#I haven’t drawn Brett in so long

[keytaryourheart]

#this pic is everything to me #lordy lord #hnggggggg #brett domino #bdt #gawd #urgh this look is so good #I can’t believe my bestie saw IRL #I need to draw the Brett acksully… #I haven’t drawn Brett in so long #I miss him

[heliza24]

Being a physically disabled Dimension 20 fan breaks my heart sometimes

I’ve been thinking about this since last Wednesday’s episode when we finally got a real scene with Lydia, one of the few physically disabled characters in the entire canon of the show. It was nice, but it was really just a lore dump. An excuse for exposition. A moment for Kristen to look good by expending sympathy/pity. (I’m a little frustrated about how that interaction went down. Extending the help action was nice but patronizingly touching the neck of a full-ass adult without consent was not. It was weird and not something she would have done to a nondisabled character).

I have watched almost all of D20 (still missing a couple of seasons) and as far as I know here’s where our list of canon physically disabled characters stand: Lydia Barkrock, Jan de la Vega (who feels pretty problematic to me, maybe more on that in a later post), one of the Dwarven statues in the temple in The Seven (who is not given the dignity of being brought to life like Asha), and Pete’s coworker in TUC2 who is in exactly one episode and is so unimportant I have forgotten his name. I guess you could make an argument that Gunny is disabled, but I don't feel that Lou or Brennan really talk about him or play him through that lens. So in terms of canon physically disabled PCs-- that leaves us with 0.

We do a bit better with neurodivergent characters and characters with mental health problems; Ayda (my beloved) is very well developed and Adaine is a PC. There have been some openly neurodivergent players, like Omar and Surena, whose characters also read ND to me. But that isn’t labeled or discussed in canon, so it's hard for me to know where to class that. I am going to focus the rest of this post on physical disabilities, since that is my area of lived experience. If another fan wants to write about their perspective of neurodivergence rep in the show, I would love to hear that, and will happily amplify.

There has never been a character with a sensory disability or a limb difference or a chronic illness (not a fantasy one, a real one) on Dimension 20. The only NPCs we have are nondescript, similar wheelchair users. And there has never been a physically disabled player at the table. On the flagship show of Dropout, a company founded on diversity and inclusion. It feels extremely pointed to me.

In fact as far as I can tell there has only been one (1) physically disabled performer on any of Dropout’s shows. (Shout out to Brett, you were great on Dirty Laundry.) Obviously I haven’t seen every episode of everything they have produced. If I have missed someone, please do let me know in the comments/reblogs. But it’s a problem. And Sam Reich even agreed with this criticism when I asked him directly about.

I do really hope they’re working on it, as Sam says. But why has it taken so long?

Dimension 20 has had trans and nonbinary and queer players. It has had players of many different races. I’m not saying that the diversity here is perfect; there should always be more POC in the dome, more queer people. We should keep pushing for that. (And we should also push for performers at the intersections of these identities!) But we’ve seen the ways this diversity has expanded and improved the different seasons, because diverse players create sensitively drawn, diverse player characters. They add details to their PC’s experiences that make them feel rich and alive. I’m thinking about each of Ally’s PC’s incredible capital G gender and Aabria “all my characters (even the stoats) are Black” and how excellent they all are. D20 would not be the show it is without this input.

And yet. And yet.

There are 1,000 interesting and complicated themes to explore around disability. Dealing with access. Dealing with ableism. Dealing with compassion and community care. Dealing with none of it and just being a cool fantasy or sci fi character that happens to be disabled. We don’t get any of it.

I watch my favorite show and I see myself in the ace rep and the female characters. But I don’t see all of me. I see a silent but ever present message: you aren’t quite welcome here.

I have this fantasy that I play in my brain sometimes that someday I’ll get to talk to Brennan in person, like maybe if I buy a VIP ticket and risk Covid to go to a live show or we run into each other on the street or something. I am able to look him in the eye and articulate why he NEEDS to include a physically disabled player in an upcoming season. I reference the ways he’s talked about inclusion and writing diversely on Adventuring Party. Maybe I hand him a handwritten letter, or hell, a printout of this post. And because he really cares about diversity and his shows and his fans he would listen to me, and cast a physically disabled performer in the next season.

But I think that might be giving that nondisabled man (whose work I adore, who I respect so much) too much credit. Because he’s had Jennifer Kretchmer, a physically disabled actual play performer, on adventuring academy to talk about access in gaming. He’s hired disability consultants. He knows about physically disabled people, enough to give us shoutouts as inconsequential npcs. And he still hasn’t thought to include us at the table. In over 20 seasons. None of that other stuff matters if we aren't given a seat at the story telling table, and the agency to craft our own narratives equal to other participants in the game.

When Lydia was telling her story in the last episode, I kept wishing for a prequel, where she is more than a plot delivery device and a kind but unimportant parent. I want to know about her adventures with her adventuring party. I want to see a talented, wheelchair-using actor play out the scene when she decides to put the gem in her chest. I want to hear about what happened after. I want to know how she survived. I want it so badly it hurts.

I am in the process of trying to find new indie actual plays that feature more disabled talent. I am learning how to GM myself so I can tell these kinds of stories. But it’s not the same as being a fan of something. Sometimes I don’t want to have to make my own representation. Sometimes I just want to turn on my favorite tv show, the one that I have cosplayed from and written metas about and loved whole heartedly, and see myself included.

If you’re another disabled or neurodivergent fan I’d love to hear your thoughts on this. If you’re not, I’d love for you to reblog this. I would love for the absence of physical disability in this show to be a topic of fandom conversation, at the very least.

#dimension 20 #d20 #my crip media reviews #being a fan is hard sometimes #and being disabled means you get left out of “diversity” all the time #I love this show so much it hurts #I wish it could love me back a little bit more #fantasy high junior year #fantasy high #my meta #dropout #dropout tv #Sam reich

[itanglethingsup]

continued

@irockbluescrubs

It was my nature to get tangled up. It was beyond the risks Blake tended to take. He was the man that climbed up a 12 story building, he was the guy that swung through ropes in order to reach a person in need. You could say he was a daredevil. He had gotten scolded at the start at 51 because of his risk tenacity. Borden was only trying to protect his men; and Casey he was why I was still at 51. He fought for me, and given my story it made sense why I’d go to bat for innocent people. I was only a child when I lost my parents, my sister to a fire. I was on my own. I was the one that had to be strong; I was the one who had to get their life together because I had a life to live. 

I knew the dangers of walking into fires; I knew how to handle the job; and honestly today was a pure accident; but in my eyes a nice one. Because due to my injuries I was now in the same room as this beautiful girl; Melanie, and i felt it that spark i haven’t felt in a long time. I felt that spark you never want to let dim. I knew I was only teasing; the gentle tone in my voice said it all. “ Jello was the game changer, you see I’m a sucker for jello, it’s how I healed myself each time I got sick.” Not that was true; along with a bunch of cold medicine, but he wanted to show the connection why she had him at the mention of jello. Not to mention his attempt to save her from an idiot doctor who simply never got the hint. So now that we made it known we had a jello date; we had to follow through with it right? 

It was easy; to pretend outside these hospital walls the reality didn’t exsit. Gallo wasn’t the guy to flirt easier; and let’s be honest he was probably coming up short with her. But he also felt the blonde was flirting back with him; it wasn’t an idea he convinced himself of in his head. Melanie liked him; it was clear with her next comment; that she’d want to see him again. Now Gallo glanced to the white sheets on the bed as he attempted to conceal the smile that dared to tug along his lips. He was the mess up; he was the guy who fumbled with words, who never said what he felt; but with her; he wanted to test the boundaries. It was wrong; he was a patient in her care nor would he ever want to risk her career; but he also had to tease her on her own remark. 

“ So what I’m hearing is you want to see me again even if I get injured or not, normally we end the first date before admitting you want to see the guy again.” A joke based on the lame movies he’s seen with Violet and Ritter; there was a whole list of films this situation would fit for. Regardless; he’d even tag along with Brett and Violet to deliver paperwork, or do a health check up if it meant he’d see her again. Point was he did want to see her again; where he wasn’t glued to a hospital bed. Once the pillows were done being fluffed; the male had inched himself to lay down, head hitting the fluffed pillows, a lazy smile came to his lips. 

Head tilted to the side; as his gaze was drawn right back to her; her eyes, her smile it came the knots form in the pit of his stomach. He was flattered she wanted to share a piece of her. Why she was a nurse; it made sense. Experiences in life is what dictate our careers; I could say the same for myself. “ I’m happy to hear you haven’t had any more almost injuries; maybe you can sparkle those good sprits on me.” Another joke; as he fought the urge to extend his arm out to her; but that would definitely be seen as crossing a long. 

“ My family died in a fire when I was a kid, my parents my sister, and I was hopeless. I survived, and sometimes it doesn’t feel like I deserve it. It’s why I became a firefighter. Why I will always go the extra mile to save people because a firefighter did that for me. They didn’t give up when my sister my parents were too burnt up to tell a face. They saved me.” It’s who I was; the savior; the guy that will go above and beyond. Lips pushed together to hold any tear that dared to fall at the memory; it was hard to talk about but Melanie she shared a piece of herself; so I felt I could with her. I trusted her. 

Brushing the vulnerable state off; I had echoed out my reply to the jello. “ Do i have anymore test to do or can we jump right to the jello?”

[sylvies-chen]

Brettsey + prompt 15?

P.S. Thank you for doing this 💕💕

15. “When I’m with you, I’m home.”

Sylvie Brett is a talker.

That’s just the way she’s always been. She comes from a warm and loving family, where she was always met with honesty and affection. Her family isn’t perfect, sure, but her parents are unfailingly kind. They always encouraged her to open up, always talked with her. It’s in her blood, she thinks— the natural urge to want to talk it out with the people she cares about.

So, when the majority of the Casey family decide to opt out of coming to her and Matt’s wedding, she takes it personally.

Christie and Violet RSVP and are thrilled to come. But Sylvie badgers Nancy Casey for weeks, grovels endlessly when she visits for a few days, begs her and the rest of his extended family to work out their issues. At the very least, she thought they’d be able to put all of that crap aside for one night and see how happy she and Matt are together, but nope. Not even Sylvie’s willpower can force the Caseys into temporarily resolving their issues. They’re secretive and stubborn— more stubborn than Matt, even— which means to them, Sylvie’s demands are out of the question.

She’s on the phone now, taking advantage of the quiet morning they’ve had on shift and trying her best to get Matt’s mom to see reason. This is their wedding, for crying out loud. Nancy doesn’t have to like Sylvie but she should be there for the wedding— if only to support Matt.

“I’m sorry, Sylvie. Even if I could make it, I think me being there would do him more harm than good,” Nancy sighs through the phone.

“No! No, he’d love it if you were there,” she assures her, pacing around the bunk room.

“Matt knows me, sweetheart. He knows I don’t stay in one place for too long, me being at your wedding isn’t what either of us needs. Besides, I’m sure the others will want to come and that’s a lot of drama I’d rather avoid.”

“They don’t want to come either. I’ve been calling his living relatives all morning but none of them will budge or even try and let go of mysterious grudges they have. I mean, uncles, aunts, cousins. All of them declined the invites. This is an important day for Matt, they have to see that, don't they? If they could just sit down and talk it out I'm sure they could—”

“They won’t,” Nancy tells her sympathetically. “Sylvie, our family is much too complicated. We have a saying in our family, you know. ‘Never have more than two Caseys in one room if you want to stay sane’. Trying to fix our family’s issues is like trying to find a penny in the ocean, dear. It’s just not going to happen, no matter how hard you try or how optimistic you get.”

“Mrs. Casey— Nancy— I’m just asking for you to stop by. An hour, tops. Please. You’re his mom.” Sylvie tries staying calm as she stops her pacing but she can’t help the frustrated edge in her tone.

“I know, dear,” she replies with a lamentful sigh. “But I’ve let Matt down one too many times to ever deserve that title.”

Sylvie huffs defeatedly into the phone, sitting down on one of the cots. Maybe she should have seen this coming. Matt’s not expecting any of his family to show up, he’d told her as much. But she’d wanted to surprise him with it. Now, seeing his expectations of his family be totally and completely accurate breaks her heart. He’d been prepared for the worst; he always is. Only now, she doesn’t blame him. The Caseys have given him nothing but the worst. She doesn’t know why she thought now would be different.

“I’m glad he has you, Sylvie,” Nancy Casey continues softly. “Leaving isn’t so hard for me this time, because I know Matt has someone someone like you in his corner, fighting for him. My son hasn’t had much of that in his life, frankly. I’m truly happy for the two of you.”

Sylvie’s anger towards his mom, and towards all of the Caseys for that matter, still lingers in her. Having her leave, having none of his family be there at the wedding, it feels all wrong. They’re his own flesh and blood, how could they let their stubbornness and secrets get in the way? How could they let down Matt like this?

Matt’s not even bothered by it though. At this point, it’s her they’re disappointing.

But she takes a deep breath, soaking in her words. She’s happy for them and Sylvie suspects that took quite a lot for Nancy Casey to say it so vulnerably. She has enough emotional baggage for a life time, after all. So Sylvie takes what she can get.

“Thanks,” Sylvie settles on replying. Arguing is pointless, so she wishes Nancy a safe trip and hangs up. It’s a little anticlimactic but then again, the Casey family’s drama never was all that flashy and exaggerated. It’s more quiet and seething, like mellow, gently boiling water that burns to the touch.

Sylvie, however, is not. She’s never been one to hide her emotions or leave it below the surface. The Caseys are a frustrating bunch, and she fumes from her nostrils at the thought of it. That is, of course, until she sees Matt walk into his quarters from across the bunk room. The sight of him is enough to make her put her anger on the backburner because her heart just… breaks.

He won’t be surprised when she tells him she failed. It’s not a fact that comforts her.

She pockets her phone, walks over to his quarters, and knocks on the edge of the open door. “Hi.”

“Hey,” he beams from his desk. Her face doesn’t return as wide of a smile though, her normally cheerful demeanour gone. Matt picks up on it immediately (because of course he does) and his brows furrow. “You okay?”

“I got off the phone with your mom,” she explains through tight lips.

“Ah.” He gives a knowing nod, and Sylvie doesn’t even need to finish her sentence. He knows. He knows, and it hurts. “I take it your plan about getting my family to come to the wedding didn’t go so well.”

“No, it did not,” she huffs, moving into his office and beginning her frustrated pacing again. She can feel the anger ramping up in her. “You were right. They won’t holster their issues for one day. Your mom isn’t even coming, she’s leaving Chicago for some meditation retreat. Can you believe that?!”

“I can actually, yeah,” he sighs wistfully, observing her from his chair. “Mom’s been flakey ever since she got out of prison. Making up for lost time, I guess. I told you they weren’t going to budge on this, babe. They’re full of secrets and drama, that won’t change.”

