#'he looks homeless so this must be recent'

[gabessquishytum]

HI GABE recently my brother's choir presented "Carmen" and the 1800s' sexism of it all made me a little mad, so here I am, taking it for inspiration and making it Gay™ so that I can fecking go to sleep without fuming lol

Dream is someone who likes to party and knows how to have a good time - he dances from lover to lover without much care for "permanence". He frequents most of the bars and clubs around London, knows most of the people working on these places, he does drugs, does people, and most of the regulars knows him and his ways: you can have him for a single night and be happy for it, but do not try to wish for more than that.

Enter Alex, who had recently lost his father and broken up with his secret boyfriend of a couple years, and is trying to go out more and explore his sexuality, and has the misadventure of having his first one night stand be Dream. Needless to say, he becomes obsessed and tries repeatedly to have Dream's attention for himself, following him around the bars and clubs, insinuating himself in conversations, and when eventually he gets banned from most places, he starts waiting for Dream outside.

Hob, on the other hand, as a regular in a couple of the clubs Dream frequents, has known of him for a while but never tried to tap that, no matter how tempting he looks. They exchange a few words here and there but Hob wishes for things more permanent than a single night, and with the way he falls hard and fast, he knows having Dream once and never again would break his heart.

Things come to a head when Alex and two men try to corner Dream when he's leaving with his partner of the night - it's late and dark and the partner dips the moment it's clear the men are there for Dream only, and Alex still tries to reason with Dream to give them a chance, but when Dream refuses and calls him crazy, he orders the men to grab him and throw him inside the car, and Dream is frantic trying to get away from them—

And Hob appears out of nowhere like an avenging angel with three more guys, punching the man closer to Dream in the face and throwing his entire body against the other one, his friends holding them on the ground while the police is called. Alex unfortunately escapes during the brawl like the coward he is.

After that a new normal is stablished - Dream agrees to let Hob accompany him and the partner of the time their place if it's close enough, or just standing outside with them until their cab arrives. They start talking during these walks/waits, developing a friendship neither of them expected. Dream shares about the parts of his life he keeps separated from his night persona, Hob shares about his ex-wife and time of homelessness, and I don't know if I want to make the end Carmen Canon, make Dream bleed out on Hob's arms after Alex stabs him (don't worry, he gets better lol) or just make them develop a relationship where Dream still does as (and who) he pleases but this time with Hob by his side, while Alex goes back to Paul, the only person who seems to have the patience to deal with him, and begs his ex to take him back

We must always gay-ify the classics, if we can! It makes them so much better!

I feel like as per Carmen canon, it would be right to have Alex attempt to murder Dream in a jealous rage! He's seen that Dream is growing closer to Hob, and although they may still be sleeping with other people, it's entirely clear that they love each other deeply. They're friends, confidants, maybe even soulmates, and Hob seems to understand Dream so perfectly. Alex can't bear the idea of Dream loving anyone else, so he decides that Dream must die. If Alex can't have him then no one can.

Hob wishes that he was the one dying as he holds Dream in his arms, begging for the ambulance to arrive sooner, before it's too late. Dream is so thin and pale anyway, but with the blood-loss he seems even more vulnerable. Hob wants nothing more than to give his own life for Dream, but all he can do is try to keep him warm and stem the bleeding. He prays that Alex's aim was bad, and that the knife didn't hit anything vital. He practically shakes Dream to keep him awake. Promises him that everything will be alright.

In the hospital where he finally wakes up, Dream has vague recollections of Hob’s lips pressing against his skin. He's pretty sure that there was an "I love you" somewhere along the way. And Hob is still right beside him, asleep in the tiny hospital chair.

Dream loves his freedom, his transience and his ability to chose whatever person or people he fancies every night. But it also occurs to him that he really loves Hob. And maybe, the two things can exist together. Why shouldn't be have everything?

One thing is for sure - Alex is lucky that he's going to prison, because Hob would gladly kill him, if he had the chance.

[thepastisalreadywritten]

Inside William’s Next Act: Tatler’s May issue goes behind the scenes as the Prince of Wales is rising above the noise — and playing the long game

The burden of leadership is falling upon Prince William, but as former BBC Royal Correspondent, Wesley Kerr OBE, explains in Tatler’s May cover story, the future king is taking charge

By Wesley Kerr OBE

21 March 2024

When I first met Prince William in 2009, he asked me if I could tell him how he could win the National Lottery.

It was a jokey quip from someone who has since become the Prince of Wales, the holder of three dukedoms, three earldoms, two baronies and two knighthoods, and heir to the most prestigious throne on earth.

He was, of course, being relatable; I was representing the organisation that had allocated Lottery funding towards the Whitechapel Gallery and he wanted to put me at ease.

William is grand but different, royal but real.

At 6ft 3in, he has the bearing and looks great in uniform after a distinguished, gallant military career.

He will be one of the tallest of Britain’s kings since Edward Longshanks in the 14th century and should one day be crowned sitting above the Stone of Scone that Edward ‘borrowed.’

William, by contrast, has a deep affinity with Scotland and Wales, having lived in both nations and gained solace from the Scottish landscape after his mother died.

He’s popular in America and understands that the Crown’s relationship to the Commonwealth must evolve.

The Prince of Wales has long believed that ‘the Royal Family has to modernise and develop as it goes along, and it has to stay relevant’, as he once said in an interview.

He seeks his own way of being relatable, of benefitting everybody, in the context of an ancient institution undergoing significant challenge and upheaval, as the head of a nation divided by hard times, conflicts abroad, and social and political uncertainty.

We might recognise Shakespeare’s powerful line spoken by Claudius in Hamlet: ‘When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions.’

With the triple announcement in January and February of the Princess of Wales’s abdominal surgery and long convalescence, of King Charles’s prostate procedure and then of his cancer diagnosis, the burden of leadership has fallen on 76-year-old Queen Camilla and, crucially, on William.

The Prince of Wales’s time has come to step up; and so he has deftly done.

In recent months, we have seen a fully-fledged deputy head of state putting into practice his long-held ideas, speaking out on the most contentious issue of the day and taking direct action on homelessness.

Last June, he unveiled the multi-agency Homewards initiative with the huge aspiration of ending homelessness, backed with £3 million from his Foundation to spearhead action across the UK.

He is consolidating Heads Together, the long-standing campaign on mental health, and fundraises for charities like London’s Air Ambulance Charity.

He was, of course, once a pilot for the East Anglian Air Ambulance services – a profession that had its downside: seeing people in extremis or at death’s door, he found himself ‘taking home people’s trauma, people’s sadness.’

Tom Cruise was a guest at the recent London’s Air Ambulance Charity fundraiser, William’s first gala event after Kate’s operation.

And more stardust followed when William showed that, even without his wife by his side, he could outclass any movie star at the Baftas.

There’s also his immense aim of helping to ‘repair the planet’ itself with his Earthshot Prize: five annual awards of £1 million for transformative environmental projects with worldwide application.

This project has a laser focus on biodiversity, better air quality, cleaner seas, reducing waste and combating climate change. Similar aims to his father; different means to achieve the goal.

On the issue which has caused huge convulsions – the Middle East conflict – William’s 20 February statement from Kensington Palace grabbed attention.

He said he was ‘deeply concerned about the terrible human cost of the conflict since the Hamas terrorist attack on 7 October. Too many have been killed.’

There were criticisms – along the lines of ‘the late Queen would have never spoken out like this’ or ‘what right does he have to meddle in politics?’ – but it was hard to disagree with his carefully calibrated words.

His call for peace, the ‘desperate need’ for humanitarian aid, the return of the hostages.

The statement was approved by His Majesty’s Government, likely cleared with the King himself at Sandringham the previous weekend and also backed by the chief rabbi of Great Britain, Sir Ephraim Mirvis.

Indeed, William and Catherine had immediately spoken out on the horrors of 7 October.

William followed up the week after his Kensington Palace statement by visiting a synagogue and sending a ‘powerful message’, according to the chief rabbi, by meeting a Holocaust survivor and condemning anti-Semitism.

This is rooted in deep personal conviction following William’s 2018 visit to Israel and the West Bank, says Valentine Low, the distinguished author of Courtiers and The Times’s royal correspondent of 15 years, who was on that 2018 trip.

‘William was so moved by his visit to Israel and the West Bank, he found it very affecting, and he was not going to drop this issue – he was going to pay attention to it for the rest of his life,’ says Low.

‘He must feel that… not to say something on the most important issue in the world [at that moment] would be a bit odd if you feel so strongly about it.’

There was concern from some commentators about politicising the monarchy, but this rose above the particulars of party politics.

As Prince of Wales, like his father before him, there is perhaps space to speak out sparingly on carefully chosen issues.

On this occasion, his views were in line with majority public opinion.

On homelessness, news came that same week that William was planning to build 24 homes for the homeless on his Duchy of Cornwall estate.

‘William’s impact is very personal,’ says Mick Clarke, chief executive of The Passage, a charity providing emergency accommodation for London’s homeless.

‘Two weeks before Christmas, the prince came to our Resource Centre in Victoria for a Christmas lunch for 150 people.

He was scheduled to stay for an hour, to help serve, wash up, and talk to people.

He ended up staying for two and a quarter hours, during which time he went from table to table and spoke to every single person.’

Clarke continues:

‘William has an ability to listen, talk and to put people at ease. During the November 2020 lockdown, he came on three separate occasions to help.

It gave the team a boost that he took the time; it was his way of saying: “I support you; you’re doing a great job.”’

Seyi Obakin, chief executive of Centrepoint, one of the prince’s best-known causes, adds:

‘People associate his patronage with the big moments like the time he and I slept under Blackfriars Bridge.

The things that stick with me are smaller in scale and the more profound for it – in quieter moments, away from the cameras, where he has volunteered his time.’

It is a different approach from the King’s.

As Prince of Wales, he was involved in the minutiae of dozens of issues at any one time, working into the night to follow up on emails, crafting his speeches, writing or dictating notes.

Add to that much nationwide touring over 40 years (after he left active military service in 1976), fitting in multiple engagements, often being greeted formally by lord lieutenants.

This is not William’s style. He has commended his father’s model, but he does things his own way.

Although patronages are under review, William has up till now far fewer than either his father or his grandparents.

Charles is sympathetic to William’s approach and his desire to make time with his young family sacrosanct.

They are confidantes, attested by the night of Queen Elizabeth’s death.

They were both at Birkhall with Camilla, reviewing funeral arrangements while the rest of the grieving family were nearby at Balmoral, hosted by the Princess Royal.

Charles has had almost six decades in public life and is the senior statesman of our time, with even longer in the spotlight than Joe Biden.

After Eton and St Andrew’s University, where he met Catherine, William served in three branches of the military between 2006 and 2013, finishing as a seasoned and skilled helicopter rescue pilot.

His later employment as an air ambulance pilot stopped in 2017, when he became a full-time working royal.

At that time, not so long ago – with Harry unmarried, Andrew undisgraced, and Philip and Elizabeth still active – William shared the spotlight.

Now, after the King, he’s the key man.

He can look back on the success of his first big campaign initially launched with his wife and brother in 2016: Heads Together.

‘We are delighted that Prince William should have become such a positive and sympathetic advocate for mental health through his Heads Together initiative and now well-established text service, Shout, among other projects,’ says the longtime CEO and founder of Sane, the remarkable Marjorie Wallace CBE.

‘It is not always known that he follows in the footsteps of his father, the King, whose inspiration and vision were vital in the creation of our mental health charity Sane.

As founding patron, he was instrumental in establishing our 365-days-a-year helpline and was a remarkable and selfless support to me in setting up the Prince of Wales International Centre for Sane Research.’

'Indeed,' says Wallace, 'this is where Prince William echoes the work of his father, showing the same ‘understanding and compassion for people struggling through dark and difficult times of their lives and has done much to raise awareness and encourage those affected to speak out and seek help.

We owe a huge debt to His Majesty and the Prince of Wales for their involvement in this still-neglected area.’

Just as I saw all those years ago at that early solo engagement in Whitechapel, William still approaches his public duties with humour and fun.

‘He defuses the formality with jocularity,’ says Valentine Low, citing two public events in 2023 that he witnessed.

In April last year, while on a visit to Birmingham, William randomly answered the phone in an Indian restaurant he was being shown around and took a table booking from a customer – an endearing act of spontaneity.

On his arrival later that day, the unsuspecting diner was surprised to be told exactly whom he had been talking to.

In October, Low reported, William ‘unleashed his inner flirt as he hugged his way through a visit with Caribbean elders [in Cardiff] to mark Black History Month.

As he gave one woman a hug – for longer than she expected – he joked: “I draw the line at kissing.”

And while posing for a group photograph, he prompted gales of laughter when he quipped: “Who is pinching my bottom?”’

