#I could make this an anthology and get carried away with it so fast

[peachesofteal]

Simon Riley who-

takes you home from a bar when you're both pretty drunk. You're cute and clumsy and giggly, and he wants to put his hands all over you, put his mouth on yours, put himself inside you. He takes one look at you across the dingy pub after Johnny whistles and comments on how pretty you are, and knows. He knows you'll be in his hotel room, or he'll be in your flat, before the sun rises on tomorrow.

You catch him staring. Catch his eye. And it's all over from there.

The sex is hurried, desperate- and you're flustered. Begging for him, pleading for him to shove his cock inside your pretty little pussy and make you cum all over it.

So he does. And neither of you have the talk. There's no discussion of protection or testing or condoms. You rattle something off about being on the pill, and well- that's good enough for him.

He fucks you face to face, terrifyingly intimate for him, something he hasn't done in years. He folds your knees to your chest and leans close enough to catch every breath and every sound, each whine and moan like a little piece of sunlight, a firefly in a jar, blinking only for him.

When you say his name, when you scream it, he wonders if this is what it's like- to have and to hold.

After, he still thinks about you. Wonders how you are, if you still go to that pub, if you still live in that flat. He swears he dreams about you, but can't remember when he wakes up. He likes to think he'll go back to see if you're there, one day. One day after these missions stop turning into months and months of slogging through hell. After he gets a chance to breathe.

It's over a year, by the time he's back in Gaz's part of town, which is conveniently your part of town.

When he scans the faces inside the bar and doesn't see yours, he can't help the disappointment that rots in his stomach.

So he has too much bourbon. Falls asleep on Kyle's couch.

And when he's letting himself out in the morning, when he's thrust into the glare of the sun-

his heart stops in his chest when he sees you on the sidewalk with a chubby, happy baby in your arms.

Series here

[rolotouto]

Tan Tan Tanuki

The Queen and Knight anthologies are pretty well known among Geass fans, but there’s more comic anthologies that are also “official” (not drawn by the official staff, but which have the Sunrise/Project Geass copyright and were sold in places that don’t sell doujinshi). For the R2 series there’s Comic Anthology Zero, which at least had scans floating around back when the Code Geass livejournal community was a thing, and then also the Noir-Blanc-Rouge-Azure-Irise set of books, whose existence I’ve barely ever seen acknowledged, even among Japanese fans. Nonetheless, these types of not-canon-but-still-officially-approved stories have always been the kind of content that makes me the happiest, so I want to help make them a little bit more well-known! As mentioned, there’s 5 books, with lots of Rolo overall, so it’s hard to choose just one story to translate, but for now I’ve (poorly) scanned one found in Azure:

Rolo: Brother, there’s something I didn’t understand during the lesson we just had. Can you teach me? Notebook title: Mathemathics Lelouch (not seen): What is it? Rolo (not seen): It’s this part here... Lelouch (thinking): Suzaku, I see. (comment outside the text bubble) Here you apply this and... Rolo (comment outside the text bubble): Ah, right. Lelouch: You are a fast learner, Rolo. As expected from my little brother.  Rolo: Brother. Comment about Lelouch’s words: Praises himself while pretending to praise Rolo Lelouch (thinking): How’s that, Suzaku? No matter how you look at it, we’re just normal brothers who get along! 

Lelouch (thinking): There’s nothing to be suspicious of! Lelouch: Oh Suzaku, you were there? What is it? You are just standing around. Suzaku: Eh? Yeah... (next panel, not seen) Could I borrow Rolo for a moment? Lelouch (not seen): Rolo? (next panel) That’s fine, but don’t forget to return him, okay? He’s my precious little brother. (TN: Sand comes out of his mouth, which is based on the expression “so sweet you vomit sand,” originating from “so sweet you vomit sugar.” Meaning he finds his own words too cheesy)  Rolo: Brother. Suzaku: I know. I’ll return him right away. Rolo (formal speech): So. Is there anything you want? Suzaku: ...

Suzaku: No... Well...  (outside text bubble) How should I express it... Um... You look genuinely happy when you are with Lelouch. Are you betraying us or something? Comment pointing at Suzaku: Guy with no skills to elicit information indirectly Rolo/Lelouch (thinking): Completely direct!! Suzaku: Your behavior doesn’t seem like acting, so... Lelouch (thinking): Darn it! To think it’d be suspicious from that angle...! (outside the text bubble) Now that I won him over it backfires on me Rolo (formal speech): And here I was wondering what you were going to say... Him and I are brothers who are close, are we not? So does that not mean that it is only natural for me to be happy around Brother? In order not to trigger his memories coming back, it is better that I act in a way that does not feel strange, is that correct? Suzaku: Ah, yeah, um... Rolo (formal speech): So about my acting skills that are so good they do not even seem like acting, if anything I would think that you should praise them.  Lelouch (thinking): Good one, Rolo!

Rolo: In other words, the more natural it looks, the better I am carrying out the mission. Suzaku: I-I see. Sorry for doubting you. Lelouch (thinking): Good thing the guy's perceptive at the oddest times but slow when it comes to what’s important... Rolo: Speaking of which, I would like to make it look even more like real brothers. What kind of things do brothers usually do? Lelouch (thinking): Hm? Suzaku: Eh? Mm, well... Being together all the time, for example? Rolo: We already do that. Suzaku: Getting help with studies and such? Rolo: I said we already do that. You saw it just a moment ago. (next panel, not seen) Is there nothing else? Suzaku (not seen): Something else, um... Ah! (next panel) For example, wearing matching outfits, taking a bath together, or sleeping together? Rolo (outside text bubble): Oh, so they do that Suzaku (outside text bubble): Sounds like getting along, doesn’t it? Lelouch: Wait a moment! What kind of brothers are those!! (outside text bubble) Like I’d do that! (next panel) I came here worried since you were taking so long to return. Would you not indoctrinate my dear little brother with wrong ideas of what brothers are like? (outside text bubble) What if he now wants to do those things!

Suzaku: Well... then what kind of things do *real brothers* do? Lelouch (thinking): Tch...! How could Suzaku come up with such a good comeback... Even though I have a little sister, I have no idea about little brothers! What’s the natural thing to do? Paper folding...? Two men doing that would be too dull! Reading him a book? ... But it’s not like he’s a child. What do brothers do? Something natural for brothers to do... That’s it! (next panel) Playing catch? Suzaku: Eh. You? Comment in square textbox: Unnaturalness that predates the whole brothers thing Lelouch: I... I can do it too! Something like playing catch! Suzaku: Really...? Comment pointing at Suzaku: Suspicious look in more ways than one Lelouch: Let’s go, Rolo. Rolo: Y... Yeah.

Suzaku (no text bubble): Yeah. As expected. Lelouch: Haha... I overdid it trying to show off since Suzaku is looking. It’s actually like this. Kanji above the arrow: Short distance Rolo (outside text bubble): Playing catch with Brother... ♥ Suzaku: This is clearly unnatural, right? Lelouch: What are you talking about. We always play catch like this, right Rolo? Rolo: Yeah, Brother Suzaku: That’s what you say, but you actually haven’t played catch before, have you? Do you understand, Lelouch? To play catch... 

Suzaku: Your distance has to be at the very least this much. Comment next to Suzaku: Completely serious  Lelouch: Hey wait, you moving lack of common sense! (TN: I’m not 100% sure if that’s the right translation but it should at least be pretty similar) (next panel) Who plays catch like that? If you are trying to practice throwing a ball to home... Suzaku: Why didn’t you catch it? Lelouch. Lelouch: As if I could!! And don’t come back from such a distance in an instant without even gasping for breath!! Villetta: Which one is more unnatural you ask...?

Villetta: I wouldn’t call any of that “playing catch,” but... Suzaku (outside text bubble): Eh?! Lelouch (outside text bubble): Just realize it already that when it comes to physical strength what’s common sense to you is insane to others Villetta: But in so far as you can at least catch the ball in Lelouch’s version, that one is the least bad, don’t you think? (outside text bubble) Honestly, not that there is much difference between the two Lelouch: Thank you, *teacher*. Villetta: Don’t mention it, instead go fix the mess you created. The three of you. Lelouch: Eh? No, that was Suzaku's- Villetta: It’s collective responsibility, you idiot. Rolo: Brother! I bought matching ones. Will you wear it? Lelouch (outside text bubble): I knew it...  (next panel, outside text bubble): That’s wrong! You’re mistaken, Rolo!! Rolo (outside text bubble) : Brother, you don’t like it? Suzaku (outside text bubble) : You’ll wear it, right, Lelouch? Since you are *brothers* Villetta (thinking): In this battle of foxes trying to outfox each other, the biggest winner is probably Rolo... END

[bewitching-elizabeth-olsen]

Press/Gallery: How Elizabeth Olsen Brought Marvel From Mainstream to Prestige

“The thing I love about being an actor is to fully work with someone and try so hard to be at every level with them, chasing whatever it is you need or want from them.”

  GALLERY LINKS

Studio Photoshoots > 2021 > Session 008 Magazine Scans > 2021 > Backstage (August 19)

Backstage: Elizabeth Olsen grins widely over video chat when recalling many such moments on set with her co-stars. Yet, she can’t bring herself to divorce such a lofty vision of film acting from the technical multitasking it requires. The camera sees all.

“But then you move your hair, and you’re in your brain, like: OK, remember that! Because I don’t want to edit myself out of a shot. I know some actors are like, ‘Continuity, shmontinuity!’ But the good thing about continuity is, if you remember it, you’re actually providing yourself with more options for the edit.”

That need to balance being both inside the scene and outside of it, fully living it and yet constantly visualizing it on a screen, feels particularly apt in light of Olsen’s most recent project, “WandaVision.”

The mysteries at the heart of the show grow with every episode, each fast-forwarding to a different decade: Could this 1950s, black-and-white, “filmed in front of a studio audience” newlyweds bit be a grief-stricken dream? Might this ’70s spoof be a powerful spell gone awry? Could this meta take on mockumentary comedies be proof that the multiverse is finally coming to the Marvel Cinematic Universe?

The series’ structure, which branches out to include government agents intent on finding out why Westview has seemingly disappeared, calls for the entire cast to play with a mix of genres, balancing a shape-shifting tone that culminates in an epic, MCU-style conclusion. What’s key—and why the show struck a chord with audiences during its nine-episode run—is the miniseries’ commitment to grounding its initial kooky setups and its later special effects-driven spectacle in heartbreaking emotional truths. It’s no small feat, though it’s one that can often be taken for granted.

“I was thinking how hard it would have been to have shot the first ‘Lord of the Rings,’ ” Olsen muses. “Like, you’re putting all these actors [into the frame] later and at all these different levels. All the eyelines are completely unnatural. And yet the performances are fantastic! And technically, they are so hard. People forget sometimes that these things are really technically hard to shoot. And if you are moved by their performance, that took a lot of multitasking.”

As someone who has learned plenty about harnesses, wirework, fight choreography, and green screens (she’s starred in four Marvel movies, including the box office megahit “Avengers: Endgame,” after all), Olsen knows how hard it can be to wrap one’s brain around the work needed to pull off those big, splashy scenes.

“​​If you think about it, it’s, like, the biggest stakes in the entire world—every time. And that feels silly to act over and over again, especially when people are in silly costumes and the love of your life is purple and sparkly, and every time you kiss them, you have to worry about getting it on your hands. Those things are ridiculous. You feel ridiculous. So there is a part of your brain that has to shovel that away and just look into someone’s eyeballs—and sometimes, they don’t even have eyeballs!”

The ability to spend so much time with Wanda, albeit in the guise of sitcom parodies, was a welcome opportunity for Olsen. Not only did it allow the actor to really wrestle with the traumatic backstory that has long defined the character in the MCU, but having the chance to calibrate a performance that functions on so many different levels was a thrilling challenge.

“It was such an amazing work experience,” she says. “Kathryn [Hahn] uses the word ‘profound’—which is so sweet, because it is Marvel, and people, you know, don’t think of those experiences as profound when they watch them. But it really was such a special crew that [director] Matt Shakman and [creator] Jac Schaeffer created. It was a really healthy working environment.”

Related‘WandaVision’ Star Kathryn Hahn’s Secret to Building a Scene-Stealing Performance ‘WandaVision’ Star Kathryn Hahn’s Secret to Building a Scene-Stealing Performance Considering that the miniseries spans several sitcom iterations, various layers of televisual reality, and a number of character reveals that needed to feel truthful and impactful in equal measure, Shakman’s decision to work closely with his actors ahead of shooting was key.

“We truly had a gorgeous amount of time together before we started filming,” Olsen remembers. “Our goal was—which is controversial in TV land—that if you wanted to change [anything], like dialogue in a scene, you had to give those notes a week before we even got there. Because sometimes you get to set, and someone had a brilliant idea while they were sleeping, and you’re like, ‘We don’t have an hour to talk about this. We have seven pages to shoot.’ And so, we were all on the same page with one another, knowing what we were shooting ahead of time.

“Matt just treated us like a troupe of actors who were about to do some regional theater shit,” she adds with a smile.

That spirit of camaraderie was, not coincidentally, at the heart of Olsen’s breakout project, Sean Durkin’s 2011 indie sensation “Martha Marcy May Marlene.” As an introduction to the process of filmmaking to a young stage-trained actor, Durkin’s quietly devastating drama was a dream—and an invaluable learning opportunity.

“It was truly just a bunch of people who loved the script, who just were doing the work. I didn’t understand lenses, so I just did the same thing all the time. I never knew if the camera would be on me or not. There was just so much purity in that experience, and you only have that once.”

The film announced Olsen as a talent to watch: a keen-eyed performer capable of deploying a stilted physicality and clipped delivery, which she used to conjure up a wounded girl learning how to shake off her time spent in a cult in upstate New York. But Olsen admits that it took her a while to figure out how to navigate her career choices afterward. In the years following “Martha,” she felt compelled to try on everything: a horror flick here, a high-profile remake there, a period piece here, an action movie there. It wasn’t until she starred in neo-Western thriller “Wind River” (alongside fellow Marvel regular Jeremy Renner) and the dark comedy “Ingrid Goes West” (opposite a deliciously deranged Aubrey Plaza) that Olsen found her groove.

“It was at that point, when I was five years into working, where I was like, Ah, I know how I want it. I know what I need from these people—from who’s involved, from producers, from directors, from the character, from the script—in order to trust that it’s going to be a fruitful experience.”

As Olsen looks back on her first decade as a working actor, she points out how far removed she is from that young girl who broke out in “Martha Marcy May Marlene.”

“I feel like a totally different person. I don’t know if everyone who’s in their early 30s feels like their early 20s self is a totally different human. But when I think about that version of myself, it feels like a long time ago; there’s a lot learned in a decade.”

Those early years were marked by a self-effacing humility that often led Olsen to defer to others when it came to key decisions about the characters she was playing. But she now feels emboldened to not only stand up for herself and her choices but for others on her sets as well.

“[Facebook Watch series] ‘Sorry for Your Loss’ I got to produce, and I really found my voice in a collaborative leadership way. And with ‘WandaVision,’ Paul [Bettany] and I really took on that feeling, as well—especially since we were introducing new characters to Marvel and wanted [those actors] to feel protected and helped,” she says. “They could ask questions and make sure they felt like they had all the things they needed because sometimes you don’t even know what you need to ask.”

It’s a lesson she learned working with filmmaker Marc Abraham on the Hank Williams biopic “I Saw the Light,” and she’s carried it with her ever since. “I really want it to feel like we’re all in this together, as a team,” Olsen says. “That was part of ‘Sorry for Your Loss’ and it was part of ‘WandaVision,’ and I hope to continue that kind of energy because those have been some of the healthiest work experiences I’ve had.”

If Olsen sounds particularly zealous about the importance of a comfortable, working set, it is because she’s well aware that therein lies an integral part of the work and the process. As an actor, she wants to feel protected and nurtured by those around her, whether she’s reacting to a telling, quiet line of dialogue about grief or donning her iconic Scarlet Witch outfit during a magic-filled mid-air action sequence.

“Sometimes you’re going to be foolish, you know? And [you need to] feel brave to be foolish. Sometimes people feel embarrassed on set and snap. But if you’re in a place where people feel like they’re allowed to be an idiot,” she says, “you’re going to feel better about being an idiot.”

This story originally appeared in the Aug. 19 issue of Backstage Magazine. Subscribe here.

Press/Gallery: How Elizabeth Olsen Brought Marvel From Mainstream to Prestige was originally published on Elizabeth Olsen Source • Your source for everything Elizabeth Olsen

[starring-movies]

The Haunting of Bly Manor: Episode Analysis

*SPOILERS*

Episode 1 - The Great Good Place

The first episode of the second season of ‘The Haunting’ anthology series, ‘The Haunting of Bly Manor’, begins with the opening credits which kick off each episode of this season. In these credits, we see painted portraits of each of the main characters of the season (Dani, Peter, Rebecca, Jamie, Owen, Miles and Flora, and Hannah) and the features of their faces gradually disappear, the significance of which we do not discover until later on. Although Dani is the only one who actually remains a ghost after becoming the new Lady of the Lake and will have this physically happen to her, having not just Dani’s but all of the main characters’ facial features smoothing over, goes deeper in telling us that even though the general ‘shape’ of you remains in people’s memories of you, it is the final fate that “all things fade” [ep 8] and will eventually be forgotten over time.

Is is also notable that all of the characters’ portraits are shown to be in rectangular frames, however, Hannah Grose’s portrait is in an oval frame. This subtle detail, just like the disappearing facial features, indicates something important to the plot that is not made sense of until watching further. In this case, we find out in Episode 5 that Hannah is actually a ghost herself and that her body is lying at the bottom of a well on the grounds, but in the beginning credits, we are subtly being shown that Hannah is different to the others without it yet being revealed in what way.