“I know,” Sylvie huffs disappointedly, her shoulders sagging as her pacing comes to a halt. Matt shift his chair towards her slightly and steadies his feet on the ground, motioning for her. She’s instinctively drawn in, moving to wrap an arm around his shoulders and sit her legs across his lap. Her hands gently run through his hair as she starts to speak; an action that she finds strangely soothing. “It just makes me so- so mad,” she pouts. “I wanted to fix things so badly that I didn’t listen when you told me it wouldn’t work. I just went ahead and failed anyway.”

“Hey,” he hushes comfortingly. “You didn’t let me down in any way. You know that, right? You want to see the good in people, always, and I love you for it. And you tried, that counts for something. If they don’t want to come to our wedding, that’s their loss. I haven’t even spoken to half of them in years anyway.”

“See, that’s just messed up,” she points out, pointing at him matter-of-factly. “They’re your family! They’re supposed to love you and show up for you, you’re supposed to feel at home when they’re around. Instead, they’re keeping these little secrets and disappointing people. Disappointing you, me— us.”

“When I’m with you, I’m home,” he argues back softly with a grin.

“I’m being serious,” she replies with a frown.

“I am too,” Matt tells her. His arms are around her waist, pulling her closer in on his lap and moving his free hand up to her face. He brushes her hair away from her face and behind her ear, stroking circles on her cheek with his thumb afterwards. “Everyone at 51? They’re my real family. You’re my family. That’s all I need at our wedding. No one else.”

At those words, Sylvie’s heart is finally able to relax and her shoulders ease up. She’s able to smile for the first time since calling Nancy Casey, letting it spread over her face as she holds Matt’s gaze. They’re getting married and when they do, their real family will be there with them. She holds onto that fact like it’s a lifeline until she feels better, soaking in the warmth of his embrace.

She leans in, cupping his face with one hand as she kisses him tenderly. He sucks in a soft breath, catching her bottom lip in between his before they pull away.

“That sounds perfect to me,” she replies, in a voice somewhere in between a sigh and a happy hum.

Suddenly, the Caseys fade into the back of her mind and out of existence.

#I actually really like this one guys woohoo #abby writes #fanfic prompts #prompt requests #brettsey #sylvie brett #matt casey

[bluenet13]

It's All In Your Head (Chapter 2/2)

Written for @badthingshappenbingo​

Fandom: Chicago Fire

Characters: Matthew Casey, Sylvie Brett, Kelly Severide, Stella Kidd, Wallace Boden, Firehouse 51.

Prompt: It’s All my Fault.

Story Summary: Post-ep to S09E09 "Double Red." Casey's life continues to spiral as his friends worry around him; or what happens when no one notices Casey is struggling and our captain is too stubborn to ask for help. AKA, I enjoyed the ep but needed more angst, h/c, and Brettsey, so I'm fixing it.

Ch2 Summary: After the events of chapter one, Casey is not doing so well but Brett, Severide and the rest of his 51 family are there to help.

Links: ff.net - AO3

Chapter 1 Link

As the call ends, and the five vehicles return to Firehouse 51, Severide and Sylvie feel like they're getting their wish. Because Casey is standing in the apparatus bay, waving at them.

But then they get closer. And they see Casey stumble, what looks suspiciously like blood standing out on the left side of his head. He doesn't seem to be waving, but calling to them. He takes a tentative step forward, then wobbles, and his face scrunches in pain and something more. And then Casey is no longer walking towards them but collapsing towards them.

And before most everyone else has a chance to react, or even process what they're seeing, both Sylvie and Severide are out of their vehicles and running towards their friend. Severide is faster so he reaches Casey first. The squad lieutenant extends his arms and catches his best friend just before he hits the ground. Then Brett is right there, kneeling beside them.

"Matt, Matt! What's wrong? Are you okay?" Brett is practically shouting, then mentally berates herself for asking dumb questions. He's obviously not okay. And it's her fault.

But Casey doesn't respond. Can't respond. His eyes are shut tightly, his breathing coming in slow gasps.

Before anyone has a chance to say anything else, the paralysis that had seemed to overtake the rest of the house gets broken and everyone is moving and becoming part of the action.

Mackey gets out of the passenger seat, leaving Ambo 61 awkwardly parked in between the street and the apparatus bay. Moving to the back she grabs their med bag, ECG monitor, and oxygen, while Cruz gets the backboard.

"Severide, step aside," Brett directs as soon as she sees Mackey and Cruz standing next to them. "Now," she shouts after Severide hesitates.

Letting his weight fall backwards, Severide sits down and slowly backs away. Eyes wide as he takes in the scene before him. He's been a firefighter for a long time so he has ample experience with rescues, fires and emergency treatment, but it never gets any easier when said treatment is done on a coworker and friend.

For their part, Brett and Mackey waste no time in checking Casey's pulse, breathing and pupils. Getting their first warning sign as soon as Casey grunts when Brett shines a light into his eyes. "Mackey, check him over," Brett instructs, while she connects her patient to a monitor, sets him on oxygen and starts an IV, just in case. The patient, she inwardly chuckles at the thought. Knowing Casey is so much more than that. But trying to see him as just another patient is the only way she can think of not to be paralyzed with fear and instead be the PIC he needs right now.

"He has a cut here… but it's starting to scar so it didn't happen now," Mackey says, pointing to a cut and small lump on the side of Casey's head. "He probably just reopened the old wound."

"So this is because of that call," Stella says slowly, joining the scene for the first time. She kneels next to Brett, and grabs some gauze, setting it carefully over the newly bleeding wound on Casey's head. The crimson color taunting her, as Stella wishes she had called him out on his lie this morning.

"What call?" Severide asks, turning to his girlfriend.

"I told you about it, Casey tried to stop a drunk driver from fleeing the scene and he was thrown out of the moving car," Stella explains, not sounding defensive, just regretful and apologetic.

"You didn't make it sound as if it was serious," Severide continues, not sounding accusatory, just worried.

"It wasn't. He got right back up and started doing his job." Stella whispers, deep down knowing she had missed something and this was partially her fault.

Severide nods and turns back to his best friend. Brett is just finishing getting Casey strapped to a stretcher with Cruz and Herrmann's help. And that is what seems to bring him back from wherever his mind had gone to while everyone freaked out around him.

"I don't need to go to the hospital," Casey tries to argue. "I just lost my footing."

"Shut up," Brett says, no longer able to treat him just like any other patient. "You're going to get checked out and that's the end of this discussion. Cruz, Herrmann help me get him into the ambulance!"

"But really, I'm okay," Casey tries to say, but Brett's glare silences him up. Then he seems to realize there won't be a way out once Cruz and Herrmann finish loading him up into the ambulance. "Come on, hear me out. I just got up too quickly and got a little dizzy."

"How long have you been dizzy? What other symptoms do you have?" Brett starts questioning, not missing a beat.

Casey shuts his mouth, knowing he already said too much.

"Matt, please. Help us out here. What other symptoms do you have?" Brett more like pleads this time. "It's my fault this is happening. I missed it on our last shift. I don't want to miss anything now. So please, don't play tough right now and tell me everything."

Seeing the desperation in her eyes and pleading in her tone, Casey sighs and closes his eyes. "I have had a headache since our last shift… Also nausea, dizziness and ringing in my ears." Seeing everyone's eyes go wide, he opens his, trying to give them his best apologetic look. "But symptoms came and went, it wasn't always so bad," he finishes weakly.

"You're an idiot, do you know that? And an even bigger idiot than I thought," Severide says through gritted teeth, his voice raising with every word. "How could you not say something after what happened the last time?" He asks dejectedly, remembering the time a beam crashed into Casey's head and almost ended his career. "But I guess all this just makes me an idiot too, cause I'm your roommate and I missed it."

"You weren't even there," Stella adds sadly. "I was right there, so if anything, I'm more to blame than you."

Brett cuts everyone off with a humorless chuckle. "I'm the PIC in charge of the firehouse and I saw everything happen, so it's all my fault."

"You were taking care of the crash victims," Stella says, ready to defend her friend and stop her from blaming herself.

"Hmm, I think this is really Casey's fault. We wouldn't be here if he had just said something." Severide interjects, while he helps load all the equipment back into the ambulance. Not wanting either Brett or Stella to get down on themselves, and feeling the need to add some lightness to this moment. Because if they can joke about it, then everything will be okay in the end. Or so he tells himself.

"We shouldn't be blaming the guy in the stretcher," Casey mumbles from inside. "Besides, I'm really okay. I don't need to go to the hos…"

"Everyone please be quiet," Boden's voice booms from behind, successfully silencing everyone. "Casey, we will have a serious talk about what happened here, but now you're going to Chicago Med and getting checked out. Brett, Stella, Severide, this is no one's fault."

Everyone nods, as Mackey runs to the driver's side of the ambulance, and Brett gets in the back, next to Casey. The decision not even spoken out loud, both knowing that's just the way this needs to go.

"And… I missed it too." Boden adds to himself in a much quieter voice. If anything this is all my fault, Chief Boden thinks before his thoughts are drawn back to the present by the sound of Severide closing the double doors of the ambulance.

"Severide, you're in charge of the firehouse until I am back," Boden directs, then runs to his SUV so he can follow the ambulance to Chicago Med.

"I still think this is Casey's fault," Severide says quietly, trying again to add some levity to the situation, for his and his teammates' sake. "Everyone, time to get back to work. Tony, Stella get squad and truck parked properly. Gallo, Ritter get started on lunch. Herrmann, come with me so we can locate Casey's sister's phone number," Severide directs, even as he stays rooted in place, staring at the disappearing Ambo 61 and Battalion 25.

-x-x-x-

"This can't happen again," Brett says, as she sits inside Ambo 61, on the bench next to the stretcher.

Casey turns to Brett, but says nothing. They haven't been alone, together since that fateful night and his brain seems to be short-circuiting, and not because of the head injury. Because even if Brett's words and tone say that she's angry, her hand is still clutching tight to his and her eyes can't help but show the concern she's really feeling.

"I'm serious, Matt. This can't happen again. Whatever happened… or didn't happen, can't interfere with our jobs again. If you're hurt, you need to tell me."

Drawing the oxygen mask down, Casey sighs before he bravely, or dumbly (it could be argued either way), intertwines their fingers together. "I could have told Mackey, this has nothing to do with us," he explains, doing his best to sound like he believes his own words.

"Then why didn't you?" Brett challenges.

Casey opens his mouth to say something, then closes it again. And repeats the same pattern a few times until he finally whispers, "I was scared." He settles on a half-truth, cause he's in fact scared, but decides not to mention how he purposely hadn't asked Brett for help, even when Chief Boden suggested it.

Brett's first instinct is to respond that Matt Casey isn't scared of anything, but the still rational part of her brain realizes that won't help the situation, so she just raises her eyebrows in a silent question.

"I'm not supposed to have another head injury," Casey says softly.

"Do you think avoiding the issue will just simply make it go away?" Brett asks, the first of her barely suppressed anger and frustration beginning to filter into her words. "Because let me tell you, Casey, it won't. In life we can't just run from our problems. We can't just say things and then avoid the issue completely. We can do things that hurt people, then try to move on with our lives and hope time solves everything. Because, again, it won't! We have to fight for what we want and be brave enough not only to walk into a fire, but to handle the consequences of what happens next."

After the last word leaves her lips, Brett seems to deflate. The void left open by her departing anger and frustration now occupied by the concern and love she feels for this man. Because she can no longer deny what she's feeling is so much more than simple infatuation.

Staring at Brett with wide eyes, Casey almost bares his soul to the woman he knows he's in love with, instead he just breathes out a simple question. "Are we still talking about head injuries?"

Now it's Brett's time to open her mouth, then promptly close it again. They both know this is about everything but head injuries, even if they're both still worried about that, but Brett knows this is not the right time to get into it. But Casey's expectant, and slightly hopeful, eyes still stare at her, seemingly looking directly into her soul, so Brett parts her lips but before she's able to say anything, the double doors of ambo 61 open and just like that they're parked in front of Gaffney Chicago Medical Center, a group of doctors and nurses surrounding them.

Without even thinking of what she's doing, Brett jumps out of the ambulance, and starts to recite Casey's stats and everything she knows about this injury. Then he's gone. Wheeled inside the hospital, while she's left standing alone, not only to worry about his physical condition, but to think about the words she just spoke. She thought, or hoped, if only for the sake of her broken heart, that she was moving on with Grainger, but evidently her heart is still stuck on one Matthew Casey.

-x-x-x-

By the time Boden returns to firehouse 51 it's almost midnight, but he's not surprised to find the entire house sitting in various places in the common room as they wait for news. Usually they would have all been waiting in Chicago Med but protocols still limit the number of people in the waiting room so they had been ordered to stay home.

"How's Casey doing?" Severide asks as soon as he sees his chief walking in.

Boden sighs and lifts his hands in a placating gesture as soon as he's instantly surrounded by the expectant faces of the men and women of Firehouse 51. "Casey's stable. They did an initial CT, then just in case also an MRI since this is his second head injury and because he didn't go to the hospital right away after the hit to his head."

"Another epidural hematoma?" Stella interrupts anxiously. Remembering Severide telling her the story once, and not wanting Casey and the house to go through that again. Because when one of them is hurt, it feels as if they all are.

Boden shakes his head, but still looks troubled. "Not this time, no. But the MRI did reveal a very small bleed. That's why he seemed to be okay after the injury. But without any sort of treatment, it was always going to get worse with time. However small, a brain bleed can't be trusted to resolve on its own without medical supervision, especially given Casey's history. Dr. Halstead said if we hadn't taken him to the hospital when we did, his intracranial pressure could have continued to rise and we could have been sharing a much different conversation."

"So, what's the prognosis? Is he having surgery again?" Severide asks worriedly, thinking not only of his friend's life but also his career as a firefighter. They had once dreamed of ruling the firehouse together along with Darden, and even if their friend had been gone for a long time, Severide still hopes to someday retire alongside his best friend. But only after many years of Chief Casey and Captain Severide in command of 51. The thought making Severide chuckle inwardly. Because at one point in time, he would have imagined himself as Chief in that little scenario, but nowadays, he's just content with the idea of being to Matt what he's to Boden now.

"Hopefully not. Doctors are already giving him medication and they're hopeful this time it will be enough to reduce inflammation and pressure. They're leaving surgery as a very last resort, but Dr. Halstead doesn't think they will get there. They also did a neurological exam and cognitive testing as precaution, and these didn't raise any red flags. He has the typical symptoms of a bad concussion but nothing that won't go away with time and no memory or strength issues. Dr. Halstead did put in some stitches to the wound on his head as he kept reopening it." Boden explains, grateful the news he has are mostly good, or at least not as bad as they could have been. "He should have been okay. If he had gotten checked out and given treatment right away. The hit wasn't too strong, so there was no reason for his symptoms to get so bad. They think that's also what made him collapse. He had probably been experiencing the headaches, nausea and dizziness since he got injured and without treatment it was all bound to get worse."