Low believes that when William eventually becomes king, he will be more ‘radical’ than his father but wonders if people will respond to ‘call me William’ when ‘the whole point of the Royal Family is mystique and being different.’

However, William has thought deeply about his current role and is prepared for whatever his future holds.

For now, there is a decision to be made on Prince George’s secondary schooling. It’s said that five public schools are being considered, all fee-paying.

Eton is single-sex and boarding but close to home. Marlborough (Catherine’s alma mater) is co-ed and full boarding. And Oundle, St Edward’s Oxford and Bradfield College (close to Kate’s parents) are co-ed with a mix of boarding and day.

As parents, William and Catherine aspire to raise their children ‘as good people with the idea of service and duty to others as very important’, William said in an interview with the BBC in 2016.

‘Within our family unit, we are a normal family.’ Which may be one reason why he is so resistant to their privacy being compromised either by the media or close family members.

The 19th-century author Walter Bagehot wrote:

‘A family on the throne is an interesting idea also. It brings down the pride of sovereignty to the level of petty life… a princely marriage is the brilliant edition of a universal fact, and, as such, it rivets mankind.’

If hereditary monarchy is to survive, it must beguile us but also demonstrate its utility, that it is a force for good.

William said in that 2016 interview, ‘I’m going to get plenty of criticism over my lifetime,’ echoing Queen Elizabeth II’s famous Guildhall speech in 1992 ‘that criticism is good for people and institutions that are part of public life. No institution – city, monarchy, whatever – should expect to be free from the scrutiny of those who give it their loyalty and support, not to mention those who don’t.’

William saw close up his mother’s ability to bring public focus and her own personal magnetism to any subject or cause she focused on.

He admires his father’s work ethic, the way he ‘really digs down,’ sometimes literally (I understand that gardening is giving the King solace during his cancer treatment).

But the biggest influence for William was Her late Majesty, as he said on her 90th birthday.

As an Eton schoolboy, William made weekend visits to the big house on the hill, being mentored by Granny rather as she had been tutored in the Second World War by the then vice-provost of Eton, Sir Henry Marten.

William said in 2016:

‘In the Queen, I have an extraordinary example of somebody who’s done an enormous amount of good and she’s probably the best role model I could have.’

That said, his aim was ‘finding your own path but with very good examples and guidance around you to support you.'

Queen Elizabeth II had a brilliant way of rising above the fray and usually being either a step ahead of public opinion or in tune with it.

If you are at the helm of affairs in a privileged hereditary position, your duty is to serve and use your pulpit for the benefit of others.

In a democracy, monarchy is accountable.

The scrutiny is intense, with an army of commentators paid for wisdom and hot air about each no-show, parsing each announcement, interpreting each image.

William takes the long view. He has ‘wide horizons,’ says Mick Clarke.

‘There are so many causes that are more palatable and easier to achieve than ending homelessness, but his commitment and drive are 100 per cent.’

The prince seeks a different way of being royal in an ancient institution that must move with the times. His task? To develop something modern in an ever-changing world.

He faces all sorts of new issues – or old issues in new guises.

Noises off from within the family don’t help – Andrew’s difficulties, or the suggestions of prejudice from Montecito a couple of years ago (now seemingly withdrawn), which prompted William’s most vehement soundbite: ‘We’re very much not a racist family.’

William is maybe a new kind of leader who can keep the monarchy relevant and resonant in the coming decades.

Queen Elizabeth II is a powerful exemplar and memory, but she was of her time. William is his own man.

He must overcome and think beyond ‘the unforgiving minute.’

Indeed, he could seek inspiration in Rudyard Kipling’s poem, If.

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch[…]

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,

And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

This article was first published in the May 2024 issue, on sale Thursday, 28 March.

[darkserenity24]

𝑭𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒐𝒎 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒐𝒔 - 𝑪𝒉. 6

Loki x Reader

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙞𝙣𝙫𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙇𝙤𝙠𝙞 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙢 𝙜𝙖𝙢𝙚 𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙖 𝙗𝙞𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙖𝙣 𝙪𝙣𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙣.

𝘈/𝘕: 𝘎𝘭𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬! 𝘐'𝘮 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰. 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦-𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘤. 𝘐 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘐 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘥 🫡

𝙁𝙖𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙮 𝙂𝙖𝙢𝙚 𝙉𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 🃏

Tony had recently hired a live-in chef for the team, one whose services you certainly didn’t hesitate to take advantage of. 

Loki on the other hand did not seem to share in your enthusiasm as he stared blankly at the breakfast spread before him. 

You had all but dragged him from his room to sit out in the common area for breakfast. He made sure to vocalize his complaints and grumbled about as normal, but he still did as you requested.

As you ate through your sleepy haze, you barely noticed Loki’s attention had shifted onto you.

You paused in your eating, sending him a cautious look. “What? Is there something on my face?”

He shook his head negative but continued to eye you strangely. 

“I…” He hesitated, brows pinching together slightly as he observed you. “Are you well?”

You sat your fork down with a clink and cleared your throat before nodding. “Yeah. Why do you ask?” 

Leaning forward on the table, his eyes narrowed slightly as he studied you. “Something seems… different.”

You frowned, rubbing your forehead. “Yeah, I know. I haven’t been getting much sleep lately for some reason.  I’m sure I look kind of bad.”

“That isn’t it. I am used to your constant appearance of fatigue. The lines under your eyes are ever-growing.” He smirked at the look of disbelief growing on your face.

Your mouth dropped. “That is so mean!”

“Only the truth. However, there is something unusual. I simply cannot put a finger on it.” He hummed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You uttered. “But what I do know is that the team has been pretty satisfied with how our outings have been going so far.”

He stared at you for a moment before raising a skeptical brow. “Truly?”

You grinned, relieved he didn’t notice your swift subject change.

“Yes! They have been approving more and more outings for us which is very exciting.”

“Yes, very exciting indeed.” He muttered dryly.

“That’s the spirit! I’ve already started planning our next outing.”

“Which is?”

“We’ll be visiting the Men’s Covenant House of New York.” You grinned before taking another bite of your food.

His face screwed up in distaste. “Excuse me?”

“It’s a homeless shelter a few blocks away. Tony donates to them pretty regularly. I thought it’d be good for you to see what non-rich people or princes' lives look like.” You shrugged. “Plus, it’s always good to give back when you can. I know you don’t necessarily cook or anything like that, but maybe you can provide some sort of encouragement or conversation for them.”

The bewildered expression on his face was almost kodak worthy. He blinked rapidly before leaning forward slightly.

“Firstly, your planet does not house all of its inhabitants?” His pitch rose to a comical level. “And second, what could I possibly say to these pitiful humans? We are clearly not the same. Complete opposites if I must say.”

“Sadly, we do have a large homeless population here in the U.S. We’d rather spend money on destructive wars than help people in need.” You sighed. “And you do have something to share. You have your charm, your charisma, and your confidence. A lot of these people have been through so much and have lost their spark.” You smiled, placing a hand on his. This quickly grabbed his attention.

“If anyone can help them get it back, it’s you. Let’s put that silver tongue to good use for once.” You grinned.

He stared at you in contemplation for a moment before finally giving in with a dramatic roll of his eyes. 

“If I must.” He obliged, sighing heavily.

You placed your fork down on your plate to do a little happy dance in your seat. You didn’t miss the subtle twitch of his lips as he watched on, attempting to hide his amusement with a steady look of annoyance.

Sam walked into the room, quickly greeting you with a quick fist bump. “Hey, missy,” 

“Hey, Sam.”

To your shock, he didn’t hesitate to acknowledge Loki as well. “What’s up, Loki.” He nodded politely.

“Samuel,” Loki remarked tensely, causing Sam to grimace.

“Please, not the government name, man. Just Sam. Or Wilson. Really, anything but that.” Sam pleaded while filling his plate with food before pausing.

“Wait, not anything… whatever. You know what I mean.” He rasped, shaking his head.

Loki only smirked. 

That little interaction made a smile grow on your face. You doubted those two would ever become the best of friends, but it was nice to know that there was a lot less tension in the air. 

Things were seeming to move forward in a positive direction. 

******

You fidgeted nervously as you sat upright on the examination table, the bright shine of the fluorescence above you making you feel a bit queasy.

You stared down at your hands, noticing how short your nails were getting. Nail biting was never your go to coping mechanism before, but lately, you’ve found yourself subconsciously doing it more and more.

A light knock sounded on the wood-colored door before it opened. Dr. Cho walked in. She greeted you with your name and a brief smile.

Glancing down at the clipboard in her hand, a look of stoicism was quickly shrouded upon her elegant features.  

“So we ran a few more tests with the fresh blood samples you provided us earlier and just received the results.”

You rubbed your sweaty palms against your pants, swallowing nervously. “And?”

She paused a beat before meeting your gaze. “I think it’s best if we upped your meds.”

You blinked. “Oh.”

“It shouldn’t be permanent. Just for now. We’ll continue to monitor your levels and will reduce your intake when they go back to a normal and safe looking position.”

You looked down at the floor with a hesitant nod. “Alright. I’m assuming this means that things aren’t improving like we wanted them to.” You felt defeated. You’ve been doing everything she instructed you to do, but you guess that didn’t matter much. 

“I’m sad to say so. Your vitamin deficiency has been spiking, and your red and white blood cells count is decreasing. Luckily it’s happening at a slow rate, which is good. It was almost undetectable, but since we’ve been keeping an extremely close eye on you, it sparked a bit of alarm for my team.” She sighed. “Have you started noticing any further symptoms?”

Unfortunately, you had. “Yes, a few more, but I mostly feel tired and worn out more than usual. A few coughing fits here and there but I think I have that under control.”

She nodded at that. “The best thing for you to do is take the new meds I’ll be prescribing you. Please be careful that you take them during their scheduled time, every time. Missing any one of these doses could make these symptoms increase.”

“I understand. Thanks, Dr. Cho.”

You hopped off of the table and began gathering your things while she lingered by the desk, still watching you with a tinge of concern mixed within her gaze.

She cleared her throat. “I don’t normally like to get so up close and personal with my patients, but like I said before you are quite special. I suppose I wanted to know if you have anyone um, waiting for you in the lobby?”

Your mouth thinned and you shook your head silently. 

Her disappointed look told you that was not what she wanted to hear. This was the fifth visit you’ve had with her in the span of two months, and you came alone each and every time. And each time she’d take note of the guarded look on your face that expressed your discomfort with talking about the others in regards to your health. Thankfully she hasn’t pushed you any further on it, remembering your previous conversation about doctor-patient confidentiality and discreteness when she first broke the unfortunate news to you.

“Thanks, again.” You said to her before exiting the room.

“Of course. Take care of yourself.” You heard her say before the door closed behind you.

*******

After receiving such grim news, you really needed a mood booster. 

Luckily for you, it was game night at the tower, or “family game time” as Tony liked to call it.

You found yourself on the other side of Loki’s door, asking him- no begging for him to attend. 

“Come on, it’ll be so much fun! I promise.” You sang while leaning against the other side of the apartment door. He hadn’t even had the decency to let you in but blamed yourself for that y since you texted him about your intentions beforehand. 

“I said no.” His semi-muffled voice repeated from the other side of the door. “I am fairly confident you understand what that word means. If not, I am happy to let this be an example for you.”

“I’ll be right by your side the whole time.” You insisted.

“I’d feel more at home in a room full of sharks than I would if I had to spend even one second in their presence. Especially if he will be in attendance.”

You raised a brow at his dramatics, knowing exactly who he was talking about. Yet, you didn’t give up on your task. 

“I know, but sharks may try to eat you. This’ll be different. It’ll just be a group of friends playing a few fun games together, not the Avengers.”

He went quiet on the other side for a moment, and you thought you had him. The door flew open and you were met with his critical stare. 

“Are those not the same people?” He questioned.

You tilted your head. “Well, yeah but-”

“Then no.”

You felt a strong gust of air rush past you as the door closed right in front of your face. 

Your smile dropped into an unamused frown. It was time to wave your white flag and admit defeat. At least you tried.

“Fine.” You grumbled to yourself. “I’d really like it if you would come by. You wouldn’t even have to stay the whole time unless you wanted to. But I’ll leave you be tonight. Maybe next time.”

You accepted your defeat and moved on, only to be pleasantly surprised when Loki shuffled into the game room an hour later with a strong look of disinterest on his face. 

He looked around the room, seeming to be searching for someone until his gaze met yours. You perked up and waved him over, and with what seemed to be a great amount of reluctance, he made his way over.

You were in the middle of playing a game of spades with Sam, Bucky, and Natasha who had yet to notice his presence until Loki stiffly sat in the empty seat next to you.

The group faltered in their movements only for a second when they registered who exactly it was who joined them, but to their credit, they continued on with the game. Sam even provided Loki with a friendly nod.