After the beginning credits, the actual episode begins with The Storyteller, who we later find out is Jamie, reciting the lyrics of “O Willow Waly” by Isla Cameron. The lyrics of the whole song are:

“We lay my love and I beneath the weeping willow,

But now alone I lie and weep beside the tree,

Singing ‘oh willow waly’ by the tree that weeps with me,

Singing ‘oh willow waly’ till my lover return to me,

We lay my love and I beneath the weeping willow,

A broken heart have I,

Oh willow I die, oh willow I die”

The song was originally in the 1961 movie ‘The Innocents’ which, like The Haunting of Bly Manor, is another adaptation of Henry James’ 1898 novella ‘The Turn of the Screw’. The song is constantly repeated throughout The Haunting of Bly Manor by various characters, as well as being the music played in a music box which was found amongst the belongings of Miles and Flora’s mother, Charlotte Wingrave.

The lyrics of the song, describing the singer sitting beneath a willow tree giving a sad lament for a lost lover, are very apt for what will come throughout the series - the tragic gothic romances of Henry and Charlotte Wingrave, Rebecca and Peter, Owen and Hannah, and Dani and Jamie. In each of these instances, someone in the partnership can be reflected in the singer of the song, lamenting for their lost love and lover (Henry Wingrave, Rebecca, Owen and Jamie all suffer this same sad lament after losing their love).

Having Jamie recite these lyrics at the beginning of the season also tells us at the very beginning, what Older Flora tells us in Episode 9; that Jamie isn’t telling a “ghost story” but a “love story”, and similarly that we are watching a love story and not necessarily a ghost story in the traditional sense.

We then watch as Jamie wakes up in her hotel room and she immediately looks towards her right shoulder. This is something that can easily be overlooked on a first viewing, however, we discover at the very end of Episode 9 that Dani’s hand was touching Jamie’s right shoulder as she fell asleep - it is up to the viewer whether this is actually Dani or instead a comforting memory of Jamie’s - so in this moment as she wakes up, Jamie is actually looking at her shoulder because she felt Dani’s presence to some degree. Similarly, we also find out in Episode 9 that Jamie’s ritualistic staring into the water’s reflection in the bath and sink is done in the hope that she will one day see Dani reflected back at her.

When Jamie first wakes up we can also see that she’s smiling, as if she was dreaming of her life with Dani, possibly having been tucked away in a memory of them by Dani, who quietly watches over and protects her.

We then continue as we see that it’s 2007 and Jamie arrives at Older Flora’s wedding reception, and it seems that her arrival is surprising to Older Owen, who looks like he did not expect Jamie to attend. His surprise is most likely due to the grief that he will be aware that Jamie carries after losing Dani, and Dani only died from the sacrifice that she made to save Flora from The Lady in the Lake. However, after seeing Jamie arrive, Owen says in his speech that “to truly love another person is to accept that the work of loving them is worth the pain of losing them”. This is something that is not only applicable to Owen himself, as he truly loved Hannah and is under the belief that loving her was also worth the pain of eventually losing her; but what he says is also applicable for Jamie (who he seems to be specifically directing this comment towards).

The wedding reception carries on into the evening, where all the attendants have gathered together and begin to talk about ghost stories. They speak of ghost stories flippantly, chalking them down to being “just a story” and a “part of the sales package” so that “they can charge a few hundred extra for the ghost story”. In this conversation one woman also jokes about being warned of a ghost called “Seamus” who had “his head crushed in where a horse had kicked him” and all the other guests laugh lightheartedly (and somewhat disrespectfully) at this.

However, Jamie says that she has a real ghost story but she warns that it’s long and not her story, and despite this Owen encourages her to tell it saying, “well it seems we’ve got time enough, and wine enough, why not?”. Owen is more than likely to be aware of what story Jamie is referring to and so he clearly also wants Miles and Flora to know what happened to them as children, and more importantly the sacrifice that Dani made for them. This is something that Dani, Jamie and Owen discussed when Dani and Jamie were visiting Owen’s restaurant in France, A Batter Place, in Episode 9.

During that conversation in France, Owen says that he wouldn’t tell the children and “just let them be” and “let them live their lives the way they should without anything hanging over them”. However, since that conversation Dani has died and unlike the children she didn’t get a chance to live her life the way she should, and so it seems that Owen’s opinion has changed. It appears that he now thinks that the children should know what happened and what Dani sacrificed for them (especially if they’re told indirectly, which Jamie subtly makes clear to Owen as she makes a point to say that “it isn’t really my story”).

Jamie then begins to tell her story where we switch to London in 1987, and we do not return to Older Jamie at the wedding reception until Episode 9. In our first introduction to Dani, we can clearly see that she’s a tourist and very much out of her depth. She appears slightly flustered and scattered as she checks her map to make sure she’s arrived at the right location and comically, with typical tourist fashion, she wears a hidden waist bag which holds her map and the address of the location for the job interview.

Interestingly, Dani’s red rucksack has some flags on it, which are most likely patches which she’s collected on her European travels after leaving America. The flags show us that she’s not just come straight from America to the UK, but that she’s been backpacking all throughout Europe and really is running away from her past. The flags show us that she’s been to Sweden, the UK, France, Luxembourg/The Netherlands and Italy (or Ireland, but it’s unlikely that she went to Ireland based on the direction she’s travelled and the fact she’s in London now) - Dani has also attached the flags of Luxembourg/The Netherlands incorrectly, as these two are upside down.

As Dani is about to cross the road to go into Henry Wingrave’s office building, she suddenly sees a spectre with glowing eyes in the window of a fast passing car. We don’t yet know that this is her ex-fiancé who’s image she is haunted by after he is killed when she breaks off her engagement to him, having realising that she is attracted to women. The fact that Dani sees him on her way to the job interview, shows us that he appears to her not only when she is feeling the guilt from her sexuality, when she is advancing her relationship with Jamie (which we see happens later on); but also when she is just generally attempting to move on with her life.

During her interview with Henry, we can clearly see by her body language that Dani is trying to put on a confident facade but it’s exactly that - a facade. Although she tries to exude confidence through her body language, we can see that she’s uncomfortable as she awkwardly shuffles and attempts a British accent when she says that she’s “fallen quite in love with London”. An attempt which we can see is not well received by Henry as he rolls his eyes and says “god” under his breath.

Although, Dani is used to putting on a facade, we know from Episode 4 that she has in fact been putting one on for her whole life; agreeing to marry Eddie (the fiancé) just because she “didn’t want to hurt you [Eddie] and your mom” and was just hoping that she “could just stick it out and eventually [she] would feel how [she] was supposed to”. Dani had been putting on a front and was hiding how she felt for her whole life, just as Older Jamie says in Episode 4, that “the au pair had been telling herself to wait another night, another time for years and years”.

We can also see that although Dani still appears to be quiet and meek, she is now stronger in her life than when she was with Eddie, and when Henry tries to ask what “the catch” is, she bites back at him and says that she had the same question for him as the job seemed easy to fill. We also see this confidence later on when she decides that she wants to pursue a relationship with Jamie, she is sick of hiding how she feels and acting how she’s been told to, and so in Episode 3 she tentatively makes the first move with Jamie as she’s sick of hiding and wants to show Jamie that she’s interested in her.

We also find out why Dani has such continual trouble making tea, as she says to Henry that she hasn’t “quite mastered tea, I’m used to it coming in a pitcher, full of ice cubes and lemon wedges”.

This facade is also shown visually in the interview scene, as she is wearing a black blazer during the interview with Henry, when she is trying to impress him for the job. When we see her looking in the job section of a newspaper after the failed interview, we can see that she has taken off her blazer and she has also taken off the front of caring what impression she makes with him, and so she storms up to confront him when she sees him sit down at the bar. The removal of the blazer also shows us how much more genuine Dani comes across when she’s not pretending and is just being herself - Henry doesn’t give her the job during the interview, when she’s trying to be impressive; but when she’s just being her authentic self in the pub, he decides to give her the job because he can see her genuine caring intention to help the children.

It is also notable that she is drinking a beer, a stereotypically masculine drink and another thing that makes her more unusual.

During this conversation Dani says that when she used to teach the fourth grade there was “too many of them and too little of [her]” and she thinks that she “could make a difference, a real difference, with just two”. This wish, to “make a real difference”, is actually something that Dani ends up fulfilling when she saves Flora and Miles, but she is only able to do this with a tremendous sacrifice of her own life and happiness.

Whilst on the car ride with Owen, after being picked up by him in London, Dani has a conversation about Bly with him. In this conversation Owen tells Dani how he was born in Bly, how he has been living in France but has now come back, and says that “the whole town is one big gravity well, and it’s easy to get stuck”. This inescapability of Bly makes sense, as we later find out in Episode 8 that The Lady of the Lake has created her own “invented gravity” within the grounds of the manor from her grief and anger. From what Owen says it is apparent that The Lady of the Lake’s “gravity” is the strongest within the grounds, but its affect has also managed to seep its way into the town of Bly itself.

After Dani arrives at Bly, it is strongly implied that Fora had just been controlled by Rebecca Jessel. Flora is singing “O Willow Waly” by the lake, which is the song that plays in the music box that Rebecca and Peter kept their Polaroids in, but she turns around in confusion saying “what song?” when Dani remarks “what a beautiful song” - this confusion at not being able to remember what she’s done is something that Flora always has after being taken over by Rebecca.

As well as this, Flora is sitting by the lake, which Dani says in Episode 3 that Flora “hates the lake”; but just like the various other times when Flora is taken over by Rebecca, Rebecca uses Flora’s body to walk to the lake (the location where she was killed by Peter and mourns for her life that was snatched from her).

Flora goes on to tell Dani that “you’re expected”, which is a nod back to ‘The Haunting of Hill House and actually a chilling thing for Flora to say after knowing what happens to Nell. In Hill House, Olivia - who is Nell’s, also played by Victoria Pedretti, mother - similarly tells Nell “you’re expected”. Nell goes back to Hill House and dies there and Dani eventually returns to Bly Manor where she dies.

Flora also introduces Dani to Miles and Mrs Hannah Grose. The latter of whom we come to find out is actually a ghost and has, only moments before, been pushed down the well by Peter Quint (possessing Miles’ body) and killed, and when we first see her she is actually staring down at her own corpse.

The creepy moment when Miles is lurking by Dani’s door and watching her get changed is still unsettling, but it’s made slightly less creepy when we later find out that it was one of the times when it was actually Peter in Miles’ body.

When they all have their dinner that evening, we do see Hannah have a sip of tea (which Dani notices she’s hardly drank any of, but she puts down to it tasting bad), however she also doesn’t eat her food and continues not to eat any food - a small hint that Hannah is actually dead.

While Dani is giving Flora her bath before bed, Flora looks over Dani’s left shoulder and seems to be having a partial conversation with someone who’s not Dani - Flora comments that she’s being silly even though Dani hasn’t said anything that would prompt her to say that, and she’s initially mad at Dani for having the butterfly clip that belonged to Rebecca. But after looking over Dani’s shoulder, Flora nods in agreement and tells Dani that it’s actually okay, so it appears that Rebecca told Flora that Dani could have her hair clip. We learn later on that Flora continuously sees Miss Jessel standing behind Dani’s left shoulder, as she seems to be continuing to watch over Flora even as a ghost, but Rebecca doesn’t reveal herself to Dani until Episode 7.

Just before bedtime, Dani says that Flora can play with her dollhouse, which is a microcosm of Bly Manor. The locations for all of those within the house are shown to Flora by the Doll Face Ghost, who dictates the placement of the dolls for her. Dani sees Flora playing with one of the dolls and asks “is that me?” to which Flora replies “why, no, silly, you’re you”. At first this is a comment that can easily be dismissed, but in Episode 9 it bears much more importance. In Episode 9, Flora gives Dani the doll that she was playing with in this scene, because she tells her that “you must have it, it’s you”.

Flora knows that The Lady of the Lake is within Dani and now, unlike when they first met, she has become a doll. Dani is just a puppet who will one day be completely taken over by The Lady. Flora knows that Dani is no longer “you”, after The Lady has accepted Dani’s invitation she has lost a part of herself to The Lady, and the doll is now as similar to Dani as she is to herself.

We are shown some shots of within the dollhouse where we can see that Miss Jessel’s doll is next to Flora’s bed, so this confirms that Flora has just been looking at and speaking to Miss Jessel; we can also see that Peter’s doll is in Miles’ room, so this also confirms that Peter is following Miles around.

The next day Dani goes into the church on the grounds, where she finds Hannah lighting some candles for “the dead”. She lights four; one for Charlotte Wingrave, one for Henry Wingrave, one for Rebecca Jessel and she doesn’t yet realise it (and nor do we) but the last candle is sadly for herself - it can’t be for Peter because Hannah doesn’t yet know that Peter is dead, everyone thinks that he’s just ran away.

That night, just before Miles and Flora’s bedtime, Dani kicks the doll which represents The Lady of the Lake, as it was sitting in the middle of the floor. Flora’s dresser represents the lake and the dollhouse is the manor, so we know that The Lady is on her way to the house, which is why Dani is locked in the cupboard - not because the children are playing a cruel game, which is what it first seems, but because they are actually trying to protect her, as they know that The Lady approaching and they’ve seen what she did to Peter.

You can read my previous The Haunting of Bly Manor posts here:-

Episode 2 - The Pupil

Episode 3 - The Two Faces, Part One

Episode 4 - The Way It Came

Episode 5 - The Altar of the Dead

Episode 6 - The Jolly Corner

——————————————————————————

[tomatograter]

I remember you mentioning after wandavision ended that it was nice, but it could never be like a vision run (i assume it's vision volume 2 from 2016) and i wanted to ask if you recommend to read it instead of watching wandavision and if you have any other marvel runs you could recommend?

I was referring to Vision (2015)! The whole run encompasses vol 1 & 2, but what that means is that they’re 12 issues of the same story. Naming conventions with comics can get confusing pretty fast.

At its core, its a pretty different story from the TV show - Vision builds a family for himself because he wants to be a real person, Scarlet witch is and has been his ex for ages, and the second protagonist is his wife, Virginia. Truth to be told i’m not really sure if the comic works for people who don’t have a general idea of the story of the universe, it’s not one of these things where you need to have read everything to do with these characters prior; but it references a lot of old events and traumatic breaks as a way to contextualize the future. (Specially the family origins of Vision, who’s related to him and how, who influenced his brain patterns, etc, they still try to explain it as the story goes forward but i figure if you’re not familiar with some of the obscure characters it doesn’t carry the same punch? It’s a pretty self contained story though.)

Still, I like it a lot and it does what Wandavision intended to do without making it excessively paint-the-numbers hollywoodian by the end. It’s not a story about grief, though, the focus on Vision is alienation and how traditional communities vilify and reject the unconventional. 

In terms of Marvel runs... comics are really a personalized thing. It depends on what kind of stories you want to read/ what genres/ what subjects, because tone varies a LOT.

I tend to recommend the era where Jane Foster is Mighty Thor a lot for people who like epic superhero stuff but also want some examination on a personal level, like ‘what makes us human’, faith, mortality, etc, its one of the marvel runs that tells a whole story to the end, you don’t miss a lot by not reading all of the tie-ins and side comic appearances (important!), and Jane makes for a pretty good character as someone who has to choose between Being Thor or Treating herself for a cancer that’s been eating her up, but may not ever go away.

It goes in this order:

Thor (2014) >  The Mighty Thor (2015) 

If you see ‘annual’ issues listed on these runs, leave them for later! They’re end-of-the-year story anthologies, start with the first number.

I believe these can be seen as their own thing, but Jane’s story carries onto some other things:

The Unworthy Thor (2016, optional, comes in the middle of the previous run and you’ll see when it’s mentioned) ==>  Mighty Thor: At the Gates of Valhalla (optional, sets up last event) ==> Thor (2018), also optional as it follows the other Thor, but continuity and such ==> War of the Realms (This is an event book, meaning there’s a lot off spinoffs - i don’t consider a lot of them to be necessary UNLESS you find yourself actually caring for asgardian lore. In that case those books flesh out the side cast.)

If you want a really thorough dive of things she’s in during her time as Thor for any reason, my friend Mercedes made this thread guide: [ LINK ]

Also, if you do end up caring for asgardians, you may like Angela, Thor’s berserker angel sister who’s a huge lesbian in love with a transfemme angel enchantress named Sera (canonically) They’re in an on-and-off relationship but it’s still good. She was a character acquired by marvel from another publisher so completely disregard prior stuff.

Angela: Asgard's Assassin  ==>  1602 Witch Hunter Angela is an optional Fantasy AU story (yes really, it’s exactly like fanfic) also featuring Sera and it’s written by the same author who did Asgard’s Assassin. ==> end with Angela: Queen Of Hel.  

These are her solo series! She has minor appearances in loads of other stuff including events but these are the big ones :)

[thefanficmonster]

Close Call

John (The Dark Pictures Anthology: Little Hope) x Reader (Female)

Warnings: SPOILERS, Swearing, Near-death scene

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Colleagues John and Y/N are stranded in the ghost town of Little Hope with four of their students. Will the two manage to save their group from the horrors the town has to provide for them? Will they both live long enough to see the next day and maybe finally come clean to one another?

Requested by @artlovingbre  Hello dear! Sorry to be posting your amazing request so late, hope it makes the wait worth it. I love John, he’s such a comfort character and he needs to be protected at all costs haha. Please enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

“Are you alright?“ Shiny eyes shed a concerned gaze on him while a warm hand hold his cheek, adjusting his head to a specific angle. “Try to open your eyes, John.“ She speaks in a soft voice, guiding him back to consciousness.

His eyelids lift ever so slightly, his foggy vision not doing the woman crouched in front of his slumped body justice. He can see the worry mixed with light fear on her features. Something about the look in her eyes tells him she’s seen something that mortified her.  John’s gaze clears up when he focuses on that exact element of her gaze, the one suggesting she’s not doing as well as she’d like others to think. He almost chuckles to himself at how signature of a Y/N move that is.

Y/N Y/L/N, the Business and Management professor who has recently been transferred into their college. In her early thirties, she’s only had about ten years of teaching experience but she has easily become the most liked and professor on campus. Her attitude and her teaching are basically a formula for success one can’t deny. She’s earned herself this job with a lot of work, having come from a much smaller and less-known college where she taught a class of roughly twenty people, she had to teach many other classes as well, considering she also possesses great knowledge in Economics and English Literature. She’s continued to do so, being a substitute professor whenever an English Lit or ECON one couldn’t make it, while also tutoring on the side. She has worked hard to make it in the world of knowledge and John finds her incredibly inspiring.

He met her when he was looking for a professor to cover for him while he got through the final preparations of the school trip he was planning for a group of his students. She would’ve volunteered immediately, he’s definitely certain of that, but this time around he was actually directed to her by a fellow colleague. Seeing her for the first time felt like he was witnessing a phenomenon he’s heard many people talk about but no one was sure it existed. He had heard whispers about her all over campus, she was rather popular - she had come to the college and brought a breath of fresh air with her, getting the students wondering and making assumptions about her. She carried herself with such powerful confidence, it got everyone thinking she’d be a strict, no-nonsense, stuck-up professor who asked for too much while not giving the students enough.

Needless to say, they couldn’t have been more wrong.

John has never connected to a person so quickly and easily before. The new professor was certainly something the school needed but no one could suspect it’d be someone of her rank. Even he felt he was below her and he has been teaching for twice as long as she has. There’s something so appealing about her, makes him want to never stop talking to her - if circumstances allowed for such a thing, he’s certain neither of them would run out of things to say. They have plenty in common, a lot of stories to share and a lot of advice to give one another despite him being the more experienced professor.

“What the hell was that?“ He mutters, sitting up in a more upright position.

Y/N scoffs, “You tell me. That man, he looked just like you. And....there’s no explanation for this, is there?”

They’ve just witnessed John’s double’s execution. It was a real torture to be exposed to such a horrifying scene. The death in and of itself was disturbing, but one can only imagine how the entire situation is messing with their heads - especially Y/N’s. She’s a person of logic, she likes being in the know and fully understanding issues and problems. She can’t just accept this illogical occurrence that has been happening to them all night. It’s tiring her out and driving her mad. Matters are a lot worse when you don’t know why they are the way they are or how they came to be. Knowing she functions based on this principle, John can’t help but feel bad for not being able to help her. Hell, she’s doing all the helping around here, he’s the one who blacked out when they returned from that hellish trip back in time.

Their students are surrounding them, all looking on with worry and confusion as to what they saw. These trips back in time have become common in the past our or two, they no longer question it when it happens, instead they focus on what they see.

“None as of now, but...“ He starts speaking, looking for words of comfort which are cut short when a sudden noise comes from somewhere nearby, amongst the tall grass and bushes.

It sounds like a fast movement, quickly accompanied by a growl-like sound that is enough to freeze the two in their spot while their students each took a step back, getting further away from the possible danger up ahead. John and Y/N get up hand in hand, eyes glued onto the now visibly rustling grass from which emerges a gruesome creature straight from hell. It’s not their first run-in with a monstrosity like this one - they faced the chain-bound one going after Angela; the floating, long-tongued one with it’s target on Taylor and the spear bearing one in pursuit of Daniel.

This one is his. It’s finally his turn to spin the wheel of fortune and see how likely he is to survive. 

His thoughts are racing, he can hear the thumping of blood in his ears. This is either gonna be his demise or a story to tell, the two options so far from one another, so surreal. They remind him how fragile his life is. How little it would take for him to be wiped off the face of the Earth, but how much effort he’d have to put in to save himself and the people he’s responsible of. Among them, a person he hasn’t been fully truthful with this whole time...

“GO IN THE HOUSE! NOW!“ Y/N’s voice grounds him, pulls him back to reality. She shakes his arm, yanking his attention to her, “John, we gotta move!“

The thought of one of these things even daring to get close to Y/N mortifies and angers him. He doesn’t want to run from these creatures, demons or whatever the fuck they may be. He’s done choosing flight.

“I’m sick and tired of allowing them the upper hand.“ He exclaims in frustration, looking around for something to use as a weapon. “Y/N, go inside. I’ll meet you there shortly.“

His words are insanity to her. She can’t even imagine leaving him behind as he’s suggesting, but she knows arguing would be futile. Instead, she backs away without as much as a word.

The demon starts approaching, this one’s movements a lot faster and more rapid in comparison to the rest they’d faced. John is aware he’ll need to stay razor sharp to even have a chance of survival, not that there’s much for him to do against an overpowered demon moving at that speed while all he has is the old sledgehammer he finds laying nearby.

He manages to get one good swing in, pushing the thing away, earning himself some time to put distance between him and the demon, but before he is able to do so, the thing is already charging at him and has him toppling to the ground, promising to seal his fate right here and now.

A sudden hit is delivered to the demon’s head with incredible force, giving John the freedom to stand up and look to see who his savior is as they go in for another swing with what looks to be a metal pipe.

It’s Y/N.

“Take that, you piece of shit!“ She yells, delivering another blow to the head. 

John runs to her side, guiding her away by the arm now that the demon is far enough away. Adrenaline is pumping through the both of them, keeping them on their feet despite the shaking of their knees. They attempt to make a run for the house, but Y/N’s movements are hindered by the chain that wraps around her calf, yanking her back and onto the ground.

John wastes no time rushing to her aid, using the sledgehammer to free her from Angela’s demon’s grasp and pulls her to her feet.  This time, the run to the house is successful. They make it inside, mildly harmed, out of breath and with rapid heartbeats. And with their lives, of course. Surprisingly, they made it in with all their limbs and their lives. That has to count for something.

“You suck at following instructions, don’t you?“ John asks Y/N after they briefly catch their breath.

She chuckles, holding the wrist she sprained when manning the heavy metal pipe as a weapon, “No, I just protect the people I care about. You should know what that’s like.” She bumps his shoulder with her, sending him a warm smile.

He sure knows what it’s like.

                                                               *  *  *

It’s all over. They are safe, back on campus. Shaken up, bruised and traumatized but alive and safe from any physical harm. For the mental torment they will be helped by professionals, friends and family. What matters is that they’re alive.

“Hey, um, I never got to thank you for saving my life back there.“ John hesitantly approaches Y/N once each student is picked up by someone from the school parking lot, presumably to be taken to a hospital. The two of them can’t go anywhere before they take responsibility for what happened.

Y/N grins at him, her tired eyes shining in the late morning sunshine. “I couldn’t leave my favorite colleague to die now, could I?” She laughs, placing a hand on his shoulder, “And thank you for saving my life.”

He returns her smile, covering her hand with his, “Couldn’t let you die on your first school trip, could I?”

She laughs again, shaking her head in what appears to be disappointment, “First and last. I bet I’m getting fired for this.” She looks down at her shoes, digging them into the pavement.

“Hey.“ He gives her hand a squeeze, grasping her attention  causing her to look up at him and meet his warm gaze, “I won’t let that happen. I promise.“

Y/N sighs and nods, exhaustion radiating off of her, “Alright, I trust you. Let’s just get it over with, shall we?” She tilts her head towards the entrance of the school.

Ok John, now or never. Just spit it out

“Um, Y/N?“ He says her name questioningly, causing her to turn to fully face him, “Would you maybe want to head to lunch afterwards? I completely understand if you’d prefer to be alone, but if you want some company...“ He trails off, rubbing the back of his neck, nervous as all hell. That’s really telling, considering they just escaped hell.

He resists the urge to close his eyes and cringe at how hesitant and awkward he sounds. Where is that bold side of him that wanted to fight a demon earlier?

“Sure, John. I’d love nothing more. Lord knows company is just what I need right now. I’d hate to be alone, I think I might lose it.“ Her response accompanied with a slightly shy chuckle sends an overwhelming wave of relief crashing down onto him, allowing him a sigh.

Sometimes, as John would learn, going through hell may be worth it when you consider the aftermath.

A chance with Y/N is his aftermath, and it just about makes the hell of Little Hope worth it. He’s yet to find out for certain though.

@sparrow-gg  @megandaisy9

[glenngaylord]

Glenn Gaylord’s Capsules From The Bunker – Summer 2021 Lockdown Style

Like many of you, I’ve lost all concept of space and time during this lockdown era. I’d watch movie after movie, but somehow forget to write about them. I’d consume films for sustenance, but then I’d move on to the next task of cleaning a room, doing a crossword puzzle, or staring at my dog for hours on end. Thank goodness I have a few friends to have breakfast with every now and then, or else I’d have assumed I had been transported to a cabin in Montana. “Am I a film critic or a hermit?” I’d ask myself daily…that is, if I even understand what days are anymore. All of this is to say that I have a lot of catching up to do now that we’ve taken a baby step or two towards returning to some sense of normalcy. Wait a minute. What’s that? Highly transmissible variants? Back into the cave I go. While I still can, I’ve managed to blurt out a few capsule reviews of some films worth mentioning.

In Between Gays – Film Review: Summer Of 85 ★★★★

Prolific French filmmaker, François Ozon, has made a career out of finding dark crevices in the most unexpected of places. Here, with Summer Of 85, he tweaks this New Wave era gay romance just enough to upend our expectations. In pure Talented Mr. Ripley meets Call Me By Your Name meets Luca fashion, Ozon spins what could have been that sun-dappled, seaside summer that changed everything into a love that perhaps never was, zeroing in instead on a young man’s obsession for something unobtainable. Beautifully shot and acted, Ozon takes the story to more provocative places than you’d initially expect while still maintaining the boppy fizz of a great Cure song. Despite the mish mash of tones, the film has a pulse all of its own. It’ll make you swoon, pull the rug out from under you, and then make you wonder how he managed to quietly get a little twisted.

Summer Of 85 currently in select theaters, see official website for details. Released on DVD and BluRay August 17th.

Truffle In Mind – Film Review: Pig ★★★★

Writer-director Michael Sarnoski makes an auspicious feature debut with the story of a man searching for his stolen truffle-hunting pig. Caked in dirt, blood and looking not so much like a homeless man but as a person who died inside a thousand times over, Nicholas Cage gives one of his best performances ever as a man who seeks the truth at all costs. He asks his only connection to the outside world, Amir, played wonderfully by Alex Wolff, to drive him through Portland’s dark underbelly to retrieve his pet companion.

Although the film takes us to a rather unbelievable “Fight Club” moment, it generally holds its mood with credibility. It’s a great calling card, not only for Sarnoski, but also for his talented cinematographer Patrick Scola, who brings a painterly quality to every single image. The film finds beauty in a bite of food, a breath of air, or simply the compassion between two main characters who have seemingly little in common. It’s a shame the trailer elicits laughs when Cage utters lines like, “Who has my pig?” Clearly they want to sell the actor’s neo-gonzo persona, but Cage brings so much depth and seriousness to this project, only raising his voice once. He deserves the highest praise for committing to such an oddly touching, gorgeously quiet story. At risk of sounding Dad-jokey, the only thing that hogs the scenery is his porcine friend.

Pig is in theaters now.

All Is Lost – Film Review: Old ★★

In 1999, M. Night Shyamalan made a great film, The Sixth Sense, and has been chasing that dragon ever since, often to diminishing returns. His films, however, often do well because he has great concepts, a keen eye for visuals and timing, yet things always seem to turn clunky and inane real fast. With Old, he continues down that path by giving us something compelling—a group of people on a beach who age quickly—and ruining it with dialogue seemingly written by an algorithm and rendered unintelligible much of the time, while the terrific cast seem to have no idea how to make Shyamalan’s words sound any better than a high school play. A couple of sequences did make me sit up and take notice, and he uses compositions and offscreen space well, but overall, Old plays like a stretched-out episode of Lost, and like that cool but overstuffed series, you’re not gonna get very good explanations as to what transpires. Sure, the big twist works well enough on some level, but it doesn’t save you from the discomfort of watching good actors flatline in more ways than one.

Old is currently in theaters nationally.

Hi Fidel-ity – Film Review: Revolution Rent ★★★1/2

Shot in 2014, Andy Señor Jr., who played Angel on Broadway along with a host of other credits, staged the classic musical Rent in Havana during a thaw in our relations with the Communist regime. He did so against the wishes of his Cuban family, who suffered under Castro and insisted his production would merely serve as a propaganda tool for the government. He plows ahead instead, capturing the months long process in a rather artless home movie style. The aesthetics don’t carry any weight here when you have such a compelling subject matter. Witnessing his actors struggling with their performances while also living in harsh conditions adds new layers to the late Jonathan Larson’s story of squatters in the age of AIDS.

With a limited talent pool, one of whom doesn’t feel comfortable with the gay subject matter and another who lives with HIV himself, Señor finds new connections to Larson’s material as well as an affection for his heritage. What we may have taken for granted here in the US in terms of sexuality and gender expression feels like a whole new experience when seen through a Cuban lens. Señor speaks out against the Castros with quick sequences showing moments of oppression, thus preventing this film from perpetuating the lies of its government. Instead, he gifts the people of this poor, struggling country with a real sense of community and its first burst of musical theater in ages. Sure he’s a privileged westerner who dangles hope in front of people only to return to his cushy life, but he does so with heart and good intentions. You end up loving and rooting for his cast in this moving, sweet documentary.

Revolution Rent is currently streaming on HBO Max.

Do The Hustlers – Film Review: Zola ★★★★

Call me wary when I went to see a movie based on a viral twitter thread and directed by Janicza Brava, whose Sundance Award-winning short, Gregory Go Boom, proved to be not only tone deaf but downright offensive towards people with disabilities. Her new film, Zola, excels however, in ways her prior work has not. Taylour Paige, a standout in Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom, plays the title character, a stripper who meets Stefani (Riley Keough) one night and is convinced to travel with her down to Florida where they can make a lot of money dancing all weekend. Things, however, do not go as planned, with Zola’s story escalating from one insane twist after another. Paige and Keough are outstanding, as are Nicholas Braun and Colman Domingo as their traveling companions. Jason Mitchell, so great in Straight Outta Compton and Mudbound, brings a wild, dangerous energy, something he shares with the film itself. It comes across as The Florida Project meets Hustlers, but with its own surreal, unexpected tone. I laughed out loud often, especially with Paige’s loopy reactions to her surroundings and the giddy, zippy energy on display. Zola chews you up, twerks on your face, and spits you out, exhausted yet anxious to see whatever this talented group of people will do next.

Zola is currently playing in select theaters and available on demand.

Banned On The Run – Film Review: There Is No Evil ★★★★

It’s impossible to review There Is No Evil without giving away its central premise, so I will avoid as much description as possible. Iranian filmmaker Mohammad Rasoulof has crafted a four-part anthology of sorts around an agonizing moral issue important to people worldwide. At the end of the first part, a stunning cut to an unforgettable visual reveals everything and allows you to watch the rest with informed eyes. Rasoulof seamlessly excels at different genres, from family drama, to action escape, to romance, weaving a tale of such depth and sorrow for its talented cast of characters.

The making of it proves as interesting at the film itself. Banned by the regime from producing feature films for two years and prohibited from traveling outside of Iran, Rasoulof, like any crafty filmmaker, came up with an ingenious plan. He slipped under the radar by calling these four short films, mostly shot in small towns far outside the reach of Tehran, and then had the final product smuggled out of the country. A filmmaker with such talent not only at telling stories, but the with ability to will his vision into existence against all odds, deserves the world’s attention.

There Is No Evil is available on DVD, BluRay and VOD now.

In Space No One Can Hear You Think – Film Review: F9: The Fast Saga ★★★

Considered review-proof, the Fast and the Furious franchise has ruled the box office for the past 20 years, so my calling its latest entry, F9: The Fast Saga, monumentally dumb will have zero influence on anyone’s decision to see it. We all know it’s big and stupid, as do the filmmakers. These films, deliver said stupid with such gusto, that you simply surrender and have a great time nonetheless. Nothing, however, prepared me, for this series to go all Moonraker, sending a car to a place no car has ever gone before. You’ll know it when you see it and probably say, “That’s ludicrous!” and also say, “That’s Ludacris!”

F9: The Fast Saga is currently playing on every screen on Earth and in select theaters throughout the universe.

[the-melting-world]

Between the Pages

This fic came about when @arcanecadenza and I realized that her oc Dante and my apprentice Kipling were both very turned on by libraries and research. So naturally, we had to see what would happen if the conditions were just right. 😏

***

In which a humble gardener meets a shy alchemist...

~ 2k words

Warnings: mild spice

{Part I}

It wasn’t too often that Kipling Bronne could take the afternoon off. So she wanted to spend it at one of her favorite places – the library. Kip wished she had the luxury to go more often, but she didn’t want to think about that now. She was here and that was all that mattered.

This particular location was one of her favorite libraries in all of Vesuvia. And one of the only ones where she didn’t have a record of overdue books. Walking halfway across the city to get to it had been absolutely worth the inconvenience. With its high ceilings, cavernous lighting, and cozy furniture, Kipling could get lost in here for hours. 

And she certainly intended to do so. The problem was deciding where to direct her time. The literary section was calling her name, begging her to go hunting for the elusive spider-themed fables from her childhood. But she didn’t have time for silly rhymes. She was a business woman who needed to invest in her craft! And that meant looking up books on landscaping. In this she had no formal training and would never be able to save up enough money to support herself while she interned with a professional. So it all came down to teaching herself.

Kipling promised herself that next time she would browse the ancients and spend time with the nostalgic stories of her youth. But when Kipling entered the cool, dark building, she could already feel her resolve start to slip. After asking for directions to the nonfiction section, she didn’t so much as let her eyes wander in the direction of the popular literature.

By the time Kip reached the section with the books on floriculture and design, her shoulders were practically sagging. That’s when she ungracefully crashed into another patron. Of course it had to be a handsome one. 

Kipling quickly assessed his long, dark hair drawn back at the nape of his neck, his ocular frames, and the smell of parchment and chalk clinging to his garments. As if he were born right here between the shelves. Meanwhile Kip probably smelled of soil and terracotta clay. She hadn’t even had time to go home and change out of her apron and toolbelt. So she carried her entire office and all of its supplies on her hips. Not ideal for sliding in between these narrow bookshelves.

Still, Kipling over-apologized. “Gods, I wasn’t watching where I was going!” She bent down to pick up the patron’s frames, which had spilled onto the dusty floor in their collision. She did her best to clean them off on the sleeve of her blouse before hastily returning them to the owner’s face. This probably wasn’t the best course of action because they landed rather crookedly.

Kipling didn’t want to laugh, but the patron hadn’t moved or barely made a sound beyond grunting when they bumped into one another. Mostly he stared sort of slack-jawed, bringing Kip’s attention to what could have been a dark mote of dust or just a natural skin marking on the center of his lower lip. The longer she looked, the more she wanted to find out.

Reaching up to adjust the frames, Kipling tried to stifle a chuckle. “I probably shouldn’t cause any further damage, but –” her hands were able to smoothly rectify the problem without – bless the gods – poking him in the eye. 

It seemed that whatever spell the patron had fallen under had worn off because he was grinning subtly as she cleared away the finer wisps of hair determined to sweep the freckles off his face. 

“Thank you,” he said, not seeming to mind Kipling’s fussing. In fact, Kip realized as she reigned her arms back, the tilt of a thick eyebrow suggested that he didn’t seem to mind at all.

Jamming her thumbs behind the leather of her toolbelt, Kip struggled to find something else to say. This handsome individual was obviously familiar with this part of the library, and she didn’t want to say anything that might betray her ignorance in any of her weaker subject areas.

Thankfully, she didn’t have to because he was already rambling off questions. He spoke so fast and so eagerly that she could only parse out one. 

“Oh, I’m just looking for...” Kipling hesitated to say the Basics of Landscaping, so she said, “I’m here for work.” Noticing that he wasn’t carrying any texts or scrolls, she asked, “Are you looking for something in particular, uh… I don’t think I caught your name?”

“Dante,” he blurted. Then he cleared his throat. 

Kipling’s hand shot out faster than she intended. “Dante,” she repeated, appreciating its literary implications. “I’m Kipling. Or Kip, if you like.”

As they shook hands, his awkwardness dissolved under a more confident expression. 

“Kip. That I do like.” He made a thoughtful sound and added, “I’m here for work too.”

They were both slow to disengage from the handshake. Excited at the prospect of talking about a profession other than her own, Kipling asked, “Oh? What is it that you do, Dante?”

The confidence flickered, as if the patron wasn’t prepared to answer such a question. His eyes flitted about the dark space as he faltered, “I am... a...”

Kipling tried not to smile too eagerly as she waited for him to collect his thoughts. Finally, his dark eyes settled on a spot seemingly on the far side of the library before reconnecting with Kip’s.

“I’m a poet,” he said rather deliberately.

Kipling set her jaw and reconsidered her options for that afternoon. Browse through these very informative, but drab textbooks on topics devoid of narrative or verse? Or go hunting for her whimsical poems with a local expert?

She didn’t need long to think it over. Taking Dante’s hand again and tugging him away from these cramped shelves, she said, “Oh! Do you think you can help me with something? There’s a collection of children’s rhymes I’ve been trying to locate ever since –”

Kipling carried on as she tugged Dante in the direction of the cozier, warmer aisles where she knew her beloved poems were bound to be.

***

{Part II}

To Kipling’s surprise, Dante, although claiming to be a poet by occupation, did not know anything about the ancient bard scholar Ananzi or any of his prolific works within or outside of the realm of children’s fables. 

Either way, she was happy to have him by her side as they sat cross-legged at the base of one of the many shelves of poetry, leafing through anthology after anthology. Every time Kip paused in her treasure hunt to check on Dante’s progress, she found him staring at her or, dare she even say, pretending to read. One thing that she had noticed him making progress on was the state of his hair and attire – both of which were on a steady descent toward disheveled hell.

When Kipling could no longer ignore it, she quietly laughed. “You’ll never find anything with all that hair in your face.”

Dante looked about himself as if he just now realized what he had done. “Hm. I’ll admit that my priorities have shifted a bit.” He shot her a disarming smile.

Kipling, knowing full and well that she couldn’t focus on nostalgic pursuits when the present opportunities were so tempting, closed the book and said, “Dante, are you trying to distract me?”

“Yes.” The so-called poet looked rather pleased with himself. “Is it working?”

Kipling set the book to the side. “It is.” She turned to face him a little better. Looking pointedly at his hair, which was now undone and cascading about his shoulders, she asked, “May I?”

His eyes went a little wide, but he granted her permission. While Kipling took her time threading her fingers through his gently textured waves, Dante asked, “Do you know any of your ancient’s poems by heart?” Then clearing his throat, he added, “because it might help jog my memory. Certainly I know of whom you speak. It’s just buried under all the other, uh... ancients that I know of.”

Off to side, Kip rolled her eyes, but decided to humor him. “I know how the beginning of one goes.” Then as she began to recite the verses, her voice took on a different quality. It dipped low and broke up the common tongue in ways that only those from the islands could. 

Her poem told of a spider assassin who fell in love with a god king that she was assigned to kill. Dante’s eyes fluttered closed as he leaned against her hands, which had gone from gentle touches to deeper massages along the nape of his neck.

When she ran out of verses to remember, Dante asked, “How does the poem end?”

Kipling withdrew her hand and gave a sad smile. “The spider drives herself mad because she can’t choose between carrying out her assignment or sparing the king’s life.”

Dante opened his eyes and chewed on his inner lip. “And this tale was meant for children?”

Kipling chuckled. “Oh, that one? No. Sorry, I should have specified.”

Dante smiled back. “It was very beautiful. Mostly due to the way you told it.”

Kip couldn’t stop her hand from wandering up to the ghost lock by her temple and winding it around her index finger.

Dante followed the gesture with his eyes. “Why did you... why did you stop?” Without waiting for an answer, he gently took hold of her free hand and fed it back into his hair.

Kipling’s laugh came out a little louder than she intended. “Gods, you’re worse than my familiar. I’ll admit, I’ve been distracted by the mark on your lip.”

Dante’s grin grew more confident. “Oh? Would you like a closer look?”

Knowing exactly where this was going, Kipling let her voice slip into the huskier accent from before.

“Only if you want me to.”

She was pleased to see that even in the amber shadows of the library, she could detect the band of blush forming across his freckled face. 

“I would.”

Kipling reached for and removed his frames. She folded them carefully before setting them off to the side on top of a book. She found that with or without glasses, Dante was very easy on the eyes. But she could tell that as soon as the frames came off, his confidence slipped. 

Luckily for him, Kip wasn’t in the mood to tease. She moved with purpose, guiding a wavy lock behind his ear and leaning in to coast her lips along the underside of his jaw. Dante made a shy sound that betrayed a more bashful nature under all that swagger from earlier. As Kipling walked her lips up his face, she felt him relax more and more. 

“You can touch me, Dante,” she whispered against the corner of his mouth. She demonstrated her meaning by slipping one hand along the base of his neck where she gathered a handful of his roots. She tucked her other index and middle finger into his unbuttoned collar. Her hands became opposing forces – one tugged down while the other slipped higher. 

“Oh. Mmm.”

Dante fumbled with his own hands, but Kipling didn’t wait for him to figure out a plan before she finally found his lips. And found them again. And again. 

Dante’s hands rested on a spot high on Kipling’s waist, just shy of her breasts. Occasionally, his knuckles would catch the soft underside, which only made Kip slow down the kiss and unburden more of the buttons on his shirt.

Drawing back some, she whispered, “You’re not a poet, are you, Dante?”

His slightly disoriented expression sobered a bit. “No.” He had the courtesy to meet her gaze when he came clean. “Is that... going to be a deal breaker?”

Kipling didn’t know where she found the discipline to hold back from surrendering to that downright irresistible mouth of his. Tapping the dark bead on his lower lip and schooling her features into something more contemplative, she said, “Only if you lie to me again.” 

“It won’t,” he whispered hastily, “happen again.”

Dante’s sober expression edged towards something more defenseless and hungry as Kip let her finger linger on the mark.

“Good. Because I want to get to know you, Dante. The real you.”

[peonybane]

First Christmas

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader (ft. Uncles Yoongi, Seokjin, Namjoon, and Jungkook)

Word Count: 4.35 k

Genres: SFW, Fluff, Post-idoldom AU

Summary: It was your first Christmas together as a family. The first one your twins would get to experience. So how could you not go all out making memories that’ll last a lifetime.

A/N: Thank you very much to @seakay05​ for her proofreading. I hope you all enjoy this little story!

25 Days of Christmas: A BTS Anthology MASTERLIST

Sunlight filtered through your curtains, slowly rousing you from sleep. Stretching out carefully, you smiled at the now familiar sight in front of you, your family still fast asleep. The furthest away from you, was your husband. His large hand still rested on Nari’s tummy��� she always fell fast asleep when he rubbed her belly. Taehyung was still very much asleep, thick eyelashes resting on his cheeks. His brow was relaxed. But his lips were set in a harsh line, pensive. Namu, who slept closest to you, had his father’s sleeping face. Which always made you giggle, seeing double vision in the contradictory look of a scowling lips but relaxed, almost happy brow. Nari slept closer to her father, her chubby cheeks facing towards him. You swore, she was more your enemy than your daughter when it came to Taehyung’s affections. More times than not, she’d rather cuddle with him than with you, hogging his cuddles.

As you were admiring your family, Yeontan grabbed your attention as he seemingly popped up from nowhere. He was behind Taehyung’s head, sleeping in his now customary spot up by Taehyung’s head instead of between the two of you. You smiled as you could see his whole fluffy body shake from the force of his tail wagging as he rested his chin on Taehyung’s head.

Thwap! Thwap! Thwap!

Oh, there’s your own four legged baby. You looked over your shoulder behind you and saw Kiwi’s boxy, brown head resting on the bed. Her chonky body wiggled with the force of her tail as well. But unlike Yeontan, who’s tail merely vibrated silently, Kiwi’s whip-like tail smacked against the nightstand table. Thwap! Thwap! Thwap!

Taehyung groaned, “Kiwi….”

You snickered, “I think our fur-babies want to go potty.”

He peeked one eye open. He startled a little, probably no expecting Nari to be so close to him. Taehyung stretched a little, his back popping. “Let me cuddle the Littles for a little while longer. I missed them.”

You smiled, Taehyung had been working his butt off to get a bunch of stuff done so he could finally spend some quality family time with you all Besides, the hour drive one way out of the heart of Seoul didn’t help, that was for sure. 

Sitting up, you first kissed Namu and Nari on the forehead, then leaned over to kiss Taehyung on the cheek. He hummed happily as he reached over, pulling the Littles closer to him. 

After staring down at them for a moment, Kiwi’s little whines pulled you away from the sweet scene, reminding you that her bladder really needed to go. 

Getting up, you slipped on your fluffy socks and robe, leading the fuzzies out of the bedroom and down the hall to go potty. 

You stood in the doorway, leading out to the backyard as Kiwi and Yeontan did their thing. It was cold, a very light layer of snow covered everything. But the dogs didn’t seem to mind. If anything, they seemed to enjoy it. Winter this year in Seoul was mild. Something you were thankful for. You didn’t want the twin’s first winter—first Christmas— to be unbearably cold. And you were glad that Taehyung wanted to move away from inner Seoul— to raise a family in the away from hustle and bustle of the city. A place where the paparazzi couldn’t easily look in on your lives.

Finally, Kiwi and Yeontan had had enough of the cold, having gotten their fill of the daily yard sniffing and were ready for breakfast.

In the kitchen, you were preparing their food when you heard one of the twins start to cry. It was like a blaring alarm to you. You paused in preparing the dog’s food in exchange your baby. Taehyung emerged from your bedroom, carrying the still sleeping Nari in the sling while carrying the crying Namu in his arms. “I don’t think Namu needs to be changed, but I think he’s hungry.”

You smiled as your husband tried to quiet him down. You made grabby hands as you settled down the couch, then readjusted your nightshirt and robe so you could feed Namu. Taehyung gently settled your son in your arms as he continued to scream. It took a little jostling, but you managed to get him to latch on to feed for breakfast.

A calmness settled around you as you watched him nurse. He was so adorable. Namu was probably going to end up looking like you— at four months old, he already looked like you if your own baby pictures were anything to go by. He shared his father’s skin tone and already a similar brow, though. 

Namu calmed down as he stared up you. His little hand gripped your finger as he nursed. Slowly though, his grip on your finger started to loosen and his eyes started to droop. “Already milk drunk, huh?”

You looked up as Taehyung stood over you, smiling as he rocked Nari, who was now very much awake as she tried to grab for Taehyung’s thick-rimmed glasses. You giggled as Namu completely unlatched from you. But almost immediately, he tried to nuzzle back into your breast. 

Taehyung laughed, “Mama’s boy.”

You laughed as well as the two of you semi coordinately exchanged the twins. Nari wasn’t particularly compliant, but luckily hunger won out. Thank goodness, Taehyung couldn’t lactate. You were pretty sure you’d never get her to detach from her father otherwise. Switching breasts, Nari too began to nurse. She was the easier one to nurse, rarely throwing a tantrum, but it was harder to get to drink as much as she should’ve. You had a feeling she’d be the first one to be weened.

Taehyung burped Namu before putting him in the sling. As you nursed Nari, Kiwi joined you on the couch, resting her head on your thigh as she adoringly gazed at Nari in your arms. Kiwi was the ultimate nanny dog, always having to keep a close eye on the twins. Kiwi burped, letting you know that she greatly enjoyed the breakfast Taehyung finished putting together for her and Yeontan. You petted her head, continuing to nurse Nari.

Suddenly, Yeontan started barking, letting you know that your house guests, well, at least one of them, was up. Both you and Taehyung turned in time to see a barely conscious Jungkook and strangely perky Seokjin trudging down the stairs. Taehyung rocked Namu in his arms, standing between you and your houseguests.

“Morning, Jin. Jungkook.”

Jungkook groaned as he settled in on the couch next to you, partially conscious— Seokjin must have woken him up against his will. Taehyung kept a close eye on Jungkook— he didn’t like how sometimes Jungkook or Hoseok would stare at you when you were breastfeeding. At first, you thought it was a sexual possessiveness, one that you were not going to tolerate. A brief conversation with his mother though rid you of that notion— he had seen how people reacted to her breastfeeding his siblings, he was not going to stand for you or your children being regarded in the same way.

Seokjin headed over to the kitchen, calling your name. “Since it’s breakfast time over there, does that mean the rest of us can finally eat?”

You chuckled. “Only if you cook. The Littles really take it out of me. Especially, when they don’t give me a chance to eat right before.”

Taehyung chuckled. Seokjin opened his mouth to say something but at the last second decided against it. With Namu snoozing up a storm in the sling, Taehyung joined Seokjin in the kitchen. “Yah! What are you doing in here?”

“Come on, Hyung. I’ve learned to cook a little.”

Seokjin sputtered. “Oh yeah?”

You called out, “He makes excellent eggs and stir fry!”

From your seat on the couch, you could hear Taehyung laugh before he and Seokjin started working on breakfast. 

Jungkook continued to be on the verge of consciousness as you continued to feed Nari. Eventually, she had enough. You slipped your shirt back into place and rested Nari against your shoulder, gently burping her. Once she was content after a burp and a toot or two, she started teething on her hand, making all sorts of incoherent baby babble as she stared at Jungkook.

It was like she was incanting a magic spell, one which slowly roused Jungkook to full consciousness. Jungkook politely called out to you. You turned towards him. His gaze was soft as he looked at Nari in her purple onesie. Smiling softly, you asked, “Do you want to hold her?”

“Ca—Can I?”

You nodded, shifting her around to hand her off to Jungkook. Almost cautiously, he took her in his arms, cradling her against his chest. The sight was one to behold. Jungkook had gotten bulkier, grown out hair tied up. His ears had so many holes, having removed the dangly jewelry the night before since Nari was a grabber. As he cradled her small body against him, you could help but note the array of tattoos he’d slowly been accumulating over the last few years. It was an amazing scene of tough ruggedness and sweet tenderness. 

Nari sucked on her fingers as she gazed up at him as he rocked her, singing softly to her. It was the cutest sight ever, especially with Kiwi now having switched from your leg to Jungkook’s as she continued to keep an eye on her baby.

While he was distracted with Nari, you quietly got up and headed to the kitchen. Taehyung turned to you when he heard you. Luckily, he wasn’t doing anything dangerous. His brow knit together when he saw that Nari wasn’t in your arms. You held a finger up to your lips then pointed back towards the living room. Curious, Taehyung followed you there.

The two of you stood in the doorway, watching as Jungkook had successfully rocked Nari back to sleep. He seemed to have knocked Kiwi out too with his singing as she started boofing in her sleep, probably terrorizing either Rapmon or Yeontan with a game of chase. The two of you watched, completely entranced by the scene. Eventually, Seokjin came and joined the two of you. It was amazing— the power little Nari held over all of you. 

Eventually though, Jungkook stopped singing, Kiwi woke up immediately. He kissed her little forehead and stood up still cradling her. When he realized the three of you had been watching him, he turned all sorts of shades of red. “Ummm. She—They— I mean—“

You giggled. “It’s fine, Jungkook. How about we get some breakfast in you? Hmmm?”