Sighing, Severide closes his eyes, still not able to shake the feeling that he should have noticed and knocked some sense into Casey before his situation got this bad. What help would he be to a future Chief Casey if he can't even help ensure he lives long enough to make it to chief? But then he opens his eyes and turns to Stella, finding her hands closed into fits, a scowl on her face. And looking to his sides, he sees similar expressions all around him, every member of 51 feeling this way in some way their fault.

"I missed it too," Boden says, recognizing the guilt in the faces of all the men and women he sees as family, and wanting to draw their attention back to him and away from any self-deprecating thoughts. "We all did. But really, this is no one's fault. But it should be a lesson for all. I will speak to Casey about this once he's on his feet again, but since I have you all here with me, I might as well use this experience as a reminder. Regardless of how simple an injury seems, we have paramedics for a reason. Regardless of any worries you might have about time off or your careers, you can't help anyone if you first don't help yourself. You all know I trust you, and don't like to micromanage. But I will have to start, if something like this ever happens again."

A chorus of yes, Chief follows Boden's words as everyone nods their agreement. Shoulders sagging as everyone seems to deflate, because even if they understand this wasn't their fault, still no one can shake the feeling that they could have done more.

"Now, everyone go to bed, you all deserve to rest, too. Casey is okay and being taken care of," Boden finally adds with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Just then, both Severide and Stella realize Brett isn't with Boden. Mackey had returned after dropping Casey off but they hadn't seen Brett since she climbed into the ambulance next to their roommate.

Bumping their shoulders against each other, Severide and Stella share a relieved smile, before walking together to the officer's quarters. Both, happy their captain will be okay and silently promising to keep a better eye on him, God knows he needs it. But both also hoping they won't have to and wishing this is the push their respective best friends need to finally give in to their very obvious feelings for each other and give their relationship a real try.

-x-x-x-

Casey opens his eyes to the telltale signs of a hospital room... antiseptic smell, incessant beeping, colorless walls and ceiling… All things he hates, together in one room.

Closing his eyes again, he releases a sigh in frustration. Having enough presence of mind to admit to himself that he has no one to blame for single handedly landing himself in this situation. Well, okay, the drunk driver landed him on the ground, but as Halstead told him, what happened later could have been avoided if he had just gotten checked out quickly. Now he should just be grateful his stupidity didn't end his career as a firefighter, and trust his doctors' words that medication will be enough and he will make a full recovery.

Finding himself alone in the room, Casey also wonders if protocols are to blame or if maybe everyone is pissed off at him, and makes a mental note to apologize not only to Boden, Brett, Severide and Stella, but to the rest of the firehouse as well. He's supposed to be their captain, second in command, and needs to set the right example. Not only for doing the right thing, but also apologizing afterwards for a momentary lack in judgement.

Be brave enough not only to walk into a fire, but to handle the consequences of what happens next, Brett's words then replay on his head, and a treacherous smile escapes his lips as he remembers her worried blue eyes and the feel of her hand in his.

And just like that, the power of his mind seemingly conjures the one thing he wants most in the world at this moment. Because one second he's alone in his room, and the next, the door is creaking open and Sylvie is standing next to his bed.

"You came," Casey breathes out.

"Who said I ever left?" Brett shrugs but asks sincerely. And looking at her tired eyes and paramedic uniform, Casey takes her words for nothing but the truth.

"I thought you were angry at me," Casey says, wincing as he remembers her demeanor and words in the ambulance.

"I'm not mad, I'm just…" Brett begins but cuts herself off.

"Disappointed?" Casey provides helpfully, a childish grin on his face.

Brett has the sudden need to kiss the smile off his face, but instead seems to deflate as she decides to go for honesty. "Yeah, I guess that's the right word. I'm disappointed you didn't feel like you could trust me on this. I know I should have noticed something was wrong, and even more, I should have checked you out right after the injury, but that's my mistake and I will do better next time. But Matt, promise me you will never knowingly hide an injury or illness again."

"This is not your fault, Brett."

"Promise me," Brett interrupts before Casey can say anything else. "I can't lose you too, Matt. Even if we can't be more than friends, I still can't lose my best friend."

Casey wants to say he wants to be more than friends, that they still can, but he just sighs, knowing it's not the right time. "I promise, Sylvie," he says softly. "I can't promise nothing will happen, because that's just the nature of our jobs, but I can promise not to hide things again."

"Okay." Brett whispers, relief evident in the way her shoulders slump. Still her eyes look worried as she searches Casey's eyes and body for any signs that he's struggling or in pain. Eventually, her eyes settle on the bandage covering the left side of his head.

For the next few minutes no one speaks, as Brett and Casey just look at each other. Both their minds, lost in the sad memories of what happened last fall, worry for what could have happened today, and a small seed of hope for what they hope will happen in the future.

"Did you really believe I wouldn't come?" Brett asks eventually, when the silence stretches for too long.

Casey ponders the question for a moment, before a sad smile reaches his lips. "Yeah, I guess I did."

Brett smiles sadly in return, her eyes losing some of their spark. "I will always be here for you, Matt. Like you're always here for me. Regardless of our relationship status."

There's no regardless, Casey wants to say, remembering Brett's comment about Gabby, but he doesn't. They're here because of his inability to let go of the past, and commit to fighting for the future he wants, and Brett doesn't deserve him taking advantage of the situation to win himself a second chance. He still wants it, he just needs to stop being scared and find the right time and way to do it. Because Casey can't deny that he's in love with Brett, and God knows his feelings for her are not going away anytime soon.

"Besides, I'm not going anywhere. Dr. Halstead says you will need some help. You need rest to recover, and light and sound will still bother you for a few days, but you still need to eat and take care of yourself. I already told Severide and Stella I'm sleeping on the couch until you're back on your feet." Brett continues after Casey's silence, the words rushing out of her as soon as the first one leaves her parted lips, not wanting to give herself any chance to back down now.

"You can't just up and leave your apartment. You're a pet owner now," Casey teases in response.

"You heard about that?" Brett asks, blushing as she remembers how she ended up with Veronicat.

"There's a lot of gossip around the house," Casey says with a shrug, "it's hard not to listen."

Brett mentally wonders what other things has Casey heard, her blush deepening when she remembers her night with Grainger. Not surprised at the feeling of shame and regret the memory brings. Choosing not to say anything else she makes two mental notes, one to text Severide to find out if the Loft accepts pets, then to call Grainger and respectfully end what they have. He might be a great guy but her heart belongs to another.

"I won't be alone. Severide and Stella are almost always there. You really don't need to disrupt your life for me," Casey explains seriously this time, mistaking her silence for agreement, and still determined not to take advantage of Brett's good nature, even if he wants nothing more than to take her home with him.

"This happened on Severide's watch," Brett reminds him softly. Knowing there's no way she will leave Casey out of her sight so soon after this little incident.

"Don't you trust Stella?" Casey tries instead.

"I do, but she will be outnumbered. We need even numbers to fight the likes of you."

"Who says I want to fight you?" Casey asks, his treacherous eyes going from Brett's eyes directly to her lips.

Brett notices, and bites her own. "I don't want to fight you either, but I will, if you don't start taking better care of yourself." She answers, forcing herself to be professional and her mind to stop remembering the taste of Casey's kiss and the feeling of his hands on her.

"Do you go home with all your patients, PIC Brett?" Casey challenges, suddenly less interested in not taking advantage of the situation, and more into beginning to win his second chance.

"Don't be unprofessional, Captain Casey," Brett tries to admonish, but her tone makes it sound less like a reproach, and more like an invitation.

"I'm high on painkillers," Casey says innocently. "What's your excuse?"

His comment only makes Sylvie smile. And Matt does too. Their eyes locked as an intangible something passes between them.

And the moment they share is not a guarantee for the future and their relationship working out. But a promise, that they will talk, and give what they have a real chance. Because they can no longer ignore they're in love, but they can learn from the past. Last fall, they kissed and tried to talk later. This time, they will reverse the order and make a different outcome. They owe it to themselves, their love, their friendship, and one another.

So this moment, more than anything else, is just that. A vow to fight, but only for each other.

#Chicago Fire #matt casey #sylvie brett #brettsey #brett x casey #kelly severide #stellaride #chicago fire fanfic #bad things happen bingo

[goddamnitkastle]

The Ring

Happy Valentine’s Day!

So I finished my binge watch of the CW’s Nikita and well, I think we all know by now that I just love ripping off scenarios from other media and making Kastle fics. It’s my schtick and I’m gonna run it into the ground.

So here is an unconventional marriage proposal Kastle fic. Honestly this is probably how it would go anyway so it’s not like it’s beyond the realm of reality.

But first I want to give a huge thank you to my beta reader and editor, the amazing @joanofarkansass. This fic was initially, um, rough to put it nicely. But like a fairy godmother, she made it happen with incredible insight and gentle critique. I am literally indebted to you and I cannot thank you enough.

I also want to thank @evilbunnyking for reading the final draft, their awesome support, and catching every misplaced period and comma. Thank you!

And just a heads up, the canon in this is really screwy. Foggy and Karen know that Matt is Daredevil and Daredevil Season 2 is canon but basically just ignore the rest of the Daredevil/The Punisher Netflix/MCU timeline lol. Frank is a free man and clear of all charges here (yes that is unbelievable but just go along with it please and thank you). This is canon divergence borderlining on AU and slightly self indulgent and well, I don’t care ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Enjoy!

Karen pulls up right behind the police cruiser, about a block away from the 15th Precinct. She gets out and knocks on the windshield window, making Detective Sergeant Brett Mahoney jerk his head up at her in fear for a fraction of a second.

But once he sees her he lets out an annoyed sigh and gets out. Karen crosses the front of the cruiser to get out of the street and onto the sidewalk, trying to hide her laughter from scaring Brett.

“What’s got you nervous, Mahoney?” Karen asks as he joins her and pockets his keys.

“What’s got me... oh, you know, about to watch Frank Castle walk out and be a free man. Again.”

“Nelson and Murdock won the case. Unfortunately this was not the sequel to The People vs. Frank Castle that New York City was hoping for.”

“That you were hoping for?” Mahoney cracks, raising an eyebrow at her.

“No. Well, maybe Ellison was hoping for it, but… look I’m just glad he was acquitted and that justice prevailed. It’ll be a more positive ending to write up.”

Mahoney shakes his head and starts walking toward the precinct. Karen follows and falls into his stride.

“Look, I know he didn’t kill that mobster,” Brett starts. “As crazy as that sounds, given his track record. But he gave us a hell of a time when we arrested him…”

“Do you blame him? In the span of two years, he has been charged and put on trial for murder twice,” Karen says pointedly.

“Well, you didn’t hear me say this but… the guys did a great job convincing everyone that Frank Castle was a changed man.”

“He is a changed man, Brett.”

“Believe me Karen, I know. I thought Frank Castle was scary as a man who had nothing to lose. I was wrong. Apparently I needed to deal with Frank Castle when he’s got someone he cares about…”

Now it’s Karen’s turn to jerk her head up at him.

“What did he say?” she asks.

“Nothing incriminating, your reputation is safe... I guess. But it’s all over the man’s face Karen. He really…”

“I know.”

It’s a tense silence but the look Mahoney gives Karen is more perplexed than judgmental.

“Do Nelson and Murdock know?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“Jesus…”

“We kept it quiet for a while but when he was arrested we had to tell them. They’re… slowly coming around to it. Should only take another couple years for them to be sort of okay with us.”

“Yeah I doubt that,” Brett replies sarcastically.

Karen chuckles half heartedly in response.

He quickly sobers up again though. “Well if you’re both happy then… I am glad. You both deserve some happiness after this shit show.”

“Thank you, Brett. That’s really sweet of you.” Karen says, just barely able to hide the emotion in her voice.

“Like I said, you didn’t hear any of this from me. Alright, let’s go get him.”

Just then, the front doors of the precinct building burst open with Matt and Foggy dragging Frank away from a horde of pissed off cops.

“Shit,” Mahoney mutters. He jogs ahead toward the mob with his hands up to stop their hot pursuit.

Karen takes her .380 out of her purse and speed walks toward the commotion. She honestly hopes she’s not gonna have to use it but she’s glad to have the comforting weight of it in her hand. She catches up to Matt and Foggy as they let go of Frank. Matt tilts his head toward her, then lets out a deep sigh.

“Come on Karen, that’s not…” he says as he gestures towards her hand that’s holding her gun.

“It’s just Mahoney, Matt. They’re gonna kill him. We have to help,” Karen insists ardently.

“No, we have to get out of here,” Matt dismisses with a wave of his free hand.

“I’m with Matt on this one, Karen,” Foggy agrees. “You have no idea how lucky we got with this case. And that none of those cops tried to kill him just now.”

“Exactly, because of Brett.” She turns her attention back to Matt, who has his walking stick in a vice grip. “We can’t leave him behind.”

“The cops are just upset. They’d be stupid to try anything. He is their boss, and at the end of the day they have to follow his orders.”

“How can you be sure of that?” Karen argues.

The frustration is palpable between the three of them. Karen just then notices Frank’s silence. She turns to him and takes in his clenched jaw and that trigger finger of his tapping away against his thigh.

“Frank? Are you…”

Just then several loud shouts catch everyone’s attention. Mahoney is on the ground now and a cop has his gun drawn.

“Oh, that’s not…” Foggy gasps.

“Come on Foggy.” Matt grabs Foggy’s arm, leaving Frank and Karen alone.

“Let’s get to the car, Frank. Before this gets a lot worse…”

Frank’s expression had barely changed so when he whips his head toward her she can’t help but take a step back.

“Give me the gun,” Frank commands quickly.

“What? Why?”

“Give me the damn gun, Karen!”

He snatches it from her hands and runs back toward Mahoney and the cops.

“Where are you going?!” Karen shouts incredulously.

“To get your engagement ring!” Frank shouts back.

Karen is stunned and suddenly, the last month comes into focus for her. The jumpiness of his movements whenever she entered a room before he was arrested. His trigger finger tapping away more than usual during the trial. How his bottom lip began to tremble out of nowhere each time she kissed him.

Karen smiles as Frank bolts past Matt and Foggy. He takes on several cops at once, knocking them down like bowling pins. Karen makes her way to the boys as Foggy raises his arms in disbelief while Matt tries to pull him away.

“Unbelievable! Are you kidding me, Castle?!” Foggy yells. “Matt, can’t you do something?”

“I’m in the wrong suit, Foggy.”

“Damn it.”

“Matt is also technically blind Foggy. Do we really want to open that Pandora’s box tonight?” Karen reminds him.

“Come on, let’s get to the car. Looks like we’re gonna have to make an escape. And figure out how we can keep this quiet...” Matt muses.

“We almost got through this damn trial without issue, I swear on the Nelson name…” Foggy groans as he runs his hand over his face.

“Karen, come on,” Matt says as he passes her.

Brett is the last man standing and both men have their guns pointed at each other. Karen is about to join the standoff when Brett holds his hand out and reaches into his back pants pocket. He reveals a ring box. Frank takes it and starts running toward her.

“Go! Go! Go!” Frank hollers at her.