Loki didn’t nod back, but you did see him relax a little. The others were located in different sections of the room, deep into their own games. You noted that everyone was in attendance save for Tony and Steve, which was probably for the best. 

You noticed them glancing your way every now and again, Thor even sending Loki a friendly wave which in turn made you smile and Loki roll his eyes.

You leaned his way, nudging him lightly in the ribs. “See, not so scary after all.” You whispered. “Much better than sitting in a room with sharks.”

“We’ll see about that.” He retorted lowly.

As the night went on, you found that the team was being surprisingly cordial with Loki. Your mood picked up even more because of that. You knew that this wasn’t easy for anyone, but the fact that they were all trying was a great improvement.

You moved around the room to join in on the different games the others were playing. Loki was right by your side the whole time. If you moved, he moved. It seemed to be an unspoken rule, and you were just fine with that. 

Regardless of his unfamiliarity and slight discomfort with the situation, his face remained neutral, which was much better than the permanent scowl he tended to put on around others.

There were times where a look of mild uncertainty would cross his face if anyone spoke directly to him. He would look to you for directions on what to do and you’d give him a subtle nod in return. He didn’t speak or interact with the others much, but he didn’t straight up ignore them if spoken to. So much progress was being made, and you were feeling on cloud nine. Not once had your mind wandered to your earlier visit with Dr. Cho.

There was a point in the night where Loki became more vocal. Sometimes he would tease you about how bad you were doing at a game, and other times it would be him throwing semi-insulting remarks at Thor from across the table.

Having made it to the last game of the night without a fight, you were just about to call the night a success. Then Steve sauntered in.

He walked over to the large table where everyone sat, taking a seat next to Natasha before apologizing for his lateness. 

“Thought you were skipping out on me, punk,” Bucky remarked to him. 

“No, I just got caught up in a project. Tony’s still knees deep into it but I’ve had enough for the night.” Steve explained, adjusting in his seat.

“Oh yeah? I just assumed you didn’t feel like getting your ass handed to you in bingo yet again.” Bucky smirked.

You snorted in amusement, covering your mouth. Of course, they’d be competitive at the world’s most elderly game.

Your laugh caught Steve’s attention, and he glanced your way, only to freeze when his eyes caught onto someone else. The mirthful look in his eyes disappeared immediately.

He had finally noticed the outsider in the room. 

You felt Loki tense up next to you, and without thinking much about it, you carefully slid your hand atop his from underneath the table. A small smile formed on your lips when you felt him physically relax ever so slowly. 

Steve on the other hand still looked taken aback, his unwavering gaze directed at Loki. 

When his eyes connected with yours, you sent him a reassuring smile, yet he barely returned it, lips only twitching before sliding his gaze back to Loki.

By the way the conversation died down, it was obvious everyone else had noticed the tension in the room but were trying to not make it even more noticeable.

Sam leaned over to clap Steve on the back, breaking him out of his trance. 

“Glad you could join us, man.” He chimed. “We’re just getting started.”

“Yeah.” Steve nodded distractedly. “Me too.”

Then the game began. Time passed and everyone seemed to be having a good time. Steve was unusually quiet but had yet to say anything to Loki which you were grateful for. 

However, his eyes frequented your side of the table throughout the game more often than not. You paid it no mind, especially when it didn’t seem to phase Loki at all.

“How pitiful,” Loki remarked as you picked up a losing card. “Getting fired from one’s employment is no small feat. I’m afraid of what might happen to you next.” He smirked, giving you a suggestive look. “Jail, perhaps?”

You scowled at him and playfully pushed his shoulder. “Keep talking and I’ll flip your family’s car over.”

“Physical abuse and an intent to murder my tiny people? Well done, I am so proud of you! But unfortunately, imprisonment might be sooner than you think if you continue at this rate.” He grinned teasingly.

You shot him a look, shaking your head before turning back towards the board game. Your smile faltered when you saw Steve’s intense stare focused directly on you. You could practically feel his gaze burning into you as he studied you and Loki, eyes flitting between the both of you.

You gave him a tight-lipped smile before averting your eyes. You began to feel a slight sense of discomfort at his fierce observation. You understood that Steve was not a fan of Loki, but hoped he would work on moving past it just as everyone else. Even Loki himself was behaving much better than expected tonight.

Sadly, your hopes fell through the cracks when Steve loudly cleared his throat. You inwardly flinched when he said your name and your gaze hesitantly met his.

He sat back in his seat with his arms crossed, a curious (and very scrutinizing) look covering his face.

“I have to say, I’m a bit surprised you brought him along with you tonight.” He professed, nodding his head over at Loki. “Thought you’d keep him away from the rest of us as much as possible, considering the history he has with everyone at this table.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

That caught you completely off guard. You sent Steve a confused look before looking around the table.

The playful and competitive chatter between everyone completely stopped. No one said a word, but everyone looked pretty uncomfortable at Steve’s obvious but unnecessary observation.

But not Loki. He kept his attention on the board game in front of him with an intense focus. As if he hadn’t heard Steve utter a word.

“Um, y-yeah” you finally voiced. “I thought it would be good for everyone to be around each other. It is game night, after all. Everyone on the floor should be included. I don’t think anyone has a problem with that. Do you?”

You looked around in question and heads shook. 

“Nope. All is good.” Sam remarked before turning back to the game. “Now, where were we? I was just about to choose the righteous path of getting my college degree-” 

“Really?” Steve interrupted Sam’s clever attempt to move on. He looked around at everyone with a high brow, gaze narrowing. “Is that truly the case?

Your pulse increased slightly when you noticed Loki direct his gaze towards Steve from the corner of your eye. That was not a good sign at all.

“It appears as if you are the only one to have an issue with my presence, considering you are the only one constantly yapping about it.” He sneered.

Steve's gaze flitted back over to Loki, and a slow smile spread across his face. 

Your hand quickly found his underneath the table yet again. But, this time he didn’t relax. He was already on the defense, body rigid and expression firm as he met Steve’s gaze with fierce challenge. 

Seemingly triumphant in his goal of finally getting Loki to tick, Steve let out a wry chuckle, tilting his head to the side mockingly.

“You see, I find it really hard to believe that no one has a problem with you being here, sitting with the rest of us like we’re all just the best of friends.” 

“Steve-” you tried to interject but he went on.

“So what that the team as a whole decided to move past your most recent events? You got lucky this time around, but what about the personal attacks you made on us? Do you not remember throwing Stark straight through a window he could’ve possibly dropped 300 feet to his death? Or when you controlled Clint’s mind with that stupid scepter to turn him against us?” 

Clint shuffled uncomfortably in his seat at the mention of that. 

“I can’t even remember how many times you’ve tried to kill your own brother. You tried it with Bruce, and we all know how that went.” Steve snorted before pointing over at Natasha. 

“And when you said those disgusting things to Nat?” 

“Steve, not now,” Natasha warned, glaring at him from underneath her lashes. 

“What was that you called her? A mewling quim? How charming of you.” 

Your eyes widened in shock.

“Yet, here she is, forced to sit around a table with you, playing games like you never said those words to her.

“No one can force me to do anything I don’t want to do,” Nat stated, directing her glare at Steve. “And thank you for that, Steve,” she spat. “I'm sure everyone loves hearing their past mistakes replayed in front of an audience.” 

Steve frowned at her. “Mistakes? No, everything he did was intentional.” 

“If I recall, he was under the influence of Thanos, cap,” Sam muttered, yet Steve wasn't having it, waving his hand in a gesture of refusal. 

“That was his choice. All of it was. And now here he is sitting here like we’re like he didn't try to destroy our lives time and time again.” 

You sat forward, about to speak in Loki's defense, but Loki himself beat you to it. 

“You’re right.” he concurred, causing everyone, including Steve, to turn their attention to him.

“Your claims are true. I cannot deny any of those incidents, and I am sorry to anyone I have harmed in my previous path to power.” He assured carefully. You were surprised to find a note of honesty in his tone.

“I do not plan on repeating my past mistakes. Nevertheless, things have to move forward, yet you are the only one who cannot seem to get over it. The one person who I've barely laid a finger on.” 

You swallowed nervously trying to think of the best way to end this conversation before it spiraled out of control even more. 

“You, Captain America,” Loki mocked, “are an utter joke. Your whole existence stems from a foolish experiment, and since we seem to be in the mood of reminding each other of our respective pasts, do you recall being a five foot nothing fragile stick of a man that no one respected?” 

Steve’s expression darkened considerably and Loki grinned.

“Hey,” Bucky’s warning tone met your ears. “I think that’s enough.” 

Loki didn’t bother to spare him a glance, continuing his verbal assault on Steve.

“We are all aware that no one wants me here. I am used to not being wanted, but let me remind you that your own country did not want you. The country you still fight for today. You weren’t even good enough to fight for them until after they injected you with that pathetic serum.” He spat tauntingly. “With that being said, I would suggest you do as the others have done and get over yourself. I am disinterested in this petty grudge you continue to hold against me.”

You could tell that hit home at the sight of Steve's chest rising and falling rapidly. His jaw was clenched and his brows were lowered.

A tense and uncomfortable silence filled the air between them as they glared daggers into one another. 

You sat rigid in your seat, not really knowing what to do or say to make things better. It was probably too late at this point.

Bruce was the first to speak up. “Alright, that’s enough monopoly for the night, folks.” 

“We were playing the game of Life,” Sam weakly corrected him. 

“Same difference,” Bruce replied before getting up out of his seat with a quiet groan. 

Most everyone else followed, gathering their things and trailing out of the room. You stood up from your chair and placed a hand on Loki's shoulder. 

“Come on, let’s go,” you whispered, giving him an encouraging squeeze. 

Thankfully, he listened to you, finally tearing his fiery gaze away from Steve and rising gracefully from his chair. 

You walked Loki out, turning back to glance at Steve once more. He sat at the table alone, staring off into the distance with a dejected expression.

Story Masterlist

✦ 𝘚𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘥𝘰. 𝘙𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 ;)

✦ 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰, 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘒𝘰-𝘧𝘪 ✨: 𝘩𝘵𝘵𝘱𝘴://𝘬𝘰-𝘧𝘪.𝘤𝘰𝘮/𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺24

𝘛𝘢𝘨 𝘓𝘪𝘴𝘵 (𝘪𝘧 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸): @aintnooooway @mischief2sarawr @talesofadragon @cass0419 @lcolumbia1988 @timeladyrikaofgallifrey @echo-is-worth-more-than-2000 @juliannarayvenne

[hayanwulf]

Stephen in spider-man homecoming

(In reference to the WIP game.)

Self-explanatory; Stephen is present in Spider-Man Homecoming!

He kind of shows up in Peter's scene coincidentally, and then of course Peter later rants about it to Happy, who informs Tony, who is so paranoid of magic that of course he tries to find out more about this wizard guy.

From there Stephen sends Tony in a wild goose chase, partially because he finds Tony annoying and partially for the shits and giggles.

Here's a snippet (Stephen recently dealth with Dormammu and he's Not Okay).

Soft footsteps could be heard behind him, signaling that the hero had apparently not left him alone yet. He tensed, able to feel Spider-Man creeping closer to his personal space without needing to see. Just when he thought that Spider-Man might try to touch him again, he instead flinched when the hero sat down next to him at a respectable distance, legs dangling off the roof similarly to his. “Not afraid of heights?” Spider-Man asked. Stephen internally sighed. He hated small talk, and talk in general was the last thing he wanted to do right now, especially with someone who was practically a stranger. “That, too, is none of your business,” Stephen told him blatantly. “Doesn’t your business entail catching thieves and stopping robberies? I think you should go tend to those.” Spider-Man shrugged, completely unperturbed by his clipped tone. “I would if something fishy was going on right now, but everything seems a-okay so I’m on a break.” Then, out of nowhere, the young hero brought out a wrap of tissue paper that emanated an unmistakable scent of fried dough, accentuated by the tinge of cinnamon & sweetness, and extended it towards Stephen. “Want some churros?” Stephen blinked down at the unexpected offering, then looked up at Spider-Man as if the hero was the weird one. “No.” “You sure?” Spider-Man tilted his head slightly. “Cause you look like—” he then raised his hand a little, “—I mean, I don’t mean to be rude! But, erm.. I noticed you don’t look very.. you seem like you might..” Stephen sighed. “Just say what you want to say.” Spider-Man fell silent for a second, then spoke up, “You look like you haven’t been eating well.” Stephen was suddenly hyper aware of just how terrible he must be looking if a random stranger felt the need to point it out. Embarrassment curled in his chest. Right as he was about to make a move to get up, the wrap of tissue was offered to him again, making him pause. “Well, this isn’t much,” Spider-Man said, emphasizing the offered churros, “But if you need help, my— Uh, I know this really nice lady who works at a homeless shelter.” “Are you saying that I look like a homeless person?” Stephen narrowed his eyes, more offended than embarrassed now. “I mean if you wanna know the truth, you look like a D&D cosplayer, but seeing the magic-y stuff you did just then—” he pointed a thumb behind them, where Stephen had arrived, “—maybe it’s not cosplay after all. Anyway, I don’t mean any offense, sir! I just thought maybe I’d help out, y’know?” “You talk a lot.” “So I’ve been told.” Stephen thought he could imagine a smile in the hero’s voice. “So, churros?” Stephen briefly looked down at the offering again, reminded that he had indeed not eaten anything after the morning breakfast, which had been cereals. His body was begging him to take the offering, stomach growling at the delicious scent. He turned back up at Spider-Man. “You’d help a random stranger who almost turned you into burnt soot?” Spider-Man tilted his head a little. “You didn’t, though.” “I could’ve,” Stephen whispered inaudibly, turning his head away. It had been extremely reckless. He had almost incinerated a person just because they had made an innocent gesture of touch on him. He might as well be a threat to humanity with his level of.. reaction. “Yeah, but you didn’t,” Spider-Man said, apparently having heard Stephen’s murmur. He had no idea how. He turned back towards the hero and found him insistently passing the churros now. “Here, take it. I’m sure you’ll feel a bit better after having them. They’re really good!” A little hesitantly, Stephen extended his hand and took the offered tissue wrap from Spider-Man. The hero didn’t say anything, but Stephen could practically feel the happiness he radiated at that moment, with how his legs swung and his body swayed. Stephen opened the tissue, cautious to not let the shaking of his hand make the churros fall off. Carefully, he picked up a churro and took a bite. It tasted heavenly.