He nodded shyly, but continued to rock Nari in his arms, completely transfixed by her sweet little face.

A few hours later, almost everything was ready to go….

A quick concession of three taps on your front door, followed by Kiwi and Yeontan barking their heads off alerted you to your other guests. Jungkook called out, “I’ll get it!”

You and Taehyung had just finished changing the Littles into their matching outfits— all Taehyung’s idea, of course. Namu and Nari were dressed up in little elf outfits. Both of them had on little striped pants: Namu’s were red and white, while Nari’s were light green and white. Namu wore a green shirt with a ‘belt’ printed on it and Nari wore a red dress with poinsettias on it. Both of them had little elf hats on, completely with felt ears attached to the sides. Namu’s was green with red trim and a noisy bell (Taehyung’s terrible idea) attached to the tip of it. Nari’s was red with white trim and a large fake poinsettia attached to the hat, tucked in behind the ear.

You heard Jungkook greet your final two guests, Yoongi and Namjoon. Namjoon had opted to stay at Yoongi’s place, a short drive away from your own, where he kept an apartment on the down low. You picked up Namu as he began teething on the frozen washcloth you gave him to soothe his gums, turning your attention to the two older men entering. “Long time, no see, Namjoon.”

You gave him a one-armed hug, one he returned, being mindful of Namu. “No kidding. Oh my god. They’ve gotten so big!”

“If you visited them more often you wouldn’t be surprised,” replied Yoongi as he dumped his jacket on the customary jacket dumping ground: the couch.

You rolled your eyes as Yoongi went over and picked up Nari, kissing her all over her face, making her giggle. “How’s my little rap princess?”

You and Taehyung laughed. Out of all his bandmates, the one most in love with the babies was surprisingly, Yoongi. Sure, he had an apartment nearby, but the amount of time he spent there rather than at the company owned series of apartments in downtown Seoul increased practically tenfold when the twins were born. ‘Uncle Yoongi’ really loved playing his role. 

Seokjin entered the living room from the kitchen, bringing over a couple of mugs of hot chocolate. “Yah! Who are you calling ‘rap princess?’ She’s going to be a ‘cooking fairy!’”

You and Taehyung exchanged looked before sniggering as the two oldest began to argue. “Hyung, I’m just saying, Nari is going to learn to rap, and I’m going to teach Namu how to compose.”

As Taehyung took Namu from your arms, he asked, “What if Nari wants to compose? Or dance? Or if Namu wants to rap? Or sing? What are you going to do then?”

Yoongi made a face. “You’re going to end up with at least four kids anyways, I got room to work with.”

You snorted at that. Just as Seokjin was about to verbally retaliate, Taehyung had the good sense to move on from the topic. “Anyways, isn’t it time to take some photos?”

This got Jungkook’s attention. “Right, what pictures do you guys want first?”

You went and got Nari from Yoongi’s arms. “Probably a family picture before anything else for my family, since we they can’t join us in Korea this year.”

Jungkook nodded. “Alright, let’s start with a quick couple of outside pictures then let’s move it inside.”

You and Taehyung started getting to work. You passed off Nari back to Yoongi as you put on your sling, and Taehyung passed off Namu to Seokjin as he did the same. 

The pair of you were sort of dressed up as Santa and Mrs. Claus. Taehyung wore an obnoxiously bright red sweater over a white button up, and grey pants that hid his black boots. He had dusted his hair with some white powder as it sat under a Santa hat. His thick rimmed glasses completed the look. You wore an emerald green dress with poinsettia leggings tucked into black boots. Instead of a bonnet though, you opted for one of Tae’s white berets, a fake sprig of holly clipped into it.

Even Kiwi and Yeontan were going to get in on the fun: both of them being very patient reindeers, with the help of Jungkook. Yeontan was the most compliant with the reindeer antlers being put on him, Kiwi was… not nearly as compliant. Thank goodness, though, she was one of the most food motivated dogs you had ever seen.

In the backyard, you and Taehyung stood close together, the Littles in their slings already: Nari with you and Namu with Taehyung, making the babies contrast in color with the two of you. Yoongi and Namjoon helped position the dogs in the right place with the promises of treats. Well, treats for Kiwi as she zeroed in on the dried liver treat in Namjoon’s hand, already salivating.

Jungkook worked as quick as possible, telling you and Taehyung how to stand so he could make the most out of the falling snow before the Littles got too cold. After almost a half hour standing out in the cold, and Yoongi and Jungkook arguing about photo angles, you were done being out in the cold. Well, Namu made it clear he was done by screaming his head off.

Once back in the house, Taehyung cuddled your little boy as much as possible, giving him all sorts of kisses as Kiwi was started pacing around anxiously at the sound his crying. Yeontan… Yeontan followed her. Kiwi was the captain on the Baby Protection Patrol. He’d follow her everywhere. 

Taehyung called your name. “I think he’d rather have his mom.”

You smiled and the two of you awkwardly switched babies again. Once in your arms, Namu slowly started to settle down. You pressed your forehead to his as he ceased his crying, rubbing your nose against his little one. A shutter sounded and you looked over at Yoongi. He at least had enough shame to look over at you shyly. “If it makes you feel better, it’s a beautiful shot.”

Carrying Nari, Taehyung stood behind Yoongi. “Damn. That really is an amazing shot.”

You couldn’t help but blush as you settled Namu against your shoulder and he began to teeth on his fingers. Jungkook giggled. “How about we move you guys over to the tree now?”

Making a little noise of agreement, you sat down on the ground, Kiwi immediately coming up to you kiss your face. “Kiwi! My make up!”

Her whole body wiggled as she settled on the ground besides you, looking up adoringly at her baby. Taehyung settled in on your other side, carrying on a conversation with Nari as she babbled incoherently at her father. “Did she say that, Nari? Really?”

She babbled even more. You giggled. “Oh, do tell: what are you two gossiping about?”

Taehyung shot you a boxy smile before leaning in and kissing your cheek. You ignored the shuttering sound of the camera and the mock gagging noise Seokjin was making off to the side. “Oh, she was telling me how much her mama loves me. You think I should ask the little lady’s mom out on a Christmas date?”

You laughed, making him smile in return. “Only if Namu’s papa can find a baby sitter in either grandma or one of his six uncles.”

The two of you turned, looking over at Jungkook, Namjoon, Yoongi, and Seokjin, hopefully. Seokjin waved his hands. “How about we call over the two that are working today to babysit for Christmas?”

The others laughed. Hoseok supposedly already had a hot date planned since this was his first Christmas not working. Jimin… you didn’t know what he was doing. “Oh, no. You are not saddling poor Jimin with these two alone. I need at least two of you on babysitting duty. Otherwise, it’s grandma’s house.”

Jungkook started directing you and Taehyung when Yoongi piped. “Ah, screw it. I’ll handle these two.”

“No way. You practically live here, ‘Uncle Yoongi.’”

Yoongi blushed as you teased him. Suddenly, Nari looked over at Yoongi and started making grabby hands at him, squealing, “Gi! Gi! Gi!”

You and Taehyung started awing at her, all the while, Yoongi froze up. Clearly, his brain was playing catch up as the other laughed at his expense. Once his brain had caught up, he laughed. “See. A little rapper in the making.”

You all laughed at that.

Once family pictures were done, it was time for the spotlight to be on the babies.

Still in their little elf outfits, you and Taehyung maneuvered them under the Christmas tree for tummy time. This time, it was Taehyung’s turn to take pictures. He settled on the ground too, belly to the ground as he made all sorts of faces and noises to get the Littles to laugh. Not be outdone, Yeontan, after shaking himself free of the humiliating reindeer antlers, crawled under the Christmas tree with the twins, settling right down in between them. 

For the next couple of hours, the lot of you occupied yourselves with taking baby-only pictures. Some of them were almost like stories, with Namu and Nari being mischievous little elves getting into all sorts of trouble. Some of them were just to be cute, like when Kiwi let you wrap her up loosely in a strand of lights and sitting her babies in front her as they mad all sort of happy noises.

Namesake pictures were a must, too. After a lunch, of course. Milk drunk babies made for some of the best pictures. Taehyung had Namu lay under the tree again, this time on his back after changing him out of the elf outfit and into something more comfortable for him. Taehyung managed to get a great angle off him through the needles of the fir tree. After all, Namu meant fir tree. With Nari, you changed her into a cute little pink dress with headband with a big fake lily on it. You gave her a bouquet of lilies to play with as Jungkook went to town on taking picture of her. She looked so cute with her namesake.

Once those pictures were done, it was a nice afternoon of pictures as everyone took pictures of each other with the babies. 

There’s a whole series of photos of Jungkook playing with the Littles during tummy time, with Namu being the most determined to go after him as he wormed his way across the carpet. There’s a photo of Seokjin and Namjoon giving you a heart attack as they pretend to try to throw Namu between the two of them. There’s a dozen or so photos of Seokjin wearing the baby bijorn, with Namu in it, watching him cook with large eyes he noms on his frozen teething rag. In the background of one the photos of Seokjin cooking, Namjoon could be seen in a chair with Nari in a sling, her head on his chest as she looked up at him as he read to her all sorts of fairytales. 

Dinner was filled with all sorts of photos and games, including Seokjin pulling out a sprig mistletoe, prompting an impromptu makeout session between you and Taehyung where you were being as silly and as gross as possible about it, Jungkook and Yoongi making exaggerated faces of disgust. 

After dinner, the living room was filled once more with laughter and the shutter of the camera as the men messed around. Taehyung snapped a few sweet, intimate photos of you nursing each of the twins, the lights from the Christmas tree bathing you and the babies in a gentle glow. Taehyung had even captured your reaction to Namu calling out ‘mama’ in the midst of a very important speech he was giving to you. He may not have been necessarily calling you ‘mama’ on purpose, but the way he looked up at you with those big eyes and all the love in the world made you believe it.

As the night winded down and most of the adult had had a drink, Yoongi fell asleep on the couch with one baby in the crook of each arm, each one resting their heads on his chest, both copying his open mouth sleeping face. Yeontan had jumped onto the back of the couch, snoozing near Yoongi’s head as well. Kiwi on the other hand was wide awake, making sure her babies were ok as they slept. While you were taking a picture of the cute sight, Namjoon sighed, “Looks like we’re not going back to hyung’s place tonight.”

Taehyung responded, “Don’t worry about it. We got plenty of room.”

Namjoon looked to you. “You sure?”

“Yeah. The more the merrier.”

Taehyung stood up and wrapped his arms around your middle, resting his head on your shoulder. “In that case, the wife and I are gonna get ready for bed then come back for the Littles.”

You smirked looking back at him. “Who says I’m the wife?”

He smirked back as he took your left hand in his, bringing it to his lips to kiss the knuckle under the wedding ring he painstakingly designed and had custom made for you. “This.”

You blushed, shaking your head as you pulled away from him. “Awww.”

Taehyung smiled cheekily at you as he followed. Once in your room, you turned to him, putting your hands on his chest. In return he rested his hands on your hips, looking down at you. You smoothed out the slight wrinkle in his sweater. “You know… I love you.”

He raised an eyebrow at you before kissing you on the tip of the nose. “And I love you.” 

His hands slipped down to cup your bottom. He started wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, making you laugh. You playfully smacked his hands away. 

“No way, good sir. Not with guests and definitely not with the Littles at home.”

He stared at you as you went to change. “You’re no fun.”

You scoffed. “Yes, I am.”

Once you were both changed into your matching snowflake pajamas and the white powder had been cleaned from Taehyung’s hair, the two of you headed downstairs to retrieve the Littles. Each of you plucked a Little from Yoongi’s chest, cradling them gently as you took them upstairs to get ready for bed.

As soon as they were dressed in their jammies and washed up, Taehyung laid them in bed then joined them, before you could get in though, you watched as he laid them both on his chest, Namu immediately grabbing his sister’s hand. In a low voice, he began to sing to them. The low rumbling of his voice gently coaxed them to sleep.

Being as careful as possible, you grabbed the camera, snapping a few pictures of Namu and Nari sleeping on their father’s chest as he gazed down at them adoringly. As you set down the camera on the nightstand, Taehyung looked up at you, tears welling up in his eyes slightly. “Thank you.”

You got into bed next to him, taking Nari from his arms, cuddling her. You kissed her forehead, then Namu’s. You met Taehyung’s gaze before leaning in and giving him one last kiss. 

“And thank you, my love. For everything.”

As always, reviews, comments, asks, and tags are always loved! ~Peony

Also, please note that I do NOT do tagging lists. Please see my FAQ for why.

25 Days of Christmas: A BTS Anthology MASTERLIST

All rights reserved. © Copyrighted 2019.

[floatingbook]

On names and naming

- Reading: Tales of the Lavender Menace by Karla Jay

Discussed during a consciousness-raising meeting:

“For instance, many of us grappled together and by ourselves with the implications of naming. The most obvious manifestation of this power is the fact that in most countries women bear the surname of their fathers and then of their husbands. A woman “loses” her name when she marries, but in fact she has never had her own name. only her father’s. Worse still is the possibility of not having a father because to be “illegitimate” is to lack the imprimatur of patriarchal approval.” p. 55

As a woman, you have your father’s or your husband’s name, you’re dispossessed of all your matriarchal origins. It also is very likely that your patriarchal origins are a lie—and I do not mean this as a critic of the women in our ancestry who had children who did not get the name of their biological father, but as a critic of this despicable tradition. Men do a fraction of the work and yet get to brand a newborn as their own, as if the woman giving birth was no more than a possession.

We all know what weights names carry. There’s no denying it. Some names get you despised, some get you laughed at, some drown you in their commonness. They used to reveal who you were: names were carved out of professions (take “Smith”, “Steward”, “Butler”, “Cook”, or “Lefevre/Lefebvre” in French, “Mercier” as well) or out of places of dwelling (e.g. “Hall”, “Brooks” in English; “Dupont”, “Dubois” in French). But that meaning is fast lost with physical and social mobility, with traumas and rebellions, with the pace of society.

“Many of the women in Redstockings changed their names in rebellion against the patriarchy, often choosing to use their mother’s names. In addition to being a symbolic gesture, adopting a nom de guerre made it just a tad more difficult for the government to figure out who we were and where our paltry bank accounts were stowed when it came time to incarcerate us. As much as I wanted to drop my patronymic, however, I wasn’t eager to claim my mother’s name. Instead I decided to substitute “Jay”, my middle initial, for my last name. // When I tried out my new name, Karla Jay, it felt immediately like a more accurate representation of who I was. I realized changing my name was not only about challenging the patriarchy—it was also about untangling my own identity from my family history.”

Changing your name, starting with a brand new one, is a way to give yourself a clean slate. It’s a statement: I don’t want to belong to this family, I am not one of your possession. It’s a form of rebellion against the tradition that hands out last names. The point is to get rid of the branding connotation of the last name (either inherited from the father or taken in marriage) that turns a woman into just another piece of furniture that makes up the wealth of the men in her life.

“I understood for the first time that I had, in fact, always detested my birth name, Karla Jayne Berlin. Well, not all of it. Karla seemed to me an original first name, and I felt comfortable with it. […] His [Karla Jay’s father] first fought was to name me Gale because I had  been born in a blizzard. My mother objected, so he chose my name from a list of freighters he spotted in the shipping news that he read every day in conjunction with his work. I’m lucky, I suppose, that a ship with a name like the Brunhilde didn’t dock then. Fortunately, the Karla Dane steamed into or out of port the week I was born, and my father was determined that would be my name. My mother persuaded him to change my middle name to Jayne instead of Dane, with the addition of an elegant Y.

But if I liked my first name, I hated the surname Berlin. For one thing, I’m not German. My ancestors came from the finest shtetls in England, Austria, and Ukraine. My paternal grandfather was from England, and for a long time I supposed that he had been assigned the name of a city when he entered the United States; immigration agents had a way back then of altering what they considered unpronounceable names. Years later, I discovered that my grandfather had changed his name himself. […]

I wasn’t particularly fond of my middle name either; people often assumed it was hyphenated to my first name. My mother and even Jessica, my best friend, called me Karla Jayne to get my attention when they were angry. As far back as I could remember, I had used my middle initial in place of Jayne. But I did like the “Jay” part. Some of my fond association with the word was based on pleasant times in summer camp. During my first summer there I was only five. I was placed in J-Bunk—probably an abbreviation for Junior Bunk—a place for children considered too young to be away from home for two months. J-Bunk was my first taste of freedom, a fun-filled life in the Catskills. Furthermore, Jay rhymes with “gay”.” p. 55-56

First names are given to us by our parents, who can be short-sighted, equipped with a taste that does not intersect with ours, or just unconscious of what a certain name entails. First names both mean a lot and nothing at all, and by that I mean that a first name is attached to you yourself first and foremost. Its main vocation is to designate you personally, to make you as individual, separated, specific in your existence, as opposed to the surname, which marks the bearer as part of a whole, the family, the bloodline, and as a woman a part of the possessions of a man. So it’s easier to grow into your first name, to make room into it for all the facets of your existence, than it is to get rid of the yoke of the surname. Hence the question, what to do with these patriarchal, misogynistic surnames?

Should we shun the surnames we were born or married into? What do we replace them with, then? Something that sounds nice to us? Something that holds a personal meaning? Something that describe an occupation we hold, a place we settled in? Do we choose a system that allows for the tracing of the matrilineal line? But then how do we agree collectively on a system, so that it is lisible and understandable? Where do we find the coherence? Do we even need the coherence?

“Changing my name was also a way of to “divorce” my parents, to let them know that I had never accepted them in that role. As children my brother and I both fantasized that we had been adopted.” p. 56

Again, a rupture with patriarchy and with abusive parents. We have surnames because there are too many humans on this planet to be able to identify them easily with just one name. Do we need those surnames to keep us sequestrated with our parents? Or could they just be changed to something like “of” followed by the name of the city we live in? Rejecting the surnames we get from birth is also a rejection of the obligatory love and respect we are supposed to feel for our parents, who can sometimes be undeserving of them.