Karen bolts to the car, makes a beeline for the driver’s seat and slams the door shut. Frank joins her a moment later in the passenger seat, flushed pink and his hand wrapped around the ring box.

...

“I’m surprised you didn’t take me to Metro General. Or get us back in that service elevator at the hotel…”

Frank laughs and Karen is relieved that the last 24 hours haven’t deterred Frank.

“Seriously, what was your proposal plan?” She teases as she pokes him in the arm.

“Just... trust me Karen. Okay?”

The Williamsburg Bridge is shadowed by a deep orange sunset as they walk hand in hand. Frank suddenly stops and Karen’s stomach drops. He turns to her, tears in his eyes as he exhales a shaky breath.

Suddenly Karen can’t catch her breath, everything is about to change and she isn’t sure she is ready for it. “Frank, you don’t have to do this…”

“Yes I do. It’s tradition and I’m a traditional man. And the hell I went through to get this ring to you... I want to do this right.”

He gets down on one knee and Karen covers her mouth with her hand. Frank produces the ring box in his hand and opens it. It’s simple; a small, oval diamond on a silver band. It’s perfect.

“Karen. A long time ago now, in some diner, I told you that you had everything with a man that I thought you deserved to be with. I told you to hold onto it, use two hands, and never let go. But the truth was he didn’t deserve you. And I honestly don’t either. But I will spend whatever remaining days I have to be worthy of someone like you. I love you. Karen Page, will you marry me?”

Karen hoists Frank off the ground, holding his face in between her hands. Any doubt she was holding onto is gone now.

“You had me at ‘Give me the damn gun, Karen.’”

They both laugh as Karen holds out her left hand. Frank takes the ring out of the box, caresses her hand before sliding the ring into place. They crash into each other, their hands wrapped around each other’s necks.

“I love you too, Frank Castle,” she says when they finally break apart. She takes his hand as the darkness settles in around them. But the ring doesn’t feel like the weight of her .380. Rather it feels like it has always been there. Like home. And she’ll fight like hell to keep it that way and so will Frank. They’re in this together now.

#kastle #kastle fanfiction #meganerinff #frank castle #karen page #kastlenetwork #joanofarkansass #evilbunnyking #daredevil #the punisher #the ring #This might be my first fic with the entire Hell's Kitchen gang???? #Wow only took 30+ fics to get here #Woo!

[heraldofzaun]

✌ ✔ ✘ for the mun memes?

Roleplay related mun memes!

✌ : Fondest role-play memory, between muses?

Hmm... I generally have a really hard time picking a “favorite” of anything, because I find it difficult to concretely rank things like that. So I’ll just give a few.

I’ve really enjoyed a lot of the writing between myself and a friend who played Orianna and Corin. This was mostly offsite, though, so I can’t show you it. But we had this modern AU where Viktor was a newer employee at Corin’s prosthesis lab, and it was really nice to write a more settled-down/normal Viktor with a supportive group of coworkers.

We also wrote a good deal of Creator AU content, which I still think of fondly even though I think I’ve tired myself out on Creator for a while. It was great fun to write just a real shithead of a Viktor... I think my favorite scene from there is him and my friend’s OC having some real good villain-hero banter, although Viktor - even as a power-hungry militaristic megalomaniac - still is not great at banter.

I’ve also greatly enjoyed writing with @sheriff-caitlyn over the past year! Again, mostly offsite, but bits of it creep onto tumblr upon occasion. (Ever wonder why Viktor’s been exchanging the occasional gift with her?) I think my favorite here is Caitlyn giving Viktor a small lavender plant (their backstory is long and complicated, but all you have to know is that they care for each other very much even though neither of them can be seen in the other’s city-state) to take care of, because he appreciated that she brought him dried lavender on one of the times she snuck over to visit him. She has a matching plant and it’s just very... It gets me in my heart, y’know. Viktor does his best to keep it healthy.

✔ : What drew you to the character you currently play? What types of characters are you generally drawn to?

I’ve been an unrepentant Viktor fan since about 2014, which means that yes, I did play him when Augment: Death was a thing. (I stopped playing before they removed his Hex Core from the game and gave him that VFX update that I find horrid, so I can’t say that I’ve played all iterations of Viktor... But I played the ones that I liked, so.)

I think I liked him at the outset for a couple of reasons, although it’s been a while... I’m not sure if I have him to thank for my love of sci-fi, or if I liked it before and it’s just increased ever since. But a lot of the stuff in his 2014 lore resonated with me, for better or for worse, and I also just thought his design was fascinating. I didn’t write him at the time - well, I briefly wrote his Full Machine counterpart about a year down the line - and I’m kind of glad I didn’t. I think it’s only in these past few years that I’ve been able to write him with the complexity and gravity he deserves.

I think I tend to like a variety of characters, although the ones I write are a subset of that? I’m not too great at self-analysis in this case, but I think I tend to like characters with a lot of internal conflict and struggle or characters who are perceived in vastly different ways by the various people around them. Sci-fi and fantasy elements are also a big win. (Maybe “tortured/flawed/struggling idealist” would be a good descriptor for some of the characters?) Also villains, sometimes. Also autistic-coded/relatable characters. I’ll include a non-comprehensive of characters I like below, and bold the ones I’m currently trying to write.

Viktor, Jayce, Caitlyn, Orianna, Blitzcrank, Annie, Janna (these last two are a case of I Can Fix Them Disease so they’re pretty AU), I have a few other League characters I like but this list is long already, Anarky from DC Comics, I have mixed feelings about the Riddler’s recent portrayals but I like Hush-era, Reformed PI, and BTAS Riddler, Clara from Pathologic (the first one, haven’t played 2) but also Daniil and Artemy to a lesser extent, Doctor Doom but when in a competent writer’s hands (I like Triumph and Torment), R. Daneel Olivaw (and Lije Baley) from Asimov’s Robots series, Erik from Phantom of the Opera (the original book), Sherlock Holmes (original stories and Jeremy Brett’s performances, Elementary is growing on me quite rapidly as well), Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin from the original Man from U.N.C.L.E. TV show not the reboot, Spock, Data, Odo, Garak, and Julian Bashir from various flavors of Star Trek.

There’s more but I feel like this probably gives you a nice and clear insight into my psyche, so I’m going to stop now.

✘ : Any head canons you’d like to imply on your character but know they wouldn’t fit?

I don't think so? Whether this is because I try to limit myself to realistic speculations about Viktor or because I just apply anything to him, I don't know.

I guess I have a few edge-case headcanons that don't really show up often, like Viktor being a competent artist but solely for technology or repetitive patterns. He can sketch prosthesis concepts and draw blueprints just fine, but can't really draw anything... alive. (Without it looking more like an anatomical text drawing than anything else, that is.)

#anonymous #filled prompt | a glimpse into the mind

[let-me-love-you-loki]

Wedding Too Late

A/N: This is the story of what happened in the hallway during Matt and Reader’s wedding. For @lakamaa12​, who has desperately wanted to know. The songs included are “Thinking Out Loud” by Ed Sheeran and “In Case You Didn’t Know” by Brett Young. 

  I sat on a bench in the hallway of the hotel, not quite understanding what was happening. Matt stood a few feet away, halfway between me and Nick, who leaned his shoulders back on the wall. Nick’s hands were stuffed in his pockets, and his blue eyes were on the carpet. A pink tint ran high on his cheeks even as the rest of his face went pale and colorless.

           “This isn’t a joke,” Matt said as he rocked back on his heels. “If this is something you want… if you’re willing…”

           He watched me closely, his brown eyes searching for something… anything in my face. I felt stuck in an impossible situation. One that I’d never thought of experiencing, no matter how much I’d wished for it.

           Nick sighed and ran his hand over his face. “I know you made your choice a long time ago, Y/N,” he said calmly. It didn’t matter. I could hear the hurt in his voice. “If I’d been brave enough at the beginning, things might be different. But it doesn’t matter anymore. You’re here, you’re going to be Matt’s wife.”

           I opened my mouth to speak, not sure what words would come. But none would. My tongue was tied against the roof of my mouth.

           “I don’t intend to get in the way. And I don’t want things to be messed up between us.” Nick looked at Matt, and I could see the horrible guilt that had taken root in his heart. “You’re still my brother. I want you to be happy. And I don’t want you to ever wonder if you can trust me.”

           Matt shook his head and took a few steps toward his brother. “I will always trust you, Nick. With everything. I trust you with my life. In and out of the ring.” He cupped his hand around the back of Nick’s head. “I know who you are. I’ve always known. You’re an honest, good man. Brother or not.”

           The two of them stood side by side, just as I’d always known them, as they’d always been. In their suits, they were dashingly handsome. They were a perfect pair, a tandem set who knew each other inside and out. I had never known one without the other, and I’d hated the idea that a moment would come when it would only be one of them at my side. Truthfully, I’d hoped that it never would. I’d done everything I could think of to keep them together, to keep them with me.

           Shame rushed through me. I’d never intended it, but I’d led Nick on all these years. Everything I’d done, every little action that I’d convinced myself were just friendly, had been a cruel ploy to keep him in my life. I had willingly given Matt my heart—let him carry it with him from California to Japan and back again—but I hadn’t done it completely. Somehow, someway, I’d kept a part of my heart aside for Nick.

           “I’m sorry,” I murmured toward my lap. I couldn’t bring myself to look at either of them. “This is my fault.”

           They turned and crossed the hallway in tandem. Matt sank onto the bench beside me. Nick crouched nearby, almost within arm’s reach but not quite. I wished I could pull the two of them close, to hug them against me, to beg them to forgive me for being so selfish. I made myself look at them. They watched me—brown and blue eyes fixed on me with a fearless acceptance—with open expressions.

           “It’s not—” Nick began, his fingers clenching against his knees.

           I shook my head fervently. Tears stung my eyes. I knew that the moment I started to cry there would be no stopping it. Oh, how I had dreaded this moment. This parting of the ways that I’d hoped so horribly to avoid.

***

           Nick watched her with a deep, steady pain lacing through his chest. She was beautiful even in her grief. He hated himself for doing this to her, for ruining this day that belonged to her and to his brother with his declarations. It was unfair. It was perhaps the most selfish thing he’d ever done, and he couldn’t entirely explain why he’d done it.

           “It is my fault, Nick,” she said. Her words came out small and broken, and he could see the guilt that bled over her face. He watched her blink a few times before she looked up at him. Nick felt himself get lost in her eyes even as they brimmed over with tears. “I’ve been so selfish, and I’ve hurt you both.”

           Matt reached for her hand and squeezed her fingers. “You haven’t hurt me, Y/N. I told you,” he whispered, leaning in and bumping his shoulder against hers gently, “you’re an open book. I’ve known a long time.”

           Y/N looked to her husband-to-be, guilt shadowed in her eyes. “I feel like I’ve betrayed you,” she said. It made Nick sick to see her so upset. “I haven’t meant to, Matt, I promise. I thought I was… I thought I could just be friends…”

           She drew a deep breath and sobbed, and it broke Nick’s heart. Without thinking, he moved to her other side and took her free hand in his. Matt said he’d known about how his brother felt. It was enough in that moment for Nick to give himself permission to comfort her.

           To love her. And to love her openly.

           Nick pulled a wad of tissues from his pocket and dabbed them gently beneath her eyes, careful not to smudge her makeup. She sniffled and her lips twitched, almost as if she wanted to smile. He wished she would. He wished he could see her smile at him like she did… one last time.

***

           Matt watched his brother and his almost-wife together. The way that their eyes were drawn together, the way that their shoulders relaxed when in each other’s presence… they were easy signs to see. He saw in his brother the same things that he felt within himself. Nick looked at Y/N the way Matt did. And she looked at Nick the same way she looked at him.

           “If anyone here is selfish, it’s me,” Matt said quietly. “And it’s time I asked Nick to forgive me for it.”

           Nick’s blue eyes looked at his brother with confusion. Matt took a breath.

           “I saw how you looked at her that day in the airport,” he confessed. “I knew the moment you decided that you were going to ask her out. God, Nick, it was written all over your face. If I were a better brother—a better man—I would have let it be. I would have forgotten her number. And if things had turned out differently, you would be standing beside her now instead of me.”

           He glanced between the woman he loved and the brother who had been his best friend since the day he was born. Guilt churned in his stomach. He licked his lips and tried to force the words past his teeth. “I’m sorry,” he begged. “I’ve been the worst brother to you, and you’ve been nothing but honest and honorable. I’ve robbed you of a life. I’ve robbed both of you of a life.”

           For a moment, they were silent. They settled in their revelations, letting them become part of this new reality. And then, when the quiet became almost unbearable, she spoke.

***

           “I liked you both from the moment we met. You know that,” I whispered slowly, doing my best to get my thoughts in order. “I’ve loved you both for so long. I don’t even know when I first fell in love with either of you, but it’s a part of me. It’s like the core of my being… my soul. And I know it’s wrong, but I can’t stop it. I can’t stop loving the both of you just the same.”

           My heart thundered in my chest. It ached as I looked at Nick. His eyes were on the carpet between his feet. I threaded my fingers with theirs and squeezed. It was up to Nick… if he could forgive Matt… if he wanted this…

           “I can’t imagine life without you,” Nick declared. “Either of you. If you want this, Y/N…”

           Gentle heat skimmed through my limbs. I stood up and turned to face them. My lips curved in a small smile as I set my fingers beneath their chins and tilted their heads up. I looked from blue to brown eyes and felt certainty settle in my center. “I do.”

***

           The reception began as if nothing had happened in the ceremony. People milled about. I sat at the table with Matt on my left and my sister on my right. If I leaned forward just a little, I could see Nick with his easy smiles on his brother’s left. Butterflies dashed through my belly as I thought of this life we were undertaking together.

           It swirled through my thoughts as Matt drew me to the dance floor. My sister hooked the train of my dress up to the bustle and took my veil and bouquet. The soft thump of an acoustic guitar spilled out of the speakers as Ed Sheeran began singing about a love that goes on, gets stronger over time. Matt held me close, his forehead against mine, and smiled.

           “I love you,” he said. “More today than yesterday. And more tomorrow than today.”

           My heart skipped a beat. “I can’t imagine how much. Not with this gift you’ve given me.”

           He brushed the tip of his nose against mine. “I’m not whole without you and him. He isn’t whole without me and you.”

           “How do we make this work?” I asked, closing my eyes and letting him turn me slowly on the floor.

           “With patience and honesty. And love.” He kissed me softly then, a bare brush of our lips together. “Love more than anything.”

           The song faded away, replaced by something new. The tune had a country twang to it. The air pressed close and Nick’s voice filtered into the space. “Can I cut in?”

           Matt looked at his brother and grinned. He let go of me to give Nick a long, hard hug. Then he winked at me and walked back to the table where he asked my sister to dance. Nick stepped into the place where Matt had been. His smile was bashful, eyes bright and crackling blue.

           As Nick took me in his arms, it seemed as if the words to the song floated in for the first time. They couldn’t have been more appropriate. Here goes nothing. In case you didn’t know…baby I’m crazy ‘bout you. And I would be lying if I said I could live this life without you.

           I smiled and lifted on my toes to press a kiss to his cheek. Then Nick grinned so brightly that it hurt and began to spin me around the floor.

Tag List

@mox-made-me-do-it​ @not-that-kinda-gurl08​ @lilred91​ @imagineall-the-fandoms​ @maelleoute​ @librathepheonix13 @lakamaa12​

#wedding too late #too late tales #the too late tales #nick jackson #nick jackson fanfiction #matt jackson #matt jackson fanfiction #young bucks #young bucks fanfiction #aew #aew fanfiction #reader #matt x reader #nick x reader #matt x reader x nick #polyamory #polyamorous relationships

[gins-potter]

TV Guide Article

So I had a lot of fun running down what happened in the teaser and thinking about what it means for the new seasons, so I thought I would do something similar for the tv guide article that came out a couple days ago.  Thoughts and musings under the cut because it got long:

Chicago Fire

“We are going to reflect what the world is like in 2020 for Chicago firefighters, pandemic and all” so that’s pretty blatant that we’re going to get covid-19 storylines in some regard on Fire.  Maybe Stellaride is the couple who have to quarantine together (again i heard that was going to be upstead but am not sure if that’s confirmed or not).

“[Brett] becomes a mentor to young medic Gianna Macket, who grew up in the same rough South Chicago neighborhood as firefighter Joe Cruz” hopefully is Brett is becoming a mentor to Gianna that means they’ll be friendly pretty quickly, I’m not a massive fan of drama within company’s.  I do love that the new girl might already know Cruz going into the house (altho they lowkey missed the chance for a cross-show dynamic, because I think the Halstead bros also grew up on the south side?)

“Look for Brett and Macket to quickly find themselves in harrowing circumstances, Haas reveals: ‘Don’t miss the premiere’s last 10 seconds’“ so we’re gonna have a cliff hanger in 9x01 which is interesting.  Usually they leave that sort of thing for the season finale, altho they could be making up for the one we didn’t get in s8.

“Brett could experience a new partner in her personal life as well.  Will she begin a serious romance with smitten Captain Matt Casey?  The first two episodes will tell.” Well, there it is Brettsey fans.  We’ll know if our ship’s setting sail by 9x02.  The use of the word smitten is giving me hope, along with the knowledge that they’ve been building this ship for two seasons.  Hopefully they don’t back out in the last second.

“Firefighter Stella Kidd heads in a new direction when Chief Wallace Boden asks her to take the lieutenant’s exam.  Her ambition could cause tension between her and boyfriend Lt. Kelly Severide.”  I’m down for Lieutenant Stella Kidd, but not down for tension between her and Kelly.  Happy Stellaride all of s8 was amazing and I don’t want trouble now.  If she does get her bugles (if i’m using that phrase right) I wonder where she’ll go since all the Lt spots are full, but she could pull a Herrmann and just stick around until something opens up and fill in when she’s needed.  I’m a tiny bit worried they’re gearing up to write one of our Lt’s out, but I’m hoping I’m very wrong.

“’Ritter has an epic rescue coming up,’ says Haas, ‘and he might be taking a break from [his boyfriend]’” Yay epic rescue, boo break from his boyfriend (unless that means Ritter/Gallo in that case I’d totally be here for it).

“While Gallo’s effort to woo EMT Violet Lin fizzled” rip, I wasn’t a massive fan of Violet/Gallo but sad to see her go cause she was a badass paramedic.

“[Gallo] now faces an even bigger challenge: impressing his boss, Captain Casey. ‘Especially,’ warns Haas, ‘if he decides to cowboy a call instead of following orders.’“ I’ve seen the theory that Gallo cowboying a call is what puts Brett and Gianna in danger and Casey loses his shit and it leads to Brettsey and honestly?  I’m here for it.

Chicago PD

“... new Deputy Superintendent Samantha Miller who arrives in Chicago with an intense police reform agenda, in a story inspired by the country’s current movement.  ‘Miller wants to abolish the ‘warrior-cop’ mentality and help Hank Voight and Intelligence adapt to the new reality’ says exec producer Rick Eid.... Facing hostility from the community and scrutiny from his bosses, Voight must assess whether, indeed, ‘he’s part of the problem of part of the solution’.” Honestly this type of storyline is long overdue and I really hope they’re committed to following it through.  Because we’ve seen them explore themes of ‘reform’ in the past but they never seem to stick.  I think if cop shows want to stick around they need to take a hard stance against police brutality in their story telling and be willing to be critical of their own main characters.  It’s not enough anymore to see the characters stand up against other racist cops, they now need to look at how their own policing has been racist.  It won’t make PD a completely unproblematic show (and I don’t know if there can be a completely unproblematic cop show) but it will be a step in the right direction.

“While the unit lost undercover specialist Vanessa Rojas at the end of last season...” so, did I miss this happening?  I assumed Lisseth would come back for 8x01 to write off her character but this makes it sound like she isn’t.  Which has me confused because I’m pretty sure they haven’t given her a proper exit yet, but maybe I’ve just forgotten about it.  The fact that they specified she’s an undercover specialist makes me think she’s just going to disappear and they’ll throw out a single line about how she’s gone undercover for another unit.

“Upton’s chemistry with Det. Jay Halstead did not weaken during her absence, but both know the complications of dating colleague.”  this ain’t gonna be a smooth ride to canon Upstead, me think.

“As do officers AdamRuzek and Kim Burgess, still mourning her miscarriage.  ‘It’s become an emotional impediment to their relationship,’ Eid says. ‘They have an unbreakable bond, but are they better off as friends?’“ Fuck off Eid, and just let them get back together already.  That’s all I have to say on that.

“Intelligence’s Kevin Atwater has his own troubles - with members of the force.  After breaking the ‘blue wall of silence’ by testifying that racist cop Tom Doyle was killed in crossfire after racially profiling an innocent Black man, Doyle’s connect friends and family want vindication.” This storyline coupled with the new superintendent sets up a very interesting season.  But I will say this, they better let Kevin Atwater carry this season, because it is his time and he deserves the spotlight.

Chicago Med

“The stories on Med’s sixth season will consider how first responders have been impacted by the coronavirus.  But while the docs at Gaffney Chicago Medical Center will see covid-19 patients, ‘we focus more on how other types of cases are treated in this new environment’ exec producer Diane Frolov says.” this is an interesting way to do covid storylines and i’m interested to see where it goes.  clearly none of the shows are shying away from the current state of the world which i’m personally fine with, but can understand why some people don’t like.  tv is a form of escapism for a lot of people, but personally i enjoy when tv shows aren’t scared to go there and get real with certain subject.

“Amid all this, Dr James Lanik quits as emergency department chief (but stays with the hospital)” rip bye Lanik, can’t say I’ll overly miss you.  I find it interesting that they specify that he’s not leaving the hospital though.  I wonder if that means we’ll see him in another position.

“...and a main character is unexpectedly named to the position.”  I feel like it might be Ethan, because iirc Will is running some sort of clinical trial or something?  And being a surgeon I doubt it can be Marcel.  Nat’s lower than Ethan in terms of hierarchy I think so I don’t think it’ll be her, but maybe that’s the unexpected part.  Ethan or Nat for the position would be my guess.

“‘There’s always a push-pull between Dr Ethan Choi and Nurse April Sexton, but deep feelings remain on each side,’” guess we shouldn’t give up on Sextoi just yet.  pretty ambivalent on them these days which is a shame cause i used to really like them.

“trauma surgeon Crockett Marcel and Dr Natalie Manning have drawn closer since Marcel opened up about the loss of his child.” okay this is the one thing I’m actually interesting in seeing in s6.  Not a massive Marcel fan but I liked the storyline about his past (not liked as in glad he’s gone through shit but liked as in it made him slightly more sympathetic to me).  I’m also curious to see where this thing with Nat goes.  Especially because I swear I saw a lingering glance between her and Will at Maggie’s wedding.  I smell a love triangle?  Love quadrangle perhaps if April’s still into Marcel?  Love pentagon, if Ethan’s still into April?  Goodness.

“...and Dr Will Halstead, who’s tapped to supervise a clinical trial on a new heart disease medication, is still entangled with ob-gyn Hannah Asher.  Whether Halstead should trust the recovering addict is still to be determined.” yup knew Will had some other big thing going on this season.  Don’t need the Asher relationship stuff tho.  Sorry Jessy Schram, I’m sure you’re lovely but you can leave now.  That being said if they pull a Bekker level stunt and have her go batshit in order to write her off, I will actually lose my shit.

And there we have it.  All my thoughts on some pretty big scoops for the new seasons and what I think might happen.

#one chicago #jess rambles

[landlordrecords]

Bassline (& 2020 in general): Re-e-wind

 What a strange year, as everyone, everywhere has said a million times… Writing-wise, I’d been doing Record Collector magazine since 2014, and uDiscover (the Universal Records online mag) for not much less, & that all just seemed to (understandably) stop dead with the onset of the pandemic. Since then, I’ve polished off my chapter on the work of Simon Morris and the Ceramic Hobs for Palgrave, & that’s about it, so you’re more likely to find me over on Twitter at Sniffy (@philblackpool) / Twitter these days, blurting out the odd sentence. I hence thought it might be time to revisit a very old piece…

Like many, I’ve been working from home for much of the year, and although I’ve occasionally wanted to pull out my own eyeballs, it has generally been very pleasant for a voracious music-lover. I started by catching up on the vast majority of my insane, years-deep second-hand vinyl buy piles, and then chomped through a load of ‘long listen’ stuff I’d had on the backburner forever (including, astonishingly, eventually getting through something like 40 hours of Pan Sonic live sets someone had dumped online). I graded hundreds of releases for sale on Discogs, and revisited umpteen musical thangs extensively, including 90s gabba, Sun Ra, music hall, Schoenberg, dancehall reggae, the acknowledged worst albums ever, happy hardcore, Italian house, bounce and makina (I’ve lost track of how much time I’ve spent checking out youtubes to try to identify a couple of most-wanted bounce and makina tunes), Britpop (!), cosmic disco, and Belgian popcorn. It’s been an extraordinary year, packed with cultural discovery and rediscovery. In amongst this, in no way ashamed of my abject love of Discogs, and already having used and edited it for many years, I read the entire guidelines and decided to go hard on sorting out stuff I care about on there. Seeing they’d finally added various more recent ‘styles’, I’ve spent the last month and a half doing a ridiculous amount of edits on a dozen or so niche genres of importance in recent times (footwork, Jersey Club, yadda yadda). My tweakings around Bassline and UK Funky eventually drew me to the attention of UK Garage legend Karl ‘Tuff Enuff’ Brown, a fellow Discogs obsessive not so keen on the editing side of the site, who wondered if I might give him a hand sorting out the mess of his own and his label’s (2Tuf 4U) discographies. His entertaining phonecalls were enough to convince me.

I dug out all my stuff related to Karl’s label to listen to along the way, and found myself noticing how much UKG has been back in the spotlight of late (key, and brilliant, article here: RA: Like A Battle: The Push For UK Garage's Future (residentadvisor.net) ). While by no means unaware of this (I’ve had some lovely promos from Kiwi and the like of late, plus some moodier bits from various El-B worshippers), my status as a confirmed middle-aged semi-retired raver had hidden much of this from me. This leads me onto one of my big philosophical points of recent years: I listened to dance music avidly before I ever went out dancing, and listen to it now in lockdown, and in semi-retirement. There is far too much an emphasis among ever-rejuvenating dance music correspondents on ‘the club’ as the only way to enjoy dance music, but we know that OG disco fans are 60+ and unlikely to be out every weekend these days – is their experience now worthless? Online fans talk up their love of dance music for exercise soundtracks, bedtime calming soundtracks, etc: this is reality. Dance music is as valid to all these people as rock is to people who haven’t been to a gig in 40 years.

The style I felt myself most drawn back to was bassline (largely via Karl’s low-key issue of some DJ Q material). My love of UK Garage and all its offshoots largely stems from how physically removed I have been from it from virtually its entire history. Only my 2000-03 stint in Essex perfectly matched the garage waveform, and that was the 2-step era, quite the opposite of bassline. Despite being largely a northern phenomenon, Blackpool is largely untouched by bassline, being all about punk and bounce to my mind. An instant love for me circa 2007, bassline feels like one of those genres with unfinished business, but remains one I’ve rarely danced to. Cut off in its prime, it is now back, enormously popular, and rightly so, but, due to the vagaries of the digital music world, some of its key material remains tough to access in any decent form.

I originally wrote the piece I have butchered for this one in March 2008, on Myspace (remember that), in reaction to the exciting waves of bassline and UK funky then reinvigorating the world of UKG. It looks a bit embarrassing now, with more writing experience, although I continue to applaud my own willingness to be open about my innocent appreciation of things I love but am not truly part of.

 The most notable misstep in my original piece was the presumption that bassline would become the latest enormous chart sensation. Like happy hardcore before it, the ball was, in reality, fumbled. Instead of hoped-for freaky innovation, the producers also opted, as many in years gone by, for smoothed-out commerciality (in unholy alliance with low-grade grime crossovers), although the main adversarial issues seem to have been police crackdowns and the London-centric ‘cool police’. Although I was long aware of such problems with Niche in Sheffield (the genre’s spiritual home), it appears that the police interference had a devastating effect across the board ( Banned From Sheffield: How Jamie Duggan fought for bassline… And won (ukf.com) ). This largely explains why many of the bassline producers gravitated towards the largely wack bass house/house & bass style so beloved of teenyboppers in recent years. Thank heavens that era is now largely over.

Niche reputedly specialised in an arguably unholy mixture of dated late 90s speed garage and ‘bassline house’ (think ‘Let Me Show You’ by Camisra, and MK’s ‘organ house’), way past their sell-by date (I still only really like a handful of Shaun Banger Scott bits in this style, one single 2009 Brummie CD EP, and one Virgo remix). Ultimately, though, this experiment unexpectedly created something magical. The crucial element here is the 4/4 beat. While undoubtedly skippy, the vast majority of the material favoured had a firm 4/4 beat, always favoured across all key scenes in the north of England from northern soul onwards. When they ran out of tunes to rinse, in time-honoured fashion, they made their own. Long, rumbling walls of bass, organs, and hoppy-skippy beats, with raggafied samples and gunshots over the top. Popular in Birmingham as well (pretty much the centre of a vinyl glut at the time, and now notable in the popularity of DJs such as Chris Lorenzo and Hannah Wants), B-side titles hinted of coke overload. Disenfranchised by London’s movement away from the holy 4/4 (despite a slight revival in the early noughties), and via messenger services and the like, northern producers began to exchange a new hybrid in the mid-00s which took these speed garage and bassline house influences and updated them with current R’n’B bootlegs, with influences from grime (regional grime producers were key here) and, most notably, with rococo basslines. Its most obvious comparison point was Sticky’s garage productions, concurrent with the early grime era. Southern producers such as Agent X, Delinquent (who featured Gemma Fox on their magical 2006 ‘Boxers’), and Dexplicit (Fox again, 2005’s ‘Might Be’) ran with that, and the north lapped it up. Key early pointers also included DJ Narrows’ superb 2001 4/4 tune ‘Saved Soul’, and early 00s DND work (Artwork, later part of dubstep supergroup Magnetic Man). A notable increase in output came in 2006, and 2007-9 were the genre’s original glory years. And the bulk of producers and up-&-comings delivering serious anthems to the scene came not from London and the south-east, but from Leeds (T2, Wittyboy, Nastee Boi), Bradford (TS7), Manchester (Murkz, Burgaboy, Subzero), Nottingham (Virgo, IllMana), Leicester (JTJ, H20, FB & Zibba), and Wolverhampton (EJ, TRC, Brett Maverick). EJ’s Ejucation mix series (all up on Soundcloud) is a good place to start, beginning as the bassline house began to be overtaken by the pure bassline numbers.

Distribution for serious UK garage music has often been woeful, with only high street compilations & the chart singles (‘Heartbroken’ by T2, ‘What’s It Gonna Be’ by H20, etc) making it all over the country, and this helped stymie the true development of bassline, although vinyl prices, dreadful video promos, and the leap to digital in some ways didn’t help. Years on, as an incorrigible vinyl fanatic, I still only have handful of bassline 12”s. Yes, you can now access this stuff the world over via Youtube etc, but decent, high-quality copies of full-length tunes (they are often hacked about to great effect, but in a way which obscures the original intentions, in the mix) are not always the easiest to come by, although the classic producers are increasingly putting out digital compilations of their original work. Material that would, for previous genres, be fiended after, is lost to being just more online links. At the time, I looked high and low for 12”s, succeeding only rarely, largely on the flip of UK Funky releases. The (mixtape) audience, going by comments online, were often extremely young, are probably now still only in their mid-twenties, and are seemingly happy enough with this chaotic model. Bassline originally, as all rave genres, largely ran off mixtape boxsets, and a 2007 ‘Pure Bass – Fantasy’ box from Stoke remains my key document of that era: seven bassline CDs, with many tracks repeated, but packed to the gills, with most tracks only lasting a minute or two in the mix. As with all rave mixes, it has taken me years to suss the majority of the track IDs. In the Resident Advisor piece linked above, DJ Q (from Huddersfield) talks about thousands of lost bassline tunes, the bad side of the digital revolution. My recent Discogs ferreting suggests more bassline tunes than one might imagine did make some sort of decent release, but too many only made white labels, promo CDs for commercial releases (before being snipped from the main release), mix CDRs, or Youtube’s grainy depths. Classics such as TS7 featuring Bianca’s ‘Seems Like’ appear to never have had any decent release whatsoever, despite TS7 going on to be a big name in bass-oriented house, and Bianca Gerald having kept at the vocal turns ever since.

T2 hit biggest, with ‘Heartbroken’, a gorgeous, smashed-vocal garage dub so popular that it even inspired a Jersey Club refix. His catalogue was immediately deep, although I get the impression he has stopped adding to it. One complaint about bassline, including some of the T2 work, regards the untutored vocals, which can sometimes be rather flat, and certainly lacking in dynamics compared to the dazzling US vocalists featured on some earlier UK garage pieces (I refer here, as always, to TJ Cases’ remarkable ‘Do It Again’). I kinda like that - it shows amateur enthusiasm not far removed from punk, and most obviously links to lover’s rock, as does the production at times: it gives a feeling of melancholy entirely suited to the vocals. Other bassline heroes include TS7, who briefly brought to the fore sassy female garage MC T Dot. His productions also include ‘Smile’, one of my very favourite bassline tracks, full of that Simon Reynolds-quoted 'weird energy’ possessed by DJ Hype & co in the early nineties. Male bassline vocalists such as Ideal also remain unfairly forgotten, although some of the female vocalists have gone on to work in related genres since bassline’s peak.

Paleface, an ex-member of London garage rap crew Stonecold GX, runs Northern Line Records (FB, TRC, Wittyboy, Nastee Boi), something of a quality mark for bassline productions, while also making highly successful UK Funky tunes as part of Crazy Cousinz, and later progressing into commercial house territory. He chronicled much of bassline’s high-water mark (including being married to Kyla, since sampled by Drake). Wolverhampton-based Northern Line signing TRC proved particularly adaptable, spewing out a legion of original tunes and remixes before retreating for a while to grime. Leeds’ Nastee Boi was a favourite of mine at the time, with his pitch-black gangsta bassline tunes, but pushed on towards a mixture of underwhelming R’n’B vocal cuts and nursery grime toons. Wittyboy started similarly punishingly but also went smoother, unbalancing the classic bassline rough and smooth combination.

Now that the dubiously poisonous rep of Niche has been dispatched, the key bassline acts have returned to their key battleground, and the genre seems in full throttle again. Much of the new material seems a little one-dimensional to me: producers invariably big up Bristol’s My Nu Leng as, I suppose, a bridge from bro-step to 4/4. Everything, as acknowledged by the DJs, is huge drops and nothing much else. It still sounds pretty hot though – not the updated lover’s rock of a decade ago, but worth supporting. Bassline is NOT finished!

#bassline #bassline house #niche #organ house #brostep #speed garage #uk garage

[kalluun-patangaroa]

Waking up to a new morning...

The Observer, Sunday 15 September 2002

Written by Amy Raphael

After the booze, coke, crack and smack, Suede's Brett Anderson is back in the land of the living with renewed optimism and a new album 

Brett Anderson grew up hanging around car parks, drinking lukewarm cans of Special Brew and taking acid. Occasionally, he caught the train from Hayward's Heath to Brighton, less than half an hour away, but still a world away. He would buy punk records and, perhaps, a Nagasaki Nightmare patch to sew on to his red ski jacket.

His mother, who died in 1989, was an aspiring artist; his father was mostly unemployed and obsessed with classical music. He wanted his son to be a classical pianist, but Brett had other ideas. Lost in suburban adolescence, he was drawn to the Smiths, to Morrissey's melancholic lyrics, his eccentric persona. He wanted to be a pop star; he would be a pop star. He had no doubt.

Anderson moved to London in the late 1980s, living in a small flat in Notting Hill. He studied architecture at the London School of Economics, but only while he got a band together. Here he met Justine Frischmann and, with old school friend Mat Osman, formed Suede in the early Nineties as an antidote to grunge and anodyne pop.

Anderson borrowed Bowie's Seventies glamour and a little of his Anthony Newley-style vocals. He looked to the Walker Brothers's extravagant, string-laden productions and appropriated Mick Jagger's sexual flamboyance for his stage show. Yet Suede were totally original, unlike anything else at the time. Dressed in secondhand suits and with casually held cigarettes as a prop, Anderson wanted to write pop songs with an edge; sleazy, druggy, urban vignettes which would sit uncomfortably in the saccharine-tinged charts.

Like his lyrics, Anderson was brash, cocky, confident. He talked of being 'a bisexual man who's never had a homosexual experience', realising it was an interesting quote, even if he knew he would probably always lose his heart to the prettiest of girls.

When I first met him, in the spring of 1993, Suede were enjoying their second year of press hysteria, of being endlessly hailed as the best new band in Britain. Fiddling with his Bryan Ferry fringe, Anderson asserted: 'I am a ridiculous fan of Suede. I do sit at home and listen to us. I do enjoy our music.'

He talked about performing 'Metal Mickey', the band's second single, on Top of the Pops. 'When I was growing up, Top of the Pops was the greatest thing, after tea on a Thursday night... brilliant! You get a ridiculous sense of history doing it. It was a milestone in my life; it somehow validated my life, which is pathetic really.'

By rights, Suede should have been not only the best band in Britain but also the biggest. Yet it did not happen that way. During the recording of the second album, the brilliant Dog Man Star, guitarist Bernard Butler walked out. It was as though Johnny Marr had left the Smiths before completing Meat Is Murder. The band could have given up, but they did not; they went on to make Coming Up, which went straight to the top of the album charts. Then, three years ago, disaster struck during the recording of Suede's fourth album, Head Music. Anderson was in trouble: the pale adolescent who had swigged Special Brew in desolate car parks was now a pop star addicted to crack.

Brett Anderson sits in a battered leather Sixties chair in the living-room of his four- storey west London home sipping a mug of black coffee. He has lived here for three or four years, moving into the street just as Peter Mandelson was moving out. The living-room is immaculate: books, CDs and records are neatly stacked on shelves, probably in alphabetical order.

Anderson's 6ft frame is as angular as ever but more toned than before, the detail of his muscles showing through a tight black T-shirt. Gone is the jumble-sale chic of the early Nineties; he now pops into Harvey Nichols.

He appears to have lost none of his self-assurance but, a decade on from his bold entrance into the world of pop, Anderson has mellowed, grown-up. By his own admission, he is still highly strung and admits he is probably as skinny as a 17-year-old at almost 35 because of nervous energy. But he no longer refuses to listen to new bands in case they are better than Suede; he praises the Streets, the Vines and the Flaming Lips.

This healthy, relaxed person who enjoys the odd mug of strong black coffee is a recent incarnation. At some point in the late Nineties, Anderson lost himself. He became part of one his songs and ended up a drug addict.

He talks about his new regime: swimming, eating well, hardly touching alcohol. No drugs. Did he give everything up at once? 'It was kind of gradual... giving up drugs is a strange thing, because you can't just do it straight away. You stop for a bit then it bleeds into your life again. It takes great willpower to stop suddenly.'

He sighs and looks into the distance. 'I got sick of it really. I felt as though I'd outgrown it. It wasn't something I kept wanting to put myself through and I was turning into an absolute tit. Incapable of having a relationship, incapable of going out and behaving like a normal human being. Constantly paranoid...'

The drug odyssey started with cocaine, but soon it was not enough. 'Cocaine is child's play. After a while, it didn't give me enough of a buzz, so I got into crack. I was a crack addict for ages, I was a smack addict for ages...'

Another deep sigh. 'It's part of my past, really. I'm not far enough away to be talking about it. It's only recently I've been able to say the word "crack".'

When Head Music was being recorded, he says he wasn't really there. He would turn up but his mind was not focused. The album went to number one but it was not up to Suede's standards; as Anderson acknowledges, it was 'flashy, bombastic; an extreme version of the band'.

He laughs, happier to talk about the good times. 'Last year, when I decided not to destroy myself any more, I kind of disappeared off to the countryside with a huge amount of books, a guitar and a typewriter... and wondered what the outcome would be.'

He spent six months alone. It was a revelation to discover that he could spend time by himself. 'I think a lot of people are shit scared of being on their own. Me too. From the age of 14 to 30, I jumped from bed to bed in fear of being alone. Being in the cottage in the middle in Surrey, I learned that if one day everything fucks up, I could actually go and live on my own. It's a total option.'

For a long time, Anderson had avoided reading books, worried that his lyric writing would be affected by other people's use of language. Last year, he decided it was time to fill his head with some new information. Although he had been told for years that his imagery was reminiscent of J.G. Ballard, he read the author for the first time in the cottage - and was flattered. He read Ian McEwan's back catalogue and challenging books such as Michel Houellebecq's Atomised.

Despite his self-imposed exile, it still took Anderson a long time to perfect Suede's fifth album, the self-consciously celebratory A New Morning. The band tried to make an 'electronic folk' album by working with producer Tony Hoffer, who had impressed with his work on Beck's Midnight Vultures. However, unable to make an understated album, they eventually called in their old friend Stephen Street, the Smiths producer.

Yet more trouble was ahead. Anderson says Suede have faced many 'big dramas' over the past decade - Frischmann left the band early on to form Elastica and soon after ended her relationship with Anderson, moving in with Britpop's golden boy, Damon Albarn; Bernard Butler walked out with little warning; the drugs took control - but still the band were not prepared for keyboard player Neil Codling's exit. He was forced to leave in the middle of recording A New Morning suffering from chronic fatigue syndrome.

Anderson says he was furious when Codling left.'He couldn't help it, I know, but I did feel aggrieved. I felt let down. But more at the universe than at Neil. I tend not to show how I feel about these things in public. It's like when Bernard first left, I was devastated. I felt as though that original line-up was really special. And we will never know what might have been.'

At times, Anderson sounds as though he has had an epiphany in the past year. He smiles. 'Well, you only need to listen to A New Morning to realise that. The title is very much a metaphor. It's a very optimistic record; the first single is called "Positivity", for God's sake. It's a talismanic song for the album. It's a good pop single, but we've haven't gone for a Disney kitsch, happy, clappy, neon thing.'

He looks serious for a moment. 'For me, the album is about the sense that you can only experience real happiness if you've experienced real sadness.'

Has he had therapy? His whole body shakes with a strange, high-pitched laughter. 'No! No! But I am happier now. I feel more comfortable with myself. I feel as though I'm due some happiness. I've just started going out with someone I really like. I've made an album which is intimate and warm. I don't any more have the need to be talked about constantly, that adolescent need for constant pampering...'

A swig of the lukewarm coffee and a wry smile. 'And, best of all, I don't feel like a troubled, paranoid tit any more.'

A New Morning is released on 30 September

#suede #brett anderson #press #interview #the observer #anm #2002

[asofterfan]

Winter Winds

Chapter 2: Wake Me Up When September Ends

Previous ~ Next

Summary: A new client arrives...

Warnings: None that I can think of (shocking I know)

The next morning, to absolutely no one’s surprise, Remy burst through the door of the shop at 11am.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know I’m late, but it wasn’t my fault this time!” Remy panted. He was in the ragged sweatpants and baggy crop top that everyone in the shop recognized as his pajamas, a flannel wrapped hastily around his waist. Gripping his coffee and a pastry bag like a lifeline, he looked around the shop frantically, “Where’s the client, I’ll share my muffin or something to appease them.”

“Oh, their appointment isn’t for another half hour,” Ali deadpanned.

“…Excuse me?”

“Yeah,” Ali drawled with a smirk, “I had a feeling this would happen so I told you the appointment time was an hour earlier than it actually is.”

Remy sputtered indignantly, “That’s…! How dare you, I….!”

“Remy, drink your coffee,” Rafael chimed in, snickering, “Your sleepy sass sounds do not make a particularly compelling argument.”

Huffing, Remy threw his bag onto a chair in his station, “You guys are the worst. I ran here. RAN. I haven’t moved that fast since gym class in high school.”

“You expect us to believe you ran in gym?” Cass challenged.

“Exactly! You guys are literally worse than high school gym!” Remy glared at each of them in turn, shoving his muffin into his mouth angrily.

Shaking their heads fondly, the rest of the staff returned to their various tasks as Remy finished his breakfast, sipping on his coffee. The caffeine didn’t hit fast enough and he found himself yawning. “Uuuuuuuugh,” Remy groaned, throwing himself into an empty chair at the front desk and laying his head on his arms.

“Sleepyhead, don’t-” Brett began before being cut off.

“Relax, gurl, I’m just resting my eyes.”

Brett shook his head, “Famous last words.”

~

“Remy.”

The artist groaned, burrowing his face deeper into his arms.

“Remyyyyy.”

Someone was shaking his shoulder, but he couldn’t be bothered to do anything more than grumble. Surely whoever it was would leave him alone soon.

“REMY!”

A loud ‘BANG’ inches from his face had Remy shooting upright, sunglasses clattering onto the desk and nearly falling out of his chair as he regained his bearings, blinking rapidly. Heart still beating rapidly, he turned to glare at Cass, who was staring down at him with a smirk, her hands still on the desk where she had hit it to wake him up.

“What kind of disrespect?!” Remy exclaimed.

Cass only snickered, “Hey, we warned you not to ‘rest your eyes’, Sleepyhead,” She crossed her arms as she chastised him, “Your client is here, so look alive!”

A light chuckle came from behind her, and for the first time Remy noticed the newcomer. The man was short, standing only slightly taller than Cass’ 5’5”, but he was muscular, and he fit in perfectly with the studio. Ripped jeans and a tattered black tee shirt under a leather jacket, with tattoos poking out from the neckline. He had an undercut, short black hairs contrasting sharply with the messy red/orange gradient that fell around his face, and dark circles under his eyes. When they made eye contact, he gave Remy a crooked smirk, raising his hand lazily in greeting.

“‘Sup.”

Raising an eyebrow, Remy sighed through his nose before grabbing his sunglasses and plastering on a smile as he pushed them onto the top of his head, “Hey gurl, sorry I’m late-”

“I mean, technically you were here on time-”

“Whatever, yeah,” Remy waved his hand dismissively as he gathered his notebooks and his now cold coffee, “Alright, let’s get this appointment going,” He sauntered past the two, entering the lounge in the back, dropping into one of the couches, “Come on, chop chop, waiting on you hon.”

Shaking his head in amusement, the client followed leisurely, as Cass rolled her eyes and returned to her own station.

The lounge was situated past the entry area, and was cleaner and more professional than the staff break room in the back. Photos of the staff and framed art covered the walls, along with a copy machine in the corner, a few couches, and a large coffee table with the artists’ portfolios spread out across it. Consultations were always held in the lounge so that both the client and the artists could be comfortable as they discussed their projects.

As the man sat down, Remy held a hand out, “As you’ve probably already gathered, I’m Remy.”

“Toby,” he replied, shaking the offered hand. Remy noticed his eyes dart down to his pronoun necklace, but he didn’t make any comment.

“So,” Remy crossed his legs, getting comfortable, “let’s talk tatts. I can see you have some tattoos already, you been to our shop before?”

Toby leaned his arms against the back of the couch casually, “Nah. I lived a few hours away during college and just moved back last year. This is the first tattoo I’ve gotten since then.”

Remy nodded, “Alright, so I’ll need to get your information before you leave for our files. But first, tell me about what you’re looking to get.”

Nodding, Toby pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket, smoothing it out as he handed it to the artist with a grin, “I want to get this quote in the center of my back, with some kind of border around it.”

“Well that’s not vague at all,” Remy drawled, taking the page and looking down at the quote.

“Ha! I know, I know,” Toby rubbed at his neck, grinning sheepishly, “I guess I was kind of thinking maybe like, branches, or leaves or something. But honestly I’m open to anything if you’ve got any ideas.

Remy hummed noncommittally. Maybe it was because he was still a little drowsy, but he couldn’t think of anything other than the usual cliches. Virgil might be able to come up with something. “This is a pretty long quote. How big did you want this?”

“I don’t have any tattoos on my back, so I’m cool with it taking up as much space as you think it needs.”

“How do you feel about editing this quote down a little? Just to give some more room for the design.”

Tilting his head, Toby thought about it for a moment, “I think that’d be fine. Could I edit it down myself and email it to you once I’ve worked out what I want?”

“Yeah girl, ain’t no thing,” taking a long sip of his coffee, he leaned back against the couch, “Now, a tattoo this big isn’t going to be cheap, or quick. Obviously what you choose for the final design for the border will effect it, but if I had to guesstimate I’d say you’re looking at probably a four hour session. We could also break it into two session if you wanted.”

“Cool, that’s about what I expected,” he grinned, “Don’t worry, I’ve been saving for this.”

“Oh, I wasn’t worried,” Remy raised an eyebrow, “We get your card information before we start inking. I ain’t letting anyone tatt and dash.”

Toby barked out a laugh, “That’s a good system.”

“Mmhmm,” Remy nodded, making a few quick notes in his notebook, “Alright. I’mma need to photocopy your ID and have you fill out some paperwork while we work out a date for you.”

Nodding, Toby pulled out a beat up leather wallet, pulling out his driver’s license to give to the artist. Remy took it and stood to go to the copy machine when he suddenly froze, staring down at the plastic card.

“Toby, huh?” Smirking teasingly, Remy waved the card in front of him, “Cause this says your name is October.”

Raising an eyebrow, the man in question grinned, “Who doesn’t love October?”

“I’m not a fan,” Remy deadpanned. It was a total lie, of course, October was objectively the best month, “Besides, if that’s the case why go by Toby? Honestly if no one calls you Doc Oct then what’s the point?” Suddenly he gasped, “Wait. Hold up. Girrrrrrrl why do I suspect you have too many autumn tatts?”

“I have exactly the right amount of autumn tatts.”

Looking back down at the license, Remy burst into giggles, “And your birthday is October 1st?? This is too much, like, I am unprepared for this situation.”

“Falling for me already?” Toby leaned forward, eyes bright and wearing playful grin.

Shaking their head, Remy pulled out a form from one of the drawers in the coffee table, “Tsk, I’m surprised it took you that long to bust out a pun,” he handed the paper to him.

“I try to ease people into the fact that I’m both hot and witty,” he grabbed a pen from the coffee table and began filling in his information.

“And modest, too,” Remy leaned against the copy machine as he waited for it to finish printing.

“What can I say, I’ve got it all.”

“Except height.”

Toby gasped dramatically, putting a hand over his heart in mock offense, “Low blow!”

“Any higher and it’d go over your head,” Remy grinned, tossing his ID onto the coffee table and setting the photocopy aside.

Chuckling, the man returned to filling out the form, “Don’t think I didn’t notice the heels on those boots. You can’t be that much taller than me.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Remy took out his phone, leaning against the wall as he flipped through his calendar, “Alright, so as far as setting you up with an appointment. I’ll need some time to get the design drawn up and approved by you. Plus I’m pretty booked, so next available time slot I could fit you in would be next month on the 18th at noon.”

“What day of the week is that?”

“Wednesday.”

“Hm, no go. Do you have anything on Thursday? The 19th?”

Remy scrolled down the page before nodding, “Yeah, that day is clear. You can pick the time.”

“Let’s do 1pm, I am not a morning person,” Toby looked up and smirked, holding out the completed form to Remy.

“Mood,” Remy grinned back, looking over the page to double check everything looked good before grabbing a stapler from next to the copy machine to attach the photocopy of Toby’s ID. “Alright then, I think you’re set.”

“Aw, getting rid of me already?” Toby leaned forward, chin in hand and he smiled up at the artist, “But we’re having so much fun.”

“So let’s quit while we’re ahead, mmkay?” Tossing his hair back, he picked up his notebook from the table, “I’ll email you once I have a sketch of the design to get your opinion or whatev.”

“I look forward to it,” he stood with a wink.

Remy deadpanned, “Well that makes one of us.”

“So cold,” Toby shook his head with a laugh, “Alright, thanks for everything. We’ll talk soon.”

“Uh huh, byeeee,” Remy waved his fingers as Toby finally left the shop. He barely made it to his station to put his things away and start preparing for his next appointment when Cass’ face peaked above the wall dividing their stations.

“Soooo,” She grinned teasingly, “You two seemed to get along.”

“Ali said I have to have some level of professional courtesy with the clients,” Remy raised an eyebrow.

Cass rolled her eyes, “Oh come on, you were both sassing easy as breathing! He’s the first person I’ve seen in a long time, if ever, that could keep up with you.”

“Oh my God, so what? Witty banter happens, it’s all around us, be more chill, girl.”

“You have his number~” she sing-songed, pointing to the form Remy was putting into his client drawer.

“Yeah, I needed his contact info. He’s my client.”

“Oh come on, we’re not doctors or anything, there’s no rule against artist/canvas relationships.”

“‘Relationships’? Ew.”

Cass laughed, “Alright, maybe not a relationship, but there’s nothing stopping you from tapping that!”

Remy felt his teeth clench together, and a lot of words flew through his mind, but he didn’t feel like he had the self-restraint to say any of them in less than a scream. So he settled for a cold, “Right, nothing at all,” as he pushed his sunglasses down over his eyes and returned to looking over the designs he needed to print for his next client.

“Hey, Sleep, I was just kidding,” Cass’ voice was a little softer, “We all know you’re not into that. It was a joke.”

It was a joke he’d heard too many times. It wasn’t really funny anymore. Still, he glanced over the top of his glasses and smiled, “I know, hon, it ain’t no thing.”

“You just seemed to get along more than you usually do with clients,” Cass continued, “If nothing else he just seems like a cool guy.”

“Ooooh, you sure you don’t want to tap that?” Remy wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Cass threw a crumpled up piece of paper at him as he laughed, “This is what I get for trying to expand your social circle!”

“Give up, babe, I’m a lone wolf,” He grinned. Cass shook her head in fond exasperation as they both returned to their work. Tapping on his phone, Remy entered Toby’s information into his calendar to mark his appoint.

After putting his phone in his pocket, October didn’t even cross his mind.

#punk au #winter winds #punk sleep #punk october #The Lad has arrived #sleep/october #(sleepy hallow) #my writing

[indigoire]

Widomauk Beauty and the Beast AU Masterpost

Hey gang! So I have this wonderful AU idea that’s been floating around in my brain since episode two or three of the new campaign, and I have not written a word for it...except for on here via your asks! My tag for this is “Beauty and the Beast AU”, so you can look on my blog if you want to read everything unedited. Here’s basically an outline of what I’ve established so far. 

Caleb

Town Weirdo

Bookworm (it’s his most Belle-like trait lbr)

parents alive, lives with them

his parents travel, leaving Caleb behind, and end up in Molly-Beast’s home, Caleb makes the trade for them to Molly

about nineteen, a LOT less stinky

Astrid is his Gaston, Eodwulf is LeFou, the only difference is that Caleb has a bit of a romantic interest towards Astrid, nothing serious, but she’s stealthily pressuring him to propose to her. Not the exact dynamic of Gaston and Belle in the movies, but definitely something similar. 

I have a vague idea that while Caleb is Molly-Beast’s prisoner that Astrid and Eodwulf go to the Academy (because Caleb’s imprisonment is at least a year long) so really Caleb avoided a Terrible Fate

Trent is still evil af, the empire is still corrupt af

Molly

Molly is a very bird-like Beast

I envision him as this bipedal peacock/swan hybrid, with a lot of inspiration drawn from the swans from the Prisma Visions tarot, pictured here

I find myself torn between him being more humanoid and just straight up a giant bird hybrid, because on one hand the scariest monsters look the most human, but on the other hand it’s FAR more dramatic when he turns back into a tiefling if he’s a giant monster

I think it was @swiftbell​ who I had a convo with where we imagined Molly’s transformation back to normal where he just shrinks down and all his jewelry just starts falling off all around him, and it’s such a hilarious visual to me

because yes Molly absolutely still wears a ton of jewelry. He likes shiny things. He’s (still) incredibly vain. He drapes himself in fancy silks. 

I’m also torn between Molly introducing himself to Caleb or just being called The Beast/Beast by Caleb, hence Molly-Beast whenever I refer to him

Molly as the Beast: dark feathers around terrifyingly pale eyes, peacock like feathers in general, talon-like hands and feet, sharp teeth, voice like the voice Taliesin uses for Vicious Mockery, can get painfully screechy when upset (and sheds feathers when in a tizzy), much bigger than Caleb.

Molly when transformed back has no tattoos EXCEPT for the peacock feathers on his neck, the one lasting mark of the curse

The World/Other Characters

Molly’s servants are comprised of the Mighty Nein, obviously, with perhaps a few of the circus folk and other NPCs as background characters

All of Molly’s servants have been transformed into animals. Fjord is a bullfrog. Jester is a Capuchin monkey (and she likes to spray Caleb with fruity perfumes). Yasha is a big guard dog. Beau is a ferret/weasel. Nott is a raccoon. 

They can all speak

Caleb still has Frumpkin, and Frumpkin is still Caleb’s familiar. Like Belle’s horse, Frumpkin is Caleb’s connection to the outside world (plus he can help him sleuth around and learn about the curse)

The Story

so I had the idea that like the classic tale Caleb begs Molly for three days to visit home and Molly gives Caleb a magic amulet to wear to bring him back (based off of Molly’s Periapt of Wound Closure)

Caleb returns home just as Astrid and Eowulf, having been corrupted by Trent, return home to kill their parents

Caleb has a chance to stop them from doing this and it delays him from getting back to Molly on time

Molly lays dying in the garden by the time Caleb returns

I really want to draw from the classic fairytale a lot more than Disney, though obviously there is a huge influence of both; Walter Crane and Jan Brett’s illustrated versions of the story are also big influences. 

As always, I love taking questions about this AU, as it helps me flesh things out a bit more. I haven’t really had time to actually construct a fic out of this, but I appreciate all the ideas being offered as I slowly worldbuild. Please let me know if I’ve left anything important out. Thank you all! <3

#Beauty and the Beast AU #Critical Role #Widomauk #Caleb Widogast #Mollymauk Tealeaf #Mollymauk #long post #sorta

[akria23]

Y'all were worried that Bay was going up 👀?

Sam likes bay she wants Kaitlyn to go home. That's why she asked Tyler - who's the equalivent to Kaitlyn but would stay? Tyler acted like he couldn't come up with anyone - he wants Rockstar on that block. So then she ask who would he care about leaving the least after Kaitlyn, Rockstar and Hay. After a long drawn out eye roll worthy pause Tyler list the two women Sam does actually talk to the most - Bay and Rachel. Bay because while he likes her and thinks they can start something (cause she's in the wind) they haven't take yet. Rachel because...I don't remember remember I think it was that they got game but he don't really click with her personally. Both of these answers are real so 🤷🏾‍♀️. But him and Bay and ain't ever gonna work their shit out lol they're enemies. Both him and Sam know Bay ain't going on that block - plus she'd already admitted that she don't want the renom to go home. She just wants another terrible person to put beside Kaitlyn so the whole - I love her but our game ain't there yet.. ain't gonna get her up there.

Not that Sam honestly cared what he would do. She only wants to know who not to put up there so Tyler won't get his team to vote the opposite way she wants. Tyler don't work well off the fly but that wasn't hard to get.

So since she wants to know terrible people and those who would still send Kaitlyn home - I'm thinking Brett and or JC. People think Rachel still but she might be an option for Haleigh. Her work def would be easier if Kaitlyn stays on the block.