[king-crawler]

Recently when I tried to figure out why Turbo went, well Turbo I realized something. At first I came to the conclusion that it was because of his code, but then I remembered the plot of the movie and completely scrapped it (though there might still be some merit with it). Then i thought that “hey, this fucker has been surrounded by picters of himself since he was plugged in, hes the star of the show, so of course he would get a huge ego out of it, said ego also being his subsequent down fall, but why diden't Felix also fall in the same trap? he was the hero of his game too”. And I think it's because he wasn't alone. Now I'm not gonna overshadow the twins. They're there too but considering how Turbo treated them in the little screen time we got to see them together I doubt that they were on good terms, they might have been in the games early days but I digress.

Felix, unlike Turbo, had friends within his game, a small community to look out for him just as he does for them. They made him pies, dedicated parties to him, cherished him, but Turbo?. Who was gonna bake him pies? Who was gonna throw parties for him? Who was gonna cherish him? The Twins? FUCK no. And i think that's what tipped him over the edge, his ego made him push oway his friends and coworkers just to get a sliver of stardom. And when he had all the attention ripped oway from him by another racing game had to have been his last straw (you saw the face he pulled in the flashback. God, just imagine seeing one of your neighbors destroy their own career live, in broad daylight too, must have been horrifying). I love a good character that just dooms themselves to the narrative with their own actions (Turbo was a whore for the limelight).

Going a bit of topic here but “going Turbo” wouldn't work if it was any other main character in the movie, “going Ralph” just doesn't work. Could be because “Turbo” isn't really a name, it's a word, the name of his game, “Turbo Time”. So my proposal is that whenever there is an au where say, Calhoun game jumps (for whatever reason) they call it solo mission. “You're not going on a solo mission are you?” sounds more riveting, to me, and in character for Calhoun. Perhaps that was the last thing she said to her men before she left. For Vanellope id imagen something like “going on a sugar rush” and something about crashing. Because when the sugar rush ends you typically crash.

And that gave me another thought, how many “Turbos” are there out there? How many characters went outside their game or against their script on working hours. How many of these incidents were considered bugs or glitches (how many were turned into creepypastas). It feels like a huge liability risk and the only instances of us hearing about it is with Turbo, which I find strange. Is it like a silent rule? That no one is allowed to leave their game and that's it? That's a super thin line, like yeah you can argue that its there to keep them alive but who told them that? And the second movie doesn't help that, it's just, eurghhh, i don't like the second movieeeee… But it does give the homeless game characters a chance to find a potential new home. There's so much out there in the wilde wilde internet to explore and find new potential in, to not be tied to the arcade has to be a bit liberating for some :)

Sorry for the sudden rant, I just got a kick and could not not write this down.

DONT BE SORRY !! GO OFF!!!! THESE ARE REALLY COOL DISCUSSION POINTS

The whole turbo vs Felix thing really stuck out to me. Turbo Living in a game with only 2 other people who hate him ? While Felix gets praise and attention from dozens? No wonder Turbo went haywire 👀 like do you think he envied Felix ………

[flanaganfilm]

Mike, can you tell us your experience premiering Oculus at tiff 2013? I recently saw Perri Nemiroff’s interview with you (looking like a baby btw- so young) and it made me think about what your mindset must have been as in getting yo experience the launch of your career, post Absentia, at one of the most prestigious festivals.

Oh, I remember that very well... a lot changed in a very short amount of time. And I think I know the interview you're talking about, I keep trying to link to it here but it doesn't take...

So there are few things to point out about Oculus and about what was happening in my life at the time. When Oculus got greenlit, I was working full time as a reality television editor. I used to sneak out of my job at lunch to go to "doctor's appointments" whenever I had to come for production meetings or casting sessions (they started to think there was something really, really wrong with my health).

Making the movie was an amazing learning experience - it was my first "real" movie, and full of lessons. It was the first collaboration with people who would become pillars of my career moving forward, like producer Trevor Macy (who is now my partner at Intrepid Pictures and who has produced everything I've ever made since) and my DP Michael Fimognari, who is one of the most important collaborators of my life. It was also the first time I worked with a young actress named Kate Siegel, who played the spooky ghost in the mirror.

We went into TIFF with distribution already in place. FilmDistrict had committed to the project during the Cannes market before we shot the movie, so we thought we were set. It was going to be my big theatrical debut.

Just before we premiered at TIFF, FilmDistrict abruptly and bafflingly dropped the film. I still don't really know why. They had committed to a worldwide theatrical release for the movie, but for reasons that were never made entirely clear to me, they dropped us just before the festival. Suddenly the whole enterprise was in jeopardy, and I didn't know if anyone would pick the movie back up.

I was absolutely terrified.

Being my first "real" movie, I didn't really know how this world worked and couldn't understand why our distributor didn't want to release it. We'd made the movie they had been excited about, they seemed to really like it, and we'd done everything they asked - it was a shock to the system. So when we rolled into tiff, we were homeless and trying not to let FilmDistrict's abrupt change of heart poison our chances of another sale.

I had never been to TIFF before but heard about Midnight Madness, which had seen huge sales from Cabin Fever and Insidious. Bidding wars had broken out while the films were still screening. But being part of the program was absolutely no guarantee of distribution - in fact, this might be the highest this movie would ever rise.

Trevor Macy and I went to the world premiere of The Green Inferno, which was playing the night before we played, and the audience was ROWDY. Like, shouting and hollering throughout the movie. We looked at each other with wide, nervous eyes - if this was the Midnight Madness audience, they were going to hate our movie the next day. We were considerably slower, ponderous, and atmospheric in a room that seemed to demand visceral, overt entertainment. I left the screening feeling dejected and a little doomed. Trevor was more upbeat, citing conversations he'd had with the programmer, Colin Geddes, who assured us he'd put our movie in the best possible spot for its success.

Our screening was September 9th, 2013 at midnight. I was petrified, and we were sold out. I remember walking into the theater feeling like this was the most important screening of my life. I wasn't alone, thank goodness. Trevor Macy, Michael Fimognari, Brenton Thwaites, Katee Sackhoff, Rory Cochrane, and James Lafferty were on hand. The film seemed to play well. It was the opposite of the screening the night before, which Colin had told us would happen - "watch," he had said. "The Saturday night slot is the big crazy one. You guys are Sunday, and it's going to be completely different. They'll plug right in."

He was right. You could hear a pin drop for most of the first half, and then there were moments of scattered applause that picked up as the film progressed. By the end, people were jumping in their seats and cheering for young Tim and Kaylee. There was an audible gasp when the anchor swung. And the applause at the credits seemed heartfelt and loud.

Most of that is a blur for me. I found this grainy pic from the Q&A after the film. I still had no idea how it had gone, or what was going to come out of it. I remember having hard time putting words together, and I vividly recall feeling like I sounded like an absolute moron whenever I talked, and trying to pass the microphone over to the actors as often as I could.

It's tough to see everyone in the pic, but from left to right it is Colin Geddes, Michael Fimognari, myself, Trevor Macy, Katee Sackhoff, Brenton Thwaites, Rory Cochrane, and James Lafferty.

When I stepped out of the theater, though, I became aware that everything had changed. I was immediately surrounded by people who had seen the film, suddenly shaking a ton of hands and realizing that it had been a hit. I walked into the theater by myself, utterly anonymous, and feeling every bit like an imposter. But everything was different when I walked out. I remember someone from the press talking about it years later, and saying "I was there that night - you walked into the theater with nothing, and walked out with a career."

People were asking me to sign stuff. That had never happened in my life. People wanted to get pictures. It was SO. FUCKING. WEIRD. Someone snapped a picture during that little whirlwind, and you can see it on my (young, skinny, hopelessly naive) face - an overall bewilderment, a gentle disbelief that this was happening:

I loved my experience at TIFF. And it absolutely started everything. Relativity, Blumhouse, and WWE Films joined forces to make an offer on the movie at the festival, and we left with a theatrical distribution deal. My career had officially begun. Now, I wouldn't feel like it had for several more years - I remained in fight/flight/survival mode well through Gerald's Game - but in retrospect, yes, that's when it happened.

Thank you for asking this question, it's been a while since I've looked back at this period of my life. It kinda makes me want to watch that movie again. It has been a LONG time, and I owe it a lot.

Maybe everything.

[rafedaddy01]

I cant believe out of all places my parents chose Outer Banks to move too. This place is a shithole, except for the nicer part of town, where the rich live. This place is completely different from where i grew up, a small town In California called Nevada City. Man it was wonderful! the town pop was about 3,000 people and everybody knew everybody. it was home. but this place... in lack of better words; is a complete shithole.

of course my parents being the rich pricks they are, stayed back home to "deal with business" whatever the hell that means for them. so im staying with an old family friend of theirs, great! not..

the driver picks me up from the airport and as we drive to said family friend i admire the scenery. Houses, boats, shacks, homeless people, shops, that was all in the "poor side" as it call it, eye roll, i never enjoyed being rich. i was born into it. my father on the other hand was a made man. He opened up quite a few banks in our little city and recently they have evolved into bigger states/cities, hence the move.

we lived in a big manor on a secluded acreage back home, thats weird to say, i guess its not home anymore. we were close enough to town for me to be able to pop in everyday and work at the local museum, we always had lots of tourists come in and i enjoyed telling people about the history of our town.

i sigh in the back seat of the limo as i think about was used to be home and prepare to make acquaintance with the kings of the island. The Cameron's. my parents told me a little bit about them since id be staying with them until mom and dad could come down here permeantly.

There was Ward Cameron, the father. Rose Cameron, the stepmother. Rafe Cameron, the eldest. Sarah Cameron, the middle child. and Wheezie, the youngest of the bunch. They seemed noraml enough and i was kind of excited to make some new friends.

we pulled up to the house and man oh man. Ive seen some houses in my day but heck! seeing all the worn out building on the way over? the hosue has two stories and is white, it almost looks like the white house!

my eyebrows raise to my forehead as we drive up the long driveway and stop at the front of the house. the driver comes to my side and opens the door, ugh i hate being waited on, "thank you, Scott. You dont have to worry about my bags, i can carry them" i tell the older gentleman who looks like he should be in a retirement home with his white hair that is swiped back and covered by that redicioulse chauffer hat and that outift that sits loosely on his visible scrawny bones. "No worries Miss, Morales, its my pleasure." he smiles as he wobbles over to the trunk and takes my luggage.

"You must be Avery!" a feminine voice beams as she embraces me in a hug. Ugh, i do not like being touch. This town is just getting better and better. "im Rose Cameron, welcome to our home" she introduces herself and i take a step back examining her, she has blonde hair that comes down to about her shoulders and its pampered to perfection. She wearing a baby pink dress that hug's her curves magnificently. she has gold dangly earrings on and black thin heels, the kind that a sophisticated women would wear, shes beautiful but theres something about her i dont really like. "yes, hello" i smile back at her. "thank you for being so kind as to take me in" i tell her "oh nonsense, your parents are lovely people and we told them wed be happy to let you stay with us. as long as it takes"

As long as it take? what is that supposed to mean. does rose know something i dont, should i be worried?

i scratch the thoughts from my mind as we step into the estate, its beautiful, the twisting stairwell that leads upstairs and the gigantic chandelier that dangles in the middle. "wow, very beutiful Mrs. Cameron" i say as i take a look around "oh please, call me rose" she smiles, theres a viscousness in her smile, its fake. Ive seen it before, from my own mother none the less.

"let me show you to your room, the driver has already set your luggage in there" she says as she leads me up the staircase.

we walk into one of the many guest rooms, but this one is mine. the walls are a shade of gold and its oddly comforting. theres a large king bed in the center of the wide room and a balcony that hovers over the green grass and water thats seen in the distance. The bathroom is in the room and seems to connect to the room next door, i wonder whose room that is, probably another guest room.

"ill let you settle in and once your done you can come down for dinner and meet the rest of the family" rose smiles at me as she shuts the door and lets me settle.

i take a momment scanning the room, theres not much in it besides a closet, a bed, some nightstands, and curtains that fall along the frames of the windows. its much bigger than my room back home. i decide not to unpack everything, i dont plan on being her long, i hope.

I decided to take a shower, i was in a plane for 15hrs overall.

I wash myself with some shampoo that is in there, it smells like cedarwood and ginger, an odd mix but also strangly comforting. i lather my hair and body and let the hot water relax my built up tension.

once i hop out of the shower i wrap a towel around my body and head through my bedroom door, i stop and stare at the door across from mine, i wonder whose room that is.

i walk up to my luggage and pull out a mini plaid green skirt with a matching top, i dry my hair and let the pin-straight black strands flow down my back

i step out of the room at about 7:20pm and head downstairs, the smell of chicken infests my nostrils and my stomach grumbles, i hadnt even realized i didnt eat much today. i stride into the dining room and everybody is in there seats, except for two open ones, mine and i presume rafes, whose is empty.

"ah, there she is!' Ward speaks as he stands and rounds the table to me "Avery Morales, Sir" i say extending my hand. Ive learned my manners from talking to my father, he is a kind man when he wants to be but money changed him. he and my mother have both become vicious and would do anything to fill their wallets. its sad really, we used to be the perfect little family in Nevada and we still are, were, but with much darker secrets now, thats a story for another time.

"Im happy to welcome you to our humble abode Miss Morales" he says pulling my chair out for me. The empty chair is beside me while who i presume are sarah and wheezie sit across from me and ward and rose sit on opposite ends of the table.

"Im sarah" the girl to the left in front of me says. She is gorgeous, she has a tan that sticks to her skin like its her natural color and dirty blonde hair that flows down her shoulders and chest, her lips are plump and full and her eyes sparkle with kindness, i like her. "Wheezie" peeps the little girl next to her, shes young, maybe 13 or 14. She had black hair thats braided in two braids and glasses that frame her face.

"lets eat!" rose cheers as we dig in

we finish dinner and i insist on helping clear the table but ward says they have staff that do that and that i should get some rest because ive had a long day. Hes right im exhusted. I got to know sarah quite a bit, wheezie doesnt talk much. it seems like nobody really notices her and they all just ignore her whenever she trys to speak up. But sarah told me about the island a little bit and even said shed introduce me to some friends tomorrow.

I walk up the stairs and head for my room but i couldnt help thinking about the empty chair next to mine. why wasnt he at dinner? does he not live here, does he even exist. My mind is heavy with thoughts as i walk to the bathroom and turn the doorknob, that weird, i didnt leave the light on

"oh my god! im so sorry!' i squeal as i cover my eyes.

There is Rafe. standing. naked. in my bathroom, well, our bathoom. I guess i found out whose room is next to mine.

Pt2

@f4ll-for-you @v21sstuff @rafeysworldim19 @baby19sthings @eventualoptimism @drewstarkeysbae @sevenwivesofrafecameron @rxfecameronsslut @findapenny @r1vrsefx

[verdemoun]

Hey, it's me again! Sorry for being mousey last time.

I know this is a bit recent but if I wait too long I'll either lose the idea or my nerve.

For some reason, I adore the Transfem "Kieran" Duffy HC. It's almost certainly projection, because while I was never held hostage by a roving band of psychotic Irishmen, I am shy, neurodivergent, and paranoid to the point of having escape plans I will never use.

I know you already did one for 1899 Kieran (which may or may not have cursed me with a love of an incredibly niche HC for an already very niche character) but could you maybe do one for Timewarp?

Alternatively, if you would like something different, Sean and his father learn about everything that happened in Ireland after their deaths. The 1916 Easter Rising, The Troubles, or Margaret Thatcher as a whole.

As another alternative, disregard this ask all together, and go get a snack. You probably need one.

A snack would be good rn I'll have a snack with one hand and reply with the other.

Transfem Kieran,,, beloved.

Bessie motherfucking Matthews can smell gender dysphoria like a bloodhound and would notice the second they brought the non-verbal smelly homeless former-O'Driscoll home.

Kieran's been sleeping rough for a month, just like when he was first let off the tree in Horseshoe he desperately needs a bath.

After a slight miscommunication about hot water (and the concept of not needing to share bath water), Kieran is sitting on the couch two hours later shivering in three layers of clean clothes and a blanket with Bessie very gently and patiently brushing the knots and mats out of his hair. The first thing Kieran makes close to a noise is a delighted squeak in the back of his throat as Bessie says what nice hair he has. Bessie immediately ties a little braid in Kieran's hair, to another overjoyed squeak.

Kieran absolutely latches onto Bessie as a safe person. When her husband assures her Kieran had always been around the women in camp and just seemed to prefer their company, Bessie takes note.

Innocently saying that they weren't expecting any more timewarpers for a while so Kieran has to go shopping in her wardrobe for a bit. While Hosea's clothes are in there too he picks out a v-neck and a chunky knitted cardigan and looks very content in women's clothing that still fits loose because of how scrawny he is.

Bessie also offers to help Kieran shave. Getting a close shave was still a fairly rare occasion thing in 1890s so she could easily say it was a treat to make timewarping seem less scary.

Instead Mair gets a moment of seeing herself with her hair perfectly washed and brushed and soft and clean shaven in femme-presenting clothes that didn't even exist in canon era and very quickly goes from 'yay men can be pretty in modern era' to the gender euphoria of 'wait am I a man? or am I a pretty lady? can i,, oh i can be a pretty lady!!'.

Bessie would also be euphoric because a) timewarp actually giving people a chance to explore gender identity in a way they couldn't in canon era and proving all the fear and learning to adapt to modern era is a good thing b) she finally gets a daughter because throughout all the children she has accidentally adopted over her lifetime (Arthur, John, Sean, Lenny) she is yet to actually have a daughter due to dying before the gang picked up Tilly.

Bessie would adore brushing Mair's hair and taking her shopping to get fancy nice smelling soaps and clothes. Mair would still be a hoodie gremlin but the classic oversized paired with a mini skirt but the hoodie's so long it just looks like she's not wearing anything under it.

Exception being first-time she sees a dress she absolutely must have. It very much looks like something from the early 20th century and only modern to the gang, with a bell skirt and petticoat to match.

Processing timewarp honestly takes up so much of the gang's time most would struggle to actually recognise Mair as Kieran except for the OG timewarpers who would respect times change I guess Mair is her name now. 'There's cars now and no one owns horses, and robbing banks and getting away with murder is almost impossible, you have to get an actual paying law-abiding job, also sometimes people change gender'.

Molly would absolutely fall in love with having another girl in the gang who doesn't actively hate her (her and Karen still have some beef to work out) and spend hours doing Mair's make-up with all her fancy products and Mair would adore it. Otherwise she is useless at doing make-up because that shit is hard.

She's somehow an even bigger horsegirl because she really identified with the being a girl part. People thought Kieran was obnoxious with his love of horses? Mair is worse, infinitely, infinitely worse. The few who make the connection Mair was once Kieran Duffy? The way she talks about horses.

My Little Pony backpack that goes everywhere with her.

She makes friendship bracelets for her favourite people, because she would never part with any of her precious horse figurines for any reason. She would still bite Sean for touching any one of them.

Bessie: precious darling daughter would you like to get our nails done together? Mair: yes please!! - after - Mair: yay pretty nails!! pretty!! Bessie: Bessie: it's okay if you want to take them off Mair: oh my god yes please

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Somehow, Through the Storm

Summary:

Living in the slums of the Warehouse District, Kaz and Inej are struggling to cling on to life through a seemingly unending winter. Wrapped up in a stranger's overcomplicated marriage contract that he is convinced is key to solving the merciless weather, Kaz remains busy and distracted for days on end, putting everything else at risk. So when a storm ravages the city and sweeps Inej into danger, the offer of safety, food, and a place to stay is an overwhelming one - no matter the cost. Terrified of mounting threats, Inej signs a contract - not knowing she would land herself trapped at the Menagerie. Kaz signs a contract that states if he can walk all the way through the city and back to the Warehouse District with Inej behind him, never looking back at her, they will both go free. But this is the Barrel, the darkest part of the city where the rules of physics can change with the stroke of a pen; the journey back will not be the same as journey there…

This is a Hadestown-inspired reimagining of the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice, casting Kaz and Inej as our main characters and heavily featuring our beloved Crows, set in an alternate version of the Grishaverse with a different magic system based entirely on contracts.

Tags: @lunarthecorvus @marielaure @multi-fandom-bi @igotthisaccountunderduress @thelibraryofalexandriastillburns @devoted-people-hater @spraypaintstainonawhitewall

If anyone else would like to be added to the tag list let me know <3

Warnings for this chapter: homelessness, implied threats, implied attempted sexual assualt

Chapter 3 - Inej

She was no stranger to the world, no stranger to the wind

- Anyway The Wind Blows, Hadestown

The floor of the Chapel was smooth, flat slabs of stone, cool and unyielding beneath Inej’s knees; the rooftop beneath her now was slick from recent rain, unhappy slats chattering against each other with every step, threatening to give way under her feet and send her sliding down the angled edge straight into the drainpipes. Inej braced herself against a chimney pot as she adjusted her feet and her balance in the roaring winds, and longed for the still, silent air of the church she’d left behind her. Shivering, palms flat against the stone of the chimney and feet held apart to keep her upright, Inej pressed her eyes closed and sent up a brief prayer. 

Sankta Marya protect me. 

If only Sikurzoi were nearer by. 

The rain was starting again. A light spray crossed Inej’s face in the breeze as she turned cautiously away from the stone, and moments later the fall had thickened to heavy droplets splashing down her neck and against her eyelashes. She fumbled for her hood one handed, grappling along the stone with the other. The desire to stay here and wait out and the rain seized her like a cold, desperate hand around her heart, but who knew how long it would last? If she could find somewhere dry to tuck herself into, she might even be able to fall asleep before the shower ended. Staying here might be condemning herself to another sleepless night - and a very wet one, at that. 

Would they take her in, for the night a least, if she went back to Chapel? Should they? 

Inej slipped from one rooftop the other with ease - there was advantage to be had in the ill-built structures of Ketterdam’s slums, tipsy buildings pressed against each other in any and all available space, thrown up quickly and without proper foundations - and caught herself from stumbling on the slick tiles with a hastily outstretched hand. If she made it just another few streets, there was a building - a more proper building, that must have been built before the Warehouse District came entirely to life - with a collection of stone scrollwork on its roof that created plenty of nooks and crannies she could squeeze herself inside to disappear. 

When Inej had slid into the attic of the Slat through a window and appeared in front of Kaz’s makeshift desk maybe two hours ago, his only response had been to briefly glance up and say: 

“Well?” before his eyes shifted back to his papers.

“Nothing particularly notable,” she shrugged, “He’s got a private room in a hostel a few streets South of Sweet Reef. Few belongings, none of them labelled, a satchel and not much else,”

Kaz marked something in the corner of a page and then turned it over.

“What was in the satchel?”

“You assume I looked?”

Kaz did look up at her then. It was a slow movement, an almost satisfied smile appearing to her piece by piece, his eyebrow rising as he watched her. 

“You know exactly what, don’t you?”

Kaz shrugged. 

“Humour me,”

Inej felt a slightly absurd, purely inappropriate bubble of laughter in her throat, and swallowed it. She stretched the moment though, making Kaz wait just a tiny bit longer. Her eyes slipped over him like she was drinking him in, searching for snippets of something hidden beneath the surface that she knew she’d seen edges of already. She counted four scars on his face, small ones mostly; one where his lip had been split, a white ridge no bigger than her finger tip perpendicular to his cheekbone, a nick beneath his eye that was barely even noticeable. The largest was mostly hidden by the sweep of his dark hair, but Inej could just make out its edge in the corner of his forehead. It wasn’t particularly warm up here but Kaz had shed his jacket, tossed over the back of the chair behind him, and Inej was privately distracted wondering how and with exactly what money he was getting himself perfectly tailored suits and keeping them so pristine. He adjusted, placing his pen flat on the desk next to the inkwell, and unbuttoned the rolled up cuffs of his sleeves to pull them back over his wrists. 

“A contract,” she said, and after a moment of watching the light shift in Kaz’s eyes added: “I’ve never seen one that long,”

“Did you read any of it?”

“I was all in Kerch,” Inej shook her head, “but I had time to get this, just about,” 

Kaz’s interest had clearly piqued as Inej reached for the scrap of paper safe in the inside pocket of her jacket, the burst threads she’d originally sewn it shut around the money still clinging uselessly to the fabric. Good. That was what she needed. 

“A copy of the final page, signatures included,” 

Kaz reached out across the desk, his gloved hand still and steady in the air between them. Inej took a step backwards. 

“Twenty extra kruge,”

Kaz’s lips twisted briefly in annoyance, but then he pulled open a drawer in his desk and counted out a thin stack of purple notes - the thirty kruge that he owed her, then an extra fifteen on top. 

“Happy?” 

Inej shrugged. It was good enough. 

Kaz nodded for her to give him the copied page first and she handed it over, watching his eyes slip over the words and wondering if just reaching out to grab her cash unprompted would end with a knife going through her palm. 

“Well?” she asked. 

Kaz nodded, pushing the money across the makeshift desk so it was easily within her reach. 

“Come back in two days,” he said, without looking up from the paper, “If you want another job,”

Inej nodded, tucking the purple notes into her jacket. 

“I’ll be there. But don’t get too reliant on me - I’ll be gone by spring,”

Kaz smiled. 

“I know,” 

Inej had put the money to use as soon as she stepped outside, finding a street stall just a few doors down from the Slat selling hot rolls. She bought two, then sat down right there on the curb and devoured both of them as quickly as she could manage. It took a moment for her to regather herself enough to move on, and when she did she was forced to take stock of how short a way the money could really get her from here. On the unlikely chance that she could find a room willing to take her in, it would cost almost her entire stash for two nights - before she tried to eat or drink again in that time. She’d hidden herself around a corner and quickly double checked her counting through the remaining notes, then formulated something as close to plan as she could think of right now. 

Two more nights outside was fine; the sun had long since set by now anyway, so it wasn’t even that many hours. She would save this money, and use whatever Kaz paid for her for the next job - maybe even more than this one, if she was lucky - combined with it to get herself into a room somewhere. That, of course, was very dependent on finding a room in the first place. 

Well, she’d decided as she took hold of a drainpipe and began to raise herself to the rooftops, if I can’t find a room, at least I’ll be able to afford something warm. She could buy a new jumper, maybe even two. Or a blanket? That might be too big to carry in her satchel though. She would figure something out. 

Now, Inej slipped around the scrollwork of the roof and nestled herself into a neat little gap, with enough space for her to lay curled on her side, or almost sit up straight beneath the blessed covering that had kept the patch dry. The rain was still falling as she leant her back against the stone, pulling her hood as far as it would go so that it just about covered her eyes, her knees bent up towards her and her feet pressed against the stone opposite. She wrapped her arms around her satchel, clutching it close to her chest and burying her bare, cold hands between it and the folds of her blouse, then let her head roll on her shoulders to lean her face away from the cold air. Inej closed her eyes, a lonely prayer humming inside her chest, as she listened to the rain and tried to fall asleep. 

*

“Keep up surveillance on Wylan,” said Kaz, “Report back weekly and I’ll pay you when we meet,”

Inej nodded. They were walking down one of the crooked little streets that had been thrown up in the last few years; poorly constructed houses that were little more than one small room, crammed tightly up against each other, officially under constant threat of being shut down by the stadwatch even though everyone knew that, realistically, there were two many people here for the city to move them. Inej had been through the settlement, which balanced on the Southernmost edge of the Warehouse District and pressed itself up against the mysterious streets of the Barrel, more than once in hopes of finding somewhere to stay, but she was yet to find anyone with either the space to spare or the heart to care. She’d thought she might’ve gotten lucky once, not far from where she and Kaz now stood, but the man who’d offered her inside had expected something more in return than Inej had been ready to give; she’d had to run right back up into the main bulk of the district before there were any buildings high enough to climb, and vanished behind a chimney pot with her heart in her throat as she listened out for anyone who might have followed. This was the first time she’d dared to step back into the settlement since. 

Kaz’s cane left a heavy thudding in the air every time it struck the uneven pavement, an easy rhythm timed with their shared steps. Inej gave him a brief, sideways glance as they continued to walk in silence. It took maybe twenty more paces before she finally relented: 

“Why are we here?”

“We have a meeting,” was all Kaz deigned to tell her, even after a brief attempt at questioning him further. 

They walked as far South as the street could take them, then wound their way vaguely East through the warrens of curling avenues until the edge of the Warehouse District came into view. The districts of Ketterdam were marked by boundary stones, though rocks might have been a more appropriate term. The Warehouse District only had one edge that faced the rest of the city, pressed against the dark, smoke-coated streets of the Barrel, and as they approached it Inej studied the monolith towering over her. At least ten feet, she thought, of rough grey stone, with weathered edges and plants - most of them dead, a couple of hardy weeds clinging on through the long cold season - crawling around the base. It looked like it had always been there, and the city had been built around it. That might have been true - Inej wasn’t sure, but she’d been told that the altar at the Church of Barter, called the First Mortar, was a stone that the city had been structured to surround. But the Church of Barter, as fascinating as she’d found the peaks of its spires from a distance, was completely inaccessible. The only district border in Ketterdam not marked by the equidistant boundary stones was that of the Geldin District, its Church tucked safely inside it, where the entire dividing line was being raised into a wall - so high, Inej thought, that the Church of Barter’s five spires might not be visible for much longer. The shortest, called the Thumb Chapel since the Church was built to mimic the hand of Ghezen, god of industry and commerce, was almost hidden already. 

Kaz stopped beneath the shadow of the boundary stone and Inej drew to a halt next to him, glancing around them in search of some sort of answer. She found nothing. 

“We’re a minute early,” said Kaz, checking his watch, “She won’t be long,”

Inej didn’t bother to ask who they were waiting for - not only would she most likely not get an answer, but she didn’t really know anyone in the city anyway. Instead, she ventured: 

“Why here?”

Kaz glanced at her from the corner of his eye. 

“She’s coming from West Stave,”

Inej swallowed her surprise and just gave a vague nod, eyes drifting to the opening streets ahead of them on the other side of the boundary stone. She studied Kaz for a moment, his firmly planted feet solid and set on the edge of the border, not even the edge of his soles any farther. Inej mused on this for a moment, and then decided to test it. 

The moment that she attempted to take a step forwards, Kaz’s cane whirled into her path. She was forced to release a small, slightly surprised breath of air as the body of the cane made unexpected, though at least relatively light, impact with her stomach. 

“You don’t want to do that,”

Inej couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow as she took a pace backwards, tracking the tip of Kaz’s cane back to the ground with her eyes as he withdrew it. 

“I didn’t take you for one to believe in ghost stories,”

“If they were just stories,” he replied, his voice low and rough like the grate of two stones being ground together, turning to eye her up as he spoke, “then I wouldn’t,” 

If she’d had longer to react to that then she might have found the words to reply, but before Inej had the chance to form a thought Kaz had nodded towards a figure growing out of the distance as it stepped off the nearest canal bridge. 

“She’s here,” 

[lazaruspiss]

recently realized that dick had a relationships with all three of his rapists beyond one incident, like he lived with liu and eddie for a while, mirage posed as kori for an extended period of time and we really have no way of knowing how long he was with catalina, this creates a pattern of people that he knows betraying him and using him for their own gratification

which makes me think of his relationships with his family and friends rn, if one of them started crossing boundaries would he accept it? would he even have expected it? if babs didn’t hear him say wait one night would he know that it’s a mistake or would he think “ah, you too?”

like he loves his family and trusts them with his life but I don’t think he can trust them not to hurt him and that includes sexually, part of it is the constant paranoia that comes with being a vigilante for almost two decades and part of it is unprocessed trama but thinking anyone could start to abuse him probably isn’t good for his health or for his relationships lmao

oh for sure for sure!! im also fairly convinced dick would struggle seeing any of those incidents as rape. the liu incident doesn't meet the proper legal qualifications, he was at times blamed by his own team for what happened with mirage, and so much plays into the situation with catalina that im not sure he'd even be able to process it at all. the murder takes priority, and he'd see it more through a lense of him failing to save cat than him being assaulted.

dick wouldn't /want/ to have been assaulted, so i don't think he'd categorize any of that as rape. if others cross boundaries, he might justify/minimize it out of habit. less that he thinks anyone could/would abuse him, and more that he would never recognize harm done to him as abuse.

(some notes for those without context on some of the stuff being referred to!)

liu and eddie: there's a storyline in which dick runs away at 16 (or as he puts it, one month short of 17) and lives on his own. by which i mean, most likely homeless. he works as a dishwasher iirc. one day, his coworker recommends these people who take in teenaged runaways and offers them a place to stay. it's functionally a gang that uses cult recruitment tactics to manipulate teenagers into doing their bidding. the /they/ being liu and eddie. dick is just another kid, and doesnt realize what they're doing until he's already pretty deep in it. there's a fair amount of bonding and attachment, with liu and eddie showing him favoritism and singling him out in a way that makes them his primary support network. eventually this all leads to a sexual encounter between dick and liu. something worth noting: the age of consent in new jersey (where gotham is and where this story is set) is 16, and as it was a technically consensual encounter it is incredibly unlikely for it to be legally classified as rape/sexual assault.

mirage: ok imma be real u gotta ask someone else for this one. or maybe read the actual comics bc tumblr is a mess when looking for actually useful info.

catalina: ok!! ok... from my understanding there was originally going to be a full plotline about dick being in an abusive relationship with catalina, but it was rushed/cut short so that DC could put nightwing in a batman crossover event. classic. but dick had already been trying to mentor catalina for a decent while before she started abusing him. tried to /mentor/ her. her hurting him? to dick, it would likely feel like a reflection on him. that /he/ must have fucked up for her to end up doing something like that. it's left somewhat vague, but we don't have any reason to not believe cat continued to sexually abuse dick off page. we see her get him drunk and try to get him to sign marriage documents, she wants to /possess/ him. dick is incredibly dissociative throughout the aftermath, up until DC needed to force him out of his own story arc to hold daddy bat's hand. sorry lol

[damianbugs]

I read your pinned Jason post and just wanted to comment on how smart and compassionate he was while also being emotional and occasionally brazen, and how his negative traits were exaggerated to make him appear destructive and doomed from the start. But one thing that got completely overlooked was how mature he was for a kid his age. Like he was a parentified kid taking care of him mom, he never once blamed her or Willis for their misfortune. Hell, Robin-Jason’s morals barely encompass petty crime, addiction, etc. as “evil” traits. Nowadays, this obsession with portraying Jason as a completely immature, hair-trigger, child in hysterics, and the emphasis on having "daddy issues" without directly clarifying what they are and where they stem from; is so dirty. it's as if the writers looked at fanon's soulless (also classist) interpretations of him and called it a day. Their misunderstanding of poverty and crime prevents them from offering nuanced perspectives on the subject (also because utrh was released during a spike in the War on Drugs era), so there exist a million canon and fanon works of the bats explaining poverty to the homeless guy. (this is also not me saying he's even been right as RH, but the fact that they refuse to add any nuance to the conflict outside of Bruce irritates me.)

perfectly put anon. HEAVY on the differing perspectives of what constitues as 'evil' crime robin jason had in comparison to, for example, bruce. he was an incredibly complicated and mature boy who was a victim to classist writing in every single aspect of his story. even after the introduction of tim drake and how he was basically the exact opposite of everything that made jason jason you get the feel of, oh, so even in death he is ridiculed for who he was.

'Their misunderstanding of poverty and crime prevents them from offering nuanced perspectives on the subject'

this is so real. i think a very recent example would be the 'cheer' story for batman urban legends, which, to my dismay, is often said to be the best jason writing in recent years (to which, uhm, task force z, hello!) because of how the entire situation with the boy and his father was handled. obviously the father was in the wrong, and jason knew that — but suddenly, all the compassion and reasoning jason has for being a character like the red hood is completely pushed away until AFTER he kills the guy. he mentions something along the lines of having orphaned a child and he can't believe he's done this or something and i was sat there like.. what on earth! not to mention the atrocious young jason writing which shows him contemplating murder(?!)

dc has this staggering inability to separate the idea of poverty with crime and again, it is almost laughable how it is not even hidden in subtext. it is very obviously there. children of drug addicts and criminals MUST be evil, for some reason, no we will not explain why.

i agree with you in that the real tragedy of red hood is that he's become a consequence of bruce as opposed to batmans mission. when he was first introduced dc were setting him up to be, what i believe, a permanent spot in the gotham rouge gallery. meaning he would have been developed and stayed separate as his own anti-hero for gotham, being the ultimate enemy that can never be defeated by batman and alike BECAUSE they are doomed to be on opposite sides of a solution.

that obviously never stuck. and now we get jason in stories he doesn't need to be in, or written terribly all in order to emphasise his broken relationship with the other bats. which, maybe, could be done well, but most the time, isn't. red hood aka angry red bat 'daddy issues' extraordinaire jason todd.

maybe one day we'll get a writer who truly loves what jason can mean to a place like gotham and respects his origin but also how that would affect him into adulthood. one day.

[princeescaluswords]

I always find there's such a stark difference between tgt fans and soc fans, and this is could possibly be because of the way the fandom interprets the texts. Six of crows is a heist novel, about people who aren't chosen ones and just live in Kerch. You don't have to be special to be worthy of getting your story told. Soc fans get that. But Darkling fans? Well, it just *can't* be that Alina chooses to be ordinary over being the Darkling's queen, so she apparently *must* end up with her abuser, even though she does not share his morals; even though she is the antithesis of everything he is because she will never see others' lives as expendable for a greater cause. Alina is compassionate and revels in being the 99%, and Darkling fans seem to hate that. Alina was never meant to be a power fantasy, but for Darkling fans, the idea of being normal was never an option - because to them, why would you not choose to be part of the 1%; why would you not turn this into a power fantasy, even when when the author always intended for tgt to be the opposite?

Unfortunately, I have only seen the Netflix adaptation of the Grishaverse. I don't know what "tgt" stands for. However, I can talk about the unpleasant intersection I find between power, status, and ethics that occurs in fandoms. When I refer back to Alina, the Darkling, and the other characters in the Grishaverse, you should bear in mind that it is constrained by my limited knowledge, and I welcome any correction of what you feel is a misinterpretation.

When it comes to many people in our culture, they may claim to want a good story, but they tend to be quite simplistic in their value systems when they think they're not going to be judged for it. Which means they want power fantasies, instead. The problem, of course, is that power fantasies don't make satisfying stories. It's like trying to survive on a diet consisting solely of cheeseburgers.

Let me give a concrete example. In my primary fandom, Teen Wolf, I recently came across an unlabeled post-season 2 story where Jackson Whittemore -- who, for those who don't know, is white, rich, good-looking, entitled and captain of both the lacrosse and the swim team -- is talking about Scott McCall (the lead protagonist in the show but not this story) in very negative terms, complaining about Scott's lack of decency in not telling Allison Argent that her mother was bitten by Derek Hale, an alpha werewolf, while Mrs. Argent was trying to kill Scott. The bite caused Mrs. Argent to kill herself, and, for a time, Allison blamed Derek for her mother's death.

Now, they set aside the fact that the show made it clear that Scott didn't tell Allison because, by the time he figured out what had happened (he was unconscious when Derek bit Allison's mother), it was already too late to change anything, so Scott decided not to tell Allison so that wouldn't be the last memory she had of her beloved mother. You would think that people would view this as an effort to be kind, right? Wrong!

Fandom sees this as an utter betrayal, because it is Derek Hale's feelings, as a white, rich, god-looking, entitled Alpha Werewolf, that should take precedence over Scott's girlfriend's feelings. It doesn't matter that while Derek did come to Scott's rescue, he had beat, manipulated, lied to, betrayed, and tried to murder innocents under Scott's protection for almost all of the first two seasons.

Also relevant is that this is the same Jackson Whittemore, who witnessed his next-door neighbor "kicking the crap" out of his son, Isaac Lahey, and said nothing about it to anyone. This is the same Jackson Whittemore, who when he got the Bite, dumped his girlfriend and told a homeless man to go die in another parking lot, before turning into a murder lizard slave. This is the same Jackson Whittemore for whom the only solution that Derek Hale managed to come up with when this happened was straight-up murder. This is the same Jackson Whittemore whom Scott fought to save from Derek. There is no hint in this fandom story that Jackson is being a hypocrite or being ungrateful or even aware of the contradiction.

The author chose this. Jackson's signature callousness and selfishness simply vanishes just long enough for him to condemn the person who tried to save him for not wanting to hurt his girlfriend's feelings. Why? Jackson is privileged, and he has that in common with Derek, so it is obvious that Jackson will take Derek's perspective in the matter.

Which brings us back to your example. Alina is the Sun Summoner, a living saint, and incredibly powerful. Of course she's supposed to take the side of the Darkling, who is also incredibly powerful. His creation of a slave caste for his kind, his manipulation and murder of countless others, and his creation of the Shadow Fold poisons her nation. This is irrelevant to power fantasy, where power should make her perspective identical to his.

In the modern day, our culture certainly talks about the dangers of the elite, but fandom gives its participants the way to celebrate a freedom from the ethical consideration when it comes to personal power. To them, since fiction =/= reality, they can indulge in their lust for power and status regardless of the consequences. To them, there is no reason for Scott McCall to value Derek Hale's feelings above Allison Argent's; Derek is more powerful, richer, and better looking (and a guy!) so Scott should choose Derek's side. To them, there is no reason that the Sun Summoner will choose a course in life that will prevent her power from corrupting her; if she allowed herself to be corrupted, she'd have all the status of the Darkling.

The problem they have is that the artists behind both the Grishaverse and Teen Wolf, which you are free to consider trivial, still examined the world around them and came to the conclusion that power doesn't supersede the necessity for ethical thought. In other words, the artists realized that power fantasies might give momentary pleasure, but in the end, they don't produce meaningful stories.

Some people have a problem with that.

[lucigoo]

Weekly Roundup: 15th April - 22nd April

Whoop, Sunday, tht means weekly roundup and recs (were going to pretend it is NOT Monday lol) So, I have writtn 13,184 words this week, and have uploaded 2 fics this week (technically it's three, but the Thorin Spring Forge fic is revelaed o the 25th) So, on to the recs: Not All That Glitters (Is Good For Your Health) - comatosecombat - The Hobbit (Bilbo/Thorin, post quest for Erebor)

Summary: In his attempt to distract Smaug from attacking Lake-town, Bilbo accidentally destroys the One Ring of Power, saves the day and brings peace on Middle-Earth.

When it comes to him and Thorin, that resolves absolutely nothing. An Unexpected Addition - karategal - The Hobbit (Bilbo/Thorin, this whole series is pure gold imo) Summary: All of the dwarves survive the Battle of the Five Armies, but Bilbo must return to the Shire to sort out his old life and make way for a new one in Erebor. Over one year later, Bilbo comes back to the Lonely Mountain with a recently orphaned Frodo. King Thorin isn't quite sure what to make of this new, tiny addition to his Company. far across the distance - LinguisticJubilee - The Hobbit - (Bilbo/Thorin, schmoopy Thorin has my whole heart)

Summary: Balin blinks, shifting backwards. “Laddie, it’s—it’s been a year. Bilbo has returned home, to the Shire.” He looks at Thorin, then says more gently, “I did not realize you counted the hobbit among your treasures.” i've loved you in a million different ways - dotty456 - Harry Potter (Sirius/Remus, James/Regulus, this is one of my fav Hogwarts-No voldy fics ever)

Summary: An everybody lives fanfic that follows the Marauders from before their first year to the end of Hogwarts - may include mentions of their children/marriages and future stuff because I can. Dumbledore is a douchebag, Voldemort doesn't exist and the Black cousins join together before the elder Blacks start burning that damn family tree. One Flash Of Light, But No Smoking Pistol - Ludo_ten - Harry Potter (Sirius/Remus, Zombie Au)

Summary: Nov 1981: Sirius wakes up hungover in a stranger's bed when an emergency radio broadcast warns of a viral outbreak and instructs everyone to stay inside.

Isolated and homeless, Sirius has no choice but to reconcile with his estranged brother. Their uneasy alliance plants the seeds for buried family secrets to surface. Together, they venture to Wales in search of the man he never told he loved before it's too late. What to do when one has died? Dig of course. - DBlack13 (Bilbo/Thorin, Afterlife fic, I repeate Afterlife fic (not that i have a fav trope or anything .....)

Summary: After death, Bilbo is bored. He misses his adventures, and although Yavanna’s Garden is everything a hobbit would wish for, Bilbo can’t help missing his friends in the Company, and above all, a certain blue-eyed leader… Hopefully theres at least one for you there.

Now, on to my fics <3 I'm real, I'm here. Open your eyes and see. (For @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt 249, Siirus/Remus)

Summary: Remus often dreams about Sirius and it makes him reluctant ot open his eye to the nothing he knows he will find when he does. But will he? Has he really lost everything? Thank you for giving me the stars (Sirius/Remus, an Animal Au based of this amazing art by @depsidase)

Summary: Remus and Teddy are outcasts, on the edge of Axolotl society, but Teddy makes a new friend and it looks like Remus may make a something more who is willing to show him the stars. Have a good week all <3

[f1-disaster-bi]

A little something for my bestie. @princelancey I hope this makes you smile ❤️

".....do I have to wear this?"

Esteban pinches the bridge of his nose to stop himself from murdering the man behind him. He'd recently stopped hooking up with that lawyer who worked out of the diner so he really couldn't afford jail time right now.

He took a few deep breaths instead before he turned around to look at his newest co-worker and the man currently living on his couch; Lance Stroll.

Lance was holding the mustard yellow shirt with two red stripes as if the thing had bitten him as he looked at Eateban with the most offended look he could muster.

"Yes, it is the uniform", Esteban managed to get out as he crossed his arms over his own ugly mustard and red striped shirt, "Just be happy they let us wear our own pants now"

He swore Lance's face somehow git paler at those words. He might have even gagged a little as he tossed the shirt onto the couch and went to wash his hands as if he had caught something just by holding the material.

"Surely that shirt must be a health code violation. I mean, it has stains!", Lance rambled as he washed his hands quickly before starting to pave, "Are you sure I can't just wear my own clothes?"

Esteban had to shove down his laughter at the thought of Lance Stroll, only child of the now disgraced Lawrence Stroll, serving tables in their shitty little diner where dreams went to die while dressed in Gucci.

"You want to wait tables in those clothes? And mop floors?", Esteban replied with a shake of his head, "Listen, I know you're used to money but you are poor now. And us poor people? We wear shitty work uniforms and go to our soul sucking jobs because we need to pay rent"

Lance sighed and ran his fingers through his hair as he nodded, and Esteban felt a bit guilty for snapping at him, but he knew Lance needed to get a grip on his new reality because there was no where else for him to go.

Hell, before Esteban had offered him his couch, Lance had been near homeless and sleeping on the subway while carry everything he'd been allowed to take from his father's penthouse from job interview to job interview.

Lance was at rock bottom, and Esteban knew what that felt like because he'd been living at rock bottom since he was born.

"Look, the uniform is ugly, but it's better than ruining your clothes", Esteban offered after a few moments along with a hesitant smile, "I just know if you got a stain from the mystery stew on your expensive hoodie, we'd never get it out"

"I know", Lance groaned as he picked up the shirt again and began to walk to their shitty little bathroom, "Maybe I can convince the owner to invest in better quality?"

Esteban actually had to laugh at that comment.

"He can't even invest in meat that's actually what the menu says it is, so good luck with that"

[jae-bummer]

My Idol 3: Part Nine

My Idol From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

My Idol is a South Korean competitive reality dating game show. It currently airs on Saturday nights on Jae-bummer’s blog. First broadcast in 2016, the show offers the opportunity for a lucky fan to go on seven blind dates with seven idols. The idol plans the date with the show throwing in a specific mission to complete during the day. At the end of the initial dates, the show opens up an audience vote to decide what four idols will move on to the second date.

My Idol 3: The Series

.

"Don't look at me like that," you muttered, looking up at Insu moodily.

"It looked like he was trying to inhale your face," your bodyguard muttered, eyes wide. "That must have been terrifying."

"I can't tell if you're trying to be an asshole or not," you sighed. Shoulders dropping, you leaned against the wall that Jackson had you pushed up against. "Had it ever occurred to you that I was enjoying it?"

"Not really," he chuckled, leaning against the wall beside you and crossing his arms. "Did you?"

"I thought so," you nodded. "He's very handsome. And very sweet."

"I wasn't asking why," Insu scoffed.

"I didn't say you were," you said, narrowing your eyes at him. "Why are we even talking right now? I'm still irritated with you."

"Oh right," he grinned. "Because I was the one to tell a complete stranger that you had severe hemorrhoids."

"He wasn't your date," you shrugged.

"Is now a bad time to talk?" he asked, suddenly turning serious. You remained silent, the question hanging in the air.

You knew he wasn't referring to your recent statement, but "talking" as a whole to fix whatever had broken between the two of you yesterday.

"Insu," you started slowly, trying to get your thoughts together. "You don't know me."

"I have never claimed to," he sighed. Adjusting his stance against the wall, he moved to face you. "But I know enough about what type of men you're dealing with to give some sort of warning."

"You don't know them either," you said quietly. "I understand that you're inherently protective, but protecting my heart is not part of your job."

Turning to lean his back against the wall again, Insu looked up to the ceiling, silent.

"I admit," you continued, not at all wanting to admit anything. "That there is...a level of comfortability between us."

"How sweet," he muttered.

"But that's not something I can afford to explore at the present time," you breathed. "As there are seven other men who are currently vying for my affections."

"Only seven?" he hummed. "What's another one thrown in there?"

"This isn't a joke," you groaned. "We need to be more professional."

"We?" he asked, lifting his brows. "I've never once, in the entire time of being contracted with My Idol, neglected your safety based off of my feelings. I am always alert and aware of any threats, including, but not limited to those men "vying for your affections.""

"You're getting more invested than you should," you said wearily, feeling suspiciously close to tearing up. "My life is beyond complicated."

"As you've mentioned."

"Disregarding the whole dating thing," you sighed. "I'm homeless right now."

"I don't think you realize..." he began. "That I am working for a production that you are also technically working for, making us coworkers. Are coworkers not allowed to have friendly relationships?"

"We are," you nodded. "But tell me you weren't jealous of me and Jackson's interactions."

"I was not jealous," he said simply.

Crossing your arms, you turned slightly away from him. He had to know that was bullshit.

"I was selfish."

You could only turn and blink up at him. "What?"

"I want to get to know you," he continued quietly, avoiding eye contact. "So badly. When I took on My Idol, this was just another job. Then I met you at a time when you were so broken. I wanted to protect you and make sure no one would hurt you again. I'm generally protective of my clients, but my feelings for you have been beyond confusing."

You swallowed. You had been in a proverbial dry spell for years. Suddenly though, your dating life had gone from raining to pouring.

"Why do they deserve a chance while I don't?" he continued, his face contorting into sadness, then anger. "Because they're celebrities? Because they're what the audience wants to see?

If it's the right time, right place for them...then I'm also here. What makes me so wrong? Why can't I learn about you and see where it goes?"

"This isn't real life," you murmured. "I am contractually obligated to see these men. If something happens during that contracted period, then great. Dating has been hard ever since I stepped foot in Korea. It's not that I don't want to acknowledge you as a potential suitor, but-"

"I just don't fit into that part of the story," he breathed.

"Insu," you whispered, the tears now dangerously close to falling. "You're not being fair to either of us."

"I know," he muttered, turning away from you completely. "I know. I'm being selfish. I'm putting my wants before what you, well, legally have to do."

"It's not wrong to be selfish sometimes," you cooed, tugging on the back of his suit jacket. "But right now, I'm asking you not to be."

"That's a tough ask," he said quietly.

Sick of speaking to his back, you walked around his body to stand in front of him.

"We can be friendly," you said sternly. He had to understand. "We can be coworkers, but you have to stop with these pre-conceived notions you have of the contestants. They all seem genuinely kind and happy to be able to date without ridicule. They're just people searching for a connection."

Insu remained quiet, biting his lip, and looking anywhere but at you.

"I know it's hard not to be angry...when you don't get a chance at something...at someone," you corrected. "But please, if you really care like you say you do, just go easy on me."

Exhaling through his nose, he finally glanced down toward you. "I will. Only because it's for you."

Slowly nodding, you looked up at him with a sad smile. He really was lovely, and in another life, you may have bumped into him, and fallen hard. It was best to nip this in the bud before the two of you grew past flirting and casual jealousy. Whatever issue he had regarding celebrities was likely unrelated to you and more so to his career. You were certain there was much more to his story than wanting a chance to date. He didn't seem like the type to go after things so trivially.

"Can I go to sleep now?" you asked, the question quieter and more fragile than you had anticipated.

"Of course," he breathed. Pivoting and walking toward your door, he already had your room key in hand. "I shouldn't have forced you into a conversation. I'm sure you're exhausted."

"No," you sighed. "It was good we talked."

"I'm not sure if "good" would be the word I would use," he grumbled.

This caused you to smirk. "It can be a good conversation without actually feeling good about it."

Insu furrowed his brow. "Do you feel good about it?"

"Absolutely not," you laughed. "But I don't really have a say over my own life right now, do I?"

..

During a time where you should be worried about the four incredible men who had each whisked you off your feet, your thoughts were plagued with the conversation you had with Insu. Playing it backwards and forwards in your head, you tried to find a way to make everyone happy. No matter how much mental gymnastics you did, there was no conclusion. The situation was impossible.

You knew from the moment you had met your bodyguard that you had the fattest crush on him. In fact, it was easy to admit at this point. He was good looking, certainly had a tragic backstory, and in general, seemed morally grey. It was all of your favorite tropes about the male leads in every single book you had read. He was a protector and he made you feel so safe in a time that was so uncertain. Maybe it was a touch of Stockholm syndrome, but who could blame you?

But it was all over now. You had to put your adult pants on and squash the small kindling that had been ignited. It was what was best for everyone.

Spinning the ring that Hongseok had made for you around your finger, you paced the length of your hotel room. After a few days break, you were finally slated for another date. With an estranged Insu and a generally stuffy Hyuk, your days had been long. You had met a handful of times with producers, as well as your old apartment complex. The police were still trying to sort out what exactly had happened during your break in. Suspects were hard to find when the entire country's eyes were focused on you.

Thinking back to the dates you had already been on, a thought struck you. You were over halfway complete with the first round. Four men had graced your life, while only three men were left waiting in the wings. It was an odd thought that you had met so many different personalities in the past two weeks. At times, this whole experience felt like a fever dream.

Your evening with Jungkook had been so simple in the best way. When meeting someone with the level of star power he had, you were expecting a big personality. It was refreshing to find him to be so down to earth. He was so expressive and understanding with his words and actions. Talking to him was like talking to a childhood friend. You had been at ease instantly and he still acted as a calming balm to your soul. Running into him in the hallway had only confirmed that.

The day you spent with Hongseok, however, felt like a true first date. It wasn't that you were totally awkward with each other, but you definitely had to warm up. After a strained first interaction, it was easy to see that he was tooth achingly sweet. With an endless supply of jokes and stories, the butterflies in your stomach knew no peace with him. If there was any consolation to your apartment being broken into, it was that he was the one to help you through it.

Rebounding from the shock of losing most of your worldly possessions, San was a perfect date to follow. The man was quite literally a walking green flag. His innocence and naturally cute mannerisms made you feel like you had been dropped inside of a rom com. He was a soft boy. Even after he had been injured, he worried about how you were doing. Plus, you had to begrudgingly admit, you kind of liked the nickname he had given you.

Your last date had still left you reeling. Being with Jackson was like constantly holding your breath. He was incredibly kind, but also incredibly hot. He oozed sex appeal, and it was easy to get lost in the idea of a first kiss with him. His date had been a little more involved than the others, but you felt like it had represented him well. He had so many different sides to him that it was hard to peg down. He was an enigma, and you were hopeful that you would get to explore your relationship more.

You closed your eyes as you heard a knock on the door. "Y/N," Insu called softly. "It's time."

Taking a deep breath, you nodded to yourself. Another evening date meant another appearance of Insu the chaperone. You knew he was likely to behave better this time, but you still hated that he essentially had to watch you date other people. It was unfair.

Unlocking your door, he pushed gently against it, causing it to swing in toward you. Turning to face him, you were surprised to find a smile on his face.

"Well, aren't you cute."

"Insu..." you warned.

"He said in a totally platonic way," he smirked, motioning for you to come into the hall.

Rolling your eyes, you walked past him, instantly feeling lighter. He had been a bit quiet since your big conversation, so it was nice to see him getting back to himself.

"How are you feeling?" he asked as he took his place behind you.

"Nervous," you breathed. "But the good kind I think."

"Good," he hummed. "I know it's been hard to think of anything but the chaos going on around you, but you deserve to have a good time. Really enjoy what's happening."

Shooting a suspicious look over your shoulder, you quirked a brow. "Thanks."

Your expression caused him to laugh. "What?"

"I just..." you murmured, trying to pick your words carefully. "Wasn't expecting for you to be supportive after our conversation the other day."

"I've done my pouting," he sighed. "I just want you to be happy."

Stepping into the elevator at the end of the hall, your heart skipped a beat. He was too good for you anyway.

"Thank you," you said after a moment of silence. "Really."

"There's nothing to thank me for," he offered.

Unable to come up with a reply before the elevator doors slid open, you reached over and gave his bicep a quick squeeze. Shuffling into the lobby, you looked around, surprised to see the driver and camera men the only ones waiting for you.

"What-" you started but were immediately interrupted by Wu.

"Your date wanted to take a different mode of transportation," he sighed. "We're meeting him at the venue."

"Different mode of transportation," Insu clucked. "I wonder what that means."

...

Standing on the sidewalk in front of a record store, you watched the sun begin to set on the horizon. The colors were beautiful, but the lack of direct sunlight already caused the temperature to begin to plummet. Shivering slightly, you tried not to get annoyed. Where was your date?

After another five minutes of waiting, you were jostled from your thoughts by the revving of a loud engine. Looking up, you were surprised to see a large motorcycle easing smoothly up to the curb. Surely that couldn't be...

The driver began to fiddle with his bike, turning it off before reaching for the helmet he had been wearing. Freeing his head, he shook out his hair and ran his fingers through it. Honestly, it felt like you were watching a movie as he slid from the cycle and looked your way.

As soon as your eyes met, it felt like your breath had been stolen from your chest. Who was allowed to be that good looking? Even after popping off a helmet, he looked like a dream.

Shaggy black hair, pouty lips, and doe eyes, the man strode toward you, obviously in no hurry. Dressed in a black jean jacket with a grey hoodie underneath, black jeans, and converse, it looked like he had walked out of a magazine.

Remaining silent until he finally made his way before you, he offered a shy smile. "Hi."

"Hi," you choked out, suddenly overly aware of the lack of saliva in your mouth.

Tilting his head as he watched you curiously, he instantly noticed your arms wrapped around your torso. Without saying a word, he tugged off his jean jacket and held it in your direction.

"No, I'm fine-" you started, a natural reaction to not wanting to cause anyone trouble.

Lifting his brows, he shook it a bit. As you continued to stare, he heaved a sigh before walking around you and placing the coat across your shoulders. Stepping back in front of you, he grinned. "I'm Hyungwon, from Monsta X."

"I'm Y/N," you croaked. "From My Idol."

Hyungwon's smile grew in size as heat began to instantly creep up your neck. How did someone's simple existence make you so flustered?

"Nice to meet you, Y/N from My Idol," he chuckled. "Why don't we get you out of the cold and head inside?"

"Yes, inside," you said dumbly, already heated by your sheer embarrassment.

Hyungwon smiled again as he took a place beside you, putting his hand across your lower back to guide you into the building.

His fingers felt like they were searing a hole into the denim. You mentally chided yourself as you stumbled forward. Get it together, Y/N, or risk this being the most mortifying night of your life.

.

[irregularbillcipher]

rewatched nerdy prudes must die for the first time since the digital ticket premiere and i’ve been on a “thinking about the spankoffski brothers” kick recently and something sort of notable is that ted is never mentioned. pete mentions his dad in the present tense, (sells women’s shoes,) so he’s still around, mentions his mom in the past tense, (made him do tap as a kid,) so who knows if she’s still alive/in pete’s life, but ted isn’t mentioned once unless i missed something

but his connection to ted is still acknowledged, with the line richie says about how pete looks like the homeless guy, (which, ouch, thanks for that.) pete actively draws attention to his last name being spankoffski, and the nightmare time episodes that dropped before the release of npmd made it a point to show that pete is ted’s little brother and that he looks up to him. obviously there are some differences between the realities but not usually in who is related to who, or any major changes in how one person feels about another, so it’s safe to assume ted is still pete’s big brother, and that pete still cares about ted, making it a little weird that he never even mentions his brother

… unless ted is an sore subject in a way his parents aren’t, someone he’d rather not think or talk about. afaik, we don’t have any clue what age pete usually is when ted presumably goes “missing,” so i sort of wonder if this is a reality where ted has already “gone missing,” and the reason that ted is never mentioned despite ted’s last name being considered a “spoiler” and the material released before npmd going “PETE IS TED’S BABY BROTHER BTW AND PETE CARES ABOUT HIM” is because he’s already gone and pete’s like… mourning