“I didn’t change my name legally until 1978. I felt that it would be a paradox for me to petition a male court to change a name that patriarchal law had imposed on me in the first place. But after I had co-edited three anthologies as Karla Jay, only old friends, relatives, and old people at work new that I had any other name. I felt fragmented and decided to hire a lawyer to execute a legal name change.” p. 57

We live in a society, not in a vacuum. Sometimes we have to go through processes we find tasteless or distasteful, because we still need them to be understood, to be perceived by others around us. Here is information on the process in France (Site officiel de l’administration française).

“I have now spent a full three-fifths of my life as Karla Jay. In the rare instances when I run into someone from my childhood or high school who still calls me Karla Berlin, I have the distinct feeling that they have mistaken me for someone else.” p. 57

So who gets to do the naming? Are our names things that should be gifted from us by our parents? By our mothers only? Should every daughter get to name herself, when she feels or knows she has found a name for herself? When she has made name for herself?

[october-rosehip]

Long Night

(This is a flash fiction I contributed to a holiday anthology organized and edited by Rachel Sharp, called Gay Apparel. It is only available through the contributing authors, so DM me for details if you would like the whole thing.)

Dylan lay breathless in the dark for a long moment before knowing he sensed absence, not intrusion. Silence had woken him. The house loomed hollow above his basement, as it should, with his landlord's family away somewhere warm for the holidays. His ancient rescued desktop computer stood dark. His little space heater that looked like a science fiction sidekick had stilled. The power. His phone said 4:02 and 18 percent. Well. He supposed he'd better leave that alone.

Dylan carried the blankets around himself to the only window. Beyond the trees, the city and its encroaching gentrification reflected violet-orange against the clouds. Nothing glowed nearby, though. Streetlights are out. Not my job to fix it, then.

Not his job for anything. He had the solstice off, and since he sure as hell wasn't going home for the holidays to be insulted and deadnamed, he agreed to sling lattes on Christmas day instead.

“Will anybody actually come in?” he'd asked his boss.

“Oh, you wait,” she snorted.

Time and a half plus tips, then. Maybe he could get ahead a little, or buy a decent coat.

Waking now felt like luck. The trees sparkled even under cloudcover. Moore's “A Visit From St. Nicholas” came to mind. The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow/ Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below...Not the moon, but the lustre was there, even so.

It beckoned.

Dylan threw on a million layers and crept outside, hesitant to shatter the silence. Ksssshhhkhkhkkhkh went the ice as his old boots crunched through it. His breath puffed. Trees whispered through a layer of ice like fairy crystal; a faint echo of his own sounds. Hsssh.

The world felt hollow as the house, at first. He lingered in the peace. No wakeful neighbors, no workmen tending the line that must be down somewhere. Something rested eyes on him, though. Were those tiny prints in the snow? Everything should hide from an ice storm like this, but if he squinted― yes. Something's been by, poor creature. On impulse, he ducked back inside and checked his fridge, lit with his phone. 17 percent. It was sad. Cream for his coffee, leftover scones from work, carrots, hummus, and something developing sentience in the back. A scone and a bowl of cream would have to do.

Dylan set them far enough from the door not to scare his visitor if it was shy, and went back inside to wrap up in blankets by the window.

Eyes flashed green from the treeline. Dylan held his breath. Something about this felt so tense, fragile. It's just a possum or something. But he shivered.

A cat emerged and darted across the yard, almost too fast to see. It stopped by the offering and attacked the cream first. Dylan wanted to apologize to the unassuming tabby, who probably shouldn't eat cream or scones.

He'd never seen such a remarkably catlike cat. Nothing unique about it at all, as if someone had seen a thousand cats and merged them into one animal. It looked up with a jolt, the scone in its mouth. Their eyes met. Neither moved for a hundred heartbeats.

“Would you like to come in, friend?” Dylan whispered. He didn't know what he expected, but certainly not what happened. The cat stood frozen a second longer, then slunk to the door. Still convinced it mattered somehow, he crept to the door and opened it just wide enough. The cat leaped inside and took Dylan's warm chair.

“You can stay with me if you like. Or go. It's so beautiful out, but so cold.”

The cat blinked once, and swallowed the bit of scone it still had.

Dylan's eyes felt heavy and he blinked as well. Tiredness made sense for four-something in the morning, but it felt sudden anyway. Something rustled like leaves. When he looked, a slender person with green, reflective eyes sat in his chair.

“Oh,” Dylan said. “Hello again.”

They flinched and looked down at their hands. “Oh, thorns.”

Dylan backed up and held his own hands out. “It's all right. I'll keep your secret. I'm good at it.” I'm probably dreaming. It doesn't matter. I can't be rude.

“You're not surprised?” They tilted their head at him. The cat...person...guest...wore clothes as worn as Dylan's own, and still had features as pointed as a cat's.

“Sure?” He brushed a hand through his messy, blue hair. “Priorities, though. It's warmish in here. And now you don't have fur.”

“You're a practical one. It's not that I'm a secret so much as that your people don't notice me.”

“Sounds nice.” Dylan sat down on the rug, weariness returning.

“I don't know.” His guest looked outside with a wistful expression. “Even though sometimes it's less alarming to go unnoticed, if you noticed us, perhaps your homes wouldn't be eating ours.”

“You mean all the developing they're doing is in your territory?”

“Yes. I've lived here a long time, but am not sure how long I can continue. All the fences and keep out signs make it so I have to.”

“I worry, too. The new buildings aren't for me, either. When someone offers my landlord enough money, I'll have to go.”

“Go where?”

Dylan shrugged.

A comfortable silence fell. They each understood.

Dylan startled awake for the second time that morning when his rainbow lights blinked on and his android-looking space heater whirred to life. The sky glowed rosy through the window, and a catlike cat blinked at him from his chair.

Not alone for the holidays after all, maybe. “I don't suppose you'd like to stay, while we both can?”

The reply was a chirp like laughter, and a settling deeper into the chair, with more weight than a cat should possess.

[jemelle]

these are ties that bind (3/8)

you can also find this story on ao3!

fandom: criminal minds

rating: t

(chapter) word count: 2,861

masterlist

summary: emily and hotch must pretend to be in a long-term relationship in order to foster carrie. shenanigans and serious conversations alike ensue.

three.

On Monday, Emily took Carrie to her first day of school. Hotch had wanted to come, but he had to take Jack to nursery. Secretly, Emily was pleased to have this moment alone with Carrie. She remembered all too well the feeling of starting a new school, getting used to a whole new set of customs and rituals.

She had called the principal yesterday and received her express assurances that Carrie would be able to start school mid-year. Her credits would transfer over, but Emily knew that wasn’t the difficult part. It was starting classes when everyone else knew each other’s names, when they had silently picked a seating chart and knew who they’d partner with for group projects.

Carrie had insisted on finding the school office by herself, although Emily had offered to come with her. She had suggested (facetiously, knowing Hotch would never tolerate it) that her FBI badge might help smooth things over, which had drawn a much-needed laugh. She had also suggested that Carrie should think about taking some honors classes, but decided to shelve the conversation when she saw the obvious flashbacks her request had caused.

They pulled up in front of the school, an imposing brick building that reminded Emily of the quintessential high school from every teen movie. Students were already streaming into the building, chattering as they went along. 

Emily searched for the right words to assure Carrie that she was capable of doing this. She was sure Hotch would have made an eloquent speech, but heartfelt sentiments were never her forte. She settled for flashing Carrie a smile and a thumbs-up.

Carrie smiled back and reached across the console to hug Emily, who reciprocated with only a moment’s hesitation. Two hugs in almost as many days was new territory for Emily, who tended to receive them more on a bimonthly basis, but she had a feeling it might become the new normal.

Emily watched Carrie walk towards the school until she had disappeared through the front doors. The honks of cars behind her informed her that she was holding up the carpool line, but Emily didn’t feel even a little sorry.

~

By Wednesday, Emily knew the jig was up. JJ had been shooting her and Hotch strange glances all day, looking as if she was trying to resist blurting something out in front of the entire bullpen. As Emily passed by JJ’s office, she felt a hand dart out and grab her wrist. Before she could respond, Emily was pulled into the darkened office.

“What do you want?” She knew, of course, but it was better to let it play out. There was a chance, albeit minuscule, that JJ simply wanted Emily’s help in planning a surprise party for Rossi. 

“Is this true?” JJ thrust the paper into Emily’s face. It was the address change form that she had just submitted. Damn. She and Hotch had been hoping the paperwork would pass to Strauss unnoticed, but they should have known JJ was never anything less than thorough.

“Yeah, it is.” She’d answered the question, technically, but they both knew that wasn’t what JJ was really asking.

“But you’re not attracted to men.” Emily had come out to JJ during one of their “girls’ nights,” while Garcia was fetching another round of drinks. JJ had been talking about some guy at the bar who she thought was cute, and Emily had felt something snap in her. She didn’t want to have to hide anymore: she knew JJ would be accepting even if she didn’t fully understand. And so Emily had blurted it out before she really knew what she was doing. JJ, to her credit, had blinked once before asking Emily if there were any girls at the bar she thought were good-looking. 

“Thanks, I know.” She hadn’t meant to sound so peeved, and regretted it immediately when she saw a look of hurt flash on JJ’s face.

“I’m just looking out for you.” Some days it felt as though that was JJ’s real job, caring for the team and trying to remind them not to lose sight of the mundane life they were fighting to protect. It was mostly futile, and they all knew it.

“I know,” said Emily, smiling at JJ and reaching out to squeeze one of her hands. 

JJ looked horrified as a thought came to her. “Hotch didn’t make you do this, did he?” At that, Emily nearly doubled over with laughter.

“God, no. If anything I forced his hand.” JJ looked confused, and Emily didn’t blame her. Present situation included, there were very few worlds in which Emily would voluntarily ask Hotch to move in with her.

“So, remember when you said you could see me with kids?” JJ nodded, realization beginning to dawn on her face. “Well, Hotch is currently helping me take care of Carrie and neither of our apartments was suitable for two adults, a teenager, and a very energetic toddler.”

“Does he know about…” JJ gestured vaguely at Emily. “...you?” This time, Emily didn’t bother pretending innocence.

“No,” she said. “And I don’t plan on telling him. There’s no reason for me to do so. Even if our marriage is a sham, that doesn’t mean I’m going to cheat on him.” Emily had been firm in that belief since she had hatched this scheme. Hotch was a man who took fidelity seriously, and she couldn’t do that to him, especially after Haley.

JJ clasped her other hand around Emily’s and squeezed. “Don’t get hurt, okay? And if you do, tell me so I can kick his ass into next week.”

Emily grinned. The fierceness of JJ’s love reminded her of how lucky she was to have found her place at the BAU. “Just, please, keep this between us,” she entreated JJ, before walking to Hotch’s office to inform him that they had been made.

~

Apparently, two year olds don’t usually attend school full-time. Emily had, but Hotch’s horrified look when she told him conveyed to her that this was yet another example of Elizabeth Prentiss’s less than superb parenting. Jack went to preschool three days a week, but the rest of them he spent with either Hotch or Haley.

On Thursday, Hotch was called away to an early morning meeting. The higher-ups were making budget cuts again, and Emily knew he and Strauss would have to fight tooth and nail just to avoid losing a member of the team. Carrie had already decided that she would prefer to take the bus to school, which left just Jack and Emily. She had the day off, courtesy of Hotch, providing no urgent cases arrived. At noon, she was supposed to drive Jack to Haley’s house, but right now they were enjoying a quiet morning together. 

As she finished up her paperwork, Emily kept one eye on Jack, who was playing with his extensive dinosaur collection. She sighed when she signed the last form, relieved to be done so early. There was a new sci-fi anthology that she had been meaning to read. Emily shut her eyes, intending on resting them for a brief moment before starting her book, but opened them again when she heard movement beside her. Jack had clambered up on the couch next to her and was staring at her intently. 

“Read?” he asked, gesturing at a picture book on the side table. Emily picked it up.

“I don’t know if I’ll be very good at it.” She was still getting used to living with a toddler. So far, she had managed to avert any world-ending cataclysms, but being alone with Jack was an entirely different situation. This time, there was no backup.

“Read,” he insisted, so Emily did. Jack wasn’t shy about informing Emily when she did things wrong. Apparently she read too fast and she didn’t do the voices like his Mommy did. When Emily completed the first book, saying “The End” in what she hoped was an appropriately dramatic tone of voice, Jack pointed to another one. Before she knew it, it was time to take Jack to Haley’s.

She had only met Haley a few times, but Emily harbored an intense dislike for anyone who would hurt Aaron Hotchner. They may not be the best of friends, but watching Hotch’s face fall every time Haley informed him that he would arrive in DC too late to see Jack would make any sane person sympathize. This was only compounded upon actually meeting Jack; he would stay up as late as possible if it meant he could see his father.

Emily strapped Jack into his car seat, struggling briefly with the buckles. She didn’t understand how Hotch could make it look so effortless. As soon as they left the neighborhood, she began blasting Melissa Etheridge, not caring what other people could hear. Her day off, her music. 

She turned the music down as they arrived in Haley’s neighborhood. The cookie-cutter houses reminded Emily of her and Hotch’s neighborhood, but this area was much more affluent. Even with a lawyer’s salary, she would bet Hotch and Haley had taken out a large loan to afford to live here.

Haley was already standing on the front porch when they arrived. Emily checked her watch: five minutes early. Good. She looked surprised to see Emily clamber out of the car, though Hotch had already cleared it with her. Emily sent a silent prayer to whatever god was listening as the straps to Jack’s car seat came undone easily. The last thing Hotch needed was to have Emily look incompetent. 

Jack refused to walk the two hundred or so feet to Haley, so Emily scooped him up and headed towards the house. When she reached the porch, Emily set him down, and he toddled over to give Haley a hug. She beamed at him, and the wrath clutching Emily’s heart loosened slightly.

“Thank you,” Haley said. Emily smiled thinly at her. 

“Hotch will be by to pick him up tomorrow.” Safer to stick to business. It lessened the chance Emily would say something she’d immediately regret. She waved at Jack. “Bye, kiddo. See you soon.”

“Bye, Auntie Emily!” he chirped in response. That was new. She had just been Emily so far, or ‘mily if Jack was especially sleepy. She’d have to check with Hotch that the nickname could stay, but Emily found she quite liked it.

Jack walked through the open door, and though Haley turned to watch him, she didn’t go inside. Emily loitered on the porch, sensing their conversation wasn’t finished. She was right.

“Does he make you happy?” Haley’s voice lacked malice. Emily supposed she was curious; it must have been a long time since Hotch had made Haley happy.

She considered the question. Obviously, there was a right answer, given the pretend nature of their relationship. But as Emily thought about Hotch’s kindness towards her and Carrie, the way he was willing to risk Jack, the best thing in his life, so that Emily could have a chance to care for a child the way he did, she realized it was also the true answer.

“Yes.” Haley headed inside without a response, and Emily couldn’t tell whether she was pleased or irritated. It didn’t bother her either way.

~

When Emily poked her head into the living room, she saw Carrie sitting calmly on the couch. It was late and she had assumed that Carrie had already gone to bed, but apparently this was not the case. When Carrie noticed her staring, she motioned Emily to sit with her. Emily settled on the ottoman facing Carrie.

“What’s up?” she asked, feeling strangely as though she were the child in this situation, as if Carrie were the one summoning her for an intervention.

“Where’s Hotch?” A neat sidestep, and one that only served to further intrigue Emily.

“Getting ready for bed, I suspect.” Although Emily’s experience living with men was somewhat limited, Hotch took more time in the bathroom than any other man she’d met, although she respected that it meant she didn’t have to see him change.

As if summoned, Hotch emerged, freshly showered and wearing pajamas. He smelled like shaving cream, Emily reflected as he sat down next to her, and something else she couldn’t place. Although she made no move to initiate contact, Emily nevertheless felt more solid with him next to her. Whatever Carrie had to say, they could deal with it, together.

“I just wanted to say thank you,” Carrie started. “For taking me in when no one else would.” 

Emily reached out to clasp Carrie’s hands, squeezing them tightly, but it was Hotch who spoke, his voice clear and words familiar. “Carrie, there’s no need to thank us--”

“But you don’t need to pretend anymore.” Emily and Hotch exchanged a look, but it was not a glance between friends (or whatever they were). It was the same look they exchanged when an unsub revealed crucial information during an interrogation. What did Carrie know?

“What?” Emily had learned early how to feign innocence. It had saved her more times than she could count, from escaping the wrath of Elizabeth Prentiss to baiting a suspect to pretending to not be so fucked up when pretty girls hit on her in bars.

Carrie, however, was having none of Emily’s act. “You know what I mean. You expect me to believe that you’re married to a man who you don’t even call by his first name?” 

Emily felt again like a chastened child, called out with one hand in the cookie jar. She looked to Hotch for moral support, but he looked as blindsided as she felt. When he turned to face her, she could see mounting rage in the way his body tensed, although his face remained impassive as ever. Then Emily remembered their one rule: don’t lie to Carrie. 

“You got us there,” said Hotch. Emily marveled at the way he could switch from angry to personable in a moment, although the glare he first shot Emily made clear that they were going to talk later. “Was it just the names that gave us away?”

Gathering information on their tells, that was smart. 

“The names were definitely a giveaway.” Carrie considered them for a moment. Mostly, though, it was the lack of touching. I can see no kissing --maybe you’re just very private people-- but you don’t even hold hands and I’ve only seen you hug once.” She gestured at them. “Even now, you’re sitting with a couple inches between you.”

Right now, Hotch would probably prefer they sat even farther away, Emily thought bitterly. 

“But I’m not going to say anything, if that’s what you’re upset about.” With that level of perception and intuition, Carrie would make a grade-A profiler. Not that Emily would wish their lives on anyone.

Emily still didn’t trust herself to speak, so she simply nodded as Hotch spoke again. “Thank you for trusting us.” He checked his watch. “It’s late. Are you going to bed now?”

Callie responded affirmatively and slipped out of the room, leaving Emily and Hotch in stony silence. When Hotch spoke again, his voice contained undisguised anger. “Prentiss, what the hell was that?”

The use of her last name only stoked in her a desire to fight back. Emily might break down crying, but Prentiss wouldn’t. Prentiss wasn’t vulnerable, wouldn’t apologize.

“Don’t yell at me,” she hissed. Hotch stiffened, then softened at the look on Emily’s face.

“I’m sorry. It was out of line for me to speak like that, but what you did was also out of line. We agreed no lying to Carrie.” She couldn’t meet his gaze. Self-loathing welled inside her. How could she have ever thought she was good enough to be a parent when she couldn’t even keep a basic promise?

“Emily?” If she lifted her head there would be no denying the tears in her eyes.

“I tried to. It just… I just…” failed, she finished mentally. Couldn’t deal with the idea that what was maybe my only chance at motherhood could disappear. Although she wasn’t willing to verbalize those thoughts, she still felt she owed it to Hotch to try and explain. “I got scared. And I know you’ve heard this a lot recently, but I’m sorry.”

Hotch didn’t tell her she shouldn’t be sorry. She had messed up, and they both knew it. Now the only question was what he would do. Never trust her again, Emily supposed. Their partnership had seemed so promising, but of course she had ruined it. Outside of work, she could never do anything right.

“Next time, Emily, I just need you to tell me.” After years spent under the thumb of the Catholic Church, finding someone with a true capacity for forgiveness always surprised Emily. Hotch had surprised her again and again. 

“I will, Aaron,” she said, trying out the unfamiliar name on her tongue. It still felt a little too strange, not natural enough for casual conversation, but she could work on it. “I won’t let you down.”

It was a tall order to live up to, but Emily had to try.

[barbyisafangirl]

Let the heart melt - (F)

Paring: Namjoon x F.reader

Genre: Fluff & Angst

Summary: A big hug warms your body, a nice cup hot chocolate calms your soul and a sweet kiss makes you remember what truly means to be in love.

2.5k words

Part of the 25 Days of Christmas: A BTS Anthology Masterlist

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

The sound of metal clicking interrupts the silence, keys moving around as Namjoon finds the latchkey that belongs to his apartment. His big and bulky jacket makes it hard for him to move, the restriction making him even more clumsy than his usual self. As he inserts the key into the doorknob, he can smell the faint scent of beef in the air, the smell of different spices filling his nostrils. With the sound of the door unlocking and the sound of his feet on the floor, he opens the door to the warmth of his apartment. The smell of the food now stronger and combined with different tasty scents. While getting rid of his shoes and coat, hearing the faint Christmas song in the background. The “Feliz Navidad” lyrics being sung by the delightful voice of his sweet girlfriend.

Namjoon likes the atmosphere the holidays created, the heart-melting aura that carries this time of the year makes his mind more inspired. He wishes he could be able to celebrate these festivities like any other person but yet again, he isn't a normal person. He is a celebrity, a pop star that has a busy life and is surrounded by millions of loving fans. Time is something that unfortunately is not an element that Namjoon possesses. The schedule of an idol is a never-ending cycle of activities. But Namjoon is used to this lifestyle that he has appropriated since he was a teenager, his years of youth reducing down to nothing but a few seconds of existence. 

He wasn't complaining, his lifestyle is a vested one. Having the privilege of getting whatever he wanted whenever he desired too. Yet that does not mean that he felt unfulfilled certain times, but that's simply what life is. There are days where he feels down, with almost no energy to be in his life and he just wants to do nothing. There are other days when he feels lonely when working it's too much and he is not able to socialize and recharge. Those days are the hardest in his opinion, his body and mind not feeling like his own. The world around feeling like a dream and everything having an odd sentiment in his body. The only thing that brings him back to reality is the thought of going home and being met with a warm hug from his girlfriend and the familiarity of his apartment

With his fingers combing his wild hairs and his warm feet trembling against the cold wooden floor, he walks to the origin of such a sweet environment. He could see the little decorations that were scattered around the apartment, bright red and green colors bringing life to the pale flat. At the foot of the kitchen door, he sees (Y/N) swiftly moving around, following the rhythm of the song as she cooks. Too distracted to notice the presence of her boyfriend, she remains blissfully happy adding the finishing touches to the Christmas dinner. The melting warmth that Namjoon felt at the view was overwhelming.  

(Y/N) was excited for this Christmas, to say the least. Even though she has been dating Namjoon for over three years, they never had a proper Christmas together. His overpacked schedule never let him have any free time these times of the year. So when he told her that we would be home on Christmas Eve to have a three-day break, she felt ecstatic. She can finally have a Christmas with her loved one, the way she always imagined it. 

Back in her home, her family would always do the same traditions to celebrate Christmas, and all she craved was to share does traditions with Namjoon. The holidays to her have childhood nostalgia ingrained in them and she yearned to create new memories and traditions with Namjoon; to relive that nostalgia with a new sentiment added to it. Although time was never on their side, this incident was different. His schedule gave him three days free on the holidays and she was not going back to work until January, so this was the perfect time to feast with him. It was rare time would line up to something as perfect as this, and (Y/N) was going to get the advantage of that. 

As she was turning around to leave the room she makes direct eye contact with a smirking Namjoon. The dark color underneath his eyes displaying the tiredness in his face, dimples in display in his soft cheeks. The pink-tinted blush that covers her face is enough to show the surprise of seeing her boyfriend in the flat. 

"How long have you been standing there?"

"I arrived at the apartment about 20 minutes ago, but I’ve been watching you cook for around 10 minutes, and I must say the food smells delightful"

With the struggle in his legs and the burning sensation of his muscles as he slowly walks to (Y/N), he uses the little strength he has to stay up and embrace her into a warm hug. The instant reaction his body has to the softness of her shape makes his knees tremble, muscles easing. 

"You smell like chicken soup"

"Well, that's because I made some, you dummy " the giggly tone in her voice was music to his ears, her happiness radiating in the air. "And I also made some meatloaf, pudding and like two patches of nut cookies. You know, the ones I made for Jin's birthday" 

"I fucking loved those cookies, everyone at the studio ate them like crazy! You should make them more often"

"But they are a hell of a lot of work! It takes me an hour to cook one batch, I don't have time for that dedication"

Planting a kiss on her forehead their bodies started to sway from side to side, dancing accompanying the now faint holiday song. "I should help you then, more hands would get the job done"

"I love you Joonie but I won't let you anywhere near the oven, not after what happened last time" 

"Okay! In my defense, you were distracting me"

"How was I distracting you!?" moving from the comforting embrace, she walks over to the sink, removing her apron and placing it in on the counter next to it. 

"You were wearing only one of my shirts and some panties, that in and of itself was distracting" 

With a sigh leaving her lips and an eye roll, she washes the remains of food off her hands. "It was a hot day and the oven wasn't helping either, but it's truly your fault for being a pervert" with a playful smile on her face and a tantalizing tone in between her words, (Y/N) moves over to him once again, the playful banter elevating the already sparkling mood.

"I am offended you brought that up, and just to clarify you never complained of my not so PG thoughts before"

"That was before you almost burned the entire flat down" 

The silence that comes as an effect of that playful banter is light yet tense, the last Christmas song fading into the next one. The eye contact between the two is almost like a staring contest to see who breaks first. With the beeping sound of the oven shattering their joking engagement, causing their laughers to float in the air.

Grabbing the baking mittens and taking out the meatloaf to carefully place it over the wooden plank. 

"Okay, let this cool down before you start nibbling on it" leaving a kiss on Namjoon's cheek she walks to exit the room "I know you must be sweaty so let me take a quick shower then it is your turn" and just before she stepped foot out she turns to look at him one last time "I bought you a sweater! I will leave it on the bed so you can put it on and then we can start celebrating Christmas"

It all went too fast, taking him a couple of seconds to understand what was going on. She wanted to carouse Christmas eve night but Namjoon lacked the energy to do so. He would much rather just eat the delicious food then go to bed, but he couldn't deny her that. She worked so much to make this perfect for him and we would break her heart if he casts all of it away just to sleep. So with a deep sigh and a tired yawn, he walks to room his room, hoping to get at least some rest.

°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○

"I fucking hate this"

"You don't get to complain, I sent you pictures of the sweaters and asked you which one to choose but you never responded so you get what I chose" 

"Not going to lie love, this is a fucking disgusting design" with the itching feeling of the red sweater on his skin, the horrible pattern of white lines, a green Christmas tree in the middle and the horrendous combination of yellow makes his eyes dizzy "Why did you have to buy this one?"

"To teach you a lesson" filling her glass with white wine, a confusing expression is displayed in Namjoons face not getting (Y/N)'s point "To not ignore me" 

Placing the wine bottle on the table and graving the wine glass filled to the brim, she finally sited down to eat and savor the grand dinner. The silence in the room never went to the uncontrolled side of the spectrum, and that's something (Y/N) loves about their relationship. Even back before they were even a couple, they could be in each other's company and stay in complete silence. The atmosphere could never feel anywhere neither awkward and has time went on this never changed.

With the sound of the utensils against the porcelain plates and the chowing of their mouths, no conversation was being made. (Y/N) to concentrate on the joys of this evening and Namjoon too tired to make a proper sentence come out of his mouth. Dinner went out faster than what (Y/N) intended, has any afford she had on creating small talk has rejected by a quick response. Something felt off about him and she couldn't put her finger on it, it's almost as he is there physically but mentally his thoughts were somewhere on the moon. 

°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○

The smell of hot cocoa surrounded the air, the compact space of the small living room compacting its aroma. Into their third movie of the marathon, Namjoon could barely keep his eyes open anymore. His struggle wasn't that bad in the first movie has being cuddle up next to his beloved one made him regain some strength to be fully awake but by mid of the second movie, he was losing it. The only reason why he came back to reality was the loud and cute (Y/N) did to the events of the movie. A part of him doesn't think that sleeping throughout this movie wouldn't be so bad.

"It's not like she will notice anyway"

But the other part of his feels bad by not being there for her when she asks for him. When he's too busy with upcoming albums, touring, films and writing music she doesn't ask much from him, only making sure he gets enough sleep and eating healthy. He has missed so many important things in her life and she doesn't show any signs of being angry at him for the lack of support. So the least he can do is give her this, these little moments that would make her happy and show how much he loves her. 

"Oh my God! Namjoon can you believe that bitch did tha-" 

A small smile grew on her lips at her boyfriend's sleepy state, one eye closed while the other desperately trying to stay open. With a giggle falling from her lips, leaving the couch to go and pick up a blanket from the basket next to their TV. Carefully placing the soft material over him, making sure that his body was fully covered. Turning off the TV and taking the last sips of her hot chocolate (Y/N) cuddles with the now fully asleep Namjoon. 

The fluffy feeling this was creating on her was too overwhelming, her body tingled as a response to all of the emotions she was feeling at once. Joy at the thought of having such a wonderful boyfriend at her side, sadness that time is not one of the things they get to enjoy trying to savor moments like this where they at least are in each other's arms. Melancholy knowing that all of this is temporary and that once their time is up they would have to go back to being separated by work and life, but she knew that was a price to pay to be with him. He was worth the wait, the time she stays in the dorms and supports him with her daily call and check up on his studios. The molding of her schedule to fit his and be able to see each other once a day to have lunch and to spend countless sleepless nights awake in the living room just to greet him once he decides to come home from a long and tiring day at the studio. 

He wasn't easy to handle all of the time, stress and anxiety proving difficult, clouding all thought of reason and letting him act on impulses only. The fights proved challenging to resolve, almost always ending in a silent war until one decided to apologize and finally talk about it like a normal adult. It becomes more vexatious when in comeback season as Namjoons tolerance evaporates into thin air as the pressure of the album carries on his shoulders. But time has shown her that it all relies on being there for each other in the small things. Like watching their live performances in the living room and call to give her congratulation on the wonderful performance or him helping her plan her next English class for her class in fun and penetrating ways for the high schoolers. Does little expressions of care have been the biggest memories in her head, not needing a big act of true love to know that he loves her. because she can already tell by the small acting he does for her just like today. Even with the tiredness being all over his body he tried his best to make her Christmas the one she has been longing for, for so long. With the ugly sweaters, the exquisite, the hot cocoa and the movie marathon. He could have said that he was just too tired to do celebrate Christmas eve and to just go and sleep the holidays away but he didn't, he tried to make her happy and for her, that was enough. 

Hugging close to the hot body of her boyfriend she let her heart melt. Because while giving him a sweet goodnight kiss on the forehead it reminded her of how much she loves her beautiful dork.

[hellzyeahwebwieldingreviews]

Untold Tales of Spider-Man 09: Deadly Force – by Richard Lee Byers

Pretty flawless honestly.

Spider-Man is still deep in mourning after the death of Gwen Stacy three weeks before. In the time since, a killed dubbed “the Rooftop Ripper” has murdered blonde women by carrying them to the tops of buildings and torturing them before tearing them apart with superhuman strength. With the Ripper’s victims reminding him of Gwen, Spidey is determined to bring the killer down. Spotting a figure climbing a building, Spidey pursues. When he gets to the roof, he finds the Ripper, a large man in a ski mask, waiting for him. Not intimidated at all, the Ripper tells Spidey he’s been anxious to have some “fun” with him. He goads Spidey by telling him he’s killed once tonight, then describes a bit of the gruesome details, finishing by promising to kill again if Spidey doesn’t stop him. Spidey leaps to the attack and the Ripper pummels him into unconsciousness.Spidey awakens hours later to find himself “cradled in someone’s arms.” He soon realizes the arms belong to another Ripper victim. He tears himself free. “Now he could see every ragged gash and mutilation. 

It looked as if the Ripper had carried away pieces of her as souvenirs.” Spidey remembers that the Ripper promised to kill again that evening if he wasn’t stopped. Anguished, Spidey departs. “But no matter how fast he swung through the city, he couldn’t leave the sight and feel of her behind, any more than he could forget the sight and feel of Gwen’s inert body dangling in his arms.”Later, an emotionally damaged Peter wanders the Empire State University campus. He doesn’t know how he’s going to stop the stronger, psychopathic Ripper. 

Then he realizes that he fought the Ripper “the way he fought everyone, taking care not to do any permanent damage.” He decides he must go all out, use “every iota of his strength from the first second.” But can he use deadly force when it “violated everything he believed in?” Still, he considers, “If he’d eliminated Dr. Octopus in one of their early encounters, the deranged scientist would never have gone on to cause the death of Gwen’s dad. If he’d killed the Green Goblin, Gwen herself would still be alive.” He decides that the Ripper is “viler than any of them” and mulls over the fact that, “Cops used deadly force when lives were at stake. Why shouldn’t a super-hero?” But he still can’t decide whether he can justify it enough to do it.Later, Spidey talks to the police at the scene of another Ripper murder and finds out they have no clues. 

As Peter, he goes to the Daily Bugle. There he sees Jonah Jameson’s latest headline: “Is Spider-Man the Ripper?” If hits him like a blow but he can’t get angry because “he couldn’t shake the ghastly feeling that even though the accusation was completely false, on another level it was entirely valid. Spider-Man was to blame for at least the most recent murders…because he’d failed to stop the Ripper when given the opportunity.” This decides him. When next encountering the Ripper, he plans to use deadly force. That night, “desperate for a rematch,” Spidey hears a woman scream and comes upon a ski-masked figure grappling with her. Using full power, he shatters the man’s shoulder and kicks him in the face before realizing his opponent is not the Ripper but a teen-aged purse snatcher. Soon after, Spidey watches as an ambulance takes the teen away and realizes he was lucky he didn’t kill him.

This incident reminds him that the only thing that keeps him from becoming the menace JJJ thinks he is, is his personal code of honor. He knows that he cannot try to kill the Ripper even if that puts him back where he started. Thinking about it, he realizes that he was tired and hungry in his last Ripper battle, as well as enraged and emotionally vulnerable. He vows to be better prepared next time.Not long after, Spidey witnesses the Ripper abduct another blonde woman and he follows him to the rooftop. Centering himself, Spidey uses his webbing, speed, and reflexes to separate the Ripper from his intended victim, unmask him (“…revealing a boyish face with apple cheeks and a snub nose, the face of a baseball player in a Norman Rockwell painting”), frustrate him, and enrage him. 

Then he goes on the offensive, pummeling the Ripper so severely that the killer tries to escape by throwing his victim off the roof. Reminded of his failure with Gwen, Spidey leaps down and rescues the woman, before catching up with the Ripper and knocking him out cold.In the aftermath, as the police take the Ripper away, Spidey wishes he could have caught the Ripper sooner, wishes he could have saved all his victims, wishes he could have saved Gwen. “But at least he tried. And he knew now that he would always strive to preserve life and never take it, even when facing an enemy as twisted and evil as the Ripper…Spider-Man was a hero, now and forever, and the knowledge eased his sorrow at least a bit.”

This is definitely one of the strongest stories in the anthology and a contender for the best one, or at least my favourite.

There are several reasons for that:

Unlike the other stories this one fits pretty relatively seamlessly into canon to the point where you could adapt it and not have to No. prize too much. The main continuity violation is the fact that Spidey by this time period had taken life before technically (the Finisher in ASM Annual #5) and had attempted to violently murder someone before (the Goblin in ASM #122). However, you could argue that the former was self-defence and the latter was a matter of revenge, which is not the same thing as flirting with becoming the Punisher out of principle

The story is incredibly believable in context as part of the Peter’s grieving process

The action set pieces are very clearly conveyed considering this is prose and we can’t actually see what is happening

The story expands upon a gap in time that not only has plenty of breathing room but is about a subject that’s frankly a lot more compelling than Doctor Bromwell or how Aunt May felt about Peter moving out or friggin Ant-Man. By making this story hinge upon Peter’s internal struggle and deal with a very specific MAJOR event in his life the audience is just naturally more emotionally invested.

The story strikes a balance between exploring the aftermath of a very specific life event for Peter but also a much broader conceit of the super hero genre

The story also keeps a tight focus with the story totally driven by what is going on with the Ripper and only using supporting players that serve that central narrative. Obviously we all love the supporting cast and the subplots they bring to the table, but for short stories like this I think a tight focus is ultimately a better option.

The weakest components of this story is the Ripper himself. We never learn how he got his powers, why he has a fetish for gruesomely killing blonde women and he’s sort of just…functional. He’s sort of like Doomsday in the ‘Death of Superman’ story. Everything about him revolves around a very specific purpose for one story.

I didn’t dislike him personally though, but taking a step back I can see why he is kind of a weak point in the story and why violently murdering blondes is probably on the nose for a Spidey story. For me personally though I wasn’t bothered.

I guess when you have a topic as serious as ‘should super heroes kill’ you do naturally invite violence into the story and having blonde women murdered from great heights makes Spidey’s consideration of excessive force totally believable.

But the story does a good job refuting this often discussed ideology that I despise from certain Spider-Man fans. It makes the astute point that if Spidey can beat the Rhino and other guys out of his weight class there is really very little reason for him to kill.

However, the perennial con of all these stories rears it’s head again. The narrator is just miscast for this anthology and that was never more true than with this tale. This story demands Spidey sound threatening and serious. The vocal performance just makes him sound WAY too soft.

Nevertheless, overall a solid story I’d recommend checking out.

[cakelanguage]

I had the absolute pleasure in participating in the "I Am Here: An All Might Anthology" zine and I'm so excited that I can finally share this! I was selected to write about All Might/Toshinori while he was in America so I took some creative liberties but I think it came out well. I hope you enjoy it!

You can also read this on AO3

-

Coming to America was one of the more outlandish things Toshinori Yagi had decided to do, right alongside accepting Nana’s training and obtaining One for All. It wasn’t so much the move itself that was risky, it was the fact that Toshinori had agreed to leave his home because Gran Torino thought he’d be safer in America while he set out to do what Nana had wanted him to do.

“Those who have a smile on their faces are the strongest after all.”

Nana’s words always rang through his head whenever he found himself doubting himself or fear and anger threatened to consume him. Even with her gone she still managed to influence him and make him want to do more. To be better.

To be the symbol of peace.

It wasn’t easy, not by a long-shot, especially in those first few months in America where everything was foreign. But he did it, every day for over two years he’d gotten up, greeted the day with a smile and set out to help those in need. Every action that could help someone in need, he did happily. No task was too mundane or difficult to aid those who needed it.

America was also where he met David Shield. Where he started working with David. Where he may have fallen the slightest bit in love with David.

David Shield, who was constantly looking to create new ways to better society and help those in need. Who always had a kind smile and a soft laugh echoing across his features. David, who enjoyed the quiet moments of sitting in their cramped apartment as much as he enjoyed the action filled chases after villains. Some would no doubt say that he felt drawn to David because they were so alike, but Toshinori knew it was more than that. He liked how they were different, like how David studied sciences and engineering while Toshinori could barely keep up with what David was talking about sometimes.

Perhaps it was more accurate to say he was in love with David Shield.

That love might’ve made their relationship awkward if they were anyone else, but they just accepted it as something that just was. They supported each other in what they did and were there through the toughest times.

Even when they both wished they didn’t have to face them.

It had been a long day, one that Toshinori wished would’ve ended already. There had been a villain attack inside of a strip mall that started fires in the shops. Toshinori and David had arrived at the scene as fast as they could, firefighters already on the scene and working to put out the fires. Toshinori had quickly taken care of the villain before he jumped into the closest building and started getting the civilians stuck inside the buildings out.

There weren’t enough firefighters to put out the fires so it was up to Toshinori to get the people to safety. He carried out armfuls of people all of who thanked him profusely once they were safely out of the burning shops. He gave them his signature smile before continuing his duty. Minutes stretched by and the fires were calming down. Everything was going smoothly, as smoothly as these situations could go.

Until it wasn’t.

Toshinori took a finally look in the last building to make sure that he’d gotten everyone when he saw her. A little girl, tucked half underneath a knocked over rack of clothes. Toshinori felt his heart drop and made his way over as quickly as he could. He delicately moved the clothes off of her and could barely contain the choked cry that threatened to escape.

The girl’s face was mostly spared, aside from the few wisps of burns that trailed up from her neck. The burns themselves weren’t as bad as they could have been, but the smoke most have gotten her. Her face was slack, tear tracks evident through the ash on her skin, her chest unmoving. It didn’t matter how many he’d saved. Because in the end, he’d failed, hadn’t he?

He delicately lifted her, tucking her safely in the crook of his arms and made his way out of the smoldering shop. He didn’t his best to shield the child from view, his focus on making his way to the other victims of the fire. He approached a firefighter who was taking care of the injured and quietly set the girl down on the ground. He pulled his cape off his shoulders and draped it around her, and shared a remorseful look with the firefighter. He didn’t know the man’s name, but in that moment they knew exactly what the other was thinking.

He turned his attention to finding David amongst the crowd, spotting him beside a few teenagers, making sure they were okay and probably trying out one of his newer gizmos. He caught the man’s eyes and tried to put on a smile, but David knew Toshinori and he knew when his smiles weren’t genuine. David tilted his head and looked at him with concern; all Toshinori could do was drop his gaze to the girl on the ground, now being properly handled by the EMTs. Toshinori watched as David’s face shuttered and his shoulders hunched and all he could do was continue to help those who still needed help. Give people water, help apply an oxygen mask to another, wrap a burn per the EMTs instructions.

 They hadn’t talked on their way home, the silence settling over them like a shroud that Toshinori wished he could remove with a mighty swing of his fist. They picked at their dinner before retreating to the balcony of their apartment. The slight breeze made the typically humid climate enjoyable and the roar of traffic and night life hummed from below. It was the most peaceful Toshinori had felt since they’d left the scene of the attack.

“Do you ever feel like what you’re doing isn’t enough?” David asked.

Toshinori paused his sip of water and slowly brought it down to the railing. “Not enough?” He asked.

“Like no matter how much time or effort you put in, there’s still so many people you can’t help or you couldn’t save,” Toshinori flinched as Nana’s smile flashed across his vision from that fateful day. “–or villains who got away because you just weren’t fast enough.”

Toshinori’s clenched his fists against his thighs. “More often than you’d expect.” He suddenly felt so tired and all he wanted to do was go back just minutes ago when the two of them were enjoying the companionable silence with the white noise of the city around them. “But…” He didn’t know what to say. There was too much he wanted to say, too many thoughts and actions that fought with each other to get to the forefront of his mind.

“W-what do you do when you start thinking that?” David finally turned to look at him and Toshinori felt his heart clench at the distraught look in David’s eyes. “I can’t stop thinking about it. About the girl who died in the fire. About the family that are still in the hospital from the villain attack just the other day. About the little boy a month back who looked so grateful and happy when we showed up only to pass away before medical assistance got there.” David clenched his eyes shut and shook his head, tears gathering at the edges of his eyes. “What are you supposed to do when it starts eating you alive?”

Toshinori didn’t know what to say to that. Not when he hadn’t figured it out himself. But he couldn’t say nothing, not when David was clearly upset and asking for his help. “You strive to do better.” He tried to give his signature smile, but the way David’s eyebrows pitched told him it didn’t work out that well. “When you can’t help them, when you can’t save them… You keep going.” Toshinori turned back to look at city lights, unable to meet David’s gaze. “You get faster, you learn more, you do better because there’s nothing else you can do. Because stopping isn’t an option. Hesitation isn’t an option. You can’t because that’d mean you could fail to save someone else.”

Like Nana.

Nana’s words echoed through him and he let them tumble out of his mouth. “Those who have a smile on their faces are the strongest after all.” It sounded better when she said it, but he still felt they hit home.

“Smile?” David mumbled, his voice rough from holding back his tears.

“Because that strength gives the people you’re trying to save hope, and sometimes that’s all a hero or anyone can do for them. Give them hope, give them peace even if it’s for the last moments of their life.” Toshinori scrubbed at his eyes brushing away the tears that threatened to fall. “It doesn’t get easier.” He couldn’t lie or tell David anything but the truth. “I don’t think it ever will, but you do your best and keep going.”

“And… that’s enough?”

Maybe. Maybe not. “It has to be.” It has to be. He wondered if he could keep going if he was wrong.

David took a shaky breath and nodded his head, turning his attention to the city lights. “Keep improving and giving your all… I can try.”

Toshinori didn’t say anything else and he doubted David wanted to say anymore on the subject. He reached his hand out and laced his fingers with David’s without a word, giving a soft squeeze to the man’s hand.

No more words were spoken that night and if more tears had fallen in the silence neither said anything. Just a show of silent support with the white noise of the city as their soundtrack.

[goldeneyedgirl]

Fic-Mas Day 2: In Another Life

Oh my gosh! Thank you so much for the lovely response :D I’ve got bad allergies tonight and I’m babysitting a puppy post-surgery, so no long message, just onwards with Day 2.

Day 2. In Another Life

(This was/is a part of an anthology fic called ‘The Only Girl in the World’, and was basically just a lot of different ways Jasper and Alice could have met, and how fate helped or hindered them. I also want to make it completely clear that Alice is a human child in this fic, and there are no romantic or sexual undertones, implications, or subtext.)

The new neighbours have finally arrived.

The Brandons live outside of town, and it has been forever since the Hawkins’ left. Not that anyone was surprised - there are enough ghost stories and rumours to keep that house empty forever.

There’s a line of pine trees that seperate the Brandon house from the old Hawkins’ place. Other than the orchard, the rest of the land belongs to the new neighbours now.

“Where are you going, Mary?” her mother is in the kitchen, consulting a cook-book. Caroline Brandon is the consummate housewife - consistent, resourceful, and bored out of her mind raising two daughters outside of a small town. Neither Caroline nor Michael Brandon have told the girls that they’ll be getting a brother very, very soon - even though nine-year-old Mary and seven-year-old Cynthia have already taken note of their mother’s bulging stomach.

“To see the neighbours!” the cry summons little Cynthia, and both girls start their charge towards the Hawkins’ place. They are almost mirror images of each other - sturdy Cynthia, and bird-boned Mary; Cynthia’s blonde curls fall effortlessly to her waist, and Mary’s stick-straight black hair hangs around her shoulders. Cynthia wears a pink-striped dress and matching shoes; Mary wears ancient fairy-wings over a rainbow leotard and a long skirt, her feet bare.

Through their mother’s flower garden, and around the vegetable patch; over the low stone fence and through the orchard to no man’s land. They climb up the old viewing platform - their father says that it used to belong to hunters, and they need to stay off the rotten old thing, but they have no other play structure, and the temptation is just too much.

“Are they there? Are there kids?” Cynthia asks, bouncing.

“They’re there. I think they’re all grown ups,” Mary squints through the plastic binoculars they have stashed up there, in an ancient lunchbox. “Come one!” They are both nimble little girls, and have climbed up and down the platform hundreds of times; each foot hits the bolts they use as steps with certainty and speed, and then they are off, through the long grass, to see the mysterious new neighbours.

Crossing over the border, it is like another world. Everyone knows the story of the Hawkins’ mansion: a man built it for his wife, and their children kept dying. They said the youngest child, Arabella Hawkins, was mad and roamed the house at night. All Mary knew was that Mrs Hawkins had been taken away in an ambulance, and that Mr Hawkins was found asleep in his car one morning, and the police had to be called.

But the house was exquisite, under years of neglect. The fountain and gardens, ready to be loved again. The Victorian mansion of at least three floors. Mary Alice couldn’t imagine how nice it was inside.

She could see the new people unloading the truck, and hurried across the gravel to see them closely.

“Hi,” she blurted out, standing barefoot on the gravel, at the adults suddenly staring at her. “I’m Mary, we live next door. She turned around to see Cynthia lingering shyly behind her. “That’s my sister Cynthia.”

They are staring at her, as if she is quite strange. There is a lady there, wearing a pretty sweater, who smiles so nicely at her.

“Hello Mary, hello Cynthia,” she says. “I’m Esme Hale. This is my family.”

Mrs Hale is sweet, and asks them a lot of questions as the rest of the family unpacks; Cynthia takes a shine to the lady, and jabbers away about the new baby, about Halloween and Thanksgiving, and that they want a puppy for Christmas.

Mrs Hale appears equally as enchanted by Cynthia - that’s not strange, most adults love her little blonde sister. She watches boxes and covered furniture been carried into the house, and the gravel bites harder into her cold, bare feet. It’s just an ordinary moment, ultimately forgettable. Except it isn’t. And she’s still too little to understand the intricacies of everything that has happened, has been seen and said and felt.

They leave soon after, with Mrs Hale promising them cookies next time they come over; Cynthia is delighted, but she has a terrible sweet tooth. With a wave and a smile, both girls dart back towards the tree line. Mary doesn’t know why she looks back, but she does, and see a man and woman staring at her from the garage, and frowns.

That night, she dreams of the blond man coming to their house - its nighttime, and Thanksgiving, because she’s wearing a stupid dress with fall leaves and turkeys on it. She knows the new baby is there, and everyone is in the dining room laughing and talking. He smiles down at her, and whispers something to her.

And she takes his hand. Then she’s in a car; her backpack is at her feet, and her plush rabbit is in her lap. She’s wearing her best winter coat, and she’s not at all afraid. She’s warm and sleepy. When they stop, he buys her waffles and hot chocolate, and he looks at her so sadly. She’s happy though. Well, until he takes her to a public bathroom and cuts her hair off. But it’s only hair, and she doesn’t blame him.

They find his family at another house; this house is wooden, like a ski lodge, and he seems surprised to see them there. They yell a lot, and she hides in a bedroom upstairs.

That’s when Mrs Hale comes to her side, and shows her the news. She sees her mother screaming and crying, she sees a lot of police. Her photograph on the news. Her ugly Thanksgiving dress fished out of a dumpster at the gas station.

The Hales talk about returning her, and how she’ll keep their secret. Mrs Hale puts her to bed, and kisses her cheek and promises her it will all be okay.

She doesn’t even stir when he lifts her from her bed and leaves with her again. She wakes up again, and they are in a truck, driving fast. He just keeps saying he’s sorry.

She doesn’t care. She likes him. He is so peaceful and safe to her eyes. And during their travels, he is kind. He buys her food and makes sure she is warm and clean. Few people give them a second look, but the few that do, she dismisses. “My name isn’t Mary. It’s Alice, and he’s my brother.” He buys her fake purple glasses, a sketchbook, and a new coat for Christmas. They sit on the front of the car, and she eats pizza out of a box and look out at the festive lights on Christmas Eve. He takes her to a church, and she says a prayer, and then they leave again.

He is taking her to Alaska, he tells her. She’ll be safe there. She doesn’t know what he’s protecting her from, but she trusts him. She doesn’t tell him she feels sick, that she’s hot and cold all the time, and it doesn’t matter. She shouldn’t be sick, she knows that. Some part of her knows this is how everything is going to be fixed; that someone has made a terrible mistake (not him), and this is how they try to put it right.

She dies in his arms on the side of the road on New Year’s Eve. Her mouth tastes like blood and everything is floating. It hurts to breathe. His red eyes stare down, desperately at hers, and she wants to reassure her that she understands everything. Not in a way that can be put into words, but she does. That she is nearly ten years old, but she feels much older and would never ever have told anyone. That this life is all wrong, and that’s why she has to go to heaven.

His family won’t be mad for long, they’ll welcome him back. They’ll never, ever ask him about what happened to her - even when they find out he has kept her stuffed rabbit.

She wants to tell him all of this, but she can’t, so she closes her eyes and snuggles closer to him, and fades away from the world.

When she wakes up the next morning, she knows her fate. She knows which clothes to pack into her backpack and to tie a ribbon from her bunny to her bag, so that when he climbs in her window, he won’t forget Bunny. She leaves her back right next to the window.

Binoculars. She needs her binoculars.

Her rubber boots pinch a little, and if her mother finds out that she’s running around in her pyjamas, she’ll catch it. But she treks across the snow to the old hunting structure, and climbs up.

It’s just happenstance, bad luck, and maybe a reprieve for a haunted man. The crack sounds like the branch from a tree going, and suddenly she can’t catch her balance and then there is falling and pain and stillness as the rotting wood finally gives out. The only metal pole that was holding the wood in place pierces her chest and makes her feel hot and cold at the same time. One of her boots has come off or torn or something. She’s all ice and wet from the snow. She can’t breathe or cry or scream or talk.

It will be hours before she is found, nestled in the wreckage, with a starburst of blood around her. There will be yelling and screaming, and emergency services everywhere, and her photograph will end up in the newspaper. There will be some speculation whether she died from her injuries, or froze to death. But it doesn’t matter - accidental death is accidental death, however you frame it. Her mother will never understand the clothing in the backpack, or the ribbon tied to her favourite toy. Her father will throw away her fairy wings and broken binoculars. And Jasper Hale will never kidnap the little girl that made him feel hope, and run away without a plan.

She lies in the snow, and she is frustrated and sad. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She wasn’t supposed to be a little girl when she met him; he wasn’t supposed to be so desperate.

She wasn’t supposed to die alone.

But she does anyway.