But I'm not really worried about Bay. Nominated or not. Although my ass still will be pressed if she hits that motherfucking seat.

#bbus #bb20?

[sylvies-chen]

“I found a thrill, To press my cheek to, A thrill that I've never known” At last - Etta James

For Sylvie and Matt please!

“You’ve never punched someone before?”

The tone of Foster’s voice is indignant as they walk into the firehouse from the apron. The call they had just come back from was supposed to be simple and stress-free but had ended up irking Sylvie and grossing her out. She had been getting the stretcher for the poor old woman who had busted her hip when some drunken idiot came up to her on the street and flashed her. Sylvie makes a sour face just thinking about it.

Sometimes, men can be pigs. 

That’s how the whole conversation of punching is brought up. Foster, who wasn’t present when the guy had flashed Sylvie which made her feel guilty, Sylvie guesses, because Foster had berated her with questions as they drove back to the firehouse, asking if she was okay and if she needed anything. Foster had then brought up taking self-defense classes as they had been parking the ambo, which eventually led to a conversation about punching people in the face. 

“No, of course not!” Sylvie shrugs absentmindedly as they make their way to the bunk room. Because it’s true. She hasn’t punched anyone, she hasn’t taken any self-defense classes, she hasn’t done any of it. She understands where Foster’s coming from, but Sylvie’s always been more in the “lover, not a fighter” category. “Why would I?” 

Foster laughs and her attention is drawn to Casey as he walks by. Because of course she does. Because it’s Matt, and Foster knows he’s Sylvie’s blind spot for some reason. “Casey!” She pulls him by the arm and drags him into the conversation. “Brett, here, doesn’t know how to punch. Isn’t that just the most tragic thing you’ve ever heard?” 

“Hey, leave me out of this,” he warns. Sylvie smiles and feels her cheeks heat up, appreciating his comment.  

“It’s not like I haven’t wanted to punch people before,” she explains, “I just don’t see how violence is the answer to anything.”

“I get that, but not even a self-defense class?” Emily counters. “What about the creeps you mentioned that were hanging out outside your building the other day? Wouldn’t it be useful to know how to throw a punch if they came at you?” 

“Ok fair point,” she admits reluctantly. “But it’s not like I can afford to pay for fancy instructors right now. I already have my membership with Olivia’s spin class. Hey, do you know if she’s mentioned anything about offering self-defense classes? Karate? Boxing?” 

Foster shakes her head. “Nope, she’s renting out her other room to a yoga instructor for a month but that’s it.” 

Matt, still standing in on their conversation, looks at Sylvie hesitantly. “I could teach you.” 

Sylvie knows what Foster’s thinking as she raises a suggestive eyebrow at Matt’s idea. “Oh, could you now?”

Matt glances at Foster for a moment, slightly confused, before turning back to Sylvie. “Severide goes to a boxing gym once a week, lets me tag along sometimes. I’m not a boxer or anything but I could show you a few tricks if you want.” 

Sylvie considers it for a moment. Normally, she would have a lot of objections to this, like the implications that could follow it, the teasing she’ll get from Foster. But she thinks about it, figures she should probably learn some sort of self-defense at some point, and agrees to it despite her concerns. “Sure, yeah, I can do that.”

The overhead speakers start blaring for another call, and it’s all hands on deck as the three of them start heading towards the apron again. “I’ll text you the address,” he shouts out to her as he walks to his end of the garage, jumping into his gear and getting in the truck. 

As promised, he sends her the address and she puts their-- well, whatever this is that they’re doing-- onto her calendar for the following week. The days go by fast, and she feels herself counting them down eagerly. It’s almost stupid the number of times Foster brings it up to tease her. Sylvie doesn’t know why she’s so eager to see him outside of work, really. It’s just a boxing class, right?

The day finally comes. She drives around trying to find the place for so long that she ends up being a few minutes late, and when she gets there she’s just. Wow. The place is so old-fashioned, she feels like she’s in the lair of a Batman movie. There are sturdy wooden pillars inside the place, scattered out and surrounded by walls of exposed brick. The light streams in through the windows in soft stripes, accounting for the majority of the light in the place. There are punching bags hanging from wooden beams, workout machines and weight spread out across the room, gloves, and other equipment in bags on the side. She spots Matt from across the room, waving at him shyly. He’s hard to miss, considering that he’s one of the ten people in the gym. Not to mention the best-looking, his gym shirt tight and accenting his muscles in all the right places.  

“Hey,” she smiles at him, watching as he smiles back, his face beaming. He gets a wild look in his eyes, that excited, exhilarating look, and just. Ok yeah. Sylvie’s not normally showing this much skin around him. But it’s her workout clothes, so they’re tighter, and he’s looking at her and she never wants it to stop. 

It does though, and Matt clears his throat as he points to the punching bag next to them. Sylvie sits on the bench on the side of the wall and looks for punching gloves. “People are staring,” she whispers as he sits next to her, his knee brushing against hers. 

“Well, I don’t think they get a lot of women in here,” he explains, his face wincing a little. “Especially not ones like you.” 

“Like me?” Her heart races as she raises an eyebrow, inquiring into his comment.

She can’t tell if she’s imagining his cheeks turning pink as he starts backtracking. “I just- I mean women who look like you. You’re very… well-structured, is all I’m saying.” 

“Thanks, I think,” she teases playfully. She’s ready now and is kind of amped up about the whole idea of punching something. Her heart is beating so loud that she can hear it in her head. She blames it on the boxing instead of the ridiculously handsome firefighter standing next to her. “So where do we start?” She whacks the bag with her fist weakly. 

He laughs watching her put her jokingly spar with the bag. “Your fist has to be balled, first of all.” 

“Right, right,” she nods, watching him laugh even harder as she curls her hands into a fist and makes a menacing face that turns out more pouty and cute than intimidating. 

“So why did Foster want you to learn how to punch anyway?” He says as he ties his shoelace, getting ready to teach her. 

“Oh, some drunk idiot flashed me last week on a call. It was really gross. Anyway, I was talking with her and she wanted me to take jujitsu or something but I told her I hadn’t punched anyone before and--” 

“Someone flashed you?!” His eyes go wide with worry and indignation and god. He’s just so damn gallant. 

“Yeah. I’m fine, really, just grossed out by the whole situation. But that’s why she suggested I learn self-defense.” 

He looks hesitant, nervous to touch on the subject, but she looks at him expectantly and gestures for him to come over with her head. “You coming or what?”

His worry turns into a smile again, and he walks over to her to start their lesson. “Ok, so… here,” he starts as he moves behind her, wrapping his arm around her side and putting his hand on hers. “You want to keep your elbows in, and let your fist move out in a straight line.” Her elbows tuck in as his hands guide her fist from behind into a straight line. It’s intense and even though they’ve only just started, Sylvie’s skin feels hot to Matt’s touch. She moves her fist outwards into a line, taps the punching bag only lightly as she’s more focused on getting the motions down first before adding power to it. “Like that?” 

“Y-yeah, like that.” She hears him swallow hard as he speaks it softly into her ear, still behind her. Sylvie leans back into him just a little bit, lets herself feel the rush of adrenaline that she gets from being pressed up against him and feeling his breath on her neck. “That’s just a regular jab. Then, you can use your other arm, and if you go from the side,” he keeps explaining, moving his head to her other side and placing his hand on her left arm this time as he guides her arm to swing sideways, “then you have your left hook.” 

“Oh.” The word comes out almost like a breath, her mind foggy and her heart palpitating. The punching tips are helpful even if she thinks she’ll never use them, but his presence, the way he’s there with her, and his arms are wrapped around hers, that’s the real thrill. The thrill that she never wants to let go of. 

They keep doing the same motions for what feels like forever. He shows her jabs, right hooks, left hooks, crosses, the works. Eventually, she gets the hang of it, her arms getting used to the feeling. 

“Not that I’m complaining, but when are you going to let go and let me really punch the bag?” She teases. 

“Well seeing as how I stopped guiding your arms ten minutes ago, I’d say you’re ready.” He’s smiling cheekily at her, his expression proud. 

“What?” She looks down at her arms and notices that his arms aren’t there anymore, her arms doing the movements out of pure instinct. “Why didn’t you tell me?” She whacks him on the arm playfully, breaking her stance. 

“I thought you knew,” he laughs. “Here, let’s get you actually punching.” He steps away from her, her back suddenly feeling cold, and secures the punching bag in a tight grip. “You ready?”

“Oh god, ok.” She spreads her feet out slightly and bends her knees a tiny bit, breathing in and out. 

“You got this,” he nods confidently. “Just punch. Jab in a straight line, hit it hard.”

She readies herself, winces a little before punching the bag, not even paying attention to see if she actually does it right. She hears a small thud, realizes that she’s hit the bag successfully, looks at Matt with a stunned look on her face.

“Did I just…?”

“Yeah, you did. And it was a solid punch too,” he smiles proudly. 

“I can’t believe it. That was amazing,” she exhales, shocked and high on adrenaline. The excitement is rushing through her and the thrill of throwing a real, strong punch makes her so overjoyed that before she even realizes what she’s doing, she squeals and jumps into Matt’s arms, her feet lifting off the ground momentarily. They’re both laughing as he puts her down and she uses his arms to stabilize herself. 

Then, all the messy complications with what she’s done set in and she feels her cheeks flush with embarrassment. “Sorry. I got really excited there,” she backtracks as she starts to step away from him, still slightly winded, “It’s just, uh, all the adrenaline. And I really wanted to do that. And Foster says that I… well- you and I- that this boxing thing… I don’t kno--”

She doesn’t even know what she’s saying anymore. Her rambling isn’t even ruled by her own head anymore, just pours out of her randomly. But, before she can ramble any longer, he yanks her in close to him by her arm, and that exciting thrill comes back as their skin touches, hot and sweaty, flush against each other. His hand still has a loose grip on her arm as he leans in and puts his forehead against hers, their cheeks red. “Can I, uh- can I…” his face is inches away from hers, his breathing heavy. She realizes that he’s asking for permission to kiss her, especially after the story about the idiot flashing her, and just. Matt Casey never fails to make her heart explode. He really is just… the perfect guy. 

Her doubts and worries, her fears about complications, even everyone in the gym, they all melt away. For a split second, they’re the only two people in the world as she leans in and fills the space, pressing her lips against his firmly. He inhales sharply, surprised at her initiative, but reacts almost instantly. His lips push back and soon her mouth opens for his, letting his tongue sway in and out of her mouth. 

“I have wanted to do that for so long” he exhales, dumbstruck as they finally pull away. 

“Me too.” She can tell that she’s smiling like an idiot, and feels her face muscles hurt from it. She leans back in, kissing him again as his hands move up through her messy hair. 

Apparently, there’s a “no PDA” policy at the gym, and they end up getting kicked out ten minutes later. Sylvie feels a little guilty for getting him kicked out of his gym, but he shrugs it off and claims it’s fine. “It was worth it,” he smirks. Her guilt melts away after that, because it’s true. 

It was totally worth it. 

#chicago fire #brettsey #sylvie brett #matt casey #song lyric requests #i was feeling a little steamy today ahahaha #we love a consenting king though #this may or may not be based on a real life event i-

[iheartgracie]

beccabrett quotes part 3

“You don’t seem too impressed by Lovers’ Lake.”

“Not at all.”

“What does it take to impress you, Becca? A library? Maybe a bookstore?”

I bumped my knee against his. “I’ll have you know I’m a multidimensional person, Brett. I do more than just read and study for calc.”

“Yeah?” he asked, grin stretching impossibly wider.

The way he was looking at me made me nervous.

“Yeah.” My voice was shaking. Stop shaking!

“Then why don’t you show me one of those dimensions of yours,” he said.

I wanted to catch him off guard, show Brett that there was more to me than the girl who kept her nose in a book. So, without thinking about it too much—and definitely without making a pro-con list—I leaned in and kissed him.”

“The couple sitting in front of us stood up and disappeared into the trees. Brett nudged me, wiggled his eyebrows, and made these very weird noises. It was dumb. I laughed anyway”

“Brett?” I was whispering, like if I spoke too loud then it would ruin the peacefulness.

“Yeah?”

“What are you thinking about?”

“Jelly bells,” he said.

I smacked my foot against his thigh. “Be serious.”

“I am. Doesn’t the moon kind of look like one?”

Then I was laughing really hard because he was right, it totally did.”

“Brett bumped his shoulder against mine.

I bumped his back.”

“Brett dipped his fry in my shake, held it out for me. “Is this our thing, then?” he asked. “Eating fast food at midnight in my car?”

I opened my mouth. He stuck the fry in. “I am totally okay with that.”

“Me too.”

“Are you okay?” I whispered, wanting to reach out and hold him.

“Read to me” was all he said.

“I don’t think you’ll like this book.” It was romantic. Like, embarrassingly so.

“Please, Becca.”

“Can you come over?” I asked.

A half hour later my doorbell rang. Becca was standing on the porch, hunched over. “Hi,” she said, out of breath.

“Becca—did you run here?”

She stepped inside, chest heaving. “Y-Yeah. It sounded urgent. Didn’t have a ride. You good?”

I stared at her: hair sticking to her forehead, bent over like she was about to pass out, mouth hanging open as she tried to catch her breath. This girl had literally run across town to my house. She looked like she needed an ambulance, yet the only thing she seemed to be worrying about was me. I hugged her, wrapped her into my chest until my chin was resting on the top of her head.”

“The thing is, you don’t have to do anything right now. I know it seems like life or death, but all of this weight will still be there tomorrow, Brett. You can make a decision then. Tonight, you should come to my house for dinner.” I paused. Forced the words out. “With me and my mom.”

“I thought you didn’t want your mom to know about us?”

“I don’t. I really don’t. But you need a change of scenery right now. Being in this house is not helping you.”

“You’d really do that for me?”

“Of course.”

Brett rested his head against mine, exhaling a long breath.

“You’re the best girlfriend I never had, Becca Hart.”

“Hamburgers are fine, Mom. That’s his favorite anyway.”

“They are?” she asked, gesturing for the two of us to step inside.

“Yeah.” Brett turned to me, eyebrows drawn together. “I didn’t think you remembered that.”

“Your room is nice,” he said, sitting on the edge of my bed. “Exactly what I was expecting.”

“And by that you mean you were expecting to see a lot of books.”

“Pretty much. Yeah.” Brett laughed and I gasped, pointing my finger at him.

“You laughed!”

“So?”

“You haven’t laughed all day. I’ve been waiting for it.”

“I realized,” I said, “that everyone thinks we’re dating and we haven’t even gone on our first date yet. That’s not acceptable.”

“Completely unacceptable,” Brett agreed.

“So it only makes sense—”

“Only makes sense.”

“—if we declare this as our first official date. And stop mocking me. What movie do you want to watch?” I scrolled through all the different genres.

“Something scary,” he said quickly. Suspiciously quick.

“You should know I love scary movies,” I said. “So if you’re expecting me to get all cuddly, it’s not going to happen.”

#the upside of falling #beccabrett quotes #becca hart #beccabrett #brett wells