine. Really, I’ll be fine. I just have to calm down.” I tried to make excuses to him, unable to see his reaction with my hands over my eyes. Despite what Garcia said, I was still under the impression that they were going to punish me for breaking down. I was new, and expendable. It wouldn’t surprise me if we got back to the BAU and Hotch decided I wasn’t cut out for this career, that I should find something else to do with that degree in journalism that has nothing to do with criminal profiling.

My excuses weren’t met with any sort of response, so I didn’t realize Spencer was still there until I felt a light weight on my shoulders. My eyes flew open, reaching over to my shoulder and seeing that he’d draped the soft blanket over me. Even if my mind fought against it, I grabbed the corners, wrapping it tighter around me and drawing a small smile to Spencer’s face as he returned to the seat across from mine. 

“Aria, do you know why we have this blanket on the plane?” He asked suddenly. I didn’t answer verbally, just shook my head in confusion. “Do you know how many times one of us has broken down over a case? Sometimes they want comfort from someone else. And sometimes, everyone could just use a good, soft blanket to cry with.”

I wasn’t even sure if I’d heard him right. “So you mean to tell me that the BAU has… a cry blanket?”

He laughed outright at the name for it, but he nodded. “Mentally, crying is healthy. If you force everything down, you’ve got no way of processing your emotions. And you’re not going to last long in this job if you don’t process your emotions. Actually, scientifically, the amount of mental strain that this kind of job puts on the people working it is - never mind. I’m rambling.” He cut himself off quickly, staring at the ground. I pulled the blanket a bit tighter around me, offering him a small smile as he glanced back up at me.

“Thank you, Dr. Reid.”

He smiled, nodding resolutely. “I’m glad I could help. And please, you’re a part of this team now. At least call me Reid. Or Spencer. Whatever you want; I know everyone calls me Reid, except JJ, she’s the only person that calls me Spence, which is kinda funny because -”

I was smiling now as I watched him talk, hands gesturing wildly and eyes lit up as he went on about some obscure research related to nicknames that I had never even heard of before. His entire body seemed to be engaged when he was talking about something he was interested in; he was incredibly expressive and emphatic, and I had no idea why I found it so adorable. 

I hardly even noticed when he had stopped speaking, looking at me with a strange expression on his face. 

“Why are you smiling at me like that?” He asked. I just shook my head.

“No reason,” I brushed his comment off quickly, a blush creeping up the back of my neck that I was praying he didn’t notice. Luckily for me, he just shrugged.

“Is there anything else you need? Water, tea, coffee?”

“I think I’m good. Thank you again, Dr.… Spencer,” I corrected. He grinned at me, offering me a nod before returning to his seat. I watched him go, a warm feeling in my chest. 

I curled up in the seat, both knees to my chest, resting against the plane window and watching the clouds around us. I had begun to feel a bit better, and despite the fact that I knew my sleep was undoubtedly going to be plagued by nightmares, the blanket around my body served as a comforting reminder.

I was a part of this team.

I glanced over at Spencer, sitting next to Morgan in the group of chairs across from me, and I smiled. 

I was a part of this team, and I was not alone. 

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #season one spencer reid #reid #dr reid #dr spencer reid #season one reid #female mc #spencer reid x female mc #first meeting #hurt/comfort #fanfiction #writing #fanfic #baby reid! #spencer reid first meeting #reid rambles #spencer reid x fem!mc #penelope garcia #garcia #emily prentiss #prentiss #bau #bau fanfiction #criminal minds hurt/comfort #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff